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Hungary, Slovakia, the beginning of Austria (and the rain)
Austria, Slovenia (not the same as Slovakia), and the beginning of Croatia.
May 27, 2008
May 23, 2008
May 21, 2008
stubborn glory
In a delirious fit of sleeplessness, we decided we didn't need no stinkin' tourist bus and we could just walk right out of that little Croatian coastal town and stick out our thumbs.
With naught but a warm loaf of bread between us, we spent the hour of 5 AM nestled under a tree before a curtain of rain falling softly on the Adriatic.
As the bustle of morning's traffic swooshed past us on the cliffside highway, we inch our way along the shoulder.
We pasued to examine a bus stop's station list. "This one's not on the map." "Neither is this one." "Well, here's the bus..." "Okay - well... to the end of the line?"
Six children and four adults are eager to leave behind the three lonely buildings we stand amongst as the bus pulls out. The coastline we intended to trace is nowhere in sight.
"...uh ...where are we?"
The woman laughs when we tell her our destination. She speeds through a route description in Croatian, we only pick up bits and snatches: "Long." "Twenty kilometers." "Four hours."
So we walk.
The tall wheatgrass shimmers in the post-rain breeze. Wildflowers stretch in the morning light. A castle looms on the hill before us. We chatter and laugh and stroll and sing and stick out our thumbs every five minutes when a car rolls by.
We pass schoolchildren and postmen and people who appear to be awake only to greet the morning on their feet. Men hard at work dig a canal through this patch of nowhere. Maybe they'll build sidewalks next.
The ride drops us off back on the coast. We go to the bus station. We look at the ticket prices. We decide to make a quick stop at the internet cafe before we hitch onwards.
With naught but a warm loaf of bread between us, we spent the hour of 5 AM nestled under a tree before a curtain of rain falling softly on the Adriatic.
As the bustle of morning's traffic swooshed past us on the cliffside highway, we inch our way along the shoulder.
We pasued to examine a bus stop's station list. "This one's not on the map." "Neither is this one." "Well, here's the bus..." "Okay - well... to the end of the line?"
Six children and four adults are eager to leave behind the three lonely buildings we stand amongst as the bus pulls out. The coastline we intended to trace is nowhere in sight.
"...uh ...where are we?"
The woman laughs when we tell her our destination. She speeds through a route description in Croatian, we only pick up bits and snatches: "Long." "Twenty kilometers." "Four hours."
So we walk.
The tall wheatgrass shimmers in the post-rain breeze. Wildflowers stretch in the morning light. A castle looms on the hill before us. We chatter and laugh and stroll and sing and stick out our thumbs every five minutes when a car rolls by.
We pass schoolchildren and postmen and people who appear to be awake only to greet the morning on their feet. Men hard at work dig a canal through this patch of nowhere. Maybe they'll build sidewalks next.
The ride drops us off back on the coast. We go to the bus station. We look at the ticket prices. We decide to make a quick stop at the internet cafe before we hitch onwards.
May 15, 2008
"best blog on internet, right here!"
"This is Africa, my friend!" warned the faux guide at the port in Tangier. "There be good people and bad people here, like anywhere." He wanted to give me a ride, desperately. "I'm sure you've heard about the hustlers." He had a badge tucked under his shirt, but whenever he pulled it out to show it to me, his eyes would shift to both sides real quick. At one point, he asked if we could step out of the sun because it was hot. Then it literally became a shady affair.
I kept count for awhile. Lost it around the twenty-fifth person who offered me help I hadn't requested. Most claimed to know the "big boss" of "best hotel in Morocco!" and could get me "best deal" because they liked my face. Right.
I went to a city painted all in blue. I'll upload pictures of that and the rest of Morocco someday, honest. For now, there's a few in the post below this one.
