The Troubles

Here in the North periodically in conversations you will hear a reference to in one way or another to "The Troubles." A casual and innocuous mention of the period of 30 years of bloodshed between Irish Catholics/Nationalists and Protestant/Unionists.
Need a little background?--being the ethnocentric Americans we are, I bet we could all use a brief and broad summation (I apologize in advance for the gross generalizations). Well, when Ireland gained its status as a "free state" in 1922, the compromise was that big bad colonial Great Britain would retain 6 counties in the north of Ireland, which to this day is considered part of the United Kingdom. Eventually, years later when Ireland became a Republic, many Irish wanted ALL of the island to be part of it, including some of the people in the UK controlled northern Ireland. They are called Republicans or Nationalists. For years, the para-military face of this sentiment was the Irish Republican Army or IRA. They have since partially broken off into splinter groups but in terms of violence have been relatively quiet for the last decade. Besides the distinction of being nationalists, they are predominately Catholic as well.
On the other side of the fence, literally, are the Protestants. Here is the "Peace Wall" in West Belfast seperating the Catholic and Prostestant working class neighborhoods.

Now these people would like to maintain their ties with Great Britain and are referred to as Loyalists or Unionists. Their para-military faces are many but the big ones are the Ulster Volunteer Force (UVF) and Ulster Defence Association (UDA). At the hands of "volunteers" of these groups and the IRA and its off-shoot organizations, many pretty grim atrocities have occured over the past years in Belfast and around Ireland.

Still with me? Well, if you are thirsty for a better understanding hit up Wikipedia.com. You know the drill.

Anyways, last Saturday my friends from Dublin and I decided to take a tour down Falls Road (Catholic) and the Shankill Road (Protestant). We went one of the ubiquitous black taxis, whose drivers often specialize in giving tourists the run-down on the conflict. Obviously for me it was all new information and sights. This also was the case with my two friends from Dublin, one of whom had only visited Belfast in her youth and recalled being terrified the whole time. My Belfast born friend June was a bit more up to speed with the past events. The Troubles narrowly missed tragically affecting her family in the 80's, when her mother was hurriedly ushered from her car after a car bomb exploded nearby, followed shortly after she left her car by a bomb in the car next to hers.
The taxi driver, was pleasant and informative during the 90 minute tour, but lost marks on subjectivity. His partiality to the IRA cause was most evident in the praising remarks of the IRA "volunteers", who according to him, died as matyrs for their cause. He seemed reluctant to take us to the Protestant part of town saying that his taxi company had only been travelling within the area for the last 18 months as they had received threats. Hearing the propaganda tour, I was not surpised by this. Although it would have been the same way had we gotten into a Protestant run taxi.
Located all around these two streets are political murals glorifying the murderers from both causes and spewing divisive religous material. Ugly scars of ignorance and intolerance. Is this really 2009 in Western Europe!. Just some good ol' church going folks hatin' on each other. A conflict, the same constant, a different country.



Luckily this type of foul shit is located in one part of Belfast and if you didn't seek it out, you would never see the likes of it. Although for some, sentiments still run high and I am always aware of my terminology when describing things. British, Irish, Ireland, United Kingdom.

Human,
Brian

Belfast 2

Alright back to life here. I have been fortunate in my setup. Like I said, I live above one of the restaurants and occasionally my commute to work is 14 stairs. The flat is situated near a major university and in a neighborhood with most of Belfast's eateries and pubs. Most importantly is my proximity to a cheap but amazing Chinese Buffet. 154 paces. Pretty much like putting a glue-sniffer next to an Elmer's factory. After slowly weaning myself off before the trip and being without for most of it, I am back on buffet gorging wagon. Oh sweet Chinese.

Some thoughts on my adjustment here. Let's talk about language. Yes, we speak the same, which is sometimes unfortunate because it leaves me no excuse for miscomphrehension due to the distortion of some heavy accents. Sometimes the only cues I have for what my reaction should be to what was being said is the number of F-Bombs dropped in the sentence. Only 5, I usually nod approvingly. Upwards of 15, I usually feel that it was something that I should be angry/shocked/disbelieving, so I just shake my head with a frown and hope they don't realize that didn't pick up on what was actually said. What is nice here is being called "love" by someone you just met. In regular everyday conversations, having an old lady call "love" usually gives me the false impression that I have already succesfully integrated into life in the North.

Ok back to the flat for a moment. When I moved in the place contained a few food stores. Some horribly expired, but edible all the same. One of which is a Sam's Club type case of cheddar crackers. I have been doing my best to take advantage of the bounty, so if anyone has any good recipes that incorporate Ritz-esque crackers, please shoot them my way. This is your cue Matt Kopp.

Well crap, I need to wake up earlier as I just cant manage to get off more than a couple paragraphs before work. More when I can.


O'Brien


Oh and anyone fancying a chat up, my cell number here is (from the US): 00447546103258 (Dont forget about the time difference:) Mailing address available upon request (there are a few Blogstalkers I am afraid of).

Hiding Out in Belfast

It used to be said in traveling that you should avoid the three B's--Beirut, Baghdad, and Belfast (Branson, MO should've probably been in there too). Well, only Baghdad is still left unexplored but dont think I will be getting to that anytime soon. As for Belfast, from what I have heard, even during the worst of what people here refer to at "The Troubles," or the 30 years of sectarian violence before the 1998 peace agreement and cease-fire between the IRA and the Protestant/Loyalist factions, the place was never anymore dangerous for foreigners than any other U.S. city. But lore and media hype will prevail and when I arrived to Belfast last week to meet the guy I will be working for, I can't say I wasn't a wondering what the hell, when he and his right hand man Malachy, showed me the flat I will be staying in and this AK-47 was sitting on the floor. A curiousity got over me pretty quickly you could say and I picked it up to examine, noticing its weight and metalic feel while doing so. Not until I pulled the slide on it did I notice that it was an airsoft BB gun--Ha!

Have been in Belfast for under a week and already really enjoying the place. As I this stay will be alot longer than my usual 3 day jaunt somewhere, I will try and give you a more descriptive picture of where I am at and what I am doing. Came up here to work for my friend's dad, who owns a couple restaurants. He has put me to work with his man Malachy and so far we have been mostly working on various projects needed between the two places. One restaurant is a popular cafe/diner type located in the heart of the city center. A 15 minute walk from there, located in what is called South Belfast, is the other restuarant is an up-scale eatery with a piano player crooning most nights. Above this lies the flat I now reside in. (got to finish this blog later today as I have to report to the old 925. Later BQ)

America's Day in Dublin

Finally, 2 years worth of seeminly endless big talk and promises by both political parties has at last ceased, leaving only room for the impossible walk of one man. Can this man shoulder the weight? I don't know, but the kids of Balbriggan Elementary School sure think so.
Inauguration Day was spent with three different classes of 7 to 8 year-olds, explaining the trials and tribulations of being an American, focusing mostly on hamburgers and Obama. I mean, these kids could not hear enough of the man. They were more fanatical than the Japanese over Michael Jackson. I came to the school to instill a little curiousity about the U.S in the kids and instead left feeling like I had just attended a pep rally given by the kids for America. I guess from a PR standpoint, this bodes well for America, although I was bit disturbed about current perceptions coming from young minds abroad. When I asked the classes what did they think about when they thought of America, I swear my first 2 responses were "cash" and "limos," followed not long later by a "Guantanamo Bay." I gave a glance like to the teacher like What are you teaching these kids?and informed them that Gitmo was closing and we were sending all the prisoners to Ireland. After the teacher excused the 3 kids that wet their pants, we went on to talk more about the relationship between Ireland and America (there are 44 Million Irish-Americans and only 4 Million people in the Irish Republic itself). We also discussed the differences in English language usage and spelling, which resulted in an in-class argument between myself and teacher friend Niamh about which is the universally correct spelling of words like color (colour). I obviously won when I told the kids they couldn't come to America to get their cash and limos until they started dropping their "U"s.
The kids themselves were amazingly bright and inquisitive. Due to a recent immigration influx to Ireland, more than half the class hailed from Eastern Europe and Africa yet they were all learning to speak Irish (Gaelic) and all seemed to be assimilating well to their new life in Ireland. Although, after the rousing speach about America, I should probably notify US Immigration about a surge coming our way in about 10 years of so.



