Opportunity Knocks

“And when all was said and done, the lies a fellow told about himself couldn’t probably hold a proverbial candle to the wholesale whoppers other fellows coined about him.” -James Joice, Ulysses

Hello. Let me ask you a question. Why are you still reading these? Do you believe me when I say I plan to go somewhere or doing something? You shouldn’t. You should know by now, that my plans never, ever work. I am not in India. I am not in Ukraine. I went to the airport this morning with every intention of landing in Delhi the next morning. I was excited for a change of pace, I was excited for India. I was slightly less excited when I was denied entry onto the plane. I had it on very good authority that an Indian visa could be purchased upon arrival. In this, I was much mistaken. As you can imagine, I was a bit upset. Still, it wasn’t like I could just stand there feeling sorry for myself, I now had a problem to fix. I did not want to go back into Kiev. The drive to the airport was about an hour, I was frustrated, I just wanted out. I approach a sales agent. Not really knowing how to phrase my question, I mumble something about–do you have planes leaving today? Of course they do, but where would I like to go? I say, “Anywhere, where do you fly?” She looks at me with a mixture of confusion and fear. She shrugs. I glance at a map of the world on the wall behind her and conduct the following conversation.
“Bangkok?”
“Sorry, it’s full.”
“Beirut?”
“We don’t fly to Lebanon.”
“Cairo?”
She types furiously at her keyboard. There is a flight, it leaves in 10 minutes, but it is delayed, so there’s time. So I went with that. I haven’t been here long. In fact, I haven’t left the hotel today yet. I wanted to tell everybody first. Sorry about that, it was not my intention to deceive you. Trust me, I was surprised too, but so far, it’s been great, at least as far as people are concerned. All very friendly. The roads though–there are crazy drivers in Cairo. The man who drove me from the airport to the hotel was incontestably the craziest. There was no regard for speed, or lanes. I’ve never seen anything like it. He forced his way between two cars on a two lane road more than once. It was like he was playing a video game. My face must have betrayed me sometime after missing the car next to us by a matter of inches, because he laughed and said, “You are afraid?”. I try to laugh it off, but I also say, “just a little.” “Don’t worry,” he says “Cairo drivers are crazy but we are also clever.” I don’t know what that meant. It did little in the way of consolation. But here I am now, and I can look back in amazement and hope never to repeat it. Right, well I’m off to see the Nile. Tomorrow, I’m thinking pyramids.

“Every man has his daydreams
Every man has his goal
People like the way dreams have
Of sticking to the soul
Thunderclouds have their lightning
Nightingales have their song
And don’t you see I want my life to be
Something more than long.

Rivers belong where they can ramble
Eagles belong where they can fly
I’ve got to be where my spirit can run free
Got to find my corner of the sky”

–Corner of the Sky, from Pipin.

Well, uh. I have had a sort of disconcerting week. Kiev has been nice. Cold, but nice. Yesterday was the Ukrainian Orthodox Christmas, so there are still holiday decorations and Santa Clauses (often wearing green?) all about. Last night there were a lot of people in Independence Square for a concert. I tried to stay for a while, but I lost feeling in my face. For a myriad of reasons, I wasn’t really feeling lately like my life was where it should be. Now, many people, when upset, will go shopping. I have sort of done this, but my purchase was a more unconventional one-way ticket to Delhi. I’m done with Europe for a while. I’ve always wanted to see India. I don’t really need a job just yet. It all makes sense. So that’s where I go. Tomorrow. Life is crazy but life is good. A big thanks to everybody who’s written me sage advice in the last few days, I know I must seem insufferably crazed sometimes. India should be a real adventure. I’m allotting at least 2 months, but this number is really arbitrary. By law I can’t be there more than 3, so that’s the best of a “plan” I have for now. I’m expecting a lot out of myself and my time there, and hoping to infuse my travelogue with a bit of eastern wisdom and a few deep thoughts of my own, if I ever come across any. Cheers.

Row, row, row your boat
Gently down the stream.
Merrily, merrily, wearily, merrily

Life is but a dream.

