Pathetic Declarations Card

When I arrived at customs in O'hare Airport I had to fill out a Declarations card. it asked me to list all the countries I had visited on my trip and all items I had purchased that I'll be bringing into the United States.

List of countries read: Turkey, Greece, Italy, Spain, France

List of items read: Spanish scarf, hip European speedo, Dry-fit sleeveless t-shirt, black ankle socks (3 pair).

Not exactly a stellar list of souvenirs there. I had accumulated quite a few good souvenirs along the way, but everything was lost when my duffel/backpack was sent to Kathmandu. As it was, all I had to declare was the few items that I purchased in Barcelona to get me through the week of site-seeing.

Everyday I'd walk around the city in the same patagonia board shorts, hanes boxer briefs, blue t-shirt, black ankle socks, and tennis shoes. then I'd shower at the hostel with said clothes and hang them out to dry while I hung out in my dorm room in my dry-fit sleeveless t-shirt and hip European speedo. When my regular clothes were dry, I'd change back into them and head out to a bar or restaurant for the evening. By the end of the week the process stopped working and I began to smell pretty bad.

The blue t-shirt was the worst. and luckily I had my navy blue long sleeve patagonia capilene shirt as my emergency shirt. I wore that shirt on my last day and my trip home and I don't think I smelled too bad. The picture above was taken at the Barcelona train station men's room just before I boarded the train and started my journey home. It was the last picture I took on my trip. It was picture # 900.

47 Days. 4 days in Istanbul. 7 days on a sailboat in the Aegean Sea. 10 days in town of Yalikavak in Bodrum Peninsula. 2 days in town of Bodrum. 2 days in Kos Island. 6 days in Santorini. 2 days in Mykonos. 2 days in Athens. From there, my travel companions and I separated. And my luggage and I also decided to separate. 6 days in Barcelona. 5-6 days of just traveling in between cities. And roughly 2 more days to travel home to Denver by way of Paris and Chicago.

I learned quite a few things about myself along the way. I also learned a few things about European culture and Muslim culture. It would be too difficult and tedious to list everything out here, so hopefully everything has been illuminated in the blog entries I've posted along the way.

Looking back now after I've been home for almost 2 months, there is one thing that stands out in my mind when I think about my travels. And it is how wonderfully heterogeneous and unique each city was that I traveled through. It is something that is hard to find in the United States. Every city here is un-remarkably the same. The architecture is the same, the people are same, and the culture is the same.

It seems that we could use a little infusion of character into our cities here in America. And since I am about to receive my masters degree in urban planning, I have an opportunity to try to help accomplish this. I suppose my next blog should detail that pursuit. Although, that doesn't sound to exciting. Got any ideas? I'd love to hear them.

Until then, I say...Serefe!

Barcelona to Paris to America

June 26, 2007. Spent the day in the Barri Gotic (Gothic Quarter). The Santa Maria del Mar is an amazing building. So awe inspiring that I contemplate converting to Catholicism. This would be huge for me since I don't really believe that Mary was a virgin. Anyway, I have all day to kill, so I stop at the Aquarium and then the IMAX theater next door. Boring $hit. Both places show me nothing that I haven't already seen before.

Afterward, I settle in at a cool bar with pizza slices on display. I drink Coronitas while a sultry Spanish lady sings on a CD playing in the background. First time all week that I've felt welcome to hang out at a bar/tavern/restaurant type space. I don't know if it is because I am American, or if it is because I don't speak the Catalan version of Spanish...or any Spanish for that matter, or if it is just the fact that the European culture isn't as friendly toward consumers in the retail world. But this little pizza slice bar is different. The staff are all enjoying the music, reading portions of the newspaper, and smoking cigarettes with a nice breeze blowing through the open front door. Cool dudes. And they made me feel cool, too.

I head to the train station on foot and board a 9pm train to Paris. Very easy and accommodating. Sleep well in a reclining chair. Wake up at dawn and watch the French countryside pass me by. Huge modern windmills dot the landscape.

