Dublin to Morocco

Alright….. so Laura and I headed out the hostel around six or seven a.m…. can´t remember exactly.  We were headed on a tour through the Atlas Mountains through Berber villages and then a night in a hotel and then the second night in some tents in a section of the sahara  which included a camel ride and shit.   So we pack into a mini-van type thing with about twelve other people.  Two were from Boston, a couple, Leigh and Zara.  Good energy.  More piled in, two Canadians, two Slovenians, Two English, and about four Japanese I beleive…One Chinese…..like it really matters….. I was glad it was such a good group of people.  Everything seemed to flow really well.  No total assholes or annoying fucks, which was good, hopefully I wasn´t one of them either..ha. 

Pay our fee and head out on the road towards…I really wasn´t sure.  Most of the trip I was kinda out of things.  I´m lazy so I just was kinda carted everywhere like a paralyzed cow.  In between being carted around I would smoke cigarettes, drink water, and complain about the prices at all the tourist traps our asshole driver was stopping at.  The van was pretty much a mid-size traveling furnace with twelve jews inside.  It wasnt so bad for Laura and I cause we had windows right next to us so we were getting blasted with wind which was better than none at all.  But soon the peeps behind us would ask us to close the window cause they were getting blasted with stagnant 110 degree heat…oops..sorry….not really though..I was quite liking my luxury.  anyway.  This is the most water I´ve ever drank in my life.  A liter every couple of hours..maybe more. 

It is hard for me not to talk about inner change and turmoil throughout the rest of this Morocco trip.  I´ve realized a lot about myself and my attitude….and realized a whole lot about other people in general and keeping a more open mind to differences….I´ve always preached it but never really felt it.  I knew intellectually that it was more benefitting to accept others differences but at times I did not feel the same.  What I mean by differences is mainly in ideas.   Although I´ve always had a problem connecting with people who come from money.  More yet…I´ve always had a mistrust of those who seem to have come from a healthy supporting home.  I´ve always been kinda scared, not in a fear way, but in a way as if looking at those persons as some kind of brainwashed entity…..aliens of some sort.  I just don´t want to get involved in the happy go lucky bullshit, but at the same time I´ve realised that I have a hard time admitting when I´m actually happy, and not feeling weird about it. Happy is a vague term but I don´t want to turn this into a pity party…any way..fuck it…snap out of it ya little baby!  The critic.   I don´t really know how I´ve trailed off in this direction but whatever.  

So yeah the traveling furnace.  As we started going through the Atlas mountains I felt a surge of nausea.  I close my eyes and breathed deeply trying not to let myself know to others cause I didn´t want to fuck up anyones good time…but I don´t think anyone was having any of that at that point.   I was thinking of three possible things that I could do if I spewed.  One, out the window…but the wind coming in so strong that I was afraid of the people in the back getting sprayed…that´d be bad…but funny.   Two, spew in my book bag and zip it up ….didn´t know what I was gonna do with it after but oh well.  Three, yell the bus driver to stop and run out and releive myself.   It never came to any of that though.  I just got through it through visuals and deep breathing.  Later on I learned others were feeling the same way. 

After everyone was tired and sluggish from sweating their clits and nuts off..  others decided the air should be turned on.   As long as I was by the window I didnt mind  not having the air on but that would have been selfish….but better none the less.  So one of the guys in teh group, Bachir, great guy…didn´t give a fuck what anyone thought of him and I respected this cause I am totally not there yet…it´ll take some time.  He knew Arabic and French.  Our driver knew zilch in the English department so Bachir was kinda like a diplomat….or translator.  He was the foreign relations guy.  The driver told him if we wanted the air on we had to pay.  I came up with the solution that we just beat the fuck outta him and tie him to  the roof but no one wanted to partake.  My litte revolution wasn´t gonna happen….so I decided on a terrorist attack but that would only make me the bad guy.   Anyway. All of our dumbasses paid.  He supposidley turned the air on but it felt more like air was just coming through the vents from outside.  Everyone psychologically tricked themselves into thinking they were cooler….while Laura and I just looked at eachother and rolled our eyes as sweat dripped everywhere.  I mouthed to her as if I was taking my last breath  “open the windows”.   But we were outnumbered and our only hope was to wait until they all stopped convincing themselves they were less hot.   Double think.  I couldn´t blame them….. 

We stopped at random picture takeing places.  Got out walked around for 10 minutes until our driver called us back in.  I felt like an idiot listening to this guy.  I never looked at him or acknowledged him the whole trip cause he really didn´t acknowledge us either.  I get it, it was his job to tote around a bunch of unsuspecting tourists, but at least get someone who spoke English, and didn´t charge us for air conditioning that didn´t even work. Fuck.

We stopped at where we were supposed to eat.  Wherever we stopped the driver got comission on whatever we bought at the shops selling bullshit.  He started to get mad cause we were all broke and none of us bought anything…haha fucker!!    We walked into the restaurant that spelled tourist trap all over it.  Like I´m gonna pay that!  We walked down the road to a place half the price.

Drove some more.  Stopped at another picture taking place.   I´d about had it with all this crap.  I noticed two guys sitting in a white yugo car type thing blasting music and drinking beer.  I started walking toward them, they seemed friendly.  I got to the sid e of the car.  “Hola”   “Hey, come over here”   I ducked down into the car and they handed me a beer.  They were smashed.  The driver kept talking about how he loved that he could drive around smashed.  He was from a village not too far down the road but he lived in Brooklyn, NYC.  He told me how he used to work for the tour company that I was a slave to.  He said the owner just wanted money and he was tired of ripping people off.  I told him how we were charged for air and they both laughed as if they knew already.  They were musicians who played in a spanish music band at the hotel he owned just down the street from the hotel we were gonna stay in.  I downed the beer and headed back to the van.  He invited me and whoever wanted to come to his hotel where there was alcohol….(no alcohol in muslim country, but the berber villages didn´t have to follow this code).  I wanted to go but never made it…we were all too tired.  Got to the hotel. they fed us, Tagine, and soup. Pretty good.   a bowl of fruit.  Went to bed

Had breakfast the next morning.  Coffen, bread and jam.  headed out again.  Stopped in a gorge which was refreshing. It was much cooler and there was a clear stream down the middle.  I waddle in it for some time.  Laura and I were on a budget so  bread and cheese and some orange flavored drink stuff…..let´s call it orange drink.  Full.  headed out to a down and throught the town to a field where a bunch of women were picking something.  They say it was alfafa I think… but Leigh kept joking about how it was heroin  or poppy plant and we wouldn´t know the difference.  A “guide” was waiting for us there.  No one ever told us what was going on or gonna happen so we all just kinda dumbly walked and waited for something to happen.  He started telling us how the women in the fields pick this shit and they work hard and……yeah thats all he pretty much said just in about six different ways.  He could sense our agitation and boredom and he started to get mad.  He yelled at us as if we were his children.  “if you already know everything then I just won´t speak then”…..I had no objection to this but we all kinda laughed cause there was really no reason for him to get mad .   We were on to his schtick and he didn´t like it.  We weren´t a bunch of dumbasses as maybe they´ve had before….but whatever…again.   A bunch of women started yelling at him.  Bachir said they were telling him to get us out of here.  that we had no business being there.  It was weird.    We go into a house and into this guys house who selled carpets.  He poured us all some tea and gave us the bullshit sshpeel on how we are welcome and blah blahb blah..culture, people, the way we live…blah blah blah.  I was getting tired of that shit.  Sorry if I come off as insensative but really….you can tell when it is gunuine and when its not..and most the time…I´d say 90% of th time it wasn´t.  So he pulled out all of these rugs that his sister and wife or whatever woman had made and he exlplained the patterns and all that.  After about showing us thirty rugs or so he started talking about how we should open our hearts and our pocket books to show resepect or some hogwash.  He sat in the middle of the room…we were all sitting there indian style waiting for something to happen.  It was very very awkward.  It was totally silent for about five minutes.  He sat there just staring at us and looking us down waiting for one of us to crack and buy a rug.  We all looked at eachother with a grin on our faces.  I couldn´t help it… I broke down and started laughing,  a few giggles followed.. my face turned red and I couldn´t look anywhere cause I´d break out in laughter again.  He finally got the picture and showed us the way out.  It was one of the most awkward moments I´ve been in. 