Warm greetings from the cold city of Kiev. Ah, I sense you are surprised. Allow me to explain. As Christmas came closer and closer and the time my family would depart from me grew night, I had to admit to myself that I had no where to go after they left. Getting nervous that the job in Damascus would not pan out, I just went ahead and booked a train ticket to Ukraine (this, of course before I found out Russia would be cutting off their natural gas supply…whoops.). The train took two nights from Prague and has left me badly in need of a shower. Luckily, I believe Russia and Ukraine have come to some sort of agreement, so there should be hot water. I’ve booked 6 nights at a hostel here, just to make sure I like the place. One of my main objectives of straying and working in one place for a while is to improve one of the languages I hope to learn. My Russian could indeed use a little brushing up, so what better time or place to do it than here…I mean, Russia might be a good place too, but visas are difficult. So what better place. This week will be devoted to finding a job, and if that works (ha…job…works…get it? ) finding an apt. At least that is the plan for now. First impressions of Kiev: Cold, but not unbearable; about as cold as Berlin was (more on that later). Crowded to beat the band. I have never seen a subway so packed, and I’m not talking the cars, I’m talking the station. I thought I was at David Hasselhoff concert in Munich. NO, I have never been to a David Hasselhoff concert in Munich or anywhere else. Would I? Well, that’s my little secret. Where was I? Yes, Kiev. As I’ve mentioned, I spent the holidays with my family; Christmas in Prague, New Years in Berlin. We had a really great time, even if we were all in grave danger of death by trampling on New Years Eve at the Brandenburg Gate. What a mob. And now it’s 2006, where does the time go? Remember 1999 when it was the end of the world? I packed a gallon of water and a sleeping bag in my trunk just in case. Not really sure what sort of wussy apoloclype I was preparing for taking such feeble measures. I’ve since learned to be a wee bit tougher when it comes to me vs. the end of the world. Next time, I’ll be ready. So that’s it for now, folks. When I figure out in what capacity I will be working here, I’ll give the update. I hope to get a job either writing for an english newspaper or teaching english. But then we all know where hope gets you. Or do we? At best: nowhere; at worst: the funny farm. So scratch hope, I’ll take a tall glass of Action, please.

“The now that passes produces time, the now that remains produces eternity.” – Severinus Boethius

So hello to everyone! Not much to report this time around. I’ve been taking things at a much more relaxed pace the past week or so. After Bratislava, I headed to Krakow, where I also booked 4 nights. Then, due to a bus schedule incompatible to my desired departure date, I ended up staying in Krakow another 2 nights, making 6 nights in all. A new record. Aside from a sobering day trip to Auschwitz/Birkenau that upset me (saw that one coming), I thoroughly enjoyed this city, but I had a feeling I would. When deciding where to study abroad (after the college nixed my dreams of going to Turkey) I was actually between St. Petersburg and Krakow. I chose Russia because I figured the language would come in more handy. So, I’m glad I could spend some time there with what could have been. It was a bit hard to get around because it became quite frigid at times, but I really really took to the place. Especially, this little restaurant I found (well, it was reccommended), good atmosphere, mainly local students, great food–all homemade, and crazy cheap prices. I ate there every day. No seriously. Man, did I eat a lot. But really, it’s a reasonably small town, so I covered it quickly, and when you combine this with unfavorable weather to be out and about in…what else is there to do? I was also lucky in that the place I was staying had free internet, but I’m afraid it’s spoiled me a bit. Yesterday, I was up at 5am to catch a bus to Cesky Krumlov. I’ve heard amazing things about this place from several people I’ve met along the way, so I’ve been excited to see it all. They weren’t kidding. It’s a quaint little town with the little winding cobblestone roads that everyone loves in european cities. And this time of year, there’s less of me, the tourists. But also I ate some kind of Czech street hotdog, which is really more like garlic dog, which scored some negative points and has probably also killed any chances I had of making friends here. Ah well. I took 3 buses to get here, all in all 11hrs. I had to go all the way from Poland to the east of the Czech Republic to catch another 2 buses back down to the south westish part. It was ok until the guy sitting next to me on the first bus fell asleep and then sort of fell over on my shoulder, snoring. Then it was just awkward and loud. Now, I’m back in the real world where you have to pay to get online and you can’t be on after 9pm. Losers. Don’t these people understand the implications of differing time zones? Anyway, as I warned at the beginning, I don’t have much of an update just now. Last night, I got in and just watched a few dvds, which is always something of a treat. My family comes to Prague for Christmas and New Years, which I’m very excited about, so I’ll be heading there on the 22nd. Other than that, I’m looking to come to some sort of definitive decision about my plans after they leave. I’m giving it a few more days, as I’m still waiting to hear about the possible job in Damascus. When I find anything out, I’ll add it.

This one goes out to all the will-be travelers out there who want some structure in their lives while backpacking, or who just want a better idea of what is possible. Granted, this is not technically “preparatory” for me, in that I made it up as I went along (with the exception of knowing, “I should go east/west today”) But I thought it might be beneficial for anyone else who was looking to plan a trip like this one and wanted an idea of an itinerary. I broke it down into two parts, the first is a list of the cities I saw in the order I saw them, so some may occur twice because I back-tracked, etc. The second list is a list of countries and how long I stayed in each. Details: I had a 3 month unlimited eurail pass, and for all the bad rap they get for occasional hidden reservation fees, I would say for the amount of cities I got to see, it was definitely worth it. Also, there are many countries where you pay no surcharge, notably: Germany, Switzerland, Austria, most of Italy. (Countries most notorious for charging extra are Spain and France). Virtually all night trains-unless you’re sleeping in a seat, as I usually did-will cost the equivalent of a hostel. Also, I flew in from New York to London, which does not honor eurail, so my 3 months does not start until after get to Paris. So here it is:

