Where's Daniel?

Baby pics

2010-04-01T13:53:00.001-07:00

As you can see here, the kids are all doing fine. I'm going to have a blast with them, even though some of the little buggers are a bit pint-sized.

From Dublin

First week back, surprise surprise, I'm depressed

2009-06-20T15:49:00.001-07:00

For the past month, I was looking forward to coming back home, seeing my family and friends, and to start working again and putting some money in the bank. However, I arrived into LA extremely bummed, dare I say, depressed, about being back. "But Daniel, you said on several occasions you were the happiest man alive, what happened?" What happened is I came back to the reality of a box full of mail that included IRS notices (yikes!) renewal notices for ten million magazines (Yoga Magazine, how did I get on THAT list?) and a jury summons or two, not to mention being unemployed and putting on a suit (A SUIT for crissakes!) and interviewing for a job. To go from over a year of making new and interesting friends everyday, seeing and experiencing new things and countries, and just having nothing to look forward to except for the next adventure to this, well, this is no fun:

From back home

So, what did a couple of my friends do? They invited me out for dinner one evening, and they knew I had been travelling through Central America and South America for the past six months. One of the last things I wanted to eat was rice and beans. Well, guess where they took me? A Central American restaurant, complete with rice and beans, and get this, a live mariachi band! I couldn't help but laugh at the situation. I mean, after eating rice and beans for about six months, I came back to LA for more rice and beans.

I was also used to speaking Spanish everyday since December when I first arrived into Argentina, so during my first dinner back with my family, I accidentally started a few conversations in Spanish! Grandpa would ask me in Chinese, "How was your trip?" I responded, "Bueno, para... I mean..." and then revert to my broken Chinese. My mom asked me something and I answered, "Si, pero... I mean...." Who knows how much longer this is going to last. But, my English is getting gooder these days.

I also interviewed with a few companies already. I knew I lost weight on this trip, so I decided to put on the first suit I ever bought for myself coming right out of college. Not only did it fit, the pants were a bit loose! 11 years after graduating from college, and my suitpants didn't fit because they were too BIG, not too small... who would have thought? It also took me a good fifteen minutes to get my tie on right. It was just really weird to have gone from my daily outfit of shorts and flip flops to a suit and tie with an ironed (gasp!) shirt and polished black dress shoes.

Here's an interesting Welcome Back to LA story. I went to a bar Friday night with my buddy and roommate Calvin, and I bought the first round since it was the least I could do after he pretty much handled all the odds and ends for me while I was away. I took out a $20 bill, prepared to pay (and expecting change actually,) when the nice pretty bartender told me it was... $26! She looked at me kinda surprised, like, "Where have you been, hello this is LA!" I looked at her kinda surprised, like, "Where the hell am I, freakin Norway??!!" After travelling through South and Central America, land of $1 beers and $1.5 cocktails (if that) it was a rude awakening. Needless to say, I didn't buy Calvin any more drinks that night.

We had a nice big family BBQ as well. It was nice to catch up and see everybody whom I hadn't seen for over a year. For those of you who don't know my family, well, we are a bit crazy. One of my older cousins drank so much she puked. Oh yeah, she's a mother of two. And yeah, they were there too. We just all kept eating and playing poker as if nothing happened, because that kind of stuff is just par for the course in the Lew family.

From back home

I have been suffering from some major travel bug withdrawals, so I booked a flight out to see my older sister and my awesome nephews in the Bay Area. It's not Colombia or Guatemala, or any new and exciting country, but at the very least, I am getting back on the plane again. I'm already feeling better just typing that last sentence!

Concluding in Colombia: Coke in Ciudad Perdida, Chillin at the Cartagena Hilton

2009-06-13T09:51:00.000-07:00

Well, it has been one helluva ride, eh?

I cannot tell you how many times I have been sitting on an bus, or lying in a hammock, or eating at some restaurant and thinking about all the great experiences I have gone through and simply just smiled from ear to ear. It is a feeling I wish everybody can experience and convinced that if you reflect on things like this at least once a day in your life, serenity is yours and nobody can ever take that from you.

I ended up meeting back up with Carol, who I met back in Bocas Del Toro, Panama and we decided to travel to Colombia together for a couple of weeks. Our first stop was Barranquilla, where there honestly was not a single thing to do or see really. Now I know why Shakira's hips don't lie-- I'd be a pretty good belly dancer too if I lived in Boringquilla! After a couple of nights there, we headed out to Santa Marta. Our second night, we met up with another friend of mine I had travelled with back in Brasil, Itamar (Israel). It was good to catch up with him on his travels over a few beers while watching the Lakers beat the Nuggets.

We decided to head out to Ciudad Perdida, a pretty grueling six-day 52 km (32 mi) hike through varying altitude changes and INTENSE heat and humidity. The mosquitoes pretty much had an all-you-can-eat buffet for the 7 of us throughout the trek. There were two German girls, Sandra and Carmen, who ended up in pretty bad shape-- getting the stomach flu and attacked by ten million mosquitoes. (pics up shortly) There was also Thomas from Switzerland, who ironically enough, carried a fake Swiss Army knife and his girlfriend, Valerie from Seattle.

Ciudad Perdida is sort of like a poor man's Macchu Picchu, much smaller, less "discovered" ruins and consequently, way less tourists. Every once in awhile during the day we would cross paths with no more than two groups of less than 10, so it was nice not having to battle through crowds. I had no expectations really about what I was going to see once I got there, but the truth was, the actual trek itself was pretty amazing. Crossing rapid rivers, climbing slippery moss-covered rock faces, stomping up over 1300 steps to get up to the City, and going to sleep amidst the light of fireflies (!) was uniquely different from my experience in Peru. I even had the opportunity to drink pure rain water, as well as natural spring water cascading down waterfalls, two things I had not done up until now!

One of the funnier things that occurred during this trip was on our fourth day, when I was walking down a relatively narrow trail with Carmen and Sandra. We encountered a family of about eight or nine grazing cows, two of which were young baby calves. Carmen just walked right past them, even though one of the bigger cows (probably the father of one of the babies) tried to headbut Carmen's hiney, just narrowly missing her. Sandra and I were a bit spooked by this, so we decided to backtrack a bit and wait for the herd to go by. However, Sandra, with her two left feet, accidentally kicked loose a huge rock that rolled down the trail and made enough noise to gain the unwanted attention of the entire family of cows. Let me tell ya, being on that narrow trail with a bunch of cows all staring at you is not something I would wish upon anybody. I missed the Running of the Bulls, but I think I got a good enough experience here to make up for it. I, nor Sandra, did not move or say a word for what felt like an eternity, but luckily, no stampede occurred. The cows cautiously/nervously walked past us, and Carmen snapped a picture of me and Sandra up against the trail. Will update this blog as soon as she sends it over but it's a classic!

I also learned, during this hike, about the cocaine manufacturing process. For example, that it takes about 1,000 kgs of coca leaves to make just 1 kg of pure cocaine. I also did not know that as part of the process, gasoline, acetone, and sulfuric acid are key components. I never tried cocaine before in my life, and never will. Knowing how to make it with such poisonous ingredients only reconfirms this belief.

After six days of trekking through the hot jungle with dirty, wet (never dried due to the humidity) and smelly clothes, sleeping in stinky hammocks, and taking cold baths in the river, it was a welcome relief to check into the Hilton Cartagena. Normally, the rates are about $300/night, but since I had some points I had saved up, it was completely free! Upon check-in, I took an hour-long hot bubble bath, then a long hot shower, and proceeded to pass out in my queen-sized bed under a nice white soft duvet for a good 12 hours. Ahhhhh, the lap of luxury! After over a year of travelling in hostels, staying at the Cartagena Hilton was definitely a nice way to wrap up my trip.

I will be coming back to Los Angeles on June 17th, and have a couple of job interviews lined up already (yikes!) since I am completely. dead. broke. For those of you who have been reading my blog, I will continue to write (though probably less frequently.) I thought about this at great length, whether to wrap this up or continue writing. What I have found is that my trip around the world will continue in spirit. Whether it be visiting travel buddies in the future, or staying in touch via email/Skype/Facebook, my trip will not end. My daily ear-to-ear smiles guarantee that it won't.

Two (or three) week countdown back home....

2009-05-29T13:07:00.000-07:00

"Now this is not the end. It is not even the beginning of the end. But it is, perhaps, the end of the beginning."
Sir Winston Churchill

I just finished reading Endurance, F.A. Worsley's account of Sir Edward Shackleton's courageous expedition to Antarctica. It was not a mere coincidence to read this book towards the end of my own journey, as I picked it up recently in one of the hostels I was staying in. Though we both took very different tracks and had unique outcomes, Shackleton and I have at least one thing in common-- the curiosity to keep exploring the world no matter the cost. Though this trip is coming to an end, I will continue to quench my thirst for travel and adventure whenever I have the opportunity to do so. I did not get additional pages in my passport for nothing!

There are so many little places, nooks and crannies of the world I am glad I saw. I never thought I would get the chance to explore places I never even heard about prior to the trip, much less even thought about visiting. From the idyllic countryside of Mariestad, Sweden and Krelingen, Germany, to the sleepy beach towns of Cabo Polonio, Uruguay and Canoa, Ecuador, to the surprisingly amusing Rovaniemi, Finland (Santa's residence) to drunk bumper-car driving in Munich, Germany to the awe-inspiring sounds of glaciers calving in Patagonia, to the soul stirring experiences of teaching kids how to add and subtract in the remote villages of Ghana, to cliff jumping in Krakow, Poland, and lava walking in Antigua, Guatemala, *sigh* this truly has been the experience of a lifetime.

I also thought at the beginning of this trip that some profound "A-ha!" moment would arrive, in which I would see the error of my previously foolish ways and discover what I truly wanted to do in life and "voila" suddenly change into a different person. Instead, what I have figured out over the past year travelling and meeting so many different and interesting people is that I have not changed at all. Rather, this trip reinforced what I knew I enjoyed most about my previous career in sales-- relating to people, engaging with them and forming relationships. Admittedly, I probably have changed, ahem, evolved in other ways though-- I have gone from a 32-year old beer-guzzling dude, to a 33-year old beer-guzzing dude who has travelled around the world. Big difference!

Though I will be trying to return (currently interviewing, so any job leads you may have out there, let me know!!) to my old career in software sales, I will be rounding it out with an added focus on things outside of work. Besides travel of course, I would like to write more (a book maybe in the future??), read more, surf more, help my village in Ghana drink more clean water, and also start planning the first few steps towards opening up my hostel in Mammoth. I know, big things, but I am lucky and fortunate enough to not only be able to dream, but actually have the opportunity to accomplish them as well.

Speaking of dreams, I am headed off to Columbia for a couple weeks to propose to my long lost love, Shakira. If all goes according to plan, WE will be arriving into LA sometime June 17th. Details on the wedding party to be announced shortly!

Water caving and lava walking in Guatemala

2009-05-21T12:09:00.000-07:00

Ash and I arrived into Guatemala City, and it was our first time flying into an airport since the whole swine flu "pandemic" hit. We exited our plane only to be greeted by a few stone-faced health inspectors, and Ash, in his perfect wisdom and timing, decided to sneeze a couple of times right in front of them! I was half expecting him to be tasered, wrapped up in a bodybag and dragged off into a quarantine, but unfortunately, that did not occur. We were also given a standard health form to sign off on upon entry. I thought to myself that I could (in my hungover state) actually say yes to probably about 7 out of the 8 questions available... Fever? Nope. Cough? Yeah, from all that smoking.... Headache? Definitely yes. Limb and joint pain? Pshhhhyeah, my knees belong to an 80-year old.. Eye redness, umm.... lemme check, yeah... Nasal flux? My allergies always act up on an airplane! Difficulty breathing? Well... I suppose it depends but sometimes. I guess I had swine flu after all!!

From Guatemala

We headed straight from Guatemala City and took the 8-hour night bus to Flores, to see the ancient Mayan ruins. One of the highlights that day was climbing up this rickety old staircase up one of the temples. I am usually not afraid of heights, but I am, however, very afraid of faulty Guatemalan engineering. I climbed up anyway, and when I got to the top I was nearly frozen in fear. There was maybe about two feet of clearance before you would tumble over and become, in the wise words of the Mayan gods, "ruined." (Bud-dump dump ching! Two shows nightly everybody!!) Anyway, no handrails were present either, and again reminded me how sheltered and protected we are in the US. When I asked one of the tour guides why we could not visit another temple down the way, he said that it was closed because two German (?) tourists fell down the previous year, killing one and critically injuring the other.

After just a couple of days in Flores, Ash and I headed over to Lanquin to visit the water caves and natural pools of Semuc Champey. On our 7-hour bus ride from Flores to Lanquin, we stopped for a quick lunch break at McDonalds. I ordered the usual Quarter Pound with Cheese combo and Ash ordered a Big Mac Meal. The cashier asked him, "Coca Cola?" and maybe it was because of the long bus ride, (not) or more likely, that his brain was on pause, but Ash looked at me completely confused, waiting for me to translate what this lady just said. An impatient teenage next to him told him in perfect English, "She is asking you if you want a Coca Cola!" Apparently still stunned, I told him, "Coca Cola in Spanish means Coca Cola in English!!!"

Oh yeah, I have to add yet another Ash Deer-in-Headlights-Lost-In-Translation-at-a- Fast-Food-cashier moment: Typically everywhere you go in this world, whenever you order food, cashiers will always ask you, "For here, or to-go?" Translated into Spanish, "Para aca, o llevar?" Keep in mind that Ash has been travelling through Central America for over 6 weeks by now, so you would think that when the cashier asked him this rather simple question, he would have been able to understand. But not this genius. Ash replied, "Australia!" thinking that the guy asked him if he was from America. How Ash misunderstood "para aca" from "America" remains a mystery to me. But then again, I suppose if you can't understand Coca Cola in Spanish...

Semuc Champey was awesome, as it was my first time ever swimming in and wading through water caves, with nothing but candles to light our way through. We later went tubing down the river and even had some time to jump off a bridge, one of my favorite childhood pastimes. Later that night, we had a 14-person poker tournament amongst some friends from the hostel for about a $1.25 buy-in. I ended up in third place even though I was the chip leader going in..... ahhhhhhh well, it was well worth the enjoyment of playing with new friends from all over the world.

Our last stop in Guatemala was Antigua, an old cobblestoned city that is best known for its tours up the live Pacaya Volcano. For about $13 you can hike up this thing with a guide and literally get to within feet of, as Dr. Evil would say, "Liquid hot mag-ma...."

http://www.killerclips.com/clip.php?id=79&qid=756

It is so hot in some places that one of the girls' shoes had both of her soles burned off! I always had this idea in my head that you needed space-suit type clothing and outerwear to get so close to lava, yet there I was amidst 50 other tourists dressed in nothing but my Nike Air Force Ones, shorts and a tshirt! I have to say that poking a stick in lava and seeing it go up in flames was one of the most amazing things I have done on this trip.

Complete pics to come up shortly (another virus!) here is what I have salvaged so far...

Cruisin through Costa Rica like a crackhead

2009-05-11T14:26:00.000-07:00

After travelling through Panama, it was time to check out the western coast of Costa Rica. Given some time constraints, we had to blow through Costa Rica on a schedule I normally wouldn't even entertain. However, I had a friend from LA I wanted to catch up with in Montezuma, so Ash and I pretty much blazed through San Jose, Manuel Antonio, Puntarenas, Montezuma, and Monteverde in about 7 days.

Manuel Antonio was not as special as I had expected-- just another nice expensive beach town filled with mostly American gringos. There is a national park there but we decided just to get down to what we do best, boozing it up with random people we happen to bump into wherever we go. It's been cool to have a travel buddy like Ashley, since he is doing an around the world trip as well. Between the two of us, telling random people we meet of our adventures and stories tends to get people thinking of, or at least considering doing the same. We've told some of these stories a few times already, (they never get old, do they?) so key details and punchlines are always delivered on cue. Between the two of us, we could probably make some money on the lecture circuit!

We only spent one night in sketchy Puntarenas, and headed out to Montezuma the following day to meet up with Cathy and Char, friends from LA who were in Costa Rica for a short while. It was nice to hang out in Montezuma for a few days, given the hectic schedule I was on. Funny story about Char... we went to the beach one day, and the waves were pretty rough. It did not really deter me, nor Cathy from heading into the water though, but Char was a bit ambivalent about the whole idea. Char had actually studied at the University of Hawaii, so her reluctance to getting into the ocean was a bit of a surprise to me. Upon further goading and peer pressure, and against her will, she slowly inched her way into the water. By the time she got knee-deep into the water, Cathy said, "It's not so bad, right?!" I followed up and chided her as well, "And you said you studied at U of H!!!???" Not one second later, and I am not exaggerating here, a wave (whitewash, really) not higher than her thighs washed past her and the next thing you know, two legs shot up into the air, synchronized swimming style, scoring (in my opinion) a perfect 10! Char got up and said, "I'm outta here guys." We left shortly after for happy hour, a much safer option...

After Cathy and Char left back to San Jose for their flight back home, Ash and I headed over to Monteverde after a couple of days, and the main reason was to hit up the canopy tour, where you can zipline through over 1.5 kilometers of rain forest. It was totally worth the 7 hour bus ride from Montezuma. We chose Extremo canopy tours and highly recommend it as it had one of the longest ziplines at over 700 meters. For those of you who are not familiar with the metric system, that is about the length of 7 football fields. And this is not just a regular zipline-- you are probably going about 15-30 mph, high up through this huge freakin canyon, with wind blowing you around like crazy with nothing but a strap connected to this cable. Needless to say, it was quite an adrenalin rush and the most fun I have had in awhile.

From Manuel Antonio, Montezuma and Monteverde, Costa Rica

Scootin and raftin around Boquete, Panama

2009-05-03T14:33:00.000-07:00

After escaping starvation in Santa Catalina, Ash and I decided to head up to Boquete, Panama, to check out the hot springs and do a little whitewater rafting.

Boquete's a really small quiet town, (population 5,000) but surprisingly filled with American retirees. I was really excited to go whitewater rafting after trying it for the first time in Mendoza, Argentina. Unfortunately, the river level was fairly low, and we got stuck a few times on some rocks so the thrill factor (despite a couple of Class IV rapids) was a bit disappointing. Sadly, in about a few years, the river will be gone due to the fact there will be a dam built to generate electricity only for export purposes. It has caused quite a bit of controversy, but apparently the investors behind it include Carlos Slim, one of, if not the richest man in the world. According to the local guide who took us whitewater rafting, the environmental impact to the area will be incalculable. However, most of the locals affected were paid off a meager amount for their votes and the project was approved with very little local interference.

Ash and I met two couples the following day at Hostel Boquete (highly recommend) Tony/Tanya and Scott/Amanda and decided to rent some scooters to run around town. It was the first time I had ever been on a scooter, and it was a pretty thrilling ride, going up to 100km/hour (around 60 mph) on the highway heading to the hot springs.

Given my political science background and general interest in all things politics, it was interesting to be in Panama during its general elections. One rather odd law actually makes it illegal to sell alcohol from Saturday 12pm through the entire weekend until Monday 12pm. Apparently, this is to prevent people from getting drunk and forming angry mobs and civil disobedience, but little did they know about a rather sneaky guy named Daniel, who figured out how to buy alcohol BEFORE the ban. Unfortunately though, I was not able to lead any alcohol-fueled riots around Boquete!

Panama City and Santa Catalina, Panama

2009-04-27T18:45:00.000-07:00

Ash and I decided to head off to Panama City, to check out what everybody does when they go to Panama-- check out the Panama Canal. My initial first (and lasting) impressions of Panama City were 1) new buildings and construction EVERYFREAKINWHERE. Global financial crisis? Not here. 2) the noisy ass Diablos Rojos. Think of your old elementary school bus, add some random grafitti, an exhaust system you can hear a mile away, and a mad scientist at the helm and you pretty much have your basic bus transportation in Panama City.

From Panama City and Santa Catalina, Panama

3) There are ten million banks. Panama City is going places, ladies and gentlemen. I don't know if it has anything to do with the expansion of the Panama Canal, but there is a serious amount of foreign investment going on.

Anyway, Ash and I met up with Jenn (UK), and a couple, Reggie (Nebraska) and Clay (New Zealand) at the hostel to check out the Panama Canal for the day. It really was not as exciting as I thought it would be, but, there are just some things you have to see. Interesting thing about Clay-- he has been travelling and working for 14 freakin years! He works six months a year, then travels the other half. Truly an inspiration. After the canal, we all had dinner at a Chinese restaurant, and I actually had the chance to speak to the waitress in Cantonese and translate the Spanish menu in English to my fellow gringos. As as sidenote, I think Panama has the highest percentage of Chinese in South/Central America.

There was not much else to do in Panama City after a couple of days, and I felt like surfing again, so upon the recommendation of a few friends at the hostel, Ash and I decided to head out to Santa Catalina. Actually, how it all played out was that we woke up at 11am that day without a single clue where to go. Ash ended up talking to two Norwegian girls in their underwear for an hour or so, and was persuaded to check out Santa Catalina. The underwear, I am sure, had nothing to do with their credibility. Fair enough, we headed out anyway to find a totally secluded and sleepy beach town, with probably no more than 350 people living there. It was one of those places where the hotel manager also happens to be the waitress of the restaurant downstairs and oh yeah guess what she is the chef as well! Ok, slight exaggeration, but you get the drift. Hanging out in Santa Catalina for a few days was just what the doctor ordered, as Ash and I tried to make good on a week of sobriety, as well as a few good days of surfing.

One day, we went to "town" to eat, which really just meant where the bus stopped. The two public telephones also probably made it THE place to hang. Anyway, the first restaurant was closed, so we strolled down a few paces to another restaurant. I asked if the place was open, and the lady said yes. I asked if they were serving any food, and the lady looked at her husband (?) and the husband looked back at her, gave each other a weird hesitant look, and the lady told me, "Sorry, we do not have any food but there is another place down the street you can check out." I am absolutely convinced they just did not feel like getting up to work and cook. Such is life here in Santa Catalina...

Given the spontaneity in our decision to head to Santa Catalina, we overlooked the fact that there were no ATMs there. Because of that, Ash and I really had to conserve our cash. Our last night there, we had exactly $11 between us. At the restaurant, we saw that the cheapest meal was $6 for a plate of pasta. That meant we would only be able to have one plate and an appetizer or two between the two of us. I told Ash to check the hotel room for any leftover change he may have and he said, "I only have about 25 cents I think..." I told him to go and check anyway because, well, desperate times call for desperate measures. He came back a few minutes later with a huge grin, and proudly proclaimed he had $1.40 in change. SCORE!! That meant we could both order a plate of pasta, the highlight of my day. As I counted up the change to double check, I dropped a few coins on the floor. I freaked out for awhile as I practically went down on all fours searching for our precious pennies. It was good to remind ourselves the value of a few cents, as it literally meant the difference between one plate of pasta or two!

Craziness in Puerto Viejo, Costa Rica and Bocas Del Toro, Panama

2009-04-23T16:10:00.000-07:00

From Panama City and Santa Catalina, Panama

If there is one thing I am certain of on May 5th, 2009, it is that I WILL miss my scheduled flight back home. My round the world ticket expires that day since I have one year to use up all the flight segments, but I am pretty sure I can scramble up enough cash to get a one way ticket back home if and when I am ready. I know you guys are all disappointed to hear I will not be back home for Cinco De Mayo, but the fact is, I am simply not ready to go home. I still have enough cash to float me for another month or so and if I pick up a bartending gig somewhere I can continue living my dream! (And, believe it or not, I still think I have a shot at winning Shakira's heart!)

I arrived into San Jose, Costa Rica in the evening of April 6th, and got a nice verbal reprimand from the immigration official about the lack of space to stamp on my passport. I went to the US Embassy the following day to add more visa pages-- and I could not help but smile on my way out that I filled up all my pages already.

I only spent one full day in San Jose, as there was not much to see. I decided to check out Puerto Viejo on the Caribbean coast for Semana Santa (Easter Weekend) on the recommendation of a few friends. On my way out of the hostel in San Jose, two girls from Sweden, Nina and Johanna, asked me where I was going and I told them Puerto Viejo. They said they were going that way too and asked me if I wanted to join them. Umm... sure!

We ended up staying at a place called Rockin J's, right on the beach outfitted with nothing but hammocks and tents. There were no tents available that day so Johanna, Nina and I took the few remaining hammocks left. I had never slept in a hammock overnight before, but I figured I'd give it a go. Besides, with enough beer and booze, I can sleep through anything! I had the worst hammock in the house, though, as it was literally in front of the main entrance to the 50+ other hammocks in the room. I knew right then and there I would need to get piss drunk to get through the night. And piss drunk did I get! Unfortunately, one of the casualties of that night was that my brand new camera that I bought after getting mugged in Ecuador (not one week earlier) got stolen! I was chattin it up with my friends and had my camera on the table right next to me. Not one minute later I noticed it was gone. Just. Like. That. I am convinced a rather stealthy flying mini midget was the culprit because there is no other possible explanation for its disappearance.

Throughout this trip, one of my goals was to learn how to surf once I got to Central America. After all, I got tired of telling people I was 33 years old, from Santa Monica, California who not only did not lunch with Angelina Jolie on a weekly basis, but also that I did not know how to surf. On my second day in Puerto Viejo, I rented a surfboard and happy to report I was able to get up on the board (albeit only for a heavenly 3.8 seconds) that same day! It was tiring as heck though, just trying to paddle out through all the whitewash and drinking/snorting all that saltwater.... but totally worth it. Plus, I think my sinuses have never felt better.

One of the things about Central and South America is that 99.99 percent of the toilets are not equipped to swallow up toilet paper. Water typically flushes at the rate of about 1 ounce per hour, if you are lucky. Keep this in mind as I am about to tell you something that will probably gross you out, but worth telling. So for those of you afraid or squeamish about poop stories, skip this paragraph...

It was early in the morning, and I had to hit the can but there was a lineup outside one of the bathrooms. I went to another bathroom and saw that one was completely backed up. I checked another one and there it was, the mother of all turds just sitting in the toilet there, trying so desperately to go to its proper home down under. However, the size of this thing simply prevented it from going down. It was without a doubt the biggest turd I have ever seen in my entire life and I wondered outloud what kind of person (or beastly animal?) could possibly squeeze that freakin machaca burrito out. Needless to say, I really had no time to delay anymore.... so, yes, I went ahead and did my business in the burrito toilet. The whole time I kept hoping that there would not be any backsplash or collateral damage, and luckily I escaped unscathed, though mentally traumatized. As I was getting ready to leave the stall, I thought to myself, with my luck, some hottie chick will be waiting right outside and will need to use my stall. Sure enough, fate did not disappoint. I warned her not to go in, and thankfully, she heeded my advice. Ok enough poop stories for now.

