Reflections from the Road

It has now been well over a month since my journey began, and I have decided to use this post as a forum for my thoughts from the road. Thus far the entire experience has been an eye opening and contemplative event. I have met people from all over the world, seen geographical regions of certain continents where I could have never pictured being, and even learned a little about myself in the process. However, there are also certain components of traveling that I have grown to despise. Recently Splat and I were traveling overnight on a train from Brasov, Romania to Budapest, Hungary. In an attempt to be economical, we opted for a chair on the train rather than a sleeping car. Unfortunately during the middle of the night, someone grabbed Splat's bag and stole all her jewelery as well as all of our pictures from the whole trip. Although, they are just material objects and our well-being was not affected, it is difficult to know that their are people out there with the capacity to do such horrible things. Hopefully, he is reading this blog right now realizing what an asshole he is (yeah thats right I am talking to you!!!). Another aspect of traveling that seems to be catching up with me is the fact that I am constantly on the go. Sleep, which in the past has been one of my favorite activities (see CA summer at camp, year 2000), has been few and far between.

My grandmother would refer to the entire last paragraph as kvetching, and that is not my desire at all, so I believe I will now share a more positive observation. For instance, I have realized that my traveling partner has a way of adapting our lives into some sort of sadistic reality TV show. The plot goes a little like this: Splat tells me that we need to ask for directions (replace with - menus, the bill, hotel costs, food, the list goes on and on), with my most confident strut, I attempt to fulfill these wishes. The results are 9 times out of 10 not positive. I try to slow my English down (I would originally raise the volume of my voice, but I quickly discovered that people generally loathe this strategy), but no matter what I say, the person looks at me as if I have two heads. No matter how good looking these two heads may be, it rarely gets me the result I need. When I return to my traveling companion, she is normally laughing hysterically at my failure, at which point she approaches the person and figures out what we need to know with relative ease. I have begun to suspect she is fluent in a wide host of languages including but not limited to: Hungarian, Romanian, Greek, Arabic, Carney, Latin, and Swahili.

Right now we are in Budapest (on the Pest side) Hungary, and despite the weather and first day fiasco, we are really enjoying this city. It reminds of Melbourne in many ways and makes me miss Australia. I know I had much more to say, but I cannot seem to remember it all, so I will leave you for now with the aformentioned anecdotes. Hope all is well with all.

A Beautiful Day In Bulgaria

Ahhhh ... Bulgaria. What a wonderful place. Splat and I arrived in Sofia, the capital, after a long night train from Istanbul. We stepped outside, took one look at the city, and decided to push on to a smaller town called Veliko Tarnovo. It was at this juncture in the trip that I experienced my first major culture shock. In Bulgaria, people shake their head side to side to indicate yes and up and down to signal no. Of course I am use to seeing the head go side to side and hearing the word "no," but this was not the case. It has been minorly confusing.

We have been doing the usual sight seeing, and a few days ago we saw a huge fortress that over looks the entire city. I really had to use the restroom, and my Bulgarian is rather shaky so I was not sure exactly which direction to turn. While I was snooping around I noticed a rather cute dog chained to a dog house in the middle of this fortress. The dog was tiny and didn't seem to pose any initial threat. I tried to tip-toe my way around it, and the bastard sprung at me and bit my leg! In retrospect, I guess I could have drop kicked the dog, but I am not a huge fan of animal abuse, so I took it like a man. Thank god that I had to get a tetanus shot before going to Africa.

In the meantime, Splat and I have decided to try out this website called couchsurfing.com, which places travelers with people who have open couches in a specific area. So far no one has worn our skin as a suit, so that is a huge positive. In fact, we have met some really friendly and interesting people. The travels continue as we head to Romania tomorrow, I will keep you posted. As they say in Bulgaria ... Daaaaa!

