Busses make me write. I'm in a van and while the desire is there the ability is lacking. I am reminded of the corrugated dirt roads in Oz but this is a highway. I'd estimate that we're going somewhere close to 150kmph. The areas we're passing look like the green is winning. There are rooftops of temples in the distance but for the most part the area looks industrial. We're heading south from Bangkok but the story needs to backtrack west.
As I left Germany I tried to get rid of unnecessarily warm clothing. "Ooo I hope that guy is homeless!" I caught myself thinking right before giving away Jessica's very warm sleeping bag. My jacket and boots are in Nuremberg under "when in doubt, throw em out" instructions. I land in Dubai and leave the rest of my things in the trunk. First destination is the bar for the only night where my "I don't buy drinks in Dubai" strategy managed to keep me sober.
"Has Dubai changed?" A question that served as a constant reminder of the fact that it had been over a year since I'd been there last. Those 4 months at home feel almost like part of the trip. In that year the metro in Dubai opened up, so did the Burj Dubai, and then it was bought by someone else and now the tallest free standing structure in the world is named the Burj Khalifa. I have no idea if I spelled that right. Conversations about unemployment were quite frequent. So were conversations about racism. "I like how accepting people in America are of other races and cultures" tells me an Indian guy as we sit next to each other on the bus to Abu Dhabi. "My one year contract ends in a few weeks. I can't wait to get out of this place and go back home to Delhi." We bond over the book I'm reading. He has read it as well. We trade impressions of each other's countries. "Most of my impressions are of the midwest. I find the people there are hard working but know how to take time out to appreciate the small things in life. Having a beer at a baseball game or sitting by the lake. In India people are too concerned about daily routine to stop and enjoy life. I like that the hiring practices are far more based on merit. In Dubai everyone just looks after their own." Even my host my former travel partner, a French girl expressed similar sentiments. "Every time a job opens up it goes to a friend before it is even posted anywhere. The Algerians are looking out for the other Algerians, the Egyptians for the Egyptians, everyone thinks the Europeans are overpaid and get special treatment. It's all politics and backstabbing." She explains when I ask why she's looking for a new job.
"It will all collapse when the oil runs out" predict people who haven't been there. The oil is in Abu Dhabi. So is the money. Dubai won't fail. It's a theme park. It's Muslim land. An entirely rated G paradise. A place for rich oil tycoons to take their families and spend lots of money without any chance of pork being in their food or porn being sold in view or feeling awkward in a burka by the beach or ever being more than 5 min from a mosque. They keep all this and gain every other western convenience that is not so easily found in Muslim countries. It's a huge market. And it's not sooo Muslim that it scares the white tourists away. This isn't going to die when the oil dries up. Not until it dries up everywhere anyway.
I have fun as usual. My host has a key card to the Atlantis. We go and pretend we're guests. I get to the top of the Burj. Sorry “the top” as the top that you get to is nowhere near the actual top. Nice view though. From up there you can see the urban nightmare that is Dubai. A city built quickly, and recently sounds like it would be a civil engineer's dream. From the look of it though it more resembles 1000 different civil engineer's dreams which have quickly translated into one planning nightmare. Try walking somewhere in Dubai. It's an obstacle course. The side walks are not connected. To walk from the Burj to a metro station I had to jump barriers and run across 5 lane roads. The Burj is already falling apart though. Look at the pictures I put up. A woman I met at the top pointed it out to me. Little chunks missing. Sure they may be mostly aesthetic but they are missing nonetheless.
We threw a dinner before I left. I managed to find some cheddar cheese. It's funny what we miss when we don't have it. My Israel stamp went unnoticed for my whole trip.
Tuesday, February 9, 2010
on the move in Bangkok
I'm in Bangkok on my third "last day here" It's a hard place to leave. There is an organized type of chaos just beyond where I sit. Vendors, cars, bikes, tourists, locals all manage to carve out exactly enough space for them to do what they need. The weather is a little cloudy, finally, with a light breeze. Warm. Comfortable. It does not cool off here at night, in fact all senses point to everything heating up when the sun goes down. A faint smell of incense is never far.
I move.
A five minute walk away I'm completely alone, resting in the shade by the water. There is a little temple just in front of me. Boats go by in the water. They move quick but do not make much wake. I am snacking on what can only be described as sweet cream filled taquitos. They are still warm. Ants drag away the remaining crumbs. Their speed and efficiency is frightening.
I move. Quickly.
I am on the other side of the park. There are locals eating here but it's not too far from the tourist area that there is no English. I order. The price is the same, the quality is incomparable. The spice in India has nothing on this. I sweat less in a sauna. The Thai ice tea is the best I've had so far, and the cheapest.
I move.
There are more people in this side of the park. There is a very beaten down looking building on the other side of the channel. Clothes hang, mold creeps. The building may have been white or blue at some point. Windows are small, barred. Thailand is not rich by any means, but it does not stand anywhere near the poverty of India. I am picking up 4 wifi hot spots. There are no separate white people prices and at no point anywhere do you feel like you are getting screwed. Given, my ipod has decided to take a separate vacation from me. A shame, I collected some cool stuff in my travels. I have heard of people who came here and did not want to leave. Or those who had a year to travel and spent half of it here. I understand it. I want to stay.
I move.
I'm on the move. Taxis in Bangkok are extremely cheap... when they are moving. Traffic in Bangkok however does not always want to move much. I am meeting a friend and we're going to his house south of Bangkok. I never remember the names. So far it's everything I expected, and more. the CS community is amazing. I've met great people. When you travel your closest friends are ones you've known for a week. I am surrounded by close friends.
Many cities I've been to try to bring some vegetation into them. It looks forced, planted. In Dubai if you turn the water off for a day every plant will wither and die. Bangkok has the opposite feel. It feels almost as if the city is fighting of the encroaching wilderness. There is nowhere you can look without seeing green.
I move.
The taxi stops near where I want to be. I walk out in the street. The ride took about 45 min. It costs a little less than $3. I'm at a bus stop. heading to a close friend's house. Half Thai, half Swedish, named Master. "I may have to do some stuff during the day but you're welcome to stay even if I'm not there. I trust you." I'm moved. I never want it to become mundane. I've slept on many couches and I know how much trust it requires and I never want to take it for granted. Every time it is a person letting me into their most sacred of places. Every time I join a family even for a day I feel like I owe karma something.
