That’s pretty much it as far as Tucson goes. I had a great time with some good and really funny friends and we just laughed the whole time so I will have a very positive opinion about Tucson. Like most places out west, it’s a nice place to visit but I don’t think I could ever live there for good.

Also, I know some of these pictures are really big. My photo service changed on me and I am not sure how to get them smaller, trying to figure it out.

Finally, it brings us to the Carnies. These are the amazing people who travel from fair to fair working the games, the rides and the food stalls and living in a trailer park in the back parking lot at the fair. The things that must go on between the Carnies after the lights go off at the state fair-I can’t even imagine. Carnies take a lot of flack and get made fun of quite a bit but they do a great job running the rides and keep us safe and suckering you into shooting a basketball that’s too big for the hoop while forking over a few bucks for the displeasure. God bless the Carnies!

My first move upon waking up Friday was to hit the aforementioned Voodoo Donuts. I had never heard of it before although apparently I did see a special on it on the Travel Channel as it was featured on a wacky food show. So after posting my Facebook status as I was in Portland, I received a lot of emails about what I should get at this donut place. So I ordered pretty much everything in the store including their famous bacon and maple donut. Yes I know it sounds awful but it was tremendous. Other unique donuts they offered were Butterfinger and Oreo donuts along with various cereal donuts like Cocoa Puffs and Trix. Other more creative donut names were the ‘cock n balls’, among many others. The bottom line was Voodoo Donuts is a must when you visit Portland…although the sugar may leave you shaking for a few hours afterwards!

After donuts, I needed some real food as well and Portland is chalk full of food stalls. I mean there are tons of them with every type of food you can ask for. I ate at a really good Mexican stall that had carnitas and all the other Mexican favorites. They also had Hawaiian, Thai, Vegan, Chinese, Vietnamese and anything else you could think of.

Friday night I went out to dinner with my friend Donovan who was actually the guy that initially approached me to start this website when he worked at Bootsnall. So we caught up and had a great meal at Deschutes Brewery in the Pearl District of Portland which has a lot of bars and restaurants and is kind of the Soho/Meatpacking District of Portland. After dinner we went to a place called Touché to meet up with one of my readers, Ryan-who is a wealth of travel knowledge and a nice guy, who had moved to Portland. We played pool for a while and then hopped around the area a bit to check out a few other places. After several vodka sodas I was off to bed to prepare for Saturdays festivities.

The main reason I was in Portland was to go to the huge Oregon/USC game in Eugene at the University of Oregon. The seats were awesome, 12th row at the 10 yard line and the stadium was great too. What a home field advantage for the Oregon Ducks who ended up winning 47-20, scoring the most points ever against USC and taking control in the Pac 10 title race, while gaining an outside shot at the BCS title game. The weather stayed pretty good for the time we were in Eugene but the best part of the game was the tailgating beforehand and at halftime.

Walking from the parking lot, we were looking for a good place to have some beers before the game and we asked some random people who were walking toward the stadium, they mentioned a few bars but then said, why don’t you just come to our tailgates. We were delighted at their kindness and were happy to join. The people we were with were awesome and so nice. All lifelong Oregon fans, they were such gracious hosts and were great to talk with, I am very grateful. Speaking of Grateful, I really enjoyed hearing some of the old Grateful Dead stories from the father that he experienced during the 70’s. Anyway, I think they are probably going to read this so I just wanted to say thanks again to all and I really appreciate it. And it’s going to be nice to have some Maryland Terrapin fans in Oregon come basketball season.

After the game, we headed back to Portland, getting in around midnight and heading straight out for a few drinks for Halloween. I didn’t have a costume but a great time was had simply watching others in theirs and in some case out of theirs. Some of the girls we saw were falling out of their costumes as they appeared to be wasted on several drugs at the same time. It was fairly entertaining and that’s pretty typical of Portland. Ironically, I ended up talking to four guys dressed as pimps from Dar es Salaam, Tanzania. Yes I thought it was really random too and we followed them to some ‘after hours’ place although it closed at like 2:30am. It was fun and I was exhausted so headed back to the hotel and hit the hay.

Sunday, I just walked around the local markets they have by the water on Sundays and got some good food including Nepalese momo’s from one of the street stalls aside from two cool T-shirts. I was sad to leave Portland as I had a really great weekend and was pleasantly surprised about how much I liked it. I highly recommend taking an open mind and heading up to Portland for a weekend. You won’t regret it and if you head to Eugene for a Ducks game, be sure to get ‘Ducked Up On Quack’!