I also went to Fes. In my guidebook, Fes is described as "the largest active Muslim medina in the world today." I read that and took it in the spirit of "yeah yeah, largest ball of twine, tallest cathedral tower, whatever blah blah." This may have been a mistake. Despite my above-average sense of direction, when I crossed the castle walls, I became immediately ever-so-lost in the miles of slim, twisting alleyways crammed with markets and donkeys and people and awnings and "guides" and fruit stands (but no cars). There were hand-made goods for sale from fine rugs to instruments and many artisans crafting away in the backs of their shops, they only stopped to offer me - "best store in fes, right here! Prices like this, only in insane asylum! Or you need hotel? Taxi?"
Then I went back to Spain. Jenn and I dropped off her suitcases in Madrid with a friend. We saw a bullfight, which basically is a whole bunch of guys versus a bull trained to act a little aggressive but seems pretty under control. The bullfighters even have places to hide if the bull gets real mad. First, people actively try to make the bull mad, then people on armored horses stab it with spears, then guys run by and jam colorful fishhooks in its back then the Matador (literally, "killer") comes out. The Matador screwed up the first "killing blow" we saw about 12 times. We were confused at the whistles and noise of the furious crowd, subsequent bulls deaths revealed it should take only one or two stabs.
Then, uh, we took a 55 hour bus ride to Romania. It was cheap, we wanted to go to Eastern Europe... yeah. We're not really planners, you see. We braced ourselves for a two-day assault of awfulness... but it was pretty cool. I think it was a true "cultural experience," whatever that means.
In fact, here's a video. (Wow!)
Then we went to Transylvania, stayed with a Hungarian woman whose guest-house had no sort of sign at all (but was in our guidebook), did some hiking, hopped on a train to Budapest, which is where we are. Going to Slovakia and Austria in the next couple days, MAYBE. I think Jenn's chronicling more current events on the terminal beside me, so I'll let her fill you in on current events.
I kept count for awhile. Lost it around the twenty-fifth person who offered me help I hadn't requested. Most claimed to know the "big boss" of "best hotel in Morocco!" and could get me "best deal" because they liked my face. Right.
I went to a city painted all in blue. I'll upload pictures of that and the rest of Morocco someday, honest. For now, there's a few in the post below this one.
I also went to Fes. In my guidebook, Fes is described as "the largest active Muslim medina in the world today." I read that and took it in the spirit of "yeah yeah, largest ball of twine, tallest cathedral tower, whatever blah blah." This may have been a mistake. Despite my above-average sense of direction, when I crossed the castle walls, I became immediately ever-so-lost in the miles of slim, twisting alleyways crammed with markets and donkeys and people and awnings and "guides" and fruit stands (but no cars). There were hand-made goods for sale from fine rugs to instruments and many artisans crafting away in the backs of their shops, they only stopped to offer me - "best store in fes, right here! Prices like this, only in insane asylum! Or you need hotel? Taxi?"
Then I went back to Spain. Jenn and I dropped off her suitcases in Madrid with a friend. We saw a bullfight, which basically is a whole bunch of guys versus a bull trained to act a little aggressive but seems pretty under control. The bullfighters even have places to hide if the bull gets real mad. First, people actively try to make the bull mad, then people on armored horses stab it with spears, then guys run by and jam colorful fishhooks in its back then the Matador (literally, "killer") comes out. The Matador screwed up the first "killing blow" we saw about 12 times. We were confused at the whistles and noise of the furious crowd, subsequent bulls deaths revealed it should take only one or two stabs.
Then, uh, we took a 55 hour bus ride to Romania. It was cheap, we wanted to go to Eastern Europe... yeah. We're not really planners, you see. We braced ourselves for a two-day assault of awfulness... but it was pretty cool. I think it was a true "cultural experience," whatever that means.
In fact, here's a video. (Wow!)
Then we went to Transylvania, stayed with a Hungarian woman whose guest-house had no sort of sign at all (but was in our guidebook), did some hiking, hopped on a train to Budapest, which is where we are. Going to Slovakia and Austria in the next couple days, MAYBE. I think Jenn's chronicling more current events on the terminal beside me, so I'll let her fill you in on current events.
