Driving up to Dracula’s castle in a rally car takes away some of the Transylvania mystique that we so associate with the place. We did learn, sadly, that Bran Castle is not actually Dracula’s, as Dracula is a fictional character. He is based off of an actual regional tyrant named Vlad the Impailer, so called because he liked to punish people by impaling them on a sharp stake so that it took them days to die, very publicly and painfully. We learned, also to our dismay, that Vlad only used Bran Castle once on a short vacation, so the actual reason Bran Castle is so famous eludes us. Nevertheless, we ventured forward.

Pulling into Bran, we discovered no screaming people run through with sharp sticks, instead we found a tourist trap of epic proportions. There was every manner of vampire merchandise (save for the horrid Twilight Saga stuff). T-shirts with blood dripping off of them, wigs, fangs, crosses, and strangely, lots of lace. We perused the small tourist shops watching groups of Japanese tourists in matching tour hats scoop up Dracula souvenirs.

Eventually we tired of the balking tourists and screaming merchants so we snapped a few pictures of the outside of Bran Castle and jumped back in our trusty Citroen Saxo. Another castle was perched on a hillside a few miles back down the road, so we decided to visit the less busy, less touristy castle and actually climb up inside it.

We had split off from our convoy earlier that day, with the Face Race team heading to Bucharest, Romania to drop off a team mate. We had a few hours to kill before we caught up with them that evening near the border with Moldova, so we decided that we had plenty of time to see another castle. One hardly ever tires of castles, I’ve found.

Finding parking was easy, so we walked up the hill to Rasnov Castle, which was apparently past business hours at six in the afternoon. We walked through the main gates and up into the chambers of the castle. Much of Rasnov is in ruins, but a panoramic view from the top of what must have been a look-out tower or platform gave us one of the best views in Romania. We walked around admiring the old structures (many of which were under construction) and finally walked back down to the car. We had a lot of miles to cover that night before re-uniting with our convoy and heading into Moldova.

Related posts:

1. Slovenia and the Creepiest Castle
2. The Transfagaran Pass
3. The Czech Out Party at Klenova Castle, Czech Republic

If you haven’t seen the British TV show “Top Gear” then you probably aren’t alone. I haven’t seen it either. But, apparently everyone on the rally is in love with the show, which features a few men who take on auto-related challenges around the globe in seemingly anything with an engine and a few wheels.

All the Brits were raving about a special road featured in Top Gear and was made famous from car commercials and other car-related things. This road was called The Transfagaran Pass, so we stuck the nose of our car in that direction. It was not far from the camp ground but we still managed to get lost, a daily occurrence for our tiny convoy. Eventually we found the right road and discovered it was a winding narrow road up the side of a mountain. Motorcycles were buzzing past us and faster cars passed us as if we were not on an incline at all. We stayed in first gear the whole time. Finally, we reached the part of the road that made it famous, a hillside with switchbacks going all the way to the summit, where a small lake awaits. We gunned it at an insane 20 mph, finally reaching the top without having anyone puke in the car. The view was breathtaking, and well worth the drive. We drove on through a tunnel, where our convoy began honking at one another, and all the locals joined in filling the tunnel with honking and cheering.

It began to rain, and since our tires are as smooth as a baby’s bottom we decided t head down rather than take the road the entire length towards Bucharest. Oly and Oli had to drop Rikki off at the airport, as he had to fly back to the UK for work. We said our goodbyes on top of the mountain and waved as they went back through the tunnel and we headed down the hill towards Bran.

Related posts:

1. Budapest, Hungary and the Case of the Sad Sorry Side Wheel
2. Bran Castle and Rasnov Fortress
3. Prague, Czech Republic

Gypsies, it turns out, do not have a very good reputation in Romania. Having driven from Budapest, we were exhausted by the time we reached the border. The scenery was beautiful, with mountains speckled throughout the landscape that our tiny car wound up and down and small speeds. Oradea was the first town across the border and we arrived on schedule around noon. Finding parking was easy, but the safety of our cars was definitely in question. The aforementioned gypsies flocked around the park nearby and asked for money from our small group at tedium. We took everything off the roof rack and put it into the car before setting off to view Oradea’s sights.

Two main plazas sit in central Oradea, one on either side of the river that bisects the town. We walked in the mid-day heat to the first and snapped a few pictures but because of the extreme temperatures no one was really in the mood to stare at more architecture. Several people were holding their stomachs in hunger while everyone else dashed into every passing quick-mart to buy a drink.  Hydration was key. We crept slowly across the river and halted for ice cream at a street-side vendor before exploring the opposing square and city center. For a small town on the border, Oradea is surprisingly beautiful and with a wealth of cafes, restaurants and bars. A long pedestrian street lay ahead, so we walked down it, enjoying the city and the rich atmosphere.

We had heard somewhere that there was a vegetarian restaurant in town that made celery schnitzel. When you hear a menu item like that you simply have to go check it out in person. Apparently it is the only vegetarian place in Romania, which made the allure all the greater. We spent quite a bit of time looking for it and finally discovered it was near our parked cars (which were still there, thankfully!). We sat inside, enjoying the air conditioning for several minutes while examining the menu. A curious thing happens in Eastern Europe, Central Asia and Asia. When a menu item runs out, they simply put an X in -front of  it. This menu was entirely composed of Xs, with only a few remaining items. We waited….and waited….and waited. Eventually we lost interest in waiting and decided to leave, having regained some humanity thanks to the air conditioners. We strolled across the street and had gyros for a fraction of the price.

Climbing back into the hot cars went against every natural survival instinct, but that’s exactly what we did. We hit the road going fast, anything to cool down the cars. In the back seat, Mike was dripping sweat as he looked out the window. Bill was wiping his face with a cloth and I was blinking rapidly to stop the burning heat from drying my eyes. We didn’t have far to go to reach our next destination, so we all set our jaws and forged ahead.

Related posts:

1. The Epic Return to Deutschland
2. Vienna, Austria
3. Goodwood Race Track and the Festival of Slow

Budapest has received a lot of fan fare in recent years for its bohemian settings and casual expat culture. We got to experience a bit of this for the few brief days we were in Budapest. First, the city is divided in half and together Buda and Pest comprise the metropolis of Budapest, the river dividing them neatly in half. Beautiful bridges connect the two townships, making them one.

The older part of town and, incidentally, the side most tourists visit is Buda. In Buda you’ll find the old town citadel and the famous labyrinths that run beneath it. A sign informed us that the catacomb labyrinths beneath us were one of the seven underground wonders of the world. God knows what the other six are. We toured around the cathedral and admired the view from atop the hill in Buda, looking over the river and the steady development in Pest. Strolling around, Buda could be any beautiful city in Europe, with fashionably clad women and business-minded men briskly going about their day.

Budapest boasts one of the oldest metro systems in Europe. We decided to take the subway to check it out. Leather straps dangled from metal plates inside the cabins on the subway, while real glass windows let passengers look out into the beautifully crafted subway platforms of tile and mosaic. It was extremely impressive, and efficient. The subway connects travelers with bus and above ground train stations so that mobility in the city is easy.

Pest, where the city’s modernity begins to shine through, is where we stayed. Naturally, prices are cheaper in the peak season in Pest, and our campground was only a few Euro a night and nestled neatly into the middle of a public park. We jumped on the tram heading north to take a tour of the Budapest Torture Museum. Obviously not my idea, but I was along for the ride. I’m glad we ended up going, as I learned a great deal and someone has invested a large amount in the facility, making it one of the most in-depth museums I’ve ever visited. It happened to be free for people under 26 the day we arrived, so I got in for free while Mike, having forgotten his ID, decided to wait outside. Bill paid for his ticket (old man!) and we made our way up a flight of stairs to view a real Soviet tank in a small room that was comprised entirely of pictures of deceased Hungarians. The tour would only become more sobering as we went on. In all, we saw the cells where prisoners lived, the gallows where they died, the torture chambers, and several videos made from victims who calmly explained what went on in the building. Finally, we emerged from the building into the sunlight with a lot of information about the Soviet invasion of Hungary, and what that meant for the people of Budapest. I’d highly recommend the museum, but plan to be shocked. There is no “politically correct” concept when it comes to displaying text and images.

Back at the campground we managed to do a bit of laundry, stringing a line from the car to a nearby fence. We cleaned out the car (which was much in need of attention) and Bill did a once-over on the car checking the wheels, engine and poking his head around under the belly of the beast. All was in order, so we set off the following morning for Romania.

Related posts:

1. Budapest, Hungary and the Case of the Sad Sorry Side Wheel
2. Oradea and the First Gypsy
3. The Epic Return to Deutschland

Needless to say, the entire convoy of people were now desperate for a shower and a few days to rest. We saw signs for Budapest and drove into the center of town. No hostels came up on Hostel World that were affordable and had safe parking, so just as we were debating jumping in the river with a bar of soap we got a text message from the Back flips and Summersaults team that had left the convoy in Czech. They had found a campground. We headed towards the park in the middle of town where the campground was. Taking a wrong turn into a parking lot, we made a three-point turn to get back on the main road. In front of us, the Face Race team was doing likewise. For some reason I saw the front left of the hood dip down and then Oly and Oli jumped out of the car and stuck their faces under the body of the car.

I unbuckled my seatbelt and had a drink of water. I strolled over to see what was up. I could not have imagined how terrible the accident was. Making a three-point turn isn’t something I consider a hazard to a car, but apparently to theirs’ it was. As I rounded the corner I could see that the entire front left wheel had snapped off at the arm. Corroded medal was flaking off from the weight of the car. “Jack it up so it doesn’t snap the other side.” I yelled, and ran to the trunk and helped them unload their gear. Oli jacked up the car as Rikki and the other Oly got in a huddle and decided on their next move. I suggested that we take all of their gear and head to the campground so that their car was empty when the tow truck arrived. We loaded down our car and after some careful maneuvering with Bill at the wheel and Mike and I navigating, we got our car past the broken down one without damaging anything in the parking lot. It was as we were ready to pull out that the next problem occurred.

