Quick one for Bert

I'm working on a complete rundown of the Guinness factory visit with Kep (they've been roasting barley again, I've been able to smell it from my apartment the last 2 days) a couple weeks ago. However, this was too good to be true - at least for Bert's anti-hippy campaign.

Check out this naming vote for humpback whales under way by Greenpeace. Nothing too fishy going on there except further proof that democracy may not generate the best choices by the masses - seriously, Mister Splashy Pants ? - but then I noticed something odd: Take a look at when the voting closes.

That's right folks, Greenpeace officially runs on Amsterdam time!

I'll be back with more soon. And if you were wondering - of course I voted for Mister S.P., ruler of the sea and official supplier of Neptune's Grand Golden ShowerTM.

Rumble in Rebel City

Wow, one thing I've noticed recently is the precipitous drop in readership on this forum, to the point of being dropped out of links sections on other peoples' blogs. I suppose I really don't have anyone else to blame for this than myself, since I didn't post for an extended period of time. As you probably have noticed (since you are, in fact, reading the blog right now) I have made an effort to blog more frequently again in the past weeks, although I find it very difficult to bring forth the time and effort in light of the amount of work i have for the masters course. So please be patient and show some understanding.

Regarding the masters and the work for it: this very moment I'm procrastinating on a microeconomics homework sheet (due tomorrow, 10 am) and a macroeconomics problem sheet (Thursday, 11 am). I think I'll be ok for micro, but unless someone bails me out on the macro by walking my incredibly unintelligent self through it step by step, I definitely won't be able to complete the work - just like every week so far.

In part I got myself in this position by deciding to take the weekend off from econ and go down/out to Cork - the Republic's second city and also the rebel city, where they drink Murphy's instead of Guinness - to play in what was billed as "the best ultimate tournament in Ireland." There were a lot of pros and cons to going, some of the most important ones being:
PRO:
- I get to play ultimate. I haven't gotten to do this much since the less than satisfactory ending (severing?) relationship with Truck Stop, a disappointing event for me not so much as a player, but more so personally. And with all the talk about the UPA series in recent months, I've been feeling the drive to go back out there and prove to myself that I may be out of shape, but I'm not yet the old, fragile, boring man I pretend to be these days.
- We were going to bring a returners-only big-boy (and girl) team and play some top competition in Ireland, So I knew I wouldn't get stuck playing shwag ultimate, which I hate.
- I'm incredibly stressed out, and I thought it would give me the opportunity to release some stress.

CON:
- It's far away, I had loads of work to do, and taking 2 weekends in a row off may not be a good idea. (I go to London this weekend.)
- Despite what we said earlier, the captain decided to enter 2 teams and thus I would be stuck playing with a bunch of beginners, which generally leaves me frustrated and not the funnest team mate. think of it as summer league in DC, but without Brody as my dump and him to make sure I'm less-than-sober for every fixture.
- Michael was throwing a birthday bash, and I knew that was going to be good.
- Co-ed team. Don't get me wrong, i like having female team mates, I just don't like playing ultimate with most the women out there. Co-ed's fun and all if there is coed juice involved, but when I want to play serious games, I prefer all male teams (or incredibly good women).

So late Friday afternoon I went home, threw some gear in a duffel bag and took the last bus of the day to Cork, arriving there around midnight. I used my Spanish skills to get directions to the hostel the team was staying in (I use so much more Spanish in Ireland than I ever would have imagined.... I go entire days speaking nothing but), and got to bed around 1, only to be woken by drunken room mates twice during the course of the night as they stumbled back in, and not recognizing me, make awkward conversation with themselves for a few minutes. After they had finally gotten to bed, I received a call from P., which they must really have enjoyed.

Saturday began with a game against Bologna, a top European team. Expectations for us were low (over-under on points scored was set at 2), but in a battle attrition we came out on top behind some strong play on the part of Dave (Irish national selection player) and this kid from Emory, Arville, who apparently has played with Sanda and Faust in BUDA. He was a huge asset to have around, as he could provide me with a passable dump, and between his flick and my backhand, we had an excellent deep game all weekend; despite being a split squad we made it to quarters. It was also during that first game that it became clear that I would handling most the weekend, also a new tournament role for me.
Weather conditions were about as perfect as they could be at this time of the year in Ireland, as we had about 12 degrees Celsius, and no wind to speak of, and it didn't rain at all in 2 days! I made it all the way down to playing in just a short-sleeved jersey in most games, and wore a baseball hat and not a winter hat. Considering pictures like this, and how warm it was that day, I was quite surprised by myself.
Overall, the tournament was worth attending, although I have to say that even the best tournament here would be considered a logistical disaster on the US college circuit, although the fields here were very nice and even were lined. if anyone remember Connor from Mary Washington - their one really tremendous played - I played him this weekend and we marked each other all game, and I also got to play and mark the top 2 players in Irish ultimate, both of whom were repping Johnny Chimpo - a worthwhile reference if ever there was one. Playing against that caliber of player also illustrated exactly how out of shape I have become, and how my vertical ability has decayed, so now I have targets to work on for the remainder of the semester.

The Saturday tournament party was themed as the Seven Deadly Sins, and so our teams decided to show up as a pride of lions - as did about 3 other teams. (Sloth was the other popular costume, for fairly self-explanatory reasons. I decided to go as a slothful lion, and just wore yellow shirts and had a whisker or two drawn on my face.) Nonetheless, the yellow body paint many people used gave Sunday morning a decidedly Simpson's look, as the color apparently had soaked into the skin and couldn't be removed anymore.
As usual, the party left me underwhelmed, until I was standing at the bar and decided - due to some bad advice - to just start taking bottles of cordial from behind the bar. Armed with those and a shot glass, Tommy and I then prowled the fiesta inducing young and old, male and female alike to take shots of "tequila/SoCo and lime" or "Jaegermester," depending on whom we were selling what color of cordial to. This was great fun and culminated in the following exchange:

German girl: "that isn't jaegermeister"

Tommy: "Yeah it is!"

Me: "definitely jaeger."

German girl: "No it isn't."

Me: "if it weren't jaeger, why would I do this?" [I chug half a Murphy's, grab the shot glass off the table, throw it into the pint glass, chug the other half of the glass, slam it on the table; then I raise my arms and yell:]

"jaegerbombs, I could f&€*ing shower in that shit!"

Now with 100% more GUINNESS in me

Hello! So living in Dublin for a year, it would be a real pity if I didn't spent at least a little bit of time exploring the legendary nightlife: pubs and live music abound, and so I must do my best to steal a few nights from the reading room (don't get jealous - I'm all yours Monday to Friday) and experience this.

One think you'll notice immediately going out in this city is that it is incredibly expensive. Even the most normal pub here is the cost of a fairly expensive city centre place in London, which is incredible in and of itself. However, on the glass half full side of things, I should note that Guinness is in fact the cheapest drink in any establishment here. Unbelievably, unlike the rest of the world, Guinness is actually cheaper here than lager beers and spirits, so at least I get the feeling of getting a really good deal when I go out - despite the fact it really isn't so at all, and I can get Guinness for less in many English pubs (although it's not as good there).

Taking the lead in the going out crew from my program is Michael. The mystery about Michael is this: He's from California, and he's only been living in Dublin for about a year and a half. However, he knows every pub and bar in Dublin, more so even than the kids who grew up and went to college here in the city. No one can figure out why exactly he is so familiar with all the watering holes, but those of us in the program are taking full advantage of this "insider knowledge" to build some familiarity with the local night life. Beyond that, Omar - one of the people I was staying with during my "homeless" period - and I have been going to a couple different places, including a couple parties at his house and that of others. the result of hanging with him is that I actually speak more Spanish here in Dublin than I ever did anywhere but on my trip and Argentina, something that I'm pretty psyched about because it means that this time I might not lose all my speaking and comprehension abilities.

Coincidentally, Lena also knows Omar from Guadalajara. And as a bonus to all the g-dub readers out there - and proof of how small the world really is - here's another thing about Michael. Remember when we went out to Pres day in 2004. Warming up for game 2 or 3, all of a sudden Rackett (spelling?) showed up, surprising us by having driven from San Francisco to San Diego to offer his support. But he had shown up not alone, but with his lady friend and another random kid from the Bay area. And that kid was Michael. Dwell on that.

Also, congratulations to those guys on Truck Stop and Boston.

No, I DON'T want to see you tomorrow

So this M.Sc. is absolutely killing me. And it is doing so by overloading me with work. Yesterday another guy was talking about celebrating a real breakthrough: after a couple hours of intensive study, he cracked it! And by, it, we were talking about the notes we took in class, not some kind of difficult question we had been asked. That being said, every week we have a take-home due - for each one of our classes. So far, that probably doesn't sound too bad to you guys, right? Well, just know that each one of the 3 is roughly 10 hours (easily), and on top of that we need to read just to be able to start answering these questions, and these reading consist of pages and pages of mathematical proofs, not nice analysis or other prose that might actually be of interest. And then there are our other projects and stuff.... student life in undergrad and post-grad really couldn't have been more different for me.

