Vagabond Tango

Just Out of Town

2009-10-25T10:26:00.002-05:00

Park Gate
Originally uploaded by pschwarz.

Potsdam, Germany

I took me a while to get out of the city. I haven't really figured out much of the surrounding areas, to know what to visit or where to go. Perhaps I've been preoccupied with the newness of my circumstances.

There's some pretty spectacular sites around here, as it turns out.

Potsdam is a relatively close city, under an hour by train from Berlin. Close enough that it's part of the Berlin transit system, actually. I headed out that way early on a Saturday morning.

Historically, it was the capital of Prussia, during the reigns of the Prussian kings. Here they had built the seat of their power. While the main palace of the kings was destroyed in 1945 - one with a not-surprisingly Louvre-like layout - the summer palace of the kings remains.

Schloss Sanssouci is a remarkable piece of roccoco architecture, dating from the mid-18th century. It was built by Fredrick the Great to serve as a summer home for the royal family and their entourages. It was a center of art and theatre for the family, and played host to numerous parties and official functions.

The palace itself is surrounded by a beautiful park, peppered with smaller palaces and outdoor venues. There are ponds and fountains, both of the obviously man-made designs, and some natural (or, at least, designed to appear so). The trees that line the roads give the park a more pristine and natural look. This wealth of trees seems to be a hallmark of German parks.

Just beyond the park lies the Altstadt, or Old City, which is a surprisingly modern grid layout of a two or three story buildings. Here there are shops and restaurants, both small and independent or larger high-end chain stores. It is quite pleasant to walk the streets.

As for my day of it, there was much, too much walking. Having been traveling about by foot and subway, I've been neglecting resting up my legs. I'm enjoying a day off, with only enough walking to go find a place for dinner.

A Hardware Failure

2009-10-21T07:23:00.003-05:00

Berlin, Germany

I've gone into great detail about my recent hardware failure here. All is resolved now, and I should be able to post, upload pictures, communicate via Skype regularly.

A Move Somewhat out of the Blue

2009-10-12T13:49:00.003-05:00

Berlin, Germany

Right, so I've moved to Berlin. Not necessarily a shocker for most friends of mine, but if I still have any readers that I don't know, well, that's the scoop.

The question is, what brought this move about?

Hawaii was, well, a nice place to visit - for a year, mind you - but I couldn't see myself living there for a long period of time. Work life was unsatisfying, travel life was extremely limited, and the tango scene, while friendly, was not very exciting.

Berlin, on the other hand, certainly has all three of those things: interesting work, potential for travel, and, by all accounts, a great tango scene. This are certainly reasons why I ultimately chose Berlin as a destination, but it was not the reason why I chose it in the first place.

It really comes down to Jobs at Joel on Software. The job board is frankly, incredible. The number of interesting positions there is surprising, given the size of the list. That being said, all of the replies and interviews I've had in the last two and a half years have been as a result of said job board.

I was looking in Europe as a whole, and New York as a US fallback. My current employer just happened to respond to my resume. That they are in Berlin is merely coincidence, in my opinion. It wouldn't have mattered if they were in France, Spain, or Norway. I would have gone, just to be able to go.

So here I am, getting myself both immersed in the city, the culture and the bureaucracy. I hope to produce more on all three subjects in the coming weeks and months.

Earthquakes

2009-04-25T15:44:00.002-05:00

Hilo, HI

There have been a couple of minor earthquakes on the island this past month. The first was a 5.2 magnitude quake, on the 14th. The second was a much smaller 4.2 on the 22nd.^[1]

I felt the them both, to my surprise.

The 5.2 was enough to show up on the instrument read-outs of the telescope. In fact, the sensors for the positioning of the secondary mirror are sensitive enough to provide a pretty accurate seismograph of the event. Fortunately, there was no lasting effect on the summit facility.

There was a much larger quake in 2006, which caused a considerable amount of damage around the island. This included some severe damage to some of the resorts on the Kona-side of the island, as well as long term shutdowns of many observatories (including Gemini) at summit.

[1] I actually have no idea how long the links to the facts on these earthquakes last. I'll correct the links if they disappear.

Big Island Tango

2009-01-27T15:47:00.004-06:00

Tango
Originally uploaded by pschwarz.

Hilo, HI.

This is a demo given at a recent milonga in Hilo. Not the greatest turnout, but everyone who came danced every song. A lot of enthusiasm for the dance, even though the community is small.

These sorts of events will help it grow.

Scuba!

2008-12-21T04:00:00.003-06:00

Scuba!
Originally uploaded by pschwarz.

Hilo, HI

Finally got my second dive in. It was much more interesting than the first one. There were an incredible amount of fish as well as a number of sea turtles. The turtles made my day, really.

Of course, I'm still pretty new at this, so I'm spending much of my time watching where I'm going, looking where my group is, concentrating on my breathing, etc. It pays off...unless you have no idea what you're doing. I hadn't really had any training using my Buoyancy Control Device (BCD). This resulted in me over compensating and therefore shooting up to the surface, followed by a quick drop back to the bottom...twice.