I met some very cool and interesting people in Puerto Viejo, including a Ashley, an Aussie who quit his job as a banker in Hong Kong. Like me, he is doing an around-the-world trip on pretty much the same itinerary as me, except in reverse. As I mentioned before, I had the worse hammock in the house, and when I checked in that day, I said to him, "Looks like you got the second worst hammock here..." He agreed, and I said, "We're going to have to get wasted tonight." And the rest, as they say, was history. Actually one night, we got completely smashed but it was raining like mad so most of us decided to hang out and crash out for the night. I got into my hammock, and was pretty much ready to pass out when I heard Ash yell out loud, "I can't sleep, the guy next to me keeps crashing into my hammock!" I took one look over at him and shouted back to him, "Dude, YOU are the one crashing into the guy!" I was just about ready to pass out again when I heard him mumble outloud, "I am heading into town, and I am going to get arrested!" Unfortunately, he did not succeed in the latter, nor did he succeed in doing anything really the following day. He ended up lying in his hammock all day. This is what he missed out on...

From Puerto Viejo, Costa Rica and Bocas Del Toro, Panama

We also met up with a serious party wrecking crew aka Team Canada-- three awesome chicks from Ontario. Ashley had actually met them in Miami, and they somehow found their way to Rockin Js in Costa Rica as well. These three crazy girls reminded me of my old buddies back home, but the female version. Some really classic lines came from them, which I will detail later in my upcoming post, "Memorable Quotes from this Trip."

After a booze-fueled weekend, Nina, Johanna, Wannes and I decided to hop over to Bocas Del Toro. Eric, the chef from the Rockin Js hostel decided to join us as well. Not a bad travel buddy to have around!

Bocas del Toro, Panama was a short 3 hour bus ride from Puerto Viejo, Costa Rica. We crossed the border at Sixaola, one of the most memorable and interesting border crossings I have ever come across. Basically, we got dropped off on the Costa Rican side of the border, and then we had to walk across this rickety old wooden bridge. If you weren't careful, you could easily step into a gaping hole and probably even fall through!

We spent about a week in Bocas, pretty much just partyin', surfin' and hangin' out..... although that should not be a surprise to anyone reading this. When my head clears up a little more, I will detail a few more stories... but for the time being, here are some pics that I uploaded from my friends' cameras.

Back to the good ole U S of A....(for just a few hours)

2009-04-07T13:09:00.001-07:00

I arrived into Miami for a six-layover enroute to Costa Rica from Ecuador, and it was really exciting to step foot on American soil again. I felt strange trying to answer the question on the US Customs Declaration, "Countries Visited Prior to US Arrival" so I put down, "Ecuador and 25+ other countries." The US Immigration Official asked me what the hell was I doing in Ecuador, and I told him, "I stayed on the beach for six bucks a day!" He immediately shouted over to his colleague, "Hey Ed, we gotta go to Ecuador, man!" I sure hope so... Part of the reason why I share so many stories with you all through this blog is not just to tell you guys what I am doing, but also to encourage you to really seek out your own travel adventures instead of wasting your money on other things.

Being stuck at Miami International Airport {2008 TSA Airport of the Year, whatever that means!} for such a long time meant I had some time to kill. It was nice to see a Starbucks between every other check-in counter again, {not} as well as all the familiar shops and sights one would not have seen in over 11 months of being away. It was a tough choice trying to figure out what I wanted to eat, Taco Bell or Chili's? Unfortunately, there were no Mexican Pizzas at Taco Bell, and besides, I really wanted my baby back, baby back, baby back {Chillliiiiiiiiiiiis} baby back ribs!

I mosied on over to the bookstore, and when I went to the cashier {and despite not having said a single word to him prior to} the guy told me, "Dieciseis y cinco centavos por favor...." {$16.05, please} After having travelled through South America for the past four months, I thought to myself, have I gone native as well? I AM still Chinese, right?????!!!

I also had some time to think about what I do miss about the US....

1} Being able to flush toilet paper down the toilet. For those of you who have never experienced trying to stuff your crappy toilet paper down a crappy toilet paper filled bucket next to the toilet with your right hand while squatting and trying to keep your shorts from falling onto the piss-covered floor with your left hand, the simple joy of being able to simply crap, wipe and drop without worrying about blocking up the plumbing and causing a fecal flood was an absolute joy. So much so, in fact, that I decided to take a dump three times just for the sake of it. I told you, I had six hours to kill! Ok fine, the food from the night before didn't hurt, either.

2} Having the server at Chilis {I want my baby back baby back..... alright, enough already} ask me if everything was alright after my first bite. Ah, yes, I almost forgot, people actually WORK for tips in the US, as opposed to the rest of the world, where they either do not work for tips, or simply just add 10% to the bill and do absolutely nothing to earn it.

3} Free and safe tap water at restaurants. Asking for tap water in South America is like asking for diarhea. No, wait, it IS asking for diarhea.

I also had some time to think about what I do not miss about the US...

1} How everybody waiting for their flights at the airport is working. Working on their laptops, typing an email, writing a presentation or yapping on their cell phones about this that and the other. In most South American bus stations, mostly, you just see women breastfeeding their babies and guys taking a nap. Yeah, that's pretty much it.

2} Spoiled rotten kids who absolutely own their parents. I was watching a little boy, not more than 5 years old, boss his mom around like no other, for something to eat and drink. The mom obliged, of course. Just the other day when I was in Ecuador at a restaurant I was eating in, the mother {chef} smacked her son {not more than 7 years old} upside the head for slackin off and not taking the bowl of soup to one of the customers. I wonder, who will work harder later in life? And yet some of us have the nerve to complain {quite publicly} that American jobs are being taken away by immigrants. Sorry, Mom, your little sweet unemployed Johnny just got outhustled by Paco.

3} The crappy American Airlines airport lounge. Ok, I know this is all going to sound really lame but really, just ONE drink ticket???? And nothing to eat but some fruits and nuts???? I GOT SIX HOURS HERE!!!!!

Getting mugged in Ecuador and other highlights

2009-04-02T16:54:00.000-07:00

Well, I finally got to cross off another thing off my List of Things To Do On This Trip -- I finally got mugged! It was bound to happen, and frankly, I think my dumb luck was running out anyway. I am not really that bummed about it, actually, because I really expected it to occur sooner than later. Actually, I am more surprised it didn't happen in Brasil...

It was Saturday night, and a few of us from the hostel went out to celebrate my friend Maria's (Venezuela) 21st birthday. After getting tanked, I decided to walk back to my hostel alone (bad move) and not two blocks away from my hostel, amidst a crowd of people in the streets, a couple of dudes knocked me down (or did I fall down on my own volition?) and a woman (for crissakes!) snatched my camera from my pocket. The other two dudes took off in different directions, and I chased after the woman. The little shorty had some wheels, even with my alcohol-fueled afterburners, I could barely keep pace with her. I finally almost caught up to her when I suddenly tripped and fell pretty damn hard. I yelled for the people around me to help, "Socorro, ayudame, ella me robó mi cámara!!!" and to stop her but everybody just kind of did nothing, sadly. If this happened in the US, I am sure somebody would have knocked her down, but this was Quito, where a homeless man apparently gets more attention than a tourist being robbed. I eventually gave up, as I saw her pitch the camera down the street to three other guys who all ran in separate directions. This was something they had rehearsed and done before, clearly. Anyway, a police patrol showed up ten minutes (where are they when you need them?) later while I was still trying to catch my breath. We patrolled the streets for a bit, but to no avail. They took me back to the hostel and the first thing Santiago (one of the hostel employees) did after taking one look at me was pour me a large glass of whiskey, which I downed right away, and promptly passed out....

Quito, and especially the touristy area where I was staying in (La Mariscal) is notorious for robberies like the one I experienced. In fact, the very next day, I witnessed another gringo get his wallet stolen on a crowded bus. Five teenagers hopped on the bus and proceeded to squirm and squeeze past everybody rather awkwardly. I was immediately suspicious and kept my hands in my pockets the entire time. On the very next stop, they hopped off and the poor gringo yelled out to his girlfriend that his wallet was stolen. I saw that his right front pocket was slashed open. The kids took off in different directions and sadly, there was nothing he could do, either. Later that night, I went to a bar one block away with two of my buddies from the hostel, and surprise surprise, they got mugged by knifepoint. I left back to the hostel not five minutes earlier...

Enough bad news... Anyway, as many of you know, I have become a fan of football (ahem, soccer, for you Americans) and luckily, Brasil was in town to play Ecuador for one of the qualifying matches for the 2010 World Cup. Tickets were sold out, but I paid 30 bucks (face value $15) for a ticket to see them play. Given I had spent over six fun-filled weeks in Brasil, and that I had only spent one night in Ecuador and got mugged, it was a no-brainer as to who I was rooting for. I did not make that obvious to the 40,000 fans around me, of course, lest I be mugged and beaten to a ceviche pulp. Brasil ended up playing horribly, and luckily came out with a 1-1 tie. One of the funny things about being at the game was that after every time the announcer stated the Brasilian players' names and numbers, it was followed by 40,000 people chanting in unison, "Hijo de puta!" (Son of a bitch/whore) What made it uniquely interesting is that a) this would never happen in the US, unfortunately and b) the announcer, in a tacit agreement with the crowd, would wait for the crowd to finish the chant before announcing the next players name and number.

I went to check out "La Mitad Del Mundo," a city aptly named Middle of the World due to its latitude of 0 degrees. I spent two hours by bus getting there, and paid two bucks to check out the relatively boring monument, and as with all touristy sites, was a bit disappointed. However, I had lunch at a restaurant nearby and after I finished, the owner asked me where I was headed. I told him back to Quito, and he offered me a ride back! We chatted a bit about this that and the other, and his 11-year old daughter, Ana Camacho, proudly proclaimed that she would one day beat Venus Williams. I'm rootin' for ya, kiddo... I always like hearing about kids' dreams because it is always refreshing to hear their completely honest belief in what it is they want to do later in life. Chasing dreams-- shouldn't we all do that?

Given that Quito's weather was rainy and cold, and going out at night just didn't seem to be a good idea, I decided to head north to the beach again, to Mompiche and Canoa. I took the bus, thinking I was headed towards Mompiche, but, strangely enough, ended up in Canoa! Canoa is a sleepy little beach town, and extremely cheap. It only cost me $6 for my own room and bathroom right by the ocean, and about $2 for lunch. Strangely enough, a double espresso costs the same as a single at my hotel. Go figure!

I spent four days in Canoa, doing nothing but sleep, eat, read, (No Country For Old Men, en Español...it's taking me forever!!!) and go bodyboarding all day until the sunset. Life is tough!

On my bus ride back to Quito, and during one of the frequent rest stops, I left my book on my seat, only to find it gone when I came back from the john. Just as I was really getting into the book, it gets nicked. I decided I had enough of Ecuador for the time being, and reserved my next flight out to Costa Rica!

Feliz Aniversario de Rio De Janeiro

2009-03-26T17:21:00.000-07:00

I decided to skip out on checking out the Galapagos Islands in Ecuador to stay in Rio for my birthday instead. My friend Tyler asked, "Beer and bikinis trump evolution?" and my answer is that the existence of beautiful bikini-clad Brasilian babes is only further evidence that evolution is not just a theory, but a simple fact.

Ben, Itamar and I travelled back to Rio after a week of relaxing on the beaches of Pipa for a week to meet up with Deborah, Ben´s girlfriend. We celebrated our first night in Rio by celebrating Purim, an Israeli holiday that Jewish rabbis declare is a day to drink until you pass out. If I were Jewish, then my past ten months have been one long continuous Purim! We had to dress up in costumes, and unfortunately, we didn´t really have time to buy anything for the evening so we ended up picking through Deborah´s 11-year-old brother´s old costumes. Naturally, none of the stuff fit, but that really didn´t deter me. I don´t really know what I was, nor did I really care!

From Rio

Over the past few weeks I had known Ben, he, with his 22-year old naivete, kept talking all this trash about me being an old man, especially with my 33rd birthday coming up. He said he could run faster than me, so we raced each other and though I´m no Carl Lewis, I beat him handily. He also said he could beat me in basketball, to which I took major offense, given that he´s Israeli, and I´m an American. Fortunately, I avoided any Team USA Olympic-sized embarrassment, and beat him as well. To his credit, he´s not bad at all, and the games were a lot closer than I anticipated. Anyway, some random birthday thoughts:

- One morning, I looked in the mirror and saw an eyebrow sorta askew, just pointing out in a direction it shouldn´t have. Upon closer inspection, I realized that it was a lot longer than I thought, like, almost an inch long! My Humphrey Bogart moment had finally arrived, and with it, a sudden realization that my ear hairs would be next.

- The thought of settling down, getting married, having 2.3 children and living in a tree-lined cul-de-sac in a quiet suburban city is sounding like a great idea these days..... Hah! Yeah right, who am I trying to kid???!!!!

- I truly wonder what I will be doing 10 years from now. Taking a page out of "A Christmas Carol", if 33-year old Daniel had visited 23-year old Daniel and told him everything about this trip, 23-year old Daniel would have probably thought 33-year old Daniel was nuts and never would have believed it. What would 43-year old Daniel say to me now? That I had moved to Africa and started an NGO? I moved to Denmark to open a restaurant? Maybe, that I moved to Mammoth and opened a bed and breakfast? More than likely, I will have moved to Brasil and had 10 kids with a supermodel! Either way, I´d say he was nuts and would never believe him.

-I have also realized that I am truly happy with everything in life. Granted, I have my regrets in life, of course. Like, spending 50K on my Mercedes CLK back when I was 24. I will never do that again, knowing full well that I could take a year off to travel around the world with much less than that.

My Benz gave me… whereas a lesser amount for this trip gave me....
1) countless hours sitting in LA traffic..... breathtaking airplane arrivals and departures.
2) tons of parking tickets.... one ticket to travel through 25+ countries across 5 continents.
3) $8,000 check from Carmax after 8 years of ownership....priceless memories I will never forget.
4) a couple of dates with a few girls... many potential future ex-wife candidates.
5) one life-threatening car accident... one life-changing experience.
6) a crappy sunroof that did not work all the time... unforgettable midnight sunsets in Scandinavia.
7) foglights that burned out every few months... foggy nights (and hungover mornings!)

The list goes on, but the conclusion is pretty clear, next time you think about that car, take a year off instead! Wise words from a 33-year old fart.

"25 Random Things" and "Where I Should Be Living"

2009-03-18T08:00:00.000-07:00

Back when I was in college, chatting via IRC was a mind-blowing technology. You mean I can type in real-time with any friend with a computer and a 14.4k modem???!! Netscape Navigator???!! Rocket science, man. And here we are in 2009, and my, my, my, how. things. have. changed. I am beginning to sound like an old man.... ("But you ARE, Daniel!") We are living in a time when I can find out with just a couple of clicks what all 345 of my "friends" on Facebook are up to without even reaching out to them. Is that a good thing? Well, for a traveller like me, I would have to say the pros far outweigh the cons. Meeting up with old classmates I haven't seen in over a decade, keeping in touch with new friends and fellow travellers, etc, has been much easier with social networking sites like Facebook. However, it has made us all a bit lazier with maintaining and cultivating our friendships, with Chinese-water-torture-like viral requests like "25 Random Things" and now, "Where I Should Be Living."

So, in the spirit of things, I thought I'd finally resign myself to writing "25 Random Things," not about me, but about the 25 countries I have been to so far, as well as address the Facebook question du jour, "Where I Should Be Living."

Hong Kong - "Wai" and "Diu!" are probably the first two words that come out of a baby's mouth. (If you don't understand Cantonese, ask somebody you know who does and I guarantee you'll either make a new friend and/or get punched in the face.)

Spain - San Sebastian, home to the only bar I've been to (and that's saying quite a bit, by the way) where I asked for a bottle of water and got a beer in return from a fairly disgusted bartender.

Scotland - The only place where I saw a drunken old lady stumble out of a bar in the middle of the day, most likely kicked out because she, ahem, pissed her pants.

Ireland - There is a Budweiser tap, right next to a Guinness tap INSIDE St. James' Gate Brewery (Guinness HQ). Damn you, Americans.

England - The announcement on the London Underground (Tube) that the Picadilly Line terminates at Cockfosters is always funny. And, despite flying into London 8 times, and hanging with ten million Brits on this trip, I still can't say "bollocks" properly, and probably never will.

Poland - "Lew" means "lion" in Polish... I am Daniel, hear me roaaaaaaaarrrrrrr!

Latvia - One day, when Women Running Down Cobblestoned Streets with 3-inch Heels becomes an Olympic sport, Latvia will surely take gold. Estonia, silver.

Estonia - Home to the best way to say "cheers." They say, "DirVy sex" to which I always mispronounced on purpose, "DirTy sex," much to the chagrin of the locals, but to my neverending amusement.

Finland - Speaking of sports, if Wife Carrying ever becomes an Olympic sport, Finland would clean house. (Estonia, again, would take second.) Is it a coincidence that it was invented in a country with the highest rates of alcohol consumption?

Sweden - If you ever decide to go to Sweden, rent a Volvo, drive yourself to Ikea to eat some Swedish meatballs, and call (or better yet, wake) up your buddies back home in the US with an Ericcson to tell them (in your worst Swedish accent) it really is worth doing, just for laughs.

Norway - A 12-ounce bottle of Coke at a 7-11 costs about $5, chump change!

Denmark - The free-town of Christiania (in Copenhagen) is an added bonus to an already great city.

Holland - The only time I ever had to say to another woman, "If you keep following me, I'm going to kill you!!" (She was trying to scam me and my buddies about $80 for a taxi ride that really should have only costed $5, and literally chased us down for a good two blocks into a parking structure.) Oh yeah, she smelled like onions, too.

Germany - Bumper cars + steins and steins of beers with my best friends + Bavarian women dressed in dirndles = an Oktoberfest I will never forget. Munich 2009, anyone???!!

Greece - The Greeks say that if your earlobes are not attached, you're a true Greek. If they are attached, then that makes you of Turkish descent. So, I guess that makes me Turkish!

France - The French love Barack Obama more than most Americans.

Turkey - Sleeping past sunrise without earplugs is practically impossible anywhere (unless you're Muslim and you happen to be up already for the Islamic call to prayer)

Bulgaria - Nodding up and down means no, shaking your head side to side means yes! (I know, I mentioned that already in a previous post, but I still can't get over it!)

Egypt - Do you like playing Frogger? Play, or rather, cross any busy street in Cairo for the real-life version! Just as fun!!!

Ghana - You thought "Last King of Scotland" was a good movie? Wait till you see "First Chinese-American Chief of Karaga!"

Argentina - Asking for pepper in a restaurant is like asking for ice in Ghana.

Uruguay - If there were direct flights from Los Angeles to Uruguay, I'd buy a 500K beachfront condo there and live like a Miami Vice drug lord-- without the drugs and the flourescent green tshirts, of course.

Chile - Happy hours START at 10pm and END at around midnight!!!

Brasil - Everybody here thinks I look like Jackie Chan. I call bullshit.

As far as "Where I Should Be Living," I think the answer is pretty obvious after visiting 25 countries... It is not so much a matter of where I should be living, but rather, that I AM living.

Random adventures in Natal and Pipa, Brasil

2009-03-09T13:37:00.000-07:00

After Carnaval in Salvador, Ben convinced me to head north to Natal and Pipa, about a 20 hour bus ride north of Salvador, to relax and recover on some of the most beautiful beaches of Brasil. His older brother had visited the area a few years before and highly recommended it. We met Itamar, another Israeli at the bus station whom Ben knew from before, and ended up joining us along for the ride. Av-Sharon, Doron and Avi decided to head south, eventually towards Bolivia. I'm sure by now, Doron's probably been arrested, Av-Sharon's got one glass eye, and Avi probably lost his mind, if all goes well.

It's been an interesting and positive experience to have met so many Israelis during my time here in South America. They're all over the place, as South America and India are the top two destinations for the 20-somethings coming out of their 3-year military obligations in Israel. When I asked my friends why that is the case, (as opposed to Europe, or Australia, or even Asia) they all said matter-of-factly, "because it's cheap, and Israelis are cheap!" The guys were extremely keen on hearing what life in America is like, especially college life. When I recounted stories of my experience as a frat boy, Av-Sharon simply stated, "You see, that is why I want to live in America, while you guys drink beer, have parties and hook up with girls, we have to go to the military and risk getting our legs blown off!"

Towards the end of our 20-hour bus ride from Salvador to Natal, our bus stopped in front of an overturned truck with its cargo strewn all over the road. Tons of people were running out from all over the place and I originally thought they were coming out to check out the scene, and maybe help the poor guy lying on the floor. Turns out, they were looting the truck of all its cargo-- not food, not plasma TVs, not anything of value, but rather, plastic rubber booties and random medical supplies that were really of no use to anybody. As we passed the truck, Ben noticed that the fuel tank was leaking gas. I have no idea what happened after we left but I hope the driver is ok. As far as whether or not the truck blew up and hurt anybody looting it, I leave that up to karma and the powers that be.

The next day, we decided to hop on a dune-buggy excursion along the sand dunes of Natal. I think I had about two near-death experiences riding on that death buggy. One of them occurred when the death-buggy took a crazy turn and I was literally hanging on with all the strength I had to keep from falling off. If anything so much as a butterfly landed on me, I would have certainly lost my grip, I kid you not. Here's a clip of a more tranquil part of the ride:

We went to Pipa a couple of days later, a beach paradise most famous for the dolphins that swim, feed, and rest there. I could technically say I swam with dolphins, but they were about 30-50 feet away from me... Supposedly, they will come up to you if you go out deeper and hang out for a bit, but I didn't really want to tread water for that long during the sunset and into the evening when they normally come out. I also didn't want to serve as the inspiration for the next Jaws movie, "Dolphins Gone Wild!"

Unfortunately, just one day before we arrived to Pipa, a 59-year old Swedish tourist was robbed and shot at his hotel. He later died in a hospital. In a small town almost entirel dependennt on tourism, this was big news, and apparently is the first time any tourist has ever been killed in Pipa. I am not sure exactly what really happened but according to those who heard the commotion, they said he may have tried to resist the robbery, a big no-no in Brasil, where thieves will kill you for nothing at the slightest provocation or resistance. Despite the somber news, though, none of us let that deter our mindsets, in terms of how we were going to enjoy the place. You just have to keep on doing what you were planning on doing and let things happen as they should. If anything, Pipa was probably the safest place to be in Brasil after that murder. If I planned my trips to avoid "dangerous" places, I'd end up doing absolutely nothing but watch TV and play Rock Band in my living room in Santa Monica.

One evening, we were approached by a local Brasilian, who spoke perfect English since he lived in Canada for a bit. He ran a day-long boat excursion for tourists like us, and offered to take us out for about $80, including all you can drink and eat. A fairly high sum, we all thought, so we politely declined and told him we'd think about it. He didn't even have a business card so it seemed a bit sketchy. We saw him again the next night, and he asked us if we made up our minds and we told him $80 was a bit out of our budget and that we were thinking more along the lines of $20 per person just to get him off our backs. Not surprisingly, he said that it was feasible-- and that's when we realized this guy was probably going to just take our deposit and leave. Over the next week, however, we saw him everywhere, and he asked us everytime if we were going to do the tour. He would catch up with us on a bike on our way back to the hostel at 3am, he popped up in the club we partied at, he showed up in the bars and restaurants-- you name it, we saw him there, which only confirmed our suspicions that this guy was really just nuts (or a persistent scam artist.) One sunny afternoon, I was swimming in the ocean and I heard someone yell out my name from the beach, waving his hands in the air, trying to get my attention. I looked and saw that it was the same crazy guy, "Daniel, do you still want to do the boat trip!??" Finally, one night at a club, I told him off and said that he was freakin us out. I may have even given him a lecture on sales 101, and that his methods were a bit too stalker-ish. He never harassed us again!

Travelling with a couple of guys whose English was not their primary language was hilarious because many times, something would seriously get lost in translation. Here are a few examples:

"I want to shuffle my face in her butt." Ben, commenting on a beach babe walking by us.

"I am not so straight...." Itamar, when I told him to talk to the girl he was eyeing from afar. To his defense, he did immediately correct himself afterwards, and said that he's not so straightforward. Right.

"I like to splash the water in my face when I am shitting." Ben, trying to explain something that, to this day, I have no idea really, what he was trying to say.

"I don't swim in your toilet so don't piss in my pool." Itamar, using this phrase incorrectly to describe something totally irrelevant to the conversation.

"I was going down on you when you were passed out." Ben, saying something no man should ever say to another man. Apparently he was trying to say something to the effect of coming down the stairs while I was passed out. Either way, I still cry in a fetal position on some nights.

"Like a molk, you know, a molk? You don't know what a molk is?" Ben, attempting to explain this non-existent word by cupping his right hand against his neck. Apparently, he meant leech.

In a nutshell, Pipa is definitely worth a return visit for me, despite the recent murder and crazy day-boat excursion nut. With $2.5 lunches, $130/month rent, friendly locals, and a small beach town vibe, it's a nice contrast to the more expensive and cosmopolitan beach areas of Rio and Salvador. Speaking of Rio, as most of you have figured by now, I can't seem to shake myself out of Brasil-- it is a huge country after all, and definitely plenty to see. I will be going back to Rio for a couple of weeks and decided that I will most likely be skipping the extremely expensive Galapagos Islands and hanging here until my 33rd (gasp!) birthday on March 23rd with my friends here. Besides, I am sure even Darwin would agree that watching giant tortoises in their natural habitat for your birthday is not as interesting as hangin' with thong-clad Brasilian babes on the beach!

Ja Rule in Rio, Carnaval in Salvador

2009-02-26T08:29:00.000-08:00

They say that laughter in life allows you to live longer and that boozin' and partying till the break of dawn shortens it. If I add up the experiences I have had over the past three weeks in Brasil, I'd say I came out even, if not a little ahead, as far as my life is concerne, thanks to the crazy Israelis I hung out with in Salvador.

I flew into Rio from Santiago because I found out I could actually make the last practice parade for Carnaval at the world famous Sambadrome. Besides, any longer in Santiago, and I really would have applied for the Websense gig in Chile.

Since I was going to Salvador for Carnaval (about two hours north of Rio via plane) this was my only chance to see the worlds' most famous party for myself. As a sidenote, while I was planning my trip around the world, there were only about three things I really HAD to do-- drink a pint of Guinness in Dublin, Oktoberfest in Munich, and Carnaval in Brasil. I chose to go to Salvador's Carnaval early on because I heard that it was much less expensive to participate in the "bloco," or the street parade, and that you can purchase tickets to join the party the day of, instead of months ahead for the Carnaval in Rio. Given my schedule, it was obvious which one made more sense. Besides, I can't do EVERYTHING on this trip-- gotta save something for later, right?

The practice parade was ok-- but understandably so. The Sambadrome was still packed (it was free, after all) and it was just incredible to see everybody's ability to samba! Little kids, grandmas, old men, you name it-- they got it down. I learned a very simple step but just didn't quite feel right with how my "bunda" (ass) was shakin. A few beers took care of that problem.

