Beauabram’s Travels

Wow, how clever is that title. The answer is of course, no at all. Anyways, yes, I have finally left beautiful Budapest for the azure waters and rocky shorelines of the Dalmatian region of Croatia–a place I have been dreaming about for three years. As I have alluded to in previous emails, the islands of this country, and the famous 800 year old walled city of Dubrovnik have been rolling around in my (mostly) empty head for a while. SO, while I didn’t leave a ton of time for Croat related activities, I have still had a nice sample of the place, and as always, will come back to explore the 99% of the country I didn’t see. But what DID I see, world? Well, I thought you would never ask. As my ass is still semi numb from spending the last 10/24 hours on a bus going to and from from Dubrvonik to Split, I will elaborate on the last week or so in bullet form. Bullets, world, bullets.

+So, this stupid Croat keyboad doesn’t HAVE bullets, so plus signs, world, plus signs.

+ Leaving Budapest was tough, as I had fallen in love with the city, the Loft Hostel and its brilliant and rock and roll owners Fetci and Tom, and of course, with a certain Polish TV game show hostess who took what was to be a 3 day stint in Hungary and made it 2 and a half wonderful weeks. But enough of the moooosh and gooosh. Budapest, I give you 10/10. The bathes, the cooking, the vibe of the place, simply the best. I will return, and I will bring the funk and the noise.

+ Anyways, after 7 hours to Zagreb with my amiga Marie Claude, we spent about 8 seconds in the capital before hopping on a train to Split, snap snap, few phots, we chunked the duece and headed south. Lovely train ride, if a bit longish and whatnots. I entertained some Frenchman with a clever reading of a novel they had, my French accent is about as good as my Aussie one, which, as a chick from Melbourne told me last night, is ‘complete shit’. So, we made it, and having JUST stepped off the train and stretched, this loud booming voice said in broken English. ‘hallo! you have room with me, I know zees! come, come, car wait, too come with me, okay, we have nice time!’ This old Croat woman with red lipstick smeared on her face by perhaps what can only be described as a blind person suffering from palsy and dementia. Or maybe its a new style here, I dunno. But we obliged her and got in a car driven by some old Croat dude who must have been about 98 years old if he was even on this side of the century mark, and we went up up up the hill to our place. We stayed two nights, hung out, swam in the saphire waters of the Adriatic, and had a great couple of days chilling out.

+ There are other bullets/plus signs, but the internet lady is breathing heavily over my shoulder and not in the good way, world. So, I bid you ado, more later, and shit

b

It’s been almost two gal’durn weeks, World, and I am truly sorry to have kept you from experiencing the wonderful, zany lifestyle you have come to love to read about from yours truly. Well, as my journeys abroad always tend to have a very loosey-goosey feel to them, this one wouldn’t have felt right had I not completely changed my plans around from what I first had intended. My intentions? Two weeks ago I arrived in the Loft Hostel with Reece and Wren from Berlin, intending to stay a few nights and then go on to Croatia, my main destination and Big Reason for the trip. It’s now been two weeks of course, and they have been something special. I have lived an idyllic life, spending time with a pretty girl, enjoying the sunshine and the waters of the various watering oasis here in town, cooking every night, enjoying the hot and jumping night spots, and just overall kicking ass, taking names, etc. From an outside viewpoint it has not been noteworthy or particularly exiting, but for me it has been so very lovely. Klaudia, the Polish TV game show hostess, working here for the summer, has been the focal point for me, and the reason I have extended my stay. A very lovely girl whose work schedule is only taping a show 3-4 times a week has given us plenty of time to hang out, explore the city, make bad Polish jokes and spend quality time together. And did I mention she is smoking 10 alarm chile hot?

Anways, enough about all the mushy gushy stuff. I have the stirrings of wanderlust again, so I am spending the next (and last) 9 days of my journey going to the islands and beaches and coasts of Southern Croatia, and enjoying the blooooody ‘ell out of the Adriatic. Then I go home for Independence Day, have some hot dogs, drink a beer, crash for 18789 hours, sell my car, box up my stuff, do laundry, pack the rucksack again, and get ready for 6 continents in 366 days of traveling. Aussie is my first stop. Any takers?