Lessons learned, though. I got the hang of it after the instructor gave me run down of the equipment again (at thirty feet below the surface). I did end up skipping the second dive planned for the day. I've gotten old enough to know when not to push myself.

Yeah, my right ear hurts like hell now. I'm told it'll go away in a day or two. I'll be back in the water after the Holidays.

From the Archives...

2008-12-08T16:49:00.003-06:00

Served
Originally uploaded by RobFargo

These ping pong tables are permanent structures in the Dortmünd parks. All you need to provide are paddles and balls.

Not for the easily vertigoed...

Wandering Tango

2008-11-05T19:07:00.004-06:00

I was invited to add one of my pictures to a photo group on Flickr called Tango Errante (Wandering Tango). This seems rather fitting, considering my penchant for finding tango anywhere and everywhere (dancing tango at these found places, well, that's another issue all together).

It's nice to get a little recognition, even if it is a very little bit.

A Word About Strays

2008-11-02T14:54:00.002-06:00

La Serena, Chile.

I was warned about the stray dogs in La Serena. People had mentioned them, mostly with a tone of disbelief. Even the locals seemed to talk about them like they were a nuisance at best, and a menace at worst.

They certainly seemed wrong to me.

Maybe it's just me, but they seemed more like part of the scenery, rather than a problem. They simple wondered about, sniffing for food, and generally looking rather decrepit. Defeated might be a better term for it; they looked more like dogs which had been beaten for the majority of their life and, as a result, always looked at people with a guilty look in their eyes.

Not to say I didn't see any bad behaviour from the dogs, only amongst themselves. I did see a few dogs fighting, but not in a fashion that seemed overly violent. The fight looked more like an alpha dog reasserting his position in the hierarchy. The larger dogs did seem to travel in packs, the smaller ones on their own. Of these smaller dogs, they still would be considered a medium sized dog, were they a pet. I would venture a guess that most smaller breeds had either been run off, killed or were exceptionally good at hiding.

Diving!

2008-10-12T13:26:00.003-05:00

Hilo, HI

I feel pretty good about getting around to one of the new things on my list of things to try while I'm here in Hawaii: scuba diving. After last week's lessons-only day (the weather would not permit a first dive), we had our first dive yesterday.

I can't say that it was an amazing experience, given that most of the dive was spent practicing fundamentals. It was still exhilarating. You have to put a great amount of trust in the equipment^[1]. Putting your face in the water and breathing requires you to overcome a rather powerful intuition that this should not be possible. Hence, it's a good idea to start breathing through the regulator before putting your face in the water.

Again, this was a dive that was practicing fundamentals: taking off the regulator and putting it back in while under water, using someone else's alternate air source, recovering your regulator, etc. Most of these things are important to know and practice in a controlled dive environment. Once you know what it's like, you are less likely to panic.

I'm looking forward to the future dives. There will be more fundamentals, but they should be more interesting as well. More depth, hopefully, as we only went down 15 feet on this first dive.

I'll be putting it off for a few weeks, as I'm headed to La Serena, Chile tomorrow night. It'll take two days to get there, so I'm planning on loading my laptop up with some pending tv shows.

[1] This is not to say that you do your own equipment checks on the rentals. The O-ring on my tank was looking a little used. It was fine for this dive, but the dive instructor made a note of it for replacement. Not to worry, I'm going to keep my eye on those O-rings.

Day at the Beach

2008-10-10T23:38:00.001-05:00

Sunset
Originally uploaded by pschwarz.

Hilo, HI

I finally made it to the beach. I'm not a beach guy but it is nice. It's also the first sunset I've seen since I've been here.

Beautiful.

Big Island Tango

2008-10-01T19:09:00.002-05:00

Hilo, HI

There's tango here. It is a small community, but it's relatively new. There's about a dozen regulars, but a couple of beginners came this week. During the week, we have a lesson and a practica. Both are useful for retaining skills, but I do find myself surprisingly on the "skilled" end of the spectrum.

The other islands actually have pretty decent tango communities, even though the populations of many of the others are smaller. Apparently there is a workshop on the island of Kauai, which should have a decent turnout - it has a real Argentinian, after all.

This tango group is definitely giving credence to the idea the Big Island is the last place to get anything.

Promises, Moves, and Concerts

2008-09-28T16:25:00.004-05:00

Hilo, HI,

Promises

First thing, first. Now that I'm settled, I plan on updating this blog every Friday and Sunday. Really, I promise, I'll do it.

Moves

This leads me into the part about being settled: I've found a permanent place to live. It's a recently renovated duplex. I live in the upstairs unit, and the downstairs unit is only temporarily occupied by my landlords. They're moving to Oahu (which actually seems to be pretty common with many rentals - the owners don't live on the Big Island), so they're hunting for a tenant. If I can find one soon, I'll get a free months rent.

I've been spending this and last weekend unpacking. I'm almost done with the major stuff - a couple of half-filled boxes of dishes awaiting their turns for the dishwasher, and a some boxes of clothes to put away. After that, I'll hang up my art pieces and I'll be more settled than I ever was in my Girard apartment. I'll post some pictures soon.