We head out and straight for the dessert to the camel rides which is what everyone was waiting for.  Pull off onto  a gravel road for a while.  Pretty bumpy.  I had to piss.  Finally got to the camels.  The dessert was a beautiful sight.  It looked like orange milk with ripples in it.  I spotted my camel,  the biggest baddest one.  I seen across the way some else in the group had eyed it too.  “It´s mine”  “No, he´s mine”….we both headed toward the camel but he was closer and he got´em.  oh well.  The camels didn´t seem to be in very good shape.  One the peeps back in our hostel in Marrakesch was saying how her friends camel had collapsed and she was too frightened to get back on it so she walked the whole way through the dessert.  next to it.  They had scars all over the backs of their legs and weird branding marks on there thighs and necks.  They  looked miserable..but I really had nothing to compare them too.  Got on our humps and waited to go.  My camel was a grouch and was behind Laura´s camel which was huge.  My camel kept biting hers on the ass.  Laura turned around and started yelling at my camel….I patted him on the buttocks…”good job buddy”.   I lit a cigarette to add effect to the whole scenerio…yes…lame.  oh yeah,  they were shitting everywhere.  Nuggets came pouring out there anus.  They lookes like black olives or better yet, those malt chocolates known as whoppers.  Mine of course had the runs and shat all down its hind legs..  Go figure.  So we had a kinship from the beginning.  It was astonishing how easy they made it seem to walk in the sand the way they did.  Their hoofs are great for that shit.   We hit a sand storm about halfway through and noticed a tornado ahead about a mile or so.  It didnt last long.  It started to downpour with huge drops of water.  It felt so good.  aahhhh.   Rain in the sahara…great. 

We get to our site.  A bunch of tents in a circular shape.  Most of us slept outside though.  Behind the tents was a huge sand dune.  It didn´t seem like it would be much effort or take too long to get to the top….I was wrong…dead fuckin wrong at that.  About halfway through I pretty much collapsed to the ground.  Out of the corner of my eye I noticed others passing me up…”oh hell no”  I was on a mission…….competition…I´m usually not like this but it was fun.   I came in third.  Everybody else trailed behind but eventually made it.  Laura´s camera busted.  Damn.  oh well.  Others were taking pictures and said they post them up..so Í´ll just have to wait.  Ran down the dune.  Laid around for a while. dinner came.  Good shit.  

The guys who were our guides started playin their music with tribal bongos and some other instrument that sounded like a real intrusive tambourine.  Nice listening to.  Some of the girl started dancing and I felt embarrassed.  I´m not totally sure why…it was weird in a way.  I got up anyway and did a dumb diddy, it was an all round ok time.  It´s good to get out your comfort zone and laugh at yourself.  I´m not above that. 

Ended up fallin asleep.  The sky was filled with stars.  It was impressive.. Amost looked fake.  Made me realize again that we were all on a planet called Earth.  Floating in space, with endless possibilites.  Life is a painfully beautiful experience. 

Back on the camels to watch the sunrise.  Quiet.  Everyone was taking pictures so I decided to sit a little off and play with the sand and think.   Got back to the starting point.  Laura´s camel wouldn´t get down on its knees as fast as the guide wanted him to so he hauled off and punched the camel on the side of the head.  Fuckin primate peice of shit.  I wanted to kick his head in but that would only bring more trouble.   I´ve come to judge how emotionally evolved certain cultures are due to how they treat their animals.  Laura was astonished and gave a kinda gasp.

Had breakfast, crepes, jam, coffe tea.  Took a shower.  Headed back to Marrakesch.  It was a long ride.  Through the atlas mountains I started to feel sick again.  One of the girls Zsara was also getting nautious.  We had to pull over.  Actually I think everyone was feeling sick.  ugghh.  Anyway.

We decided to say fuck it to the air conditioning.  Pretty much everyone in the van wanted to kill the driver.  We spoke of him with a venoumous tone.., daggin eyes at the back of his head. 

Got to Marrakesch and we all had an orange juice before saying sianara.  The best part of the trip were the people.  I dindn´t paint the picture to well in detail throughout this blog.  I´m so emotional sometimes that it paints over real intentions.  But I´m not gonna get too deep cause it really wasn´t like that.  It was just a good time with a great bunch of people even if we didn´t connect on any great level.   Even though we were constantly being ripped off , it was nice having some comradery in all of it.  I´d do it again.   

Alright….that´s enough for now.   I´m actually in Spain right now.  I´m pretty far behind on the days….probably about by three weeks now…so I need to start writing more.  It is very humid here and that puts me in a very very very lazy state of mind and mood.  later.

So……Left off at the end of London visit.  I´m not feeling too well right now due to heat exhaustion and possibly Spain´s tap water, so bare with me if I sound out of it or don´t make any sense.  I´m doing a city by city deal since there was so much to say.  So for Morocco, I´m doin Marrakesch in this one and I´ll post others every other day after…..like you care…but I´m important.

Laura and I went to see Bruno at the theater down the street form our hostel in London.  It had it´s funny moments, the Brits thought it was halarious.  I thought he would be more daring.  It seemed liked a lot of old hat, but the sight of a penis pointing at you and screaming “Bruno!” was priceless.  I bought a giant candybar the size of my head and ate almost all of it….got a little nautious and gave it to the New Zealander in our room.   The day of our departure to Morocco we pretty much sat around at the hostel.  Ordered some food, ate it.   Some middle eastern guy walked in with a turbin….I believe it´s called that, on his head.  He was kinda scary.  He seen me staring at him.  He walks over.  Asked me if I wanted to wear it. Nervously I agreed.  We switched hats.  I looked like a ” terroist” and he looked like a tanned John Balushi in The Blues Brothers.  He then showed me a 666 tattoo on his arm for some reason I´m unaware of.  I smiled and nodded thinking to myself  ” please leave”.   The energy about this guy vibed to me that he is the cause of violent episodes in many small bars across London.  He left. Thank god.  There is a picture of me in the pics with a look that describes. Actually no….those pics aren´t up yet.

Hop on the bus and head to the airport where we sit and wait for ten hours.  I didn´t really want to sleep so I decided to order some coffee at the airport cafe.  I wanted the Mocha and upon ordering I noticed underneath the Mocha heading it said “the long dark one¨.   I told the young man standing behind the counter this and he laughed.  He never noticed it before.  He gave me the Mocha  “here´s your long dark one”.   I think he was hitting on me.  Underneath the expresso it stated “the small strong one”.  It´s the motion in the ocean.  Although long dark one probably better describes a turd.  And the small strong one: a midget.

We board the plane.  I was a little nervous about Morocco.  All the horror stories I had read and heard about Morocco was seeping into my conciousness.  Streets filled knee deep in horse shit, constant harrassment, gang rape, machete slicing……etc.  Anyway.   Looking at Africa from the plane….”where the hell are we going?”   We circle Marrakesch for about twenty minutes because they only had one landing and taking off strip.  We land, get through customs, cash out the atm, and outside to the seven or so taxis waiting for us like prostitutes with a heroin problem.  “One hundred fifty durham to city center¨ …..”NO”    “One hundred”   ¨NO”        We got him down to fifty durham but he wanted us to share with some other people and put our bags in his trunk….fuck that.  The bus was twenty durham.  Hopped on that and headed to all holy filth.