We're moving.
The van has 3 other passengers. We may get some more on the way. I'm excited to get out to the countryside. I want to compare this place to India but there is no comparison. Sure there is no toilet paper and everything is cheap and it's crowded but where Delhi has soul crushing poverty blatantly on display Bangkok, in comparison, feels more like humble living. "Is it hard being away from home for so long?" I'm frequently asked. There are travelers here who have been doing it longer than me, and others who plan to. Home is what you make it. For some it is that sacred place that I am allowed to be part of on occasion. For others it's where they put their bags. Others have home as a distant memory of a place that may not really exist any more. Home can be the people around you or a smell, and a sound. It does not need to be stationary or even tangible. It doesn't need to be a place you stay. Me? I move.
I move.
A five minute walk away I'm completely alone, resting in the shade by the water. There is a little temple just in front of me. Boats go by in the water. They move quick but do not make much wake. I am snacking on what can only be described as sweet cream filled taquitos. They are still warm. Ants drag away the remaining crumbs. Their speed and efficiency is frightening.
I move. Quickly.
I am on the other side of the park. There are locals eating here but it's not too far from the tourist area that there is no English. I order. The price is the same, the quality is incomparable. The spice in India has nothing on this. I sweat less in a sauna. The Thai ice tea is the best I've had so far, and the cheapest.
I move.
There are more people in this side of the park. There is a very beaten down looking building on the other side of the channel. Clothes hang, mold creeps. The building may have been white or blue at some point. Windows are small, barred. Thailand is not rich by any means, but it does not stand anywhere near the poverty of India. I am picking up 4 wifi hot spots. There are no separate white people prices and at no point anywhere do you feel like you are getting screwed. Given, my ipod has decided to take a separate vacation from me. A shame, I collected some cool stuff in my travels. I have heard of people who came here and did not want to leave. Or those who had a year to travel and spent half of it here. I understand it. I want to stay.
I move.
I'm on the move. Taxis in Bangkok are extremely cheap... when they are moving. Traffic in Bangkok however does not always want to move much. I am meeting a friend and we're going to his house south of Bangkok. I never remember the names. So far it's everything I expected, and more. the CS community is amazing. I've met great people. When you travel your closest friends are ones you've known for a week. I am surrounded by close friends.
Many cities I've been to try to bring some vegetation into them. It looks forced, planted. In Dubai if you turn the water off for a day every plant will wither and die. Bangkok has the opposite feel. It feels almost as if the city is fighting of the encroaching wilderness. There is nowhere you can look without seeing green.
I move.
The taxi stops near where I want to be. I walk out in the street. The ride took about 45 min. It costs a little less than $3. I'm at a bus stop. heading to a close friend's house. Half Thai, half Swedish, named Master. "I may have to do some stuff during the day but you're welcome to stay even if I'm not there. I trust you." I'm moved. I never want it to become mundane. I've slept on many couches and I know how much trust it requires and I never want to take it for granted. Every time it is a person letting me into their most sacred of places. Every time I join a family even for a day I feel like I owe karma something.
We're moving.
The van has 3 other passengers. We may get some more on the way. I'm excited to get out to the countryside. I want to compare this place to India but there is no comparison. Sure there is no toilet paper and everything is cheap and it's crowded but where Delhi has soul crushing poverty blatantly on display Bangkok, in comparison, feels more like humble living. "Is it hard being away from home for so long?" I'm frequently asked. There are travelers here who have been doing it longer than me, and others who plan to. Home is what you make it. For some it is that sacred place that I am allowed to be part of on occasion. For others it's where they put their bags. Others have home as a distant memory of a place that may not really exist any more. Home can be the people around you or a smell, and a sound. It does not need to be stationary or even tangible. It doesn't need to be a place you stay. Me? I move.
Wednesday, January 20, 2010
Catching up, end of Europe
I'm in a bar, in nowhere Bavaria. There is a pint of Augustiner to my right. The girl who invited me here is off to have her dance class. I met her in Barcelona, what feels like years ago. I have not kept up on my writing recently. This is because I have not been traveling alone. When you travel alone you feel the need to share your story or you feel like it almost did not happen. When you are with someone else then you don't. And you have less time.
We last left our hero on a flight to Bucharest. I was excited about seeing Transylvania and I didn't at all. My first night there I met 2 German guys. After I told them my story about missing a flight to Berlin they told me that they are from Berlin, and driving back there. The next morning I was in a car going to Serbia.
Before we continue allow me to mention that under no circumstance, ever should you say that you "purchased the cheapest and quickest ticket out of Israel" Not unless you want people going through everything you have and touching you for a while. I mean I was totally into it, but you may not be. Did I mention this? I don't remember.
With the Germans I went to Serbia where the bars were so thick with smoke that it stung your eyes and killed any desire to do anything. Budapest, Bratislava, Prague, every place we would hit the Christmas market, get some hot wine, some food, never stayed too long anywhere. I got to Berlin from Prague on a train. Everyone likes Berlin, it's hard not to. Great public transport, good food, decent prices. "They invented Kebabs here you have to try one" "Where should I go?" "It doesn't matter they are all great." So is the currywurst. "Only one?" I'm asked as I pay 1.50 for it at the most famous place for them.
From Berlin I try the preplanned hitch-hiking to the Netherlands. It's not free but a hell of a lot cheaper than the train. "Everyone in the Netherlands speaks English." But not everyone has a sense of humor while speaking it. My driver didn't. I did learn there is a country in South America who's main language is Dutch though as the black man in the car who reminded me of (and was named) Greg informed me. Bonus points if you know what it's called. As the concept of seeing all of my friends in one place goes from highly improbable to essentially impossible I wonder if I'm happy about this. At what point do we go from collecting contacts to spreading our cares too thin?
Christmas was in Luxembourg. Warm in every way. If our closest friends are our family, is their family our family too? We have tiny families in the US, but there are cultures where family is hundreds of people some of which they barely know and it does not make them any less family. Why can't friends work the same way?
