MERRY CHRISTMAS TO ALL!

Well my friends, I arrived in Seattle today, Wednesday, at 1130AM, officially ending the Thai saga. After a brief scare with my airline ticket, I cleared immigration and paid the fine for my overstay, and hopped on a plane at 9am local time. I am so thankful and relieved that this has all come to an end. Thanks again for your thoughts and prayers, surely they were heard as this is no less than a miracle.

I hope you all have Merry Christmas and Happy New Year! Look forward to hearing from you in the days to come!

Blake

CHRISTMAS COMES EARLY

The day in court today was just as we prayed it would be.....I received a 2 year suspended sentence with the decision was returned around 1230pm, my passport was returned, and my immigration block was lifted was so I depart the country. And I was able to change my flight home to 23 Dec at no extra charge. So I thank God for answering all our prayers and them some, and I thank you for your thoughts and prayers the past month or so. I look forward to seeing and talking to you all in the coming days and on into the New Year.

Thanks, and God bless

blake

THE COURT DATE AWAITS

Alrite my friends......The waiting game, for now at least, is nearly over. The documents are in, the translations finished, the plan of attack is determined, and let contingency plans are set.......On Monday, the 20th, I go to court at 9am. This court appearance is not really a trial, but rather it is intended as a time for the judge to ensure both sides are ready to proceed, and to confirm that the defendent (me) still maintains a Not Guilty plea. My plan right now is to change my plea to guilty for a number of reasons: 1) It feels like the morally right thing to do given that I did take the bike; 2) my lawyer feels my chances of a suspended sentence are greater than my chances of a not guilty verdict; 3) if i plea not guilty, I could end up waiting until 2006 for a trial, and be stuck in thailand until then; 4) My strongest defense lies in my background, settlement with victim, and reference letters, not in fighting my guilt. So, assuming I plead guilty, the judge would then take anywhere from 1 hour to 1 week to decide my sentence. My hope is to get my sentence suspended, in which case I could leave Thailand within a few days or weeks (depending on return of passport, clearing immigration, etc). If the sentence is not suspended, I could request bail while awaiting an appeal. If I don't request bail, or it is denied, I'll be going straight to jail. Regardless, if I do get sentenced, I will appeal. The appeal would be decided upon in around 3-12 months (nice, right?) and then whatever decision made there would be final. The downside to being out on bail during the appeal process is that any sentence remaining after the appeal would start upon receiving the appeal decision, while if I am not on bail all the time in jail counts towards it. So obviously there are a lot of unknowns and variables in the equation, but we've talked through everything and weighed the options, and prepared our best case, and now hope and pray for the best result.

My parents came out here last weekend, and are staying through 22 Dec. While I didn't ask them to come, I extremely thankful to them for being here. It could even help my case, as parents have high status here, especially in a matter of this nature. Although just having the company and not being alone is comforting enough.

I certainly appreciate your prayers during the next few days.....for me, my lawyer, and for the judge to be a merciful person. Whatever comes of this all, I'm certain someday I'll be able to look back on it and know that good came of it.

All the best to you, and i certainly hope and pray this isn't the last you hear of me for a year or so! If everything comes out roses, its still possible I make it back to the states for at least part of the holidays. In any event, I'll post to the blog the outcome of this all, and email you again if I am free and clear. Thanks also for the kind words of support during the last two months, they were and are much appreciated.

Have a Merry Christmas, and Happy New Year.....and I still hope to be able to tell you in person!

Blake

THAI TRIAL UPDATE

My first 12 days on the outside after getting bail were quiet enjoyable. I had three days to hang out with Niall before he took off to Laos, and met up with two other jokers from Korea as well, Cozzie and Alex. Got a day in kayaking on the river, which is harder than I thought it would be, and I ended up spending a good bit of time underwater-upsidedown kayaking. Fortunately, didn't scrape bottom or head butt any rocks.

Since then I've been fortunate to meet some great people here who have helped me out in every way. Katherine is a wonderful woman who works with foreigners in the prisons in Chiang Mai and Bangkok as well on occasion. She has helped me out from the start. Paul has been here for 20 years working through various churchs and organizations, and he has introduced me to others and kept me involved in things going on around here. I have been putting my new Thai cooking skills to work, and made up some green curry from scratch and chicken with cashew nut for a group of 5 at Paul's house this past Monday. I've got a few other cheffing appointments set up to round out my skills. Still looking for a football team to join up with, but getting back in shape by running and working out in the meantime. So I've kept productively busy, avoiding the endless hours of mind numbing thought that could come at a time like this. I've spent a good deal of time on the Internet, emailing, messing around, and chatting, and on the phone with my parents.

So, things got rolling again on Tuesday. I went to court expecting a formality type occasion with the prosecution requesting a 12 day delay. Much to our surprise they were ready to go forward with the case. So after getting this news around 415pm, we rushed upstairs for the appearance in front of the judge to enter a plea. Also in the room were some 10 others, some getting sentenced, some entering pleas, and others being told to wait 12 more days. And of course it was all in Thai, so I've no clue whats going on. When my turn came, I stood and said Not Guilty after the prompt from my lawyer. Basically this just buys us time to sort out our plan and defense. The next court date is 20 December. Now, if I maintain a Not Guilty plea, it will probably be a year or more until the case goes before a judge. During which I would have to remain in Thailand, providing my bail is honored by the court. If I go to Guilty, then I would receive a sentence the same day or shortly thereafter. The sentence could range from 2 years in prison to a suspended sentence that allows me to go home to deportation, effectively the same thing.

So there you have it. I have certainly learned a lot through all this, and I am sure this experience will someday be seen as a pivotal time in my life. I hope and pray that it will be a 2 month experience, and not a 2 year & 2 month experience. But thats out of my control, and I'll be trusting God either way. So I ask your continued prayers for me in this situation. And keep in touch on the email, always good to hear from everyone.

b

GOOD TRAVELS GONE WRONG

Cheers all,

This is not a post I had hoped or planned to make at any time during my travels, or my life for that matter, but alas, here it is. Two weeks ago, 22 October, I brought some problems upon myself here in Chiang Mai, Thailand. It started out quiet enough, walking through the night bazaar drinking Thai whiskey and coke, then off to a few bars for a couple beers. By the time the mid morning came around, I was pretty out of my mind, and not so aware of it. So when we came across a motorscooter parked with the key in the ignition, I went for a joyride. I can't really say I though it would be this or that, because I don't really have a sober thought in me at the time. Anyway, I rode around the block and back to my Guest House, a few blocks away, where I was promptly confronted by the owners and the then police, and arrested for stealing the motorbike. I tried to explain I had no interest in stealing in, that I was drunk and just, stupidly enough, went for a ride, but it was to no avail. I was handcuffed, taken to the police station, questioned, and then tossed into the cell.

This was about 5am or so by now. Around 1030am by friend Niall found me at the police station. I still had no idea what the whole affair was going to entail. Later that day, one of the police men there told Niall I should be out within 2-3 days. More questioning that night. The next day, Sunday, I found out I might be in a bit more of a tight spot than I imagined. Monday this was confirmed, as I talked to a Kiwi lady, Katherine, who works in a prison outreach ministry for foreigners in Chiang Mai. She gave me the straight scoop, and I knew I was going to need a lawyer.

Alrite, I'll cut out a good bit of the time here, as I will post it in detail sometime in the next few days. Last Thursday, 13 days later, I was about 10 minutes from being taken to the prison and locked up until the case went to court. Thankfully, and in answer to loads of prayers, my lawyer secured my release on bail at the last moment, so now I am out on bail, awaiting the court case.

As it stands now, the court action should start up sometime late November early or early December. The options in the court case range from me being sent home, i.e. deported, to spending some time in prison here in Chiang Mai. The uncertainty and lack of transparency prevents any reasonable analysis at this point. Its pretty tough to put to words the shame, embarrassment, and disappointment (in myself) that I feel at this point. But 13 days in the hole gives you a bit of time to think, and I've got my head in one piece. At this point, I am praying and trusting in God, that everything will work out for the good. And there are lots of others doing the same. I do appreciate your thoughts and prayers while I work through this. I had quiet of stack of emails awaiting me last night, many of which, ironically enough, wished me safe and happy travels. As I'll be having some spare time now, I will work on getting back to all of you individually. I will put the details of this whole affair on the blog sometime, and will keep you all posted on any developments. All the best to everyone. Blake

TREKKING ON

Back to the blogging after a well earned rest, too much typing and I just might get one of those "sydromes."

The first few days in Thailand were spent in Bangkok, doing laundry, uploading photos, sorting out flights, and all the other less glamourous aspects of this adventure. Also met up with my new travelling companion, Niall, fresh out of Korea. Took off for the island Ko Samet for 4 days while Niall was off in Hong Kong helping the Seoul Gaels successfully defend the All Asian Gaelic Championship. A small island chosen solely for its easy and cheap access from Bangkok, it met the goal of chilling out and doing nothing. Not many other options were available. The weather was a bit moody, tossing in daily storms resulting in the loss of electricity the first two nights and rain the whole of the third day. Regardless, I sat around, read some, watched some movies that don't deserve mention, and hung out in the beachside bar for a few drinks.

Back to Bangkok and met up with Niall. Messed about there for another 2 days awaiting the return of his Vietnam visa. Nothing much to report here, just the usual Bangkok shuffle, dealing with mad tuk tuk drivers, buzzing through the night markets, getting harrassed by every pusher of something on the streets, and trying to sort out watching football matches after closing time. Yes, for all its craziness, most establishments in Bangkok close at 2am. And if you ask a tuk tuk driver to take you to a joint that has the football on the tele, he'll take you to the same one the tuk tuk driver the night before took you when you asked for a place that had cold beer but without working women.

Flew up north to Chaing Mai on, uh, Thursday I think. Yeah. Found a place to stay on the outside of the moat, yes, the city has a full fledged 4km square moat around it. Went out for some pool and darts, talked to some joker Americans and Brits who have been in Thailand way too long, and stayed away from the lady boys. Friday we got in touch with a local trek guide, who came highly recommended from Chris, who had gone trekking with him back in June. Too easy, conducted negotiations at a street side foodcart vendor over a few beers. Set out the next morning.

