tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-89075370619230577592024-03-13T06:51:25.464-07:0011 Months To Do Nothing and Everything11 months of unemployment = 11 months of FREEDOM, relaxing, exploring, risk-taking, talking, contemplating, learning, teaching, giving, taking, smiling, crying, laughing...All I Need is my 2 Bare Feethttp://www.blogger.com/profile/16455987029572997655noreply@blogger.comBlogger32125tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-8907537061923057759.post-1403454555697489562013-06-15T23:23:00.000-07:002013-06-15T23:23:42.383-07:00Wise Words from a World Wanderer, Part 4: Now It's Your Turn!<div dir="ltr" style="text-align: left;" trbidi="on">
So now you want to be a traveller, huh?<br />
<br />
This may surprise you, but the hardest thing about long term backpacking is not deciding what to bring or how to prepare for it; it's simply <i><b><span style="color: red;">overcoming your fear</span></b></i> and deciding to do it. So if you've decided to go, congratulations! The hardest part is really over, and it only gets easier from here.<br />
<br />
There are many considerations and loose ends to wrap up at home before leaving on such a journey. Get travel insurance (I paid about $400), get your vaccinations at a travel clinic, and pack. So what do you want to pack? I packed (including on my person) about 7 pairs of underwear, two t-shirts, one pair of jeans, one pair of flip-flops, and one pair of sturdy shoes on my feet (barefoot trail running shoes, not for everyone). My most sturdy and reliable garment was my soft-shell Marmot jacket that packs light and small.<br />
<table align="center" cellpadding="0" cellspacing="0" class="tr-caption-container" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto; text-align: center;"><tbody>
<tr><td style="text-align: center;"><a href="http://4.bp.blogspot.com/-BX-C5_YHPx4/Ub0h9gCDnWI/AAAAAAAAAlU/T_LmVNiEItI/s1600/DSC_0144.JPG" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto;"><img border="0" height="132" src="http://4.bp.blogspot.com/-BX-C5_YHPx4/Ub0h9gCDnWI/AAAAAAAAAlU/T_LmVNiEItI/s200/DSC_0144.JPG" width="200" /></a></td></tr>
<tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;">Me in my lovely orange Marmot jacket and only pair of jeans.</td></tr>
</tbody></table>
If you plan on doing lots of shopping on your travels, I would suggest packing with the ultimate bare necessities. My sister made the mistake of overpacking, and could barely buy anything during the trip.<br />
<br />
For my security and peace of mind, I found it really handy to bring locks of many kinds: small zipper locks for the backpacks, one combo lock, for hostel lockers, and one extendable wire lock, for tying your main backpack to bedposts in hostels or luggage racks on trains. My favourite stealth item was my slim pouch that fit on a shoulder and tummy strap to the side of my torso, under my shirt. Uncomfortable at first, eventually it became a part of my body and I no longer noticed it was there. This pouch held my passport, cash and cards away from the prying hands of thieves, or even would-be credit card phone scanners. A few more recommended items include a universal charger and a pocket flashlight. All this equipment is available at MEC.<br />
<br />
All of the above packed easily into a 65 litre backpack, along with a lot of other things I brought as just-in-case items which were later deemed useless. But because I decided to be an electronics junkie, bringing my Nikon D90 with 3 lenses and a laptop, I had to carry a pretty big packpack on my chest to fit everything. While I do recommend bringing a daypack I would not bring one as big as mine. And a laptop isn't all that necessary either. Many hostels have computers with internet, though the keyboards may have a foreign configuration. I'm not a smartphone advocate, but in this case, I will be. A smartphone is the perfect travelling companion, a substitute for camera and laptop in a small package.<br />
<br />
Once on the road, your urban survival skills will kick into action. No matter what kind of advice I give you, you may forget it all when you become lost and panic starts taking over. Have a notebook for writing notes for finding places. Print out maps when leaving one city for the next. Most hostels have printers and, if not, internet shops will be close by. The first place you should visit in a new city is the tourist information office to grab a tourist map and transit map.<br />
<table align="center" cellpadding="0" cellspacing="0" class="tr-caption-container" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto; text-align: center;"><tbody>
<tr><td><a href="http://1.bp.blogspot.com/-eHye0tGXUCk/Ub0g7a_WiZI/AAAAAAAAAlE/NWsn_7ZWY-k/s1600/Blog+-+CS.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto;"><img border="0" height="132" src="http://1.bp.blogspot.com/-eHye0tGXUCk/Ub0g7a_WiZI/AAAAAAAAAlE/NWsn_7ZWY-k/s200/Blog+-+CS.jpg" width="200" /></a></td></tr>
<tr><td class="tr-caption" style="font-size: 13.333333969116211px;">I've met some of the most interesting people and made good friends through Couchsurfing</td></tr>
</tbody></table>
While it's nice to have a Lonely Planet for every place you visit, it starts to weigh down your pack. I stuck with Tripadvisor (I'm a Top Contributor by the way, 104 reviews), hostel advice, and free walking tours (tips afterward). For accommodation I use Hostelworld.com, which has the most comprehensive hostel reviews of any other website, although it charges a small fee for booking. I still use it because I am loyal, but Hostelbookers.com can book for free, and has access to most of the same hostels. And of course, there is Couchsurfing, which I recommend if you are truly into cultural exchange and are interested in meeting local people wherever you travel.<br />
<br />
Getting around within cities, walking is best when possible. It is the most human way to get to know a city. Metros are best for public transport, and buses are okay, but take time to get used to.<br />
<table align="center" cellpadding="0" cellspacing="0" class="tr-caption-container" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto; text-align: center;"><tbody>
<tr><td style="text-align: center;"><a href="http://3.bp.blogspot.com/-Gw5N-JucwpY/Ub0gnO7-vII/AAAAAAAAAk8/210qj8aJEyo/s1600/Presentation+-+Hitchhiker.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto;"><img border="0" height="132" src="http://3.bp.blogspot.com/-Gw5N-JucwpY/Ub0gnO7-vII/AAAAAAAAAk8/210qj8aJEyo/s200/Presentation+-+Hitchhiker.jpg" width="200" /></a></td></tr>
<tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;">Hitchhiking rocks!</td></tr>
</tbody></table>
Travelling from city to city can be a bit tricky because of the range of comfort and costs can be great. I think the method you choose here really defines you as a traveller. I trade in comfort for cost, opting for buses and hitchhiking, which makes me a bit of a hobo. But there's absolutely nothing wrong with trains and planes. In fact, plane travel can be super cheap if you can deal with barebones airlines such as Ryanair, Easyjet, AirBerlin and more. Be warned that these airlines charge for all extras, including check-in luggage. And if you don't bring your printed boarding pass, they can print you one off for 70 euros! For travel from Canada to the UK, I recommend booking through <b>CanadianAffair.com</b>. It's super cheap, if you don't mind booking your flight only a few weeks in advance.<br />
<br />
For shorter distances, trains are comfortable, and night trains can offer beds. My sister and I began our trip with a Eurail pass covering 5 preselected countries in 2 months. I soon found out this was not at all worth it unless you are covering long distances and on the move frequently, in other words, you are on a whirlwind fast-paced Eurotrip. Pretty soon, I discovered a much cheaper, though slightly less comfortable, alternative - the bus. Buses connect almost every major city in Europe and are flexible, offering almost daily departures. Bus companies with the most widespread coverage are Eurolines and the Megabus (very cheap).<br />
<br />
So I guess you have the basic knowledge now to get started. Really sorry for this quick and dirty advice column. I really do recommend you talk to me or an experienced traveller and soak in as much advice and wisdom as you can. But I also do stress that travelling is learning on the go, and that even if you go into the scary world unprepared, as long as you don't make any fatal mistakes, and give yourself plenty of time to overcome obstacles, and bring patience and a positive attitude, you will always get where you want to go safely and grow into a more confident, resourceful person.<br />
<table align="center" cellpadding="0" cellspacing="0" class="tr-caption-container" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto; text-align: center;"><tbody>
<tr><td style="text-align: center;"><a href="http://4.bp.blogspot.com/-zGQ5z3kFcDo/Ub0jS1Dq5ZI/AAAAAAAAAlk/ashYPiVwLD8/s1600/Blog+-+Sahara.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto;"><img border="0" height="212" src="http://4.bp.blogspot.com/-zGQ5z3kFcDo/Ub0jS1Dq5ZI/AAAAAAAAAlk/ashYPiVwLD8/s320/Blog+-+Sahara.jpg" width="320" /></a></td></tr>
<tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;">Dream big - shoot for the moon - the brightest moon I have seen, Morocco desert</td></tr>
</tbody></table>
Thank you so much for reading my blog "11 Months To Do Nothing and Everything." This blog has grown as my heart and my mind has grown. As I saw the beauty of the world unfold before me, I felt compelled to share, and you were compelled to listen. As I began to realize its potential, it transformed into a vehicle for ideas and inspiration.<br />
<br />
And although this adventure is over, I feel another one is just beginning. My travels have unleashed in me a spirit of unlimited potential, which cannot be trapped by the temptations of a normal life in a gilded cage.<br />
<br />
So stay tuned. My original blog will be back, but under a new title. Thanks again for reading, and happy travels to you!</div>
All I Need is my 2 Bare Feethttp://www.blogger.com/profile/16455987029572997655noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-8907537061923057759.post-73411392890616860932013-06-13T20:35:00.003-07:002013-06-13T20:36:12.178-07:00Wise Words from a World Wanderer, Part 3 - Travelling Is The Best Education<div dir="ltr" style="text-align: left;" trbidi="on">
Looking back on the past 5 years of my life, starting with my move to Calgary, I have learned so much living on my own and having the freedom to pursue my dreams. Looking back on the past year alone, I have learned just as many life skills and invaluable lessons. Indeed, traveling is the best education.<br />
<div>
<br /></div>
<div>
Don't be offended University of Waterloo, this is not a jab against you and your world class engineering program. You provided me the skills to be successful in my career, and for that I am thankful. But no amount of theory in calculus or physics of structures can make me social, creative and altruistic. And no amount of late night studying and standard testing can teach me passion and optimism, or help me see all the beauty there is in this world.</div>
<div>
<br /></div>
<div>
No amount of school can provide me the tools to be truly successful in life. This job is for traveling. Traveling takes you outside of your comfort zone, then expands it like a balloon. It introduces new cultures, then nurtures acceptance of different people and ways of living. It inspires you with its natural beauty, then grounds you with the simple miracles of everyday life. Being somewhere new connects you in the most intimate way possible with the people and the surroundings, unlike any desktop wallpaper or travel documentary can.</div>
<div>
<br />
I may have amassed an encyclopedia's worth of random and mostly useless facts about Europe, such as how many assassination attempts were made on Hitler, how many atom bombs the Chernobyl released, what Finnish university students wear when they party, how to say "thank you" and "cheers" in most languages, as well as Australasian lingo such as "jandals" and "bogans."<br />
<br /></div>
<div>
I have also learned many important life lessons from traveling. I hope to carry these with me forever, and to sprinkle a little bit of my wisdom on every blooming flower I encounter along my life path. You, my readers, are always blooming. So, here, let me sprinkle some of my most significant words of wisdom on you:</div>
<div>
<br /></div>
<div>
<b>Life is beautiful.</b> Beauty is everywhere, it's in the streets, in the people and the trees, or in the warm sun and the cool wind, or in a simple home cooked meal. However, often times we choose not to acknowledge these simple pleasures and instead focus on the negative things in our lives.</div>
<div>
<br /></div>
<div>
<b>Everyone needs some time alone.</b> Both solitude and 24/7 companions have been a staple in my travels. Through it all I discovered that there is a fine line between being alone and being around people. Chris McCandless in Into The Wild is the extreme case of a hermit who dreamt big but eventually went crazy, isolating himself from people and finding solace in the wilderness. In contrast to Chris are people who fear being alone and always need company. These people also lose the ability to think for themselves, because people's voices are constantly drowning out their own internal voice.</div>
<div>
<br /></div>
<div>
<b>Anything is possible.</b> We all have control of our own paths in life. Yet many people are steered by family or peer expectations. As soon as you start measuring yourself by others' standards, you fail yourself. So take time to be alone, and listen to your own thoughts. The more you do this, the more independent you become.<br />
<br />
<b>A little help goes a long way.</b> When you're lost and alone in a vast scary country where everyone speaks a different language and just looks at you funny, you're forever grateful to receive help. After receiving lots of help from friendly foreigners, I am ready to do the same back in Canada. I've already picked up two hitchhikers, and had interesting conversations as a result.</div>
<div>
<br /></div>
<div>
<b>Hospitality is friendship.</b> This is the ultimate way to help someone. Couchsurfing has taught me that opening your home to people breaks down invisible walls between people, creating instant friendship. So why does this occur so infrequently in modern society? Maybe because our home has become an overprotected space of privacy filled with valuable possessions, making us mistrustful of strangers. We would rather meet people in more superficial places like coffeeshops or bars. No wonder why poorer countries generally have better hospitality. And why they have less coffeeshops.</div>
<div>
<br /></div>
<div>
<b>Wisdom is gained through real life experiences.</b> It's not gained through textbooks or television, newspapers or hearsay. It's gained through being, doing and trying it yourself.<br />
<br />
So go out and do it! My last blog will give you some basic tips to get started backpacking through Europe, in the hopes that someday you will take the leap.</div>
</div>
All I Need is my 2 Bare Feethttp://www.blogger.com/profile/16455987029572997655noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-8907537061923057759.post-85388206281404784702013-06-10T06:42:00.000-07:002013-06-10T06:42:47.772-07:00Wise Words from a World Wanderer, Part 2 - The Happiness Project<div dir="ltr" style="text-align: left;" trbidi="on">
We all know that happiness is a function of time and money. The majority of people today place a greater emphasis on money. I did at one point too. But the most valuable lesson I learned, for myself and many others I have met on my travels, is that time has a much stronger effect on producing happiness than money.<br />
<br />
My interpretation of happiness uses the simple equation below:<br />
<div style="margin-bottom: 0px; margin-left: 0px; margin-right: 0px; margin-top: 0px;">
<br /></div>
<div style="margin-bottom: 0px; margin-left: 0px; margin-right: 0px; margin-top: 0px;">
happiness = time<sup><i>n</i> </sup>X money<br />
<i>n</i> = an unknown exponent which places greater emphasis on time</div>
<br />
This is the ultimate equation to everything in life and with respect to travelling, it works two fold. If you have more time, you will not only increase your happiness but you will also reduce the amount of money you spend.<br />
<br />
However, in today's reality, most people cannot devote enough time to travel and, instead, spend excessive amounts of money to make up for it. Really, the problem starts with the short vacations permitted from work. While it is still possible to take your time on short vacations, the temptation of knocking off as many bucket list items as possible is too alluring.<br />
<br />
I even admit my own pace was super-quick and exhausting when I began my travels. But I slowly realized that it was more fulfilling to take my time (all of which I was so blessed to be granted for work) and maximize every moment, instead of spreading my energies thinly across these moments, enjoying each one less. So I changed my pace.<br />
<br />
I left early and walked to the museum instead of taking transit, enjoying a leisurely stroll, observing the local culture on the street and people-watching along the way. I took the bus versus train, which takes more time but is much cheaper. In the extreme case, I hitchhiked, which usually takes the most time and patience, but I traveled virtually for free, and ended up having nice conversations with my drivers, thereby increasing my happiness.<br />
<br />
In the future I will try, somehow, to travel even slower, and at some point in my life, I want to do some cycle touring. Riding a bike across a country is very alluring to me, especially because it is a slow way to see and understand a country. So I guess my point is...<br />
<br />
Take. Your. Time!<br />
<br />
This is my ultimate lesson for you folks and, believe it or not, it not only maximizes happiness but saves money. I really can't stress this enough!<br />
<br />
It is important to note that the debate about whether time or money is important for happiness is an impossible one. In the end everyone has their own approach. But I do suspect that more people in the world are fooled into thinking that money is more important time than vice versa.<br />
<br />
At least in North America, my prevailing observation is that most people are overworked, busy and tired, while still blowing most of their cash on things that produce fleeting happiness. In Europe I get more of the sense that people worry less about money, and spend more time on simple yet important things such as food or good company, and they are overall more relaxed, less stressed and complain less.<br />
<div>
<br /></div>
<div>
Have a nice day. And I hope today that you take your time in whatever you do =)</div>
</div>
All I Need is my 2 Bare Feethttp://www.blogger.com/profile/16455987029572997655noreply@blogger.com1tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-8907537061923057759.post-88893140511555689322013-06-07T09:00:00.001-07:002013-06-07T09:00:29.617-07:00Wise Words from a World Wanderer, Part 1 - I Perspire to Inspire<div dir="ltr" style="text-align: left;" trbidi="on">
The End of 10 Months, The Beginning of a New Me...<br />
<table align="center" cellpadding="0" cellspacing="0" class="tr-caption-container" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto; text-align: center;"><tbody>
<tr><td style="text-align: center;"><a href="http://2.bp.blogspot.com/--A0RRUYMhqs/UbICa4TICoI/AAAAAAAAAkU/E5f3mYjwfYc/s1600/Blog+-+Andrew.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto;"><img border="0" height="132" src="http://2.bp.blogspot.com/--A0RRUYMhqs/UbICa4TICoI/AAAAAAAAAkU/E5f3mYjwfYc/s200/Blog+-+Andrew.jpg" width="200" /></a></td></tr>
<tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;">Me in the beginning - colourless, hairless</td></tr>
</tbody></table>
After all this time that you, my faithful readers have been following me around on my adventures through Europe it's about time that I admit this: my apologies for the slight deception in my blog title. Although I did take an 11 month sabbatical from work, my time out of country has actually been 10 months - 303 days to be precise. Hopefully, this is neither earth-shattering nor credibility-eroding news (you know by now that my blog is not a means to massage my own vanity). Anyway, I believe that in all other aspects of my travel journalism, I have been straight as an arrow, blunt in honesty, sharp in wit, and forcefully thought provoking.<br />
<br />
I don't know why you follow my blog, but I do know why I write: not to shine glory on myself as a travelling wunderkind and bask in your awe, adoration and jealousy (well, maybe just a bit). No, not that. I write to open your minds, to dispel stereotypes, to broadcast the true beauty and diversity of the world, to bring awareness to your conscience, to inspire and ultimately motivate you to change and improve yourself. And hopefully whatever little changes I create in you will ripple out and affect those around you and maybe, in the end, this world will be a better place.<br />
<br />
I hope I have achieved these goals, or my blog was for naught.<br />
<br />
One request I received was to write a blog about how to save money while travelling through Europe. I have decided not to blog about this because it is not one of the goals of my blog. However, I do ask that you contact me directly if you are looking for specific advice on this matter. The only thing I will write here is that the most important step is simply to start travelling. Once you do, you will quickly learn ways to save money and also learn what you are capable of doing in order to save.<br />
<table align="center" cellpadding="0" cellspacing="0" class="tr-caption-container" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto; text-align: center;"><tbody>
<tr><td style="text-align: center;"><a href="http://3.bp.blogspot.com/-_qfLULiloVU/UbIDAB7FWBI/AAAAAAAAAkk/f0Hbyu9EkFs/s1600/Blog+-+Andrew.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto; text-align: center;"><img border="0" height="132" src="http://3.bp.blogspot.com/-_qfLULiloVU/UbIDAB7FWBI/AAAAAAAAAkk/f0Hbyu9EkFs/s200/Blog+-+Andrew.jpg" width="200" /></a></td></tr>
<tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;">Me in the middle </td></tr>
</tbody></table>
Your travelling style may also change to focus on cheaper, more fulfilling activities. For me, the best memories of my trip were not of museums and churches, or beaches and parties. They were working on a farm, teaching English, meeting great people, learning and expanding my mind; they were times of challenging and inspiring myself, detaching from the real world and immersing in a dream world as just a guy with a backpack.<br />
<br />
10 months was long enough for me to become detached from home and reinvent myself. Yet - not completely and utterly so. Occasionally the ominous deadline of June 2013 loomed over my travel planning, like a pinprick of light at the end of an immensely long hallway, barely discernible but clearly present, and growing larger by the day. It loomed heavily at times, enough to not feel completely free to go everywhere I wanted.<br />
<br />
Some of you may think why the hell I spent my entire travels in just Europe, Turkey and Morocco. At times, I also thought this myself. But the fact of the matter is that even within 10 months of travelling around one of the tiniest smallest continents, I barely scratched the surface of Europe. There is so much natural and cultural diversity here, it could take a lifetime to see it all. And if I had but one regret, it's that I didn't spend long enough during every stop along the way.<br />
<table align="center" cellpadding="0" cellspacing="0" class="tr-caption-container" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto; text-align: center;"><tbody>
<tr><td style="text-align: center;"><a href="http://2.bp.blogspot.com/-RQqR4lun4cg/UbICogX-nzI/AAAAAAAAAkc/0KtzZrMi7Ig/s1600/Blog+-+Andrew.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto; text-align: center;"><img border="0" height="132" src="http://2.bp.blogspot.com/-RQqR4lun4cg/UbICogX-nzI/AAAAAAAAAkc/0KtzZrMi7Ig/s200/Blog+-+Andrew.jpg" width="200" /></a></td></tr>
<tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;">Me by the end - colourful, hairier, wiser</td></tr>
</tbody></table>
Which leads me to my first life lesson learned...</div>
All I Need is my 2 Bare Feethttp://www.blogger.com/profile/16455987029572997655noreply@blogger.com2tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-8907537061923057759.post-91565671518459944182013-05-28T16:14:00.000-07:002013-05-29T05:58:43.822-07:00My 10 Months In Europe Top 5's<div dir="ltr" style="text-align: left;" trbidi="on">
Here are some of my top 5 lists for places visited or experiences during my travels.<br />
<div>
<br /></div>
<div>
I admit these rankings are far from perfect. I used a balanced approach to include personal opinion and to make unbiased recommendations for you, the viewer, to decide your next travel destination. Rankings were spread out geographically, in order to highlight as many different parts of Europe as possible, and sometimes underdogs were picked to bring attention to little known places.</div>
<div>
<br /></div>
<div>
That is why you will notice that my rankings do not include the most popular countries and cities in Europe, such as London, Paris, Rome, Amsterdam, etc. You already know about these places, thus, I preferred to highlight other lesser known great travel destinations.</div>
<div>
<br /></div>
<div>
Controversy dogged me in every category. In the end these rankings were painstaking to compile, and I flip flopped many times, eventually forced to exclude many places worthy of a ranking. Even now, I'm still not sure about the results. Nevertheless...<br />
<br />
Over my 10 months of travels, in no particular order, here are my top 5 rankings for:</div>
<div>
<br />
Countries - <a href="http://www.flickr.com/photos/11monthsandrew/sets/72157633764123537/">http://www.flickr.com/photos/11monthsandrew/sets/72157633764123537/</a></div>
<div>
Cities - <a href="http://www.flickr.com/photos/11monthsandrew/sets/72157633764123531/">http://www.flickr.com/photos/11monthsandrew/sets/72157633764123531/</a></div>
<div>
Beautiful Cities - <a href="http://www.flickr.com/photos/11monthsandrew/sets/72157633764123519/">http://www.flickr.com/photos/11monthsandrew/sets/72157633764123519/</a></div>
<div>
Plazas - <a href="http://www.flickr.com/photos/11monthsandrew/sets/72157633764123505/">http://www.flickr.com/photos/11monthsandrew/sets/72157633764123505/</a></div>
<div>
Structures - <a href="http://www.flickr.com/photos/11monthsandrew/sets/72157633764123515/">http://www.flickr.com/photos/11monthsandrew/sets/72157633764123515/</a></div>