Back to Prague. The Luxembourg airport took the knife I've been carrying in my carry-on luggage since Florida. It was about 4-5 inches long. How many flights has it been since then? I complimented the security on their find. They were very proud, the man behind the xray even bowed, I hope I made their day a little better. Killa met me in Prague. Traveling alone is wonderful but sometimes you wonder why you do it. It has potential to be the best form of travel but sometimes it's good when you don't have to constantly search for someone to do cool things with. Maybe it's part of research, where and what are never as important as who and you can't leave everything up to chance, even if you have hit the jackpot many times before. But that's the gambler's problem. Every time you win you think you can win bigger again and again and again.
The CS Winter Camp was held this year in Budapest. I don't know if it is because of the winter camp or because Budapest is just awesome but since then I really like Budapest. The winter camp involves about 1000 couch surfers sleeping in a factory in a shit part of Budapest on FEMA mattresses. Calling them mattresses is an overstatement. They are foam pads at best. I slept in a giant room with maybe 200 other people. 4 of them snored heavily. How they are still alive is beyond me. I think when you enter into a 6 day long party you don't go with high hopes of sleeping. Essentially it did not happen. However between the forces of fatigue and inebriation sleep is located fairly easily. I know there were fireworks on New Years. I heard them. Seeing them was impossible through the very thick fog that enshrouds Budapest when snow is melting. The 6 days had alternating times of heavy drinking, and natural thermal bath relaxation. The best part is that it was all couch surfers. I'm not fanatical about anything but from my experience they tend to be a very social group. You can talk to anyone there and have something to talk about. As I say all the time, the place is always second to the people you meet. Budapest for me is filled with great memories. It was wonderful and cheap. Especially compared to Prague.
I feel Budapest ruined Prague for me. You suddenly arrive in a place where everything is easily twice as expensive and it''s difficult to get over right away. In Prague however I was able to put into words what really touched me about European cities. The buildings don''t look like they've been stamped out in a factory and dropped wherever they are. They have character, someone paid attention to detail someone cared what they looked like someone wanted them to have a soul. The center of Munich lacks this. The style is there but the soul is dead, crushed to death beneath the stamp of modular building. I can't care all that much about architecture but there is a reason why people do it right? It makes us feel something even if we can't put it into words. I don't get it from castles and famous buildings. I get it from streets where the buildings every day people live in show it.
I got body checked in Saltzburg. We went to a Brewery and in the corner was a group of about 8 guys singing and banging on tables the whole time. One of the guys who worked there disapproved of such behavior and kept telling them to shut up. I wanted to show them how I feel about such things, so while they were banging a beat that sounded very similar to "We Will Rock You" I stood up, puffed up my chest and walked over to their table. They got noticeably quieter as I approached and after standing there for a moment just to create an uncertain atmosphere I yelled at the top of my lungs "BUDDY YOU'RE AN OLD MAN POOR MAN... WE WILL WE WILL ROCK YOU..." Making friends, that's all it takes, really. When I finished I walked away from the table and halfway to my table the guy who worked there appeared out of nowhere, body checked me into another group of people, grabbed me by the shirt and dragged me over to the guys making the noise. "german, german, german..." I stood around uncertain for a few minutes, and then walked away before he was finished. Sometimes not knowing the language is not a bad thing.
By that point Igor had already arrived with Anna and the four of us headed down to the Alps for the ski trip. This was tourist land. Everything about it screamed tourist place. The place we stayed had an interesting separation, The English speaking people were all by the bar. They weren't really drinking, the place was kinda posh, they were more the “talking about how wonderful our children are over a glass of wine” type. The rest of the evening population, mainly Polish but also some Russians and other eastern Europeans were all gathered at the Sauna. We were the only people speaking English at the sauna, every night. After the first half of the week we actually started to interact. Between our Russian and Becky's German we were able to kind of understand their Russian/Polish/German mix that they were talking. It was some good ol naked sweaty small talk. Hot.
The skiing was cool. There are a lot of myths about skiing in the alps that we hear as Americans. First one I hear often is“you take a gondola up and spend half the day going down.” Not where I was certainly. We wet to 5 different resorts, and like 10 different peaks, I never had a run that too more than 1.5 hours to complete with a beginner in the group. The mountains are much taller though. Somewhere around 2km on average. I'm not sure how high the base is though. It is a much larger vertical drop than the northeast. “There is no ice and lots of powder” Also false, certainly on most of the days the conditions were better than we normally see in Vermont. We were also told that it's been much worse this year than it normally is. However the last day was pure ice for us. Well not pure ice, more like very annoying patches of ice, then powder and then more ice and then packed snow and you never now how hard to dig because it changes every 2 meters. Also, the trail rating system in Europe is different. It goes Blue, Red, Black and all three mean absolutely nothing. The hardest trails I took were the blue ones (beginner) they were just as steep as the blacks in some places but since they are made for beginners all the snow had been scraped off of them. So while you could stop on the blacks, stopping on the blues was damn near impossible. The reds were usually the best way to go. Also, they love T bar lifts here. They are everywhere. Strangely though the uphill capacity of everywhere we have been was enormous. We were not there at the most popular time but we also never spent more than 5 min in line anywhere. They do this really cool thing with the chair lifts here. They have a cover. After you drop the bar you can also drop this plastic bubble that protects you from the wind and snow and whatever. That is AWESOME. However I did not see a single bra tree. “While in the alps you have to ski a glacier” someone told Becky. No argument there. The glacier was interesting. Long, wide. straight runs at an optimal steepness with good snow, no ice or rocks. At around 3km of elevation it was a cool experience.
On our last night we decided to go out and party with the locals. We were taught a local game where one needs to hammer a nail into a block of wood with the thin part of the hammer. This is not done with one hit. Everyone takes a turn at their nail and passes the hammer to the left. The last person to get his nail in buys a round of drinks for everyone who played. It's an expensive game to lose. I... sucked at it.... and couldn't afford to play more than once. We played against the local firefighters. Fun guys. Knew some English. Tried their hardest to teach me not to suck but it was too late for me. Id like to emphasise the fact that the head of the nail was larger than the part of the hammer that you're trying to hit it with. They advocated a drunkness curve similar to that of most things in life. You suck sober, you rock after a few beers and suck even more after too many. I wasn't sure where I was on that but wherever it was, I was in the wrong place.