A man and his wife and presumably one of their mothers exited the apartment building and got in their car…. Which was trapped behind the Face Race car. Because we could not move the car, and because these strangers drove an SUV, there was nothing we could do to help them. They called a tow truck and as Mike and I set off for the camp ground on foot, Bill drove the full car to the campground while Oli and Oly waited with the car.

We checked into the camp ground and met two other rally teams. I set up our tent and we set up the Face Race tent as well, filling it with their stuff from our car. Two hours later they returned in their car, having told us that the mechanic charged them 400 dollars to fix the wheel on the spot in the parking lot. At least they were back on the road and still in the rally. We all celebrated that fact with a toast and, since they were not in the mood to party after their 400$ repair, we retired early.

Related posts:

1. Budapest, Though Buda more than Pest
2. The Transfagaran Pass
3. Goodwood Race Track and the Festival of Slow

We arrived in Bratislava that evening after leaving Vienna. We heard it would be cheaper in Slovakia than Austria, but a quick consultation with Hostel World proved otherwise. We did manage to discover that there was a large camp ground near the city. We asked for directions and followed them….almost. Somehow we overshot the campground by over 30km! We turned around and headed back towards Bratislava. Before we could get far at all, however, angry clouds to the south started to swirl and bark. Having grown up in the Midwest, Mike recognized all the signs of a tornado about to touch down. Cool and warm wind whipped the side of the car and our pirate flag was whipping so wildly we thought it would rip right off and fly up into the black clouds. Slowly, a funnel formed from the largest cloud and it arched its way down to earth.  Our cars were racing along the highway back towards town but the sky was growing dark so fast and so suddenly that many of the locals were pulling off the road to wait it out. Recognizing that waiting in the path of a tornado was a bad idea, we forged on at full speed.

I pulled out the video camera and started filming just as the rain started to fall hard against the car. There is no sound on earth quite like heavy rain on metal, it comes down like bullets and lands with a thud for each drop. I yelled into the camera but the rain and wind was too much to be heard. I turned the camera around to the car behind us and although I knew it was right behind us, it was not visible.

Everyone was pulling over. Our radio walki-talkie buzzed and the Face Race team said they were pulling over. We kept on ahead for several more minutes, eying the clouds. The funnel had touched earth and played around in the field as if just interested in picking sunflowers and swallowing them whole. Not being a meteorologist, I’m not sure why the tornado retracted back into the cloud when it did, but we watched it retract its fingers full of flowers and disappear. The rain continued for several more minutes and then abruptly stopped. Once it was clear again we easily saw the sign for the campground (we had zoomed right past it!)

We bought one bungalow for all 6 of us and then we all headed towards the showers. There are few things more wonderful than a shower after a long stint of camping. My joy was cut short as the water was ice cold and lasted less than one minute. With shampoo in my hair, I pushed the button and nothing happened. I kept pushing it and eventually a small stream of water trickled out. I rinsed off as best I could then went back to announce the lack of water to the group. Groans went up from the masses of angry, dirty ralliers so we grabbed a few coins and headed to the bar. At one Euro a beer, these were the cheapest prices we’d seen yet. We grabbed a few drinks and a meal on the camping compound and it turned out to be a very nice evening.

In the morning, we packed up and headed east towards Budapest. But on the way out of town we saw something that caused our two car convoy to screech to a halt. A giant wooden chair sat on the side of the road, no signage or explanation. We, of course, tried to climb on it and failed. In case you were ever wondering, we think Bratislava holds the record for world’s largest chair.

Related posts:

1. ATC 2010 Mongol Rally Route
2. Vienna, Austria
3. The Transfagaran Pass

With our small caravan, we made progress slowly. Having stopped for food, for water and for gas and bathroom breaks (all at separate times for some reason) we eventually lost one of the cars in our convoy, the Back flips and Summersaults team, which had farther to go that evening and wanted to make haste. That left our team and the Face Race team, which sped things up a bit. We reached Austria as it was growing dark and decided to pull over and camp.

We were on a major highway with sunflower fields on either side as far as the eye could see. A dirt road up ahead was all we needed, and at the first sign of one we jumped off the road and drove several kilometers away, weaving around fields as we went. Eventually we settled on a place that was on a hill, but relatively lower than the high ground around us. We set up our tents and pulled the cars into the field. The Face Race team, being British, pulled out a soccer ball and set about in a small game which we eagerly joined in on. We cooked dinner and hung out into the evening. The day before in Prague another team had given me a strange toy. It was a piano with a drum set mounted on it and a techno beat player. We set that up and took turns playing DJ on the strange device. It took up so much room in the car, but it was too funny not to keep.

In the morning, we packed up and had a light breakfast before hitting the highway towards Vienna. We easily found the center of town and paid for parking. Walking off into the labyrinth that is Vienna, we quickly stumbled into the center square with the cathedral. It had been a while since our last Breakfast Beer, so we ordered up a round and sat outside the church watching horse-drawn carriages pull tourists around the city as they snapped pictures and consulted their guide books. We enjoyed the respite and although the waitress eyed our dusty group with a wary eye we all paid and walked off to find food.

The hunt for food turned out to be epic. Finally, King Rikki (so called because of his love for fine things) found us an affordable place to have schnitzel and fries. I hadn’t had that since my youth, so it was a nice treat. We walked around town a bit more before heading back to our cars. A wave of relief hit us as we turned the corner to find our cars still there, everything on the roof rack still in place. Another day without any major problems! Perfect. The two Olis and Rikki boarded their car and we did likewise, pointing it east to Bratislava.

Related posts:

1. Bratislava, Slovakia and the Giant Chair
2. Prague, Czech Republic
3. Budapest, Hungary and the Case of the Sad Sorry Side Wheel

The Bone Church is roughly an hour outside of Prague to the east, which was great for us since east is the general direction of Mongolia. The caravan now had about five cars, and once we finally reached the Bone Church we found a few other rally cars already parked outside. We paid our minimal sum to get in and then all stopped as our jaws dropped open.

The bone church was erected prior to the black death (plague). As people were dying off at an extremely quick rate the general feeling towards death was altered to be a casual and inevitable occurrence. People started to think about their own deaths and what they wanted done with their bodies. Its all a bit morbid, really. Cemeteries were filling up quickly and there simply wasn’t room or time to deal with everyone. People paid to have their bodies kept in crypts under the churches, essentially mass graves in dark cellars.

Long after the actual plague ended, a private family bought the church and discovered the crypt full of human bones. They hired a designer and allowed him to renovate the church using human bones as decoration. From the center of the room dangles a chandelier that the artist boasts has every bone in the human body. The family crest hangs on wall, made entirely of bones as well. Strings of bones, like one would make with popcorn for the Christmas tree, hung from the ceiling in all directions and in all four corners of the room stood huge piles of human skulls that were about nine feet tall and ten feet wide, and not hallow.

The ralliers filled the church and started walking around quietly at first. Eventually, people just get used to being around strange things regardless of what they be.  A room full of bones becomes simply the room you happen to be standing in at that moment and ralliers gathered in small groups to talk about their routes, or tell stories about what had happened to far to them on the trip. At one point I watched a young woman not associated with the rally put her finger into an eye socket while her friend took her picture. Later, one of the ralliers said it was hard for him to imagine they were ever real people, which explained why he could take pictures of himself smiling in front of a pile of skulls. Humans are a strange animal.

After the bone church we stopped at a local supermarket to fill up the trunk with food for the long haul ahead. One of my favorite things about traveling is shopping for food in foreign countries. Whole chicken heads in a jar, or even boiled eggs mixed with mostly-developed chicken fetus line the shelves in some places we’ve shopped. Czech had fairly normal food, but it was still fun to look around. I bought a tub of meat paste which ended up being gross (who knew?) while most people bought ramen, soda and water. It was a strange thing for the teller to see a whole row of dusty, disgusting ralliers holding food like precious cargo.

We set off with two other cars in convoy to Vienna, having said our goodbyes to the Aussies and a few others.

Related posts:

1. Prague, Czech Republic
2. Luxembourg, Luxembourg
3. Vienna, Austria

If you are going to get hopelessly lost driving in a foreign country where you don’t speak the language and can hardly read the signs, then Prague isn’t a bad option. We managed to join a small convoy heading into Prague from the Czech-Out Party and, after purchasing the required highway road-tax sticker we headed into the city. We also managed to lose the entire convoy and get ourselves so far off track that we found ourselves being laughed at by locals in the gas station who shook their heads and finally, in a great show of pity, showed us on the map how far off course we were.

We finally reached our destination—an elementary school that is used as a youth hostel in the summer to raise extra money. They had a secure car park (hence why we picked that hostel) and were central enough to be convenient for seeing the town. We unloaded our stuff into holding cages for security which prompted the even more valid question as to why an elementary school would have cages on hand. Afterward, we ran out to meet the folks who we lost in convoy. They never made it to the hostel, instead they pulled over at the first place they found for beer and the problem solved itself when it ended up being a hostel.

We went out to see Prague in the fading light and caught a tram to the center of town where amazing European architecture greeted us, and throngs of people milled about trying to sell various objects or lure our large group into their restaurants. Fireworks were going off in the background for several minutes so we watched them erupt over the steeples of the central cathedral. Dinner was a quiet affair for Mike and I; we had passed a Chinese restaurant that looked authentic so we ate there while the rest of the group had western food at a rather expensive restaurant on the square. We rejoined them for a beer and then walked around the square, under the arching towers and around fantastic structures. Finally, we caught the tram back to the hostel and slept well, our first real beds in a long time. I guess I don’t need to say how much the showers were needed and enjoyed after several days camping.

In the morning we packed up and ate breakfast at the hostel. Three young men in another rally car were packing up so we introduced ourselves. They turned out to be the Face Race team composed of Oly, Oli and King Rikki all from the UK. We discovered we were doing a similar route all the way until Kazakhstan so we decided to convoy. Before heading out, though, we had heard a rumor of a strange church composed of human bones. We decided to call the other convoy and caravan to the church.

Related posts:

1. The Czech Out Party at Klenova Castle, Czech Republic
2. The Bone Church
3. Vienna, Austria

It was early evening when we finally pulled into Klenova Castle’s mighty camping area. It was not an easy sight to miss because the rolling green hills surrounding the castle were covered in rally cars with tents set up between them. Sprinkled throughout were ralliers dressed up to match the theme of the party—Jules Verne, the ultimate adventurer.