First stop on the way out to the hills was the local market, where Anan stocked up on food for the next 4 days and we cringed at the sight of bugs, innards, and other such marvels that exist in the local diet. We were dropped off at the designated location, ate lunch, and then set off up the hills into the forest. The first 2 hours were spent hiking up rather steep hills, with Anan cutting half a path with a machete, and us sorting out for ourselves the other half. Luckily, Anan claimed to have spent the last three weeks doing nothing but drinking and smoking, so many rest stops taken. At some points along the way, our fearless leader appeared a bit confused, uncertain, but didnt yield his confidence, so we trekked on. To make a 4 hour story a bit shorter, we ended up in the same place we started at, none the better save for all the energy spent. Anyway, he fell back on a Thai proverb, and came up with an alternative plan, and we took a truck to the elephant and rafting camp on the river, which was to have been our third nights stay. Anan the chef cooked up some eats, and we spent the evening playing cards and chatting in our bamboo hut facing the river.

First up on day 2 was an elephant ride, which was different enough, but would have been better if it was more of a trek than a 30 minutes down the road and 30 minutes back sort of affair. But I have an elephant ride under my belt, another block checked off. The days trekking took us through some amazing forest/jungle vegetation, sticking to a path the first half of the way, and following a river hopping on the rocks for most of the second. It wasnt til I was well confident hopping the rocks with the pack on that I had a false step and went for a splash. Sometime in the afternoon we arrived at our destination, a Shan hilltribe village. The Shan tribe came south into Thailand from China about 45 years ago to escape persecution. The Thai government leaves them alone for the most part, but the don't have any rights as Thai citizens, don't own their land, and don't have any government assitance. How they expect them to prosper under such an arrangement is beyond me. Maybe they just want to protect the trekking market, so they have to keep the villages in order. Anyway. The place was unspectacular other than the location, bamboo huts for living, dirt roads/paths, chickens, roosters, pigs, dogs, cats, kids moving about all over the place. We went for a stroll and ended up getting a tour from two kids, about 6 and 3 in age or so. They showed us how to make whistles out of grass, fed us some leaves, and never stopped impressing us with their English. They talked constantly, limited to their knowledge of the word "hello". Dinner was cooked up by the family we were staying with, and afterwards the village leader joined us, sort of, as we played cards and sat around. He showed us some village tricks and a bit about their way of life.

Day three started magnificiently as I stepped out the hut to find I was now on a mountain island, an oasis above the clouds floating below us. A few other peaks here and there, but for the most part floating on a bed of clouds. After a deliberately slow start, we set off for the next day along a real road until we reached a Budhist Lahu village. Arrived just in time to get into our lunching hut before the rains came, the chef whipped up some fried rice and fruits in our hosts hut. After coffee and more card playing, either rummy or loser, we set off again. We added one man to the trek, "The Doctor", so named for the thoroughness of his kit bag. We could see the destination, a Christian Lahu village, across the valley, but the hike went around instead of down and up. Two hours later and just outside the village we came upon the best shower in the forest, a nice waterfall with a half bamboo shoot to get the whole shower effect. After a good scrub we hiked up in flip flops, a bit of a mistake, but made it nonetheless. Moved into our hut, and half the village seemed to join us. Our man Anan is quite the legend there, for whatever reason, so we had a whole crew waiting on us and cooking green curry for dinner. The hut sat above the village, and offered a stuning view into the valley and the ridgeline in front of the setting sun. After dinner we received an in hut entertainment show, with the young girls from the school/church in full garb doing a singing and dancing performance. Quite an experience, really. After that we chilled out, played cards, attempted conversation via hand signals and gestures with The Doctor, and so it went. The ambience was heightened by the chorus and rythmes of the forest at night, which vividly reminded me of a non-verbal performance, where the performers make sounds out of random objects.

Day four we set off for the road where we came in at, or roughly that area. The trekking again involved making your own path, but was mostly downhill, thankfully. The final leg of the journey was a raft ride down the river, starting at the camp from Day 1. It consisted of about 1 minute of white water rapids, and 59 minutes of gently floating down the stream. No complaints about that. Cruised back into Chaing Mai in a jeep, and that was that. Great times, 4 days with no electricity, eating by candlelight, chilling but not talking with the villagers, beautiful forests and vegatation, and none of the madness from the cities.

Another 4 days here in Chaing Mai, awaiting Laso visas, then up north for a few more in Thailand before jumping to Laos.

BACK TO BANGKOK

Three months and 23 days after departing Bangkok en route to Lisbon, I am back in Bangkok after a 44hr journey that involved a 6hr bus from Prague to Berlin, a 2.5 hr walk thru Berlin to the airport in the dead of the night, 4 hr wait at the Berlin airport, flight to Amsterdam, 4 hr layover, 11 hr flight to Bangkok, and 1.5hr bus ride to Khao San Rd. So here I am, chilling for a day before heading down to Ko Samet, 3hrs to the south. There I will as much of nothing as possible for 4 days before heading back to Bangkok to meet up with Niall and fly north to Chaing Mai on 14 Oct or so.

Prague is a great city, probably the most photogenic city I've been too. The old areas the wrap the Vlatva River are in excellent condition, and the history of it all is overwhelming. Obviously though, it is immensely overtouristed, the majority of the people on the streets in the city are tourists, but what would you expect.

So the European travels are now complete. Without doubt, Turkey was the best place for traveling. It combined a wide range of sights and diverse natural beauty with the experience of feeling of being in a different place, with a different culture that Europe cannot match. My travel plan was to go to Eastern Europe, as in different than Europe, but for the most part, it is better catergorized as Central Europe, or the eastern side of Europe, as it not much different than the western bit, just a few years back in the developmental process. Even Romania, much further behind the rest, is just a poorer version of Europe. Not until Turkey did things change in a drastic way, and there, most the change was in the Eastern half. Traveling through a culturally distinct land is much more interesting than plodding through Europe to see all the sights. Just walking through a Turkish city can be interesting enough. So thanks to Chris for injecting the Turkish into the travels. Of course, I wish I could have hit Croatia and the Balkans, more of Czech and Hungary, and Poland, but there is never enough time and money for everything.

The general plan for the next 10 weeks is to head to Chaing Mai and northern Thailand for two weeks, then east in Laos for about two weeks, traveling south and east into Vietnam, journey through the southern half of Vietnam, then cut into Cambodia up through the killing fields and Ankar Wat before returning to Thailand.

EASTERN TURKEY ADVENTURES

I touched on life in the Kurdish village a bit in a prior post, but it deserves a bit more. Set 10km off the lake and at the foot of Mt. Nemrut, its obviously in the middle or nowhere. Why a village was established there, I have no idea. Irregardless, it now contains about 150 of each people, sheep, goats, turkey, chickens, cows, you name it, all having more or less free reign. Other than village houses and barns, the only building in the village is the mosque, one of which you can find in EVERY village and town in Turkey, no matter the size. The village people are farmers primarily. In the words of Mehmet "We work 2 months a year and spend 10 months a year sitting and eating." I guess that explains how people can be overweight on a diet of bread, cheese, and vegatables.

The oddest thing about the village is the complete disregard for improving their quality of life. Men stand around smoking and joking, that is their apparent profession. Kids messing around doing not much anything. Women keep up with the requirements of daily life. Meanwhile, the village is littered with garbage and stagnant animal excretions. Plumbing into the houses is by a hose sitting on the dirt roads and "front yards". Plumbing out is by a oh so minimal trench that reaches a ditch by the road and sits around. The toilet is an absolute disgrace - even compared to toilets in ancient remains in Turkey. I think 1 week of work could turn the village from a mess into a respectable place. But there's tea to be drank, smokes to be smoked, and for whatever reason, it isn't a priority in the least.

The most amusing, in some ways, and frightening, in other ways, happening in the village during our stay was the second night of the village wedding celebration. We went down before dinner to check out the festivities, and were promptly mobbed by about 10 village kids. Feeling a bit odd about stealing the show from the bride and groom, we didn't stay long. We made it back down later after dinner. As mentioned, the first nights celebration jarred us awake with the sound of gunshots. That should have served as a warning. Walking up, we could see about 100 villagers singing and dancing, with complete DJ get-up and singers on the mike, this time dancing together instead of the junior high segregation of the previous night. Our approach was suddenly interrupted as the village joker unloaded a clip from an AK-47, no more than 10m from us, straight up into the air. And I mean straight up. The clip contained a few tracers, and they few right up over us and the crowd. The man made no attempt to shoot away from the masses. I guess falling bullets are not dangerous in Turkey. Anyway, this debacle was repeated with about 3 more clips, once right from the center of the dancing circle, and again straight up. At least the man who emptied his pistol clip had the sense to fire towards the empty field. Needless to say, I didnt feel to comfortable picturing the newspaper headline "American tourist killed by falling bullets at Kurdish wedding in Turkey." But we got out alrite, as did the rest, as far as we know.

While at the village we made a hard core trek through Mt Nemrut, which was a decent mountain and is now an enourmous volcanic crater with a pair of lakes within. The trek would be about 15km from end to end, and we knew we were tough enough.....or at least the Fiat Doblo would be. Our trekking would be contained to hiking from the road to the lake, from the road to a peak 50m away, etc. There was just no sense in being a tough guy and beating feet when you have a car at your disposal. And there was no way to see the whole thing on foot unless you have camping gear and a few nights to spare. The lake was beautiful indeed, the crater impressive in its size, probably 7-8km in diameter. Everything was pristine, and other than a few Army jokers messing around to avoid having to do real work, something I know a little about, we had it to ourselves. From the more manageable peak we did actually walk to, we had a great view of the crater and lakes on one side and Lake Van and surrounding mountains on the other. Great day, thanks to the Fiat.