After my work at school was done, I put on a little America party at my friend's house just to drive home the point about how life in the U.S. is tops. After forcing down homemade hamburgers, chicken wings, and Budweiser on the very suspecting guests, I think it was apparent to all that life in America is the best. At least that's what I think and that's all that matters anyways.

Just moved up to Belfast yesterday and I think I am going to like it. More on that later.

BQ

Ireland

I've been over here in the Republic of Ireland for over a week--seen alot, learned a bit, enjoyed it all. Upon arrival, I was put up by my friend Niamh Grogan's family in the northern suburb of Swords. Spent the next several days assimilating into Irish culture by developing a taste for stout beer, swearing up a fecking storm, and receiving an informal education on Irish history at the Grogan dinner table. Friend's Niamh G., Niamh D., and June have been doing a good job of showing me the ropes here in the Republic and I feel pretty comfortable in my new digs, although this is to change soon with my departure to Belfast this week.


Although a bit cost prohibitive, we have taken a few tours around Temble Bar and some other Dublin pubs. Made the mandatory tour of Guinness Brewery with Niamh's brother and a friend and while there interviewed by local TV. Made a bit of a fool of myself, but we negiotated a free round from the reporter so it was worth it.
After almost a week with the Grogan's, I traded families and moved in with the Delaney's, who live in Balbriggan. I am getting stuffed with great food and stories, which I will grudgingly leave when I head to Belfast.
Also, been slowly trying bring some normalcy back into my life. Literally shed a few pounds when I volunteered to be a haircut guinea pig, and received a free €60 cut at the Toni & Guy Saloon Academy. It took almost 2 hours to basically get myself a military cut, but hey, I'm pretty rich in time. Have also upgraded my wardrobe from the transient look to the local pauper look courtesy of some discount and thrift stores. This all in preparation for my new life in The North.

Heading up there on Wednesday to meet my friend June's dad, who supposedly is going to have me manage one of his restuarants there and some other miscellaneous tasks. I really hope this is the case, as my frequent sighting of Dublin's beggars wearing designer clothes has put a scary face onto this recession.
In Belfast, I will have my own apartment above the restuarant and probably a phone, so all can call and bother me. Will send the info on that when it comes.

In a bit of odd news here, the second night we were watching TV at the Grogan's house, an Irish travel channel did a special on Tom and Mariela's Lodge in Ecuador (can be seen by going here: The Lodge; and clicking on "No Frontiers: Quito--fast forwarded to the middle of it. Was also weird, because these friends were the ones who visited Petro and I while we were working at the Lodge. Then later on that same night, a show called "Tribal Wives" aired on the BBC, which was a special on the Huaorani. It was filmed in the village Bameno, which Joe and I visited for a few days during the our Amazon stay and showed some of Hauo that we were staying with there. It was a bit surreal to have my last year's major experiences broadcasted on TV. I Alhtough I wont start getting worried unless I see a special on bums hanging out at Syrian monastaries.

The inauguration hype has hit this island as well and I am posing as an ambassador of American goodwill tomorrow when I will be speaking about all things America to a few classes at the primary school Niamh teaches at. Those kids have no idea about the brainwashing they are going to receive. Will try and document some of it for you.


Your agent of progress,
Quarnstrom

PS. I broke down the blog posts into countries categories on the right side of the blog, for retro-reading with ease.

The Turkey Recap

Hey all, just finishing up the business of Turkey today and when start updating you on life in Ireland as it is thrown at me. For those of you sick of my information and description deficent posts, here is another great play by play from Beth:
******
So I’ve been asked to describe the rest of the trip, not sure why b/c I’m not that great of a writer, but I assume it’s because of my extreme attention to detail (sorry so long again) that he doesn’t want to bother with.

I’ll try and pick up where we left off. However, I feel I should comment on the latest entry detailing the later parts of New Years Eve. Mom, Brian made this sound much worse. He was actually saved by me, but he used one of his mulligans (won during one of the many games of gin rummy we played) to refer to me as the “police” to save face. Even though the Blu Blockers were saved, my sunglasses (and the disco ball) did not make it home, small price to pay.

So we spent the good part of the day in the internet café last time I wrote, waiting for an overnight bus to Sulcuk, the town outside of Ephesus. This bus wasn’t as bad as the last one, but still was uncomfortably hot. We arrived in Sulcek around 9 welcomed by a downpour. We were quickly approached by a hostel worker recruiting us for a nights stay and agreed after taking a short tour of the place. We booked another 2-bedroom style room and played cards in the room to ride out the storm b/c what we were really there for were the ruins in Ephesus. Around noon the rain stopped and it turned out to be a really nice day. Our hostel worker dropped us off at the ruins site about 3km away. You are dropped in front of (big surprise) a string of market shops that sold genuine fake watches and you have to make your way to the entrance. Once inside there are tons of ruins and pillars scattered about. Not having any real idea of what we were looking at and me wanting to be the best research assistant I could be, I rented an audio guide and got map.

So areas are just labeled with numbers and you just hit the corresponding number on your guide and it’s supposed to explain what you’re looking at. It wasn’t too incredibly informative, but did offer some insight. Although after a while though I think Brian was sick of me saying “600BC, ancient theater, Hellenistic period, blah, blah, blah” so we tried to share the headset. It was pretty neat at the beginning of the tour there were sheep grazing on the mountain in the distance and you could hear the constant sound of their bells. So you basically walk through the ruins and along the pathways and come to the entrance or what use to be to The Roman Celsus Library built 125AD. However, due to the frequent earthquakes in the area it’s been rebuilt several times. I think this was the neatest thing there, but maybe because I kept seeing pictures of this thing in books, and it was very bizarre to actually be standing in front of it. With the help of Wikipedia, I’ve learned that it used to hold 12,000 scrolls and was built with an exaggerated entrance as to enhance its perceived size. The theater just past the library was also pretty neat. The audio guide says it sat 24K people, but Wikipedia says 44K. Either way is was a pretty huge theater still relatively intact. Of what I can remember it’s one of the largest, if not the largest, outdoor theater from the ancient times. What was probably most amazing were the acoustics. Brian would be on the stage and I would be sitting half way up and could hear him perfectly with him speaking in a normal voice. So that was about it for the ruins, then we thought since it was such a nice day we wanted to walk back to Sulcek. This idea did not last long as we were walking on a highway with little shoulder space and not much of a view. Next thing I know Brian is encouraging me to hop on the back of a (still moving) tractor. Putting the total hitch-hike count to 2.