Next morning, a few hours after going to sleep we lurched out of bed and made our way back to Germany. As I said goodbye to Igor in the airport I stopped by the “last minute ticket” desk to pick up some fresh ones to Thailand. They came with a nice stop in Dubai and I look forward to the whole thing. For legal purposes I needed a return ticket back to Munich. I laughed when the travel agent said when it was April 26th, the day I left home for Florida, day 1 of part 2. I'm thinking I'll go home after that. But just as a meteorologist I have absolutely no chance of predicting anything 3 months in advance.
We last left our hero on a flight to Bucharest. I was excited about seeing Transylvania and I didn't at all. My first night there I met 2 German guys. After I told them my story about missing a flight to Berlin they told me that they are from Berlin, and driving back there. The next morning I was in a car going to Serbia.
Before we continue allow me to mention that under no circumstance, ever should you say that you "purchased the cheapest and quickest ticket out of Israel" Not unless you want people going through everything you have and touching you for a while. I mean I was totally into it, but you may not be. Did I mention this? I don't remember.
With the Germans I went to Serbia where the bars were so thick with smoke that it stung your eyes and killed any desire to do anything. Budapest, Bratislava, Prague, every place we would hit the Christmas market, get some hot wine, some food, never stayed too long anywhere. I got to Berlin from Prague on a train. Everyone likes Berlin, it's hard not to. Great public transport, good food, decent prices. "They invented Kebabs here you have to try one" "Where should I go?" "It doesn't matter they are all great." So is the currywurst. "Only one?" I'm asked as I pay 1.50 for it at the most famous place for them.
From Berlin I try the preplanned hitch-hiking to the Netherlands. It's not free but a hell of a lot cheaper than the train. "Everyone in the Netherlands speaks English." But not everyone has a sense of humor while speaking it. My driver didn't. I did learn there is a country in South America who's main language is Dutch though as the black man in the car who reminded me of (and was named) Greg informed me. Bonus points if you know what it's called. As the concept of seeing all of my friends in one place goes from highly improbable to essentially impossible I wonder if I'm happy about this. At what point do we go from collecting contacts to spreading our cares too thin?
Christmas was in Luxembourg. Warm in every way. If our closest friends are our family, is their family our family too? We have tiny families in the US, but there are cultures where family is hundreds of people some of which they barely know and it does not make them any less family. Why can't friends work the same way?
Back to Prague. The Luxembourg airport took the knife I've been carrying in my carry-on luggage since Florida. It was about 4-5 inches long. How many flights has it been since then? I complimented the security on their find. They were very proud, the man behind the xray even bowed, I hope I made their day a little better. Killa met me in Prague. Traveling alone is wonderful but sometimes you wonder why you do it. It has potential to be the best form of travel but sometimes it's good when you don't have to constantly search for someone to do cool things with. Maybe it's part of research, where and what are never as important as who and you can't leave everything up to chance, even if you have hit the jackpot many times before. But that's the gambler's problem. Every time you win you think you can win bigger again and again and again.
The CS Winter Camp was held this year in Budapest. I don't know if it is because of the winter camp or because Budapest is just awesome but since then I really like Budapest. The winter camp involves about 1000 couch surfers sleeping in a factory in a shit part of Budapest on FEMA mattresses. Calling them mattresses is an overstatement. They are foam pads at best. I slept in a giant room with maybe 200 other people. 4 of them snored heavily. How they are still alive is beyond me. I think when you enter into a 6 day long party you don't go with high hopes of sleeping. Essentially it did not happen. However between the forces of fatigue and inebriation sleep is located fairly easily. I know there were fireworks on New Years. I heard them. Seeing them was impossible through the very thick fog that enshrouds Budapest when snow is melting. The 6 days had alternating times of heavy drinking, and natural thermal bath relaxation. The best part is that it was all couch surfers. I'm not fanatical about anything but from my experience they tend to be a very social group. You can talk to anyone there and have something to talk about. As I say all the time, the place is always second to the people you meet. Budapest for me is filled with great memories. It was wonderful and cheap. Especially compared to Prague.
I feel Budapest ruined Prague for me. You suddenly arrive in a place where everything is easily twice as expensive and it''s difficult to get over right away. In Prague however I was able to put into words what really touched me about European cities. The buildings don''t look like they've been stamped out in a factory and dropped wherever they are. They have character, someone paid attention to detail someone cared what they looked like someone wanted them to have a soul. The center of Munich lacks this. The style is there but the soul is dead, crushed to death beneath the stamp of modular building. I can't care all that much about architecture but there is a reason why people do it right? It makes us feel something even if we can't put it into words. I don't get it from castles and famous buildings. I get it from streets where the buildings every day people live in show it.
I got body checked in Saltzburg. We went to a Brewery and in the corner was a group of about 8 guys singing and banging on tables the whole time. One of the guys who worked there disapproved of such behavior and kept telling them to shut up. I wanted to show them how I feel about such things, so while they were banging a beat that sounded very similar to "We Will Rock You" I stood up, puffed up my chest and walked over to their table. They got noticeably quieter as I approached and after standing there for a moment just to create an uncertain atmosphere I yelled at the top of my lungs "BUDDY YOU'RE AN OLD MAN POOR MAN... WE WILL WE WILL ROCK YOU..." Making friends, that's all it takes, really. When I finished I walked away from the table and halfway to my table the guy who worked there appeared out of nowhere, body checked me into another group of people, grabbed me by the shirt and dragged me over to the guys making the noise. "german, german, german..." I stood around uncertain for a few minutes, and then walked away before he was finished. Sometimes not knowing the language is not a bad thing.