<div>
Nature - <a href="http://www.flickr.com/photos/11monthsandrew/sets/72157633764123491/">http://www.flickr.com/photos/11monthsandrew/sets/72157633764123491/</a></div>
<div>
Experiences - <a href="http://www.flickr.com/photos/11monthsandrew/sets/72157633764123471/">http://www.flickr.com/photos/11monthsandrew/sets/72157633764123471/</a></div>
</div>
All I Need is my 2 Bare Feethttp://www.blogger.com/profile/16455987029572997655noreply@blogger.com4tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-8907537061923057759.post-39542651580719055802013-05-22T03:41:00.002-07:002013-05-22T03:43:18.483-07:00Waiting for the End<div dir="ltr" style="text-align: left;" trbidi="on">
I spent the final 3 days of my trip in London on a stopover to slowly wind down my trip. Like the weather, my mood was somber. Like the London fog, an air of sadness and emptiness was hanging over my head, clouding my thoughts.<br />
<br />
To distract myself, I spent time in London with friends whom I had met abroad. But when I was alone in my friend's flat or walking along the south bank of the Thames, admiring Tower Bridge and Big Ben, long spells of vast silence would overcome me, and it felt like I was the only person in London. It was like being stuck in some parallel dimension between traveling and real life.<br />
<br />
<br />
Over 10 months I became completely detached from real life, grown accustomed to spontaneity and adventure, lost all concept of time, and adopted the road as my new home. But soon I will be once again enslaved by routine, no longer able to wake up whenever I want, no longer living out of just a backpack, but tied down by my condo, car and material goods. I wasn't sure if I was ready for it yet.<br />
<div>
<br /></div>
<br />
At times my trip felt like a movie, and now that the movie is over, I was the only one sitting in the theatre after everyone left and went home. But I was afraid to go home to reality. Going home meant abandoning all the places I visited and friends I made, and memory wouldn't be enough to hold onto them.<br />
<br />
One other thought haunted me. Coming home, I was afraid of how I would fit back into society. While on the outside I have not changed much, besides having longer, slightly more grey hair, and more wrinkles (wisdom lines as I call them), on the inside I have changed immeasurably. My previously outlying views on philosophy and society have become stretched further from my travel experiences. While family and friends will welcome my return with open arms, I am afraid I will feel like an outsider.<br />
<br />
At 4 pm on May 21, I finally landed back on Canadian soil and my trip officially ended. I am still in Montreal, so still not quite home yet, but everything feels familiar, and I'm starting to feel positive again. Time will tell how I fit back into the real world, but in the meantime I have the comfort of great memories from 303 days of the most amazing trip of my life and the knowledge that there is a beautiful inspiring world out there, ready and waiting for me to explore it.</div>
All I Need is my 2 Bare Feethttp://www.blogger.com/profile/16455987029572997655noreply@blogger.com5tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-8907537061923057759.post-16922122513705332182013-05-19T07:28:00.001-07:002013-05-19T07:28:26.188-07:00From Russia With... A Fresh Perspective<div dir="ltr" style="text-align: left;" trbidi="on">
Often times during my second visit to Russia I got the feeling that I was conducting my own cultural anthropological experiment. The same way famous anthropologists wandered into primeval forests and lived with native tribes in order to understand them, I felt like a pioneer, wandering into a country so vast and significant yet such a mystery, at least among my peers back home, and on a mission to find out the truth about its people.<br />
<br />
Here are some of my experiences and anecdotes about Russia with the intention, hopefully, of dispelling certain stereotypes or foster understanding of its people and culture.<br />
<table align="center" cellpadding="0" cellspacing="0" class="tr-caption-container" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto; text-align: center;"><tbody>
<tr><td style="text-align: center;"><a href="http://4.bp.blogspot.com/-38qw-a2wTD4/UZiWVPRqQgI/AAAAAAAAAjk/CgufK4tUEFI/s1600/Blog+-+Kremlin.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto;"><img border="0" height="115" src="http://4.bp.blogspot.com/-38qw-a2wTD4/UZiWVPRqQgI/AAAAAAAAAjk/CgufK4tUEFI/s320/Blog+-+Kremlin.jpg" width="320" /></a></td></tr>
<tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;">Kremlin - the palace of the central government of Russia</td></tr>
</tbody></table>
Moscow itself is a unique metropolis due to its geopolitical and economic status in Russia and relations with nearby countries. It has a deep history. Today it teems with culture. It is one of the most expensive cities in the world, yet it attracts people from all walks of life from poor illegal immigrants (including prehistoric looking Asians from the -stan countries) to multi-billionaires like Roman Abramovich. Aside from my sidebar to St. Petersburg, I have spent my time wholly in Moscow, wandering and getting to know the city, learning Russian, and meeting people for language and culture exchange.<br />
<br />
One stereotype Russians are aware they have, and that they jokingly questioned me about, is that they are serious people. The Russians I met were ashamed to admit that the majority of them never smile on the Metro, and that shopkeepers are brutal and straightforward, and don't understand the concept of customer service.<br />
<br />Well, I think the former complaint can be excused, after all it's an urban big city phenomenon. I feel that people are generally less friendly (and in more of a hurry) the bigger the city, based on my experiences throughout Europe and even in Canada. And Moscow is the biggest city I have ever visited, with estimates of its population between 12 and 19 million. So it is no surprise that people are less friendly here. In addition, I was told people are friendlier in the countryside of Russia.<br />
<table align="center" cellpadding="0" cellspacing="0" class="tr-caption-container" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto; text-align: center;"><tbody>
<tr><td><a href="http://3.bp.blogspot.com/-lifkwQ7VXgk/UZe7ES78rrI/AAAAAAAAAjU/4AZXkMXqSQQ/s1600/Blog+-+Vitalak.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto;"><img border="0" height="132" src="http://3.bp.blogspot.com/-lifkwQ7VXgk/UZe7ES78rrI/AAAAAAAAAjU/4AZXkMXqSQQ/s200/Blog+-+Vitalak.jpg" width="200" /></a></td></tr>
<tr><td class="tr-caption" style="font-size: 13.333333969116211px;">One super friendly Russian - my Couchsurfing friend Vitalak</td></tr>
</tbody></table>
<br />
<table align="center" cellpadding="0" cellspacing="0" class="tr-caption-container" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto; text-align: center;"><tbody>
<tr><td style="text-align: center;"><a href="http://2.bp.blogspot.com/-QQ4-lrkctZg/UZe7DjLIV5I/AAAAAAAAAi8/UL0APXCr-uQ/s1600/Blog+-+Flea+Guitar.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto; text-align: center;"><img border="0" height="132" src="http://2.bp.blogspot.com/-QQ4-lrkctZg/UZe7DjLIV5I/AAAAAAAAAi8/UL0APXCr-uQ/s200/Blog+-+Flea+Guitar.jpg" width="200" /></a></td></tr>
<tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;"><span style="text-align: left;"><span style="font-size: x-small;">Pretending I can play guitar with Vitalak's replica of Flea's guitar from Red Hot Chili Peppers</span></span></td></tr>
</tbody></table>
While most of my Russian friends are not heavy drinkers, Russians are generally known as such. While I didn't notice much heavy drinking, quite often, I've seen people with a beer in their hand while walking down the street, sitting on benches in parks, in the Metro and on the bus. It's a curious phenomenon to witness, as someone from a country where drinking in public is illegal (it is in Russia too, but never enforced). At least it seems that public drinking is done responsibly and respectabley.<br />
<br />
Like friendliness level, alcohol consumption increases in the rural areas. I've been told Russians don't just drink vodka either; they drink anything and everything. It's just that vodka is the most common and cheapest liquor available. Apparently poor airport workers in Siberia even know of a way to separate alcohol from antifreeze...<br />
<table align="center" cellpadding="0" cellspacing="0" class="tr-caption-container" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto; text-align: center;"><tbody>
<tr><td><a href="http://3.bp.blogspot.com/-5v7qoY_tNcM/UZe7EBEEMRI/AAAAAAAAAjM/JX3gp3HW8hA/s1600/Blog+-+Lenin's+Tomb.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto;"><img border="0" height="212" src="http://3.bp.blogspot.com/-5v7qoY_tNcM/UZe7EBEEMRI/AAAAAAAAAjM/JX3gp3HW8hA/s320/Blog+-+Lenin's+Tomb.jpg" width="320" /></a></td></tr>
<tr><td class="tr-caption" style="font-size: 13.333333969116211px;">Lenin's Tomb in Red Square - he is still a hero amongst older Russians; not as much amongst the younger</td></tr>
</tbody></table>
<br />
Corruption is still a problem here in Russia. And it starts at the very top. Its current president, Putin, has secured a stronghold on the presidency through less than integral means. And anyone who crosses Putin will likely be punished, whether it's nosy journalists, outspoken celebrities, or the general public. I may even be on his black list now for these comments.<br />
<br />
There's a running joke made famous following a recent political election. The election was rigged, but exposed itself on TV when a voting poll mistakenly totaled 146%. Now whenever a Russian is quite certain of something, they sometimes say they are 146% sure.<br />
<table align="center" cellpadding="0" cellspacing="0" class="tr-caption-container" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto; text-align: center;"><tbody>
<tr><td style="text-align: center;"><img height="242" src="http://redhotrussia.com/wp-content/uploads/2012/03/146-percents.jpg" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto;" width="320" /></td></tr>
<tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;">Screenshot from the rigged election. Total voting = 146,47%</td></tr>
</tbody></table>
This corruption trickles down to street level and can be observed in police enforcement. Cops can stop you anywhere without reason, slap you with a ghost fine, then hint at a bribe in exchange for your freedom. I was randomly asked for my passport by a cop at a Metro station. But did I really look like a suspicious character in my bright orange jacket and a bright multicoloured toque?<br />
<br />
On the bright side, when cops aren't out for your money, they are pretty slack about the laws. People can drink just about anywhere, and cars can virtually do whatever they want on the road in Russia. My driver to St. Petersburg stopped on the highway shoulder after missing an offramp and backed all the way up to catch it. My favourite road scene is seeing cars towed by other cars, tied by means of a simple rope, to avoid hiring tow trucks.<br />
<table align="center" cellpadding="0" cellspacing="0" class="tr-caption-container" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto; text-align: center;"><tbody>
<tr><td><a href="http://3.bp.blogspot.com/-lZ2YdAvXSqg/UZe7DqDKJOI/AAAAAAAAAjA/55-cVG04s18/s1600/Blog+-+Last+Day.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto;"><img border="0" height="212" src="http://3.bp.blogspot.com/-lZ2YdAvXSqg/UZe7DqDKJOI/AAAAAAAAAjA/55-cVG04s18/s320/Blog+-+Last+Day.jpg" width="320" /></a></td></tr>
<tr><td class="tr-caption" style="font-size: 13.333333969116211px;">Posing near the Kremlin on my last full day in Moscow</td></tr>
</tbody></table>
<br />
This unique twist of freedom, among other things, is what makes Russia a fascinating and beautiful country. It's the only place where I've seen local food markets selling vegetables past its prime at discount rates, preventing waste. The general disregard of rules allows the Russian version of Facebook, vKontakte, to stream music, outright ignoring copyright laws. Besides this, Russia is amazingly diverse, with tens or hundreds of small culturally unique tribes or "republics" living in mountain regions of the south, and up in the frozen north. It's moving up the world stage, set to host Sochi Winter Olympics and, soon after, the World Cup. If they don't remove barriers to obtaining tourist Visas by then, if you are willing to endure the complications of getting the Visa, I recommend going to check out this country which is far down most peoples' travel lists.<br />
<br />
I think the general North American view of Russians is confined to a few stereotypes, which are not so flattering. I was eager to play journalist, to dispel these negative stereotypes, or at the very least uncover the cause of them. After all, we are all humans that have simply grown up in different environments and become accustomed to them.<br />
<table align="center" cellpadding="0" cellspacing="0" class="tr-caption-container" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto; text-align: center;"><tbody>
<tr><td style="text-align: center;"><a href="http://3.bp.blogspot.com/-Pfsb3QtkFWM/UZiXcLe78pI/AAAAAAAAAjw/vq5LHI1-L2M/s1600/Presentation+-+Yulia.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto;"><img border="0" height="132" src="http://3.bp.blogspot.com/-Pfsb3QtkFWM/UZiXcLe78pI/AAAAAAAAAjw/vq5LHI1-L2M/s200/Presentation+-+Yulia.jpg" width="200" /></a></td></tr>
<tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;">Another one of my many awesome Couchsurfers in Moscow - thanks Philip and Yulia!</td></tr>
</tbody></table>
<div>
Russia's roughness around the edges is part of its slow and sometimes painful smoothing out process from a long, embattled 20th century of political oppression and war. People haven't forgotten the Soviet Times, which shaped who they are today. In fact I often heard sentences beginning with "In Soviet Russia..." However, generation by generation, the bitterness and pessimism from the past is fading from memory. The people are sometimes harsh, but at least they are honest and unabashed, and definitely very interesting to talk to.<br />
<br />Russia has grown on me the more time I have spent here, especially Moscow and the many great people I have met here. I would love to come back to spend more time and visit other cities, and even experience the wildnerness of Siberia. But for now, it's mission accomplished...<br />
<br />
I'm coming back to Canada!<br />
<br />
Flickr: <a href="http://www.flickr.com/photos/11monthsandrew/sets/72157633532243018/"><span style="font-size: x-small;">http://www.flickr.com/photos/11monthsandrew/sets/72157633532243018/</span></a><br />
<table align="center" cellpadding="0" cellspacing="0" class="tr-caption-container" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto; text-align: center;"><tbody>
<tr><td style="text-align: center;"><a href="http://2.bp.blogspot.com/-URi27lU8R98/UZjZ9K9hy4I/AAAAAAAAAkA/fKU4AP4sA5Q/s1600/Blog+-+Patriarch's+Pond.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto;"><img border="0" height="111" src="http://2.bp.blogspot.com/-URi27lU8R98/UZjZ9K9hy4I/AAAAAAAAAkA/fKU4AP4sA5Q/s320/Blog+-+Patriarch's+Pond.jpg" width="320" /></a></td></tr>
<tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;">Bonus picture for fans of Master & Margarita! - Patriarch's Pond</td></tr>
</tbody></table>
</div>
</div>
All I Need is my 2 Bare Feethttp://www.blogger.com/profile/16455987029572997655noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-8907537061923057759.post-31732159148797792962013-05-12T17:02:00.000-07:002013-05-12T17:02:06.867-07:00Last Stop - St. Petersburg<div dir="ltr" style="text-align: left;" trbidi="on">
Ladies and gentleman, it's been nearly 10 months since the last time I set foot in Canada. Since then I've visited many cities and been to many attractions. You have followed me along my course, become jaded with me, maybe even became bored of the same old pictures of architecture and cityscapes that I became bored of in person.<br />
<table align="center" cellpadding="0" cellspacing="0" class="tr-caption-container" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto; text-align: center;"><tbody>
<tr><td style="text-align: center;"><a href="http://4.bp.blogspot.com/-Aq9XswsfEcg/UZAka3CgdgI/AAAAAAAAAiA/W61kOb1hISk/s1600/Blog+-+St+P.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto; text-align: center;"><img border="0" height="132" src="http://4.bp.blogspot.com/-Aq9XswsfEcg/UZAka3CgdgI/AAAAAAAAAiA/W61kOb1hISk/s200/Blog+-+St+P.jpg" width="200" /></a></td></tr>
<tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;">Church of Our Savior stands down one of the canals</td></tr>
</tbody></table>
As glamorous as it is to travel, it all becomes too much at some point. And yet you just can't stop while you're ahead. This is the problem I faced upon visiting St. Petersburg, the final "tourist" destination of my travels: could I enjoy it without getting bored?<br />
<br />
St. Petersburg is rather unique. Founded by Peter the Great just over 300 years ago, it is pretty young by European standards. Yet it flourished and developed, and today is one of the biggest cities in Europe at over 5 million, and a centre of culture and arts. The city is adorned with lovely canals and, as per usual, impressive palaces, cathedrals and monuments.<br />
<table align="center" cellpadding="0" cellspacing="0" class="tr-caption-container" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto; text-align: center;"><tbody>
<tr><td><a href="http://4.bp.blogspot.com/-S9tEJQ_ahc4/UZAkZfO273I/AAAAAAAAAh0/zk12EEDo-qU/s1600/Blog+-+Hitchhiking.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto;"><img border="0" height="212" src="http://4.bp.blogspot.com/-S9tEJQ_ahc4/UZAkZfO273I/AAAAAAAAAh0/zk12EEDo-qU/s320/Blog+-+Hitchhiking.jpg" width="320" /></a></td></tr>
<tr><td class="tr-caption" style="font-size: 13.333333969116211px;">St. Petersburg - 670 km!</td></tr>
</tbody></table>
Surprisingly, transportation between Moscow and St. Petersburg is very expensive and with few alternatives. So I resorted to a method I hadn't used in months - hitchhiking. Fortunately, I started early, because after a disastrous first 5 hours, in which 3 cars and 1 bus took me barely 100 km, I was finally saved by a kind man named Dennis, who took me the rest of the 600 km in about 7 hours. Long day!<br />
<br />
The day after I arrived, St. Petersburg was alive and the streets were buzzing at a feverish pitch. It was May 9, Victory Day of the Great Patriotic War. Now without descending into a full blown history lesson, you should at least know that this war is probably known to you as World War II. However, ex-Soviet countries call it the Great Patriotic War, and it only encompasses Russian involvement. Thus, the start of GPW was the day Germany invaded Russia in 1941, and the final date was when Russia captured Berlin on May 9, 1945, NOT the day Japan surrendered after the dropping of the atomic bomb.<br />
<table align="center" cellpadding="0" cellspacing="0" class="tr-caption-container" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto; text-align: center;"><tbody>
<tr><td><a href="http://4.bp.blogspot.com/-NSKFyjHg580/UZAkbHJyNwI/AAAAAAAAAiI/MyMT289XEBE/s1600/Blog+-+Victory+Parade.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto;"><img border="0" height="212" src="http://4.bp.blogspot.com/-NSKFyjHg580/UZAkbHJyNwI/AAAAAAAAAiI/MyMT289XEBE/s320/Blog+-+Victory+Parade.jpg" width="320" /></a></td></tr>
<tr><td class="tr-caption" style="font-size: 13.333333969116211px;">May 9 - Victory Day Parade</td></tr>
</tbody></table>
<br />
Anyway, May 9 was a good day to be out on the streets in Moscow, St. Petersburg, or any major city in Russia. There was a Victory Parade in the afternoon, then in the evening there were also fireworks, and many of the main streets were closed down so that pedestrians filled the streets, chanting and singing with pride.<br />
<table align="center" cellpadding="0" cellspacing="0" class="tr-caption-container" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto; text-align: center;"><tbody>
<tr><td style="text-align: center;"><table align="center" cellpadding="0" cellspacing="0" class="tr-caption-container" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto; text-align: center;"><tbody>
<tr><td><a href="http://3.bp.blogspot.com/-oytWRqbXiMI/UZAkYy5qpgI/AAAAAAAAAhw/KurDjxr7Al8/s1600/Blog+-+Fireworks.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto;"><img border="0" height="212" src="http://3.bp.blogspot.com/-oytWRqbXiMI/UZAkYy5qpgI/AAAAAAAAAhw/KurDjxr7Al8/s320/Blog+-+Fireworks.jpg" width="320" /></a></td></tr>
<tr><td class="tr-caption" style="font-size: 13.333333969116211px;">Fireworks seen from a packed bridge</td></tr>
</tbody></table>
</td></tr>
</tbody></table>
Besides the festivities, I managed to see two pretty memorable museums. One local treasure was the miniature museum, which illustrated Russia in one massive papier-mache incredibly detailed landscape brought to life with miniature buildings and people. It even had moving trains and cars, and a real time traffic control system for these mini vehicles, operated by staff behind a window. As an engineer, wow!<br />
<br />
The other museum I saw was the Hermitage, the second largest museum in the world. Quite resembling the Louvre, the interior is decorated like the best palaces in Europe, with grand hallways covered with frescoes, statues, gold trim and finely ornamented. The museum's collection houses millions of items, mostly paintings and artifacts of European origin. I braved over 2 hours in the rain lining up for this beast. And, well, it was worth it.<br />
<table align="center" cellpadding="0" cellspacing="0" class="tr-caption-container" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto; text-align: center;"><tbody>
<tr><td style="text-align: center;"><a href="http://1.bp.blogspot.com/-xw7QMmEXoUg/UZAkwmQNiWI/AAAAAAAAAiY/yQn6ezlOm9Y/s1600/Blog+-+Hermitage.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto; text-align: center;"><img border="0" height="212" src="http://1.bp.blogspot.com/-xw7QMmEXoUg/UZAkwmQNiWI/AAAAAAAAAiY/yQn6ezlOm9Y/s320/Blog+-+Hermitage.jpg" width="320" /></a></td></tr>
<tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;">Standing in line for the Hermitage - lady in umbrella says it all</td></tr>
</tbody></table>
As a jaded tourist, I couldn't be bothered to pay the extra 200 rubles, or about 5 euros, for the right to take photos. Nor could I bother to search out any featured paintings or statues in the massive complex. Thus, I discarded the map and wandered aimlessly, like a kid in a neverending candy shop.<br />
<br />
In similar fashion, the rest of my time in St. Petersburg was spent walking. I've learned that walking is the best way to get to know a city. That and avoid spending money on attractions that are ultimately forgettable. Curiously, clamoring around St. Petersburg's streets, I felt like Raskolnikoff, the main character in Dostoevsky's thrilling Crime and Punishment, which I am not so coincidentally currently reading.<br />
<table align="center" cellpadding="0" cellspacing="0" class="tr-caption-container" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto; text-align: center;"><tbody>
<tr><td style="text-align: center;"><a href="http://2.bp.blogspot.com/-3R-0U7KMcmk/UZAtIZ7rB6I/AAAAAAAAAis/B40C0GZ_g_4/s1600/Blog+-+Neva.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto;"><img border="0" height="132" src="http://2.bp.blogspot.com/-3R-0U7KMcmk/UZAtIZ7rB6I/AAAAAAAAAis/B40C0GZ_g_4/s200/Blog+-+Neva.jpg" width="200" /></a></td></tr>
<tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;">Neva River, which adds to the beauty of St. Petersburg</td></tr>
</tbody></table>
Despite all the goodies mentioned above, my time in St. Petersburg was ambivalent. In my jaded state, I probably enjoyed this city more like a bored fool than a wide eyed camera toting tourist. Besides, other external matters played a part in my moodiness, such as bad weather and painful feet.<br />
<br />
But what right do I have to complain? None, really. I owe nothing except gratitude for being a tourist for so long. With this in mind, I can rightfully conclude that St. Petersburg is a pretty great city and one highly recommended by myself.<br />
<br />
As I write this, I am back in Moscow living out my days as a free man, back in less than 2 weeks. And though I will be glad to come home, a part of me will wish I was still living out of a suitcase, checking famous cities and big museums off my bucket list.<br />
<br />
Flickr: <a href="http://www.flickr.com/photos/11monthsandrew/sets/72157633476998440/"><span style="font-size: x-small;">http://www.flickr.com/photos/11monthsandrew/sets/72157633476998440/</span></a><br />
<table align="center" cellpadding="0" cellspacing="0" class="tr-caption-container" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto; text-align: center;"><tbody>
<tr><td style="text-align: center;"><a href="http://1.bp.blogspot.com/-ulivoZYHnwo/UZAkwZJbx8I/AAAAAAAAAiU/QZoD1SihkgE/s1600/Blog+-+Bridge.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto; text-align: center;"><img border="0" height="132" src="http://1.bp.blogspot.com/-ulivoZYHnwo/UZAkwZJbx8I/AAAAAAAAAiU/QZoD1SihkgE/s200/Blog+-+Bridge.jpg" width="200" /></a></td></tr>
<tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;">Contemplative walk along the Neva River, last night of St. Petersburg</td></tr>
</tbody></table>
</div>
All I Need is my 2 Bare Feethttp://www.blogger.com/profile/16455987029572997655noreply@blogger.com1tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-8907537061923057759.post-76757528794151102122013-04-19T02:24:00.003-07:002013-04-19T02:24:54.047-07:00Off To Where the Sun Sets on Europe<div dir="ltr" style="text-align: left;" trbidi="on">
Check one off the bucket list.<br />
<br />
Having seen the majority of mainland Western Europe, I felt reluctantly obligated to see Portugal. Given a lucky window of opportunity, waiting two weeks for my Visa to Russia to process while in Madrid, instead of waiting around, I packed my bags once again and headed west.<br />
<table align="center" cellpadding="0" cellspacing="0" class="tr-caption-container" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto; text-align: center;"><tbody>
<tr><td style="text-align: center;"><a href="http://4.bp.blogspot.com/-QXwYWFV-kUo/UXDZ_hYftWI/AAAAAAAAAg4/5xoNvQhwDTY/s1600/Blog+-+buy+love.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto;"><img border="0" height="132" src="http://4.bp.blogspot.com/-QXwYWFV-kUo/UXDZ_hYftWI/AAAAAAAAAg4/5xoNvQhwDTY/s200/Blog+-+buy+love.jpg" width="200" /></a></td></tr>
<tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;">Apparently you can buy love in Lisboa</td></tr>
</tbody></table>
But I did much more than just "knock Portugal off the list." In fact, I had a really great time there!<br />
<br />
Portugal gets as little attention as central and eastern Europe but after visiting it I see why it is a rising star of tourism in Europe. Lisboa (Lisbon), the capital city, is a city that has it all, tied up in a neat little package. It has all the traits of a historical European city, castle on a hill overlooking a romantic old city by the water, plus it also offers many modern attractions and provides a good base for day trips to the countryside.<br />
<table align="center" cellpadding="0" cellspacing="0" class="tr-caption-container" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto; text-align: center;"><tbody>
<tr><td style="text-align: center;"><a href="http://4.bp.blogspot.com/-eB6nQs94KzE/UXDZ_k9nNqI/AAAAAAAAAg8/uA0bkHbdIFQ/s1600/Blog+-+Lisboa.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto; text-align: center;"><img border="0" height="105" src="http://4.bp.blogspot.com/-eB6nQs94KzE/UXDZ_k9nNqI/AAAAAAAAAg8/uA0bkHbdIFQ/s320/Blog+-+Lisboa.jpg" width="320" /></a></td></tr>
<tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;">Mirador (lookout) of Lisboa</td></tr>
</tbody></table>
While I am not a shopper, I love visiting markets to see what the locals have to offer. In Lisboa, I was ready to throw my wallet at everything I saw. The second-hand markets, set up in first rate outdoor spaces in the city, sold absolutely anything and everything the slightest bit useful or desirable, from old plastic toys to film cameras and rusting silverware. If you are looking for new things, there are markets thriving with creative energy for the arts and crafts from jewellery and household decorations down to keychains and postcards. In fact, the Iberian Peninsula which includes Spain showcases the best arts and crafts in Europe. I managed to fish a few dollars out to buy my first magnets of the trip.<br />
<br />
From Lisboa, I made a few day trips. My first day trip was to Cascais, a little oceanside town full of villas and yachts, to join a Couchsurfing photowalk event, and to get my first glimpse of the Atlantic Ocean. My second day trip was to picturesque Sintra, complete with a dreamy Disney-like castle on a hill, and a view of the westernmost point of mainland Europe.<br />
<table align="center" cellpadding="0" cellspacing="0" class="tr-caption-container" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto; text-align: center;"><tbody>
<tr><td><a href="http://4.bp.blogspot.com/-mgCSIcVw0K0/UXDW6SNWt6I/AAAAAAAAAgg/SpE2dLG63AI/s1600/Blog+-+Sintra.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto;"><img border="0" height="212" src="http://4.bp.blogspot.com/-mgCSIcVw0K0/UXDW6SNWt6I/AAAAAAAAAgg/SpE2dLG63AI/s320/Blog+-+Sintra.jpg" width="320" /></a></td></tr>
<tr><td class="tr-caption" style="font-size: 13.333333969116211px;">Castle at Sintra</td></tr>
</tbody></table>
I also had some of the best seafood of my trip in a little hideaway restaurant that indicated, through no indications at all, that it was a local joint. Eating here reminded me that I always had the best dining experiences by straying off the main street and finding places that didn't want to be found.<br />
<br />
From there it was on to sleepy Lagos on the southern coast of Portugal. A day trip took me to Sagres and slightly beyond, to the southwestern most point of mainland Europe where mighty waves crashed into mightier cliffs.<br />
<table align="center" cellpadding="0" cellspacing="0" class="tr-caption-container" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto; text-align: center;"><tbody>
<tr><td><a href="http://1.bp.blogspot.com/-lc5gWj_xAw8/UXDXAYhpDTI/AAAAAAAAAgo/7hsskfikmec/s1600/Blog+-+Lagos+beach.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto;"><img border="0" height="212" src="http://1.bp.blogspot.com/-lc5gWj_xAw8/UXDXAYhpDTI/AAAAAAAAAgo/7hsskfikmec/s320/Blog+-+Lagos+beach.jpg" width="320" /></a></td></tr>
<tr><td class="tr-caption" style="font-size: 13.333333969116211px;">Checking out the cliffs and beaches in Lagos</td></tr>
</tbody></table>
<br />
Back in Lagos, I went on a kayaking tour along its less mighty yet wonderfully abstract cliffs, its red and white hues of rock curving mysteriously, and unveiling pristine beaches in its bosom. The kayak tour stopped at one of the beaches for a rest. While most people were deterred from the water, still dreadfully cold and slow to warm up, it did not stop a Canadian like me from going for a swim! The irony here is that there were other Canadians on the tour who did not even consider dipping a toe in the water.<br />
<br />
On my final day in Lagos, one where the sun shone down soothing warmth and with not a cloud in the sky, I descended into a rocky nook on Batatas Beach all to myself, and did some yoga. My mind cleared... bliss, happiness... and nothing needs more to be said about Lagos!<br />
<br />
Flickr Photos: <a href="http://www.flickr.com/photos/11monthsandrew/sets/72157633271763021/"><span style="font-size: x-small;">http://www.flickr.com/photos/11monthsandrew/sets/72157633271763021/</span></a><br />
<br />
Also photos from Sevilla: <span style="font-size: x-small;"><a href="http://www.flickr.com/photos/11monthsandrew/sets/72157633276142490/">http://www.flickr.com/photos/11monthsandrew/sets/72157633276142490/</a></span><br />
<table align="center" cellpadding="0" cellspacing="0" class="tr-caption-container" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto; text-align: center;"><tbody>
<tr><td style="text-align: center;"><a href="http://1.bp.blogspot.com/-G1C21dk50RQ/UXDXFQF0eII/AAAAAAAAAgw/A_eHD4qZCM0/s1600/Blog+-+Plaza+de+Espana.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto; text-align: center;"><img border="0" height="134" src="http://1.bp.blogspot.com/-G1C21dk50RQ/UXDXFQF0eII/AAAAAAAAAgw/A_eHD4qZCM0/s320/Blog+-+Plaza+de+Espana.jpg" width="320" /></a></td></tr>
<tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;">Plaza De Espana, Sevilla</td></tr>
</tbody></table>
</div>
All I Need is my 2 Bare Feethttp://www.blogger.com/profile/16455987029572997655noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-8907537061923057759.post-47443146008821330312013-04-03T01:39:00.001-07:002013-04-03T02:20:20.200-07:00Morocco - A Diamond in the Rough<div dir="ltr" style="text-align: left;" trbidi="on">
March 21 was a special day. It was my birthday, it was the day I flew into Madrid to join my friends to go to Morocco, and it also marked nearly 8 months of travelling around Europe.<br />
<br />
Now, some of you may say, and fairly so, that my travels have been rather safe. Turkey had eastern flair, but it meets the modernity and security of the west, and Moscow, Russia, though distant and seems mysterious and foreign, has a similar infrastructure, familiar to the cold climate cities of Canada.<br />
<table align="center" cellpadding="0" cellspacing="0" class="tr-caption-container" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto; text-align: center;"><tbody>
<tr><td style="text-align: center;"><a href="http://4.bp.blogspot.com/-IZh9HNlJuP4/UVr5DUhfXgI/AAAAAAAAAfU/pvqUl_IDZ-I/s1600/Blog+-+Atlas+Mtns.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto;"><img border="0" height="94" src="http://4.bp.blogspot.com/-IZh9HNlJuP4/UVr5DUhfXgI/AAAAAAAAAfU/pvqUl_IDZ-I/s320/Blog+-+Atlas+Mtns.jpg" width="320" /></a></td></tr>
<tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;">The Atlas Mountains - welcome to the desert</td></tr>
</tbody></table>
<b>Morocco</b> was my first venture into a truly untamed land, one that operates with a minimal emphasis on rules. This Diamond in the Rough has an exotic appeal that makes you feel like you are walking in Disney's Aladdin. Morocco felt like a whole new world... its spectrum of unbelievable-ridiculous to miraculous-beautiful stretches as far as the bright white moon rising in the desert.<br />
<table align="center" cellpadding="0" cellspacing="0" class="tr-caption-container" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto; text-align: center;"><tbody>
<tr><td style="text-align: center;"><a href="http://4.bp.blogspot.com/-VdkmHLlpII8/UVvtYs2kikI/AAAAAAAAAfk/4eQaWV1gIdk/s1600/Blog+-+Sahara.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto;"><img border="0" height="132" src="http://4.bp.blogspot.com/-VdkmHLlpII8/UVvtYs2kikI/AAAAAAAAAfk/4eQaWV1gIdk/s200/Blog+-+Sahara.jpg" width="200" /></a></td></tr>
<tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;">A desert ghost, revealed only by moonlight </td></tr>
</tbody></table>
Here cars share the road with donkeys hauling carts, people are super friendly, and shopkeepers haggle persistently and persuade like CEOs. The streets of the <i>medinas,</i> the old walled city centres, showcase a dazzling array of wares that glitter from greens to reds to yellows. The surprisingly diverse landscape is blanketed with as many impressive colours - more green than you think.<br />
<table align="center" cellpadding="0" cellspacing="0" class="tr-caption-container" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto; text-align: center;"><tbody>
<tr><td style="text-align: center;"><a href="http://4.bp.blogspot.com/-c7QeoUtVIpA/UVvu3_A3CDI/AAAAAAAAAfw/PUOt5WWvpgg/s1600/Blog+-+donkey.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto;"><img border="0" height="132" src="http://4.bp.blogspot.com/-c7QeoUtVIpA/UVvu3_A3CDI/AAAAAAAAAfw/PUOt5WWvpgg/s200/Blog+-+donkey.jpg" width="200" /></a></td></tr>
<tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;">Stand aside when a donkey is coming through! </td></tr>
</tbody></table>
Moroccan food is defined by lots of spices, and is headlined by Berber whiskey, <i>couscous</i> and <i>tajines,</i> which consist of cone shaped pottery cooked by fire. We ate a lot of couscous and tajines and, while it was very good, we started getting sick of it after awhile. It should be noted that Berber Whiskey is just mint tea. You can't find any alcohol within the bustling medinas. Anyhow.. let's get to the story!<br />
<table align="center" cellpadding="0" cellspacing="0" class="tr-caption-container" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto; text-align: center;"><tbody>
<tr><td style="text-align: center;"><a href="http://3.bp.blogspot.com/-ZnqLCg0_qYU/UVrhgq7hEUI/AAAAAAAAAdo/IltjT3HqolE/s1600/Blog+-+Chefchaouen.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto;"><img border="0" height="107" src="http://3.bp.blogspot.com/-ZnqLCg0_qYU/UVrhgq7hEUI/AAAAAAAAAdo/IltjT3HqolE/s320/Blog+-+Chefchaouen.jpg" width="320" /></a></td></tr>
<tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;">Chefchaouen, the Blue City</td></tr>
</tbody></table>
I travelled with my friends Sam & Claire, English teachers in Madrid, who I met at La Tomatina at the end of last August, which now seems like an eternity ago. We took a flight into Tangier and immediately hopped on a taxi to our first destination, <b>Chefchaouen,</b> nicknamed the Blue City. It's no wonder, with its memorable baby blue walls and doors, papier-mached on a backdrop of a lush green valley while chocolate brown mountains loom above.<br />
<table align="center" cellpadding="0" cellspacing="0" class="tr-caption-container" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto; text-align: center;"><tbody>
<tr><td style="text-align: center;"><a href="http://1.bp.blogspot.com/-__HKDJUNmvs/UVrhgVB2SII/AAAAAAAAAdk/PiM7_Tib4lA/s1600/Blog+-+Harmonica+Girl.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto; text-align: center;"><img border="0" height="132" src="http://1.bp.blogspot.com/-__HKDJUNmvs/UVrhgVB2SII/AAAAAAAAAdk/PiM7_Tib4lA/s200/Blog+-+Harmonica+Girl.jpg" width="200" /></a></td></tr>
<tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;">This girl started playing with my harmonica </td></tr>
</tbody></table>
<div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: justify;">
<span style="text-align: left;">We instantly received the "friendliness" of the people - colourful-hoodie-wearing Berber shopkeepers waving you into their showrooms, restaurateurs telling you that you're hungry, and even people approaching you and, in a low whisper, offering hash, the best of which originates in the local region surrounding Chefchaouen. We preferred the friendliness of local children. Oh, and the cats too, which there are plenty of wandering the narrow pathways.</span></div>
<table align="center" cellpadding="0" cellspacing="0" class="tr-caption-container" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto; text-align: center;"><tbody>
<tr><td style="text-align: center;"><a href="http://4.bp.blogspot.com/-3I4TqgyjjIg/UVrilUjs1KI/AAAAAAAAAd0/asKjJyjbGUI/s1600/Blog+-+cats.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto; text-align: center;"><img border="0" height="200" src="http://4.bp.blogspot.com/-3I4TqgyjjIg/UVrilUjs1KI/AAAAAAAAAd0/asKjJyjbGUI/s200/Blog+-+cats.jpg" width="150" /></a></td></tr>
<tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;">"If I fitz I sitz" - Cat in the Basket </td></tr>
</tbody></table>
<b>Fez</b> was the most intense experience of possibly all my travels. The city of Fez has the largest medina of any Arab city in the world. Thus, tourists are actually recommended to hire guides to navigate in the medina's thousands of narrow, zigzagging streets. Oh, and also not to wander around at night. This is exactly what we decided to do after we arrived in the evening from Chefchaouen.<br />
<br />
Once we got off the main street and entered the medina's maze, we got tailed by two different guys, acting friendly at first. However, several minutes later, when we tried to lose them, they turned sour on us. They began saying very mean things and wouldn't leave us alone. We eventually found our way back to the main street where they finally stopped following and hurling insults at us. Nevertheless, we were traumatized, and I had never been in this state of fear and anxiety at any point in my trip.<br />
<table align="center" cellpadding="0" cellspacing="0" class="tr-caption-container" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto; text-align: center;"><tbody>
<tr><td style="text-align: center;"><a href="http://4.bp.blogspot.com/-4uP9b8wdTFQ/UVrlJ6p4NRI/AAAAAAAAAd8/u8g4OxBidVU/s1600/Blog+-+Rashid.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto;"><img border="0" height="240" src="http://4.bp.blogspot.com/-4uP9b8wdTFQ/UVrlJ6p4NRI/AAAAAAAAAd8/u8g4OxBidVU/s320/Blog+-+Rashid.jpg" width="320" /></a></td></tr>
<tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;">Wandering Fez with our favourite guide Rashid! </td></tr>
</tbody></table>
Fortunately a new brilliant day followed, and the memory of last night was completely wiped out following our meeting with Rashid. Once again, we were befriended by a local but, while I was still wary, Sam had a good instinct about Rashid and so we let him guide us. Rashid turned out to be an amazing guide and good company too.<br />
<table align="center" cellpadding="0" cellspacing="0" class="tr-caption-container" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto; text-align: center;"><tbody>
<tr><td style="text-align: center;"><a href="http://2.bp.blogspot.com/-hWW0NqLS4kI/UVrnKyypeqI/AAAAAAAAAeI/NeHTAnPyFNM/s1600/Blog+-+Coca.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto;"><img border="0" height="150" src="http://2.bp.blogspot.com/-hWW0NqLS4kI/UVrnKyypeqI/AAAAAAAAAeI/NeHTAnPyFNM/s200/Blog+-+Coca.jpg" width="200" /></a></td></tr>
<tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;">Claire, Sam and I trying on Moroccan clothing in Coca, Rashid's sister's shop </td></tr>
</tbody></table>
We followed Rashid into donkey sheds and leather workshops including the large tannery. He introduced us to his sister Coca (pronounced <i>kooka</i>) who worked at the family clothing shop, and they even let us try on traditional Moroccan clothing, which is really beautiful. During the entire tour Rashid answered questions about Moroccan life. To top it off, he took us to the high point where we could view the medina in all its glory, brown mud-brick buildings waving up and down with the valley floor, standing like a forest among over 9000 little streets.<br />
<table align="center" cellpadding="0" cellspacing="0" class="tr-caption-container" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto; text-align: center;"><tbody>
<tr><td style="text-align: center;"><a href="http://1.bp.blogspot.com/-fPSEGi3SdKo/UVrwrbRMcaI/AAAAAAAAAe0/GWZYl37Kd9Q/s1600/Blog+-+Fez+donkey.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto;"><img border="0" height="132" src="http://1.bp.blogspot.com/-fPSEGi3SdKo/UVrwrbRMcaI/AAAAAAAAAe0/GWZYl37Kd9Q/s200/Blog+-+Fez+donkey.jpg" width="200" /></a></td></tr>
<tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;">Donkey overlooking his medina domain </td></tr>
</tbody></table>
Next we went for the overnight <b>Sahara desert</b> 2-day 1-night excursion. While we didn't quite make it into the heart of the desert, it still was an amazing experience from start to finish. The 8-hour drive took us through stunning landscapes that slowly transformed from vibrant greens to lifeless brown and gray rock, to sand. We rode camels into the sunset, getting off at our tent campsite in a beige plain surrounded by mini sand dunes, like waves cresting near the beach.<br />
<table align="center" cellpadding="0" cellspacing="0" class="tr-caption-container" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto; text-align: center;"><tbody>
<tr><td style="text-align: center;"><a href="http://1.bp.blogspot.com/-TCK4sojSDHE/UVrsVpmVgVI/AAAAAAAAAec/QqoRm970a1w/s1600/Blog+-+Camels.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto;"><img border="0" height="150" src="http://1.bp.blogspot.com/-TCK4sojSDHE/UVrsVpmVgVI/AAAAAAAAAec/QqoRm970a1w/s200/Blog+-+Camels.jpg" width="200" /></a></td></tr>
<tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;">I got ass-burn from riding camels for 2 hours </td></tr>
</tbody></table>
Enter Mohamed, one cool cat. His eyes shone of eternal wisdom (even though he didn't look that old) and his personality crackled through his big smile. Mohamed and his fellow Berbers served us a tajine chicken dinner, then entertained us "Justin Berber" style with singing and drums round the fire under a full moon night. Mohamed invited me to stay longer, maybe live like a Berber, nomads still wandering the desert, one earthly vestige that human civilization has yet to tame. I'm not sure whether his invitation was serious, but I would definitely consider it, especially if I could take care of camels, very charming creatures with really funny faces.<br />
<table align="center" cellpadding="0" cellspacing="0" class="tr-caption-container" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto; text-align: center;"><tbody>
<tr><td style="text-align: center;"><a href="http://1.bp.blogspot.com/-ugj7-zHkeF4/UVrsV36t4EI/AAAAAAAAAeg/y2k8GTiTFWE/s1600/Blog+-+Mohamed.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto;"><img border="0" height="132" src="http://1.bp.blogspot.com/-ugj7-zHkeF4/UVrsV36t4EI/AAAAAAAAAeg/y2k8GTiTFWE/s200/Blog+-+Mohamed.jpg" width="200" /></a></td></tr>
<tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;">Mohamed is the richest man I know, not in materials, but in happiness, peace, and love of his desert home </td></tr>
</tbody></table>
Our last stop was <b>Marrakech,</b> and possibly the best city of our visit. It's one of the bigger cities in the nation of up to 40 million people, and has something for everyone. The shopkeepers here were generally very friendly and relaxed, and I talked to many locals with no worries. I took pictures of some of them and even promised to print out their picture and mail it to them, since they probably don't own cameras or have an e-mail address.<br />
<table align="center" cellpadding="0" cellspacing="0" class="tr-caption-container" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto; text-align: center;"><tbody>
<tr><td style="text-align: center;"><a href="http://2.bp.blogspot.com/-V18j-6QgwxA/UVrzS0YityI/AAAAAAAAAfA/OFOSF8_s-Rs/s1600/Blog+-+Berber.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto;"><img border="0" height="132" src="http://2.bp.blogspot.com/-V18j-6QgwxA/UVrzS0YityI/AAAAAAAAAfA/OFOSF8_s-Rs/s200/Blog+-+Berber.jpg" width="200" /></a></td></tr>
<tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;">A man surveys the street he's worked on as a shop seller for decades </td></tr>
</tbody></table>
Marrakech's main square <i>Jemaa El Fna,</i> was a riot - the very heart of Morocco. This open space is never really "open" as its void is constantly streaming with noise and dust kicked up from taxis, scooters and donkeys, weaving their way carelessly around pedestrians and entertainers such as snake charmers and buskers, further cramped in by food stalls, cafe tables and shop wares.<br />
<div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;">
</div>
<table align="center" cellpadding="0" cellspacing="0" class="tr-caption-container" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto; text-align: center;"><tbody>
<tr><td style="text-align: center;"><a href="http://4.bp.blogspot.com/-L6_ZvMX5qHQ/UVr12XQupGI/AAAAAAAAAfM/4UAo-ya9n70/s1600/Blog+-+Jemaa+El+Fna.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto;"><img border="0" height="240" src="http://4.bp.blogspot.com/-L6_ZvMX5qHQ/UVr12XQupGI/AAAAAAAAAfM/4UAo-ya9n70/s320/Blog+-+Jemaa+El+Fna.jpg" width="320" /></a></td></tr>
<tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;">Cheap and tasty eats outside in Jemaa El Fna. Me in my new Berber hoodie </td></tr>
</tbody></table>
We all decided to splurge a little on our final stop, so we went souvenir shopping. I decided to emulate my desert hero Mohamed and bought a Berber hoodie, virtually the exact same as his! I still have to figure out how to bring it home with me, since my luggage is out of space.<br />
<br />
Goodbye Morocco!<br />
<div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;">
<a href="http://1.bp.blogspot.com/-LBe9JDFE15Q/UVvzo0uV7DI/AAAAAAAAAgM/x3tiPEhC-Io/s1600/DSC_0209.JPG" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" height="212" src="http://1.bp.blogspot.com/-LBe9JDFE15Q/UVvzo0uV7DI/AAAAAAAAAgM/x3tiPEhC-Io/s320/DSC_0209.JPG" width="320" /></a></div>
<div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;">
Sunset on Morocco</div>
While I deviated from my ethics of not travelling by plane, flying from Berlin to Madrid to join Sam and Claire, then flying to and back from Morocco was totally worth it. Before this my trip had been missing something, it was too safe and, thus, boring. Morocco gave it that vibrant feeling of life uncorked, the best and the worst surrounding you so that unpredictability shrouds every turn around a street corner, but no matter what happens, it's new, a little scary, and very exciting.<br />
<br />
I can go home now and say I saw it all on my travels. (caution: hyperbole)<br />
<br />
Flickr Photos: <a href="http://www.flickr.com/photos/11monthsandrew/sets/72157633156426750/">http://www.flickr.com/photos/11monthsandrew/sets/72157633156426750/</a><br />
<table align="center" cellpadding="0" cellspacing="0" class="tr-caption-container" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto; text-align: center;"><tbody>
<tr><td style="text-align: center;"><a href="http://2.bp.blogspot.com/-pRkU57VSwVA/UVvzT3BOftI/AAAAAAAAAgE/DjIiq8PkWY4/s1600/Blog+-++turbans.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto; text-align: center;"><img border="0" height="150" src="http://2.bp.blogspot.com/-pRkU57VSwVA/UVvzT3BOftI/AAAAAAAAAgE/DjIiq8PkWY4/s200/Blog+-++turbans.jpg" width="200" /></a></td></tr>
<tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;">Wacky turbans</td></tr>
</tbody></table>
</div>
All I Need is my 2 Bare Feethttp://www.blogger.com/profile/16455987029572997655noreply@blogger.com4tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-8907537061923057759.post-68051478508030441912013-03-20T16:30:00.001-07:002013-03-20T16:41:24.634-07:00Don't Call Them Eastern Europe<div dir="ltr" style="text-align: left;" trbidi="on">
North Americans commonly misuse the term "Eastern Europe" to distinguish from the western European countries that are more ubiquitous with their romantic idea of Europe. Thus, Central Europe gets less attention from would-be travellers infatuated with glorious cultures such as French and Italian. Nevertheless, this region is characterized by a vibrant culture driven by remarkably creative and energetic youth. There is lots to see and do, and all within the confines of a cheap and safe environment.<br />
<div>
<table align="center" cellpadding="0" cellspacing="0" class="tr-caption-container" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto; text-align: center;"><tbody>
<tr><td><a href="http://4.bp.blogspot.com/-ZayDyHz0bTA/UUpBgRIKDuI/AAAAAAAAAcY/2vjXQLZ_OBg/s1600/Blog+-+Praha+2.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto;"><img border="0" height="212" src="http://4.bp.blogspot.com/-ZayDyHz0bTA/UUpBgRIKDuI/AAAAAAAAAcY/2vjXQLZ_OBg/s320/Blog+-+Praha+2.jpg" width="320" /></a></td></tr>
<tr><td class="tr-caption" style="font-size: 13.333333969116211px;">Vltava River, Praha</td></tr>
</tbody></table>
</div>
<div>
The three headed beast of Budapest, Wien and Praha power the engine of Central Europe (well, I'm not actually sure where Central Europe proper is or if there is even an actual defined border for this region). I have a bad habit of calling cities by their local names. So to clarify: <i>Wien,</i> the capital of Austria and home of the wiener, is Vienna. <i>Praha,</i> the capital of Czech Republic, is Prague. Budapest, the capital of Hungary, is actually <i>Budape</i><span style="line-height: 17.77777862548828px;"><i>şt</i> with a "sh" sound</span><span style="font-family: Calibri, sans-serif; font-size: 11pt; line-height: 15.555556297302246px;">.</span></div>
<div>
<br /></div>
<div>
Herein is a quick and dirty comparison of my time and impression of each of the cities. I am therefore obligated to give you the standard black-and-white warning message that "the views and opinions expressed here are solely based on my experience and are not stated as facts, nor are they intended to cause offence to the subject parties" and so forth and so forth...</div>
<div>
<br /></div>
<div>
In other words, don't sue me, don't hate me. After all, I'm only writing because you want to read me.</div>
<div>
<br /></div>
<div>
<b>Architecture</b></div>
<div>
Budapest, Wien and Praha are holdovers from the Habsburg Empire of the middle of the second millennium and, thus, share similar architectural styles. Winding streets in the city centres are arranged with colourful buildings of 7 or 8 stories, made of massive interlocking stone blocks that seem to jump out at you. One gets a majestic feeling walking around these cities.</div>
<div>
<br /></div>