The smell is what hits you first of all the places in Morocco we went.  It is not just one smell.  Take all the nastiest smells you´ve smelled mixed with some pleasant ones and there you have it.  Morocco.  Horseshit, piss, dead carcass of some kind?, olives, meat, hashish, vomit maybe,  humid vaginal secretion, dick cheese,  and spices of various sorts, body ordor.  It was a lot to take in at first, but eventually you get used to it.  I´ve come to like the smell of horseshit.   When I lived in Michigan we lived out in the middle of nowhere behind a cow farm used to supply the local milk.  I learned to love that smell.    Anyway.  We got a little turned around trying to find our hostel cause the supposed alleys they called streets were kinda tricky.  Found hostel, had some mint tea and headed out to the city markets and souks.  By the way, they speak French, Arabic, Spanish, Berber, English and other languages in Morocco.  Most Moroccans speak at least four or five languages.  Pretty impressive.  So…  I decided to stay away from French other than ¨Merci”, which means thank you.  My ears like the sound of Arabic better.  A little spanish here and there.  Throughout this trip I learned some key phrases to survive in Morroco:  Chukran-thankyou,  Barracha!-enough, Cous amo- I curse the place from which you come…..in other words..fuck your mother´s cunt.  Ahem.          No laham- no meat, but that was more for Laura, cause I´ll eat any meat.  I wanted to try some brains but the twenty or so flies crawling all over them kinda changed my mind.

Moroccan cities all have Medinas.  Medinas are a huge square where they have shops and restaurants and snake fights, boxing matches, monkeys, swindlers, henna ladies, folklore, and various stalls to serve traditional Moroccan foods…..all in all, many people trying to rip your sorry polite ass off.  Did I mention it was about one-hundred degrees……it was dry heat so it wasn´t as bad as it sounds..but….one hundred is one hundred.  We heard rumors that it was even passed that, more near one-twenty.  We checked out the medina.  Definately shocking at first.  Came to the snake tent where they were playing there snake charmers music.  They were setting up for a snake fight where one of the snakes end up dead in the end.  But we were standing there too long and got bored.  I love snakes.  We met a guy in Prague who had gone to Marrakesch and said he was robbed at snake point.  For one-hundred durham.  I wouldn´t have had a problem.  I am not in the least bit afraid of reptiles…..except Comodo Dragons because they are fast, have razor sharp teeth and just a knick of their saliva can kill you very quickly because of all the bacteria in their mouths.  Anyway….if he would have shoved a poisnonous snake in my face and requested money then I would have just ripped it out of his hands and slapped him in the balls with it.  Not so charming now, are we, Mr. Snakeman?

We head to the monkey station where a couple of men walked around with a chain tied around a monkey´s neck.  I was apprehensive at first, I heard stories of these guys training their monkies to rob your pockets.  How great would that be.  Just sit at home and send your monkey out to the public so he can rob´em and bring you the goods.  We both got pictures with the monkey.  It was sitting on my shoulder chewing something that looked and smelled like shit jerkey.  Afterward the man maid the monkey do a flip by pulling on the chain and making a circle motion with his arm.  Of course the damn monkey is gonna flip,  hmmm, either get choked or flip, which one?  Most of the animals in Morocco looked malnurished.  Even the horses.  They were ancy.  There are tons and tons of cats there.  They are the most miserable, dreadful looking cats I have ever seen.  I remember seeing one that was missing an eye.  One walked by us very slowly thinking about suicide.  One looked like a kitty pancake.  There were so many of them I was sure that they were being eaten.   You´d probably have to skin about ten of them to get a decent meal.

We walked around a bit more.  Seen a woman witha black eye, staring straight ahead.  Seen another one with two black eyes staring straight ahead.  Most guys there did not even acknowledge Laura´s presence.  She´d come out of a store ” can you please go in there”.  I was surprised to see so many tourists dressing very seductive.  I´m sure they got there share of harrassment.  The men´s way of harrasing was a “sssssssssssssss”.  Creepy sounding as hell. I was kinda jealous they weren´t doing it to me though.  ssssssssssssssssexayyy!

We stopped and got something to eat at a Cafe De France…or  Fwwrooonce.  Laura went to the bathroom while we waited for our food.  Across from us was a construction site type thing with a bunch of tubes and plastic and brick just lying there.  All of a sudden about fifteeen scraggly dogs all at once came running out of the tubes barking at people, marking their territory.  I fisted a fork just in case.  I quickly thought about where I would stab first, the eye.  “come on Cujo, time to die!”  A couple of minues later a one of them was yelping loudly but no once could see which one until he walked out of the pile limping. Walked around the medina again to see how it was at night.  I stopped and got henna of a scorpion on my forearm.  It looked good, real good.   We headed in for the night and I fell asleep on my forearm…smeared it a bit and got black henna all over my other hand and all over the pillow.   In Morroco the people don´t use toilet paper, well most don´t,  they use their left hand.  So it is impolite to shake or do anything with your left hand.  I scrubbed my  left hand until the color was no longer black, but yes, shit brown.  It looked like I had shoveled my ass and didn´t wash my hand for about a week.  I was fitting in already.

Laura took a shower not knowing that you had to pop the plug from the bottom of the shower to let the water drain.  She flooded the room.  Not just the bathroom, but the whole room.  She busted out of the bathroom door stark naked.  “Shit!”……”Fuck”    We tried asking the receptionist for some help but he wanted no part of it.  The room across from us did the same thing the day before.  You´d think they would put a sign up, but I believe they like to see us scurrying around looking for anyway to soak the water up.  It was hot and humid in the room and now it smelled of mold from the towels used to mop up the water.  We laughed for a minute.  Got dressed and headed out.

Took a walk through the souks.  A souk is basically a huge section of mazes filled with merchants of all types of goods.  From an old solo unwashed sock to houkas to clothes and jewelry.  1989 t.v. anyone?  In the souks one haggles.  “How much for this?”     “One hundred-eighty durham, vawy guude pryce” .   You haggle him down to one quarter the price and if he doesn´t accept then you pretend like you are walking out of the store.  It´s funny how fast they agree to your price.   As you walk down the souks many merchants come up to you and try and get you in there store.  You can´t even look at something without being asked.  I learned to fixate a straight stare, but after a while you get tired of it and start fucking with them.  Moroccans have a great sense of humor.  They really take nothing to heart.  “What are you looking for my friend?”   ” I lost my camel.”

The streets were filled with donkies, carriages, cars, bycyclists, mopeds, trucks, and cats.  Chaos.  Laura got hit by a scooter, but she was ok.  Headed out after a nap to get something to eat and to escape our humid room, turned the corner on a main street fille with crowds of people.  Yelling and screaming and pushing people…it was fun though. You could see smiles on many peoples faces at how crazy it was.  I felt a full hand squeeze my whole ass cheek.  “Why the hell is Laura grabbing my ass?”……  a couple more squeezes later I turned to my right to see Laura with a look of shock on her face standing on her tippy toes looking behind her, “I´m getting mauled back here”.   I went into protector mode and got in the guys faces behind her  ” Don´t fucking touch  her¨   He looked embarrassed and put a finger to his lips for me to keep quiet.  I pulled Laura in front of me so they could no longer touch her.  A minute later I realised they were trying to pick pocket us.  Horrible pick pocketers.  If I was to dip in on someones pocket I sure as hell would not squeeze there whole cheek.   No wonder they are so poor.  I felt violated but then I felt ripped off cause I wasn´t aware of the situation…..I could have taken advantage my free cheap thrills.

We came upon a crowd of people circling a young boy and a young girl.  I felt bad for the boy, she would have pulverized him, she looked pissed.  She kept making sad faces and acting as if she was worried so poeple would throw more money into the pile before the fight.  It never happened.  She made the money she was supposed to make and walked away after twenty minutes of standing there.  An old pedophile looking whiteman was standing in the crowd and was dishing out money to show how generous he was to all the young prostitute boys.  It´s a common thing in Marrakesch.

The Moroccan people live off of tourism.  They feed off the vulnerabilty and fear of those who don´t know what the fuck they are doing or too polite to say no.  A kid just walked up to another old pedophile whiteman and stuck his hat out upside down.  The man fumbled around in his pockets looking nervous and stupid.  What a pity.

