ZiggyFlairs

kev in the woods and friends

2013-01-01T16:08:00.003-08:00

Canterbury, Kent

i was free at last, released from the torture chamber. out in the open world and not a clue of what to do next. so i improvised. i found really expensive internet, about two pounds a half hour on a network that had to be the latest in dialup. out of all the potential hosts i got denied by some, no answer from most, and one with vague directions on meeting up at a subway stop at a certain hour. one accept an hour away in kent but no phone numbers. at this point, i hated heathrow, london, and england altogether. i wanted out, so i looked for a bus station heading to the next town for hitchhiking out of the country. my biological clock was telling me it was midnight, but it was mearly after noon when i found a station and a bus heading to gillingham. twelve pounds. it was expensive but i'd pay anything to get out of london. an hour later i boarded a bus heading south. in which i was the only person under the age of sixty-five, wondering exactly where i was heading. fuck it, im too tired. after leaving the city limits i got to take a nap. the bus stopped briefly, but i conveniently and purposely stayed alseep until the next big stop. groggy eyed i got up after hearing the engine stop running and asked the bus driver "how many miles until canterbury?" the bus driver replied in a shocked manner "son, were in canterbury, you've missed your stop." i faked an 'oh no, im so sorry' and got my pack. i'd like to thank all the dumb tourists for making scenarios like this common. without them, i'd have to pay double (or the correct fare) for traveling some places. the bus stop was pretty close to the city, all commercial and no nature to pitch a tent. it was late May but in england it meant it was cold and wet. not ideal for laying a cardboard mattress in an alley. i found WIFI outside a hamburger joint that shall remain nameless and logged on with less that 5% battery. as soon as i was able to get through the 'hotspot-sign-in' mumble jumble and into my couchsurfing account, my laptop died. i took out my charger and realized i had the wrong port for charging. DAMN THE ENGLISH AND THEIR STUPID OUTLETS! i walked a few blocks looking for either a cyber cafe or electronics store to buy a converter. no luck, so i walked back once again crossing a group of homeless people eyeing me down. right across the street was a poundland* (a chain of cheap items for only a pound, the english equivalent of a dollar store). low and behold, they had the converter i needed. i bought it right at closing time. in england, everything closes at 6. hooray for me. i rushed back to the burger joint and since i have strict views on boycotting this chain, they refused to let me charge my computer. well fuck you right back. i walked back down a few blocks again, playing my guitar this time. no real plan but to ask for a nice spot to camp for the night. seeing the homeless, and realizing their experience with the outdoors i walked up to them befriend them with cigarettes. there was four of them, comfortably sitting on the ground drinking cider and smoking recycled tobacco from butts they found on the floor."do you mind if i smoke a cig here?" i asked. and since the camels i gave them were a luxury in their eyes, they happily accepted. "thanks fow the fags mai', wheau you frum?" they asked "im from texas, i just landed and had to get away from london". "gouwd choiz mai', have sum sai'da". we shared a like for tobacco, a dislike for authority, and a bit of alcoholic cider since i had never tried it before. they requested some songs ive never heard of and some i had but didnt know how to play. either way, we got along well. the sun started to go down so i asked them if they knew a place i could camp for the night. one started giving me directions on how to get out of the congestion and under some trees while another bumped him and whispered " the mate cood stay widdas, can'ee?" he quickly changed to "ouw, you cood stay widdas. we stayin in the fowest mai', bi-yu'iful naichur mai', no one weull bover you". fuck it, lets see where i'll end up tonight. i followed him to the bus stop and spent two pounds on the public transit out of the center. i shouldve pay attention to where we were headed but i didnt. i just followed. our stop was up in a far away neighborhood. we walked across the street into an open field and made our way into the woods with only a small trail to guide us there. we crossed some railroad tracks and then a small gate onto another winding path through thorned trees. our route forked out and we were lost temporarily until hitting a marked tree. "this way mai". another few minutes of walking led us to an open campground with five others tents already pitched around a fire. i met the others who were quickly trying to make space for me in one of their tents. "thanks but i have a tent of my own"."oh thas brilliant mai'." one helped me pitch it up and i started scatering everything out of my new pack, even my old backpack. i made sure i took everything i needed and walked over to the one mate that brought me to the woods. "here you go kev, its all yours" he tried to refuse but i insisted. i was just given one, so i had to pass on the genorousity. "take it, itll be of some use for you and itll just be extra weight for me". kev was in his fifties, living in several cities throughout england only months at a time. he was leaving canterbury within a few days so this backpack couldnt have had better timing. he was truly grateful and in exchange he became protective of me. that night, the others would tease eachother and when they would tease me he would bark at them to stop. "its okay, kev, no harm done" i would giggle. i would sit silently by the fire and he would ask "izrayell, you alrigh'? au you hungry mai'? we've go' food, take wha'eva you like" he was the proud owner of a tent with a stockpile of canned food. there was also steve-o, a young lad in his early twenties, and his girflriend who must have been around forty. they had a child together of which they didnt have custody of. problems with their parents, altogether just a rough life. upon meeting them i gave them a couple of american coins. simple gifts. practically nothing on my part, but to them it was enough to develope a strong bond, a trust you find with only your closest friends. we were experiencing living in the woods together, away from the shops and fat businessmen. i came as a tourist, and i had these homeless mates taking good care of me. later that night, they explain the woods were training grounds for the british navy. wicked. this is where i ended up tonight. the fired faded to embers, and slowly everyone headed off to bed. goodnight. i got a good eight hours of delicous sleep that night. around seven in the morning i woke up and joined the others for a simple breakfast of beans and black tea. we chatted until around ten, a couple of them already taking sips from the gin bottle, and i went back to the tent for a nap. a few hours later, i was awaken by the sounds of walkie talkies and new voices. the group had desperation and worry in their tone when they talked. police? wtf is going on? my heart pounded, i wasnt supposed to get in trouble, i made a promise. after a few minutes i got enough courage to peak through my tent window. kev was dizzily sitting on the ground, drooling blood, with five paramedics around him, one handing him water from a plastic bottle. my heart raced even more. i unzipped the tent door halfway, and stuck half my body out, on my way to be by kevins side. but steve-o's girlfriend caught a glimpse of me and signaled me to wait in the tent. i sat there, veins pumping intensely through my whole body, watching the paramedics take kev out of the campsite. it took some time for my blood pressure to regulate. the others informed me of kevs condition, he had stomach ulcers, but this day was particularly bad. with the whole incident, things were quiet. jon was still drinking gin, pissed drunk at this point and spotted a passerby through dense woods. he started cussing at the shady character which lured him over. he came over in camoflauge and an oversized bacpack full of military gear. they shouted angrily back and forth and the military guy warned us to be out of the campsite by the next morning. "ou fak off!" babbled jon with the rest of the crew trying to hush him up. the tight group from yesterday was falling apart. maybe it was only picture perfect for my arrival. a friend of a friend came by the camp shortly after the camo'd tough guy had left. i chatted with him bit about texas as i packed my tent. "i need to find internet, and just in case i cant find my way back through the woods, ill take everything."."you need needa use the web mai'? you can cum use i't a' ma place, is neerby?". " yea sure thanks" and i off i went following yet another stranger. on the way to his flat, he explained how he would love to travel like me, but his heroin addiciton wouldnt allow him to leave his city for more than a few days. he was now perscribed a synthetic drug to mimmic the addictive chemicals in heroin. only given a limited dosage, he had to refill at the local pharmacy every two or three days. i wondered what i was getting myself into, but didnt panic. everyone around me seemed to be living a tough life, while I was having fun on vacation.