So to the title of the story: leaving the graduate study room (that's right, we have our own library) last night around eight, one of the other guys in the program comes up to me as I'm bent over my books like a slave in the galleys of a roman warship and says to me - smiling, without irony, and in an almost giddy way - "awesome, I'll see you tomorrow."

Yeah, I'm really looking forward to that.
Because I love suffering for hours over a single line of matrix algebra.

Blogction

Tuesday, 16 October 2007 was Blog Action Day, when bloggers all over the world teamed up to address all different aspects of a global problem: the environment. Not that i'm saying the environment is a problem, but rather its destruction and dangers facing it.
Although I didn't get around to posting yesterday due to a homework problem set I had to hand in this morning, I'm fgoing to write about it today - after all, they say it's the thought that counts. Moreover, I even got someone else to write something about the environment, although it then degenerated into dribble on diseased prostitutes.... this is why we love you QP.

Recently, my classmates have begun to criticize me for my carbon footprint. This first began after I revealed to them that i was going to London one weekend, and then heading to NYC the following Friday for my short break. If you don't know what a carbon footprint is, you most likely are American, or you just hate mother earth straight up. basically, it is the idea that each person, product or service results in CO2 emissions over time, which then compose a footprint. While my shoes are normally in the 11.5 size range, my class mates ranked my carbon print at least Shaq sized. Now, I don't think they're really earnest, I think it's more that they are taken aback by more lifestyle of bouncing from place to place - this is an Island you can drive across in 3 hours, and it only takes that long because the roads are so bad - so they're just taking a piss, really. But on the other hand, I am a someone who makes an effort to not waste and avoid harming the environment whenever I can. Here some examples:
- I avoid styrofoam whenever possible; for instance, I stop eating at places that use containers made of the material.
- I recycle whenever possible, and hate the feeling of not being able to do so in Dublin because it isn't offered in the city.
- I ride my bike, even preferring so to public transportation such as trains and buses.
- Cold showers.
- I finish my beer.
On the other hand, I can't deny that I do fly considerably more than other people do, or at least more than other non money-earning bums like myself, and as such I can't entirely deny responsibility.
So what am I to do? I'm going to be self-serving here for a moment and say that I already use less energy and have a smaller carbon footprint that just about everyone else I know in daily life, so I don't feel that bad about flying in order to see friends and family. For me, it's also a cultural thing: Many of the people I know and value come from multilingual, multicultural, and multi-locational backgrounds, so for us to live "our life" means that there will be some travel. And I don't care what anyone says, Skyping with Prachee and not seeing her for 8 months is not the same as one week together. You cannot continue preexisting relationships long distance in the same way, whether it's with family, friends, or partner. What I do think is interesting is that for businesses, travel is becoming increasingly the way to go despite the obvious ability to video conference and other communications tools.
So what is guy to do? Should I only fly with Virgin, so I can contribute to Branson's alternative fuel program? Do I simply stop flying, and none of you people see me again? Do I ignore the problem for now, wait for CO2 emissions to be included in economic cost structures, and go on as I have? Let's be honest: at under 500 dollars for a transatlantic flight (and that isn't much money anymore these days), only the most dedicated will do anything but the last of those 3 things....

OK guys, sorry about the miserable post, I'll be back soon with something more interesting.

Peace.

Resurrection V1.1

Hey everyone! I know it's been quite a while since I last let anything be heard from me, but some of you may have been receiving phone calls over the past few weeks and such, so you know I actually am still alive. Somehow, we managed to survive the trans-Siberian train and all, although I have to say that as hectic as my life was in the last weeks of travel, it has only been more so since I got back to England. In case anyone still reads this, here's a short round-up:

-Got home, started tutoring lessons the next day, continued that a couple days a week and spent time studying on my own.
-Went sailing in Croatia with the family. Unfortunately, this did not represent a reprieve from study, but just meant study plus seasickness. I should add that only mathematics was actually able to induce sickness, which says more about math than about the ocean.
-Moved to Ireland, spent the first couple weeks trying to find a place to live while being in classes all day long and studying at night.
-Found a place to live, but still struggled with classes.
-Had a week off from school and went to see Prachee in NYC, which was loooong overdue and had an absolutely amazing time.
-In week 2 of the main part of the program now, and I am very much overwhelmed by what I do on a daily basis.

For those of you who don't know, I'm currently doing an M. Sc. Economics at Trinity College in Dublin, Ireland.
Before i started here, I didn't realize exactly how quantitatively based the course is, and as such I've been having trouble with that. Here's an example of in-class material:



So, we do a couple of pages per hour like this. I think the above page was 10 minutes worth of work. And if you don't really understand what's going on, that's ok - I don't really know either.

Mutton Mania

So this post comes to you direct from Ulan Baatar. Since you probably don't know where that is, or of which country it is the capital, I will simply enlighten you: Mongolia. However, I will pick up the story from where I left off:

I never did find Charlotte in Shanghai, because she had already left for Qingdao, a place I couldn't get a bus ticket for. As it turns out, I was probably lucky since I ended up enjoying Shanghai, and they didn't like Qingdao, aside from the tour of the Tsingtao brewer, the largest in the world. While I was there, I was particularly impressed by the Shanghai Museum, which has an excellent collection of Chinese artifacts of many different time periods, and in a more frighteningly way, the Shanghai City Planning Museum. Essentially, the government is trying to grow a city of 20 million people by another 10+ percent in the coming years, all without explaining what public transportation will carry the already bursting city and the expanding surrounding cities. And of course, because it's a government that doesn't need to act accountably, there is absolutely not one mention of costs in the entire place, or environmental impact. the government just talks about "ecologically sound development" without any evidence or explanation of what that means to them.

Once I got to Beijing - this time a "soft sleeper" train, which was most excellent (they give you soft slippers to take home!), meeting Charlotte worked out beautifully and we went back to her place since it was really early in the morning.
Visiting in Beijing with Charlotte and Michal (her boyfriend) was wonderful, in part because it was their final days so that we went to all their favorite restaurants. Therefore, my time in Beijing was absolute the most delectable culinary experience of my trip: we ate at one amazing restaurant after the other, I was constantly full of wonderful food. It was almost like Thailand, except that the food was far more varied in terms of the types of food we were eating (Japanese, Yunnan, Persian, fish and chips - and that last one made no sense to me at the time or now, since we'll all be back in England soon, just like our Doner yesterday; however, I did enjoy both AND I realize that this use of the semi-colon was wrong). We also saw some cool sites, although I skipped the Great Wall. Firstly, it's not that cool a site to visit on your own, which I would have had to do, and second because I don't think it's going to pick up and leave anytime soon. On the day we went to the Temple of the Clouds, we actually had pretty much the best weather since Charlotte got to Beijing: as a result, we could see all of the skyline as well as the mountain ranges to the West and North, a rare event in a city so smog covered that even blue sky essentially never exists no matter how "clear" meteorologists say the weather is. Also, it's a really cool and important site that no one ever hears about until they get to Beijing, which i find quite strange.
Then, on Monday morning we boarded a train to Ulan Baatar, the first leg of our trans-Mongolian train journey. However close the two cities might look on a map, they are 28 hours apart. Unlike my first trip of that length though, I was in a sleeping car with Charlotte and Michal, plus their enormous amounts of luggage. As a result, we were in pretty tight, but it was a lot more comfortable than the other ride, believe me. However, Mongolian trains are not to be compared to Chinese soft sleepers: those are the best, as i found between Shanghai and Beijing.
The scenery between the two cities is quite amazing. My favorite parts were the Gobi desert, which was just a huge brown sand expanse that was coming in our window as I woke up in the morning and was covering everything with a thin layer of fine sand, as well as the steppes that came to the north thereof, with the wide valleys of green grass, occasional gers/yurts, and plenty of horses as well as some cattle.
The city itself has impressed me. I guess my expectations weren't that high, as I expected an old, dusty city of Soviet housing blocks (like Biysk) but with yurts scattered around. As it turns out, the city is very modern, people are really well dressed for the most part, by which I mean that the clothing styles are more akin to Europe due to the Russian influence here than in other parts of Asia. Basically, they are tasteful. Also, Mongolian women do not get the credit they deserve: I'm on the verge of declaring them the most attractive of the countries I've visited.

ok, I'm being kicked out of the internet cafe, leaving on the train tomorrow, I'll arrive in Moscow in 4 or 5 days, I think. we'll see how it works out with the luggage and us in the compartment.