I don´t know what it is, but the Moroccan peeps loved touching me.  We´d have a whole group together walking and the kids would hold their hands out for a shake.  They would say “rasta” because of my mohawk.  Old ladies and men would pat me on the back and grab my arm.  One guy passed me up, had more than enough room to walk but insisted on grabbing my arm tightly and massaging it  “pardon”.  Weird.   I needed a fresh shave so as we passed a sketchy hole in the wall barber shop I decided why not.  Of course I had to haggle a bit….Laura actually did it for me…women are better hagglers in muslim countries cause the men don´t expect it, and Laura is a very forceful woman.  Got my hair cut…had a good time.  The guy had three teeth….all three were gold.  Grillz….Walked around a bit more…Laura got hissed at, I hissed back.   I started to loosen up a bit and found myself jumping in front mopeds to fuck with them…they just laughed.   I was constantly asked if I wanted hashish.  ¨good smoke my friend…hashish?….vawry gude pryce”  No thanks.  A common practice the dealers do is sell you some hashish and then threaten to  turn you into the cops unless you gave up some dinero.   Sometimes I would get sarcastic replies like  “that´s whack man” or “awwwwessoooome!”

Our hostel was adjoined with a company that did Sahara excursions which included camel riding and berber villages and gorges, a free night stay in a hotel, and constant stops to tourist traps.  We decided to take the three day two night tour.  Why not.

Next day we pretty much just walked around a lot.  Everyday we got up, walked around,ate, took nap, walked around, ate….sleep.   Nice schedule.  Naps are great.  You should try them.  They sound kinda old ladyish, but old ladies obviously know what they are doin.  Actually every one in Spain seems to do that. Ciesta!!

So we walked in a part of one of the souks that hold live Chickens, half dead cats roaming around, and  Rabits.  It was a vegetarians nightmare.  The men would grab about four chickens at the same time by their wings and just swing them around like it was nothing.   Maybe he was trying to disorientate them before chopped the heads off….or bit it off..who knows?  The rabbits……I haven´t seen anything on any menu stating any of the meat was rabbit…hmmm….I´ve had rabit before though.  My brother and I used to hunt with our dad and bring home some pheasant and time to time  some rabbit….it tasted pretty good.  There was just something wrong about all of it though…..maybe it was Laura´s jaw dropped to the floor that added a special effect.

Got up the next morning to head off to the desert……  Oh yeah, the whole Coca-cola deal.  So Coke is huge in Morocco.  It´s rediculous.  Every other banner on top of the shops is Coke.  You could be driving through the desert where there is virtually nothing and off in the distance you see red and white…….not a toilet….not anything but the one and only Coca-cola.  There was something very depressing about this.  These people are poor as hell but they are drinking Coca-Cola…..im hatin….they are still  in the bottles over there so they actually have taste to them.  and orange Fanta.  I´ve been drinking a lot of that lately…..got to get your Hitler support in there some how.  Shut up.   I´ve got to shit again.

London is larger than I thought it was.  For some reason I was thinking Chicago was more populated, London has seven million people in the city “proper”.   I’m sure it has over seven million cameras also.   Cameras everywhere.   I’d like to pick my nose in my own pravacy for fucks sake…..not that big brother really cares about my gnarley boogers..it’s the whole concept of it all.  By the way Chicago is the second most watched city in the world next to London.   The average person is filmed over two hundred-fifty times a day in Chicago.   Laura was in the ladies bathroom in a regular fish and chips bar and there was a camera in the sink area of the bathroom…..  what?  Whats next..?  oh yeah,  human rfid’s, national identification cards you have to use just to by a loaf of fucking bread? fema camps?…   ahem..  don’t mean to be preachy, but I don’t really feel I am….no actually…this is a sermon..take a pue sinner…the collection bin is being passed around, I need a new speedboat bitch!!.  The “founders” of this country supposedly had the same attitude towards England as I believe I do towards this regime , but the difference is that I’m not a Freemason……wake up.   But one must be cautious  ” One false deduction about the machine, and you can get hung up  indefinately”- Pirsig.

 Been reading Robert M. Pirsig’s “Zen and the Art of Motorcycle Maintenance”.  Great book.    Slow page turner.  I’ve been taking the last couple of days sitting in two cafes down the street reading, writing, just people watching, soaking shit up.  Thinking. Hard. 

Gay Pride.  Wasn’t as homogenous as Chicago’s pride.  It seemed to be about 50/50 of gay and straight people just out to have a good time.  As in gay I mean..obviously..I guess.  There were different types of people among both.  It wasn’t just bears, twinks, gym bunnies, and  “Will and Grace” gays.  It was in the neighborhood of Soho.  The main street was Compton. Halarious.  Dr. Dre was no where to be seen.  I’m sure he would have enjoyed himself…I know Eazy E would have.  Had some drinks, talked a bit.  It was an overall good time.   There was a group of obviously bored people marching up and down the street with a shitty boombox blasting Michael Jackson songs.  They all were dancing and singing along.  “anyone have any tomatoes?”   or better yet  a giant bowling ball…..strike!!    Dumbasses.  But I don’t judge…yes I do, but I don’t make it count.

Alex, our host, was probably the nicest easy going person I’ve ever met.  I told him to wait till he gets fucked over a couple times and that all will simmer down a bit….he agreed and did cheers to that over some cider.  We all went out to some delicious Indian food…CHICKEN TIKKA MASALA BABY!!!!! YEAH!!!   love it.   After that we stopped by Alex’s sisters house and had a chat.  “Fancied” a beer afterward at a pub down the street.  Cider is the thing to drink here (alcoholic)but I personally like the cider back in the states better. It’s more appley. 

Checked out the Tate Modern which is an art gallery of mainly abstract art.  At first I was unimpressed but abstract art you have to look more into the time it was made and why it was made more than what is it?  Or maybe the former two equals the what is it.  One of the exhibits consited of a film of a naked mad with a mask on his face that resembled “Chunk” off the goonies: he was jumping up and down over and over again making weird handicap noises while his member flapped all about.  Disturbing….but made me chuckle a bit. 

Left Alex’s house and checked into a hostel.  It’s nice to have free housing and all but it comes to a point where you feel you are intruding and start looking into  things too much which might or might not really exist in mannerisms and such…etc.   It’s nice to meet new people also. 

Went out on my own the next day.  Read. Roamed around.  Had some fish and chips.  Huge peice of Cod, good stuff.   Got rained and hailed on but it was actually fun.  People were running around laughing and…I don’t know…it was just a good time.  The real England whether was now showing its face.   For some reason I’ve always had this animosity towards the English….obviously not to there faces…but it is more like an agitation.   I think it was the accent.  I’ve always seen it as haughty and snobbish.  Of course I was being ignorant.  I’ve heard many stories also about how rude Londoners were but I’ve not met one rude person here yet.  at all.  Our hostel is in a Lebonese part of town.  Lots  of sheesh smokin places, but we’re gonna wait till Morocco for that. 