We arrive in Paris around 9am. It is cold and rainy. Maybe 50 degrees. I walk towards the posted cab station. There is a brief delay when I was stopped by a couple of police officers dressed in street clothes. They want me to put my messenger bag down and hang out for a couple of minutes while their drug dog sniffs my bag. Along with a couple of other bags belonging to men that look similar to me; young, poor, and tired. I freak out for a moment while I remember all those movies I've seen where the innocent patsy watches a policeman pull out a brick of some illegal substance and then gets hauled off to prison while he screams, "thats not mine! thats not mine!" but then I calm down when I remember that I am not in a movie, and there is no way someone would be able to fit a large brick of illegal drugs into my messenger bag. It is way to full to begin with.

I watch the drug dog work with mild amusement and take the opportunity to chat with one of the police officers about taxi prices and subway alternatives. He says I should definitely take a taxi because there is no way I'd make it to the airport in time for my noon flight on the subway.

My bag passes inspection by the drug dog and I'm off to Charles De Gaulle Airport. 40 Euro cab ride, but well worth it as I just barely make my flight. Had to endure a 5 minute psychological profile before I was awarded a boarding pass. It was a little intrusive and strange, but the psychologist was French, so that might have just been his normal demeanor. And speaking with a psychological profiler seemed like a helluva lot better way for the airports to try to stop terrorism than simply asking me to take my shoes off and throw away my toothpaste. So no harm done.

I pass the test and receive my boarding pass and speed walk to my gate. (No luggage to check because it turns out that airline I used to get from Athens to Barcelona did in fact send my duffel/backpack to Nepal or Kathmandu.)

9 hour flight from Paris to Chicago. I made it back to America! So glad to be home. Can't quite explain it, but it has something to do with seeing five or six different restaurants to eat at just in the airport, and each place offering ten to fifteen different dishes for my enjoyment. Lots of food and lots of options and friendly accommodating staff. God Bless America!

Museu Picasso

My favorite site in Barcelona was the Museu Picasso. The Picasso family donated just about every piece of work that Picasso created throughout his childhood. His father was a painter and he realized very early that young Pablo had a great talent. So just about everything Picasso created was saved at the family estate and subsequently donated to the Museum in Barcelona.

I was almost able to snap off a pic of one of his earliest known doodles in a sketch book that was protected behind glass. The security guard almost tackled me when she saw me take my camera out. Never even got my finger on the trigger.

The collection was presented as a journey through Picasso's life. His earliest sketches, his first large pieces that he submitted in contests in his teens, his first forays into Modernisme, his fascination with color that led to his Blue Period and Rose Period, his creation of Cubism, and finally, a collection of work that he put together near the end of his life that was an analyzation of Velazquez' "Las Meninas" (The Maids of Honour), pictured at top. It was an absolutely astounding collection of work. Picasso created 58 oil paintings based on Velazquez' original. (My favorite interpretations are shown above.)

Picasso's interpretations of Las Meninas are dark and disturbing, yet funny and ethereal and illuminating. He strikes me as nothing less than an absolute mad man with an amazing gift of being able to convey his madness with paint and brush. And this ability somehow seemed to keep him grounded and even humble. He conveyed madness and sadness and fear and tranquility all while seeming to be a simple and humble human being. His paintings actually scared the $hit out of me, and at the same time, make me feel at peace because they show me that my wildest nightmares and delusions and hallucinations are nothing but bright colors and bold lines drawn out by my mind's eye. And when illustrated properly, as Picasso was able to do, my nightmares are nothing more than fantastic works of art that my mind creates for me every moment that I am alive and awake and day-dreaming, or sleeping and dreaming.