We parked our tiny red car near the Aussies, whom we’d met at Goodwood and the rally launch, and quickly set up camp. Before the tents were even up we had people tossing booze around and a great huff went up to find a bottle opener for the wine. We finished setting up camp and put on our costumes– which consisted of British boiler hats and scarves. We’re not that imaginative, it turns out.

The gates opened at 7pm, so we headed up to the castle to see what treats beheld us there. Already a woman on stilts was amusing people with her hoola-hoop, and a giant was ushering people over for pictures. Another entertainer was a flame thrower and juggler, and they walked around the tents impressing people (amazingly, no tents caught fire!).

At the gates of the castle we were met with an even stranger sight, two men dressed as soldiers barred the gates. “No booze inside.” This suddenly explained the huge throng of people milling about with beers. We opened our wine and set up near a tree to finish our drinks and head inside. We were slightly above the entrance on a hill and from that vantage point could see everyone as they came up the hill. There were mostly men at the party (mostly men in the rally, also) and they came up the hill in drag. Almost every male in the area was in a bikini for some reason, although a few had more inspired costumes. I snapped pictures (no one here will ever be able to run for office, that’s for sure) and eventually a small group had converged with us to watch the party unfold. Two Canadians, an Aussie and a few Brits milled around with us, drinking merrily and talking about the upcoming adventure. Spirits were high and everyone was jovial, it was going to be a fun night.

Eventually, we headed inside. A line  near the entrance indicated free food, so we jumped in. Free lamb, kielbasa, salad, bread and all manner of other delicacies awaited us. It was delicious and the most food we’d eaten since our friend in London took us out to a fancy Lebanese dinner. Free gin was provided, and we learned Brits have cucumber instead of lime in theirs Gin Tonics. Odd people, those Brits.

Music kicked in, and we found chambers of parties all around us. One den in the castle for hip hop, one for blues, one for rap, for dance music, etc. We watched the main stage for awhile– three women dressed as sailors singing Russian pop songs– and then chatted with people around us, including Mario and Luigi look-alikes and a group of people in Borat neon-green thongs. Don’t ask. I found the dance tent and set about showing those Brits how it was really done. Mike, who never dances, even joined the party as we did the robot as a group and then salsa dancing to Eminem rap. It was completely dark when we left the dance tent.

Back at the campground we found a nearly nude man laying in the field. He couldn’t see so we helped him to his tent. “do you know which one is your tent?” I asked. “it’s the green one” he said. I pointed at a few green tents with a flashlight and eventually he crawled in one. Satisfied, I headed to my tent only to see him come back out of the tent some ten minutes later saying “I don’t think that’s my tent!”

In the morning, I unzipped my tent to find a disaster area. People had bottles everywhere, trash was in piles, people had made camp fires near their cars, and some still smoldered. Whatever genius organized the rally had only two porta-potties for all of us (200+ people) so they were not usable, and the water tanks had long since emptied. The castle was closed. We packed up, cleaned up our area and hit the road with a few other teams heading to Prague. It had been an amazing party in the hills of Czech, and certainly renting out a castle gives you mad street cred.

Related posts:

1. Prague, Czech Republic
2. Bran Castle and Rasnov Fortress
3. The Transfagaran Pass

Having spent a great deal of my youth in Germany, my ten year absence made me wonder what would have changed since I graduated high school there at the beginning of the millennium. What made it all the more exciting was that this time around I was old enough to drive! We set a course for Heidelberg, and drove through the countryside in relative silence looking out the window. Stores I recognized passed by the window, and once again street signs in a language I could read were a real comfort having left France and Belgium in our wake. Nostalgia floated in and I daydreamed about the six years I spent in Germany. We set up camp in Heidelberg that night at a campground directly on the Danube. Somewhere in the hills behind us, church bells rang and the hills on either side of the river displayed proud, traditional German homes. The air was clean and easy to breathe.

We awoke early and had to get a move on in order to make it to the party in the Czech Republic that night. We strapped everything to the roof and set off to Nurnberg, only a few hours away. Having driven little on the trip thus far I decided I really wanted to drive the autobahn as we ventured towards my old stomping grounds. I am still learning to drive stick, so it is a bit more involved than simply putting on a seat belt and pointing the engine end forward. I got the hang of it after a few minutes and enjoyed the drive, Audi and BMW cars zipped past me with annoyed looks, but I wasn’t phased. Even if I’d wanted to go faster, our little Citroen Saxo can’t muster more than 60. That’s why they have the slow lane.

Nurnberg is a beautiful city, one I used to visit on the train from Parsberg. This time, coming in via road, it was totally different and I was disoriented. Nevertheless, we found an ATM and in the distance I spotted something of extreme value and interest. I wasn’t sure I’d seen this mirage correctly, so I paced quickly ahead. I let out a wild scream and turned around to see Mike and Bill standing shocked behind me on the pavement. “Weinerwald!” I yelled, and they agreed to have lunch at one of the best German chain restaurants in the country. We ran in, and I videotaped and took pictures of the food, then ordered and waited giddily for my food. What a treat, and I’d heard all the Weinerwald shops had been closed since we left ten years ago.

From there, we set off on a detour to Britenbrunn, my old town. We found Parsberg and I noticed how much larger it has become. Britenbrun was no different. The old military families were no longer there and a civilian German owned our old house. She was there so I talked to her briefly, but she wasn’t amused to find a car full of Americans, covered in stickers and flying a pirate flag, in her driveway. I took a few snapshots and told Mike and Bill about my time in the house and in the neighborhood while they looked out the window at the town.

But, with time running short, we had to jump back aboard and head to the Czech Republic, flag flying high and flapping in the wind at 50mph on the autobahn as sports cars zoomed past.

Related posts:

1. Luxembourg, Luxembourg
2. Tashkurgan’s Stone Village and the Epic Glacier Adventure
3. The Bone Church

Crossing into Luxembourg was an exciting experience, and the car filled with wild cheering and hollering as we officially left Belgium. Few places inspire you to exit more hastily than Belgium…. Perhaps Belarus, from what I hear.

Anyway, there was an instant change when we entered Luxembourg. There were tall, handsome evergreen trees lining the road, which was black tarred and without imperfections. The first town we came to looked like a movie set, with perfectly matching paint and trim on every house, so that it looked almost pre-planned. The hedges were groomed perfectly, and there were signs clearly marking the way. An earthly utopia might closely resemble Luxembourg.

Meanwhile, the people were highly intelligent, friendly and eager to chat. Having decided to look for a relatives of Mike’s gravestone, we headed into Mersch. A quick stop at the gas station (immaculate, by the way) proved Luxembourg deserves the hype. I whipped out some German I hadn’t used since High School and in complete style I smoothly asked how to get to the cemetery. The woman behind the counter blinked at me, not understanding and in the background a small peep made me turn to see a girl stocking the shelves. I walked over and she introduced herself in English, without even the slighted accent. She could have been from Pennsylvania, which in fact was somewhat true since she had done a study abroad there in her youth. Her English was perfect and she helped us pick out food, microwaved it for us in the gas station kitchen (yes, you read right… it was THAT nice a place). I asked her how to get to the cemetery (the town being so small there being only one) she gave us directions that added to the charm of Luxembourg. “You go down the road to the left, past a strange dragon and a castle on the right, and then the church will be behind that.” I was eager to see this strange dragon and castle, so we finished our lunch and said goodbye.

At the church, we easily found the cemetery and walked between the tombstones looking for the family name. It was not to be found. We were looking for someone in the late 1700s but all the markers were new. I asked where an older cemetery might be, but no one knew. This was puzzling, and we never did find an answer. Perhaps they simply build atop older graves? Disturbing thought. More likely there was an older church elsewhere with its own cemetery, but with limited time in Luxembourg we decided not to drive around the hillside looking for it.

Sadly, we had to make hast to the Czech Out Party, so we didn’t linger in the graveyard once it started to rain. Instead, we jumped in the car and discussed what could have happened to the older graves.

Luxembourg is a small country, but not without extreme charm and excitement. Of all the places we’ve been I’m most eager to return to Luxembourg and Bosnia & Herzegovina. We drove on through wooded streets and immaculate highways until we eventually entered Germany. Only a country like Luxembourg could make Germany seem disorganized in contrast.

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After the official launch party and race around the Goodwood track, we set off toward Dover to catch the ferry to France. We made a few wrong turns here and there and eventually made it to the ferry a mere ten minutes before they loaded up the car, along with a few other rally teams and their modes of transportation. The ferry ride was short but sweet, and we were eager to put some miles on the car once we hit land. There was no passport check or customs in France (we had heard there would be) so we drove right out of the bay and easily found the highway. Having bought a European atlas on the ferry we were now prepared to see what Europe had to offer us.

Our original plans called for a trip to Paris, but with limited time until the Czech Out Party, we decided to book it east and see Brussels instead. First mistake. Here I will insert a brief note about Belgium. When I was in high school we had an away sports game in Belgium which I had been anticipating with excitement for weeks. When we finally got there, we lodged in Formula One, the cheapest hotel I’ve ever been in. I’ve stayed in some real dive hostels and hotels in my day but nothing has ever seemed as vile as the F1 hotel in Belgium. From the carpeted hallway you step up into a closet full of water. Your weight forces the floor down a goof half a foot and the water drains. That is the shower…. A hallway closet that only drains if you stand on it. Essentially you step into someone else’s used water. In the morning we had Belgian waffles, which were disgusting and soggy like wet cake. Belgian beer was no better and Belgian chocolate was also crackly and flakey. Everything we tried to do in Belgium sucked, and since that failure of a trip in 1999 I have always been firmly against another Belgian exploration. But, since neither Bill nor Mike had been we decided it was the best option.