Was sitting in our room talking to Rachel, nice chick, spunky, very spunky.  She was a kindergarten teacher…makes sense.  She gave me a lecture on my use of the word “retard”.  She said it is the same as people using “gay” to describe something in a negative way.  I agreed to a point.  It is the rational behind the words that will keep existing, not the word itself.  It is the suppression of a word that gives it its dangerousness.  It’s not like I would go up to a handicap and say ” hey retard, how’s life today, you know, being retarded and all”….no.   I asked her if she used the word “bitch”.   “Yes” ,   “Well don’t you think that word demeans women?  It is comparing you to a female dog?”  ” well you have a point”….  of course I do…I have two points….I’m the devil.  I like her though…..deep down I really don’t think I should say “retard”.  Two dudes walked in.  Twins, not identical.  The older one (by like 3 minutes or some shit) was a lisping bitch.  He barged in everywhere, with his annoying ass voice, declaring all sound to be drowned out by his bitchiness.  He sat down on the floor, took of his crusty ass sock,and as he was talking, started picking his toes.  He reminded me of a huge toddler like the one in “Honey I Blew Up the Kid”.  Just tromping down everything with his big old rattle, not giving a shit who he steps on just as long as he gets his Gerber.  He tried to talk in an intellectual tone and he would close his eyes everytime he said something HE thought was worth hearing out his shit hole we call a mouth.  He seemed kinda cold as well.  The type of person that believes reason is the only thing that exists in this world. “If I can’t touch and feel it then it must not exist”.  I wanted to spank him and put him to sleep with his “bah bah” and let him stew for a bit in his shitty diaper.   Fucker.  I could tolerate him but I just didn’t want to waste my time with it.  I pegged him as an Aries, and of course he was an Aries.   Aries are known as the babies of the zodiac.  The first born.  I’m well aware there is more involved than just a sun sign of someones zodiac make up…so..  I take it with a grain of salt.  I like Aries, actually I’m usually surrounded by Arians, they’re a pretty sexy lot, but this bastard needed to be silenced. 

Scorpios are known for being highly critical fucks. Hence…..

“The cause of our current social crises, he would have said, is a genetic defect within the nature of reason itself.  And until this genetic defect is cleared, the crises will continue.  Our current modes of rationality are not moving society forward into a better world.  They are taking it further and further from that better world.  Since the Renaissance these modes have worked.  As long as the need for food, clothing and shelter is dominant they will continue to work.  But now that for huge masses of people these needs no longer overwhelm everything else, the whole structure of reason, handed down to us from ancient times, is no longer adequate.  It begins to be seen for what it really is- emotionally hollow, esthetically meaningless and spiritually empty.  That, today, is where it is at, and will continue to be at for a long time to come.”– Robert Pirsig.

Stopped off at an exhibit about persons who were on or still on death row who had unfair trials or beaten into a false confession by crooked cops.  It made me wonder how many people were in prison for something they did not do.  Wrong place wrong time, wrong color right time, right color wrong time.  There were even accounts of family members of those murdered who were setting up shop against the system.  That seems like  lot to swallow for them…brave. 

Was about to hit the hay when upon arriving to my door two Austrian guys were swigging down a fifth of Jeam Beam in the hall.  “Ahhhh.  Whiskey”   I swigged. I really didn’t want to go to bed so it was a good thing.  Laura walked by and into the room ” good night”.     “Is that your girlfriend?”…”no, I’m gay”..  that is how I handle it now.  POW!  Right in your face!….  anyway.  They both nodded and asked me to accompany them to the park to drink some more.   We stopped off at a mini mart, Lebonese owned.  “you have any beer here?”   The cashier gave us a look of disgust as if he were fantasizing of choppin our heads off with his machete.  “no more sale, too late”.   One of the other workers piped in “come on, they’re young, I’ll get some out the back”…..”follow him”.   As we did.   He took us to the back of the store speaking quietly and talking all sneakley as if we were doing a heroin deal.  We all looked at eachother and started laughing under our breathe.  Went down to the park, talked about music, the fakeness of travel talk, chew, back home.   One of the guys kept bringing up of course the subject of homos.  That is what they say here for the word gay.  Homo.  Fagget in Austria was some sort of instrument….ha..   fag in london was a cigarette, of course, who didn’t know that?   After drinking some more, one of them just couldn’t let it go..the other one was just standing there in silence……just kept wanting to talk about me being gay and how they both thought I was “brave” for saying it right away.  The more drunk they got, the worse they spoke English, well at least they thought so.   “We don’t really like it….gay”….huh?    and  “I’m not homo, kinda”…….  what?   So is he saying they’re in the closet?  Were they planning on something happening in the park?  I mean….I would have obliged….but  it got kinda weird.  I showed them my missing knuckle from the last fight I was in a while back to break the subject.  They said they would explain themselves better tomorrow.  The quiet guy kinda just left and started walking….what the hell was going on?  The other guy and I stayed back and seeing how the quiet guy was pretty shitty drunk I dind’t think he should be crossing any streets by himself…so we followed.   I was fairly drunk  or “pissed” but not the the point that they were.   All stumbling and puking and shit.  ok.  time for bed.  ate a samosa and a chicken spring role.  Nice guys, just a weird encounter….but that is what I love about life.  

Got up the next day….met a girl from Toronto, Ashley.  We clicked on many different levels.  Mainly our studies into “conspiracy theories”…..i hate that term  but for now that is what I use to describe.   We talked about the Sumerians, ufo’s, Illuminati, Knights Templar, Metaphysics, and both of our fucked up pasts.   Went to the Camden Markets, got some food. Try to go to the Zoo but it had been 18.50 pounds….thats like $30 to see some bare baboon ass.  Not worth it.  Buckingham Palace. Had a chat with the guards…not the fluffy hat ones, but the handcuffs and pistol ones…sexy.   Talked some more.    It was cold and late.  Went back to the hostel.  I was tired and felt irritated..needed sleep.  Stared at a map of the world on the wall and talked about all the places we didn’t even know existed.  It’s a big fucking world.  Russia is scary.  Something about Russia turns me into a big pussy. 

Gonna see Bruno possibly today.  Should be good.  Get a drink…..finally posted pics up…check em out, on facebook.  Most of the pictures of actuall buildings and statues are on Laura’s page, so check those out as well.   Oh yeah.  I’m extending my stay another 2 weeks and visiting Spain by myself.  Madrid, Barcelona, maybe Seville.  hmm.   So another month or so to go.  Great.  

” You are never dedicated to something you have complete confidence in.  No one is fanatically shouting that the sun is going to rise tomorrow.  The know it’s going to rise tomorrow.  When people are fanatically dedicated to political or religious faiths or any other kinds of dogmas or goals, it’s always because these dogmas or goals are in doubt”

out like a pig snout! 

Left off in Wroclaw.  Ate a pound of gummy candy and felt like shit.  Gay Bar.  So Laura and I decided to head out into the Wroclaw night looking for this one gay bar I looked up on line called “Pink Inside”.  Raunchy, I know.  It was supposed to be a gay and lesbian bar…but Pink Inside sounded more lesbian than gay…Laura came to the solution that the gay bar would have been called “Brown Inside”.  makes sense.  After about 30 minutes of looking for this bar we decided to call it quits, it didn’t exist, we found this out later.

On our way to walking to another club we passed up an old lady-man-thing trying to light a cigarette..”you need a match?”  She grabs the matches and as soon as she turns toward us a little we notice that the cigarette is made of metal and inside of the cigarette was not tabacco, but..yes… crack.  hmmm. “my god, it’s a fucking crackpipe” I kinda smiled sheepishly as my eyes darted around the street corners looking for police presence. We stood there and waited while she smoked her shit.  The last thing I wanted was to be arrested in Wroclaw, Poland for smoking crack on the corner at 12 am in the morning with some burnt out gnome looking lady. Laura was hesitant about taking the matches back, but she did.  But we love to help people….choose your poison.   Anyway, so off to another club called Scena but it wasn’t Scena anymore but it still was pretty flamin.  It was kinda hidden, which I think was a good idea, since a street entrance/exit would probably have caused trouble for the clientèle..ie: beatdowns.

Poland is about 12 years or so behind in the music arena.  After watching everyone go nuts to “Wannabe” by the Spice Girls, I came to a realization that I was in the ninth realm of Hell.  All that was missing was Satan in a thong flicking his wrist and doing a dance to “La Vida Loca”……which they did play.  Met some nice people from the club.  One of them was “Hanna” who was a transsexual who called herself a diva.  She asked me why the hell we were in Wroclaw  and I really couldn’t answer her in straight terms…other than that we were curious, but in the back of my mind I wondered…”why the hell are you staying in Wroclaw?”    Anyway.  Went to another bar in the center, seen some guy literally get kicked in the ass by some meat head…the guy just stood there..I shouted “hit him back!”  we dispersed…was supposed to meet them the next day but we were too tired …. felt bad about that, hope they didn’t wait too long for us not to show up.

