Global Transmission

finally left the place that no one seems to leave

2010-12-29T11:30:00.000-08:00

you know those beach towns where backpackers and hippies seem to straggle into and never leave. zipolite happens to be one of those places. the routine seems to be is to struggle awake at noon, down breakfast, lay on the beach, follow that with the first sundowners at sunset, walk the beach or the one street in town to find out where the gran fiesta for the night will be, and then party till the wee hours. this cycle happens over and over again, similar to bill murray in groundhog day only with sun instead of snow.
the routine is 2 sundown beers to end the day or start the night depending on how you look at it
we quickly became locals the first day, knew half of the waitstaff or bartenders in town, and frightfully became one of them, stuck in time. we repeatedly heard from several people living there i've gotta get out of this place. luckily, having spent five days there, we snuck out just in time before becoming one of the permanent zombies. most people have been stuck there for anywhere from 2 to 4 months. one hostel manager visited 2 years ago and still hasn't left. he is now permanently leather skinned.
a restaurant in zipolite called the terrible...not the smartest name for a restaurant
we have now escaped to san cristobal de las casas in chiapas, mexico's southernmost state. it's the origin of the zapatista rebels, a hotbed for leftist revolutionaries, and home to some really good bars and cafe's. it's mexico's coffee region. the people here are more indigenous than other regions in mexico, and still speak tzotzil, a language rooting back to mayan civilization. it has a lot of 'shhh' sounds to it, but could be russian for all i know.
the catedral in the zócalo in san cristobal de las casas. if you ever want to call attention to yourself, then sketch in a public place. the shoeshine boys in the plaza like this young lad here, flocked around me to watch, and then proceeded to hit and kick each other, and then stopped for awhile to watch me sketch some more, and then returned to hitting, scratching, and kicking each other some more, and then watch me sketch again while climbing on top of my stuff and asking questions, and then after that breaking into a free for all no holds barred violence bonanza. the funny thing is they'll keep going to no end until they see someone with dirty shoes and then they'll harass them for 5 pesos to shine them.

vivé méxico!

2010-12-23T13:27:00.000-08:00

i haven't posted here in awhile, which makes sense for a travel blog if you're not travelling. but i´m glad to see that now that i'm on the road in mexico, that i haven't forgotten how to write meaningful bits of cultural observance. also, i still have a traveller rock star belly that up to this point has been immune to montezuma's revenge. speaking of which, food has been one of the highlights of this trip. i have this theory that the warmer and more colorful the country, the spicier and better the food. mexico hasn't dissapointed and is ranked somewhere in the top five after india and thailand and a couple others.
how about deep fried chile grasshoppers for a snack
a funeral procession of chickens
in mexico city, there´s one street stall that i would go to for a folded tortilla filled with refried beans, onions, nopales, and spicy salsa. the street stall lady cooked it with just the right amount of her dirty fingers squashing the frijoles, that one couldn't help but fall in love.
food stalls in oaxaca
one of the more interesting things about mexico city is how much it is sinking. you can see it in all the buildings of the historic center including the cathedral. the cathedral in mexico city
when cortés and the spanish destroyed the aztec capital of tenochtitlán, they filled the lake it was sitting on and built the entire city on this crappy soil without compacting it. henceforth, sloppy soil in earthquake zone equals sinking city. the ruins of the original azteca city of teotihuacán with the catedral in the background
i'm not sure what's stranger, an ice rink and snow park set in the middle of the zócalo in mexico city, or...
the creepy charmin bear mascot who hangs out at the porto-potties in the same plaza
a pretty little church in coyoacán mexico city
but enough about the wonderful merits of imposing colonization on indigenous people. highlights for me of mexico city was getting to see the house frida kahlo grew up, and also the house that frida and diego rivera lived in.
the lovely garden where frida kahlo grew up
dia de los muertos doll of frida at her casa azul
i could explain their tumultous relationship, or just watch the salma hayek movie frida to get a good background on her. she´s one of my favorite artists because of the amount of pain and suffering of her soul and body that is poured onto the canvas.
the house that frida kahlo and diego rivera lived in consisting of separate houses for each connected by a bridge. they lived here until frida caught diego sleeping with her sister cristina
diego's studio
diego's studio
have also been a tourist and visited some archaeological world heritage ruins. teotihuacán, the third tallest pyramid behind those in egypt.
pyramide de la luna in teotihuacán
pyramide del sol in teotihuacán
pyramide del sol in teotihuacán
also visited monté albán just outside oaxaca which is perched high up on a mountain plateau.
zapoteca ruins in monté albán
zapoteca ruins in monté albán
zapoteca ruins in monté albán
even though the touts selling their wares aren´t as aggressive as i´ve seen in other countries, my technique of randomly hugging them still steers them away from making a sale, and more towards sharing love and kindness amongst grown men.
normally i'm used to hugging sweaty smelly guys selling crap i don't need. this time i was caught on camera hugging a mezcal mujer telling her after seeing you 3 days in a row, i'm still not buying mezcal from you but i'll give you a hug instead
in oaxaca right now. been here for about 4 days now. it's a great colorful colonial city (that wonderful word again)filled with artists, galleries, brass marching bands, libraries and tourists. the plaza here is wonderful in the evening with street players, touts selling chicklets, for people watching and general wasting of time.
chiesa santo domingo in the background of a oaxaca street
dancers in the oaxaca zócalo
lots of oaxacan dummies everywhere
we're here for the noche de los rabanos (the night of the radishes). it doesn't take much to describe what this festival is all about
a radish church
they also had tamale wrap figurines and diaoramas set up. neat
the one high or lowlight here depending on how you look at it is the mezcal. it's native to the area formulated from the agave plant. every bar or restaurant has it's own house version, not the kitschy worm in the bottle stuff you get in the states. the stuff is a slow, trippy burn type of a buzz. we became friends with a couple of bartenders at a local watering hole in town. in exchange for our undying friendship, they kept pouring us free shot after shot after shot of mezcal. i don't really need to explain further what happens next.
the source
the villian. homemade artesenal mezcal
tomorrow, we leave oaxaca for the sleepy beach town of zipolite for your typical wintry, white sand christmas in the warm mexican playa sun. felíz navidad
payaso, deja en paz

TEN DAYS :: terese taylor | film premiere friday novemeber 12

2010-11-07T21:06:00.001-08:00

i doubt anyone actually reads this blog anymore. but just in case go to my film premiere:

TEN DAYS :: terese taylor
premiere screening
friday november 12 2010 at 8:00pm (doors open at 7:45)
mission cultural center
2868 mission street sf ca 94110
immediately after, after-party around the corner at the make-out room
advance purchase tix here (sliding scale $10-20), or at the door, but we'll charge you 2 bucks more just because we can: http://www.brownpapertickets.com/event/135225
view trailers hither: http://www.renology.com/images_film/ten_days/tendays_index.html

your passport to the world

2009-06-25T20:11:00.000-07:00

According to this church in North Berwick, Scotland, this is your passport to God's Kingdom. I still don't think Kim Jong Il will let you in North Korea though.
This is the greatest giveaway I've ever seen, although the consolation prize if you choose to opt against laser eye surgery is pretty weak. It might be worth it to get the lasik surgery anyway from a pricing standpoint.
He needs no passport nor eye surgery to get around, Dónde está Che Pelotas?

Woodward Video Production Camp 2009

2009-06-05T10:50:00.000-07:00

I'm waiting patiently for more barbecues, outdoor screenings and friends out at Woodward, PA. The barbecue next to the megaramp is especially cool. I think it's the only place in the world where you can grill up some red peppers at the top a giant inflatable snowboard jump. Friday nights are rad due to the outdoor film fest. I put this event on every week for the Video Production campers, right behind The Lodge. Outdoor screenings are great because you get the breeze coming in, everybody finds a place to sit and the music is blaring. We even have animals come by to watch. So far so good for the Woodward Video Production Camp (AKA: Woodward Academy of Digital Media).

Woodward Video Production Camp instructors: Myself, Ty and Dave post up for Pennsylvania sunset photo in '08. Mmmm, sunsets.

Transmission accomplished,

Andrew

Oaks Bottom Mural, update

2009-05-29T11:15:00.000-07:00

After being commissioned by the Urban Greenspaces Institute to document the historic painting in October, we're starting to shoot again now that the Summer weather has arrived.

Yes, even if you weren't thinking it: 50,000 square-feet is a kinda large for a painting. While most large murals are being made using printed vinyl sheets, the mural at Oaks Bottom Wildlife Refuge is being hand-painted. Much of the artwork is created using broad brushstrokes, but you can't tell this while looking across the Bottoms. A couple surprises are included for avid birdwatchers, like the red tail hawk near the center. The giant bird is completed in fine detail down to the feather.

Hauling and hanging aluminum scaffolding isn't in most artists' vocabulary. And judging from the Portland cafes I drop into, the closest most artists come to this is in carrying around their MacBooks. Artists Dan Cohen and Shane Bennet spending time with aluminum, below.

If the ground looks funny, that's because it's the roof of Portland Memorial. Photos from the 8th floor coming soon. We set up a few cameras around the roof; this one has just been set up to capture a time-lapse of the West Wall being completed.

-Andrew

NYC in spring

2009-04-17T16:30:00.000-07:00

It's been awhile since I've posted one of these things, so I might be a bit rusty. So here are photos from two wonderful weeks in New York, without as much bitter commentary as I usually indulge in:
east village rain
strategically placed advertising while sitting at home
2nd street view
brian jonestown massacre actually played
central park trees
token central park pond-and-tall-building-background photo
mami + duchamp at moma
yellow cabs
roosevelt island tram
nyc
bk
token elevator mirror shot
Always on point and never rusty, Dónde está Che Pelotas?

Global Motion Trailer online

2009-02-05T14:22:00.000-08:00

most people put out a movie trailer before a movie. but we don't live by the rules around here (and the current employment situation buys me some free time). so here's the link to the new trailer for the old movie i completed last fall: www.renology.com

GLOBAL MOTION
filmed over a period of 555 days, this film is a collection of sights and sounds captured with a small handheld camcorder. it's a collage with no set plot in mind of various environments encountered over a 1.5 year trip around the world. during this journey, amateur filmmaker renato jose, visited over thirty countries touching all seven continents.
all the video, photos and sounds in the film were recorded on location.
EPISODE I :: COLUMBIA + SOUTH AMERICA
running time 24:44
EPISODE II :: CHINA + SOUTHEAST ASIA
running time 29:56
EPISODE III :: NEPAL + INDIA
running time 35:37
EPISODE IV :: TURKEY + MOROCCO
running time 23:18

Cold as Hell in NYC

2008-12-30T15:19:00.000-08:00

I was actually scared taking this picture that one of the members would open the door and disapprove of my souvenir photography

South African Journal: Day Twenty -33 hour flight from Cape Town to Johannesburg to Dakar to Washington DC to New York City. I had a window seat next to this guy who was too big for his seat so his 'overflow' occupied a good part of my seat for 15 hours. You don't get much for $1,500 these days. At least South African airlines had TV monitors in the seat backs. Elizabeth with Cate Blanchett is a great movie (and not just because I have a crush on Cate Blanchett).

T-shirt in Dulles International Airport.

I [heart] NY

An appropriate photo considering the state of our country. Lower East Side, NYC.

Last Day in South Africa (for now)

2008-12-29T14:29:00.000-08:00

Saw this in a Middle Eastern restaurant next to the Green Market. Barack Obama, Martin Luther King Jr., Nelson Mandela & Malcolm X

South African Journal: Day Nineteen - Relaxing in Cape Town on my last full day in South Africa. Twenty days is clearly not enough. Coming back for the FIFA World Cup in 2010!

Thea, a mojito and Signal Hill

Even Rolando is having a drink (well, Thea drank most it I think)

We were watching dolphins jump as we sipped our drinks. Signal Hill in the distance.

Top o' the Table

2008-12-28T15:29:00.000-08:00

South African Journal: Day Eighteen - Highlight of the day was climbing Table Mountain. A fast, steep climb. Mom and Ben took the cable car up while Meg, Miles, Thea, Rolando and I raced the sun to get to the top. Made it up the Platteklip Gorge trail in about an hour and a half and joined mom for wine just as the sun was setting (which was around 9:30pm; its summer down here baby).

South African Rednecks?

2008-12-27T13:47:00.000-08:00

South African Journal: Day Seventeen – traveled back to Cape Town, about an eight hour drive through fairly monotonous Arizona like landscapes. Mellow night as we were all tired. Sushi & bed.

I listened to some of my 13,823 songs on my 120GB iPod Classic on the trip home and thought of the Afrikaner people. These are descendents of the original Dutch settlers who colonized this area beginning in the mid-1600s. Today, they are considered, at least by the descendants of the British, as rednecks or hicks. The stereotype of an Afrikaners person is an uneducated, Christian fanatic farmer, not too unlike the city folk from Boston or New York City might think of someone living in the Louisiana Bayou. I went into a truck stop shop on the way home run by a family of Afrikaners. The walls were completely covered in hand written messages about Jesus, in both English and Afrikaans. There was a floor to ceiling wooden cross (that could have easily supported a human nailed to it) with a halo of thorns hanging from the cross section.