By that point Igor had already arrived with Anna and the four of us headed down to the Alps for the ski trip. This was tourist land. Everything about it screamed tourist place. The place we stayed had an interesting separation, The English speaking people were all by the bar. They weren't really drinking, the place was kinda posh, they were more the “talking about how wonderful our children are over a glass of wine” type. The rest of the evening population, mainly Polish but also some Russians and other eastern Europeans were all gathered at the Sauna. We were the only people speaking English at the sauna, every night. After the first half of the week we actually started to interact. Between our Russian and Becky's German we were able to kind of understand their Russian/Polish/German mix that they were talking. It was some good ol naked sweaty small talk. Hot.
The skiing was cool. There are a lot of myths about skiing in the alps that we hear as Americans. First one I hear often is“you take a gondola up and spend half the day going down.” Not where I was certainly. We wet to 5 different resorts, and like 10 different peaks, I never had a run that too more than 1.5 hours to complete with a beginner in the group. The mountains are much taller though. Somewhere around 2km on average. I'm not sure how high the base is though. It is a much larger vertical drop than the northeast. “There is no ice and lots of powder” Also false, certainly on most of the days the conditions were better than we normally see in Vermont. We were also told that it's been much worse this year than it normally is. However the last day was pure ice for us. Well not pure ice, more like very annoying patches of ice, then powder and then more ice and then packed snow and you never now how hard to dig because it changes every 2 meters. Also, the trail rating system in Europe is different. It goes Blue, Red, Black and all three mean absolutely nothing. The hardest trails I took were the blue ones (beginner) they were just as steep as the blacks in some places but since they are made for beginners all the snow had been scraped off of them. So while you could stop on the blacks, stopping on the blues was damn near impossible. The reds were usually the best way to go. Also, they love T bar lifts here. They are everywhere. Strangely though the uphill capacity of everywhere we have been was enormous. We were not there at the most popular time but we also never spent more than 5 min in line anywhere. They do this really cool thing with the chair lifts here. They have a cover. After you drop the bar you can also drop this plastic bubble that protects you from the wind and snow and whatever. That is AWESOME. However I did not see a single bra tree. “While in the alps you have to ski a glacier” someone told Becky. No argument there. The glacier was interesting. Long, wide. straight runs at an optimal steepness with good snow, no ice or rocks. At around 3km of elevation it was a cool experience.
On our last night we decided to go out and party with the locals. We were taught a local game where one needs to hammer a nail into a block of wood with the thin part of the hammer. This is not done with one hit. Everyone takes a turn at their nail and passes the hammer to the left. The last person to get his nail in buys a round of drinks for everyone who played. It's an expensive game to lose. I... sucked at it.... and couldn't afford to play more than once. We played against the local firefighters. Fun guys. Knew some English. Tried their hardest to teach me not to suck but it was too late for me. Id like to emphasise the fact that the head of the nail was larger than the part of the hammer that you're trying to hit it with. They advocated a drunkness curve similar to that of most things in life. You suck sober, you rock after a few beers and suck even more after too many. I wasn't sure where I was on that but wherever it was, I was in the wrong place.
Next morning, a few hours after going to sleep we lurched out of bed and made our way back to Germany. As I said goodbye to Igor in the airport I stopped by the “last minute ticket” desk to pick up some fresh ones to Thailand. They came with a nice stop in Dubai and I look forward to the whole thing. For legal purposes I needed a return ticket back to Munich. I laughed when the travel agent said when it was April 26th, the day I left home for Florida, day 1 of part 2. I'm thinking I'll go home after that. But just as a meteorologist I have absolutely no chance of predicting anything 3 months in advance.
Saturday, December 12, 2009
Israel part 2
I was once told that if you've never missed a flight that you have too much time on your hands. I certainly have too much time on my hands and yet... I think it's mainly because it's become so mundane. I need to stress a little more about.... well everything, but flights in specific. On the plus side the Tel Aviv airport has free wifi. woot!
I can say a lot about Israel. So to make it easier I will start by talking about Dahab.
I mentioned last time that you can walk across the border. I did not mention that you walk from shopping malls and fast food to villages built out of scrap metal and plastic bags. It's quite a dramatic change. Dahab tries to stay above all that. Dahab thinks in Euros not Egyptian pounds. It is still however very cheap. I slept there for about $4 a night. It was not too bad. for $8 a night I could have had my own room with a bathroom and whatever other fanciness I could want. Everywhere you stay the beach is across the street. People who live there live for years in a tiny room with a shared bathroom and seem to be fairly happy about it. There is certainly a great community and I feel like I would always have a great experience if I were to come back.
Two days ago I broke the "never eat anything in any bus station anywhere in Israel, ever!" rule. My stomach is still punishing me for it. Brings back fond memories of India.
There is an old Bald guy riding around the airport on one of those weird twisty boards with 2 wheels. I would bet if I added the ages of all the kids I've ever seen riding these things they might add up to his age. He's talking on his cell phone while doing it.
So Israel. Funny thing about israel, everyone speaks English but it's not written anywhere when you need it to be. For instance The road names are written in English but the bus lines are not. The train announcements are in English when you leave the airport but not when you go back to it. They don't even have the common decency of using the universal airport logo. Almost no place that serves food you want to eat has menus in English but someone working there will always speak just enough.
Israel is one of the few places in the world (maybe the only?) where you can see Hassidic Jews dancing in the streets on almost a daily basis. In fact on my way to the airport I saw a car of them stop at a red light, pumpin music, they get out of the car, dance in the street, when the light turns green they get back in the car and move on. I still don't understand why. Maybe with my newfound time here I'll have to ask one of them.
There is a bit of a battle, mainly in Jerusalem between... well in Jerusalem there is a battle between everyone, but between the non-religious and the ultra-religious jews. Obviously the two sides hate each other. The Jewey jews want people to not do anything on the Sabath. I was arriving in Jerusalem on Friday evening. The sun had not even fully set yet but as the bus was pulling in kids in the street were shouting at the bus something about not respecting the sabath. The city is fairly dead anyway come Friday nigh but the added sight of orthodox Jews zombying through the streets at sunset is a very interesting sight. They are trying to make the biblical law the law of Israel. This seems greatly unpopular with anyone I talk to. You do always see them standing around and campaigning for something. They don't talk to me as soon as they hear I don't speak Hebrew.