London, UK
Paris, France
Brussels, Belgium
Antwerp, Belgium
Brugge, Belgium
Amsterdam, Netherlands
Coppenhagen, Denmark
Malmo, Sweden
Stockholm, Sweden
Helsinki, Finland
Goteberg, Norway
Trondheim, Norway
Oslo, Norway
Bergen, Norway
Hamburg, Germany
Luxembourg, Luxembourg
Munich, Germany
Budapest, Hungary
Vienna, Austria
Salzburg, Austria
Interlaken, Switzerland
Venice, Italy
Padova, Italy
Florence, Italy
Pisa, Italy
Bari, Italy
Athens, Greece
Rome, Italy
Florence, Italy
Salerno, Italy
Legnaro, Italy*
Padova, Italy
Verona, Italy
Monte Carlo, Monaco
Nice, France
Barcelona, Spain
Valencia, Spain
Alacante, Spain
Granada, Spain
Chefchaouen, Morocco
Fez, Morocco
Marrakesh, Morocco
Moulay el Mehdi, Morocco**
Algeceras, Spain
Rondo, Spain
Cordoba, Spain
Lisbon, Portugal
Sintra, Portugal
San Sebastian, Spain
Bordeaux, France
Paris, France
Madrid, Spain
Escoria, Spain
Barcelona, Spain
Montpellier, France
Geneva, Switzerland
Montreux, Switzerland
Luzern, Switzerland
Bern, Switzerland
Zurich, Switzerland
Innsbruck, Austria
Munich, Germany
Fussen, Germany
Grunau, Austria
Vienna, Austria
* Though this is a lovely village, it is probably not at the top of every travelers list. I went here to get a taste of real Italy and to visit my friend, Nicole. I spent about 4 days here.
**Morocco is not covered under the eurail pass, but I had the time. I spent about a week here.

Country Totals:
UK: 1 week
France: 9 days
Belgium: 4 days
The Netherlands: 3 days
Denmark: 2 days
Sweden: 4 days
Finland: 2 days
Norway: 4 days
Germany: 4 days***
Luxembourg: 2 days
Hungary: 3 days
Austria: 5 days
Switzerland: 8 days
Italy: 2 weeks
Monaco: 1 day
Spain: 2 weeks, 3 days
Morocco: 1 week
Portugal: 3 days
Greece: 4 days
***Germany is a big, beautiful country and it cannot possibly be done justice in 4 days, I was lucky to have spent last spring break there, so I’d already seen a lot of it. I would recommend a week at least.

Places I would like to have seen:
Bilbao, Sevilla, and Santiago de Compostela, Spain
Faro and Porto, Portugal
Milan, Italy
Ireland-it IS included on the eurail pass, but I never quite worked out how to get there.
Somewhere in the arctic circle

Hope this helps somebody. Happy travels.

“You know, there are very few places in the world where I am at home. Isn’t that pathetic? And there are actually fewer of them every day, too. And they’re shrinking. Does this happen to you? There is going to come a time when there will only be a very small space. And that’s all I’ll have. I’ll have to remain very still and look only in one direction, but then I’ll be okay, actually.”
-Arthur Phillips, Prague

Ah, metaphors relating life to a book. I’m so creative I can hardly stand myself. So here I am, 3 months, 19 countries, approximately 59 cities, 15 showers (kidding), 3 loads of laundry (not kidding), one attempt to jump off a moving train (successful), and a separate attempt to jump on moving train (failed) later, I have said goodbye to western Europe. And I must confess, though there were times I was ready to move on, it hurt just a little. While I had plenty of time to prepare myself emotionally for my departure, it really only hit me in the last week that my eurail pass was coming to an end, thus somewhat explaining my itinerary which went something as follows: BarcelonaMontpellierGeneveMontreauxLuzernBernZurichInnsbruckMunichDammitDammit GrunauVienna….all of this, in the course of a week. So, just for the record, it can be done, but it is rather exhausting and it takes a lot of walking, lots of trains. Still, with all the moving, I’ve managed to meet some very nice people this week, more than usual-maybe this could be attributed to my feeling that it was almost over and being excessively sociable/needy/I don’t wanna go, whiny type of mind frame. Who knows. So, without too much detail (or we’d be here all day), I’ll go through it with a bit more explanation.