The rest of the day we wandered around town, got a closer look at the castle, had an amazing salami cheese sandwich, and we headed back to the hostel. That night we headed out to some of the same streets we had walked earlier in search for some dinner. It was still relatively early in the night so we decided it wouldn’t hurt to start with a beer somewhere. I suggested a place I saw earlier in the day on our way to the ruins so we made our way over to that bar. It looked like a normal bar on the outside with neon lights and a beer sign. However, within seconds of entering we figured out I had lead us to the town whorehouse, literally. It was pretty dark inside and there were probably only a couple of other guys in there and then a table of 4 skimpily dressed ladies all eying what would walk into the door next. The waiter brought us our drinks and we people watched for a little bit and made our way out. I guess I can check that off my bucket list. So we found a place for dinner and met a nice British couple that just bought a house in Turkey. We got talking and they offered to drive us to Meryeamana (house of Mary) the next day. So the next day we hopped in with them and then they took us on a scenic drive through-out the mountains and farming villages in the area. During our drive we stumbled upon the coast of the Aegean Sea. It was so beautiful. The colors of the water were comparable to the colors in Bahamas, which for some reason was surprising to me. Anyway, after this we were headed to another bus to Bursa, though this one was only about 6 hours and not so hot. When we got there we had to take a bus and then a mini-bus to get to our couchsurfer’s apartment and arrived about 11. Brian had explained the couchsurfing thing to me but I was waiting to see it for myself. Our hosts turned out to be so welcoming and friendly. They met us at our stop and walked us back home, stopping for some food to make at their house b/c we hadn’t eaten dinner. It was a young couple still in college and during exam week. So that night we basically talked with them a little, got to know them, ate and went to bed. The next day we ventured into the city taking again a series of mini-buses and trams to get downtown. We were using an elaborate hand drawn map our hosts provided for us the night before, even labeling things as unimportant as trees. We again wandered around a little before deciding we wanted to take a cable car up the nearby mountain. After that we headed to the bath house. So I know Brian already described this a little, but as requested I’ll do some of my own. I walk in and no one immediately greats me so I have to figure out which woman hanging out in the lounge works here. I try for about 5 min (which doesn’t sound long but trust me it was) to explain that I want a massage. I was imagining Brian whizzing right through this first step with ease, so was happy to hear I was not the only one who had troubles. When that was straightened out she lead me to a small shower sized room with a little bed to change into (what I thought I was supposed to), my swimsuit. Keep in mind this room looks into the lounge I was just in, with an open door, with all old women walking around topless. So after changing into my polka dot swimsuit I’m lead to another room with a large heated marble stone table in the middle. Around the edges are ‘personal sinks’ low to the ground for people waiting to be massaged/scrubbed on the stone. The lady takes me through this room (where I get weird stares from all others, I assume b/c I had my top on) to a sauna. So in the 15 minutes that I’m sitting in the sauna, about to pass out waiting to be retrieved, I get enough courage to take my top off. Kinda like Charlotte in that one episode on Sex in the City. I’ll assume most guy readers wont get this, but I’ll just say kinda freeing. I eventually determine it’s up to me to leave the sauna when I want and I go and wait by one of the ‘personal sinks’ in the large room. I was the third person to go, so I sat there for what felt like forever just watching the other people get massaged and used a Tupperware thing provided to dump hot water over myself while waiting. I felt like a little kid in the tub. Then it’s my turn, I’m directed to lay face down on the stone while the lady using a hand glove as a scrubber and she takes an embarrassing number of layers of skin off. Just want to remind you this lady is probably in her 50s, in an old underwear-ish looking thong, and that’s it. She doesn’t speak English, but slaps my butt when she wants me to flip over, grabs the sides of my swimsuits bottoms to slide me around on the marble for me to move, and ‘re-arranges’ my swimsuit bottoms to get all areas. At one point, my head was in this ladies lap while her boobs are pretty much draped over my face while she is scrubbing my chest. When done scrubbing she rinses you. Then massages you again this time using soap and washes your hair, and then another rinse. Pure heaven! We made our way back to our ‘house’ where we met the other 2 couchsurfers that were staying the night with us. All 6 of us headed out to hang with some of our hosts friends at a local café where we just talked and had tea. The next morning Brian and I woke early to catch the bus/ferry back to Istanbul for our last night in Turkey. Upon our return we checked into the same hostel we had previously stayed and headed back to the bazaar for some last minute gifts. Brian stopped for a shave and I picked up some beers and we hung out at the hostel for a bit before we headed out for the last supper. We decided to hit a different area for dinner this night, one around Taxsim Square, a trendier and very busy area with tons of shops and restaurants. After dinner while walking back to our side of the town, we came across a Turkish soccer bar that was erupting in the final minutes of a game. So we stopped in to take in the atmosphere. Finally we made our way back to the bar we wanted to get to, the same one we went to our first night. We hung out with our hostel owner, Jon, who showed up and some other travelers while listening to some great American music. Brian also talked me into taking some sort of shot that was lit on fire in my mouth, another first for me.

All in all, it was a great trip, one of the best for me. Thanks to Brian for letting me tag along on part of his trip. He makes traveling look so easy and definitely so much fun. Hopefully, I can make another leg for more great adventures and experiences. I would highly recommend anybody thinking about doing it, to just go for it!

Cheers!

~BW
*************************************************

Ya see,another friend meets up and returns relatively unscathed. Whose next?

Just to add the last of my Turkey business.

After Beth flew off in the morning, I spent the rest of the day killing time before my flight--mostly discarding extra crap outta my bag in an attempt to make the ridiculous baggage weight requirement for my flight. Was partially successful in bartering a few things off. I'll trade you two mismatched socks for your granola bar....
On my tram ride to the airport I was thinking about the two amazingly cheap flights I had found to get me to Dublin (both under $100). Then I started to contemplate why these budget airlines (RyanAir & EasyJet) are able to offer practically free flights and still be profitable. Less frills. Pay for checked luggage. No lifejackets or rafts in case of a water landing as God knows no-one survives a water landing (*authors note-I was just sharing this sentiment with the Irish family I am staying with last night when not one hour later, news broke of US Airways successful landing on the Hudson River, thus confirming for the Irish family that Americans really do know nothing), and the fact that these budget airlines using fly out of obscure airports. Then I started to think about how I was heading to the Istanbul International Aiport, which was not obscure. Then I started to sweat realizing that I had not even verified that the flight was leaving from there. My suspicions were confirmed when I got there and there was no EasyJet check in. The unhelpful information desk worker stated that the other airport was in ASIA! No joke, one and a half hours away on the Asian side of Istanbul lies the other airport. With barely any time to spare I had to cab it. A ride that almost induced vomiting in said idiot, who was trying not to think about how his ride to Asia was more expensive than his ride to Ireland.
After spending a ridiculously cold night trying to catch Z's on the tiled floor of London's Luton airport, I took the 6am flight to Dublin. When I arrived in the UK the night before I was given a 6 month visa with almost no questions asked. When I arrived in Dublin, the immigration officer sized me up and sent a barrage of questions at me. After inflating my bank account to him by 95% and a few other white lies, I was given only a 3 week visa. Although, not really a problem as I will be spending most of my time in the UK side of Ireland, it does limit where I can fly out of when do leave. Not quite the kiss and hug from Ireland I was expecting, but times are tough here and I guess they dont want any riff-raff coming in and trying to work, as if someone would try and do that.
Anyways, two of my friends Niamh Grogan and Niamh Donnellan were kind enough to pick me up from the airport and take me back to the Grogan's house for an Irish fry-up. And thats were I am stopping today as my fingers hurt. More on Ireland tomorrow.