Santa Maria del Mar

Placa Reial

Mirador De Colom (Monument of Columbus)

La Catedral...under construction

...lame

Drawing and Sculpture by Josep Subirachs

La Sagrada Familia

La Sagrada Familia

Athens To Barcelona

June 21, 2007 was a long day. The morning began with a metro trip to the Acropolis and Agora. Back to hotel around noon to shower and pack. Another metro ride to the airport and a flight to Barcelona with a quick stop in Rome. I arrived in Barcelona around 11:30pm local time. A nice and easy trip with one big exception; my duffel bag with all my clothes and souvenirs did not meet me at the baggage claim as promised by the airline. Stood in the lost luggage service line until 2:30 in the morning. Never would have found it without the aid of a nice Polish girl that spoke Spanish and English. I found out rather quickly that the Spanish speaking world does not give a $hit that English is now the universal language. the first person I asked, 'Abla Anglais?' responded with, 'Poco'. To which I responded by turning to the guy standing nearby and said, 'Are you Poco?' Not a very good start.

Got thru the lost luggage service line and took a taxi to the hostel that I had reserved in advance. A much nicer hostel than the Athens hostel. Air-conditioning, clean sheets, clean bunks, hot water, free lockers, free internet, and free breakfast with croissants and cappuccinos.

I lock up my sole remaining bag - my messenger bag with passport, laptop, and ipod - and I actually feel a bit excited that I don't have to deal with the cumbersome duffel/backpack for the next couple days. That is, of course, as long as the airline did not send that duffel/backpack to Nepal or Kathmandu never to be seen again...

I put my sheets on my bed and finally get horizontal around 4 in the morning. Long day. Drift away immediately.

Steps to Acropolis

Temple of Athena Nike...and effing scaffolding

Parthenon

Katie and Pandroseion

Parthenon and Me and 10,000 other people

I'm sad in this pic because I did not get any alone time with the Parthenon.

I am also sad because I was hoping to be able to walk thru the Parthenon and that wasn't happening either. screw that place. I'm gonna build my own god damn temple on a mountain. And I'll dedicate it to my first pet. I think it's name was sylvester. he was a cat. A mighty cat. my mom ran over him once with her car and he didn't die. He just walked backwards for a couple of days while his leg healed up. that cat deserves a temple if anyone ever did.

Bag of Death

Journey to Athens: June 19, 2007

The ferry to Athens goes smoothly enough. Blue Star Ferries is very accommodating and the views of the passing islands inspire serenity and tranquility. We choose not to pay 9 Euro for 90 minutes of internet access on the ferry, even tho we don't have a hotel room booked in Athens as of yet. The girls seem disinterested and unconcerned about finding a room there. I am confused and perturbed by this. They believe there will be a Starbucks on every corner in the port town of Pireus - where we will be docking. Athens is a short train ride away from Pireus. The girls want to save money and try to utilize our internet access cards that we purchased from Starbucks back in the islands. This makes sense for Katie since she has no cash and must conserve any way she can. But I don't understand why Christine would want this. I am finding that these girls are great to travel with because of their adventurous spirit, but at the same time, they are tough for me to travel with because I like to take care of logistical issues before I can relax and enjoy the adventure.

When we arrive in Pireus, of course, there is not a Starbucks in sight. The girls are dumbfounded and appear to be slightly concerned now. They look at me. I look at them. We look out to Pireus. We do this a couple of times. No one seems to have a Plan B to offer up. The only building that has a recognizable function is the train station. I know from the Lonely Planet book that the best way to get from Pireus to downtown Athens is the Metro train. So we walk inside the station and ask an elderly lady if it was the Metro to Athens. She concurred. So I presented a plan to take the Metro to downtown Athens and look for hotels, or a Starbucks, from there. The girls agreed, and we were off.

I do believe that had I not been there, the girls would have taken one look at the dirty and crowded urbanity of Pireus and walked immediately into a Blue Star ticket office and booked a ticket back to the islands. I, however, was exhilarated by the crowds and the smells and all the beautiful women all packed into the city.

the plan evolved as we found a map of the trains circulating thru Athens. We were going to take the Green Line to the major transfer station. Then hop on the Red Line to the City Center. But when we got to the transfer station and walked to the platform for the Red Line I noticed 3 kids with large backpacks, cargo shorts, and flip flops. I listened to them talk for about 10 seconds and it was clear that they were Americans. I asked them what their accommodations were and they told me that they were headed to a hostel. I asked my girls if they wanted to follow the Americans to their hostel and their response was total ambivalence. Thus, I made the executive decision to follow the Americans.