http://en.wikipedia.org/wiki/Canterbury

And The Adventure Begins II: Jolly Ol' England

2012-11-14T19:02:00.001-08:00

the night was full of goodbyes. i didnt get any sleep because i was so anxious for what was to come. waking up before the sun my parents did me the favor of dropping me off at the airport. parked in the departures lane, i gave my dad a strong hug and kissed my mom goodbye. at the counter, i checked in alone. virtually no line through customs and wondering what to think of it all. i was about to embark on a new journey halfway across the globe. this time, the longest, most intense and by myself. i killed time by playing super mario world on my laptop and spent the first flight speaking spanish with the mexican heading to puerto rico. bragging to him about my previous travels on low budgets, squeezing as much life out of life as possible. "go ahead and experience new things" i told him. "Just do it" like i was once told. my two decades of experience were inspiring in a way. He was mildly captivated and wished me luck, promising to keep in touch. the second flight, Houston- Washington DC, didnt go quite the same. A DC native sat next to me and a conversation got started. where are you headed? he asked. "london" i replied. he nodded and grinned like his face was a one thumb up. "but I'm heading to a little bit of the middle east, and egypt" i couldnt resist. his eyes widened slightly this time, he was listening. "what part?" he calmly asked. still being arrogant i said "well you know, Israel, jordan, but i really wanted to see syria". "syria? theres some things going down over there" He began explaining the politics behind all the mania in the middle east. His intent was merely to inform, not to discourage. This guy was no joke, I'm used to people with no experience giving me advice about traveling. i usually pretend these strangers are giving me credible insight, and later on brush off the nonsense they blabbered about. but he was different. he knew his shit. Now, I was listening. we went off non-stop conversing about life and its many complexities. human nature, different cultures, small things people arent aware of in their routine lives, him having children, me being a child, having parents. all with at least two points of view. we clicked, on que. he put things into perspective for me from his experience. I understood most of it and questioned what i didnt. so much humble wisdom was bluetoothed from his brain onto mine. the conversation eventually became very technical and wore us out a bit. i fell asleep for a little while and awoke to him asking me more about my gear. "I have it all" i told him. "in and around my (school) backpack i have my home, office, kitchen, studio, workshop, closet, ". " you need one that straps to your hips" he insisted. i know but you take what you can get" i laughed. once landing he excused himself and called his daughter next to me. "I just landed sweety, come pick me up. Oh and that backpack thats in the basement, bring that too". the pilot came on and released us from the airbus. on the way out, he asked me to walk him out. i dont know much about airplane rules but i walked him out anyway. we made it to his two seater convertible bmw on the pick up lane and he pulled out a proper pack for backpacking. "i want you to have it" he said. just like that, and handed it over. i tried to declining but he genuinely wanted it for me with nothing in return. maybe he noticed the glimmer in my eyes when i saw it."put some miles on it!" he said and drove off. it was a perfect fit when i tried it on. i couldnt be any happier.
so far, so good. i smoked a cigarette outside meanwhile discovering pockets, zipping, unzipping, strapping down, buckling, tightening and loosening my new pack. unfortunately, i had to start the whole process again to get to the gates. hurry up and wait in a line was the procedure. the line in DC was excruciatingly long. the closer i got to the x ray machines, the more i wondered if this new gift on my back would cause more harm than good. what if i was carrying something i wasnt allowed to carry on board? how would i explain this scenario to TSA? "oh yea officer, a complete stranger gave me this bag and i didnt know what was in it." i didnt think that would go down so easy, so i quickly changed the story in my head to "a friend came by to drop it off before i departed" good enough to fool them, you sly dawg, but they didnt even bother to ask. bag clear, guitar clear. it had already been a few hours since i left texas. hunger set in so i bought the cheapest sandwich i could find in the airport, but i also splurged a few extra dollars on cookies. at the gate with the plane heading to heathrow, you could already smell the english coffee. i befriended a trio of blond americans with macadamian nut. they had packs similar to mine so i figured i'd ask where they were heading. "were backpacking london for two weeks and paris for one" they said. their hotels reserved ahead of time. pfft. i didnt bother with emails. i imagined, with their three week budget i could travel a year the way i travel. time came to board, and i was seated next to a couple of american tourists heading to moscow. since i didnt have a host yet, i was secretly hoping to sweet talk a local into letting me crash their couch a day while i figured out the next step. no such luck. the pilot spoke through the speaker, seatbelts on, and i was launched into the sky for the last time. the flight was long and exhausting. you get a choice of lame tv shows or bad music for six and a half hours. with violent shaking randomly in the upright position, i still managed to get about an hour of sleep. happened to be during desert. damn it! thats the only part i like. around six in the morning english time we started circleing london. i couldnt wait to land. after a half hour of loops in the air, we started decending. the tires screeched, making everyone slightly bounce off their seats, and we finally had contact with the earth again. this time in the european hemisphere, safely rolling to a stop. the captain came on the intercom and handed us over to the authorities. it was like a bouch of cattle forming lines again. the NON-EU line was shorter but definitely not faster. when it was my turn i walked up to the counter and out of all the immigration officers i got one old hag with a pissy face on. she must have missed breakfast or something. i handed over the little piece of paper they have you fill out, stating i would be in the UK only for two days. after an evening of work, a sleepless night, 18 hours of airports, lines, waiting, flying, more airports, more lines, more waiting, i wasnt as charismatic as my usual self. the conversation went a little like this.
I.O. how long will you be in the UK?
me- one day but i put two just in case
I.O. -where will you be staying?
me- with a friend
I.O.- whats your friends name?
me- uhh, jonathon
I.O.- his FULL name.
me- uhh, langford
I.O.- how do you know jonathon?
me- through the internet
I.O.- where does jonathon live?
(i almost giggled at the thought of both of us trying to figure out where this fictional character lived)
me- im not so sure, i have to check the internet. worst case ill book a hostel
I.O.- which hostel?
me- smart russel sqaure (the hostel i stayed at my first time in london)
I.O.- whats the address to this hostel?
me-(this time i giggled) im not sure, ill have to check the internet.
I.O.- where are you heading after UK?
me- belgium
I.O.- and after belgium?
me- germany
I.O.- and after germany?
me- im heading to egypt, and ill be crossing any country on the way by land
I.O.- how long will you be traveling?
me- five or six months, (i was being honest) but i would like to get to the middle east as fast as possible
I.O.-then why did you come to the UK?
me- it was the cheapest flight into europe
I.O.- how much money do you have in the bank?
me- four or five hundred dollars
I.O.- No
me No?
I.O.- its not possible
me- it is very possible, this is how i travel.
I.O.- do you have a return ticket?
me- no
I.O.- how will you get home?
me- if i need to i will phone home for extra money
I.O.- what do your parents do for a living?
me- im sorry, is there a problem?
I.O.- yes, I need to figure out why you are here
me- yes, i told you already, im heading to egypt by land.
I.O.- with trains, hotels and restaurants, you will spend your money in a couple of days
me- yes but i hitch hike, stay with friends, and cook my own food.
I.O.- even then how will you stretch four hundred dollars for six months? are you planning to work?
me- no, i just finished working and i have more money coming in.
I.O.- How much money?
me- look, i just came to england because it was a cheap flight. ill be in belgium tomorrow out of the UK so i dont see the problem
I.O.- you look, its up to me to decide whether or not you enter the country. so i would change the attitude.
me- youre right, im sorry, im just very exhausted from traveling all the way from texas and i would like to get some food.
I.O.- ... wait here. ill get some one else to see you.
me. someone else to see me?
she took my passport, closed her counter and went away to fetch another officer. meanwhile i was told to wait at a bench with three brown guys wearing caps with a mexico logo, a small group of africans and a family of muslims. being american this was a category i wasnt expecting to ever be in. fucking english immigration, as if their country was so great. i was getting ansy and embarressed at the same time. the whole line of passengers on my same flight made it through with ease. even the three blonde bimbos pretended i didnt exist. what the hell is going on, am i dreaming? another flight arrived, and they all made it through with time to spare before they put the attention back on me. two officers came to escort me, "come with us please". no one else got escorted, i started to worry. they, one male of turkish decent and a shorter female both with heavy london accents, took me to get my luggage. a single backpack layed on an otherwise empty conveyer belt. the officers showed me to a spotless slerling silver table, patted me down and asked me to empty my belongings. i complied and started dumping my things out of my bag. they searched with caution, slowly checking everything with latex gloves for some unknown reason. a belt, random t shirts, a tent, a rolled up tarpouline, a laptop, a guitar, extra pair of shoes, an extra backpack, a bank bag with assorted pliers, screw drivers, key rings, coins from foreign countries amongst goofy random items such as a necktie, a cape, a butterfly knife, all laid out. i fussed," i dont understand the problem, am i in trouble?". they said "we dont know but weve been told to detain you. once i was cleared, i was showed to a seperate room, one the likes of normal tourists never get see. "were going to take some photographs of you, sit there please" i sat in front of a household digital camera and prepared myself for a mugshot. "take off your hat please" the lady officer said."okay but im not combing my hair" i whined jokingly. by the time i was finished being fingerprinted there was a set of four prepherated photo prints with my face on it. "hey i kinda like this picture, you think i could keep one?". she smiled and tore me off a piece. even if i got deported it would make a nice souvenir. they took me to another room deeper in the mysterious 'behind the scenes' heathrow. in a new room, i was searched again and seperated from my bag. a nice staff member with my passport in his hands asked with enthusiasm " youre from texas, what are you doing in london?". i replied with "ive come a very long way and im not in london yet, whats going on? i just want to get out of here". he frowned " they are looking for someone to interview you". "interview me? how long is this all going to take?" he politely said "i havent a clue, he could be on his way now, or it could take several hours". i hissed" arhh, well im hungry. i need to eat something, are you just going to starve me here?" he giggled at my impatience and points to a small fridge filled with sanwiches. " youre hungry, take whatever you like, and theres a coffee machine over there". i calmed down and thanked him. i took a sanwich and stuffed it in my mouth without thinking twice. he smiled and said "i cant stay with you but if you need anything ill be in the next room". he walked over to his work space, i could see him clearly through two window panes. another sandwich, two coffees and a water. the machine was selling cups once upon a time, the type that spits a new cup everytime with the correct amount of fluid, but was now rigged so you didnt have to pay. i took advatage of this, and pushed the buttons even though i wasnt thristy, starting a collection of coffee cups. i paced back and forth for a few minutes and decided i was too tired to stress. i spotted a leather lounge chair, one you could find in a therapists' office, and decided to lay down. once there, i noticed the surveillance camera pointed at me, recording every second. WTF? the minute hand on the clock on the wall did a full rotation before i gave up. i used my bandana as a blindfold, my jacket as a blanket and tried to get some sleep. after some time a lady came in pushing a cart. i removed my blindfold to find she was part of the cleaning crew. i tried to say hello but she was foreign and didnt speak english. she simply ignored me and scurried away. to her, i was the criminal being detained. and to me, how she managed to get a job at the airport, especially cleaning rooms of immigration officers will remain a mystery. the nice englishman came back with cookies and apologized for the wait. i told him "its okay, i know its not your fault, but thanks". i ate the cookies and went back to sleep. some hours later the door opened again and a tall chubby officer woke me up with the sounds of his loud footsteps. "Izrayelle Kevazus" he summoned, i got up and walked over to him, calmly not to startle and forced my best smile before shaking his hand. he sat me in a chair in a room within the detaining cell i was already in and shut the door. "i will be conducting a formal interview". "no problem, i will tell you everything you need to know" i smiled and asked politely this time " but i dont understand, why i am being detained? did i do something wrong? im being treated like a criminal, i promise ill leave the country today if i have to". he looked at me said "thats not the problem, if you go off to europe and get into trouble you will be sent back here and the british government will have to pay for a flight to deport you. so, i need you to be very honest with me because if youre lying, or i think you are lying i will just deport you now.". holy fuck! this whole process was to deport me? ive looked at maps, made plans, found work, and told many many people about this trip for months. and it could all be over before i even set foot in england. i did my best to cooperate. the interview began with basic questions: name, birthdate, address. writing down both every word he asked and every word i answered. then the questions got more and more personal, whats your education level, married or single, have you ever been convicted of any crime, what do you do for a living, how much money in your bank account, what do you parents do for a living, how much do they earn a year etc. i explained ive been traveling for a few years, and had a travel blog on the internet. i pulled out a homemade business card with a QR code link to ziggyflairs.blogspot with the print 'ziggy was here' on one side and my email address on the other. i travel on a low budget on purpose, its the only way to get a real adventure. he wasnt impressed. after an hour on the hot seat, he put his pen down removed his reading glasses "well that concludes the interview. i believe you were honest with me however it is not my choice to decide. i will pass this on to my boss and he will decide." he asked me to sign the document and wait. indeed a formal interview, about three pages long of some very private information. and having no other choice, i did. after 45 minutes the same chubby officer came back with a sheet of paper. i glanced at it to find a T chart list of pros and cons about me entering the country. the cons far outweighed the pros. he sat back down in his seat and said "well izrell, normally in a situation like this we'd be sending you back home. But, today is an especially busy day here at heathrow and to deport you would take another five hours of paperwork. i think it'll be much easier just to give your passport a stamp." relief set in, no longer feeling the heat pulsating in my face i smiled and said. "yes, thank you, that would be much easier." hearing the sound of a new stamp on my passport is always great but this one was heaven. i put away my passport and before i could leave he says "stay out of trouble please, i dont want to see you in here again." i replied with "no worries, you will never ever in your life ever see me again." and left before he could change his mind.

