So Colombia is FANTASTIC. It's hot, tropical, the people are awesome, have the best fresh juice EVER, and they not only de-lactose their milk but put FIBER in it too! Man, any country that does that (AND has PALM TREES!) is O.K. in MY BOOK! I Spent the day wandering around Cartegena along the beach and in the old town with two cool, laid back Norwegians. I am hot, sweaty, sticky, a little sandy, and am surrounded by guys (apparently not many girls travel to Colombia by themselves which means the hostals are PACKED with guys...!) In other words: Julia. Is. Happy.
Now, if only the fact that it cost me $1,300 in a lost ticket to Fiji (and another $230 to get here) would stop smarting, everything would be perfect! But, alas! Such is life! We learn from our mistakes which means we must acknowledge them, accept them, and continue to move onwards and upwards! Which is what I'm currently attempting to do. It's just hard sometimes. Especially when it has to do with money at a time when you don't have a lot to waste.
ANYWAY. I KNOW all y'all wanna know exactly what happened in the span of 72 hours that caused me to end up in COLOMBIA verses FIJI on November 8th, 2010. So there's the story:
Back in Mexico when I was doing my research and figuring out where I wanted to spend the winter I narrowed it down to two options: 1.) Colombia where I would go, hang, focus on continuing to make myself happy, do English lessons via skype, work on my Spanish--and maybe learn some salsa too! and 2.)Fiji where I would do a 4 month internship with a tour operator that also owned a restaurant and was opening up a hostel which would be really good for the resume and where I would hopefully also have time to explore gorgeous turquoise beaches, etc.
Now. I really wanted to go to the Caribbean coast of Colombia but Fiji just made more sense. After all, it was just as tropical as Colombia, even nicer, safter, PLUS I would get practical experience as well in the field I would be going into. So it was kind of a no-brainer that I take the position in Fiji. Only, I didn't feel good about it. But, I talked myself into it, because who wouldn't?!
Get this (and tell me if YOU wouldn't then have misgivings): on the day I'm leaving, Friday, for the airport I get this email from the family that owns the tour company in Fiji. They ask me to pick up a carton of cigarettes and some rum at the airport for them. I say to myself, "that's okay, Julia. Perfectly normal. Duty-free. Of course they would want to save money while they can...I'm SURE they'll pay me back...No reason to get alarmed." So I'm feeling really kinda shaky at this point. THEN, less than a HALF-HOUR before I leave the house for the airport at 12am I check my email to confirm my flight info. There's another email from the family in Fiji. It reads something like this:
"Hi Julia, we just want to ask if we are picking you up at the airport or if you will be taking a taxi. If we are picking you up then it will be $50."
As I read this all the warning bells and red lights began REALLY F-ING DISCO-TECH-STROBE-LIGHT-FLASHING in my head. I called them up via skype and asked them about charging me to pick me up (because, after all, I HAD ALREADY PAID ONE THOUSAND AND 300 BUCKS JUST TO FLY OUT THERE TO WORK FOR FREE FOR THEM FOR THE LOVE OF GOD!) and asked them how much a taxi cost. They said $80 which, made it look like it was a good deal they were offering. Then I asked about a bus ride. They said EIGHT DOLLARS. At this point I hung up. I realized that they were not going to, in all likelyhood, pay me back for the cigarettes and rum and that in the four months that I worked for them, they would probably take advantage of me thinking that I was just some spoiled American girl made of money that was just looking for an adventure. (In all fairness on their part, that's all they see over there probably.) As soon as these realizations hit, and they hit HARD, I started crying and remembered what the D.A.R.E. Program at school taught me: "Just say NO!" A little out of context, but hey. It works.
So, it was like that. I just knew. I could FEEL with every ounce of my body that it was not a good idea and for the first time in my life I canceled a trip. Ticket and money be damned. And now I'm in Colombia in the most beautiful city in South America, happy, albeit licking a few monetary wounds and trying not to be angry with myself for not initially listening to my instincts.
Let that be a lesson to all y'all out there! LISTEN TO YOUR INSTINCTS THE FIRST TIME AROUND AND YOU WILL PROBABLY SAVE MUCHO DINERO. Especially when it comes to traveling.
*On a side note: I think it's hilarious that I went from Chihuahua, center of the drug problems in Mexico to Colombia, the source and center of the drug problems in South America. Am I missing something? A hint from the Universe? Maybe I should do a documentary or something on the drug trade...
Tuesday, November 9, 2010
Wednesday, October 27, 2010
Chihuahua & the Drug Wars
Chihuahua & the Drug Wars
Since I just spent the last month in Chihuahua, the heart of the drug wars
here in Mexico, I feel just a little obligated to share with you my first-
hand observations and experiences about this difficult time for Northern
Mexico.
2 years ago, Chihuahua, the capital of Chihuahua state, the largest state in
Mexico, was a quiet university town. People were friendly and neighborly and
it was a nice place to be, surrounded by scenic pink desert mountains with a
wonderfully sunny, dry climate. Today however, after two years of vicious
fighting over territories, resulting in THOUSANDS of murders by the various
drug cartels, it is quite the opposite. Bullets and sirens can be regularly
heard over the normal sounds of salsa music, passing cars and singing birds.
Squadrons of pick-ups filled with fully-armed police, sirens flashing,
rushing down the street, are a normal sight. Fear and uncertainty rule the
streets.
I spoke at length with many of the locals, including my friend who was in his
3rd year at Chihuahua State University. Most everyone that has lived in
Chihuahua, including my friend and all of his friends, has witnessed, first
hand people being murdered right in front of them or in their neighborhoods.
Many of them have had close calls, barely missing drive-by shootings.
According to them, 5 people die EVERY DAY due to the drug wars in the city of
Chihuahua alone. 25% of Chihuahua's population is in some way related to the
drug industry, whether is selling, trafficking, or laundering money from
drugs. Many local business owners are terrorized by the cartels as they have
been known to burn down competitor's stores that have been laundering money,
as well as stores that REFUSE to launder money, hurting the surrounding
businesses as well with the violence. In the last year, several stores in a
plaza on the outskirts of town were targeted and burnt down. Many of the
still-standing businesses are struggling to make it as it has scared
customers away. One of the business owners is a family member of my friend.
During one evening when I accompanied my friend to a local bar, he and his
friends often hang out at, I was told that the owner there is facing some
difficulties with some drug dealers. They are demanding that he sell their
drugs in his bar, to which he is refusing. Due to that problem, there are
always several cops outside his bar in an attempt to protect him and it. I
think he is an incredibly brave man and hope that he is kept safe and wins
his personal battle against the drug wars.
Fear is so prevalent that it even affects the local law enforcement and other
social services. Often, there are many jokes about the police and ambulances
as it appears they can sometimes take their time getting to a scene. It is
also said that sometimes hospitals will not help patients that have been shot
as they are afraid that someone will come to the hospital to finish them off.
Many stores are kept locked during business hours and will only be opened to
"normal" looking customers. 24 hour convenient stores operate out of small
1ft square windows in the doors as soon as the sun sets. You are not able to
enter the stores. One of the women I met there was even afraid to drive her
"nice" car around town as sometimes nice cars are hijacked in broad daylight
and stolen by people with guns. She said that you were lucky if only your
car was taken and you were left with your life.
As can be imagined, all the violence Chihuahua has seen has had a devastating
effect on the social atmosphere and has made life very difficult for many.
People are now quiet and introverted, suspicious of everyone. For me, it was
incredibly difficult to strike up a conversation with anyone as everyone was
so guarded.
Regardless, the people of Chihuahua are putting on a brave front and facing
the situation rather than running away from it. As my friend put it, "We
just try to live day by day and focus on the good, enjoying our lives as much
as possible." Myself, as well as everyone else, are hoping that this
situation will not last forever. Someday the peace will return to Chihuahua
and it once more be a great place to live and raise a family.
*Please note that northern Mexico is one of the most dangerous areas
currently for reporters to be. They are targeted and killed. I have been
wanting to write this blog entry for quite some time and even though I am not
a bonfied reporter, I thought it wise to wait till I was out of the area to
post it.
Since I just spent the last month in Chihuahua, the heart of the drug wars
here in Mexico, I feel just a little obligated to share with you my first-
hand observations and experiences about this difficult time for Northern
Mexico.
2 years ago, Chihuahua, the capital of Chihuahua state, the largest state in
Mexico, was a quiet university town. People were friendly and neighborly and
it was a nice place to be, surrounded by scenic pink desert mountains with a
wonderfully sunny, dry climate. Today however, after two years of vicious
fighting over territories, resulting in THOUSANDS of murders by the various
drug cartels, it is quite the opposite. Bullets and sirens can be regularly
heard over the normal sounds of salsa music, passing cars and singing birds.
Squadrons of pick-ups filled with fully-armed police, sirens flashing,
rushing down the street, are a normal sight. Fear and uncertainty rule the
streets.
I spoke at length with many of the locals, including my friend who was in his
3rd year at Chihuahua State University. Most everyone that has lived in
Chihuahua, including my friend and all of his friends, has witnessed, first
hand people being murdered right in front of them or in their neighborhoods.
Many of them have had close calls, barely missing drive-by shootings.
According to them, 5 people die EVERY DAY due to the drug wars in the city of
Chihuahua alone. 25% of Chihuahua's population is in some way related to the
drug industry, whether is selling, trafficking, or laundering money from
drugs. Many local business owners are terrorized by the cartels as they have
been known to burn down competitor's stores that have been laundering money,
as well as stores that REFUSE to launder money, hurting the surrounding
businesses as well with the violence. In the last year, several stores in a
plaza on the outskirts of town were targeted and burnt down. Many of the
still-standing businesses are struggling to make it as it has scared
customers away. One of the business owners is a family member of my friend.
During one evening when I accompanied my friend to a local bar, he and his
friends often hang out at, I was told that the owner there is facing some
difficulties with some drug dealers. They are demanding that he sell their
drugs in his bar, to which he is refusing. Due to that problem, there are
always several cops outside his bar in an attempt to protect him and it. I
think he is an incredibly brave man and hope that he is kept safe and wins
his personal battle against the drug wars.
Fear is so prevalent that it even affects the local law enforcement and other
social services. Often, there are many jokes about the police and ambulances
as it appears they can sometimes take their time getting to a scene. It is
also said that sometimes hospitals will not help patients that have been shot
as they are afraid that someone will come to the hospital to finish them off.
Many stores are kept locked during business hours and will only be opened to
"normal" looking customers. 24 hour convenient stores operate out of small
1ft square windows in the doors as soon as the sun sets. You are not able to
enter the stores. One of the women I met there was even afraid to drive her
"nice" car around town as sometimes nice cars are hijacked in broad daylight
and stolen by people with guns. She said that you were lucky if only your
car was taken and you were left with your life.
As can be imagined, all the violence Chihuahua has seen has had a devastating
effect on the social atmosphere and has made life very difficult for many.
People are now quiet and introverted, suspicious of everyone. For me, it was
incredibly difficult to strike up a conversation with anyone as everyone was
so guarded.
Regardless, the people of Chihuahua are putting on a brave front and facing
the situation rather than running away from it. As my friend put it, "We
just try to live day by day and focus on the good, enjoying our lives as much
as possible." Myself, as well as everyone else, are hoping that this
situation will not last forever. Someday the peace will return to Chihuahua
and it once more be a great place to live and raise a family.
*Please note that northern Mexico is one of the most dangerous areas
currently for reporters to be. They are targeted and killed. I have been
wanting to write this blog entry for quite some time and even though I am not
a bonfied reporter, I thought it wise to wait till I was out of the area to
post it.
Friday, October 22, 2010
Chihuahua: Livin' the Good Life: The Apt from Hell & the Monster Next Door
Life in Chihuahua, Mexico has been real. Almost too real sometimes. And
others, not real enough! (I am currently listening to music with
headphones to drown out the sound of the fussy baby that's been driving me
BATTY not quite next door, more like in the next room that's connected by a
permanently open window...Her name's Julia too. Poor little Julia is never
quite happy and always getting scolded in Spanish. I think I was the same way
when I was small.) Oh well.
So I guess that's a good enough intro for the place I've been living for the
last month! Now, in all due fairness, Canaantzi did do his ABSOLUTE BEST to
find the nicest, most affordable apartment for him, me and Carlos, his buddy.
He searched high and wide and COMBED the city, but there's just not a lot available here and then you have the added difficulty of making sure it's in a good neighborhood so you don't get accidentally sprayed with bullets! (But that's my next entry). All things considered, he did a fabulous job. There's just a few quirks with this apartment:
1.)The fridge is on crack and adding to the drug problem here. It freezes
everything solid then proceeds to thaw and flood the kitchen floor until we give it another hit...Occassionaly we've got rivers and lakes we have to paddle through to be able to cook!
2.)The apartment that it is ajoined with literally is ADJOINED. There's a
window in our kitchen and BEDROOM to the other apartment. We can shut the one in the kitchen but the one in the bedroom is the issue, really. It's a HUGE window, from floor to ceiling, covered by a thin, white curtain with smaller windows up top, one of which is missing the glass...so it's open. Now, this window opens up into the other people's KITCHEN which is really just wonderful. Most of the time our bedroom smells like frying meat. It's really spectacular when we're in bed at 11 or 12 and someone walks into the kitchen for a late night snack or glass of water and TURNS THE LIGHTS ON because guess what...OUR BEDROOM GETS FLOODED WITH LIGHT. Randomly. Whenver. All through the night. It's great when our neighbor invites his buddies over and drinks all night...they're constantly snacking and talking in the kitchen making for GREAT sleep-background noise.
3.)This brings me to our neighbor, lovingly dubbed "The Monster Next Door."
This may not be a fair nickname because the landlady really did say he was a
nice fella...I just haven't really seen much evidence of this. When I first
heard his voice I was like "What the fu...."? He had a deep voice that
sounded like Arnold Schwartzenegger who was all stuffed up. Supposedly he
speaks in Spanish but Canaantzi and Carlos can't ever understand a word he
says (due to the windows we hear everything that is said loud and clear).
Um...CREEPY. Then I saw his face and understood why his voice sounded like
that. I don't know what's happening, if he's got cancer or something else,
but it's unfortunately very badly disfigured-both of his cheaks all the way
down to the jaw are puffed out and it looks like his nostrils are embedded in his face...Hence the muffled wierd voice. So. There's that.
4.)The shower that thinks showering JUST YOU is NOT ENOUGH and insists on showering the whole room. Really, it's a problem of the shower curtain--we need to buy a REAL one and a shower nozzel that isn't ALSO on crack. Regardless, whenever you take a shower the whole room ends up showered as well and mopping up the floor is a necessary evil. (All I can think of is those cockroaches scuttling over the floor all night...ewwww). It's really very nice.
5.)The cockroaches the size of mice. I don't think I have to say anything more on the subject except for the fact that I am CONVINCED, for better or worse, that I am, IN FACT, The Cockroach Whisperer. When I talk, they listen. It's been a mystical experience.
6.)The faulty pipe of the water tank located on the roof that occassionaly floods THE BEDROOM. Last week I woke up to the sound of rain and thought it was funny because I live in a desert. I opened my eyes and it was raining IN MY ROOM. Water was POORING down from a ceiling vent flooding the room. My big backpack just happened to be under it....Ya. It was a stellar day. Carlos was awesome. He climbed up on the roof and from what we can tell, fixed it. Mr. McGuyver, I salute you!
7.)The bathroom is located at the back of the apartment through the two bedrooms. So you have to walk through BOTH bedrooms to get to the bathroom. This can be pretty inconvenient for both or all parties when the bathroom needs to get used especially at night, which brings me to my NEXT point:
8.)The bathroom light and bedroom light are WIRED TOGETHER. That's right. At ll or 12 or 1am when you wanna go to the bathroom, guess what. Everyone get's rudely awakened by bright light (unless you want to feel around the bathroom in the dark and possibly run into some cockroaches with bare feet...no thank you.)