We all board the Red Line and take it near the City Center. When we walk up to the surface there is a Starbucks staring us right in the face. At this moment, my decision-making faltered. My girls wanted to go back to the original plan and try to find a hotel on the internet in Starbucks. It was getting late (9pm) and dark, so I thought the safest idea would be to continue following the American kids to the hostel. I thought it was close and it would be a definite place to stay. Who knows if we would find anything definite on the internet? I talked my girls into following the Americans because it seemed like the most convenient option. Turned out to be not so convenient.

Katie and Christine were both pulling rolling suitcases and it didn't take too long for that to become an enormous burden. Especially since Christine weighs about 95 pounds and her suitcase weighed just over 105 pounds. That is no exageration. She got blisters on her hand just from pulling this thing. And it was absolutely impossible for one person to carry this suitcase up a flight of stairs. It was so cumbersome we began calling it, "The Bag of Death". Traveling with this bag could easily result in death...or hernia.

so Katie and Christine are rolling their luggage down the streets of Athens. The are both wearing little sundresses, they have make-up on, and their hair is done up just so. Me and our new American friends - one guy, two girls - are wearing shorts, t-shirts, and carrying backpacks. It is about 90 degrees outside and about 100% humidity.

When our street comes upon us, we rejoice. Then we realize that we are at address 150 and we need to get to address 75. And unlike America, this does not mean one block away. In Athens, there are 3-5 numbers per block and one succeeding number after another. No skipping. This means that we have to walk somewhere between 15 and 20 blocks. Not only that, this street is on a gigantic hill. It appears to go straight up.

Its not long before Katie and Christine fall behind. To be fair, they were both fighting illnesses and had trouble summoning strength. I decide to go on ahead and scout out the hostel. This is pointless because we've been walking for almost an hour and hadn't seen a single hotel along the way. We were staying at this hostel no matter what. Unless Katie and Christine don't survive this death march.

The hill eventually peaks after about 10 blocks. The rest of the way was straight downhill. We arrive at the hostel and it is the biggest piece of shite I've ever seen. I remember thinking that the girls will not be pleased when they arrive...in about 2 hours. We secure a dorm room with six beds. Our 3 new American friends; Donald, Bennett, and Kelli. And then the 3 of us; Joe, Katie, and Christine.

I go back for the girls and find them tired and haggard and severely famished. But they are still walking and still have their luggage. The walk from the train station took between 1.5 and 2 full hours. None of really cared that the hostel was a piece of shite, we all just wanted a bed. We settled into our wonderfully hot and old dorm room with no air circulation, no locks on the doors, cold showers, shared toilets, and 150 year-old pillows.

Mykonos

Mykonos Island

Arrived in Mykonos around 7pm on June 17, 2007. Had to haggle with hotel reps on the dock to secure a hotel room. Had six conversations going at once. Every place was between 40-50 Euro per night ($54-67) for 3 beds. not bad. The only difference in each of the six hotels was the location on the island. We decided to go with a nice young lady that had rooms available at a small beach or in the heart of Mykonos Town. After looking at the beach room we decided it was too isolated, so we asked her to drive us to the main town location. When we arrived at our room, I thought she was taking us into the reception office. The doorway was right on top of a busy road and intersection. But when we walked in we found a front room/kitchen and two bedrooms split off behind. Every room was filled with old marble and odd angles. The TV was on the kitchen counter and there were two small chairs and a coffee table directly below faction the other wall. There was an armoire and two more chairs and a small round table pushed up against that wall. 4 chairs in a tight space. Bedrooms were large and spacious tho. Each had a full bath. My bathroon even had two toilets. The only problem with the room was that it faced the busy road and intersection. The noise from the passing cars, motos, ATVs, taxis and vans was quite unbearable. The girls' room had two windows facing that street, while my bedroom was on the opposite side. So since my room had a double bed and a twin bed crammed into it, all three of us slept in there on the second night.