Said our farewells to Mehmet and family and set off for Dogubayazit (also known to us as doggie biscuit, doogie boogie, or anything else that sounds remotely like it) traveling to the north and east around Lake Van. The lake is just big enough that you aren't sure if its mountains or clouds on the opposite side. The landscape around the lake is desolate and mountainous, leaving a jagged and uneven shoreline. The highway jugged the shore the whole way, so it was an enjoyable ride. A few km after making the turn north away from the lake and towards DG, we came upon a waterfall. Not expecting much due to the little volume of water in the adjacent stream, and not seeing anything on our first pass through, we nearly jetted off. But figuring there was nothing better to do, we doubled back and found it. To our surprise, even in the driest season, it was still impressive. Check the photos. Continuing on we drove parallel to the same stream, flowing in a 10m deep and 20m wide canyon that cut through the otherwise plain terrain of rolling lifeless hills and interspersed plains. Nothing of which was green, and contained to trees. In fact, it had been since olympos that we'd seen any trees. And the only green was in the irrigated farmland. Continuing on, we cut through a town that is only 5km from the Iranian border. Unfortunately, we did not come across any signs with an arrow and IRAN on it. Would have made a good counterpart to the BATMAN sign. (Speaking of, how does a place with names like Diyarbakir, Hasankeyf, Sanliurfa, Dogubayazit, and Yusufeli, end up with a town named BATMAN??????)

Through the vast hills and valleys, passing small village after small village, we hit the top of one hill to see the peak of Mt. Ararat staring at us. Quite impressive, a mountian of 5147m, 3100m above the surrounding terrain, with a snow capped peak, in the midst of brown hills, brown grass, and dusty towns. We wound through the valley toward the mountain, passed through some interesting hills of exposed red rock, and eventually arrived in the wonderfully charming Army town of Doogie midafternoon. Other than the immediate presence of the Mt and nearby Ishi Palace, the town is about as plain as they come. Like most towns we had drived through, it is nearly impossible to spot a woman on the street. Men are everywhere to be seen, primarily engaged in idle conversation, tea drinking, playing backgammon, staring at foreigners driving through the town, or some combination thereof. Of 200 or so people passed, maybe you spot 5 woman, and usually they are bustling to get somewhere with kids in tow. I guess they must be back at the house doing the real work.

After sorting out a hotel, we drove up to the Ishi Palace. Seems some wealthly joker about in the 18th century built himself a dream palace. Situated on the hillside overlooking the vast valley and distant mountains, the palace served to real, legitimate purpose. Walking through we came across dungeons, a large courtyard, a fabulous dining room, a harem hall and four harem rooms off it, the king bedroom and bathroom, and a few more random rooms. What is remarkable is that it had central heating, and the best looking toilet yet in Eastern Turkey. Why they can't replicate those feats now I don't know. Afterwards we hit the cafe higher up on the hill for a beer while pondering these questions and enjoying the famous "postcard" view of the palace and valley below. Leaving there we set off for the petrol station and the ensuing shock of spending a vast fortune, 110,000,000TL (a bit more manageable, yet still expensive, when converted to dollars - $70), to fill up the Fiat. Then we hit the plains at the foot of Mt. Ararat to toss some frisbee during the sunset. Its quite possible that is the first frisbee ever to be tossed at the foot of Mt Ararat. Who knows.

Next morning we set off for Kars, 200km to the north. Along the way we passed the first "nice" looking village of the road trip. Set in a valley between large barren hills, its contained a marginal amount of green grass, had a repeating "S" shaped stream running through it, and looked as if the people actually cared out the state of their affairs. That we were so impressed by it revealed a bit about the state of the other villages. Continuing on, we passed alongside the Armenian border. Judging by what we could see, I don't want to visit Armenia. I took a photo looking across into Armenia, and a few hours later, while sorting thru the pics, it took me a good few seconds to realize why I took a picture of basically nothing.

We arrived into the modern village of Kars in the afternoon. As mentioned before, the "modern" moniker comes from the facts that women are allowed out and about, usually without headscarves, and that the city is situated in a grid system instead of general chaos. But for this credit goes to the Russians, who controlled and built the city while they occupied the area from 1870-1920 or so. Other than a castle on the hill overlooking the city and the vast nothingness beyond it, and a 1000 year old Armenian church, it was rather uneventful. Dissapointingly so, because, for the first time since Fethiye and Olympos, Lonely Planet actually had an Entertainment center for the city. So we went to the one place mentioned, which it claimed to be a cafe/club that played music and where women were welcome. Unfortunately, it was only us and a few local guys. Guess thursday night is not the big night.

The drive from Kars led north near the Georgian border, then cut west to our destination town of Yusufeli. The familiar landscape of large open valleys and desolate mountains/hills prevailed for the first 100km or so. Then, after cutting around behind a group of hills, we were welcomed by green trees growing on the hills and a stream below. A very welcome sight. 5 days of various shades of brown gets a bit old. Another 50km or so of interspersed trees as we climbed and climbed. Upon reaching the summit, we parked the Fiat to take some pics. Then we had the brilliant idea to see to toss some rocks onto the steep slope and see how far they would bounce and roll. That ended quickly upon seeing the shepard emerge from below with a shout of warning. A quick escape ensued. Driving down we saw he was attending to a rather large flock of sheep on the steep mountainside just out of our line of sight. Sorry, man. The drive from the bottom of the pass to the town was brilliant, winding through a jagged, rocky, mountainous landscape along the banks of a mighty but mild river. The majority of the canyon was probably no more than 40m wide, with the rocks going straight up on each side a good 50m or so. And thus it continued for the next 150km until reaching Yusufeli.

We stayed in Yusufeli for the last two nights in Turkey. The town is nice enough, resting on each side of the same river we followed on the drive. Our hotel was right on the side, giving us a nice view and putting us well within earshot of it. Our activities in Yusufeli consisted of: hitting a restaurant for some eats and nostalgic, end of the road beers, marveling at the presence of a female wait staff, the first in Turkey, driving 15km up the canyon into the mountains before the road became a bit to rough for the Fiat (which isnt saying much) and turning around, providing a lift for a local man back to the town on our way back, and hitting the same restaurant for a few more nostalgic beers and intense political debate the second night. A good low key way to wrap up the Turkish adventures.

Saturday drove down to Ezurum to catch a flight. In a journey of an 1 1/2 hour flight, a 18 hour train, a 14 hour train, and a 10 hour train, one would expect the flight to be the easiest and most enjoyable. One would be wrong. The tiny airport has no gates, only one door passengers go through to get to the tarmac and up the steps into the plane. Probably no more than 8 flights per day go from this airport. Yet in a stroke of brilliance Turkish Airlines and Onur Airlines both have 1640 flights to Istanbul. This completely overloads the remarkably thorough security capabilities and the ensuing waiting area. I made it to the waiting area at 1620. The Turkish Airlines flight boarded at 1710. Apparently they have a "no missed flight guarentee", because the attendents basically had to hand hold everyone to the plane, and jokers were still casually strolling through the security at 1720. Excellent. My flight boarded at 1730, and took off some 30 minutes later. In another stroke of brilliance, they board the plane from front and rear, but make no distinction between where your seat is and where you enter. So the aisleway becomes a two lane road, further confusing the whole affair. Anyway, I didnt arrive in Istanbul until 2000, instead of 1820, leaving me a bit more crunched than desired for my 2300 train, or so I thought it was.

Took a cab to the Sultanhamet hostal where I had left my Eastern Europe guidebook on faith and the word of the resident employee. In typical Istanbul fashion, it was nowhere to be found when I returened to claim it. Sorry, dude. Down to the train station, but only after feasting on Burger King, and found my train left at 2200. No bother. Hit the market, got some McDs for the rails, and was off. As I had a whole compartment to myself, the train journey was rather pleasant, except for the Sultan's Revenge, which was still haunting me.

Arrived in Bucarest at 1730 the next day, and got a ticket for the 2137 train to Budapest. Over the next 4 hours I split time between the McDonalds seating area and the toilet inside. Not the most enjoyable layover. The train ride again was easy enough, again with a compartment to myself.

Into Budapest at 1030 in the morning, sorted out a train to Prague leaving at 1940 and arriving at 533. Figured a day in Budapest and night on the train was better than a day on the train and a late night arrrival into Prague. Priorities for Budapest: get some food to stabilize the system, hit up a Thermal bath to get rid Turkishmen scent I had begun to acquire after 2 1/2 days of no shower, and update the blog. 3 for 3, so far at least, i guess i'll have to wait and see about hte success of the first objective.

OUT WITH THE TURK

The trot around turkey comes to an end today with a flight from Ezurum to Istanbul and train at 11pm from Istanbul to Bucharest. If all goes well, will arrive Bucharest at 530pm Sunday, and jump on to the 650pm train from Budapest, arriving at 900am on Monday. From there another 8hrs or so should get me into Prague. Total travel time is going to be pushing 48 hours. I can't wait.

Overall great times for the past 4 weeks in Turkey. Now its time to move on.

ROAD TRIP CONTINUES

Alrite, we survived village life and the AK47 wedding parties, cruised north and east around Lake Van, checked out a waterfall in the middle of an arrid landscape, cruised within 5km of Iran and Armenia, tossed disc at the foot of Mt Ararat, drank a beer above a palace overlooking DoggieBiscuit, continued on north to Kars, and are now hanging in this "modern" town, which means that women can come out in public and actually has a quasi-nightclub. Details later.

More pics posted, a few turned out nicely. Especially the toilet shot.

ROAD TRIP

The Sultan's Revenge had caught up with both Chris and I by the time with left Urfa. Eating traditional Turkish style can do that to you. So, upon arrival in Diyarbakir, we were quite happy to discover a Burger King mere blocks from our hotel. So to BK we went, lunch and dinner on Saturday, then again lunch on Sunday. Three meals in a row. If that can't stop the sultan, nothing can.

Picked up our wheels after the BK in Diyar, and set out off to enjoy the freedom and comfort, no longer having to travel with 18 unhygenic others in a 12 passenger van. First stop was.....BATMAN. And the only stop was to take a pic of the entering Batman sign. No sign of Robin or the bat cave. On through and down into Hasankeyf. The old city is situated on top of a plateau and cut into the rocks above the Tigris River. The new city is below jsut above the banks of the river. Much like Cappadocia with dwellings and criss cross stairways cut into the rocks, and a whole stone town ontop the plateau, all dating to about 14th century. Interesting thing here is that some day soon, upon completion of more dams, the whole city will disappear underwater. Get there while you can.

