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January 1, 2012 · 06:18

Dick-Punching the Sunrise

My Friends,
   The travels go well.  I am currently south of Perris, California staying in the house of some friends whom I had the pleasure of meeting my second day in California.  But more on that later, as there is a bit of a gap between where I left off last time in Chongqing, China and where I am at now.  Sooooooooooooo, herrre it is.
   I took the train from Chonqqing to Shnghai early on Christmas morning and was pleasantly surprised at how comfortable and livable it was.  It was a sleeper car like the one I had taken in Kazakhstan but it looked quite modern and not like a Soviet relic.  Now I had meant to purchase a sitting ticket from the ticket booth the previous day, but either through lack of understanding or lack of availability, the ticket-sellers (five of them crowded the ticket window giving me googly-eyes [even the guy in the group] and taking part in the selling of the ticket process after waving me to the front of the line in front of a bunch of pissed-off locals.  Sometimes being a westerner in a foreign land pays off) had sold me a sleeper ticket.  As it was an overnight train I really couldnt lament this.
   My bunkmate was a cool guy and we communicated as well as we could with no common language.  Never got his name though… The ride was ultimately uneventful though and the most exciting break in the monotony was our actual arrival in Shanghai.
   Immediately I took the metro to People’s Sqaure in the city-center and set about finding a hotel.  There was no looking for a spot to camp in this city; I was determined to spoil myself with a bed for my stay.  I found accommodation fairly quick (got a good price by taking a room with no windows … also, there was a dead body under the bed but that wasnt factored into the price), stashed my bag and I was off.  More than anything, what characterized my stay in Shanghai was the gluttonous consumption of food; For realz, everything was so good and so cheap that I couldn’t justify depriving myself of anything.  I won’t rhyme off everything I had but honourable mention for the fried pork dumplings served at “Yang’s Fried Dumplings” (more than just a clever name).  Four big, delicious balls of goodness for 6 Yuan ($1 USD).  The old lady at the register laughed knowingly when I went back for seconds.
   Between all of this consumption of foodstuffs I also find time to sightsee.  My first night I walked to the river that runs through the city (too lazy to google the name) and admired the skyline of the city’s Pudong region.  The architecture here (and really, all over the city) is striking and very different from that seen in most North American cities.  The Oriental Pearl…

Pictured Here: Far Left and Bulbous
…in particular goes a long way to making the view very futuristic-looking and awe-inspiring.  The city also has some large malls; two of these I visited, and to deal with the lack of space in the city both were built 7 or 8 stories high.
   My second day in I took a walk south and by chance found a garment district.  While I looked at some counterfeit watches and debated having a tailored tweed jacket made, I decided to opt for small souvenir bracelets only, as I already had a watch and didn’t want more clothing weighing down my pack.  Toward the end of the second day I decided that although the view around the river was nce, the view of the ocean on the east side of Pudong must be even better.  So I took an hour long train trip to the end of the line but realized with dismay that I couldnt get through to the water because there was an airport in the way.  I entertained the notion of going around the airport but after running for fifteen minutes the road ended and I realized that if it was indeed a picturesque coastline they wouldn’t have put an airport in the way.  I made my way back to the train station, sobered and a little wiser for my troubles.
  Day three I managed to find a bookstore which had a small English section and picked up book 3 and 4 of Stephen King’s “Dark Tower” series.  Its pretty good so far and good airplane reading.  After this unlikely find I made my way to the Shanghai museum where I spent the better part of my day.  It was good and all but I found myself speeding through it as I was tired and not really in a museum-going mood.  Still, I felt compelled to culture myself so I took it all in even after the point my eyeballs had gone bleary and vacant.  After a large dinner I made my way to the airport with my bag to wait for my flight and also for what would be the longest day or recent memory.
   My night in the airport was sleepless which didn’t bother me too much cause I had about 13 hours of flying to crush so I figured Id have plenty of time to doze.  One thing I will say is that ramen does not make a substantial meal on its own; I went through two giant bowls of it while I waited in the airport and still was incredibly hungry for most of the night.
   Flew to Japan for a thee-hour layover.  While Shanghai had had its fair share of whitey it was still dominated by Asians.  Not the case with the Tokyo Narita airport; not only were their a ton of white people there but black folk as well.  I literally don’t think I had seen any black people at all in Kazakhstan or China.  A lot of the white guys in the airport were also fat neckbeards which leads me to believe that they were in Japan to hone their bushido skills or were on the road to Viridian City.