The first night in Mykonos Town was very unsuccessful. We ate a nice dinner, I ordered Rooster with Pasta. It tasted like chicken. Fresh and Delicious chicken. I was excited when I saw it on the menu because I had grown extremely frustrated over the course of this trip with all the goddamned roosters in everyone's yards on these island towns cock-a-doodle dooing every five minutes of every day. I felt like a good way to release my frustration of these roosters would be to just eat one. and I must say it was an extremely enjoyable experience.

After dinner the girls got dolled up and we tried to hit the town. Only problem was that we weren't quite sure where the nightlife was. We walked down the hill towards the waterfront and asked a visibly drunk couple where the crowded bars were. They pointed us in the right direction and we found ourselves in a maze of narrow, brightly lit pedestrian streets. After a couple of turns into the maze we got slightly disoriented and confused and had to ask a couple of nordic ladies where we should go. They pointed us to a couple of places and we found a couple of empty bars blasting dance music. It was midnight, so we hoping to find something a little more happening. We kept walking around until we located a quiet yet crowded patio bar with very expensive drinks. We asked the waitress if there were any cheap places nearby and her response was, "No, no. This Mykonos!" She was extremely beautiful and she got very close to me as we spoke. I really enjoyed this until I realized she had very bad breathe. Still, that was probably the highlight of my night. After one expensive drink, the three of us are really tired and frustrated that we can't find a fun club. Katie appears to be unraveling a bit as she guides us into a convenience store, purchases a bottle of vodka and a carton of pomegranate juice. Then guides us to an outdoor crepe restaurant and orders a spinach spanokapita. We all sit down on the front patio and Katie pulls out the vodka and juice and begins taking pulls on each one in between bites of the spanokopita. Its her version of the old Carl Spackler Cannonball in Caddyshack, "Cannonball it, Cannonball. Cannonball comin thru." Katie offers Christine and I both the Cannonball option, we both take a bite of the spanokopita and ignore the beverages. Katie has a wicked cold and Christine and I aren't interested in sharing drinks with her.

Shortly after the cannonball debacle we all lost our will power to stay out on the town and decided to walk back to the hotel. The next day we wake up refreshed and ready to scope out the island. We secure our ferry tix to Athens for the following day and find a bus to Paradise Beach.

Paradise Beach is compact and full of people, beach chairs, umbrellas, a restaurant, and dance club. The water is pristine and clear blue. There is white pebble and dark rock in patches under the water. It gives the appearance of coral and alters the color of water into two different colors; dark blue and turquoise. It is quite beautiful. Might be the most beautiful of all the beaches we have seen on this trip. We stay all day because it is fun and crazy and drinks are cheap. All day long the MC - a overly tanned dude that wore nothing but a g-string - kept saying, "I love crazy people!!!" over and over again all day long. I don't think I heard him say anything else. Somehow he persuaded a couple of topless girls to dance with him on one of the tables for a solid hour or two. I'd say that was a highlight.

It is just like Spring Break here. We love it and end up staying till midnight. Katie seems to have contracted pink eye over the course of the day and her eye is swollen shut. Christine tries to put an open bottle of wine in her messenger bag and when she throws it over her shoulder the wine gushes out onto the ground. I somehow seemed to have lost my t-shirt and one flip-flop. We are a mess. We take one of the last buses back to Mykonos Town (10 minute bus ride). When our stop comes, the three of us can barely get off the bus. The other drunkards make good sport of us and we hardly even notice. We make it back to our room and crash hard. Fun night.

Ready to go to Athens tho. Can't wait to get back to city living!

Santorini

Rock

Rock and Shoffner

Black Sand at Perissa Beach

The Waters of Santorini

Santorini: Wednesday, June 13, 2007

Christine insisted that she wanted a scooter / moped / moto. ATVs are too slow. Motos are easier to manage. And since they were the same price (15 Euro / 24 hrs)she was dead set on the moto. katie and I were a bit reluctant. She has never driven a moto and I haven't been on one since I was 13 - when I borrowed one from my junior high buddy and proceeded to wreck it when I rounded a turn too flat and hit the curb and careened off into the grass. Moto and I were both alright, but I've never really wanted to get back on one ever again.