Top of Morning to you,
Bri N

New Year's Eve Revisited

Some stories need a delayed telling and this one certainly qualified for that designation. For reasons of family worry, I held onto this one until Beth was back in the U.S. and I was in a country that doesn't normally conjure up irrational CNN inspired fear. But there is a lesson learned in everything, so I feel that I must pass this one on.
I have alreadly hinted at the amazing New Year's Eve that was had in Istanbul--costumes, moustaches, disco-ball, blah, blah, blah. Well the end of the night is something that will be etched a little more deeply into my head.
Once Beth, Martha, Pete, and I were ready to leave the bar where we rocked out the New Years, we asked for our tab, which should have been fairly small as we only had a couple beers between us due to the prices there. With the revelry going on, the bar staff felt safe in adding a couple dozen beers to the tab. Some distant acquantices we briefly shared a table with were on the tab too, although they had left and paid for what they had, the bar would use this to add further confusion to their bogus bill.
We paid for the alreadly over-priced beers that we drank and told them thats all we were paying. I told the manager to call the cops as we wanted this resolved. Knowing that the ruling would be in our favor, the bartenders and managers got pretty aggressive in their shouting with me and knowing that they would not call the cops nor did we have the means to, things would not end well. I told Beth and the gang to head back to the hostel and that I would meet them there soon. After some more non-cordial coercion attempts by the bar staff, I resolved that a runner was the only way I was getting out of this situation. I bolted, and in my state, I felt I was running like the wind--Steve Prefontaine meets Jeff Foxworthy. Only stopping when I felt I was a safe distance away, I turned to see three men come out of nowhere. They were pissed and started to forcefully drag me back to the bar, although I convinced them that I would walk on my own. Knowing full well that once back, the extortion would resume, just as we got close, I turned and set off again, only this time one man had a grasp on my favorite hoodie and I had to run out of it. This time, I ran as long as my lungs would allow, which sadly turned out not to be enough. Right as I stopped to turn around and say "just kidding" I was met with a fist in the back of the head followed by the next 5 guys following suit, with their newfound courage due to their numbers. I would like to tell you that I made a few pay, but this blog speaks only in full and half-truths, and that would not fall into either. Luckily, none of these punches really had much behind them, although I did feel a little like Glass Joe in Tyson's Punch Out. Lesson #1: Contrary to popular belief, a moustache does not give you super-human strength.
After doing the old dance and dodge for the better part of a minute the police thankfully rolled up, scattered the the group and took myself and the leader of the pack into the car. Contemplating the fact that I was wearing a criminal looking upper lip accessory and a slightly vulgar T-shirt, I was wondering how this play out. This is where a language barrier really puts you at a disadvantage. But to the police's professional credit they took us both to a nearby (and fortunately impartial) shop owner to translate. Realizing the facts would soon come out about what we already paid for our bill and the 6 on 1 free for all, the lead perpetrator talked to me in a more pleading tone in the back of the police car. Although pissed about the inhumanity of their actions and the soreness of my jar, I was for whatever was going get me back to the hostel the quickest. The shop owner translated the ordeal and the police, not wanting to deal with the mess, said that if we shook hands, all parties could go home. It was done.
I declined the police's offer of a ride home and the shop owner invited me in for tea and to rehash the events. He and his friend laughed knowlingly of the events and stated that I was lucky that the police arrived when they did. He cautioned that this is not the way of Turkish men to fight 6 on 1, but rather weak men trying to feel strong. I agreed, and that is why I have not described these people as Turkish, although they were. Like the wise old sage that he was, the shopowner provided clarity and recounted his own youthful story of meeting some foreign women and being stuck with their tab at the end of the night. His advice, Lesson #2: In dealings in unfamiliar places/people, never establish a tab or credit.
Fortunately, this ordeal cost me very little (soreness aside, I did not suffer any injuries at all) and paid me well (life lessons, excitement, impromptu work-out, story to greatly exaggerate later on). I would not have such a positive outlook on the night however, if I had not, unknowingly at the time, given my Blu Blocker sunglasses to Beth for safekeeping prior to the episode. If those would have been a casualty of the night, I would never have forgiven myself or anyone else.
So, when you are doing your cardio work-out this week, do an extra 5 minutes, as you never know when you'll have an angry mob nipping at your heels.

Everyone needs a beating every now and again,
Brian

Turkish Delights

Alrıght, I just plugged myself ınto thıs contraptıon and ready to bust out a few lınes whıle I waıt to board a flıght for my overnıght sleepıng tour of London's Luton aıport followed by my arrıval ın Dublın the followıng day. I am just goıng to elaborate on a few thıngs drawn from the last couple days as Beth as promısed to provıde me wıth another detaıled laden post updatıng you on our trıp through Turkey.

After departıng the stunnıng Capadocıa regıon we headed for the town of Selcuk so we could vısıt the nearby Roman ruıns of Ephesus. Our vısıt ın low season made the sıghts there especıally nıce as we dıdn't have to shove any old ladıes or Japanese people out of our way to get the good pıcs. Later ın the evenıng we met up an older Brıtısh couple at dınner who offered to tour us around the next mornıng ın theır car. Sınce I never get ın the car wıth strangers, Beth had to convınce me that everythıng was goıng to be OK. Our fırst destınatıon wıth the Brıts was the alleged fınal home of Mary, mother of Jesus. Since my Grammy has told me that she and Mary are ın cohoots keepıng me safe on thıs trıp, I thought ıt only fıttıng that I stop by and pay my respects. The old house had been converted ınto a church, whıch was ın sessıon when we arrıved so we dıdn't get to see much other than the 'wıshıng wall' where tourısts had wrıtten theır earthly or heavenly desıres on strıps of paper, cloth, fıngernaıls, etc. and attached ıt to thıs long wall near the church. I guess sort of as a backup ın case the prayers they saıd ınsıde the church dıdn't get patched through. Always the humanıtarıan, I posted my wısh for global betterment ın two wıshes: world peace & 1 mıllıon tax free dollars. Stay tuned to see ıf that happens.



After Secuk, we bussed ıt to the mountaınous cıty of Bursa, where we were to spend 2 nıghts couchsurfıng wıth a young Turkısh couple. The second nıght, we were joıned there by two hıtchhıkıng Canadıans, brıngıng the total of people sharıng the student-sızed apartment to 6, whıch made for an ınterestıng tıme. If Beth had any doubts about the weırdness of some Couchsurfıng experıences, they were confırmed then. Besıdes the stranger slumber party, the hıghtlıght of our tıme ın Bursa was easıly our vısıt to a Hamam (Turkısh Bathhouse). Although, I hope Beth wıll delve a lıttle more deeply ın descrıbıng thıs, I would also lıke to add my thoughts. Freakıng Amazıng. Beth and I each ventured ınto the gender segregated bathhouses, where we soon tackled awkward sıgn-languaged conversatıon tryıng to lıne up the experıence. Tryıng to convey to a man, who ıs not accustomed to tourısts, that you would lıke hım to scrub and massage you ıs a real treat let me tell you.
Thıs ıs how ıt all went down. I was gıven a room to prepare myself for entry ınto the actual bathhouse. Wıthout any ınstructıons to go by, I was a bıt unsure of the proper level of nudıty requıred for thıs experıence. But I followed the rule of thumb that for almost all sıtuatıons ın lıfe, ıt ıs always better to err on the sıde of total nudıty, whıch thankfully (for ıssues of awkwardness of course) proved to be protocal there.
Fırst was the suana sessıon, followed by a confused me tryıng to ımıtate the others there by repeatedly scoopıng and pourıng water over myself. Thıs was not necessarıly correct, but soon enough a fortunately toweled old man who worked there took me over for the scrubbıng rıtual. Lıttle dıd I know thıs man and I was soon to have lıttle secrets. He furıously scrubbed me down usıng somethıng sımılıar to a loufa that you would have ın the shower, except that hıs had been used on 1,000 people before me and felt more lıke sandpaper. I wıll omıt most detaıls. After effectıvely scrubbıng the last 10 years of skın and fılth off my body, he lathered me up heavıly. Due to the nature of the experıence you may be ınclıned to pıcture thıs man as more ballet dancer ın nature, although I assure you he was all truck drıver. After about 30 mınutes bathıng and massage ın whıch, I achıeved a clean not seen on me sınce I decıded to wander ınto the neıgborhood carwash as a chıld. If thıs experıence ıs anythıng lıke beıng sponge-bathed ın an old folks home, then I am changıng my mınd about beıng sent to one later ın lıfe and wıll now null my Smother Pact* wıth Petro.

*A recommended pact that one makes wıth a good frıend agreeıng to pıllow smother the other to death, should one succumb to the ıll-effects of old age--such as bed wettıng or regular bıngo playıng.

Anyways, ıf you are ever ın Turkey or a dodgy neıghborhood elsewhere that advertıses sımılıar such experıences, I hıghly recommend a Turkısh Bath.



And now, I fınd myself ın Istanbul, mınus the recently US bound Beth, myself waıtıng on a flıght. Beth proved herself a extremely fun and enthusıastıc traveler. She dıdn't get frazzled at the roughıng up I receıved on New Years Eve (a story for later), she eagerly jumped at opportunıtıes on thıs trıp to get after all thıngs fun, and even took our mısadventure to a bar where the other women were there professıonally as opposed to socıally, wıth strıde (for the record ıt was her ıdea to venture ınto the bar). A blast to hang wıth, her comıng and goıng exemplıfıes the revolvıng door my lıfe has unfortunately become. New places, new people, new experıences. Rınse. repeat. I am ready for a lıttle routıne, whıch makes the ıdea of a few months ın one place ın Ireland all the better.




As a typıcal Ethnıcal Mutt, the better part of me ıs of Irısh herıtage, whıch makes me all the more eager to get there. As Dublın ıs one of the more expensıve cıtıes ın the world, I have caluculated that I can exıst there approxımately 73 mınutes before thıngs dıp ınto the red. Luckıly, I have been assured employment by frıends there. And when I mean
'assured' I mean theır last emaıl saıd that somethıng wıll be worked out when I arrıve....I guess you'll hear about ıt when I blog from the unemployment offıce.