Now. I don't want to end this entry on a bad note. There is ONE good thing about this apartment...YOU CAN FLUSH TOILET PAPER DOWN THE TOILET! (Unlike the rest of Mexico). And while it may seem that I complained a lot...in reality I do love the apartment, most of the time, for all its little quirks. They do make life interesting and me laugh. So there you have it, a little slice of what life is like living in Mexico.
others, not real enough! (I am currently listening to music with
headphones to drown out the sound of the fussy baby that's been driving me
BATTY not quite next door, more like in the next room that's connected by a
permanently open window...Her name's Julia too. Poor little Julia is never
quite happy and always getting scolded in Spanish. I think I was the same way
when I was small.) Oh well.
So I guess that's a good enough intro for the place I've been living for the
last month! Now, in all due fairness, Canaantzi did do his ABSOLUTE BEST to
find the nicest, most affordable apartment for him, me and Carlos, his buddy.
He searched high and wide and COMBED the city, but there's just not a lot available here and then you have the added difficulty of making sure it's in a good neighborhood so you don't get accidentally sprayed with bullets! (But that's my next entry). All things considered, he did a fabulous job. There's just a few quirks with this apartment:
1.)The fridge is on crack and adding to the drug problem here. It freezes
everything solid then proceeds to thaw and flood the kitchen floor until we give it another hit...Occassionaly we've got rivers and lakes we have to paddle through to be able to cook!
2.)The apartment that it is ajoined with literally is ADJOINED. There's a
window in our kitchen and BEDROOM to the other apartment. We can shut the one in the kitchen but the one in the bedroom is the issue, really. It's a HUGE window, from floor to ceiling, covered by a thin, white curtain with smaller windows up top, one of which is missing the glass...so it's open. Now, this window opens up into the other people's KITCHEN which is really just wonderful. Most of the time our bedroom smells like frying meat. It's really spectacular when we're in bed at 11 or 12 and someone walks into the kitchen for a late night snack or glass of water and TURNS THE LIGHTS ON because guess what...OUR BEDROOM GETS FLOODED WITH LIGHT. Randomly. Whenver. All through the night. It's great when our neighbor invites his buddies over and drinks all night...they're constantly snacking and talking in the kitchen making for GREAT sleep-background noise.
3.)This brings me to our neighbor, lovingly dubbed "The Monster Next Door."
This may not be a fair nickname because the landlady really did say he was a
nice fella...I just haven't really seen much evidence of this. When I first
heard his voice I was like "What the fu...."? He had a deep voice that
sounded like Arnold Schwartzenegger who was all stuffed up. Supposedly he
speaks in Spanish but Canaantzi and Carlos can't ever understand a word he
says (due to the windows we hear everything that is said loud and clear).
Um...CREEPY. Then I saw his face and understood why his voice sounded like
that. I don't know what's happening, if he's got cancer or something else,
but it's unfortunately very badly disfigured-both of his cheaks all the way
down to the jaw are puffed out and it looks like his nostrils are embedded in his face...Hence the muffled wierd voice. So. There's that.
4.)The shower that thinks showering JUST YOU is NOT ENOUGH and insists on showering the whole room. Really, it's a problem of the shower curtain--we need to buy a REAL one and a shower nozzel that isn't ALSO on crack. Regardless, whenever you take a shower the whole room ends up showered as well and mopping up the floor is a necessary evil. (All I can think of is those cockroaches scuttling over the floor all night...ewwww). It's really very nice.
5.)The cockroaches the size of mice. I don't think I have to say anything more on the subject except for the fact that I am CONVINCED, for better or worse, that I am, IN FACT, The Cockroach Whisperer. When I talk, they listen. It's been a mystical experience.
6.)The faulty pipe of the water tank located on the roof that occassionaly floods THE BEDROOM. Last week I woke up to the sound of rain and thought it was funny because I live in a desert. I opened my eyes and it was raining IN MY ROOM. Water was POORING down from a ceiling vent flooding the room. My big backpack just happened to be under it....Ya. It was a stellar day. Carlos was awesome. He climbed up on the roof and from what we can tell, fixed it. Mr. McGuyver, I salute you!
7.)The bathroom is located at the back of the apartment through the two bedrooms. So you have to walk through BOTH bedrooms to get to the bathroom. This can be pretty inconvenient for both or all parties when the bathroom needs to get used especially at night, which brings me to my NEXT point:
8.)The bathroom light and bedroom light are WIRED TOGETHER. That's right. At ll or 12 or 1am when you wanna go to the bathroom, guess what. Everyone get's rudely awakened by bright light (unless you want to feel around the bathroom in the dark and possibly run into some cockroaches with bare feet...no thank you.)
Now. I don't want to end this entry on a bad note. There is ONE good thing about this apartment...YOU CAN FLUSH TOILET PAPER DOWN THE TOILET! (Unlike the rest of Mexico). And while it may seem that I complained a lot...in reality I do love the apartment, most of the time, for all its little quirks. They do make life interesting and me laugh. So there you have it, a little slice of what life is like living in Mexico.
Thursday, September 30, 2010
CHIHUAHUA: No Quiero Taco Bell!
CHIHUAHUA: The most dangerous, deadly city in Mexico at the moment.
CHIHUAHUA: The city those damn annoying, little dogs are named after.
CHIHUAHUA: a desert city in the middle of nowhere (think: Reno/Las Vegas without all the glitz AND MEXICAN).
CHIHUAHUA: the city of Mexican Caballeros in tight jeans, creamy cowboy hats and snakeskin boots.
CHIHUAHUA: an odd mix of Mexican traditional decorum and modernity.
As I sit here in this lovely Starbucks (I admit it: I am truly GRATEFUL and actually HAPPY to be in a Starbucks for the first time in my life) my head is still spinning as to how and WHY I am here, in CHIHUAHUA of ALL PLACES ON EARTH! Oh...I KNOW how I got here but WHY?! (And YES, I do know WHY, BUT STILL, FOR THE LOVE OF GOD!) Now, it's time to have a candid word and be honest to myself and everyone out there. I'm painfully aware of the fact that I could be literally ANYWHERE in the WORLD, on a beautiful beach taking it easy, doing what I do best: being a beach bum, Livin' the Life, or hiking through a jungle somewhere or exploring some neat European city in between looking for work (which is the point to all of this).
But I'm here in CHIHUAHUA. I'm here because I've been THERE and done THAT. I'm looking for a new challenge. For the last year I've been living in CONSTANT, unyielding fear, ARTIFICIAL fear, caused by low blood sugar, overactive adrenal glands and supported by an over-stressful job. (aka: Severe Anxiety & Panic Attacks). I'm sick of FAKE FEAR. I need contrast. Mayhaps I need the real thing. I need something powerful enough to wake my consciousness up to get over that silly form of BEING and living. So, I find myself here in Chihuahua with a mind to see how truly dangerous it is, to get over myself, and renew my friendship with my old pal Canaantzi.
I've enjoyed myself in the last few days, riding b*tch on the back of Canaantzi's motorcycle all over the city, helping him find an apartment and SCANDALIZING half of the population by staying with a single fellow, UNMARRIED! AND being an AMERICAN, OH MY! You KNOW what THAT means! There will be rumors about me floating around WAY after I leave this hot, dry place! I still haven't decided how long I'm going to stay. Maybe till something or someone scares me outta here! Or I find employment somewhere. One thing's for sure: I plan to live it up and get as much as I can outta this seemingly dubious wasteland!
CHIHUAHUA: The city those damn annoying, little dogs are named after.
CHIHUAHUA: a desert city in the middle of nowhere (think: Reno/Las Vegas without all the glitz AND MEXICAN).
CHIHUAHUA: the city of Mexican Caballeros in tight jeans, creamy cowboy hats and snakeskin boots.
CHIHUAHUA: an odd mix of Mexican traditional decorum and modernity.
As I sit here in this lovely Starbucks (I admit it: I am truly GRATEFUL and actually HAPPY to be in a Starbucks for the first time in my life) my head is still spinning as to how and WHY I am here, in CHIHUAHUA of ALL PLACES ON EARTH! Oh...I KNOW how I got here but WHY?! (And YES, I do know WHY, BUT STILL, FOR THE LOVE OF GOD!) Now, it's time to have a candid word and be honest to myself and everyone out there. I'm painfully aware of the fact that I could be literally ANYWHERE in the WORLD, on a beautiful beach taking it easy, doing what I do best: being a beach bum, Livin' the Life, or hiking through a jungle somewhere or exploring some neat European city in between looking for work (which is the point to all of this).
But I'm here in CHIHUAHUA. I'm here because I've been THERE and done THAT. I'm looking for a new challenge. For the last year I've been living in CONSTANT, unyielding fear, ARTIFICIAL fear, caused by low blood sugar, overactive adrenal glands and supported by an over-stressful job. (aka: Severe Anxiety & Panic Attacks). I'm sick of FAKE FEAR. I need contrast. Mayhaps I need the real thing. I need something powerful enough to wake my consciousness up to get over that silly form of BEING and living. So, I find myself here in Chihuahua with a mind to see how truly dangerous it is, to get over myself, and renew my friendship with my old pal Canaantzi.
I've enjoyed myself in the last few days, riding b*tch on the back of Canaantzi's motorcycle all over the city, helping him find an apartment and SCANDALIZING half of the population by staying with a single fellow, UNMARRIED! AND being an AMERICAN, OH MY! You KNOW what THAT means! There will be rumors about me floating around WAY after I leave this hot, dry place! I still haven't decided how long I'm going to stay. Maybe till something or someone scares me outta here! Or I find employment somewhere. One thing's for sure: I plan to live it up and get as much as I can outta this seemingly dubious wasteland!
A Word of Advice about WINE on PLANES
Sunday, November 18, 2007
A Word of Advice about WINE on PLANES
Current mood: nauseated
WARNING: this entry is NOT for the faint of heart.
Well. On my 12 hour flight back to the states from Spain (you all can ask me about his later, if you want) I UNLUCKILY happened upon a good reason why you SHOULD NOT drink too much on a flight and consequently one of my worst (but as you would probably call it) BEST puking stories to date. Oh dear.
So I have this history of NOT being able to sleep on planes, and let me tell you, with as many 12+ hour flights I'm on per year (almost per MONTH, really)...this can be pretty darn annoying. So, in my quest to find some way to find a bit of shut-eye during those long, grueling flights I've tried just about everything known to man: pills; Dramamine, valerian root (a really good relaxant), alcohol, depriving myself of sleep 24hrs before hand, etc. And NOTHING has worked. They work BEFORE I get on the plane... and YES, I HAVE almost missed flights because I fell asleep waiting to BOARD a plane before (having taken my Dramamine a wee bit too early!) But then, as soon as I'm seated--wide awake again. Truly infuriating.
This time around, however, I was REALLY determined to sleep, if anything to keep my mind off certain matters. So. I took my two valerian root capsules, had a small bottle of pre-dinner red wine, FILLED MY STOMACH up with my chicken dinner to add that element of what hopefully would-be full-stomach drowsiness, and had ANOTHER bottle of red wine as well. At this point I would like to make an important note: (as per the crucial little fact that was imparted to me by a gentleman in my NEXT and FINAL flight---AFTER THE FACT, of course.) Alcohol drunken at high altitudes is actually about TWICE AS STRONG. Now...did anyone else know that or am I just an idiot?
So I'm sitting there watching my first movie---"Once" and really starting to feel happy. Second movie (Harry Potter 5) comes around and BOY AM I LAUGHING IT UP. Everything is just PEACHY-KEEN and I'm just loving the flight and the movies... Well THAT didn't last long, I can assure you! The realization that I had drunk too much suddenly hit as I closed my eyes after the movie and had that all-too-familiar feeling that you're falling, which was cut short by the desperate need to go to the lavatory. Anyway (sorry folks, this is getting really long!). So. To make a long story short; I BARELY made it into the lavatory the first time around, and was practically BANGING THE DOOR DOWN so the poor person would let me in. Didn't even have enough time to completely shut the door behind me…just enough time to get the lid up but HA! Like THAT made any difference because as soon as round no. 1 was finished I turned my head 10 degrees to finish shutting the door (heaven knows I did NOT want any poor souls walking in on me) JUST FOR A SECOND and before I know it, this HUGE, MONSTROUS stream of PROJECTILE red-wine-chicken-rice-dinner puke is just PLASTERING THE WALLS and FLOORS and ALL OVER THE TOILET with a reek so strong it would have knocked anyone to the floor heaving. Damn-near covered the whole bathroom. OMG. So after I managed to control myself there was only one thing I could do: clean it up (there was no way in HELL I would make anyone else clean that awful mess up, it would simply be impossible it was so disgusting!!!). So I had the joy of pressing that little steward button in the bathroom and begging for some cleaning supplies from the guy, who luckily, was really nice and understanding.
ANYWAY. Being the SUPER STAR that I am, I got the lavatory sparkling clean (but still reeking to high-heaven) and had the joy of spending the rest of the REMAINING 9 HOURS SICKER THAN A DOG, rushing to the lavatory every 30 minutes (although only threw up 2 more times total), and begging 7Up and tea off the stewardesses and trying not to use that awful little puke-bag. Couldn't even enjoy my personal screen to catch up on movies like I usually do I was so down-right miserable.
So ya. FOR THE LOVE OF GOD. BE CAREFUL WHEN YOU DRINK ON PLANES. That's all I've got to say about that. Lesson learned….if not rather quite painfully. Sigh.
3:39 AM
A Word of Advice about WINE on PLANES
Current mood: nauseated
WARNING: this entry is NOT for the faint of heart.
Well. On my 12 hour flight back to the states from Spain (you all can ask me about his later, if you want) I UNLUCKILY happened upon a good reason why you SHOULD NOT drink too much on a flight and consequently one of my worst (but as you would probably call it) BEST puking stories to date. Oh dear.
So I have this history of NOT being able to sleep on planes, and let me tell you, with as many 12+ hour flights I'm on per year (almost per MONTH, really)...this can be pretty darn annoying. So, in my quest to find some way to find a bit of shut-eye during those long, grueling flights I've tried just about everything known to man: pills; Dramamine, valerian root (a really good relaxant), alcohol, depriving myself of sleep 24hrs before hand, etc. And NOTHING has worked. They work BEFORE I get on the plane... and YES, I HAVE almost missed flights because I fell asleep waiting to BOARD a plane before (having taken my Dramamine a wee bit too early!) But then, as soon as I'm seated--wide awake again. Truly infuriating.
This time around, however, I was REALLY determined to sleep, if anything to keep my mind off certain matters. So. I took my two valerian root capsules, had a small bottle of pre-dinner red wine, FILLED MY STOMACH up with my chicken dinner to add that element of what hopefully would-be full-stomach drowsiness, and had ANOTHER bottle of red wine as well. At this point I would like to make an important note: (as per the crucial little fact that was imparted to me by a gentleman in my NEXT and FINAL flight---AFTER THE FACT, of course.) Alcohol drunken at high altitudes is actually about TWICE AS STRONG. Now...did anyone else know that or am I just an idiot?