More 20,000 Year Old Art

2008-12-26T13:46:00.000-08:00

One day Ben, one day

South African Journal: Day Sixteen – Today is Boxing Day in Great Britain and in her former colonies. Has nothing to do with the sport boxing or putting items in a box. It has something to do with St. Stephen, the first Christian martyr, who was stoned to death in Jerusalem around A.D. 34-35, but few Christians can remember what the celebration is all about. To most of the consumer world... I mean Christian world, this is a day to shop, with huge discounts. In South Africa, it has been changed to Day of Goodwill, a day to give gifts to the less fortunate members of society.

Thea & Meg fire-up the cycles

Rode the motorcycles again today to see some more 20-40,000 year old art carved into stone and another stone gong.

20,000 year old ostrich, gemsbok and lion

The Veld

2008-12-25T12:26:00.000-08:00

Agave Americana, the desert Christmas tree

South African Journal: Day Fifteen – Christmas day, fruit and croissants for breakfast, kids opened presents. I got a bottle of wine and Antony Osler's book Stoep Zen (Stoep is Afrikaners for porch/patio were people gather; a place for conversation and reflection).

Maeder and Les sporting their new Jamas on Christmas day

Went back out into the veld (the land), this time saw some indigenous art carved into rocks on Maeter's property. An academic from the Free State University came and looked at this rock art that they are guessing it could be between 20,000-40,000 years old based on similar art from around the region.

Maeter also showed us a rock gong thought to be from the same era. This was a group of large rocks, all different sizes, that were specially balanced so that when they were struck with a baseball sized rock, each 'gong' made different tones. It was like a drum kit with a seat and five 'drums' in a horseshoe design around the stone seat. Academics looked at these as well and confirmed they are way old.

20,000 year old drum set

Doesn't look like much but this was used by a prehistoric old Neil Peart

I have to say, there are few things more fun than chasing baboons around the Karoo on a 185cc off-road Kawasaki... ok, didn't really chase baboons around the semi-desert. Baboons are all over this area but we didn't see any tonight as Rolando, Meg, Thea, Miles, Ben and I ripped it up on three motorbikes and a Jeep. There were a few rabbits that almost feel pray to this knobby wheeled Japanese pleasure craft but no distant relatives of man were harassed by our motoring fun. Can't think of a better way to spend Christmas day then by speeding 40 mph through the African desert on two wheels, avoiding aardvark holes at sunset. Good fun.

So my nephew Ben had his first driving lesson today. He is five years old, just. And the jeep didn't have power steering. My sister Meg worked the gas and break while he managed the steering wheel. Aside from almost driving me off the dirt road when I was trying to pass them, he did a pretty good job. Good thing not too many cars transverse this stretch of dirt road. He found a porcupine quill as well, which added to the excitement of his first day of driving.

I Can Get Used To This Life

2008-12-24T12:00:00.000-08:00

The farm's alarm clock, aka calves

South African Journal: Day Fourteen – Woke with the sun and cows at 5:15am. I sleep in a windowless room in San Francisco (cheep rent), so I'm not used to the suns rays upon my sleeping head. Gave me time to read Dark Star: From Cairo to Cape Town and work on some of my photos before anyone else woke.

After a breakfast of Weetabix, bran flakes, eggs, bacon and coffee, Maeder took us out into the veld (Afrikaners for the land). He was checking the irrigation system that pumped water from underground wells to his sheep and cattle. They use simple metal windmills and plastic pipes. If it was the USA, I'm sure it would be gas powered pumps. We love our petroleum products.

Green energy, USA take note

Maeder took us out in the bakkie (pronounced bucky). These small pickup trucks with iron piped bars can be seen all over the Karoo.

The Irish Sheep dogs followed the bakke through the Veld

Rolando and Thea on the back of the bakke

Mile's uncle and aunt, Antony and Maggie, came over for Christmas Eve dinner. Very impressive, the dinner that is. Antony is impressive as well. He had just published a book about Zen Buddhism in the South African Karoo. He had studied Zen for three years at a monastery outside of Los Angeles and he and his wife run Zen workshops out of their farm.

Christmas Eve dinner, a good time had by all

Les made a special vegetarian plate for me with some of the best avocado and mango I have tasted. Coming from someone from Northern California, that is a rave. Much good food, drink and conversation had by all.

Avocados and Mango, doesn't get much better than that

Farm Life

2008-12-23T11:04:00.000-08:00

The Karoo, an arid semi-desert in the middle of South Africa

South African Journal: Day Thirteen – Drove from Port St. Johns to Mile's family farm just outside of Colesberg. We left the lush, green rolling hills of the Wild Coast to the flat, arid, semi-desert which they call the Karoo. We reached the farm just before sunset.

The main farm house. Hard to imagine this is in the middle of a desert

It felt like a Merchant Ivory film meets the Dukes of Hazard; the proper 'British' aristocrats meets the unrefined, redneck Americans. This is what I felt in the first night at the farm but like most things I've assumed in this country, I was soon to find that I was mostly wrong (The Osler family are not snobby aristocrats and though I do know how to shoot a compound bow, none of us Paars have Confederate flags painted on our car hoods).

My mother, Kathryn, and Miles father, Maeder (yes, the sky really is that blue)

Miles father, Maeder, is an incredible man. One of those rare people overflowing with geographical information, historical anecdotes, facts and figures on flora and fauna and the dry type of witty humor that sneaks up on you and leaves you laughing inside for quite a while. Miles stepmother, Les, started a local school/adult education/health clinic for the poor farm labors (mostly black). She had some amazing stories. Miles brother and sister were there with their spouses and young kids. Miles grandmother, who I think was hitting on me (we were the only two single ones over six years old in the house, aside from my mother), was the matriarchic of the house.

We got to the farm a bit late because of a problem with the Land Rover. Drank some sundowners, ate an amazing dinner and had a great sleep in the fresh, cool, Karoo night.

Windmills pump the water, not gas powered pumps like we would have

Happy Birthday Mom & Ben

2008-12-22T00:22:00.000-08:00

South African Journal: Day Twelve – Today was HOT, “like Africa hot,” as Matthew Broderick said in the 1988 movie Biloxi Blues. It was pretty obvious from early on that it wasn't going to be a very physical day. It was my mother's and nephew's birthday; mom achieving the age of 65 and Ben excited about being five. Ben wanted to go to the beach but it felt like 96 degrees in the shade at 10:00am. We decided to jump in the Land Rover, crank the AC, cross the Umzimvubu River, and drive north on a fairly bumpy dirt road to see what we could find.

The four kilometers of beach was nearly empty as the waters are a breading ground for sharks. We eventually climbed a few switchbacks which gave my mother white knuckles as she watched the goats navigate the near shear drop to the ocean just outside her car door. The hill finally leveled off to a beautiful view of a few villages that overlooked the Indian Ocean. These were black African villages, of the Xhosa people. Their colorful, conical thatched roofed, round houses dotted the bright green hills.

We came back down the hill and stopped off at the Cremorne Hotel for a late lunch. The college aged black waiter serving us spoke nine languages. And not like I “speak” Spanish (I can say 'beer' and 'I love' you and count to 100 on a good day). We lounged around the beautiful grounds of the Cremorne for most of the afternoon. Ben swam in their pool then met an Afrikaners kid about his age. Ben said hello in English, the boy said something in Afrikaners, they realized they didn't understand each others language and then played together for about an hour.

Ate dinner at Fish Eagle for the second night in a row. Some of the best thin crust, brick oven pizza I have ever eaten. My mother and I joined two tables by the river and decorated the umbrella with balloons for Ben. We ate pizza, ate cake and played a game of Cranium Cadoo. Just before we left, Ben gave away most of his balloons to three other kids at the restaurant. One little girl was so happy she walked around the restaurant waving the balloons for over half an hour. I felt 'white guilt;' the privileged, rich, white foreigners giving the poor African kids balloons. My brother-in-law must have sensed my feelings and commented that if these black families are eating in this restaurant, they were probably rich folk from Cape Town or Jo'burg here vacationing just like us. He said, “they probably all have Mercedes Benzs.” We walked to the parking lot which was full of Mercedes.

Only Two Shark Attacks!

2008-12-21T23:21:00.000-08:00

South African Journal: Day Eleven – Today was a beach day. We rented two surfboards from the Wooden Spoon at Beach #2 for 50 Rand each (US$5.00) and they threw in a decent Boogie board for free. The guy who rented it said there were only two shark attacks in the last three years and only the last one ended in a death. It was less than a year ago that they only found the two chewed up bloody fins of a life guard, no body. They guessed it was a tiger shark.

So the guy renting us the boards felt we had good odds of living. From the sharks at least. Miles and I are not exactly known for our surfing skills, though you have to admit we look like we know what we are doing in these pictures. And Thea, well, let me start from the beginning.

Cows don't surf

First of all, we are all strong swimmers and in pretty good shape for folk our age. Miles has hardly surfed and my skills are bad at best, though I can usually stand on a long enough board. Though the waves were not that powerful, a four to five foot face is still intimidating. So Miles and I rode the ripe tide out beyond break and paddled into the zone.

They may not know what they're doing but they sure look good

Meanwhile, Thea got caught in the rip and couldn't get out. If she didn't have the boogie board, she said she could have swam out of the current that was dragging her toward India, but with the Styrofoam board she couldn't escape. So the lifeguards blew their whistles and three of the four of them paddled out to get her (or as Thea put it, “I was tired but saw three buff guys coming toward me). The yellow capped water crusaders threw a flotation can to my little sis and brought her in. They showed her where the rip current was and suggested she stay clear of it.

Miles and I were enjoying the warm water and floated over a few sets before we tried out our luck. As I said, the waves were weak so we had to kick as well as paddle in our attempts. I finally caught a decent wave, stood for what seemed like only seconds before I bailed. I forgot to mention that we didn't have leashes, so my board shot out toward the beach.

Thea had caught her breath just as she saw me get separated from my board. Being the good sister that she is, she jumped back into the water and quickly recovered my surfboard. Unfortunately the recovery found her back in the rip. Back out came the aquatic saviors. Miles and I were now in the rip and I was getting tired trying to fight it to get my board. Miles gave me his board to catch my breath and the two of us got to Thea about the same time the two of the lifeguards did. Thea gave me my board and she let one of the lifeguards “save” her. The other lifeguard made sure we made it out of the rip before paddling his kayak back to the beach.

Future ASP World Junior Champion

Rolando does 'vacation' right with a snooze on the boogie board

Later when my our other sister Meg went to thank the lifeguards, they commented, “that girl doesn't listen.” A local said to Meg, “I was surprised how calm your mother and other family members were when your brother and sister were in trouble.” She didn't know that 'Trouble' is all of our middle names.

"That girl doesn't listen"

2008-12-20T12:45:00.000-08:00

The Transkei no longer exists. It is now called the Wild Coast.

Blogging with a view

South African Journal: Day Ten - The drive from Kragga to Port St. Johns took a bit over seven hours. We passed over the Skei river pretty early in the trip into an area that used to be called the Transkei (Trans: to pass, Skei: the name of the river you pass over). The Transkei was the black area. Whites rarely came here and if they did, they needed to show ID. This was a homeland the colonialists forced the indigenous blacks to move to. I had read about this area in the 80's when I was protesting outside of the South African embassy in London against Apartheid (meaning separateness in Afrikaans; 1948-1991, the white minority of South Africa used force to oppress the black majority by forcing them into segregated homelands and denying them equality).

Had to slam on the breaks to avoid hitting these bulls who were fighting on the highway. All sorts of obstacles are on the road from children to drunks to sheep.

As soon as we crossed the bridge into the-area-previously-known-as-the-Transkei (now named the East Cape or the Wild Coast), we saw an adolescent young man in traditional dress, his dark black body painted white, walking into the bush with a walking stick. This is a right of passage. He was the age of my students, sixteen or seventeen, and it made me thinking of them; except he was just circumcised and was being sent into the bush for a week to become a man. We have definitely crossed into a different part of South African.

Watched some of the five day cricket test match, South Africa vs. Australia (image stolen from the interwebs)

Been watching cricket with my brother-in-law Miles, a five day test match between Australia and South Africa. I think I understand the sport by now. Very slow and very strategic. The South African team, The Proteas (after the national flower) is very diverse. They actually have a quota to have non-white races represented on the team. Kinda strange to see a blond haired, pasty white skinned British looking guy playing side-by-side with a dark skinned Muslim with a long, bushy beard. Very cool actually. And to see my brother-in-law get excited about a play that I can barely tell that something happened was amusing. Our sports are so full of flair, home runs where the batter freezes at the end of his swing or a basketball player spinning in the air and slam dunking the ball. Where they do have us is with the length of the game and the score. Though there are one day cricket events, a test match lasts five days with a score of 475 to 490 not too uncommon. Miles has been to a test match. He told me that some of the big games will have over 60,000 fans attending from 10:00am 'till 5:00 or 6:00pm, all five days. Whole lotta beer drinking going on.

Hashim Amla of the South African Cricket team (image stolen from the interwebs)

Rhinos and Elephants and Warthogs, oh my

2008-12-19T10:15:00.000-08:00

Some people wake up to birds or squirrels outside their window. This is what was outside ours this morning

South African Journal: Day Nine – Woke to three rhinos right outside our accommodations, which is ironically called Rhino House. Meg, Thea and I started the day a 'bit' hung over. Luckily, Miles was ok so he drove us and mom out early to Ado Elephant Park. This is the type of reserve most people see when they come to Africa. Huge tracks of land in which you drive your own vehicle around endlessly trying to see animals. You usually see the big ones. The elephants, the giraffes, etc. Warthogs seem to be all over these parks and are actually a lot of fun to watch, especially the babies. I was most excited to see a dung beetle. Almost thought a mid-sized, tusked elephant was going to push over a car. But over all, the park where we are staying in is much more exciting.