One For The Road

As Sarah and I were walking to the train station to board our train to Bulgaria, I was asked a question by a waiter which I had never been asked before. Let me preface this story by mentioning that it is not out of the ordinary for any of the people working in a restaurant to come outside and talk to passer byers. Normally the conversations range from local soccer teams to American politics. However, this waiter completely caught me off guard. After looking at Splat, he asked in his most curious voice, "How many camels did you have to give her family in order to obtain her?" My first reaction was a simple, "WHAT!" He then repeated the question slowly, "How many camels did it cost you for her?" The only response I could think of was telling the man, "You would not believe how many camels I had to part with ... and elephants too!" He seemed rather impressed by this answer and let us continue on our way.

Later that night, on the train, we were approached by the Bulgarian border patrol. They get on the trains that are traveling at night and check everyone's passport to make sure there are no stowaways. Of course, we had the only room on the train that didn't have a working light. This caused the security guys to come into our room to examine our passports. The first guy shines his light on Splat's passport and then on her face. He then says in English (with a heavy Bulgarian accent), "I believe this car is heaven and you are an angel!" After that, I don't even think it mattered that I was in the room. I could have been smuggling nuclear warheads, but it wouldn't have been a problem because the security guard liked my girlfriend.

I just wanted to get a few of these stories off my chest, before new and exciting ones come along. Hope everyone is doing well. Drop a message if you get a chance.

Turkish Delight ... Don't Mind If I Do

We arrived in İstanbul two days ago, and after three wonderful days here I am sorry that I have to say goodbye. The city, both old and new, is absolutely beautiful. The people have been extremely helpful and friendly (but not too friendly). We spent the first day mellowing out, although we dıd manage to go to the Giant Bazaar, a huge market where the prices start out astronomically high but always find a way to drop within reason (mainly after you have already decided you do not want the item).

We stayed right in the heart of old Istanbul, which is called Sultanahmet. All around us were beautiful mosques and huge palaces. I had the chance to see two or three extremely large mosques as well as the Topkapi Palace (the home of the Sultans of Swing). Imagine buildings that take up numerous city blocks, and seem to rise up into the heavens (the nondenominational heavens) and you have yourselves the mosques. We also took a tram into the newer more westernized part of Istanbul. There were shops everywhere selling everything from Nike gear to traditional Turkish fezzes. Perhaps the whole highlight of this new Istanbul excursion was the catfight I witnessed right in the middle of the street. Of course tepeeman does not condone fighting nor does he wish to see it happen, but these two twenty somethings had each other by the scalps and were yelling what I only believe could be the worst Turkish expletives at each other. A huge crowd gathered and it was a lot like the street fight in Rocky VI when Tommy Gunn thinks he can beat Rocky in a street fight. Anywho, it was exciting.

Today I spent around an hour in a Turkısh bath. It was quite an experience. I was handed a towel and told to follow this man that was speaking his slowısh Turkish (I didn't have the heart to tell him that no matter how slowly he spoke, I was never going to be able to understand Turkish). He takes me into this large sauna, and right away my glasses fog up. So now I can't see what is going on and the only directions I am receiving are being given to me in Turkish. Anyway, the guy leaves and I am now left with a bar of soap and a plastic bucket. I am trying to look at what the other guys in the room are doing, but my glasses are so fogged that I really have to squint to see anything. I think this really freaked out a lot of the older Turkish men who might have begun questioning my intentions for coming into the bath. I tried my best to make use of the soap and water, but I am still a little skeptical of my bathing ability. Hopefully my trip to the bathhouse won't end up as a segment on Turkey's Funniest Home Videos.

Next stop Bulgaria. Really looking forward to pushing on through Eastern Europe. I hope to post soon. Much love.

My Big Fat Greek Experience

Splat and I have not had much luck since arriving in Greece. While the city of Athens was beautiful and the island of Santorini has been wonderful, I am starting to doubt our chances of ever leaving here. We arrived in Athens on the 11th of February, and had planned on spending only a day or two exploring the sights. As it turned out, there was a transportation strike scheduled for the 13th. This meant that no trains, buses, or ferries, would be running on that day. Since we had planned on leaving Athens on the 13th to head to the islands, we were literally stuck. However, we realized that a few more days in Athens would allow us to map out the remainder of our journey and relax and unwind from the Africa trip. So on the 14th, we boarded an overnight ferry from Athens to the Greek island of Santorini. The ferry put us on the island at 4:30 in the morning on the 15th. We spent that day sleeping and enjoying the nice weather we had expected from an island getaway. As luck would have it, the 16th and 17th were not so nice. In fact, it is currently snowing in Athens and on the island (which it has historical done only twice in the minds of many of Santorini's residents). This of course may prolong our leaving the island since the ferries do not operate during bad weather. As of two o'clock this afternoon (the 17th) it is still undecided whether or not we will be leaving today. I guess this is all part of the experience of traveling on the other side of the world.