As I wrote about the Melia in Punta Cana in my last post, the food at Club Med was very good and way better than I ever expected it to be. They had varieties of meats, salads, fruits, nightly themes and specials along with killer desserts. The highlight was easily their famous white chocolate bread. I cannot possibly overstate how good it was. I imagine the calorie count was through the roof but for a few days, it’s literally the best thing since sliced bread-which is really what it is.

The meals are set up so if you are alone or with five people you are seated randomly next to whoever is around so you get to meet a lot of people. At first I was a little iffy about this but it was actually really cool because you got to meet a lot more people and by the end of your time, you feel like you know everyone.

After meals and especially after dinner, everyone goes to the main bar to have some cocktails, local beer or espresso. You then chat and wait for some type of activity to occur. During the day, it’s usually some type of game or tournament or whatever and at night it’s a show of some sort with a warm up of dancing.

The gracious organizers (GO’s) run the Club Med. They are literally there to smile and make you have fun. They are literally like camp counselors which is ironic because Club Med is like camp for adults. The GO’s hang out with the guests and lead them in activities and the ones after dinner are usually to build energy before the long night at the bar ahead. These types of activities are weird dances that literally take people out onto a stage patio kind of thing and make them dance-although everyone does it willingly and looks like fools. However, everyone loves it and laughs and it’s the kind of thing that you would only consider doing while you were there and you wouldn’t want any of your friends at home to see you.

After the warm up there is a type of show that is actually pretty good. Some of them are funny skit type shows and others are acrobatics. I must say that for non professionals, the GO’s are very well trained and pretty good, especially at some of the difficult acrobatic moves. It was very impressive. Then after the show, everyone reconvenes at the bar and a DJ starts playing music and package tourism at its best/worst takes over until the wee hours of the morning.

The GO’s keep the energy up by getting everyone to dance and it is really pretty cool how they do it. I swear if I was 22-25, just out of college and no idea what I wanted to do, I would totally do that for a year. You would have so much fun. You would be in a permanent state of delusion for the year of your contract but it would probably be the best year of your life.

Most of the GO’s were very cool and had really funny and interesting perspectives on it as I chatted with them. One female GO said to me when I asked her how she liked it, “I love it because when tourists come here they’re always happy. Imagine everyone being constantly happy-it makes you happy too. If you can’t be happy at Club Med then you have problems”. Truer words have never been spoken I thought. Another male GO says “I meet tons of chicks dude”. Again, fair enough. Finally, another male GO says “I have no idea what reality is right now, I have no idea what is going on in the world, and I don’t even give a shit. I never leave the village man”. (The village is what they call the Club Med property in general) It’s true by the way, when you’re there you never leave the village unless it’s on an excursion with Club Med.

I had every intention of leaving and doing some excursions and dives at the nearby dive sites and neighboring islands but shockingly the weather was AWFUL each of the three full days I was there and nothing was going on. This was actually pretty annoying because there are only so many things to do besides drink all day when you’re at Club Med in bad weather. So people organized poker games and I played ping pong and there was pool but the reason people come to Turks and Caicos is for the sun. There is only so much bad volleyball that can be played before it gets lame. You can’t do anything about the weather but of all the time I’ve spent in the Caribbean, I have never seen 4 straight days of clouds and rain. However, it certainly didn’t ruin my trip.

I met some really cool people from all over. The majority of people at this Club Med were from New York, California and Montreal. There were also several Albanians, French and others. It was really fun and nice to chat with other people from other places. One woman had been at the Club Med since April which I find fairly appalling but funny and slightly cool at the same time. Another couple had been there like 25 times. Of course, I’m thinking to myself why don’t you try a new place out but to each their own I guess.

All in all, I had a blast at Club Med and 4 days, three nights was the maximum I think I could’ve handled of package tourism. Club Med is what it is. However, after hearing about all the other Club Med’s in the world I would consider doing it again at the right place and time and with the right friends, otherwise I’ll stick with independent travel. But I was really surprised at how much I enjoyed it and as that one GO said “If you can’t be happy at Club Med then you’ve got problems”.