After the practice samba that night, I went to the "favela" of Rocinho, infamously known as "South America's biggest slum" with two French Canadadians (Frank and Francois, I know, what are the odds!!??) I met from the hostel to see Ja Rule and Fat Joe perform. Many locals in Rio would never even step foot in these places, but I figured nothing really crazy (like the common gunfights between cops and the drug lords) would happen that night with a couple of famous American rappers in the 'hood. As I have discovered over my trip, whether it be looking for a hotel room in the middle of the night in Cairo, or walking down unlit streets in Bulgaria, -- there really is not THAT much of a reason to be concerned. Either I get robbed of my material possessions, or I don't. Perhaps I'm just really lucky, or just completely stupid. Or both. Either way, my friends and I came out of that concert unscathed, although the teenage boys with pistols in their pants was a strange sight to see at 7am in the morning, when the concert ended. Shouldn't they be watching cartoons during that time????

The following day, I went to see Cristo Redontor (Christ the Redeemer) with my friends, even though I went a few years ago the last time I was in Rio. You can never see Jesus too many times in your life, right? Besides, I had to "redeem" myself because the first time I went, I actually did not realize "He" was Jesus Christ until one of my friends told me after. That story will be served up at a later time, hopefully never...

I flew out to Salvador to meet up with some Israeli friends I met back in Calafate, Argentina. I was having beers with them one night back at the hostel, and realized they were pretty funny dudes, and figured it would be a blast to hang with them over Carnaval. Allow me to introduce the cast of characters, as it will serve to be an interesting backdrop to our 10 day stay in Salvador:

Doron, aka "The Terrorist," (since that is what his mother calls him) He is half Afghani, half Iraqi, born in Israel and convinced he will never get a visa to visit America. I concur. He is the living embodiment of Rodney Dangerfield's famous line, "If it weren't for bad luck, I'd have no luck at all." Case in point: He was jailed in Ireland for one week amongst rapists, murderers, and a Palestinian for (get this) overstaying his visa for two days. When I asked him why wasn't the Israeli embassy involved, and he replied, "They did, that's why I stayed a week." Apparently, the Israeli embassy bungled some paperwork and Doron ended up staying longer than necessary.

Ben, half Yemen, half Polish, but more like Danny DeVito, if he were black. One morning, after a heavy night of drinking, he was lying in bed and was moaning something about, "I am going to die.... I can't get up...arggggghhh...." Knowing his Kryptonite, I asked him, "Wanna go eat?" Without skipping a beat, he responded, "Ok." Ben was always one step ahead of everybody with the perfect self-deprecating punchline.

Av-Sharon, aka "Rain Man with Ebola." He had a persistent virus in his eye that he thought he would lose. Over the 10 days I knew him, he applied everything imaginable (besides the meds the doctors prescribed)-- eggs, teabags, cucumbers, salt, you name it. He was obessesed with applying the meds at the exact hour, down to the exact second. Normally that would not bother me except I was the only one in the group who had a watch. I still wake up in cold sweats in the middle of the night with Av-Sharon (and his diseased left eye) asking me what time it is, every hour, down to the exact second!

Avi, probably the most even-keeled guy out of the group (including myself probably), but that's like saying which guy is the the sanest in a mental ward.

On our first night, Doron, with his infinite supply of bad luck, gets detained by the police for suspicion of possessing drugs (he wasn't.) Despite this, the police officer made him put both arms out and was struck by the baton...twice!

During Carnaval, there really isn't anywhere convenient to piss. Most people just urinate in the stairwells leading down to the beach, which is pretty disgusting actually. My first night, I was so traumatized by stepping in pools of piss with my slippers on that I bought a pair of cheap shoes the next day just for Carnaval. On our second night, Doron, with his unending string of bad luck, happened to be so drunk that while walking upstairs, he fell backwards down the staircase head over heels. He's like the bad actor in those B-grade movies who falls forwards when he is shot in the chest twenty times. When I asked him how it felt to fall down a flight of stairs and land in a pool of about 8,394 guys' piss, he told me, "It was amazing. It was like I was flying!"

One night, we got a little tired of the Carnaval in Barra, the main one in Salvador, and decided to go to Pelourinho, about twenty minutes away by car. It was much more low key, and I think Avi, Ben and I were the only ones who weren't locals. My ass got grabbed a couple of times, and a huuuuge woman literally grabbed me like a ragdoll with one arm and kissed me. Well, kiss isn't really the right word, as I really thought she was just going to eat my head off. Luckily for me, she didn't like Chinese food much and spat me back out into the parade.

Many of you, including myself, will be disappointed to see I did not take too many pictures during Carnaval. The crowds in the streets are so packed that sometimes I did not even have to walk on my own. The chances of getting pickpocketed were pretty high, so I decided not to carry my camera. However, for the last night of Carnaval, I bought a disposable one-time use camera, because, well, it was the last night. I got separated from the rest of the group that night, and ended up chatting it up with a nice lovely lady. We had a beer, spoke a bit and then she kissed me! (Man, these Brasilian girls are forward, eh?) Then she wanted $25 for her, ahem, professional services. Turns out, she was a prostitute! I declined, and left to go look for my friends. She chased after me, yelling all kinds of Portuguese poetry, and I decided to sneak into another bloco to hopefully lose her, which didn't work. She started berating me and scratching my chest and right when I realized she was actually hurting me, (adrenalin and booze will do that to you) the police showed up. Remembering Doron's first day, I figured at the very least, my arms were going to get a lashing. This crazy woman could have told the police anything! Four of them were restraining her, and one took me aside to ask me what was going on. I told them in Spanish, in my best, sincerest, "I'm the good guy" look that this crazy woman was chasing after me for no apparent reason except to give her money for services not rendered. (Or maybe she just wanted me to kiss her more???) Thankfully, the cop let me go, and I found my friends back in the safety of our own bloco.

The rest of the night was actually recounted back to me by my friends, as I apparently got Daniel drunk again. Allegedly, some really famous song came out and a dance circle broke out in our bloco. I then proceeded to dance in the middle with my, ahem, signature dance move- the one where you put both of your hands on your knees, and switch them back and forth, something obviously very different than the samba. Apparently, the circle of people around me started chanting, "Jackie Chan!!! Jackie Chan!!!! Jackie Chan!!!!"

I woke up the next morning to realize that I not only sprained my ankle, (did that happen in the dance circle?) but my camera was also missing! So, I got physically and verbally abused by a prostitute, almost got my arms swatted by police, sprained my ankel, got my camera stolen, and got the locals to chant Jackie Chan to my crazy inebriated dance moves. Pretty standard stuff, eh?

"So....What are you going to do when you get back?"

2009-02-22T15:34:00.000-08:00

One of the most common questions I have received over my travels is what I am going to do when I get back to the US. Given that I "only" have about three more months left, I've begun to think more about what it is I really want to do. I've never felt so free in my life during this trip-- to do as I please, whenever I feel like, whatever I want, whereever I prefer, and however I choose, so it will be a difficult transition back to this thing called work. I will need counseling.

Assuming I do get back to the US, of course, there are a few options I have been seriously considering. The first and primary option is to open a hostel in Mammoth. I would get to snowboard and live the rugged mountain life, and who knows, maybe I'll even be able to grow a half-beard (fu man chu, whatever!) I've stayed in enough hostels to know what works and what doesn't. The downside to this is that it would be a huge financial risk, given the current environment. However, almost every successful entrepeneur I've ever read about started their business in the most difficult conditions. As the saying goes, with every crisis, there lies an opportunity.

The second choice would be to move to Denmark for a bit just so I can take advantage of the 6 week vacations there! Yeah, I know, "Haven't you had enough travelling already, Daniel?" The answer is a resounding no. I will never tire of seeing the world.

The third would be to go back to my old career in security software sales back in Los Angeles, or..... in Chile! Just out of curiosity recently, I looked up my old company's website while I was in Santiago and saw that there was an opening for a sales position here. Though Chile wasn't necessarily high on my list of places to live in prior to coming here, my recent visit convinced me that it would be a feasible option. I speak the language, it's close to ski resorts, tons of great wines, and, well, frankly, after travelling around the world, I feel as though I can acclimate to any country for awhile.

After my experience in Ghana, I have also been looking into the idea of working for an NGO somewhere in Africa, (or maybe even starting one myself!) Hunger, starvation and the world's problems will always exist, and I realize that my existence isn't just about me anymore. (For those of you who know me better, I am sure you are just as surprised about this admission as I am!)

Of course, if all else fails, I can always marry Shakira and continue living my jet set life, but she hasn't returned my phone calls and, well, the situation is looking not so good.

Needless to say, there are tons of options, but the great thing is that even when this trip is over, I will still have the option of doing whatever I want, whereever I prefer, and however I choose. Life is great, isn't it?

Chillin' in (Hot) Chile

2009-02-14T08:16:00.000-08:00

After about a month of pretty bland food in Argentina, I was really happy to see that my first meal was accompanied by salsa, with CILANTRO!!! Those of you who know my propensity for all things cilantro can understand how excited I was about this. I spent the day walking around the streets of Santiago and I realized that it really reminds me of East Los Angeles in a weird kind of way. Mountains surround the eastern part of the city, and of course, everything is in Spanish, the air is a bit smoggy-- felt just like home!

Over the past month and a half, I´ve realized that being able to speak Spanish has paid dividends over and over again. A free beer here, a free bus ride there, a side dish of something special from the restaurant owner-- it all adds up and I´m just happy that this genorosity and hospitality is mostly due to the fact I am a foreigner who speaks their language. I´ve also come to the conclusion that elderly people are the best people to ask for directions. Some have even offered to walk me to where I need to be, so I suppose that´s something to keep in mind in the future. We have a lot in common I suppose, as neither of us have anywhere really to go right away!

After one quick day in Santiago, I decided to head out to Viña Del Mar, a coastal town about two hours west of Santiago. I saw the Pacific Ocean for the first time in over 9 months, and was somewhat nostalgic about LA, especially after being in Santiago. Sigh... only 3 more months left before I have to head back home. More on that later in a different post....

I met Katie (Texas) and Rachel (Michigan) at the hostel and spent the day hanging out in Valparaiso. Funny thing happened that day. Katie slipped and fell on her butt and subsequently, her left butt cheek shook (quite rapidly actually) uncontrollably for a few hours. "It´s moving by itself, I can´t stop it!!" "I feel like a rap video ho!!!" "Beyonce ain't got nothin on this!" Man, I haven´t laughed that hard in such a long time.... but after a half hour of this, we kind of started to worry. Like, what if it shook forever? Katie and I discussed the pros and cons of this at length and came to the conclusion that she'd make some good money for a few years, but after that would have a hard time getting a real job. We went back to the hostel, she had half a bottle of wine and everything was fine.

We also met a few other people from the hostel, one funny guy named Thomas-- favorite quote from him "I maht be from Louiiiisianah, but I´m nawt stupid." Thomas and Katie exchanged hilarious stories about growing up in the South over dinner and I realized that they had very different experiences than I did in LA. Like, shooting empty cans with shotguns at the age of 12, or, how to skin an armadillo (you hang it upside down on a tree), and the grunting noises they make when the stubborn bastards burrow under your house. Thomas also told me about this restaurant that serves roadkill, and I´m definitely going to make a pit stop there on my way back home.

After three nights in Viña Del Mar, I headed back to Santiago, to hang out with Sonia, a friend I met in Punta Del Este. She invited me over to her place to have "once," which is basically evening tea time....at 8pm! Sonia and her mother had a hard time understanding how Americans can eat dinner at 7. We spent the rest of the evening just talking about all the random things people talk about when you´re from different countries. I learned a few new Chilean phrases, like "pato malo" which directly translates to "bad duck," but really means "criminal." Neither of them had any idea as to why such an innocent bird can be used to describe bad guys. Sonia recommended I go to the Parque Mahuida the following day, and to make sure I take a ride on the Roderbahn.

When I arrived there, I saw this sled on wheels with no seat belt, no safety harness, nothing. The attendant just gave me two instructions, pull back to slow down, and push forward to go, well, as fast as you want to. I recalled the movie, "Cool Runnings" and realized that I felt like I was in a similar situation. Before I took off, I asked the attendant if it was safe to just go straight down without slowing down. He responded, "If you want to, but you might fall off if you´re not careful on the turns." The first ride down, I took it easy but decided to go the second time around full blast.... with my camera on my right hand! I know, probably not the wisest thing to do but I just had to do it because these rides, or, death sleds, just wouldn´t exist in the US. Unfortunately, my last turn was held in check by a father and daughter going much slower than me, but was still a blast!

All in all, good times again! Off to Brasil for CARNIVAL!!!!

Mucho Malbec in Mendoza

2009-02-13T15:07:00.000-08:00

Mendoza was full of adrenalin-filled adventures and wine-fueled fun. The city itself has a very different vibe than Buenos Aires. The sidewalks are wider, for one thing, and the people here seem to know how to walk. (ok no more picking on the porteños!) I would even argue that Mendoza is a nicer city, but of course, that's just my opinion.

On our first day in Mendoza, Dana and I wanted to go wine tasting, however, most of the wine tours started at 8am, and neither of us had the energy to get up that early after our respective journeys (Dana took a 12 hour overnight bus from Buenos Aires, whereas I flew 2 hours from Buenos Aires to Santiago, then a 7 hour bus from Santiago to Chile... don't ask) Instead, we did our own little wine tasting within the city, bar hopping at wine o'clock, and ordering as much Malbec as possible.

The great thing about that day was that we had really nothing planned except to drink wine, and to find a place to watch the Super Bowl later in the evening. We found a bar right across from one of the restaurants we were hanging out at, and about 15 minutes into our first glass of wine, we noticed smoke rising out from one of the buildings behind it. A fire truck soon arrived, and an episode of the Keystone Cops ensued. One of the firemen rolled out the fire hose, but lost control of it as it rolled down the street. Once he took posession of said hose, he mosied on up the ladder to begin the firefight. There was no yelling or running around, surprisingly, and it seemed like these guys were not in a hurry at all to put out the fire. About an hour later, a second fire truck rolls in, and Dana noticed one of them was smoking a cigarette! We couldn´t help but laugh at the irony of it.

Later we hung out with a couple of Nurses from New York, Jenny and Kelly, we met from the hostel to catch the Super Bowl. We all had a blast watching it in an Irish bar, (naturally) even though there were only about 10 of us watching/screaming/yelling in the bar amidst 50+ other locals watching the other big game in town (Boca Jr. vs. River Plata.) There was even a German guy who knew more about American football than most of my friends! One of the guys at the bar happened to be a friend of my friend back in San Diego-- small world!

All four of us surprisingly woke up at 8:30 am the following morning (errr..a few hours later) to go trekking and rapelling, completely hungover with maybe 10 hours of sleep between the four of us. Dana hurled, I dry heaved a couple of times, and I am pretty sure the New York Nurses weren't faring any better.

After Dana left, (those Americans with their wonderful 10 day vacations!)I decided to stay a few more days to go white water rafting and of course, to do some more wine tasting. It was my first time going rafting and I was excited that it was a Class 4 river, which meant some pretty hairy parts. Somehow, I ended up being put in the front by our capitan, who sat in the way back. Every once in a while, he would yell forward (or was it backward?) and I would dig deep into the water, only to realize that I was paddling through air since the nose of the raft was perched high over a crest. One split second later, a splash of ice cold water would completely envelope me-- I could hear El Capitan continue to yell something, but I hadn't the faintest clue what he was saying. During the calmer moments he would tell me and the Swedish guy to my right that we were all screwed up and that we weren´t doing anything right. No wonder the Swedish guy took a dive... twice! Funny thing about the Swedish guy, the first time he fell over, I had to pluck him out of the water but had a hard time pulling him out because I was laughing so hard at this huge green booger on his nose. He had this look of near panic, which only made it worse for me because, well, how can I take a guy seriously with a big booger on his nose? I didn't tell him, though, since I figured the next nose dive (ba-dum-dump-ching!) would take care of business. The second time he fell over, I again had to yank him out, and this time I was dying of laughter because the same (?) booger was still on his nose! It must have been firmly anchored in with some cable strength nose hairs. Impressive. Luckily, I never fell off the raft, though I came close a couple of times.

All in all, good times in Mendoza. I rented a bike on my last day and went to about 3 (or was it 4?) different wineries. As a sidenote-- those of you who think Napa's $20-$30 wine tastings are expensive, you should come down here... for $3-$5, they will pour two three FULL glasses of wine. Talk about cheap! Me likey!

Argentina, Uruguay pics, round 2

2009-02-12T12:32:00.000-08:00

Pics from Iguazu and El Calafate (finally!)

2009-02-11T07:32:00.000-08:00

Feliz Año Nuevo Chino, from Buenos Aires and Uruguay (again???!!!)

2009-01-31T12:20:00.000-08:00

Buenos Aires has been a good launching pad to places like Uruguay and the rest of Argentina, so I got to know the city quite well since I arrived on December 26th.

A good friend and former colleague of mine, Dana, wanted to meet up with me in Buenos Aires to do some travelling around for a bit. When she had written to me prior to arrival she mentioned she would be checking into the Sheraton Buenos Aires for one night, since she was not keen on the idea of staying in a hostel with ten million other roommates after 18.5 hours of international travel. She asked me if I wanted to stay in her room and I think I spent about negative 10 milliseconds to take her up on the offer!

We spent a couple nights in Buenos Aires, including an evening in Chinatown for Chinese New Years. Dana and I went to a Chinese restaurant and saw that it was run by Chinese people so I figured it was a safe bet. When the Chinese lady approached me, I asked her if she spoke Cantonese (in Cantonese, of course.) She said no (she spoke Mandarin...) and so I asked her if she spoke English (so that Dana could order on her own, perhaps...) She said no, so naturally, we spoke Spanish instead. I thought it was a bit surreal, to be speaking Spanish to an old Chinese lady, in a Chinese restaurant in Chinatown, in Buenos Aires!

I noticed over the past month travelling in and out of Buenos Aires is that there will be random guys just standing around yelling, "Cambio, cambio, cambio.." Which translates to "Change" for those who may need to convert their foreign currency. At first it wasn't really that interesting to notice. But after awhile, I just couldn't help but laugh everytime I heard a guy saying this. I mean, all they do, the entire freakin day, is say, "Cambio, cambio....." over and over and over and OVER again. If you thought your job was boring... I mean, why not just hang a sign over your shirt, or wear a big hat with "cambio" on it??!!

Speaking of money, I honestly think coins in Argentina are practically impossible to find. Getting change back is an act of god, and cashiers all over Argentina are unapologetically ruthless about demanding exact change when paying for anything. On several occasions, I did not have the exact change and they would just round down to the nearest peso! And it´s not just exact change they´re crazy about-- getting change back for a 100 peso note ($29) is also impossible for anything less than 50 pesos. I can't tell you how many times I was practically dying of thirst and was not able to buy a bottle of water at a convenience store. If only the cambio guys would offer not just foreign currency exchange, but also domestic currency exchange. They would make a killing!

We travelled back to Uruguay again given that I really wanted to go back to Cabo Polonio and Punta Del Este. It wasn´t hard to convince Dana, who was looking forward to some beach time. Unfortunately, the weather was absolute crap and we decided to head out to Mendoza to get some Malbec (my favorite wine) into my bloodstream. We did meet some pretty cool people in Punta, including a French girl who had been travelling since she was 18-- she´s now 25!

On the bus ride out of Punta, a Shakira look-alike with tight black pants practically painted on hopped on the bus, but all the seats were taken. Instead of standing in the aisle, as most people do, she decided to stand right in front of me where I was seated. Her butt was right in front of me, just staring at me, mocking me perhaps. I think I even heard her butt talk to me. "Hola, Daniel, ¿cómo estás?" Had I sneezed, I would have probably lost myself (happily) in butt heaven and would never see the light of day again. I whispered to Dana that I wanted to be friends with her two friendly cheeks, but couldn't really come up with the right words. I mean, what do you say to a butt for the first time you meet? Dana suggested I just give her a little slap and say something like..."Atta girl!!" If only I knew how to say "atta" in Spanish...

I flew out to Santiago, Chile to hop on a bus to Mendoza, Argentina. I had to pay 63 pesos ($18) as a departure tax, "Thanks for visiting, jackass! Smack to the face!" and upon arriving into Chile, had to cough up another $113 bucks, "Welcome to Chile! Here's a kick in the nuts for ya!" One quick note to mention, on my flight to Santiago, I sat next to a porteña (woman from Buenos Aires) who confirmed my observations wholeheartedly that the people of BA absolutely do not have a clue how to walk!

Anyway, I know I´m really behind with the pics, but my camera´s memory card recently got infected with a virus...so please be patient. And no, fellas, I did not get the chance to take a picture of Shakira´s butt!!

Planet Earthing in Iguazú and El Calafate

2009-01-22T11:46:00.000-08:00

It was tough to peel myself away from the thong-clad babes on the beaches of Uruguay but, alas, I decided to get back to nature and to check out the waterfalls of Iguazú and the glaciers of Patagonia.

I took an overnight bus to Iguazú Falls, about a 16 hour bus ride from Buenos Aires. The bus station in Buenos Aires is pretty incredible-- filled with hundreds of different bus companies going to all different parts of South America. The buses are nothing like Greyhound, as there are buses that have seats that lie completely flat! Some even have your own little suite! During this bus ride, I read Randy Pausch's "Last Lecture," and I highly recommend it. I usually steer clear of all those books that remind us to live in the moment, as if each day was your last because they tend to preach, rather than demonstrate. After reading it, I had to ask, what would I do if I had 6 months left to live? The answer is that I would be doing the exact same thing I am doing right now. (Granted, I'd probably sell everything I had so that I wouldn't really be on a budget!)

The waterfalls of Iguazú were pretty overwhelming. I've been to Niagara Falls, and it's something quite different here. There is an extensive walkway around the waterfalls, and the most dramatic point is The Devils Throat, where you can practically walk right over the waterfall. The only thing separating you from plunging 80 odd meters to a nice death bath is a waist high railing! This would never exist in America...

One thing I've noticed about the people of Argentina is that they sure do like their beef. One late morning around 11am I went to grab a late breakfast near the hostel. A slender woman in her 20's sat next to me and ordered a 12oz bone-in ribeye, a large beer, and a salad. She polished it off with no problema whatsoever! I felt a little inadequate with my one banana pancake and a little shot of espresso...

After three days in Iguazú, (which was overkill actually) I flew out to El Calafate, in the southern part of Argentina, to check out Patagonia. Specifically, I went to see the Moreno Glacier and Torres Del Paine. Words cannot really describe the beauty of the place, and will let the pictures (when I upload them, of course)do the talking.

The highlight of my time in El Calafate actually came when I flew out of the airport. The pilot announced in Spanish upon takeoff that he had some bad news. He stated that since it was such a beautiful day, there would be a delay getting back into Buenos Aires because he had to make a roundabout over the Moreno Glacier!! From high up on a plane, he made a couple circles over the glacier I had visited the day before and snapped away from my window seat-- all for free!

A subtle word about walking, ladies and gentlemen

2009-01-20T09:20:00.000-08:00

I have been doing A LOT of walking over the past eight months through 21 countries, so suffice it to say that I have seen enough to warrant its own post. I have done so much walking, in fact, that one of my shoes almost blew up: http://danielstriparoundtheworld.blogspot.com/2008/10/hamburgers-in-hamburg-and-chasing-down.html

So what I'm about to say does not really pertain to one country (though being in Argentina has certainly inspired me) but I have to say that everybody in this world should be required to take a walking license. Allow me to describe the various knucklehead walkers out there so that you can walk with a little bit of grace and dignity as you backpack through your next destination, as well as maybe teach a few of you offenders out there....

"The Flat Tire" If you were driving on the road and you suddenly got a flat tire, would you slam on the brakes and just stay parked there? NO!! You should slowly veer off to the right shoulder until you come to a safe stop to avoid anybody from crashing into you from behind. Why can't you apply the same rules when you walk??!!

"The Six Pack" It is said that this form of walking originated on the streets of Buenos Aires. They built sidewalks to allow people to walk in both directions, people. What kind of wolf pack behavior are you trying to display? Two by two, maybe three at most is adequate on a sidewalk. Any more than that and the gloves are off.

"The Dilly Dallyer" I really don't have a problem with you. In fact, I dilly dally quite often myself when I am discovering a new city. Just don't dilly dally between me and a "Six Pack," there's bound to be some collateral damage and it's usually the innocent bystander, err, Dilly Dallyer, who gets knocked down.

"The Chicken" Aptly named not for its resemblance to the actual chicken, but its propensity to engage in the game of chicken. I normally don't care for such mindless headgames when walking or dilly dallying but if I have an 18kg backpack on me, that makes it pretty difficult for me to be spry and nimble. I am going straight whether you like it or not, and that means you too, grandma. (Editorial note: if you lived in Hong Kong, you would understand. And no, I haven't knocked a grandma down....Yet!)

"The Cha Cha Cha-er" I take a step RIGHT to avoid you (because the rules of the road apply here, remember?) and what do you do? You take a step LEFT, which means I have to stop my nimble self, change directions, and take a step LEFT to compensate for your erroneous knucklehead walking ways. So, what do you do as a token of your appreciation for me? You take a step RIGHT! Look, I'm not here to dance with you. If you insist on dancing while walking, try the Moonwalk, the Running Man, or the Electric Slide.

"The Inseparable Couple" Similar to the Six Pack, except worse because they have 10 fingers interlaced together in a Vulcan death grip. Look, I know you two are madly in love and I'm happy for you. BUT... letting go of each others hands for just one second will not mean the end of the world. Rather, it means I can pass you two without having to plow through some stupid makeshift human finish line.

"The Shover" I realize my backpack is big and yes, sometimes I feel like a cross between The Hunchback of Notre Dame and a human-sized turtle. I do my best to avoid knocking over things and people, especially young kids. But if you walk in my blindspot (remember the rules of the road?) you're bound to get hit. If this happens, do not overreact and push my backpack aside. I am extremely top heavy, so the slightest nudge can send me tumbling out onto the street. As inanimate as my backpack may seem to you, it just so happens to be attached to a human being named Daniel. Daniel doesn't like to get pushed around. In fact, Daniel just wants to find his hostel.

"Mary freakin Poppins" I don't know, maybe when you were a kid in school you got picked on for having the smallest umbrella. Maybe you still feel a little inadequate about that and decided to overcompensate by pulling out your SUV-sized Hawaiian Tropic beach umbrella everytime it sprinkles. Heck, maybe you think one day a huge breeze will pick you up and launch you above the masses and the frustration of walking with so many knuckleheads around us. Admirable as that may be, it won't happen my friend. What DOES happen is that anybody who isn't wearing a hockey mask will get gouged in the face and you, ignorant Mary, will be oblivious to it all.

"The Blind Drunk" Just as I would avoid a swerving car on the freeway, so too, a swerving person on the sidewalk. Thank you for not driving.

"The Window Shopper" Wow, that 70% off sale got your attention, eh? Do me a favor, stop and go inside! What a novel idea!! Do not keep walking like a cracked out zombie with your rubber neck craned away from oncoming traffic. Somebody, including yours truly, just may have narrowly avoided an accident with a Six Pack or just finished doing the Cha Cha with another idiot. I may not see you in time so don't glare at me like I just crashed into you on purpose. But in a mean kinda way, I am glad I did.