I have had plenty of time to reflect on the culture and the people of Greece, and although it may be a little premature, I am not thrilled with the hospitality or general attitudes of many of the Greek people we have encountered. I am not sure whether it is their attitudes towards Americans (a general give away when decked out in North Face attire), or whether passivity and politeness are traits that are frowned upon by a majority of European countries. Also, everyone (this is not an exaggeration) in Greece is a smoker. I believe it is customary for every child to receive a pack of cigarettes on their 2nd birthday. Right now I am sitting in an internet cafe and am forced to breathe the disgusting smoke infested air. This is not to say that I have not been forced to breathe the smoke infested air in every restaurant we have eaten in, the ferry we traveled to the island on, the bookstores, clothing stores, travel agencies, and generally every other public place we have walked into.

I am also in the process of checking into whether the words "excuse me," exist in Greek culture. Once I find out, I will be sure to let you all know. On a positive note, we have met a few nice people. Yesterday, Splat and I attempted to walk about 18 km to the town of Oia (ee-ah). This is a town in Santorini that offers the best view of the island. About an hour into our walk the sky darkened and the rain began to fall. We were forced to turn around and head back towards the place we were staying. It was a far walk, and my numerous attempts to hitch a ride had been unsuccessful. Just when I was about to give up, a nice lady and her mother picked us up off the side of the road. They were more than willing to drop us off in the middle of the town where we were staying. It felt good to know that there were some hospitable people here on the island.

I hope to figure out soon where and when I will be heading to my next destination. As soon as I figure it out I will be sure to let you all know. Hope all is well. Take care.

The Purpose of a Blog

Looking back on the past two weeks, I have come to understand the purpose of keeping a blog. In the techno-savvy world in which we live, a blog is a great way to keep family, friends, and the occasional internet predator, informed of my whereabouts and adventures. With that said, I apologize for the delay in my blogging activity.

As of this morning, I have begun the European leg of my trip. Instead of paying for food in lion's teeth and mosquito repellent, I now must buy food in the absurdly expensive euro. Despite such cultural setbacks, I am finding Greece quite enjoyable.

I will now attempt to summarize the past two weeks in Africa...

When I last wrote, I was in a rather nice town in the center of Namibia. The town, Swapkamound, is on the outskirts of the Namib desert. Splat and I were able to ride quads/4 wheelers/ATVs through the sand dunes of the desert. It was an awesome experience, and one that I would definitely do again.

Once we left the Namib desert we headed north to Etosha national park. It is the Africa's largest national park at almost 24,000 square km. It was this trip through Etosha that helped me compose "My top 10 reasons for Lasik eye surgery." These are as follows:

10. I could not see the giraffe
9. I could not see the oryx
8. I could not see the aardwolf
7. I could not see the kudu
6. I could not see the zebra
5. I could not see the blue wildebeest
4. I could not see the damara dik-dik
3. I could not see the warthogs
2. I could not see the European bee-eater
1. I could not see the lion

Although the prescription of my eyeglasses may help those people with good eyesight to see the moon from earth, I have had a hard time spotting some of the more mystical pieces of Africa.