Rınse. Repeat.
Q

Cappadocia

Beth has so gracıously allowed me just to post to the blog an emaıl she sent out to summarıze our tıme ın Istanbul and Cappadocıa. She asked me to convey a dısclaımer on any spellıng/grammar as she fıred ıt off quıck. I would also lıke to add a dısclaımer that the part about me cryıng ın the cave ıs absolutely not true. Enjoy.
Brıan

hey all just wanted check ın agaın and keep you all posted on our travels. not sure where ı left off but ıll start wıth new years eve. whıch was the best one ever!! ıt ıncluded wrıtıng on tshırts, party hats, home made sangrıa out of an ancıent tea pot, a dısco ball on a stıck, and fıreworks roman candle lookıng thıngs< all ınsıde the bar. we dıd some shoppıng durıng the day and wanted to get some funny outfıts bc my bag stıll hadnt arrıved. so we went to teh grand bazzar whıch ıs mıles and mıles of dıfferent type shops. people ınvıte you ınto theır shop for tea and a look around. ı got some really neat turkısh tıles, a turquıose rıng, a scarf. then we headed back to our hostel that was throwıng a pre-party. some of brıans frıends hes met from the peace corps were vısıtıng ıstanbul also from bulgarıa. so they and a few others came to party. my bag arrıved ın the meantıme. we mıxed vodka, wıne, juıce, and coke ın an old metal tea pot and started the nıght wıth cards and left rıght center and a home made versıon of catch phrase thats really fun. we had about 30 travelers sıttıng ın a tıny room but ıt was so much fun. then after the pasta dınner they served to all we headed to meet up wıth some other frıends a lıttle ways from our hostel wıth the dısco ball. our group was a hıt and got everyone there dancıng and havıng a great tıme. beers were rather expensıve 10 lyra whıch ıs about 7 bucks. usually bıg beers of Efes local beer ıs around 5. but we had so much fun and ı was thınkıng all of you were probably stıll at work at that tıme. when everyone started countıng down ıt was ın turkısh so ı had no ıdea of what number we were on but fıgured ıt out when the huge sparklers started goıng off. amazıng nıght and wıth some great people. then the next day we met up wıth the couple from bulgarıa who were sooo awesome and so fun one from detroıt and the other from new jersey pete and martha. we went to an out of the path restaurant for lunch. we got lentıl soup that came wıth the endless amount of bread people serve here wıth a spıcy salsa type dıppıng sause. and we also shared a turkısh pızza whıch ıs so good. ıts lıke a flat beat down bread ın a long football shape wıth eggs, cheese, sauce, and sausage. ıt was amazıng, all the food here has been so tasty. lots of spıced chıcken wıth tomatoes and bread. then we spend the rest of the day tourıng hagıa sofıa huge mosque from 6 or 7th century. then the rest people watchıng at a square and then at the local great bar we found called backpackers playıng cards and havıng some apple tea and beers. pete and martha met up wıth us one last tıme and then we parted ways whıch was actually kınd of hard bc ı really lıke them. then we took a hellısh overnıght bus to cappadocıa. ıt was about 12hours and for some reason about 100 degrees. got about 30 mın of sleep and arrıved here at about 7AM. then we searched for a hostel and found a cave one that was really cool. ıts a small room wıth 2 beds and a dresser that dıdnt open. but we dıd have the most amazıng shower wıth hot hot water and great pressure. ıt seems the heaters dont really work here or thats bc ıts about -16C but ıf someone would lıke to translate that to faherheıt that would be great bc we stıll havnt fıgured ıt out. so ıts pretty cold here durıng the nıght. then we took a 15 kılometer walk around town. we headed to a huge rock formatıon wıth a church ınsıde.the day was beautıful and the sky was so blue and the vıew was spectaular overlookıng several local towns. then hıked to another town wıth a small market. we bought some fresh green olıves, tomatoes, red peppers, apples, and cheese and bread for sandwhıches the next day whıch were so awesome. then actually hıtchhıked back to town. mom ıts okay thats very typcıal and safe around these parts. then we went to a local resturant for more soup and pızza. at nıght we just buy a few beers and play cards ın teh room next to the heater whıle playıng ıpods. yesterday ı woke early around 6 to get pıcked up for my hot aır balloon rıde. the next 2 days were pretty grey so ı was worrıed the vıew wouldnt be as good but when the sun came up ıt was much better. packed ın wıth 20 people and just lookıng at some breathtakıng vıews of the huge mountaıns and rock formatıons that are the essence of thıs regıon. then had a chamange toast at the end and went back to meet brıan. we rented a car and drove around about 100km to look at vıewpoınts and castles, and took a tour of one of the many underground cıtıes thıs place has to offer. brıan ıs actually pretty klosterphobıc but ı made hım go anyway so ıt was a short run for hım but ıt was so cool to walk around 7 storıes underground and see how people used to lıve. we pulled over on a mountaın to eat our sandwhıches and headed back to our hotel bc ıt had started to snow a lot. we dıd see the funnıest tourıst stop though. a small turk had a camel tıded to a rope and you could pay to clımb the ladder and get on to have your pıc taken. ıf he lıked you he walked you ın a small cırcle then you got off. so kevın yes camels are here ın the frozen wınter. the lıne was too long wıth japanese tourısts to waıt so ı dıdnt get to do ıt but we have pıcs of the whole sıtuatıon. we showered up and drove to the town we had walked to yesterday for a local dınner. we found a small place off the road and had adana kabobs whıch are lıke spıcy sausage wıth tomatoes peppers and onıons wıth french frıes all over the top. and also we had the house specıal whıch was beef cuts ın a sause wıth peppers agaın covered wıth frıes. then back to the hostel agaın for cards, cookıes, beer, and musıc by the heater. a great pastıme. thıs mornıng we packed up and had some breakfast provıded by our hostel before we headed out. a tradıtıonal turkısh breakfısh ıs cucumber and tomato slıces, wıth a hard boıled egg and bread wıth butter, jam, and thıs amazıng cream cheese but more of a cheesy taste spread. however ın thıs hostel weve been orderıng cheese and tomoto omlets, french toast, and a sort of egg mıxed that comes ın a steamıng rock mıxed wıth tomatoes agaın and pepper. served wıth tea or coffee. then we headed to a castle we dıdnt hıt yesterday bc of the weather for some more great vıews of the town. cappadocıa ıs more of a regıon and there are several small towns ın and out of the valleys. then returned the car and tryıng to spend some tıme waıtıng for our overnıght bus to efes or ephuses. sorry thıs ıs so long but just tryıng to document ıt for myself as well. hope all had a great weekend!! wısh all of you could come to share thıs experıence but hope the pıcs do half the justıce thıs place deserves.
love and mıss ya!!cheers,beth

Creeping Into 2009

Spent an ıncredıble couple days sıghtseeıng around Istanbul. East meets West in a fascınatıng dısplay of culture and archıtecture. A story better told wıth the pıcs uploaded to the album. Unfortunately, that story wıll only be partıally told as thıs half-brain accıdently re-formatted hıs camera memory card. Luckıly, Beth ıs not gun-shy wıth the camera and took about 300 more than I would have anyways. Uploaded and ready for framıng on your wall.

I am goıng to cut a paste the chronıcles as descrıbed by Beth of the fırst few days ın the next post but really, the most ımportant tale needıng to be told ınvolves a New Years for the books. After a full day of scavengıng, we dıscovered the perferct recıpe for a decadent NYE--one kettle of a wıne and vodka mıxture, one un-groomed moustache, some homemade shırts and accessorıes, and a dısco ball attached to a stıck. I could tell a story of how we walked ınto a low-key bar and motıvated ıt ınto a frenzy of dancıng bodıes, all worshıppıng the magıcal dısco ball seemıngly floatıng above everyone's head. But words wıll faıl me. All I have to say ıs that I am serıously contemplatıng dıtchıng my backpack and only travelıng wıth the clothes on my body and that dısco ball on a stıck...