The pictures of Club Med are lame because of the bad weather as you can see. I will try to get Haiti and DR pictures up later this afternoon if I get a chance.

The DR has the highest number of minority players in the US major leagues. Several of the absolute best players in baseball are Dominican. Guys like Albert Pujols, Alex Rodriguez, Manny Ramirez, David Ortiz, Pedro Martinez, Robinson Cano, Bartolo Colon and Vladimir Guerrero just to name a few. Additionally, many teams have set up camps in the DR to help develop young talent and of course sign them young at rock bottom prices. However, compared to what the average Dominican makes, it’s a steal for them no matter what they get paid.

The rest of Santo Domingo is really pretty nice. I had been to Santo once before about 4.5 years ago on a day trip from Punta Cana and didn’t have a very good experience because of the weather and some bad company. Needless to say I was very happy to get back and explore the Malecon and the old city.

The Malecon is similar to the one in Havana and I think nicer as the surrounding areas are nicer and more developed. The waves crashing the azure water into the steep cliffs and creating mist streams are very cool and make it a very pleasant place for a walk. Also, many locals hang out here at night and drink beers, play their music and dance. Now I’m not much of a dancer but I like to watch and listen.

The best part for me of Santo Domingo aside from just walking around was a dinner we had one night at La Bricola which was right around the corner from Hotel Beaterio. It was again highly recommended by Lonely Planet and didn’t disappoint. (I generally don’t look much at what LP has to say but I find for restaurants they are usually pretty spot on-especially with their top picks for food) The Italian and Dominican a la carte menu was fantastic and very reasonably priced. I had the Ossobuco and it was fantastic but really-when is Ossobuco not awesome. The restaurant itself was open air and very classy. Most people get really decked out to go there and the waiters wear tuxedos. We of course showed up in shorts and tee shirts like gringos tend to do but in our defense it was like 100 degrees and humid even at night! I also recommend an appetizer meat sampler which was really good as well.

The next day we decided to drive out to Punta Cana on the east coast of the island and about a 3.5 hour drive from Santo Domingo. This, as I said was the second time I did this drive and much more pleasant as the weather was perfect and the scenery was great. After getting slightly lost at Higuey we finally found our hotel, the Melia Caribe. It was an all inclusive as all the hotels are in Punta Cana.

Now I hate mass tourism and hokey hotel deals and all-inclusives generally but you really can’t argue that for $85 you get a nice room at the Melia and all your meals, drinks and activities included. It is a real value and to be honest the food was pretty good. Not great but pretty good. The hotel itself was massive, laid out over several hundred acres (if not more) and pretty nice. The restaurant staff, especially at the Japanese restaurant, were fairly rude but I guess I’d be pissed off too if everyone was eating and nobody was tipping me because all food is included.

Bavaro Beach is a very nice beach. The problem is there are too many hotels on it nowadays-even more than just a few years ago. However, you can’t argue the scenery is not nice as the white sand and clear water are gorgeous. The large groups of guys from Long Island drinking, shouting and peeing in the water I can do without though.

All in all, I am very happy I went back to the DR and look forward to getting back again sometime and exploring the north of the island and some of the tucked away beaches that are supposed to be so nice. For now I am on a plane to Turks and Caicos to finish off the Travelers century Club list of Caribbean countries. Luckily for me, it’s close to get to the Caribbean and there are still many unexplored islands in the groups that make up some of the countries so I will never really run out of places to go and besides, there are plenty of awesome places to get back to!

As with my previous entry for Haiti, I forgot the chord to my camera to upload pictures so I will do that when I get back.

I forgot to bring my chord to upload pictures from my camera to the computer so I will add those when I get back to the States. I have some great pictures as PAP was very photogenic.

We slowed down and stopped. The “something” was a man, we weren’t sure if he was dead or alive. Neither of us knew what to do. He could have been dead. Who would be sleeping in the middle of the only highway in Lesotho? But this is Africa, you never know. I honked the horn quickly – nothing. I looked at Mike, held down the horn for several seconds. The man moved a bit, sluggishly, but he moved. Then he rolled over, stretching and yawning as he eyed our car. We were in shock. This man had indeed been sleeping on the highway. If it were night, he would have been flattened.

It appeared as though he was angry we had interrupted his slumber. He started dragging his body toward the shoulder (if you can call it that) of the road. He then turned over, went back to sleep with his feet still on the road. We sat there stunned. What to make of this? So we started laughing, saying, “This is Africa”.