Back at our game park accommodations, we went on an elevated, wooden planked walkway around a bunch of cheetahs who seemed as if they could have easily jumped over the low, electrified, chain linked fence enclosure for an evening snack of human.

We had a pretty mellow night as we were looking at a seven to nine hour drive the next day. Ate leftovers and watched the Italian Job on South African television as we packed.

Lion Lunch

2008-12-18T21:47:00.000-08:00

South African Journal: Day Eight - Got bitten by a lion today, but more on that later.

Drove from the beach town of Knysna north east with a small mountain range following us closely to our left with the Indian Ocean often visible at times to our right. We are traveling the very green Garden Route. The area we have been staying the last three nights, Knysna, was heavily populated with evergreen trees but now we have rolling green hills feeding herds of cows, with the occasional patch of trees. There are also these really alien looking dirt orbs slightly larger than exercise balls along the road. Miles tells me they are ant or termite hills but they look more like Invasion of the Body Snatchers pods.

We passed Jeffrey's Bay, about an hours drive toward the ocean from the highway. It supposedly has one of the best right breaks in the world. If you've seen the movie Endless Summer, you know what I mean. We were going to make a detour but we all just want to get to the game park and out of the cars. Thea and I may go back their tomorrow or the next day to give the waves a ride or two.

For the next three nights we are staying in Kragga Kamma Game Park, a small, little known wildlife reserve just outside Port Elizabeth. As soon as we drove into the park we saw five giraffe, a bunch of wildebeest, six or seven zebra and bonebok. Before we got to the accommodations, a little less than a mile into the park, we came across three huge white rhinos and a bunch of warhogs. Unbelievable. We are staying in a beautiful two story structure and these animals are rooming freely all around us. Miles asked if it was a bad idea to go jogging in the morning and the game warden replied, with a very serious face, that she suggested he not. She also suggested we stay out of the tall grass where the snakes hide.

We arrived at Kragga Kamma around 1:00pm, dropped our gear and headed to Seaview Game & Lion Park. Meg wanted to take us here because they rehabilitate lions and other animals and to help raise money, they let the public pet, play with and hold lions! I had seen a picture of Meg holding a baby lion when she visited about three years ago and I was pretty excited. At first, we watched two eleven-day-old babies get feed by bottle. They couldn't really see yet. Pretty cute. Then my nephew Ben and I played with two cubs who were a couple of weeks old. They already had really sharp teeth and claws. Just playing around they could do some serious damage to us. We had to be really careful.

Ben plays with a three month old baby lion.

Then Meg, Miles and I entered an area where there were four 60kg albino lions, one boy and three girls. This was truly scary. The three wardens who entered (slowly!) with us acted if it was no problem but you could tell they were keeping a close eye on the lions and us. One warden, Mirelle, took my Nikon D300 and took pictures. Another, Dee, prepped the lions for their new visitors (read: lunch) and showed us how to interact with them. We pet them, scratched them and played with them almost the same as you would with a house cat. The difference: these animals had huge muscles. They were all muscles. And like many house cats, they just wanted to play. Except they had big teeth, long sharp claws and skin literally five times as thick as ours. So when they whack you with a paw as big as our hands, claws like a small, razor sharp knives, these adolescent lions didn't take into account that they were tougher than us. Everything was going fairly well until one of them got a little too playful and gave me a “play bite” on the side of my waist and wouldn't let go. Dee came quickly to my rescue and though the female lion did not rip one of my favorite t-shirts, she did break skin. It was obvious she was playing, she could have easily taken a softball sized chunk of my waist out before Dee got close, but this made it no less scary. It was really strange the way these 130lbs. cats stared into our eyes. Eerie. Dee and the others were amazing hosts, the cats were all beautiful, the park, full of giraffes, zebra, bonebok, a tiger (caged) and many others. Amazing, action-packed day.

These lions are nine months old and very scary.

Thea pets the nine month old male. You can see his mane starting to come in.

These teeth hurt, trust me.

Hard to see in this photo, but this is where I got bitten by one of the 130lbs. lions (she was playing of course).

Postcard my nephew Ben sent to his classmates back in St. Louis

We didn't play with papa lion.

Came home, had a BBQ and ingested libations a plenty.

Inter-what?

2008-12-17T21:31:00.000-08:00

The Internet hardly exists in South Africa. It is really funny the people's reaction to this alien technology. Really, it is just not part of the culture here at all and those who even know what it is mocks it.

South African Journal: Day Seven - I have not slept more than six hours per night since I have been here. I think it is catching up. I am also riding a low grade cold I am sure I picket up in Washington DC when I was walking around in 35 degree rain with a light sweatshirt and holes in both my shoes trying to get extra pagers in my passport. Plus, my sisters are starting to bicker.

I'm at a restaurant called Chatters on Gray Street. Though it has been open for seven hours (it is 5pm now), they didn't have change for a 100 Rand note when I bought a 10 Rand beer (about US$1.00) and they don't have the access code for the WiFi. The boss, who we meet when we ate her the night we drove into Knysna, will be here in one hour and will hopefully have both.

Today was a chill day, aside from my sisters arguing. No real running around trying to get anything accomplished. We went to the most famous oyster bar at the Quays but then no one wanted to eat oysters. Kinda typical minor dysfunction that we are dealing with as a group (my mother, two sisters Meg and Thea, two brother-in-laws Rolando and Miles, my five-year old nephew Benjamin and myself).

I don't feel like I am in Africa. This is due to a couple of reasons:

My prejudice of what Africa is. I thought everyone I would be interacting with here would be black. I've been to Morocco, Egypt and Eritrea and had a good idea of who I would be interfacing with there but I was wrong with South Africa, at least so far. Only twelve percent of the country is white but it seems over 90% of the people I deal with are of the caucasian persuasion. More on the black/white thing later.
I'm not traveling as I usually do: low budget, eating in local hole-in-the-walls, exploring local culture, etc. This is a family reunion where we are doing more touristy type things (though even those are not the most typical touristy excursions).
Other people are 'running the show' (meaning my sister and brother-in-law mostly and occasionally my mother) and we are accommodating many diverse needs/wants, including that of a five year old boy.

The segregation is really strange to me. I don't think I could come to peace with this, at least through the lens I am seeing it now. Today is really the fifth day I have been in the country, with the excursion to DC and all, and I saw for the first time a black family eating in a restaurant. Blacks serve whites here, again, at least from my present lens. Very little interaction otherwise that I can see. Just that fact that townships still exist is strange. Its been 14 years since the end of Apartheid (April 1994), and it is truly amazing that there could be this much change in such a short time, but it still feels way too close to what I would image slavery, or at least colonialism to be like. My only interactions with blacks, over 77% of the population, is when they are waiting on me.

The huge townships I have seen on the outskirts of cities and towns is amazing! Wood, corrugated metal and plastic and plastic tarp houses by the thousands which run right along the beautifully kept highway. Built on dirt, most too small to house a car, running water doubtful. Amazing. Do any white people live in the townships? I doubt it. Though blacks were clearly segregated before 1950, it was then that the townships were officially erected. And 58 years later they still exist.

The white guilt I feel here is strong. I sit in cafes, being waited on by blacks, while white British and Afrikaner vacationers walk around laughing, drinking and having a good time. It is truly surreal. Again, all of these observations come after just five days in the country, so I'm sure there is much for me to understand, but this is one of the strangest places I have traveled in this regard.

Mellow Day on the Indian Ocean

2008-12-16T22:18:00.000-08:00

Featherbed Nature Reserve overlooking the Heads. Indian Ocean behind us.

South African Journal: Day Six - Rushed morning to get to our boat departing for Featherbed at 10am, everyone but my sister Meg. She needed some 'alone' time, and when Meg needs something, its in everyones best interest that she get it. Family reunions, especially family road trip reunions, often require personal time.

Made the boat for an enjoyable couple of hours in Featherbed Nature Reserve on the tip of the southern part of the Heads (see day 4). Not much wildlife but some beautifully views, a really nice hike and a great restaurant at the end of it.

Fairly relaxed, uneventful day. Bought a FIFA World Cup 2010 baseball cap and sampled the locally brewed beers.

My 5 year old nephew Ben in Featherbed Nature Reserve

90 degrees at the Beach

2008-12-15T08:55:00.000-08:00

Sandstone cliffs bookmark the entrance to the lagoon, called the Heads

A view of the Heads, from the south, from a place called Featherbed

South Africa Journal: Day five - Had a great breakfast at The Heads this morning. The Heads is the narrow entrance to the lagoon, with sandstone cliffs on either side. The tides are deceivingly dangerous, having sunk nearly 50 large vessels. The British Royal Navy once proclaimed this as the most dangerous harbor entrance in the world.

The large 13 sq km lagoon, which is really an estuary, has great white sharks in it though none have munched on humans (yet). Still a bit unnerving when swimming.

Drove about an half hour north to a place called Nature's Reserve in the afternoon. One of the cleanest, empties, most beautiful beaches I have ever seen. Swam in an estuary that had a strong current from the incoming waves with Ben, Meg, Thea and Miles. A lot of fun. Then went on a great hike that took us to an amazing lookout point that was on the Otter Trail. If you look at the cliff in the picture below you will see where we hiked too; the right most point above the cliffs, just over my mothers shoulder. Beautiful country here in South Africa. Really green.

My nephew Ben with my mother at Nature's Reserve

One the Road Again

2008-12-14T08:41:00.000-08:00

Baboons roam the highway outside of Capetown

South Africa Journal: Day four - Drove about 500km from Capetown to Knysna, pretty much due east along the southern end of the country. South African highways, at least this one, is really, really clean. Probably the tidiest highway I've ever seen. No garbage along the side of the road, perfectly paved, manicured bushes and flowers at the exits. Its only one lane each way with very short double passing sections every so often. Most of the town names are in Afrikaners meaning they are difficult to pronounce Dutch words such as Riviersonderend Nature Reserve, Groot Jongensfontein and Vermaaklikheid. The drive was fairly uneventful aside from a group of baboons crossing the highway as we crested the first mountain pass leaving Capetown.

Knysna (silent 'k', pronounced ny-znah, in a South African accent of course) is a town of about 55,000 humans on a lagoon just off the India Ocean. The name of the town is a Khoisan (some of the first inhabitants of South African) word meaning “place of the fern.” Knysna is the most forested area in South Africa. This is a tourist town and we are at the beginning of the Christmas tourist season, which lasts three weeks. Wouldn't know it is about to be Saint Nicks big day with near 40 degrees Celsius weather (about 100 Fahrenheit) and the sun setting around 9pm. Mind you, I'm not complaining.

Finally in South Africa

2008-12-13T02:16:00.000-08:00

Not sure if South Africa is more excited for the World Cup than I am.
This futbol World Cup count down machine is in Jo'burg International airport.

South African Journal: Day Three - A pretty uncomfortable 15 hour flight from Washington DC to Jo'burg. I had a row of four seats all to myself right up until the plane door shut and this middle aged woman jumped into the far seat in my row. Before I knew it she was laying down across three of the seats. Cheeky bi-otch. My seat did not recline correctly and the arm did not fold all the way up. Not as much leg room as JetBlue but more than other airlines I guess. Pretty rough over all. At least I had vegitarian meals and free booze.

Got to Jo'burg, got through customs without a snag. Approached the domestic counter and there was a guy in what seemed a South African Airlines uniform. His ID badge was in this shirt pocket. He asked what flight I was on and when I told him, he signaled for me to cut the line (I think that flight was about to take off in 10 minutes). The woman at the counter said I just missed that connection and that she would check the next flight. She asked for my itinerary. I asked the attendant in Washington for a printout of the itinerary and he said he could not print me one. He wrote it out by hand, very slowly and clearly. I handed her that piece of paper, she checked her computer and then told me that I was not in the system. She said something to the guy helping me in a language I didn't understand and he told me that I was not in the system, that I would have to buy a ticket on another airline, or stay a night in Jo'burg for a South African flight the next day.

I knew there would be more problems. The woman walked away, came back, checked her computer and printed out a boarding pass. The guy told me I was in luck. The woman left again and the guy asked me for something for their troubles. Hesitantly I handed him a $5 bill and he said their banks would not take that small a bill. He asked for a $20 bill. I don't usually give into bribes but I gave it to him. Welcome to South Africa.

Looking for Dick in DC (Cheney that is)

2008-12-12T01:30:00.000-08:00

South Africa Journal: Day Two - Washington DC observations:

1. There are far many more blacks in DC than SF. Blacks seem to be hanging out with blacks and whites seem to stick with whites here. At least from my observations during my 24 hour stay in Dupont Square and my walk around the Mall.

2. People dress up much more here than on the west coast. Dress shirts and ties seem to be the minimal dress code for men. Many wear a suit. And women are smartly dressed.

3. Women make eye contact here. In fact, they often instigate it. So different than San Francisco were you get the look-of-death if you dare look into the eyes of a passing female.

A funny thing about being in the Passport Office this morning: there were framed photos of George W. Bush, Dick Cheney and Condoleezza Rice. Bush and Rice had their name and position printed beneath them but Chaney did not. Such a secretive guy.

I have a friend from San Francisco who just took a job with the White House, photographing Dick Cheney. I called him to see if he could join me at the Brickskeller in Dupont Circle for a beer and a bite to eat. He said he was going to be working late, past 9pm and I needed to be up early to wait in line at the Passport office so a rendezvous didn't look good. I asked him what he was doing so late and he said he couldn't discuss it.