Mad dashes

I've had a really crazy week or so (how long has it been?) that has seen me cross most of Asia in very little time. Here's a quick filler, I'm sorry I can't be more informative right now, as I'm far too worn out:
From Thailand, I crossed early morning into Laos via the Friendship Bridge, only 20 or so km from Vientiane, the capital of that country. It's a capital, but real small and not very hectic (especially by Asian standards), where there isn't much more to do than see a couple Wats (monasteries) and the National Museum. Having Watted myself out in Thailand, and headed to Luang Prabang next - a city full of Wats that the UNESCO has protected - I got myself a) A Vietnamese visa (in all of 15 minutes!), b) a bus ticket, and after visiting the national museum, c) a pleasant buzz as I sat on the bank overlooking the Mekong, eating and drinking Beerlao, the cheapest beer I've ever encountered, but without doubt also the best on my trip, except for a few microbrews in New Zealand and Kunstmann in Chile. Beerlao on it's own may be enough to justify a trip to the country. But the weirdest thing was stepping off the municipal bus I had taken from the border to the Morning Market in the center of town (if you can call it that....) and ducking inside to escape the hounding of tuktuk drivers - only to be standing in front of dozens of cases/vendors of cell phones, PDA's, and other potable communications devices generations ahead of what there is in the USA. Weird to see that, especially as a first sight of the country.
After an overnight bus I arrived in Luang Prabang, where I spent the day seeing a few Wats, before picking up a book (David Copperfield), and after 2 nights on cramped buses, finally caught some sleep in a bad. Bright and early the next day, I headed off for Hanoi - which looks only 300-400 km away in a straight line, if you check a map. However, there are no direct connections, and so I spent 10 hours going SE, leaving me 3 hours shy of the Vietnamese border (all of 130km! Lao is not for those in a rush....) at Phonasavan, another UNESCO world heritage site, where I had to stay the night. Found a decent bed for 2 US with a shared toilethole, and a cool owner who shared his rice whiskey with me - yumm! I only wish I'd have had time to stay and see the Fields of Jars, the big archaeological thing there, but I was trying to meet Charlotte in Shanghai, so I had to keep pushing on. Also, and just as an aside - in much of Laos, and especially this part, you can NEVER EVER step off the path - the country is literally full of UXOs (unexploded ordinances) from the USA's "Secret War" - more ordinance was dropped per square kilometer here than anywhere else in the world, ever. This was between 1963 and 1975, and most of that ordinance is still lying around. Quite frankly, I don't understand what they were aiming for, the whole country is just farming villages, and since the US couldn't hit the Viet Cong in Vietnam, I don't know why they thought they'd be able to do so here. In continued ridiculousness, the US has never taken part in removing the mines. There's a non-profit - principally funded by the French - and the UN doing all the work here, but more than 80% of the country is still dangerous, so I've been told. As one of the few non-signatories to the anti-landmine convention, you'd think the least the US could do is help this little country out a bit and pay for some of the removal, but no, the US won't clean up after itself, will it. Wonder what's going to happen on global climate change and the UXOs in Iraq. Well, here's your first vision people, and this vision has lots of people, from children to ancients, running around without hands, feet and legs - or for many, crawling along the streets.
6.30 the next morning, I was on a 12 hour bus to Vinh in Vietnam, where I caught a 6 hour bus to Hanoi, arriving shortly after midnight, not a cent in my pocket, but 10 dollars in debt to a German girl who was on the same mission as I and had lent me the money.

The next morning, I tried to buy train tickets directly from there to Beijing - sold out. So instead I went to see the Palace of Literature, which was first built in 1070 and became the first national university 6 years thereafter - a fine old temple, at the gates of which rides must dismount, as is written there. Although this temple was mostly inscribed with Chinese characters, it generally was really nice to be back in a country that uses Latin script - maybe there is something beneficial to colonialism? No, just kidding, but being able to match up words or show people writing for directions makes a huge difference. But I digress....
Next I tried to see the dead Ho Chi Min. I figured that going through Hanoi, Beijing and Moscow, I could make a nice little tour of seeing various dead communists in their differing state of being made of wax (Lenin is believed to be more than 99% wax at this point). Unfortunately, it was Friday, and thus the mausoleum was closed, and I was running around sweltering Hanoi in long pants for nothing (hottest place on the trip). The mausoleum is also closed on Mondays, apparently as days of rest, although I'm unclear why a dead person needs rest. But at least with the rest coming on Mondays and Fridays, it's evenly distributed throughout the week, just as Communism has successfully distributed the Vietnamese wealth equally among its people..... wait a moment! No it hasn't! Lots of Mercedes Benz in Hanoi, and lots of really really poor people. An all these "communist" countries - Laos, Vietnam, China - seem to have a far more thriving entrepreneurial spirit than anything I've seen in the West. Unfortunately, since leaving Thailand, I've also come to realize that most communist economies are also rip-off economies, so you always have to double check everything, write down every price (a spoken word is worth nothing in the face of corrupt police), and always make sure to count your change. It's quite annoying, to be honest, and makes me appreciate the land of smiles all the more in retrospect, although Bangkok certainly contained many of these elements. It's interesting to contrast Laos and Bolivia in that respect: Both are the poorest, landlocked countries surrounded by others that attract most the tourists, and thus are apt for comparison. In Bolivia, the people are genuinely happy you came, impressed that you did, and generally honest in their business with you. In Laos, you're a big walking dollar sign and everyone wants a piece - including monasteries and monks!
Being disappointed by not seeing Ho and not having a ticket, I left in the early afternoon and headed to the border, where I crossed and then got a bus to Nanning, only to find out that everything is full. The following day I got on a 28 hour train ride to Shanghai - and all that was left were standing tickets. I will say that this ride was by far the most unnerving and uncomfortable in my life. Also, if SARS ever makes a comeback, all the Chinese are f&^%ed, because what observed there nearly made me sick. The trains are overcrowded, people spilling all over the place. And you'd think that would mean some people would sit on the ground, but you'd be wrong if you thought that: the same people who would benefit most from a clean floor - those standing - liberally put their waste there, spit, and generally act as though they are in the mighty outdoors, not a cramped train. This is abetted by the attendants, who every so often come through and sweep up the floor, which means they just spread around the grime as they go, making it really really nasty. The result is that you quite literally have to stand. However, people squeeze together on the benches and get up to stretch occasionally, letting some of the standing passengers get a couple minutes of rest. Only at night do some people sit - but only between cars, near the bathrooms on the metal floors; these areas have had people walking out of the bathrooms (once again toiletholes) and over them, spreading god knows what all day long (the floors inside were always wet), so that was a decision I really didn't understand. I also saw one guy lie down on his stomach, then make like a snake and slither under a bench of seats, not to be seen again for several hours (but then, with a big brownish-black mark on the front of his white shirt), a feat I was quite impressed by if only for his agility, not to mention willingness to sleep on the floor.

Once I arrived in Shanghai, I tried to reach Charlotte by phone, but since she still hadn't sent me her mobile number, I had to call Prachee in the States, where I woke her up at 4 am. Because SkypeOut somehow doesn't seem to work in China, and I can hear other people but they can't hear me, she got on the computer and then called my mother for me, thus supplying me with the appropriate mobile number - thank you again to the 2 most important women in my life. However, it was for naught as Charlotte did not have enough credit left on her phone to receive calls, and so I went to find a hotel near the main railway station, which was another nightmare. Now, I'm staying in a somewhat shady place where not a word of English is spoken. I wonder if my bag will still be there when I get back tonight? I locked it up with my PakSafe and all, but who knows.....

As for China, Nanning really impressed me: it's huge (the name wasn't familiar to me, I have to add, although certainly I must have read of it somewhere), and it was seemingly all new. The bus terminal was amazing, and the new high rise section of the city was like nothing else I've ever seen. I also stayed in a hotel that had a computer in the room, although most the sites I like to use - like blogger, for instance - are user-content oriented and thus not necessarily accessible in China. That said, I really hope this post comes through, because I can't see my own page here, but I'm hoping I can post to it.
As for Shanghai, it too is huge, but even on a clear day like today, you can look at the sun without problems because the air is so filthy. I've also noticed an overabundance of McDonald's. Strangely enough though, trying to find an internet cafe here is akin to seeking out a barbacoa burrito in Tel Aviv - it's probably not going to happen (for those that don't know, barbacoa is string barbecue pork). Moreover, most people here can't even understand the concept. When I try to explain it, I draw blank stares, and the best I have been able to do is the business center at major hotels, although these aren't really what I'm going for since they are kind of expensive and not really oriented to long term use. I think the problem is that China is too connected: every little store here has a computer with internet and printer, and most people have internet on their phones (not to mention at home), so they don't need an internet cafe. Only near the South train station did I find an internet cafe, and I'm contemplating returning, although it's on the far side of the city, 30 minutes by subway.

Wow, this has turned into a really long post. But I still ahve to add a few final notes:
I've gone about 4000km in 4 days, most of it through rural areas - I have seen a lot of Asia, and buses and trains have given me an interesting view of the life of those who get on and off them.