So I'm sitting there watching my first movie---"Once" and really starting to feel happy. Second movie (Harry Potter 5) comes around and BOY AM I LAUGHING IT UP. Everything is just PEACHY-KEEN and I'm just loving the flight and the movies... Well THAT didn't last long, I can assure you! The realization that I had drunk too much suddenly hit as I closed my eyes after the movie and had that all-too-familiar feeling that you're falling, which was cut short by the desperate need to go to the lavatory. Anyway (sorry folks, this is getting really long!). So. To make a long story short; I BARELY made it into the lavatory the first time around, and was practically BANGING THE DOOR DOWN so the poor person would let me in. Didn't even have enough time to completely shut the door behind me…just enough time to get the lid up but HA! Like THAT made any difference because as soon as round no. 1 was finished I turned my head 10 degrees to finish shutting the door (heaven knows I did NOT want any poor souls walking in on me) JUST FOR A SECOND and before I know it, this HUGE, MONSTROUS stream of PROJECTILE red-wine-chicken-rice-dinner puke is just PLASTERING THE WALLS and FLOORS and ALL OVER THE TOILET with a reek so strong it would have knocked anyone to the floor heaving. Damn-near covered the whole bathroom. OMG. So after I managed to control myself there was only one thing I could do: clean it up (there was no way in HELL I would make anyone else clean that awful mess up, it would simply be impossible it was so disgusting!!!). So I had the joy of pressing that little steward button in the bathroom and begging for some cleaning supplies from the guy, who luckily, was really nice and understanding.
ANYWAY. Being the SUPER STAR that I am, I got the lavatory sparkling clean (but still reeking to high-heaven) and had the joy of spending the rest of the REMAINING 9 HOURS SICKER THAN A DOG, rushing to the lavatory every 30 minutes (although only threw up 2 more times total), and begging 7Up and tea off the stewardesses and trying not to use that awful little puke-bag. Couldn't even enjoy my personal screen to catch up on movies like I usually do I was so down-right miserable.
So ya. FOR THE LOVE OF GOD. BE CAREFUL WHEN YOU DRINK ON PLANES. That's all I've got to say about that. Lesson learned….if not rather quite painfully. Sigh.
3:39 AM
Illegal Hostal Crashing, 101
Monday, May 14, 2007
Illegal Hostal Crashing, 101
Current mood: amused
Gotta LOVE it. Heh. Woke up this morning in a hostel with a woman yelling at me... And honestly, she had every right. Because she found me sleeping in an ALL GUYS dorm without any reservations or any record of paying, and I hadn't. Ha. Ya. And its NOT what you all are thinking---I didn't find some guy to sleep with or anything and then follow him back to his hostel. Nope. Ended up arriving here in Calafate at 1 am and all the hostel recruiters left before I could tell them I needed a hostel. Luckily, this nice man I had been talking to on the bus from the area drove me around in his car for me to find a hostel but ALL the hostels were either closed for the season or there was no one manning the desks. Then, the second time around at the Hostel Intl, I saw a guy in the window, went in and found out that he was leaving that night and was NOT going to use his bed, but couldn't find anyone to pay before he left ---the person that was SUPPOSED to be at the desk that night, for some reason, NEVER showed up! What luck! Anyway, I needed a bed, he had a bed that needed to be payed for, so we thought I might as well take the bed on his behalf and pay in the morning. Ha. A good idea in theory! He forgot to tell me that it was in an ALL GUYS dorm room.
Anyway. Hence the screaming woman 9 hours later. But its all good. I explained, paid for last night and an additional and every thing's golden. Ya, next time that happens, I believe I will leave a note with money at the front desk explaining the situation BEFORE anyone completely LOOSES it on me. Gotta LOVE what life throws ya!
1:16 AM
Illegal Hostal Crashing, 101
Current mood: amused
Gotta LOVE it. Heh. Woke up this morning in a hostel with a woman yelling at me... And honestly, she had every right. Because she found me sleeping in an ALL GUYS dorm without any reservations or any record of paying, and I hadn't. Ha. Ya. And its NOT what you all are thinking---I didn't find some guy to sleep with or anything and then follow him back to his hostel. Nope. Ended up arriving here in Calafate at 1 am and all the hostel recruiters left before I could tell them I needed a hostel. Luckily, this nice man I had been talking to on the bus from the area drove me around in his car for me to find a hostel but ALL the hostels were either closed for the season or there was no one manning the desks. Then, the second time around at the Hostel Intl, I saw a guy in the window, went in and found out that he was leaving that night and was NOT going to use his bed, but couldn't find anyone to pay before he left ---the person that was SUPPOSED to be at the desk that night, for some reason, NEVER showed up! What luck! Anyway, I needed a bed, he had a bed that needed to be payed for, so we thought I might as well take the bed on his behalf and pay in the morning. Ha. A good idea in theory! He forgot to tell me that it was in an ALL GUYS dorm room.
Anyway. Hence the screaming woman 9 hours later. But its all good. I explained, paid for last night and an additional and every thing's golden. Ya, next time that happens, I believe I will leave a note with money at the front desk explaining the situation BEFORE anyone completely LOOSES it on me. Gotta LOVE what life throws ya!
1:16 AM
10 Days of Silence & 120 Hours of Meditation later...
Tuesday, April 24, 2007
Current mood: accomplished
It´s official! I am in COMPLETE and UTTER AWE of myself and of the stuff I still manage to get myself into. I have DEFINITELY NOT lost my touch. I should freaking get an award or something! All I wanted was just a few days of quiet in a monastery to clear my mind out and re-focus and what did our fearless adventurer clumsily and unknowingly stumble upon? None other than THE PATH of ENLIGHTENMENT that BUDDHA HIMSELF developed and USED. And in URUGUAY of all places!!!!! And it was hell. Yet again, I simply have to take a step back and laugh at myself.
So this whole Path of Enlightenment was learned from a 10 day course. And this course, well... it was sheer and utter torture. Literally. In order to learn how to ditch the ego to become liberated, you had to learn how to simply ignore self-inflicted pain. This pain was the pain from sitting in ONE POSITION WITHOUT MOVING for the combined total of the 12 hours of meditation PER DAY (there were usually hourly breaks of 5 minutes). That´s right, EVERYDAY there was 12 hours of meditation. So, in 10 days I somehow managed to survive a grand total of 120 hours of meditation. Yep. 120 HOURS. I´m gonna say it again--ONE HUNDRED AND TWENTY HOURS OF MEDITATION. And if THAT wasn´t bad enough you were forced to take a vow of COMPLETE and UTTER silence for the whole 10 days and were not allowed to communicate in anyway---be it eye contact or gesture. Now you would think no biggie if you had your own room. But no, you had ROOM MATES that you lived the whole time who you could NOT communicate with at all. Think about that for a minute. Spending 10 days in the same room with a complete stranger and not uttering a word to them. Ya. It was QUITE something. Also, there was NO dinner, so over half the time you were STARVING (THANK GOD I was NOT allowed to fast like I originally wanted to) And in addition to all of these rules, all books, cell phones, mp3 players, paper, pens, etc. were taken away so that you were left alone COMPLETELY with yourself without anything to do but think or meditate. Like I said. It was QUITE something. You all have NO IDEA what SHEER BOREDOM is like. NO IDEA. So. For ya´ll I have compiled a list of all the stuff I found myself doing to keep myself from SLAMMING MY HEAD AGAINST THE WALL. And here it is....
JULIA PRESENTS: You Know You´re TRULY BORED When...
*You look FORWARD to flossing and brushing your teeth 3 times a day.
*You do your laundry by hand EVEN THOUGH there´s a machine.
*You read the backs and little promotional attachments to BOTH bottles of deodorant---more than once.
*You become excited when you need to clip your toenails.
*You become equally excited when you clean out your toe jam.
*You look for pictures hidden in the ceiling (I found the face of Buddha).
*You actually DO examine your naval thoroughly and then actually DO contemplate it (in all seriousness).
*You take up practising old instrument fingerings on a broom.
Like I said. It was QUITE the 10 days. BUT, I got through it, and actually DO like the technique---not for TWELVE HOURS a day but here and there for an hour, sure! Anyway, if I´ve managed to convince or tempt any masochists out there, you can find info on Vipassana courses throughout the world at www.dhamma.org. As my professor of Vipassana said after every session....
May you ALL be in Peace....May you all live in happiness... 8:28 AM
Current mood: accomplished
It´s official! I am in COMPLETE and UTTER AWE of myself and of the stuff I still manage to get myself into. I have DEFINITELY NOT lost my touch. I should freaking get an award or something! All I wanted was just a few days of quiet in a monastery to clear my mind out and re-focus and what did our fearless adventurer clumsily and unknowingly stumble upon? None other than THE PATH of ENLIGHTENMENT that BUDDHA HIMSELF developed and USED. And in URUGUAY of all places!!!!! And it was hell. Yet again, I simply have to take a step back and laugh at myself.
So this whole Path of Enlightenment was learned from a 10 day course. And this course, well... it was sheer and utter torture. Literally. In order to learn how to ditch the ego to become liberated, you had to learn how to simply ignore self-inflicted pain. This pain was the pain from sitting in ONE POSITION WITHOUT MOVING for the combined total of the 12 hours of meditation PER DAY (there were usually hourly breaks of 5 minutes). That´s right, EVERYDAY there was 12 hours of meditation. So, in 10 days I somehow managed to survive a grand total of 120 hours of meditation. Yep. 120 HOURS. I´m gonna say it again--ONE HUNDRED AND TWENTY HOURS OF MEDITATION. And if THAT wasn´t bad enough you were forced to take a vow of COMPLETE and UTTER silence for the whole 10 days and were not allowed to communicate in anyway---be it eye contact or gesture. Now you would think no biggie if you had your own room. But no, you had ROOM MATES that you lived the whole time who you could NOT communicate with at all. Think about that for a minute. Spending 10 days in the same room with a complete stranger and not uttering a word to them. Ya. It was QUITE something. Also, there was NO dinner, so over half the time you were STARVING (THANK GOD I was NOT allowed to fast like I originally wanted to) And in addition to all of these rules, all books, cell phones, mp3 players, paper, pens, etc. were taken away so that you were left alone COMPLETELY with yourself without anything to do but think or meditate. Like I said. It was QUITE something. You all have NO IDEA what SHEER BOREDOM is like. NO IDEA. So. For ya´ll I have compiled a list of all the stuff I found myself doing to keep myself from SLAMMING MY HEAD AGAINST THE WALL. And here it is....
JULIA PRESENTS: You Know You´re TRULY BORED When...
*You look FORWARD to flossing and brushing your teeth 3 times a day.
*You do your laundry by hand EVEN THOUGH there´s a machine.
*You read the backs and little promotional attachments to BOTH bottles of deodorant---more than once.
*You become excited when you need to clip your toenails.
*You become equally excited when you clean out your toe jam.
*You look for pictures hidden in the ceiling (I found the face of Buddha).
*You actually DO examine your naval thoroughly and then actually DO contemplate it (in all seriousness).
*You take up practising old instrument fingerings on a broom.
Like I said. It was QUITE the 10 days. BUT, I got through it, and actually DO like the technique---not for TWELVE HOURS a day but here and there for an hour, sure! Anyway, if I´ve managed to convince or tempt any masochists out there, you can find info on Vipassana courses throughout the world at www.dhamma.org. As my professor of Vipassana said after every session....
May you ALL be in Peace....May you all live in happiness... 8:28 AM
Ibiza Pt.2: From Life at a Dump to a Gay Farm to a Van with a Hippie
Wednesday, March 21, 2007
Current mood: complacent
Let´s do a little recap on the farms that I have worked at in the last 6 months, shall we?
Farm no.1) Torino, Italy -- Duration: 2 weeks
*No work to be done, mean Romanian Kitchen lady
Farm no.2) Parma, Italy -- Duration: 1 month
*Good work, mean Suiss lady, last two weeks spent in/out of
hospital, 2 operations, unable to walk, from a venomous spider bite on heel
"Farm" no.3) Ibiza Isle, Spain -- Duration: 2 weeks
*More like spiritual dump run by a wacko. No work (of any purpose really)
Farm no.4) Ibiza Isle, Spain -- Duration: 3 weeks
*A REAL farm, run by Permaculture methods, excellent work, lots to be
learned.
**********************************************
ANYWAY, onto life at a GAY FARM.
So life at the next farm, called Casita del Bosque and run by a man called Carlos, was pretty nice. The work was serious, for a change, a nice change, and the company pretty good. The other WWOOFer there was a small, blond little 20 year old Hitch hiker Canadian boy named David. We got along swell. Had a ball working together. Favorite moment(s) with him were, in particular, the two afternoons we spent working nude in the sunshine (Carlos had gone to town and it was so warm and sunny...) I felt a little sorry for David cause he was adored by Carlos and Carlos´ posse---a whole group of sophisticated Spanish gay men, which Carlos was always taking him to gatherings of...he was like a little golden angel to them all. Oh how creepy. But freaking hilarious.
Ánywho. At the farm there was also a man named Raul (an old ex of Carlos´) who was the farm accountant and lawyer and also his British boyfriend Mark was always coming and going. And then then there was Manu. Or more specifically, Manuel Emilio Maran Martin. Oh how very Spanish, and, otherwise known as: The Hippie in the Big Yellow Van.
The Hippie in the Big Yellow Van and LIFE in that Van.
So I have a confession to make: our relationship started before I moved to the second farm, and was ONE reason why I decided to go there. But we were only acquaintances at that point. I actually met him for the first time my 2nd day in Ibiza at a Permaculture workshop at Carlos´ place that the people at my "farm" had been planing on going to.
But I´ll try to avoid all the gushy details, cause those are just like walking through half-dried warm algae---really freaking gross but at the same time oddly pleasant. Or that´s how I feel anyway...
(---that was a VERY odd sentence that was just written...best thing to do: ignore it and move on ; ) Okay, so where was I? Ya. So. To make a long story short, as soon as I relocated myself to the other farm, he started in after my ass. And, because he was interesting and really freaking quirky (and AWFULLY handsome in my opinion), it wasn´t too hard to catch. So what kind of person is Manu? Well, he´s a 34 year old hippie. When in Madrid, he is disguised as a professional radiologist when he needs money to fund his lifestyle (contrary to some peoples opinions, life in a van DOES have to be financed. Ya can´t just get gas out of a river, don´t cha know) and is also an aspiring acupuncturist and Chinese medicine guru. When I met him in Ibiza, he had been living in his van for 8 months there, not doing a whole lot, just enjoying life. An interesting tid bit about our relationship to each other is that we are both Capricorns and are exactly 10 years and 10 days apart. In the Mayan astrology (yáll should look it up if you don´t know much about it, cause it´s the major FAD here in Spain now), I am a solar seed and he is a lunar seed. I could go on but I fear that it would just be putting more gushy algae under your feet.
Anywho. I worked at that farm for 3 weeks in the day and then spent the evenings and nights with Manu and his van. Every morning we woke up on a different beach to the sun coming up. All we had to do was just simply open the door of the van, crawl back under the covers and enjoy the fresh air, sunshine and GORGEOUS scenery. It was incredible. So, as you can imagine, when Manu asked me to go back to mainland Spain to travel around with him for a bit in his van I said "Yes." Tough decision, huh?
After spending the last night at an awesome rave in the mountains, we drove the van onto the ferry, and 5 hours later, were in Alicante, just south of Valencia. We spent a week driving around, checking out Northern Spain. Just when we found an enchanting little stone town way up in the mountains called Moia that we wanted to stay in for a while, Manu got a phone call. It was for a job. In Madrid. He needed money for his 4 month Chinese medicine certification course in Beijing coming up in June so how could he say no? He wanted me to come with him.
CONCLUSION:
So now I am living in Madrid with Manu (and his parents) and Manu is making use of his education working in a hospital as an x-ray specialist. Ya. Way exciting. But we do take off on the weekends and explore Madrid A LOT. So it´s all good. Plus, my current "legal" visa for the EU is supposedly "expiring" this week ( I believe that I am currently illegal and HAVE BEEN for the last 3 months, but more on this sticky situation later...ha....heee....), hence the bulletin I posted for South America. Once again, it is time to MOVE ON for our FEARLESS TRAVELER, ONWARDS and UPWARDS for our Adventure Junkie. Or DOWNWARDS maybe, since S. America is south....(As long as she can get past customs in Spain....) Time for her to RETURN BACK to the JUNGLES OF THE AMAZON, and explore Patagonia, SEE SOME FREAKING PENGUINS!!!!