Oh yeah. Went to Vienna, Austria for the weekend. Got crushed by 100, 000 drunk Viennese kids at a free music festival on some island in the middle of the Danube. Saw some castles. Ate my weight in wienershnitzel which just about fricking killed me. And I walked. And walked. And walked. Vienna is beautiful but DAMN my feet still hurt. Need to get some Gellin’ like Magaellen Inserts

Theres some various pics from my three weeks here in Central and ol’ Eastern Europe. Big ups from Buda PESSSST

http://www.facebook.com/album.php?aid=2010426&l=13117&id=57300146

B

Peoples Peoples Peoples, where does one begin?

I’ve been traveling for over a week now, and I find myself in one of the coolest, homiest and fun filled places I’ve been to–Budapest, Hungary. The hostel, the people, the town, the the the well everything is quite the shiznite, but let’s start from the beginning and then save talking about me running around Hungary in just a sock for the end.

Prague:

After sleeping all Tuesday in Gatwick, I met Reece in the afternoon and we booked it to Prague for a few nights of long sightseeing walks, pub crawls and cool museums. Let me say this about Prague–for weeks and weeks I had been anticipating looking at “beautiful European hot shit super models” walking the streets offering to buy me meals and putting me up in their swanky downtown lofts and telling me how awesome I am. However, upon spending some time there, all I saw were throngs of tourists, overweight frumpy Czechs and not a single supermodel in sight. WTF? I would say to myself, aloud and to anyone in earshot. But alas, the town is beautiful, if packed with people and their constantly snapping cameras. At times it felt like we were in these very pretty, but pre planned tourist traps that were completely devoid of any real Czechs. I mean, the astronomical clock and the huge castle complex were quite cool, but sights alone don’t make a town, it’s the whole je no se qoi of the hostel, the people, the atmosphere and the vibe of the city (which, again, is why Budapest is so money).

So, I met a fellow Texan and teacher, Wren, from Austin, at our hostel and her Reece and I decided to train it to Berlin on the advice of our mental and insane and totally righteous Aussie pals we met in Prague. We wanted a cool weekend in the German capital, and we got that, and then some.

Berlin:

Berlin is big. Right off the bat you can feel the urban, foward-thinking mentality of this very modern and bustling city. We arrived in a 4 tiered subway station and arrived at our hostel in the afternoon, set our shit down and walked around East Berlin for a while, seeing Brandenberger Tor and the Reichstag, the Berlin parliment building. Had this bad ass all you can eat Chinese buffet that I made my bitch, and then went back, had some drinks with the cute Bulgarian girl at the front desk, and we all crashed out.

Saturday in Berlin was ridiculous. Lots of sights, saw the wonderful amazing museumisel, which is this island that has these 5 or 6 museums filled with all the priceless treasures of the globe from the last two thousand years. Saw the Gate of Ishtar from Babylon, Cezanes, Manets, Monets and Rodin’s The Thinker. Just so sweet it was.

But let me pause to reflect on the Saturday night we had in Berlin. It was off the hook. Here’s the hook, ladies and gents, Saturday night was OOOOOOFFFFFFF the HOOOOK. We were on our way out, the three of us, and met these three Canucks in the subway dressed for success and on their way out as well. Two guys and a girl, one’s sister and the other’s girlfriend, all from somewheres in Canadia, although the siblings were of German descent and the dude lived there. We fell in with this big group of giggly German girls and were rolling up to the club when I felt this log on my chest, and when I looked up it was connected to a big, fat, angry silver back Gorilla of a bouncer. He looked at me and said “NO FACKING DUDES. GO ‘VAY”. I looked about at the others as the chicks we were with were walking in , heads down not wanting to anger the already froth-mouthed primate denying me and my male friends access. Addy, the live wire German-speaking Canuck I mentioned before, did not take kindly to this, no, not at all. He walked away and must have dug deep into his knowledge of German put downs because after a minute the bouncer leaped from his perch of the rail and chased our loud mouthed friend down, and slapped the shit out of him twice like Addy had thrown the bouncer’s last bushel of bananas away. Man, Addy I must say took those bitch slaps like a man, they just left two red marks and a quizzical expression on his face. Then the bouncer turned as we all snapped to attention after the two or three seconds we spent, frozen from the Ape’s actions. Me and Addy’s friend started to walk to the bouncer and ask him to calm down, but he turned on us looking like an extra from 28 Days Later and we did our best not to get decked ourselves.