"The Tour Group" The mother of all nightmares, the worst of them all. The Tour Group typically includes some, if not all, of the aforementioned idiots coming at you like a Mongolian horde. I myself barely survived two occasions and luckily lived to see another day. I do not wish this upon anybody and encourage you to avoid them at all costs.

Happy walking, everybody!

Beach hopping in Uruguay!

2009-01-12T15:05:00.000-08:00

I had no real expectations going into Uruguay except that I knew there was a relatively chichi beach resort called Punta Del Este. Apparently, it is where all the rich and beautiful people from South America hang out during the summer. Brasil gets all the acclaim for thong-clad beauties, but I have to say, Uruguay is a very close second!

So anyway, on to my adventures....

One day, I went to a fruteria (fruit stand) to buy an apple. Mind you, I learned the majority of my Spanish in Spain, not Argentina and certainly not Uruguay. There are several words that are different. For example, "conducir" and "manejar" both mean "to drive" but it depends on which country you are in. "Coger" means to pick something up or to choose, at least it does so in Spain. "Coger" in Argentina/Uruguay, however, means, well... umm... to screw! I did not know this when I asked the nice old lady at the fruit stand: "¿Puedo coger esta manzana?" (Can I choose this apple?) She looked at me kinda funny...I looked at her kinda funny back, gave her my money and left. She must have thought I was some perverted sicko.

One night, I went out with some friends and we walked past a table of four extremely attractive women hanging about inside a bar. I waved to them, not really expecting anything, but they waved back as well. I just kept walking, because, well, Andreas (Germany) and I were on our way to a club. I stopped, thought better, and decided to go back and perhaps chat them up, maybe see if they would want to join us. As I walked back towards them, one of the girls literally jumped out of her seat and ran towards me, like they do in the movies. I thought to myself,¨"Damn, I knew I was good, but I didn´t know I was THAT good!" So I kinda played Joe Cool and walked in, figuring I´d get some sort of "interesting" introduction to this girl running out towards me. Well lo and behold, she just ran right past me, and put a cell phone to her ear! Crash and burrrrrrrrrrrrrrrrrrn!!! It's ok, luckily enough, my healthy ego is still intact. Cause I'm good enough, I'm smart enough and gosh darn it people like me.

Given Punta's cost and uppity nose factor, I decided to explore the coastline a bit outside of ritzy Punta Del Este. I was glad I met a couple, Andreas (Germany) and Irena (Norway/Croatia) from the hostel who wanted to do the same. We rented a car and headed to Pedrera/La Paloma where we decided to spend the night lying on the beach, which was the first time I had ever actually done that overnight.

We went to Cabo Polonio the next day, which I wholeheartedly recommend as a must go for anyone! It's a totally secluded beach, accessible only via this Mad-Max type 4WD monster van that plows through a natural reserve for about 6 kilometers, opening up to the beach. Once you see the pictures, you´ll see how breathtaking it is. The whole beach is literally off the grid-- no electricity, no real plumbing. Just you and nature. In fact, walking around the place, I noticed it´s really just a bunch of hippies living in beach shacks. It is a very sloooow pace of life here. Case in point. One morning, Andreas, Irena and I walked up to a restaurant to order some breakfast. There were four people working, one was eating, one was cooking, one was squeezing mayo in the bottle, and the last one was putting some food away. The one putting the food away walked right past me, even though I said, "Hola, ¿qué tal?" I looked at the one eating and she kinda waved at me, while she finished her breakfast. Fair enough, I suppose. She then took another minute or so to finish her food, then washed her hands, and then I thought, perfect, she´ll come right over and take our order! But nope, she went over to the mayo lady, apparently to check in to see how her mayo squeezing was coming along. Finally, she came up to us, and asked us how we were doing, as if we hadn't been standing there for five minutes already! Despite this experience though, I´d STILL go back to Cabo Polonio, it was by far the best beach area I saw in Uruguay.

The following day, we beach hopped over to Punta Del Diablo, probably the farthest and most northeasternly beach area of Uruguay worth visiting. Unfortunately, being in January and peak season, we had a difficult time finding a place. Finally, after half a day of searching and knocking on random doors asking for a place to sleep, I came upon a place that was still under construction. The guy was literally nailing the bed together. I thought, well, at least this place is new. Irena and Andreas didn´t really think it was that great. I suppose a bed made out of straw doesn't really tickle their fancy. I kept telling them that it was nicer than the mud huts of Ghana, but that didn´t really help. Especially when the rain (yes, what luck!) started dripping onto their bed throughout the entire night! Agreed, maybe it wasn´t nicer than the mud huts of Ghana. But it had electricity and a hot shower!!!

It was nice to see have rented a car to see almost all the major beach towns in Uruguay. It was extremely relaxing, and breathtaking at times. At the same time, though, after such an enlightening experience in Ghana with the everyday responsibility (and privilege) of something like teaching young kids English and math, I felt a bit empty at times. Well, perhaps empty isn't the right word. Rudderless, more like. No wait, a Third World hangover. Yet, I suppose coming to Uruguay and enjoying my time by doing absolutely nothing but lay on the beach and enjoy a beer or three reminds me yet again to appreciate everything I have.

Don´t cry for me Argentina, it´s a Happy New Year!!!

2009-01-02T14:58:00.000-08:00

Leaving Ghana, my friends, my students, and my village behind was probably one of the most difficult goodbyes I've had to deal with so far on this trip. Again, the idea of staying just for a little longer came up but again got trumped by my desire to keep moving on.

I flew out to London on Christmas Day for a 15-hour layover and decided to meet up with another old friend from Hong Kong whom I haven't seen in over 16 years, Mo Butt. It was quite a culture shock to take a hot shower, use a flushing toilet, as well as having my laundry done with a (gasp) laundry machine! After three weeks in dusty Ghana, my clothes needed a good wash.

It was good to see Mo again after all these years. We exchanged stories about life back then, and what we´ve been up to since then. Mo actually told me a story about us that I don´t really remember (surprise, surprise.) One night, we were out in Lan Kwai Fong and I was standing outside of a bar with Mo. Two tourists approached me and asked me how much the cover charge was to enter. Mind you, I was 16 years old at the time, so my propensity to do things like tell these two tourists that it was $12.50 each (100 HKD) to enter an otherwise-free-for-everybody-else bar was not out of my domain. I apparently took the 200 HKD and took off! I kind of feel bad about that, so if you two guys are reading my blog, send me an email and I´ll pay you back.

I arrived into Buenos Aires and got the chance to see another old friend of mine from Hong Kong, David Frankenberg (thank you Facebook!) We met up at his sister´s birthday party that night, and had a blast catching up. He's still the same sarcastic, funny guy I still remember back then.

Prior to arriving into Argentina, I thought it would be a great idea to learn how to tango. I mean, as the winner of the best dancer award back in the 8th grade (ok, Al Bundy) I figured it´d be no problem. I met Natalia from Ireland at the hostel who was heading to a tango club one night, so I thought it was a perfect opportunity to learn. Well, I don´t know if it was because I was jet lagged, or if it was because of wine o´clock, but I somehow managed to pass out at the tango club. Needless to say, that didn´t impress Natalia much, again emphasizing the cliché that it really does take two to tango.

I also met up with Sarah (Canada) whom I met in Norway so we decided to travel a bit together and check out Uruguay as well. I'm absolutely convinced Sarah is either a) training for the Canadian walkathon b) on crack or c) both. I walked so much with her I got sore the next day! I must be getting old...

Anyway, some quick observations about Buenos Aires:

1) They really don't know/care how to walk properly. Somehow walking 6-aside on a narrow sidewalk is perfectly acceptable. Somehow, my 18kg backpack found its way to smack a few of them in the face.
2) Check your bill and change carefully, here, you stupid tourist. They tried to rip me off a few times. I was at a hamburger joint with the menu plainly and clearly in view, yet the waiter tried to charge me extra! Another time, I ordered a beer for 15 pesos (about $4.40) but was given a bill for 20 pesos!
3) Everybody will greet each other with a kiss on the cheek. Including guys. As somebody who studied abroad in Spain, I was used to kissing women on the cheek, but, umm.... guys??? Lo siento, man.
4) Going out at 2am is EARLY.
5) Beef is super cheeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeap. At most places it is cheaper to eat steak than to get a pizza!! In fact, I even bought a medium sized bag of Doritos at a supermarket for $1.43. The ribeye steak was only 40 cents more!!!

Given the New Year, I suppose it is a time for making resolutions. I actually broke a previous New Years resolutions to never make one again by agreeing to do 100 pushups and 100 situps a day with some friends back home in LA, so we´ll see how long that lasts. I think I may have also said something else about staying sober for at least 24 hours, but I don't really remember making that resolution.... I was drunk!

Pictures from Ghana

2008-12-25T09:25:00.000-08:00

Merry Christmas, from Chief Sahanaa of Karaga, Tamale, Ghana

2008-12-22T10:59:00.000-08:00

When I arrived in Ghana for my volunteer program, I really had no expectations other than to try and make a small difference in the lives of young children. Little did I know what else was in store for me...

One lazy Sunday, which also happened to be Ghana's Election Day, (If you thought the US Election consumed everybody's attention, Ghana is ten times worse!) I was sitting around the living room just listening to all the various heated political debates between my friends Jawad, Frederick, Omar, and others, including, "This Guy." Just for the record, "This Guy" had been dropping by the house on a pretty consistent basis, but I never really caught his name. I figured the time would come when we'd be introduced formally. He was a rather happy and jolly fellow, and I'd always slap fives with him and we'd greet each other like we had known each other for years.

Anyway, Grace, my neighbor, brought me a big bowl of fufu, which is basically mashed up yams, plaintains in a bowl of meat stew and very delicious. The texture and taste remind me of a favorite wintertime dish that my grandma and mom make, tong yuen. I asked Grace for a spoon to eat it with but all my friends objected loudly and said I'd have to use my hands. "When in Ghana," I thought. I went outside to wash my hands, came back, and ate about half of it before I was stuffed. I left it on the table and offered everybody around me if they wanted it. "This Guy" took it.

I went outside to wash my hands and when I came back inside I saw "This Guy" eating the fufu with a spoon. My big mouth just opened and said something to the effect of, "Why are you using a spoon, what are you, crazy???" The room fell silent. I looked around me for some signs of life but I couldn't even hear crickets. All I heard was Jawad say, "You just called the Chief crazy, man." As a side note, Jawad and I became good friends over the past week and we joked around quite a bit so I didn't actually believe him at first and replied incredulously, "He's a chief!?" I always kind of expected African chiefs to be wearing ornate headpieces and perhaps a few skulls around the neck-- something to distinguish them from the ordinary riff-raff. Well, my disbelief apparently caused further insult to injury as I not only called him crazy, but questioned his obvious chiefdomness. I took one look at him, and The Chief did not look happy at all. In fact, it was the first time I had seen such a serious, upset look about him. Sorta like how my dad looked at me when I was a kid and ruined the front lawn by trying, rather unsuccessfully I might add, to make my own water slide. Anyway, I apologized profusely, and did a special African dance of apology and told him I'd apologize the American way and buy him a beer the next day.

He likes beer:

From Ghana

He really does:

From Ghana

We made up:

From Ghana

Reminded me never to call him crazy again:

From Ghana

And said he wanted to make me a chief of his village...

From Ghana

I accepted, of course!!

The chief organized a huge party where I coughed up about a hundred bucks for my chief gear, consisting of a smock, pants, hat, money for the drummers, and of course beer for the elders. It is a huge understatement to say I was extremely overwhelmed. (I will upload pics and videos as soon as I get a broadband connection. Uploading those five pics above took 45 minutes!)Everybody in the village showed up-- kids, elders, women, men, road chickens, and even a few stubborn old goats made their way over to see what the commotion was all about. Plenty of dancing to drums preceded the actual ceremony in which I was given my smock, hat and some other formalities that I could not quite understand. They named me, "Sahanaa" which is pronounced Sah-ha-NAH, which translates indirectly to mean chief of opportunity and good luck/fortune. To the village of Karaga, I represent the opportunity to help make a difference. This is a really huge honor, as I have discovered, only one other foreigner has been asked to be a chief of a village in Tamale.

From Ghana

Being a chief of Karaga would entail no major obligation except to help out in any way possible when I come back home. As I told Frederick, helping the village out would not only be an honor, but I would know that 100% of my efforts and donations, whether they be books, clothes or money, would go directly to the village. Donating to organizations like UNICEF are absolutely commendable but sadly, the overhead involved in running them means a large percentage doesn't go directly to those who need it most and instead go to things like salaries and advertising. I'm not trying to diminish their objectives and the immense impact they have made, except to merely point out that if I send ten dollars to Karaga, ten will show up at Karaga. By the way, one dollar can buy 10 liters of clean drinking water, enough for probably four kids for a day.

Currently, most of the girls at Karaga have sponsors, donors, and charities who pay for their education at a nearby school that Sarah and Allie also volunteer their time at. Unfortunately, that program has not extended to the boys in the village. It is one of my long-term goals to establish, fund and sponsor a program for the boys and will be asking you for your help in the future, so stay tuned.

Here are some of the rules I have to abide by, now that I'm a chief:
1) I have to speak through a linguist, or rather, a spokesperson, to anybody. I appointed my friend, Al-Hassan.
2) I cannot walk alone, nor should I ever have to walk first.
3) I am not allowed to carry anything myself. (Somebody care to travel with me for the rest of the year and carry my 18kg backpack???!!)
4) People have to greet me by squatting down and clapping their hands together. (I think I'll have a hard time convincing my friends back home to do this...)
5) Most importantly, I can now eat fufu (or anything for that matter) with whatever utensil I feel like using!

After just less than three weeks in Ghana, I went from insulting and calling an African chief crazy, to (crazily enough) becoming one myself. I couldn't have been given this gift at a better time, as we approach Christmas, a time of giving. I have donated less than three weeks of my time here in Ghana, yet I have been given the honor of a lifelong title I will uphold and aspire to live up to. I promised everybody I would come back one day, and hope that someday all of you can see for yourselves what a difference one person named Daniel, Chief Sahanaa of Karaga can make.

Ni ti yun pali!! (Merry Christmas in Dabani)

Volunteering in Tamale, Ghana, Part I

2008-12-18T08:49:00.001-08:00

Right after Copenhagen, I flew back to London to apply for my visa to
Ghana. During the last few months I've been kind of fretting (errr.
procrastinating) about how to do this in the most efficent manner
since, according to their website, would take a minimum of four days
to process, 10 if by mail. Given my hectic travel schedule and the
fact I needed to have my passport with me left me no choice but to
apply in person. However, I didn't want to spend four more days in a
city I had already visited seven times in the past seven months. It
also wasn't my idea of fun to be strolling around 40 degree weather in
a pair of paper-thin, holed-up jeans and a jacket that is about one
more wash away from disintegrating.

Anyway, back to the visa. I arrived at the embassy with my best smile
on, knowing full well that I'd have to be on my best behavior if I was
to pull this visa off in a day. After waiting over three hours, my
number finally came up. However, a nearly-in-tears young woman in
front of me was complaining quite loudly about how she took a day off
to get her visa, that she needed to fly out the next day, and rudely
demanding to see a supervisor, blah blah blah. Needless to say her
words went unheeded and was shooed away. What a great warm up act for
me. I knew I'd really have to put all of my sales experience to pull
this one off. I kindly asked the nice immigration official if I could
get the visa processed by the next day. Naturally, in his best
robot-voice he stated that all visas take four days minimum. I told
him I was flying out the next day and showed him my "electronic
ticket" which was really just a printout of my standby reservation
*snicker snicker* The robot repeated again that he couldn't do
anything. Then I pulled out my ace under my sleeve and went all in by
telling him that I needed to be in Ghana the next day because I had a
class full of kids to teach in a remote village (I hadn't even applied
to any volunteer programs actually!) His robot-voice softened up and
he asked me why I didn't apply for this in the US before my trip. At
this point I knew I was good and I told him there was no way since I
had been travelling for the past seven months. He took one look at
all my stamps, and told me under his breath to come by the following
morning to pick up my visa! I thanked him over and over again, as my
endophins were high-fiving each other all over the place. I realized
two things: 1) If you treat a robot like a human, you'll get a
human(e) response 2) I miss closing deals and the immediate rush you
get afterwards!!!

I hopped over to McDonalds to celebrate this victory and splurged on a
double espresso (if you saw the prices, you'd know what I mean) while
I jumped on the free wi-fi and applied to my volunteer program
formally. I decided on www.touristvolunteers.com because it stated
that they only needed one days' notice and could start anytime for as
long as you wanted. Most other programs had formal start/end dates
and required more than one days' notice. Frederick, the Program
Director, would later tell me that I was the first volunteer ever to
apply and show up the following day. He thought (and probably still
does) I was nuts as most people plan weeks, if not months ahead. As
I've discovered over the past seven months, however, decisoins about
where to go, what to do, and when to leave can be made very quickly--
everything always works out in the end.

I arrived into Accra late at night, where Jawad greeted me at the
airport. We spent the night in Accra, where we would travel 12 hours
north the following morning to Tamale. And no, there aren't any
Mexicans here. At least none I've seen or met. Speaking of race,
Ghanaians consider anybody who isn't "black" to be "white." In other
words, I'm white. Not yellow. Not Chinese. Not American. White
Daniel. Hah!!

I did meet two "real" white girls who were staying in the same house
as I was. Sarah, (UK) a second-year medical student, is spearheading
the effort behind building an actual health clinic in the village of
Wulanyilli, where we are volunteering. Though Ghana has provided
universal health care for about $7/year, most do not even have the
means to get to a medical care facility. Allie, also from the UK, is
focusing her tiem on teaching the students.....ahhh... the kids.....

My first day at the village was an eye-opening,
heart-breaking/warming, gut-wrenching rude awakening. As much as I
have written about my travels so far nothing can really compare to
this, as far as how deeply moved I've been. My second day of teaching
proved to be an example of this. I began the days' lesson with long
addition and noticed two kids, Poul and Anas, struggling and staring
at the problems I had written on the board. By the end of the class,
however, their look of total confusion eventually turned into bright
smiles, eager to raise their hands and share their newfound knowledgee
with the rest of the class. I used to be averse to volunteering of
any sort because I thought I couldn't really make a difference in the
whole grand scheme of things. After that day I know that I did and
that's all that matters to me. Will they remember me as the teacher
who shed some light on how to add? Maybe they will, maybe they
won't-- but I know I will.

I spent my second weekend travelling to Mole National Park, about 70
kilometers away from Tamale. Jawad, Rebecca, and I took a "tro-tro"
there, which is basically, well, a beat up old jalopy. It took us
about 5 hours to get to Dumongo because of an hour long breakdown
delay. When we arrived we ran into Rebecca's Dad's best friend, who
offerred us a ride to Mole, about another 6 kilometers away. It was a
welcome relief to go from a broken down old jalopy bumping along at 20
km/hr to a 4WD Toyota truck plowing through the dirt roads at 50+
km/hr. The A/C was not a bad touch, either!

At Mole, I saw wild pigs just strolling around, fed some monkeys my
biscuits, and spotteda couple of elephants hanging around their
favorite watering hole. We spent the night sleeping on the rooftop
under the starts. It was the first time I had ever done that (well,
except for that time I passed out on the beach...but that's a
different story!)

In a nutshell, my first two weeks here in Tamale really reinforced and
reminded me how lucky I am, and how great of a life I have back home.
From hand washing my clothes in a bucket, to having inconsistent
electricity, to pushing our van to jump start our way to the village
to something as basic has having running, (not to mention, clean)
water, to the kids who walk two hours to school only to be taught by
indifferent and apathetic teachers who are PAID, to having a healthy
meal everyday....to everything I have that they do not, I am deeply
humbled and gracious-- yet tremendously inspired by the strength of
the human spirit under the most difficult conditions.

My first Thanksgiving in Copenhagen

2008-11-30T01:49:00.000-08:00

I know, you guys are all probably wondering what gives with my love affair with Denmark? Well, let's just say that when I said this would be at the top of my list for places I'd come back to and live, Copenhagen fits the bill. I flew into Denmark to see snow cover everywhere, which was a nice and welcome contrast to the desert sands of Egypt. The cool, fresh air made me miss my snowboard as it reminded me of Mammoth, my winter stomping grounds back home.

I also wanted to spend Thanksgiving with my buddy Ron, who is from California, and I knew he'd be up for hosting a feast with some of our friends. We invited a few other Danish friends of ours, which made it even more exciting because it was their first Thanksgiving dinner. With Kia's tremendous help in the kitchen, and Ron's uncanny ability to uncan one can of cranberry sauce (what would we have done without you?) we managed to serve up a spread consisting of:

1) One 8-pound turkey and gravy (couldn't quite match Grandpas, but I probably never will!)
2) Two slabs of ribbensteg (traditional Danish roast pork)
3) Kia's Hand-Mashed potatoes (They were supposed to be Ron's Hand-Mashed potatoes but somehow that sneaky bastard managed to shirk that responsibility!)
4) Spinach salad with carmelized onions, bacon, and pinenuts
5) Grandma's veggie mix (carrots, onions, corn, peas and celery)
6) And of course, my favorite desserts from Lagkagehuset, the best Danish bakery.... YUMMM!

All in all, it was a great time, and we had more than enough food for everybody (I am a Lew, after all-- we ALWAYS fret about not having enough food.) There were plenty of leftovers and thankfully, no younger sister to have our traditional annual fight over them! :)

Speaking of thanks, some other things I'm thankful for:

1) My health. If there's anything that can put a damper on travel, it's getting sick. Thankfully, I've only had one minor case of stomach flu, and that was just a very recent deal in Egypt. I blame the beetle god for that, actually, and not the cheeseburger.

2) My waterproof pants and jacket. One day when it was raining cats and dogs in Istanbul, I was walking along a flooded street thinking happy thoughts in anticipation of putting some kebap and baklava in my stomach. All of a sudden, a huge truck mows down a lake-sized reservoir of water right next to me and I get completely splashed in what felt like a 10-foot tidal wave. You'd think a sad song would have ensued in the background with nothing but a melancholic demeanor about me. Yet in reality, I actually laughed to myself (like the looney bin I am) because I've NEVER been splashed like that before (and stayed completely dry inside.) I thought it only happened in cartoons!

3) My Mom and Dad, for raising me to be who I am today. Granted, I'm still holding a couple of grudges-- Dad, for not buying me a race car bed when I was young; and Mom, for only buying me one pair of shoes per year during my prime feet growing stage. My hammer toes will never forgive you.

4) All my clients who ever bought anything from me-- without your trust and excellent decisions (translation: commission checks!) I probably wouldn't be here living my dream.

5) Truly understanding and learning the difference between want and need, for example: "I only WANT to pay for just one beer but I really just NEED twelve."

6) Every stranger who has come up to me when I was completely lost and offered to help me, especially all you hotties! There's nothing more comforting than to have a pretty woman approach a confused and lost idiot like me. Next time it happens, instead of thanking you profusely, I'm just going to kiss you profusely. Consider yourselves warned.

7) All the potential muggers, henchmen, hitmen, mafiosi, and shady bad guy bastards who have not robbed and/or beaten me up yet-- thanks for staying away from me so far. Although I do have to say that I expect to see more of you in Latin America, so the next time you decide to target me, let's just grab a beer or two instead. It's more fun that way and nobody gets hurt.

8) Wine O' Clock *hiccup* and *hiccup* Beer O' Clock. Nuff, said. *hiccup*

9) McDonald's and Starbucks' being everywhere. While most people think Big Macs and Frappucinos, I think free bathrooms and napkins. Thanks to you two, I haven't spent a single penny on napkins, and plan to keep it that way for the rest of my trip. See, there is actually something good about them, even if they're tucked inside a pyramid or 12th century cathedral!

10) My aunt Bev and my buddy Calvin, for taking care of all my mail, random bills, notices, and all the stuff that I couldn't possibly take care of while away. Many million thanks!

11) The ability to say cheers in 13 different languages!

12) My iPod... for providing a soundtrack to my wonderful journey.

13) All the friends I've made on this trip so far. With friends all over the world, my quest for world domination will be that much easier *muhahahaha... MUHAHAHAHAHAHA.... MUHAHAHAHAHAHAHAHAHHAHAHAHAHAHA*

Excellent video montage of Egypt from Scott!

2008-11-27T08:46:00.001-08:00

"Walk Like An Egyptian...."

2008-11-22T02:52:00.000-08:00

Before I took off for Cairo I had a layover in London for a couple of days to sort out a few things. After having flown into London 6 times already during this trip I've found that its been like a second home or me-- I even have a few favorite restaurants and cafés I go to as well as a nice place to get my haircut! I was able to check in to the British Airways lounge where I was pretty overwhelmed... All the other times I flew in and out of London I never really had much time to use it. What a pity, as the lounge offers free (unlimited) 15-minute spa treatments of facials, massages, etc. Add in free food and booze and I was tempted to just stay and forget about my trip to Egypt! But alas, the show must go on...

Flew into Cairo late around midnight and found a cab to my hotel, Caesars Palace. I booked the place ahead of time just because I thought it'd be cool to stay at a place called Caesars Palace in Egypt, plus it was only $35 for the night (sidenote to my foreign friends: Caesars Palace is a luxurious casino resort in Las Vegas, Nevada.) Just like the one back in Vegas, they tried to take more money from me than I was willing to part with. They refused the reservation I had for $35 and wanted $65 for the night. They gambled that I'd cough up the dough and wouldn't venture out to look for another hotel in the middle of the night in a foreign country and I'm happy to report that they lost! I walked out into the dark streets of Cairo at 1:30am determined to find another place to stay.

Luckily, I ran into a couple of cops dozing off in their car and they helped me get a legitimate taxi to the only other hotel that I could think of, the Victoria Hotel (it was to be our meeting point for the tour group the next day) Arrived there but the place was full. Took another cab to another hotel and that was also full. Hopped into another cab and finally got to the Atlas hotel where they thankfully had a room for $35. Done deal, I emerged victorious!

Throughout the situation that night, I offered cigars to every stranger, cab driver, security guard and police officer I came across who helped me, and made a concerted effort to crack as many jokes as possible. I figured, at the very least, if I was going to get kidnapped or something at least one of the guys would vouch for me and maybe buy some time before I show up on Al-Jazeera with a bag over my head and two swords across my neck!

I do have to say how friendly everybody was right away. Everybody I met, they would ask me where I was from, I would say, "America....(pause for befuddled look of confusion) yes, I'm really from America-- but I'm Chinese..." and every single one would always say, "Welcome to Egypt." I wonder, would we as Americans exhibit the same type of friendliness to Arabic visitors from Egypt or the Middle East? I hope so.

Highlights: (editorial note-- normally I don't do day-to-day accounts of my travels but there was just too much stuff not to mention on this trip)

Day 1: Our tour began with the introductory meeting-- there was Adele, a nurse from Essex, UK, Jenn, a personal trainer from Seattle, Sue, (Australia) a school administrator, Penie (Australia) also a nurse, and Chris and Scott (Park City, Utah) the only married couple on our trip. Small group, but I was the only single guy so I always got my own room! Definite highlight after having stayed in dorms for the past 6 months.