The Israelis hate them for other reasons though. The feeling is that the Orthodox Jews are a serious drain on the economy. They usually just study the Torah instead of something marketable. They breed like rabbits and don't go to the army like everyone else has to. “If it weren't for them though Israel will be all Arabs.” They are the two groups who have the most kids.
In general there is the feeling of dissent. When I was surprised that all my couch surfing requests came back 'yes' my hosts told me “Of course, you're not from Israel, everything not from Israel is cool.” Most I talked to would only be to happy to leave. None have any specific plans to do so.
I feel like I have to mention the army in all this. The reactions to it are wide ranging. From having it be one of the best experiences, to serving jail time to avoid it, to jumping off a building while in it. It has been described as good professional experience, a unifying experience for Israelis while at the same time acting as a segregating force against the Arabic cultures. The necessary amount of racism required to work borders or occupied territories only builds from working there. Nobody spends much time talking about what specifically makes the military so horrible for some, in Israel it's just understood.
Speaking of occupied territories. I went to Bethlehem for a day. It's occupied territory. Which means that it's Palestinian land under Israeli rule. Israelis are not allowed there however to get in all I have to do is wave my closed American passport and they don't look twice at me. In Palestine the official currency is whatever you got. The ATMs vend dollars and Euros and Sheckles and Jordanian...s? The place does not look any more religious than any other nation with a lot of Muslims. You can see the towers of Mosques all over the place but people are walking around in western clothes and things don't 'look' too.... ok well in Bethlehem in the city... how do I say this.... It looks a lot better than it did in Sinai. The guy I talked to on that side was not too hopeful. Said education is way to expensive, the prospects for peace are unlikely, hopes at least his kids will get out of there.
When I finally left Israel I did so by calling a travel agent and asking what the last minute deals are. This brought me to Bucharest, Romania. There I met 2 German guys who are on a road trip and I finish this on a couch in Serbia. More about these places later.
I can say a lot about Israel. So to make it easier I will start by talking about Dahab.
I mentioned last time that you can walk across the border. I did not mention that you walk from shopping malls and fast food to villages built out of scrap metal and plastic bags. It's quite a dramatic change. Dahab tries to stay above all that. Dahab thinks in Euros not Egyptian pounds. It is still however very cheap. I slept there for about $4 a night. It was not too bad. for $8 a night I could have had my own room with a bathroom and whatever other fanciness I could want. Everywhere you stay the beach is across the street. People who live there live for years in a tiny room with a shared bathroom and seem to be fairly happy about it. There is certainly a great community and I feel like I would always have a great experience if I were to come back.
Two days ago I broke the "never eat anything in any bus station anywhere in Israel, ever!" rule. My stomach is still punishing me for it. Brings back fond memories of India.
There is an old Bald guy riding around the airport on one of those weird twisty boards with 2 wheels. I would bet if I added the ages of all the kids I've ever seen riding these things they might add up to his age. He's talking on his cell phone while doing it.
So Israel. Funny thing about israel, everyone speaks English but it's not written anywhere when you need it to be. For instance The road names are written in English but the bus lines are not. The train announcements are in English when you leave the airport but not when you go back to it. They don't even have the common decency of using the universal airport logo. Almost no place that serves food you want to eat has menus in English but someone working there will always speak just enough.
Israel is one of the few places in the world (maybe the only?) where you can see Hassidic Jews dancing in the streets on almost a daily basis. In fact on my way to the airport I saw a car of them stop at a red light, pumpin music, they get out of the car, dance in the street, when the light turns green they get back in the car and move on. I still don't understand why. Maybe with my newfound time here I'll have to ask one of them.
There is a bit of a battle, mainly in Jerusalem between... well in Jerusalem there is a battle between everyone, but between the non-religious and the ultra-religious jews. Obviously the two sides hate each other. The Jewey jews want people to not do anything on the Sabath. I was arriving in Jerusalem on Friday evening. The sun had not even fully set yet but as the bus was pulling in kids in the street were shouting at the bus something about not respecting the sabath. The city is fairly dead anyway come Friday nigh but the added sight of orthodox Jews zombying through the streets at sunset is a very interesting sight. They are trying to make the biblical law the law of Israel. This seems greatly unpopular with anyone I talk to. You do always see them standing around and campaigning for something. They don't talk to me as soon as they hear I don't speak Hebrew.
The Israelis hate them for other reasons though. The feeling is that the Orthodox Jews are a serious drain on the economy. They usually just study the Torah instead of something marketable. They breed like rabbits and don't go to the army like everyone else has to. “If it weren't for them though Israel will be all Arabs.” They are the two groups who have the most kids.
In general there is the feeling of dissent. When I was surprised that all my couch surfing requests came back 'yes' my hosts told me “Of course, you're not from Israel, everything not from Israel is cool.” Most I talked to would only be to happy to leave. None have any specific plans to do so.
I feel like I have to mention the army in all this. The reactions to it are wide ranging. From having it be one of the best experiences, to serving jail time to avoid it, to jumping off a building while in it. It has been described as good professional experience, a unifying experience for Israelis while at the same time acting as a segregating force against the Arabic cultures. The necessary amount of racism required to work borders or occupied territories only builds from working there. Nobody spends much time talking about what specifically makes the military so horrible for some, in Israel it's just understood.
Speaking of occupied territories. I went to Bethlehem for a day. It's occupied territory. Which means that it's Palestinian land under Israeli rule. Israelis are not allowed there however to get in all I have to do is wave my closed American passport and they don't look twice at me. In Palestine the official currency is whatever you got. The ATMs vend dollars and Euros and Sheckles and Jordanian...s? The place does not look any more religious than any other nation with a lot of Muslims. You can see the towers of Mosques all over the place but people are walking around in western clothes and things don't 'look' too.... ok well in Bethlehem in the city... how do I say this.... It looks a lot better than it did in Sinai. The guy I talked to on that side was not too hopeful. Said education is way to expensive, the prospects for peace are unlikely, hopes at least his kids will get out of there.
When I finally left Israel I did so by calling a travel agent and asking what the last minute deals are. This brought me to Bucharest, Romania. There I met 2 German guys who are on a road trip and I finish this on a couch in Serbia. More about these places later.