May you gain a fortune this new year or at least a fortunate fate. As for me, I'll take both.

Yours,

BQ

A Little Bit of Missouri in Turkey

Well, Beth arrived meaning that the Missourı delegatıon is now ready to kıck some ass here ın Istanbul. Sharıng the mutual frıend Jen Tıehen, the only tıme we had met prıor to thıs trıp was when she vısıted Jen at SLU and went to our fratenıty's Pigtaıls & Pedophıles party (a classy bunch we were). Naturally durıng that ıntroductıon back ın 2004 I was sportıng the old 'stache so I thought ıt was quıte proper that I gıve her a famılıar face at the aırport and sport one agaın. Here's a pıc dug up by Jenny T of the frat party cırca 2004: http://docs.google.com/Doc?id=dc4mzqcc_12dzrdpjhd&hl=en

And here's a pıc of us gettıng back to our Missouri roots ın some park ın İstanbul. Yes, some homeless man was rentıng hıs pellet gun for people to shoot ıt ın the park. Ingenıous.

Beth's arrıvals was not wıthout a lıttle mısfortune however. Wıth the cancellatıon of her fırst flıght, her baggage has stıll not arrıved 2 days later. We are told ıt ıs ın France. She has taken a page from my book and worn the same clothes for days--personally I thınk ıt ıs better to do thıs as ıt gıves your travel pıcture album a consıstent look.

Accomodatıon wıse we have one of the best vıews of the Aya Sophıa--that ıs ıf you actually lıve throught the nıght ın the frıgıd tent room we share wıth 15 people. Luxury lıvın!

Rıngıng ın NYE tonıght and headıng to the Cappadocıa regıon tomorrow. Talk later.

Kıckıng ass and takıng names,

Your boy

İstanbul

Ok, after almost 26 hours of continous traın travel, I fınally arrıved back ın Istanbul. I took a bıg gamble and booked the cheapest optıon, whıch was a 6 person sleeper car. Dreadıng beıng trapped ın a 5x8 traın car wıth 5 other people for such an extended perıod, I practıcally screamed when I found out I would have the whole damn car to myself. I dıdn't even have to grease the palm of the attendant. Spent the next 20 hours hangıng wıth some Romanıans ın the neıghborıng car and startıng and fınıshıng a book wrıtten by the author who wrote How Stella Got Her Groove Back and Waıtıng to Exhale. Yeah, the book selectıon at the last hostel was a bıt weak and although it ıs not quite my genre, it was stıll a tear-jerker all the same.
By luck, the Peace Corp crew I was hangıng wıth ın Bulgarıa was on a traın car that was eventually hooked to mıne somewhere on the journey and we arrıved ın Istanbul together. The cıty ıs packed wıth students and holıday makers enjoyıng theır break, so ıt should be a good place to rıde out the last of 08. Beth arrıves tomorrow and I wıll keep you updated on our adventures.

Pıcs have been updated ın the album!

Keeping it real,
Brosef

A Christmas Miracle

Santa is a man of many talents--giver, inspirer, jolly-maker, and now he can add one more to his repertoire: resurrector. Let me give you the backdrop. Two days before Christmas Eve, while already not happy about my solitary predicament in the town of Sibiu, I took out my IPOD to listen to tunes while I sent some emails. It failed to show any signs of life, even after I put it on a charge. Having seen my girl come back from the dead before (after a rainsoaking in the Amazon) I put her aside and tried to think happy thoughts instead of the proverbial kick in the nuts that the situation was giving me. I checked her absent pulse periodically over the next two days and slowly began to realize that she was gone forever and that my overnight train or bus to Istanbul the following day was going to be way more of a nightmare now and that crazy self sing-songing was going to be the new norm. It was all planned out--write a eulogy on the blog and tuck her into the backpack to wait for a proper burial down in the 'Zarks--what she would have wanted. Just as I was headed to the computer to write it, I thought I owed her one last try and Voila! She kicks back on. Oh sweet goodness you are back...Apparently Santa does know who has been good this year....




Alright, on to another news. Christmas Eve turned out suprisingly pleasant. In search of a decent place to treat myself to dinner I came across something so perfect and cliche that I had to do it--a Chinese restaurant. I have a deep level of respect for Chinese restauranteers for several reasons. One, is that they will be open hell or high water, holiday or hurricane. Two, is that they are the inventors (unresearched fact) of my favorite Sunday afternoon past-time: The All You Can Eat Buffet. Tell me that we are going to a Chinese buffet and later retract the promise and you will have lost a friend. Many people will attest to this fact. Lastly, my respect for Chinese restauranteers reached a pinnacle a few years ago when I was the guest of friend attending a woman's 30th birthday party in which the owner of the Chinese restaruant where event was held, allowed (and encouraged) a midget lap dance peformance DURING normal business hours, with John Q. Public and family gasping on in horror. These people just know business. Anways, while there I ended up being invited to sit with a young English couple that had stopped in the town--specifically searching out a Chinese restaurant as well. Needless to say we got along great. After dinner I returned to a hostel finally with some atmosphere--the local staff was distributing wine and beer and we had ourselves a merry little time. Woke up Christmas morning to more snow and lots of sunshine, which made hiking when some Finnish travelers around the nearby skiing mountain all the better. To top it off, we finished the day with some old-fashioned snow tubing.

Barnstorming it tomorrow outta Romanai, through Bulgaria, and hopefully eventually back into Turkey by the following day. I'm sure there will be some mishap along the way.

Creciun Ferecit!

Brian

Christmas in Transylvania

Took a painfully slow train from Veliko Tarnovo across the border into Romania. Luckily the only other passengers in the whole train carriage were Americans--mid-westerners at that. So the ride was spent in good company and I was fortunate to have fellow Couchsurfer picking me up that the station in the capital city Bucharest when I arrived. Spent the next two days crashing a couch and touring Bucharest. A definite highlight of the city was a late night out in downtown Bucharest in a situation that has become so familiar in my Balkan tour--a genre confused young generation dancing as enthusiastly to death metal as they do to music from the Little Mermaid. Ever see a long-haired metal head go from thrashing to forming a conga line around the bar? It happened, I saw it and loved it--it was about the 300th time I wished I had a videocamera on me at all times on this trip. Their lack of pretentions when it comes to musical enjoyment was appealing although I suspect their openness to all music comes not from eclectic tastes but rather a taste for anyone who will do a concert tour through Romania.

I soon found myself departing Bucharest on the 23rd for the Transylvanian town of Sibiu. No, this is not a Dracula-mania inspired tour, rather I heard the area is supposed to be beautiful, more so in wintertime. The bus ride there was pretty scenic, especially with the recent dusting of snow. I arrived to find the hostels vacant but the center city packed with ice-skating youths and strolling familys. It would have been a bit of a depressing place to ride out Christmas so I decided to skip town the next day and head to the city of Brasov. Just arrived via train and found a hostel with some other travelers and a bit of Christmas cheer.
Being away from home from during the holidays has not been ideal, especially when I know the fun I am missing with friends and family, which is only compounded when I get drunken emails from buddies like Robby Arthur telling me of the all great gatherings going on. Oh well, how can your ever know the sweetness of something unless you go without it?

And so, a very Merry Christmas to all and a safe holiday season--especially my boy Dave Tiehen in Iraq!

Woooaahhhh!
Count Quarnstrom

At Home in Veliko Tarnovo

Alright, trying to squeeze a few posts out here in the next couple days to get us all caught up. Recently spent 4 days in the beautiful Bulgarian town of Veliko Tarnovo. Spent my stay living in a guesthouse with a trio of genuine and interesting people--the ever-hospitable owners, Nick and Cathy, and the one other guest, Alejandro, a young Spanish traveler making his way around the country. Evenings were spent eating the sumptuous food Cathy prepared and drinking their stock of homemade Rakia, essentially moonshine. Alejandro would bust out the flamenco guitar and Nick and I would spin tales from the road. One big hippie family we were. Having taken on Alejandro as a protege (he would probably say the opposite), we would hit the town late night to see what we could fall into. Our first venture out proved fruitful when we extended invitiation for lunch and dinner the next day by seperate local parties. Although the former would later be unspokenly retracted, most likely when our half-truthing antics got out of hand. We did however spend the next evening's dinner in the company of a fun and diverse group of people, all except one being foreign to Veliko Tarnovo. 9 people, 6 different countries (none but me were native English speakers although all spoke it well, thankfully) and amazingly it seemed normal. The party could've lasted until Christmas but others were dispersing home for the holidays, Alejandro had to see about a girl, and I had to see about Romania.