Day 2: Went to visit the ancient pyramids in Giza-- and learned that they are exactly 1 million kilometers away from the sun. How did they figure that out???!! It was strange to travel around Cairo, as kids would literally just come up to me and ask to take pictures with me. I felt like a celebrity... little did they know that the only thing I would be famous for in Egypt is my ability to clean up everybody's leftovers. I would be crowned the "family dog" for the rest of the trip. "RUF!!"

Day 3: Shopped in Aswan with Jenn and Adele, and everywhere we went the store vendors would yell out whatever English they knew. From the common, "Hello, American!" to the outrageous, "Yakuza" to whatever American city they knew, "Ahhh, Chicago... New York... Kentucky! (Kentucky?!! I mean, really now...) to my personal favorite, "Ahhh, two wives, Casanova, lucky man!!" Jenn and Adele just smiled and indulged me, allowing me a rare moment of glory. Thanks ladies!!

Day 4: While everybody else woke up at 3am to take a 3 hour bus to see Abu Simbel, I decided to 'simbel'y sleep in and skip the optional (read: additional expense) day trip. Ya see one temple, you've seen em all, right?!! :) I just mosied on around town, had lunch at a local joint for $3, caught up on my blog and really appreciated having some alone time on this tour. Besides, with two full days trapped on a felluca coming up, I needed all the solitude I could get. Or rather, the rest of the group would need all the time away from me as possible!

Day 5: Sailing up the Nile was extremely relaxing -- something about lying around on a sailboat with nothing but a book and the sound of water splashing around was incredibly idyllic. I, along with Adele, Jenn and Sue, decided to go for a swim, despite Lonely Planet's warning that certain fish can crawl up your ass. Esam, our wonderful guide, thinks Lonely Planet is actually a bad word, and repeatedly assured us that the area we were swimming in was perfectly fine. I'll take his word over any guide book any day of the week:

http://www.telegraph.co.uk/travel/travelnews/3128830/Paul-Morrison-Guide-Award-winner.html

Anyway, swimming in the Nile was cool and refreshing, especially after I decided to warm up the surrounding groinal area with some good ole fashioned piss. How often do you get the chance to say you swam AND pissed in the Nile? (Don't worry, ladies, I was downstream from you!) And just for the record, no fish swam up my bungholio.

We docked later that night next to a few other groups, and asked a few Australian guys to help me forage for some wood in the desert to build a bonfire on the beach. There was something very primal and caveman-like about bringing wood back to where everybody else was. I think I grew some hair on my chest that evening. Ok, fine, maybe just one. So what if it was on my nipple? We sang and danced to Nubian songs the rest of the evening, which was a definite highlight for me.

Day 6: I ran out of beer today (surprise, surprise) and was a bit dismayed that I didn't order more before the trip. You see, we had this little sign up sheet where we had to detail how many beers we needed for the boat ride. When this sheet came to me, I looked at everybody's entries-- 1 beer, 2 beers.... 4 beers. So in my head, I thought, well, I really would like 24, but that would just kinda make me seem.....odd. So I put down 8, thinking 4 per night would do the job. Who was I trying to kid?!!

Day 7: Saw Luxor and couldn't find a single slot machine or blackjack table. No huge light beaming into outer space either. (What were the Vegas developers thinking???) Sue and Penie "shouted" me 2 beers, more Aussie mumbo jumbo that just means they paid for my drinks. A taxi driver outside the bar shouted at me, saying "Shellfish man, two wives!!" Love it....

Day 8: Valley of the Kings. I rode a donkey for the first time ever (hereinafter referred to as my ass, for simplicity's sake.) My ass was a bit smelly, and was able to poop and walk at the same time. Talk about multitasking! On the way up to the valley, Jenn's ass bit my ass and a donkey rodeo ensued, starring yours truly. It wasn't fun for me, as I was trying to hang on to my ass, as well as two cameras, while my stupid ass kept getting bit by Jenn's. Jenn was in tears the whole time and I can't say I blame her. I'm sure the whole scene seemed pretty funny from the outside, but man, I was pretty freaked out. I will forever remember the Valley of the Kings as the Valley Where My Ass Got Bit.

Day 9: Nothing really eventful here, as far as highlights are concerned. We did visit Karnake Temple, where I walked around a beetle stone once for good health. Coincidentally enough, later that evening, I would eat a bad cheeseburger and get the runs.

Day 10: Spent the entire day in my hotel room doing all kinds of stuff I didn't know my ass was capable of.

Day 11: Hiked up to Mt. Sinai, where I broke one of the Ten Commandments and said the Lord's name in vain for my flatulence and diarrhea. (Come on, you would too!!)

Day 12/13: Arrived at our beach resort, where every one of us had our own beach hut. I luckily got one facing directly out to the Red Sea, (small penance for my recent bowel issues, I thought) It was nice just to relax out on the beach all day and evening with nobody around but our group.

In summary, the trip was an absolute blast and glad that I decided to join a tour group, especially with such an excellent tour guide (even though my neck is still sore from all the times I got slapped!) and great travelling buddies to a destination filled with so much history and sights to see.

Capadochian caves, and my last night in Istanbul

2008-11-06T03:20:00.000-08:00

After my trip to Sofia, I decided to hop on a tour to Cappadocia, about an hours flight away from Istanbul. I was extremely reluctant to hop on a guided tour, but given my time constraints, I really had no choice.

The tour itself was alright, but it was the same kind of hop-on, hop-off type deal where they shuttle you from one sight to another. Granted, we covered alot of ground, but it just didn't feel right. What DID feel right was the ultimate highlight, staying in a my own hotel room with my own bathroom. To top it all off, I even had a king size bed! After about 5 months of bunking in hostels, this was an absolute highlight for me. I met some cool people on the tour, including Gil, from New York, who was with his girlfriend and travels quite a bit to South America for business. Hopefully, we'll get a chance to meet up when I get there. I also met a couple ladies from Amsterdam in my hotel who are BIKING from Holland to China, through Iran and Iraq. Ladies and gentlemen, further proof of how smoking weed can affect your better judgement.

I had to take a 12 hour bus back to Istanbul from Cappadocia and was not looking forward to it. I arrived at the bus station and asked which bus to Istanbul and the guy at the office pointed me to a small minibus, the kind that seats about 10 people and was pretty disappointed. I mean, 12 hours in THIS freakin thing? "What happened to the big buses??!!," I thought. One of the locals probably saw my freaked-out demeanor and reassured me that it was just a shuttle bus to the actual bus! I ended up chatting with him and a bunch of his friends on the journey back to Istanbul. We made a stop at Ankara, and there was one empty seat left in the bus, and it happened to be next to me. I told my Turkish friends that with my luck, my seat will be taken by a huge fat man. Well, sure enough, a huge fat man shows up and all my friends start laughing. The huge fat man wonders what's so funny and one of the guys mentions to him what I had predicted. He laughs a bit and I was glad he took this in a good way, as we sat together (rather uncomfortably) for the next hour or so. Luckily, a few other passengers got off on the next stop and he was able to find a seat to himself. Phew....

My last night in Istanbul was spent with my good friends Chris and Kadri, as well as my friend Jack, whom I met on the plane ride from Paris to Istanbul. A few others joined us as well that night, including a married couple, Dianna from Denmark and Terry from Portland, and Jon from the UK. Dianna and Terry are doing a round-the-world trip, and Jon, crazy Brit, was trying to BIKE around the world. http://www.smallwheelsbigworld.com/ So, our poker night consisted of Dianna, Terry, and me, doing a round-the-world trip, Chris and Kadri, motorcycling around the world, Jon, biking around the world, hanging out in Istanbul, with Jack, our local friend. It was a great time, except for the fact that Kadri, the so-called, "River Queen" kept beating me, even though I had to teach her how to play a week ago! I really hope to see everybody again one day, after we complete our respective journeys, if not sooner.

6 month mark-- thoughts and FAQ

2008-11-05T02:36:00.000-08:00

On several occasions, whether I've just eaten the most fantastic meal, or laughed so hard my cheeks hurt the next day, or just being totally relaxed and at peace-- I've thought that when I buy the farm I will be the happiest farmer with a full harvest of wonderful memories. Not that I want to bring up the idea of kicking the bucket or anything but hey, we're all mortal and I just wanted to reinforce how much fun I'm having. This trip is the best reward I've done for myself, and highly encourage everybody to do the same if possible.

Top ten things I've learned over the last six months:
1) I talk really fast. Many times I run into people who speak English quite well, but would often ask me to repeat myself. Reminds me of my buddy Mike's fiancé, Taka, who is from Japan. I've known Taka for well over five years and when Mike lets her out of the cave twice a year I'd usually have some pretty one-sided conversations with her. I'd say something, she'd nod and smile, look at Mike and nod and smile back to me. I just figured she was Japanese and was being polite and her English wasn't good at all so I didn't really expect her to say much. Nodding and smiling was good enough for me. Well, of course Mike doesn't tell me until recently at Oktoberfest that Taka doesn't understand a single word I say. In fact, she hasn't understood a single thing I've told her over the past five years!! Why Mike decided to wait so long to tell me this is just yet another clear example that with friends like these, who needs enemies?

2) Visa is NOT everywhere you want to be. Apparently the brilliant ad execs who created that ad have not travelled much.

3) I still can't tell the difference between how New Zealanders and Aussies talk. Kiwis say the Aussies pronounce their "e's" like "i's" and Aussies say their "a's" like "i's." I'd always get a kick out of having one of my Australian friends, Cameron, say, "I like going to the lake later, mate," because it really just sounds like "I like going to the like lighter, might."

4) You can't smoke cigarettes inside restaurants in Holland but you sure as hell can light up a fat blunt. Go figure.

5) It's not that bears can climb trees it's the fact that they can and will shake you out of it.

6) If you ever intrude on moose territory during mating season you better plug your bungholio real tight. Or be able to run faster than a horny moose.

7) There is not one single thing that all countries in the world have in common. I thought maybe all cabs are yellow but London screws that up. Then I thought nodding meant yes. Except Greece and Bulgaria (and apparently East India, thanks Yvonne) don't buy into that system. Oh wait, actually there is one thing.... All postal employees are a disgruntled lot.

8) Trying to do yoga in Polish is pretty confusing, even for me.

9) I have to add Danish women to my bikini calendar of beauties from around the world, and will make ten times as much money than I originally thought.

10) What matters most is not where I've been, or where I'm going, but where I am.

Frequently asked questions:

1) "Where are you from?" Except for large cosmopolitan cities throughout Europe, the one question I get the most is this by a huge margin. I'd always answer, "America." To which they would always ask, "No, but where are you REALLY from?" And then I would repeat, "I'm REALLY from America!" Of course, most of the time I know they want to know what ethnicity I am, but it's always interesting to me to see their disbelief when I tell them I'm American. Hopefully having Obama as president will change the perception that we all look like Clint Eastwood or Paris Hilton.

2) "Where's your favorite place?" Everywhere I go, there's always something interesting and cool so I can't say there is one place that I would say is my favorite. But if there was a place I'd live for awhile, I'd say Copenhagen would be at the top of my list.

3) "What do you miss the most from back home?" In no particular order, my bed, pastrami sandwiches from The Hat, Western Bacon Cheeseburgers from Carl's Jr., Diamond Jim Brady Prime Rib from Lawry's, and my family's home cooking. Of course, the first thing I'm going to do when I get home is to have a Western Bacon Cheeseburger in one hand, a pastrami sandwich in the other, while on my way to my family's place for lunch, then head over to Lawry's for a slab of prime rib, where I will of course pass out on my bed for 15 hours. That would be my ideal and perfect first day back home.

4) "Do you get lonely travelling solo?" Honestly, there aren't many times when I am alone. Staying in hostels is a great place to meet travelers from all over the world. Traveling via public transportation is a great way to meet locals who may have some spare time to sit and have a coffee or beer later on. Even when I am alone, it's good to catch up on my blog (!) email, read a book (yes, can you believe it?) or just zone out in a park somewhere.

My blind date with Sofia

2008-11-02T04:26:00.000-08:00

Over the past week I spent in Turkey, I told several people I met I was going to see Sofia, (Bulgaria) for the weekend and a common question I got was, "Why do you want to go there??!" Even the travel agent asked me that, which was a bit of a concern and quite distressing to me. The truth is, I met three Bulgarian women in Athens a few weeks ago who didn't necessarily have a high opinion of Sofia either. Naturally, I decided to go anyway, despite not knowing
anything about the place! I figured at the very least I knew some people who could show me around.

Of course given that Bulgaria's a NATO member and the newest country admitted to the European Union, I figured it couldn't be THAT bad. I also want to point out here that this trip isn't always about seeing the Great Wall or the Vatican (though important) but to visit, learn,
embrace, and experience different things. If anything, I've tended to be disappointed by the big "must see" cathedral/monument/tourist trap (See my post http://danielstriparoundtheworld.blogspot.com/2008/08/denmark-and-little-mermaid-part-i.html ) and have found that some of my experiences at the local food stand, random encounters
at the bus stop, and hangin' with locals in their dive bar has proven to be more memorable and lasting of an impression. Ok enough deep thoughts for the day. "Boli me glavata!" (I have a headache!)

I took the 10 hour bus ride into Bulgaria and throughout the trip I'd look outside the window and see some pretty dreary areas. Small and poorly lit towns with a couple of fluorescent lights here and there. Pretty depressing stuff-- and I thought to myself what the heck am I doing??! I should have listened to everybody else! It didn't help that my passport was checked four times throughout my journey (yes Bus Lady, I'm the same American tourist you saw just a little while ago in seat 11, in this very same bus... Now leave me alone to check out this wonderful scenery!)

I arrived late at night and walked to my hostel, which was also in a very poorly lit side street. At this point I thought to myself this is the part in that horror movie we've all seen, when the stupid guy goes into the haunted house to see where the monster is hiding. "No, don't go in there you stupid guy!" Well, this stupid guy went down the street anyway and just hoped to make it the three blocks without incident. I did just fine (no monsters) and found my cozy hostel-- arms, legs, and head intact.

Turns out, the city is actually quite nice. I mean it's not the cleanest city in the world but certainly not the ugliest or dirtiest. Strange thing I noticed was that despite the sunny, dare I say, California-like weather of 75-78 degrees, everybody I saw was wearing a thick overcoat or jacket and rather bundled up. I was the only one wearing shorts and a tshirt. So much for trying to fit in with the locals, eh?

I met up with Radi, whom I met in Athens, later that evening and one of the first questions she asked me was what I thought about Sofia. A few other people I met that day asked me the same thing. I told Radi, as well as everybody else, that I thought it was quite nice (especially given what I saw on my bus ride in!) I think the prevailing perception amongst Bulgarians (as confirmed by Radi) is that they still feel like the red-headed stepchild, a bit unsure of her new place in the EU and what the rest of the world thinks of her.

Radi was a great host throughout the short weekend. Checked out some local restaurants, ate typical dishes like cow tongue, Bulgarian stew, (forgot the name) and drank some pretty good Bulgarian wine. Apparently, wine is one of the things the Bulgarians are confident and sure of. As a two-buck chuck connoisieur I may be overreaching here, but I have to agree!

The weird thing about Bulgaria is that they have celebrated Halloween for a few years now. I don't understand it and is yet another indication of the worlds' inexplicable embrace of American and Western culture.

The other strange and very different thing I encountered is how Bulgarians say yes and no. Nodding up and down means no and shaking your head from side to side means yes. In other words, Bulgarians are a bit schizo and a confused lot! "Halloween, Levi's and McDonalds- you
name it, we'll take it. But we will never conform to how the rest of the world (besides Greece, actually) says yes and no!"

Anyway, after a short weekend of seeing Sofia, I'd say my first date went well. Will I call her back for a second date? Not sure if she's marriage material at this point (we'd have a hard time communicating with that whole yes means no and no means yes thing anyway) but hopefully she'll blossom into her full potential in a few years!

Barack and Baklava in Istanbul

2008-10-26T02:33:00.000-07:00

I just found out today that Turkey recently passed a law to block access to Blogger and was a bit surprised given that I've always heard that this was one of the most democratic nations in the Middle East/Europe! Anyway I ended up flying from Athens to London and then back down to Istanbul because it was cheaper than flying from Greece. Go figure. I had a 3 hour layover in Paris so I decided to take the 45 minute train into town for a quick dinner at, you guessed it, an Indian restaurant! The whole area was full of Indian restaurants so I figured I was safe. I had an excellent samosa, curry, and naan (although it still was not as good as my friend Ravi's mom's back in Hong Kong!) The owner saw that I was reading "The Audacity of Hope" by Barack Obama and he stated matter of factly that he thought he would get assasinated within a year. I was quite distressed by this comment and told him if that happened I'd move to Bulgaria. On my flight from Paris to Istanbul I met Jack, an Istanbul native and we chatted quite a bit about politics, the differences between Western culture and "Eastern" ideologies and why American culture is everywhere in the world. Neither of us had any clear answers but it > was refreshing to question and discuss our differences in a meaningful dialogue without any animosity whatsoever. We exchanged emails and phone numbers and decided to meet later on the week. I arrived late into Istanbul so transportation options were limited to airport shuttles and taxis. Just like LA... Anyway I ended up taking the shuttle since it was more cost efficient. I followed the guy to an unmarked car and then I started to get that weird this-may-not-be-such-a-good-idea feeling. It didnt help that there was another guy who came along with me who insisted, rather politely actually, that I sit in the front. He kindly introduced himself to me and said his name was Abdul from Saudi Arabia, currently living in Holland. Of course the subject of poltics came up again completing the trifecta for the day. Seems as though the whole world is more interested in the outcome of the US election than the average American. I told him at the very least if Obama wins it would make my life just a little less complicated while I continue my travels. He thought Obama wouldn't win because of the color of his skin and I told him if he doesn't win I'm moving to Bulgaria. At this point, given I had just finished his book on the plane, I decided to give it to him. He was very appreciative and thanked me profusely. I would like to think that this small token would give him a better understanding of Obama and how he's captured the hearts and minds of the rest of the world, America, and registered Republicans like myself. Sorry McCain, just as Colin Powell stated, your choice of Palin cost you my consideration. I mean I know she's a hot momma and all but the thought of her in the White House scares the crap outta me. Vladimir Putin, Hugo Chavez, and Kim Jong Il will just posterize her! Excuse the poltics (this is a travel blog, after all!) but I have to mention it given my experiences so far with what the rest of the world has been telling me during the last few months. Anyway..... Istanbul is an amazing and beautiful city. I can't tell you in words how lasting an impression I have after having dinner the first night, outside under the moon, with the cool Marmaran sea breeze blowing gently with the "izam" overheard in the background. The "izam" is the Islamic call to prayer and it occurs five times per day. Here's a video I took: The second day I went wandering around town in the less touristy part of town. I saw a baklava joint just packed with people (ding ding we have a winner, winner chicken dinner!) Turns out this place is the most famous baklava place in Istanbul and is also the first shop opened. http://www.karakoygulluoglu.com/ It was an absolute delight that I just ran into this place. I sat next to Ferhat, who was chomping down on about ten pieces of chocolate baklava. He said he loves eating it (really?) and does so at least three times a week. The place was so good I decided to go back again after dinner. This time I brought a couple I met at the hostel-- Chris from Scotland and Kadri from Estonia who are motorcycling from Scotland to Australia and who also have never tried baklava. Ever. http://www.thewonderfulwandertooz.wordpress.com/ (and you thought MY blog address was long.. Take that Mike, Greg and Louise!) The cool thing about going back the second time in one day is that I saw the same cashier from earlier in the day. He brought out the owner, Mustafa, and we took a picture. I was happy for several reasons that night. First, that I had three more pieces of baklava in my stomach. Secondly, that I deflowered two baklava virgins. Lastly, how often do you get to meet a guy named Mustafa, much less one who is the owner of the first baklava shop in Istanbul? Dr. Evil would be proud...

Sunsets in Santorini, and my personal financial "crisis"

2008-10-17T08:02:00.000-07:00

Arrived into Perissa, Santorini, and the whole beach village was practically empty! I had the whole island to myself, I thought! It was a nice break too, because I have trying pretty hard (yeah right) to get away from the party/hostel scene. It was a good place to collect some thoughts and just have some solid Daniel time. I even had my own room all to myself!

I ran into Yael from Israel, who was my bunkmate back in Athens, at an internet cafe in Santorini. It wasn't really a surprise to see her, but I felt bad because I forgot her name and she remembered mine.... *smack forehead* Anyway, she was looking to get out of the Santorini as soon as possible because, as she stated, it was completely empty. Interesting, I thought, because whenever people go to beach resorts and find ten million people on the beach, that's usually not a good thing.

Whatever, I headed to an empty restaurant and met a couple of Kiwis who had just been to Egypt. Given that I was planning to go there, they gave me a few good recommendations and tips, as well as the name of the tour group they had joined. I have been hesitant about joining any tour groups, as I have been able to manage without them for the past five months. The idea of waking up at 7am in the morning to be shuttled around from one site to another just to snap a few pictures here and there, and eat at places that are getting kickbacks from the operators just never really floated my boat. But Heidi and Courtney said that their tour capped out at 12 people, and used local transportation most of the time. Food was mostly on your own. So, I think a place like Egypt may be the only place where it might make sense, given the sheer number of places to visit, as well as the amount of information and history to digest. I am sure that English may pose to be a slight language barrier as well.

As far as my personal financial "crisis" suffice it to say that I left my ATM card in the teller AGAIN (I wonder, am I really a blond inside?) and Etrade subsequently froze my savings account-- of which I use to pay all my bills and extract cash. I won't go into the ghastly details of the horrible and completely unprofessional service that Etrade has so far exhibited, but suffice it to say that I will be closing my account with them when I have the time and access to do so. I mean, who outsources their "Security and Fraud" call center to the Philippines and staffs them with people who can barely understand, much less speak English??!! Seriously. Short the stock if you can! Oh wait, you can't do that anymore.... But thank you Auntie Bev and Dad for extending a much needed line of credit to a subprime borrower like me in the meantime!!

Anyway, as Etrade instructed me to do, they said I needed to get a copy of my passport notarized and MAILED to the US. I spent a good morning trying to do just that:
10am: Head into the town of Fira, ask a few locals around where to get something notarized. One lady suggested I go to the bank-- made plenty of sense, I thought.
10:15am: Get into Eurobank, Greece's largest bank, and ask the kind lady if she can notarize a copy of my passport. She says, yes, just wait here in line and we'll take care of everything. "Sweet," I thought. This was going to be a lot easier than I'd imagined...
10:45am: Get to the teller and she tells me that the notary service is only for customers. After pleading with her and trying to offer to pay, and using what little Greek charm I had, I was promptly denied.
10:50am: Walk into grocery store, ask the local clerk where I may be able to get something notarized. She gave me a blank stare. I gave her one back. Standoff ensues. A tumbleweed rolls in between us. Nothing happens, I leave.
11am: Walk into photocopy shop, ask the guy same thing, he mentions I could try the bank down the street.... uhhh... I say "Epharisto," (Thank you) and march on.
11:15am: Walk into the post office, and a relatively helpful employee suggested I try the police station.
12pm: Arrive at the police station, ask the cop if he can notarize a copy of my passport, and he says yes, but only if you're a Greek citizen. Apparently, they can't notarize anything in English! He said the only way was to get it notarized by the US Consulate, and guess what, there wasn't one in Santorini. I'd have to go back to Athens............ At this point I was getting pretty frustrated at Etrade, needless to say. But at least I knew that I exercised all the options available to me in Santorini.

Many of you know that I always like to say that things could always be worse. I must have told myself this at least every other minute that morning, trying to keep me sane. One minute, I'd think, "Well, I could be an armless fool..." Then, "I could also be legless, wheeling around in a wheelchair..." Then, "I could be a paraplegic vegetable drooling all over myself." Then I'd get pissed at Etrade again. And, of course, back to the armless, legless, vegetable thoughts.

Exasperated, but relatively positive, I went to the supermarket where I had that staredown with the clerk, and bought a loaf of bread, ham, tzakitzi, a bag of Doritos and a bottle of water. After lunch, I mosied on over to a beach I saw on a map and decided that it would be a good place to watch the sunset over the sea. I walked down and found a completely empty beach, with just one sunchair available, as if it was waiting for me. Coincidentally, my iPod was playing, "Today," by the Smashing Pumpkins.... and the lyrics for those of you who don't know, basically say, "Today's the greatest..." Indeed, everything is, despite the minor setback I've encountered.

From Santorini

I went back to the hostel that night, where I ended up chatting with Michael, the owner of the joint. I mentioned to him that I may one day start a hostel in Mammoth, and it turns out he's an avid skier and a fisher! I showed him Mammoth Lakes using Google Maps' satellite feature and he was completely enthralled with all the lakes and how big the mountain was. I had him type in Perissa, Greece, and lo and behold, he saw satellite images of his own hostel! In my mind, I was just thinking, who hasn't heard of Google Maps? Apparently, the sleepy beach town of Perissa, Santorini...

From the fall of the Berlin Wall to the birthplace of democracy in Greece

2008-10-13T05:40:00.000-07:00

It was an interesting juxtaposition to go from where communism fell in Berlin, to the birthplace of modern democracy in Greece. Again, I didn't plan it this way, but just a unique way to contrast and compare my travel experience.

Speaking of Germany, I met a group of German tourists at the Acropolis (site of the Parthenon) who approached me and asked me if I could take a picture of them. I asked them if there were "Deutsch" and of course they answered "Ja." When I was about to take their picture, I decided to use what little German I learned during my time there so instead of counting "one, two, three, smile," I said "Zwei gosse bier bitter!" (Two large beers, please!) This elicited a hearty German laugh. They wanted me to take another picture, so this time I said, "Ein, zwei, drei, hakke zein!" (One, two, three, I'm drunk!) Again, a hearty laugh and applause from the group of about 30. Made my day....I wish my friend Mike was with me, his key phrase throughout Oktoberfest was "I'm the mayor of this town!" I recalled something Louise from Denmark told me when she spoke Chinese to us, which is that all you need to know are just a few key phrases in every language to endear yourself exponentially.

On my way back from this German encounter in Athens, I was approached by a Spanish guy-- he asked me, "Hablas espanol?" For a split second, I wondered to myself why in the world would he ask me, an Asian guy in the middle of Greece, out of the crowd of other tourists, if I spoke Spanish? The funny thing is, I replied, "Si!" We proceeded to chat a bit about yadda yadda yadda and when I headed back I thought what an oddly international day it's been... I spoke English, German, Spanish, and of course, a little Greek. Now if I can just find some Chinese tourists....

Berlin-- the fall of Communism...and the fall of Capitalism??

2008-10-06T05:07:00.000-07:00

As a political science major, the fall of the Berlin Wall, and consequently, the fall of communism, was of major interest to me. The timing of being in Berlin during the anniversary of the reunification served as an interesting background to the ongoing financial crisis and the supposed fall of capitalism.