Monday, November 23, 2009
Eilat
Another bus. Egypt. I'm on my way to Dahab. There is something about buses that inspires me to write. Maybe they punctuate the bits of the trip into describable segments. I had a very weird experience today. I walked across a border. Not just a town or state or even country. In a sense I just crossed the border into Africa and to do it I got up early in the morning and just walked.
I've been trying recently to not forget to be amazed by things. I did a dive with an instructor who told me "You're good but you use your arms too much. They aren't helping you swim you know." When diving I don't use my arms to help with propulsion. I use them to help with memory. If I don't put them out to the sides and pretend like I'm flying or push the water in front of me to quickly move myself up then I sometimes forget. I forget how fucking amazing it is that I'm just hanging out in the water for an hour and breathing like a fish. I need to look like an idiot on occasion to remember that. What do you do?
"There's nothing to do in Eilat." Anna tells me when I arrive. I went diving and kite surfing on one day. Diving and hiking on the next. Walked to Egypt. Saying that Eilat is a place people go to vacation in Israel is misleading. Eilat is a place where people in Israel go to vacation. It becomes apparent quickly. English is almost non-existent. There is some Russian but almost everything is in Hebrew. You don't even hear anything else spoken in the streets. Russian being the exception. This makes nightlife a little difficult.... for me.
From the bus I'm surprised how rocky this place is. It's no like mountain rocks though. It's like someone ground up mountains into little rocks and then made piles of them all over the place.
"I've been to Dahab four times but I've never been to Egypt" says a Russian man on the bus with me. I'll see in a few hours.
I've been trying recently to not forget to be amazed by things. I did a dive with an instructor who told me "You're good but you use your arms too much. They aren't helping you swim you know." When diving I don't use my arms to help with propulsion. I use them to help with memory. If I don't put them out to the sides and pretend like I'm flying or push the water in front of me to quickly move myself up then I sometimes forget. I forget how fucking amazing it is that I'm just hanging out in the water for an hour and breathing like a fish. I need to look like an idiot on occasion to remember that. What do you do?
"There's nothing to do in Eilat." Anna tells me when I arrive. I went diving and kite surfing on one day. Diving and hiking on the next. Walked to Egypt. Saying that Eilat is a place people go to vacation in Israel is misleading. Eilat is a place where people in Israel go to vacation. It becomes apparent quickly. English is almost non-existent. There is some Russian but almost everything is in Hebrew. You don't even hear anything else spoken in the streets. Russian being the exception. This makes nightlife a little difficult.... for me.
From the bus I'm surprised how rocky this place is. It's no like mountain rocks though. It's like someone ground up mountains into little rocks and then made piles of them all over the place.
"I've been to Dahab four times but I've never been to Egypt" says a Russian man on the bus with me. I'll see in a few hours.
Thursday, November 12, 2009
izzy
'm sitting on the sand. The waves quietly caress the edge of the beach 10m in front of me. An old guy has just caught a fish the size of my hand. My laptop informs me that if I were sitting a little closer to the restaurant 50m away that this beach would have free wifi. The sand here is that extra fine type that gets into everything forever. The weather is just about perfect for beach sitting and the water is not too cold to swim in. A guy just walked by wearing a sweatshirt but he's an anomaly. Tel Aviv looms behind me. I can see 6 people from where I sit. So far Israel and I are getting along just fine.
Getting here though was not as uneventful as I'd hoped. My host in Rome gave me a ride to the airport and I was there nice and early. No more missing flights for this guy. At checkin I learned that to enter Israel without a special visa or an Israeli passport one needs to have booked a return ticket. A return ticket? This is a foreign concept to me at the moment. Why would I return to where I came from when I can go somewhere new instead. Furthermore I am waiting on a number of things know where I'm even going after this. Thinking fast I find an internet connection and manage to have my credit card declined on the cheapest flight out of Israel (it knows when it's an emergency and does not work at those times). The flight was going to Belgium. Low on hope I made my way to the ticket office of the company I was flying with and told them "I need to change my flight or find the cheapest flight out of Israel some time in early December. Don't care where." The lady at the ticket counter, being not in the mood to do so much work asked me "Why don't you just make a reservation?" "What does this involve?" I asked having no idea what she was talking about. "Well" she explained "you don't pay anythin-" "Sign me up." I answered before she finished. In the end having given her only my passport I walked away with a piece of paper (that I could have printed myself) suggesting that I had possibly thought about leaving Israel on Dec 23rd. It was good enough! So I, with an army of people who's average age must have been about 75 'speedily' boarded the plane and were off ahead of schedule.
The interrogation begins the moment you're off the plane. As you leave your gate a team of people are there to ask you questions. The first time is like a practice for passport control. The questions are the same so you can get used to giving the answers. "why are you here? where are you staying? for how long?" I confidently said that I'm flying out on Dec 23rd and said that I'm staying with friends who's last names they did not even ask for. Then you walk by a fountain that reminds me of the king from the Mario Brothers movie (I'm certain nobody is getting that joke). And before you're free you get the 2nd round of questioning from passport control. This round also involves "Have you ever been to Israel before"? And when you politely ask them not to stamp your passport they give you the eye and ask again "are you SURE you've never been to Israel before?" It's at this point that you realize that you could have bullshitted the entire process.
One of the most uncommon things that you see in the streets are not just the large quantity of people in their army uniform but the fact that some of them are not just carrying but wielding their pistols as they walk around. "They are ready to shoot you" said Pavlik the guy I'm staying with "well not you but you know..."
The people are generally attractive especially coming from Italy where the average girl you see on the streets of Florence finds themselves somewhere between 'eh' and 'ugh'. Rome was better. The average around here goes somewhere between 'huhm' and 'M!mn'. 'Huhm' being that uncommon kind of look that you're not sure what to think of immediately but grows on you after a few minutes, or doesn't. Strangely enough in Italy the tourists were the most attractive while here the tourists are mostly elderly.
There are three official languages written on the street signs, Hebrew, Arabic, and English and the non official language of Russian which is found in stores and spoken widely. For the most of the locals' places though, there is only Hebrew. It makes things difficult. Whereas European languages that I don't understand I can at least read and try to sound it out and guess. Hebrew may as well be Chinese as far as my chance for understanding it goes.