<i>Praha</i> is definitely the prettiest city of the three. In fact, it has maybe the best mix of urban development, topography and green spaces I have seen anywhere in Europe. Its cathedrals stand tall and gothic dark, flanked by buildings with eclectic designs and adornments. Its picturesque river, the Vltava, splits the old city, Staremesto, from the hilly castle side, with grand vistas of the entire city.<br />
<div>
<table align="center" cellpadding="0" cellspacing="0" class="tr-caption-container" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto; text-align: center;"><tbody>
<tr><td><a href="http://1.bp.blogspot.com/-_UJ3hT_1iF4/UUpBqQHLx1I/AAAAAAAAAck/X0o8tdToKQs/s1600/Blog+-+Vienna.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto;"><img border="0" height="212" src="http://1.bp.blogspot.com/-_UJ3hT_1iF4/UUpBqQHLx1I/AAAAAAAAAck/X0o8tdToKQs/s320/Blog+-+Vienna.jpg" width="320" /></a></td></tr>
<tr><td class="tr-caption" style="font-size: 13.333333969116211px;">Graben pedestrian street, Wien</td></tr>
</tbody></table>
</div>
<div>
<i>Wien</i> stuns through sheer grandness and scale. Viewing cathedrals and government buildings require physical exercise - many repetitions of neck craning and jaw dropping. But its open spaces provide the correct viewing angles as they are impressively large and inspire a royal feeling of happy-bliss. At street level, the sidewalks are clean and orderly, a byproduct of German efficiency.</div>
<div>
<br /></div>
<div>
<i>Budapest</i> has a beautiful city centre, characterized by a castle on a hill, overlooking a steady river and an old city. But the city still bears many scars from its communist days. These scars are bandaged within the city centre, but are clearly visible if you enter the suburbs, still blanketed by dull concrete housing. The lack of restoration of the suburbs of Budapest is reflected in Hungary's weak economy.</div>
<div>
<table align="center" cellpadding="0" cellspacing="0" class="tr-caption-container" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto; text-align: center;"><tbody>
<tr><td><a href="http://2.bp.blogspot.com/-OdZakF3d9is/UUpEaMBeEwI/AAAAAAAAAdE/3Ow3S56gUAE/s1600/Blog+-+Budapest.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto;"><img border="0" height="132" src="http://2.bp.blogspot.com/-OdZakF3d9is/UUpEaMBeEwI/AAAAAAAAAdE/3Ow3S56gUAE/s200/Blog+-+Budapest.jpg" width="200" /></a></td></tr>
<tr><td class="tr-caption" style="font-size: 13.333333969116211px;">Duna, or Danube River, Budapest</td></tr>
</tbody></table>
</div>
<div>
<b>Culture</b></div>
<div>
Tourists on whirlwind Eurotrips might lump these cities into one category, which is understandable considering their geography, population and cultural similarities such as food. But I think Budapest, Wien and Praha are wonderfully unique. Its the same principle in which people may mistake Calgary and Edmonton for being the same kind of city, or Toronto and Montreal.</div>
<div>
<br /><i>Budapest</i> has an unbelievably youthful vibe. It feels as if all the old people decided to move out and let the youth take over. On the streets, in the shops and metros, young people are everywhere, walking with style and a sense of determination, as if they are busy conquering the world. Their spirit and energy has imbued a creative atmosphere that can be seen in its trendy shops and in its trademark nightlife attraction, the ruin bars, which have a rough and edgy feel, and are covered wall-to-wall with eclectic and retro objects.</div>
<div>
<i><br /></i>
<i>Wien</i> is the only of the three cities that escaped the Soviet influence of communism and therefore has enjoyed economic prosperity since WWII. Its wealth combined with German efficiency is evident walking around the city. Despite this, Wien has a young and creative energy that has helped to propel it into the rarefied air of one of the most desirable cities in the world to live and work, with one of the highest quality of life ratings. There are many wonderful coffee shops to gather and philosophize, cinemas to enjoy films, and museums to get your think-on.</div>
<table align="center" cellpadding="0" cellspacing="0" class="tr-caption-container" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto; text-align: center;"><tbody>
<tr><td><a href="http://2.bp.blogspot.com/-B-xADBQyg5E/UUpBgPgLk5I/AAAAAAAAAcU/1uildDc6MwU/s1600/Blog+-+Charles+Bridge+busker.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto;"><img border="0" height="211" src="http://2.bp.blogspot.com/-B-xADBQyg5E/UUpBgPgLk5I/AAAAAAAAAcU/1uildDc6MwU/s320/Blog+-+Charles+Bridge+busker.jpg" width="320" /></a></td></tr>
<tr><td class="tr-caption" style="font-size: 13.333333969116211px;"><span style="font-size: small; text-align: left;">Charles Bridge, Praha - busker with marionette</span></td></tr>
</tbody></table>
<div>
<i>Praha</i> is developing a reputation for being the Amsterdam of the east. In Praha, you can party cheap and party hard. I've heard anecdotally that you can get easy access to any drug you desire, and that there is a fairly casual approach to dating. It's easy to see why people party so much here - Czech beers and liquors are some of the best in Europe. Kozel is one of my favourite beers and I believe it is sold internationally. And the Czech national liquor Becherovka is 38% alcohol, but goes down super sweet and smooth.</div>
<div>
<br /></div>
<div>
<b>My Experience</b></div>
<div>
Unfortunately I had to rush through this leg of my journey. I could easily have spent much more time in each of these three cities. As usual, my personal accounts of these cities have nothing to do with the museums and cool buildings, but are defined by the people I met.</div>
<div>
<table align="center" cellpadding="0" cellspacing="0" class="tr-caption-container" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto; text-align: center;"><tbody>
<tr><td style="text-align: center;"><a href="http://1.bp.blogspot.com/-ZgIXVq1Mmxo/UUpJBUvABaI/AAAAAAAAAdU/2p1IeIG8-LU/s1600/Beach+vball.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto;"><img border="0" height="213" src="http://1.bp.blogspot.com/-ZgIXVq1Mmxo/UUpJBUvABaI/AAAAAAAAAdU/2p1IeIG8-LU/s320/Beach+vball.jpg" width="320" /></a></td></tr>
<tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;">First time playing sports in a looong time. I really missed it</td></tr>
</tbody></table>
In <i>Praha,</i> I had the privilege of staying with someone who could lay claim to being "the most interesting man in the world." This ex-video engineer for the Rolling Stones, ex-army officer, now turned English teacher held a concert on his birthday in which he performed with his rock band. The day after, we participated in indoor beach volleyball, an event which he also organized. My friend could also lay claim to the title of "the messiest man in the world." Though his flat was a sight for sore eyes, it reminded me that his priorities lay in his passions: languages, music and people. I cleaned his dishes for his birthday! I also met up with a friend whom I met a several months earlier, and we had a great chat over our exciting working experiences since our first meeting.</div>
<div>
<table align="center" cellpadding="0" cellspacing="0" class="tr-caption-container" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto; text-align: center;"><tbody>
<tr><td><a href="http://4.bp.blogspot.com/-SNOTDdRCwik/UUpB19RggFI/AAAAAAAAAcw/T1ZvGUM1cKE/s1600/Blog+-+opera.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto;"><img border="0" height="132" src="http://4.bp.blogspot.com/-SNOTDdRCwik/UUpB19RggFI/AAAAAAAAAcw/T1ZvGUM1cKE/s200/Blog+-+opera.jpg" width="200" /></a></td></tr>
<tr><td class="tr-caption" style="font-size: 13.333333969116211px;">Opera in Wien</td></tr>
</tbody></table>
</div>
<div>
In <i>Wien,</i> I stayed with a great Couchsurfing host. He inspired me to find homestays in Buddhist monasteries. Ironically, due to the uninspiring weather, I was able to find some really hip coffee shops to take shelter. Later on, squished in the standing room section of the opera, which is the thing to see in Vienna, I found one of those random encounters which I preached so much about. I made friends with a Latvian English teacher, and afterwards we chatted over McDonald's 1 euro burgers, then the next day over pay-as-you-wish Indian food.</div>
<div>
<table align="center" cellpadding="0" cellspacing="0" class="tr-caption-container" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto; text-align: center;"><tbody>
<tr><td><a href="http://4.bp.blogspot.com/-ilaO6wtt3g8/UUpB5bEEheI/AAAAAAAAAc8/kKOkm6_yexw/s1600/Blog+-+Budapest+market.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto;"><img border="0" height="212" src="http://4.bp.blogspot.com/-ilaO6wtt3g8/UUpB5bEEheI/AAAAAAAAAc8/kKOkm6_yexw/s320/Blog+-+Budapest+market.jpg" width="320" /></a></td></tr>
<tr><td class="tr-caption" style="font-size: 13.333333969116211px;">Market in Budapest</td></tr>
</tbody></table>
</div>
<div>
<i>Budapest</i> was one of the few cities I visited a second time; also one of the few places I kept meeting really memorable people. I stayed at two different hostels and with two different Couchsurfers, each a fun and positive experience. But I actually did stuff too. By night I frequented ruin bars and, by day, ate at the train station styled market and sauntered up and down the Duna (Danube) River. I even splurged in one of the many secondhand shops. I also went caving, an awesomely fun adventure, and visited the famous hot baths, filled with people of all ages and minimal clothing, to escape the cold weather.</div>
<div>
<br /></div>
<div>
-----</div>
<div>
<br /></div>
<div>
Despite the harsh realities about Budapest, it is a really awesome city. I had an amazing time and will take away some of my best memories of my trip from here. Wien, while it is very posh and proper, especially compared with the casual "no rules" mentality of Praha and Budapest, also has something for everyone. And Praha is simply the place to be to go wild and live life to the max, but also provides enough space for quiet and contemplation.</div>
<div>
<br /></div>
<div>
However this, my dear readers, does not mean I am recommending Budapest to you. One lesson that has continuously repeated itself during my trip is that every place in the world is unique. So I guess what I'm saying is... go to all three!</div>
<div>
<br /></div>
<div>
Flickr: <span style="font-size: x-small;"><a href="http://www.flickr.com/photos/11monthsandrew/sets/72157633044044825/">http://www.flickr.com/photos/11monthsandrew/sets/72157633044044825/</a></span></div>
<table align="center" cellpadding="0" cellspacing="0" class="tr-caption-container" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto; text-align: center;"><tbody>
<tr><td><a href="http://3.bp.blogspot.com/-O40GyFD4SRk/UUpF7RweGLI/AAAAAAAAAdM/Xmxq9kFC7WQ/s1600/Blog+-+Charles+Bridge.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto;"><img border="0" height="212" src="http://3.bp.blogspot.com/-O40GyFD4SRk/UUpF7RweGLI/AAAAAAAAAdM/Xmxq9kFC7WQ/s320/Blog+-+Charles+Bridge.jpg" width="320" /></a></td></tr>
<tr><td class="tr-caption" style="font-size: 13.333333969116211px;">One end of the Charles Bridge, Praha</td></tr>
</tbody></table>
</div>
All I Need is my 2 Bare Feethttp://www.blogger.com/profile/16455987029572997655noreply@blogger.com6tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-8907537061923057759.post-4227253004612754012013-03-02T04:40:00.002-08:002013-03-02T05:57:53.382-08:00I Stayed For The Cats<div dir="ltr" style="text-align: left;" trbidi="on">
<div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: justify;">
<span style="text-align: left;">Finally, after my whirlwind tour through eastern Europe and Turkey, I was ready for my second working stint, after teaching English in Moscow, and the first farmstay of my travels.</span></div>
<table align="center" cellpadding="0" cellspacing="0" class="tr-caption-container" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto; text-align: center;"><tbody>
<tr><td style="text-align: center;"><a href="http://1.bp.blogspot.com/-JJVC7qQgtBc/UTH_Tc1_L4I/AAAAAAAAAb8/S23z2Pejuk8/s1600/Blog+-+Peloponnese.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto;"><img border="0" height="118" src="http://1.bp.blogspot.com/-JJVC7qQgtBc/UTH_Tc1_L4I/AAAAAAAAAb8/S23z2Pejuk8/s400/Blog+-+Peloponnese.jpg" width="400" /></a></td></tr>
<tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;">The beautiful Peloponnese in southern Greece</td></tr>
</tbody></table>
<div class="MsoNormal">
For those not familiar with the concept, a
farmstay entails working on a farm for accommodation and food. It has been popularized
by the online network WWOOF.org – World Wide Opportunities for Organic Farming,
which connects farmers to eager helpers. “WWOOFing” is actually quite popular
for many reasons. For myself, it allows a born and raised urbanite with zero
relationship with earth and the fields which produce what goes on my fork, to
get some real hands-on experience with farming, and witness first-hand the 100% natural and chemical-free circle of life. And enjoy its spoils, such
as real olive oil, that which cannot be obtained in Canada.<br />
<br />
My latest opportunity took me to Elea, in the rolling gray mountains of the Peloponnese, near the southern tip of Greece. This farmstay, like my teaching stint, was available on helpx.net, which connects helpers to help exchanges beyond just organic farming. However, I was initially recommended it by my friend Chris who met me in Istanbul after his farmstay here. The welcoming and warm family, Roberto, Barbara and their daughter Lorena are helpX veterans, having hosted many helpers in the past. I joined them and another helper, Leslie from France.<br />
<div class="MsoNormal">
<table align="center" cellpadding="0" cellspacing="0" class="tr-caption-container" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto; text-align: center;"><tbody>
<tr><td><a href="http://1.bp.blogspot.com/-j7hpxUg05Fo/UTHo2dXVmpI/AAAAAAAAAbE/BJiB6N04K7w/s1600/Blog+-+Olive+Picking.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto;"><img border="0" height="212" src="http://1.bp.blogspot.com/-j7hpxUg05Fo/UTHo2dXVmpI/AAAAAAAAAbE/BJiB6N04K7w/s320/Blog+-+Olive+Picking.jpg" width="320" /></a></td></tr>
<tr><td class="tr-caption" style="font-size: 13.333333969116211px;">Non-stop olive picking for about 2 weeks</td></tr>
</tbody></table>
<div class="MsoNormal">
<span lang="EN-US"></span></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
</div>
</div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
</div>
</div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
My main job was to help pick olives in a large orchard, rows upon rows of olive trees, as part of a five-person crew. The task involved a lot of cutting branches with saws, and ripping olives off of those branches with oversized mechanical toothbrushes. Although the physical labour was tiring at times, I was able to work at my own pace and the hours were never excessive. And here's the kicker - I got to be outdoors all day, surrounded by trees, mountains and sky, and not cubicle walls, prison-like in their oppression.<br />
<br />
In fact, there was nothing oppressing about
this life.</div>
<table align="center" cellpadding="0" cellspacing="0" class="tr-caption-container" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto; text-align: center;"><tbody>
<tr><td style="text-align: center;"><table align="center" cellpadding="0" cellspacing="0" class="tr-caption-container" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto; text-align: center;"><tbody>
<tr><td><a href="http://2.bp.blogspot.com/-w1OxUoC-Wcs/UTHo1hO_2JI/AAAAAAAAAaw/gELLgdN8nuI/s1600/Blog+-+Farm.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto;"><img border="0" height="211" src="http://2.bp.blogspot.com/-w1OxUoC-Wcs/UTHo1hO_2JI/AAAAAAAAAaw/gELLgdN8nuI/s320/Blog+-+Farm.jpg" width="320" /></a></td></tr>
<tr><td class="tr-caption" style="font-size: 13.333333969116211px;">A cloudless morning for clear mountain viewing</td></tr>
</tbody></table>
</td></tr>
</tbody></table>
<div class="MsoNormal">
<span lang="EN-US"></span></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
<span lang="EN-US">For over two weeks I woke up to an amazing
view of the Mediterranean Sea, surrounded by flat blue-gray mountains with
white icing on top. Cats and dogs greeted me on the front porch. Also on the
farm were horses, goats, chickens and rabbits. A natural soundtrack accompanied
the morning show, played by roosters and songbirds, with no car engines to
drown them out. It is a place that reminds you that, quoting the movie Water World, if you sit still, you can hear the sound of the world. It was a truly ideal
natural escape. Cars weren’t the only modern amenity absent. With wood powered
stoves for indoor heating and solar powered water heating, I had to adapt to a
little less comfort in the home.<o:p></o:p></span></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
<span lang="EN-US"><br /></span></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
<span lang="EN-US">However, my connection to the innocent and
entirely natural setting of the farm could have been severed by the presence of
another overpowering technological connection
- the internet. Thankfully, the family once had it but was now rid of
it, due to conflicts with their provider. Without it I was unshackled from the
worst of soul-sucking distractions, and free to enjoy what was directly in
front of me – blissful nature.<o:p></o:p></span></div>
<table align="center" cellpadding="0" cellspacing="0" class="tr-caption-container" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto; text-align: center;"><tbody>
<tr><td style="text-align: center;"><a href="http://2.bp.blogspot.com/-GDE26AEvxok/UTHo1e6PnbI/AAAAAAAAAa0/aXj8MInyls4/s1600/Blog+-+Cats.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto; text-align: center;"><img border="0" height="212" src="http://2.bp.blogspot.com/-GDE26AEvxok/UTHo1e6PnbI/AAAAAAAAAa0/aXj8MInyls4/s320/Blog+-+Cats.jpg" width="320" /></a></td></tr>
<tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;">One half of the cats on the farm on a windowsill</td></tr>
</tbody></table>
<div class="MsoNormal">
<span lang="EN-US"></span></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
<span lang="EN-US">Aside from working I did a lot of reading,
some yoga, and hung out with the animals, particularly the cats. The family took
us on some day trips to historic ruin sites in the Peloponnese. Oh, and they
kept me very well fed! They cooked lots, I even cooked some. Best of all, everything
was organic, and most of it was from our own backyard. Oranges and almonds may taste
good anywhere, but there’s an added authenticity about picking it fresh off
the tree.<o:p></o:p></span></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
<span lang="EN-US"><br /></span></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
<span lang="EN-US">I could really go on and on about what I
learned and did in two weeks… alas, there is only time for the moral of my
story…<o:p></o:p></span></div>
<table align="center" cellpadding="0" cellspacing="0" class="tr-caption-container" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto; text-align: center;"><tbody>
<tr><td style="text-align: center;"><a href="http://3.bp.blogspot.com/-dAlQ9N4ykEs/UTHo2CQG2UI/AAAAAAAAAbA/6BZ1azc_7pw/s1600/Blog+-+Monemvasia.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto; text-align: center;"><img border="0" height="83" src="http://3.bp.blogspot.com/-dAlQ9N4ykEs/UTHo2CQG2UI/AAAAAAAAAbA/6BZ1azc_7pw/s400/Blog+-+Monemvasia.jpg" width="400" /></a></td></tr>
<tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;">Day trip to Monemvasia, with stunning views of Greece</td></tr>
</tbody></table>
<div class="MsoNormal">
<span lang="EN-US"></span></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
<span lang="EN-US">Roberto and Barbara’s farm provided the
perfect tonic for my travels, a much needed change of pace, and a foray into
organic farming, developing a stronger connection with the earth. The main
header of my Calgary blog says “finding tranquility.” I found lots of it here,
however, like enlightenment and other perfect things, pure tranquility is hard
to find. In my search I ventured from one side of the lifestyle balance to the other –
urbanite to ruralite. But I gained an appreciation and a realization that I
still crave certain aspects of urban life. Now my challenge is to strike a
meaningful balance of both.<o:p></o:p></span></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
<span lang="EN-US"><br /></span></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
<span lang="EN-US">If you have always wondered where your food
comes from beyond the freezers and aisles in your local supermarket, sought an
escape from urban life or, conversely, a stronger connection with animals and
the earth (or simply need a free place to stay and are willing to work), I highly
suggest doing a farmstay (even purebred urbanophiles will benefit, I think, gaining
an appreciation for the concrete and steel habitats in which they are adapted).</span></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
<span style="font-family: Times, 'Times New Roman', serif; line-height: 115%;"><br /></span></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
<span style="font-family: Times, 'Times New Roman', serif; line-height: 115%;">Farmstays are available all over the world, some
are probably even a short drive from your home, and vary in stay lengths, from weeks to just a weekent. The recommended websites WWOOF, helpX and Workaway are not free, but do not cost much to use, especially compared to the money saved doing a farmstay. It’s an enriching and potentially life changing
experience. I definitely recommend it!</span></div>
<br />
<table align="center" cellpadding="0" cellspacing="0" class="tr-caption-container" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto; text-align: center;"><tbody>
<tr><td style="text-align: center;"><a href="http://3.bp.blogspot.com/-FSa1X-7mAPY/UTHo2krTE6I/AAAAAAAAAbY/Llajx-yV-Lg/s1600/Blog+-+Stelios.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="line-height: normal; margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto; text-align: center;"><img border="0" height="106" src="http://3.bp.blogspot.com/-FSa1X-7mAPY/UTHo2krTE6I/AAAAAAAAAbY/Llajx-yV-Lg/s400/Blog+-+Stelios.jpg" width="400" /></a></td></tr>
<tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;">A valley of olives and oranges</td></tr>
</tbody></table>
<b>Flickr photos:</b> <span style="font-size: x-small;"><a href="http://www.flickr.com/photos/11monthsandrew/sets/72157632892487223/">http://www.flickr.com/photos/11monthsandrew/sets/72157632892487223/</a></span><br />
<table align="center" cellpadding="0" cellspacing="0" class="tr-caption-container" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto; text-align: center;"><tbody>
<tr><td style="text-align: center;"><a href="http://4.bp.blogspot.com/-ZEgGIMAdYzs/UTHo1QqTHvI/AAAAAAAAAak/_0hCAdNna-Y/s1600/Blog+-+Cats+2.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto; text-align: center;"><img border="0" height="132" src="http://4.bp.blogspot.com/-ZEgGIMAdYzs/UTHo1QqTHvI/AAAAAAAAAak/_0hCAdNna-Y/s200/Blog+-+Cats+2.jpg" width="200" /></a></td></tr>
<tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;">Cats are king</td></tr>
</tbody></table>
<b>Cat album:</b> <span style="font-size: x-small;"><a href="http://www.flickr.com/photos/11monthsandrew/sets/72157632896898230/">http://www.flickr.com/photos/11monthsandrew/sets/72157632896898230/</a></span></div>
All I Need is my 2 Bare Feethttp://www.blogger.com/profile/16455987029572997655noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-8907537061923057759.post-62482685420614763052013-02-22T08:25:00.001-08:002013-02-22T08:38:07.895-08:00Chance Encounters and Random Conversations<div dir="ltr" style="text-align: left;" trbidi="on">
<br />
<div class="MsoNormal">
<span lang="EN-US">I want to regurgitate to you an insightful
conversation I had with a friend regarding, ironically, conversations. Let’s
call him Joe.</span></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
<span lang="EN-US"><br /></span></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
<span lang="EN-US">Joe referred to a speech he heard
describing Canadian homes as being like vaults or safes. “It’s not easy for
people to invite others into their homes or open it up to strangers,” he said
in more or less those words. Inviting people into your home is a powerful thing
– it abandons pretenses and prejudices, evokes openness and ingenuity. But, he
points out, “mostly, we meet at coffee shops or bars instead of having <i>chance
encounters and random conversations</i>…”</span></div>
<table align="center" cellpadding="0" cellspacing="0" class="tr-caption-container" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto; text-align: center;"><tbody>
<tr><td style="text-align: center;"><a href="http://2.bp.blogspot.com/-eTB7-K10x5E/USeagtvG87I/AAAAAAAAAaE/CkNOp2EHiKs/s1600/Blog+-+Ata.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto;"><img border="0" height="132" src="http://2.bp.blogspot.com/-eTB7-K10x5E/USeagtvG87I/AAAAAAAAAaE/CkNOp2EHiKs/s200/Blog+-+Ata.jpg" width="200" /></a></td></tr>
<tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;">A random encounter in Brussels led to dinner with Ata, a lovely and wise old man - twice! </td></tr>
</tbody></table>
Conversations are human’s biological tool
to communicate with the world around us. They enable us to exchange information critical to our daily survival. They also enrich our lives by
allowing us to share laughs and smiles and build friendships. Conversations allow
us, quite simply, to connect with other people. However, conversation is
becoming a lost art. And here’s why: in today’s fast paced society we, as individuals,
try to make sense of the chaos in our lives by exerting too much<i> control over our
time.</i><br />
<div class="MsoNormal">
<span lang="EN-US"><br /></span></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
<span lang="EN-US">Every time block of our lives is becoming
compartmentalized for specific tasks. As a result, we have become slaves to our
own agendas. Every week, day and even hour is mentally predestined. We are
either living in the future or dwelling on the past. During scheduled
appointments half our minds are already on the next appointment. We hurry from place
to place not even factoring in time for traffic delays, as if expecting the
vehicles on the street to magically part like the Red Sea for Moses.<o:p></o:p></span></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
<span lang="EN-US"><br /></span></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
<span lang="EN-US">The time stress we induce on our own
psyches is phenomenal. Yet today it’s become a sort of badge of honour to be busy.