Lyon: French for lion

2012-04-13T22:36:00.000-07:00

with things to worry about, we fled paris as soon as we woke up. our last driver unknowingly drove off with an extremely important item, miguels passport amongst other valuables. we only had his first name, that he worked at a supermarket franchise, and the city he lived in to go off. the hunt was on. we continued towards lyon, unshowered, collecting grime and developing an acquired smell. a laid back french futbol player picked us up and dropped us off at a roundabout after a half hour ride. miguel and i stood side by side sharing earbuds connected to his ipod. thumbs in the air singing along to lighten the mood. we kept momentum heading south eventually hitting Villefranche-sur-Mer by nightfall. miguel used a payphone to get in contact with his aunt in the suburb. she picked us up and we were on the way to a new sanctuary. the car doors closed and our smell started to leak through thick clothing. "Ewww, Apestan! deben bañarse" jaja. she scolded us in spanish for our stench. trust me, a shower is the only thing on my mind. i havent mentioned i wasnt shaving for this trip. my beard was a well traveled month and a half. even with the shower, i looked like a hillbilly caveman. but hey, i had a good chunk of time off and went wild. their home was warm and cozy. miguel sat and logged into the office computer upstairs. calm, until he read his messages. he jumped off his chair, arms in the air an shrieked. "heheyy" chuckling with excitement "its the driver! he found my passport!". what a relief! this nice guy was kind enough to find him on facebook. miguel replied with a "Je suis très jolie!". a package would be on its way to us in a matter of days. that first night started on fire. time to put all the excitement away and get some rest. the next morning we did chores and alejandra showed us around some nearby vinyards. i stole handfulls of left-over grapes from the recent harvest.
southern france souldn't be any more beautiful. Staying with miguels relative was not what i expected. His aunt was humble and incredibly generous, with the rule of cleanliness to back her up. around the house we teamed up for dinner. every dish was to be washed righ after use. all together we came up with french style tamales, using duck fat instead of pork, and fresh vegetables from her back yard. we even had brownies for desert, my belly couldnt be more filled with happiness. the next morning, our clothes were washed, dried, fresh and ready to hit the town in. his aunt drove us out to the highpoint for some extraordinary sights. for brunch near a musical stream we combatted the brisk breeze with crepes and sugar cakes. at the plaza closer to town, we bumped into a group of kid skaters blowing off some steam. i used my few phrases to make friends and borrow a board for myself. yep, i'm as bad as i remembered. half the day was spent strolling around and enjoying the weather until his aunt offered to take us to lyon. we arrived to the exact opposite. there were policemen, pedestrians and protesters overrunning the town. store front windows were shattered by rocks and tear gas equally launched back at civilians. we wanted to take a closer look, but at our best behavior, under the supervision of miguels aunt, we stayed put. a bookstore provided shelter and distractions from the outside world. when the violence died down, we were free to roam around once again until dinner time. fast forward another awesome plate, hot shower, and a good nights rest. the next day we took a bus back into lyon to visit miguels other cousin thomas. alex and her friend charlotte were joining us more like guiding us until we got to alex's brother. since he was living in the city he became the certified tour guide of our group.
he brought us to some historical sites, high viewpoints of the town, the university, and eventually a pub. no german? ill take a deutch bier. after a quick drink we cooked a late lunch and ate together. there was a light conversation going on half english half frenglish. but all that was on my mind was this beautiful french girl across the table. my plan was to play it cool B) but i knew i'd be competing against comrad. he had his eyes on her too. after our tummies digested it was time to head back, and guess who joined the slumber party?? this mystery girl
was tagging along, and it was difficult to read her thoughts. i think shes flirting with you, but i think shes flirting with me too. damn! i could make it hard for both of us to get her, or i could distract his cousin so he could work his magic. either way, the trains were running but not the bus, damn strikers- with your stupid unions! we were stuck out there and had to call her mom to get us. she wasnt happy about that. the car ride back was quiet other than the scoldings aimed at the girl in the front seat. we arrived and scurried into the room like squirrels would from a 4 year old. we felt safe again, chatting before bedtime. no magic, gnight. the next day charlotte was gone, window of oppurtunity vanished. chores were done so i moped around, and turned on the tv. cee lo green's "fuck you" music video was blasting through the screen uncensored. I CANT BELIVE WHAT THIS GUY IS SAYING! but i love it! the rest of the day was uneventful other than miguel receiving his package. that meant it would be our last day. another great dinner and more computing, communicating back home before it was time to sleep. we awoke around 6, before the sun had a chance to peak over the horizon. before leaving, his aunt stuffed our bags with preservable food and chocolate. when we stepped outside, the chill grabbed me by the the shoulders and gave me a good shake before i realized everything was covered in ice. i guess a cold front had hit overnight and painted outside completely white. his aunt was kind enough to drop us off at a tollbooth with plenty of slow moving traffic. however, we were too puny to face the elements. we sought shelter from the wind, and let the sun warm the frigid outdoors for an hour or so. when the temperature wasnt freezing, we went out and got back to work. next stop was Spain, the last country on our european tour.

Belgium, land of the flemish

2012-02-28T22:42:00.002-08:00

the weather was still a bit chili, regardless, with six countries under my belt, i was confident i could easily catch up. miguel had already hit a checkpoint in belgium the night before with arnaud and lucas. starting early i hit a few rides with the help of my cardboard sign. a few hours into it and i was already in antwerpen where i needed to be. but i was wrong. i mistook the address once again. our flemish friends were in ghent attending the university. belgium is tiny from any angle so i wasnt far. however, this 30km was one of the harder tasks on the to do list. by the time i arrived in the right town it was after dusk. i tirelessly walked about looking for an address guided be foreign strangers. none of which seemed to know where i needed to go. i wandered around back and forth looking for a bus stop map. when i finally found one, i heard "israel!!!!" shouted in my direction. i turned around and saw the only people in belgium to know my name, miguel and lucas. haha! what a coincidence, just my luck. laughed, shook hands, hugged and back to the flat. we helped set up some furniture from Ikea and pre-gamed a few duvals with some of their friends. after a home cooked dinner, we got ready and hit the party filled streets.

strolling into one of the guys' girlfriends' flat, tight and filled with college girls. dressed casually with bright socks they unanimously giggled at us americans and our plain whites. we tried, but failed convincing them to tag along. the conversation died down and we were off to a club in order to find a new rhythm. in the club we were all sipping drinks on a stairway, watching white people dance badly. mingling around, we met this cute girl name laura. she was a big fan of texas- houston in particular. we chatted, maybe even danced a bit (cant remember) and she was gone. plan b was to crash a frat style party. €5 cover charge.. Pfft. that would feed me fore days. it was easy to get in but we ended up leaving early.