The people I'm staying with so far are awesome and I think we'll have a few more nights of good times together. It's time for me to find where the rest of this beach is.
Getting here though was not as uneventful as I'd hoped. My host in Rome gave me a ride to the airport and I was there nice and early. No more missing flights for this guy. At checkin I learned that to enter Israel without a special visa or an Israeli passport one needs to have booked a return ticket. A return ticket? This is a foreign concept to me at the moment. Why would I return to where I came from when I can go somewhere new instead. Furthermore I am waiting on a number of things know where I'm even going after this. Thinking fast I find an internet connection and manage to have my credit card declined on the cheapest flight out of Israel (it knows when it's an emergency and does not work at those times). The flight was going to Belgium. Low on hope I made my way to the ticket office of the company I was flying with and told them "I need to change my flight or find the cheapest flight out of Israel some time in early December. Don't care where." The lady at the ticket counter, being not in the mood to do so much work asked me "Why don't you just make a reservation?" "What does this involve?" I asked having no idea what she was talking about. "Well" she explained "you don't pay anythin-" "Sign me up." I answered before she finished. In the end having given her only my passport I walked away with a piece of paper (that I could have printed myself) suggesting that I had possibly thought about leaving Israel on Dec 23rd. It was good enough! So I, with an army of people who's average age must have been about 75 'speedily' boarded the plane and were off ahead of schedule.
The interrogation begins the moment you're off the plane. As you leave your gate a team of people are there to ask you questions. The first time is like a practice for passport control. The questions are the same so you can get used to giving the answers. "why are you here? where are you staying? for how long?" I confidently said that I'm flying out on Dec 23rd and said that I'm staying with friends who's last names they did not even ask for. Then you walk by a fountain that reminds me of the king from the Mario Brothers movie (I'm certain nobody is getting that joke). And before you're free you get the 2nd round of questioning from passport control. This round also involves "Have you ever been to Israel before"? And when you politely ask them not to stamp your passport they give you the eye and ask again "are you SURE you've never been to Israel before?" It's at this point that you realize that you could have bullshitted the entire process.
One of the most uncommon things that you see in the streets are not just the large quantity of people in their army uniform but the fact that some of them are not just carrying but wielding their pistols as they walk around. "They are ready to shoot you" said Pavlik the guy I'm staying with "well not you but you know..."
The people are generally attractive especially coming from Italy where the average girl you see on the streets of Florence finds themselves somewhere between 'eh' and 'ugh'. Rome was better. The average around here goes somewhere between 'huhm' and 'M!mn'. 'Huhm' being that uncommon kind of look that you're not sure what to think of immediately but grows on you after a few minutes, or doesn't. Strangely enough in Italy the tourists were the most attractive while here the tourists are mostly elderly.
There are three official languages written on the street signs, Hebrew, Arabic, and English and the non official language of Russian which is found in stores and spoken widely. For the most of the locals' places though, there is only Hebrew. It makes things difficult. Whereas European languages that I don't understand I can at least read and try to sound it out and guess. Hebrew may as well be Chinese as far as my chance for understanding it goes.
The people I'm staying with so far are awesome and I think we'll have a few more nights of good times together. It's time for me to find where the rest of this beach is.
Thursday, October 29, 2009
Going to Italia
I'm in an airport in Rome waiting for my connection to Venice. I tried a new style of flying: leaving the aiport after a shot, 2 beers, and 3/4 of a bottle of wine. It was good wine and now I have a couch in Estonia. There are pros and cons to this style of travel. The pro being I don't eveen remember the takeoff. I got on the plane on the round and woke p when it was on the ground again. The cons... When asked if I wanted a window or an isle seat I answered "I don't care just put me next to that cute redhead who just checked in" (I got a window seat in an emergency row, far from the cute redhead, who I had completely forgotten about come boarding time) and, when I did wake up, it was with quite the headache. I'm still uncertain as to what my plan to fix this is. I probably just need a bloody mary. The bus from Barcelona to the airport was not working tonight. This in itself was a minor inconvenience but to make it more fun they didn't tell anybody about it. There was a guy at my busstop who, when asked directly would admit that it's not going to come tonight but there was nothing about him that indicated "ask me about how fucked you are." A button would have been nice, a sign, something. Luckily my spanish was good enough to not only realize the severity of my situation but to find 4 people to split a cab with. In the end, a nice conclusion to a wonderful stay in Alicante. I actually took some pictures of the place I stayed and while I'm sure they aren't doing it justice, they express the awesome nature of the view at hand. I was staying with my friend's family, it is the house of her aunt and uncle. At dinner time there were usually about 11 people at the table. Mostly students of various student ages. I can't remember what all the connections are but in some way they have some vague connection to the family. Manuel, the uncle, a professor of coppyright law, talked about how important it is to always have an open house and welcome people and to be trusting of others. This is a philosophy not built on endless positive experiences as he recalls a time when one of the guests just disappeared one day with a significant quantity of money. "These people are the exception you can't let them stop you" The dinner table reverberates mostly with Spanish but a little German sneaks in on occasion and Manuel requests English for my sake. Everyone there except the grandmother speaks it. The food at dinner is awesome, they had the best blood sausage I've had so far.
The weather hit a low of about 16c at night. The beaches are long, the sand is soft, the water is not too cold but far too calm, the city has a big castle in it. As usual I did not go into the castle but it was a fun climb exploring the big hill around it.
2 hours was not enough time to transport my bag from one plane to another. I'm in Venice, my bag is in Rome. A good start. The plan to be hung over for the museums is backfiring on me. It's twice as painful. I need a new plan.
The weather hit a low of about 16c at night. The beaches are long, the sand is soft, the water is not too cold but far too calm, the city has a big castle in it. As usual I did not go into the castle but it was a fun climb exploring the big hill around it.
2 hours was not enough time to transport my bag from one plane to another. I'm in Venice, my bag is in Rome. A good start. The plan to be hung over for the museums is backfiring on me. It's twice as painful. I need a new plan.
Subscribe to:
Posts (Atom)