“This is Africa” is basically the theme of any trip to that continent. You need to expect the unexpected and roll with the punches. While you would more than likely not see a person sleeping on a highway in the U.S., these types of things happen in Africa. An occurrence like this is why I love Africa. It is my favorite continent because it is exciting, different, raw.

This story is one of my favorite Africa mishap tales. I don’t remember much about Lesotho other than some nice scenery through the mountains. This experience will stay with me always.

San Fermin is a festival that runs all day everyday for eight days and the partying is truly 24 hours. The streets of old town Pamplona are packed with tourists and locals alike enjoying the local vinos and cervezas. We arrived at night and just put our bags in the room and went straight out to the streets to see what was going on. We were shocked at what we came into. After a “few” drinks, we met some British guys who filled us in on all the local information and most importantly about “El Encierro” – the running of the bulls. It takes place every morning at 8am followed by the bullfight in the plaza de toros where the run is completed. After a long night of singing Spanish songs that we didn’t know the words to with all the locals in the bars and streets of Pamplona, it was starting to get lighter out. That meant only one thing, that the bulls were to be running through the streets shortly.

At about 7am, they start to barricade off the streets, and the course the bulls run takes shape. They block off the streets with large pieces of wood fencing that they stick into the ground in previously dug holes in the cobblestone streets. The fence is about six feet high and is made of two cross bars of thick wood, one for stepping on to get over the top and the other as the top. The fence also had large gaps on the bottom for people to slide under if they are being chased by the bulls and want to make a quick escape because the hole is too small for the bulls. Of course during the running, there are thousands of people watching on the fence and it isn’t that easy for the runners to hop under or over the fence because of all the people.

At about 7:30, they take a hose and water down the streets making them very slippery. I still don’t understand the reasoning for this because, as I would soon find out, the bulls go full speed around corners and slip and fall into the barriers and everyone cheers. It is a very strange thing that was never explained to me.

I was unsure whether I was going to run the first day because I had no idea what to expect. I had a front row seat right on the fence at the main turn where the bulls fall and the straightaway begins toward the stadium. I looked at all the runners warming up and practicing their techniques. The streets were so narrow and the bulls are huge and I couldn’t imagine that this many people would be too safe on the street at the same time so I stayed put the first day and watched as the horn sounded and the bulls were off.

It took the bulls about 45 seconds to get where I was and I watched the runners preparing themselves and my heart was beating with them. All of a sudden, the bulls and steers came flying around the corner and the runners started running and clogging up the streets. I was terrified sitting behind the fence as I saw the bulls and people alike slipping on the wet street and sliding into the specially enforced barrier.

As I watched the bulls and runners race past me, they are supposed to close a gate that stops the bulls from turning around and heading back where they came from. They are supposed to complete the course into the bull-fighting stadium. However, there was one bull that had slipped and hit the barrier and became disoriented. The bulls are basically blind and are attracted to movement and the steers that guide the bulls in the right direction had all gone past the gate already so all the runners were held at the mercy of the bull. The experienced runners tried to guide the bull in the right direction by making sudden movements toward the stadium, but the bull was going all over the place. Some runners were being stupid and getting really close to the bulls’ horns. I saw one guy get flipped by the bull against the wall of a building and then land on his head. I saw another guy get gored in his leg. Blood was dripping all over his traditional white outfit with red bandana around his neck. It’s funny because they keep statistics on how many people get gored each day and the people cheer when someone gets injured. The man was alright, but seriously cut nonetheless.

Finally, the bull was steered in the right direction and all the bulls had entered the stadium for the sheer entertainment of those who had gathered for the bullfight. The bullfight follows the run, where the bulls that ran that morning will meet their death from professional matadors. However, before that happens, they are all in the main stadium where all the runners have gathered for a short torture session before the bulls die. The runners taunt the bulls and they get chased around the ring by the dozens. This is extremely dangerous and we saw many runners get gored and some even thrown over the walls of the bullring. The bulls weigh in excess of 1500 pounds and are quite strong. Finally, after the bulls can no longer garner the energy to chase runners around anymore, they are summoned into the stables awaiting their chance to challenge a matador, as if they have any choice.