When I graduated from college, I was a total believer in free markets and considered myself a total capitalist. The welfare state, 35-hour workweeks, state and government sponsored safety nets and 6-week vacations were an outdated way of running an economy, I thought. When I was studying abroad in Spain back in 1997, due to a 18% unemployment rate, I was getting my haircut by a 29-year old chemical engineer who couldn't get a job, further confirming my bias towards all things capitalist. And to top it all off, everything is closed on Sundays! Back then, I thought, closing shop on Sunday represented a lost opportunity to MAKE MONEY. After travelling through Europe over the past few months, and consequently, spending many lazy Sunday afternoons at the park, in the plaza, in the house with friends, I've realized that life isn't that bad when things are closed on Sundays. It's just good to have a day to do nothing but relax and strengthen your relationships. How many times have we all been unable to meet up with friends because we had to run errands on the weekends? If we all ran them on Saturdays, we'd have nothing to do but relax and meet up with friends on Sundays!

Don't get me wrong, I'm not totally forsaking my capitalist roots, but given my experience so far in Europe amidst the global meltdown of our financial markets, I think it's not such a bad thing to reevaluate how free and open our markets should be-- much less having anything open on Sundays.

Hamburgers in Hamburg, and Chasing Down Neo-Nazis around Krelingen

2008-10-04T07:53:00.000-07:00

Another thing I got to cross of my list of things to do, "Having a hamburger in Hamburg!

Hamburg was cool... very different than the south of Germany. Some of the buildings kind of look Danish, and not surprisingly, is less than 200 kilometers away from the border. On my way to the train station, I was walking around and I felt like I stepped on big wad of gum and looked down to see my shoe had completely grown a huge fat tumor along the sole. I have no idea how this happened and quite frankly was worried that she was going to blow any minute. The last thing I needed was to go to the doctors office and try to explain how my my right foot was blown off by a Nike Air Max shoe.

From Hamburg and Greece

Thankfully there was a Nike store right next to the train station and I figured that would be a good place to either have them replace it at no charge (long shot) or buy a new pair. Julia, the Nike Store employee, as well as the rest of the staff were quite confused as to how this could happen. They weren't able to give me a new pair, but they did throw in a pair of (much needed) socks alongside my new pair of Air Force Ones. Turns out Julie is a shoe fanatic as well, and has even flown to New York for the latest Nikes! Women and shoes....go figure!

From Hamburg and Greece

I met Rebekka back in Tallinn and through a couple of emails, I made my way over to her village, Krelinger, population 700. Her dad is from Krelingen, and her mom is from the next village over. Turns out she is a member of the "antifa," an organization (sometimes violent) whose objective is to rid the country and the world of fascism and neo-nazis. I had no idea of the level of her deep involvement, because the next day we went to an event where there may have been neo-nazis. She asked me if I wanted to go, and I said, why not, I've always wanted to punch a neo-nazi in Krelingen! For better or worse, the neo-nazis didn't show up, so my karate skills were not necessary....

The following day was a holiday, to celebrate the reunification of Germany. Rebekka took me to Bergen, a concentration camp. Normally, I wouldn't really go to places like that (I skipped Auschwitz when I was in Krakow) but I thought to myself that since Rebekka works there as a tour guide, I might as well take advantage of her knowledge. It was a pretty depressing day, but all in all, a good time to reflect on WWII and the Holocaust.

Oktoberfest Hangover, Stopover in Stuttgart

2008-09-29T03:46:00.000-07:00

I spent a couple more days in Munich because I was not quite done with Oktoberfest just yet... besides, with three (or more???) wives, err...ex-wives to deal with, I had to make sure we annulled anything that might come up during my Daniel Lew for President campaign in 2012. One evening, I found myself wandering upstairs in one of the tents and found a rare half-empty table. Turns out the table was reserved for the owner of the tent so I decided to sit down and maybe get an opportunity to drink with the guy. Given how busy it was, he never showed up, but I did get a chance to meet a German couple from Munich and two guys from Israel. They knew each other through an exchange program set up between the governments of Israel and Germany after the war. I bet Hitler never thought the day would come when two guys from Israel would ever have a beer in Munich during Oktoberfest, singing along German folk songs along with two fellow Germans, much less an American-born Chinese!

As a car enthusiast, I decided to check out the BMW Museum the next day. The BMW Museum was pretty cool-- recently built and definitely worth a visit. There is a free part, which I spent a good couple of hours in, and a paid admission, which I didn't do. I wanted to take the plant tour, but because of Oktoberfest, they were fully booked that day and the next, so I will have to learn how to build an M3 another day!

I decided to go and visit my hilarious German-born Serbian friend Dragan, whom I met in Oslo, and currently lives in Stuttgart, for a quick weekend trip. To my total surprise, Stuttgart also a huge outdoor festival similar to Oktoberfest except nobody dresses up in dirndles or liederhosen. Those who do are obviously the tourists because any local would know that Stuttgart is not in Bavaria! There are other differences between the two towns, according to Dragan. When I asked what the prevailing stereotypes are about each respective city, he said that Munich is traditionally a very conservative city (except during Oktoberfest) and the people of Stuttgart are a frugal lot. Munich is relatively flat, and Stuttgart is in a hilly valley. Munich, of course, is home to BMW and Stuttgart, Mercedes-Benz. I went to the Mercedes Museum and hands down is the most interesting and fascinating museum I have been to so far. Obviously I have a bias towards all things automotive, but the architecture alone was pretty awesome. The walls of the entire building are swathed in the same leather they use in their cars.

We headed out one night to explore the local area and somehow we got separated later in the night. I decided to head back to his apartment but stopped along the way to pick up a pizza pie. I was surprised to see they had a pepperoni pizza on the menu and ordered that right away. Sadly, pepperonis are not the same as in the US, as they are actually peppercinis! On my way back to the apartment, I was stopped by a couple of dudes who were willing to pay me 2 euros for a lighter-- desparate guys, I assumed who really wanted to smoke. During this transaction, a group of about 6 idiots tried to pick a fight with us, for no other reason except that they were drunk. I was in no mood (or condition, for that matter) to fight, and so I offered one of the guys a slice of my "pepperoni" pizza. He didn't take it, but left us alone shortly afterwards. Lesson learned, and to paraphrase Teddy Roosevelt's famous quote, "Speak softly and carry a big stick," I would argue that it is more effective to "Speak however you want, so long as you carry a pizza!"

Oktoberfest!!!!! And the end of my bachelor days....yeah right!

2008-09-26T07:05:00.000-07:00

For those of you who don´t already know this, Oktoberfest really is worth all the hype. Totally surpassed all my expectations.... Think Disneyland, full of thousands of drunk adults holding 1 liter steins and you kind of get the idea. But any beer lover should seriously consider making a trip to Munich for Oktoberfest at least once in their lives. I plan on going back for sure.... maybe even return for the closing weekend!! Hmm......

The first day, we got to the Paulaner tent late at 10am, and luckily scored a table outside. Though the temperature was in the low 50´s, that didn´t stop us from ordering beers like there was no Oktoberfest! I ordered two large steins right away, because on the train ride over to Munich I learned how to ask for two large beers, please (Zwei ghosse bier bitter!!) I kept asking for two large beers everytime the huge Bavarian waitress came by with about ten steins on her person. Needless to say, I (we) got pretty tanked (Hakke zein!!) and met some very interesting people our first day. I apparently got married to Lola from Spain.

Our second day we got to the Oktoberfest pretty late (surprise surprise), so we weren´t able to score a table. We eventually mosied along the way to the Lowenbrau Tent, where I met up with Brendon, one of my travel buddies I met in Scotland. Interesting thing about the Lowenbrau Tent-- I saw this one waitress and kept trying to get her attention for a beer. She would smile and shake her head, like, sorry, no beer for you. Then I would see her again, and plead for a beer, and she would promptly bring me one fairly quickly. This went on and on several times and after a few liters of beer I wasn´t really digging this little cat and mouse game of feeding me beer. I mean, all jokes get old, right? Well, it turns out, this lovely waitress has a twin sister!! One serves beer, the other one serves food. Seriously, I would marry both of them if I could.

From Oktoberfest, Munich

Speaking of marriage, I allegedly got hitched to Nora from Finland.

Our third day we also got to the festivities quite late in the afternoon and ended up outside at a tent... can´t quite remember which one but once again it was good times. Today was the day Ron was supposed to leave at 7pm-- we did our best to get him drunk so that he would miss his flight. We almost got him....

From Oktoberfest, Munich

Oh yeah, did I mention that I got engaged to Kirsten from Germany that day??!!!

From Oktoberfest, Munich

And the rest of the pics....

Amsterdamned!!

2008-09-24T04:23:00.000-07:00

This is probably going to be my shortest post, not because we were only there for four days but because.. well, I don't remember much! Usually when I am travelling solo, I'll bring my diary along with me wherever I go so I can jot down a few things here and there but I seemed to have forgotten about that....It's a good thing I have a camera as my second brain!

Not much to report on Amsterdam really since I've been here before. And not much has changed since I last came here in 1997 while I was studying abroad. It's by far the most international and diverse city I have visited in Europe. One could argue that Paris or London would qualify but not in such a small area. And the pommes frittes, well, they are delicious!

One interesting thing to note during our visit is that I went to a KFC and surprise surprise, I got stuck in the slow line. When it was finally my turn to order, the girl who brought me my food was clearly stoned out of her mind. She (slowly) filled up my Coke and put a lid on it. Then she (slowly) went and got another lid and put it on the same freakin Coke! Only in Amsterdam....

Denmark, and the Little Mermaid, Part II

2008-09-12T10:03:00.000-07:00

I headed back to Denmark, excited to meet up with my buddies from California for a quick warmup lap before heading out to Amsterdam and Munich for Oktoberfest.

Copenhagen, as with most of Scandinavia, is quite expensive, and I am happy to report that from this point forward, things will get cheaper as I head towards Germany, Greece, Turkey, Africa, S. America....etc. etc.. But if there is a place I would return to again to actually live and work outside of the US (besides Spain and Hong Kong,) Copenhagen would be at the top of my list. I had a conversation with a local and she mentioned that the unemployment rate in Denmark is 1.4%, and that is not only considered high, but the majority of that 1.4% choose to stay unemployed. The social welfare system here is quite generous, apparently. Given that people at McDonalds make $20/hour, I was curious what kind of jobs were available. I quickly found a gig from a technology company (salesforce.com) which had an open requisition for an account representative that I could easily qualify for..... but I read the list of job responsibilities, and returning to a 9-5 schedule at this point in my trip would make no sense. But for the record, Copenhagen is a beautiful city that I would come back to and can see myself living in. For those of you who go to Europe thinking London, Paris and Rome is the ideal two-week vacation, try to squeeze in Copenhagen for a few days as I guarantee you won't be disappointed.

My time in Denmark was a blast-- had the chance to see Snoop Dogg in concert. We arrived a couple of hours early and luckily found our way to the front of the stage. I have never been that close before for ANY concert so this was a definite highlight for me. In the US, you'd have to line up early in the morning to get into our position, but apparently Snoop (and hip hop in general) is not that popular in Denmark. The funny thing about the set he went through is that everybody knew all his new stuff, but when he busted out Gin and Juice or anything from his first or second album, I think only Ron and I were the only ones singing along! I looked around me and everybody looked like they were still in high school!

Another highlight was getting lost one day and subsequently having what I would call a perfect travel day. I stumbled into a bakery (Lagkagehuset) filled with tons of baked goodies and desserts. I then walked down a main street and saw a restaurant just packed with people. Curious, I stepped inside to take a look at their menu and it was only about $15 for a vegetarian buffet-- took a look inside and it was a pretty good looking spread. Well lemme tell ya, if there was ever a time I would consider being a vegetarian for the rest of my life, it was after having that meal at Riz Raz. After that meal, I walked over to the Marble Cathedral for a free live classical concert I had read about earlier in the day. Listening to that kind of music with those kind of acoustics in a setting as inspiring as a cathedral definitely stirred my soul. I thought to myself that I could very well have died and gone to heaven. When I told Ron about the two places I ate at, he told me those were the most popular places to eat! And to think it all just happened because I got lost. Never underestimate the power of getting lost and going with what your gut tells you, or in my case, your stomach!

My friends from LA arrived on the 10th, and were ready to rock. I have been excited to see these guys for quite awhile, since two of them are getting married and I probably won't get the chance to see, much less beer with them again. We headed out one night to a club, Emma. On our way there, we met a Danish soldier in his full uniform on the train ride into town. We were passing our pre-party bottle of rum and coke around, and I stuck to my shampoo bottle of vodka. He kept refusing at first but then he started telling us that he works 25 hour shifts, 7 days a week yadda yadda yadda. Soonafter telling us this, we offered our rum and coke to him again and he said, "I don't want that... I want THAT!" and pointed directly at my shampoo bottle. Needless to say, we got him pretty drunk prior to showing up for his guard duty. I was a bit concerned though, because he polished off half of my bottle and he said, "If they ask me if I have been drinking I will tell them yes, that I have been drinking vodka out of a shampoo bottle and they will understand that I could not refuse." We took a picture of him drinking as well, and shortly after it sounded like he dropped a gun out of his bag. At that point, I turned to my friend Mike because he heard the same thing and looked a bit concerned. I told Mike under my breath, "Looks like fun time's over. He's going to kill us now for taking that picture!!!"

From Denmark Part II

Club Emma was fun-- Long Islands cost about $30, not so fun. We did, however, meet a couple of Danish girls, Louise and Melissa, who were both incredibly hilarious. When I asked Melissa what happened to her bell on her pink bike and she said, "I don't need a bell, I just say 'Move bitch!'" Classic! And they say that Danish people are reserved.....

I labelled my first post in Denmark and the Little Mermaid, Part I, because I knew there would be a Part II with my friends in town. When I told my friends that I took a picture with my hand on her boob, it was a given that we would have to take another picture, this time with all of us violating her! I don't have that picture yet since my friends took it, but will definitely upload it later. Good times!!

Wikings in Norway

2008-09-11T02:23:00.000-07:00

My mom's going to get mad at this semi-public disclosure, but hey, I'm a 15 hour flight away from her and probably won't see her for another 8 months so I'll deal with the consequences later! Some of you know that my mother has a problem pronouncing the letter V, ironic, then, that she named my older sister Vanessa. She also loves American football, and in particular has an affinity for the Minnesota Wikings, I mean, Vikings. The point of this disclosure is that throughout my travels, every person I've met has told me how incredibly expensive Norway is so I decided early on to say forget it, I'll go some other time when I hit the lottery or something. However, I found a cheap flight while I was staying in Denmark and decided why not go and wisit the wikings for my mom!

It was a pleasant surprise then, when I landed in Oslo and was given a free apple and a stamp from the Post Office to announce a new stamp! This would never happen in the US. Anyway, I checked into my hostel (completely stoked to see that I got a double bed AND it wasn't a bunk!) and headed to the nearest bar just in time for beer o'clock. Unfortunately, I believe I set the Guinness Book of World Records for the most expensive Guinness-- 16 bucks!! Needless to say, I decided to double up on my record breaking day and set the Guinness Book of World Records for slowest sip. I went back to the hostel, bummed and not at all buzzed and read a book instead and played a fairly entertaining crossword puzzle with my fellow roommates. (I assume they also came to the same sad conclusion that I did about drinking in Norway.) Given that I had five days, I needed to get creative with entertainment and how I was going to spend my time there.

Fortunately, Norway's wealth offers many free museums and exhibits, things I NORMALLY wouldn't really check out. I mean, you've seen one Picasso, you've seen em all right? Nobel Peace Museum, check. National Gallery, check. Museum of Contemporary Art, check. Ski Jump Museum, City Hall, Wiking Ship Museum, Frogner Park-- check, check, check, and check. I actually took the time to read everything too-- something I would normally not do, because I had a lot of time to kill.

For such a wealthy nation, I was really surprised at the number of homeless begging for money. Out of the four Scandinavian capitals, I'd say Oslo has the worst problem. You don't see many in Copenhagen, nor Stockholm -- even Helsinki seems to be relatively ok. Just boggles my mind that they're the richest Scandinavian country, but seemingly has the worst homeless problem. I could be wrong, but just my initial impression.

Anyway, apologies for the brief post, I really want to write more and put some thought into it but my buddies from LA are coming into town and I know that I won't be blogging for a bit as we travel from Copenhagen to Amsterdam to Oktoberfest!!! Wish us luck!! And...."Hi Mom, love you lots!!"

Denmark, and the Little Mermaid, Part I

2008-08-28T05:02:00.000-07:00

I arrived into Copenhagen from Helsinki, excited at the idea of staying with Ron, where a few more of my friends from California (hereinafter referred to as the A-Team) will rendezvous, where we will head out to Amsterdam on the 15th, rent a van and drive to Munich for Oktoberfest on the 19th, and somehow survive with our minds and livers intact. Sprinkle in a little Snoop Dogg concert on the 4th, and, well, I think September's going to be a pretty decent month!

It just so happened that Ron had a couple of other friends in town the day I arrived. One of them, Melanie, originally from the UK, but currently lives in LA, wanted to check out the Little Mermaid statue and the Royal Palace. As you all know by now, I am not necessarily keen on touristy things (nor do I ever read ahead of time about what to see and do) but I went along for the ride because you just never know what kind of fun you can get yourself into....

On our way, I saw this huge fountain with a woman whipping four huge bulls. I recalled thinking to myself, "Wow, this is surely a different Little Mermaid than what Disney would like us to believe...." and saying something outloud to Ron, "Dude, this Little Mermaid is whupping some serious bull ass!" Ron just kind of laughed a bit and we kept walking a bit. Then I asked him, "Where are we going now?" To which he responded, "To see the Little Mermaid, man!!" "Oh, you mean that woman whipping the bulls wasn't her.....????? Right." Such a sophisticated world traveller I am, eh?

Anyway, so we finally get to the real Little Mermaid after a few more paces. There were probably about 100+ tourists surrounding this statue, snapping away with their little cameras. I should have taken a picture of all these people taking a picture of a statue! I just found it a bit strange because, well, it's a very small statue. And it's not like she was some heroine who defended Denmark from Hitler (there wasn't one, I checked) or the lady who invented wooden clogs. It's a statue of a little mermaid, for crissakes! I guess the only interesting thing about the Little Mermaid, thankfully, is that it's perched on a few rocks just about a few feet off the shore. "Easily accessible," I thought to myself. I told Ron that I was going to jump on those rocks, and have him take a picture of me with my hand on her boob or something. Ron kind of laughed a bit and sort of rejected the idea that I would actually do something like that. He obviously does not know me that well. So I give him my wallet, cell phone, camera (just in case I slipped and fell into the sea) and hop over no problem (Still got it!!) I see Ron, he snaps the photo, and runs off into the crowd away from me! I finally catch up to him and the first thing he says is, "I can't believe you did that!!!"

"I told you I was going to do it, Ron!"

"Yeah, but I didn't think you were serious....As soon as you put your hand on her boob, I just heard the crowd breath in a collective sigh of astonishment, like so," as proceeds to demonstrate with his hand over his mouth.

"I wanted to take another picture, man!" I countered.

"Do you realize the Danish consider the Little Mermaid statue sorta like a national monument??" He states this, of course, AFTER the fact.

I paused for a bit. "Well, that's why I didn't go behind her and grab BOTH of her boobies!" Besides, the way I figured, if she was that important, they would have roped her off or something. After further consultation with Ron, the Danish do not need to rope things off to deter hooligans like me, they just know when something is ok and when it's not. Go figure!

All I know is, I hope it was as good for her as it was for me.

My three-month mark, retrospective and summary

2008-08-19T02:31:00.000-07:00

Over the past three months, between the pub crawls and hangovers, I occasionally have had some downtime to think about the journey I have taken so far, and what really has happened. Where do I start??? (About fifteen minutes elapsed before writing the next sentence here.)

Obviously, I am having the time of my life and sooooooooooo glad I did not choose to do something stupid like buy a new Porsche Cayman S. (Although, it would be nice to have that with me to travel around the world with!!!) Travelling solo like this- I have met so many people from so many different countries that all I will be doing when I get back to the US is to go back and visit these friends (especially Australia!!!) Meeting so many like-minded individuals, whether they be Russian students on their summer break, Australians and Kiwis on their gap year, Europeans on their obnoxiously long vacations, or the occasional American who has decided to leave his family, friends, and career behind for a year, just makes me smile every day. It also doesn't hurt that everytime I look at my phone it reads, "No upcoming appointments!" Everyday is like a Saturday!!!

Speaking of work, I do miss it a bit. I mean, not the actual work itself, but the idea of putting money IN the bank, as opposed to the other way around. My budget, considering I set aside $100/day, is surprisingly doing alright. I am "only" $2,000 over so far, not bad, considering (my drinking ways) I have been in Europe this whole time. It will (hopefully) get much cheaper once I get to Africa and Latin America.

One of the things I consistenly hear from people when I tell them about my trip is, "You must be rich to be able to do this," followed inevitably by, "I wish I could do that...." I have a secret everybody, all you have to do is save your money and not waste $4.5 on that "must have" mocha frappuccino twice a day, or that "gotta have" $150 pair of jeans... For example, most everybody I know makes fun of the flask I carry around but the way I figure, it saves me at least $50 bucks a night every time I go out. Multiply that over the course of a year, (assuming you go out just once a week, every week of the year) and tada, I have an extra $2,000-$3000 bucks in my bank account! That flask carrying allowed me to spend one extra month on this trip. It's really that easy, guys.

Other things I have learned:
1) Being able to put everything you have in one bag is incredibly liberating.... and horribly burdensome. I may act like a monkey sometimes, but when I get back, I guarantee you I will look like one. Or at least my shoulders will.

2) Everybody can understand American English just fine, but nobody can understand the Scottish.

3) If Europe could vote in America's elections, Obama would win in a landslide.

4) Conversely, if America could vote in Europe's elections, you wouldn't have to pay to use a public toilet. "You can get all the free education and healthcare you want, Mr. Bean, but when it comes to leaking the lizard, why yes, you have to PAY for that privilege."

5) Australians are everywhere except in Australia. Apparently, nobody lives there, only 'roos and Kylie Minogue. Oh wait, she lives in London!

6) Football (soccer) is a great sport to watch and I am convinced America would be a football loving nation if we could watch more than just David Beckham and Victoria prance around LA.

7) All I ever needed to learn about travelling the world (so far) I learned with a map, a beer, and a bar. (Please do me a favor on your next trip, do not buy a Lonely Planet or a Frommers' or any other overpriced travel guide as you're only destined to meet other people who did the exact same thing.)

8) Santa Claus really does exist!

9) Getting hit on by women in their 50's is not flattering. At all.

10) When I get home, I am going to make a bikini calendar consisting of Spanish sanitation engineeresses, Polish bartendresses, any Estonian girl, Swedish policewomen, and Finnish girls who work at Subway, and I will be a very, very, very rich man.

"When I go to Sveeeeeeeeden, I am going to rent a Volllllllllvo........"

2008-08-14T01:54:00.000-07:00

Aside from having a Guinness in Dublin, and a handful of other "things to do before I die" I can proudly say that I have crossed off another on my list while I was in Sweden: I finally got the chance to go to Sweden, rented a Volvo, called my friends on a (borrowed) Ericcson, to let them know I was going to Ikea to eat some Swedish meatballs! I know, most of you probably have no idea what this really means to me, but there is a thin line between insanity and genius!

On the ferry ride from Helsinki to Stockholm, I met three Swedes, Johan, Anna, and Helge. In our cabin, we overheard the captain saying that rough seas were ahead for our 10 hour ride. Somehow the subject of ships sinking came up, and I recalled visiting the monument in Estonia dedicated to the 800 plus people who died on the MS Estonia from Tallinn to Stockholm. (http://en.wikipedia.org/wiki/MS_Estonia for your reference) It turns out that Anna's uncle was the captain of the Mariella, one of the first ships to arrive at scene of the disaster. Her uncle, understandably, was so traumatized that he retired, and spearheaded a successful effort to improve and change the way lifeboats are designed, and more importantly, deployed, during an emergency. I really appreciated learning this, as it added another layer of depth and enhanced my experience to a site I had already visited in the past. These are the times when I truly feel like I am travelling AND learning. We spent the majority of the night drinking and playing poker. Needless to say, I lost all my chips (again) but won a few new friends from Sweden!

One night, I checked out a traditional Swedish restaurant called Ostagotakallaren (http://www.ostgotakallaren.gastrogate.com/) which came at the recommendation of a few locals I asked around. I met a couple of Dutch guys, Hans and Remko, who were sitting next to me and we ended up hanging out that night. I learned many things from Hans and Remko about the Dutch. First, the Dutch NEVER go Dutch. Bringing your own booze to a party (BYOB) is called an American party (I'm a bit skeptical of this... ) Dutch courage is also known as liquid courage, and "Watching the cat go out of the tree" is a phrase commonly used to describe the Dutch way, which is to describe how it is generally much safer to watch everything occur instead of being an active participant.

It was just my luck that I arrived into Stockholm just in time for this huge outdoor party/festival to celebrate the 8th day of the 8th month, in 2008, starting at 8pm. Paqui and Victoria, two Spanish girls I met in my hostel, were a bit confused as to the significance of this day, and as it turns out, "08" is the area code for Stockholm. I thought to myself, that's a good enough reason to get wasted amidst thousdands of other Swedes! We went out to check out the madness and I learned two things about what the Swedes do when they get wasted: 1) They piss all over the place, including the women. I think I saw about 4 beavers that night and it wasn't because I was a peepin Tom--- there WERE that many pissing on the sidewalks in not-so-discreet areas! You'd think they would turn around the other way, but that would make too much sense 2) They throw their empty glass bottles on the streets, (instead of in, I don't know, a trash can???) so that girls with open-toed shoes can get their feet cut up. On my way back to the hostel, I noticed an extremely drunk girl, who stumbled a few steps, and right when she was throwing up, she let out this huuuuuuuuuuuuge fart. At first I thought to myself, damn, she's fucked up! The second thought that crossed my mind was, "Have I ever done that????"

As most of us know, Sweden is a rather expensive country. I have been eating more McDonalds' in the past month than I ever have in my entire life in the US! Despite all this beer and Mickey D's, I had to go buy a new belt because my current one wasn't holding up my pants very well. I know, my family must be freakin out right now to hear me say that but don't worry, I will fatten up by the time I get back to the US. It was then a very pleasant surprise to have met Claudia, who works at this cafe I frequented since it had free internet access. I found out she was from Chile and we started speaking in Spanish (again! Why not, we're in Sweden!!!) and lo and behold, she did not charge me for lunch or coffee! Needless to say, I went back everyday.

Eating reindeer pizza and taking Santa hostage in Finland....(somebody had to do it!)

2008-08-05T09:31:00.000-07:00

My Finland post, finally!

Hopped on the 3 hour ferry from Tallinn, Estonia to Helsinki, Finland. After almost three months of planes, trains, mini-buses, bikes, double-decker buses, subways, Tubes, Metros, trams, double-decker trams, I finally hopped on a boat!