I'm still shocked at how few travelers in SE-Asia are aware that Thailand is no longer a democracy (technically a constitutional monarchy), but that it's democratic leadership was done away in a military coupe last October, and the promised new elections (that were to follow within 6 months) still haven't happened. Now the militaries are trying to solidify their position as political heavyweights, here an article from today. Also, the term People Republic pretty much means top-down autocracy, but that hasn't reached the travellers yet, either.....
In Laos, having a good time is not part of the government's plan. Everything closes early, and the bar in Luang Prabang kicked everyone out 25 minutes before "close" because they said the police was coming in "2 minutes". 15 minutes later, still no pigs on the horizon..... I've used this one at house parties to clear out space, and apparently so do bars in Laos.
Why is Rob Hughes the best football writer on earth? Well, beyond his unique access to the biggest players in the game - both on and off the field - here a sample of his writing: "Far from the maddening nonsense of the Beckhams touching down on a distant Galaxy, in the Asian Cup tournament soccer has real meaning on planet Earth." Delicious.....

The Flying Farang

So on my way towards Laos, I decided to stop off in a city called Nakhsin Rachisima, or something like that. It's known as Khorat, and it's the second largest city in the country, although you wouldn't know from visiting, because there is nothing to see in the city itself, and it has to be the deadest city of 2 million anywhere (kind of like Naples, FL is the deadest city in America). At least according to Lonely Planet, because Wikipedia has a very different opinion. But there are some Angkor cities and monuments nearby, supposedly the best in Thailand, so I thought I'd get a taste of that because I won't get to Angkor Wat for a while. And also, because it was sort of on the way and I'd only seen so little of Thailand despite being there for a full 2 weeks.
In order to get there, I decided to forgo public transportation and rent a motorbike instead (you know, one of those little scooters) with which to race around the countryside. I had a lot of fun doing so, except at one point I was caught in driving rain for about 90 minutes. And starting at a certain speed (not sure which, my speedometer and odometer didn't work) rain drops become really painful when they hit you, so that was not a great experience.
Because I was off the tourist trail, everyone wanted pictures with the white guy, so countless Thais now have pictures with a slightly befuddled looking, grinning German guy two heads taller than anyone else in the picture - all of which was accomplished without a common language.

Right now I'm sitting in an internet cafe in Vientiane, the capital of Laos. I arrived in the border town at 4 am this morning and voila! a mere four hours later I was in a crowded minibus on the Laotian side, headed towards town. Once there, I immediately got my Vietnamese visa, a process that took no more than 15 minutes. Therefore, I'm now set for the rest of my journey, at least as far as crossing borders is concerned. From now on, I'll be sightseeing by day and busing by night - sounds fun, huh?

Here are some final thoughts about things I'll miss from Thailand: the food, standing on the back platform of the saewethang instead of riding inside it, the vast expanses of green rice paddies (especially when they flood after rain), and the commonality of English. But on the upside, I do have YouTube again (it's banned by the military government in Thailand).

Getting a hang

One of the biggest differences - actually, by far the greatest difference - between my travels so far and my time here in Thailand (and from here forward) is the level of immersion in the local culture. While I am not trying to suggest that I have been "part" of the social fabric of the countries I've visited, I have enjoyed some priviledges most other backpackers didn't: I spoke the language, had studied the history, and understood some of the cultural idiosyncracies in the various places I visited in South America, and New Zealand to a lesser degree. In fact, I'd often watch other gringos suffer horribly in trying to ask for basic things, laughing hard on the inside, before helping out a few minutes later (yes, this was my revenge on all the couples travelling together, of whom I was and still am jelous). Most notably, I don't speak the language here, so beyond looking foreign, I really can't communicate with the people, either - I'm definitly a full blown farang.
However, coming to grips with this problem has been easier as I've just decided to give up any pretense of cultural, and especially linguistic, competency. Thus, I now mercilessly employ English, body language, and waving arms in my attempts to convey questions and ideas. All the while, I smile, which is really important in this country- the name means "land of smiles." While not perfect, I have found this approach can win friends also. Today I stopped off in a market where I was probably the first white person in many weeks, if not ever. I ate really spicy food (to the shock/amusement of the local vendors) and laughed along with all their jokes - despite the fact they were making fun of me, and I knew it. By the end of the meal, I was being invited to try meals at other stands - a bite here, a bite there - and a bunch of peoploeinvited me to stay and drink beer with them all night. However, I still had to drive my rental motorcycle back to town, so I only had a beer and moved on.

Tomorrow I head to Laos. Know anyone who's been there? Me neither. All the things I've experienced here in Thailand should be amplified there, and with a little luck I'll find a mosquito net at the border, too. I have no idea what the internet situation will be like, but hopefully I can keep you up to date on the goings on....

Love the Empire Day

I'm in high spirits right now, although I'm sure that will wear off shortly. the reason is that I just checked the baseball standings for the first time this season, to discover a pleasant surprise: going into the all star break, not only is Boston on track for 100 wins, but more importantly, the Pirates aren't last in their division. Can you feel the passion!

Just so no one complains that this post doesn't involve anything about my travels, I'd just like to point out that you learned that I haven't been following baseball. But that really isn't anything new. But today I also had a wonderful culinary experience, one so strange I must relate it, especially as a number of the ingredients aren't my favorites. I had a waffle filled with sweet corn (yellow maize) and shaved fresh coconut. It was amazing, despite the weird combination that it was.

In case you're blind (which would mean you couldn't read this anyway)

My blog has undergone a change! On the right side, you will now find links. Not that these are spectacular in any way, but the first one is a link to my Flickr account, where I've been saving all the pictures from my trip. Si check those out when you get bored at work, or if you want to see (i mean, really see) what Willis is talkin' about.

I know that many of the pictures aren't that great, or don't mean much without some introduction, but I'm sorry, I already spend way too much time in internet cafes, so I haven't yet labeled the 1500+ pictures. Nor have most been geotagged, but that may yet happen sometime in the future.

Have fun procrastinating!

I got duped today

So after about 6 months of travelling (a little more, actually, but who's counting....), I figured I'd be a pretty savvy traveller by now. Well, you'd hope so, or else I need to go buy one of those t-shirts on Khosang Road where a monkey has a bandaged stump for an arm and is juggling a chainsaw with the other arm, and the caption reads "I'm a slow learner." I may do that anyway though. Or maybe Ed deserves that one for his blog earlier about the doctor.

So today, I visited a temple and was then going to go to the palace to check it out. As I'm leaving the monastery compound, the ticket guy starts talking to me, which isn't that unusual since almost all Thais are extremely friendly and super helpful. So after a few minutes of chit chat, he tells me that the royal palace is closed for some kind of holiday or something. This seemed entirely plausible as parts of the monastery I had just visited were closed also. So he suggests these other Wats (monasteries) instead, and says I can go by the travel info center on the way to get some errands I had done. He also gave me a suggestion on which markets might yield good prices for technology stuff, as I needed a storage card for my camera. He also helped me out by negotiating an excellent price with a tuk tuk (motorized rickshaw) driver to run me to these places before dropping me back off at the Royal Palace. Well, I thought it was an excellent price ($1.30) that probably is normal for locals.
Now, at the time I thought "cool, that was nice" but after my first errand, the guy keeps mentioning a specific tailor. Now, I'd been interested in maybe talking to a tailor here, but more out of curiosity than anything else, and it begin to dawn on me that I've fallen for a classic Bangkok scam, one so frequent it's even detailed in my guide book, because there is no way the 40 Baht will cover gas expenses. After another stop, this time at a Wat, I quite frankly tell the driver that I can't take any clothing with me since my bag is full, but he plays it real cool: He straight up tells me that he gets a cut if I go, regardless of whether or not I buy anything, and that's what makes the ride price possible. I tell him I'll take a quick look, but he shouldn't get his hopes up, and indeed, after talking to the tailor for 2 minutes it's clear he won't provide the services I would consider, and so I stroll back outside and the tuk tuk shoots off to the next sight. This was a really cool Wat, located/built as a hill on the top of which is a shrine in which remnants of the Buddha himself are kept (if I understood correctly) and which is topped with a gold spire. From there, you have a fantastic 360 degree view out over the entire city, and I am really happy that I've gotten there.

However, when I descend back down, my driver has disappeared. But since I got a city map that includes the bus lines, I am no longer dependant of the taxis and tuk tuks, and can make my own way around the city for much less money. Moreover, it turns out I'm not that far from the palace anyway, and there is some other stuff even closer by that I wouldn't mind seeing.

So let me summarize the situation: I got an errand done and saw two sites I probably wouldn't have seen otherwise (but am glad I saw), then got dropped down the block from the Democracy Monument (which I felt I had to visit for irony's sake) and did not have to pay for any of this. Pretty much, I got scammed but ended up winning out in the situation while the scammers got nothing. Sweet. If they hadn't "scammed" me, I probably would have spend twice as much (as I didn't pay at the end) just getting to the tourist office to get the bus map. Savvy traveller indeed!