drinking the night away, we walked back home relatively safe. the next morning it was time again to hit the road, leaving the flems behind. our next destination would be with miguels family in lyon, france. our lyon sign was massive, dimensions approximately 8ft x 2.5ft. it took the both of us to hold it. it didnt really work because people passing by thought it was a joke. eventually we caught a frenchman who heading to nice. quik spliff and back on the side of the road. france wasnt as easy to hitch as we remembered, or maybe it was just the fact there was two of us. whatever it was, it took a whole day and we only made it to paris. when our last car drove off, miguel noticed a crucial part of everything we needed was missing. his infamous green backpack! on the floorboard of our nice drivers car. in it his passport, laptop and other goodies. we were fucked (well mostly him). at least we were back in paris. we tried calling a few contacts registered in our little black book. people we met previously in the city, no luck. starving, miguel bought a € burger from mcdonalds and got the cashier to comp him one more for me. i fed against my views, but i made sure it would be the last time i ever ate mcdonalds. looking for a campground in the city we stumbled onto a lot where a circus was setting up. the humble giant at the gate let us in and tried to put us up for the night, but we were too much of a liability. why dont you try over there? the lot across the street was big, also gated. used to store construction material for roads. the breech in security via hole in the fence, indicated someone had been here before. we explored a hobo spot, already set up was dining table, grill area and a cozy lounge. im sure wherever this guy is, he wont mind us marveling at his place. i started up the buddy burner and heated up a double portioned can of beans. back to the big problem. in two weeks there would be an airplane scheduled to pick us up at the airport in barcelona. miguel didnt have a passport and time was running out. deep in my thick pleather jacket i pulled out a baggy i made from the bottom of a cigarette box.

inside was a piece of white widow i unknowingly imported from holland. enough to load my pipe, miguel joined in, polishing a rough night. miguel was giggling, taking it easy, as if there were no problems. we laid and stared at the stars, incredibly brilliant above.

Amsterdam!

2012-02-19T14:57:00.000-08:00

Jorge joined forces for this hitch. the day started with a chubby german adolecent giving us a lift. ill take you to holland no problem he said with a smile. we ended up cruising through a neat little town, split by the national german/nederland border. imagine the neighbor across the street was in another country. oh snap! i didnt even realize we left the highway please take us back. he was dumbfounded, like taking dropping us off in town was a bad idea, which it definitely was. no hard feelings, asshole. taking us off the route. 12 km away was an ideal petro station. translation= a few miles, which doesnt seem so bad until youre walking it. fuck that its like 8 hours of walking. cars werent picking us up and comrad began yelling at the drivers out of frustration. Am*dam! so close, yet so far. we gave up and started down the highway, when the magic, as always, happened. a vw bus pulled over and the dutch family took us in. cute foreign toddlers strapped and speaking their first phrases. it was a short ride but put us back on track. wet set up at an onramp with an intersection. pretty blonde nederland girls smiled and waived as they passed by. this raised our spirits, and we got our next ride. a young afghan couple headed to utrecht. we talked about the food, Farsi and other non-controversial aspects of life in afghanistan. kind people. the day was already gone when we were let off in a petrol something like 45km away. we took a break and stank ourselves up with a tuna and whole grain for dinner. a dutch guy was chilin in his parked european car with his girlfriend half bored sipping coffee. jorge was inside so i waived the guy down with the amsterdam sign. hey guy, can you take me and my friend? he glared at me and after a moment decided, eh sure why not. we were loading up the trunk by time jorge came back to a surprise, we would be getting there tonight. our driver took us all the way downtown across from the grand train station. the night was drowned out by all the city lights. we went sought internet and an interesting aroma lured us into an internet cafe. it was dense with smoke but i was able to check couchsurfing.com enough to communicate with my host. Patrick accepted me as host but he lived in haarlem about 20 min away by train. i guess thats where were heading. we boarded a train and ended up in haarlem right at 11pm or 23:00 hrs and made our way to his flat. some construction re-routed the buses but we eventually found his building. BUZZ... no answer. BUZZZ... no answer. BUZZ BUZZ BUZ BUZZ... still no answer. it was getting late, almost midnight, and jorges frustration began to show again. he was ansy to get settled inside and get some sleep where it was warm. i had a phone number to call so we searched for a pay phone in the area. once again no luck, do pay phones even exist anymore? i spotted a light in the park across the street and headed to take a look for myself. i found a group of teens who were scrambling around as i walked up to them, probably smoking drugs. "hey guys could i borrow a phone? im getting hosted by patrick who lives across the street but i dont think he's home" i told them. "oh" relieved "you need a phone? no problem" one of the guys replied. i called pat to let him know we came early and he would be rushing home on his bicycle. one of the teens gave me a quick lift on his mopad back to the building and pat showed after about 15 minutes. we went up to his place where he lived alone in his late 30's. kind of a creepy guy, but all the hosts in amsterdam were already taken. he was very neat and clean and offered us a late dinner before going to bed. miguel had arleady arrived and found a place in the city so the next day jorge went to meet up with him. out of respect for my host (and a bit of remorse i still had towards miguel for leaving me)

i stayed behind. when pat got off work he took me on a tour of the city a few other places. haarlem was a beatiful place, the windmill we went to was pretty awesome too. look up what windmills are really for, them shits are legit! i asked pat "whats holland known for -foodwise?". "well we usually eat chinese, or burgers, or italian, sometimes even mexican, but if we had a food it would probably be potatoes mashed or in a soup". fucking ey, i love potatoes! and soups! we cooked dinner and ate in silence. not much to talk about, which is weird because i usually have something to say. the rest of the evening was a bit awkward so we just sat in front of the tv. half the channels were in english, but i prefered the complex language of the dutch. sleep came and i was back home in my dreams. the next morning i made breakfast and let pat know i'd be going to amsterdam for the day. he was nice enough to give me a copy of the house keys. miguel, jorge and i made plans to meet up at the central station at 4 but i was late, caught a late train, and missed them. fuck it im in amsterdam! i figured my way back to the coffee shops and drooled over all hydroponic weed. well i should but ill splurge, gimme the cheapest shit. a gram of white widow set me back 8 euros, and the king-size papers were free, not bad at all. i sat down and a friendly white guy covered in tattoos offered to roll it for me. (in contrast to the US, not many people have tattoos).

sure thing man, he broke up what he needed and mixed it with tobacco. out came a big ass spliff, bob marley style! spark it up, i handed it back to him. we shared about 1/4 of it and that was more than enough. i thanked him and he left. i was so fucking high, all i could focus on was the sugar packets on the table for over an hour. i finally snapped out of it enough to get out and go meet with miguel. along the way, on every corner was souvenir shops selling shirts, wooden shoes, post cards etc. after about a week or so, i finally met up with miguel, and he updated me with his little fling in Copenhagen. we explored amsterdam, checking out the canals, and some amazing street art. night time came and i still had most of the spliff left so we decided to kill it secretly on a sidewalk. SMOKING WEED ON THE STREET IN AMSTERDAM IS ILLEGAL! but we did it anyway cause we're awesome. we snuck on a tram (above-ground electric trolly) and sat in the back, me all stoned and nervous. the three of us were now safe entering a midsize to large apartment big enough for a huge family. there was three of us and i saw at least seven other flatmates zigzagging about.

comfortable night on the couch amongst the peers. the next day i returned to haarlam, i guess thats enough Am*dam to get it out of my system. miguel set the departure date for noon, i went along with it. pats not home, i should make some breakfast and lunch for the road. at the supermarket i was faced with decision that ended up delaying me a whole day. you see there was two different cartons, a 12pk for 1.15 euro and a 36 pk right next to it for 1.85 euro. how could i resist? i hurried back to cook and be back on my way to belgium. when i was heating up the pan i remembered i still had some pot, and loaded my pipe. after a few hits, time was unimportant. i ended up cracking 8 eggs and chopping two lbs of potatoes into the frier. this was supposed to be breakfast AND lunch, but my killer case of munchies wouldnt allow me to stop eating. i finished everything, too full to do anything but sit back and watch tv. looks like belgium would have to wait another day.

hamburgers and more

2012-02-10T11:34:00.000-08:00

a combination of wiki hitch and open minded germans makes getting rides so easy it almost takes the fun out of it. i had time to kill and no real destination in mind so i picked a few citys on the route to amsterdam. in germany, the first two letters of every license plate gives away its owners origin. perfect for spotting a potential lift. within ten minutes, the HH sign i was recommended to make by wiki had me on my way to hamburg. two hours filled with dream theatre later i had made it. my driver dropped me off on the other side of town so i decided walking would be best for sight seeing and a little needed excersize. along the way i took a break at a community skate park. amongst other kids a group of 15 yr old punks were tearing up the place. they were flipping boards off stairs, grinding on rails, even catching huge air on the vertical ramp. damn fearless youngsters! truely amazing to watch. i continued by subway, last station on the route "altona", switching trains with a watchful eye for badges. i emerged and found the building to kits flat. he welcomed me in, shoes outside please. but of course, i just hope my feet dont stink up the place. i sat next to him in the living room and we chatted a bit. "how about we go to dinner!" he offered, "ah, i'd love to but im not on that kind of budget" i replied. "no problem, my treat". i tried to politely refuse but he insisted "its my favorite". we walked to a nearby restaurant and continued the conversation. the next day while he was out at work i caught up on skyping family members and practiced my soup making. when he returned he happily gave me a tour of the reaperbahn, hamburgs red light district. we hit the 99 cent bar for a quick pregame and saw more of the town. our next spot was the sofa bar, exactly what you would think, a bar filled only with couches.