Here is how Belgium still sucks. We got into the country and immediately a smell struck that was like rotting carcasses. We could find nowhere to change money. We eventually found a camp ground and discovered that it was where poor folks lived rather than an actual hospice. We were too tired to care, and in the morning random strangers walked past our tent to get a good look and put in a scowl. We set off into Brussels and got massively lost. Suggestion Belgium, street signs! We got so turned around that eventually we decided to just forget it and get the hell out of Brussels. Good move. Our brief visit to Waterloo hours later was more interesting. We saw the fateful battleground and even the Lion’s Butte mountain. We toured the Waterloo museum and the nearby memorial church with stones thanking and commemorating foreign soldiers for fighting in the battle of Waterloo. We were lost a few more times before we hit Luxembourg, and once we officially crossed out of Belgium we let out a collective sigh of relief.

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The Mongol Rally launched on July 24th from the Goodwood race track where the Festival of Speed is held annually to the great glee of the British public. To slow things down a bit, the Mongol Rally rented the race track for the 24th and lined up all of the rally cars. There was a fire truck, 55 ambulances, an ice cream truck, a Rolls Royce, and several jeeps. There were service vehicles galore as well as the standard 1.2 liter miniature car like our own little Citroen Saxo. We adored the little car and, with only one short hour of driving stick shift under our belts, we knew this adventure was going to be something special.

The launch was meant to be a party, and the Adventurists provided live music on stage and a celebrity announcer (Buddy, from Lonely Planet). Gypsy singers and dancers played as they walked around the parking lot while we clothed our car in stickers and did our final packing. A good friend from London rented a car and drove the four hours down to Goodwood to see us of, which brought us all comfort and made us feel like we had our own little cheering fan club (of one) in the stands somewhere. The rally organizers also hired three actresses to run from car to car in wedding dresses asking if anyone had an American or British visa for her (did I mention they were Russian?). The joke being that the route will have gypsies, as well as women willing to marry anyone to get out of some of the places they live.

To get the festival of slow in the mood for a snail-paced rally the Dandies were hired to race their ancient wooden bikes down the track. The Dandies were all in their 80s, and were a fun pack of gentlemen dressed in traditional attire. They managed to go faster than some of the cars. Before the official launch, one car had already broken down.

The launch was finally announced at 2pm. We piled into the car and revved the engine. With wild cheers, screams, honking and waving we set off on our pre-victory lap around the Goodwood race track. The ol’ Saxo managed to make it around some extremely tight curves. A good sign, considering the road ahead of us! Finally, we finished our lap and took off down the highway…. In the wrong direction. The Mongol Rally begins!!!

Related posts:

1. Final Checklist – Mongol Rally Launch 2010 at Goodwood Estates
2. Introducing the Abandon the Cube Mongol Rally Car!
3. ATC Joins the Mongol Rally 2010

Prior to the Mongol Rally’s official launch, several dozen teams met the night before at the Goodwood Estates camp ground. To amuse the eager rally goers, a soccer game was set up. A full 20+ ralliers participated in the round-robin tournament. The goal was a bit of a boot camp training session for the real game, which will take place in Mongolia against the Mongolian national team in six weeks. This boot camp was not for the weak of heart of faint of spirit, for it began with the sergeant of the camp pulling two giant buckets of ice out of the back of a van and piling in roughly 100 beers. Now the ralliers had incentive. The winning team gets double the beer. We signed up.

Everyone broke off into teams of five or six to play five minute games against one another. As we were all standing together, the Abandon the Cube team of Lauren, Mike and Bill were lumped in with a random Canadian and an unfortunate Dane. We chose to call ourselves the ‘Colonials.’ Our team was up second. We pulled on our white jerseys and ran into the field. Having broken into the beer early, each jarring step while running made for an interesting sensation. It wasn’t since the Hash House Harriers of Beijing that I’d been drinking and jogging simultaneously. We doubted we’d even survive the first round.

Game one was a loss. We played poorly but everyone on the team displayed a bit of hope. Lauren dove in front of the goal to block a hard kick by the opposing team. Mike was knocked off his feet and rolled through the grass and back on his feet in a matter of seconds. Bill charged at everyone with such speed they often simply left the ball and ran the other way. The Canadian seemed fearless, and the Dan was the only one with any real soccer skills on the tiny Colonial team.

Game two was a tie. That was better anyways, and midway through the game Lauren tackled another player and earned the nick name ‘tank.’ Game three was a win, and an epic one at that with Bill scoring in overtime. Game four was another win and then the championship game went into overtime and we scored first. Take that, you overly serious Brits! And for the rest of the rally what you call ‘football’ shall hence forward be known properly as soccer. Your welcome, Goodwood, and we’ll see you in Mongolia when the Colonials take on the Mongols.

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2. Final Checklist – Mongol Rally Launch 2010 at Goodwood Estates
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With only days until the launch of the 2010 Mongol Rally, Bill, Mike and I are busy outfitting the car, working on last minute paperwork, begging for expedited visas and enjoying a bit of what London has to offer.

For the most part, things are coming together smoothly. We dropped off our applications at the Uzbekistan consulate in London last Friday. There was quite a long line, and there are (we were told) no guarantees that your visa will be returned in 5 working days. Nevertheless, we leave on Saturday the 24th and have no word from the consulate yet. No pressure! We also managed to apply for our Kazakhstan visas in a very last-minute manner. They were extremely helpful and quick and assured us we could pick them up well before the launch of the rally, which we managed to do after only a three day wait.

In terms of acquiring last minute items, as I type Mike and Bill are out scouring the city for a roof rack for our tiny red beast, as well as gas cans, spare tires, a tire jack and a few items like new wind shield wipers and a tool kit. We went and looked at the car for the first time last evening. It is much bigger than I originally thought it would be. In fact, there is even room for a fourth person should we meet someone who already has a barrage of visas and a pocket full of cash (unlikely). We’re extremely pleased with the car and the condition it is in. If it makes it to Mongolia, we’ll be even more ecstatic! Bill has changed the oil and has done a once-over on the engine to secure back-up parts. We’ve managed to acquire camping equipment that borders on the extreme, meaning we’ll be one of the most outfitted teams in the rally. Yes, we have our car insurance, we have our travel insurance, we have a massive first aid kit, a roadside kit, a triangle, orange vests and a jack. We’re really ready….. I hope!

The launch itself is at Goodwood Estates, which is apparently a race track in West Sussex. Events kick off the night before on Friday at 4:00pm when the Adventurists cater in free beer and provide us with a camping spot so we can test our gear, get to know fellow ralliers and even partake in a massive soccer game. Sounds fun! The following morning at 11:00am cars that are registered begin to take off for Mongolia with a pre-victory lap around the race track before gunning it to a full 30 mph before heading to the tunnel or ferry. We’re hopping on a ferry and have plans to make it all the way to Paris by the end of Saturday night. Fingers crossed on that, since it is a bit of a drive.

When next we write we should be in Paris, and I’ll hopefully have quite the story to tell about the launch, the ferry, France and its most cherished city Paris.

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1. Updates: Mongol Rally 2010 and ATC
2. New Member Joins ATC for the 2010 Mongol Rally
3. ATC 2010 Mongol Rally Route

While in London, Bill is staying with some friends from college. They were kind enough to have us over for dinner. Oz is from Sri Lanka, and his wife is an American. She was lovely enough to cook a massive Sri Lankan-style meal for us that came complete with daal and biryani both of which were excellent and something we could never duplicate. We’re not used to elaborate spicing, and the medley of so many herbs and spices was really beautiful. If you are interested in trying it, here is a recipe for daal, and for biryani, though these are not the exact recipes we had that evening.

After the meal, she offered to show me how to tie and wear a traditional Sri Lankan sari. Having never done this, I was really eager to try. I’ve seen so many beautiful Saris and wondered how they kept them on and tied them so expertly. Here is what I learned:

First you have to buy an under skirt and under shirt. Usually they match the fabric of your sari, or at least compliment the colors. She lent me a bright orange under skirt and under shirt to wear while trying on the sari. The shirt, I’ll note, is like a belly shirt with short sleeves and is incredibly tight. The skirt is form-fitted as well, so that when the entire outfit is finally on I found it a bit difficult to walk.

Once your under outfit is on (and your shoes, so you can gage the right length to drape the sari) you are ready to begin the fun part. She helped me put it on, and although you apparently usually use pins, we didn’t bother for this short demonstration. First you take the sari and starting at one end, wrap it around your waist. When it is entirely around your waist, drape eight or nine pleats into the front, folding them ever smaller so they hang nicely.

Once your pleats are in, tuck the entire part around your waist into your under skirt to keep it in place. Your belly should be still visible. Now take the remaining fabric and drape it from one side of your waist to the opposite shoulder. I’m told your belly and a small portion of your back should still be showing (hence the smaller under shirt). There you have it! She managed to make it look great while if I had done it alone it would have been a toga disaster. Hopefully you can find someone to help you drape it the first time. It was a fun experience, and along with the amazing food it made for a really great and memorable night.

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We left the Brooklyn docks in the intense heat index of 110 degrees F on July 6th.  Hauling our backpacks, chalked full of (almost) everything we needed for the Mongol Rally – ranging from clothing and safety equipment to Russian phrase books and a toilet seat.  Needless to say, we were a rare sight on the Cunard’s Queen Mary II.  The very first day on board, we headed directly to the ship’s library and I perused the nautical history section in detail.  I read through early pirate history along America’s coastline, read about the crossing of the Titanic – White Star is now Cunard, and I also came across a great book about the Mayflower and a history of the pilgrims before they left the England and Holland.

Attending lectures by John Maxtone – Graham, author of The Only Way to Cross and Liners to the Sun, by day and

concerts and balls by night, Lauren had our entire days outlined by 8:00 the previous evening.  Graham gave extremely interesting portrayals of the History of Cunard, the building and crossing of the Titanic, and life on-board crossings during the 19th and early 20th century.  These lectures and histories really opened our eyes to the amazing way we started off our journey, which would / will eventually take us to Europe, Mongolia, and eventually Southeast Asia.

I eagerly watched the satellite image of the Queen Mary II cross over the final resting place of the Titanic 2.5 miles below our feet.  I walked up on the deck of the ship and looked out at the water realizing how much difference 3 months makes when cruising the North Atlantic.  I looked out over a foggy fairly calm sea in a humid 74 degrees Fahrenheit.  We had fog, but practically no fear of icebergs in July.  In April of 1912, we would have seen our breath in the cool air and the icy waters below.