After getting my $60 additional visa pages at the Passport Office, I walked passed the White House on my way to the subway. They were building bleachers outside the White House for Barack Obama's inauguration. After lunch, I went to the airport early to make sure there were no more surprises.

South Africa - Not Yet!

2008-12-11T00:42:00.000-08:00

South Africa Journal: Day One - They wouldn't let me on the South African Airline flight in Washington DC's Dulles International Airport. Actually, the white guy with a scar where his forehead meets the top of his head, almost from one ear to the next, told me he would let me on the flight but that I would be turned away in Johannesburg. The reason: I don't have a full blank page in my passport. Actually, I do, but they are in the Amendment Pages. The Visa Pages are broken up into four sections for visa stamps and though I have many stamps, I also have a few empty quarter-page sections. But the scar head dude said I needed a full empty page. He wrote on a scrap piece of paper where I needed to go in the city to get extra pages in my passport... at 7:00am the next day!

DC is not a cheap city. My friend Van helped me get a room at the Beacon Hotel, just blocks from the Passport Office in Dupont Square for $100 a night. Carajo! Left my backpack with South African Airlines and walked, underdressed for the East Coast winter, in the 35 degree rain from the underground, after a $10 bus ride and a $3.85 subway fare from Dulles, to my hotel. Went to the Brickskeller for beer and a vegiburger and fell asleep watching the car bailout fail on CSPAN.

Found California's Lost Coast

2008-12-03T10:01:00.000-08:00

My friend Van Nguyen came from New York City to the Bay Area for Thanksgiving this year. With gas below $2 a gallon and a $13 a day Jeep Compass car rental which Van found, we felt it irresponsible not to go on a road trip to California's the Lost Coast.

Highway 1, which hugs California's coast from North to South, veers away from the Pacific Ocean for about 80 miles in Humboldt County. There is little human influence in this area that includes the Kings Range National Conservation Area and the Sinkyone Wilderness State Park.

We rented two bear canisters from REI and drove north four hours through redwoods to Garberville, filled the car with gas and headed west over dirt roads and away from civilization for three days.

The view from our tent at Barn Camp in Sinkyone Wilderness State Park.

The crashing sound from fifteen to twenty foot waves made it a bit difficult to sleep. Luckily it got dark before 4:30 in the afternoon so we had plenty of nighttime to attempt rapid eye movement. It was beautiful to watch the waves crash against the cliffs below us.

The visitors center at Needle Rock at sunset.

The view looking south in Sinkyone Wilderness State Park on our way to Bear Cove.

The only town on the Lost Coast. The very isolated, tiny, Shelter Cove has a small airport, a so-so breakfast place, a closed convenience store and more beautiful vista points than can be enjoyed in one day. Just don't go there during a tsunami.

[photos taken with a point-n-shoot and not my lovely Nikon D300]

-Morgan

Oaks Bottom, Up Close

2008-11-19T15:13:00.000-08:00

More than a month ago I started hanging out on the roof of an 8-story building. It looks condemned to most passers-by, who see it from the Springwater Corridor commuter path in Portland, Oregon. The building and the commuter path sandwich one of the best urban wildlife areas in the Pacific Northwest, called the Oaks Bottom Wildlife Refuge. I started out spending my free time walking in and around Oaks Bottom. Which is how I ended up on the roof.

The roof of the Portland Memorial Mausoleum is the staging area for ArtFX Murals, a mural painting company from Portland which has started hand-painting the largest mural in North America. Shane and the team at ArtFX will be adding to the stories-tall Great Blue Heron that his father painted in the 1990's.

-Andrew Burke

Woodward Video Production Camp

2008-10-03T11:04:00.000-07:00

Pennsylvania is done. Nine weeks working 72-hours-a-week is done. Camp Woodward now officially has a summer of Video Production Camp in the can. And to snag a quote from Charles Dickens, "It was the best of times, it was the worst of times". It was the best because... are you kidding me? It's Woodward! And it's still the "most elite sports camp in the world". Where else can you find an Amish farmer, 500 skateboarders, and Olympic Gold Medalist Dominique Moceanu on the same street? It was the worst, well, mainly because the place seems to run on styrofoam and processed hamburgers. It's a gnarly sight to see 800 campers each week, double-fisting a cheese burger in one hand and a cup of soda in the other. Maybe I'm too eco-conscious for The Keystone State?

i'm finally going home.

2008-09-16T17:30:00.000-07:00

after travelling so much over the past three years, i think i'm retiring. not completely from travelling, but from long-term backpacker travelling. the body is getting tired, the tolerance level is not as high as it used to be, and the desire to see all of the world is waning. i'm missing the comforts of home, my dog, and maybe the simple life. but i must thank everyone over the past 6 months who've been kind enough to allow me to stay with them. it was great having their company, them playing host, and of course, such a big benefit for the travel budget. so thank you to ricky and paola in barcelona (who've hosted me more times than i can count), alison and sebas in barcelona, philippe and gaelle my french connection in piedralaves, marta in madrid, d-diddy and c-sparks in london (who were kind enough to let me extend and extend and extend my stay), freya in glasgow, renate in norway, and of course lucy in scotland (mami knows papi).
my last port of call on this trip, north berwick, scotland
and getting killed from the backpacker team in north berwick
i now head home ready to start the next phase. not sure what that means, but i'm sure it'll figure itself out.....so yes, this is my swan song. i'm hanging up the backpack, and nothing but 5 star hotels and restaurants for this homeboy.
for michelin's 5-star rated biggest smoothie, check out, Dónde está Che Pelotas?

Leaving Spain

2008-09-05T07:51:00.000-07:00

I said my goodbye to Spain yesterday, flying out of Barcelona, and feeling a bit sad. I've spent about three of the last five months here, and it's hard not to get nostalgic. Barcelona has been a home away from home thanks to friends like Rique and Paola and also Alison and Sebas who all opened their homes for me while travelling. It's nice to be with locals, since you see the real Barcelona versus the watered-down Lonely Planet version. Needless to say, I wouldn't have been able to afford Barcelona without their hospitality. I was also nostalgic about my time in Piedralaves....I wrote about this a few posts back, so no sense in re-writing what has been written. I'm going to miss the Spanish culture, lifestyle, and all the wonderful people I met.....(but not gonna miss the food since it's not very vegetarian friendly). But now I'm in the wonderful tropical British Isles where the weather is a balmy 50 degrees F, under rainy, cloudy skies. I'll be here the final 2 weeks of my trip (aii mami!). I haven't been posting much and haven't been taking many photos either. I think it's a sign that it might be time for me to go into backpacker traveler retirement. But I'll make that decision at the end of the season when I return to the states. So this is not my swan song yet....but it could be coming soon.......
hell is not in any Barcelona guidebook

Speaking of white birds, Dónde está Che Pelotas?

Dear Mom,

2008-08-28T00:43:00.000-07:00

I know I haven't written in awhile, but I've been busy back here in Spain. Everything is fine, don't worry, I'll be home soon. Having fun, wish you were here, hugs and kisses, etc. etc.
My new Spanish friends and I enjoying deep conversation.
For deep intellectual conversation, you'll need to answer, Dónde está Che Pelotas?

Leaving Norway

2008-08-15T06:03:00.000-07:00

I'm not going to write about how expensive this country is. I think I pretty much covered that in the last blog entry. But since then, nothing has changed. It's still f*ng expensive.
I leave Scandinavia tomorrow, but I did manage to get up into the mountains for some hiking and taking in the alpine scenery. Unfortunately the weather was shite most of the time with rain and clouds, but somehow I managed to avoid getting wet while doing a two day trek. I stayed in huts run by the Norwegian Mountain Something (called DNT), and they're similar to the Colorado Mountain Hut system in guess which state, or the refugios that you find in Patagonia in Argentina. But can you believe it cost $40 a night for a measly dorm bed? Or that meals cost $20 each?!? Oye vay, I'm bitching about price again. Needless to say, I lived on bread cheese and tomato sandwiches. I'm becoming manorexic.
Anyway, here are some photos of the trip. They're not that great due to flat light and general travel exhaustion. But hey, what better things do you have to do right now.
Sheep and lake in Jotunheimen National Park
Gjende lake
Lake on top of lake on top of lake is the Norway norm. If you look at a map of Norway, it looks like it just rained and left puddles on the map since the entire country is lake after lake after fjord after lake after fjord.
Introducing reindeers Dasher, Dancer, Prancer, Vixen, blah blah blah blah, no Rudolph
Sun came out long enough to capture the turqoise color of Gjende Lake
However, the DNT lodges were kept real nice, warm and cozy. The showers were hot and there was even a sauna. The most interesting thing I noticed though, were the toilet seats. They look more like basketball rims than seats. Overall, the Norwegians are tall, but not so gigantic as to have 22” rim seats. It made me curious since when I go to the bathroom, I usually throw down slam dunks. I wonder if Norwegians take jump shots. I was also concerned that if an eight year old used it, they might drown.

He's toilet seat is a 360 tomahawk jam,Dónde está Che Pelotas?

High Taxes x Semi-Socialistic Society + Crappy US Dollar = Really Expensive Norway

2008-08-09T07:45:00.000-07:00

or in a simple equation form, HTx3(S)+CrUD=REN
I finally found the cure for drinking too much cheap rioja wine in Spain, or the binge drinking drink till you absolutely collapse mantra of the British. Head to Norway. Your cheapest drinking option is picking up beer at the grocery store which costs a whopping $16 for a 6-pack of crappy lager. And if you go out to drink at a bar, drinks are at a minimum, $10 a drink. But don't worry, if you decide to nurse your hangover, a cup of coffee costs around $5 a cup. Food isn't cheap either. A bag of chips cost about $8+. Entertaining isn't cheap at around $30 to get into a club. Low-income entertainment isn't cheap either. Renting a DVD costs $11. It would be cheaper to have NetFlix ship a DVD from the states to Norway.
It looks like I'll be losing weight on this portion of the trip and doing a lot of reading.
No these aren't models. Everyone here looks like this, chock full of caucasian goodness.
I think this was the original SMART car

I'm grateful that I've got friend's places to crash at. Don't even let me tell you what lodging and transportation costs......
Oslo street art near where I'm staying

The grave of Oslo's most famous artist, Edvard Munch
You know, the guy who did 'The Scream'. He painted some of the most depressed looking paintings that I've ever seen. But then again, tragic artists are the most talented. Maybe not the most likely to attend a company barbecue, but talented nonetheless.
The one good thing here in Norway is that they have the world's best health care. Full coverage and absolutely free. Education is free at universities as well......It's just too damn bad that none of this applies to me.
With these everyday low prices, I hope my wallet survives this ass-raping that it's been receiving............

Speaking of ass rape, Dónde está Che Pelotas?

Coming Full Circle

2008-08-05T02:44:00.000-07:00

Fifteen years ago, my first long overseas trip started here in Glasgow, Scotland. And like a prodigal son, I have returned. Some things are still the same here such as the weather is complete shite, drinking till you're absolutely pissed is the norm, and the Indian curry is still incredible if not even better.
like a tropical beach paradise with a UV index of 8+
But I also noticed some differences such as the value of the US dollar being equivalent to the Indian rupee has made things expensive here, there are a lot of security cameras everywhere as in an Orwellian police state, and this last one confused me. While walking the streets of Glasgow, there's a lot of people just sitting in cars doing nothing. There's a lot of this, but I'm not sure what it means or if it existed so prevalently 15 years ago. Usually it's just one guy just sitting there in his car.....just sitting there. It's a bit creepy, like Facebook.
a bunch of heads at the Kelvingrove Gallerythe cloisters at the University of GlasgowPosting bills in glasgow is illegal. To combat this, the city council came up with the brilliant idea of tagging all illegal bills with a 'CANCELLED' bumper sticker. I wonder if they see the irony of this, cancelling the next coming of god.He can never be cancelled, we just don't know where he is, Dónde está Che Pelotas?

A Religious British Institution

2008-07-29T00:27:00.000-07:00

Went down to Cornwall this weekend, which is England's tiny version of summer beachfront living.
England's only turquoise water. It's surprisingly clear water, but you'll freeze your bollock's off.
Just like all towns in England, St. Ives in Cornwall has many many pubs. One might say that they're a religious institution.
The Golden Lion Pub in St. Ives
And doing a pub crawl is akin to making a holy pilgrimage to Mecca. For instance in this one pub called 'The Three Ferrets', I saw this holy prayer to all ye faithful to drinketh plenty on the wall.
Our Lager, Which Art in Barrels, Hallowed Be Thy Drink.....etc. etc., get pissed.
Speaking of religious institutions, Dónde está Che Pelotas?

British Signs

2008-07-25T01:14:00.000-07:00

I know the English invented the language, but some of the stuff is just funny if you're an American.
this is asking whether you are hungry, not if you're a chicken with feathers up your ass
as funny as this may seem, you would not believe how many times these signs on the road have saved meevangelical rant is universal...so is pick up your dog shit...or dog foulingmust be the hooker district the next 1/2 mile......and this must be the street where to find them
I love British sarcasmThis lady kept walking back and forth. I guess her priorities in life kept switching back and forth
His smoothness is universal, Dónde está Che Pelotas?