But the best part of the day hadn't even begun: Using my new map, I easily walked over to the Democracy Monument, where I found a huge protest going on. It was a big pro-democracy rally that was moving down the street from the royal palace past the monument and towards the royal residence, as I was to see. So since the protest was going in the direction I needed to head, I walked with them for a while, then decided to stay on and ended up having a great afternoon. The protest was an interesting experience. First and foremost, I think the gratitude of the people there will remain in my mind: Everyone was friendly, someone gave me one of the yellow headbands and a flag, and many people took pictures of me, or even came up to thank me for participating. Clearly, people here feel that they have a better chance of returning to democracy if the international community is on their side. I was offered water and everyone wanted to know where I am from. I got hugs and smiles left and right.
The overall protest was interesting, also. When the protest arrived at a police blockade of the road, the organizers used human chains for a number of purposes. The first one I saw surrounded the main vehicle, presumably in case anyone would try to take control of it. Beyond that, another human chain kept the protest divided so that the people in the front wouldn't be pushed up against the police, creating a confrontation. Instead, space was left so that neither side would feel threatened, and the police did not try to fill that space, either. Then a lot of stuff ion Thai followed, so I'm not exactly sure of what was going on. There was a lot of chanting, back-and-forth calls with speakers on the vehicles, sitting down and standing up. I think the protest was demonstrating unity. Finally, the front of the protest began moving up on the police while the main train of people stayed where they were (being the tallest person in the whole march gave me a good overview of what was happening). Then, as the protesters came close, the police just backed away to the side, blocking off another street but letting the march pass on along its preferred route. I saw some people leave the main vehicle earlier who had returned just before this happened, so I think it may have been a negotiated retreat.
Sever hundred meters further on, the same scenario repeated itself, except that the police did not let the march enter into the grounds of the race track adjoining the royal residency. Instead, the protest turned left, and I turned right, headed towards the tech market (where I found everything I wanted and more).

Good day, saw lots of the city, had a great experience on the use of non-violence (this definitely relates to what we've been discussing on Spears' blog).

Hi Daffy

So I referenced the movie The Beach in my last post. This may be the best movie ever. Well, not really, but it can be good in certain situations. And i think it's actually a disturbingly large part of the reason I came to this country.

So here is a picture of me in the hostel. Man, do I look ridiculous, or what? I should mention that on the first night, I kept thinking I would run into the blood-soaked Daffy character every time i turned a corner, or see blood running out under the doors.... ok, so I'm a little crazy, but we all knew that already, right.

Here's some other stuff about Thailand: The country name means the land of smiles, and indeed, lots of teeth visible here. People are really friendly, except that a lot of cab drivers try to rip you off. And apparently the organ trade is alive and kicking here, so I'll try and stay out of that. But aside from that, things are great. Also, the food is relatively clean here compared to other countries in the region, and especially compared to Latin America. they also have a weird calendar: they use Western days and months, but count the years from Buddha's enlightenment. Therefore, I am a time traveler and am writing to you from the year 2550. Also unusual are the large number of girlie boys here. If you don't know what that is, imagine walking up to a counter staffed by a pretty girl. However, when she speaks you realize she isn't really a she. And she has big feet. Also, not all girlie boys are in the same state of transformation, making things.... interesting. Bert, it might not be for you. Also, I'm very close to the james bond Island. If you are asking yourself "which one?" and then continue with "that one?" the answer is yes.

And here's a picture I just felt I had to add. My caption is: "Naked Gun come to life". If anyone has other/better suggestions, please feel free to share them.

Last but not least, shout outs to Prachee, who continues to be amazing every day.

....and I'm back!

No, not in Europe, you sillies. I'm back to blogging. But then again the two people who still read this knew that anyway.

I've decided that it's pointless for me to try and play catch-up, so I'm just going to skip the rest of my time in South America and New Zealand for now, and start talking in the present.
I arrived in Phuket in Southern Thailand last night. The food here is amazing, I can already tell that the ASia section oif my trip is worthwhile just from a culinary perspective. While South America was ok, this is great: I started my day with a curry over rice, and it's been heaven ever since.....

I also want to say that although New Zealand was very nice and all - and ammentities like drinkable tap water and smooth roads, English spoken commonly, ets - I'm really happy to be back in an LDC. I walked past a canal this morning that smelled of stale water, rot and maybe a little bit like human waste... and was happy it did. Weird.

I'm staying in the hostel from the movie "The Beach" with Leonarde DiCapri. When I saw last night that it's here in town, I just had to stay there. And I'll tell you, it's just as creepy and grimy as in the movie, theyt didn't have to bring in any set-building whizzes to get it like that. I keep thinking i'm going to run into Duffy's body in the hallway or find blood running out from under the door. The only thing they've changed is that the mosquito netting between the rooms (at the top, where Duffy pokes through to smoke weed with Leo's character) has been replaced with wood. I'm guess too many people were reenacting the movie scene......

Bad Blogger

Many of you are probably wondering why I have such few posts (and am so many months behind) on my blogging. The truth is I have become disenchanted with Blogger. It constantly loses my posts when they are in draft mode, and sometimes when I click "publish" half the text I've typed disappears.

Thus, each post takes forever to complete (and I have to write it about 4 times) - the last post is a perfect example. I'd spent an additional hour adding photos, links, and far more text, all of which got lost when I published the post.

So in conclusion, sorry I haven't ben more consistant, and I'll rework that last post so that it actualy males sense.

Uyuni salt flat tour

From Uyuni, I booked a 3 day/2 night tour that would end in the salt flats.

The environments you see on that tour definitely seem otherworldly to Europeans and Americans, as we really don't have much like it at home. Reading Mae's description will give you an idea of what I mean. (At this point I should add that her diligent blogging has been inspiration to my, although it has not sufficed to make me equally diligent.) I've also put together all my photos from the tour in an album on my flickr page, so you can see what I saw - minus the boredom and whatever I saw after my camera battery gave out.

Also along on the trip were 4 Israeli girls (the Israeli percentage of travellers in Uyuni has to be at least 90%), as well as two American guys, which gave us the opportunity to talk about the NCAAs, starting that weekend. Weird as it sounds, that was really enjoyable for me, although it probably won't have the staying power that the environment had.

One thing that has really stuck with me - both from the train ride to Uyuni and the salt flat tour - is my continued wondering what the people on the side of the road/track must feel like and think. Most of Bolivia's residents live in what is known as the altiplano. Much of Bolivia is in fact altiplano, although my guidebook indicates that most of it is not. Either way, it's areas above 3500 meters. Not too much grows at the altitude and climate. For the most part, particularly in the part of the altiplano we saw, that meant that quinoa and potatos grow, and llamas can be herded. And that is about all.

So these people who live in the altiplano, who often need to attend boarding school in order to go to secondary school (the state provides these, although I'm sure some fees are involved), really have little expectation of ever leaving the country and travelling the world. But at the same time, trains and SUVs full of tourists from all over the world pass by several times a day. What must these people think of the tourists they see, many of whom are broke or in debt, but cary a digital camera and mp3-player with them? I really can't say what that must feel like to those who are in a very real sense standing by the roadside of globalization, but can't catch a ride. I imagine it's worst alongthe train tracks though, because at least cars sometimes stop and the foreigners interact with the locals (to the degree possible) whereas the train is just a big metal box with hands holding digital cameras out the windows passing.

As for the salt flat tour itself, it was definitly a highlight of the trip, and anyone who misses out on the opportunity to see the environments on that tour is a fool.

Nothing quite like it

When I awoke in Uyuni the following day, I had already missed all opportunities to leave for the salt flat tour for the day, so all I had left to do was schedule departure for next day (easily done through the hostel) and explore the town. It turns out Uyuni has pretty much nothing to offer. There's one small museum, where among the few items they have is a remarkably well preserved mummy. Well, I'm not going to lie to you....nothing brightens your morning quite like staring at one of these:


Oh, and they love displaying mummies in the high Andes regions - I've seen plenty in my time there.

I have a future

I got into graduate school today! Yay! I'll be doing a M.Sc. in Development Economics at Trinity, Dublin. If anyone else will be on the emerald isle next year, holla!

I'm really excited about this, as those of you with whom I've spoken about this know, I actually didn't expect to be admitted anywhere, let alone such a good program. This ends weeks of anxiety regarding the issue. Now I just have to prove worthy of the honor and avoid flunking out.... just kidding (ljctkoj?) - I plan on taking this one a lot more seriously than the time at GW, and actually will do well. It also means that my schedule posted on the blog will stand as is, at least all the big legs.

p.s.: I know this post stinks, but it's the best I can do.