Back to Prague for a day to catch a plane to Eindhoven, which is about a two hour train ride from  Amsterdam.   Went out with some Swedes in Prague, Laura stayed behind.  After being heckled numerous amounts of times by prostitute pushers, we made our way to Europe’s tallest..or largest…or some shit like that club.  1st floor, dudes on the dance floor, 2nd floor, more guys on the dance floor, but on this one they were grinding each other.  3rd floor, same, 4th kinda the same……..the Swedes were all straight and did not find this too amusing….”fucking fags everywhere” they kept saying…..oh great, here we go, and this wasn’t even considered a gay bar.  We paid some rediculous amount to get in so they didn’t want to leave since it was already pretty late.  So…..these were the type of guys who’ve known eachother since they could pop boners and really never got past that stage,  circle jerk anyone?  They were dead weight to me and I dreaded hanging around them just for the fact that I’d have to announce my sexuality eventually….which I did, but to have to have it come down to that point is awkward.  They seemed to change their tone a little and started dancing in a circle with eachother,  I sparked up a chat with this sexy lady next to me and out of spite and a desperate need to get away from them we started mock swing dancing to “Mambo #5”, it was a spectacle.  I guess Prague is behind also.  I could feel their uneasiness burning me another asshole..it was great, losers.

Got outside, drunk as hell, big burly Swedish guy comes up to us….can’t remember the dialogue much but what I do remember is making a gesture involving my pelvis and my hand miming his head in between…..he wanted to beat my ass but I’m not sure why he didn’t.   Maybe he thought gay was contagious by touch or something of that nature.  Oh yeah, Michael Jackson died that day.

The airport had a bunch of refreshments for our flight.  Drank about four or five glasses of champagne and some sandwiches.  Arrived in Amsterdam.  Laura knew this guy by the name of Brom there so he let us stay with him.  One of the things I really wanted to do while in Amsterdam was smoke my brains out, which is what pretty much everyone does, cliche.  I haven’t smoked in over two and a half years so I was curious to see how it would affect me.  “I’ll take a gram of the Grey Mist, and A Gram of the Swami 49828u08993”     Smoked my brains into mush the whole three days…and I can honestly say I’m done with it.  I was walking and reading a map at the same time when suddenly a pole jumped in front of me and smashed my nuts.  Laura laughed, and so did the people in the car who were turning.  Sat in Dam Square and watched about twenty deals go down.  I remember last time I came to Amsterdam: first 2 nights of no sleep,broke, rain, on the street talking to junkies at 4 am in the morning. flashback. ahh.   Seen some prostitutes in the windows yadda yadda yadda.  They make a lotta money.  15 euro for  blowjob, 30 for sex, and extra for : different positions, different holes, and also extra for if you want her to pretend that she likes it……foul.  One guy in Budapest told me that whores are not real people.  First off, I don’t agree with the word  “whore”, and second, really, what makes your pathetic excuse for a life seem so much better than theirs?  Cause you’re a man?  I can’t stand that shit.  These girls that are in these windows have probably been shitted on by men their whole lives. Fuck you!

Went on another free tour.  The dutch don’t really like tourists.  They would ride by on their bikes and yell ” don’t beleive a word she saying, she’s lyin” to the tour group.  It was the first time I really felt like an asshole tourist.  Here we are standing in this little huddle listening to someone else tell us what we could find out ourselves….but it was free so whatever.  In the middle of the red light district is a church.  Back in the day Amsterdam was a common place for sailors to go and do the deed, but before or after they did, they would stop inside the church and repent for forgiveness for what they were doing with these girls, so therefore they could have a clear conscience before they got back on the ship and had to resume to blowing eachother.

Met a fellow United Statesian from Grand Rapids, MI , Joe, that we met on the tour.  Got tipsy, had a good time.  Got lost on our way to the bus station the next day.  We walked about an hour and half with our bags on.  How do the obese do it?  You know the ones who have a sack where their navel should be, and it swings back and forth, and the heavy breathing…..etc.   It must be hard.  I would just lie in bed all day and get filthy fucking fat.  “I need some more Oreos, get the crane”.

We were supposed to take a plane back to Prague and then a bus to Wroclaw and then up to Gdansk, Poland and then Warsaw…but we decided fuck it.  We had enough of Poland.  Thanks for the peirogies, and Hannah.  So we decided on London.  I smoked a joint while walking to the bus leaving for London.  I’m sure I wreaked of it and looked like a chinese man with cerebral paulsy but I didn’t want to waste the  bud….I paid good money for that.  The driver must have been suspicious of me and told security at the border.  Laura said she heard him saying something about someone smoking marijuana on the bus….ooops.  Everything was fine though….I had nothing on me, pigs.

Got to London, seen a paper on the train or “tube” saying London gay pride was this weekend.  Nice, something to do.  Staying with Alex, a guy I met in Kracow who offered his house to us.  Super host.  Made us dinner, toured us around a bit. and over the top accomodating.  I’ve noticed on this trip how not very rare it is to meet genuinely nice people.

BBC is just as brainwashing as Fox except BBC gives you a little more detail.  So golden boy Obama is sending 4000 troops to Afghanistan.  Gee, didn’t see that coming…wink wink.  Read that he is upping  precautionary defenses for the Swine flu virus to 300% even though there is no real evidence that it will be an epidemic or pandemic .  Do I smell a mandatory vaccine coming our way?   I am not getting it.  I have no idea what they’d be pumping into my body.  no way!

“I’m the man, you’re the man, and he’s the man as well”

So there is a heat wave this week in England…something like 80 degrees.  People are shitting their pants over this.  A bunch of pale as crackers complaining about how sweltering hot it is.  They have  a picture in one of the papers of an elephant laying on the ground supposedly suffering from this blistering heat wave.  halarious.  The damn thing is from Asia, he is just taking his elephant nap.  The papers are still calling Michael Jackson  “Jacko” and “Wacko”……but these papers are consider tabloids like the ones in the states, but here in London they pass them out on the streets like they were Red I’s.  weird..

Gonna go on another free tour tomorrow.  Art museums, and back to the hair cuttery place I went to today that shaved me a mohawk but it looks more like a squirrel tail laying on top of my noggin.  It’s a little off centered too….

“2009, another fake election, another fake politician, another distraction brought to you by your fake t.v. station, number one source of manipulation, number one source of fake information, load’em all up into the concentraition- camp, god damn uncle sam, I am a man, I’m not just a number, I do not like green eggs and ham, I do not like them Sam I am gonna make a stand, fight the fascists and the hidden hand, fight the new world plan, fight religion and the vatican. ”

Anyway.  On a more personal note:  I’ve got a case of the turtle head.  I’m out.

So I left off falling asleep after our first night in Kracow. We planned on going to Auchwitz the next morning but it just didn’t happen. Laura popped her head up around 9am ” Hey Ryan?” , “mmm” , “do you want to just to it tomorrow?”, “mmm”, “is that a yes or no?”, “yes”, ” ok”.

Oh, now I remember. Lenny Kravitz. We did some laundry, drank some beers and headed out to this free festival where Lenny Kravitz was playing. A lot of young polish people, most of them who didn’t know or care that Lenny was playing, we didn’t either. It is not like he totally sucks, he is just kinda boring, but he comes up with some good melodies and hooks or whatever. Honestly, yeah, he sucks. But it was free so…. we get to a hoard of people and we file in line with the cattle taking tiny steps to not step on anyones feet or go to fast or to slow. In the end it didnt really matter cause you just had to pretty much let your self go and you were literally carried along. I felt like a cow, but it was cozy. MOOOOO.