**I have two months to "kill" before I have to be in Costa Rica and I am currently toying with the idea of traveling down to the tip of S. A. and then traveling all the way up the Continent to Costa Rica. I wonder if it can be done...(maybe with a plane at one point or something cause heaven knows I don´t really wanna go through Colombia now...) I´ve already journeyed across the whole Asian/Russian continent why the freak not the South American continent too??? HA! We shall see if it can be done in 2 months! WOO HOO! (So stay tuned cause there is BOUND to be some *more* CRAZINESS coming my way... and that´s JUST the way I like it!). HELL FREAKING YA!
6:48 AM
Current mood: complacent
Let´s do a little recap on the farms that I have worked at in the last 6 months, shall we?
Farm no.1) Torino, Italy -- Duration: 2 weeks
*No work to be done, mean Romanian Kitchen lady
Farm no.2) Parma, Italy -- Duration: 1 month
*Good work, mean Suiss lady, last two weeks spent in/out of
hospital, 2 operations, unable to walk, from a venomous spider bite on heel
"Farm" no.3) Ibiza Isle, Spain -- Duration: 2 weeks
*More like spiritual dump run by a wacko. No work (of any purpose really)
Farm no.4) Ibiza Isle, Spain -- Duration: 3 weeks
*A REAL farm, run by Permaculture methods, excellent work, lots to be
learned.
**********************************************
ANYWAY, onto life at a GAY FARM.
So life at the next farm, called Casita del Bosque and run by a man called Carlos, was pretty nice. The work was serious, for a change, a nice change, and the company pretty good. The other WWOOFer there was a small, blond little 20 year old Hitch hiker Canadian boy named David. We got along swell. Had a ball working together. Favorite moment(s) with him were, in particular, the two afternoons we spent working nude in the sunshine (Carlos had gone to town and it was so warm and sunny...) I felt a little sorry for David cause he was adored by Carlos and Carlos´ posse---a whole group of sophisticated Spanish gay men, which Carlos was always taking him to gatherings of...he was like a little golden angel to them all. Oh how creepy. But freaking hilarious.
Ánywho. At the farm there was also a man named Raul (an old ex of Carlos´) who was the farm accountant and lawyer and also his British boyfriend Mark was always coming and going. And then then there was Manu. Or more specifically, Manuel Emilio Maran Martin. Oh how very Spanish, and, otherwise known as: The Hippie in the Big Yellow Van.
The Hippie in the Big Yellow Van and LIFE in that Van.
So I have a confession to make: our relationship started before I moved to the second farm, and was ONE reason why I decided to go there. But we were only acquaintances at that point. I actually met him for the first time my 2nd day in Ibiza at a Permaculture workshop at Carlos´ place that the people at my "farm" had been planing on going to.
But I´ll try to avoid all the gushy details, cause those are just like walking through half-dried warm algae---really freaking gross but at the same time oddly pleasant. Or that´s how I feel anyway...
(---that was a VERY odd sentence that was just written...best thing to do: ignore it and move on ; ) Okay, so where was I? Ya. So. To make a long story short, as soon as I relocated myself to the other farm, he started in after my ass. And, because he was interesting and really freaking quirky (and AWFULLY handsome in my opinion), it wasn´t too hard to catch. So what kind of person is Manu? Well, he´s a 34 year old hippie. When in Madrid, he is disguised as a professional radiologist when he needs money to fund his lifestyle (contrary to some peoples opinions, life in a van DOES have to be financed. Ya can´t just get gas out of a river, don´t cha know) and is also an aspiring acupuncturist and Chinese medicine guru. When I met him in Ibiza, he had been living in his van for 8 months there, not doing a whole lot, just enjoying life. An interesting tid bit about our relationship to each other is that we are both Capricorns and are exactly 10 years and 10 days apart. In the Mayan astrology (yáll should look it up if you don´t know much about it, cause it´s the major FAD here in Spain now), I am a solar seed and he is a lunar seed. I could go on but I fear that it would just be putting more gushy algae under your feet.
Anywho. I worked at that farm for 3 weeks in the day and then spent the evenings and nights with Manu and his van. Every morning we woke up on a different beach to the sun coming up. All we had to do was just simply open the door of the van, crawl back under the covers and enjoy the fresh air, sunshine and GORGEOUS scenery. It was incredible. So, as you can imagine, when Manu asked me to go back to mainland Spain to travel around with him for a bit in his van I said "Yes." Tough decision, huh?
After spending the last night at an awesome rave in the mountains, we drove the van onto the ferry, and 5 hours later, were in Alicante, just south of Valencia. We spent a week driving around, checking out Northern Spain. Just when we found an enchanting little stone town way up in the mountains called Moia that we wanted to stay in for a while, Manu got a phone call. It was for a job. In Madrid. He needed money for his 4 month Chinese medicine certification course in Beijing coming up in June so how could he say no? He wanted me to come with him.
CONCLUSION:
So now I am living in Madrid with Manu (and his parents) and Manu is making use of his education working in a hospital as an x-ray specialist. Ya. Way exciting. But we do take off on the weekends and explore Madrid A LOT. So it´s all good. Plus, my current "legal" visa for the EU is supposedly "expiring" this week ( I believe that I am currently illegal and HAVE BEEN for the last 3 months, but more on this sticky situation later...ha....heee....), hence the bulletin I posted for South America. Once again, it is time to MOVE ON for our FEARLESS TRAVELER, ONWARDS and UPWARDS for our Adventure Junkie. Or DOWNWARDS maybe, since S. America is south....(As long as she can get past customs in Spain....) Time for her to RETURN BACK to the JUNGLES OF THE AMAZON, and explore Patagonia, SEE SOME FREAKING PENGUINS!!!!
**I have two months to "kill" before I have to be in Costa Rica and I am currently toying with the idea of traveling down to the tip of S. A. and then traveling all the way up the Continent to Costa Rica. I wonder if it can be done...(maybe with a plane at one point or something cause heaven knows I don´t really wanna go through Colombia now...) I´ve already journeyed across the whole Asian/Russian continent why the freak not the South American continent too??? HA! We shall see if it can be done in 2 months! WOO HOO! (So stay tuned cause there is BOUND to be some *more* CRAZINESS coming my way... and that´s JUST the way I like it!). HELL FREAKING YA!
6:48 AM
Ibiza Pt.1: The Dump, Wacko, German Mafia, Toxic Compost of Death & Dumpster Diving
Friday, March 16, 2007
Current mood: accomplished
As luck would have it, after my travels with Ben around Europe, (and after a great week visiting my friend on the Italian Riviera), one day in early January, I suddenly found myself living at a dump in the center of the small hippie/party island of Ibiza (For those of you who don´t know where Ibiza is, it´s an island right off the coast of Spain, just south of Majorca). But this wasn´t just any old dump; this was a dump DISGUISED as supposed spiritual retreat/organic farm and consequently, as all things THIS fucked up are, it was run by a wacko.
This wacko operated on the principle that everything you truly need shall be provided to you from the universe. So, under this principle, the place itself did not supposedly use money in any way to acquire food or other materials necessary for a somewhat modern lifestyle. (It did however make a business out of repairing pallets and reselling them for money for electricity and car expenses...) Now, I know you´re all asking yourselves if they don´t BUY food how do they then GET food and the other stuff?? Well, by a very entertaining, little-known sport called DUMPSTER DIVING. Which is what I found myself doing on my VERY FIRST DAY in Ibiza. Along with dumpster diving, they also have agreements with some stores and bakeries to take all the old, stale, expired food as well.
Anywho, so the whole system of receiving and recycling that it operated on was, objectively and theoretically actually a very good system. It took a lot of perfectly good material that was otherwise going to be wasted and actually used it. The only problem (and there are always problems in matters this esoteric) is that the wacko, as I have lovingly decided to dub him, took it a little too far. He was unable to turn anything down, whether it was offered to him, or if he simply saw it lying next to a dumpster. This awful habit of his turned this, what used to be a LOVELY spiritual compound, into a living and breathing dump. Everything you could imagine was stacked up in piles EVERYWHERE. Windows, bikes, washer machines, cars, tables and chairs, old signs, TVs, etc. It was unbelievable.
The Toxic Compost of Death
As an independent student of ORGANIC and SUSTAINABLE agriculture the thing that really offended me was *The Toxic Compost of Death* (my term for it anyway, some---ahem, the WACKO, would beg to differ...) which was a very F-ed up experiment of the wackos in composting. His idea was that ANYTHING could be composted. That magically, when you put stuff like old chocolate milk, mayonnaise, sports drinks, potato chips, (hmmm....what else did I compost while I was there???.....) pastries, along with other normal composting materials (fruits, veggies, yard waste) that everything would just break down and decompose into something beautiful and usable. Unbelievable. I´m sad to say that my conjecture is that we were simply polluting not only the earth underneath it, but the ground water as well with that toxic sludge. Sigh.
The German Mafia
Well, honestly, there´s not much to say about the German Mafia, they were just two older German guys, Otix and Gunta, who spent a of time working there, and so had special privileges like a vehicle with which they went out on the town every night, and did a ton of weed. But they were cool.
Honestly, the real highlight of the place, overlooking the dump atmosphere, the old food, the toxic compost of death, no flushing toilets, no hot water or heating, was the other people that had ended up there. There were a lot of really cool, laid back people (all wondering why they were there, along with me, and why they stayed there). The tragedy about the whole place was that there were so many people, 15 in all, and everyone was there to help and work and everyone WANTED to clean the place up and make it beautiful again, but the old wacko (and his henchwoman) would not allow it. He insisted that everything was perfectly fine and that everyone simply had to deal with their own *concepts* as he put it.
Anyway, after two weeks of that¨---LITERALLY PURE INSANITY--- I decided to switch "farms". But to what, well, I´ll be honest, I had some clue. But only a glimmer. Ha. How would life be on a farm being the only woman surrounded by 5 men; 3 of them being gay (and one after my ass)? Well, READ ON my dear friends! READ ON!
4:25 AM
Current mood: accomplished
As luck would have it, after my travels with Ben around Europe, (and after a great week visiting my friend on the Italian Riviera), one day in early January, I suddenly found myself living at a dump in the center of the small hippie/party island of Ibiza (For those of you who don´t know where Ibiza is, it´s an island right off the coast of Spain, just south of Majorca). But this wasn´t just any old dump; this was a dump DISGUISED as supposed spiritual retreat/organic farm and consequently, as all things THIS fucked up are, it was run by a wacko.
This wacko operated on the principle that everything you truly need shall be provided to you from the universe. So, under this principle, the place itself did not supposedly use money in any way to acquire food or other materials necessary for a somewhat modern lifestyle. (It did however make a business out of repairing pallets and reselling them for money for electricity and car expenses...) Now, I know you´re all asking yourselves if they don´t BUY food how do they then GET food and the other stuff?? Well, by a very entertaining, little-known sport called DUMPSTER DIVING. Which is what I found myself doing on my VERY FIRST DAY in Ibiza. Along with dumpster diving, they also have agreements with some stores and bakeries to take all the old, stale, expired food as well.
Anywho, so the whole system of receiving and recycling that it operated on was, objectively and theoretically actually a very good system. It took a lot of perfectly good material that was otherwise going to be wasted and actually used it. The only problem (and there are always problems in matters this esoteric) is that the wacko, as I have lovingly decided to dub him, took it a little too far. He was unable to turn anything down, whether it was offered to him, or if he simply saw it lying next to a dumpster. This awful habit of his turned this, what used to be a LOVELY spiritual compound, into a living and breathing dump. Everything you could imagine was stacked up in piles EVERYWHERE. Windows, bikes, washer machines, cars, tables and chairs, old signs, TVs, etc. It was unbelievable.
The Toxic Compost of Death
As an independent student of ORGANIC and SUSTAINABLE agriculture the thing that really offended me was *The Toxic Compost of Death* (my term for it anyway, some---ahem, the WACKO, would beg to differ...) which was a very F-ed up experiment of the wackos in composting. His idea was that ANYTHING could be composted. That magically, when you put stuff like old chocolate milk, mayonnaise, sports drinks, potato chips, (hmmm....what else did I compost while I was there???.....) pastries, along with other normal composting materials (fruits, veggies, yard waste) that everything would just break down and decompose into something beautiful and usable. Unbelievable. I´m sad to say that my conjecture is that we were simply polluting not only the earth underneath it, but the ground water as well with that toxic sludge. Sigh.
The German Mafia
Well, honestly, there´s not much to say about the German Mafia, they were just two older German guys, Otix and Gunta, who spent a of time working there, and so had special privileges like a vehicle with which they went out on the town every night, and did a ton of weed. But they were cool.
Honestly, the real highlight of the place, overlooking the dump atmosphere, the old food, the toxic compost of death, no flushing toilets, no hot water or heating, was the other people that had ended up there. There were a lot of really cool, laid back people (all wondering why they were there, along with me, and why they stayed there). The tragedy about the whole place was that there were so many people, 15 in all, and everyone was there to help and work and everyone WANTED to clean the place up and make it beautiful again, but the old wacko (and his henchwoman) would not allow it. He insisted that everything was perfectly fine and that everyone simply had to deal with their own *concepts* as he put it.
Anyway, after two weeks of that¨---LITERALLY PURE INSANITY--- I decided to switch "farms". But to what, well, I´ll be honest, I had some clue. But only a glimmer. Ha. How would life be on a farm being the only woman surrounded by 5 men; 3 of them being gay (and one after my ass)? Well, READ ON my dear friends! READ ON!
4:25 AM
European Romps with Ben & New Years in Prague
Monday, March 12, 2007
Current mood: contemplative
Well, after my three weeks home, recovering from the trauma of ..Italy (namely my heel, not the actual country, which I ADORE to no end DESPITE all the corruption---but then again, where ISN´T corrupt???? I´d like to know. Maybe Antarctica. Ha. It´s too cold to be corrupt, or so you´d THINK.) ANYWHO. Where was I? Oh ya. So after my 3weeks home with Dolly senior, who looks to become my new (and FINAL) grandmother, listening to all her fascinating stories (I shall dedicate a blog to her soon enough) and letting my poor heel heal, it was BACK off to Europe again to continue my adventures, but with the first two weeks being with Ben, my bro...:
As it turns out, from Dec. 23rd to Jan. 5th, he had 2 weeks off and a strong desire to see at least a little hunk of Europe. So, he told me three cities he wanted to visit: Paris, London, and Dublin, gave me his credit card, and told me to plan it all. I asked if we couldn´t squeeze in Prague as well. He said yes. (He he).
So, we headed off together to Europe, but on different flights (his went directly to London, mine went back to Milan where I had to catch another flight to London and meet up with Ben a day later---That journey was fun considering the 12 hour layover in Frankfort after a 12 hour flight (although I met a REALLY nice guy named Tashi who gave me tips on the Permaculture course I am now going to take and who I spent 5 hours of the layover with) and then spending all night in the Bologna airport, but luckily a 40 year old Philippine janitor named Benvenido (Ben for short) took a liking to me, chatted with me off and on all night (and even tried to give me a necklace he found somewhere). Ha.
Anywho. Of the actual trip with Ben (my brother) there really isn´t too much to say, it was your regular, average site-seeing trip. We had a ball together, bumming around. The major highlight was New Years in Prague.
New Years in Prague.
Well. If you are a fan of UTTER CHAOS, ANARCHY, and ABANDON,---and random flying balls of fire everywhere (AKA fireworks)---then Prague is your place on New Years. Because that´s what it was. UN-FUCKING-BELIEVABLE.
We began the night getting drunk at our hostel on cherry liquor and cheap absinthe (pretty much green rubbing alcohol), hittin´ up Mc-y-D´s (spelling????) so Ben could experience drinking beer in one (which we just about got kicked out of cause Ben was so drunk and loud, AND because bottles of liquor kept falling out of his pockets onto the ground), then we took the the streets; Ben with the misson of paintin´ the town red and me with the mission to see how many random public places I could pee without getting caught.