Back to the road, portable tunes blaring, with a fresh supply of sunflower seeds. Gotta have 'em. Our Fiat block, similar i think to a honda element, is gutless but spacious, complete with AC. Winding through the roads, most of which are under construction as the Turks have decided to expand all the two lane roads to 4 lane highways, aparently all at the same time, enjoying the newly relaxing traveling environment. Around 6pm we roll into our destination, Tatvan, at the banks of Lake Van. We had an accomodation connection near Tatvan from our man Aziz in Urfa, so we set out to call Mehmet. While I was dialing, none other than Mehmet himself introduces himself to Chris. Sorted. His son jumped in with us and wet off for their place about 30k away. 20k down the highway, I'm told to turn left where it appears to be nothing but a 10 foot bank. Ahh, believe me, Ahkim says, and sure enough a steep slope led to the dirt road. Its dark now, and we went about 10k deep into the middle of nowhere to find the village where he lived. Only traffic on the way were three donkey carts pulling full of tobacco.

The village boasts a population of 150 or so. No exact data is available. Their house has a kitchen/social room, and we pull up a cushion on the floor rug for some tea. Nature called, so I enquired about the facilities. I have never seen such a dodgy "toilet" in my life. A 3ft by 3ft wood shack with a concrete floor, and a 5 inch diameter PVC pipe in the middle. And a bucket of water outside for flushing. Nice one. Anyway. A bit later we cruised on down to a wedding celebration. Day 2 of the celebration, the day before the wedding. First off I could see a "tent" with music cranking and loads of village men dancing. Figured the women weren't invited. A few more steps later and the women could be seen opposite the tent, about 30m seperating, doing the same on their side. No mingling between the sexes allowed. AFter a could songs, the women gave up the dancing and formed a semicircle to watch and giggle at the men doing their thing. Something like a junior high wedding party, gotta keep 'em seperated. Back to the house, found our "beds" on the partially enclosed balcony. Fortunately, they had more than enough blankets to keep warm as the temps at night dropped to about 5C. Just as I started drifting off to the sounds of the still live and kicking wedding party, a good 15 gunshots rung out. Beware falling bullets, they can kill.

Woke up in the morning to the sounds of a goose singing away in a horridly off any sort of pitch squawk. Opened my eyes to see the sun just poking over the horizon thru the crack where the drape walls didn't cover. Balanced things out a bit. Mananged to get a bit more rest over the next hours despite geese squawking, roosters crowing, cows mooing, cell phones ringing, and people coming and going.

After 19 days in Turkey, we'd finally found the middle of nowhere way off the beaten path.

ON TO KURDISH COUNTRY
Enough about trying to describe the area....my words don't do much justice. On to the simpler things.....we stayed in a cave pension, an original rock cave that has been reworked a bit to accomodate people. Cut into the rock, all the chisel marks still visible on the wall, it was cool enough during the day and warm enough at night. Who needs AC and heating. All for a grand total of less than $15 per night. Not bad. Other pensions had room carved into the Fairy Chimneys, the large lava rocks, with nice panaromic views.

Leaving Goreme, we had to change buses in Kayseri on the way to Kahta. Too bad they didnt bother to tell us about the 3hr wait before the Kahta bus departed at 12am. Nothing like killing 3hrs in a bus station. Luckily, the bus was less than full, so we were able to get a full two seats to make an attempt at getting comfortable and sleeping. Arrived in Kahta at 7am or so, and were promptly met by the man from the pension we arranged in Karadut. A few stops and 50km later we arrived at their place in the shadows of Mt. Nemrut. After some eats and a couple hours of sleep, we took off for the mountain. A rough 12km drive winding around and up the mountain proved that we were wise not to try to hike it. Upon arriving up top, we were left with about a 700m hike, more than I would have liked. Anyway, made it in one piece, and got around back to the statues of King Nimrod and the gods. The good king thought he was equal to the greatest of the gods, so he had his people cut large rock thrones and statues, capped with heads about 2 meters in height, and set them up on the top of the mountain. Nimrod surrounded by Hercules and the like. Earthquakes took there toll on it all over the last 1000s of years, and restorative efforts have reconstructed the bodies on the thrones, but the heads are no longer attached, and are displayed below. Around the other side are more stone statues of the gods and our man Nimrod. From there we watched the sunset. I have never sat and waited 45min for the sunset before, especially in the cold wind at the top of a 2150m mountain. Not quit sure it was worth it.

Back to Karadut, then off the next morning for Sanliurfa, right in the heart of the Kurdish lands. And for all the travels thus far and all the people encountered, none top the Kurds for being nice, friendly, happy people. Especially the kids. Of every 10 kids I've walked past on the streets, I think 9 have given a "hello", wave, and a smile. And for once, we've found people that genuienly like Americans! Urfa is about as old as towns get, save Harran and a few others, originally settled by the Hiitites back some 3000 yrs or so BC. A castle sits on a hilltop over the city, as it has ever since then, albiet destroyed and rebuilt numerous times. The Old Testament's Abraham and Job both spent some time in this city back in their days. Now its mostly Kurdish, and not very modern. No McDonalds, no shopping malls or supermarkets, no nightlife whatsoever, just lots of orderly chaos. Despite it all, they are great people. We stayed at Hospitality Pension with our new friend Aziz and his family. "No problem, Kurdish people are good people, we like Americans, Everybody happy, good times, rich inside." Never at a loss for words, thats Aziz.

From Urfa hit a day trip down to Harran, which dates back to before Genesis Ch 11 in the Old Testament. Why they would settle in a dry, barren, scorching hot desolate area is beyond me. The town has remnants of the world's oldest university, which has subsequently been a mosque, church, and fortress. A Roman castle in relatively good condition is on the same site as castles from 3000 or so BC. The town is famous for its beehive houses, which is about as accurate a description as one could conjour up. Remarkable in that, despite 35+ outside, it felt air conditioned inside. The current beehives are only 200 years old, and now only inhabited by kitchens and animals, as the town is now modern. Our walk thru Harran was led by our man Omar Sherif, a 14 yr old kid who learned English, and quite well, from tourists. He has aspirations of going to tourism university, and I think Chris and I gave him his first lesson: don't try to screw over your customers. He tried to badger us into giving him money, after saying any amount is good at the start of the tour and taking us to the cleaners at the restaurant for lunch. They teach them young here, they do.

The whole of the Southeastern Anatolia region where these cities are has changed remarkably in the past 20 years for one reason: water. Some 19 dams were built on the Tigris and Euphrates, among others, rivers, and canals, tunnels, troughs, and ditches now carry water to the whole of the region, turning what was arrid wasteland into fertile farmland full of barley, cotton, various trees, corn, etc. Quite a difference can be seen when traveling north to regions unserviced by the water. Anyway, while improving things for the people, its not all fun and games. Apparently, Eli Whitney hasnt made it here, and dozens of women and children can be seen out picking the cotton by had, acre after acre. In the still dry and arrid parts, flocks of sheep and goats roam the land, tended to by shepard girls and boys, probably no more than 12 years old.

Arrived in Diyarbikar today to set out on the final week of the Turkey adventure: ROAD TRIP. Despite it all, technology has made it this far, and we were able to go to Avis.com from Urfa to reserve a car for a week from Diyarbikar. So we'll be making the rounds to the other Mt Nemrut, Lake Van, Mt Ararat near the Iranian border, and who knows what else.

CARAVAN CONTINUES

First off, a quick blurb about being an American and traveling given the world situation and American sentiment around the world. The most common thing, to the point its basically ignored, is for someone to ask you "What do you think....Bush or Kerry" then rattle right on saying "I like Kerry". But usually thats about all they know of the situation. And the anti-american sentiment is usually held not by locals, but by other travelers from Western countries. The best example of all this, granted its a bit absurb, is goes like this. Chris and I are chilling with a few beers in a pension terrace in Fethiye. A group of two Brits and two, i believe, Turks, are a table away tripping over themselves to bash America, and Britian, but only in conection with the war. So after the usual banter, the Brit bloke takes the cake with this one: "We (his wife or girlfriend) don't buy American products if at all possible. No Coke, no Marlboro, no Nike. Well, I do have one pair of American sneakers. But they are Phat Pharm, and they were made by black people." He then goes to enlighten us eavesdroppers of an American conspiracy: "I heard that America, despite having enough oil to meet its needs, buys it all from foreign countries, so that, in 100 years, America will be the only country on earth to have oil, and then they can control everybody." Wow. Didn't know that either. I guess the biggest thing I've learned is usually to just have a laugh and not try to argue it out. And it was a good laugh, and continues to this day.
Alrite, set sail on the boat cruise on 4 Sept from Fethiye. We had about 16 people on the boat, a good mix of Aussies, Kiwis, Brits, Canadiens, and us Americans. Most were only holiday or extended vacation in a career transition, and made Chris and I feel like the jokers of the lot. Sort of. Anyway, the Meditteranean coast of Turkey is magnificent. Rocky, desolate hills and mountians with sparse vegatation, the kind you'd find in a relative wasteland, meet the crystal clear blue waters of the Sea. Islands of similar design sprout out of the sea here and there. Sandy beaches are few, but where they are its quite impressive, at least it would be were it not for the endless rows of beach umbrellas, towels, and tourists. Never did like those tourists. We cruised along, making stops at a harbor leading to butterfly valley, which would have a been a real disappointment if you went to look for butterfl (they must have been on holiday themselves), the blue lagoon, which suffers from the curse of having been on the cover of Lonely Planet, so now its along but a lonely place, at St Nicolas island, home of the well known St. Nicolas backin 800AD or so I think. Most slept on the deck of the boat, and I awoke the next morning to a frightening storm, only to realize it was just the boat blazing through the sea. Back to sleep. It is a nice thing to awake, have a peak across the sea to the sunrise and coast, hold the gaze a bit, then drop the head to the pillow and doze off for a few more hours of sleep. Day two took us to a coastal town, and another harbor before droppin anchor near the Sunken City. Built some 2000 years ago, it now resides just under the sea at the foot of the island. Ruins existed on the island as well, but by now I'm a bit blinded to rock and stone ruins. Next morning awoke to a trio of goats making their way around the rocky slopes of the island. Again, right back to sleep. A trip to a fishing village with no road access topped off the third day. Made the trek to the castle uptop after chilling out in the Hammock for a bit, nice views to all sides were the reward. Food was excellent throughout the cruise, made by the three man crew. My only complaint about Turkish food is the tomatoes. They are ubiquitos. Think shrimp from Bubba Gump, and you'll be halfway there. Breakfast lunch dinner. There is no escape. Great times aboard the boat, and the cruise served as a nice vacation from traveling.
Finished off at Olympos, near the like named mountian the Greeks were so obsessed with. Spent the night in a treehouse, dinner and breakfast included, served summer camp style, for a grand total of $8.50. Can do for more of that. Great cove at Olympos and the nearby Cirali at the other end of the beach. Ruins dating over 2000 years line the walk from the beach towards the area where the treehouse pensions line the road for a few Kms. Spent two nights down the beach at Cirali in relative comfort, extending the vacation from traveling. Set off at 1130pm from there to make the 5km trek to Chimera, also straight out of Greek Mythology. After the trek, including 1k up treacherous rock steps, you find the flaming rocks of Chimera. For some reason, gas has seeped out of the rocks as long as can be known, and they are constantly flaming. An area about 20m X 50m contains a good 10-12 hotspots with small to large flames dancing about. The night sky was about as clear as could be, and well away from any city lights, allowing a remarkable of the stars, and nearly all of them. Another day spent lazily messing about the beach, and then the following evening it was up to Antalya and an overnight bus to Goreme in Cappadocia.