We begin our story in Barcelona, where Blair was last heard from, trying to head eastward with the final goal of making it to Vienna on the last day of her eurail pass, so as to provide easy transition to eastern Europe. Well, I had booked a train out of Barcelona into France, but the metro had some technical difficulties, causing me to miss that, and spend the day stuck in Barcelona (not that I’m complaining). Finally, later that evening, I board another train to Montpellier. I find the hostel with some difficulty, but help from a girl who I met in Barcelona who ended up on the same train as I did. She’s been studying there, and speaks french, which is quite helpful, as I do not. She invites me out later that night, but looking around the town and the location (alley) of my hostel, I decide it would perhaps be a bad idea to walk back alone too late. Instead, I do go back out to the main square just to have a look around and say hello (and subsequently goodbye) to my old friend, the kebab. It’s a lovely city at night, but there are indeed some sketchy characters lingering about. If I am correct, I was followed by 3 such people (separately) that night on the way back to the hostel. Luckily, I have learned a very simple trick for such situations. A little vigilance goes a long way. Of course, it would be different if there was no one else on the street, but at this time, there were still people walking around. I have found that if someone is following you in such a situation, the absolute best thing you can do is to let them know you know you are being followed. This may include anything from numerous backward glances or something so overt as stopping, turning around, and staring them down. This has yet to fail me. It is also important, however, to stay on streets where there are other people, and not turning down your actual street until you know for certain, they are gone. It also helps to have a few tricks up your sleeve–in the form of a Swiss army knife. Anyway, long story short, France is lovely, but I have found no other country so bounteous in crazies/questionable personae, the former being largely harmless, the latter…well…questionable. But onward.

The next day, I am delighted to find I have arrived just in time for the second annual regional wine festival, so I look around there before heading to Geneva. Here, I meet a very friendly South African girl who I really would have liked to hang out with more in a sort of very pathetic, please be my friend scenario, but even had I not had to move on, she left for London the next day anyhow. So, the next day I take myself for a walk around the old town, finding I have arrived there just missing a bit festival commemorating Geneva’s successful defense against an attack from the duke of Savoy. The great thing about this holiday is that the celebration involves large chocolate cauldrons filled with candy, which they break open with a sword and then eat. I was truly, truly sad to have missed it. The second part of the day, I head to Montreaux, where there is a medieval fortress with origins as far back as 1160. Walked and marveled around there for a while, and then, thanks to my large, imposing backback, became physically stuck in the crowds as the Christmas market there. A note on Christmas markets: They are everywhere here. Every city has one. I like them on occasions where I am not trying to get somewhere and can meander about really feeling the Christmas spirit, which for whatever reason, I associate with America. So I go to get a little sentimental, but when I stumble upon them and they impede my progress, I become very angry. Anyway, that night, I go to Luzern, and since my guidebook is a bit outdated, find the hostel I was aiming at to no longer be in existence. I get vague directions (“Take this road” the woman says, as she drags her finger over the road on the map to an area outside of illustration) to another place slightly out of town, and decide that if I walk long enough, I’m bound to find something. You’d think I’d learn. After a bit of walking a nice lady on a bicycle stops to help me and I finally find the place and have dinner there with 3 very friendly education majors from somewhere in Pennsylvania. Next day, I decide it’s worth it to backtrack a bit to Bern, where there is an exhibit on Einstein’s life and work, as well as his old place of residence. Then on to Innsbruck, where at 10pm I could be seen running full force through the snow with all my gear on down a quiet, quaint little cobblestone street in order to make it to the hostel while the reception was still open. I do.

Next day, I intend to go to a place called Grunau, but there is a train to Munich leaving first, and I feel antsy, so I go there instead. Once there, I find I am still antsy and wish to go further north to a small German town who’s name I can’t remember, but my book said it was nice and obsessed with Christmas. Thanks to a high number of confusing connections and inaccurate information, I travel an two hours in vain before giving up an returning to Munich. I like Munich a lot. This was my third time there, so it was nice to be in a city that feels familiar and you know which direction to head for a place to sleep. Also, there’s a really good bagel shop there, that I have visited every time I’ve been. Mmm, lox. I meet a really friendly Finnish girl there and we hung out the rest of the night, and she even let me wear her jeans because mine were in the laundry and shorts in the snow is just sort of a bad idea. The next day, I try to visit a castle in a place called Feussen, supposedly the castle that the one in Sleeping Beauty is modeled after. Well, I leave Munich and travel three hours to Feussen, where I find it to be snowing heavily, and decide that the castle was not all that important to me anyway and I was really enjoying the reverie brought on by the combined powers of the scenery and my mp3 player. So I go back to Munich. At this point, I have decided to head to Grunau, Austria for the last day of my eurail pass, but the man in Feussen tells me it’s an 11 hour trip. However, I think I am smarter then him and believe I am capable of finding a faster route on my own without the “help” of his little computer with all the train timetables in europe. Surprisingly, in this instance, I am correct, and I arrive in Grunau around 7pm. My book made it out to be a fairly small place, so I figured I could just walk a ways and would eventually hit the right street for the hostel or find an open pub or something to get better directions. Wrong and wrong. I give up and call the place and somebody comes to get me. The place I stayed was a little joint called The Treehouse, and it was just great. Not only was it a hostel, so the price was low, but they had a ton of english movies, english speaking staff (Aussies), homemade dinner, free breakfast, and free use of ski gear should I wish to use it for the ski lift, a 5 minute walk from the front door. Also, there were only 2 people staying in the whole place, myself included, so that was pretty cool. That night, was spent in the in house bar, which is open to the public and on this particular night, hosting someone’s birthday party. So that was fun too, even though I do not speak German. But it is the next day, the last day of my eurail pass, that I am especially proud of.