“I VILL FACKING KEEL ALL OV YOO! GET OOOUUT NAAAOOOW!” We am-scrayed real quick like and decided we would try another night out destination, which seemed fine with everyone, including ol’ hairy knuckles, who had by this point put on some leather Ill Beat Your Ass Gloves and went back to his post by the entrance.

We went to this big sprawling Eurotrash nightclub next called The Matrix, three dance floors, all playing hi-beat crap for the faux mullet, man capri pants wearing, heavily pierced Berliners to awkwardly shake their rumps to while we all sat back and patted ourselves on the back for not getting flattened. We eventually all fell in with the Germans, danced, drank and hung out. Me and Reece caught the same “I want to pass out now” feelings around 4 and booked it home, while the sun came up around the same time, which was mildly weird, but what-evs as my travel friends like to say. Crashed out, woke up, saw the Berlin wall, yada yada, caught a 6 am plane to Budapest the next morning.

Budapest:

As I sit here, in the same board shorts ive worn since getting here, unwashed, reddened and tanned from my afternoons in the bathhouses chilling, full from good French-Canadian cooking, I can only think about how little I care that I have yet to see one sight in the two and a half days I’ve been here. Not one. And it’s been awesome. This hostel is in a loft at the top of this old rickity apartment in Pest, the side of town east of the Danube River (Buda is on the west, duh). I feel so great after really only just have hung out here at the hostel, being a soux chef to the master of the kitchen, Luc, who is talented as hell with the ol’ food stuffs. We made crepes this morning, had porkchops and mixed greens salad two nights ago, wonderful breakfast croissants yesterday for breakfast, so so so good. Feli my Brazillian friend and another Brazil girl cooked some meat rice dish last night that was the BOOOMB diggity. So much that after it was all said and done, I took a bet from the Kiwi working here to walk around in nothing but Reece’s walking sock the rest of the night. I did, it was Hi LARIOUS. I look good in a sock. We went out after the sock incident to some bombed out local bar/club thing in this abandoned building and there we met some lovely Aussie/Hungarians with whom we got a chance to discuss politics, and art, and other things that are escaping my memory. I am working out where to go next, America, I extended my trip for another 8 days, I might just push it back more. Daddy has got a lot of love to give to Eastern Europe, so we shall see.

stay fly

bbb

Hello once again. For starters, I’m pretty sure I wrote a bit of an entry at Gatwick Airport when I landed, but I guess I was too rummy to remember to post it. It was a bunch of nonsense about how uppity the clerks at the pharmacy were when I tried to buy snacks, checking for photo IDs and being all around tool bagerinos. But now, Im done with my second full day in Prague, and I have really enjoyed it. It has such amazing architecture, and the history behind it is amazing. EVERY single building is beautiful and in good condition, and from anywhere in town you can look up to the huge castle complex overseeing the city from across the river. Saw the Charles Bridge, the Jewish Ghetto, the Castle and many cathedrals, hung out with some Aussies last night and sampled some absinthe, which was an experience.