we talked until he noticed a couple of girls and went in for the kill. i thought this poor guy is going to get rejected but instead i was invited to join them. we chatted with the two tourists from switzerland exchanged information and called it a night. my host was pretty short but he had a confidence with women not found in most guys. he confessed he had read neil strauss' "the game" as did i, so we shared a few pickup techniques before hitting the sac. once again he went to work early in the morning and i went with the girls to wander around town for a while. did you know hamburg has a beach? you wouldnt think there would be such a thing in the center of germany but there is.

when kit got home we hit the clubs again and he managed the girls to come over. some more drinks at a cool alternative bar and we kissed the girls good bye. mmm swiss girls are friendly ;) the next day i had to keep moving so i packed lunch and set sail to koln. at least i thought thats where i was headed. i sent couch requests to koln but the one i sent to dusseldorf was the one that accepted me. i hitched rides all day mostly from engineer to engineer, however a dutch trucker driver also waived me into his semi. he was in his early thirties long blonde hair hip guy from amsterdam. he went out of his way to show me 'how i met your mother' on his laptop. finally i arrived at the beautiful church downtown koln and decided to walk alone to kolnerland strasse. i cant find this fucking address! i gave up and phoned emmerich "hey im here in koln but i cant find you"."what?! i live in dusseldorf man, come to dusseldorf" he replied. "alright alright, ill be there as soon as i can" my sense of direction failed me again. frustrated, i actually paid to board a train to my hosts' flat. the tram ride was free and i asked a girl if she could help me find the street. "sorry, i'm not from here" she said. "danke shone" i replied but found it immediately after. around midnight emmerich buzzed me in and i got to meet him in person. "hey man, did you get a little lost haha" he teased. "yea sorry im late, im bad with directions". on his profile had a picture of him with a goofy face and it said he was a balle dancer. this guy is hilarious! the next day i found out he was really a balle dancer. next to his computer there was a binder filled with newspaper clippings of the great shows he was starring in. legit. he didnt have a couch, but it was no problem, the floor is fine as long as its indoors. i got some rest for wandering this new city. dusseldorf didnt have much to see, mostly industry and shopping centers, so i cut the touring short. on the way back to his place i stopped at a market and bought some more groceries. the stove was on food was on, cooking when i remember i was missing garlic. quickly i rushed to the computer for some help with translation. the neighbor answered the door after knocking "hast du ein knoblouch bitte?".

even though i saved the day with quick thinking, my soup making skills were getting worse. emmerich eventually came home with his girlfreind and we were off on our way to a german house party. there was beer, liquor and pot going around and out of courtesy most conversations were in engilsh. i remeber sitting in a foggy room talking under loud rock music. this one girl i sat next to and few forgettable others each had enough body jewelry on their face to pierce a small family at least twice. she noticed my lip ring was missing and offered one of hers. sure thanks. the party was going good. over the course of the night alcohol boiled my brain and the pot baked it. the late night train ride back to dUsZLl3drFF was said to be 30 min but in my condition i also counted in the minutes it took to get there and minutes waiting. it took forever, but we made it back and i settled in my spot on the floor. the next morning meant it was time to go. jorge arrived last minute joining me onward to amsterdam. miguel was finally found, he sent a message through facebook telling me he made it to copenhagen. the girl he was going to see bailed on him so he was turning around racing me to amsterdam. "idiot. im only two hours away" i chuckled in my thoughts. but it was still too early to know the joke was on me. the weather was perfect and wiki hitch provided a great spot walking distance away. next stop amsterdam!

berliner brau

2012-01-20T21:44:00.000-08:00

other than the masseus we didnt have much contact with any czech natives. leaving we thought it'd be funny to hitch hike at a bus stop and sure enough a car with german plates pulled over. the two girls offered a lift to berlin. it was a pleasant ride until the radio came on with the news. due to inclimant weather all the roads to berlin were flooded. there was no choice but to stop in dresden germany for the night. we didnt have a host lined up but our experienced led us to a starbucks to post an emergency couch request online. the cashiers waited after closing and our efforts paid off. i can host you, meet me at the bar for raggea night. we wandered the streets looking for the address and stumbled across some teenagers. the tallest one asked us something in german which miguel replied "nein nein nein danke". ignore this guy "sprechensie english?" i asked. he had droopie eyes and long blonde hair leaking from his beanie. he calmly replied "oh ya, i said if you need a place for the night". miguel changed from smartalic to friendly instantly "yah mahn, that would be awesome if thats ok". these guys were complete strangers offering to host us off the street. "we are going to the bank machine for beer money, komm with us". i didnt feel safe joining this group, we could go missing and no one would ever know. that was until he sparked a cigarret "smoke a yoint?" and handed it over. somehow we kept attracting stoner kind into our adventure. now i was thinking these guys are harmless pot smokers, i can make sense of that. christof invited us into his flat, where we shared drinks and stories. it was short night before we'd be back on our way. working on the side walk we tried some new hitch hiking techniques; new dance styles, improv, and even stacked (miguel on my shoulders and vice versa). an iranian driver gave us a ride "i take you in berlin wher i live". for a break we stopped at a car dealership where he worked. he happily introduced us to his coworkers and bought us a couple cups of coffee . he didnt speak great english so on the way i learned as much german as i could unaware it was with a middle eastern accent. the signs on the highway counted down the kilometers and we were finally in berlin. known for the party scene so it wasnt surprising to see the city light up the night. i like to say its the new york of germany. we hopped on a train with decals on the windows, asked a few pedestrians and found our address. since jorge didnt have a place of his own erik provided a place for a few nights. to celebrate our arrivel, another city conquered, we went out to try the famous doner kabobs. similar to a burger, but its turkish origin gave the doner a unique blend of spices that proved to be competitive. quite tasty. berliner brau ended the rest of the evening back at his flat .cristian came over along with his humour and bottle opening tricks. there wasnt anything he couldnt pop the top with. he was an expert in impersonating arnold schwarzenegger, "gett dauunn! gett tu da choppa! gett tu da bote!" we watched some youtube and went to bed. after work erik invited us to play texas holdem with his buddies. TEXAS holdem. we arrived, greeted everyone and started drinking."this my friend, is the ladykiller" erik said introduced me to a glass of mostly vodka, wine and a splash of lemon-lime soda. it was really sweet, i didnt realize how much alcohol i was drinking. i had a few and we headed towards the disco. before entering his friends sparked up a yoint and passed it to me. this shit was strong. we paid cover and went downstairs to the club thick with smoke. i could barely see, much less breathe and the world that seemed so still suddenly started spinning. it wasnt 15 minutes before i got out and puked on the sidewalk sitting indian style. my friends and even staff members i didnt understand were trying to help. i was too fucked up, all i remember was blurry tram rides on the way home. the american who couldnt handle his liquor, the butt of all german jokes. damn ladykillers! i woke up next to miguel, not knowing he went off and made new friends. we packed our things, said goodbye to erik and met up with jorge across town. miguel broke the news he was heading to norway, alone. the thought of him leaving scared me, but i didnt hold him back and he was gone. i went to check out the berlin wall, thinking the whole way. how could he do this? i felt angry he'd betray me. i was so vulnerable to the world with no one to get my back. i arrived at the historical site. the paintings and stories of the wall inspired me to keep moving. i caught a great outdoor ska show at alexanderplatz, in which a hilarious homeless guy stole the show with his harmonica. it lightened my mood before i made it to jorges temporary flat. there was no room so he arranged for me to sleep in a parked station wagon. it was roomy and i slept great. in the morning jorge woke me up and made eggs for breakfast, and some extra for lunch. before going anywhere, i had to lighten up. my gear was unbearable at 40+ lbs, so i ended up giving half my things away including clothes. thanks again jorge for all your hospitality, i couldnt of done it without you. and i was off. i had found a host in hamburg, that was the next stop, solo.

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Praha Praha Praha!