Recognition is heaped upon productivity superstars, reputation bestowed upon ultra-performers,
with jealous competitors not far behind, taking on more aggressive schedules to
get ahead. Sacrificed, in the name of efficiency overdrive is quality and
integrity, fostered only with patience and care. With less time, everything we do is
more prone to mistakes. With less time, we put on a superficial mask in front
of everyone we meet.<o:p></o:p></span></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
<span lang="EN-US"><br /></span></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
<span lang="EN-US">With less time there is less opportunity
for, you guessed it, chance encounters and random conversations. No time for a bump and a
chat with a friend on the street. Time to help somebody who is lost find their
way. Time to invite people into our homes. No, there is only time to share a
quick drink at a coffee shop before our next task beckons.<o:p></o:p></span></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
<span lang="EN-US"><br /></span></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
<span lang="EN-US">Sometimes not even that. Joe told me
how frustrated he became when we were having trouble meeting up before I left
on my trip because he was too busy. “I did not have the flexibility to change
my schedule to have that spontaneity… we try to force randomness in our
schedule rather than providing randomness the opportunity to find us.”<o:p></o:p></span></div>
<table align="center" cellpadding="0" cellspacing="0" class="tr-caption-container" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto; text-align: center;"><tbody>
<tr><td style="text-align: center;"><a href="http://4.bp.blogspot.com/-lCHTwVNUihk/USeaRehnTXI/AAAAAAAAAZ8/bB6sJcQ04SA/s1600/Blog+-+free+hugs.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto; text-align: center;"><img border="0" height="212" src="http://4.bp.blogspot.com/-lCHTwVNUihk/USeaRehnTXI/AAAAAAAAAZ8/bB6sJcQ04SA/s320/Blog+-+free+hugs.jpg" width="320" /></a></td></tr>
<tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;">Free hugs event in London - random encounters at its awkwardest! </td></tr>
</tbody></table>
<div class="MsoNormal">
<span lang="EN-US"></span></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
<span lang="EN-US">Individuals in our rushed culture are
compartmentalizing more than just their time. Private vehicles are isolating commuters
from interacting with strangers on the sidewalk or on buses or subways. Our
homes, like broken ice sheets in the Antarctic, are drifting further apart,
isolating us from our neighbours. The homes themselves are becoming larger and
filled with more and more valuable possessions, further ensuring that we will
never trust strangers in our home. Not so in other cultures such as India,
where people live in smaller and denser tight-knit communities, have fewer
possessions in their homes but are very warm and welcoming.<o:p></o:p></span></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
<span lang="EN-US"><br /></span></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
<span lang="EN-US">Planning out our lives, whether it’s the
next 5 years or 5 minutes, gives us some stability amidst unpredictability, but
we lose the magic of the moment. Nowhere have I learned this lesson more than
in long-term travelling. Abandoning nearly all my possessions, concrete plans and
time constraints, I find myself open to chance encounters and meetings. Each
meeting brings with it the potential for fun and adventure, and is not
considered time wasted or a distraction. Some meetings blossom into stronger connections.
But at the very least I get a smile, an assurance that I made someone's day better.<o:p></o:p></span></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
<span lang="EN-US"><br /></span></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
<span lang="EN-US">I told my friend that “back home we are all
about individuality. We each have ambitions and needs which don’t really fit
into harmony with other people’s lives, and so we exclude them. Travelling
forces us to intertwine our fates with others.” But even most of us travel on
prepackaged vacations designed for maximum privacy with a nice beachfront view.<o:p></o:p></span></div>
<table align="center" cellpadding="0" cellspacing="0" class="tr-caption-container" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto; text-align: center;"><tbody>
<tr><td style="text-align: center;"><a href="http://1.bp.blogspot.com/-bJeN1g728yQ/USeanFeWOwI/AAAAAAAAAaM/rcyjdWOli0Q/s1600/Blog+-+CS.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto; text-align: center;"><img border="0" height="212" src="http://1.bp.blogspot.com/-bJeN1g728yQ/USeanFeWOwI/AAAAAAAAAaM/rcyjdWOli0Q/s320/Blog+-+CS.jpg" width="320" /></a></td></tr>
<tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;">Budapest host - Couchsurfing means opening up your home - whether it's 1 or 6 people! </td></tr>
</tbody></table>
<div class="MsoNormal">
<span lang="EN-US"></span></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
So try something different for once. Clear your schedule for the following week as much as possible. When that week arrives, you may find yourself more relaxed, clear of mind, even a little excited about the endless possibilities of a week with no obligations. Anything can happen. Randomness is invited. Don't worry, it may feel a little strange at first to have nothing to do or worry about, but you'll grow into it.</div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
<br /></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
<span lang="EN-US">I would like to conclude with some excerpts
from Joe's closing rant: “when you’re not busy it is easy to feel alone
because everyone is busy so you feel the need to compete… but if you don’t have
the time just to have the opportunity for randomness and for keeping your doors
open… how are we supposed to connect with people beyond a superficial level?”<o:p></o:p></span></div>
</div>
All I Need is my 2 Bare Feethttp://www.blogger.com/profile/16455987029572997655noreply@blogger.com3tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-8907537061923057759.post-55714214001719799032013-02-09T08:34:00.000-08:002013-02-09T08:35:33.210-08:00Getting Stuffed in Turkey<div dir="ltr" style="text-align: left;" trbidi="on">
<br />
In the past few months, you have witnessed my slow transformation, shedding my identity as tourist for something more abstract, bordering on soul searcher. Having just arrived in Greece to start work on a farm, my transformation became complete. But not before climaxing in Turkey on a wild flourish of touristic attractions.<br />
<div class="MsoNormal">
<span lang="EN-US"><br /></span></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
Thus, I present to you what may be the last touristy blog I will write. Warning - could cause you to stop everything and go to Turkey.<br />
<br />
-----------<br />
<br />
Turkey arguably has the richest history of any country in the past 2000 years. But take a wander 'round and you'll discover that it has a lot more to offer than just museums and mosques.</div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
<table align="center" cellpadding="0" cellspacing="0" class="tr-caption-container" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto; text-align: center;"><tbody>
<tr><td><a href="http://4.bp.blogspot.com/-ouqpuyORyus/URPeCwLFDdI/AAAAAAAAAXs/TAQBauWMWso/s1600/Blog+-+Aya+Sophia.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto;"><img border="0" height="211" src="http://4.bp.blogspot.com/-ouqpuyORyus/URPeCwLFDdI/AAAAAAAAAXs/TAQBauWMWso/s320/Blog+-+Aya+Sophia.jpg" width="320" /></a></td></tr>
<tr><td class="tr-caption" style="font-size: 13.333333969116211px;">Inside the Aya Sophia - most gorgeous mosque in Istanbul</td></tr>
</tbody></table>
<span lang="EN-US">During this time period, Constantinople perched itself on top of the world, overseeing the dominant Roman, Byzantine and Ottoman Empires, accumulating mass riches and a wealth of architecture. It became Istanbul after the fall of the Ottoman Empire after WWI. </span>I felt the history as I first stepped foot in the main square of Istanbul's historic neighbourhood Sultanahmet, centred by a large fountain and framed on both sides by the glorious Aya Sophia and Blue Mosque. There is so much to offer in Istanbul that I ended up staying 10 days to do everything imaginable, but mainly to enjoy it all in the company of good people. I went out in modern Taksim, stayed in, walked around, visited mosques, saw museums, fit in a boat tour and a day trip to a WWI site, and even sat in on a presentation about Islam.</div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
</div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
<table align="center" cellpadding="0" cellspacing="0" class="tr-caption-container" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto; text-align: center;"><tbody>
<tr><td><a href="http://3.bp.blogspot.com/-OM9eTgGUntI/URPt3xxUCZI/AAAAAAAAAZE/5radzgob8ko/s1600/Blog+-+Istanbul++Museum.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto;"><img border="0" height="212" src="http://3.bp.blogspot.com/-OM9eTgGUntI/URPt3xxUCZI/AAAAAAAAAZE/5radzgob8ko/s320/Blog+-+Istanbul++Museum.jpg" width="320" /></a></td></tr>
<tr><td class="tr-caption" style="font-size: 13.333333969116211px;">Istanbul Archaeological Museum - Sean measuring himself up to a column capital from Temple of Artemis </td></tr>
</tbody></table>
<span lang="EN-US">But my favourite experience was probably the Turkish bath, or Hamam. It sounds strange to say this, but the man who bathed and massaged me during the experience was very rough with me, yanking me around like rag doll – and I liked it. But what I definitely did not like was the pot-bellied Turkish man stalking me around the baths after my treatment, following me from the cool down pool to sauna, then to steam room, then the bath area, sitting literally a metre from me each time. Thankfully, he never got any closer.<o:p></o:p></span></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
<span lang="EN-US"><br /></span></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
<span lang="EN-US">Finally, when I strayed outside of the bustling metropolis I found an even more diverse and dazzling array of natural phenomena. I traded in my thinking cap for an Indiana Jones hat and Tomb Raider tights and explored Turkey's countryside like a pioneer in a new land.<o:p></o:p></span></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
<span lang="EN-US"><table align="center" cellpadding="0" cellspacing="0" class="tr-caption-container" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto; text-align: center;"><tbody>
<tr><td><a href="http://3.bp.blogspot.com/-vpmuFNJ-DFg/URPgWEFmebI/AAAAAAAAAX0/dgAY600xmms/s1600/Blog+-+Cappadocia+2.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto;"><img border="0" height="212" src="http://3.bp.blogspot.com/-vpmuFNJ-DFg/URPgWEFmebI/AAAAAAAAAX0/dgAY600xmms/s320/Blog+-+Cappadocia+2.jpg" width="320" /></a></td></tr>
<tr><td class="tr-caption" style="font-size: 13.333333969116211px;">Cappadocia - a place like no place on earth</td></tr>
</tbody></table>
</span></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
<span lang="EN-US">Cappadocia, with its old and mysterious cave dwellings carved into even older “fairy chimneys” formed by erosion, feels like a land out of a fairy tale. Most travelers I met here took to the skies in a hot air balloon but I felt my experience was equally rewarding keeping both feet on the ground – and 100 euros in my wallet. I hiked tirelessly for two full days, descending valleys and ascending ridges over and over. Each viewpoint was more unbelievable than the next, provoking equally joyful and agonizing primal screams. In my hostel in Cappadocia I met probably the most positive guy on my travels. Michi arrived during breakfast, gave a friendly greeting to my group and indicated with a warm but assertive smile that he was going to sit down with us and become our friend. And that was the truth!<o:p></o:p></span></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
<span lang="EN-US"><table align="center" cellpadding="0" cellspacing="0" class="tr-caption-container" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto; text-align: center;"><tbody>
<tr><td><div class="separator" style="clear: both;">
<a href="http://3.bp.blogspot.com/-Uvrk-aSOYBw/URP1bmDtUMI/AAAAAAAAAZk/CcqVx0L3uj4/s1600/Blog+-+Top+of+the+world.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" height="133" src="http://3.bp.blogspot.com/-Uvrk-aSOYBw/URP1bmDtUMI/AAAAAAAAAZk/CcqVx0L3uj4/s400/Blog+-+Top+of+the+world.jpg" width="400" /></a></div>
<span style="font-size: x-small;">Rose Valley - like waking up in a dream</span></td></tr>
</tbody></table>
</span></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
<span lang="EN-US">I settled temporarily back into city life with a couple of days in sunny Antalya. It’s the first Turkish city outside of Istanbul I visited and I really liked its vibe. People were quite helpful. I even played football with some kids in a park and joked around with them for a bit. Also, its placement between the Mediterranean coast and stunning mountains makes it the perfect place to admire a sunset.<o:p></o:p></span></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
<span lang="EN-US"><table align="center" cellpadding="0" cellspacing="0" class="tr-caption-container" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto; text-align: center;"><tbody>
<tr><td><table align="center" cellpadding="0" cellspacing="0" class="tr-caption-container" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto; text-align: center;"><tbody>
<tr><td><a href="http://2.bp.blogspot.com/-0fD2e80Nawo/URPgi7cAvWI/AAAAAAAAAYE/fSAQmRaZHEk/s1600/Blog+-+Antalya.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto;"><img border="0" height="212" src="http://2.bp.blogspot.com/-0fD2e80Nawo/URPgi7cAvWI/AAAAAAAAAYE/fSAQmRaZHEk/s320/Blog+-+Antalya.jpg" width="320" /></a></td></tr>
<tr><td class="tr-caption" style="font-size: 13.333333969116211px;">"Oh wow, a stranger! Let's talk to him!"</td></tr>
</tbody></table>
</td></tr>
</tbody></table>
</span></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
<span lang="EN-US">A visit to Termessos ruins near Antalya came really close to topping Cappadocia. In a high mountain valley, navigating stone slabs scattered like sand among crumbled buildings, with hardly anyone else around, I felt like a kid in a playground with no parental supervision. The theatre with its magnificent ring seating overlooking the stage below and mountains above in all directions made you wish you were a spectator of a Roman performance back in the heyday of this abandoned ancient city.<o:p></o:p></span></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
<span lang="EN-US"><table align="center" cellpadding="0" cellspacing="0" class="tr-caption-container" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto; text-align: center;"><tbody>
<tr><td><a href="http://2.bp.blogspot.com/-pahVIJ1AE7E/URPgsA20W5I/AAAAAAAAAYM/9_QZIxwjf_4/s1600/Blog+-+Theatre+pano.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto;"><img border="0" height="163" src="http://2.bp.blogspot.com/-pahVIJ1AE7E/URPgsA20W5I/AAAAAAAAAYM/9_QZIxwjf_4/s400/Blog+-+Theatre+pano.jpg" width="400" /></a></td></tr>
<tr><td class="tr-caption" style="font-size: 13.333333969116211px;">Termessos - a theatre with a view</td></tr>
</tbody></table>
</span></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
<span lang="EN-US">Next I spent a couple of days in picturesque Olympos, a ruins of a once thriving port city situated near pebble beaches and nestled in thick forested mountains. The area was dotted with numerous restaurants and pensions (a kind of accommodations) which would all be packed in the summer but, again, hardly anyone was around. The highlight was Chimaera, a site where natural gas vents into the atmosphere as fire. I wish I had brought marshmallows or raw kebabs. Back at the hostel, I shared my wooden cabin with two wonderful Americans, who I clicked with right away. We parted just after meditating on the beach.<o:p></o:p></span></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
<span lang="EN-US"><table align="center" cellpadding="0" cellspacing="0" class="tr-caption-container" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto; text-align: center;"><tbody>
<tr><td><table align="center" cellpadding="0" cellspacing="0" class="tr-caption-container" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto; text-align: center;"><tbody>
<tr><td><a href="http://4.bp.blogspot.com/-qfdgFMRu5zU/URPgy9ZQbZI/AAAAAAAAAYU/fscnSPiF4Po/s1600/Blog+-+hover+hand.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto;"><img border="0" height="132" src="http://4.bp.blogspot.com/-qfdgFMRu5zU/URPgy9ZQbZI/AAAAAAAAAYU/fscnSPiF4Po/s200/Blog+-+hover+hand.jpg" width="200" /></a></td></tr>
<tr><td class="tr-caption" style="font-size: 13.333333969116211px;">Chimaera in Olympos -<br />
imagine having a permanent fire in your backyard </td></tr>
</tbody></table>
</td></tr>
</tbody></table>
</span>In Pamukkale, fire gave way to water but in a rare and spectacular form – travertine pools. Here calcium deposits achieved epic proportions, taking over the landscape, forming grand white cliffs. Water flows down these cliffs, forming pools, stepping down like classic rice paddies in China. And yes, there were ruins on site too.</div>
<span lang="EN-US" style="line-height: 17.77777862548828px;"></span><br />
<table align="center" cellpadding="0" cellspacing="0" class="tr-caption-container" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto; text-align: center;"><tbody>
<tr><td><a href="http://4.bp.blogspot.com/-nL73zjhT0r8/URPg2ZgnYiI/AAAAAAAAAYc/zoWqUy0KTDA/s1600/Blog+-+travertine+pool.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto;"><img border="0" height="212" src="http://4.bp.blogspot.com/-nL73zjhT0r8/URPg2ZgnYiI/AAAAAAAAAYc/zoWqUy0KTDA/s320/Blog+-+travertine+pool.jpg" width="320" /></a></td></tr>
<tr><td class="tr-caption" style="font-size: 13.333333969116211px;">Pamukkale - barefoot policy more than just for mosques</td></tr>
</tbody></table>
<br />
<div style="font-family: Calibri, sans-serif;">
<span lang="EN-US" style="line-height: 17.77777862548828px;"><span style="font-family: Times, Times New Roman, serif;">My final destination </span></span><span style="font-family: Times, 'Times New Roman', serif; line-height: 17.77777862548828px;">was Selcuk to see the granddaddy of all ruins in Turkey – Ephesus. But not before an unexpected scare. A screwup on my bus ticket took me to the wrong city at night. A smooth talking guy at the bus station convinced me to let him help me. But while he was trying to help, we chatted, and I slowly became aware that this guy had some issues. I learned his name was “Sanchez” which actually sounds Mexican, he works for the Turkish Service Service, and he fought in southeastern Turkey against the Kurdish, resulting in three bullets lodged in his left leg. The whole time he drank in public and even peed several times, waving around his wang in plain sight, and he kept telling me to watch his bag closely and don’t let anyone touch it or “kill them.” Needless to say, I excused my way out of getting help.</span></div>
<div>
<div>
<table align="center" cellpadding="0" cellspacing="0" class="tr-caption-container" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto; text-align: center;"><tbody>
<tr><td><a href="http://4.bp.blogspot.com/-9bKh77Sbzi8/URPg86P71pI/AAAAAAAAAYk/n20XWXpf7XY/s1600/Blog+-+cat.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto;"><img border="0" height="212" src="http://4.bp.blogspot.com/-9bKh77Sbzi8/URPg86P71pI/AAAAAAAAAYk/n20XWXpf7XY/s320/Blog+-+cat.jpg" width="320" /></a></td></tr>
<tr><td class="tr-caption" style="font-size: 13.333333969116211px;">Ephesus - cat rejects me, then follows me up the theatre and curls up beside me </td></tr>
</tbody></table>
</div>
<div>
<span style="font-family: Times, Times New Roman, serif;"><span style="line-height: 17.77777862548828px;">The next morning I finally made it to Selcuk but by then I felt "ruined" out and was having trouble mustering excitement for my visit to Ephesus, 3 km away by dolmus (minibus). This actually helped because my expectations were exceeded once I began exploring the largest and most spectacular Greco-Roman ruins in Turkey. Surprisingly the highlight of the day was the cat that initially rejected my efforts to pet it, only to later follow me and curl up in my lap. Later on I managed to sneak outside the site limits and ascend to a high point with a bird's eye view of Ephesus and of Selcuk. I hiked along the ancient city walls straddling the top of the mountain, eventually descending back into Selcuk.</span></span></div>
</div>
<div>
<table align="center" cellpadding="0" cellspacing="0" class="tr-caption-container" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto; text-align: center;"><tbody>
<tr><td><a href="http://4.bp.blogspot.com/-1nPe58u_q9E/URPg86NtsaI/AAAAAAAAAYo/JCOnTQ8Clqc/s1600/Blog+-+Celsus+library.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto;"><img border="0" height="212" src="http://4.bp.blogspot.com/-1nPe58u_q9E/URPg86NtsaI/AAAAAAAAAYo/JCOnTQ8Clqc/s320/Blog+-+Celsus+library.jpg" width="320" /></a></td></tr>
<tr><td class="tr-caption" style="font-size: 13.333333969116211px;">Ephesus - the library facade is the site's most famous structure </td></tr>
</tbody></table>
</div>
<div>
<span style="font-family: Times, Times New Roman, serif;"><span style="line-height: 17.77777862548828px;">After a pit stop in Istanbul I am now settled in at an organic farm in Greece, with an incredibly welcome family, and never more ready to get my hands dirty. And thus concludes 3 amazing weeks in Turkey! Despite my travel-weariness I was happy that I managed to see the best Turkey has to offer and had a really memorable time.</span></span><br />
<table align="center" cellpadding="0" cellspacing="0" class="tr-caption-container" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto; text-align: center;"><tbody>
<tr><td><a href="http://3.bp.blogspot.com/-HtO1U82PLDI/URPwBbW_nNI/AAAAAAAAAZM/T-vtjrBCEFI/s1600/Blog+-+Overlooking+Ephesus.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto;"><img border="0" height="132" src="http://3.bp.blogspot.com/-HtO1U82PLDI/URPwBbW_nNI/AAAAAAAAAZM/T-vtjrBCEFI/s200/Blog+-+Overlooking+Ephesus.jpg" width="200" /></a></td></tr>
<tr><td class="tr-caption" style="font-size: 13.333333969116211px;">Overlooking Ephesus - thanks for reading!</td></tr>
</tbody></table>
<span style="font-family: Times, Times New Roman, serif;"><span style="line-height: 17.77777862548828px;">Full album: </span><span style="line-height: 17.77777862548828px;"><span style="font-size: x-small;">http://www.flickr.com/photos/11monthsandrew/sets/72157632728234272/</span></span></span></div>
</div>
All I Need is my 2 Bare Feethttp://www.blogger.com/profile/16455987029572997655noreply@blogger.com3tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-8907537061923057759.post-28509952395168644402013-01-29T00:21:00.000-08:002013-01-30T01:20:54.816-08:00Stuck in Istanbul - My Escape to Normality<div dir="ltr" style="text-align: left;" trbidi="on">
Upon entering month six of my travels, I fell into a new troubling phase in my free and nomadic life. I became afflicted by the ultimate first world problem, that which can only affect the long term backpacker living the dream, jetsetter extraordinaire stimulated by new and amazing experiences on a daily basis.<br />
<br />
I became sick of being a tourist.<br />
<br />
Museums and attractions started to become boring. My comfort zone, like a balloon reaching full capacity, stopped expanding at its once furious pace. New places were no longer as exciting, new experiences no longer as spine tingling as before. I knew this onset of travel-weariness was inevitable, but trying to figure out where to go and what to next troubled me more than expected, even disturbing my sleep.<br />
<table align="center" cellpadding="0" cellspacing="0" class="tr-caption-container" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto; text-align: center;"><tbody>
<tr><td><a href="http://2.bp.blogspot.com/-bNXwfuGmKr0/UQeD7gygRvI/AAAAAAAAAVc/OX56uehfwXE/s1600/DSC_1328.JPG" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto;"><img border="0" height="132" src="http://2.bp.blogspot.com/-bNXwfuGmKr0/UQeD7gygRvI/AAAAAAAAAVc/OX56uehfwXE/s200/DSC_1328.JPG" width="200" /></a></td></tr>