The stage was across the river and all the fans, well, people , were on the other side of the river. Shitty sound, umbrellas everywhere, raining, but I still liked it. We found a spot and stayed. Lenny gets on, plays a shitty song, waltzs around on stage pretending everyone cares about him and his shitty song. Barely any hooting or hollering, just people with a blank face trying to figure out what the hell was going on. You can tell everyone was thinking the same thing, ” come on dude, just play your 7 singles we hear on the radio and shut up with your other songs that didn’t make it on the radio for a reason, lenny,you’re a radio artist, stop it! enough!”

By the way, the older people of Kracow were pissed because this festival (which they have every year) cost a whole shitload of money and they wanted to keep it traditional by having polish dancers and polish bands. From what I’ve heard, Kracow wants to be “on the map” so they are barging through tradition and somehow came to the conclusion that Lenny Kravitz was gonna help them do this. Too funny. It’s like introducing a Big Wheel into a tricycle race.

Almost witnessed about 3 fights. We were practically squished like sardines, praying a cracker would come scoop us up. One fight consisted of some brute polish uglyass yelling at this girl trying pry her way up to the front of the crowd. It escalated, he grabbed her wrist and shook it violently while screaming at her. I guess this is how you do it in Poland. no one even noticed it I think, except Laura and I. So I thought to myself, I could just turn around and slap the bitch behind me with her elbow in my asshole….sweet..and get away with it…possibly with an applause. The girl kept yelling in his face, which I commended but at the same time was thinking just shut up you dumb twit, he’s gonna punch your lights out with his pinky! Nothing happened. Someone thought it was cute to throw around an umbrella while it was fully opened. So now we have people crowdsurfing an umbrella while people have a horrified look on there face because they fear for their eyeballs. There ya go Lenny, your concert is so lame that an umbrella is doing the crowdsurfing.

He plays his set and then briefly stops before his encore, which everyone knows is “are you gonna go my way”. He plays it, people bob there head…he stops. Before that he was talking about love and all this shit……”i know im all the way over here, but we have love connecting us” or some shit like that. All I could think at the time was ” you’re a fucking lunatic, really? reality check Lenny, how about you tell this whole crowd how you like to share your love with men?” I’m not sure if he practiced that or not but…anyway, he would get booed off the stage and possibly be ass raped by a gang of angry Polish Youth skinheads. “Feel the love now Lenny?” didn’t think so.

After his show, I witnessed one of the best fireworks displays I’ve ever seen. I thought up to that point I was disenchanted with fireworks but the first set they played to Clint Mansels “requiem for a dream”. It was beautiful. That song makes we want to cry every time I here it, and with it accompanied in sync with the fire works, I had to hold myself back….I’m not a pussy, fuck you!

Got back to the hostel. Had some drinks with some Polish people who were here for the concert, they said it was shitty too, but they had a good time. Nice people, kinda rude but I think I liked that about them. Asked me if I knew any polish? Dupa. means ass. I remember how my great grandmother would always say ” I’m gonna givya a spanking on your dupa”. I always thought was halarious..cause she was really no threat. They all laughed and asked what else I knew. I knew hi, thankyou, please…and a Bobby Vitton song that I grew up with thanks to my stepmother. “moya degroga yahey coha” they all looked puzzled and then laughed their asses off….thanks Bobby, you fucking moron. I had a pamphlet with me with some awkward phrases in polish on it. I asked one of the guys for a kiss in polish…..they didn’t find that too funny. They said I shouldn’t say that. So then I spouted off another phrase which was may I feel your butt? I got halfway through and they stopped me. It was all good. They left to go to their room where Laura was sleeping and soon be woken up by their rudeness. She was pissed.

Met another Alex who was from London, said we could stay at his place when we are there. Went to bed. Went to Auschwitz.

I knew what to expect, but I didn’t realize how emotionally draining it was going to be. It is one thing to hear and read about it, it’s another to go into these rooms and showers and stoves and actually feel the heaviness of energy looming about. Laura and I split up and met up with each other when we were finished.

All of the pictures, inserts from survivors, piles of hair, piles of shoes, suitcases, torture rooms,and firing wall was a lot to take in. How could this have happened? I knew how, but are we really this brutal? Evidence points to yes. Could this happen again? It’s happened many times before, so I would say yes. Rowanda? If you are anyone who read outside of what public school taught us then you’d know that Hitler wasn’t the only one involved in this whole catasrophe. It was the ignorance of the german people and many other factors. Did you know one of the Nazi party contributors in finance was Ford. He was anti semetic. The brand Fanta was solely created to finance this. And guess who owns Auschwitz and many other parks and monuments around the world….Unesco. Look it up.

Left Kracow the next morning. About 5 in the morning a group of canadians came in and decided to have a party in our room. I was mad but I only like to chime in when a certain line is crossed and Laura I was sure was the one to bring it to that line. I could feel Laura’s agitation just below me in the bottom bunk. She gave them a toungue lashing and they started to harass her a little. I gave them a piece of mind as well…they later apologized… they were shouting things like “The Germans are coming!!!” and trying to wake this one guy up by shaking him and saying “andrew, where are the keys to the tank?”….i cracked a smile because it was funny but…i was tired and hated them at the moment so my smile quickly retreated. Laura brought the guy taking care of the hostile up to the room and those assholes pretended like they were sleeping…i wanted to burst out laughing but again I held it back. The hostel guy was like “they are sleeping, I can’t do anything”…..

Came to Wroclaw (pronounced vratslawf) by train. Met some entertaing older Spanish and English ladies who were sharing the same cabin as us. I helped them put their bags on the shelf and then they walked out to say bie to their family members they were leaving in kracow. I heard a commotion and the older lady yelled ” oh, she’s stuck!”.. I didn’t pay much mind cause i was thinking…”what the hell could she be possibly stuck in ? the door, toilet? ” I came around the corner and her fingers were stuck in the window. I have a sick mind so I almost laughed. I came to her aid and pushed down on the window…nothing..ok….well maybe I’ll push up..”oww”…ooops…not that…ok well her family were outside the window looking at me like “dumbass, help her”…. I finally yanked down enough so she could wriggle her fingers out…she was fine.

I like Wroclaw, small but cheery. nice hostel, kebab again, ummm…..gonna go out tonight. They have 50 gnomes here that are placed throughout the city..Laura was more enthused about finding them..she found 10. We still have two more days so maybe she’ll find the others. dumb gnomes. anyway. seen some churches..one of them was The Church of the Holy name of Jesus…ok..pretty redundant…it was a sight to look at though. Im not religious in that way but I do like to see the architecture of churches back in the day. Seen a huge painting of abattle between Russian and Polish armies..interesting.

Laura is gonna head out with me to the gay bar in Wroclaw….hence “gay bar” singular. alright..brain is mush…im hungry.

I have a Bon Jovi song stuck in my head “its my life” I beleive the video consisted of a bunch of 40 year old women jumping up and down possibly shouting at their parents still….im not sure…or.

Ok, so, I’ve decided to follow Laura’s lead and do one of these blogs for my trip. Hopefully I don’t bore the hell out of all of you.

Alright, I guess I’ll start from square one: leaving Chicago en route to Dublin, Ireland–uneventful to say the most of it. I think I was the youngest one on the whole plane minus the two rug rats sitting an aisle over and a couple of seats behind me. I was waiting for the bingo game to begin but unfortunately it had never came to fruition. Most of the conversations consisted of which five star hotel everyone was staying at. Here I was holding in a shit because of my weird fear of taking a dump on a plane: mainly because I don’t want to subject others to such a foul inhalation. But…..maybe I should……nah, I’ll wait until the airport where the bathroom doors go all the way to the ground, hell yeah…yes I’m weird. So, bored out of my mind I forced myself to sleep. I remember waking up halfway and noticing I had my mouth wide open and my face was turned toward the man next to me…..wonder what he thought about that….heard some giggling, repositioned my wedgie and went back to sleep.