So this morning in Santorini Island, I chose an ATV for the day. Which allowed Katie to just sit on the back and she could avoid driving altogether. We complete the rental purchase around noon and set off in our neighborhood's empty streets to get a feel for our new wheels. I circle around the block and decide to attempt a u-turn in the street and find out too late how poor the turning radius of this ATV is. I turned too wide and put the thing right into a stone wall. Luckily I was going very slow, so no damage was done. Just tapped the wall, backed up, completed my u-turn, and off again. Christine had similar results with her test drive.

She drives out of the rental shop with the help of the employee - he started er up and kept er balanced while Christine hopped on. As she comes to her first stop, she realizes that she can't reach the ground while sitting on the seat. When it comes time to stop, she can't simply put her foot down to balance the moto upright. She has to jump off the thing and stand on the side to hold it up. Thus, when she is ready to set off again, she has to give it some gas and jump on at the same time and hope that the moto will stay upright and balanced. This was no small task. And the second or third time she attempted this maneuver, in the middle of a u-turn, she lost control of the moto as she was hopping on and accelerating and crashed the moto into a stone wall - similar to my stone wall, but different place. Her crash was a bit more violent than my crash. The front guard was terribly scarred by the wall, and Christine bruised her forearm and somehow scratched up her inner thigh. She wasn't ejected from the driver's seat, so some part of the steering wheel must have bit her on the thigh when she slid forward from the impact. She wasn't too badly injured, so we proceeded with our excursion across the island.

Santorini is roughly 70 square kilometers (42 square miles). There are 13 small villages connected by thin and winding two lane concrete roads that are in excellent condition. Only 15,000 residents with small cars that are never in any rush when driving around. A perfect atmosphere for a couple thousand tourists to rent motos and ATVs and drive around the island for a day or two. The whole island can be seen in one long day's drive. Black sand beaches, red sand beaches, white sand beaches, stunning rock formations with villages built into the steep landscape, and breathtaking views of the clear blue waters of the Aegean Sea in every direction.

I offer katie the keys to the ATV and she doesn't hesitate to give er a whirl. She takes to it immediately. She drives up and down our beachfront road at Perissa Beach while I lounge in the back. Christine follows on the moto, probably preying that we make no stops so she doesn't have to execute her dismount/remount/accelerate maneuver. Katie likes driving enough that we maintain the driving arrangement for the first leg of our journey across the island. As we are leaving our little town and headed towards Fira, we come to an intersection where we have the right-of-way. Cars in the adjoining lane must yield to us, and there are several waiting to do just that. There are also cars behind us in our lane expecting us to go right on thru the intersection. But for some reason, Katie decides this would be a good place to stop and checkin with Christine and allow the yielding cars to go ahead. She doesn't seem to realize that there are multiple cars behind us expecting to be able to go 30 miles an hour straight thru. A man in the car immediately behind us pulls around us after he realizes what we are doing and he rolls down his window to inform us that we are going to die. No lie. His exact quote was, "You guys are going to kill yourselves".

Not long after that, Katie decides to give the driving duties back to me. I drive the ATV and Christine follows for the 6 mile drive to Fira. We park and walk around. Lots of shopping. A bit too touristy. We find the steps down to the old harbor. 600 steps straight down from the highest elevated town on the island. Spectacular views of the remnants of the volcano and the surrounding sea. We press on after we take in the views and we elect not to walk down the steps because the hot afternoon was too intense and there were too many people doing it and there were also a couple hundred donkeys standing on the steps waiting to be rented for the trip up and down and their donkey shit was so abundant and pervasive and baking in that same hot afternoon sun that we could not bear to hang out there any longer.