The whole of Cappadocia is completely unique to anything I have seen, and probably anything that is. Imagine something like a Hollywood set for a Star Wars or Hobbit or something, maybe something out of a new Disneyworld theme park, or something from the moon. Probably the most flamboyant combination of the wonders of nature combined with the creativity and cleverness of man. A natural harmony. Hard enough to describe, so save me the effort and cruise through the photos (photos.yahoo.com/begbey). But a bit about the formation.....Explanation is that the volcanos in the region blew their tops thousands of years back, spewing an incredible about of ash throughout the region, and some lava as well. The ash hardened over the years into a soft rock, and parts had the lava rock about it. Years of erosion by wind and rain wore down the unprotected soft rock. The lava rock protected the areas under it, leaving a pillar of sorts with the "Fairy Chimney" on top. Then man came along, the Hiitites it is thought, back in the BC days, and discovered they could easily dig into it all and live inside, protected from the heat of summer and cold of winter. And much more easily than bringing in stone or rocks. This worked fine and well until they needed protection from invading armies and persecution from the Romans. So in the same region are some 300 underground cities, the largest going down over 7 floors, tapping into groundwater through wells below, and channeling air from above, able to sustain life within for 6 months or so. Dug into hard rock, they took a bit longer than the above ground houses. Further south of the Goreme valley is a channel that seems to have been cut by a glacier, leaving rock plateaus on either side, showing the multilayered rock on the exposed faces.

ok, gotta jet.

LOSS OF INSPIRATION

Found a nice Internet cafe to download photos and update the old blog, but as things go, it took an extra hour to sort out burning a disc and the inspiration for writing left long ago. Photos did just uploaded. Cappadocia is really beyond words, and photos, something you just have to see in person. But some shots turned out well enough.

Off to another overnight bus ride, the third in two weeks, heading to Mt. Nemrut, which is a bit south and east of central turkey. Things should start getting a bit interesting as this, Cappadocia, is the last real tourist destination we'll run into.

TURKISH DELIGHT

Istanbul. Expectations blazing. Middle east meets Europe. Literally, east meets west, Europe meets Asia. In Istanbul. Yet, disappointment, not what was hoped. Everything's a hassle, everyone hassles. The other impact of tourism is very evident. Kids chatting ya up for money, adults trying to exploit you. Sucker you in. Madness, a bit a chaos. Not much of a chance to relax. No longer new and exciting, now just a stop on the way to bigger and better. Despite, history abounds. A great Christian church built in 500AD now a prized mosque. The conquerors conquered and then got conquered. Prayer calls wailing from the mosques, loads of mosques. No one flinches, cant be bothered. A muslim country, yes, but its not as one might imagine. The west moves east, constantly creeping. Sun sets on the Golden horn, a treasured sight for ages. Standing on a bridge, local men fishing over the sides, below the bridge a lower deck full of bars and restaraunts. Cruise out the Boshorus Straight, Europe on the left, Asia on the right. Finally, a little peace and quiet, a bit of relaxation. To the Black Sea, hike up to a castle nestled above, keeping a watch on the sea, the straight, and Istanbul. Now cows graze the inner castle area. Nice view for the cows. Out in Istanbul. Chance encounter with a 25ish hustler who tried to pull on over on Chris a few days back. Had a little encounter. He ran off, scared, tail between his legs. Turned around, four cops four feet away, inquiring. Uh, time to bolt.

Gotta get moving. Overnight bus to Selcuk, arrived bleary eyed yet keeping on. Head out to Ephesus. A great city, fought over for hundreds of year, BC and AD. Now in ruins, yet remarkably intact. A little credit due to the archeologists and their restorative techniques. Tourists by the busloads. Gotta luv em. Impressive city by any standards, made all of rocks and stones. The main theater seats 25,000 people and took some 75 years to build. Some patience they had, or maybe time just moved a bit slower. But it was built to last, and last it did. Back to Selcuk, the current down nearby. A castle sits watch over it all, occupying the hilltop. Sun sets over the Meditteranean, lighting up the sky and providing a nice backdrop to the hills and castle.

Moving on. Bus to Pammukale. But it goes to Denizli. Funny, they didnt mention that when we bought the ticket. Nor that it would leave at 1300 instead of 1200. Such is the life. Fortunately, a reservation at a hostel served us well, and their man pointed us in the right direction. Minibus now, and their other man waves it down in the road and gets us off, a short walk to the hostel. They keep tight control over their assets. Wise enough. The attraction here? Calcium deposits formed over way to many years by water coming out of the hills. Just barren hills miles to each side, yet a few hundred yards of what looks like a colorado ski mountian sitting right in the middle. Too bad the tourist boom of a few years back ruined the water flow, crippling natures development. Could have used a little long term thinking about profit maximization before doing that. Now the hotels have been torn down, but the damage remains. Any attempts I make to describe it fall short, so will let the photos do the talking. Arriving near sunset, we walked against the tour bus crowd getting to the top to see the sun setting behind the hills beyond the valley. Quite impressive. Again, reference the photos. Walked on up to the Roman ruins behind it after picking up a few beers. Sat at the top of a 15,000 seat Roman theater, all to ourselves, catching the last bit of colorful sky out over the valley, pondering what it would have been like to sit there a few thousand years ago.

Next day bus to Fethiye. Joined in on a four day boat cruise around the Med sea. No time for writing bout that now though.

TO THE SEA

Set off for Brasov for a nıght wıth the ıntent of checkıng out Dracula's castle and a nearby fortress. Arrvıng at 8pm, we hung around waıtıng for offers for prıvate rooms. Only one joker was pıtchıng hıs goods, so after a bıt of hagglıng and such, we had an apartment for €25 that turned out to be quıte nıce and not dodgy at all. The next day my stomach was ın a bıt of turmoıl, not the most pleasent of sıtuatıons to fınd yourself ın when messıng about Romanıa. Regardless, set off for the castle. A errant bus, ımpendıng storm, and too much waıtıng destroyed the motıvıatıon and, after havıng a walk thru a small town, we ended up catchıng a bus back to Brasov.

After kıllıng a few hours, caught the traın at 00:01 for the coastal town Mangalıa. Once aboard, we found our compartment only to fınd an extended Romanıa famıly occupyıng every seat and then some. So hopıng for the best, we camped out ın a nearby empty car and closed the curtaıns. All went well and we were undıstburbed, outsıde of constant tıcket checks, only the last of whıch revealed that our tıckets were actually for the next day. Whıle a bıt upset at the development, I quıckly chılled out upon dıscoverıng they wanted an extra $.40 each. No bother.

Immediately upon leaving the train we were pestered with numerous locals offering their house or rooms for accomodations. A bit of a mind wrecker after a quiet 10hr train ride. Checked out one, but a 3rd floor apartment in a concrete building in the center of town didnt really fit the bill for getting away from madness. So hit up a minibus for a 15 minute ride to Vama Veche, the last town in Romania and only 3km from the border with Bulgaria. Basically a budget beach party location, free camping in the litter heavy field next to the beach, dance tunes bumping from a handfull of clubs that consisted of not much more than bamboo-like walls with wooden tables and benches inside. Again, not much for peaceful tranquility. Regardless, given my unsettled stomach and all, found a place and crashed for a bit. An uneventful evening followed, crusing thru the town for some eats and hanging near the beach for a bit.

Not giving up in the search, the following day we headed north to the "Solar System" - a stretch of 6 towns in a row bearing names like Saturn, Jupiter, Venus, Neptune, etc. Very creative. But much more creative than the communist-style resort atmosphere the towns contained. Concrete hotels between 5-20 stories littered the beach for the stretch of resort planet. About as unsightly as one could imagine for an otherwise nice beach stretch. Vowing not to "vacation like a commie", we messed about looking for something better, we no luck. Eventually, it was back to Mangalia for the sure thing - a private room. However, after finding a lady offering a room, she proceeded to take us on a 20 minute walk to nowhere, knocking on doors to see if someone could take us in. No thanks. We bolted. Eventually ended up in a cookie cutter hotel on the beach, so at least we had a nice view of the sunrise over the Black Sea in the morn.

Off the next day to Constanta, the big port city on the coast. Not wishing to go on any useless treasure hunts with locals for private rooms, we found a hotel with an apartment room to crash in. Made a trek to the old quarter of the city, climbed the tower of a mosque, and checked out the massive casino on the water. Uneventful for the most part. Did walk a good hour trying to find a Chinese restaurant, only to find nothing when we eventually got to #148. To be continued. Next day after a good sleep hit up the beach nearby. Quickly found out how (maybe) the Black Sea got its name: shredded seaweed so thick the water looked black as the waves came into shore. And the smell. About as bad as the toilet on the Romanian train. Well, not quite. Up the coast a bit was more respectable beach, clean enough for a foreigner to go in. Back at the hotel, inquired about the Chinese restaurant. The receptionist assured me it was there, so we gave it a try. Taxi dropped us off about 25m from where we ended the night before, and there it was, right in front of us. In our amazement and joy we didnt notice the work crew inside remodeling away. So we found it, but other than the sign, it wasnt there. The workers said it was now down the beach way, so another cab ride and a bit of walking later finally found it. And no complaints, it was good.