Arrived in Dublin, smooth transition to the hostel I was staying at: Paddy’s. Had to wait to check into my room so I took a short walk around the city to get the feel of it. That’s how I like to travel, or one of the main reasons why I choose to travel. I can do without the museums, monuments and all the rest of the touristy things that you “should” do and see. I instead like to survey the environment of places, the feel of it, the different manners and facial expressions of the inhabitants and how they carry themselves…stuff like that….and of course the food…..men…ahem.

I expected Dublin to be more….lets say…Irish? I really don’t know what I was expecting, I wasn’t expecting leprachauns or rainbows everywhere, but…I don’t know. I enjoyed the vibe of Dublin though. Would have enjoyed it more if a sandwich from seven eleven didn’t cost 5 euro, but yeah, I’m overseas and not at work so why complain?……because the lousy bolagna sandwich cost me 5 euro damn it!! Well, actually it didn’t cost me anything, I didn’t buy it. Next.

It was nice being alone and having to do nothing and being on my own schedule. Went for a run along the Liffey and stopped to notice a swan swimming gracefully past a floating coke bottle and a dirty diaper a few yards away…..it seemed to sum things up pretty poetically: along with the beautiful comes the diapers….although that fucker of a swan has no qualms about ripping the flesh off your bony ass finger. Anyway, swans are gay.

Went out to a car called The George and a club called the Dragon. Nothing different about the gay life here than in Chicago really. Same shit. Nice people, but same shit. Danced, got drunk, got molested by a fag hag. Good times. Upon arriving to the Dragon one of the “straight” door men looked at me confusingly and with a smirk asked, ” you know this is a gay bar, right?”, thinking I was straight and lost. I fantasized about his two front teeth missing and replied, “yeah, why? whats up?” ” oh, well, alright, where you from? oh , Chicago? how about them cubs?” my mind was saying “fuck off” my lips said ” they suck”. sorry, to even it out the sox also suck too. there, now the war is settled. dear god.

Spent another day in Dublin, walked around a lot, shouldn’t have smoked those cigarettes the night before, but I believe everyone in Dublin smokes, so it helped ease my conscience. Spent the night in the airport and on my way to Berlin, Germany. I was nervous from hearing others talk about the language barrier with Germans and how hard it was to get from the airport to the city center. It was a piece of cake. Had a glass of milk with it too. dumb asses.

Berlin is huge, spread out quite a bit with a bunch of parks and a huge park inthe middle of it called the Tier Garten. Its equivalent would probably be Central Park in New York City, probably larger.

Ingested some curry wurst and a cheap bowl of lo mein noodles and then took a visit to the toilet: this trip to the toilet will become a common daily thing throughout the trip known as traveler shits. Just imagine your ass hole exploding over and over again!! or, imagine it puking chunky salsa in fountain form. ok, now that I have that out of the way. Maybe I should become a writer for a travelers guide….how about it?

I wasn’t supposed meet Laura until I came to prague about 5 days down the road but she was tired and wanted a sense of home so she came earlier, which was great. We did all the touristy things, which I actually enjoyed. Went on a free tour, learned some history: The fall of the Berlin Wall was an accident. Look it up.

Met a guy in our room from Luxemburg, smart guy. Went to the hostel bar, got drunk off only 3 beers cause I’m not a man according to the drunks in Europe. Oh well, I pay less suckers!! After 2 beers I came to the conclusion that he was a part of the CIA and was investigating me for my unfounded intelligence. What I don’t understand is, why they just don’t kill me now? Why wait until I get super powerful and take out the Illuminati? We’ll see.

“It’s what I mean, not what I say….mean…say”

Went out by myself to the bar scene. Was told by the bartender that I was in the more traditional, less lively part of Berlin and needed to head to East Berlin. So….with a few free beers in me I tried to do just that…but…I never arrived there….I remember thinking at the time how much I missed the cta…if only I could temporarily transport the cta to berlin for a night then I’d be fine. Got back to the hostel at around 6am.

We are going the cheap route and getting by on bread, peanut butter, jelly, salami, cheese, and apples. Oh yeah, potato salad, muesli, grilled tomato sandwiches.

Off to Prague. Thanks to my brother Ronnie for setting us up with one of his old frat buddies, Joe, who let us crash at his place for 3 days. Prague is easy on the eyes, cheap…reminded me of Italy even though I’ve never been there. Charles Bridge, Kebab, old town, astronomical clock similar to glockenspiels in Germany which was boring but whatever. Went on another free tour, decent. Biggest horse statue in Europe.

Went out with Joe our last night. Drank some beers, shot of Absinthe, didn’t sleep…went straight to the bus station, slept on the station floor after pigging out on McDonald’s. felt like shit nuggets…boarded bus…on our way to Budapest, Hungary.

I like Budapest….it was more open to breathe…great “vibe”. The hostel we stayed at was interesting. Every one I met there were great. You find smart people when you travel…I’ve noticed. When I’d meet others who speak 2 or 3 other languages including my own, I felt dumb. So..upon arriving in the states I will begin my extensive forge into learning Spanish, German, Polish, and whatever I can get my mind around. Still not exactly sure what I want to do with my major. I love psych but I also want to do sociology, music, quantum physics, history, minor in a language…..hmmm. Is there such thing as quadruple majoring? fuck it..i’ll just rob a bank and request the money in spanish, write a book in prison and upon my release I will have found out how to create a black hole for us all and delete all history.

“now don’t just call me pessimist, try and read between the lines, i can’t imagine why you wouldn’t welcome any change my friend, flush it down”

Went to a rave on some island in Budapest with some “mates” in our hostel. One from Wales and the other from London. I wasn’t too educated on Wales and wasn’t sure if it was a country or a state or province…..Alex was cool about it, didn’t take any offense. It is a country off the southwest side of England. Cardiff is the major city there.
The rave: jagermeister shots, beer, redbull vodkas, cigarettes (pall mall: my grandmother smokes those uglghhhh!!!) Got ripped off by the cabby on the way there, not on the way back though. Before we went to the rave we hit up a couple of bars, asked a girl there about the rave, she stated it was full of “shit people”. Went anyway out of defiance and an open mind for a good time……I could later see some sense into what she was saying but……shit people. nice

Went to the turkish baths which was a BLAZING time. Got fried, plunged into some very cold water, my nuts freaked out and went into hiding for a while. Seen some old dude wearing a speedo that was a couple sizes to big on hip….all I can say is “swing low, swing chariot”…..you’d think his wife would have helped him dress better to the occasion but her tits were practically being knocked around by her knees. next

Went out the next night with two swedes we met Jonathon and Malin, plus a lovely Austrian Claudia.and Alex and Dan from London. Good time….Unicum…Hungarian equivalent to Jeigermeister but nastier. The Hungarians used this liquor as a medicine….so I’ve heard. You are supposed to take sips of it..not shots.oh well. Good night..ended it with a gyro.

Went to one of the islands on the river with Laura, layed out in the park and watched couple all around us making out. People in Europe show a lot more displays of public affection…which I think is a good think. …. and then off in the woods we seen a couple fornicating under a blue blanket…how romantic. flies were biting my legs and biting ants had their way with me. Got some icecream, watched Borat….i wanna see bruno. Probably ten times better.

Got on the bus to Kracow, which is where I am now. The swedish guy Jonathon had been robbed twice in Kracow… 5 guys with knives….hmmm. Weird vibe in kracow. After an 8 hour bus ride with tv screen 8 inches in front of our faces and a dark tinted window to our right….we were trapped watching wedding crashers and some other movie with ashten kutcher…what a dweeb. Walked a long way to where we though our hostel was….well…they moved to another location…it was raining…but it was ok. ate some peirogis and had some beers and fell asleep. About to head out to a free festival where I believe Lenny Kravitz is playing but not totally sure if we heard it correctly….i thought the receptionist said “many concerts playing” and Laura swear she heard “Lenny Kravitz” We’ll see. “are you gonna go my way”?

Alright…sorry so long but I had a whole lot of catching up to do….let me know if you care? ha!

“until next time….tata”

Welcome to BootsnAll Travel Blogs. This is your first post. Edit or delete it, then start blogging!