2012-01-16T10:52:00.000-08:00

how do you find a chevy in germany? look for the slowest car on the autobahn. the pretty girls that picked us up munich started our great day. they dropped us off at the mecca of petro stations, the onramp went on forever. perfect for slow traffic to laugh at us dancing with enough room to pull over. in minutes every hitchhikers dream came true for us in the form of an RV. Fk yeah! it didnt last long, but i still scratched it off the list. a german engineer crossed us over the invisible line they call a national border and we were now in the czech republic. eastern europe wasnt as rebuilt as the western, theres was a gloomy chill that penetrated my jacket. it was cold and even in the daylight everything seemed so grey. miguel returned from the store yelling "HAHA! WERE IN PARADISE MY FRIEND!". after taxes and comission his 5 euros turned into 108 crowns. we had a good needed laugh but the money conversion really threw us off. we argued for longer than we should have over the price of a czech car in euros and it began to get dark. a truce for street smarts vs book smarts. the citizens of this new country seemed to be stiff, no regard for others. even couchsurfing ahead of time proved to be harder than expected. miguel miraculously found us a host in the capital and i was dreading the thought of another horrible night in the rain. we HAVE to keep moving! just then a sexy blonde woman pulled in and went inside. this is it, every egg in this basket, ill beg if i have to. she came out seeing our great big smiles with our sign *PRAHA* aiming straight at her. she couldnt resist but to waive us in. how far are you going? we asked. she smiled and pointed to the sign, we would be there in a few hours fkn ay! her oversized sunglasses, tight jeans and heels made it look like she must have came from LA. nevertheless, conversation was difficult, she spoke a thick mix of english, german and czech. we werent on the autobahn anymore, but it didnt stop her from stepping on it. i asked her if she like to drive fast. she replied "is no prohblem" blushed and confessed "one tyme, poliz stop [gestured her car] and i giv massaj [giggles] no teeket". oh really? she grinned, mounted the shades on her nose and turned up the death metal. miles down the road she picked up a call and spoke to the man on the other side in czech. whatever she said had a naughty tone to it, language barriers only hold me back so much. "is that your boyfriend?" i asked "yes [chuckles] i hav menny boyfrens" she blushed again. we passed prague city limits and she offered a tour of the city. within ten minutes she had zigzagged through downtown flying by pedestrians "this iz old bridge; this iz museum of communism; this iz where michael jackson concert; this iz hotel obama stay" proudly showing off her home. dankyeh! "no no no!forr yu, no prrohblem" she kept reassuring us. we borrowed her phone and called out host max. eager to help she took back her phone for directions, but only made it harder since he was canadian and spoke little of her language. "beeforr yu go, yu kall kay" and handed us a business card. massages; sports injury, stress, pleasures... no way, could she be an escort? she let us off on his block around eleven. miguel went looking for max while i waited beneath the lit entrance of an alberts. a suspicious man came out of the darkness and handed me a strange alcoholic drink in a styrofoam cup. i suspected the tobacco lured him to me so i gave him a cigarret to roll. we had a broken conversation, his missing teeth and drunk state of mind started to intimidate me. miguel appeared from the shadows with our host for my rescue. max was a metal head, long dirty blonde hair past his shoulders, a sleeve tattoo of a wizard in an epic battle against a fierce dragon, and he even had a piercing high on his nose between his eyebrows. he was a really awesome guy, couldnt help but to laugh about our prostitute story. we went out for drinks on him, and a little bit of pool. three straight games of pure suck, then back to his flat. it was Nov 2nd,one month into the adventure, ill never forget because there was a shooting on the 6th floor of the PCL at UT austin. wow i remember i would always hangout there. next day we explored prague, this city was pretty amazing with all its ancient buildings. this one bridge was there hundreds of years before america was even born. prague castle was magnificent up close as well as from afar. continuing as cheap tourists, we boarded a train along with a few uniformed ticket checkers. Fuck! I panicked and jumped off.
miguel was too cool to care so he stayed put. the doors closed and he was gone. Fuck Fuck Fuck. Since he was the one that found our host, he had all his contact info; address, email, and phone number. all i had was tram number 7 to go on without the name of the stop. all alone and lost, i hopped from tram to tram, touring the city free for hours. it got dark and i started to worry. by mere chance i thought i recognized a street, why didnt i pay more attention when we left? yes this is it! miguel had only beat me by about 45 minutes "where the hell were you?" they asked "me? oh i was still exploring. alright fine, i was lost all day".
we cooked a vegetarian dinner and went out to the disco. his friends veronica and roman despite their warm welcoming personalities,were more goth than him. they dressed heavily in black trench coats, accessorized with chains and tall boots. you know, the eye liner, moshing, cross burning type. i hadnt come across people this into hard music, impressive i admit, these guys are wicked! veronica was beautiful, i was infatuated with her style, she was a demon princess that didt take shit. roman was eighteen, intelligent enough to speak 6 languages with a zangief build. i doubt any man at any age would want a fight with him. i snuck in a beer from the market across the street and poured it into an empty glass at the table, about a fourth of the price at the bar. europe on a budget! it got late and the trains stopped running so we kept drinking until they ran again. max told us the ticketers were a joke, the most they could do was call the police and hope theyd arrive to fine us. one uniformed man tried to stop me but i was able to juke around him. what? i dont hear anything. no fine for me thanks. frustration grew between miguel and i. we were attached at the hip for weeks and it was starting to show. he was pissing me off when they would ask us where we were going next and he would reply with "well I'M going here and I'M going there". i wanted to confront him but never managed it. time was against us, our plane would be flying off in a month from barcelona to argentina with or with out us. Berlin was the capital of germany, one last city to check out before racing towards spain.

wilkomen zum oktoberfest!

2012-01-10T23:40:00.000-08:00

we left zurich that night, but didnt leave switzerland. stranded again we sought an improvised campground out of sight behind a gas station. for dinner we cooked a bag of intant rice, mixed with a can of corn, toast and nutela for desert. the weather was perfect, this was better than a shtupid hostel. the next day we were back on route before getting a chance to stretch. our drivers, two of coolest ladies heading to see family in germany. they had been friends for decades, both fluent in five languages. we had a quick pit stop and shared childhood stories and fruit snacks. they talked about checkpoint charlie, the fall of the berlin wall and how buildings used to not have restrooms built in. they hitch hiked in their time, pleased to see we were doing the same from across the world. leaving switzerland we spent ten minutes driving through austria, and arrived in munchen an hour later. the roads were now dominated by classy BMW's and Volks Wagons. they stopped at the airport early in the morning, took a quick picture and wished us good luck as they waived good bye. you see, who said hitch hiking is scary? we headed underground and hopped on a train going downtown. blackriding made me nervous, there was no fine, it was jailtime. with each stop, more people wearing wonderful outfits would populate the train. everyone was in on it, from the kids to the elderly, as if i walked into the set of beauty and the beast. this oktoberfest thing was bigger than anything i could imagine. we unboarded at the HBF station, safe from the law, and found a restaurant with wifi. jorge was a friend from back home now studying in berlin. he was waiting for the past couple days so getting in touch was the priority. checking our mail, he left a message instructing us to meet at the main entrance of the festival, however we were a day late. with no other options we messaged him to try again. the festival was incredibly huge, hard to not lose anyone in the masses. the carnival rides and food stands came alive while everyone was getting their beer on. we took turns standing guard at the entrance and wandering into the fair, admiring and dreading its capacity. how the hell are we going to find this guy?? we spent about 6 hours of fruitless searching meanwhile taking spicy curry vurst sausage breaks. vilkomen zum oktoberfest! we gave up at midnight and the worst part was being stuck in the city with no host. we set off into dark streets as intoxicated passerbys walked their way home. ok, plan B, we camp at a park! worst they can do is arrest us right? we made it to the entrance of a few square blocks of vegetation. miguel saw a guy taking a leak and without shame asked "is this a park? hey man, is this, hey, is this a park?" the pisser dismissed him. a pedestrian turned around and with a thick bavarian accent said "ya, ziz is zeh park" he noticed our bags and connected the dots rather quickly. "yu need plaze to sleep?" he asked. without hesitation miguel replied " ya sure man that would be great". he analyzed us once more, like you would to a menu drunk at 3am, and said "ok, you stay, but one nite! komm". on the way to his place i practiced my deutsche "ich kommit aus texas" (i come from texas) which he replied with "ah! Tekzaz, chorch boosh, i done like chorch boosh" (GeorgeW.Bush) yea us either! sehr gut. "kahn you dzrrink bier?" he asked "i'll drink anything you put in front of me" i contested. he laughed, gestured in a 'get outta here' manner and shouted "fahk off! yankeez alwayz say zaht. fahk off!" we were all laughing, not knowing if he was serious or not, but continued on to his place. "hav you triet jerman bier?" he asked."no sorry, we just got to germany a little while ago"."Vaz? I sho you reelle jerman bier! no, no i sho you". we got to a pub on the first floor of his flat building and pitched in for a couple liters of real german beer, AugustinerBrau. we headed upstairs, pried the tops off *prosit* and drank. this brew was on the next level of beer. bold rich flavor that went down smooth, an instant favorite. "shhh, my flatmate zis a wanker" he made us some type of salami, yellow sausage and cheese along with fresh pretzels. bennys impression was of an overall funny asshole type of guy, only we was he was just joking about being an asshole. back in his room he put on some rap music and sang along "i got a hoee!!" by devin the dude. to my surprise sleep took him before me, poor guy had a headstart in the beer tent. we caught up on emails and couchsearching that night before nesting on the floor. we thanked him and left early the next morning to meet up with jorge. he was wearing a cowboy hat and boots and happy to see us at the HBF. we met his bff der volgermeister and picked up ingredients for a traditional bavarian meal on the way, consisting mostly of deliciously zesty beef and pork eaten with a side of bread. "we have to fill up, tonights a big night, prepare for heavy drinking!". we pre-gamed a liter and a half and headed to the festival. Lederhosen and dyrndles everywhere, liter glasses in everyones hands. singing, hugging and dancing on tables was encouraged. jorges friend johannes provided us with a couple seats at table of extremely high demand a close to impossible task in one of the overfilled beer tents, more like a mini stadium-restaurant-bar in one. A trru jerman dzrrinks NINE liters of beer! i was barely on my third :/. Our new friend pete from ny was feeling generous and bought a round for everyone. Prosit! i dont remember much after that. the next day, were loaded into an old school volks wagon van -correction- bus, and drove off to obersdorf where brohannes lived above a schnapps museum. out in the south countryside, mountains surrounded his home. his family welcomed us and we got to work in the kitchen, preparing for a mexican style feast for about fourteen. jorge was the head chef of this particularly comforting meal, everyone was stuffed with compliments to give. hiking time! johannes grew up exploring the forest, it didnt take much convincing to get us to go the next day. we awoke from under our bearskin blanket and drove over to the base of the mountain. this particular trek was for lightweights but the scenery was incredibly. the great outdoors; forest, trails, fresh air. what more could you ask for? the end of the trail hit a lakeshore with cold ass fkn water for swimming. everyone hesitated at first except johannes, who stripped down and jumped right in. it was revitalizing, but 20 minutes was all my puny body could take. sehr gutes vasser.**austria was just on the other side of the mountains** that night i went along with our new posse of snowboarders for a few beers. these guys arent kidding, theyre used to drinking beers by the liter all the time. we took turns with the karaoke microphone, finished a few pitchers and left to try out the different venues. the next day we were back in munchen, i had been messaging an old friend/ exchange student from high school, luckily she was in town for the festival. I spent the day with her and she joinded us for some drinks and live music. at sun up we were packed and ready for a destination, but where now? miguel and i heard nothing but great things about the city prague and figured it wouldnt be worth missing. leaving the city was easy but getting a ride in cold rainy weather wasnt. we tried for hours, even got pulled over by an officer in a BMW. no were not drug mules! we just want a ride. nightfall came and the cold got colder. i sought for a spot to camp while miguel mecilessly thumbed it in the rain. just give up man, lets put some food in us. the hot soup was filling, almost enough to put us to sleep in the leaky tent. we woke up freezing in a huge puddle, possibly the most excruciating night ive ever experienced. the sun came out and we were ready to leave munich behind. unaware of what was to come, we hopped in a car and headed east on the autobahn.