Little do they know that Giovanni has a trick up his sleeve
Ultimately, it was bitter-sweet; the change in complexions was indicative of how far I had come but I was sadly, no longer the sole foreigner whom everyone was gawking at. 
   Took a ten-hour flight to LA from Tokyo and en route I finally watched Bridesmaids, The Hangover 2 and Bad Teacher, a couple films movies which I had been meaning to see for some time.  Upon landing, I shared a cab to Santa Monica with Paul.  He was killing time on a layover to New Zealand.  I had been in that situation myself a few years back and had gone to Santa Monica as well…
…so I took it upon myself to show him around some.  When we parted ways I took a train east to the city of Riverside on a whim.  Walked SE hard from the station til about 1130 pm and had one of the deepest sleeps of recent memory (remember I had been up for 36 hours because with the time change of flying east across the Pacific I essentially had the length of my day doubled and had been watching movies instead of sleeping on the plane).  I woke up to a beautiful sunrise over south Riverside.  I’m not sure what it is for certain but the sunset the night before had been equally beautiful.  Perhaps its just the smog.
   Anyway, after waking up that morning in Riverside I walked SE til I got to Interstate 215 South.  Walked along there for a while til I got incredibly tired and sore around 1130.  Hit a Starbucks south of Perris, and while there I got to talking to Eric.  Turns out he and his wife practice “permaculture,” which is, briefly, self-sufficient farming which takes care of itself to a large measure.  Their primary output is free-range eggs.  He was quite passionate about the superior quality of these oeufs  and after showing me pics of the darker coloring of the yolks I was pretty enthusiastic myself.  At length he asked if I would like to come by and try some eggs.  It sounded like an excellent idea to me.
   At his house he showed me the whole egg-farming operation they had set up and they fried me up a couple sunny-side up.  When the chickems have a more varied diet than simply just generic feed the yolks are a darker marigold colour and quite good. 
   After lunch, Eric and his wife, Serena asked me if I would like to sleep in their guest room for the night instead of camping.  How could I say no?  So I stayed and today after sleeping in til noon (hopefully getting over my jet-lag) I was taught the game, “Go.”  Apparently its a game as old as chess, and quite strategic.  It almost reminded me of a cross between Minesweeper and Checkers.  Apparently I did good for a first -timer … basically I got my ass handed to me.  Later I went to Eric and Serena’s church for their evening prayers, and afterward Eric took me around to show me the architecture as I had expressed some interest in seeing the various design features, many of which were imported from places I had been in the past few months (Doors from Antakya, Turkey for example). 
  I am here for one more night and since it is still 2011 here for another two hours I am still planning my night.  Since everyone here is early to bed for a wedding tomorrow I think I may go out a little later on for a walk around the neighbourhood.  Eric tells me that the local Mexicans play some raucous Mariachi music on Saturday nights and I think crashing one of these jam sessions could be kinda fun.  Aside from that I leave for Vegas tomorrow via my thumb and when I get there I will start making plans to fly home.  I’m pretty damn excited.
Stay Thirsty,
-Andre Guantanamo