If you had asked me a year ago…even a week ago…one thing I would never do, my answer would be “ski again”. This is due to an incident occurring almost 2 years ago exactly, where I and 3 other Texans piled into a car for a trip to a place where Texans do not belong, snow-capped, mountainous regions. Without the ability to stop, let alone slow down, I manage to do some real damage to my right knee on the first bunny slope and am bed ridden the rest of the week, glued to 24 hour marathons of Law and Order SVU. When I get back home, I am the last patient seen by the doctor on Christmas Eve, so you can imagine how interested he was in my injury. So, now and then, it slips out of joint, I fall down, everybody laughs, I die a little on the inside. But this has not happened in a while, so I decide to try my hand at snowboarding, which I believe would not involve the same muscles, so therefore may not trouble me. The woman at the ski place feels differently, however, and encourages me to ski instead. I think it’s a bad idea, but as time has told, I like that sort of thing, so I go for it. I did not know the effect it would have on me, but I found, like one of Pavlov’s dogs, that I was seemingly conditioned to a fear of skiing, specifically concerning momentum, the laws of inertia, and that ever-nagging fear of immanent death. I don’t want to pay for lessons, because I was only skiing for a half day anyhow, my motto for the day being “Don’t push your luck”. So instead, I depend on any remnants in my memory from last time as to how to do it. This failing, I finally trip over myself like some intoxicated snow beast decked out in 80s ski garb towards an unsuspecting group of people my age whom I ask, trying to maintain as much dignity as I have remaining, “Do you speak english? How do I stop?”

I do eventually (by accident) once find myself on a blue slope, but I spend the majority of my day going down the kiddie run, muttering obscenities and cursing loudly/uncontrollably in the presence of children. But not in German, so I think it should be excusable. Still, as frightened and mismatched as I was, as many times as I fell of the ski lifts, causing the whole ski lift system to shut down (4), as often as I could be observed screaming like the apocolypse while traveling at 2 mph, this was one of the prouder moments of my life.

My friends at The Treehouse ask me to stay another night, and as tempting as it truly was, I went on to Vienna, my last train ride courtesy of eurail. Today, I hitched a bus ride to Bratislava (which, might I add, has one of the finer Christmas markets), where I currently have booked the next 3 nights. In two weeks, my parents and sister are coming to meet me in Prague for the holidays, so I have to be there then. Between then and now, I plan on seeing Bratislava, Cesky Krumlov (Czech), Krakow and possibly Warsaw. So, while I’d like to say I’m leaving the highly mobile life by the wayside for a while (I haven’t spent more than 4 nights in the same place for over 3 months, and that only happened once) I cannot do so until at least after New Years, when I’ve literally nowhere to be (unless a job in Damascus pans out). These two weeks should provide a nice transition from the amenities of western europe, while I explore the very western lifestyle of central europe before heading on to Ukraine, Bosnia-Herzegovina, etc, where I am less certain of what to expect. The guidebooks say Sarajevo is nice, but DON’T LEAVE THE CEMENT. Should be interesting.

P.S. Apparently, I have reached my limit as far as pictures are concerned, so I’ve have to start a new accout for more pictures. You can find them here: http://community.webshots.com/user/blairlampe. Sorry about that.

“Take a message back from me. Tell them how I’m defying gravity.” –Wicked

So, we meet again. Well, Martin left this morning to go back to the U.S. and I got on a train to Barcelona and then to who knows where. We had a really great week, and saw pretty much anything and everything we could in Madrid. It was a nice change of pace to travel with someone who didn’t leave on a whim, and he was very good with my new insecurities, always reassuring “I’ll be right back” even for short trips to the bathroom (never mind he generally followed this with “unlike—“. I have a deplorable habit of not paying attention to much of anything if I know someone else is there to do it for me. For this reason, I never really learned where anything was or tried to decipher a map and would have been completely lost (actually, I often was) were he not there, so I put up with his chiding and silently cried myself to sleep every night. (kidding). Aside from seeing all the major monuments, museums, and parks, I also ate a truly impressive amount of pastry this week. No, I don’t intend to justify it in any way, just thought I’d throw it out there. And get this: I ran into Melanie, one of the girls I went to Morocco with. She was staying in our hostel the same days we were exactly! Small small small world. So that was fun, and she hung out with us the day we went to the Prado and gorged ourselves on McDonalds. (There were 3 hamburger specials there at the time: Canadian Cheese, Manhattan Burger, and Texas BBQ. If that is not an omen, I do not know what is.) We took a day trip as well to a little town called Escorial to see the mucho largo monastery there and have a look around. Then we came back, found a tasty indian food place, and that jerk treated me dinner. So after a lovely time I am once again going it alone with one week left of my eurail pass. It’s really hard to believe I’m almost out of this region of the world, that it’s been three months, or to know exactly what I’ll do with even less structure in my life after the 8th of December, but of course, this excites me as well. I’m currently trying to get to Zurich which I have yet to see, and meant to get out of Spain to at least southern France today, but the forces conspired to bring me back to Barcelona for one more night. Not that I’m complaining. This hostel has free internet access, kitchen, AND big screen tv with dvds. So yes, I will be staying in tonight, hopefully finishing Ulysses to exchange for Madame Bovary here at the hostel, and then watching movies. Do not judge me. I can feel you judging me. I am allowed to do this because I am in mourning over the fact that though Harry Potter is showing everywhere around me, I can find no place that shows it in english. So you just stop right there and shed a tear for me. Tomorrow, I have a ticket to….somewhere in southern france…starts with an M….not Marseilles…I wanted to go there, but it didn’t work out….I can’t remember the name, so you’ll just have to wait.