All the runners vacate the ring and head up into the stands and await the arrival of the matadors. In Spain, at San Fermin, you are expected to wear white in the stands and those who don’t, which are almost always tourists, get pelted with tomatoes and red wine. Needless to say, we didn’t know this custom and were promptly greeted by being doused with wine from everyone in our section. We quickly realized we should go down and buy a white T-shirt and we all did. However, to our dismay, when we returned to our seats we were pelted again. We kind of looked at each other and then collectively started throwing whatever we could get on hands on at whoever was in the vicinity and then all madness broke out. We were red from head to toe and we were loving every second of it. After about a minute of this, we had earned the respect of the locals and they actually offered us wine to drink and we were no longer on their pelt list. So we sat, drenched in vegetables and wine and got ready for the fight to begin.

Six matadors fight the bulls. The first arrives in the center of the ring to a tremendous ovation. He is traditionally dressed, armed with sword length knives to thrust into the backs of the bulls. Suddenly, the bull is released and he charges the matador, who promptly olés the mighty toro. The bull charges two more times to no avail and rousing applause from the packed stands. Then, on the fourth charge, the matador strategically jams two knives into the back of the mighty beast. The knives are intended to slightly wound the bull and not kill him yet. The bull is to charge him two more times, both times with the same result, two knives in the back. Each one inflicting more damage in succession to the point where the bull can’t move anymore and is just standing there motionless panting for life. The matador then approaches the bull head on with one sword and raising it with two hands, he surgically thrusts it into the back of the bulls’ neck. The bull dies instantly, falling like a ton of bricks to the ground. The people go nuts like Spain just won the World Cup or something. I seriously almost threw up from the sheer savagery of the spectacle. But to add insult to injury, they then drive a small vehicle in and hogtie the dead bulls legs with a long rope and drag him across the ground and out of the stadium. This is again met with cheers and the matador is lauded with roses from the stands. I was disgusted by what I was witnessing and thought that it couldn’t always be like this. However, after watching for another five bulls, I realized it was.

For as much fun as we had with the wine fights in the stands, my friends and I decided to not attend the bull fights anymore while we were there because of the brutality of it all. Hypocritically though, I decided that I was going to join the fiesta as a runner the next morning.

As they fenced up the streets for the run that morning I stood there in the streets, thinking to myself, what the hell am I doing? But I knew I couldn’t leave Pamplona without doing this; I would never forgive myself. I stood in a mass of people and all I could think was that these people were going to trample each other and then the bulls would trample us with their 1500 pounds. All of a sudden the horn sounded and I became anxious. I was standing right where the gate was to be closed and the straightaway began. I wanted to have the bulls run beside and past me and then I would run into the stadium past the huge statue of Ernest Hemingway. Then I would leave before the fights began.

Quickly the bulls rounded the corner and everyone started running, without even thinking I ran with the crowd because there was nothing else I could do. I was on the right side of the narrow street that leads to the stadium and I saw a bull pass me on the left, I was in awe and shocked that I was still standing. I then peeked back and saw the other 12 bulls and steers coming racing at me.

What a rush, it was truly amazing to have these huge beasts running with me, two of them were literally inches from me and I reached out and patted two different bulls. They quickly made their way past us and into the stadium because they run so fast. As all the runners made their way into the stadium, the crowd greeted us with a huge ovation, which I hadn’t seen the day before because we got locked out by the gate before they eventually let everyone in after all the runners have entered. I was in awe of actually being on the floor of the ring with thousands of people cheering and oohing and aahing as the bulls charged different groups of runners. After a rush of the bulls toward where I was standing, I had had enough and hopped the fence to safety and to meet my friends.

I had never experienced something like that before. I was at the mercy of a blind, three-quarter ton bull. I have done many crazy things but all were controlled and were made by human beings. These bulls were trying to kill people, and every so often they actually succeed. I can say that running with the bulls was an amazing experience that should not be taken lightly because it is deadly if you make a mistake. However, if you stay with the crowds and don’t do anything stupid, it is an indescribable feeling of triumph.

Personally, as a very humane person, I can do without the bull fights and watching them slaughter the bulls, but the overall experience at Pamplona was a unique one and I will treasure the memories forever. As for Hemingway, he accurately described San Fermin to the world, and they do have a massive statue outside the plaza de toros of him. He is viewed in Pamplona as a hero and as a fan I am glad that he also wrote about African safaris where no animals are killed and you can view them from afar.

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