Back to Bucarest the next morning in a brilliant rainstorm. Chilled at the train station and stocked up on eats before catching the 18hr ride to Istanbul. Fearing the worst, I was calmed a bit upon realizing the train was nearly empty and I would have a 6 person compartment to myself. Before leaving the station, meet an Englishman who lives in Istanbul in the next compartment. Turns out he was about 60hrs in to a journey that was supposed to take 42hrs. Missed the connection in Budapest and threw the whole plan to the wind. Anyway, shared a bit of food with the unfortunate penniless soul and he gave me a complete plan for conquering Turkey. A mixture of conversation, reading DiVinci Code, and sleeping passed the time quicker than I thought possible and soon enough arrived in Istanbul.

ROMANIA - A FEW STEPS BEHIND

As does happen on occasion, the 14hr train from Budapest to Bucharest was a stunning surprise. Stocked up on food, drink, and reading material, we made our way on to the train to discover we had a two-person compartment with (relatively at least) loads of space, two beds, power, lights, AC, and storage space. Ah, a welcome improvement from the dodgy trains on the way to Budapest. Time flew by -unlike the train - as we kicked back in our luxurious quarters. Scenery didnt prove to stunning outside the colorful sunset and ubiquitous fields of corn. Darkness set in, the drinks extinquished, then replenished, then extinquished again as we crossed into Romania. A nice bit of peaceful sleep undistrubed until the knock on the door for immeninent arrival.

Wishing to avoid residing in a slum, we had reserved an apartment in downtown Bucarest, including a transfer there. Our man was waiting as expected, and shuttled us to the apartment. A drab communist style concrete building with nothing impressive on the outside had us thinking we got hooked on the bait and switch. However, inside was nice as advertised: kitchen, two bedrooms, TV, couch, balcony, washing mashine, AC, etc. Living the high life.

Bucarest is not a pretty city. Nothing like Llubjana or Budapest. A true relic of the communist dictatorship and concrete dreams of the former dictaror Nicolae Ciscesceau. Once known as "little Paris", but definetly no longer. Depressing concrete buildings everywhere that make Seoul's endless apartment buildings seem attractive. Most areas of the city are run down at best, with not much sign of any investment to be seen outside the heart of the city. Run down cars buzz about the streets, with the occasional Trabant still putting around.

Among the most grandeous remakings of the city saw NC relocate 40,000 citizens and destroy some 600 acres of historical neighborhoods to erect the Parliament, the second largest building in the world (Pentagon being #1), to house his communist cronies and the goverment. It is an impressive building from the outside, especially given its scale and recent construction. The ironic thing being that it was completed in 1989, the year of his downfall and collapse of the goverment.

The goverment and NC started their downfall no more than 150 meters from our apartment in the now named Plaza Revolutieu at the Senate building, where he made his final speech as President on 21 Dec 89. The crowds had lost their love for the man, and were more than eager to show it. Some of the shots fired by police in response to this tore holes in the building to the side of our hotel. On Xmas Day, it all came to an end for NC, as he was captured then tried and executed on TV. Outside of the Parliment and Revolution sites, Bucarest is devoid of attractions for all except the most thorough and desperate of tourists.

So, in the absence of things to see, we found something to do: the first World Cup qualifier for '06 was on that night in Bucarest - Romania v Finland. Set off walking to the stadium, at least where we thought it was. After a good 30 minutes, resorted to a cab. Romanian cabs are notorious for being a bit dodgy as one might expect. This particular lady took us on a night journey through numerous side streets, only to end up 2km down the same street we started on. But when the fare is $1, the hassle is tolerable. Found the stadium by following the crowds, and then the ticket box, which is more or less a rectangular box with a person in it. Not knowing the prices, we got three tickets for what appeared to be the cheap seats. Total outlay: 150,000 Lei, or $4.50.....$1.50 per ticket for a WC qualifier. Nice. Ended up in the second row, behind the endline near the corner. Right next to us a few riot police in full gear. Not sure whether that should make me feel safe or not.....Match was bit slow the first half, but picked up at our send in the second with Romania winning 2-1. Took a good while on foot, bus, and metro to get back to the center, but sorted it out and ended the night with a few beers.

All desired sights seen, set out the next day to sort out transportation to the Danube Delta. After a good 3 hours of walking thru the rough and tumble parts of Bucarest and finding two of the bus stations we didnt need, we found the one we were looking for and made a reservation for 7am the following morning.....only problem being we didnt wake up til 630 the next day, and went to plan B - go to the train station and take a train somewhere.

Destination: Sighasoara in Translyvania and birthplace of one Vlad Tepes.....better known as Count Dracula. Upon arrival 5 hours later, sorted out an apartment in the home of a local couple, fully stocked. Out for some eats, began to realize that Romanian cuisine seems to have taken a second place to pizzarias in the country. They are everywhere, and its much harder to avoid them than find them. Came across a nice joint serving some local fare, and ended up with one of the best meals yet, meat and potato goulash with maize "porridge" and garlic potatoes, bread, and a beer. Excellent eats, at the $3.50 check was just as appealing.

Messed about the city the next day. The reputation of Translyvania as a dark, evil, spooky place is well deserved judging by the eire gothic architecture of the buildings and oldtown as a whole. The most bizarre "attraction" was the clock tower. Quite ordinary despite the random museum like displays on the way up the stairs: a rocket pioneer from the town, pharmacy room, clothing exhibit, tool display, torture room, etc. Outside of that, everything was interesting but nothing stunning. Made the requisite stop at the House of Dracula, where he lived for 5 years as a presumably innocent young lad before being send to the Turks where he mastered his craft as an Impaler, which he would use on over 20,000 unfortunate victims over the course of his stint as governer of the region.

Also ventured out of the city to a authentic local village. Exited the cab to see a dead sheep hanging from its legs behind a wooden fence. Welcome strangers. Walked around for a bit through the dirt streets. Most houses were small, simple, and worn down, with junk and overgrown gardens in the yards. Fields surrounded the village. Atop a small hill where a cemetary was unceremoniously located, we had a nice view of the surrounding area. From there went on to see real poverty - a small Roma (Gypsy) village just a bit further out. Running alongside a ditch flowing with water, a few dozens shack houses were erected. Most the villagers seemed to be hanging out, doing nothing, with the kids messing around in the dirt road. Every last one of them stared at us as we walked through. A bit odd feeling, taking a little tour through their dirt poor worlds. The Roma people have the worst of the worst in Romania, and throughout Europe, and as this village clearly showed.

Writer's cramp. To be continued later from Istanbul, where I just arrived today after another enjoyable enough train ride, this one 18hrs from Bucarest.

SEARCHING FOR "EASTERN EUROPE"

My expectations for Eastern Europe consisted of something a bit more rugged, rough, less developed, adventurous, etc than Western Europe. After 10 days in Slovenia and Hungary, I am adjusting my notions. Much of what I have seen so far doesnt differ too much from the western side of europe. While it is not at the same level, the difference has not been as great as I imagined. It certainly appears that the countries set to join the EU have come a long way in the past 15 years.

Back to Slovenia.....Ljubljana, as I think I said, was pretty devoid of residents the weekend we were there, summer vacations and all. A nice calm city though, and well worthy of an additional visit. But it can't quite live up to the region around Bled, in the north west. The Alps, rolling hills, lakes, rivers, gorges, charming houses, etc create an area of stunning beauty. The day we arrived we settled in on the porch of our house with the Dutch lady to watch a equally impressive storm. The sky behind us was dark grey, collapsing around the patches of blue sky in front of us. Sitting back with some tunes and local wine, seemed to be a nice place to watch the storm. About 15 minutes later, everything was grey, wind was blowing furiously, and the skies unleashed a torrent of rain and hail up over a cm in diameter. We quickly sought refuge inside the house. The lady said she'd never seen anything like that. The storm was so strong that it sent a few dozens trees on the far side of the lake to the ground, some uprooted and others snapped in two.

The next day all was clear, and we went on a good 10k hike out of the town, to a river, through a 1600m gorge, and back over a hill to the front side of town. I'd make an effort to describe it, but photos will probably do it more justice. Another hike the third day up a 1000m hill surrounding the lake to get a great view from a tranquil park bench of the lake and city below. Until the 4 kids showed up yelling and screaming, unrestrained by their father. So much for peace and quiet.

Arrived in Budapest after spending the night in Putj, the second train being infinetly more comfortable than the first, but still nothing special. Hungarian trains, not up to Slovanian standards. Made quite a trek through Budapest looking for accomodations before taking a cab to a sure bet. Had plans of a big night out in Buda-Fest. Stopping in a pubs and cafes across the city, made our way to an outdoor venue on the river. Turned out to be a spring break, MTV atomsphere populated by weekend vacationers and other foreigners. Didnt stick around long. Back to town, ended up meeting some local ladies on the street, and went to a club with them, but it was hot as seoul in july in there, so it was a doner kebab and home.

Saturday mesed about the city a bit while chris recovered from a negative reaction to the doner kebab. Kept it quite Saturday night in anticipation of my big outing Sunday to the Hungary Grand Prix F1 race. Figuring I just couldnt be in Budapest during the race and not go, I sorted out the journey of 20min walk, bus, subway, light rail, and 45 min walk to the course. Hoping to pick up a ticket on the cheap, I meandered about for a while before hope faded, and I resorted to the full price GA ticket for 100 euros. Made a little recon around the track and camped out by the first corner for the start. Not knowing the results of qualifying, I was happy enough to see the two red Ferraris leading the pack. And the noise....Full throttle and accelerating, the high pitched scream that you can probably imagine, just a good bit louder. But downshifting into the turns and out of them, the cars seemed to belch in disgust from not being able to maintain top speed at the red line. During the course of the 72 laps, I made my way around a good portion of the track, getting a bit of each perspective. hour and a half later, they finished as they started, Ferrari 1-2. Joined the stampede down to the track for the victory presentation and champagne celebration. Then the unenjoyable 2.5 hr journey back, compounded by the lack of information on buses to the city or signs to the trains.

That night was uneventful, other than superb hungarian guloush at dinner, seasoned with the hungarian staple paprika, and 3 hours of diverse banter over beers between chris and i and the "little irish pub" around the corner from our place.

Today, Monday, we are off to Bucharest in search of "eastern europe" as i had previously imagined. Given that Romania did not receive a bid to the EU, it seems that things should get a bit wilder and more unpredictable. At least we hope. Once the 14 hour night train journey is over, that is.