We ended up in the main promenade of Prague that led to the Parliament building, a huge wide lane with a patch of grass running down the center, where the party was. And let me tell you OH WHAT A PARTY it was. Lining both sides of the promenade were HUNDREDS of people, all setting off fireworks, and when I say fireworks, I don´t mean those little woozy fireworks like black cats and pagodas and sparklers. I´m talking serious mo-fo´s like roman candles and MORTARS. And the BEST thing about it all, was that everyone had completely given up trying to aim them UP. So LITERALLY fireworks were going off everywhere. Mortars, were not making it up into the sky, oh no, THEY WERE GOING OFF ON THE GROUND, IN THE CROWDS. It was great. You had to keep constant vigilance so that you did not get a bottle rocket, mortar, or roman candle in the face. Occasionally, after a mortar had gone off in one sector of the crowd, you´d see the ambulance rush over. Awesome. Pure awesomeness.
Anywho. So the rest of the night, after most of the pomp and circumstance was done with, Ben and I took back to wandering the streets, Ben so stinking drunk that he was physically stopping everyone we met (which was millions) on the road and wishing them a big boisterous Happy New Years (followed by a "Hey! Ya! That´s Right!" to anyone who replied back). At one point he took to carrying around a red and white striped road barricade (that we were planning to use as an aid for cover for me to go pee--grin) and must have carried it around for hours.
Ahhhhh. Anywho. That was definitely the highlight of our trip. I highly recommend Prague for New Years if you are not concerned what-so-ever with surviving the night with your face and/or both eyes in tact. He.
Current mood: contemplative
Well, after my three weeks home, recovering from the trauma of ..Italy (namely my heel, not the actual country, which I ADORE to no end DESPITE all the corruption---but then again, where ISN´T corrupt???? I´d like to know. Maybe Antarctica. Ha. It´s too cold to be corrupt, or so you´d THINK.) ANYWHO. Where was I? Oh ya. So after my 3weeks home with Dolly senior, who looks to become my new (and FINAL) grandmother, listening to all her fascinating stories (I shall dedicate a blog to her soon enough) and letting my poor heel heal, it was BACK off to Europe again to continue my adventures, but with the first two weeks being with Ben, my bro...:
As it turns out, from Dec. 23rd to Jan. 5th, he had 2 weeks off and a strong desire to see at least a little hunk of Europe. So, he told me three cities he wanted to visit: Paris, London, and Dublin, gave me his credit card, and told me to plan it all. I asked if we couldn´t squeeze in Prague as well. He said yes. (He he).
So, we headed off together to Europe, but on different flights (his went directly to London, mine went back to Milan where I had to catch another flight to London and meet up with Ben a day later---That journey was fun considering the 12 hour layover in Frankfort after a 12 hour flight (although I met a REALLY nice guy named Tashi who gave me tips on the Permaculture course I am now going to take and who I spent 5 hours of the layover with) and then spending all night in the Bologna airport, but luckily a 40 year old Philippine janitor named Benvenido (Ben for short) took a liking to me, chatted with me off and on all night (and even tried to give me a necklace he found somewhere). Ha.
Anywho. Of the actual trip with Ben (my brother) there really isn´t too much to say, it was your regular, average site-seeing trip. We had a ball together, bumming around. The major highlight was New Years in Prague.
New Years in Prague.
Well. If you are a fan of UTTER CHAOS, ANARCHY, and ABANDON,---and random flying balls of fire everywhere (AKA fireworks)---then Prague is your place on New Years. Because that´s what it was. UN-FUCKING-BELIEVABLE.
We began the night getting drunk at our hostel on cherry liquor and cheap absinthe (pretty much green rubbing alcohol), hittin´ up Mc-y-D´s (spelling????) so Ben could experience drinking beer in one (which we just about got kicked out of cause Ben was so drunk and loud, AND because bottles of liquor kept falling out of his pockets onto the ground), then we took the the streets; Ben with the misson of paintin´ the town red and me with the mission to see how many random public places I could pee without getting caught.
We ended up in the main promenade of Prague that led to the Parliament building, a huge wide lane with a patch of grass running down the center, where the party was. And let me tell you OH WHAT A PARTY it was. Lining both sides of the promenade were HUNDREDS of people, all setting off fireworks, and when I say fireworks, I don´t mean those little woozy fireworks like black cats and pagodas and sparklers. I´m talking serious mo-fo´s like roman candles and MORTARS. And the BEST thing about it all, was that everyone had completely given up trying to aim them UP. So LITERALLY fireworks were going off everywhere. Mortars, were not making it up into the sky, oh no, THEY WERE GOING OFF ON THE GROUND, IN THE CROWDS. It was great. You had to keep constant vigilance so that you did not get a bottle rocket, mortar, or roman candle in the face. Occasionally, after a mortar had gone off in one sector of the crowd, you´d see the ambulance rush over. Awesome. Pure awesomeness.
Anywho. So the rest of the night, after most of the pomp and circumstance was done with, Ben and I took back to wandering the streets, Ben so stinking drunk that he was physically stopping everyone we met (which was millions) on the road and wishing them a big boisterous Happy New Years (followed by a "Hey! Ya! That´s Right!" to anyone who replied back). At one point he took to carrying around a red and white striped road barricade (that we were planning to use as an aid for cover for me to go pee--grin) and must have carried it around for hours.
Ahhhhh. Anywho. That was definitely the highlight of our trip. I highly recommend Prague for New Years if you are not concerned what-so-ever with surviving the night with your face and/or both eyes in tact. He.
Smugglers & 57 Grumpy Russians (The Trans-Siberian RR)
Thursday, December 07, 2006
Current mood:reminiscent
Pre-note (I love coming up with my own terms).
Sorry everyone for making you wait forEVER for this next entry. So, uh, YA. Here it is.
Recap of whole journey (for a little clarification)
Trans-Mongolian RR: Beijing to Ulaanbaatar (Mongolia) 24hrs
*spent one week in Beijing and one week in Mongolia
Trans-Siberian Pt. 1: Ulaanbaatar to Irkutsk (Lake Baikal) 42 hrs
*spent 3 days on Olkon Island in Lake Baikal
Trans-Siberian Pt. 2: Irkutsk to Moscow, 4 days, NON STOP
*spent 2 days in Moscow (then ran screaming).
**I have already gone over the Trans-Mongolian RR so it is time to continue on with the Trans-Siberian Pt. 1!!! So without further ado, here she is!
How I came to travel with Marky-Mark and Mike
Oh were to start. How about back in UB (Ulaanbaatar)? So in the last few days I was in UB, right after I had gotten back from my Gobi excursion with the half-breed, which was not QUITE as I had expected it would be (the Gobi was AWESOME, but my travel companion not-so-much) I just happened to be wandering around a grocery store there and ran into two Japanese girls that had been staying in my hostel the few days before I left for the Gobi, AND 2 guys, American guys, they were hanging out with. The first guy I saw, Marky-Mark (obviously a nickname) was pretty nice looking, tall, dark, kinda goofy looking, but the second guy, Mike, as soon as our eyes met, my heart literally SKIPPED a beat or TWO because he was/is the SPITTING IMAGE of TJ, a really close friend of mine, who, quite honestly I have liked for quite some time (I mean YEARS really). But it wasn't just how he looked, he SPOKE like TJ, had the same gestures, mannerisms and expressions as TJ and if THAT wasn't enough HE SMELLED LIKE HIM TOO AND!!! AND!!!!! ------he was ALSO married. The illusion was complete. (The only difference was that he was not a cowboy, he grew up in the city, and he had blond hair instead of brown). So, in other words, Julia was hooked. And, as it just so happened we had quite a bit in common too. They had both just finished a year in Japan, teaching English (and were taking the long way home) AND we pretty much had the same travel plans. What can I say? It was fate. So, we teamed up. And Julia was quite happy.
The Smugglers
Until she had the realization that they were just like any other mortal, hot-blooded, American guys that came with the abrupt and unwelcomed coming of the Smugglers. They were two women. Two OLD, like 40-something, women who were not even attractive. They burst into our tiny 4-bunk compartment early in the morning as the train was waiting to be cleared for customs between the Mongolian and Russian borders and frantically started shoving bags EVERYWHERE. They took the table cloth off of our table and DUCT TAPED stuff UNDER the table, the lady even had the audacity to shove bags behind where WE were SITTING and then to also mix up some stuff of hers in our bags, etc. UNBELIEVABLE! I was personally outraged. When they first burst into the compartment I was like "WHOA, HOLD IT! What the BLEEP do you think you're doing?!!!!" Apparently she had the ticket for the 4th bunk in our compartment, so there was really nothing we could do about all the stuff she was stashing away. In between when she and the other lady made "deposits" in our compartment, we kept moving her stuff so that it was all together on her top bunk, and NOT behind us or on our bunks. I was so furious at her because there was no way in hell that I was going to end up in a Russian prison for someone else's smuggled goods. The last straw came with this random man came into our room and tried to stuff a pair of jeans in our compartment. (The whole time the two guys were just kinda sitting back, watching it all happen, commenting, but not really doing anything). I let loose on that guy. I started yelling at him, shoved him out the door and slammed it. Who on earth knows WHAT was actually wrapped up IN those jeans. I sure as hell did NOT want to know.
So then the customs border police get on the train. The woman comes back to our car and sits on the bunks with us waiting. And do you know what my two MALE American counterparts DID? After all the sh#$ she and her friend put in our room, in our stuff, after all the bags she put behind us, they offer her tea and "love letters"--those crispy crepe cookies with chocolate inside. And if THAT wasn't enough, they kept commenting on how I was so lucky because she kept having to lean over me to shove her sh$% under our bunks, thereby rubbing her chest all over me. AND Marky-Mark actually got a picture of Mike giving her a kiss on the cheek. WHAT IS (literally) WRONG WITH THIS PICTURE? THIS, ladies and gents IS WHY I REFUSE TO DATE AND MARRY AN AMERICAN GUY. Or any guy really. THIS IS THE REASON. THEY HAVE NO REASON. THIS PROVES THAT MEN ARE ONLY ABLE TO THINK WITH ONE THING AND ONE THING ONLY.
Anywho. I'm done ranting. My apologies to all the men out there reading this now. But, HONESTLY. Come on. How many of YOU would have acted EXACTLY the same way???? SERIOUSLY?! My last comment to that subject: GERRRR.
Conclusion of THE SMUGGLERS
After the border police had cleared the train for entrance into Russia (they miraculously had only taken away one bag from the lady in our car) Marky-Mark and I got off to go find the bathrooms in the station and on our way back to the train saw the two women setting up all the goods they had smuggled in our compartment (and others I'm sure) in a small little market area right next to the train station. Cheeky little b*&$@s.
57 Grumpy Russians
Well. I think I am going to skip my 3 days on Lake Baikal and save that for another entry because this one is getting pretty long. SO! Onto the 57 Grumpy Russians.
I guess there is not too much to say about this really. When Mike, Marky-Mark and I were buying our tickets for the LONGEST part of our journey, the 4 day trek across the ACTUAL Siberian plain we didn't speak any Russian and had no idea what kind of tickets we were getting... Before we had spent the previous two 24/42hr journeys in our own private little 4 bunk compartments and just kinda figured we'd get the same on the last stretch. Well. We were quite wrong. Since we could not communicate with the lady at the ticket counter, it came down the point where she just showed us two prices: one was for 4,--- rubles and the other was for 2,---rubles. We chose the lowest, the 2,--- ruble tickets. I guess we should have figured they were the 2/3rd class tickets. Didn't really realize it until we hopped on board to find ourselves surrounded by 57 OLD grumpy Russians and no walls or doors at all to separate or close-off the bunks. So in normal train cars, it is separated out into compartments with 4 bunks/2 seats. Imagine the same thing, except without any doors or walls and then having the hallway also lined with 2 bunks for every section. That's what we were in. For 4 days non-stop. Funny thing is, when we went and checked out the other cars, they were filled with much younger, happier, social people. Our car just happened to be where all the old, tired, grumpy people were.
Anyway, you're all probably thinking to yourselves (like we did) "What the HELL do you do on a train for FOUR DAYS?!" Am I right? Well, actually, it really wasn't that bad. We read, played cards, wrote in our journals, tried desperately to avoid the very loud, insistent old Russian lady who sat directly opposite of us, made ramen with the "Amazing Pasta Cooker" my mom had bought off of some home shopping network (which actually works--it's just this special plastic cylindrical container you put pasta in with boiling water and it cooks it within minutes), and bought really dubious looking food from women who had cooked it in their own homes when the train stopped for 5 minutes here and there, and slept quite a lot.
The only other person that spoke any English on the train, came on the second day, a really nice man named Dennis who was from Kamchutka (that huge peninsula right by Alaska) and was an outdoor guide. Chatted with him quite a bit and taught him how to play good ol' American poker. Oh, and during the last night and day our Marky-Mark had himself a fling with a cute little 17 year old Russian chick.
It was sure one magical journey. (Actually, the "magic" happened back at Lake Baikal, but I'll get into that in my next entry. HA. You'll just have to wait.)
10:50 AM
Current mood:reminiscent
Pre-note (I love coming up with my own terms).
Sorry everyone for making you wait forEVER for this next entry. So, uh, YA. Here it is.
Recap of whole journey (for a little clarification)
Trans-Mongolian RR: Beijing to Ulaanbaatar (Mongolia) 24hrs
*spent one week in Beijing and one week in Mongolia
Trans-Siberian Pt. 1: Ulaanbaatar to Irkutsk (Lake Baikal) 42 hrs
*spent 3 days on Olkon Island in Lake Baikal
Trans-Siberian Pt. 2: Irkutsk to Moscow, 4 days, NON STOP
*spent 2 days in Moscow (then ran screaming).
**I have already gone over the Trans-Mongolian RR so it is time to continue on with the Trans-Siberian Pt. 1!!! So without further ado, here she is!
How I came to travel with Marky-Mark and Mike
Oh were to start. How about back in UB (Ulaanbaatar)? So in the last few days I was in UB, right after I had gotten back from my Gobi excursion with the half-breed, which was not QUITE as I had expected it would be (the Gobi was AWESOME, but my travel companion not-so-much) I just happened to be wandering around a grocery store there and ran into two Japanese girls that had been staying in my hostel the few days before I left for the Gobi, AND 2 guys, American guys, they were hanging out with. The first guy I saw, Marky-Mark (obviously a nickname) was pretty nice looking, tall, dark, kinda goofy looking, but the second guy, Mike, as soon as our eyes met, my heart literally SKIPPED a beat or TWO because he was/is the SPITTING IMAGE of TJ, a really close friend of mine, who, quite honestly I have liked for quite some time (I mean YEARS really). But it wasn't just how he looked, he SPOKE like TJ, had the same gestures, mannerisms and expressions as TJ and if THAT wasn't enough HE SMELLED LIKE HIM TOO AND!!! AND!!!!! ------he was ALSO married. The illusion was complete. (The only difference was that he was not a cowboy, he grew up in the city, and he had blond hair instead of brown). So, in other words, Julia was hooked. And, as it just so happened we had quite a bit in common too. They had both just finished a year in Japan, teaching English (and were taking the long way home) AND we pretty much had the same travel plans. What can I say? It was fate. So, we teamed up. And Julia was quite happy.