An African Appetizer
I'm still not caught up to my Morocco photos, sorry. On the bright side, here's a whole bunch that I took right before.
May 6, 2008
momentum moments
Africa.
Check.
That leaves South America and Antartica as the only two continents I haven´t visited. Man, South America is going to be hard.
Perhaps I´m getting a little ahead of myself. I´m not actually IN Morocco yet. I´m in an internet cafe in Tarifa, Spain, in view of the port and the little strip of ocean to cross. Africa´s just over that horizon - I can practically hear the charm flutes calling cobras to dance.
After a false start, I went to Ronda again, taking a bus this time. The town is perched precariously on a pair of cliffs with a chasm and a waterfall and monolithic bridge between the two halves of the city. It´s the kind of the thing nobody would build today because it´s almost so pretty that it´s silly. I would not recommend traveling here to try and overcome your fear of vertigo.
I slept in some ancient ruins built into the cliffside. I´d strayed off the already remote path I was following and came across them wholly by accident. Passing under an ancient archway, I brushed aside a curtain of vine strands. In the gloom chasing sunset, I see one half of the structure was actually just a cave the rest had been built around. I wonder who used to live here, if they looked out the windows and up to huge bridge across the chasm, if that bridge was even built yet. The windows are mostly filled with green vines that also may their way up the walls and to the ceiling. The floor bears deep holes where I imagine long-rotted staircases used to be, and a few bats flutter in the darkness.
The following afternoon, I ventured to the Rock of Gibraltar. The rumors you´ve heard are true. There ARE wild monkeys here just running around. Lots of them. They look and move and interact in so human a fashion it´s kind of unsettling. I heard one of the infants cough, I swear it sounded just like a human baby coughing.
And now I´m in Tarifa, waiting for the ferry to pull in. I have no way of uploading pictures ´till I get back to Sevilla with Jenn since I left the cord there. By the way, I lied - it´s totally going to be more than 60. But I thought I´d give you a quick little word-ular update. Anyhow, adios, I´m gonna go watch people swallow swords and fire and... kebabs.
Later. I mean, adios. Or should I say مع السلامة?
Check.
That leaves South America and Antartica as the only two continents I haven´t visited. Man, South America is going to be hard.
Perhaps I´m getting a little ahead of myself. I´m not actually IN Morocco yet. I´m in an internet cafe in Tarifa, Spain, in view of the port and the little strip of ocean to cross. Africa´s just over that horizon - I can practically hear the charm flutes calling cobras to dance.
After a false start, I went to Ronda again, taking a bus this time. The town is perched precariously on a pair of cliffs with a chasm and a waterfall and monolithic bridge between the two halves of the city. It´s the kind of the thing nobody would build today because it´s almost so pretty that it´s silly. I would not recommend traveling here to try and overcome your fear of vertigo.
I slept in some ancient ruins built into the cliffside. I´d strayed off the already remote path I was following and came across them wholly by accident. Passing under an ancient archway, I brushed aside a curtain of vine strands. In the gloom chasing sunset, I see one half of the structure was actually just a cave the rest had been built around. I wonder who used to live here, if they looked out the windows and up to huge bridge across the chasm, if that bridge was even built yet. The windows are mostly filled with green vines that also may their way up the walls and to the ceiling. The floor bears deep holes where I imagine long-rotted staircases used to be, and a few bats flutter in the darkness.
The following afternoon, I ventured to the Rock of Gibraltar. The rumors you´ve heard are true. There ARE wild monkeys here just running around. Lots of them. They look and move and interact in so human a fashion it´s kind of unsettling. I heard one of the infants cough, I swear it sounded just like a human baby coughing.
And now I´m in Tarifa, waiting for the ferry to pull in. I have no way of uploading pictures ´till I get back to Sevilla with Jenn since I left the cord there. By the way, I lied - it´s totally going to be more than 60. But I thought I´d give you a quick little word-ular update. Anyhow, adios, I´m gonna go watch people swallow swords and fire and... kebabs.
Later. I mean, adios. Or should I say مع السلامة?
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