DONDE ESTA ESLOVENIA?

This question was the opening line of a book I read a few months back, Veronika Decide Morir bz Paulo Cuehlo. Now can say I know where Slovenia is, but it certainly is not in "Eastern Europe", or at least it didnt correspond to my notions of EE. The 6 days spent in Slovenia were not sufficient to reveal any significant flaws or cause any complaints. Well, outside of the fact that most slovenians appeared to be gone on summer vacations, and had been replaced by vacationers from other parts.

Ljubljana, the capital, is nicely tucked in between the fading mountains of the Alps. From the castle atop the city, it is quite easy to make out the old city full with the impressive architecture and design, the communist concrete block buildings beyond that, and the rebirth of modern buildings towards the outskirts. The whole of the country is green and fertile, trees, farms, and every house was impeccably well kept, down to the flowers on the porch and in the balconys. Bled, in the northwest corner, is on the edge of the Julian Alps, no different than the Swiss or Austrian variety. A lake in the town has a castle overlooking it and an island just big enough to have a church and nothing else in the middle of it. Spent three nights here in the house of a Dutch woman, along with a German man and an Aussie couple. Set off on a few hikes thru a river gorge, hills, and a nice steep climp of 1000m or so. And devoured a good few portions of Slovenia goulash with meat and potatoes. From there it was off to the eastern side to the town on Ptuj, pronounced Puh-too-eey. Nothing more than a stopover on the way to Budapest, but none the less conformed to our prior notions of slovenia being a picturesque and flawless country.

Not feeling to inspired at the keyboard at the moment, and didnt really do any justice to the week in Slovenia with the blurb above. In Budapest now and for a few more nights before heading down to Bucharest and Romania.

TO THE EAST

(disclaimer: the "y" and "z" are swapped on the slovanian kezboard, so anz tzpos are not mz fault, and zes, i am to layz to fix them)

Back in Granada, which at this point seems like months ago, at the Nasrid Palace in the Alhambra. Tough enough to try to describe how it looks and the details in everything. One thing that certainly impressed was their masterz of water. Aquaducts bringing water into central Spain, up to the fortress on the hill, and all throughout the Alhambra. Even today one can see small trenches that carried water into and out of the private living areas throughout the complex. I was also impressed by the ability to keep things cool inside the complex. It was a sweaty 40C out the day i was there, but down inside some of the rooms, it felt better than airconditioned. Something about being out of the sunlight and surrounded bz the clay and rocks, but I guess such methods were necessary to keep the whole of them from melting under the sun.

Now before it was finished, the King and Queen of Spain, Ferdinand and Isabel, drove out the Nasrids and took control of the Alhambra. They went about upgrading and redoing it, making it into a palace of sorts for the royal family. Again, the Muslim symbolism went away and the Christian ones moved in. Now, its a matter of 250+ staff keeping up and improving the complex despite the 8 million tourists treading through each year.

Moving on to Alicante the following day, the proximity to the coast turned the arrid landscape into more fertile and hospitable terrain, and orange groves replaced the olive trees. Outside of the orange for olive and green for brown swap, much remained the same. Arrived in Alicante at 10pm and hoped that mz three phone calls to the hostal during the day would prove useful and keep me from wandering the streets looking for a place to crash. All good, room ready, although the 38C temp inside and 6 inch window to provide airflow to the 6 inch fan weren't too comforting. But the rooftop patio made up for it. Made a quick run a a rollo kepab and a beer, and set back to chill out under the castle, the view being the same as in the pictures. Chilled out with a few Aussies, trading some good traveling stories and the like, before being joined by a Brit and a fwe Frenchies. As the room was still a balmy 37.7C, my efforts to crank up the fan showing minimal results, I resigned to staying out as late as possible. So after the Aussies made a run for it, ended up heading to the town with the 4 Frenchies and the Brit. Shared a few pitchers of Sangria over attempts to patch the conversational circuit across spanish, english, and french. The Frenchies, being on a week vacation and possessing a rental car (such luxury), were all ready to tear it up, so i headed off with them to a club at some point. Nice enough as they were, I didnt end up paying for anything, which is fortunate, b/c a round of drinks at their hangout would have blown my budget for sure. Regardless, by the time I made it home at 5am, my room was just cool enough to fall asleep, albeit with the fan blowing straight on mz face from 12 inch away.

The following daz I vegged out at the beach. The beach (=sand) itself was nice, but the seaweed and garbage in the water didnt reallz justify the oh so proud EU blue flag beach status. And the surrounding scenery out apartments and roads didnt quite match up to Thailand. But the sun was out, and I enjoyed a nice productive afternoon of doing nothing. That night, after making the trip to the grocery store during the day, I enjoyed a hot ham and cheese sandwich, probably one of the best ham and cheese sandwiches ever, after a month of cold ham and cheese sandwiches. With that a L of Sangria I went to camp out on the roof. This time the crowd consisted of a few Canadians, Aussies, and an Irishman, and maybe a few others. Enjoyed the typical full conversation circuit - travels, life before travels, sports, politics, etc - well into the night. Packed up the following daz before making a 15 minute bus trip to a neighboring beach, which turned out to be a combition of retirment beach and package vacation beach, perfectly illustrating the problem with southern spain in teh summertime.

Jumped a bus for Tarragona to spend a few days camping before hitting Barcelona. A bit of research on the net turned up a few campsites that appeared to be a step or two up from the usual ˝tent and camper parking lot˝ that most campgrounds resemble. But after a late arrival, a bit of aimless wandering, and a thin bus schedule I found myself at an aforementioned parking lot campground withing a stones throw from the train tracks and highway. My other option was wait til 1002pm, take the last bus out of the citz, and hope to find the other campsite 10km away, in the dark, and hope it would be open and available. So I waited out the hour and went for it. Seeing the signs for the intended campsite, I got a bit excited, not wanting to leave the marked path, and made a premature exit out of the bus, leaving an extra 1km walk. N o bother though, b/c I did arrive and the bus stop I was told to get off at turned out to be a bit further out of the way than 1 km. So I showed up, well past the usual arrival time, loaded up with my gear, to be greeted at the gate with ˝Completo, Terminado˝. Uh, not good. As I went into pleaing mode, explaining I only needed a little space and had no where else to go, the wing man came up and sorted me out, taking my passport in exchange for a map and a fine recommendation on where to set up camp. So I found myself an available patch of hard rocky ground, and went about trying to set up in the dark. Turns out mz tent stakes were no match for the ground, and quickly wilted into contorted figures instead of anchoring themselves into the ground. Ended up with a rather improvised set up, tying the tail end to a fence post and sticking a stake into the softer ground in the hole where I had unearthered the brick. Good enough for a former government employee, at least. But the extra time spent cost me, and even my pleadings couldn,t get the restaurant to whip me up a sandwhich or anything. So dinner consisted of some prepackaged ice cream dessert with whiskez on top.

The next day and night were spent doing nothing important or noteable, except for the photos which were all taken from the base of my tent. The second night an impressive lightening and thunder display just off the coast awoke me at 5am, just enough warning to pull my pack and other accessories under cover before the rains came. Thankfullz, things cleared up by the time I got up around 6am, and as photos of the sunrise will attest to. Had no problems on the bus to the town and walk to the train station to get there for the 815 ride to Barca.

****BARCELONA and COSTA BRAVA......COMING SOON*****

Met up with Chris in Milano on Friday, a good 7 weeks after leaving him in Bali as I set off for Europe. Spent a day messing about, seeing the Doumo, and onlz frmo the outside, being about the most significant activity before a nice Italian feed and some overpriced beers at the only open bar/pub in our district. The plan to go to Venice and on to Ljubljana from there sounded easz enough, but the Italians have their own way with the train szstems. First off, you buy ticket for a route, but the ticket doesnt specifz when or what tzpe of train. And you might or might not need a seat reservation, depending upon the train taken. So after shelling out €48 for the ticket from Milano to Ljubljana, we hot hit up for an additional €9 on the ride to Venice. Figuring on getting ahead of the system, I inquired at the station in Venice regarding reservations for the next leg, only to find out, once again, ˝Completo˝. Nothing availabe. Not quite sure what to make of that, but we quicklz decided the onlz truely important factor was to get on the train and leave the station. So we got on, quickly fuond out that yes, indeed, it was completo and no seats remained, and resigned to roughing it between cars for the next 4 hrs. Now since we have a ticket, but dont have a seat, we figured we wouldnt have to pay for a seat reservation. Wrong. Another €8 to the man. The final three hours we spent crouched in the dining car/bar. No seats for sitting, just some spaces more out of the waz than others. Regardless, we arrived, and that was the goal. Just had hoped on arriving with funds, not without funds.

Time to move on, will hit up Barca and Ljubljana next time.

PLAYING CATCH UP

Left Madrid on a bus for Cordoba, and saw an entirely different side of spain on the way. The climate was hot and arrid, and I am sure cold and desolate in the winter. Rolling hills spread out in all directions, breaking up the monontany of the flat plains. The unfriendly climate did not support much vegation, except for the olive trees. Rows upon rows of olive trees spread out over the plains, up and down and arround the hills. The tree itself was as rugged as the land it thrived in, staying low to the ground, and often appearing to have a few trunks. The barren earth beneath it was better for supporting the rocks than grass or weeds. Anyway, it was nice, but certainly after a few hours a change of scenery was appreciated.

Cordoba, once a thriving city of 1.5 million back in the 14/15/16th centuries, when the Muslims controlled the sourthern half of spain. Now, a mere relic of its old self, with 250,000 or so. Despite it all, the signs of centuries of Muslim, Christian, and Jewish influence are plain to see. The centerpiece of Cordoba is La Mezquita (Mosque), built by the Nasrid Muslims, the opposing Muslim power to the Baath´s in Baghdad. (yes, the same ones). The temple is the most important Muslim mosque in the Western World, and has even been cited by OBL himself. Anyway, inside this amazing building, other than the 850 columns and arches between them all, is none other than entirely Christian symbolism, imagery, and basically, a full church with all the trimmings. This thanks to the reconquest of Spain in the late 15th century. Interesting enough to have a Catholic church inside an important Muslim mosque. Around this in the town are Arab baths dating to way back when, a Jewish quarter, a Roman mill on the river, and Roman bridge over the river, walls still standing around a good part of the old city, etc. Impressive, and had I wrote this a few weeks back, I might remember more. But I do remember it was hot. Real hot. About 43C or so. Good thing I had AC in my room there.