The weather has been perfect, the sights beautiful, and I think me and a couple friends are going to take a train to Berlin for the weekend, then fly on to Budapest. Croatia in a week’s time, me thinks, and me hopes. OK, pub crawl tonight, gonna go back and rest up for it. Hope you’re doing well, world, ill holla atcha

b

Whats up my thugs and gang-stars? Some definite travel plans have been definated, for definition;thats when things firm up, in the planning sense. Feeling a bit irreverent, I’m getting exited as my first trip–the mini-trip to the Big Daddy RTW–To Eastern Europe is booked. I leave June 4th to London, then Ill just chill in Gatwick for 8 odd hours until my EasyJet flight takes me to, what the natives call “Praha” Prague, the city of sin, the place where I win, Ill holla at my kin, ’bout the places I been…gotta stop listening to rap in the background when I’m writing this incoherent drivel. Anyways, I’m going to go from Prague, to Brno (Possible stop at Plzen “The Birth place of Beer”–some book’s words not my own) through Vienna for a moment, then either pass through Slovenia or straight to Croatia. A friend lives somewhere within the Croatian borders, if she gets back to me I’ll have a couch and more importantly a guide to lead me along the path to Slavic righteousness.

But hold on a second–

– I will have spent almost three days, in various stages of sick, tired and BROKE in Gatwick after this next trip. The first time, after being relieved of all my bank held currency via this call home cheap pay phone scheme in Spain, my cards maxed out over 45 minutes of drunken “I love you, nonononononononoooo…I miss you, no man, like 8 cents a minute..I KNOW! Stupid Spaniards, this call might as well be free…uh huh…yeah no Im not looking at other girls…etc” I had to pan handle for change for a sangwich in Spain, that had to last the 2 days I slept in the Gatwick airport before I boarded, stinking, reeking and starving. Phone cards people–s’all a brother is gonna say. I still don’t know how it cost me 1200$, but as the kids say “whatev’” word endings are kitsch now, apparently.

–second time, I had to fly home early from my wintering in Spain, I got sick the second I touched town in Valencia , stayed that way for three days despite the care of three lovely Italians who kept my spirits up as they sang songs and blow-dried their manes in their matching bathrobes. I staggered somehow from Valencia, to the plane, stopping twice to puke in trashcans and not on myself or my increasingly heavy backpack, to the bus then the airport, where I then somehow woke up on the same chair outside the Gatwick Starbuck’s I had spent time with 2 years previous munching on a filthy Spanish Baguette , now once again praying for my boarding call. Oh, did I tell you about the neon green cough syrup my fever addled brain told me to consume to get rid of my sniffles and piffles? That was fun, in reverse, with the added pigments of various paella dishes I had stupidly slurped down sometime, leave it to my stomach to find food in a place supposedly devoid of anything but heaves and spittle. yuck. But back to the thread of whatever I was weaving–

So, Eastern Europe, the Adriatic Coast, Dalmatian Islands, castles, beer, Eastern European girls and food and yes yes yes. Then Ill come back, wash the undies, and practice surfing so me and Max can go at it in Fiji without me eating my shit like in waves of the Pacific in Nica.

This was almost incomprehensible, but Ill take pictures, America, and you know I’ll share stories. I think some former students are going to be reading this, so Ill make believe ill be spoon feeding orphans and reading to the blind. Or something,

b

Let me preface this entry with the following: if I ever sound like a whiny pompous tool bag who has nothing better to do than lament where he should fly off to in the world, and how HARD it is to see the continents and countries and counties of the world, then bitch slap me now. And in the future, and well, whenever. If i get uppity then you need to de-up me.

So I have June and half of July completely free and I want to stave off boredom by, well, travelling. Since I wont be going to Europe on my RTW I thought I would pop over and have a look-see at Croatia, Czech Republic and Slovenia, etc for a few weeks, a month. I can get to London for like, 80$ in taxes (I have miles built up) and the whole thing wouldnt eat into my big trip budget much. I wanted to go to Croatia from Bari, Italy in the summer of ‘05 but Micah said “no” and I said “Come on, dude” and micah said no and took a 2 hour dump and shaved his hobo beard off for the rest of the day and took a nap and off we went, west from Italy, not east. Well, my fondness for Micah and his ability to look even more greasy than the local Neopolitans we were mixing it up with at times, his ass will be in Little Rock drinking tall boys and wishing he had my lean lats and airline miles, in that order.