After crossing over the sunken wreck of the Titanic, I read daily about the preparations the pilgrims made to come to America.  I read with great interest as I learned things which I had never been taught in school about the pilgrims crossing.  There had originally been two ships one was called the Speedway, which was purchased by the exiled pilgrims in Holland when they grew impatient with the negotiations with “sponsors” in England.  By the time they had arrived, a company called the Merchant Adventurers had purchased a ship called the Mayflower for their voyage.  There was great turmoil between the pilgrims and the Merchant Adventurers, who aimed to profit off the fishing around the new colony.  My previous understanding had been that they simply could go where ever they pleased in the New World, however in fact, they had to get land patents granted by the crown.

There were also accusations that Holland, who had claimed a right to Manhattan Island, attempted to delay the pilgrims and keep them away from the New World because the Pilgrims’ land patent was at the mouth of the Hudson River, which was too close for comfort.  There were many more facts which I will spare you that I found interesting about their voyage.  It was slightly amusing as I pulled my head up from the book, reading about how the Mayflower was in a turbulent storm in the mid-Atlantic and how the crossing took 60 plus days.  I, on the other hand, looked around took a sip of beer and listened to children laughing in the pool in front of me and was also in the Mid-Atlantic after just 4 days.

Once we arrived in Southampton, I discovered it was only a short walk with all of our gear (in much cooler weather than in Brooklyn a few days ago) to the Mayflower monument. We headed that direction and a wave of fascination swept over me as I looked up at the giant stone monument to the Mayflower crew. Strangely, there are bronze signs for many people on board but not for my ancestor, William Bradford. Hopefully after the rally this is something I’ll be able to remedy.

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1. The Queen Mary II – Review

Arriving in London was quite the experience having been at sea for the previous week. We caught a bus from Southampton to Victoria, the transportation hub of London for metro, bus and train. The National Express bus service was amazing, with good service and arrival ahead of schedule—for only 12 pounds a person.

London is a beautiful city. We managed to drop off our bags at a friend’s apartment before venturing out on the town. First there was an impressive walk around the Tower of London, then a glance at London Bridge and the even more impressive Tower Bridge. We strode through the memorial park and monument to those lost in WWI, and jumped on the tube (subway) to the British Museum.

For anyone even mildly interested in history, the British Museum is a must-see. For me, it was an experience that was shrouded in finality because with our travels abroad we’ve heard many folks from around the world say they wanted their artifacts back from the British Museum. Now, seeing the world’s cultural relics in one place in the UK, I felt a bit sad that the items were not left in their original locations, with monuments of information and research set up around them. In some cases, as with the items collected in China prior to the Cultural Revolution, the removal of the artifacts ended up being a good thing in terms of preservation. But, by and large I’m starting to wish these amazing treasures were back where they belonged. Seeing the Rosetta Stone (image), for example, was amazing. What an important and beautiful piece of world history. However, it might be more appropriately returned. Same with the thousands of other Egyptian artifacts in the museum. I felt similarly about the multitude of Greek and Roman artifacts remaining in the British Museum. It was amazing to see them, and we’re lucky they are compiled in one location so we can soak it all in conveniently. But history is such an amazing thing it is worth traveling to the real location to learn about and see.

After the British museum we jumped on the tube to the V&A museum, which houses a strange modern display on tiny architecture as well as artifacts from around the world ranging from clothing to pottery to statues larger than a three story house. Another must-see for any tourist to London, or any history or culture fanatic.

With all the iconic things to do in London, we’ve been quite busy doing things like riding in the top, front row of a double decker, red bus. Taking a cab ride in one of the black, antique-looking taxis. Trying fish and chips by the Thames. We have quite a few things remaining while in London. I want to shove as many people in a red phone booth as possible. I want to see if I can make the guards at Buckingham Palace laugh. I want to check out the parliament buildings and then stroll through Hyde Park and see if the Queen is free for tea this afternoon.

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Nothing can compare with the Cunard line when it comes to luxury cruising. We found this out in vivid detail over the course of a seven day, transatlantic cruise from New York to Southampton, UK. The cruise departed on the 6th of July. The first night was an elegant casual affair with beautiful cuisine in an even more luxurious dining hall. Since we had booked so last minute we received no prior cruise package outlining what to expect, etc. We did not, therefore, book a seating. When we arrived at the late sating for dinner there were limited seats available, so he put us at a beautiful, 6-person table by the window in the corner. Arguably, this was the single best table in the room because we had a beautiful view of the ocean not a foot from our chairs, and the corner was quiet enough to hear our other table guests. Meanwhile, it was a preferred location for waiters so we ended up with one of the best servers on board! But the real jackpot came with the company!

We met, at our table, the most amazing, adventurous and memorable couple you’d ever hope to come across. Born in India during colonialism, the lady had deep insight into the region, and considered it home. Her love of Indian culture and cuisine ran deep, and she regaled us with stories that were so enthralling it was literally the best entertainment on board. Her husband was a Brit from Rhodesia, and together they lived wonderfully in that country experiencing so many marvelous things that the stories seemed to weave together in a cloud of awe. Mike and I sat enraptured in the life experiences of this couple night after night, and looked forward to dinner time throughout the day. By the end of the cruise we felt we knew them very well, in the way one comes to know a character in a good book. We asked them if they would be writing a book about their amazing adventures, and they seemed to favor the idea. As humble as they were, though, it’s hard to tell if they will do it or not. If they did, it would be an instant hit. Aside from their many adventures in Africa, they also lived in Europe, the UK, Ireland and America, and traveled around Asia to boot. When it comes to lotteries, Mike and I really hit the jackpot with this couple at our table.

The other entertainment on board came in the form of the Royal Cunard dancers, who were absolutely amazing, and the Royal Cunard Singers, who had someone in their midst who had the aggravating problem of being entirely off key 90% of the time. There were piano players, a harp player, a comic singer, a violinist, trivia crew, game staff and much more. One big band on board played for the gala balls and there was such talent on the dance floor that the 80 year old women could give Dancing with the Stars a run for their money.

One of the most amazing things happened while on board as well. Mike and I are traveling to Europe to embark on the Mongol Rally, as many of you know. So, we had with us our backpacks filled with outdoor clothing. We did not have a tuxedo. Mike and I found out the first evening on board that you would not be permitted into the dining hall, or really anywhere on board after 6pm, if you did not meet the nightly dress code. This was a bit shocking. I had packed an evening gown for the cruise that was wrinkle-free and fit in a sandwich bag when rolled up. Mike had nothing. He ran down to the pursers office (a lovely group of folks) who directed him to tux rentals at Hermes, the luxury designer clothing shop. A tux rental was something we didn’t really budget for, but Mike talked with the sales clerk who listened patiently about the rally, Mercy Corps, the adventure, and why we were on the QM2. She nodded politely and at the end she handed him a suit on the condition he dry clean it before the last day. We were astounded! She was such a lovely lady and did us such a huge favor. Without her, we might have missed every dinner on board because it turned out every single night until the last was formal. While all this was going on I was at the on-board movie theatre watching Invictus. Suddenly, Mike came into the theatre in a tuxedo and a million-dollar smile. I was amazed! I jumped up and we ran to the room where I quickly got ready and we dashed to the champagne captain’s gala and then a lovely dinner with our adventurous couple. It was an amazing evening, a truly epic and memorable day made possible by a very friendly lady.

We met several very interesting people on board, including a US Navy veteran of WWII who showed us his original military ID card. We met a man who was in charge of the horse racing commission in the UK, and a man who headed up the UK football league. There were very few people our age (read- none) and yet we had the best time talking with interesting folks who had already experienced a great deal. Two thumbs up for Cunard, and two more for attracting such interesting folks to their cruises.

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We spent the night in New Jersey at the airport hotel, and fell asleep somewhere around 4am after a silly sprint around the city returning the rental car, finding the hotel, moving our luggage and finding a place to pull out some cash. To make matters more interesting, New York was then experiencing record high temperatures and it was 104 degrees that day, with a projected new high in tomorrow. To our endless surprise, everyone we met in Jersey was helpful, friendly and wonderful. We expected the opposite for some reason.

In the morning, we grabbed a sandwich from a small shop, took the free shuttle from the hotel to the airport, and then took the airport tram to the Amtrak-operated line that connects Newark with New York. What follows is no exaggeration, and my firm loyalty and love for Amtrak was put to the test that day.

We boarded the Amtrak train and it left some ten minutes late. “ok, not bad.” But, with our 70lb backpacks, a ukulele, my camera bag and mike’s laptop case it was a very long ten minutes. We boarded, tossed our bags at our feet and watched sweat roll over our eyeballs. We didn’t know that could happen. The record 105 degree temperature was made hotter by high humidity and a fully booked train. We made it one stop down the platform before the train broke down. A cynical and wholly unhelpful man came on the intercom and explained that we should all get off. We did so, which broke Mike’s bag in the process. So, there we were, running short on time, short on energy and extremely dehydrated. We stood on the platform with our bags for a few minutes, no easy feat I’ll remind you, before the same man came on the intercom and asked us to go to another track. We went underground, down the steep steps crowded with grumpy New Yorkers, and up the steps on the other side. We stood there dripping sweat, looking like Angel Falls was pouring over us. Five minutes later, as I felt my tendons start to give, the announcer asked us all to go back to our original track. We went back down the stairs, back up the other side, and with angry city folk all around us we looked off into the distance truly exhausted. The train came some while after the bags started to slip off our shoulders from all the sweat. We nabbed a seat and gave sympathetic looks to the poor huddles who had to push past our giant bags to find a seat.

We arrived at Penn Station still alive, which was more than we had come to expect. It was easy to find the connecting subway we needed to reach Brooklyn, so we took the metro to the southeast. When we reached the final station we got out and asked the attendant how to reach the docks. She said it was a fool’s errand to walk in the heat, but when we insisted she pointed and we scampered outside. Heat really can hit you like a slap in the face, and this slap was so hot it felt like it was delivered with a recently-used frying pan. We strapped on our bags and set off…. In the wrong direction.