svitzerlund

2012-01-03T01:07:00.000-08:00

a cardboard sign can be a lottery ticket, you never know what you may get. we were making great time as we tried out different gas station parking lots. one algerian driver wouldnt let us off his car before shoving 20 euros in our pocket. one driver was a professional cyclist, his hair freshly cut and stylish. he wore a tight pink trendy tee over his body (which you could find on any random underwear model). he liked migueltrunks' spanish accent, and blushed at all his jokes in their front seat world. i could tell miguel was just excited to be practicing real life french, but he can attract often attention by being his playful boyish self. customs waived us in and we were finally across the border after nightfall. this was entirely new land, almost as easy as changing the language settings on your cell phone. Switzerland! the eight french phrases i had learned would no longer be usefull. we found a nice hidden spot to set up camp, camoflouged our bags and walked into town. having extra cash we skipped dumpster diving and celbrated with a proper sit down dinner. our poor bodies could only be replenished with two entire pizzas each, best twleve euros spent! camping outside can be just as fun as sleeping indoors, the worst part is having to get up in the morning. the next day we had nutela sandwiches for breakfast and went back to work. our thumbs were in the air, we displayed our big smiles, but no luck. these fish werent biting. after several hours we blamed the gas station and left in search of a new spot. the highway was leading us as we looked for an on-ramp that didnt exist within walking distance. we gave up and ended up in the city. a passer-by noticed our struggle and recommend us to and asylum "they can give you money for a bus ticket" he said, i thought, wow this place is great. one of the government workers told us we reminded her of her son christian, a world champion in parkour. she reviewed our case and determined we werent refugees from a third world country so they turned us away. frustration grew after several hours on a ramp directed to zurich from downtown berne. dusk fell and we were forced to retrace our steps to the camp site. today was just not our day. we tried to be positive we'd be gone soon and hit the sac. the next day was awfully similar. same breakfast at the same gas station with the same sign. Stuck again! hours passed once more and our anticipation grew so much we thought about heading back to france. fuck switzerland not wanting to pick us up. we were giving up on hitchhiking, walking to cross the border to france and thumbed it one last time, except, this one took the bait.endorphins was flooding delight in our brain as we ran into the car. get us out of here, anywhere but here please. the old mand was kind and spoke soft with a thick swiss accent. he chuckled when we mentioned how difficult it was to hitch hike in switzerland and said "well be in switzerland in ten minutes, this is deutschland (germany)" what?? haha we talked about politics and he taught us a few swiss-german words. he dropped us off, danke shone, bitte shone. we were in switzerland, land of the famous pocket knife and secret bank accounts, for real this time. our next driver was a lovely older lady. "I like zeh young peeple" she reminded us in her cute accent. our sign read zurich but since she had chores we'd only be able to make it to her village around half hour southwest. she enjoyed our company and was eager to show us her arabian horses. we arrived at her house and helped walk her dogs. she went on cheerfully telling us wonderful stories of meeting her husband and her daughters growing up. miguel asked if he could use the internet and she gladly offered her office. in a flash she started pulling out pictures of her beautiful daughters. astrid is a singer, her band is on the top 5 charts in switzerland here's her myspace link. miguel yelled from in front of the computer, we turned and saw him sitting on the swivel chair with hands in the air. "i got us a host!" he said and started dancing. the lady was pleased with our attitudes and drove us to the address. before she left we exchanged emails and she even invited us to enjoy lake konstanz for a few days. we asked around for the strasse (shtra-zeh or street) and found the building. our host venessa buzzed and welcomed us to join the two australian couchsurfers. she was sweet, and adventurous while the aussie surfers were complete jar-head douche-bags. i felt ill and after a conversation with a few beers i went to bed. the aussies had first dibs on the couches but we didnt mind the hardwood floor as long as it was indoor. the next day the australians left and she took us on a tour of when she returned from work. the university she attended overlooked a great part of the city. the first thing i noticed was all the pointy buildings everywhere, this didnt look anything like mexico. we went by the river took pictures of some cool graffiti and talked about the history we were walking on. on the way home we stopped for some groceries and she whipped up a surprise dinner. a few of her local friends joined us for 1/2lb burgers with swiss cheese, only there the just call it cheese. the evening went well, she convinced us to stay an extra night. our friend Jorge would have to wait in munich.the next night, she took us to a massive abandoned factory turned into night clubs and art galleries. you would doubt the detailed murals on every wall were made with spray paint. we drank, danced to biggie smalls and came home late for a change. that night i didnt sleep in the living room. kissing got hot and heavy, hands were in all over the place. the lights and her panties simultaneously went off. this is great! so great,it didnt last very long. how embarrassing! this never happens, i swear! im actually kinda good, its just been a while. i was no longer a man and the sun started its way up so we cuddled and went to bed. she woke less than a couple hours later and got dressed. while she left for work, we slept in a little longer and hit the road after leaving a thank you letter. without paying we boarded a train that would take us closer to a highway. munich was around the corner,and oktoberfest, perhaps the greatest of beer festivals had just begun.

Dijon, like the mustard.

2011-12-31T02:19:00.000-08:00

on the road again, heading away from the center of france meanwhile converting relationships with strangers into friendships. johan (yohan) was a great guy, born and raised in belgium. late twenties, thin and mannered, he now lived in auxerre. he was on his way back from a business trip to paris when he spotted us and didnt see us as a threat. driving into auxerre that night, we only caught a glimpse of the castles and cathedrals in the magical city. the three of us got along so well he took us in for the night, and even cooked dinner. flemish-french style pasta. he brewed us a pot of coffee and placed mini porcelain cups in reach on the four person table. i underestimated my tiny shot of concentrated coffee. we washed down dessert with vodka, appearantly it helps your digestive system, smoked a cigarette and went to bed. for breakfast johan bought us a baguette and a few crossaints and dropped us off next to a tollbooth. the brisk morning air was refreshing along with the crisp apples given away by the earth. the dew on the grass deteriorated our sign but it didnt affect us from getting a ride.
a dark volvo station wagon pulled over and the driver signalled us in. he spoke mostly french with broken spanish in between. we chatted on and when he got comfortable with the strangers in his car, he asked "le fume marijuana?"."un petite" i confessed. he made the global joint smoking sign and my grin confirmed his assumption. "de'accord" he smiled and pulled out his paraphanilia. he was driving so i naively offered to roll it." can you roll?" he asked in his language but i understood. "oui monsieur" i boasted, miguel adding to my hype in french. i thought piece of cake until he handed me kingsize papers, filters and tobacco. i wasnt used to this at all. by this time we were riding along winding hillcountry roads. up down left and right mixed together on pavement. i could only come up with a pathetic excuse for a cigarette. he chuckled at the sight of my inexperienced roll but it was smokeable so he lit it anyway. wow, wer'e actually doobie cruising out on the french countryside with this total stranger. maybe i was a little too influenced, but the scenery was incredible. farms, forests, and villages all clearly seen from afar. looking out the window i regreted storing my backpack along with my camcorder in the trunk, the footage would have been usefull. he dropped us off at a fast food joint in dijon and continued alone. our new host arrived to pick us up. he greeted us with a huge smile and showed us in his car. gregoire was wicked fun, vibrant with rythmn and raggea soul. humming, singing, snapping and dancing. on the ride to his parents home he was errupting with beatboxes every five minutes. we stayed in the center of the city in his ex flat with his ex flatmates, all students studying medicine at the university. that night i tried absinthe for the first time, sugar cube on fire and everything, then we all walked to a pub for a few drinks. the old architecture reminded me of mexico with a french tongue. we informed greg about our battery problem and he offered to put us up until it arrived. the next day his flatmates told us they were leaving town for a few days but we could still stay. i dont think we saw them after that. it was a week in their flat, spent exploring the cool little town unsupervised. at night we would roam the streets making friends and end up places.
in the day time, we followed arrows printed on the sidewalk for miles in search of the chuette, an antique statue of a good luck owl. to my surprise, the statue was only a few inches tall, dissapointing after an all-day urban trek. one of the days greg showed up with another couchsurfer and a couple of adolecents from belgium, lucas and arnaud. that night we almost got into a scuffle with a group of trouble makers. their group of morrocan-french vs. our new timid french-french friends. i couldnt make out whatthe angry moroccan said, but the tone in his voice got his point across and we split with the belgians. what is he holding behind his back? fuck it, goodnight. greg was also preparing for a trip only his would be a year long in south america. cool! we might be able to meet up in buenos aires. we joined in on the farewell party, which consisted of his talented friends jamming one last time before departure. our battery arrived which meant it was time to go. greg dropped us off at a roundabout and we were into another car in no time, france is great! through a series of rides we headed east towards munich, germany. there was just one big chunk of land mass in our way, they called it switzerland.