<tr><td class="tr-caption" style="font-size: 13.333333969116211px;">Blue Mosque, Istanbul</td></tr>
</tbody></table>
<br />
Fortunately, the perfect tonic for my travel weariness was waiting for me in my next destination. Located where east meets west and where empires ebbed in and out throughout history, Istanbul is a truly special city. Its streets are alive with organized chaos, loudspeakers envelope the sky with mystic voices of Muslim prayer, and its skyline dazzles with both minarets and skyscrapers rising over the geographically significant Bosphorus Strait. Istanbul provided the perfect escape from my troubles. Its history and beauty is so rich and its culture so refreshingly new that it temporarily revived my touristic motivation to see mosques and museums. But when that desire quickly subsided, my final escape lay in one solitary place.<br />
<br />
Istanbul Hostel provided a semblance of normality and shielded me from the unpredictability of travelling. Somehow the turnstile effect of hostels didn't apply here and many people stayed long enough that I became familiar with them. These familiar faces were ones which I no longer needed the pretense of asking the cliche five questions: what's your name, where you from, how long you been travelling, where you been, where you going? And then there's the guessing game: are you Korean? Japanese? Oh, Canadian... but what are you <i>really?</i><br />
<table align="center" cellpadding="0" cellspacing="0" class="tr-caption-container" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto; text-align: center;"><tbody>
<tr><td style="text-align: center;"><a href="http://4.bp.blogspot.com/-FsNtrVhYFQ0/UQeFNditZdI/AAAAAAAAAVw/59b8mXiMDfU/s1600/Jumping+in+Gallipoli.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto;"><img border="0" height="133" src="http://4.bp.blogspot.com/-FsNtrVhYFQ0/UQeFNditZdI/AAAAAAAAAVw/59b8mXiMDfU/s200/Jumping+in+Gallipoli.jpg" width="200" /></a></td></tr>
<tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;">Jumping for joy... at a war memorial site </td></tr>
</tbody></table>
Finally I could just be myself for once and, as a traveler, that's something rare and valuable, like a small lottery win. I stuck around Istanbul and at the same hostel because the people I met were cool characters, the kind I could be friends with if we were living in the same city. I even achieved the notorious reputation of "the guy who would never leave." I eventually did leave, but my stay went from an originally planned 3 days to 10 days at Istanbul Hostel.<br />
<br />
The people provided good times and distraction from my troubles long enough for me to find a new direction in my travels. I have decided to go to Greece to work on an olive farm for at least a few weeks. But I will be a tourist for another week in Turkey. I am currently writing from surreal Cappadocia. Think of the Grand Canyon. But on the moon.<br />
<table align="center" cellpadding="0" cellspacing="0" class="tr-caption-container" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto; text-align: center;"><tbody>
<tr><td style="text-align: center;"><a href="http://4.bp.blogspot.com/-sxz_Gd8pEqI/UQeF75nMcuI/AAAAAAAAAV4/CSdy1kXjWOo/s1600/DSC_1027+(thumbnail).jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto;"><img border="0" height="212" src="http://4.bp.blogspot.com/-sxz_Gd8pEqI/UQeF75nMcuI/AAAAAAAAAV4/CSdy1kXjWOo/s320/DSC_1027+(thumbnail).jpg" width="320" /></a></td></tr>
<tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;">With Emelia and Chris, before Chris continues his cycling round the world journey </td></tr>
</tbody></table>
Thank you to Chris Gruar for connecting me with the olive farm. You are a great man and I hope to catch up with you after your epic journey is complete. To see Chris's epic journey and, if you are inspired as I was, to donate, click here: cycling4cancer.wordpress.com.<br />
<br />
Thank you also to Emelia for wallowing together in the self pity of our mutual travel weariness. The rest of you, you know who you are! Thanks for the memorable time at Istanbul Hostel and see you again, hopefully sooner than later.<br />
<br />
<span style="font-size: x-small;">Istanbul photos: http://www.flickr.com/photos/11monthsandrew/sets/72157632635823090/</span></div>
All I Need is my 2 Bare Feethttp://www.blogger.com/profile/16455987029572997655noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-8907537061923057759.post-11294235661474068532013-01-13T14:07:00.000-08:002013-01-14T01:31:03.821-08:00The Help Connection<div dir="ltr" style="text-align: left;" trbidi="on">
<div>
There is this phenomenon I have been contemplating as of late. It has the power to bring people together. It sees a mosaic of colours but does not exclude any from its undiscriminating eye. Its impact is immense and timeless, as a river carving out a canyon. While fascinating, it is so staggeringly simple yet overlooked and underutilized.</div>
<div>
<br /></div>
<div>
I am talking about <i>helping others.</i> And it's a phenomenon because, puzzlingly, it doesn't happen enough.</div>
<table align="center" cellpadding="0" cellspacing="0" class="tr-caption-container" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto; text-align: center;"><tbody>
<tr><td style="text-align: center;"><a href="http://3.bp.blogspot.com/-ekrsAvATk8g/UPMqaSTaV6I/AAAAAAAAARM/PBGdOHX4pu8/s1600/DSC_0615.JPG" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto; text-align: center;"><img border="0" height="132" src="http://3.bp.blogspot.com/-ekrsAvATk8g/UPMqaSTaV6I/AAAAAAAAARM/PBGdOHX4pu8/s200/DSC_0615.JPG" width="200" /></a></td></tr>
<tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;">Standing at the side of the road, with my thumb out, and holding a sign with city name, resting on my notebook. </td></tr>
</tbody></table>
<div>
Earlier today, while hitchhiking from Sofia to Plovdiv, standing on the side of the road, staring into passing cars, hungrily at the empty seats, new thoughts dawned on me, really came to the forefront of my mind.</div>
<div>
<br /></div>
<div>
I used to think hitchhikers were crazy. These days I am the one with my thumb out, watching the cars pass by, thinking motorists were the crazy ones, and what a waste it is for all these empty seats to pass me by, their destinies unfulfilled, their existence obsolete. Don't get me wrong, I haven't waited more than an hour before getting picked up in my 4 or 5 hitchhiking experiences now but, provided I am waiting at the correct spot, shouldn't I not have to wait more than 5 minutes? How hard is it to help a guy out?</div>
<div>
<br /></div>
<div>
Then I thought of the people who had picked me up in their car. Sometimes few words were exchanged (primarily due to language barriers), other times many. Sometimes money was given, other times contact information. What was guaranteed was a smile and a handshake. A spontaneous combustion of happiness! I call this the <i>help connection, </i>human connection through helping.</div>
<div>
<i><br /></i></div>
<div>
It's a simple concept, a happiness recipe that requires a few ingredients, mainly vulnerability and trust. Today I could have paid just 6 euro to take a train from Sofia to Plovdiv, but I chose to make myself vulnerable by waiting on the side of a road, putting my trust in the hands of people speeding in and past my periphery. Add some time, next thing you know I got picked up and, voila, instant happiness for both myself and driver! All it's missing is that out-of-the-oven freshly baked smell.</div>
<table align="center" cellpadding="0" cellspacing="0" class="tr-caption-container" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto; text-align: center;"><tbody>
<tr><td style="text-align: center;"><a href="http://3.bp.blogspot.com/-vNfgxyhSbNo/UPMt5IrKkLI/AAAAAAAAAR8/crZGGm9ofsQ/s1600/DSC_0084.JPG" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto;"><img border="0" height="132" src="http://3.bp.blogspot.com/-vNfgxyhSbNo/UPMt5IrKkLI/AAAAAAAAAR8/crZGGm9ofsQ/s200/DSC_0084.JPG" width="200" /></a></td></tr>
<tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;">A wonderful meal with Couchsurfers - New Year's Eve in Sibiu, Romania </td></tr>
</tbody></table>
<div>
Hitchhiking is like the road version of Couchsurfing, which also thrives on the concept of the help connection. On CS I constantly make myself vulnerable by asking for a couch to sleep on. I put my trust in people I have never met. But when we finally do meet, instantly the walls of mistrust are torn down, and it is like making an instant friend. This is as good as happiness in a bottle. And the best part is it's free!</div>
<div>
<br /></div>
<div>
Phenomenons like hitchhiking and Couchsurfing prove to me that the best things in life are free. When you pay more while travelling you get modern comforts and contentedness. But the net happiness doesn't change. When you pay less you sacrifice comfort but rely on others for help, which results in a net gain in happiness. The math works.</div>
<div>
<br /></div>
<div>
As a happy passenger on the drive from Sofia to Plovdiv, while admiring the beautiful countryside of Bulgaria, I resolved to be more helpful to everyone, friend or stranger, in the future.</div>
<div>
<br /></div>
<div>
I also thought the word "stranger" needs to be revised. The word has negative connotations in a world where nobody makes themselves vulnerable nor trusts eachother. But you can make a change!</div>
<table align="center" cellpadding="0" cellspacing="0" class="tr-caption-container" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto; text-align: center;"><tbody>
<tr><td style="text-align: center;"><a href="http://2.bp.blogspot.com/-lZYiyfyWKcA/UPMrdwvcKnI/AAAAAAAAARY/KWzWiYR6qkE/s1600/Me+and+Old+Man.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto;"><img border="0" height="132" src="http://2.bp.blogspot.com/-lZYiyfyWKcA/UPMrdwvcKnI/AAAAAAAAARY/KWzWiYR6qkE/s200/Me+and+Old+Man.jpg" width="200" /></a></td></tr>
<tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;">Near a remote village, I taught this old man how to use my camera! </td></tr>
</tbody></table>
<div>
<div>
So when's the last time you made yourself vulnerable to others? Put your trust in someone you just met? Helped someone in need? My challenge to you is to actively help someone today unconditionally. And feel the spontaneous combustion of happiness inside you bursting into a big smile on your face, spreading from person to person in the vicinity.</div>
<div>
<br /></div>
<div>
I hope reading this helped you to realize the power of vulnerability, trusting and helping others. As the old saying goes "treat others as you want to be treated."</div>
<table align="center" cellpadding="0" cellspacing="0" class="tr-caption-container" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto; text-align: center;"><tbody>
<tr><td style="text-align: center;"><a href="http://4.bp.blogspot.com/-xjDbjmPmZUg/UPMrdVMn1CI/AAAAAAAAARc/oCBsQiVA6II/s1600/Pano+-+Magura.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto;"><img border="0" height="95" src="http://4.bp.blogspot.com/-xjDbjmPmZUg/UPMrdVMn1CI/AAAAAAAAARc/oCBsQiVA6II/s320/Pano+-+Magura.jpg" width="320" /></a></td></tr>
<tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;">My morning view in Magura, remote village in Romania</td></tr>
</tbody></table>
<div>
<span style="font-size: x-small;">Romania pictures, in two parts:</span></div>
<div>
<span style="font-size: x-small;">http://www.flickr.com/photos/11monthsandrew/sets/72157632486518760/</span></div>
<div>
<span style="font-size: x-small;">http://www.flickr.com/photos/11monthsandrew/sets/72157632482077727/</span></div>
</div>
</div>
All I Need is my 2 Bare Feethttp://www.blogger.com/profile/16455987029572997655noreply@blogger.com2tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-8907537061923057759.post-9045154587415711082013-01-01T12:33:00.001-08:002013-01-01T12:33:37.270-08:002013 - Off to a Good Start<div dir="ltr" style="text-align: left;" trbidi="on">
2012 was a hell of a great year, easily the best year of my life. I can look back and say I did pretty much everything I wanted to. It certainly won't be easy for the coming year to outdo the year that just ended. But I think I've gotten off to a pretty good start so far.<br />
<br />
<b>January 1, 2013</b><br />
<br />
This morning, I woke up to a fresh new year in a fresh new situation. I woke up in Sibiu, Romania, in my Couchsurfing host's home. After my friendly hosts had fed me very well throughout my entire stay, they gave me one last wonderful breakfast, consisting of many homemade traditional products. I packed everything, said goodbye, walked outside and, feeling the morning sun on my face, felt that my possibilities were endless today, and nothing I wanted was too far beyond the horizon.<br />
<br />
At this point, I would like to introduce you to my Couchsurfing friend, Anna, who I travelled with in Romania. She is a truly inspiring person. She is also quite adventurous. She took me hitchhiking for the first time less than a week ago.<br />
<br />
Aside from some small bumps in the road, pardon the pun, hitchhiking was a lot easier than it sounds. And it is generally safe, but only if the proper precautions are taken. Having completed my first hitchhiking trip with Anna to guide me, I was in high spirits and had the momentum on my side. It was also not just a new day, but a new year, and, on top of that, the morning sun shone brightly on my face, and I felt invincible.<br />
<br />
I started walking to the edge of Sibiu. With some help from the locals to point me in the right direction, I eventually reached the edge of the city. Then I stuck out my thumb into the road, high and proud, and held up my sign, with "BV" for Brasov written in thick black marker, and stood waiting patiently, with a subtle smile on my face and a feeling of peace deep down inside. Traffic was low and the city was still sleepy from New Year's Eve celebrations, which made me a bit nervous. But about 15 minutes later somebody stopped on the shoulder beside me and let me in. The man drove a nice car and gave me a reassuring smile, signs that I would be safe. He was not so talkative and his English was not great, but it allowed me to enjoy the scenery. Only a few hours later I arrived at my destination. My first time hitchhiking alone, a success... incredible! And a great start to 2013!<br />
<br />
<b>Romania</b><br />
<br />
I am currently in Brasov, a pretty city nestled in the Carpathian Mountains, and home of the famous Dracula's Castle. But aside from attractions such as Dracula's Castle, Romania has a lot to offer.<br />
<br />
My time in this country up until now has been surprising and filled with discovery, a continuing trend in Eastern European countries due to their being relatively outside of North Americans' consciousness. I won't divulge Romania's history to you in detail, like I did in my Ukraine blog, but I will ask you to Wiki the name "Ceaucescu." His dictatorship until 1989 left many scars on the country which still show in the things you see and the people you encounter in the country.<br />
<br />
Anna has really helped to answer all of the questions I had upon arriving in Romania and witnessing the bleak atmosphere. I initially connected with her through Couchsurfing and she not only hosted me but took me under her wing as an understudy to learn all about Romania, its people and its culture. Later on we hitchhiked together and stayed at the Sibiu host's place. She has an adventurous spirit and good heart and is on a quest to make the world a better place. Thanks Anna for the deep, humbling conversations, and for sharing in a great time in Sibiu!</div>
All I Need is my 2 Bare Feethttp://www.blogger.com/profile/16455987029572997655noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-8907537061923057759.post-35037352010024521822012-12-24T03:16:00.000-08:002012-12-24T03:16:27.770-08:00Ukraine - A Hidden Gem in Europe<div dir="ltr" style="text-align: left;" trbidi="on">
Since leaving Moscow I have reverted back to my role as tourist. And what more unlikely place to go next than to Ukraine, right? When you think about Ukraine what do you think of... is it more like Russia? Or Europe? Is it even <i>in</i> Europe? What's so special about it anyway???<br />
<br />These are questions I asked myself upon my arrival in Kiev. I literally had no ideas or opinions about this country and didn't know a single soul who had been there. And it's never in the news. During the Kiev walking tour when the guide began talking about the Chernobyl disaster, I stupidly interrupted, asking "but isn't Chernobyl in Russia?"<br />
<br />
This is the ridiculous level at which I underestimated this country. It is also the ridiculous level at which it impressed and exceeded my expectations. I was lucky to meet many locals and was able to learn a lot about Ukraine. Some of them also kept me well fed, legitimizing a comment made by someone on my train from Moscow to Kiev: "in Ukraine you will never go hungry."<br />
<table align="center" cellpadding="0" cellspacing="0" class="tr-caption-container" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto; text-align: center;"><tbody>
<tr><td style="text-align: center;"><a href="http://3.bp.blogspot.com/-xTYXAvAWGc0/UNgzwvgTuWI/AAAAAAAAAQQ/NNGrnMhLZ0I/s1600/Pano+-+Maidan+Nezelezhnosti.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto; text-align: center;"><img border="0" height="104" src="http://3.bp.blogspot.com/-xTYXAvAWGc0/UNgzwvgTuWI/AAAAAAAAAQQ/NNGrnMhLZ0I/s320/Pano+-+Maidan+Nezelezhnosti.jpg" width="320" /></a></td></tr>
<tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;">Maidan Nezelezhnosti - the main square in Kiev</td></tr>
</tbody></table>
<b>Ukraine was there before Russia</b><br />
Ukraine may have lived in Russia's shadow for much of the past century, but Ukraine was actually the birthplace of Russian culture. Moscow was founded by a Ukrainian, Yuri Dolgorukiy, who is now buried in the famous Lavra Monastery in Kiev. Much of Russia's culture also originated in Ukraine. Russian's famous food is borsch soup and they also have a famous candy called korovka. But both of these originated in Ukraine.<br />
<br />
Today Ukraine's linguistics are split between Ukrainian, mainly in the west, and Russian, mainly in the east and in the south, in the Crimean Peninsula. The vocabularies differ by about 25%. Most native Ukrainian speakers know Russian but not the other way around. Kiev, the capital city consisting of about four million people, is also the most bilingual.<br />
<table align="center" cellpadding="0" cellspacing="0" class="tr-caption-container" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto; text-align: center;"><tbody>
<tr><td><a href="http://4.bp.blogspot.com/-JgLTDUG4nx4/UNgzs5WwBPI/AAAAAAAAAQA/FfaLXZIvoQY/s1600/DSC_0465.JPG" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto;"><img border="0" height="132" src="http://4.bp.blogspot.com/-JgLTDUG4nx4/UNgzs5WwBPI/AAAAAAAAAQA/FfaLXZIvoQY/s200/DSC_0465.JPG" width="200" /></a></td></tr>
<tr><td class="tr-caption" style="font-size: 13.333333969116211px;">Kiev claims to be the most romantic city in the world. They also love cats. </td></tr>
</tbody></table>
<br />
<b>Recent History</b><br />
Unfortunately, the past century has not been kind to Ukraine. WWII is called the Great Patriotic War by ex-USSR countries and only encompasses the time of Soviet conflict with Germany. Ukraine was a major battleground and was under Nazi occupation for several years. Most of Kiev was flattened, but not just by the Nazis. The Soviets destroyed Kiev's main street, Kreschatyk, to prevent the Nazis from having it.<br />
<br />
Stalin, probably the worst dictator in history, targeted Ukrainians in order to squash potential uprisings. He stripped them of their lands, and starved them on three different occasions during his regime. During the Stalin era, famines killed up to 10 million people, mostly Ukrainian. He also outlawed religion and blew up many churches and cathedrals in Ukraine.<br />
<table align="center" cellpadding="0" cellspacing="0" class="tr-caption-container" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto; text-align: center;"><tbody>
<tr><td style="text-align: center;"><a href="http://2.bp.blogspot.com/-gRElNu0h20Q/UNg1sPzRMYI/AAAAAAAAAQs/-nerSzQSFfM/s1600/DSC_0456.JPG" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto;"><img border="0" height="132" src="http://2.bp.blogspot.com/-gRElNu0h20Q/UNg1sPzRMYI/AAAAAAAAAQs/-nerSzQSFfM/s200/DSC_0456.JPG" width="200" /></a></td></tr>
<tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;">St. Michael's Cathedral. Blown up during Stalin era. Rebuilt in 1989. </td></tr>
</tbody></table>
At 01:23 on April 6, 1986 (I think!) the nuclear reactor at Chernobyl, not far from Kiev, experienced a meltdown, causing an explosion with the force of 100 of the atom bombs which hit Nagasaki. Many brave people have died or risked their lives in the following months and years, bringing the reactor under control, then contributing to the cleanup of radioactive contamination. This tragic event serves as a reminder not to let such a grave disaster ever be repeated.<br />
<br />
<b>Grab Bag</b><br />
Ukrainians invented the art of painting eggs. But while they paint them during Easter, they don't hide them for children to find. That only happens in North America.<br />
<br />
Rich and lonely men come here to find a bride (what are you looking at me for?). There was even an advertisement for a bride service on my tourist map. I heard stories about men paying for messaging services to would-be brides, then coming to Ukraine only for the woman to never show up. While this is not something to boast about, it at least shows that the world thinks its women are beautiful.<br />
<br />
Bomb shelters were built in Kiev starting in the early years of the Cold War. Today they serve as one of the deepest subways in the world.<br />
<br />
Single women occasionally get together and participate in fun and games to determine their future husband. One such ridiculous game is to carry water in your mouth from one house to another. Along the way, men try to make you laugh and spit out the water. Then you have to mix your water into some kind of porridge. A dog then chooses which porridge to eat, and if your porridge is eaten you will be the next to marry.<br />
<br />
-----<br />
<b><br /></b>
Ukraine may be overlooked in North America as a travel destination but definitely not by Europeans. It has a rich history, proud people, and is tucked away in truly eastern Europe sitting by the Black Sea, making it an awesome summer destination. For tourists, it is relatively easy to enter the country and everything is cheap.<br />
<br />
If you visit Ukraine, come in the spring, when the hazelnut trees bloom in magnificent colours and fill the city with its aroma.<br />
<br />
Flickr photos: <span style="font-size: x-small;">http://www.flickr.com/photos/11monthsandrew/sets/72157632322254769/</span></div>
All I Need is my 2 Bare Feethttp://www.blogger.com/profile/16455987029572997655noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-8907537061923057759.post-33072864016304194122012-12-10T02:36:00.002-08:002012-12-10T02:40:09.674-08:00My Adventure Through the Moscow Metro<div dir="ltr" style="text-align: left;" trbidi="on">
Despite the fact teaching English took up most of my time, there were many other things I managed to see and do in Moscow. To write about my entire experience would be silly, so I will focus on one specific goal: to visit as many Moscow Metro stations as possible and to photograph them.<br />
<table align="center" cellpadding="0" cellspacing="0" class="tr-caption-container" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto; text-align: center;"><tbody>
<tr><td style="text-align: center;"><a href="http://3.bp.blogspot.com/-uMjTMlMJeqo/UMW5NPf9EtI/AAAAAAAAAPg/EfZgCGSU5q8/s1600/Moscow+Metro-1.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto; text-align: center;"><img border="0" height="132" src="http://3.bp.blogspot.com/-uMjTMlMJeqo/UMW5NPf9EtI/AAAAAAAAAPg/EfZgCGSU5q8/s200/Moscow+Metro-1.jpg" width="200" /></a></td></tr>
<tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;">Arbatskaya Station - beautiful design and decor </td></tr>
</tbody></table>