If you want to hear Martin’s side of the story, or just to get a decidedly more comprehensive idea of our itinerary plus more pictures than you knew was humanly possible (he may not have them up yet), you can check out his blog at http://offthebeatenpath01.blogspot.com/ and the pictures are here: http://community.webshots.com/user/mwalker05.

“Unsheathe your dagger definitions. Horseness is the whatness of allhorse. Streams of tendency and eons they worship. God: noise in the street: very peripatetic. Space: what you damn well have to see…hold on to the now, the here through which all future plunges.” James Joyce, Ulysses

Happy belated Thanksgiving! Seeing as how the French do not observe the holiday, I treated myself to some celebratory kebab. Mmmm. So here I am in Paris where is currently snowing outdoors. Today I purchased a pair of boots made for walkin (had to) in keeping with my new tradition of buying one new item a week to slowly replace my “wardrobe” otherwise incondusive to the cold weather. Next up: stockings. Stay tuned, very exciting stuff. Since the last post I left Cordoba for Lisbon. A nice city not counting the rainy weather. I like the Portuguese people on a whole. Know why? Because the Portuguese do not muck around. Know how I can tell? First, a secret…or a warning if this concerns you: one of my biggest pet peeves is when people get onto those conveyor belt things in airports or subway stations or other areas of vast expanse wherein people must get from one side to the other and just stand there. I would like to take a minute to clarify and vent that these apparatuses are not there for lazy slobs who want to take a break from 30 meters of grueling walking. If this were the case, they would move faster. This amenity turned aggravation is for people trying to get to their destination on the other side of said vast expanse a little faster than simply walking could provide. They are there to enhance the flow of traffic in notably high traffic areas, but almost anywhere you go, people get on there, side by side with their rolling suitcases (I know they must be so heavy to pull) and stand impervious to subtle urgings such as violent coughing and intrusive physical proximity. Anyway, the point is, Lisbon is the first city I have encountered where people use the things properly and those who do not comply are subject to nasty looks and occasional fruitings. And that (if I spoke Portuguese) is why I would live in Lisbon. I also took a trip out to a picturesque little city called Sintra, town of castles and mountains and in my experience, fog. Though forewarned to take the tram up to the Moorish castle there, I stubbornly walk over an hour uphill and, reaching the top, cannot find it, ginormous castle though it may be. Shouldn’t be too surprising, coming from someone who went to Munich and failed to locate Oktoberfest (No, I am not kidding). I truly didn’t mind though. There was no one else around and the whole walk was a nice hike through heavily wooded areas culminating in my reversion to skipping and singing to my mp3 player like no one was looking (because they were not so far as I know) for the first time in months. So that was good. Then, I made a mad dash to Paris for the few days remaining before I had to be in Madrid. Unbeknownst to me, Portugal is a remarkably difficult country to exit by train. There are only 2 ways out and very few international trains run daily. Also unknown is the weekend’s French rail strike, making getting out of Spain near impossible. I meet a fellow stuck traveler and we finally devise a means to get first to the french/spanish border and then work our way to Paris from there. So I set off with a nice Canadian lad into the unknown. We do actually manage to make it into Bordeaux the next day, but must stay the night to catch a morning train to Paris (not that Bordeaux is in any way inferior). As far as traveling companions go we generally saw eye to eye on budget issues and itineraries as far as what we wanted to see, so all was well. Also, he was just a nice and interesting person in general, so it was not torturous…for me. Yesterday, I left to call the family for the holiday and then I went to where we were supposed to meet, he wasn’t there. Eventually I go back to the room and find he is not there either. Also, his bag is gone. At first I am concerned that he robbed me or stiffed me because the accommodations were on my card. But then I find he has left his share with my things and taken nothing. So then confusion sets in, followed shortly by indigence and then engulfed by rejection where I currently reside. I mean, he could have at least robbed me or something, then at least it wouldn’t seem so personal. But nooo, he had to be an upstanding citizen about it. So, yes. Today I am a little testy. If you haven’t written in a while and are suddenly filled with the inclination to shower me with compliments about how strange and offensive I am not, now would be the time. In other, brighter news, company’s comin! Yes ladies and gents, Mr. Martin Walker, son of renowned Narwhalogist Dr. Graham Walker, is due to join me tomorrow in Madrid for a vacation from his much loathed job as an engineer. On a similar but obscure note, I ran into my friend Alie from the Morocco trip a few days ago on the streets of Paris. Rather strange, no? She got my attention right away, it’s not like when I hear someone yell Blair! it is ever directed at someone else. Not much else for now, tonight I board a train back to Spain where Marty and I may raise our glasses high to the self-serving halfwits who strive daily to instill a solid abandonment complex in otherwise confident people. Cheers.