Jolly Old England

2008-07-21T11:38:00.000-07:00

I've temporarily left Spain and have headed up to Northern Europe, first stopping in London (the weather sucks) catching up with old friends. It's a different change of pace, lifestyle and scenery (the weather sucks). I've taken in some cultural gems such as the Tate Modern Gallery (the weather sucks), walking along the Thames (the weather sucks), visiting Borough Market (the weather sucks), Hyde Park (no sunny Sunday walk in the park, the weather sucks) and so forth.
truffles for sale at Borough Market
sunflowers for sale.....
and chilling in a vase at home
Have also caught a couple music shows in central London (the weather doesn't suck too bad when indoors), and many pints crawling from pub to pub (the weather especially sucks after leaving the warm indoors).
a rare blue sky spotting
a bicycle sitting in the warm summer sun with the Thames and St. Pauls Cathedral in the background
The one thing I've been having trouble with though (besides the crappy weather), has been the crappy dollar exchange rate. London is expensive (and guess what the weather is like), and with the dollar being worth half a British pound, expenses are tight. But thankfully I've got friends to stay with which helps things a lot (the weather's not so bad, I haven't gotten frostbite yet).

If he was English, he'd be knighted by now, Dónde está Che Pelotas?

Sadness and Architecture

2008-07-18T07:53:00.000-07:00

Sadness
After spending the last two months in Piedralaves, I left my house in the Spanish sun, leaving my pool, my neighboring horses, and all the people of Piedralaves who I had no idea what they were saying. I will be back in mid-August for a couple of days spending time with the owner and his family. But it will not be the same since it's no longer my house all to myself and to my few esteemed guests. I left the house to a large French family, the brother and niece's of the owner. We overlapped our stay by 18 hours, and instantly the house was transformed and was no longer mine. When my friend and I left the long driveway of the property, I felt a tinge of sadness for everything I gave and received from this little Spanish house in the sun.
This is one of the things I left behind.....33 bottles of wine over the kitchen cabinets (don't worry mom, I had help drinking this).
Architecture
Contrary to popular belief, I'm still an architect. I felt an obligation since I'm in Spain again, to see the building that revolutionized (btw, this is a matter of opinion) architecture in 1997. Frank Gehry's Guggenheim Museum in Bilbao. But I'm not going to get into the details of the project, enough has already been written about this project (plus, Frankie has been copying himself way too much lately with his designs). Instead, here's a few pictures of the aforementioned revolution.
Front elevation. But I can't help but think that Jeff Koons Flower Cat sculpture dominates the picture and steals the show.
titanium clad goodness

Sphincter balls on a stick.
Sunset reflection
He's a cat that always steals the show, Dónde está Che Pelotas?

The Circus has come to Town

2008-07-14T03:50:00.000-07:00

Everybody loves a circus. Especially when you get to see such things as a piranha show or Spain's youngest clown. Well, the circus arrived last week in Piedralaves and with no other forms of entertainment out here than Spanish cow-tipping, we were quite excited. However, the 12 euro price of admission pissed down on our excitement. So instead we took photos of the Piranha Show trucks and a bunch of their posters. So instead of going to the circus, we went to a Barbarella-esque 1970's art show. We did see a bunch of carni's (remember the Simpson's episode) leaving their trailers, but no bearded ladies or general body manipulated freaks. And don't worry mom, I haven't joined the circus.
Is it me, or do clowns still freak you out? Ronald McDonald reeks of child molestation.
Spain's youngest clown. I wonder if this kid will have a normal well-adjusted to society life when he gets older.
I especially like the bleeding times roman font in 'Pirana'. And who thought of putting a turtle in this creatures of death shot.
I don't understand why this scene is happy with a smiling chick with a snake wrapped around her. Even the crocodile is happy.....
while in this shot, this girl is petrified. And how does this art piece succesfully attract the target market of pre-adolescents?.....oh, wait. now i understand their marketing plan....
This girl looks like she's boogie boarding on a giant snake floatie. This artist reeks of Stockton, California.
See what I mean by Barbarella. She looks just like Jane Fonda...and I'm not just speaking of the crocodile.

He's a one-man freak show, Dónde está Che Pelotas?

My Life as a Peasant Farmer in Piedralaves

2008-07-10T10:15:00.000-07:00

tranquilo Everyday, I wake up bright and early (if you call 10 AM early) to tend to the chickens and milk the cows and (what chickens? there are no chickens, and I don't even drink milk). Usually after breakfast, I work the land (I need to cut the grass maybe once a month) which is back breaking work (this is sort of true since it takes 2 or 3 days to mow the lawn...more like machete-ing a jungle).
my neighbor 'tusocks' feasting on some tasty weeds
During this time, I usually see my neighbor Juan and his lovely dog Yeti (bastard dog won't stop barking at me), and we discuss the latest events and our simple life here in the country (half the time...no, most of the time, I have no idea what he's saying). I then usually head into town to the bread store and the farmer's market, exchanging bread, vegetables and other food items with the fresh eggs and milk that I collected earlier in the morning (or maybe I use the euros that I just withdrew from the ATM across the street). At around 2:30 PM, I take a siesta after a long morning of work (work is sort of true since I'm sort of working on a film......but the siesta part is definitely true). Afterwords, I take the herd of cows to the field to graze, and to the stream to drink (this is a whole new level of bullshit......at this time, I usually do cannonballs into the pool). At the end of the day, I'm quite exhausted from a long day's work (sitting in the hot sun drinking sangria around the pool can wear a guy out). After a hot shower, I cook a hearty meal and watch the sunset over the hills with a glass of vino tinto (this is possibly the only truth in this entire passage). At night, I retire around the fireplace reading classic literature pieces (not even close, it's been watching the EuroCopa every night, especially with España winning it all....a por ellos!). Two or three times a week, I head into town for my only connection with the outside world, using this revolutionary new invention, the internet information superhighway (what can I say, things come really slow out here). On the following day, I follow the same routine (did I mention I've also got a cleaning lady? I'm a spoiled bastard) as a simple peasant farmer here in the Spanish countryside.
my field of blood, sweat and tears, the piscina
my other neighbor, sueño

He's a little bit country, and a little bit rock n' roll, Dónde está Che Pelotas?

Price Check, Aisle 3

2008-07-05T02:05:00.000-07:00

From this photo taken in a Spanish supermercado, either one of these two questions comes to mind:
Q1: In Spain, where do you find The Simpsons?
A1: Usually in between a bunch of Filipinos.
Q2: In Spain, where do you find Filipinos?
A2: Usually watching The Simpsons.
I knew with a name lake Renato José, I had to have some Spanish blood in me....obviamente, mi cuerpo tiene sangré con chocolaté...
Feel free to add your own questions to this posting. Hopefully on my next trip to the market, we can find out where other ethnics hang out.

his blood is filled with dulce de leche, Dónde está Che Pelotas?

Hangin' with RZA and GZA in Montréal

2008-07-04T08:54:00.000-07:00

Up in the beautiful Kanuk town of Montréal with Vân. Caught RZA and GZA of Wu-Tang fame last night at the Metropolis. Great show. Stone Mecca opened. Never saw so many white people at a hip-hop gig before. Headin' out the day after to enjoy another sunny, 80 degree afternoon. My French sucks merde.

Morgan in the touristy Old Town, Montréal

Vân & Morgan in Parc du Mont-Royal, Montréal

GZA appreciating his fans at the Metropolis, Montréal

RZA backed up by Stone Mecca at the Metropolis, Montréal

ESPAÑA CAMPEONES!!!!

2008-07-02T03:28:00.000-07:00

I tried posting video of our celebration after Spain winning the EuroCopa on Sunday night, but the spinning hamsters that run the internet here in rural Spain were overworked, but I was able to post it on youtube today, a couple days late. Here's a photo of us celebrating after Spain made a good defensive play.
Last night Spain won the Euro Cup for the first time in 44 years beating Germany 1-0. Needless to say, the entire country is celebrating right now, and I'm trying to write this with a giant hangover after singing, dancing and celebrating last night. Here's video of the celebration with some of my Spanish friends right after the whistle blew ending the game. It's pretty tame compared to the madness in Madrid, but it was pretty spectacular to be a part of nonetheless.
Go to this YouTube page for the video:
ESPAÑA CAMPEONES

I'm pretty sure he's a fan of Spanish Fútbol even though he's in Germany, Dónde está Che Pelotas?

streets of madrid::thursday night::26 june 2008::11:17PM

2008-06-26T23:33:00.000-07:00

Spain has just defeated Russia in the semi-finals of the EuroCopa, three to nil. The temperature outside is hot, about 90 degrees hot. The streets erupt. People fill the fountains in the plazas dancing in red and gold and in the flag of Spain. The sound of car horns fill the streets.
The streets are mobbed, and many young testosterone filled boys play toreador (bullfighter) with the cars passing by, using Spanish flags as the lure for the bull...or in this instance, the car.
Trash cans are tipped over, and beer bottles are being smashed. Not on purpose though......more by accident from passing cars. I think it's a crime in the European Union to waste beer.
And what am I doing during all this? Celebrating with a friend of mine, and singing 'Viva España' along with hundreds of others (for the most part, I'm lip syncing). We're also taking photos, although on her cell phone, they're not the highest quality. We're also just observing the crowd of testosterone filled youngsters. As their celebrations start getting a little more aggressive towards cars going by (rocking them back and forth, and playing drums on passing cars), and some kids start jumping on garbage trucks passing by, then in comes the riot police. It looks like the start of something, so my Spanish friend says we should go.......really? Go now, it's just getting interesting.......Police helicopters circle overhead, so we walk to a different celebration, a more mild mannered one.....even though I'm curious to see what's happening in the other scene, I guess I should always listen to my Spanish host in her home country.
antes de la policia....Ole!
The entire city is celebrating making it to the finals. What's it going to be like if they beat Germany in the final on Sunday? Unfortunately, I won't be in Madrid to find out, but at least I'll be in a small village in Spain to report it to you once the story breaks out.
Good night, and good luck.
I think he's in Germany, Dónde está Che Pelotas?

East Berlin

2008-06-24T04:20:00.000-07:00

Fete de la Musique. Every summer solstice is celebrated in Berlin with music. Music everywhere, in all different genres, in various venues, from street corners to churches to parks, performers from all over come and play for the public. And the best part, it's all free.
Architecture here is astounding. The new Berlin train station is a marvel spiderweb design of glass and steel framing, and it's enormous.

The biggest event by far, in Germany, and probably most of Europe, has been the Euro Cup. It's a strange sensation, after watching one or two soccer games every single day since June 7th. It really does become an obsession, and it makes sense why everyone else is glued to the games. It's drama. It's passion. It's your own identity within the context of something greater, La Vida Eterna....
i wish i took photos of the German and Portugal match. after watching it at one of the many outdoor public viewing areas (which includes beer gardens, and post-war abandoned factories) the underdog Germans claimed victory, and the result was the biggest party on the street i have ever witnessed.
It is interesting that this is sort of public display in Germany is considered to be a fairly new phenomenon, starting two years ago during the World Cup. Since the post-war, Germany has been living with an enormous guilt complex from the atrocities committed upon millions of different ethnic groups, and any overt display of passion for their country, like flag waving and chanting, has been shunned upon and considered taboo.
But now, there has been a backlash, where all over Germany, people are refusing to hide their feelings and letting themselves go, like the Spaniards, the Italians, like most of the soccer-world, by identifying with great pride in who they are and where they come from; they are proud to be German.
But, i'll have to say, as much as i find this exciting and intriguing on a sociological scale, when walking the streets after the victory, i did have some strange postmodern-like nostalgic flashbacks, with images in my mind of old German nazi propaganda, as hordes of people chanted their country's slogan, with mighty fists in the air and synchronistic claps, all performed with near violent intensity.
On the other hand, this is not much different than how people react in other parts of the world. The fact is, my own reaction is a bit biased, coming from the history books and modern films about the nazis i've seen growing up in America (ironically, another form of propaganda). These images, based on historical events that no one should ever forget, are now inundated in my mind, as they are in much of the world. For me, the most important thing to keep in mind is: put anyone in any group in any part of the world, and things can get a bit frightening. The nazi mentality is not uniquely a "German" thing. And for me, this is one big reason why I am so fascinated by soccer. You see the way things are on a global and local scale. It reveals mankind's great artistic capabilities, as well as a country's cultural achievements. And yet, it also exposes mankind's weaknesses, like the harsh realities of racism.

Overall, East Berlin is probably the most interesting place i've visited in the past two months. My only regret: not coming here fifteen years ago, because it's changing, fast. It currently feels like how San Fran was back in the day: once a thriving and engaging place to be, with cheap rent, and a surge of artistic expression. But now, you can see the tattoo hipster culture rising, embracing liberal ideas and creativity via capitalistic endeavors. Talk about a group mentality. But who knows, Berlin is definitely not S.F., and it's coming from a totally different crossroad. And the most importantly: it's still affordable and cheap to live here (relatively).The radio tower was built and designed by Swedes, who were smuggled in secretly. Why Swedes? Not only pioneers of design ala IKEA, the commies just didn't have the resources to build, nor the architects to design it. All their best artists left for better living in the west. What is not shown in the photo, is the Pope's revenge. Despite the anti-religious sentiment from the government, a huge cross forms everyday as the sun hits the round ball on top.
What would Marx and Engels think now? As great theorists, they would say "I told you so", or "typical religious zealots!"
The old commie parks are pretty antiseptic when it comes to aesthetics and planning. Again, there was no money to pass around for art projects. And whatever art was to be made, it usually had a propaganda slant for the communist drive. Here's some equal opportunity work for women.
Most of the wall that once surrounded Berlin has been dismantled. There's one section, "East-side Gallery" that's still intact, with art murals all over it, worked on by artists from all over.