This project meant a lot to me. For the reasons I stated above, and for whatever other reasons, I am still not sure exactly. But I pulled it off and did the best I could, all in one day in which I spent nearly 6 hours straight below ground, shuffling from station to station, packing and unpacking my tripod and camera, and finding the perfect photo opportunities.<br />
<br />
There were many obstacles to overcome over the 6 hour period. I wanted to take all my photos with a tripod because lighting is not always good underground and indoors, and because I wanted to capture the beauty of each station as best I could. But I soon learned that noone is allowed taking pictures in the Metro with a tripod.<br />
<table align="center" cellpadding="0" cellspacing="0" class="tr-caption-container" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto; text-align: center;"><tbody>
<tr><td style="text-align: center;"><a href="http://3.bp.blogspot.com/-Z1FpobOXm-A/UMW4ZjQvbZI/AAAAAAAAAPY/0IKRZwfKrc8/s1600/Moscow+Metro-18.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto;"><img border="0" height="132" src="http://3.bp.blogspot.com/-Z1FpobOXm-A/UMW4ZjQvbZI/AAAAAAAAAPY/0IKRZwfKrc8/s200/Moscow+Metro-18.jpg" width="200" /></a></td></tr>
<tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;">Shortly after I took this photo, guards approached me and told me I cannot take photos in the Metro. I continued to do it anyway and was told this at five different stations in all.</td></tr>
</tbody></table>
<div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;">
<span style="text-align: left;">Aside from avoiding the guards I had to keep calm and composure among swarms of people flowing to and fro of me, some giving me the evil eye. In addition, these difficulties discouraged me from changing my lens, and using my tripod at all times. I also took more time at each station than I thought I would, thus, visiting less stations than I anticipated. However, one day of this adventure provided both enough excitement and stress, and I will not be photographing any more stations.</span></div>
<br />
<table align="center" cellpadding="0" cellspacing="0" class="tr-caption-container" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto; text-align: center;"><tbody>
<tr><td style="text-align: center;"><a href="http://1.bp.blogspot.com/-STjjGqLb4s0/UMW5OdZ6MVI/AAAAAAAAAPk/SB_Kjnntlv8/s1600/Moscow+Metro-69.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto; text-align: center;"><img border="0" height="132" src="http://1.bp.blogspot.com/-STjjGqLb4s0/UMW5OdZ6MVI/AAAAAAAAAPk/SB_Kjnntlv8/s200/Moscow+Metro-69.jpg" width="200" /></a></td></tr>
<tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;">Statue in Ploschad Revolyutsii Station </td></tr>
</tbody></table>
These photos aren't professional, nor are they meant to be, nor still are they anything special. But to me they are special because of the effort I put into it, and so I hope you will enjoy this album, learn some cyrillic, and, above all, appreciate the beauty of the Moscow Metro.<br />
<br />
I have uploaded about one third of all my photos taken in the Moscow Metro:<br />
http://www.flickr.com/photos/11monthsandrew/sets/72157632209708989/</div>
All I Need is my 2 Bare Feethttp://www.blogger.com/profile/16455987029572997655noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-8907537061923057759.post-18443589801188791052012-12-09T15:51:00.000-08:002012-12-10T03:04:11.232-08:00Learning, Languages and Laughter - An Alliterative Love Story<div dir="ltr" style="text-align: left;" trbidi="on">
The train ride to Kiev was rather long, the window filled with monotonous, fleeting, snowy landscapes. I managed to get some shuteye in my four bed sleeper compartment but, aside from that, it was far from boring. As a forward looking person, I should have been excited about new adventures and about being on the road again. But my mind was still taking in the past month spent in Moscow teaching English. This was an experience, like all experiences on my trip, new and exciting. However, this past month was on a whole other level and probably, overall, the best and most unforgettable experience in my life.<br />
<table align="center" cellpadding="0" cellspacing="0" class="tr-caption-container" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto; text-align: center;"><tbody>
<tr><td style="text-align: center;"><a href="http://1.bp.blogspot.com/-Xd-ZKJhanSA/UMUgdE2CEMI/AAAAAAAAAOs/kLuPTtybGxY/s1600/DSC_0233.JPG" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto;"><img border="0" height="132" src="http://1.bp.blogspot.com/-Xd-ZKJhanSA/UMUgdE2CEMI/AAAAAAAAAOs/kLuPTtybGxY/s200/DSC_0233.JPG" width="200" /></a></td></tr>
<tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;">The Kremlin in Moscow at night</td></tr>
</tbody></table>
My situation could be described, as simply as possible, like this: on a help exchange website I found an opportunity to teach English. Despite some hiccups in obtaining a Russian Visa, I found myself in Moscow. I was given free accommodation and a Russian tutor, all for teaching English 5 days a week and requiring no training on my part.<br />
<br />
Teaching English without experience is as challenging as it sounds, and this challenge threw at me just about all I can handle in one month. In fact, despite being fluent in English, I had to learn its rules from scratch, something which, on day one, the students had more knowledge of than me. It's shocking to realize how little you actually know about the language you've spoken all your life, especially when you are being corrected by your students! But once I familiarized myself with the rules, and got past the in-class embarrassments (and of course with the help of my charming sense of humour), I took charge, becoming the master my pupils were looking for, converting their contempt into admiration, and channeling my invaluable experience as a first language English speaker into their spongy, thirsty minds, while providing an entertaining learning environment.<br />
<table align="center" cellpadding="0" cellspacing="0" class="tr-caption-container" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto; text-align: center;"><tbody>
<tr><td style="text-align: center;"><a href="http://3.bp.blogspot.com/-PcSJBxfmdfU/UMUh8GVgHMI/AAAAAAAAAPE/yPJmQJb6qMU/s1600/DSC_0083.JPG" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto;"><img border="0" height="132" src="http://3.bp.blogspot.com/-PcSJBxfmdfU/UMUh8GVgHMI/AAAAAAAAAPE/yPJmQJb6qMU/s200/DSC_0083.JPG" width="200" /></a></td></tr>
<tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;">Some chicken scratch about things the class wanted to learn </td></tr>
</tbody></table>
Every class became more and more fun, and we grew closer day by day. It helped that it was a very informal teaching atmosphere, and that the students really enjoyed playing ESL games that encouraged conversation. I even adapted many popular ones from North America such as Taboo, Scattergories and Jeopardy. Overall, my time with my students transcended the classroom atmosphere, becoming not only a place to learn, but also a place to gather as human beings, to share cultures and to share laughs.<br />
<br />
If any sore spot can be found in this experience it was in dealing with the managers of the institute that hired me, a mother-daughter combo. Despite the fact that they provided me a rare and invaluable opportunity, they were still, at their core, greedy, heartless people. They ran their registered non-profit organization like a shady business, perfecting the art of corruption, profiting excessively, neglecting their duties and, above all, treating us with no respect nor showing regard for our well-being. They constantly pushed us to conduct more classes or promote their organization, putting us in an awkward situation between them and the rest of our colleagues. The teachers became used to using words like "bitch" and "hate" when the subject of their bosses came up. Despite only staying one month, I got caught in the web of negativity and sent them a brutally honest e-mail condemning their business practices and also themselves as human beings.<br />
<table align="center" cellpadding="0" cellspacing="0" class="tr-caption-container" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto; text-align: center;"><tbody>
<tr><td style="text-align: center;"><a href="http://2.bp.blogspot.com/-1LQhuzxmkoA/UMUgbsz4ZkI/AAAAAAAAAOo/H0pGk8lB_lE/s1600/DSC_0123.JPG" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto; text-align: center;"><img border="0" height="132" src="http://2.bp.blogspot.com/-1LQhuzxmkoA/UMUgbsz4ZkI/AAAAAAAAAOo/H0pGk8lB_lE/s200/DSC_0123.JPG" width="200" /></a></td></tr>
<tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;">One of my extra duties sprung on me was a doing a presentation at a language<br />
festival. I spoke for 40 minutes in front of at least 100 people!</td></tr>
</tbody></table>
Their looming omnipresence in my daily affairs really polarized my perspective of the organization. However, in the bigger picture, their business model provided an ideal setting which both teachers and students thrived off of. It is a model that should be replicated in other language institutions, with the exception of the neglect of the volunteer teachers. (Who knows, maybe it's something I could venture into in the future.)<br />
<br />
Besides the business of teaching, I was constantly stimulated in Moscow, acclimating to the big city, learning about Russia and its culture, and of course the language, meeting cool people and making new friends. However, the most valuable wisdom I gained from the past month was the power of languages to bring people together. Teaching English makes me want to teach everyone else who has the passion to learn it, and learning Russian makes me want to learn all the languages of the world. And the people you meet who share this passion also share an open mind to different people, cultures and new experiences.<br />
<table align="center" cellpadding="0" cellspacing="0" class="tr-caption-container" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto; text-align: center;"><tbody>
<tr><td style="text-align: center;"><a href="http://3.bp.blogspot.com/-mr6KlJesc8w/UMUgeSSFn1I/AAAAAAAAAOw/Wdu0N_9qcsE/s1600/DSC_0437.JPG" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto; text-align: center;"><img border="0" height="132" src="http://3.bp.blogspot.com/-mr6KlJesc8w/UMUgeSSFn1I/AAAAAAAAAOw/Wdu0N_9qcsE/s200/DSC_0437.JPG" width="200" /></a></td></tr>
<tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;">Seven-twelfths of my class on the very last day </td></tr>
</tbody></table>
Back on the train to Kiev, you could see how crowded my mind was with thoughts. One thing I reflected upon was many people's curiosity whether I spoke Chinese or any other languages. I shamefully had to answer regrettably no, just English. However, though it's now too far in the past to lament the loss of my native language, and not pursuing more French in high school, it's never too late to fill a clean slate, such as my mind is.<br />
<br />
I hope I can continue to build upon my Russian, get back to learning other languages in which I have a basic understanding, such as French and Spanish. If my experience teaching English truly left a footprint on my memories, I will walk the fulfilling path of teaching and learning languages for a long time to come.<br />
<br />
Special thanks to my roomies Anais, Katie and Mathieu. You guys were mature, kind, and just plain super awesome people! Best of luck in Moscow and I hope to see you guys again in the future.<br />
<br />
Photos of Moscow: http://www.flickr.com/photos/11monthsandrew/sets/72157632213741648/<br />
<br />
Also - blog and photos of Moscow Metro: http://11monthsandrew.blogspot.com/2012/12/my-adventure-through-moscow-metro.html</div>
All I Need is my 2 Bare Feethttp://www.blogger.com/profile/16455987029572997655noreply@blogger.com2tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-8907537061923057759.post-36700179777147965932012-11-03T09:09:00.000-07:002012-11-03T09:09:03.401-07:00Inspiring EncountersMy travels have evolved constantly since the day I flew out of Canada. It started out with a mix of culture shock and adaptation to life on the road. After finding our groove, Amy and I blazed a tourist extravaganza of museums and attractions, ending each day with pained feet and backs, ready to collapse into bed. Consequently, we started to find a better balance, building in more rest time and partying, phasing out touristy stuff. By the time Amy left, we were both pretty sick of the touristy stuff.<br />
<br />
Slowly throughout this process, I have realized the true power of travelling lies within the people you meet along the way, which cannot occur in a typical "vacation." This aspect of the trip has become the highlight of my travels. I have met some truly wonderful people and the goodbyes have become much harder and harder.<br />
<br />
<br />
<br />
This blog is dedicated to these people. Below are some anonymous stories of people I have met that are inspiring or just plain awesome, and whose memories will last beyond the touristy stuff such as The Louvre or Colosseum. There really have been too many great meetings to mention them all, and I apologize if I omitted you from here.<br />
<br />
-----<br />
<br />
LA TOMATINA CREW<br />
Amy and I, after walking around lost in 30 degree heat, weighted by our entire travel packs, finally found our campsite in a small Spanish town, teeming with people in anticipation of La Tomatina, the biggest food fight in the world. Eventually we found our two Couchsurfers but then, somehow, our group swelled into a formidable mini United Nations (3 Americans, 1 Romanian, 1 Japanese, 1 Danish, and us 2 Canadians). What followed was a Sangria-laced preparty, a wild tomato fight the next day, followed by rest, and dinner out with more Sangria, all with the same crew! As diverse as the crew was, everyone was fit in their own unique way and we had a flawless time together. Amy and I visited many of them in Spain afterwards. I intend, hopefully, to meetup with some more of them later on in my travels.<br />
<br />
WESTERN ITALY<br />
<table cellpadding="0" cellspacing="0" class="tr-caption-container" style="float: left; margin-right: 1em; text-align: left;"><tbody>
<tr><td style="text-align: center;"><a href="http://4.bp.blogspot.com/-tFT_fj_92dM/UJUo36ULrqI/AAAAAAAAAOU/eiBnPlwj1TA/s1600/DSC_0019.JPG" imageanchor="1" style="clear: left; margin-bottom: 1em; margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto;"><img border="0" height="200" src="http://4.bp.blogspot.com/-tFT_fj_92dM/UJUo36ULrqI/AAAAAAAAAOU/eiBnPlwj1TA/s200/DSC_0019.JPG" width="132" /></a></td></tr>
<tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;">Olive oil tasting at<br />
Salone del Gusto</td></tr>
</tbody></table>
It started out as two Aussies, one American and I, sharing a cute apartment-style hostel. The beautiful views and relaxing atmosphere at Cinque Terre really brought out the best in each of us. We shared in great chats, first over well-cooked food, then later on the beach. One of the Aussies and I decided to move on to Salone del Gusto, the annual Slow Food convention in Torino, which the American already left for a day earlier. We convinced another American in our hostel to come along with us.<br />
<br />
The Aussie was an incredibly thoughtful, passionate and sympathetic person. We discussed our shared disgust for genocide and mutual shunning of technology. The American was one of the most ambitious people I have ever met, becoming a rock climbing instructor and moving out of the house at age 13, being a cook of diverse cuisines, managing her own cafe, managing her own catering gig, studying for two math-related degrees at one time, and living in a common-law relationship with her husband in a 5-acre home, growing organic vegetables, and she is just 23.<br />
<br />
The 3 of us had a great time together and was also rescued on two of the nights spent in Torino by a wonderful Couchsurfing host, who impressed us with his cooking, his wine, and, also later on, by his mature outlook on life and the way he lives it.<br />
<br />
CHANCE MEETING ON THE TRAIN<br />
<table cellpadding="0" cellspacing="0" class="tr-caption-container" style="float: left; margin-right: 1em; text-align: left;"><tbody>
<tr><td style="text-align: center;"><a href="http://1.bp.blogspot.com/-qk8VtLncgv4/UJUoz_hnVMI/AAAAAAAAAOM/HZccGC3Gi4k/s1600/DSC_0050.JPG" imageanchor="1" style="clear: left; margin-bottom: 1em; margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto;"><img border="0" height="132" src="http://1.bp.blogspot.com/-qk8VtLncgv4/UJUoz_hnVMI/AAAAAAAAAOM/HZccGC3Gi4k/s200/DSC_0050.JPG" width="200" /></a></td></tr>
<tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;">Truffles! The big one<br />
probably cost more than 500 euro</td></tr>
</tbody></table>
On the train to the annual truffle convention, near Torino, two ladies seemingly lost, asked me, possibly because I did not look Italian, if they were on the right train. They were heading to the same convention, so decided to follow me. They asked me where I was from and what I was doing in Italy. I returned the question and it turns out they are from South Africa, one makes jam and runs a cafe, and the other spent some time on a well-renowned organic farm and wrote a book about her experiences on it. I expressed my interest in working on farms in the future and, upon hearing this, they genuinely invited me to work on their farm sometime! Now I just need to find a cheap flight to Cape Town.<br />
<br />
CHANCE MEETING ON THE TRAIN 2<br />
Upon boarding my train, I noticed some people talking in English, not sure if the train was going to Budapest. I confirmed this. One of them got on the train and, later on, swung by to inform me that we will have an unexpected transfer due to construction on the tracks. We decided to stick together so that we could either make it to our destination or get lost together. We started to chat and it turns out she is about to embark on long term travelling in India. I discussed my travels and eventually found out that she knew the Couchsurfer I am staying with in Budapest, and even once lived on the same street! When we finally arrived in Budapest, she guided me from the train station, by bus, right to my Couchsurfer's doorstep and we wished eachother best of luck in our travels.<br />
<br />
TEACHER ON THE ROAD<br />
Waiting for this Couchsurfing host outside his flat, I noticed another evident traveller, heavily clad in backpacks on his front and back, coat bulging with even more possessions underneath, holding a guitar case, and, strapped to one backpack, a whiteboard reading "Budapest." I knew at once he must be some hardcore hitchhiker with many interesting stories. It turns out he was waiting for the same host, who wouldn't be back for a few hours, so we sat down somewhere to eat and chat.<br />
<br />
Well, to call him interesting is an understatement. He is travelling around the world with no money, relying on people's generosity in exchange for human connection and interaction, and is writing a book about it along the way. He plans on hitting up all 6 major continents this way. We chatted not only about his adventures but about eachother's pasts and philosophical beliefs. I gave him two of my bananas to quell his hunger. This man was truly inspiring and I genuinely hope he achieves his goal safely.<br />
<br />
The host's place was filled up, with three other Couchsurfing parties joining the penniless man and I. The host himself was a sage among travelers, having hitchhiked to some far out places. You can't imagine the conversation between him and the penniless man about how to hitchhike through Afghanistan and Pakistan, or from Russia to North America. Among the guests there was also a German guy who is a celebrity in China because he married a Chinese woman and, together, rode a 125cc motorbike across China. In the morning I cooked eggs with truffles for everyone, and was rewarded with Hungarian homemade jam.<br />
<br />
AN UNEXPECTED LIFT<br />
While in line to check-in for my flight to Tampere, Finland, an old man began talking to me. He lived in Tampere and offered me a ride to the train station so I could be on my way. On the plane I found him and sat next to him and his wife, who couldn't speak English. He talked about Finland and skiing, and I about Canada. I learned that 75% of Finland is covered by forest! After we landed in Tampere, his son picked us up and, on the way to the train station, we talked and exchanged useful info for eachother. After dropping me off, I soon discovered I left my phone in his car, but not long after, the son came back with my phone, thank goodness!<br />
<br />
THE LOFT HOSTEL, MY SECOND HOME<br />
You, my dear, are the last but most special to me of all the meetings. As it started out, I couldn't leave your hostel, it was the most homey one I have stayed at in all my travels, thoughtfully laid out and ornately decorated, luring you to sit down, then discouraging you from leaving. Being in your company was fun and, above all, came easy and felt completely natural. It was a short stay, but only on my second day, I felt that maybe we had a special connection. On the third day, come time to catch my flight, I couldn't bear to leave and experienced my hardest goodbye.<br />
<div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;">
<a href="http://2.bp.blogspot.com/-EICdcjWogSU/UJUnoh4RpOI/AAAAAAAAAOE/SwIDC7zRI3Q/s1600/DSC_0076.JPG" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" height="132" src="http://2.bp.blogspot.com/-EICdcjWogSU/UJUnoh4RpOI/AAAAAAAAAOE/SwIDC7zRI3Q/s200/DSC_0076.JPG" width="200" /></a></div>
I am not exactly sure if your feelings toward me were mutual, or if the future holds anything in store for us, but I do know that I intend to visit you again as soon as my Schengen rules allow it, wherever in Europe you may be.<br />
-----<br />
<br />
Ironically, I just heard one of my favourite Linkin Park songs and feel it is appropriate to conclude this blog with its lyrics:<br />
<br />
<span style="background-color: white; font-family: 'Segoe UI', Corbel, helvetica, verdana, arial; font-size: 14px; line-height: 20px;">Weep not for roads untraveled </span><br />
<span style="background-color: white; font-family: 'Segoe UI', Corbel, helvetica, verdana, arial; font-size: 14px; line-height: 20px;">Weep not for sights unseen </span><br />
<span style="background-color: white; font-family: 'Segoe UI', Corbel, helvetica, verdana, arial; font-size: 14px; line-height: 20px;">may your love never end </span><br />
<span style="background-color: white; font-family: 'Segoe UI', Corbel, helvetica, verdana, arial; font-size: 14px; line-height: 20px;">and if you need a friend </span><br />
<span style="background-color: white; font-family: 'Segoe UI', Corbel, helvetica, verdana, arial; font-size: 14px; line-height: 20px;">there's a seat here along side me...</span><br />
<span style="background-color: white; font-family: 'Segoe UI', Corbel, helvetica, verdana, arial; font-size: 14px; line-height: 20px;"><br /></span>
Latest photos:<br />
<a href="http://www.flickr.com/photos/11monthsandrew/sets/72157631919045840/"><span style="font-size: x-small;">http://www.flickr.com/photos/11monthsandrew/sets/72157631919045840/</span></a><br />
<a href="http://www.flickr.com/photos/11monthsandrew/sets/72157631919113726/"><span style="font-size: x-small;">http://www.flickr.com/photos/11monthsandrew/sets/72157631919113726/</span></a>All I Need is my 2 Bare Feethttp://www.blogger.com/profile/16455987029572997655noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-8907537061923057759.post-8037643525733733092012-10-28T15:37:00.002-07:002012-10-28T15:43:27.541-07:00A Not So Typical DayI have some more free time these days so I thought I would share the experiences of my past 2 days to give you a more intimate idea of my travels. Of course I picked the most trying times of my travels to blog about, simply for your entertainment!<br />
<div>
<br /></div>
<div>
OCT 27</div>
<div>
I spent the day at a truffle convention in Alba. On the way there I helped two nice ladies on the train, lost and looking for the same event. We got to know eachother and in the end they invited me in the future to work on their farm in South Africa! They really were quite exceptional people and have got me seriously considering their proposal.</div>
<div>
<br /></div>
<div>