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December 28, 2011 · 22:38

Central Asia Recap Part One: Kazakhstan


My Friends,
   Due to the unreliable internets access I have been made to endure as of late, I havent been the prolific bloggeur I normally am.  Let me perhaps rectify this by filling in some of the blanks of the last couple of weeks. 
   I left the balmy beach weather of Israel on 16 December.  This was a significant departure because it was my final good-bye to my beloved Mediterranean.  More than simply a sea to me, I had swam in its warm waters, interacted with its peoples and used its coastline as a navigational aid for months.  I treasured my last Mediterranean sunset walking on the beach in Tel Aviv and even got a lil’ misty.
   My plane from Israel took me first to Kiev, Ukraine for a 9-hour layover.  I had planned for this and I used the extended downtime to make a foray into the former Soviet-bloc city.  Luckily, by entering the country instead of simply waiting in the designated layover area I copped some pretty new bling (read: stamps) for my passport.  The bus ride to Kiev took awhile but I actually like the city a lot.  It was very beautiful and the people seemed really friendly.  The food and drinks were cheap and although wet, it was not too cold.  My only complaint was how cozy and warm all the little shops seemed: the Christmas spirit was in the air and watching happy couples gazing longingly into each others eyes over hot cocoa/coffee by a warm fire really drove home the point of my loneliness over the holidays.  It was far easier to stick to the cold air of the outdoors than torture myself by going into these shops and getting a closer look at what I was missing out on.  I have resolved that I will one day go back to Kiev with my woman during the Christmas season and enjoy it like I was not able to during this first visit.
   Went back to the airport, waited some and got on my plane for the four-hour flight to Astana, Kazakhstan.  I had heard from a chick in my hostel in Israel that Kazakhstan was like -20C and I joked that I was going to freeze my balls off although I was secretly concerned.  But having already submitted my passport for the visa I could do little with this knowledge except steel my nerves against the expected onslaught of cold weather.  I began to think to myself that -20C wasnt that cold.  After all, I have experienced that in Canada and survived.  If nothing else, the cold weather would be a boon; people would be more likely to take pity on this hitch-hiker and pick him up.  In retrospect, such imaginings and self-reassurances seem sheer folly, but you’d be surprised what you can convince yourself of when you need to.  So, “prepared” as I was for -20C, I was dismayed beyond words when, as we pulled into Astana airport at 530am, the captain said the weather was -27C.  I hadnt planned for this, and this extra 7 degrees of coldness may as well  have been an extra 50 degrees of coldness.  I took a glance around the airplane and saw everyone pulling on their bubblegooses (puffy coats) and furs, while all I had was a Von Dutch zip-up sweater and a wind-breaker.  What the F had I gotten myself into?
   Still, maybe -27C wasnt as cold as it was cracked up to be.  I hadnt experienced it since last winter so I really shouldnt be so quick to judge, as my faculties of memory might have been flawed.  They were not.  Just getting off the plane and feeling the slightest touch of outside air chilled me to the bone.  I realized this simply wouldn’t do.  I thought long and hard about my options after clearing customs and waiting in the front entrance of the airport, shivering in spite of myself every time the door opened and someone entered.  I resolved that I would get the fudge out of the city by means other than hitch-hiking and to the former capital of Almaty, as it was at least a manageable -7C or so.  So I cabbed it to the Astana train station (of course the cabby had to be parked at the other end of the parking lot) and got a ticket for that night’s train to Almaty.  Having to wait 15 hours in the Astana train station was a trying experience: the multitudinous police and security officers present were so unaccustomed to a Westerner that they took me aside and detained me while they looked through my passport and joked about my shoes, my manner of dress and prolly my facial hair.  This particular incident happened in the morning but I had passport checks all day and was continually harrassed about where I sat, lying on my foam mat while waiting and charging my ipod.  It got to the point that I started being a little bit of a prick and whenever they would make eye contact with me I would hold up my passport and ticket and insist they check it while cursing at them audibly (they didnt understand Englirsh anyway). 
   It was so bad that my only reprieve from this intrusiveness was the dreaded cold; I made the arduous 60 second trek to a nearby cafe, almost died in the process, and spent an hour or two there drinking coffee and keeping warm.  I noticed the sun (which had gingerly risen around 10 am) during the walk to this cafe.  It sat so low on the southern horizon even at “high noon” that I swore I had entered the Arctic circle (and who knows, maybe I had; I really didnt do much research on Kazakhstan before deciding to go there as foreknowledge and preparation often preclude wacky adventures).  I dont want to overstate the cold weather but you must understand my situation: My upper body and legs were perhaps warm enough to survive for protracted periods of time in the cold (not comfortably mind you), but my footwear of choice is Vibram Five Fingers KSO Treks.  These are a barefoot equivalent shoe which mimic the barefoot very well, particularly in their almost complete absence of resilience to cold weather.  There was only 6mm of rubber between me and the snow and my toes were separated which made them chill that much faster.  I literally may as well have been walking out there barefoot.
   Whatever though, I survived the day and made it to the train (although the walk on the platform was another trying experience).  The compartment I was in had two young guys and two old ladies on it who became essentially my Kazakh aunts, insisting that I eat with them and drink tea with them.  It was a very pleasant train ride considering noone spoke English.  Also, I finally got warm.  The train itself bears some mention because it was incredibly old-looking and it seemed to me that it was very possibly a Soviet relic which I thought was kinda cool.
   We arrived in Almaty the next night and one of my aunties insisted on taking me to the international bus station so I could buy a ticket to Urumqi, China.  Almaty was warmer but still not as warm as I would have liked, and I was forced to walk outside for over half an hour, poorly-equipped.  We got me set up for a bus leaving the following night and I stayed in the bus-station dorm.  It was a fun night as I got invited to drink with some Kazakh taxi drivers taking a “vodka break” in the kitchen of my hotel (I didn’t write that last bit as a joke, but its actually kinda funny).  We crushed their whole bottle (smoothe stuff) then I figured “fuck it”, and busted out my bottle of cheap scotch from the Kiev duty-free.  We crushed that too and smoked my pipe and I woke up feeling like shit the next morning.  My wake-up was even worse because it was conducted by the Kazakh cleaning lady who was yelling at me to get out in a voice that sounded like a cross between a cat being strangled and a little girl being raped.  I had to kill the day in Almaty waiting for my night-time bus departure.  I spent a good three hours internetting across from the station.  It was during this time that I learned from FB friends that Kazakhstan had declared a state of emergency in response to unruly labourers in the Southwest who were protesting the government for something (higher wages, better hours, more jobs, etc…).  We had passed near this region en route to Almaty while I was sleeping on the train two nights before.  Leave it to me to sleep through a conflict. 
   Around 10 pm on my third day in Kazakhstan I boarded my overnight bus to Urumqi, China.  It was awesome because I was expecting to be sitting up for the whole 24+ hour ride but it was a sleeper bus stocked with thick fleecy blankets.  I dwelt on the cleanliness of the blankets for less than an instant and got to the business of sleep real quick.  My awakening the next morning was a rude one: my busmates telling me to get my passport out because we were getting boarded by the Kazakh miltary.  Fortunately this was no random passport check; it was the first (of several) passport checks to go through the border to China.  The border crossing took about two hours as all the bus companies seemed not to co-ordinate their schedules, so there was a surfeit of people trying to get through the border, and these people had seemingly not grasped the concept of “a line:” I literally had to occupy my whole border lane to prevent little Asians from pushing past me.  In this instance my backpack came in handy for occupying space as it is roughly the size of a small Asian.
   Much more pleasant than exiting Kazakhstan was entering China.  There was a 5km or so “no mans land” between the two countries which was traversed only by my bus apparently.  What this meant in practice was that all of those people from the various buses that came through all piled onto my bus and I almost didnt even get a spot.  Plus this old man who was mad that he didnt get on the bus before me kept pushing me from behind.  It took all of my patience not to clock the Kazakh fuck.  But like I said, entering China was fine: in fact because I was so conspicuous in the crowd of Asians, the Chinese authorities pushed me to the front of the line which happened to be right on front of the pushiest fucks from the bus ride over, much to their Kazakh chagrin.  It was a small victory but a victory nonetheless.  The process was delayed a little by passport control who kept looking back and forth between me and my passport pic.  He even called a friend over to get his opinion on if it was really me.  That was really the only hiccup. 
   Clearing customs was a lot like clearing customs in Egypt though; as soon as I was free of security the hustlers and hucksters wanted a piece of me.  Many were holding wads of Chinese money to change but I had read about rampant counterfeiting in China and opted not to change my money with these disreputable seeming characters.  We had a quick lunch China-side and were on our way.  It wasn’t until after midnight that we reached Urumqi, and the bus saw fit to drop us off at a hotel instead of the bus station.  This was problematic because Urumqi was not much warmer than Almaty and I really wanted to be on my way further south to the city of Chengdu in the Sichuan province.  In the next few hours I had one of my weirdest experiences thus far, but alas, that’s a story for the sequel.
Stay Thirsty
-Andre Guantanamo 