After the national park, we crossed the border into Botswana. Our first night in Botswana was spent at a campground where local bushmen danced traditional dances for us. I was so inspired by the singing and dancing that I joined in. I will try to paint a picture of this experience in words, but I am sure I will not be able to do it justice. It is me and three men (who are wearing nothing but fig leafs over their crotches) dancing around a small fire. They have these shells wrapped around their legs which make shaker noises each time their feet hit the ground. The whole time I am trying to keep pace with them, and I am guessing that the guy behind me felt bad for me because no matter how hard I stomped my legs they were not making any noise, so to compensate he hands me a huge ostrich feather. All of a sudden this 60 year old bushwomen hops into our circle dance. Either she was so overwhelmed by the music or the fact that a white guy like me has such rhythm, she begins to shake uncontrollably. The three guys start taking the hot ambers and the ash from the fire and start rubbing it on her. I have no idea what is going on at this point, and believed that I was taking part in exorcism, so I start to fan the woman as hard as I can with the ostrich feather. By the time the dance was over, the lady was covered in soot and I had soiled myself. It was an awesome experience.

After Botswana we headed to Zimbabwe. Sarah and I threw ourselves off a three hundred foot bridge, which was a rush. We then drove 16 hours straight from Zimbabwe to South Africa. That is the much much abridged version of my time in Africa, and I am sure once the pictures get developed or uploaded, I can fill in the numerous pieces of the story that are missing.

Hope everyone is doing well. I miss and love you all, and will keep this blog thing going strong.

I am the Lion King

After much deliberation I have decided to end the blog formerly known as Pierre In, and start a new blog that chronicles the highlights of my travels through Africa and Europe. For those of you wondering how this change will impact my writing, we will just have to wait and see.

I arrived in Cape Town, South Africa on the 18th of January and spent most of the day just lounging around our hostel in an attempt to familiarize myself with the place. Cape Town looks a lot like most cities built near the ocean, and I would say that its architecture and set up is very closely related to that of San Francisco. It took only the first night for me to realize that I should be more careful when reading the reviews people write about accommodations in Cape Town. If I had paid more attention to these reviews I would have noticed that the one I chose had a tendency to be noisy on the weekends. Seeing as we arrived on a Friday, the next two nights were spent tossing restlessly as African adolescents partied below us until 5 in the morning. Needless to say, I am still trying to catch up on my sleep.

Finally on Sunday morning we met up with the overland tour group and guide we would be traveling with for the next three weeks. Our group is a United Nations-esque mix of people. Those who have come as far as Korea and those who have come from the not as far of Switzerland. I have been practicing my Swiss-German but it is not a functionally sound as my Korean. I look forward to talking to all of you in a foreign tongue when I return home.

We spent the first two days of the tour working our way north through South Africa. On the third day we had to pass through the Namibian border. After the ritual circumcision, I was cleared through customs; however, I felt like Namibia had taken a little away from me. I should mention at this point that our tour is a camping tour, and at night it is Sarah and my responsibility to set up our tent. The first few days were fine, and I believe that we may have even beaten an old German WWII record for fastest tent ever assembled. However, after a few days of pitching the tent, we made the executive decision to just sleep in our sleeping bags on the ground. Not only did this save us time, but it allowed us to be up close and personal with some of the African wildlife, especially the jackals.

I have a plethora of exciting adventures I want to relate, but am pondering the proper way to express my excitement of them. For instance, I was fortunate enough to hike through the dunes of the Namib Desert (that's right - open google map!!!) Our desert guide was a local Namibian man named Franz (don't ask me how his parents came up with that). I learned a lot about the formation of the dunes, and even had the chance to jump down the side of a dune cliff. I felt like surviorman sans camera crew and any outdoors experience (except for the three overnights I did with Brad and Laurie at summer camp).

Of course there have been other highlights, too many to mention without getting carpal tunnel in my fingers. Once we enter Europe it will be much easier for me to access the internet and give everyone reading this a detailed account of my life.

I will leave you with the story of a young Jewish bushman, who in order to become a man in the eyes of his tribe, had to go out into the desert and spear the much feared and highly sought after gifilte fish. After many days the boy had not found the fish, and he began to feel disheartened. How could he return to the tribe without the fish? He pondered a solution for many days and many nights, until waking one morning with a solution. In his haste to return to the village and tell his people how he had fought off the wild Caananite dog, the gifilte fish's biggest predator, he did not leave time for his bread to leaven. When the bushman returned his people ignored his story but marveled at his creation of the newest African food ... matzah.

Hope everyone is well. Much love, I will write more soon.