Yo, wassup Che!

Spanish Pride

2008-06-24T02:02:00.000-07:00

Sunday night was a big night for the country of Spain. In the EuroCopa 2008 (fútbol tournament that takes place every 4 years), they defeated Italy in penalty kicks to advance to the semi-finals. I've been following the EuroCopa every night (not that I have any other entertainment options out here) and have been routing for Spain throughout the tournament. But for Spaniards, this win is especially sweet since they've had a long history of collapsing in the quarterfinals, and in soccer, Italy is a perennial powerhouse and are the defending World Cup Champions.
Cesc Fabregas celebrates after scoring the winning goal in penalty kicks
But what was more interesting for me was witnessing the game with a friend of mine in a small bar in Piedralaves. It's interesting to see how people from a small Spanish pueblo react while watching the game. For one thing, there were a lot of exaggerated hand and body gestures when the call didn't go there way (I'm guilty of this as well....quite fluent actually), and of the 25 people in the bar, only 3 were female, yet they were the most vocal and expressive of the bunch. They also looked like they were missing a few teeth and could easily kick my ass. There was one old, smelly guy who was supposedly the millionaire of the town who was in love with my friend. He tried to woo her by saying sweet little nothings, but since she doesn't speak any Spanish, his pick-up lines were wasted. I understood most of what he said, but he wasn't my type.
Iker Casillas making a save during an Italian penalty kick
The guy standing next to me kept praying and kissing his necklace. I thought it was a cross he was kissing since catholicism dominates here, but it was actually the coat of arms of Spain as his pendant. He was so used to Spain self-destructing that during the penalty kicks, he couldn't bear to watch the TV. But everytime Spain scored, he gave me big high fives, then started kissing his necklace again and praying. When Cesc Fabregas scored the final goal, he gave me such a big hug, that his perfume of eau de countryside farmshit transferred onto my clothes. But it was all good. Everyone left the bar happy, and it's always a highlight to be in a country when their national team does well. Especially watching it in a small town where everyone knows each other. So next up is Russia on Thursday, and if they win that, it's off to the finals on Sunday. Podemos! (We can! is the slogan that the TV channel broadcasting the EuroCopa came up with). Just for the record, they've been saying Podemos! throughout their broadcasts with annoying frequency. The only correlation I can think of is when people in the Bay Area say hella. Me molesta la palabra hella.

Puede! (He can!), Dónde está Che Pelotas?

Che has your back, Ren

2008-06-20T08:28:00.000-07:00

You'll never walk alone amongst the politically incorrect brigade.

Shameless Self-Promotion

2008-06-20T03:01:00.000-07:00

Hey you....yeah you. Read this article I wrote on Antarctica last year. It was finally published by South American Explorers (Thanks Lucy!) on page 42 and 43 of this month´s edition. Obviously, after writing this great piece of literature, hundreds of offers from publishers everywhere will be rolling in the door.........obviously.
iceberg = cold
you can download the actual magazine here once they update to the latest issue - currently last month's issue is still up. ((south american explorers))

But don't try to book a trip with this boat. It sank last November.
The M/S Explorer during happier floating-on-water times, right before we took off for the icy continent
he's the captain of the SS Smoothness, Dónde está Che Pelotas?

On the road aching

2008-06-19T17:30:00.000-07:00

I hate airports. All two dozen of them that I've had the distinguished misfortune to visit. The brazen employees, rushed businesspeople and Suburban Mall aesthetics of the typical American airplane-depot are all the worst things, condensed. Trains are so civil; you just step onboard and away you go. None of the hassles associated with flying, like taking off your shoes. How revolutionary! And you can bring your damn toothpaste too. So after twelve calming hours on an Amtrak train, Cascade Mountain scenery, and a few days with friends, I brace myself for a cross-country flight. But I do enjoy flying. Here's a photo taken using one TurboProp plane and one point-and-shoot camera. This shot was helped by the fact that only two people filled the 3-seat-wide jet. Mount Hood is in the distance, with a light snow grabbing the logged areas in the foreground. Next stop, rural Pennsylvania.

Morocco Revisited

2008-06-17T01:54:00.000-07:00

This post is 2 months in the making.....well no, not really...but I just received some great photos from my friend Pamelas who I met in Marrakech. These are photos of the traditional Moroccan custom of buying rugs. Buying rugs can be an all day event as you'll see in these photos....The amazing thing, is that this dude Mohammed, remembered me from shopping there a year before. He gave me such a big hug that I thought he was trying to give me a wraparound.
I don't think this store has a website, but if it did, this photo would be on the opening page. Everyone looks so overbearingly uncomfortable.
And it would be one of those old cerca 1996 webpages with lots of blinking action and extra-crappy dual-color graphic presentations. The headline of the page would say 'Many Happy Touristical Memaries! Shopping Carpets Marrakech for Your Big Vacations Funs! Also Touring Guides for All Touristaical Highlights of Deserts and Adventours! Best Pricing! As recomendid by Lonely Planit and the Rough Guys' It would make no sense, but that's what the actual signs in English, would say in Morocco.
There is no acting done in this photo....we were seriously exhausted after about 3 hours in the rug store of doing 'many happy touristical shopping mamories with big funs'
this is a poster on one of the juice stands in Marrakech that we drank from. I'm pretty sure I'm banned from entering Morocco again....or possibly any Muslim country.....I might also be banned from returning to San Francisco by the Politically Incorrect Brigade...and definitely banned in Berkeley, but it be pretty neat to have a protest march dedicated to me. (btw, I mean no offense by this photo. It was just to hard to resist, and the juice guy thought it was funny)
speaking of happy touristicial menmorys, Dónde está Che Pelotas?

Anoche, Vè 'Cabeza del Radio' en Barcelona

2008-06-13T02:29:00.000-07:00

Yesterday, I took a day off from my life as a country peasant, and headed to the big city to see traditional Spanish Music. After a bus ride from Piedralaves to Madrid, I caught one of the high-speed AVE trains to Barcelona.
Photo on the AVE as I'm getting close to Barcelona, with Montserrat lurking in the background. You'll remember Montserrat in one of my postings a month ago because I know you read this blog religiously,......right?
On the train, there was a tv screen that played the traditional Spanish movie, Sueñas Chicas, or Dreamgirls in English, starring Jaimè Foxx and Eduardo Murphy. The movie was all in Spanish, but fortunately for me, the songs that were sung in English were subtitled in Spanish. I appreciated the simple dialogue since it's easy to follow, but I noticed Jaimè and Eduardo had trouble with their lips when they spoke....but anyway, that's not important. What's important is that I saw the traditional Spanish ensemble called 'Cabeza del Radio', or Radiohead in English. They played at the Daydream Festival along the Mediterranean Coast in Barcelona. Here's photos from their Spanish Musical Performance:
Cabeza del Radio just as they took the stage
The light show got better and better.....
They played all ten songs from their latest album En Arcoiris (or In Rainbows for our English readers).
...as the show progressed
The lead cancionista, Tomás Yorque had a lot of energy as he belted out other classical Spanish tunes such as El Himno Naciónal, Optimista, and Androide Paronoico. But my favorite part was when they played Suerte, or Lucky in English. I was singing the line in the song that goes 'cause I'm your suuuper heeero...etc.', when a Spaniard standing next to me corrected me by singing the proper verse of 'cause I you sooopa hieeelooo', or to translate, 'I you soup-ice' in English. Ahhh, I stand corrected. Because everyone knows that Gazpacho is a traditional soup served cold in Spain. This is why it's so special to see a Spanish band play in a Spanish country amongst the Spanish people. Obviously it's an enlightening cultural learning experience. Because on a hot Spanish day, what would be better (or 'Lucky') than to have a friend nearby who was a bowl of cold Gazpacho soup. Now that I'm corrected, the whole song finally makes sense to me.
Suerte!, Dónde está Che Pelotas?

Würtzburg

2008-06-10T10:49:00.000-07:00

been stayin with friends in Würtzburg. A lot of biking and working on art, and a new song about a desert rider who accidentally shoots himself and starts driving as blood pours on the floor to get to Truckers World Saloon to meet his girl waiting in a leatard (spelig?) . Also, soccer! Euro cup is the 3rd biggest sporting event in the world (World Cup, Olympics, and then Euro). Matches have been great. Spain just assaulted Russia, something they could never do in war. but soccer....the sun is actually shining in Spain, so Ren is doing fine.jesus, it's sooo hot here in Germany.
but it's still nice to walk into the wäld via the farms.

Slow News Day in Piedralaves

2008-06-10T01:39:00.000-07:00

Things happen slow here in Piedralaves....no really, I mean slllooooooooowwwww. So there's not much to report here other than the weather has been complete shit.
Another cloudy day. I think I'm in Scotland.
Yesterday's biggest news was that I hit a rush hour traffic jam of about 100 sheep on the dirt road I was jogging on. It was bumper to bumper moving at about a walking pace, but cleared up just past the oak tree interchange.
In other news, I learned some Spanish colloquialisms. When you walk by someone's farm and say 'hola' or 'buenos dias', they usually say 'adios' instead of 'hello'. I remember someone telling me this earlier. But I'm still not sure if it's true or they just want me to keep walking and go the fuck away. Also, I've learned that Spaniards love saying the word 'coño' when frustrated. It's a deregotary term for the female genitalia much like the 'c' word in english. Everyone says it. I've even heard a few 80 year-old ladies yelling it. I guess old habits are hard to break.
Another thing I learned is that if you ask for directions, no one ever tells you exactly how to get there, but they sort of point you in the right direction and then tell you to ask someone once you get closer. One time I had to ask five different people directions for something two blocks away. And this is in a town of maybe 100 people....aye coño
token religious photo
token religious figure, Dónde está Che Pelotas?

Bolivian Threads Spotting

2008-06-08T14:26:00.000-07:00

Pick up this month's Decline mountain bike magazine and spot the garb straight from La Paz. My buddy Zach and I have been working on a fun side project, which profiles bike riders who do much for their scenes and bike communities. So far we've gone through hobo camps in L.A., beaches in Santa Cruz and on up to the grit in Portland, Oregon. Oddly, Zach and I may have become the subjects too, as we're profiled in an upcoming issue of the mag.

Baby Jesus rides a slip-n-slide

2008-06-08T06:03:00.000-07:00

One thing interesting about the Catholic church is that through the power of art, vivid representations of the Bible are told. The German churches have amazing pictorial allegories. For instance, many of us have always wondered how the virgin Mary got pregnant. Well, it was because God, surrounded by little angels up in the heavens, creatively ejaculated his semen through his mouth into a long tube that stretches all the way down to earth and enters the orifice of Mary's ear. As she holds the Great Book, you can see in her face such a blissful satisfaction, (it is God's seed after all!). And, if you look closely, along the tube, you can see baby Jesus riding down like it's a slip-n-slide. Gotta luv it...

The Rain Got Me Again

2008-06-05T02:37:00.000-07:00

Well the weather is finally changing for the better. After a cold and rainy May, it's been mostly sunny the last couple of days, an I've started to fill the pool with water.
This photo was taken at the beginning of the week after an all too common rainstorm. The pool is being filled as we speak.
But Mother Nature had to show me who was in charge.....The other day I was walking home from the market after purchasing some groceries. On the way back home, a 2 km walk from the market, it started to drizzle. The skies ahead didn't look so promising, so I decided to run home through the countryside before it started to rain. It was a bit difficult running with my messenger bag filled with groceries, and also being tired from doing a run earlier in the day. But I made it home just in time before it really started pouring. However I was presently surprised to find the large container of yogurt that I bought exploded in my bag while running home. My bag now smells like a giant frutas del bosque (fruits of the forest) cheescake. Thank you Mother Nature for the freak weather patterns due to homo sapien global burning.

In the end, he's gonna get you, Dónde está Che Pelotas?

Alex, still in Germany

2008-06-03T10:14:00.000-07:00

I was walking in the English Gardens of Munich the other day and saw Morgan Stowe Paar catching some waves. Well, i thought it was him. Just some other surfer with a red goatie surfing three footers.

Subway in Munich. Damn, these Germans are clean...and they choose cool colors.

Can i just say: HOLY SHIT!!!? The alps are just an hour away by train. I took a trip to Innsbruck, Austria to do some hiking. A bit overcast, but nonetheless, happy to be far from San Francisco or New York.

The myth of sunny summers in Spain

2008-06-02T08:20:00.000-07:00

Since I returned to Spain from Morocco last month, it has rained everyday in northern Spain except for the first week of May. So much for the myth of Spain being warm and sunny. This global warming thing that's screwing up the weather patterns of the world sure is throwing a monkey wrench in my goofing off.
Photo of the church in Piedralaves. I hope these women are praying for some sun.
The rain did give me this perfect rainbow on my front porch though. It be really nice if it gave me a pot of gold at one end.
He's a non-stop rainstorm of smoothness, Dónde está Che Pelotas?