So, one: anyone want to do some island hopping in the Croatian Dalmatian islands? It’s like Greece, but with less ass grabbing and gyros. If I offended and Greeks with that than take it up with the aforementioned Micah, he’s an ass grabbing Itialano so geographically speaking, close enough for my ass and this entry. Also, perusing the Croatian travel site, their videos had naked chicks sunning about every 2 minutes, very nonchalantly I must add too, great tourist videos if you ask me, but you didn’t.

To the point: 87% sure Im going to fly to London, then swing through Prague, Zagreb and maybe even farther east and then back to London. Suggestions? Questions? Ass grabbing stories?

B

Sup peoples, nothing like a long boring week of State mandated testing to get your thoughts geared on the Big Trip. I am working on getting to Tanzania/Kenya by the turn of the new year ‘08 so that I may scale Ol’ Kilimanjaro and then once said scaling is accomplished, reward myself with a couple of weeks on Zanzibar the Spice Island. I’m quite in love with the island through it’s name and the pictures I have been able to peruse through my long periods of inactivity watching kids both bubble in answer sheets and lose the will to live at the same time. Education is a beast all unto itself I think, I’ve never met so many people uninterested in their own educations, reading, literacy etc. But I have done digressed again.

Yeah, Tanzania, East Africa. The more I look the more I become completely enamored with another place, idea or adventure and realize this one thing over and over again and that is–12 months ain’t shit. So much to see and do, Maybe I’ll just be a human boomerang and keep throwing myself out into the Wilds. Alas, with problems like these, right? I would like to formally ask any and all reading this drivel to do me the honor of perhaps making suggestions, anywhere, any reason. I’m just always curious to hear from people with either unrealized dreams or past experiences with travel, both good and bad. So, go ahead I’m listening.

Bed Time.

b

Starting in July (towards the end) I will be heading off to all points west as I begin a 12 month journey around the world. I have been thinking about this for a long time, and now I have taken the steps to get me, my backpack and my clean pair of drawers on a plane and head west from LA until I come ’round again to Houston.

For those who know me (probably 99% will, and out of that percentage let me take this opportunity to say hello to my mom) my name is Beau Brown. You might be wondering why my blog is called Beauabram’s Travels, and for that I need to take an early tangent to explain my legal name and the confusion it causes. When I was born, and after the parades in my honor and the endless parties had at last ended celebrating my arrival, my parents and grandparents locked horns on what to name me, the first born of Naomi and Garland Brown. Mom and pops were keen on Beau–the older generation wanted something biblical, Abraham. Both sets were not to be moved from the positions on my moniker and rather than either one give, they decided upon a compromise. Now this is great if you are divvying up land between two warring tribes, settling a legal dispute or even trying to placate a whiny girlfriend into making you a sandwich if you agree to watch The Gilmore Girls with her (that’s actually win-win:it’s a terrific dramedy with a heart of gold). BUT, ladies, gentleman and mom, its no way to settle a dispute over a NAME! So, without dragging on too much longer, they took the best of both names and called me, that’s right–Beauabram Brown. Terrific, right? My name takes on the look of a corporate merger gone wrong, and had my parents not decided in their claimed victory to call me Beau anyways, who knows what emotional scars would have beset me through my youth?

But I digress. My name is Beau Brown I’m a Spanish teacher, and I love traveling, soccer and girls. Not in that order, and usually never at the exclusion of the other two, although if I had a choice, I would love to travel to Milan to watch an Inter game with my soccer loving girlfriend–but for now, that remains a dream. Anywho, as I started this with a simple statement of my intended departure, I should follow by saying I will be heading through the South Pacific and Southeast Asia before I have to push on, and from there I know I want to do Africa and South America but some of the dates begin to get fuzzy, although Carnival in Rio sounds like too good of a time to pass up. Check it out here.