“The alleged deviant is often just a man with a deeper than average apprehension of normality.”
-Declan Kiberd

And you thought you knew me. Yes, I, Blair Lampe, was last week naked in front of many people, in a Muslim country no less. And yes, I did it on purpose. Ok, ok. I did that for shock value. Recover yourself and allow me to elaborate. Ah, but why jump right in? I’ll begin back a pace. Last week in Morocco was represented America (myself), New Zealand (Ailie) and Canada (Melainie). And we’ve had a wonderful time, although we were somewhat hindered as none of us spoke fluent Arabic (however, Melainie’s from Quebec, so that proved quite helpful as the second language is French.) So, first day in Morocco is spent on a bus to Chefchaouen, which is a village tucked away in the Atlas mountains where we hoped to find a place to stay before going on to Fez. As people are exceedingly helpful when it comes to offering directions (you can never be sure where they lead) we found a place to stay right away. A bit dirty, but then at 40 Durhams, or about 4 euros, who really cares? And such was sort of our motto for the duration of the trip.

After 2 months in Europe on a tight budget, the country is unbelievably cheap and the food is amazing. The next day, we set off towards Fez on a bus that should have taken 5 hours, but instead took 7. We took a tour around the medina of Fez, the most still in-tact Islamic medieval city in the world. Later that day, Ailie and I opted to visit a traditional Moroccan hammam, or bathhouse. Of course there are special hours for women only so we went then and signed up for a massage as well. Very interesting place. When you’re used to seeing all the women around you dressed very conservatively, it is strange at first to see them all in naught but their skivvies. Stranger still was being as them, among them. After about 5 minutes, however, you kind of forget. There’s just people everywhere and everyone is talking and washing and washing their kids and getting more water, taking in the steam. We’re sat down and obviously being new at this, women bring us buckets of water, some cold and some piping hot and you mix them to the desired temperature. Then we sat for a while pouring water over ourselves and sudsing up, not really knowing what to do until the ladies came for the “massage”. Us without Arabic and they without English, they just sort of moved us by force where we should go, arms up, turn over. And they were merciless. It was actually more very deep tissue massage/scrubbing and not exactly relaxing, but an experience nonetheless. Then they had us sit back up and came over with another bucket of water….very very cold water..and poured it over our heads. It was sort of an unexpected, O! COLD but then refreshing afterward. That is until they came with the next bucket. Then it was OKAY, ACTUALLY NOT THAT REFRESHING. Then when we saw the third bucket approaching, it was just fear and wishing you knew the phrase “Stop, for the love of Allah”. So that was the hammam. Yes, I would do it again, but not anytime soon. We stayed in Fez for two nights and then continued on (this time by train) to Marrakesh. I had been excited to see Marrakesh, however, I must admit that once there, I pined for the more traditional Fez or quiet Chefchaouen. Just walking down one of the main streets in town leaves you tired, not from walking, but rather the intensity of the people. For one, even in mid-November, the place is swarming with tourists, and they walk very slowly. It was the first time in several days I’d seen bare shoulders or skirts above the ankles, which was somewhat telling. The western influence was evident not only in the westerners there, but natives as well, especially in dress. Secondly, to be one of the westerners is exhausting because of street vendors who are relentless, as well as cab drivers who I have now decided are simply not human. Also, being women who are obviously not Muslim was certainly a factor; never dangerous by any means, but it could be quite an annoyance, especially when you know they wouldn’t talk to Muslim women that way or put their arms around their shoulders, etc. But all in all, still a very lively and exciting city. The main square is really a crazy place to be, day or night, with motorbikes whizzing by sporadically, fortune tellers, henna artists, snake charmers and people people people. Possibly competing for the rush one feels standing in the middle of it was my joy at finding this tasty psychedelic yogurt, bright pink and yellow and green….maybe not the reason people visit, but it sure made my day. The people (aside from those mentioned) were really lovely. One woman sitting across from us in a train compartment noticed my hands and communicated (through another Moroccan man who spoke Arabic and french to Melanie who spoke french and English to me) that she also suffered from excema, and there was this cream, made only in Mauritania that worked wonders. Then she proceeded to get her suitcase down from the overhead compartment, rummage through it, and give me hers. The man also offered to mail me some in the States for nothing at all because his village is near where they make it. There was also a separate train ride where the three of us could not find seats together, so I sat next to two younger girls of about 16 and a few women across the isle. With nothing better to do, I took out my Arabic book and began to study. Noticing it right away, the girl next to me gets very excited and begins a lesson which lasts the duration of the ride and generously includes a portion of her dinner. Mmm. It was helpful, although somewhat uncomfortable, because they spoke no English and often they were laughing and I wasn’t certain if it was a with me or at me thing. Also, thanks to the language barrier, I believe I may have taken Islamic vows and promised to marry the girl’s brother, whom I have never met, so she can visit America. Mom and Dad, you may be getting a strange phone call very soon. Let him down easy for me. One particularly memorable moment in the ride was her asking my religion. Not wanting to try and explain “atheist” I opt for “Buddhist”. When I see she doesn’t understand, I make a motion like rubbing a very round belly, and bald head, and meditating, adding again, “Buddhist”. She seems to understand and is happy. Then pointing to her ring finger she asks if I am married. I say no and she gives me a mildly reproachful look. Only then do I realise she now takes me to be an unwed mother.