From Fira we drove to the northern tip of the island. The small hamlet of Oia is at the northern tip another 6 miles away, and the roads that take us there are steep and winding. It is fun to drive, but our ATV is slow and doesn't handle well. Christine is still having a hell of a time dealing with the dismount/remount/accelerate maneuver. By the time we reach Oia she is tired and frustrated. Her breaking point comes when we have to stop in the middle of a hill and she has to jump off and try to hold the moto upright, but gravity and the weight of the moto have other plans. We help her get the moto off the hill and park it for her. At that point, I offered to drive the moto and let her ride on the ATV with Katie. All agree that this is the best plan. I am a bit hesitant to relearn how to drive a moto on steep and winding roads, but this is part of the adventure. I take off and find that it is much easier to handle than I remember. Probably because I am twice as big as I was the last time I tried to drive a moto.

The steep and winding roads are no problem at all and the only feelings I have are exhilaration and pure joy as I cruise along the island hills and shorelines. We make it to the northern tip of the island in no time. We started this journey at the southeastern tip, stopped at the central western tip, and made it to the northwestern tip in less than 2 hours. the village of Oia is built into steep red rock that cascades straight down into bright blue water. We take a few pictures and take off for the town of Kamari on the Central Eastern shore. We are able to drive along the beach for most of the way. At Kamari we find a slightly upscale town center with nice beachfront restaurants and some shopping opportunities for the girls. Afterwards, we drive up to Pyrgos which takes us up and around the gigantic mountain that separates our town from Kamari. The sun has set and the sky is pink and dark blue. It gets a little chilly as the wind whips my face. From Pyrgos it is downhill back to our town. Somehow we make it back without getting lost.

When we return, Katie and I take the ATV out to the bars in Perissa. We drink wine and listen to a nice latin jazz quartet. Afterward we head to the main dance club - the only bar in Perissa that gets crowded at night. We sit at the bar and immediately meet some people. One girl in particular seems very interested in me. Her name is Natalie and she is from South Africa, but lives in Ireland. She is tall and slender and has dark hair and dark eyes. She is pretty and intelligent and has the British accent that makes her seem exotic. We hang out for an hour or two. Katie is content to be left alone at the bar with the local bartender.

Eventually, Natalie's roommate gets tired. I offer to drive her home on my sweet ATV. It reduces her 20 minute walk to a 2 minute ride. She gladly accepts. I driver her home and go back for Natalie. I invite her back to my room and she reluctantly accepts. She says that she didn't come to this island, "to get rogered, but what the hell". I'm not sure how to respond to this. Definitely not a compliment. Or is it? Who knows. I decide to also offer to drive her home so she can avoid "getting rogered". She chooses to check out my place.

I get Katie's permission to bail and we were off. He hop on the ATV and head to my killer master suite that I got because the single with shared bath was unavailable. So for no extra charge, the hotel gave me the master suite with kitchenette, balcony, and private bath. Pretty nice deal. I invite Natalie in, open the balcony doors and a fresh breeze fills the room. She locks the door and turns out the light. A great ending to a great day.

Kos, Greek Island

The town of Kos is small and compact. One can walk thru downtown in a matter of minutes. When we arrived at the harbor, we knew the Tree of Hippocrates was nearby, so we walked on direction, took two wrong turns, backtracked, turned in a circle, looked backwards, went forward, and still found the tree in less than 10 minutes. A massive hollow trunk big enough for a mini cooper to pass thru and infinite winding branches supported b a sort of metal scaffold. There is also a muslim foot-washing fountain immediately adjacent to the tree. I believe the Ottomans built it in the 1600s. Looks a little out of place. I would have imagined Hippocrates teaching under the tree. Wouldn't imagine him washing his feet in a muslim foot-washing fountain. Good thing he had been dead for 2000 years before the fountain was installed. There are more ruins nearby, but they are just stone foundations. Not that exciting. The public beach is filled with restaurants, beach chairs, umbrellas, and blond European girls. It is truly a sight for sore eyes after weeks in male dominated Turkey. The night life is a little pathetic. A row of clubs blasting dance music trying to be louder and crazier than the place next door. Aggressive hosts and hostesses offer drink specials, begging, pleading us to come inside. Bars are only partially filled with young tourists, dancing and drinking and falling over themselves. On saturday (June 9, 2007)we spend the day at the beach swimming, napping, reading, and watching the beautiful people in revealing swimwear. We explored a little and found a good place to eat dinner. We rediscover cow meat - not available in Turkey - and it is divine. I almost cried when the smell spaghetti bolognase filled my nostrils. After dinner we all took showers and dressed up to go out. Only problem was that we got ready too early. It was 10pm and we heard the club scene didn't start till after midnight. So we all decide to take a quick nap before we go out. The nap ended around 9am the next morning. Good nap. Ready to go out! Er...ready to start a new day!