The Smugglers
Until she had the realization that they were just like any other mortal, hot-blooded, American guys that came with the abrupt and unwelcomed coming of the Smugglers. They were two women. Two OLD, like 40-something, women who were not even attractive. They burst into our tiny 4-bunk compartment early in the morning as the train was waiting to be cleared for customs between the Mongolian and Russian borders and frantically started shoving bags EVERYWHERE. They took the table cloth off of our table and DUCT TAPED stuff UNDER the table, the lady even had the audacity to shove bags behind where WE were SITTING and then to also mix up some stuff of hers in our bags, etc. UNBELIEVABLE! I was personally outraged. When they first burst into the compartment I was like "WHOA, HOLD IT! What the BLEEP do you think you're doing?!!!!" Apparently she had the ticket for the 4th bunk in our compartment, so there was really nothing we could do about all the stuff she was stashing away. In between when she and the other lady made "deposits" in our compartment, we kept moving her stuff so that it was all together on her top bunk, and NOT behind us or on our bunks. I was so furious at her because there was no way in hell that I was going to end up in a Russian prison for someone else's smuggled goods. The last straw came with this random man came into our room and tried to stuff a pair of jeans in our compartment. (The whole time the two guys were just kinda sitting back, watching it all happen, commenting, but not really doing anything). I let loose on that guy. I started yelling at him, shoved him out the door and slammed it. Who on earth knows WHAT was actually wrapped up IN those jeans. I sure as hell did NOT want to know.
So then the customs border police get on the train. The woman comes back to our car and sits on the bunks with us waiting. And do you know what my two MALE American counterparts DID?
Anywho. I'm done ranting. My apologies to all the men out there reading this now. But, HONESTLY. Come on. How many of YOU would have acted EXACTLY the same way???? SERIOUSLY?! My last comment to that subject: GERRRR.
Conclusion of THE SMUGGLERS
After the border police had cleared the train for entrance into Russia (they miraculously had only taken away one bag from the lady in our car) Marky-Mark and I got off to go find the bathrooms in the station and on our way back to the train saw the two women setting up all the goods they had smuggled in our compartment (and others I'm sure) in a small little market area right next to the train station. Cheeky little b*&$@s.
57 Grumpy Russians
Well. I think I am going to skip my 3 days on Lake Baikal and save that for another entry because this one is getting pretty long. SO! Onto the 57 Grumpy Russians.
I guess there is not too much to say about this really. When Mike, Marky-Mark and I were buying our tickets for the LONGEST part of our journey, the 4 day trek across the ACTUAL Siberian plain we didn't speak any Russian and had no idea what kind of tickets we were getting... Before we had spent the previous two 24/42hr journeys in our own private little 4 bunk compartments and just kinda figured we'd get the same on the last stretch. Well. We were quite wrong. Since we could not communicate with the lady at the ticket counter, it came down the point where she just showed us two prices: one was for 4,--- rubles and the other was for 2,---rubles. We chose the lowest, the 2,--- ruble tickets. I guess we should have figured they were the 2/3rd class tickets. Didn't really realize it until we hopped on board to find ourselves surrounded by 57 OLD grumpy Russians and no walls or doors at all to separate or close-off the bunks. So in normal train cars, it is separated out into compartments with 4 bunks/2 seats. Imagine the same thing, except without any doors or walls and then having the hallway also lined with 2 bunks for every section. That's what we were in. For 4 days non-stop. Funny thing is, when we went and checked out the other cars, they were filled with much younger, happier, social people. Our car just happened to be where all the old, tired, grumpy people were.
Anyway, you're all probably thinking to yourselves (like we did) "What the HELL do you do on a train for FOUR DAYS?!" Am I right? Well, actually, it really wasn't that bad. We read, played cards, wrote in our journals, tried desperately to avoid the very loud, insistent old Russian lady who sat directly opposite of us, made ramen with the "Amazing Pasta Cooker" my mom had bought off of some home shopping network (which actually works--it's just this special plastic cylindrical container you put pasta in with boiling water and it cooks it within minutes), and bought really dubious looking food from women who had cooked it in their own homes when the train stopped for 5 minutes here and there, and slept quite a lot.
The only other person that spoke any English on the train, came on the second day, a really nice man named Dennis who was from Kamchutka (that huge peninsula right by Alaska) and was an outdoor guide. Chatted with him quite a bit and taught him how to play good ol' American poker. Oh, and during the last night and day our Marky-Mark had himself a fling with a cute little 17 year old Russian chick.
It was sure one magical journey. (Actually, the "magic" happened back at Lake Baikal, but I'll get into that in my next entry. HA. You'll just have to wait.)
10:50 AM
How Julia Almost Lost Her Foot
Monday, November 27, 2006
From BAD to WORSE
Current mood: indescribable
Things are gettin' BAD...
So ya, I had been trying to keep a stiff upper lip and being positive about the farm I was just on (left TODAY----HOOOORRRAAAYYYYYY!!!!!) BUT it is time to be honest. I hated it. Let me be a little more specific. I did not hate the work, or the actual farm, or where it was located (even though it was in the middle of nowhere, far away from town) I hated Iris, the woman who ran it. I have never met a ruder, colder person in my life. (Although she did warm up in the end, a LITTLE). She was constantly getting after me, belittling me, finding ALL my mistakes (which in turn made me nervous so that I made even MORE--it was a very bad cycle). And then not even really talking to me hardly at all. BUT, since I had left the first farm so early, I was BOUND and DETERMINED to stick it out and finish the month there.
As if sh%£ could not get worse---IT DID!!!! MUCH WORSE!!!!!!
But not because of Iris, oh no. Our fearless, stubborn, determined traveler just happened to get bitten by a VERY poisonous spider ON THE F&%£!ç@ HEEL, which then made her whole foot swell up immensely, and unable to really walk. (But, because she was at a farm where she had to earn her keep, she kept on truckin') So, she took on the persona of Igor and the hunchback and, with a tight-lipped grin, hobbled and limped all over the farm. At this point I had NO IDEA it was a spider bite. I thought it was just some infection from an ingrown hair or something ridiculous like that. So, what do I do? I don't go to the doctor, heavens NO (not before I at least try to fix it myself---plus, it would be painful, expensive, confusing cause of the language barrier, etc.), Yep folks, I tried to take care of it myself. With an old scalpel that GianLuca (Iris's hubby) provided me with. (I OF COURSE doused with the bottle of 80 proof alcohol they gave me AND AVOIDED the part of the blade that was rusty...) So. Obviously that doesn't really do much good. It just keeps getting steadily worse. That was Wednesday 2 weeks ago.
Then, on Saturday, when I can no longer hardly limp, and can not even stand LOOKING at my own foot, I ask Iris to take me into the ER. Oh boy. The doctors immediately cut in to me (but not before they administered FOUR of the most PAINFUL anesthesia shots I have EVER HAD and probably ever will! before of which they had said "Now, we're going to give you some anesthesia shots, but because the area is so inflamed, they are not really going to do anything..." Anyway. What followed next was 40 minutes of EXCRUCIATING PAIN as they cut into my foot and cut out the whole area on my heal and then proceeded to SQUEEZE it as hard as they could to get everything out of it. They were right. The anesthesia didn't hardly do a thing. My god.
So ya. Fun times in the ER in po-dunk Italy. So I thought that would help, and it did---got the swelling down, but turns out I had to go back for them to clean it every 2 days (which was also extremely painful cause they filled in the hole every time with gauze and medicine--and they were not too gentle as they JAMMED it in every time). So, this last Friday, I am thinking my foot is getting much better, I can start to walk a little, and I went in that morning thinking that it was going to be my last visit (they said that I would need to go in max of 3 more times before and Friday was the 3rd or 4th time). So I say my hellos to everyone (I know them pretty well by now) and lay down on the table all happy and excited thinking this was going to be my last bout with pain. As I'm laying there happily humming to myself I over-heard the doctor say to the nurse "prepare an anesthesia shot." (by that time I understand a little ER Italian). Yep. They had to cut me open AGAIN. At least that time though, the swelling had gone down so the shots actually worked. After the operation, the doctor told me that it still was not healing at all and that I needed much stronger antibiotics. INJECTION-ABLE antibiotics. She gave me a prescription for 7 doses that I was supposed to INJECT MYSELF (at this point we still don't really know it is a spider bite). I graciously, if not very nervously say thanks and leave (thinking all the while--Ya RIGHT! AS IF! HA!)
So ya. It is time to finish this story (cause I gotta go catch a train to Milan in a bit) I talked to my Mom that night on the phone and she found out that it in fact was a spider bite and found a description of the symptoms, what the doctors will do if you DON'T bring in a spider with you, and what the spider looks like. Well, it just so happens that EVERYTHING was EXACTLY what happened, with my foot and the doctors AND it just so happens that I actually SAW a spider of that very EXACT description sitting on my bed a few days earlier!!!!!!!! It also turns out that there is no anti-venom or anything really that a doctor can do with the bite, you just have to let it do it's thing (for several weeks....) and give it MONTHS to heal properly. ISN'T THAT GREAT?????!!!!
I will end my little saga letting you all know that I still have to go in another time to get my foot all cleaned out. Should be fun. Did I ever say that I JUST WANT TO GO HOME? Shiza.
2:01 AM
From BAD to WORSE
Current mood: indescribable
Things are gettin' BAD...
So ya, I had been trying to keep a stiff upper lip and being positive about the farm I was just on (left TODAY----HOOOORRRAAAYYYYYY!!!!!) BUT it is time to be honest. I hated it. Let me be a little more specific. I did not hate the work, or the actual farm, or where it was located (even though it was in the middle of nowhere, far away from town) I hated Iris, the woman who ran it. I have never met a ruder, colder person in my life. (Although she did warm up in the end, a LITTLE). She was constantly getting after me, belittling me, finding ALL my mistakes (which in turn made me nervous so that I made even MORE--it was a very bad cycle). And then not even really talking to me hardly at all. BUT, since I had left the first farm so early, I was BOUND and DETERMINED to stick it out and finish the month there.
As if sh%£ could not get worse---IT DID!!!! MUCH WORSE!!!!!!
But not because of Iris, oh no. Our fearless, stubborn, determined traveler just happened to get bitten by a VERY poisonous spider ON THE F&%£!ç@ HEEL, which then made her whole foot swell up immensely, and unable to really walk. (But, because she was at a farm where she had to earn her keep, she kept on truckin') So, she took on the persona of Igor and the hunchback and, with a tight-lipped grin, hobbled and limped all over the farm. At this point I had NO IDEA it was a spider bite. I thought it was just some infection from an ingrown hair or something ridiculous like that. So, what do I do? I don't go to the doctor, heavens NO (not before I at least try to fix it myself---plus, it would be painful, expensive, confusing cause of the language barrier, etc.), Yep folks, I tried to take care of it myself. With an old scalpel that GianLuca (Iris's hubby) provided me with. (I OF COURSE doused with the bottle of 80 proof alcohol they gave me AND AVOIDED the part of the blade that was rusty...) So. Obviously that doesn't really do much good. It just keeps getting steadily worse. That was Wednesday 2 weeks ago.
Then, on Saturday, when I can no longer hardly limp, and can not even stand LOOKING at my own foot, I ask Iris to take me into the ER. Oh boy. The doctors immediately cut in to me (but not before they administered FOUR of the most PAINFUL anesthesia shots I have EVER HAD and probably ever will! before of which they had said "Now, we're going to give you some anesthesia shots, but because the area is so inflamed, they are not really going to do anything..." Anyway. What followed next was 40 minutes of EXCRUCIATING PAIN as they cut into my foot and cut out the whole area on my heal and then proceeded to SQUEEZE it as hard as they could to get everything out of it. They were right. The anesthesia didn't hardly do a thing. My god.
So ya. Fun times in the ER in po-dunk Italy. So I thought that would help, and it did---got the swelling down, but turns out I had to go back for them to clean it every 2 days (which was also extremely painful cause they filled in the hole every time with gauze and medicine--and they were not too gentle as they JAMMED it in every time). So, this last Friday, I am thinking my foot is getting much better, I can start to walk a little, and I went in that morning thinking that it was going to be my last visit (they said that I would need to go in max of 3 more times before and Friday was the 3rd or 4th time). So I say my hellos to everyone (I know them pretty well by now) and lay down on the table all happy and excited thinking this was going to be my last bout with pain. As I'm laying there happily humming to myself I over-heard the doctor say to the nurse "prepare an anesthesia shot." (by that time I understand a little ER Italian). Yep. They had to cut me open AGAIN. At least that time though, the swelling had gone down so the shots actually worked. After the operation, the doctor told me that it still was not healing at all and that I needed much stronger antibiotics. INJECTION-ABLE antibiotics. She gave me a prescription for 7 doses that I was supposed to INJECT MYSELF (at this point we still don't really know it is a spider bite). I graciously, if not very nervously say thanks and leave (thinking all the while--Ya RIGHT! AS IF! HA!)
So ya. It is time to finish this story (cause I gotta go catch a train to Milan in a bit) I talked to my Mom that night on the phone and she found out that it in fact was a spider bite and found a description of the symptoms, what the doctors will do if you DON'T bring in a spider with you, and what the spider looks like. Well, it just so happens that EVERYTHING was EXACTLY what happened, with my foot and the doctors AND it just so happens that I actually SAW a spider of that very EXACT description sitting on my bed a few days earlier!!!!!!!! It also turns out that there is no anti-venom or anything really that a doctor can do with the bite, you just have to let it do it's thing (for several weeks....) and give it MONTHS to heal properly. ISN'T THAT GREAT?????!!!!
I will end my little saga letting you all know that I still have to go in another time to get my foot all cleaned out. Should be fun. Did I ever say that I JUST WANT TO GO HOME? Shiza.
2:01 AM
Ode to the Farting Horses of Italy
Tuesday, November 14, 2006
Current mood: complacent
First thing's first, and APOLOGY: Okay. So I know I haven't written anything in an eternity. Blame it on the ridiculously high Internet prices here in Europe. It was exactly what I was afraid about starting a whole blog during my trip- that I would soon not be able to afford to keep up with it.
I have seriously fallen in love with Italy. I love everything about this WONDERFUL country. I love the food, the people (except for that god damn bus driver that fined me 40 euros...) the AMAZING and INCREDIBLE SCENERY!!!!!! Oh my god! On my first farm (which only lasted for 1 and a half weeks versus the month that it was supposed to last because of the mean Romanian kitchen lady) I was up by Torino in the Italian Alps and one day while driving around the countryside, I stopped, and all I could see around me were rolling green hills covered in vineyards, each topped with its own castle and medieval stone village. Unbelievable. I also spent a week down on the Italian Riviera (my escape from Daniela, that mean kitchen lady) where all the houses an buildings hugged the steep, jade-green hills and were painted in bright lemons, soft tangerines, marmalade's, strawberry sorbets, and there were flowers everywhere and yachts and it was just too incredible. I spent that week with Davide and his wonderful family who's mother cooked for me all the local specialties, and made sure there was fresh foccocia--REAL foccocia bread every morning and fresh coffee.
After that, since I still had a week to spare, I decided to get lost in the medieval bliss that is Florence and all its churches, cathedrals and galleries. I spent this time with 3 guys (from couchsurfing), my main "host" being Francesco, who kicked ass---gave me a tour of Florence along with all the little historical tid-bits, and re-introduced me to an old friend- Mary J. (you all know who I am talking about ;) and just had a GREAT TIME with him and his roomies.
Now. I am working on a small farm (with farting horses) in a small town called Borgo Val di Taro, outside of Parma, which is THEEE HOME of Parmesan cheese people!!!! HOW COOL IS THAT? (Aside from the farting horses). Anyway. the farm is located on top of a VERY tall hill overlooking a GORGEOUS valley, and it is fall and it is just BEAUTIFUL. I have been working on the farm for about 3 weeks now, and while the solitude is challenging, it is rather lovely. (Again, aside from the farting horses).