Next stop, Paris...

2011-12-27T13:43:00.000-08:00

unloading in the underground station reeked of trash, graffiti and urine. after an all-night ride, finding a restroom was on top of the to-do list. under the toilette sign was a cashier who stopped us to charge a euro each. i don't understand why you would need money to relieve yourself, its ridiculous, no wonder it smelled like piss outside. we emerged from the underground station into another realm. the same sun shun bright that morning yet i didn't understand anyone, or anything. i felt so lost, what were these people saying to me? miguel saved the day by speaking conversational french, him and his fancy college education. our next step was predictable, whats the first thing you would want to see in Paris? map says champ de mars stop for the Eiffel tower. the liberal french just happen to be on strike that day, stopping most trains from running as scheduled. in theory this was awesome, citizens fighting to be heard, but in reality, it wasnt at all convenient. we bumped into commuters until the crammed train choferd us to our stop. and there it was, le torre eiffel, hadnt moved an inch since 1889.

I settled in and stood guard of our belongings at the park. my homie, miguel, went off with his laptop and no extra weight to figure out a plan. i still hadn't had any rest or food and lugging the 45 lb backpack everywhere i went didn't help any. fatigue set in and sleep took over, but i managed to keep my face covered while the sun baked the rest of my body. Miguel eventually came back bearing bad news of technical difficulties. part of our equipment, was his early model mac book which hadn't been used in some time and needed major software updating. we gave up searching for a host and found ourselves another hostel, where we met a group of cute Spaniard girls . this one was 26 euros per night, even the wireless internet the hostel offered was pricey but we didn't have any other choice. still desperate for food I found a sandwich stand and had me a 14 inch baguette, probably the best I've ever had (fuck those five-dollar foot longs). returning to our hostel, we befriend our roommates, Ali and Mike couple of guys from LA and Sean from New York City. downstairs a group of cute spanish girls invited us to tag along with a few australians teenagers for a casual drink. now things were looking up, enough reason to splurge on a couple of 2 euro bottles of wine. altogether we walked to a riverside spot by notre dame. the atmosphere was calm and welcoming, hundreds of youths in their cliques all along the river. deep in conversation, sharing several kinds of food, drink and smoke under the radiant city lights. there was even fireworks reflecting off the river passing by. this group of girls made it from basque country, a region of Spain, to enjoy a quick vacation before starting a new semester. luckily for Miguel and I, Mexican Spanish was our native tongue, while the English speaking Australians failed at keeping up conversation. they also spoke vasque, but they reserved it for secrets amongst themselves. sweet wine was flowing through our veins and romance started filling in the air. i ended coupling up with maddi, half drunk kissing on a sidewalk until five in the morning. dirty blonde, sparkling eyes, amazing smile with a sexy accent and only two inches taller. the next day we slept in so late we were awaken by a cleaning lady yelling in french. we must've been tired because we mindlessly paid another night and went straight back to bed. It was Sunday which meant most museums were free but by the time we got to the Louvre it was almost closing time. merde! still wandering, we found ourselves a store specializing in general outdoors and bought a couple of sleeping bags. we already had a tent, so now we were free from having to stay in hostels any longer. when we returned the girls were packed and ready to go but before they departed, i managed to spent some more time with maddi. though i resisted, i walked them to the train station, and kissed her goodbye.

since we didn't have much money, part of our plan was to sell pictures from a portable printer for extra cash. we found a canon store that would carry a portable battery we needed, but wouldn't be open for another day. the laptop was now up and running, Miguel had even found us a host in Dijon. there was a mini market close by and we returned from it with a loaf of bread, pasta, a few cans of beans and nutela (our European substitute for peanut butter). by no means was this fine cuisine, but for some reason i couldn't help but enjoy it. the next morning we redeemed ourselves with the staff by waking up early and checking out. there was a big day ahead of us, we needed our free breakfast and a head start. not wanting to spend anymore on the subway, we walked to the canon store with no luck. not only did they not carry the battery, we'd have to order it online. hearing the news, we had to evacuate immediately, no more wasting time in Paris. a few locals directed us to a highway, and we were off to it. we walked and walked and reached a point we thought would be good for hitch hiking. a few minutes later i was done making a sign with "Dijon" on it and our thumbs in the air. people smiled, laughed and even waved but didn't stop. hours passed and the sun crossed the the sky almost setting. paying yet another hostel was out of the question. still the first week and we each had spent a third of the total trip money, around 200 euros. how the hell were we going to survive almost four more months?

i was in need of a break so i sat on the concrete and sparked a cigarette. my legs oozed lifeless relief. i exhaled smoke and heard Miguel screaming for me. he ran for his bag and then back into traffic and jumped in the back seat of a Peugeot. i sprung to my feet ran to the sedan and jumped in the front seat. bonjour monsieur, merci merci beaucoup! our first foreign hitch! he offered to take us as far as Auxerre wherever that was...

I travel not to go anywhere, but to go. I travel for travel's sake. The great affair is to move.
-Robert Louis Stevenson

And the adventure begins: London

2011-12-20T23:57:00.000-08:00

I guess if I told you this much I should go on..

The stars aligned, an opportunity arose. I had my sights set on Europe and so did a friend of mine. only he had the experience I lacked. we decided on going together, bought a pair of plane tickets borrowed a couple of back packs and set off. I was only able to work off a months salary but according to my partner that was enough. the infamous age of "twenty one" crept up on me and a few days later i was flying overseas without adult supervision. up until then, never had I ever been on a plane. my first flight and my first delay, yay for me. like sex, it can be a little intimidating at first. starting with a rough take off its hard to imagine the bliss that comes after leveling and letting the imagery burn into your head. endless ocean of floating beauty, clouds as far as your eyes can take you. Or, as many may know, flying over a light polluted city at sundown can be equally breathe taking. it was sixteen hours of bag check ins and flight transfers before we arrived at heath row airport London. we picked up our bags and passed through strict immigration, stamped and set free. I'm actually here, in England! Fuck, I don't speak quid, time to change currency. its not a happy moment giving 20 US dollars and getting 10 UK lbs in return. I did this about three times. with no more income, the piggy bank set aside for this trip was now broken and beginning to drain with each and every transaction. we got on the tube beneath the airport and headed mindlessly into the city. jet lagged, we emerged from the Westminster stop around eleven o'clock with nowhere to stay and nowhere to go. I remembered a hostel from random research I did beforehand, so we walked the night streets looking for free wi fi to guide us there. we found our way to the entrance of smart russel square and bumped into a group of pretty blonde backpackers. Swedish? we exchanged emails and agreed to meetup. only, I lost their contact info and absolute knew nothing about Sweden yet. the young cashier rang us up, thirteen pounds with a ten pound deposit, fine. the journey had just begun, I wasn't ripe enough to know better. a youth hostel is exactly what you would expect it to be. sort of like a day care for high schoolers on an international field trip. I was amazed at the maze of underground bunker tunnels that led you to your room. the next morning we had complimentary toast with jam and tea. the rates had already doubled so we fled before thinking twice. a quick beat-box at buckingham palace and a few snapshots of the eye made us official tourists. we rode in red double decker buses, admired the classic automobiles, looked right before crossing streets and even went to look at pint prices in a pub. London was too expensive for us kids, we had to move on. in a failed attempt for a highway, we spent the next eight hours getting lost and spending all our money on the tube. the locals advised us to take a bus to a nearby town for hitch hiking, instead we took an over night bus directly to Paris (which we thought would double as shelter for the night). leaving the united kingdom that evening, the bus was loaded onto a ferry and shipped across the chilly English channel. we hit land two hours later, greeted in the wee hours of the night by french customs agents. Stamp! oui oui . i still hadn't any rest. my new bus mate kept our conversation going anyway, until arriving at dawn. barely the third day of travel and already the city of Paris first hand.

CLICK NEWER POST.......

Airline travel is hours of boredom interrupted by moments of stark terror.

Al Boliska

How I caught the bug.

2011-12-14T21:58:00.000-08:00

It didn't start over night. My curiosity began when a girl (I was semi-serious about) and I decided to move to a small coast side town. only a couple hours drive and I didn't even notice I sparked a slow burning fuse of life changing experiences to come. After some time, I finally realized there had to be more, I needed to keep moving further. As if by lucky coincidence I was invited to stay with a friend in Austin for a few months. Time spent in the capital had me plenty involved in extracurricular activities. Though I wasn't a student, I managed to take part in the foreign cultural exchange. Parties mostly, but I took the chance absorb the subtle differences and similarities. They looked the same but spoke differently. These internationals with accents, like parallel beings from another dimension, where new to my surroundings. You mean to tell me there's entire countries filled with people like you? Have we really been living on the same planet? Where was I that I didn't notice? That's when I woke up. My curiosity grew hungry, starving even, to experience new territory. New terrain, climate, ecosystems, languages, lifestyles. To sum it up, new life period. New, at least to me.