I’ll spare you the Brooklyn saga, but suffice to say we finally reached the cruise terminal by 2pm. A good two hours after our check-in time. We had missed lunch on board, and we were desperate to find some water. Nevertheless, we were in high spirits when we walked into our inside cabin and found a bottle of complementary champagne waiting for us. I’ll tell you one thing about going through a trial like the one from Jersey to Brooklyn by public transportation—when you get to the other side it sure is a beautiful thing. We drank some champagne, changed into clean, sweat-free clothing and rushed up on deck to survey the ship and say goodbye to the USA. When we were up on deck with our drinks waving, it looked like Lady Liberty waved back.

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On the 3rd of July, we booked a boat leaving from New York on the 6th of July. Since I don’t fly (and most un-winged mammals shouldn’t) we decided to rent a car and drive from Chicago to New York on the 5th. It all seems very logical and organized, but behind the scenes it was a bit of a chaotic mess. We decided on taking the Queen Mary II Cruise in what can only be described as a truly epic moment. We had been debating the cost, the time it would take, and the cheaper option of flying. Finally, at about 9pm on the 3rd I was sitting outside on the deck with a gin and tonic (how all good ideas start, really) when the sun began to set (yup, it sets that late in the summer near Chicago) and I had the most beautiful feeling of calm and happiness wash over me. It really is the simple things. But then I decided to make it much more complicated. Mike came outside and I turned around in my chair and said “what have we been worrying about? Let’s take the %@*#)( cruise!” I laid out my argument, which was a simple ATC-type argument that went along the lines of enjoying the moment, carpe diem, and the fact that we would make more money once we got done with the rally and found jobs overseas somewhere. Really, the only question left was why wouldn’t we take a cruise across the Atlantic. In a big wave of excitement and principle we dashed around the house getting the required paperwork to book the cruise.

The next day was the 4th of July. For our non American readers, this is the American Independence Day. To celebrate, Americans usually purchase ridiculous amounts of alcohol, beer and wine and then purchase a trunk-load of fireworks. Seems intelligent, I know. We incorporate a BBQ into the mix and gather all our family and friends to one yard for the food, drink and explosions. Since my family was in Washington I missed out on the legendary bonfire, which was a disappointment. But Mike and I went to a family friend’s dinner for a fancy picnic on the patio, and then to a friend’s house to watch her inbred neighbors light fireworks directly above their house. It was a wonderful, all-American evening. And in true 4th of July style we got home exceptionally late, smelling of sulfur and Budweiser.

The following morning we awoke at 5am and packed, registered our passports for the cruise, and then picked up the rental car. After a teary good-bye to Mike’s family, we set out in our tiny car with the aim of reaching New York city by nightfall. Anyone who has driven across country knows the sinking feeling in your gut when you come to the first toll booth in the Midwest. I wrote an entire blog about the toll processes along the route before reaching Jersey. Despite that, the roads were nice, direct and well kept. It was only nearing Jersey that traffic picked up even the slightest bit. We sang along with the radio, had debated with NPR, played license plate bingo and even did some typing on the laptop. The 14 hour drive went by quickly, and although the toll situation was frustrating, at least they ended when we hit Pennsylvania.

Arriving in New Jersey after such a long trek was a great reward. Everyone we met was friendly and we easily found our way around- despite the turnpikes. We found our airport hotel (across from a prison) and the rest will have to wait for part two of the mad dash installment.

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We’d like to offer a giant, humongous, ridiculously large, massive, heart-felt thank you to our sponsors!

For high-quality designer eyewear, sunglasses, and contact lenses delivered to your door, contact Smart Buy Glasses. With offices around Europe, the US, Canada, and Australia, there is an online store shipping to your area. Thank you to Smart Buy Glasses for their eyewear donations to our team!

Likewise, we’d love to thank Kelly’s Necchi New Home Sewing Center for our team uniforms! She did an amazing job. If you live in Illinois, its worth the drive to get to Kelly’s sewing shop for your quilting, embroidery and sewing needs. Thanks, Kelly, for your donation to our team in the form of amazing (pictures coming soon) uniforms!

Moreover, Nomadic Matt has sent some money our way for the Mongol Rally.   We are very appreciative of that.  Everything counts when you are trying to fill up your tank in the U.K or Europe.  We are just fortunate that the Dollar to GBP / Euro is at its best rate in a very long time.

We’d also like to thank our ridiculously supportive families. Throughout the last year (while we were excitedly stuttering through explanations about the upcoming event) our families remained positive, supportive and eager to help. Luckily, our families love travel as much as we do, and their passion is infectious. Thankfully, also, they opened up their wallets and purses to us. We’d like to thank them all (and have done so personally) for their love, support and interest in our upcoming adventure. Most folks hear what we are planning and shake their heads sadly at our lack of foresight, lack of equity and totally devastating credit scores and write us off as bums. Our loving and understanding families continue to support our traveling lifestyle and encourage us to do as much trekking as possible. So, thank you to our biggest sponsors and the people who make this all possible- our parents, our siblings, our uncles and aunts, and our grandparents. Thanks!

If you are interested in sponsoring our team, you can do so online, or you can donate to Mercy Corps-Mongolia on our website.

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1. How to raise money and find sponsors for the Mongol Rally
2. Abandon the Cube in the Media
3. ATC Joins the Mongol Rally 2010

I noticed something recently on an American TV show called ‘Pawn Stars’ and that is the fact that Americans have no idea how to bargain. You’ll see the same thing on ‘American Pickers’ and other History or Discovery Channel shows. It is a common tale, you take something into the pawn shop and they talk you down from your original asking price and in the end they get the upper hand. Since we’ve been traveling quite a bit, I think we could take on the folks of ‘Pawn Stars’ and the ‘American Pickers’ with the bargaining skills we acquired traveling through Asia. But, in case you are new to the concept here are a few tips in the event you are traveling to Asia or are about to pawn an item.

As a Seller:
• Find a realistic and well researched asking price for your item by doing your homework. Look online for other items in similar shape and of similar age. Get a number from an expert, if possible.
• Now head to the market or pawn shop and ask for literally three times the number you are willing to settle for.
• Do not hesitate to turn a buyer away. You are one person with one product, and there are millions of people who are potential buyers, you don’t have to land the first one.
• Stick to your bottom-line price and do not go lower than that. Always attempt to go higher.

As a Buyer:
• Remember all the techniques you used as a seller and try to preempt their game by cutting their original asking price into 1/3rd of what they asked. This is a safe maneuver.
• Don’t be uncomfortable bargaining. In the bargaining game the goal is to end up with a number you are happy with as a buyer. Don’t worry about the seller’s feelings.
• Arrive at a price in your head that you are happy with and take one of two roads: 1) if you really want the product buy it at any price, or; 2) separate yourself from your desire to have the product and only buy it when the price is right. Don’t say your final bottom line price out loud until you get towards the end of your bargaining spiel.
• Try the walk away method. If the price was right, the seller will stop you from walking away. Naturally they are trying to get as much out of you as possible so don’t be the weak link. Hold your ground. Sometimes you will lose and your walk away bluff will result in you losing the item. Most of the time, however, the negotiations will reopen as soon as you take your first steps.

It is supremely important to stick to a deal once you make it. You don’t want to be responsible for making your whole country look bad by going back on a deal. Despite what anyone tells you, you are somewhat of an ambassador for your homeland. While some sellers overseas may change a deal once it is made, it is important to always uphold your end and take the high road. It is not at all uncommon in Central Asia and other nearby regions for a deal to be reached and then, as the product is being delivered the deal will change. Keep a level head and don’t ever give in to someone who breaks a deal. For example, we set a price for a cab ride in advance across a section of desert in Uzbekistan, as is the custom. Mid way across the desert, to no one’s real surprise, the driver pulled over and demanded more money to finish crossing the desert. When something like this happens, even if it makes your life a bit more difficult, you have to hold your ground. If they really won’t honor the original deal, get out of the car with all of your belongings. Someone else will pick you up. If you do pay someone extortion like that you make it worse down the road for the next guy, and make the scam artist a life-long fan of continuing this practice. We forced a driver to pull over and got out with all of our gear, leaving him with nothing for driving us half way. He could either stick to the original deal or get nothing. Naturally, he got us back into the car and we paid the original price. He tried the entire drive to get more money out of us, which is always annoying, but sticking to something you shake hands on is important as a person, and as a representative.

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1. Palo Alto and the Mexican-American War
2. Book Review: The Ridiculous Race: 26,000 miles, 2 guys, 1 globe, no airplanes, by Steve Hely and Vali Chandrasekaran
3. Book Review: Lost on Planet China: One man’s attempt to understand the world’s most mystifying nation, by Maarten Troost

One of the most common questions we get is about financing our travels. We left Shanghai, our apartment there and our jobs in May of 2009. It is now July, 2010 and we’ve traveled for over a year. It is a fair and understandable question when people ask if we are secret millionaires or if we recently inherited some money. The answer to both of those questions is a firm, “no.” How we make our money is simple.

Website funds:
We make some money on our website, but to be honest we spend a lot of time and money on the site so we do only slightly better than break even on that. Some costs associated with the website include: the hosting fee ($250 for two years, roughly) our pro flickr account ($25 a year) and the amount of man hours put into developing and maintaining the site and the blog. We make money on the site by selling some ad space on the blog, which is unobtrusive and we are very particular about who we will allow to advertise on our site. We turn down some offers for cash in exchange for links simply because the products would not match our reader’s interests or have anything to do with traveling or quitting one’s job.

Income:
Lauren makes money as a writer. She has a few solid contracts that help her make enough money to travel full time as well as cover her college loan payments each month. Meanwhile, Mike was able to save more than half of his earned income in 2008, meaning he is living off his savings. Considering we both made less than $30,000 in 2008, it is possible to travel for cheap on savings if you don’t spend money on frivolous things, or live above one’s means.