So, Morocco was good, but I was also by the end ready to get back to Europe. The return ferry to Algeceras was not helpful in this. What should have been a two hour ride across turned into 7 hours circling Gibraltar as the authorities were not allowing ships to dock until they found 4 guys who had jumped out of one of the boats and were attempting to swim to shore. Then came the goodbyes to my travel mates at the bus station, though I still didn’t travel alone because I met a girl also trying to get out of Algeceras by train. As the boat was delayed, there was only one train left that day, so together we headed to Rondo for the night and split a pension. Though I had never heard of it, it turned out to be a really nice place for the last train to go. Today, I’ve made it to Cordoba and tomorrow, I think I will bypass Seville and head for Portugal.

“What is this mushy crap. Blair, you may have boobs, and generous ones at that, but you have a man’s name so suck it up and act like one. ”
-Matt Kehoe

Well boys and girls, it’s time for another Good Idea, Bad Idea. Good Idea: booking several nights in a quiet little town like Granada to overcome an illness. Bad Idea: Deciding on the third day that three bedridden days is inexcusable, no matter how little you’ve eaten, and venturing out for a “little” tourist activity which, in Granada, leaves only a trip to Alhambra, castle on a hill. Since we last spoke, I am pleased to say I completely recovered myself from my bout of nasty-feeling in Italy…for a good 48 hours. Then, suddenly in Valencia, the gods of swollen lymph nodes did smite me like a linebacker at a Friday night hs football game. Now, my neck even looks like a linebacker’s. Anyway, I don’t mean to complain too much, today was better than yesterday, I’m trying for solid foods at dinner…big step. I wish I had a bit more to tell you, but I’ve sort of been in this state for a few days now, so not much has really happened aside from sleep and, yes mom, I drinking plenty of fluids. The good news is, the internet at this hostel is freeee, so I’ve spent countless hours here, writing under the influence of anti-histamines. Here’s a fun story, though: Today I had my first chance encounter with someone I’ve met before. I went down to the kitchen for a bit of orange juice this morning, and when I sit down, I hear some one go, “Hey….New York”, and low and behold, it’s a guy I met like a month ago in Florence. Small world, isn’t it? He and his friend are staying here and favored me with a rendition of “New York, New York” to make me feel better. Also, there’s a couple of girls in my room who’ve been really friendly and good to talk to. So no worries, I’ll be better in no time. I’m contemplating trying for Seville tomorrow because it isn’t far, but I may end up with another night here depending how I feel. Mind over matter, yes? Yes. Not a bad place to be laid up, though, as you can see from the pictures. I’m also in this awesome neighborhood of little arab teashops, and at night, the small winding streets housing them fill with people and music and scents of incense and food. Quite a place. Also, this hostel offers free spanish lessons, which I have taken advantage of to pass the time. I apologize that I really don’t have more to say, or that I can’t be more positive. I did try though, can you tell? How about a cliche to make you feel better. Every cloud has a silver lining. How did that feel? Hope it helped.

P.S. (Approximately 3 hours later…) I wrote this and then went to lay down for a while, and was thinking, you know really, I’m not that bad, they’re going to worry, I should go tell them that. I think tomorrow I’ll be well enough to go to Seville. Then, because fate is a funny thing, one of the girls in my room walks in and we start talking and she says she want to go to Morocco tomorrow, but no one will go with her….oh yes. Yes, I did. Actually, I said I’d let her know how I felt in the morning, but then I decided that I really just should and I took a shower and felt much better and am now going to indulge in a 3 course indian meal for 3.5euros. Tomorrow, I’m going to Morocco.