I want to say a word about those farting horses. the farm has one and I thought that only our horse was farting (occasionally throughout the day I would be working near enough to the horse to hear it farting away (and coughing, poor thing----so it's always going something like "cough, fart, cough, cough, fart" ---a quite musical horse really....) and I also occasionally hear it when I am out at night too---rather disconcerting noise too when from out the silent country night the loud gastric noises of "Jokamina" burst forth. Anywho. so I thought though, that it was only our horse that had a problem with chronic farting. But NO! Today, as I was leaving to come and make the long journey over hill and dale to check my email, I passed a horse from the farm right above ours. And do you know what that horse did to me??? It came over to me, acted all sweet and nice and then suddenly, spun around jumped its hind legs up and down in the air several times and let off a couple of FARTS AT ME! WHAT THE HELL???? Is this normal of all horses??? Or is it just the ones in Italy??? I WANT TO KNOW.
Anyway. Lots more to catch up (the Trans Siberian Railway for one thing, along with Latvia and the rest of Italy). So eventually I will get to them. So I shall leave you pondering about the farting horses here. Hope everyone is doing well and fine! Ciao, ciao!
8:27 AM
Current mood: complacent
First thing's first, and APOLOGY: Okay. So I know I haven't written anything in an eternity. Blame it on the ridiculously high Internet prices here in Europe. It was exactly what I was afraid about starting a whole blog during my trip- that I would soon not be able to afford to keep up with it.
I have seriously fallen in love with Italy. I love everything about this WONDERFUL country. I love the food, the people (except for that god damn bus driver that fined me 40 euros...) the AMAZING and INCREDIBLE SCENERY!!!!!! Oh my god! On my first farm (which only lasted for 1 and a half weeks versus the month that it was supposed to last because of the mean Romanian kitchen lady) I was up by Torino in the Italian Alps and one day while driving around the countryside, I stopped, and all I could see around me were rolling green hills covered in vineyards, each topped with its own castle and medieval stone village. Unbelievable. I also spent a week down on the Italian Riviera (my escape from Daniela, that mean kitchen lady) where all the houses an buildings hugged the steep, jade-green hills and were painted in bright lemons, soft tangerines, marmalade's, strawberry sorbets, and there were flowers everywhere and yachts and it was just too incredible. I spent that week with Davide and his wonderful family who's mother cooked for me all the local specialties, and made sure there was fresh foccocia--REAL foccocia bread every morning and fresh coffee.
After that, since I still had a week to spare, I decided to get lost in the medieval bliss that is Florence and all its churches, cathedrals and galleries. I spent this time with 3 guys (from couchsurfing), my main "host" being Francesco, who kicked ass---gave me a tour of Florence along with all the little historical tid-bits, and re-introduced me to an old friend- Mary J. (you all know who I am talking about ;) and just had a GREAT TIME with him and his roomies.
Now. I am working on a small farm (with farting horses) in a small town called Borgo Val di Taro, outside of Parma, which is THEEE HOME of Parmesan cheese people!!!! HOW COOL IS THAT? (Aside from the farting horses). Anyway. the farm is located on top of a VERY tall hill overlooking a GORGEOUS valley, and it is fall and it is just BEAUTIFUL. I have been working on the farm for about 3 weeks now, and while the solitude is challenging, it is rather lovely. (Again, aside from the farting horses).
I want to say a word about those farting horses. the farm has one and I thought that only our horse was farting (occasionally throughout the day I would be working near enough to the horse to hear it farting away (and coughing, poor thing----so it's always going something like "cough, fart, cough, cough, fart" ---a quite musical horse really....) and I also occasionally hear it when I am out at night too---rather disconcerting noise too when from out the silent country night the loud gastric noises of "Jokamina" burst forth. Anywho. so I thought though, that it was only our horse that had a problem with chronic farting. But NO! Today, as I was leaving to come and make the long journey over hill and dale to check my email, I passed a horse from the farm right above ours. And do you know what that horse did to me??? It came over to me, acted all sweet and nice and then suddenly, spun around jumped its hind legs up and down in the air several times and let off a couple of FARTS AT ME! WHAT THE HELL???? Is this normal of all horses??? Or is it just the ones in Italy??? I WANT TO KNOW.
Anyway. Lots more to catch up (the Trans Siberian Railway for one thing, along with Latvia and the rest of Italy). So eventually I will get to them. So I shall leave you pondering about the farting horses here. Hope everyone is doing well and fine! Ciao, ciao!
8:27 AM
The Gobi Desert, ABBA, The Half-Breed & Nude Sunbathing
Tuesday, September 19, 2006
Current mood: embarrassed
Please note: There is material in this entry that some with more sensitive (prudish) sensibilities might find rather graphic. hehe. Those entries are always the best kind in MY book
The Half-breed
I just got back from 4 days in the Gobi Desert (for those of you who aren't aware, the Great Gobi Desert is located in the southern part of Mongolia---little fact for ya). I went with a half-breed (American/Swedish) guy named Daniel---who claimed that he was really Swedish but was TOTALLY, 100% AMERICAN and who, quite disappointingly turned out to be a very quiet, solitary kind of guy. (Considering that we spent UMPTINE hours together in vans/jeeps getting tossed around like shake-n-bake chicken---one stretch of which was NINETEEN HOURS and also shared a tent together...) Ya, had no sense of humor. ANYWAY. Letting go, letting go... Deep breath. So that explains that, one aspect of my trip which I would like to fuzz away into nothing...
ABBA
Once we got to one of the southern towns near the Chinese border we hired a driver, a very musically-gifted driver with GREAT music taste. He didn't speak a lick of English and didn't appreciate a lot of silence, but loved to listen to A LOT of music. ALL OF THE TIME. If there had been radio stations or he had had a decent collection of music (tapes/Cd's) on him this wouldn't have been so bad. But no. He only had TWO tapes on him. Just TWO. One tape of Mongolian Super Hits 2006 and ABBA'S GREATEST HITS. That's it. Those were the two tapes he possessed. And he ADORED those two tapes. In the 72 hours that he drove us all over the Gobi Desert and then back up to Ulaanbaatar he only listened to those two tapes. Over and over and over and over and over and over and over and over again. I now know all of ABBA'S GREATEST HITS by heart thanks to that man and I'm well on my way to memorizing that tape of Mongolian Super Hits 2006 as well. Now, whenever I think of the Great, Majestic, Ever-expansive Gobi Desert there will always be a loud whisper of "Dancing Queen" filling in the silence.
Nude Sunbathing (Quite possibly the most mortifying experience to date.)So. I am not a proclaimed nudist by any means. I do not have any desire to lounge around my house naked, or join up with a nudist colony. But sometimes I just like to have my occasional "skinny-dip" or some such thing. Keeps life exciting don'tcha know. And I promise you, if you do stuff like that, it will help, as one down-and-out girl pop group who shall remain nameless used to say, "spice up your life."
So here's the set-up: I had just climbed to the top of a HUGE sand dune and been abandoned by the half-breed who went off to climb the next highest dune a few dunes over. I was sitting/laying up there, enjoying the gorgeous view, taking it all in, playing in the lovely, dry, fine sand, listening to the wind blow when I got this idea---There was not a soul around and the sun was warm so I thought to myself "how crazy would it be to sunbath up here on the top of this dune?!" I could see the 3 yurt camps far off into the distance and there weren't any other hikers around or anything so I thought, "What the hell?!" So, without further ado I got down into my birthday suit and thoroughly enjoyed myself, lulling around in the sand (I LOVE the feel of sand) becoming one with nature and the surrounding dunes. I was up there, enjoying myself, rolling around in the sand for who knows how long, having an absolute BALL....until....I heard voices. YES, VOICES. In utter and TOTAL PANIC I peeped my head over the edge of the sand dune to see not one or two tourists, OH NO. But FOUR, FOUR French tourists, three of which were guys my age, who were coming over towards me. In that split second that I looked over, our eyes met, they saw me (their jaws kinda dropped if you can imagine...) and I started shouting and waving frantically "WAIT!!!! WAIT!!!! STOP!!!" They were nice enough to duck down behind the dune and give me time to scramble back into my clothes. After which there was nothing else to be done, but to walk over to them and apologize and laugh it off. Needless to say they got a HUGE laugh out of it and were laughing for quite a while (they're probably STILL laughing now come to think of it). They also invited me over to their yurt later on for a beer, (I know you're smacking your head thinking "DUH JULIA!!") Anyway. Shame I couldn't go. They were cool. (One of them even looked like Orlando Bloom!) So ya. Gonna be hard to live that down.
Another bit of advice: (and just because I say this DOES NOT mean that I actually DID this or anything of this nature happened...) When doing something like I did up there on the sand dunes, it is NOT a good idea to try to be all "artistic" with your camera, and then later down the road, forget which order your pictures are in on your camera and then go showing off the lovely pictures you took of the dunes to other tourists...
Ya. And on that note I shall end this entry. Good times in Mongolia (had by all...not just Julia).
9:15 PM
Current mood: embarrassed
Please note: There is material in this entry that some with more sensitive (prudish) sensibilities might find rather graphic. hehe. Those entries are always the best kind in MY book
The Half-breed
I just got back from 4 days in the Gobi Desert (for those of you who aren't aware, the Great Gobi Desert is located in the southern part of Mongolia---little fact for ya). I went with a half-breed (American/Swedish) guy named Daniel---who claimed that he was really Swedish but was TOTALLY, 100% AMERICAN and who, quite disappointingly turned out to be a very quiet, solitary kind of guy. (Considering that we spent UMPTINE hours together in vans/jeeps getting tossed around like shake-n-bake chicken---one stretch of which was NINETEEN HOURS and also shared a tent together...) Ya, had no sense of humor. ANYWAY. Letting go, letting go... Deep breath. So that explains that, one aspect of my trip which I would like to fuzz away into nothing...
ABBA
Once we got to one of the southern towns near the Chinese border we hired a driver, a very musically-gifted driver with GREAT music taste. He didn't speak a lick of English and didn't appreciate a lot of silence, but loved to listen to A LOT of music. ALL OF THE TIME. If there had been radio stations or he had had a decent collection of music (tapes/Cd's) on him this wouldn't have been so bad. But no. He only had TWO tapes on him. Just TWO. One tape of Mongolian Super Hits 2006 and ABBA'S GREATEST HITS. That's it. Those were the two tapes he possessed. And he ADORED those two tapes. In the 72 hours that he drove us all over the Gobi Desert and then back up to Ulaanbaatar he only listened to those two tapes. Over and over and over and over and over and over and over and over again. I now know all of ABBA'S GREATEST HITS by heart thanks to that man and I'm well on my way to memorizing that tape of Mongolian Super Hits 2006 as well. Now, whenever I think of the Great, Majestic, Ever-expansive Gobi Desert there will always be a loud whisper of "Dancing Queen" filling in the silence.
Nude Sunbathing (Quite possibly the most mortifying experience to date.)So. I am not a proclaimed nudist by any means. I do not have any desire to lounge around my house naked, or join up with a nudist colony. But sometimes I just like to have my occasional "skinny-dip" or some such thing. Keeps life exciting don'tcha know. And I promise you, if you do stuff like that, it will help, as one down-and-out girl pop group who shall remain nameless used to say, "spice up your life."
So here's the set-up: I had just climbed to the top of a HUGE sand dune and been abandoned by the half-breed who went off to climb the next highest dune a few dunes over. I was sitting/laying up there, enjoying the gorgeous view, taking it all in, playing in the lovely, dry, fine sand, listening to the wind blow when I got this idea---There was not a soul around and the sun was warm so I thought to myself "how crazy would it be to sunbath up here on the top of this dune?!" I could see the 3 yurt camps far off into the distance and there weren't any other hikers around or anything so I thought, "What the hell?!" So, without further ado I got down into my birthday suit and thoroughly enjoyed myself, lulling around in the sand (I LOVE the feel of sand) becoming one with nature and the surrounding dunes. I was up there, enjoying myself, rolling around in the sand for who knows how long, having an absolute BALL....until....I heard voices. YES, VOICES. In utter and TOTAL PANIC I peeped my head over the edge of the sand dune to see not one or two tourists, OH NO. But FOUR, FOUR French tourists, three of which were guys my age, who were coming over towards me. In that split second that I looked over, our eyes met, they saw me (their jaws kinda dropped if you can imagine...) and I started shouting and waving frantically "WAIT!!!! WAIT!!!! STOP!!!" They were nice enough to duck down behind the dune and give me time to scramble back into my clothes. After which there was nothing else to be done, but to walk over to them and apologize and laugh it off. Needless to say they got a HUGE laugh out of it and were laughing for quite a while (they're probably STILL laughing now come to think of it). They also invited me over to their yurt later on for a beer, (I know you're smacking your head thinking "DUH JULIA!!") Anyway. Shame I couldn't go. They were cool. (One of them even looked like Orlando Bloom!) So ya. Gonna be hard to live that down.
Another bit of advice: (and just because I say this DOES NOT mean that I actually DID this or anything of this nature happened...) When doing something like I did up there on the sand dunes, it is NOT a good idea to try to be all "artistic" with your camera, and then later down the road, forget which order your pictures are in on your camera and then go showing off the lovely pictures you took of the dunes to other tourists...
Ya. And on that note I shall end this entry. Good times in Mongolia (had by all...not just Julia).
9:15 PM
Enlightenment in Food: Beijing
Tuesday, September 19, 2006
God doth show himself unto me YET AGAIN! (remnants of Beijing....)Current mood: content
Before I get started on this I'd like to dedicate this next little blog entry to a very dear friend of mine, one Sarah Kortemeier. Together on our travels we had the ultimate pleasure of discovering God all of two times together. Where you might ask? Certainly not in that shower stall we shared for an hour that one time in Kiwi-land, I'll let you decide if we were clothed or not! HA! ANYWAY (good times abound with Sarah...), No, he was in the food we ate of course! (The first time God was contained in this little tub of spinach artichoke dip we ate in New Zealand, and then the second time, well. It's a little foggy....shame on me. Wouldn't be surprised if you-know-who from above smote me down for A.) mocking him by claiming that his presence was detected in a tub of spinach artichoke dip of all things and B.) for actually forgetting the second time I randomly ran into him in another food. Oh dear. So without further ado I bring you:
GOD IN FOOD: PART THE THIRD
Now I know you are all sitting on the edges of your seats tearing your hair out of your heads screaming: "STOP BLABBERING AND TELL ME FOR THE LOVE OF GOD!!!" (literally, hehehehe...) So, I shall. I found God for the third time in a dish I had the utter EXTREME pleasure of finding and consuming in a small restaurant in Beijing. There are no words to do it justice. It is both heaven and hell to know it and eat it. It is PURE and TRUE DIVINE ENLIGHTENMENT. With the first bite you feel your soul begin to rise up out of your body, seeking the eternal light of God and finding it. It is unadulterated, beautiful, blissful nirvana. So what is this food that could lead the whole of humanity to salvation if discovered???? It is a dish of fried eggplant topped with pork slathered in a tangy, sweet sauce. There it is. Now you know. You too can commune with God if you are of the lucky few to find and consume this phenomenal food. I know I shall remember the two times I ate it with ecstasy. It is an experience purely of the spiritual kind, bringing me one more step closer to the great beyond and to the good man up above.
8:47 PM
God doth show himself unto me YET AGAIN! (remnants of Beijing....)Current mood: content
Before I get started on this I'd like to dedicate this next little blog entry to a very dear friend of mine, one Sarah Kortemeier. Together on our travels we had the ultimate pleasure of discovering God all of two times together. Where you might ask? Certainly not in that shower stall we shared for an hour that one time in Kiwi-land, I'll let you decide if we were clothed or not! HA! ANYWAY (good times abound with Sarah...), No, he was in the food we ate of course! (The first time God was contained in this little tub of spinach artichoke dip we ate in New Zealand, and then the second time, well. It's a little foggy....shame on me. Wouldn't be surprised if you-know-who from above smote me down for A.) mocking him by claiming that his presence was detected in a tub of spinach artichoke dip of all things and B.) for actually forgetting the second time I randomly ran into him in another food. Oh dear. So without further ado I bring you:
GOD IN FOOD: PART THE THIRD
Now I know you are all sitting on the edges of your seats tearing your hair out of your heads screaming: "STOP BLABBERING AND TELL ME FOR THE LOVE OF GOD!!!" (literally, hehehehe...) So, I shall. I found God for the third time in a dish I had the utter EXTREME pleasure of finding and consuming in a small restaurant in Beijing. There are no words to do it justice. It is both heaven and hell to know it and eat it. It is PURE and TRUE DIVINE ENLIGHTENMENT. With the first bite you feel your soul begin to rise up out of your body, seeking the eternal light of God and finding it. It is unadulterated, beautiful, blissful nirvana. So what is this food that could lead the whole of humanity to salvation if discovered???? It is a dish of fried eggplant topped with pork slathered in a tangy, sweet sauce. There it is. Now you know. You too can commune with God if you are of the lucky few to find and consume this phenomenal food. I know I shall remember the two times I ate it with ecstasy. It is an experience purely of the spiritual kind, bringing me one more step closer to the great beyond and to the good man up above.