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September 29, 2011 · 15:09

Lets Get This Show on the Road

My Friends,
   After some long days of document re-issuance and wound-licking,  I am ready to set out again in search of adventures.  I got a pssport and money, which are really the only things you need for adventure..  Will be spending one last night in Lisboa, which has been the equivalent of the city of Darwin on my trip to Australia; I ended up staying longer than i planned and the trip really jumped off when i left.  Found a really nice and cheap hostel last night in spite of my plans to sleep in a building  under  construction (I promised I would sleep indoors, Anita lol) But the hostel was great and the price was right.  Ill spend the night there and maybe takee a trip to the bookstore I was at lastnight and finish reading the graphic noveel I started.
   Speaking of reading I started “Men Without Women” by Ernest Hemingway.  I could not find a replacement copy of Don Quixote but its ok because I have wanted to read Hemingway since I heard him refeerred to as the Biggie Smalls of American Literature.  As a bonus, most of the short stories in this book take place in European cities I will be visiting so that wwill help me contectualize.
   What has made the last few days bearable for me is slowing ddowwn the pase of life.  Without a schedule save for deadlines with the embassy I am moving on local time: I  have learned to aappreciate my afternoon espresso and brandy and converssing  with the locals.  Through this interaction my Portuguese has improved, but itt is not yet  high-tech enough to have arguments with the locals about futebol.
    Another hard-earned lessson is not to pinch a penny so hard: while I am on a shoe-string budget I  should heed the sage advice of the great traveller, Tanya Gouveia,  who told me prior to my departure about not depriving myself for anything i want.  Well she was right, and depriving myself of a bed for the sake of frugality and proof of ruggedness ended up being a costly prospect for both myself and my support base at home.
   In regards to the help I received from home in my tume of need, I felt bad taking help: I had sincerely wanted to do this trip on my own.  But this logic is self-defeating as I know that we are not alone in this world: It is a symbiotic place and to pretend otherwise is folly.  Besides, I had no such qualms when Wilson, Victor, or Joana (locals I meet) helped me out.  In fact, this whole trip with its hitchhiking and couchsurfing bent, is  predicated on the notion that we all need help sometimes.  I just hope that when my benefactors are in time of need, that they don not hesitate to come to me.
    That is all I am going to say; spirits are high and I face the better part of the world both humbled and a little wiser.  Are my troubles finished?  I dont know.  But I am not.
Stay Thirsty
-Andre Guantanamo

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