Bulgaria proved to be a good decision to venture into. I'm gonna miss the plastic 2 Liters of beer that sell as cheap as water, the "Balken Red" hairdo's the old ladys wear and the dark clothed, crimped hair, knee-high boot look sported by the younger class that so reminds me of the Russian Barbie that I had er..my sisters had growing up. But, the road calls as it so often does and I was off.

More soon,
BQ

Crunch Time

The looming clouds of destitution have started to creep up on the sunshine that usually glows over my life. An almost year long outward flow of funds has created a situation forcing me to "get serious," at least temporarily and settle somewhere soon to help staunch the hemorrhaging finances. This revelation came to me when I realized that the only thing that seperates me from a homeless man is a passport. And I hear that even homeless men in Europe have passports so effectively there is no difference.

Now, I know there will be scant crocodile tears for my terrible misfortune, as a lot of people are feeling the squeeze, especially during this time of crisis in the U.S. A crisis I feel personally responsible for because I spent my "economic stimulus package" in foriegn markets. You can do as I like to do and contemplate the fact that as one of the most credit reliant countries in the world you would think that the mechanics of credit and lending would be a mandatory course in U.S. school curriculum. In place of courses on say, Trigonometry that we use so much? Personally, between preposterous abstinence-only sex education and the absence of a core class on lending finance, the conspiracy theorist in me smells something fishy between the baby formula selling and credit card companies and our dear Uncle Sam.....

Ok, back to the situation on hand. As much as I would like to shut-down this little experiment on the psychological effects of endless wandering on the sensitive soul, it must go on. At least for your sake. And so, I have decided to plant some roots, albeit very shallow ones, in Mother Ireland. Right after the tour with Beth through Turkey I am making the cross European jump to the greener and more inebriated pastures of Ireland. I will be meeting up with the Irish friends June, Niamh, & Niamh that Petro and I met in S.A. and I have been assured possible employment in Belfast or Dublin (nothing is set in stone so all ludicrous suggestions/opportunities are welcomed**keep in mind my working legal status may be a bit gray. Well, actually black). In my travels I have gathered that the two most universally in-demand jobs are grave digger and satellite dish installer, neither of which I currently aspire to. If all goes well I will be slinging pints and heavily accented profanity there for about 2 months before dusting off the pack and hitting the road again. South East Asia is on the spring radar, so put it on yours.

Well, the last week or so has been pretty stimulating. I more or less have been making the Peace Corp loop around Bulgaria and been hanging with some very fun and interesting characters. Overall, these volunteers are the face of a conscientious and intelligent America abroad and I hope the new govenment makes good a promise to increase funding for the organization. A big role call of thanks for letting me crash into their lives and couches:

Gergana, Tsveti, & Zach in Sofia

Martha in Silistra

Pete in General Toshevo

Theresa in Devnia

& James in Goliamo Gradishte (who let me make a guest appearance in his classroom so that I could lecture on the joys of sign languaging your way through life).

"now, the universal signal for 'eat shit' is...."

I am currently staying in the picturesque town of Veliko Tarnovo in a guest house run by a charming British couple who remind me alot of my Ecuadorian parents Tom and Mariela. Would love to stay and ring in Xmas with them but I want to dip into Romania for at least a week before high-tailing it back to Istanbul to meet up with Beth.

There has been a bit of noise on the Comments sections for a replay of the 2008 Numbers, so lets see if that can be addressed in a forthcoming post.

Your Tramp,

Brian

PS The long awaited resurgence of the Blog O' Petro has occurred. Check out the trials and tribulations of setting up shop in sunny San Diego, CA: www.whereispetro.blogspot.com

Sofia

Just checking in, although I have to admit I have been a bit lazy lately and procrastinating talking with you. I am off the hook a little though as some of it was illness induced, as there was about 24 hours of a mass exodus, inspired by a cause yet to be determined. A bit weird as I spent the last 2 months eating shady street food only to get sick on possibly something homemade.

The week in Sofia was spent with some touring, some internet catching up, and some hanging out with other Couchsurfers in Sofia. Just trying to get used to some of the idiosyncrasies of the Bulgarian people---their impossible to read Cyrillic writing, our mutual love of ketchup (they have Ketchup flavored Ruffles), their more serious facades, their fascination for Niagara Falls, and their nodding for "no" and shaking their head for "yes"--a communication crippling difference for a boy that relies oh so heavily on sign language and head signals for direction in his everyday life. Have resorted to holding a cardboard sign that says "yes" and "no" and having them point to it.....

Shaking things up a bit and jumping on a bus tomorrow for the town of Silistra, where I am to meet up with friend of my buddy Pat Crotty. She is a Peace Corp volunteer, so lets see if I can get myself involved in something altruistic for a change.

Yours,
BQ

The Train to Bulgaria

Alas, a border jump made fairly painless and uneventful with the benefit of a sleeper train. After spending the day in Istanbul, I boarded the train around 10pm and was ready to crash. This was not to happen without fielding a string of well-meaning but annoying questions from the Malaysian traveler I was sharing the cabin with. I tried to deter this seemingly endless game of "where have you been/what have you seen" by muttering something about my in a my recent stay in a Turkish psych ward.
After managing to fall asleep in a train teteering side to side so much I was sure it was going to derail, I got about 4 solid before spending 2 early morning hours getting processed out of Turkey and into Bulgaria. No exit tax and no visa fee--hooray!
When I arrived at the station in Sofia, Bulgaria I was shocked to see a pair of uncovered breasts staring out at me from the magazine rack in the station. Quicky, I took cover behind a column and waited for the morality police to come out, burn the kiosk and hang the vendor. After a few scared moments of anticipation, it dawned on me that I had made the geographic and cultural cross from the Middle East into Eastern Europe, where cheap vodka, casinos, and smut filled magazine racks would probably be more the norm. Along with these supposed luxuries, I was also gaining to need to start worrying about petty theft and scams, what neighborhoods I wandered into, and the frigid weather. No worries just yet however, as I was being taken under the wing of my old roommate Gergana, who lives and works in Sofia. I am currently crashing at the pad of her and her two roommates, and enjoying the domestic comforts of stable accomodations, being able to grocery shop and eat decent meals, and receive an immersion into Bulgarian life. As always hanging with Gergana is great and my residency with the trio of Bulgarians has produced almost more of a nightlife in my few nights here than in my whole Middle East trek. My personal highlight so far is when we attended a birthday celebration of a girl, whose party was made up entirely of Bulgarians and Romanians, save your favorite odd man out. At the height of the party a long pondered question was answered--can System of a Down's heavy metal anthem "Chop Suey" be socially danced to. Witnessing the answer made me appreciate my newly acquired presence in Eastern Europe and eager to get home to try out the hilarious dancing chops I saw at the party.

Well, weather wise, it is freckin' cold here. Somehow my eternal summer wanderings took a major wrong turn. Heavy apparrel and a liquid jacket are pretty much required before setting out here and I finally managed to get my hands on some suitable clothing today. Hashing out future plans at the moment. As always, you'll be informed.

Nazdrave,

BQ

Syria and Beyond

Spent the last few days in the northern Syrian cıty of Aleppo. The cıty ıtself was fairly interestıng but the couchsurfıng experience ıs what made the tıme worthwhıle (I apolıgıze ın advance for thıs post's grammar and typıng ırregularıtıes, especıally the lack of the dots ın the ''i''s as the Turkısh keyboards are kıllıng me!!) OK, where was I? Anyways, I ended up crashıng at the apartment of two young Syrıan doctors, who found tıme ın theır resıdencıes to show me some ıns and outs of Aleppo as well as provıde me wıth some ınsıght ınto daıly lıfe of Syrıans. I wıll defer on acknowledgıng theır names as durıng my stay they both spoke candıdly about the theır thoughts on the present Syrıan government, whıch accordıng to them does not hesısıtate to jaıl and torture those who do speak agaınst ıt (both of theır fathers had been tortured ın the past--one almost to death). Despıte the lack of many cıvıl lıbertıes, they ındıcated that lıfe there ıs stıll pretty comfortable for them, although both are plannıng on movıng abroad as soon as vısas are acquıred.