Later on at the truffle convention I met up with someone whom I had made friends with over a few glasses of wine the night before at Salone del Gusto, the Slow Food annual event in Torino. It was a wonderful day stuffed with truffle history, and samples of wine and olive oils, but no free samples of truffles, since they cost around 4 euros per gram! I was not planning on going back to Torino so I had everything I possessed with me. That is, a large backpack, a smaller but equally heavy backpack on my chest, which contains my laptop and camera gear, and a bag with some food, among other Salone del Gusto paraphernalia. I had to lock up my large backpack at a bar adjacent to the station. Fortunately I have many locks with me, so I secured my bag to a radiator and locked the zippers together.</div>
<div>
<br /></div>
<div>
After the event I had to go to Budapest and decided to get there fast and cheap. There was poor train access from Alba, also Wifi is rare to find anywhere in Italy. Fortunately I had looked up my itinerary the day before, all there was to do was ask where the bus stop in Alba was. I ended up taking a bus to Asti, then from there took four different trains: to Tortona, to Milano, to Mestre (just outside Venice) and finally to Trieste. At Milano, I nearly missed my transfer to Mestre because my arriving train was late. I had to "sprint," although it was more like an awkward trudging, all heavily laden with backpacks and gear, to catch my next departing train.</div>
<div>
<br /></div>
<div>
OCT 28<br />
I landed in Trieste at 2:30 am. Coupled with the daylight savings I had an extra hour to kill in the dead of night in a small town at the extreme east end of Italy. The train station was occupied by many homeless people in sleeping bags or under blankets. One was awake and approached me gently. A bit scared, I gave him my change, which was less than one euro anyway. Once outside the station I found a hostel I previously mapped out. But when I got there it was closed so I ended up wandering the empty city in search of a place to loiter safely. Meanwhile, the wind started to severely howl and rain started to sprinkle the concrete and asphalt. I was wearing my warmest clothes: just one thin Marmot jacket over a t-shirt and jeans with holes in the knees. I ended up finding a karaoke bar to chill out until 4 am. I went back to the station where I managed to slip in a few hours sleep on the cold marble floor. In hindsight, showing up to a hostel in a small town past midnight had been a horrible idea.</div>
<div>
<br /></div>
<div>
After waking up and inquiring to the now open ticket office for trains to Budapest, I learned that trains did not run out of Italy towards Budapest, except for a circuitous route back through Vienna, which only ran as an overnight train. How ridiculous! Fortunately I found buses leaving soon out of this godforsaken town. However, the best route, which was through Slovenia, had already left, so I took another route through Rijeka, Croatia. I've gotten pretty used to these inconveniently circuitous travel itineraries by now. Of course, it was a really beautiful ride which made up for its inconvenience, a reminder of my time traversing this beautiful countryside not more than a month ago.</div>
<table align="center" cellpadding="0" cellspacing="0" class="tr-caption-container" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto; text-align: center;"><tbody>
<tr><td style="text-align: center;"><a href="http://1.bp.blogspot.com/-k-dsd4xdD-o/UI2zVFlctdI/AAAAAAAAAN0/f0Ee8pZncKk/s1600/DSC_0007.JPG" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto;"><img border="0" height="212" src="http://1.bp.blogspot.com/-k-dsd4xdD-o/UI2zVFlctdI/AAAAAAAAAN0/f0Ee8pZncKk/s320/DSC_0007.JPG" width="320" /></a></td></tr>
<tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;">The countryside of Croatia</td></tr>
</tbody></table>
<div>
The train from Rijeka to Zagreb was nice too. Unfortunately, it got to Zagreb late, and I missed my transfer to Budapest by a few minutes. On the plus side I had visited this city before so was already familiar with it.</div>
<div>
<br /></div>
<div>
Fast forward to the present, and I am sitting in a hostel I stayed at during my previous visit to Zagreb. Earlier on I had eaten a large and cheap pizza, also a revisit, and tonight I won't have to sleep on cold marble, so now I am a happy duck.</div>
All I Need is my 2 Bare Feethttp://www.blogger.com/profile/16455987029572997655noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-8907537061923057759.post-61324559824936629972012-10-24T20:55:00.000-07:002012-10-26T00:17:57.005-07:00A Tangled Web of OptionsIt’s 4 a.m. in Torino and I cannot sleep. This
sleeplessness has been afflicting me more and more recently. My future is
wrought with uncertainties and anxieties that are all spinning in my sleep vision,
threatening my normally peaceful slumber. The road I have travelled for 3
months has been long so far but linear, predictable. But, as a spider’s strand
of silk meets its web, my options are now branching out in all directions, and it is both scary and exciting.<br />
<div class="MsoNormal">
<span lang="EN-US"><br /></span></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
<span lang="EN-US">Since my last blog I have visited Nice in France, Florence and Venice in Italy, Munich for Oktoberfest, the charming coast of Croatia, historic Rome, and northern Italy again, first Cinque Terre and now Torino</span>. Cinque
Terre was a real oasis during my travels. I met some amazing people and we
shared two relaxing days enjoying blissful beaches, stunning landscapes, lovely
wine and good conversations.</div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
<span lang="EN-US"><br /></span>
<table align="center" cellpadding="0" cellspacing="0" class="tr-caption-container" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto; text-align: center;"><tbody>
<tr><td style="text-align: center;"><a href="http://1.bp.blogspot.com/-YVr6iwTscAY/UIo2pj2fh9I/AAAAAAAAANg/L2qBtILtWU4/s1600/DSC_0299.JPG" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto;"><img border="0" height="212" src="http://1.bp.blogspot.com/-YVr6iwTscAY/UIo2pj2fh9I/AAAAAAAAANg/L2qBtILtWU4/s320/DSC_0299.JPG" width="320" /></a></td></tr>
<tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;">Vernazza, Cinque Terre, Italy</td></tr>
</tbody></table>
It was also my first solo destination after
Amy flew home from Rome and signaled a new phase of my travels. Never since have
I felt more disconnected from home, having loosed the shackles of the
constraining Eurail pass and a travelling partner. No offense is meant to my
sister by this statement. After a rough start, Amy soon adapted to the backpacking
lifestyle, we slowly overcame early conflicts and in the end I was happy she
came, especially to see her growing and maturing before my eyes. I think travelling
with her has helped me mature as well. We got to know eachother more in those
three months than in our entire lives previous and in that time solidified our sibling
bond and provided me with satisfaction at fulfilling my role as big brother.
However, now that she has left, I am completely free to fulfill my dreams and
to let no decisions become hindered.</div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
<span lang="EN-US"><br /></span></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
<span lang="EN-US">Since her departure I have wandered Italy’s
countryside, a carefree soul, yet also yearning for some refuge from the constant
moving around and unpredictability that comes with travelling without a plan… another
problem looms: I am approaching my time limit in the Schengen Area, an
administrative region of Europe in which Canadians can travel without Visa for
up to 90 days. I need to get out! But what should I do? Work on a farm? A
hostel? Or should I continue travelling outside the Schengen Area? I hope I can
find these answers soon and silence the voices of anxiety in my mind.<o:p></o:p></span></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
<span lang="EN-US"><br /></span></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
<span lang="EN-US">Meanwhile I attempt to fix my gaze on the
present. I am in Torino for Salone del Gusto, the ultimate gastronomic event in
the city anointed the capital of the Slow Food Movement. In the next two days I
will be visiting the event marketplace, which will be filled to the brim with
organic, sustainable and ethical farmers and food producers from Italy and
around the world selling the best and purest food the world has to offer! As
well there will be educational workshops providing food information and cooking
tips. My thirst for food knowledge shall be quenched and my hunger sated with
just about every kind of food imaginable grown under the sun! And who knows,
maybe I can find a job on a farm in Italy? Time will tell.</span></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
<span lang="EN-US"><br /></span></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
<span lang="EN-US">Bon appetite!<o:p></o:p></span></div>
All I Need is my 2 Bare Feethttp://www.blogger.com/profile/16455987029572997655noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-8907537061923057759.post-79203996928581618052012-09-22T16:39:00.002-07:002012-09-24T15:30:32.267-07:00¡Espana Es De Puta Madre! (Spain is awesome!)Spain was one of the highlights of my trip and for good reason. I missed out on Spain on my grad trip four years ago. Since then I pledged I would go back and see it. Not only did we have a blast, but we enjoyed overall great weather, barely
missing the heat waves, and enjoyed fairly cheap food,
particularly fruits, vegetables and alcohol.<br />
<br />
Amy and I spent over three weeks
here. <span lang="EN-US">In that time we saw museums, castles,
mountains and breathtaking city views, went hiking, swam in a waterfall,
relaxed on the beach, did some shopping, eating and a lot of walking, were in a
tomato fight, partied all night before, partied many more times, partied with
Erasmus students, danced the night away, gained some friends, lost some weight,
and even got food poisoning and nearly got some shit stolen.</span><br />
<div class="MsoNormal">
<table align="center" cellpadding="0" cellspacing="0" class="tr-caption-container" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto; text-align: center;"><tbody>
<tr><td style="text-align: center;"><table align="center" cellpadding="0" cellspacing="0" class="tr-caption-container" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto; text-align: center;"><tbody>
<tr><td><a href="http://3.bp.blogspot.com/-NGoJGWNsrVE/UF5KIsK3bWI/AAAAAAAAAMs/82-RcbEacLk/s1600/DSC_0174.JPG" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto;"><img border="0" height="200" src="http://3.bp.blogspot.com/-NGoJGWNsrVE/UF5KIsK3bWI/AAAAAAAAAMs/82-RcbEacLk/s200/DSC_0174.JPG" width="132" /></a></td></tr>
<tr><td class="tr-caption" style="font-size: 13.333333969116211px;">Standing under a waterfall in Granada </td></tr>
</tbody></table>
</td></tr>
</tbody></table>
<div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: left;">
MISSTEPS</div>
<div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: left;">
<br /></div>
<div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: left;">
The mistakes made that led to the latter
two were eating leftover pasta sauce in the hostel fridge in Granada and
leaving my iPod under my pillow unattended in a hostel dorm room in Madrid.
Thankfully I was able to recover my crappy but scrappy fourth gen four gig iPod
but it sure made for an interesting experience.</div>
</div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
<span lang="EN-US"><br /></span></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
<span lang="EN-US">Long story short, another guy had his
cellphone stolen, I dialed it and heard the vibration in another person’s
locker. After initial shock, then much deliberation, we badgered the suspect,
searched through some of his stuff, soon after he tried to make a run for it
hauling a large pack, we ran him down outside the hostel, ushered him back and
called the cops. He eventually caved in and gave our stuff back, then took off
before the cops arrived. Justice should have been served, but at least we got
our stuff back. I am afraid this guy is back on the prowl in hostel dorms
around Spain, despite his photo and passport photo having been distributed to
many hostels in Spain as a result of the debacle. </span>This story is just one example of a major
problem in Spain. I have heard many stories about theft in hostel dorm rooms
and pickpocketing in the streets and in the Metro stations. The most elaborate
scheme I have heard of is of youth “pretending” to celebrate a soccer match
victory approaching you, hugging you, hooking their legs around yours, then
digging through your pockets.</div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
<span lang="EN-US"><br /></span></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
<span lang="EN-US">Anyway, I don’t mean to scare anyone about
coming to Spain. As long as you are aware of the dangers and keep your stuff
safe, you will love it here!<o:p></o:p></span></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
<span lang="EN-US"><br /></span>
<span lang="EN-US">HIGHLIGHTS</span><br />
<span lang="EN-US"><br /></span></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
<span lang="EN-US">The main highlight of Spain was meeting
people and making friends. La Tomatina, the 50,000 strong tomato fight in
Bunol, was wild, but wouldn’t be the same without the mini United Nations group
we stitched together while there. We later visited many of them in their
current cities of residence in Spain, and the whole group talks about a reunion
in Prague. We had random conversations all over Spain, mostly at hostels, and,
on occasion, it led to hanging out together. On a few occasions we even ran
into the same people in different cities.<o:p></o:p></span></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
<span lang="EN-US"><table align="center" cellpadding="0" cellspacing="0" class="tr-caption-container" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto; text-align: center;"><tbody>
<tr><td><a href="http://3.bp.blogspot.com/-R1NCwpODSE0/UF5KtQYRDtI/AAAAAAAAANA/lv3sC1Rp-VA/s1600/P8290005.JPG" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto;"><img border="0" height="148" src="http://3.bp.blogspot.com/-R1NCwpODSE0/UF5KtQYRDtI/AAAAAAAAANA/lv3sC1Rp-VA/s200/P8290005.JPG" width="200" /></a></td></tr>
<tr><td class="tr-caption" style="font-size: 13.333333969116211px;">Warming up for La Tomatina!</td></tr>
</tbody></table>
</span></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
<span lang="EN-US">Through meeting locals and going to
museums, we learned a lot about Spain’s history and current affairs. Did you
know there are four languages spoken in Spain? Castellano is the most common
form of “Spanish.” Did you know the Arabs controlled the south of Spain for
over 700 years? And that there was a civil war from 1936-</span>1939 that resulted in a dictatorship? It would be ignorant of me not to mention the nation's recent troubles. The austerity measures are really hurting
public services such as health and education. Many teachers and doctors among other professionals attended a massive protest last week in Madrid. As a tourist it is difficult to
notice any trouble (except for all of the pickpockets) but times are really
tough in Spain and it’s almost impossible to find a job.</div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
<table align="center" cellpadding="0" cellspacing="0" class="tr-caption-container" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto; text-align: center;"><tbody>
<tr><td style="text-align: center;"><a href="http://4.bp.blogspot.com/-0IktOpMm72w/UF5L41xoEAI/AAAAAAAAANI/donW-vtP58Q/s1600/DSC_0024.JPG" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto; text-align: center;"><img border="0" height="132" src="http://4.bp.blogspot.com/-0IktOpMm72w/UF5L41xoEAI/AAAAAAAAANI/donW-vtP58Q/s200/DSC_0024.JPG" width="200" /></a></td></tr>
<tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;">Tomatoes, mozzarella and olives made by our Couchsurfing host! </td></tr>
</tbody></table>
<span lang="EN-US">
</span></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
<span lang="EN-US">To name a few tourist highlights, there was
La Tomatina, the wildest time I have ever had, La Sagrada Familia in Barcelona,
by a large margin the most beautiful and unique church in the world, way beyond
anything else you will ever see in your lifetime (this is no exaggeration!),
Alhambra in Granada, an impressive castle constructed in Arabic style, and
Museum of Modern Arts Reina Sofia in Madrid, containing mind-bending works by
Dali and Picasso. We also ate a lot of good food, particularly tapas which
Spain is famous for.<o:p></o:p></span></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
<span lang="EN-US"><table align="center" cellpadding="0" cellspacing="0" class="tr-caption-container" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto; text-align: center;"><tbody>
<tr><td><a href="http://2.bp.blogspot.com/-ZsQV-6AfVPo/UF5KS0nvntI/AAAAAAAAAM4/UQpJP1YPCrI/s1600/DSC_0127.JPG" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto;"><img border="0" height="132" src="http://2.bp.blogspot.com/-ZsQV-6AfVPo/UF5KS0nvntI/AAAAAAAAAM4/UQpJP1YPCrI/s200/DSC_0127.JPG" width="200" /></a></td></tr>
<tr><td class="tr-caption" style="font-size: 13.333333969116211px;">La Sagrada Familia - simply an architectural marvel </td></tr>
</tbody></table>
</span></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
<span lang="EN-US">Personally, I feel that I will return to
Spain to achieve some unfulfilled goals. Firstly, I have started learning
Spanish from PDFs downloaded on my laptop, and want to return to take a course
in Castellano. Secondly, I want to complete some, most or all of El Camino de
Santiago, a 1200 km long pilgrimage. Thirdly, I am simply not done with Spain.
There is still Seville and Tarifa in the south, and San Sebastian and Bilbao in
the north. Fourthly, as a side note, I bought a harmonica! If I can reach a
certain level of proficiency with it, look for me buskering in the streets
around Europe.<o:p></o:p></span></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
<div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;">
<br /></div>
<span lang="EN-US">Flickr: </span><a href="http://www.flickr.com/photos/11monthsandrew/sets/72157631573462975/">http://www.flickr.com/photos/11monthsandrew/sets/72157631573462975/</a><br />
<br />
PS. Currently in Nice. The south of France along the Cote D'Azur is one of the most gorgeous places on Earth!
</div>
All I Need is my 2 Bare Feethttp://www.blogger.com/profile/16455987029572997655noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-8907537061923057759.post-43066031663865699392012-09-01T00:25:00.000-07:002012-09-01T00:25:07.053-07:00Paris & ThereafterI can't tell you what a relief it is to get Paris done with.<br />
<br />
No, no, this is not in any way a knock against Paris. In fact, we had an amazing time there and the city is unmatched on the world stage for museums and landmarks with the exception of maybe London. But 5 days in cities like London and Paris is just enough to scurry around like rats to check everything off our bucket list.<br />
<table align="center" cellpadding="0" cellspacing="0" class="tr-caption-container" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto; text-align: center;"><tbody>
<tr><td style="text-align: center;"><a href="http://4.bp.blogspot.com/-UVdRxttk94g/UDsw54baJkI/AAAAAAAAALk/oc7x7bTZAfQ/s1600/DSC_0018.JPG" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto;"><img border="0" height="200" src="http://4.bp.blogspot.com/-UVdRxttk94g/UDsw54baJkI/AAAAAAAAALk/oc7x7bTZAfQ/s200/DSC_0018.JPG" width="132" /></a></td></tr>
<tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;">My best attempt at drawing the Eiffel Tower while staying completely still </td></tr>
</tbody></table>
We did the touristy thing and it was awesome: Le Louvre, Musee D'Orsay, Les Invalides, Espace Dali, Catacombs, Tour Montparnasse (climb this instead of Tour Eiffel), Tour Eiffel, Notre Dame, Sacre Coeur, Montmartre, St. Sulpice, Pantheon, Luxembourg Gardens, Tuileries, Ave Champs D'Elysees and wine and crepes.<br />
<table align="center" cellpadding="0" cellspacing="0" class="tr-caption-container" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto; text-align: center;"><tbody>
<tr><td style="text-align: center;"><a href="http://2.bp.blogspot.com/-7hL_QcM0vHQ/UDswwyq7V6I/AAAAAAAAALc/Kdxsa5pRDIU/s1600/Pano+-+Louvre.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto; text-align: center;"><img border="0" height="121" src="http://2.bp.blogspot.com/-7hL_QcM0vHQ/UDswwyq7V6I/AAAAAAAAALc/Kdxsa5pRDIU/s320/Pano+-+Louvre.jpg" width="320" /></a></td></tr>
<tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;">Le Louvre</td></tr>
</tbody></table>
But we were tired and nursed painful muscles and joints by the end of it and were relieved to find our next destination in Rennes, a much smaller city with a slower pace. Despite its lack of touristy activities, Rennes surprised us. There was a vibrant outdoor Saturday market, and a lovely park to visit during the day, and an amazing live band performance at night, then a cool light show which played against the backdrop of their regional government building Le Parlement de Bretagne. Overall we had a memorable and nice time there.<br />
<table align="center" cellpadding="0" cellspacing="0" class="tr-caption-container" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto; text-align: center;"><tbody>
<tr><td style="text-align: center;"><a href="http://3.bp.blogspot.com/-JctV0Gpzseo/UDs03LcIbZI/AAAAAAAAAL4/auVUs793EHc/s1600/DSC_0021.JPG" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto;"><img border="0" height="132" src="http://3.bp.blogspot.com/-JctV0Gpzseo/UDs03LcIbZI/AAAAAAAAAL4/auVUs793EHc/s200/DSC_0021.JPG" width="200" /></a></td></tr>
<tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;">Live band in public square</td></tr>
</tbody></table>
<span style="text-align: center;">And then, once again, there was more of the touristy thing. On a 1.5 hour bus ride out from Rennes, nestled on the north coast of France, was Mont St. Michel, a magnificent castle dominating a towering hill protected by sand and water. I won't say much more about it except that it was picturesque but overly touristy and tremendously lacked English information.</span><br />
<table align="center" cellpadding="0" cellspacing="0" class="tr-caption-container" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto; text-align: center;"><tbody>
<tr><td style="text-align: center;"><a href="http://1.bp.blogspot.com/-DbQ9JLouKmg/UDs1N_SE1_I/AAAAAAAAAMQ/jD4WfUauGgo/s1600/DSC_0092.JPG" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto;"><img border="0" height="132" src="http://1.bp.blogspot.com/-DbQ9JLouKmg/UDs1N_SE1_I/AAAAAAAAAMQ/jD4WfUauGgo/s200/DSC_0092.JPG" width="200" /></a></td></tr>
<tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;">Mont St. Michel seen from behind while the tide is low </td></tr>
</tbody></table>
The most tangible observation I made about France was that it's citizens have been unfairly reputed as being rude and snobby towards people not of their own native flesh and tongue. Speaking English hardly deterred me from being received with warmth and friendliness, even from citizens who knew only the most basic of English. They were willing to help us any way they could, whether it was using their English or our basic French, and sometimes it came down to a game of charades. The other tangible observation about the French is that they walk around city streets with a baguette in one hand, no butter required.<br />
<br />
Rushing through Paris was necessary as part of the larger goal I set out since the beginning of this trip: to get to Bunol, Spain by Aug 29 to attend La Tomatina, an annual tomato fight (and we barely scratched out the train tickets for it). But it was also a significant benchmark on our trip signalling the end of intense agenda-crushing tourism. From here on out we plan on stretching time out like a lazy hammock for all our future destinations.<br />
<br />
No more two date affairs, I promise. I just want to take it slow and get to know you better.<br />
<br />
Photos: <a href="http://www.flickr.com/photos/11monthsandrew/sets/72157631326539864/">http://www.flickr.com/photos/11monthsandrew/sets/72157631326539864/</a>All I Need is my 2 Bare Feethttp://www.blogger.com/profile/16455987029572997655noreply@blogger.com0