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.
Thursday, October 29, 2009
Thursday, October 15, 2009
hippies in scotland
I have been meaning to write about my recent travels but lately I've been in no mood for it. I'll finish talking about the last month soon. For now, here is what I just came back from.
So the one time my plane is on time I happen to be there only 35 min before it leaves, and not the required 40. I'm on a bus back to Edinburgh, leaving my phone off hoping that when I turn it on again the 5 min of battery will be enough for me to receive a text saying that I can indeed have a place to sleep. I smell like campfire. It's the only thing cheering me up at the moment. I was told the airport is 10k from Edinburgh central and did not expect the bus to take 1.5 hours to go 10k. Expensive lesson learned. My arms are covered in camp fire smell as well. I'm coming back from staying at a protest site. The site was set up 7 years ago to protest the building of a bypass. They tell me the bypass is still not built because they don't have funding for it and proudly proclaim that it is very expensive to evict them. Including me, last night there were 4 Americans and 4 Brits. The only Scottish man is a very old guy who is quite difficult to understand and travels with his dog. 'Fuck off' is 50% of what he says to her. “Dolly was made just over there” he points. “Now they got her cut in half on display at the museum.” “Awesome” I think. “Disgusting” he corrects. I keep quiet. The man who's been there the longest past 5 years is from Spain. “We're stopping the growth of biotech in the area and the locals support us” he explains. I'm not entirely sure how though. I don't see any there. Being there for 7 years they still have no running water or electricity. The tree houses are fairly nice. I got to sleep in one that had a spring mattress, twin size, even some bedsheets that I discarded in exchange for my sleeping bag. They remake or move them once every few years when the tree starts to grow around the ropes. “Nails are bad for the trees. We only use rope here.” Explains another long timer. There is a river that splits the camp in half and the sound of the river and the campfire and the small amount of wildlife (mainly owls or rats) create a very peaceful ambiance. The site is conveniently located a 5 minute walk from the bus stop and, 10 min away from the local wholesale store, like Costco. This is the site's greatest asset. If you were to visit, in addition to living in trees and drumming around a camp fire, one of the available activities is skiffing or as Americans know it, dumpster diving. Dumpster diving at a wholesale store really brings the experience up a notch. There you find wheels of Brie larger than your car tire, boxes with 20 cartons of scrambled eggs. More bread and assorted cheeses than you know what to do with (I suggested fondue) and assorted items that don't even really have an expiration date. For instance we deep fried meat pies in walnut oil, made pizzadillas (I'd call it a calzone if it wasn't a frozen pizza folded in half and stuffed with cheese), fried battered chocolate balls, double fried chips (fries as most of you know em) with the left over walnut oil. In the protest site world these people eat like kings, in fact they even export their unused food to other protest sites. They tell me of a new one, a few hours away by bus, where most off the people are. People travel the country going from site to site, some by bike others by bus. I asked if there is ever someone in charge at these things. “In charge? That's a bit of a foreign concept to me. I usually just listen to everyone's ideas and follow the best suggestion.” I didn't ask what happens if people disagree on what the best suggestion is. --side note: when this bus stops I can see the next stop from the one that it's stopping at, no wonder it takes 1.5 hours. -- When leaving the site one of the residents told me “I went to the doctor for my compulsion and he discriminated against me because of the way I look. (hippy dreads, flannel, untied boots, 'I shaved exactly 3 days ago' beard yes that guy in your mind exactly) He wouldn't recommend me to a psychiatrist. Told me it's a problem of the way I live. I said he was discriminating against me and he didn't even deny it. I have some chemical imbalance and need drugs to make it better.” The irony was lost on him. I didn't explain it. I did a lot of keeping my mouth shut.
If I have no couch tonight. I will probably head back there.
PS: Go couch surfing.
So the one time my plane is on time I happen to be there only 35 min before it leaves, and not the required 40. I'm on a bus back to Edinburgh, leaving my phone off hoping that when I turn it on again the 5 min of battery will be enough for me to receive a text saying that I can indeed have a place to sleep. I smell like campfire. It's the only thing cheering me up at the moment. I was told the airport is 10k from Edinburgh central and did not expect the bus to take 1.5 hours to go 10k. Expensive lesson learned. My arms are covered in camp fire smell as well. I'm coming back from staying at a protest site. The site was set up 7 years ago to protest the building of a bypass. They tell me the bypass is still not built because they don't have funding for it and proudly proclaim that it is very expensive to evict them. Including me, last night there were 4 Americans and 4 Brits. The only Scottish man is a very old guy who is quite difficult to understand and travels with his dog. 'Fuck off' is 50% of what he says to her. “Dolly was made just over there” he points. “Now they got her cut in half on display at the museum.” “Awesome” I think. “Disgusting” he corrects. I keep quiet. The man who's been there the longest past 5 years is from Spain. “We're stopping the growth of biotech in the area and the locals support us” he explains. I'm not entirely sure how though. I don't see any there. Being there for 7 years they still have no running water or electricity. The tree houses are fairly nice. I got to sleep in one that had a spring mattress, twin size, even some bedsheets that I discarded in exchange for my sleeping bag. They remake or move them once every few years when the tree starts to grow around the ropes. “Nails are bad for the trees. We only use rope here.” Explains another long timer. There is a river that splits the camp in half and the sound of the river and the campfire and the small amount of wildlife (mainly owls or rats) create a very peaceful ambiance. The site is conveniently located a 5 minute walk from the bus stop and, 10 min away from the local wholesale store, like Costco. This is the site's greatest asset. If you were to visit, in addition to living in trees and drumming around a camp fire, one of the available activities is skiffing or as Americans know it, dumpster diving. Dumpster diving at a wholesale store really brings the experience up a notch. There you find wheels of Brie larger than your car tire, boxes with 20 cartons of scrambled eggs. More bread and assorted cheeses than you know what to do with (I suggested fondue) and assorted items that don't even really have an expiration date. For instance we deep fried meat pies in walnut oil, made pizzadillas (I'd call it a calzone if it wasn't a frozen pizza folded in half and stuffed with cheese), fried battered chocolate balls, double fried chips (fries as most of you know em) with the left over walnut oil. In the protest site world these people eat like kings, in fact they even export their unused food to other protest sites. They tell me of a new one, a few hours away by bus, where most off the people are. People travel the country going from site to site, some by bike others by bus. I asked if there is ever someone in charge at these things. “In charge? That's a bit of a foreign concept to me. I usually just listen to everyone's ideas and follow the best suggestion.” I didn't ask what happens if people disagree on what the best suggestion is. --side note: when this bus stops I can see the next stop from the one that it's stopping at, no wonder it takes 1.5 hours. -- When leaving the site one of the residents told me “I went to the doctor for my compulsion and he discriminated against me because of the way I look. (hippy dreads, flannel, untied boots, 'I shaved exactly 3 days ago' beard yes that guy in your mind exactly) He wouldn't recommend me to a psychiatrist. Told me it's a problem of the way I live. I said he was discriminating against me and he didn't even deny it. I have some chemical imbalance and need drugs to make it better.” The irony was lost on him. I didn't explain it. I did a lot of keeping my mouth shut.
If I have no couch tonight. I will probably head back there.
PS: Go couch surfing.
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