The Bolivian frontier

From Salta, I planned on travelling through to Uyuni in Bolivia in one swift go. As it turned out, Bolivian travel is rarely swift, and the single go included a number of frustratingly long pauses. However, I was lucky to meet two other people from the same hostel in Salta who planned on making more or less the same trip (they would be getting off the train a little earlier). Between the three of us, we had a nice little travel group, something we noticed as we boredly stared at the tiny TV screen at the hostel, as our bus didn't leave until 12.30 am. For those of you that are confused, that's 00:30 or half past midnight.

There were also other reasons for not wanting to travel alone: while Chile is definitely safe, and I feel comfortable in Argentina because I more or less fit in both physically and linguistically, I was a lot less sure about Bolivia: it's straight 3rd world, plagued by what Lonely Planet calls the "triple crown" of underdevelopment (illiteracy, low life expectancy and something else I've now forgotten - probably extreme poverty, of which I saw plenty), a country where everyone is indigeno and Spanish is more of an afterthought than lingua franca - and my Quetchua is mighty rusty. At least that's what I'd heard about the country.

At the very least, I'd quelched (is that even a word?) any remaining fears I had about not having the little piece of paper that foreigners need to leave the country without paying a big fine. I told you about how I didn't receive that document here. In Buenos Aires, I'd gotten the phone number of the German consular section and gotten in touch with them about my problem - on about the 15th try. (The upside to having the phone number in my passport for so long had been that it got me out of a bribe attempt by Argentine cops, who visibly fretted upon opening my passport and seeing the name, address and phone number on a paper therein. But that's another story all together.) When I finally did reach the consulate - I'd had to call the emergency number in order to actually get someone on the phone - I was told that if Germans are given any papers at entry, they are just statistical questionnaires, and only Americans are forced to suffer the pain of holding onto the special entry paperwork.... haha!
So the three of us set off from the hostel in Salta, A German, a Czech, and an Israeli.

The first thing you notice when you take a bus to the Bolivian border is that it's probably the worst bus in Argentina. Otherwise, the Argentine bus system is amazing, but the buses up to the border are pieces of crap. Moreover, there were more Bolivians and Israelis in the bus than anything else, something that holds for Bolivia in general. Also, the normal order of the buses begins breaking down: tons of campesinas had huge bags and blankets full of god knows what being loaded into the bus, and most of them had one or two dirty, snot-nosed kids tagging along, too - and they were of the opinion that they shouldn't have to pay for the kids. The conductor saw this differently, and soon there was a massive argument about who exactly needs tickets immediately in front of me at the bus door. The conductor pointed out that the lady can't bring two kids on for free and expect all the other foreigners to pay, then looked at me for confirmation, which is something I felt obligated to agree with. Anyway, the bus driver let me on, then continued his fight with the woman, but not before she pushed one of the kids in the door behind me and when the bus driver pulled it back out, claimed it was my child.....riiiiiiiiight.

We arrived in the Argentine border town of La Quiaca at the beautiful hour of 5 am, an hour early and two hours before the border would open. Chilling at a wonderful 3400 meters above sea level, it was really cold there, so we grabbed our packs and headed into the station in hopes of finding something warmer. All we found was a station full of Bolivians huddled under blankets and a vile smell. Tom (the Israeli guy) and I also found that some kind of weird, hot motor-oil smelling fluid was on our packs, something I'd noticed when I pulled my jacket out in the cold and dark, but not realizing the extent. Like I said earlier: not the best bus. I was fortunate in that although I got the mystery fluid all over my bag, that where it stayed - on the outside. Tom was not so lucky, and as he pulled the pieces of clothing out of his bag, horror was written all over his face.

Before we knew it - or had fully assessed the damage to Tom's property, it was time to head towards the border, so we strapped on our packs and got going. This decision was aided by our being freezing cold, so we wanted to move. It actually was pretty cool walking through the dark city as dawn came over the horizon, and it got light really quickly, so after some pictures at the border, we were able to cross in to Villazón, the Bolivian border town.

Once you cross the border, you know right away that you are in a different country - and this country's a lot poorer. Everything's really dirty, people are trying to sell you anything that can be made from llamas at the border, and buses are ratcheted up about 4 feet in order to make it across the Bolivian "roads." And despite being a border town and transport hub, Villazón doesn't have a single ATM open to foreign cards.

We ended up camped out at the train station for a couple hours, during which time Tom fully inspected the damage to his bag - hilarious damage, I may add. Each pair of pants had a dark crotch stain, while every shirts was embellished with dark areas around the armpits. Eventually, however, our train departed, and the fun had to end. I will add, however, that the one good thing about Villazón was my first exposure to Bolivian food: for a whopping 6 Bolivianos (the name of the people and the currency...), which totals some $.75 American, I had a 2 course meal that was quite tasty. In the train (which moves at about 20 miles per hour - 9 hours to Uyuni, a grand distance of 160 km) they had a) toilets and b) TVs/movies. While either one of those may seem normal to you, believe me, in Bolivia they aren't.

The first movie they showed was "Blood Diamond" starring the always arresting Leo DiCapprio. I'd hoped that my first viewing of the film wouldn't be on small screen 35 feet away with incomprehensible audio, but despite this I was able to enjoy the film. The second movie was some Bolivian production, and I use that term loosely: they apparently don't have audio editing equipment in the country, and much of the movie consisted of people conversing in the middle of the altiplano, in other words in the middle of nowhere and all I could hear was the wind in the microphone. This was topped only by the scenes in "Buenos Aires," which were actually a Bolivian pig stall. At that point I wished they didn't have TVs in the train.

We finally arrived in Uyuni at shortly before 1 in the morning. One of the things about Bolivian public transportation that makes it so special is that all departure and arrival hours are at the most horrid times imaginable. In this case, I than had to find a hostel , and after following some Israelis for a while in an unsuccessful attempt to find a hostel with heating, I went to the HI. It was slightly warmer there than outside, and that did the trick for me.

the MAAM - or how national identity can evolve

While I was in Salta , I also visited a number of museums, including a very new - and quite well done - one by the name Museo de Archaelogia de Alta Montaña, the MAAM (Museum of Archaeology of High Mountain Areas.... the English acronym of MAHMA just isn't that sexy, is it? Does that reflect the fact that Argentine ladies are generally more sexy than English one? I don't know, but feel free to weigh in on this subject in the comments section). This museum is so new it isn't in most guidebooks, although it should be. On the one hand, it has a number of excellent exhibition items, but almost more interestingly, it illustrates how Argentina's attitude viz-á-viz its own history is changing, particularly regarding the original indigenous inhabitants of the southern cone.

The reason the museum was created was for an Incan ice-mummy that originates in the Salta region. The Incas had this crazy thing where they made human sacrifices, though not on the scale of, say, the Aztecs, although their way of doing it was pretty loco. First the kids - and I mean children, usually between 6 and 12 - would be selected from different regions of the huge empire and be blessed by the Inca (emperor) during the Inti Rami (sun festival) in June in Cuzco. From there, the children, priests, and entourage would walk in a straight line to the sacrificial sight - straight across rivers, through valleys and over mountain tops, and whoever has seen the landscape here knows that isn't easy today with mountaineering equipment. (In the meantime, Jeremy Piven would be handling the logistics.) These sacrificial sites were of course significant in their own right - they lay atop the highest peaks in the Andes, usually above 6000 meters over sea level. The peaks were both home to gods, and also these high peaks were revered as deities themselves by the Incas. Although northern Argentina was among the furthest places from Cuzco still in the Incan empire, a disproportionate amount of these sacrifices took place in what is now Argentina, because some of the highest mountains in the Andes are there, including Aconcagua, which is the highest peak in the Americas although no sacrifices have been found there.
The little girl that is housed in the MAAM was first unearthed in the 1930s, but then sold to a collector in Buenos Aires, where she was soon forgotten and badly abused. Eventually, it was purchased at a yard sale in the mid nineties for an astounding U$S 25 - that's right, the same price as two movie tickets and a medium popcorn, and a far better investment considering that the buyer received an invaluable archaeological artifact that to locals is a semi-goddess. The museum was created to house her remains and explore the Inca influence in what today is Argentina.

The museum emphasizes the continuity of the belief system that led to the girl's being sacrificed, which among peasant indigenos in the area are still maintained. In fact, videos that form part of the display have interviews with campesinos who talk about how the girl's spirit appealed again and again to local people to return her body home during her decades in exile. According to these locals, those visions and dreams have discontinued since the body's return to Salta, although she did appear to one woman to thank her and affirm her spirit is back at rest. The exhibits also emphasize t he girl as a person, on not simply an object to be stared at, and so the room in which she is displayed is treated like a tomb: visitors are asked to remove hats and keep their voices low. Moreover, she isn't lit all the time, but visitors push a button that lights her up for several seconds.
Speaking of that lighting button, it's actually quite funny: There is a thick panel of glass, and behind it darkness. Since most museum exhibits aren't right up against the display screen, most visitors lean down and really close to the glass before pushing the button - only to find themselves 3 inches from the girl's half-decayed face, with her mouth and eyes torn wide open, screaming. I think it's about as cos e to a horror flick as any museum will take you. I certainly jumped at that, then decided to hang around the room and see what others' reactions would be. I wasn't disappointed, as most visitors not only jumped back from the glass, but most the girls would scream, also. I know the museum organizers wanted to give the girl dignity by keeping her obscured, but the result seems rather counterproductive.