Valdelavilla Poeta

2008-05-28T03:30:00.000-07:00

I'm at the Pueblo Ingles english teaching program here in Valdelavilla (the place is in the middle of nowhere...but it's got wi-fi amazingly enough), and one of the waitresses here gave me some poetry that she wrote about her life here, living in San Pedro Manrique, a nearby tiny village. I thought it was quite lovely.
mountain view from Valdelavilla, Spain
He hablado con la noche,
Quiero que baje la luna,
Bese a mi amor en la frente,
Bese a mi hijo en la cuna,
Lo arrulle hasta que vuelva,
En una nube de espuma,
Al hijo que yo mas quiero....
Quiero que baje la luna

I have spoken with the night,
I want the moon to fall,
To kiss my love on the forehead,
To kiss my son in the cradle,
Overwhelming them until it returns,
In a cloud of foam,
To the son I love most....
I want the moon to fall

Cierro los ojos al silencio,
Oigo la voz del recuerdo,
Memorias de mi infancia,
La tierra de donde vengo,
Mi Extremadura del alma,
La familia que alli deje,
El pueblo donde naci....
Los ecos de otros tiempos.

I close my eyes with silence,
I hear the voice of memory,
Memories of my childhood,
The land where I come from,
My extremities of my soul,
The family that allows me there,
The town where I was born....
The echoes of another time.

his words are pure poetry, Dónde está Che Pelotas?

in munich

2008-05-24T02:53:00.000-07:00

i wish more places in america were so bicycle friendly., because it's the best way to see place, especially cities. Yesterday i rode 40km throughout Munich:great scenery.
badasss angel children.
and the most important, the beer garden.

Pretty Porto

2008-05-22T00:51:00.000-07:00

After a week traveling in Salamanca, Spain and Porto, Portugal, I now take-off for my second week of teaching English at Valdelavilla in Northern Spain. The tricky part about speaking English to non-native speakers, is that you need to simplify everything, use basic words and phrases, and thus, you end up not speaking like your normal self. It can be a bit excruciating at times, almost as painful as speaking colloquial Spanish. So on that note, for these photos from Porto, I'm going to explain them in the simplest terms to prepare myself for this coming week.
pretty roofs
pretty view towards top of Porto
pretty city of Porto
pretty bridge in front of pretty city
pretty similar photo
pretty smooth, Dónde está Che Pelotas?

Salamanca es salarific

2008-05-20T00:42:00.000-07:00

The first time I heard of Salamanca, Spain, it was because of a bootleg Radiohead disk that I had from them performing live here in 2002. But after being here, in my humble opinion, it's an incredibly lively, young city due to the large student population. It's got beautiful cathedrals and an incredibly ornate Plaza Mayor. It has a great arts scene, and the standard start the night out at 3 am. Unfortunately there was a Feria de los Libros (book fair) here this week, with these ugly orange mobile book stalls staining the Plaza. On the other hand, there was free music all week long in the Plaza, so that was a tradeoff.
I've been surviving the last few days on falafel, since I'm getting tired of the standard Spanish fare. Unfortunately it's not like the falafel sandwiches back home, but the Spaniard version of it. So rather than hummous, eggplant, and tahini with the falafel in a pita, it's crappy iceberg lettuce, tomatoes, ketchup, and this mayo concoction. It's more like eating a Big Mac without the meat.
The cathedral viewed from the Puente Romano
The dome inside the Catedral Nueva
Everyone loves a wedding

I wish I could have stayed for the reception
Climbing to the top of the Catedral
A church with a building in front with a scallop shelled facade
views from the top of the cathedral

Plaza Mayor
The view of Plaza Mayor at night from my hotel room with the damn book fair ruining the shot.
The concert stage is nice, but that ugly yurt tent thing is a real eyesore
Never an eyesore, just silky smooth, Dónde está Che Pelotas?

When in Athens, Che Pelotas only shops at...

2008-05-18T02:14:00.000-07:00

You guessed it. Ever since Redford's Che Pelotas inspired role for Butch Cassidy and the Sundance kid, Che has committed his sartorial smooth style by only shopping at the best shop in Athens: REDFORD.

A Week in Spain of No Spanish, Only English

2008-05-17T06:47:00.000-07:00

Just spent the last week in a little town outside of Salamanca called La Alberca. For the last seven days, I´ve been working in an Adult English Teaching Program with the company Pueblo Inglés. In exchange for free room and board and wine, we worked in a fairly intensive program where no Spanish was allowed. The Spaniards in the program could only speak English. I´m not gonna kid you, I originally volunteered to get free accomodation for the week, but I ended up leaving with many new friends. I cherish especially the Spaniards who taught me essential curse words and hand gestures.
The only bad part of the experience was the food, especially being a vegetarian. Everything was pretty much ham, meat, ham, ham or ham. Vegetable dishes consisted of overcooked, oversaturated, drippy, bland tasting, concoction of canned products from the Franco era. I ended up having to eat a lot of eggs, more than I´ve ever eaten in one week. I think I ate so many eggs that I might grow feathers out of my ass.
Vino, si si si.......Jamon, no me gustaBut now I´m in Salamanca and then heading to Portugal for a week before starting the next Pueblo Inglés program at a different location with hopefully better food. I know the next place Valdelavilla has free laundry, so that´s a good start since I´ll be going on 2 weeks since the last wash......thought I´d share that with you.
A mini procession in the neighboring town of Miranda del Castañar
This should have the photo I used for my friend Chad who passed away tragically. Sun and tree reflecting in a pond in La Alberca.
He's more ham than cheese, Dónde está Che Pelotas?

Links to missing films

2008-05-13T17:08:00.000-07:00

Our traveling web master has been living "off the grid" on a European farm. Lucky Ren! When he's done tending the sheep, we're sure that our films will come back online.

For now, here are the proper links to a few of our flims:

"Bombing Buenos" on CurrentTV

"Comic Back Relief" on CurrentTV

for chad

2008-05-12T11:19:00.001-07:00

descansa en paz......from la alberca, spain

for my boy chad, who took this photo back during our riding days in vail. hope your still going big wherever you are...

After a week in Piedralaves, heading to La Alberca to teach English

2008-05-08T09:13:00.000-07:00

A sign on a building letting you know that you´ve arrived in Piedralaves. If you´re in a car, 30 seconds later is a sign letting you know that you´ve left Piedralaves.
So I had this wonderful week in Piedralaves. Typical Spanish countryside of warm sun, bottles of vino tinto, and siestas everyday. Today, I had to make the move to Madrid to start this English teaching program just outside of Salamanca. The unfortunate part is that I don´t have a car and have to rely on public transport to get to Madrid from Piedralaves. The really unfortunate part is that I had to walk 3 km uphill from the house I´m staying in Piedralaves to the bus stop. The really really unfortunate part, is that of all days, this morning was the day that it started to rain. Super-duper unfortunate was that no smart Spaniard would pick up a dripping wet backpacker trying to hitch a ride to the bus stop. So by the time I got onto the bus, I was soaked. Puta madre.
He´s just as silky smooth, wet or dry, Dónde está Che Pelotas?

Sobrino Numero Tres - I'm an uncle again

2008-05-06T08:20:00.000-07:00

Since February 1, 2005, my sister and her husband Dave have had 3 children, with the newest one Charles David being born last week on May 1st. They are single-handedly populating the world. If they were Hindu, they would make a killing at their sons weddings come dowry time.
I am the only sibling of my sister, and of her 3 childbirths, I've managed to be out of the country for 2 of them. Henceforth, I am fulfilling my uncle duties above and beyond the normal call of duty. Obviously if anyone needs a babysitter out there, I'm your man.
Charles David Zahn born on May 1, 2008 at 10:17 PM, weighing in at 7 lbs. 10 oz.

For everything else, he's your man, Dónde está Che Pelotas?

A Quick Pit-Stop in Barcelona and a Sneak Peak into Next Month's Peasant Life in Piedralaves

2008-05-04T02:34:00.000-07:00

Left Marrakech, Morocco and made a quick pit-stop in Barcelona for a couple of days. Spent one of those days hiking up Montserrat, a mountain about 1 hour outside of Barca.
The monastery high up in the hills of Montserrat

Pek, one of Jessie´s old dog friends before he moved to Barça with his owners. Unlike my dog, he doesn´t mine carrying shit on his back
A tiny hermito (refuge) high up in Montserrat
After Barcelona, I headed to Piedralaves for a week. It's a tiny pueblo in the countryside, about an hour and a half outside of Madrid. I'm here with the father of a French friend of mine who I met last year while volunteering at the Tibetan Refugee Center in Kathmandu, Nepal. He's showing me the ins and outs of his country home (turning on power, turning on water, land maintenance, and most importantly pool operation and maintenance). The house is 2 km from the main town (and about 15 km from internet....how will I survive without Vitamin I) and is located in a wide valley. The entry to the house is a long dirt driveway flanked by trees. On the property there are newly planted fruit trees, flower beds, and a 2 year old olive garden (still needs another 3 years to bloom). The house has 4 bedrooms, 4 baths, a separate workshop, a parilla (barbecue hut), and let's not forget la piscina.
Mi casa nestled in the hills, for 1.5 months starting in June
A green field next door
So I basically have this big-ass house for a month and a half starting next month on june 1st.....all to myself.......I am resigned to the fact that I will be one or a combination of possible things. Leading a peasant life tending the land (mowing the lawn, planting and watering, etc.), being a cabana boy (cleaning the pool and tanning my speedo-clad body), and also working on my own projects (a book and/or a film). I will either become Henry David Thoreau in Walden, Ernest Hemingway in Cuba, or Jack Nicholson in The Shining, or a combination of all three. But I'm not completely isolated (feel free to visit though, so I don't go crazy. My neighbors are this old guy Juan Gonzalez and his dog Yeti. Nobody around here speaks English (yeah, I think it would be a good idea for you to visit), so I'm anticipating my Spanish to improve greatly. There's also lots of cows and frogs to keep me company, and a bonus of a cleaning lady stopping by once a week.
One of my neighboring cows. This one I call Marta
Over the last couple of days, me and Philippe (the owner of the house) have been working the land. A couple days ago, at about 2:30 PM, while mowing, I started to get in the groove of working, when he shut me down for siesta. It's an unwritten rule that you can't make loud noise during siesta time (about 2:30 to 5:00 PM) since the neighbors are taking their siesta. I have to remember that Spanish time is not necessarily getting the work done, buy not pissing off the neighbors when they're napping.
Yesterday I transformed this pool from a green mucky, frog and beetle infested, smelly swamp, into a newly painted lovely piscina that I will appreciate a lot more than any other pool when I jump in it in June, since I scrubbed it completely clean by hand. I think that was a run-on sentence.
Starting June 1st, this will be my peasant life.....care to join me?

He's muy popular con la gente en el campesino, Dónde está Che Pelotas?

Photo Heavy Last Couple Weeks in Morocco Without Much Text Except in Title of Entry

2008-05-01T10:58:00.000-07:00

here's photos from the last 2 weeks in morocco. i think last year's photos were better (go here to judge for yourself). i'm back in spain now and will be here till mid-july. blah blah blah blah blee blah blah, can't think of anything to write. here be them photos i promised:
sunset photo in assilah while a skinny guy who looked like he was tripping was eying my shit
the most splendid gate in all of morocco, bab el-mansour in meknes
moroccan models in front of bab el-mansour. they follow direction well. here, sit.
and here, stand.
in this game in the plaza, you try to get the ring on the bottle. it´s like spin the bottle, only no kissing since it´s an islamic country. big fun.
acrobat
acrobat again
some countries are dog countries, like india or most of south america. morocco is definitely cat country.
some people are just born with good style
a big ass mausoleum in the distance at this cemetary in meknes
i walked into this mosque, took a photo, then they kicked me out for not being muslim. what happened to the fourth of the five pillars of islam, charity?
zellig and stonework detail
a really rad door and accoutremants more detail
and even more detail
minaret kissing the sun
i want this courtyard in my house. so peaceful looking
in marrakech, there are these gigantic storks making nests on top of all these ruins and even in some of the minarets.
ceiling is pretty
ceiling is beautiful
renato is running out of ideas to describe this ceiling
stonework detailing in marrakech
it was really really really hot when i took this shot. i found it pointless to try to sell knit hats in 100 degree weather.
my homeboys trying to get their gang sign shit together
ouzzazade falls just outside marrakech. a full on brodeo with an occasional female swimming, albeit fully clothed.
inside the souqs of marrakech
Where there's a will, there's a Che, Dónde está Che Pelotas?

My Homeboys at 114

2008-04-28T07:41:00.000-07:00

Anyone that's been to Marrakech knows abuot the great plaza and spectacle that is Djeema el-Fna.
The plaza at night
At dusk about 100 food stalls are set up, each serving the same food, each having the same exact menu and each having about 4 or 5 touts trying to get you to eat at their establishment. Last year I ate at abuot 4 different food truoghs, but stand #114 stood out the most beacause the touts there had the most charm, charisma, and dished out as much verbals shit as I dished out to them.
So now I've returned to Marrakech after one year has passed and looked for my favorite stall. When I walked by, my favorite 114 homeboy was doing a hard sell on a French tourist when I saw him. When his eyes saw mine, his eyes lit up (I guess it's true, you can always read a person by their eyes), and he yelled out a big 'HEEYYYYYYY!!'. He then grabbed me by the arm and gave me a gigantic bear hug. I couldn't believe after one year of serving a hundred or so customers a night, hundreds of thousands of people a year, that he remembered little old me. He replied 'I never forget nobody!'. I wanted to tell him that while a double negative is acceptable in Spanish, it is considered a grammatical faux pax in English. But I was too caught up in amazement and emotion to get into a discussion about semantics. A couple of the other guys came over and yelled out 'California!!' and gave me hugs. One of them showed me the west coast gang sign, but I had to correct his thumb placement since it looked more like a 4 fingered Simpsons character than Tupac's 'W'.
More 'Backstreet' looking than 'street'. A couple of English tourists asked if I came here often. I told them I was here one year ago. I should have thought of something more profound to say like 'it's not the places you see, but the people you meet'...or maybe, 'absence makes the heart grow fonder'...but instead I just ordered some couscous, some grilled eggplant and peppers, and a bowl of harira (Moroccan soup). I then watched my homeboys pounce on tourists like vultures, flipping between 4 different languages with ease. As I ate, In noticed their sales pitch was stronger when attractive women walked by. It's good to see that my homeboys on this side of the world are the same as my homeboys back home.....stay tuned for more pics with these guys next week....
He's everyones homeboy, Dónde está Che Pelotas?