Lifestyle:
One of the main ways we save money is to live well below your means. We do this by living overseas, where we don’t have cell phone costs, or outrageous cable and internet fees. We don’t have an overpriced apartment, car payments or insurance fees due each month. Essentially, the money we spend each month living abroad is the total of our food, transportation costs and apartment. We live like the locals do (lower-middle class locals) and save a bundle by avoiding expat eateries and entertainment. For a month in Shanghai we were spending a total of around $350 each, counting everything from random purchases to rent to food costs. If you make $20-25,000 a year and only spend $350 of that each month, you are looking at quite a savings over time.

Traveling versus Staying Home:
Meanwhile, traveling full time is cheap because your only costs are lodging, food and transportation. Often, people spend most of their travel money on lodging, we avoid this by camping whenever possible or staying at hostels for less than $15 a night. In Asia, we spent around $6 a night and that often included dinner. We spend, on average, around $6-700 a month traveling full time abroad. These costs are higher than would be necessary if one traveled more slowly. However, most of these funds went to train and bus tickets. When we were moving slowly we spent roughly $500 a month. For most Americans, that is far less than they spend a month living in an apartment or home with a dozen or so monthly costs.

Related posts:

1. How Much Would it Cost to Travel for a Year?
2. Funding the Escape
3. Happy New Year from Abandon the Cube

We’re busy brainstorming ways to make the Abandon the Cube website more accessible, easier to use, more graphically pleasing and better organized, and we’re hoping you can help us by sending in your ideas. Now you have a chance to help us make the site better. If you have some changes in mind, don’t hesitate to let us know! We know we’re new at this game, so your suggestions and ideas would be appreciated!

Since 2008 we’ve been teaching ourselves (through trial and error) how to make a website, how to market it, and how to maintain a constant level of new content. We’ve learned quite a bit since we first started, and although we’re still learning, we think its time for an overhaul.

Some of the areas we’d like to see revamped include:

• The website logo
• The graphics throughout the site, including specific graphics for each page
• Destination guides with more useful travel information
• More links to useful and related travel or job-quitting websites
• Maps, interactive and informative
• More interactive materials and concepts
• More resources for people hoping to ATC
• A database of information about abandoning the cube
• More films, books, music and TV related to Abandoning the cube

Please don’t hesitate to send us your ideas! Either post them below as a comment or send us an email at atc(at)abandonthecube.com. We are looking forward to hearing your ideas!

Related posts:

1. Call for Submissions –Best Cube Abandoning Films and Books
2. Updates about the Website
3. Abandon the Cube Featured on Lonely Planet

As many of you know, we’ve been busy preparing for the upcoming Mongol Rally. In so doing, we’ve been looking for a lot of equipment. We found a pretty sweet website called DiscountCoder.com that gives you discount coupons on a lot of great sites, from food to tools to Amazon, etc. This includes some of the biggest retailers across the UK! If you have ever shopped online and noticed the ‘enter discount code’ option on the website, then you know what I’m referring to. This is the best place in the UK to go for discount codes, and its helped us a great deal in buying stuff for the rally on a shoestring.

If you live on a dime (or on a pence, as us Yanks assume the Brits would say) then this is a great resource for you. They have deals on computers, discounts on clothing, ‘kids eat free’ discounts at restaurants and similar deals. They have discount codes on everything! You can even sign up for a weekly email of deals and coupons in the UK. It is categorized smartly, including a top ten section, or the ability to search by category. Its so smart, in fact, that even the Britannica has a discount code!

You’ll find amazing savings and discount codes on Thomson Discount Codes that will end up saving you hundreds every year. Check it out, give it a try, and let us know if you like it too.

Related posts:

1. Abandon the Cube Featured on Lonely Planet

We recently watched “Running the Sahara” a documentary about three dudes who literally ran from west to east across the Sahara. After watching that epic tale unfold we thought we’d search for a compiled online list of awesome cube-abandoning stories and adventure tales. After searching for this list for some time, we discovered it does not yet exist and we’d like to compile one to share with the world. Thus, if you have any favorite films about quitting your job to travel, or simply doing an outrageous event like running the Sahara or the Mongol Rally, then submit your ideas and we’ll compile them into, hopefully, a TOP 100 CUBE ABANDONING FILMS list that we’ll be posting on our website. We’d also love to have a similar list about books.

To get you started thinking down the path of media we’re looking for, here are a few of our favorite  lists:

Best cube abandoning films:
• Joe versus the Volcano
• Running the Sahara
• The Razor’s Edge
• 7 Years in Tibet
• Office Space
• The Matrix

And a few cube-abandoning books:
• Shakelton Expedition
• Vagabonding
• Imagine
• Long Way Round

What about a few Road Trip Songs:
• Freebird
• Simple Man
• Free Ride
• Living on a Prayer

Related posts:

1. Revamping the Website: Call for Suggestions
2. Abandon the Cube Featured on Lonely Planet
3. Abandon the Cube in the Media

Few documentary films offer more adventure, travel, excitement, danger, cultural education, athleticism and an inside look at human endurance and spirit than Running The Sahara
a true and epic tale of three men who decide to run across the Sahara desert, from West to East. Narrated and executively produced by Matt Damon, this adventure tale is worth of the ‘Abandon the Cube’ seal of approval. These three gentlemen ran for 111 days, covering the width of a continent on their feet. Their support crew and film crew in tow, these folks proved that with determination and drive anything is possible.

My favorite thing about the film was the cultural aspect. One of the three runners was from Taiwan and spoke Chinese. His English was great, but he preferred to do his interviews in Chinese, which added real dimension to the breadth of such a challenge for this Taiwanese runner as well as his two western comrades. Often, the westerners would be upset about something and the Taiwanese man would calmly take an entirely different approach. The film crew kept the lights on while they were running, at rest, eating or sleeping and the result was a really honest portrayal of what three men can turn into during such a self-enforced ordeal. Fights broke out, stupid arguments mostly, that made everyone involved look juvenile and weak. But considering the stress they were all under with the daunting task of running the world’s largest desert, it was understandable and all the runners and support crew tried to be as careful of the other’s emotions as possible. It was almost like watching a Discovery Channel special on a pack of all male lions trying to work together to achieve a certain outcome. As unlikely as a pack of male lions cooperating, this group of men proved the human species was a bit superior (but only by a little bit, at times).

When they entered Libya, they had to have special permission not only to enter the country, but to travel freely throughout. Rather than reject their visa requests a Libyan man agreed to run with them through his country, and provided a security detail to follow the supply and support jeeps. For a pointless journey like running across a desert, these three runners managed to inspire several unlikely characters along the way, including the turban-clad security officer, the government official who runs across his own country in support of their mission and in seek of adventure. For some reason, that man’s simple gesture was warming.

I highly recommend this film, it will make you feel like you are not doing enough with your life, nor taking enough risks. Abandon the cube and do something amazing, like these folks have by jogging across the Sahara. Why you might ask? Well, more importantly, why not? Two cube-abandoned thumbs up at Running the Sahara!

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1. Call for Submissions –Best Cube Abandoning Films and Books
2. Abandon the Cube in the Media
3. Book Review: Rising / Falling – Always Hoping: A Journey to a Part of Asia, by Craig Chamberlain

I’m growing a bit concerned about the folks on talk radio in the USA. We’ve had ol’ Limbaugh for quite some time, but recently I’ve noticed a surge in folks on the extreme right and left who take up the airways and fill them with drivel. Remember the good old days of Paul Harvey and ‘The Rest of the Story’? That was high quality radio right there! I’m really craving a show that gives interesting facts (not political points)or even a bit of American history. I know some stations donate a solid minute a day to history in the form of ‘this day in history’ but that simply doesn’t meet my apatite for good radio. I’d love a show where radio hosts interview surviving WWII veterans, or chat with politicians about their childhoods, moral ideologies and thoughts instead of their current events attitudes. It would be nice to see a wider picture of America than the Billboard top 20, the latest in celebrity gossip, and the diatribes of the psychotic.

Just a thought.

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After much stress, hours of searching, and countless overseas calls done by Bill I got word today that our sweet, sweet baby has been found. We now have a Mongol rally car! I’d love to name the mad machine, but I’ll have to wait to see the beauty in person and learn more about her personality. Temporarily, at least, I’ve dubbed her “Apple Pie” since she is now American, and is a bright, delicious red!

The rules of the Mongol Rally stipulate that the car has to have a 1.2 liter engine or less. We managed to meet this mark, a surprise considering these tiny cars are not as common as one might think., with this 1.12cc engine. In addition, we needed room for up to three passengers, if not four (we’re still accepting pleas from folks who want to tag along! If you are considering the journey, contact us now so we can get you signed up)! We have that with two comfortable looking seats in the back. The inside has the steering wheel on the right hand side! Totally trippy for an American. It will be weird at first, driving on the wrong side of the road while in the UK. Silly Brits.

We’d love to thank Oz, who went above and beyond in assisting our American team in finding, buying and storing a car overseas. We’d also like to thank Craig, who offered to help, as well as the other Mongol Rally teams that offered their assistance. Thanks everyone!!!

Related posts:

1. Updates: Mongol Rally 2010 and ATC
2. Abandon the Cube in the Media
3. ATC Joins the Mongol Rally 2010

Okay folks, this visa process is a bit more in depth than any of the other visa applications for any other country we have visited. Since we’re in the process of applying for several visas for the Mongol Rally, we’ll walk you through the steps to getting a Russian visa and invitation letter, and what to expect throughout the process.

1. Make sure your passport is valid for 6 more months, at the least.
2. Get two passport pictures in color, against a white background, and have them cropped to the exact 2’x2’ size.
3. Download visa application form. Now, it may seem pedantic, but the form MUST be printed on both sides of one piece of paper. You cannot have two pages. Fill the form out in black or blue ink only, no pencil or crayon or marker or anything else. If you don’t know the answer to a question on the form, you may need to call a visa agent to ask for clarification, but don’t leave anything blank. You’ll need your work history, school history and information from your passport and travel plans (see step #6).An invitation letter is required for a tourist visa. In order to get this letter you’ll need to talk to your inviting institution (like a University, or friend, etc). If you don’t have anyone inviting you to Russia you may need to purchase an invitation letter from a visa company. The letter usually costs about $15 – $30 dollars.
4. Travel vouchers. In many cases, vouchers will be needed for your hotels, etc. If you go through a visa company they will usually take care of the vouchers for you.
5. You’ll need to know your exact entry and exit dates for Russia, as well as your itinerary. You’ll deliver some of this information on the visa form itself, and the rest in the application form for the invitation letter. The more specific you are, the better as this helps with the travel vouchers (or so we hear).
6. Finally, mail all of this into the visa company (highly recommended over doing the process yourself, which results in more rejections) along with your money order for the consulate and a separate money order to pay the visa company.
7. Most visa companies specify the duration or return time as anywhere from 10 to 20 days. If you want to expedite your visa, the consulate will charge you an added fee, as will the visa company. Plan ahead with this and have at least a month planned for this single visa.
8. Once you get to Russia you have three business days to register your visa with the hotel or with the visa agency you used to get your visa. Don’t miss this, or you could be fined when you try to leave the country.