8:47 PM
Trans-Mongolian Craziness
Wednesday, September 13, 2006
Current mood: dirty
Wow. I made it. I'm here. In Mongolia. Ulaanbaatar to be exact, the capital of the country of nil, nadda, nothing. No, the lack of anything is actually quite beautiful, although after hours upon hours of staring at it out of a train window it can get just a scosh MONOTONOUS. Ya, I'm REALLY freaking tired and COVERED in dust. (Right as we were entering the Gobi desert the train was stirring up a TON of dust which came right into the train cars coating everything and everyone in a thick layer of dust. You'd think that the train would have a better air filter system...). But I got to see the Great Wall some more as we were leaving China and a lot of the traditional "Gers" (yurts for you Americans) and the Mongolian Steppe horses too.
Crossing the border into Mongolia was CRAZY. Apparently the rail widths between China and Mongolia are different so every time a train enters into either country, they literally have to change THE WHEELS ON THE TRAIN. This takes about FIVE HOURS while they take the train cars apart, jack them up 5 feet in the air and then proceed to switch out the wheels underneath them. UN. BELIEVABLE. And yes, the whole time you're in the train watching them do this. Then there's the matter of the scary customs lady who comes in and stamps your passport (if your lucky) and allows you into the country. This whole process of changing out the wheels and getting admitted into the country took about 5 hours (that seems to be the magical number...) from about 9 at night to 2 in the morning. Ya. It sucked. But waking up the next morning in the Gobi desert was quite awesome. So ya. Not gonna spend any time really in this city. Maybe tomorrow and then I'm heading off into the great beyond! Gonna find me some mountain streams, forests, ponies and yurts! He he!
1:02 AM
Current mood: dirty
Wow. I made it. I'm here. In Mongolia. Ulaanbaatar to be exact, the capital of the country of nil, nadda, nothing. No, the lack of anything is actually quite beautiful, although after hours upon hours of staring at it out of a train window it can get just a scosh MONOTONOUS. Ya, I'm REALLY freaking tired and COVERED in dust. (Right as we were entering the Gobi desert the train was stirring up a TON of dust which came right into the train cars coating everything and everyone in a thick layer of dust. You'd think that the train would have a better air filter system...). But I got to see the Great Wall some more as we were leaving China and a lot of the traditional "Gers" (yurts for you Americans) and the Mongolian Steppe horses too.
Crossing the border into Mongolia was CRAZY. Apparently the rail widths between China and Mongolia are different so every time a train enters into either country, they literally have to change THE WHEELS ON THE TRAIN. This takes about FIVE HOURS while they take the train cars apart, jack them up 5 feet in the air and then proceed to switch out the wheels underneath them. UN. BELIEVABLE. And yes, the whole time you're in the train watching them do this. Then there's the matter of the scary customs lady who comes in and stamps your passport (if your lucky) and allows you into the country. This whole process of changing out the wheels and getting admitted into the country took about 5 hours (that seems to be the magical number...) from about 9 at night to 2 in the morning. Ya. It sucked. But waking up the next morning in the Gobi desert was quite awesome. So ya. Not gonna spend any time really in this city. Maybe tomorrow and then I'm heading off into the great beyond! Gonna find me some mountain streams, forests, ponies and yurts! He he!
1:02 AM
Night on the Great Wall of China
Saturday, September 09, 2006
Current mood: tired
Well, ended up spending the night on the Wall last night. Talk about flipping AWESOME! I met up with a wonderful Swedish couple and we headed off a little later in the day. Got there about 6 or so with plans of sleeping on the Great Wall. Right as we were about to climb it and find ourselves a tower to camp in I realized we didn't have any flashlights or candles or ANY form of lightsource or warmth at all! So, some of the local villiagers were super nice and ran around getting us a flashlight and some candles. The climb up was FREAKY cause we were so high up (on the top of a mountain) and the wall in most sections between towers was SOOO STEEP. Talk about unnerving. But we found a nice, albeit rundown tower to camp it in. Right as it was getting dark. It was quite cold, but the night went fairly smoothly. I brought my long underwear and sleeping bag so I was all good. It was slightly uncomforatable sleeping on the uneven old dilapitated stones, with rats running around, but all-in-all quite awesome cause we got to see both the sun set and sun rise on the Great Wall and had it all to ourselves for like 12 hours! You can be assured my pictures ROCK. On the way down we met up with another group of Swedes who were also awesome and had lunch with them. (On a side note, I have been eating to my hearts content here and there from Mexico and I'm still doing okay! Skin's still intact! HOW AWESOME IS THAT?!) After getting back I hit up the Beijing Opera, maybe not something you want to do AFTER a night like that, but it was cool. Today heading finally over towards the Temple of Heaven and then a market that has some interesting shows. AH! I gotta to get going! Only two more days before I head off to the lonely expanse of Mongolia!
6:20 PM
Current mood: tired
Well, ended up spending the night on the Wall last night. Talk about flipping AWESOME! I met up with a wonderful Swedish couple and we headed off a little later in the day. Got there about 6 or so with plans of sleeping on the Great Wall. Right as we were about to climb it and find ourselves a tower to camp in I realized we didn't have any flashlights or candles or ANY form of lightsource or warmth at all! So, some of the local villiagers were super nice and ran around getting us a flashlight and some candles. The climb up was FREAKY cause we were so high up (on the top of a mountain) and the wall in most sections between towers was SOOO STEEP. Talk about unnerving. But we found a nice, albeit rundown tower to camp it in. Right as it was getting dark. It was quite cold, but the night went fairly smoothly. I brought my long underwear and sleeping bag so I was all good. It was slightly uncomforatable sleeping on the uneven old dilapitated stones, with rats running around, but all-in-all quite awesome cause we got to see both the sun set and sun rise on the Great Wall and had it all to ourselves for like 12 hours! You can be assured my pictures ROCK. On the way down we met up with another group of Swedes who were also awesome and had lunch with them. (On a side note, I have been eating to my hearts content here and there from Mexico and I'm still doing okay! Skin's still intact! HOW AWESOME IS THAT?!) After getting back I hit up the Beijing Opera, maybe not something you want to do AFTER a night like that, but it was cool. Today heading finally over towards the Temple of Heaven and then a market that has some interesting shows. AH! I gotta to get going! Only two more days before I head off to the lonely expanse of Mongolia!
6:20 PM
The Joys of Beijing
Thursday, September 07, 2006
Current mood: hopeful
Worst Buy of the Day:
A lovely stylish wristwatch of Mao Ze Dong fully equipped with waving arm purchased in Tienanmen's Square (what can I say, I felt inspired...now I just feel stupid.)
Worst Eat of the Day:
Two EXTREMELY DUBIOUS sausages bought and consumed in the Forbidden City...the fact that they were under 30 cents a sausage AND eaten in the "Forbidden" City does not instill much confidence in retrospect. God they were awfully funky. Ick.
So ya. Can't say that Beijing and I are getting along all that well. There were quite a few times yesterday when I wanted to throw my hands up in the air shouting and screaming because I couldn't find anything I needed (like bus/train/metro maps) and no one spoke a WORD of English, not even "train" or "bus" etc. AND my Lonely Planet guide book is a PIECE OF SH*%!!! AWFUL directions and a COMPLETE LACK of bus/train/metro info. But that's okay. I still managed to get my train ticket to Mongolia (for next Tuesday) and then randomly stumbled upon Tienanmen's Square and the Forbidden City (on my way to the Temple of Heaven) so I just decided to spend the day buying corny watches, dubious hot dogs, and getting lost in the old city. That part of the day was nice actually. Anyway. Now I'm waiting to hear back from a Swedish couple who is thinking about going to the Great Wall AND spending the night there. So if they're going then I think I will too! Anyway, that's all for now!
6:22 PM
Current mood: hopeful
Worst Buy of the Day:
A lovely stylish wristwatch of Mao Ze Dong fully equipped with waving arm purchased in Tienanmen's Square (what can I say, I felt inspired...now I just feel stupid.)
Worst Eat of the Day:
Two EXTREMELY DUBIOUS sausages bought and consumed in the Forbidden City...the fact that they were under 30 cents a sausage AND eaten in the "Forbidden" City does not instill much confidence in retrospect. God they were awfully funky. Ick.
So ya. Can't say that Beijing and I are getting along all that well. There were quite a few times yesterday when I wanted to throw my hands up in the air shouting and screaming because I couldn't find anything I needed (like bus/train/metro maps) and no one spoke a WORD of English, not even "train" or "bus" etc. AND my Lonely Planet guide book is a PIECE OF SH*%!!! AWFUL directions and a COMPLETE LACK of bus/train/metro info. But that's okay. I still managed to get my train ticket to Mongolia (for next Tuesday) and then randomly stumbled upon Tienanmen's Square and the Forbidden City (on my way to the Temple of Heaven) so I just decided to spend the day buying corny watches, dubious hot dogs, and getting lost in the old city. That part of the day was nice actually. Anyway. Now I'm waiting to hear back from a Swedish couple who is thinking about going to the Great Wall AND spending the night there. So if they're going then I think I will too! Anyway, that's all for now!
6:22 PM
Viva La Mexico!
Monday, September 04, 2006
Current mood: chipper
Well, I'm now done and out of Mexico, and man did I have fun! (Except for the whole beer episode...) Got to spend a whole lot more time with my now even better friend Canaantzi (he's so hilarious) and got to catch up on a WHOLE LOTTA live music while I was there too! Canaantzi, being the musician that he is, knew all the bands in the area, so took me to all the places they were playing, and more often than not, joined in with them. We usually saw about 3 groups per night. And they ROCKED. He also took me to a lot of really nice restaurants where I PIGGED DOWN on glorious Mexican food and we also went on this really cheesy pirate cruise ship thing, where, before the cruise Canaantzi proceeded to buy and then actually WEAR a pirate bandanna AND a fake mustache, and not just on the boat, but like for the rest of the night....HA. And played with them on at another bar we went to later...he reminded me of a young Che Guevara. Oh, good times with Canaantzi. Hilarious. I'm gonna miss him. Now it's off to Beijing!!!
Current mood: chipper
Well, I'm now done and out of Mexico, and man did I have fun! (Except for the whole beer episode...) Got to spend a whole lot more time with my now even better friend Canaantzi (he's so hilarious) and got to catch up on a WHOLE LOTTA live music while I was there too! Canaantzi, being the musician that he is, knew all the bands in the area, so took me to all the places they were playing, and more often than not, joined in with them. We usually saw about 3 groups per night. And they ROCKED. He also took me to a lot of really nice restaurants where I PIGGED DOWN on glorious Mexican food and we also went on this really cheesy pirate cruise ship thing, where, before the cruise Canaantzi proceeded to buy and then actually WEAR a pirate bandanna AND a fake mustache, and not just on the boat, but like for the rest of the night....HA. And played with them on at another bar we went to later...he reminded me of a young Che Guevara. Oh, good times with Canaantzi. Hilarious. I'm gonna miss him. Now it's off to Beijing!!!
Close Call in Mexico
Saturday, September 02, 2006
MY GOD.
So like for those of you who care about me, I came pretty darn close to dying last night in what would have been quite the FREAK accident. Yep. And in the most ASSININE of ways too MY GOD. A single drink of beer, Tecate beer to be exact, almost did our fearless adventurer Jules into the ground. And I´m DEAD serious--no pun intended. Now, we all know beer and alcohol can be deadly, if you drink enough, but I betcha never thought it could kill in other ways as well. So here it is. I was drinking beer with my friend Canaantzi and just as I took a HUGE gulp he made me laugh. I was trying my hardest to keep the beer from going everywhere and was pretty much gagging, keeping it in my mouth. So it was all fun and games until after I managed to swallow the last little bit in my mouth and realized that all the gagging and swallowing had created a very strong, large pressurized bubble in my throat COMPLETELY BLOCKING ALL AIR FLOW. Now, if it had been a piece of food, I woudln´t have been half as scared because ye old "heimlick manuver" really works wonders I hear. But how would that work with just an air bubble??? So after that realization the panic really sank in. Cause nothing anyone around me could do would probably help me. In other words I thought I was completly SOL. All I could do was just sit there, grabbing my friend´s arm, looking into his eyes and slowly choking to death. I seriously thought I was going to die. I thought in my head "Oh my god. I don´t want to die in a bar in Mexico choking on beer!" Luckily, right as my vision was starting to darken on the edges I managed to get a little air in and then the bubble, very slowly, went away. My god I haven´t been that scared in SO LONG. Another 5 seconds or so and I probably would have been gone. Someone upstaires really loves me, that´s for sure...I hope so anyway.
It´s times like these when you are reminded ONCE AGAIN, for the millionth time, just how fucking fragile your life REALLY IS. That very same thing could have happened to me anywhere, at any time with ANYTHING that I drank. God life is fragile. And I wasn´t even doing anything high-risk when this whole episode happened. I was simply sitting in a nice bar/restaurant enjoying a beer and all of a sudden came face-to-face with death. MY GOD. My god.
MY GOD.
So like for those of you who care about me, I came pretty darn close to dying last night in what would have been quite the FREAK accident. Yep. And in the most ASSININE of ways too MY GOD. A single drink of beer, Tecate beer to be exact, almost did our fearless adventurer Jules into the ground. And I´m DEAD serious--no pun intended. Now, we all know beer and alcohol can be deadly, if you drink enough, but I betcha never thought it could kill in other ways as well. So here it is. I was drinking beer with my friend Canaantzi and just as I took a HUGE gulp he made me laugh. I was trying my hardest to keep the beer from going everywhere and was pretty much gagging, keeping it in my mouth. So it was all fun and games until after I managed to swallow the last little bit in my mouth and realized that all the gagging and swallowing had created a very strong, large pressurized bubble in my throat COMPLETELY BLOCKING ALL AIR FLOW. Now, if it had been a piece of food, I woudln´t have been half as scared because ye old "heimlick manuver" really works wonders I hear. But how would that work with just an air bubble??? So after that realization the panic really sank in. Cause nothing anyone around me could do would probably help me. In other words I thought I was completly SOL. All I could do was just sit there, grabbing my friend´s arm, looking into his eyes and slowly choking to death. I seriously thought I was going to die. I thought in my head "Oh my god. I don´t want to die in a bar in Mexico choking on beer!" Luckily, right as my vision was starting to darken on the edges I managed to get a little air in and then the bubble, very slowly, went away. My god I haven´t been that scared in SO LONG. Another 5 seconds or so and I probably would have been gone. Someone upstaires really loves me, that´s for sure...I hope so anyway.
It´s times like these when you are reminded ONCE AGAIN, for the millionth time, just how fucking fragile your life REALLY IS. That very same thing could have happened to me anywhere, at any time with ANYTHING that I drank. God life is fragile. And I wasn´t even doing anything high-risk when this whole episode happened. I was simply sitting in a nice bar/restaurant enjoying a beer and all of a sudden came face-to-face with death. MY GOD. My god.
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