Moved on from there into Granada. Granada is home to The Alhambra. This is one of the grandest and most flamboyent buildings (complexes) I have seen. Built on a plateau with a 270 view of the plains below and a hill behind it, it was a key fortress for the Nasrid kingdom when they occupied Spain. An entire city more or less, with public homes, gardens, military quarters, etc all contained. And the Nasrid Palace, home to the Big Guy. This area was off limits to the general public, and from the outside looks unimpressive enough.

PAUSE - TIME IS UP

One last thing. Spain owes a good bit of its tourism industry, and believe me, it has quite a few of them, to American authors. Back in 1830s, Washington Irving lived in the Alhambra and wrote Tales of the Alhambra. When he lived there, it was more or less neglected, unused, and unvisited. Now 8 million per year go there. In the 1920s Ernest Hemingway went to a little party called San Fermin in Pamplona and wrote a book about it. And of course now everyone knows about the Running of the bulls, and there are a few more people there than the Spanish locals. And many other towns have similiar festivals, with bulls running and matadors fighting, but of course, you probably haven´t heard about them.

RUNNING TO STAND STILL

While Internet cafes and the like are easy enough to find, it takes a good bit of searching and good fortune to find one where I can download fotos, sort them out, burn them to disc, and whatever else. So far I have only encountered a couple of them, the best by far being in Porto.

So, I just spent a good two hours downloading, burning, and uploading photos from the past 3 weeks. And just when I started to write, my time unknowingly ran out and the computer reset. And I am at another location now, and yahoo won´t let me sign in to see if the last batch of photos made it or not. Always an adventure.

Regardless, I am in Barcelona, and planning leaving this evening for Girona. Then it will be on to Italy at the end of the week. Hopefully I can find an affordable internet connection up there to post some updates from the past 10 days.

DR GOOGLE & MADRID 

First off, the whole health matter.  So, before going to the farmacia in madrid, I, of course, went to google.  Search: sore, throat, swollen.  Result: Google returned a wide variety of options, and I went to one.  It said:  sore throat+swollen tonsils & glands+white spots on tonsils= strep throat with infection; antibiotics required.  Time spent: 4 minutes.  Cost: €.05.  So armed with Dr. Google´s advice, hit up the farmacia for the pills.  That was Tuesday.  Skip forward to Friday.  No improvement.  Patience is gone.  To the Cruz Roja Hospital I go.  After a bit of wait, doctor sees me.  Asks whats up, then looks at my throat.  Two seconds later - Ahhhh.  Back to the desk.  I was able to understand what he said:  Strep throat with infection.  Time spent: 40 minutes.  Cost:  €37.30.  The only difference being he was able to write a prescription for something stronger and better equiped to fight the afliction.  So, my solution to all health care problems:  www.drgoogle.com - type in your symptoms, out comes a prescription.  Everyone is happy, time and money saved.   Now its Sunday, and the drugs are working and soon I will have my "A" game back.

So, Madrid.  Loaded with painkillers I took to the streets, and took a path I rarely take - the one leading to the art museums.  I got the trio pass to hit the three biggies in Madrid.  The biggest was the Prado, and it was impressive indeed.  I am sure more sophisticated scholars of art would recognize the names of the painters and the works, but, not being of that variety, I didn´t know much.  I certainly was amazed at what can be accomplished with ink and a canvas, especially over such a time period.  But I didn´t have the knowledge or background to truely "appreciate" all the intricacies and hidden meanings, if they exist, within each painting.  Or maybe its just a conspicary among "art people" to make "non-art people" feel stupid by deriving all sorts of meaning and interpretations from even the most minute detail.  I dont know.  But I do know the following day at the Reina Sofia museum I felt a bit better about myself thanks to Roy Lichenstein.  The musuem has a RL exhibit, and his work was within my grasp.  And quite amusing really, if such a term is appropriate for art.  Next up with Salvador Dali.  Quite a contrast there.  While having very little idea what was in the man´s head while painting such convoluted matters, I didn´t feel so bad for myself, figuring that no one should really have any honest idea what is going on.  Certainly amazing work though, and I found myself looking at some of them for a good five minutes.  The exhibit contained a good bit on his film and Hollywood ventures ,which I knew nothing about, and his planet sized ego, which led him to publish the "Dali News" daily in New York, containing nothing but articles and paintings by him and about him.  In the main gallery the highlight was Picasso´s Guernica.  Guernica is a town in the Basque Country that was the victim of the first-ever coordinated arial bombing during the Spanish civil war in 1939, requested by General Franco and delivered by Hilter´s Germany, as a test of their capabilities.  Anyway, a good percentage of the town and people were wiped out.  The painting is about 3m X 6m, very large.  Lots of distorted figures and imagery with no real color.  Interpret it for yourself, as Picasso never shed any light on what anything in the painting meant.  It also was in New York during the remainder of Franco´s reign, and wasn´t returned to Spain, at Picasso request, until democracy was restored.    Anyway, enough about art, lets talk about....

Futbol.  Estadio Bernabeu, home of Real Madrid.  Took the subway up north and took a tour through the stadium, from the upper level behind goal, to the President´s box, to the players bench, to the dressing rooms, around the field, and into the self-promoting trophy room and out through the never ending souvenier shop.  I was impressed by the steep angle of the stands, such that the top row is about twice as high off the pitch as they are from the pitch.  While sitting in the players bench, could only think, if only I had trained a little bit harder as a youngster.....

 

Well, maybe I am getting a little lazy in updating my blog, but so be it.

Going back a bit, last Thursday and Friday went to the "Concerts for the New Milenium" in Santiago.  Great outdoor venue a easy 10 minute bus trip from town and festive atmosphere both nights with nearly 30,000 in attendance.  Starting off on Thursday was none other than Iggy Pop.  I don´t think the guy has any shirts and no one has told him that hes some 50+ years old.  He was playing the rock star from start to finish, and for it still being light and only third from the top of the list, it was pretty impressive.  Not to familiar with his stuff, but he did play "Dont wanna be a dog" twice.  Was hoping for a bit of lust for life, but no dice.  Next up Massive Attack.  Took the stage with an cast of about 6 and an ANGEL amongst them.  With the singers always coming and going, they delivered some KARMACOMA to keep the crowd SAFE FROM HARM.  The INTERIA CREEPS but couldnt stop the HYMN OF THE BIG WHEEL from crashing into the MEZZAINE, resulting a few TEARDROPs.  All was well, though, as the RISINGSON brought PROTECTION, but the UNFINISHED SYMPHONY was never completed.  Among others.  All in all, fabulous show with top-notch lightening and effects.  The Chemical Brothers took the stage around half 12, and said, "HEY BOY, HEY GIRL, you're gonna be UNDER THE INFLUENCE of some BLOCK ROCKING BEATS, so, we hope you´ve GOT GLINT, but either way, IT DOESN'T MATTER cuz were just gonna LET FOREVER BE.  Not as up to date on my hermanos tunes, and they played a good deal more new stuff than did massive attack.  Again, the crowd, mostly 16-23 year olds it appeared, was loving it and the presentation was excellent.  Not to mention the insane volume.  Alrite, overall, I´d give the show 8 of 10.  Could have used a bit more MA and a bit more passion from the brothers. 

Day 2.  Didnt bother showing up for the first few bands as it was a bit toasty.  Lou Reed, taking the place of David Bowie, played the role of sub-headliner.  Again, dont know much of his music, but it was a quality show, a bit more laid back the IP of course.  And I got what I came for, as he left us with a PERFECT DAY.  Taking the top bill was The Cure.  And they played....and played...and played.  A full 3 encore performances, during the last of which they were playing a mellow song and I just wanted it to end, as it was now after 3am.  Delivered a good mix covering most of the hits from Galore and about half their new album.  Great show, well worth it, but unless MA, this one dragged on.

Next day was off to Salamanca to camp and chill out for a few after the run Santiago to Pamplona and from the bulls and back to Santiago.  The town has the oldest university in Spain, going back to the 13th Century.  The landscape in this part of the country is flat, rolling hills, and mostly farmland, not to mention dry and hot in the summer.  The plan was to rent a bike and make a 43km loop around the area.  Nice plan it seemed, but the rental bike wasnt too comfortable.  Anyway, no bother, set out Sunday morning.  Got about 4km from town and the chain had derailed 3 times already, and the pedal had developed a regular clicking sound.  Stopped to check things out, and the bolt holding in the left pedel was coming loose.  A local stopped on his way by, and offered to help me get it fixed in the town 2k ahead.  Nice.  Found a farmer, tightened it up, and set off again with a guide to keep me from losing myself.  Until 3k more down the road it was loose again.  Worthless.  Sometimes ya get what ya pay for, other times you get a whole lot less.  Like this time.  The local assured me I couldnt make it and should set back, but that defeats the purpose I figured.  Told him I´d be alrite, and he set off.  Clunked my way through another 3k or so to the 13k point.  Couldnt go any further.  The lack of ability to use the left pedal more than a touch combined with the threat of soon having no left pedal forced me back.  By the time I got back to town there was no way I was taking the bike back to the campsite, 4k on teh other side, so I locked it outside the shop and left it for the night. 

Not much else eventful, as I was starting to feel a bit ill, so just chilled out at the campsite pool.  Came to Madrid on Monday, and the illness took on a whole new life.  I´ve got strep throat or something evil like that.  My throat is about 35% swollen on each side, leaving only a meager 30% for the essential things like breathing, eating, and drinking.  And without 800mg of IB every 6 hours, I´m a hurting unit.  But the European medical system (hopefully) came in handy enough.  I had no intention of paying 100€ to see a doctor, as even taking the time to do it is hurdle enough, without any money involved.  So I went to a pharmacy and managed to communicate my symptoms and assure them that only antibiotics would do.  So I walked away with some drugs for a mere 4€.  Now only if they´ll start doing some damage to my affliction.

Needless to say, Madrid has been a bit quieter than expected.  Spending the days seeing the sights and all, and just laying low at night.  Will be out of here Thursday or Friday heading down south.