I think the approach of the museum, particularly acknowledging the girl's continued importance to local peoples, is a tremendous step forwards for Argentina. This after all is the country that a) managed to kill almost all black descendants of slaves in a war with Paraguay and where many people say that if they're black, they simply can't be Argentine because there are no black Argentines, b) waged a war of extinction against indigenous peoples, know as the Conquista del Desierto, that today would probably be condemned as genocide, and c) not only has Catholicism as a state religion, but continues to ban all forms of abortion (and where many feel embarrassed to buy condoms!) and pays the country's bishops out of state coffers.
In essence, government money is supporting something that implicitly (or even explicitly) acknowledges - and even emphasizes - the country's polyethnic and polyreligious past and present. This goes along with the generational gap I've observed in how Argentines perceive themselves, with youngsters feeling more connected to the rest of South America than to Europe, and decrying anti-Bolivianism as outright racism, hypocrisy in a country that itself has indigenos and needs to embrace its Latino identity. Sure, much of this is the result of Argentines coming to terms with their new found economic position in the world (way farther down, and no longer on par with countries from Southern Europe or akin to the USA, and now being outperformed by Brazil and, even more so, Chile) that in many ways have made it more South American, but the affects are as much cultural as anything else.

Barney Gomez a.k.a. Barney Gumble

As I couldn't remember if we (and by that I mean Brad and Ben and I) had visited Salta during our foray to northern Argentina on fall break 04 other than to catch the Cope Libertadores match, I decided to check it out. After all, everyone speaks well of it. A 24 hour bus cama from Bs. As. later, I arrived. But only after tearing myself away from Buenos Aires with great difficulty.

When I arrived, I saw a city I really had no memory of whatsoever. I therefore headed towards a hostel recommended by another traveller. Of course, it turns out that there are actually 3 hostels by the same name in Salta, and I of course ended up at the wrong a.k.a. the boring one. But that didn't really matter since I would only be staying in town for one night before heading towards Bolivia and the great unknown.

One problem I encountered immediately upon arriving in the city was one of profound stupidity. Think of it as some kind of euphoria-less feeling of being stoned. Or the daze of bright sunlight on your eyes after pulling an all-nighter with Australian backpackers; read that as after drinking heavily all night. Anyway, i was entirely unable to express myself in Spanish, and even my English seemed a little off. Now, all the locals would laugh and say it's the altitude that affects all travellers; I think that's crap as Salta really isn't that high up. I think it's the combination of 24 hours on a bus, which means on and off low-quality sleep, plus hunger (the breakfast was small and not very good), plus the general damage Bs. As. did to my system are to blame. Whatever the cause may be, however, the effect was that my Spanish was greatly diminished, to the point of appearing laughable even to myself. But a nap later, this problem had dissipated, a further indication that it was not the altitude affecting me.

Rested, I thus went to explore the city. My first reaction to the city was that it seemed entirely new to me: even the beautiful central plaza and the gondola that connects downtown with a viewing mountain above the city didn't recall any memories. In fact, nothing I saw or did in Salta was at all reminiscent of 2004 - until I was on my way home after dinner that night, that is. I was looking at a little map/guidebook of the kind given out by hostels and found a bar by the name of Barney Gomez, a character from The Simpsons known to anglophones as Barney Gumble. The name brought back memories of a post-rafting evening with all the trapping of being our best night out on that 04 road trip, so I decided to check out the place. Indeed, it was the same bar we visited back in the day, except that it was pretty dead. But just being there brought back some memories of that road trip that had been long forgotten, and wouldn't be appropriate here.

The next morning I decided to take the gondola to the top of the hill that sits immediately above town, on e of the main in-town tourist attractions. (There are also some nice museums, but more on that later.) The elevation going up is an extra 250 meters, i think, and you do indeed go up in the gondola much like when skiing. Anyway, from the top you have an absolutely gorgeous view of the city, and beyond it the valley that stretches down from the Andean highland towards .... well, I don't really know, but in the direction of the pampa/sea, I suppose. After all, both of those are lower than Salta, and valleys tend to have some kind of incline. I then hiked down the mountain, which made me really glad that I hadn't hiked up; it's abut 1000 steps, plus some incline parts. Unfortunatly the nature trail on the back side of the mountain was closed (for no apparent reason), so I had to be happy with the flora and fauna I saw on the descent. This wasn't particularly spectacular other than the large amount of incredibly HUGE spiders. Some were definitely larger than my hands, and not being a huge fan of arachnids, this kind of creeped/grossed me out.

Other than that though, the city is quite lovely, and not totally unlike Cordoba, in that it has a beautiful central plaza, and the rest of city is sort of a mix between older, nice buildings (including plenty of churches) and more modern, less attractive ones.

Damn you, homogeneity!

So i spent 2 days trying to get a falafel lunch in Palermo at a place the the whole study abroad crowd frequented.... and by frequented, I mean pretty much camped out in once we had discovered it. The reason I so desperately wanted falafel is that it is one of my favorite foods. Moreover, the food in Argentina is best summed up in the following two adjectives: repetitive and bland. So i had been pining for a good falafel and some hot sauce for quite a few weeks, really looking forward to tucking into about 3 sandwiches the first time I'd be eating there.

Here's what you need to understand about food in Argentina: I'm not saying it isn't good, because for the most part it's absolutely delicious. The only problem is the lack of diversity, and the lack of spice. In terms of food variety, your choices are pretty basic: Steak, pizza, past, or empanadas. Moreover, the main spice the country uses is mayonnaise. Mayonnaise! In lots of cheap restaurants, they don't have salt or pepper on the tables, and when you ask for it, you may even elicit a surprised stare - and they may not even have any. Sometimes I really wonder how they even cook in that country.

I couldn't find it the first time, and thought it was just a fluke, because even though there was a place that looked a lot like it from the outside, it sold empanadas, so I didn't go in. Then after spending the following day's lunch time looking for it again, I decided to go into the empanada place, and indeed it was the former Lebenese restaurant, complete with the stairs and bathroom in the same places, but nothing even remotely vegetarian or spicy on the menu. I was pretty upset, but even more so, disappointed. In a city already teeming with empanada places, why not remove the only cheap and accessible Halal food place and replace it with something you can get on every street corner!

Home Sweet Home

I took an overnight bus from Cordoba to Buenos Aires, where i arrived early in the morning. There were several minor problems facing me when I arrived: Even though I had tried to book a bed at Milhouse Hostel - recommended to me by both Looney and a very experienced backpacker - they had somehow not received my first request and thus I didn't yet have a place to stay for the first 3 days. I also hadn't been in touch with my host family from study abroad, Josefina and Nacio, because when I got back to the States after the semester, my computer with the email addresses had been stolen; and since it was 6.30 in the morning, I didn't feel like it was an appropriate time to stop by for a surprise visit. Moreover, I didn't really have a game plan for what I wanted to do while in Bs As, except for my desire to eat falafel at our "establishment" up in Palermo (more on that adventure in another post).

Anyway, I hauled my rear end to Milhouse anyway, thinking they might reserve some beds just for stop-ins (a.k.a. people who just show up) since many hostels do this. Unfortunately, they do not. However, another person had recommended a hostel around the corner from there, which for all its other charms has the unfortunate nomer "The Clan House." However, I can certify that no Imperial Wizards or the like are hiding out there: it's just yet another example of Argentines' trouble with the English language, where certain phrases just don't carry over. I ended up really liking the feel of the hostel and more importantly, the people living there, so I stayed there for most of my time in Bs. As. even returning after my 3 nights at the Milhouse, which I found overly institutional and was populated by about 90% English and Irish. Coincidentally, I ran into the group of travelling Englishmen (and -woman) that have been trailing me around the continent: from checking into Casa Roja in Santiago on the same day to seeing them in Pucón, Puerto Varas, sharing a hostel in Chiloe, and the Bs. As., it's getting a little weird. They're good people though, so it's ok - though like many British travellers in these parts, they speak little Spanish and drink a lot.

Anyway, the first day in Bs As I decided to take a look at Plaza Francia/Recolleta and the design center there (my favorite shops in the world? probably...) and on the way back stopped by and luckily found both Nacio anf Fina at home, so hung out there for a couple hours catching up with them. Since it was Friday, Nacio said he'd drum together the old gang at their new bar, and we'd try to make it an early night. As it were, it was an early night for Argentines - we met at 12.30 am. I think I got home at 8.30 am.