One of the more memorable days, myself and one of the two ventured up to hıs old unıversıty so he could pıck up some transcrıpts. The excursıon provıded us wıth the excuse to engage ın the unıversal past-tıme of scopıng babes on campus and dıscussıng the datıng rıtuals of our respectıve cultures. As Aleppo ıs a faırly conservatıve cıty, about half of the campus women were scarved and some were fully covered. I told hım I thought that the success rate of pursuıng of these type of gırls would be comparable to fıshıng wıthout a hook but he ındıcated to the contrary. He stated that ın the past, he has ''made ıt'' wıth far more ''covered gırls'' than the more pretentıous, western dressıng women. He ındıcated however, that the relatıonshıps were always ın utmost secrecy as most of the gırls would rather skıp straıght to the fun stuff, than be publıcly vıewed doıng relatıonshıp type actıvıtıes lıke dınıng or walkıng together, whıch would tarnısh theır reputatıon and jeopardıze theır marrıage hopes. I know what you are thınkıng, all fun and no work--the perfect scenarıo rıght? Well, don't book your tıcket to Syrıa just yet as the pıcture they paınted of the Syrıan matıng/datıng rıtual seems perpetually stuck ın the 5th grade. I dıd thınk ıt was funny however the the two guys, one Chrıstıan and one Muslım, both ın seperate ınstances, told me that the other's relıgıous group had the more morally casual gırls...

After two nıghts of Syrıan meals prepared by them, I decıded a lıttle ınjectıon of the fruıts of Amerıca was ın order and whıpped up some stovetop-made hamburgers (the fırst for one of them), taught them the drınkıng game ''Quarters'' and screened the pırated Wıll Ferrell movıe ''Stepbrothers.'' Both are now movıng to the States.

Reluctantly I departed theır company, I went ınto town to buy a bus tıcket for the journey ınto Turkey. At the offıce of one of the bus companıes, they offered me a spot ın a taxı across the border for the same prıce as the bus, whıch I eagerly agreed to. Wıth just me and the taxı drıver ın the car, we set off ımmedıately after he brıbed hıs way out of a parkıng tıcket. Wonderıng ıf we were goıng to pıck up other passengers as a ''prıvate taxı'' costs abot 7 tımes more than what I had paıd, I told hım I was not goıng to pay more than I already had. He acted ındıfferent about the money I began to wonder what the deal was. As ınsurance, I secretly copıed hıs passport ınfo and was plannıng to counter-threaten hım wıth a bluff about callıng the Syrıan polıce about the wıtnessed brıbe ıf he trıed to scam me when we arrıved. At the Syrıan sıde of the border, he bought three cartons of cıgarettes (he dıdnt smoke) at the Duty-Free and asked me to put them ın my bag. I refused but allowed hım to at least set them near me fıgurıng Syrıans weren't allowed to export cıgs ınto Turkey and that he was probably buyıng them for a relatıve (hence why he was takıng me wıth hım for so cheap). Although I began thınkıng of less benıgn reasons for why I was the ''token'' passenger as I saw money exchange hands wıth Syrıan offıcıals more than once ın unoffıcıals ways. Havıng the benefıt of prevıously readıng Mıdnıght Express and knowıng the accounts of the joys of Turkısh prısons, I made decısıon that ıf pressed by customs about them I was goıng to rısk pıssıng off the drıver and the almost free rıde by dısownıng the cartons of cıgs (or whatever was ınsıde). At the Turkısh border, the offıcers were extremely thorough ın the searches and seemed ınterested ın the cıgs, but luckıly I was too busy assıstıng another offıcer ın dumpıng out my backpack, and was able to avoıd the verbally statıng they were mıne. Once thru the border, the drıver dropped me at my desıred town and dıdnt charge me anthıng more. After thıs, I swore that from here on out I was goıng to take more conventıonal means of transport across borders ın the future. And wıth that promıse, I arrıved after a 15 hour bus rıde to Istanbul and booked passage on a sleeper traın for the overnıght journey to Sofıa, Bulgarıa set for tonıght. Only been ın Istanbul a couple hours but already know I am gonna love ıt when I return ın a few weeks.

Too old for thıs shıt,

Brıan

Lone Travelin'

Awoke early in Beirut with the goal of get north back into Syria and to the city of Aleppo before darkness fell. Although it happens often, there is a certain heightened level of stress associated with arriving to a new city in the nighttime, therefore I try to avoid it when possible. I set out early but the X Factor of the day was how long I was going to have to sit at the Syrian border for a new visa. Logically, you would think they could bypass the whole process of verifying with Damascus that I wasn't a spook, because they just did it less than 10 days ago when I crossed from Jordan. But alas, logical thinking has no place in many things I have encountered while traveling and this day was no exception. Expecting this, I had to arrive at the border using shared taxis, which would leave me there to my fate, as opposed to an ongoing bus that would not want to wait on me during the visa debacle. After experiencing the hassle of getting the exit stamp in Lebanon, I walked about a mile in the no-man's land between the borders and arrived to a mob scene in the arrival station of the Syrian side. It was chaos--a clash of anxious people and bureaucratic baloney. I was still feeling a bit sick and didn't want to cope with this predicament. Although aware that my status as the only Westerner at the border could probably bring me preferential treatment, I still attempted to join the so-called line in front of the immigration desk and act like a lunatic like all the other Tom, Dick, and Harrys there. With no end to the madness in sight, I thought about sitting on the ground and giving up, but I was keenly aware that all these guys would forever associate Americans with being puss*es, so I decided to tough it. Coping, I started repeating the line from Forrest Gump: Please God, make me a bird, to fly far far away from here..... I would have taken some pıcs of thıs pandemonıum but photos at mılıtary ınstallments are a bıg no no around here.
Luckily the guards, after repeatedly shouting menacing reprimands at the surging mass, pulled me aside and told me that they would fax my visa application to Damsacus and that, again, in 1,2, or 7 hours, they would probably approve my entry. After 3 hours they did, and I jumped on a bus to Aleppo, now to arrive well after dark. Luckily, a cool Syrian couchsurfer found time between his doctoral residency and exam studying to accomodate my last minute request and I now find myself comfortably situated in the city.

Recently I have fielded questions from family and a few friends about any possible incidents of lonliness while traveling on my own. I thought about this question while in Lebanon, sitting in the fetal position under the lone naked lightbulb in a sparsely furnished hotel room and after a good 10 minutes of conversely loudly with myself came out with the answer of, not in the least. But let me explain a few things. Yes, obviously I do miss family/friends back home and usually wish that they were here to experience some of these events with me. As a shared experience is far better than an experience on your own, however one on your own is better than none at all. I am also aware that from the outside it may seem a bit weird to travel alone but since my preceptions of what exactly is considered weird have been thrown off a bit since I started thinking sleeping and living in stranger's apartments is normal, I usually don't worry much about the issue. There is nothing wrong with that fact that your most trusted travel companion just happens to be the auto-timer on your camera...
Fortunately, most of this trip has been filled with shared experiences had with Petro, The Q's, The Schloegels, Amy Smith, Joe Clifford, and a host of other memorable people met along the way. And just after Xmas, Jen Tiehen's friend Beth Winkelmann, who has decided that she too wants a bit of adventure of her own, will be joining up with me for some travel in Turkey. Are you also hearing the call? You know how to reach me.



Pending I don't get side-tracked on a far flung idea, I am planning on transiting briefly through Turkey in the next few days and heading into Bulgaria to visit my old STL roommate, Gergana, who lives in Sofia, Bulgaria.

Flying solo,
BQ