Upon checking into the boat, I met Villu, the baggage attendant. I saw a sign that it would cost one euro to leave my backpack during the journey. So, I reached into my bag of change of random currencies I have picked up throughout my travels, and pulled out a one euro coin. I gave Villu my one euro, but he proceeded to poke into my hand and grabbed a British pound and spoke all kinds of Estonian gibberish. My first impression was that he was trying to take me for a ride because I saw very clearly on the sign that it only cost one euro. Then I thought, maybe I don't have to pay as much?? Or maybe that I need to pay more??? Or perhaps he didn't hve enough change to give me??? His English was worse than my Estonian, so if you can imagine how confused we both were. He just kept pointing to my British pound and this went back and forth for a few minutes, and for bettter or worse, there was nobody behind me to help translate. Finally, through tons of hand gesturing, nodding and naying, I figured out that he wanted to know what kind of currency the British pound was. He pointed to himself, then he pointed to a book on his desk, and he said, "I like" and I figured out that he was a coin collector and that he has yet to see, nor collect a coin from the UK. So I gave him my 2 pence coin, and he refused at first, (I think because it actually is a rather large coin) and perhaps thought it was worth tons, but I explained to him with more hand gesturing and nodding and naying that it was no biggie. This made him very happy, and it made my day.

Finland, as many of you know is an extremely expensive country. It cost me 15 bucks for a footlong meatball sandwich at Subway. That subway guy Jared would have lost a lot more weight in a shorter amount of time if he went on the Subway diet in Finland. Thankfully I met a few Finnish people while I was in Tallinn, including a girl named Emmi, whose last name literally translates into "wooden leg." The jury is still out on whether she is a pirate!!

I learned many things while in Finland, including the fact that Finland considers alcoholism a national disease. There was not a day that didn't go by with some crazy drunk causing a ruckus on the tram or on the street in the middle of the day. It's not that booze is cheap either. Finland has one of the highest tax rates on alcohol. Which reminds me of one of my favorite welcome signs so far. Prior to exiting my ferry in Helsinki everybody and I mean EVERYBODY hauls carts and trolleys of booze from Estonia. Grandmas and kids not excluded.

My buddy Cameron came out to visit me from Tallinn to travel with me a bit around Finland. After the first day in Helsinki we sat around a table, trying to decide what to do next-- hop on a boat to Sweden or head north to the Arctic Circle, to a town called Rovaniemi. Cameron did a quick search on google about Rovaniemi and it turns out it is home to Santa Claus! Needless to say, we decided to go pay a visit to Santa. I mean, the fat bastard never showed up when I was a kid so I had a few things to say to him.

On our way to Rovaniemi from Helsinki, we met Rohan on the train and we played poker for quite some tome. He recommended we visit his hometown of Oulu on our way back down which was really cool. He mentioned there were tons of outdoor parties and concerts during the summer. That was enough for us and we decided to head down later. Anyway on our first day in Rovaniemi we rented a couple of bikes for, get this, 30 bucks a day! From a rental car agency of course. To put it into perspective it cost less to stay in our cabin for the night.

The next day we decided to go visit Santa. Cameron thought it would be a good idea to put a gun to Santa and take a picture. Sold! We went to a market, picked up a couple of cap guns and off we went. We weren't sure if there were any 9/11 type security measures in place but while we were in line we asked one of the elves if we could take a picture of Santa with a gun pointed at him. He said that in his enitre life as an elf, nobody has ever asked that and that we would have to take it up with Santa himself. When our time came and I told Santa that we had a special request and that we wanted to take a picture with a gun pointed at him. He paused for a moment and asked, "Will you be nice the rest of the year?" to which Cameron and I nodded assuringly and said in unison "Of course!" I mean, why would he have any reason to doubt us? Besides I gave Villi a two pence coin earlier, which counts, right??! Anyway needless to say now that Santa is under our hostage we have total control over all the toys, and whether or not Christmas will happen this year! (This is actually a picture of a picture we had to fork over 30 Euros for 5 pictures. Santa needs money to pay the elves apparently.)

Cameron and I played poker one night, because there was nothing else better to do in the cabin. We made a pretty serious dent into a bottle of Captain Morgan, and needless to say we (ok, fine, I, made some stupid wagers.) After 7 games, I ended up having to wash the dishes, carry Cameron's backpack back to town (about 20 minutes bike ride away, on top of my own 15 kg backpack!), buy the son of a bitch a cup of coffee, AND carry all of our trash into town. Cameron came out alright... all he had to do was give me the fifth postcard that we paid for together, and to take a shower without the use of a towel or clothes to dry off with. Sigh... I guess you guys won't be seeing me on the World Poker Tour anytime soon....

The next day we went to Oulu, about two hours south of Rovaniemi, at the suggestion of Rohan. Our first evening there, we stumbled into an outdoor concert-- something Rohan mentioned was quite common during the summer. When we arrived into the area, the scene was pretty dead... it was actually a Christian concert event, headlined by a Finnish rapper, who apparently, used to be a "gangsta" rapper and has since reformed and cleaned up his act. His name, I kid you not, is Rudolph. Rudolph the reformed Finnish gangsta rapper.... soonafter, a mime act followed and I had no idea what was going on. I asked a girl next to me what the hell (sorry, what the heck) was going on and she said she had no idea either, since she was just passing through as well. We chatted a bit more and we ended up heading to a bar to discuss all things Finnish, American, and Australian. She recommended we go to Finlandia for some reindeer pizza. Wasn't bad...

One of the other things I wanted to do was to visit Nokia, the city. I thought it would be cool to call somebody on a Nokia (which Cameron had) while actually in Nokia! We arrived into town around 6am and virtually everything was closed so Cameron and I decided to sleep in the train station, on the concrete floor, between two locker stalls. Not exactly a highlight, but merely a point to demonstrate to what extent we were willing to go through to make a phone call from a Nokia, in a town called Nokia. I know, such is life when travelling with no real agenda. "Hey, let's go visit Santa and bust a cap in his ass!" OK! "Hey, let's go to Nokia and make a phone call from a Nokia!!!" OK!!! I expected the town of Nokia to be full of high rises, glass skyscrapers, with everybody talking on brand new space-age Nokias, with the occasional dog or two equipped with a cell phone chatting away. But, that would be too predictable. Instead, we found a pretty run-down, dare I say, depressing, industrial town with no signs of anything Nokia. So we decided that since it was beer o'clock, and we had a few hours to kill before the next train back, we knocked back a couple at a bar where supposedly they serve the cheapest beer in Nokia. At this said bar, there were quite a few drunks (wait, that was us) in the middle of the day. Cameron, ladies man that he is, was approached by a 60 year old hottie.... check out the slideshow and see for yourself!!

Estonia, (one of) my new favorite place(s)

2008-07-15T07:45:00.000-07:00

I am happy to report that Estonia was the first place I actually stayed UNDER budget during this trip! Ding ding ding, winner winnner, chicken dinner. So what do I do? I head to Helsinki, Finland, one of the most expensive countries in the world! Brilliant!!

Anyway, one of the hardest things about discovering a new city I like is that I eventually have to leave. I often find it hard to acknowledge to myself that the only thing keeping me from staying in any given place is that I have an airfare ticket that expires within a year. Other than that there is absolutely no other reason for me to move on. There was always a reason to stay just one more night, whether it was to hang out with a group of new and interesting people with their own set of travel stories, or solidifying a casual acquaintance into a friend I will visit in the future.

Anyway, as I mentioned in my earlier post, I came to Tallinn with Adrian, to meet up with my old buddies back from California, who were going to be here for just three nights. I stayed on their couch, right in the middle of the Old Town Square, which, in my world, was pretty much like going from the Motel 6 to the Ritz Carlton. It was good to stay in an apartment again!

Some highlights from the time in Tallinn:

*Many of my close friends have heard my stupid Swedish routine, about how, when I get to Sveeeden, I will drive my Vollllllllllllvo, on my way to Ikeeeeeeeeeeeeeea, to call you on my Nokiiiiiiiiiiiia, to let you know I will eat some Sweeeeeedish meeeeeeeeeatballs. Well, I have not gotten to Sweden yet, but I did meet two Swedish girls at our hostel and convinced one of them, Isabelle, to say the exact same thing to me just for shits and giggles and recorded it on my camera. Needless to say, this is one of those videos I watch over and over again, which never ceases to make me laugh outloud. Oh yeah, little did I realize, but Nokia is a FINNISH company, so the new routine incorporates Ericcson as the replacement. Does not really flow as well, but hey, might as well! (or as my friend Greg would say, MINUS WELL!!!)

*We met two Russian girls in Riga, Malveena and Katia, who were staying in our room. I recall meeting these two girls, (see previous post in Riga) as they stood in our room with two huuuuge pieces of luggage (who carries luggage in a hostel??!?) for about a solid 20 minutes, speaking in all kinds of Russian gibberish. Finally, I asked them if everything was ok, and it turns out they were not the least bit happy about staying on the top bunk. Apparently, one of them rolled off the top bunk once..... Anyway, we exchanged emails after hanging with them for a night but never really heard back from them. Lo and behold, they show up at our hostel in Estonia about a week later! They tried to get in touch with me enroute, but apparently, sent an email to the wrong address. Anyway, I guess it is not uncommon to run into people here and there as it seems most people go to the same places. The travellers circle is indeed quite small.

*One day, we decided to head to the beach and we quickly figured out that none of us really conform to the stereotypes to of where we come from. Amanda, from Seattle, does not drink coffee and also dislikes salmon. Aaron, from Spain, does not know how to salsa, merengue nor flamenco. Though I am from California, I have no idea how to surf. Adrian, from the UK, has good teeth! And Gregory, from France did not wear speedos to the beach (but decided to take his pants off and wear his undies instead!) Ok, 4 out of 5 ain't bad.

*One night, we were at a bar with Hayden, Tim and Glen, three Kiwis I met at the hostel who have also been thinking about opening a hostel. From our discussions it seemed like these guys had really put some thought into it. Anyway, we head to a bar on a Sunday night (why not?) and it was fairly empty. So I ventured about and met three Estonian girls upstairs and persuaded them to come downstairs to say happy birthday to Hayden (even though it wasn't!) They come downstairs, one of them gives a kiss to Hayden and we start singing happy birthday to Hayden. After we finish singing, the bartender comes over and asks me, "Is it your friend's birthday today?" And I answer, "Yes, he just turned 25!!" Not two seconds later the bartender brings out a bottle of champagne and six glasses, "On the house!" he says! And to think, all I wanted to do was chat up some local girls in a bar!

*My last evening in Tallinn, I decided to cook a very simple chinese dinner (fried rice and chicken stir-fry) for my friends. They all commented on how great it was, and I reminded them all that my family back home would get a kick out of that. They would obviously tell me that a bunch of hungry traveling backpackers are probably not the most discerning critics when it comes to food, but hey, if any of my family is reading this (and Gypsy, you too!) my fried rice was a hit! hahahahaha

Ripped off in Riga....

2008-07-08T04:57:00.000-07:00

Despite some good times in Krakow, it was time for me to move on and meet up with my buddy Adrian in Riga, Latvia and then eventually meet up with my other buddies from California, Jason, Malik, Eric and Terry in Tallinn, Estonia. In other words, trouble was going to happen. No wait, make that Trouble.

I arrived into Riga from Warsaw and somehow managed to get into the luggage arrival without going through customs. I don't know how it happened, I just followed everybody else! In other words, if I somehow get deported to the Siberian gulags, well, it's because I was an illegal alien.

Anyway, when I arrived at the airport and decided to grab a bite before heading out. I recalled seeing an exchange rate display upon arrival that it was roughly a 2 to 1 exchange rate. Lunch bill was 5.75 Lot and in my head I thought, wow, only $2.38 for lunch!! I thought to myself, "I'm going to love it here!" Hopped on a bus, and it was .4 Lot and was again said to myself, jesus, that's like 20 cents! Then, of course, as I soon discovered, I was doing my math all wrong (surprise surprise, polysci major here) It was actually 2 dollars for every 1 Lot. My 5.75 Lot lunch was actually more like 13 bucks.... ugghhh anyway, so much for anything being cheap here in Latvia!

Adrian and I went out one night with a few friends we met at the hostel, including a rather crazy and hilarious guy from London, Lucian, aka The Chairman. He apparently got into a minor tiff with some of his buddies in Tallinn the day before, literally threw a barstool/chair at him, and took a 200 euro (350 buck) cab ride from Tallinn to Riga in the middle of the night. Anyway, that night, we went out and ended up at a club where he, ok fine, all of us, ended up getting pretty smashed. We left him at the club, only to find out later the next day he was arrested for throwing a glass into the side of a BMW for no reason really, except that he was falling into that stereotype of the British hooligan! Despite all that, I enjoyed hanging out with him, in the same way we kind of all want to witness a train wreck that is about to occur.

You're probably wondering why I entitled this post about getting ripped off. Well, I went to a casino, and as many of you know by now, I do have a propensity to gamble. Given my $100/day budget, it probably wasn't the wisest thing to do but I figured I was going to win, (don´t we all??) If anything, I'd get free drinks, and that, in my book, is reason enough to lay a few hands down on some good ole fashioned blackjack. Needless to say, I lost my shirt, going down $160 bucks in about an hour. So I ended up dishing out 40 bucks a drink. Not bad, I guess in the whole grand scheme of things. Went back the next day to chase my losses and ended up paying another 30 bucks a drink. Not only that, in my haste to win, I forgot my ATM card in the machine prior to getting to the casino! Thankfully the casino was in a hotel and the front desk allowed me the use of their telephone to cancel my card immediately. When I spoke to the Bank of America telephone rep, I told her I was going to be in Estonia, and that she could send me a replacement there. She responded, "Estonia? Is that, like, in Spain?" At that point, I decided it would be better to call later, since I had a feeling my card would be sent to the wrong country.

Another night we headed out, I was at a bar ordering a drink and two extremely attractive girls came up to me and asked me where I was from etc. etc. Flattered by this, we spoke for a bit, but we left them after about fifteen minutes. Once we got outside, my friends were all laughing and making fun of me because apparently, they were, umm... professionals. I had no idea... and I was still a bit doubtful so I went back the next DAY and the same two girls were painting each other's nails. Point taken, I'm not as good looking as I think I am!

So, dirt broke, way over budget, with no ATM card, and a bruised ego, I packed up my backpack and headed to Tallinn with Adrian to meet up with my other buddies from California. Good times!!!

PS: I have been having a hell of a time uploading my pics so stay tuned until I get to a computer that allows me to do group uploads via Picasa. Ahhh... technology!

Good crack in Krakow!

2008-07-02T06:22:00.000-07:00

No, I'm not into crack-- it's just a term I picked up while in Dublin. Good crack means good times, which basically sums up my 12 days in Poland, 10 of which were in Krakow. I had originally planned on staying in Krakow for 5 days but ended up staying an additional five more days-- a telling indication of how fun things can be if you stay at ARS Hostel. I've stayed in millions of hostels and Slavek (Owner of ARS) and his staff are truly one of a kind. Slavek's passion for showing his guests the local side of Krakow had me wanting to stay longer.

One of the reasons for taking this RTW trip was to figure out if software sales is going to be a career I return. After my experience at ARS, I have considered the possibility of starting a hostel in Mammoth or LA with the same idea as ARS'. That is, to open up a small hostel catered to those who truly want to explore and enjoy the local deal.

Anyway, my first day in Poland was spent in Warsaw since I didn't want to go straight to Krakow. My first order of business was to put some food in my belly, and walked around the main square a bit. Found nothing but relatively pricey restaurants, all with English menus and decided to veer off course. Found a joint with no English menus, packed with local people, and a chalkboard menu in Polish for about $6. I pointed at the menu, not knowing what the hell I was going to get and was pleasantly surprised to be served a plate of cole slaw, potatoes, breaded chicken cutlet, sauerkraut and sausage soup, and juice! Sorta like that white elephant gift exchange, only to find out you got the best gift of the group. I was also doubly appreciative of this because for most of my trip throughout the UK and Ireland, breakfast consisted of toast and coffee, lunch was a couple of Nutri Grain bars and dinner was (depending on how much money I had) either pasta or $4.5 cans of minestrone!

The next day, I took a 3 hour train ride down south to visit Krakow. I met Kasia in my compartment who wanted to be an English-speaking tour guide so we decided to head to the bar on the train so that she could give me a few pointers on what to do, where to go, what to see, etc. While we were in the bar, the train had stopped for a good 45 minutes. Nobody really had any idea what was going on so I asked the bartender what was up. Turns out a rock was thrown into one of the compartments and injured a passenger! That compartment, as Katia and I later discovered, was right next to ours! Thank goodness for beer o'clock, eh? Another unplanned highlight of my time here in Europe so far has been the Euro 2008 Cup, a huge football (I mean, soccer) tournament held every four years. Being in Poland during the finals was also extremely fun, as everybody, and I mean, EVERYBODY, watches the Euro cup. I understand the game much better now and wonder really why the game's popularity all over the world has never caught on in the US.

I met some pretty cool dudes while at the ARS, including Todd Novak, who is 100% Polish, but was the only one in our group who always had a hard time getting into clubs and bars because the doormen thought he was British. As I have discovered throughout my trip, the "Ugly American" moniker really is quite an undeserved stereotype, surpassed completely by the British stag (ie bachelor) party. There are signs all over most of Europe saying, "No stag parties." Anyway, funny thing about Todd. His grandma (who owns a bar in Buffalo) used to sing him a lullaby in Polish. Todd sang the song to Slavek and asked him what it meant-- Slavek cracked up while telling us it meant-- "One more beer.... one more beer!"

Also met Evan and Ed from California, who joined Todd and me for our bike tour with Slavek. We all began the journey slightly hungover from going out the night before, so it only made sense to go for a tough bike ride up to the highest point in Krakow. It was the first bit of exercise all of us had in a while, and most of us were pretty winded by the time we got to the top. Right before our ride back down, I overheard Evan asking Slavek if we could go slower...downhill!!?? That was a bad omen, as soon as we headed down Evan literally jumped off his bike and hurled the nights leftovers.

We biked for a few miles more after and ended up at "The Rocks," a mineral quarry where the late Pope used to work and not known to many tourists. After biking all day, Ed and I decided to jump off the cliff-- perfect way to cool off, and reminded me of my days of bridge jumping in Tai Tam (Hong Kong.) Swam a bit and headed back to the hostel to get ready for the Euro 2008 Finals between Spain and Germany in one of the outdoor beer gardens set up by Tyskie, a local brewery. Spain won, and so did I, as I placed a $50 bet. All in all, it was one of the most perfect Polish days one can ask for-- an awesome bike ride, an off-the-beaten track gem of a find (and adrenalin rush) at the Rocks, watching the team you're rooting for win in an outdoor beer party with the locals... thought it couldn't get better until we went on our day trip to Zakapone.

Zakapone is a mountain resort town about 2 hours by bus south of Krakow. Unfortunately I haven't been able to upload those pics yet so more on that later. But essentially, we took a two hour bus ride, 10 minute minibus, and a rather grueling 2 hour hike up a trail to a summit where the Polish border met Slovakia. After the hike, we took a cable car down and headed for the "Warm Springs" of Zakapone, where we all relaxed and spent an hour or so rejuvenating. Just an absolute blast and I have to thank Slavek ten million times over for showing us all the stuff that Lonely Planet or Frommers would never be able to replicate.

Unplugging in lovely London

2008-06-23T13:05:00.000-07:00

I began this trip with a visit to Hong Kong, where I hadn't seen many of my friends for over 16 years. Turns out, (thank you, Facebook) another HKIS'er, Tiffany Bissey, was out there working for Dell. I also met up with another friend of mine, Adrian, from a previous trip to New Zealand (on his RTW trip) but who is now back in the UK working away his travel debts.

I decided against doing the touristy bit in London, since I had already visited quite a few times and it was nice to just relax, hang out, and unwind a bit (yes, travelling CAN get tiring folks!) So my first day, I went to a coffee shop, Pret, which is a chain that serves fresh sandwiches daily and donates leftovers to local food shelters. I decided for once that I would not listen to my iPod that day and read my book instead. Unfortunately, an American woman and a British man sitting very close to me were discussing their wedding plans and from the sound of it, just made me question why there were even getting married in the first place. They could not agree on anything-- wedding dates, location (beach or church?) etc. The guy didn't even want to let his fiance use his cell phone to call the US to settle an issue! I just thought to myself, "What is this couple doing???" Already arguing about something as simple as cell phone charges? Wait till the credit card bills, mortgage, etc. etc. start coming....

Anyway, stopped by Green Park after lunch on a perfectly sunny London (really?) day. I did absolutely nothing but just lie there and stare up into the sky. Made me realize how sometimes doing absolutely nothing can mean everything. It reminded me of a girl who asked me what there was to see and do in Edinburgh. When I told her it was a beautiful place and that there really wasn't any one thing she had to see, she responded that it didn't sound very interesting! Truth is, my travels often do involve hopping on and off tour buses but for me, the unplanned route, the surprise find like strolling into Green Park that day can be invigorating to your psyche.

Or running into Norman's Coach and Horses. Let me tell you about this place. I was walking around the theater district and walked into this pub simply because it advertised free wi-fi. Hopped in, asked the seemingly 70ish bartender, "Can I have a Guinness and some chips?" To which he responded rather pugnaciously, "Yes, you can." The guy next to me, Nathan, a singer under DJ Aoki's label Din Mak, mentioned under his breath that the bartender was annoyed and suggested I say something more proper, like, "I'd like to have a Guinness with some chips, please." I was, after all, in Norman's Coach and Horses. To which I asked, what's the big deal about this place? Apparently, the owner (not the bartender) was infamously known as the rudest pub owner in all of London! Apparently, at Norman's retirement party, when his most loyal patrons started singing "For He's A Jolly Good Fellow," he shut everybody up and yelled at everybody to "just spend more fackin money!" I sat there with my Guinness, and ate my chips with a small dessert fork, of course, lest I be kicked out of the place for poor manners. I was glad to just stumble into this joint, rather than having a tour guide tell me everything and not actually experience the whole thing myself. And to think, I just went inside for free wi-fi!

That evening, I checked into Hotel Tiffany and was just glad to finally stay in a real home. It was nice to be able to sleep in, do some laundry, and cook a real meal with a real kitchen. Thanks again, Tiffany, for letting me stay at your place. We hung out with some of her friends at a pub, to celebrate one of her colleagues' birthdays. This colleague of hers, I forget his name, told me about how he broke both of his arms one time with just two fingers available. I asked him what he did about, you know, wiping his bung and he said he didn't! Thoroughly disgusted, but laughing like crazy, asked him who washed his ass. He said he had to have his sister spray him spread eagle! I had not laughed like that in a long freakin time!

Bubblin in Dublin!

2008-06-17T09:14:00.000-07:00

One of my favorite beers, as many of you know, is the "black stuff" aka as Guinness. And it's always been a goal of mine to have a pint in Dublin and happy to announce that I was finally able to cross that off my list of things to do before I buy the farm.

The Guinness Store was certainly worth the trip out-- especially since I was able to go with another chap, Brendon (Australia) who also wanted to go just as badly as me. Met Brendon in Edinburgh, and over the past few days in Edinburgh/Dublin I picked up quite a bit of the Aussie lingo: (tell me if any of this actually makes any sense cause I'm still having a hard time figuring the logic out behind some of these)

Cut someone's grass/cut your lunch = homewreck a relationship

Stuffed = polite way of saying "fucked"

flogged = stolen

two stroke = lawnmower fuel

avo = afternoon

chunder = puke

bogan = hick

Anyway, met another Aussie, Vanessa, who also decided to join us for our pilgrimage to the Guinness Store. On our way there, every other block Brendon and I would hear somebody in the background (probably Vanessa) say something to the effect of, "Oh this cathedral was built in 1250.....this place looks interesting.... hmm... I wonder what this place is like inside...." Needless to say Brendon and I were on a mission, and there was no cathedral, church, historical point of reference that was going to stop us on our way to our lovely pint. I think I did grumble to Vanessa that we could check out the cathedral AFTER. Felt a little bad about the whole thing....ok, not really. But Vanessa, you do realize you were with two crazy Guinness fans, right?

I took a day out of Dublin to hang out in the countryside after a few too many pub crawls. Decided to check out Wicklow, about an hours train ride south of Dublin. Booked a hostel, hopped on a train, map in hand-- life's good, right? Got off the train, hopped on the bus where I was told to get off at the last stop (red flag) then walked. And walked. And walked some more. The directions said, go down the main street and it will be on the right hand side. 20 minutes into it I was getting a little worried thinking maybe I took the wrong main street. So I asked a sheepherder (no joke) where the hostel was and he said, another 30 minute walk. And this wasn't just a regular walk-- it was a hilly up and down trek. I thought to myself that I was probably going to end up in the news the next day: "In other news, an American tourist was trampled to death by 30 sheep, apparently lost on his way to the Knockree Hostel." Well finally I arrive, famished. Check in, ask the guy if there's a grocery store around and he said no-- the only thing they had was a can of minestrone soup for, get this, $4.50. A 49 cent can of soup, marked up 5000000 million gajillion percent as my reward for trekking 6 kilometers to this damn hostel.

So I'm in the kitchen hanging out, heating up my minestrone and I run into 3 French students cooking away. I thought to myself, ok, this is the part where I don't tell them I'm American lest they go on and on about how much they hate Americans. I usually wouldn't assume such negative thoughts about people in general but mind you, I was not in the best of spirits. I casually introduced myself and told them I was travelling around the world and disclosed that I was from LA. One of them gets excited about this (about me being from LA, not about my RTW trip, to which I was quite surprised.) He (Remy) proceeds to tell me that one day, he will go to Texas, eat a 40 ounce porterhouse steak with a cowboy hat on while drinking a Budweiser. Another (Mamu) proceeds to tell me that although American football was difficult to follow at first, he now understands all the rules and really enjoys watching it whenever he can. Not only that, there was no mention of politics at all that night. At that point, I thought to myself, where the hell am I, the Twilight Zone??! We commiserated about the 50 minute hike out there over a bottle of vodka, and turns out they were heading back to Dublin the following day. We promptly made plans to meet up the next night in Dublin. Good times....

Scotland-- and the daily wrestle to stay on budget, aye

2008-06-11T09:01:00.001-07:00

If I come back earlier than anticipated, I will blame it all on the British Pound, that bastard of a currency which is forcing me to eat $1.20 pasta from the supermarket for dinner, and forgoing the $.60 fee to pee at public toilets! Don't get me wrong, it's a beautiful place to visit, but it ain't cheap.

I arrived into Glasgow late at night, and figured I'd just hop into the center of town and find a hostel right out of the bus station. Walked around for a good hour before giving up, checking into a hotel for about $180-- a real budget buster. I'd like to think I got my money's worth though, in the form of shampoo bottles, soap, and countless bags of instant coffee! Lesson learned: from now on, I'm booking my accommodations ahead of time.