I spent most of my 9 days in the city visiting old haunts and just generally walking around parks and visiting museums. Then, on the weekends, hanging out with Nacio and the other guys I met through him during my study abroad time there, which was awesome, and the best part of being in Bs. As. During my time there, I realized that the city really does feel almost like home to me. I realized that I've spent about as much time living in Buenos Aires as I have in London, and my knowledge of London is hardly any better than that of Buenoas Aires. Plus, which my various accents in various languages, I probably get no more strange looks - less actually - in Argentina than I do in London. And because I speak like a porteño, I don't get messed with like i do in the UK for having an American accent, people expect that I know the city. So hopefully, one of these days I can get a job in Buenos Aires and spend another couple months - if not years - there.

Cordoba

Cordoba is known for its UNESCO world-heritage site status and its many prestigious universities, particularly the O.G. of Argentine universities, the Jesuit University that was among the first in South America. This university was later shut down but then reopened a hundred years or so later, after the Spanish crown - which had kicked the Jesuits out of all of Latin America - no longer controlled the country.
In Argentina, it is also known for the beauty of its residents, if such a thing is even possible in that country (for those that don't know, Argentines are considered attractive despite their preference for the mullet haircut).

My personal response to Cordoba is disappointment: although there are some nice areas of historic buildings, most of the city is quite modern. This isn't to say that attending the university int he historic buildings wouldn't be spectacular, it's just that relative to the size of the city (1 million) a few building don't really weigh in heavily. As for the cordobesas - because i was only in town for a short while, and during the week, i really didn't get to meet any, since most of downtown is full of students who come from all over the country. Moreover, my argie friends tell me that what makes them sexy are their accent and inflection in speech. As a result, I think that special something is unlikely to be picked up on by foreigners. This reminded me of one of the many lessons gleaned from all those anthropology classes I took as part of my major: Sex and sexuality with all they entail are, like race, cultural constructs.

Also, the city sounded like it was in the middle of a civil war. There were constantly loud bangs that sounded like cannon shots. The reason for this was an ongoing protest by remis drivers, who blocked roads with their vehicles, burnt tires on the road, thew eggs at those remises that didn't join their protest, and burnt tires in the middle of intersections. They also besieged the municipal government's building so there was a constant stand-off between drivers and heavily armed riot police. That's when they weren't sitting on curbs drinking fernet and cola and verbally harassing the female traffic wardens.

For whatever Cordoba lacked otherwise, it made up for in the people I met. Principally, there were Paul, Frank and Kendal. Frank and Paul are British, Kendal is Australian, and Frank and Kendal are engaged. The two of them are travelling around the world from London on their way to Oz, where they will be married. Paul decided to join them for some time in Latin America as a way to spend time with them. Anyway, they are buena onda as they say in Argentina. The last evening in town, before catching our respective buses, we went out for a steak dinner. The food was delicious, and the steaks were huge - so large in fact that I couldn't finish mine or I would have missed my bus, which I just barely made as it was. I think this was the best steak I had in my entire time in Argentina. And as Frank pointed out regarding the size of our bife de chorizos (sirloin steaks): "It was about the size of a newborn baby...... roughly."

Hard feelings?

The Argentines are none-too-happy about how IMF support eroded their country.

At least that's how they see it. Under President Menem in the 1990s, Argentina pursued an open economic policy that favored foreign direct investment. As it turned out, many businesses were bought up, and so the Argentines feel that they were forced to sell out on their own assets to protect the IMF loans, which eventually they ended up defaulting on anyway.

However, I think economists see the situation somewhat differently: It was the unsustainable currency-exchange board that locked the Arg. Peso 1:1 with the US$ that ran the country into ruin, because businesses' costs weren't equal to actual value. Moreover, the corruption surrounding the abandonment of the fixed rate angered many, but was no more than emblematic of the great corruption under Menem's economic regime. But when everyday Argentines saw their assets depreciate by 70% in 24 hours, saw their bank accounts frozen so the government could appropriate the money in a last-ditch effort to service debts, saw the political leaders and their cronies flee with immense wealth, and saw their once wealthy country decimated, factories shut, the public sector's workers unpaid for months, and no politicians willing to step up to the challenge, that they came to associate all these policies - whether good or bad, actually imposed by the IMF or not - with that organization and rejected it.

Now I can see both sides: On the one hand, I understand the value of the IMF as a last-resort lender to countries at risk for debt default. I also understand criticism of the IMF that says in the case of Argentina, it should have force the Menem government to give up the fixed exchange rate, as it simply wasn't viable in the long run. What's the point of structural adjustment if you aren't willing to make the dumbest of all ideas part of history?

Well,regardless of what I think, those former middle-class teachers and professionals now living on the street in Argentina have little love for the IMF. It has some of the best educated cab drivers in the world - often university educated, articulate, travelled and intelligent. But because all of this, popular culture in Argentina remains angry at the IMF. Just check out the above artwork, displayed at Mendoza's municipal museum for modern art, and entitled The Queen of the IMF.

Bingo and other on-board entertainment

So on my bus from Mendoza to Cordoba - which despite the poor geographic logic of going there before heading to Buenos Aires was my next stop - we spent the first hour playing. In this case, we played a bastardized form of bingo that took about 5 times as long as it normally does, because before the bus steward (yup, like on a plane) made the passengers guess what number he had drawn before actually calling out the number.

The above is just one of the many forms of "entertainment" provided on public transport in Latin America. here's a short list of others:
Chile - Steven Sigal movies; best when 3 are played immediately in a row, revealing that the story line is always the same: terrorists threaten America, Steven kicks ass despite impossible odds.
Argentina - by far the best movies and entertainment; if you're lucky, you will catch both a good movies (as in: from the last 6 months and running for an Oscar) and an aspiring stand-up comic - the steward.
Bolivia - indio-pop music blared on bad speakers for a long time against the wishes of every single passenger. Another highlight is Bolivia cinema, although this cannot be found on the buses, which have neither TVs nor bathrooms, but is played on the trains. These movies are just plain horrible, make no sense, and they can't edit sound, so you have no idea what people are saying since it's all filmed in the altiplano, and all you hear is the wind on the microphones. For visual entertainment on buses, here are your options: Watch the landscape go by - very amazing; play spot'em - from whom is the smell originating, and what is it? Fecal matter? Coca leaf? Urine? Industrial solvent?; Watch people pee - the lack of sanitation in this country means people take care of business outside, whether your fellow passengers or people on the side of the road. My favorite so far was a little boy in Potosí, in the middle of the city street, pants around his ankles, scratching his head and his butt. He turned to walk away and fell into the dirt. Priceless.

I'll let you all know what they do in Peru when I get there.

On Mendoza

Just a really quick note on Mendoza: It's a really beautiful place, I happen to think it's one of the more attractive places around. It's not that the architecture is spectacular, because it most certainly isn't, but rather each street is lined by trees, there are sort of streams that run in gullies along the sidewalks, and they have some very nice plazas and parks evenly distributed throughout the city. Particularly the central plaza is nice: there is a free museum underground displaying modern art by various Mendocinos, and outside there is an open air market that has artisan crafts from jewelry to bottle holders. At the same time, bands play in the little amphitheater, and various street performers are all around the plaza, showing of their various acts. It's really nice in the evenings.

I'm cured!

Ever since arriving in South America, other travelers have been telling me to chill out - apparently I was constantly on the move, or when I was sitting, I couldn't sit still. Anyway, I think this is because of all the work I did in the year before travelling, with balancing IFPRI/Google/ultimate, and then all the double shifts in London. Once I got down here, I always felt that if I wasn't doing something, I was disappointing myself and others, which is a pretty ridiculous notion since this is my trip and I can do or not do whatever I please. As you might imagine, this made the travelling quite grating, and not so pleasant at times, since I always was exhausted.

Once I checked into the hostel in Mendoza, I met a bunch of Chileans and Argentines who were just relaxing in their last days before university or job vacations were to end. After watching me for a day or two, they took it upon themselves to make me relax and get into a more latino pace of life. Well, thanks to their intervention, I have since been able to just hang for a day, not stress too much and maybe just spend an afternoon watching Champions League matches and having a cold beer.

In continuing this theme, I went to the mountains above Mendoza, ad stayed in a small town by the name of Uspallata, where I pretty much just read, lounged in the little river they have, and one day made an excursion to the Puente del Inca, a rock and sulfur formation that spans a river about 2800 meters above sea level. The myth is that the Inca was bringing his sick son to a healer but couldn't cross the river, so his soldiers formed a human bridge over the gap and then turned into the rock formation. It also has some hot thermal sulfur baths that are great for the skin. Or at least had....

Upon arriving at the Puente, it turned out that it has been closed for foot traffic for about a year and a half now. Apparently, the 300,000 visitors a year crossing the bridge have structurally weakened it, and they fear eventual collapse. Moreover, because the thermal baths are on the other side, there really isn't much to do there anymore. So, if you're going to Mendoza - make the Puente part of one of those all day tours where you'll only spend 20 or 30 minutes there.