Turkish High School Girls

Me and a Ruin at Ephesus

Library at Ephesus

Prom 2007: Evening at Ephesus

Ampitheatre at Ephesus

Dancing With The Currents

The seagulls drift overhead, they swoop down and glide above the water. Searching, seeking, playing in the winds. The fish that they are seeking in the clear blue water below swim along the currents of the sea. I am only slightly envious of their respective abilities to live in the sea and the sky. Fore today I am also gliding along the sea currents and playing in the winds above the sea. I am free to swim in the dark deep waters of my own imagination. Good times from the past wash over me and remind me of all that is good in the world. I reflect on the hard times also and chuckle at those stressful feelings that at the time I thought would consume me forever. There is no stress today. Nothing but total bliss. Jana walks in front of me and begins dancing like a child. She wears a t-shirt over her bikini and is not a bit self-conscious about the fact that she doesn't have any pants on. Just like a child, she doesn't have a care in the world. She laughs when she realizes that I saw her dancing to no music. I smile and raise my glass in a silent salute to the dance. She raises her glass back towards me. We consume our consumptables and I turn my attention back to the open sea.

Next Journey Will Not Be Televised

I arrived in the Greek Island of Kos yesterday, June 9, 2007. Leaving tomorrow on a ferry to Santorini. Not sure how long I'll stay there. Next will be another ferry to Mykanos. Then one more ferry to Athens. After that we will begin taking flights to the rest of our destinations. From Athens, fly to Rome. Rome to Barcelona. Quick stop in Ebiza. Back to Barcelona. Barcelona to Paris. Paris to Denver.

Not sure if I'll be able to post any more blogs on this trip. I have to use Internet Cafes and I pay by the hour. These blogs take too long to write if I have to pay. but when I get home, I'll transfer my journal entries to this blog. so hopefully nothing will be lost.

For now, I will just say that it was such a relief to get out of Turkey. Just traveling 30 km to the Greek Island of Kos has been a culture shock of monumental proportions. no more towns full of only men that leer at my girls and make endless proposals and requests to enter their shop or restaurant. it was getting quite old. not to mention the fact that there wasn't a single 20-30 year-old girl to be seen in any of these turkish towns. no where. and as soon as we arrived in Greece, we could feel the tension lift as we found girls everywhere. and no more leering men. relief. from here on out, I think it is gonna be good times. its a brand new world ahead of me. can't wait to drink it in.

hope all is well out there. and I hope to have new blogs in a couple of weeks when I return to America. I'll talk to you then.

I Climb in FlipFlops

Sippin On A TallBoy

Jet Lagged In Istanbul

Apple and a Raki

I bite into a Delicious Red Apple. Discovering that an apple is crunchy rather than mushy is usually a delightful sensation in its own right. but today this is only a small bonus on the tip of an even greater sensation that I am experiencing while I sit at the bow of a 30 meter long gulet that motors along the edge of the Bodrum Peninsula in the clear blue waters of the Aegean Sea. We're cruising along on a sunday afternoon in late May. The sun is shining down on all the girls who lie utterly still; like buddhist monks in meditation. Only they aren't praying to the Buddha, they are praying to the Sun to bestow upon them The Divine Tan, The Holy Bronzing of Thine Skin, The Heavenly Browning.

My professor sits next to me on the bow. His feet are propped up on the finely polished wood table that is bolted to the deck. He reads Turkish poetry and sips on a glass of Raki. Raki for the professor and an apple for the student. Any other time or place and this might seem a bit odd. But on the warm and salty waters of the Aegean Sea, everything feels just right in the world.

Just a Couple of My Ladies

Posing on the Bow

Lounging with the Professor

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Goddess of the Aegean