Good luck!

Related posts:

1. Getting a visa for Kazakhstan from China
2. Getting a Visa for Uzbekistan in Shanghai
3. And The Journey Continues

I don’t count. I simply do not exist nor do I count to the American government. Ten years ago I was overseas and wasn’t counted. As it happens, Americans living abroad not involved with the government are simply not counted in the census. Thus, for the last two censuses I’ve been nonexistent. A census representative had a booth set up in my home town. I asked the gentlemen about my status and made him exceedingly sad when I made a sad remark about not mattering. I think he took me a bit literally. Anyways, he filled me in on the policy of us non-VIPs living overseas. The bare bones of it—you don’t count.

This wasn’t my first interaction with the 2010 census. Down in Texas (where we did a bit of traveling last winter) we noticed dozens of billboards along the Mexican border with signs like “Be honest on the Census. Immigration officials do not have access to census files.” And things of that nature. We suddenly noticed some of Hollywood’s A-list stars on TV telling us politely to fill out the census forms. And each evening when we turned on the news we saw talking heads talking about the upcoming ordeal. How many millions were spent making these commercials, billboards and forms?—not to mention the folks who went door to door!

My personal experiences with the census didn’t stop with my sad encounter with the census rep in my home town. Nope, a young man came to the family home where I happened to be visiting and demanded to know why there were several people at the house when only one was listed. I told him I didn’t count, and he said that I did! Success! I matter again! He took down my name and hopped in his Toyota and zipped down the driveway as I basked in my newly gained self importance. I matter!

Alas, this simply isn’t the case. Recently up in the Upper Peninsula, in Michigan, a census woman emerged from the woods and inquired about our residency and status. We told her we sometimes matter and sometimes don’t, depending on which census representative is asking. Turns out we decidedly don’t matter in the UP. Defeated again! (although obviously, the April 1st point did not apply to us) On a funny side note, this poor lady said some of these cabins in the woods she is sent to have no roads, only paths, and she has walked several miles down trails only to emerge suddenly in the front yard of a small cabin. “Aren’t you worried about getting shot?” I asked her. “I’d get worker’s comp.” she replied. Funny lady. Apparently she has walked and hiked and driven all over the UP and has quite a few interesting encounters with the yoopers (upper peninsula locals) not to mention the very active wildlife. She confirmed my earliest suspicion that we didn’t matter and then laced up her hiking boots and headed back into the woods. This is one very thorough government!

Despite the seeming confusion about the census, I’m very excited to see the results. I can’t wait to see how some of the places I’ve lived and visited have changed and grown (or shrunk, whatever the case). I think it is a great practice, and I am honestly excited about it. Almost like a sitcom you love that you have to wait to see the finale for—come on 2010 census information! I wonder how long it will take for the results to get into the public domain (aka-Wikipedia) for each city/county/state, etc.

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1. While not Traveling – Fixing up your Home for Cheap
2. New Member Joins ATC for the 2010 Mongol Rally
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We’ve spent a few weeks in Michigan’s UP, the Upper Peninsula surrounded by great lakes. It is a beautiful, if not rugged landscape that grows tough, hardy people who are simultaneously hard as nails and yet as friendly as Home Improvement’s Wilson character. You can walk into a diner or bar in the UP and see some of the world’s most flannel-clad, bearded and grime covered men, only to have them pull out a chair for you or hold open the door with a tip of their baseball cap. It reminds me of a time I’ve never experienced, but only heard about. People leave their doors unlocked, and neighbors stop by almost daily to chat about the weather, the fishing conditions or whether or not you saw the deer out by the lake the previous evening.

Here is a story to demonstrate my point: The septic tank pump broke and alarms were going off in the cabin. We dug out the still water hole and replaced the pump. Meanwhile, neighbors from the left and right side of the cabin sauntered over to offer their help, advice and the use of their facilities until we solved the problem. Neighbors from even further down the road heard of the incident and drove by to see if they could help. It was like a sitcom scene where the whole town shows up in the yard to help one family. I had heard of such things in the past from my grandparents (or history books) but up in the UP that is just daily life. The community has taken us under their wing, given us local history lessons, books, food and fishing and hiking tips. It’s like we’re part of the family—two long lost prodigal grandchildren who suddenly returned from out of the woods. It’s a great feeling, and one we’ve never experienced anywhere we’ve traveled. All hail to simplicity!

On an unrelated note, our time in the UP has yielded quite a few fish as we try our hands at acquiring our food from the wild. As it stands, I have caught several large bass while Mike seems to be a pro at walleye and pike. I learned to filet the fish, a task which involved (sadly) cutting it open and taking out the parts Americans don’t eat. It made me sad since we’ve seen folks in China dig into the organs and eyes, head, etc and yet we’re wasting those parts here in the US. I have no idea how to cook fish head, but when I’m back in China I’ll take a cooking lesson or two so I don’t have to toss out half the fish in the future. I have this theory that you shouldn’t eat meat if you couldn’t or wouldn’t go out and catch/kill it yourself and prepare it from the moment you capture it to the moment you eat it. I’m testing this long-held philosophy with the fish. So far, it involves petting the bass and apologizing to it, turning around while Mike stuns it, and then I’ll cut it open (while apologizing) and then filet and skin the meat parts. Then I apologize a bit more while I’m washing and storing the fish. I never considered myself a city girl, but I think these Yoopers (UP locals) would have a good laugh if they saw me petting and apologizing to my recently caught bass.

We just returned this evening from a small neighborhood gathering where some of the town’s most well known locals had us (and a few other cabins) over for desert. We chatted about many things, but no political or religious conversations emerged. We talked at great length, however, about the beaver population (did you know a beaver can live up to 80 years!) and told stories around the table of our travels abroad (everyone was extremely intelligent and well traveled). I have to say, it was a really amazing, simple and perfect evening with the Yoopers.

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You can’t consider yourself a long-term thinker if you shop at Wal-Mart, Best Buy, or any other major chain in the United States. Here is why: they outsource. Simply put, we get products for cheaper but in the end more folks here will be unemployed which will result in fewer purchases long term. Folks at these major corporations have to realize they are simply sucking as many greenbacks as possible out of the economy while it lasts. An entire economy based on service industries is hardly a stable one, but that is where we seem to be heading.

So, why do I take it out on Wal-Mart? Honestly, it isn’t really fair. Wal-Mart is just a prime example because they sell the largest range of crappy products on the market, stretching from crappy sewing machines to crappy electronics to crappy plastic toys to crappy, low-quality clothing. This isn’t much different from most other major corporations, but this one is more prevalent. Its like blaming McDonald’s for all fast-food woes.

Yesterday I was looking at a piece of antique furniture. Unless doused in gasoline or saturated in water, this thing will be around long after I am. Something about that is much more comforting than looking at the $20 Ikea equivalent. Our culture demands things for cheaper and cheaper, and when a deal is good we’ll buy the product even if we’re fully aware it is sup par. We seem more than happy to accept that an item has a shelf-life. I’d much prefer to buy something once and have it for life. My life, not the life span attributed to it because it will whither away on its own accord over time.

I remember the day I returned to the USA having spent several years in Germany as a child. We got away from the airport in our rental car and I asked my dad why all the houses were made out of cardboard. An astute observation for a child, I have to say. It turns out it isn’t cardboard, but 2×4 pine boards with a bit of drywall and nails. The shelf life of a home in the USA is under 50 years, and this seems downright sad. Mike and I recently worked with Habitat for Humanity down in Texas and were shocked at the minimal amount that actually goes into making a house. Once you see the process from A to Z you start to wonder how the thing lasts even 50 years. Meanwhile, in Germany homes are built to last several generations. They can spend the additional money to make it correctly and make it sturdy because no one family is supporting the entire weight of the bill. If America were to start to make better homes, it would have to change the underlying cultural trends wherein children leave the nest and move to an entirely new area.

This reminds me of a story my grandfather told me when I was younger. He said the US government brought in some German road engineers to teach them how to build long-lasting roads. The Germans dig way into the earth and layer with straw, sand, tar, cement, straw and much more over and over again for around 2 meters. When they finally slap on the last coat they have a product that can withstand extreme weight, weather and use. The Americans were impressed and started to mimic the German road-building method. Suddenly, construction was halted as a politician pointed out that all the road workers would eventually work themselves out of a job with these long-lasting roads. I don’t doubt the story is true, but I do doubt that we would work ourselves out of road jobs by making them right the first time.

I recently read that there are two types of belief systems- utilitarianism and deontology. The former type believes in the greatest good for the greatest number of people while the latter believes in personal rights, regardless of the outcome. Americans seem to be distinctly deontologists, and are concerned about the jobs of the workers over the long-term happiness and convenience of millions of Americans who would enjoy driving to work without dodging orange cones. I think this is interesting because I’d much prefer the roads to be done right, to the highest possible quality at a higher price tag now, and then save money and time down the road (ha ha, my first pun) on repairs. I also suggest this project as a sort of CCC type deal for our current unemployment solution.

I digressed from my anti Wal-Mart point, but the ideology underlining it is the same. I think long term we need to pay more for high-quality, lasting products from small businesses instead of buying the cheaper version that will wither away and need to be replaced. In short, I think the greatest good for the largest group of people in America would mean more jobs here, more high-quality, lasting products here, and building a country we’d be proud to show our grandkids, instead of delivering them one in need of massive repairs.

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