As Allah Wishes

2008-04-24T12:04:00.000-07:00

The consumption of alcohol is forbidden according to the Koran. Because of this, I'm convinced that the people in Islamic countries overdose on other vices such as caffeine and sugar. They're connected by IV to coffee drips in cafe's, and consider sugar to be one of the five major food groups.
The sweet section in a souq in the Meknes medinaMy new Moroccan friend introduced me to this glowingly purely highly superduperly concentrated sugar cookie that simultaneously made my arteries hit a traffic jam, my arms felt like I stuck my finger in an electrical socket, and my teeth started to disentegrate like a beach sand castle.
Sweet evil
But despite these minor setbacks, I'm addicted to this confectionary crack, and I'm gonna take another hit. Allah akbah.
He's twice as sweet as sugar and always fat-free, Dónde está Che Pelotas?

An Ass in Assilah

2008-04-22T05:16:00.000-07:00

This had to be one of the funniest things I've seen in awhile. I'm sitting here in Assilah enjoying a cup of tea, when a lovely peasant farmer lady and her donkey look to occupy the table next to me.
The donkey scratches his forehead on the chair to claim it as his. And then he proceeds to try to systematically eat the tablecloth made of paper. It looked like that 'pull the tablecloth from under the silverware trick' only he was trying to eat his way to stardom vs. pulling it away quickly.
Here's the lady trying to stop him, but not until two plates crashed to the floor.
Speaking of dumb donkeys, Dónde está Che Pelotas?

Recording with Laosang Samten

2008-04-20T14:38:00.000-07:00

I recently met up with my good friend and badass-in-training Andy Bruce to collaborate on his latest student project. By the time I arrived in Chico, CA., 8 hours from where I've been staying, Andy had already received proper clearance to record with Laosang Samten. Laosang, at the behest of His Holiness the Dalai Lama, has been creating art in the form of sand mandalas for all of twenty years. You guessed it, he's pretty dialed. And the sound of his Chak-Pur tool was perfect for Andy's project. We met with Laosang during one of his daily breaks, and later recorded the sound of his tool as he worked on the mandala which would take him six weeks to complete. That afternoon we edited the sound into short chunks using Apple's GarageBand. This editing would allow Andy to reproject it using the speakers of the Bell Tower in the middle of town. As an aside, we also created what might be the Tibetan scholar's first cell phone ring tone.

-andrew

NEW VIDEO LINKS

2008-04-20T14:24:00.000-07:00

Lovely Readers,

Sorry it has taken so long to re-link these films. On our main page, the links are broken. But for now here are two films from globaltransmissionmedia which deserve another round of eyeballs:

"Bombing Buenos" on CurrentTV

"Comic Back Relief" on CurrentTV

Both of these films are up for re-negotiation with CurrentTV. So, that means you'll probably see them at Cannes next year.

asilah update

2008-04-20T08:44:00.000-07:00

so after a week in chefchaouen, i've finally moved on. it rained here the last 2 days and i couldn't be bothered to move....plus the people watching in the plaza was too good, and many games of cribbage couldn't pull me away (thanks katie, jenais and casey).
a rare break in the sun during my last few days in chefchaouena goat with it's master
i'm now in the coastal town of asilah which also has blue doors just like chefchaouen.
another blue door in a different townit's a pretty coastal town with white washed walled buildings inside a medina originally built by the portugese. it's the off-season, so not too many tourists, but a lot of kids playing annoyingly loud video games at this internet cafe.
this guy is almost as big as this carthe tilework on this fountain is neatwhite washed alleys in the medinaa pretty white minaret at a mosque in asilah. don't let it's innocent look fool you. the 5 or 6 prayer calls a day, and especially the sunrise call, and that nasty 3 am chant has been wrecking my beauty sleep.the sunsets on the medina walls along the atlantic coastwhite walls are purtyasilah is also an artsy town with a few art festivals happening here during the year. some of the medina walls have artwork painted on them...although a lot of them are pretty bad. but then again, i'm an art snob covering my own artistic insecurity by crapping on their work.
the a love you art wallthis dude is shutting the window to show off participatory artyeah i know, this wasn't one of my better entries. but even michael jordan had an off night every once in awhile.
he never has an off night, Dónde está Che Pelotas?

Chefchaouen Blue

2008-04-17T03:24:00.000-07:00

Any solo traveller will tell you that the greatest part of travelling solo is the freedom, not having to live on anyone else's schedule, the freedom to go where you want, when you want, and being completely free from the menial stresses of the everyday. They'll also tell you the hardest part is dealing with occasional bouts of loneliness when out there on the long haul. I deal with the latter by sketching a lot more, writing a lot more, and of course taking a lot more photos.....
and of course, you do realize that I'm doing this all for YOU, right????
But when was the last time that you thanked me for this or at least gave me a hug.....or how about access to your bank accounts for this????......yeah...that's what I thought. No response.
Anyway, not to make you feel guilty, but here are more of MY photos for YOU,....and just to let you know, these French-Moroccan keyboards are a real bitch...putain de merde!
Blue is the theme in the blue hilltown medina of Chefchaouen
Blue alleys
Blue doors
Blue butts
Tiny blue doors for midgets
Blue door and zellig archway
spice cones
When in Morocco, there's a carpet for sale nearby

This kid, in Arabic, asked me, Dónde está Che Pelotas?

Sensory Fès

2008-04-15T02:43:00.000-07:00

This is what Fès smells like at aroud 1pm in the medina.
Lamb kebabs smoke the air in the tiny streets of FèsThis is what Fes looks like for a vegetarian.
Fresh fruits and vegetables at the market, viewed from a cafe above
Tingly is the feeling when you see menswear at rock bottom prices with the medina fortress walls in the background.
The sunsets on the clothing market outside the Fès medina
Warm is the feeling in your loins when you think of this, Dónde está Che Pelotas?

Fotos From Fès

2008-04-12T05:36:00.000-07:00

After a long day of two Barcelona metros, one cross continental flight, two trains and a shared taxi (I'm not complaining though.....), I was finally thrown into the middle of the old medina of Fès (...it's still better than work). I instantly had flashbacks of being in Morocco a year ago zith the smells of the souqs filled with tajines and spices mixed with fresh donkey dung wafting in the air.....and the sounds of muslim prayer call echoing of the sandstone medina walls. Fès feels like a highly concentrated, yet unfiltered version of Marrakech. The mazelike streets and alleys are tighter and harder to negotiate, and the touts are more persistent, more professional, and are always in mid-season form. But Fès isn't all about tourism. It's known as the heart of Morocco, has the self-proclaimed oldest university in the world, has 350 mosques (wonderful synchronization at sunrise to wake me up when I don't want to wake up) in a 14 km square area, and about 350 people per hour interested in selling you a tour, a carpet, a blanket, leather goods, hashish, or introduce you to a cousin who could do the same. I'm never embarassed to tell them I'm American (I'm not responsible for my government's actions), but sometimes I resort to telling them that I'm a photography student........photography explains the expensive camera, while student translates to being poor. On that note, here's some poor ass photos of Fès:
intricate zellig (tilework) at a fountain next to my room greeted by rain my first morning in Fès
they have something like 7 billion of these intricate water fountains throughout Fès
I can't enter a mosque since I'm an infidel, but remember the game 'Where's Waldo?'...see if you can find the dangling foot at the foot of the steps entering this mosque
A man in a jellebah (traditional Moroccan robe) walks past the guilded doors of this medersa (Islamic university)
these are the taxis, trucks, and all other motorized vehicles of Fès

The tiled floor of the Qaraouirine Mosque is much nicer than the rain drenched donkey-dung filled alley that I'm standing on when I took this shot
No, this Moroccan woman isn't shaking her ass to the latest in jellebah fashion, she stepped into my shot of the entry into the Andalucia Mosque
It's easy to get lost wandering the medina maze. I was rewarded with this beautiful fountain for my lack of direction
panoramic views of Fès

cemeteries are apparently good for burying the dead as well as grazing livestock he's half provider of death as well as life eternal, Dónde está Che Pelotas?

Back on the backpacker trail

2008-04-09T08:07:00.000-07:00

After a 10 month leave from call of duty, tomorrow I reinitiate my service in the backpacker brigade, as I head back to Morocco. I´ve enjoyed my week as a civilian in Barcelona, staying with two groups of friends and steering clear of anything resembling tourists or tourism. The last few days have been spent in the barrio of Poble Sec, which is Barcelona's version of the Borough of Queens. There's a healthy mix of immigrants from the Dominican Republic, Ecuador, China, India, Pakistan, etc., as well as there's the neighborhood drunk who sings in the street and gets pelted with trash and eggs by the locals. Life happens in the streets and on the balconies. When I walk out onto my friend's balcony, I'm guaranteed to see at least three old ladies on their own balconies. They look at me. I look at them. And then somehow the world keeps spinning around.
Anyway, here's some photos of everyday life as a civilian in Barcelona.
fresas fresas fresaspescado frescosweet tasteI don't know if this is a problem, but for some reason I like to take photos of laundry drying on building facades. If you followed my blog from my last journey, you'd certainly have to agree.<Did you know that Barcelona is the first city in Europe to start a recycling program? That's what those big yellow and green thingys are at the bottom right of the photo, that are also ruining this shot.An antique door next to the Design School in Barrio Gothic. I want to steal this door for myself'Bicing' is Barcelona's version of a car-share program, but different since it uses bicycles instead of automobiles in case you haven't figured this out yet.<
A bunch of boats with La Barceloneta in the backgroundBarcelona is a port town. Here is the luxury boat portthis bar must be the last stop for a few of my friendsWorse than hell, is what awaits here, Dónde está Che Pelotas?

Barcelona update

2008-04-06T06:23:00.000-07:00

Last time I was here, this Casa Okupa (squatter house) had a different sign painted at the top left. The sign said 'Why do they call it tourist season, when you can't shoot them?'
Casa Okupa in Barcelona, Spain
Now the sign says 'We know your capitalist tendencies'....I love it when advertising campaigns are successful in hitting their specific target market. The squatter's advertising team must be very proud.....these guys throw legendary parties by the way.
A squatter house with a view of Barcelona, Spain and the Mediterranean Sea
Speaking of squatting, Dónde está Che Pelotas?

compré crema falso

2008-04-04T01:26:00.001-07:00

so i went to the store to buy body lotion, to help keep my skin looking fresh and radiant. i bought this stuff by nivea thinking it was normal moisturizer for people with darker skin since it said 'for darker skin'. little did i know that the stuff was actually lotion with skin tanner. so now i look like this fake-bake kid from new jersey......oh wait, that's where i'm from.
how's that for being an experienced traveller.....and i even bought the stuff in san francisco, so i didn't have the excuse that it was in spanish.
the gaudi funpark of parc güell in barcelona, spain
Speaking of vibrant moist skin, Dónde está Che Pelotas?

some random first thoughts....

2008-04-02T10:26:00.003-07:00

random first thoughts on this year's edition of my trip overseas...

i hate using the word 'adventure' to describe a trip. it sounds so pretentious or lonely planet-esque/r.e.i. generation.
leaving my dog jessie is always the hardest part. and when i'm packing and getting ready the last couple of days before taking off, she gives me this sad look constantly which makes me feel guilty........hmm, i wonder if you left your kids for a trip would they give you a guilt complex.
thank you to the people who came out monday night at kilowatt. that was fun...even jessie said so. she was hungover the next day.
this last week i was a bit stressed with anxiety because of getting everything ready for the trip, finishing work, cleaning house, saying good bye to friends, etc. etc. because of this stress, i developed a big zit on my nose. but somehow, the day i let for my trip, my zit went away. it's as if my zit knew that it was time to go...for both me and for it the zit.
this is the first time that i've started an overseas trip by staying with friends. i'm also starting it where i ended it on last trip from december 05 till last june.
sometimes i wonder if travelling is something i just do for a living the same way people go to their jobs everyday. .....make money...enjoy life.....make money....enjoy life.......there's got to be a balance in their somewhere.
new airports look more sterile than some hospitals i've been to.
this one is for the fellas: the female flight attendants are smoking hot. for the ladies: i have no opinion of the dude flight attendants.
five months goes really fast and i'll be home before you can whistle dixie.

the first photo of this years trip. redeye sunrise over the english channel on air france flight 83 to my connection in paris en route to barcelona where i'm sitting right now.
He's smoking hot to both the ladies and the gents, Dónde está Che Pelotas?

and i'm out

2008-03-31T17:19:00.000-07:00

tomorrow i'm returning to this place here. i'll be back on the trail for the next 5 months, travelling mostly in spain, morocco, scandinavia and the uk. i hope that the dollar still exists by the end of my trip.....any gift requests, speak now or forever hold your peace.
barcelona, spain
He's got a Spanish accent....or maybe Latin American.....or was it Hungarian? Dónde está Che Pelotas?