Had dinner at a Chinese restaurant the first night and the owner of the restaurant came by to chat a bit and wondered where I was from. We spoke for a bit in Cantonese, and it turns out he's originally from Hong Kong and that one day, he plans on returning back to Hong Kong after he retires. I updated him on all the changes there since I was just there, and he, in turn, gave me a free glass of wine! Membership has its privileges!

The next day, I met a few guys in my hostel from Budapest, Hungary and they were on their way to Inverness (area famous for the Loch Ness lore) for Rock Ness 2008, a concert featuring Fat Boy Slim as well as a few other notable acts. They invited me to stay at their place, which I certainly appreciated-- but couldn't make it due to cost and time constraints. But it certainly made me wonder aloud how cool it was to be invited to somebody's place after only a couple of beers. That's another thing I'm quickly learning to appreciate on my travels so far: the backpackers' mentality of exploring the world on a budget encourages you to open your humble abode to others. Though I did not really get to know these guys very well, relatively speaking, if they ever show up in LA, I will certainly reciprocate the courtesy.

Glasgow, wasn't all that interesting so after two nights I took a bus to Edinburgh (or is it Edinborough, I don't know how they say it but it all sounds funny to me) and checked into St. Christopher's Inn, a pretty cool hostel in the center of everything. Met some interesting people, a couple of whom I'll be meeting in Dublin. Noteworthy to mention is Pedro, my Spanish roommate, who has a tendency to smoke quite a bit of weed. When I asked him how long he'd been in Scotland, he said, "Too long..." so then I asked him where he's going next. His deadpanned response: "Missouri....by boat." I started cracking up because first of all, who in their right mind (oh yes, I forgot) decides to go to landlocked Missouri from beautiful Scotland (no offense to any of you Missourians out there but really, you should see this place) And by boat? What IS this guy smoking??!! The funny thing is, I actually somehow believe him, easily picturing him on a boat heading upstream on the Mississippi River one day, dressed in a kilt and playing a bagpipe the whole way there.

The next day, I did the tourist thing, checked out Edinburgh Castle, which I thought was pretty cool-- but it cost $24 to get in so not exactly what I'd call a bargain. But, it's just one of those things you just have to do I guess. I also took a tour up to the Highlands the following day and stopped by the Blair Athol scotch distillery. Our tour guide at the distillery asked me where I was from, I told him, Los Angeles. To which he responded, "Ahh, hopefully after November, you'll be welcome to travel outside of the US again..." I told him, "I can travel anytime, anywhere I want, thank you very much." If there's one thing I can't stand so far about all my travels is the overwhelmingly negative (and ignorant, I might add) perception of Americans due to President Bush. Ummmm... last time I checked, there are over 300 million people living in America, each (I hope) with their own opinions about the war. Interestingly enough, I did meet one person so far, who supported Bush and he was from (wait for it)..... Kenya. I asked him why, and he said that you can't just let these terrorists try and instill fear for their specific, extremist agenda. And he's right-- whether by chance or not, America has not been attacked since 9/11. Anyway, enough politics. But I can't seem to get past all the questions and comments everywhere I go about being an American.

Maybe I should just start telling people I'm from Australia because I'll just mix in with all the other backpackers I meet. Seriously, everywhere I go, you can meet an Australian backpacker. I mean, who lives in Australia if they're all out there travelling???? Two interesting things Brendon (an Australian I met in Edinburgh) told me one night about Australians: 1) He, nor any self-respecting Australian, would ever drink Fosters, as it apparently "tastes like cat piss" and 2) He, nor my other Australian roommate Reece, has never had a shrimp on the barbie!

Anyway, I'm off to Dublin tomorrow to pay homage to my beloved Guinness! Stay tuned for some pics from Scotland as I forgot to bring my camera cable with me to upload.

Pais Vasco (Basque Country) May 25th through June 3rd

2008-06-03T09:25:00.000-07:00

Sigh.... Where do I begin here? It's a good thing I brought my diary wherever I went to jot down notes because otherwise I would have forgotten everything that happened (no thanks to Unai!)

When I mentioned to my friends in Madrid that I was heading up north to visit my friend Unai near San Sebastian, they all jokingly cautioned me not to get blown up by ETA, a group that has a tendency to, well, blow things up. Not everything, of course-- just things that have anything to do with the Spanish government, including the occasional civil servant or judge. I won't go into the whole history of this that and the other but only mentioning this as a point of reference for a few of the experiences I'm about to tell later. They speak a totally different language not related to Spanish, (or Latin for that matter) have a distinct culture separate from Spain, and look quite different as well (more on that later.) In a nutshell, many of the Basque feel that their "country" should be separate from Spain, and ETA is the extremist group fighting for that cause. Sorta like the NRA and the UK.

Anyway, met up with Unai and the first night we went to a few bars, and noticed right away that the beer bottles they served were much smaller-- they call them "ratitos," so that you can down one fairly quickly and move on to the next bar. Interesting concept. "Let them drink faster, so they can leave faster, and come back faster later on in the night, when they'll be really drunk!" Well, since it was my first night in, I didn't let Unai test that concept out on me, just yet.

The second day we went up to San Sebastian, a small coastal city that is normally packed during the summer. But it was still early on (and raining like mad) and the beaches were empty. So we hiked up a small hill and on our way up, Unai told me to check out this plant off the trail. I looked at it, nothing really interesting, but he told me to break off a branch. I did, like the naive idiot I was, and right after began to feel a burning sensation on my finger! That cabron! Right after that happened, it started raining like crazy. Apparently, the gods were not happy with this little joke he played on me. We ran down the hill in the rain, just in time for beer o'clock!

Before we walked into this bar, I want to show you a picture I took of a sign that gently reminded us where we were:

So we walk into this bar, and there's nothing Spanish about it all. Pictures of ETA members who were in prison were prominently displayed, headlining the bar. In the back of my head, I was thinking, I probably shouldn't be here. But, Unai brought me, so I figured I'm good. We joked that if I stayed any longer than a week, I'll probably end up with a picture up on the bar one of these days-- perhaps as the first Chinese member of ETA! We met a Columbian dude in this bar (or was it a different one?) who told us he originally planned on being in San Sebastian for two months. When I asked him how long he'd actually been here, he said, "ten years." (Greg, I'm sure you'll appreciate that one!) Anyway, we started talking a bit here and there, and I asked him what he misses most about Columbia. I was expecting him to say something like, the food, the weather, the people, his machine gun (he IS Columbian right???!!) Nope, none of that. He answered, "Mi madre." At that point, I kind of laughed a little, but not too much because I didn't want to piss him off or anything. Your never know, he could have been Pablo Escobar's brother or something. Anyway, out of all my travels throughout my life, I think that's the first time I ever heard anybody ever say that!

After that bar, we went to Unai's favorite tapas joint, where they served fresh mussels in various sauces. Some good stuff and really hit the spot after a long day of hiking and beering. Tried to finish a gigantor stein of beer...

...but couldn't quite make it. I had to wave the white flag because after five plates of mussels, two plates of potatoes, and a plate of calamari, I just couldn't do it. So what did we do? We went to another bar!

Three American girls were speaking English and I overheard a few words here and there and quickly determined they were from California. I politely told them that speaking English in this area is illegal, and could be a risk to their safety, of course. Anyway, we had a couple more drinks with the three of them-- Alison from Orange County, Kristina from LA, and another Christina from Cali as well. Beer o'clock rolls around and all of a sudden Unai and I realized we had about 5 minutes to catch the last train out of San Sebastian back to his hometown of Beasain. We did our best to run (ok, fine, stumble) over but sure enough, we missed the train. Fortunately, we did not have to spend the night at the train station in spoon formation, as there was one other train heading towards Barcelona that made a stop in his town. When we got on the train, I told Unai to make sure we didn't miss the stop, lest we end up in Barcelona. I passed out right away on the train (those of you who know me well should not have been surprised) and woke up three seconds later (or at least, that's how it felt like) in Beasain. Ladies, thanks for making us miss our train. At least Unai got a good workout-- he complained about his sore "piernas" for the next three days.

The next day, we spent hanging out in his friends bar in the morning (it's happy hour somewhere in the world, right?) Unai and I were just hanging out when the telephone at the bar rings. Typically, when somebody calls the bar and asks for a patron, the bartender will call out, "Anybody by the name of so and so here?" But at this bar, the bartender brought the phone directly to Unai and said, "It's for you, your mom wants to speak with you."

We ran into a friend of his at the bar, Olano, who didn't really seem like he was playing with a full deck of cards. We started chatting for a bit, and I accidentally said something to the effect of, "I've been here in Spain for about a day...." To which he responded quite sternly, "You mean, Pais Vasco...." Point taken. Anyway, an African comes into the bar and is peddling a package of ten pairs of socks to Olano at a cost of 16 euros-- which roughly equals to about $24-- expensive, right? Olano and the African go back and forth for awhile and finally agree on a price-- 6 euros, which is about $9. Not bad, right? But these socks were the cheapest looking things I've ever seen come out of China that will probably disintegrate after one wash. Olano, however, thinks it's such a great deal after having negotiated down from 16 euros, he buys the guy a drink in the bar! Not five minutes later, a couple of his friends come into the bar to tell Olano that they must go and settle some "issue" at the police office. He immediately runs out of the bar and leaves his treasured socks behind. I imagine that in about a year, his picture will be headlining some bar in Beasain.

*************************************************************************************

The next day, we head to his sister and brother-in-law's place with Unai's parents for the weekend. Laida is Unai's older sister, and reminds me very much of my sister Vanessa, who is also the same age as Laida. Laida also has three kids, Ibai, 5, Nile, 2, and an 11 month old baby (can't remember her name!) Ruben, Unai's brother-in-law, is a huge sports fan and knows more about all the foreign players in the NBA than I do. "Luis Scola, ah yes, the backup center playing in Houston behind Yao Ming..... Fabricio Oberto, ah yes, he plays for San Antonio....." The next time he shows up in LA, I'm definitely taking him to a Lakers game. Ibai reminds me very much of my nephew, Payton, who is also 5. He loves to play sports and we spent most of the weekend throwing stuff, kicking stuff, and just having a blast. Unai's mother is a riot as well-- very outspoken about many things and is convinced that you can catch cavities from kissing somebody else. Unai's dad and is a character-- a couple of times he would point out something on my shirt and quickly thumb his finger on my nose once I looked down. I thought that stuff was what you did at, I don't know, my age. But he's keepin it real.

Over the week I was in Beasain, it rained every freakin day. In fact, it was the worst rainstorm in over 25 years, complete with flooded houses and roads. So, what did I decide to do? As a token of appreciation for the family's generous hospitality, I decided that I would cook a good ole' fashioned bbq for them on Sunday. Finding certain ingredients was a bit difficult to find, but eventually settled on picking up some Hunt's BBQ sauce and chicken wings and drumsticks. It was a crowd pleaser, and I was happy to have given them little bit of a taste of America.

We went out one night, and met a few ladies and had a blast talking about the cultural differences between America and Spain. One of the girls asked me if I ate dog, and I said, no, only my grandparents did when they were stricken with poverty and had no other choice when they were in China. I was not offended by this question, because it wasn't out of racism, nor malicious intent, it was just that she did not know any better. There aren't many Chinese (or minorities for that matter) in this country. Anyway, another girl, Maria, had pretty white teeth-- which is not the standard here (or anywhere outside of America, for that matter) She kept refusing to smoke a cigarette from Unai, for fear that it would stain her teeth. So I gave her a stick of my Extra Polar Ice gum that I brought from the US and told her that it's good to chew gum after eating or drinking. She liked it so much I decided to give her my whole pack. Good times overall-- the women here don't get all antsy and uppity when approached by men (as they often do in the US) They're very open to conversation, and also, to my surprise, do not expect you to buy them drinks, either!

Adios, Madrid!

2008-05-25T04:47:00.000-07:00

I know, I've been a real slacker these days when it comes to updating my blog.... but keep in mind that tying myself to a computer when there's so much to see and do in any given city is not exactly high on my priority list! Having said that, let's catch up on everything since my last post.

My last night in Madrid was spent hanging out in Puerta del Sol and decided to check out a few bars. I walked into Dubliners, and all I heard was English, (mostly Americans) and I promptly checked myself out of that place. Walked into another bar, and ordered a "cubata." The bartender probably could tell that I was not from around here, and literally emptied out his bottle of Jack Daniels into my glass. The shot of Coke he poured in after really just hit the spot. Stumbled out of that place, and decided to check out Joy, a nightclub that was pretty popular back in 1997 when I was studying here for a semester. While in line, I ran into Cindy from (of all places) Redondo Beach, who was in Madrid celebrating her birthday. To make things even more interesting, she works for IBM and promptly pulled out her Blackberry, pulled up my Dad's profile and sent him an email, no doubt telling my Dad what a jackass I am after a few cubatas!

The next day I trained over to Alcala de Henares for a tapas festival, about 45 minutes away by train from Madrid to meet up with Pili, a friend of mine I met back when I was studying abroad. We met up with her brother, boyfriend and a couple of her friends eating tapas, drinking, talking and lots of laughing about the cultural differences between Americans and Spanish. It was a fun evening, and glad I had the chance to catch up with her again, as well as meeting her friends. After only five days in Madrid, my Spanish is really getting back up to speed (the cerveza and rioja probably didn't hurt either!) Which reminds me... my mom would be happy about my Spanish right now. Everytime we go out somewhere in LA and she discovers that somebody speaks Spanish (which never happens, right?) she insists that I speak back to them as well. I can hear it in my head right now: "Daniel, use your Spanish! We did not send you to Spain for nothing!"

I'll be heading up to the north of Spain, to Pais Vasco (Basque Country), to meet up with Unai, a friend who I met through Nori and will be staying with him for a week or so. I will, of course, write a separate post about my time there since Madrid is a part of Spain, which Pais Vasco, well, really isn't. More on that later!

Hasta luego!

Hong Kong vs. Spain-- Javier wins

2008-05-23T04:13:00.000-07:00

When I first decided to take this trip, the big theme behind it was to visit places I had never been to. However, I felt it was only appropriate to first visit the two places that I called home for awhile, Hong Kong and Spain. Besides, living and studying abroad gave me the travel bug in the first place so it only made sense to kick off the trip in their respective order.

Going from Hong Kong to Madrid is like Yin and Yang, Mars to Venus (are they really opposites??) Dr. Jeckyl to Mr. Hyde-- you get my drift. Whereas there may be a mini-Starbucks within another larger one in Hong Kong, you have local cafes on every street corner in Madrid. I have seen only two Starbucks so far in my two days here-- something many of us probably have never experienced in the US!

In Hong Kong, there are brand new Bentleys, Benzos, Beemers, and other material signs of excessive and conspicuous consumption crawling amidst luxury shopping malls on every corner. In Spain, ultra-compact cars about the size of my iPod merry about little mom and pop stores that specialize and sell only only one type of thing ie. fruit, fish, meat, bread, jewelry. (Don´t get me wrong, there are luxury goods in Spain, just not as prevalent or ostentatious as Hong Kong.)

And of course, how can I forget to mention the pace of life? I can´t tell you how many times an old Chinese grandma carrying a grandkid or two on her back, with two bags of groceries on each arm, would push me aside, and rush up a flight of stairs to her next appointment with, presumably, her private banker to discuss the next real estate development-- all the while cursing me under her breath to ¨Pok Gai,¨ or to literally ¨drop dead on the street.¨ In Spain, the land of two-hour lunches, well, the pace of life and friendliness towards strangers are quite the opposite. Just yesterday, when one of the subways was stuck and we had to move to a different train, a friendly middle-aged man named Javier, (I know, what a surprise) probably noticed my confusion since I didn´t hear the overhead announcement with my headphones on. He approached me and kindly guided me to the right area, all the while having a very pleasant conversation (in Spanish of course!)

Coming back to Spain reminded me why I decided to take this vacation in the first place-- to embrace and enjoy life the way it was meant to. The trappings of our careers, goals to obtain the next big thing, and the race to who can work hardest while we´re on ¨vacation¨ can too often lead us to be like that Hong Kong grandma, although we should all strive to be more like Javier.

Last day in Hong Kong...

2008-05-21T07:24:00.000-07:00

Well, this isn´t really my last day in Hong Kong as I´m already in Madrid but I was having such a great time catching up with old friends that I rarely had the chance to sit at a computer for more than a few minutes at time!

My first week in Hong Kong was spent at Ravi´s house, and his parents were the most gracious and generous hosts I have ever stayed with. Mrs. Choithramani fed me so much that even Mr. Choithramani said I gained weight after a week! (There may have been other beer-related factors, however.) Her food was so good-- samosas, dhosa, curries left and right, my mouth is watering just thinking of it all!

I also crashed a couple of nights at my old friend Francis´ place as well, and things haven´t changed since we used to shoot pigeons off his balcony with our bb guns. (Unfortunately, we didn´t get a chance to that again-- he doesn´t have a balcony anymore!) Despite his busy schedule as a ¨banker wanker¨ we spent some quality man time together. I can´t tell you how many conversations began with, ¨Remember when we used to -insert almost illegal adolescent act here- ¨ or ¨Remember when you used to like -insert girl here-¨ Ahhh...the memories.

It was also good to catch up with Shari, whom my mother nicknamed, ¨Crazy Chicken¨as a term of endearment a long while ago. So, we cooked dinner one night and while I was chopping up some garlic, I realized the knife was not doing its job. At first I thought it was just a really dull knife, but lo and behold when I picked it up, there was a slight crescent moon-like curve to the blade! Shari, I really think it´s time to get rid of that thing....

A bunch of HKISérs got together one night in Lan Kwai Fong and it was truly a blast catching up with everybody that night, including:

Howard Tang-- still as sharp-witted as before, both Cantonese and English I might add.

Danny Lung-- glad I got to play basketball with him again, in the same court right below Estoril Court! Too bad we didn´t win the second game...

David Leventhal-- I remember very clearly my first day of school at HKIS. I hated the world, hated my parents for uprooting me from my beloved Los Angeles, hated the apartment I lived in, pretty much anything you can think of, I hated. So if you can imagine any kid´s first day at school-- I was not in the best of spirits. I recall carrying a tray of fries and a soda and spilling the whole freakin thing in front of the entire cafeteria full of students. I not only heard a needle drop, I think I also pissed my pants. Anyway, it was a pretty embarrassing thing, and I retreated to some back table, hating everything even more so. David came by my table and introduced himself to me, and he officially became my first friend at HKIS. Good thing, because as it turns out, he was THE Dodgeball King, and I never had to play against him!

Michelle Hoeppner, Shari, Francis, Ravi, Pravesh, Rizwan Farooqi, Faith Fischer and few significant others were also there that night, and for the most part, everybody is doing well and I´m really happy about that.

So, going along with the G.I. Joe theme of what I learned... The friends I grew up with during that awkward pubescent/adolescent stage are the friends I have the fondest memories of, and consequently, have the strongest affinity towards. It really was refreshing to see everybody again after all these years. And the recent earthquake tragedy in Sichuan, China, simple reinforces the fact that it´s never too early or too late to reach out to some old friends you haven´t seen. I truly dislike using meaningless cliches like that, but really, if you´re sitting back reading this right now, please call up one old friend you haven´t talked to in years. You won´t be disappointed.

Hong Kong Reunion with Ravi... and his tennis racquet

2008-05-08T05:44:00.000-07:00

The farewell committee (above, left to right: Calvin- roommate extraordinaire, Nori and his baby boy Kobe, Moms, Tracy getting his head slapped yet again, me and my girlfriend Colette, Ashley, and my little sister Carrie)

I was really trying to smash their heads together to see what sound it would make.

Hello everybody!

Thankfully, I made it to Hong Kong--- when I checked into the airport at LAX, my name wasn't even on the list!! Apparently, American Airlines never sent over the confirmation to Cathay Pacific in time, and hence, my entire itinerary was wiped out! Everything worked out after about an hour of mayhem, though, and was just a timely reminder that a good attitude about these types of things (which are inevitably going to happen again) is absolutely critical to having a good time on this trip.

I arrived into Hong Kong, where I met up with Ravi Choithramani, an old friend of mine whom I haven't seen since I left Hong Kong at the age of 16. Not much has changed, really. I still swear at him with the few Hindi words he taught me back in the 7th grade, and he still swears back at me with the few Cantonese swear words I taught him (honestly, the credit should really go to my Uncle Ed, who laid a solid foundation for me!)

Funny story about Ravi... Back in the 7th grade, he had a huge crush on Andrea Doak, and we would always tease him about his inability to ask her out. (Then again, at that age, we all had our various issues with asking girls out as I was no Rico Suave either-- but enough about me.) We made a bet, that if he didn't ask her out by the end of 8th grade, he would have to surrender his Prince Graphite 110 tennis racquet to me. Back then, the Prince Graphite was the real deal (Andre Agassi and Michael Chang both used it to whomp some serious ass) and carried some major street cred amongst the tennis cognoscenti so this was a heavy wager that (we hoped) carried a lot of motivational weight for Ravi. Needless to say, Ravi never asked her out by the end of 8th grade and gave up his beloved Prince Graphite to yours truly, which I would later use to stomp some serious US Open ass myself (ok, fine, Schurr High School Varsity was about as far as my tennis career went.) I kept this racquet over the years and right before I left for Hong Kong, I decided to bring this with me to give back to Ravi as I was sure he'd get a kick out of it as well. (Picture below) How does that song go again, "Reunited and it feels so good......"

As we have both since discovered through Facebook, Andrea Doak is now married to somebody not named Ravi. Sorry bud, if only you had asked her out, perhaps things may have turned out differently!

The itinerary of the year!

2008-04-29T13:58:00.000-07:00

After much deliberation, I finally have my entire itinerary planned out. It took some time, as the Round The World Airfare requires that you book EVERY city out before your first departure date. I initially thought all you needed was your first city and from there you just pick and choose where you want to go next-- nuh uh. However, you do not need to tell them exact dates, except for the first city so there's a bit more flexibility there. And I know this will make some of you roll your eyes, but I coughed up the extra $6K upgrade to fly business around the world-- I know, not exactly roughing it but I think in the whole grand scheme of things, it's worth it!

May 5th: Los Angeles to Hong Kong
May 20th: Hong Kong to Madrid, Spain (via London)
(After Madrid, all dates are open-ended so if you want to meet up, let me know!!!)
June:
Madrid to Glasgow, Scotland - Dublin, Ireland - Reykjavik, Iceland
July:
Glasgow to Warsaw, Poland. Train through Lithuania, Lativa and Estonia
August to mid-September:
Sweden, Finland, Norway
Mid-September to early October:
Denmark, Copenhagen - Munich, Germany - Amsterdam, Netherlands
Late October- Mid-November:
Athens, Greece - Ankara, Turkey
December:
Cairo, Egypt - Accra, Ghana
January :
Buenos Aires, Argentina - Santiago, Chile (side trips to Uruguay and Paraguay)
February:
Rio De Janeiro, Brazil
March:
Quito, Ecuador (side trips to Columbia and Venezuela)
April:
Costa Rica (side trips to Panama and Belize)
May:
Return to the US where I will fly into some Eastern US city (Miami, Atlanta, or New York) and drive coast to coast back home to Santa Monica, California.

Phew!!!

I'm sure somewhere along the way, this WILL change but at least you guys have an idea of where I'll be. I can't wait!!! This is really the trip of a lifetime and hopefully some of you can make it out here and there for some good times.

"So.... when are you leaving???"

2008-04-25T16:55:00.001-07:00

One of the most common questions I've been asked over the past month since I quit on March 31st finally has an answer! It's official, on Cinco de Mayo, I will be doing my Mexican hat dance all the way to....Hong Kong! Yes, I know, it's been almost a month already since I quit-- what the heck have I been doing? Well, lemme tell ya...

Over the past 4 weeks, I've learned many things, specifically centered around not having a job:

1) It can really screw up your sleeping schedule. Just last week, I think I set the world record for "Latest hour to bake cookies." I finished baking the last batch at around 2:30am, on a Monday, naturally! It was worth it, because when I woke up at noon, it made for a perfect breakfast. Not to mention how great it is to wake up with the smell of freshly baked cookies still lingering in the house.

2) You have more unemployed friends than you think, and they will literally show up at your door just to hang out with little or zero prior notification. My buddy knocked on my door the other day and he said, "I just figured you'd be around!" At least he didn't show up before noon. I'm assuming because he had also been up late doing something constructive like baking cookies the night before.

3) Back in the 80's we had trashy soap operas during the day. The 90's brought forth such notable daytime talk shows like Jerry Springer and Ricki Lake. I am convinced cable news is just the ugly bastard child of Days of Our Lives and Maury Povich.

4) eBay should be renamed eCrack.

5) Life was much, much, simpler back when I was 9-- but things do not change much when you're 32, either. While cleaning out my closet I found an old piggy bank that I kept when I was a kid. I opened it up, and I found my first, ahem, "bank account statement." What made this little note so interesting is the fact that my budgeting and financial planning back then is practically the same as it is today-- ultimately allowing me to take this year-long hiatus in the first place. So all you people who have been asking me, how can I afford to do this trip? It started with $19.60 back in 1985. Better start planning!!!

Also interesting to note is that it took me about three years to save $11.35! And, Alfred, I'm coming after you....

April Fools!!!

2008-04-01T11:11:00.001-07:00

Ironic, isn't it, that April Fools' day just so happens to be the first day I am no longer a working man! Fitting that only a fool like me would embark on this crazy adventure.

Life's great when you don't have to fill out TPS reports!

PS: Golf anyone?

32nd Birthday/Farewell party

2008-03-22T13:06:00.000-07:00

Welcome!

2008-03-02T23:13:00.000-08:00

Question: Where are you going?
Answer: Well, the rough draft of the trip will have me start in Hong Kong in the April timeframe. I used to live there for over three years as a teenager-- I'd love to go back there and drop water baloons off the 29th floor again! Then, off to Spain, where I spent a semester abroad. The Nordics will be next, then the Baltics, and back down to Germany for Oktoberfest. After that, Morocco, Egypt and Seychelles. If I can peel myself out of Seychelles, I'll be heading over to South America (Brazil, Argentina, Uruguay, Paraguay, Chile) and Central America (Costa Rica, Belize, Panama) and if I have enough time I'd like to do a cross country road trip from Miami or New York back to LA.

Question: How are you going to pay for all of this?
Answer: Sell crack.

Question: No seriously, did you hit the lottery or something?
Answer: Well, I've done tons of research and it's not actually as expensive as most people think. I sold my car and will be renting out my place here in Santa Monica so that will certainly help offset some of the costs.

Question: What is your goal for this trip?
Answer: Some of my most memorable moments while traveling have occurred when I've caught myself thinking, "This cannot happen anywhere else but here." Those are the things I will seek out in this adventure, although, as I'm sure to discover, will probably find me first.

Question: When are you coming back?
Answer: The plan is to travel for a year, but much of it depends on how much money I have left. If I've budgeted appropriately, I'll be back in April 2009.

Question: Are you nuts?
Answer: I prefer the term insanity, thanks.