Concerts

Last night was a three stage, six hour music festival of local[1] bands. It happens once a year and seems to draw about a third of the town. Since I've been here, I haven't seen so many people in one place. It actually made me feel a little uncomfortable. My expectations of small crowds has skewed my perception of big crowds. Back home, I would not have had a problem with fifteen thousand people, but here it just seemed overwhelming.

Needless to say, I didn't hang around too long. I had arrived late, due to unpacking, so I only caught the tail end of one band which had a good sound. Fortunately, on my way back to my car, I ran into some folks I met a few nights ago, and went back to the concert, stayed fifteen more minutes, and then went back to their place for cigar and some fine, Guatemalan, 23-year aged rum.

Tasty.

[1] It seems to me that "local" here means the state of Hawaii. The bands were from all over the islands, with a few from the Big Island. This seems true of most things - produce, furniture, art, etc. I'm getting the sense that there's much more of an affinity between the islands then there is between Hawaii and the Mainland.

At Gemini

2008-09-13T16:44:00.002-05:00

At Gemini
Originally uploaded by pschwarz.

Hilo, HI

As far as programming jobs go, this one is a mixed bag. I've never worked in an organization that required so much in the way of documentation and meetings. My next six months will be less coding and more designing on paper. I try to keep my fingers in code, just to do a little testing of concepts, but I think my life will be dominated by writing words.

On the other hand, I did get to go to the army base and practice driving a four-wheel drive vehicle on dirt by weaving cones and doing donuts. That's not a perk in every job, is it?

It also involved driving up to the summit. I hadn't actually thought that I do it a second time, at least not anytime soon. It was much better than the first time. I felt great up there. A little light-headed durning the drive up, but that may have had to do with the road conditions (bumpier than all hell), then the altitude.

The drive down, on the other hand, was a pain. I drove from the summit, back to the office (about an hour's drive) in a very thick fog. Fortunately, this only started at the paved section of the mountain road, down. It would have been extremely white-knuckle otherwise. Of course, there are miles of construction on the Saddle Road which in foggy conditions is pain to drive.

The trip was made easier by my passengers: the two brits spent most of the time talking about how Captain Cook died. There's no better distraction than people discussing how an Eighteenth-centery explorer was dismembered by the natives.

Sunfish!

2008-09-07T23:20:00.002-05:00

Ready to Go
Originally uploaded by pschwarz.

Hilo, Hi.

I checked out the Na Hoa Holomoku Yacht Club today. They have a little fleet of Sunfish, a couple of Hobie Cats and a pair of Volksboats. Well, without my life-jacket, hat, gloves, shoes, or really anything sailing related, I only took a couple rides on the Hobie cat.

I'll go next time, certainly. Since I should be getting possession of my car soon (the location of all the aforementioned sailing gear), I'll be set to practice tipping the boats, riding the swells (if I want to risk sailing past the breaker - which I do), and generally getting extremely burned.

I think a better sort of hat is in order.

The Rest of Me

2008-09-06T16:24:00.002-05:00

Hilo, HI

My things have arrived on the island. Not in my possession, mind you, they've merely arrived. My car is at the docks, some where. My container of personal belongings is also there, I imagine, stacked there like that warehouse in Raiders of the Lost Ark, never to be seen again.

The hunt for a more permanent residence has been a flurry of showings lately. I have seen a house a day for a week. Yet, still no luck. As I was told yesterday at a company BBQ, I need "to get used to a different standard of living."

Ah, crap.

So I'll keep looking. I'm headed to see another place this afternoon. Might be a good candidate. If it doesn't work out, I going to get a room in someone's house, pay a weekly rate until I can find a place of my own. There are a few options there, as well.

This weekend there is a intro meeting for the local sailing club. I plan on checking it out, sailing one of those little dinghies in the bay. It should be fun. I haven't sailed a really small boat since my UW sailing team days.

If I Really Wanted Frequent Blog Posts...

2008-08-31T18:15:00.003-05:00

... I could write them like this.

They are interesting, if short. It's almost like Orwell would have been right at home using Twitter.

A Little Sightseeing

2008-08-31T17:21:00.004-05:00

Hilo, HI

I'm slowly doing a little sightseeing, here. I can't say that I'm getting out frequently, but I feel like I have plenty of time to see things. There's only so much to see, and I've got to pace myself.

It is an island, after all.

Well, that's not entirely why I haven't rushed out to see everything and anything worth seeing. I still not quite feeling settled, and that's limiting me to small excursions. I keep thinking that I'll get out and do something longer and more involved, once my car gets here and I get a permanent place to live. Once I have all my stuff, and I have permanent internet access.

Eh, excuses, excuses. Like not dancing because I don't have my shoes^[1].

On the plus side, I don't have to worry about things closing down for the winter. Back in Minneapolis, I always have to be concerned about the limited summer season limiting my activities. There's only so little time, for so many things.

It's not going anywhere, and I'll see it all by the time I'm done here.

[1] Of course, as anyone who knows me, I don't need much in the way of excuses not to dance when I'm on my own.

Relocated!

2008-08-21T17:56:00.003-05:00

>
Originally uploaded by pschwarz.

Hilo, HI

I'm not sure this would be classified as travel, but I've relocated. Sure I'll come back to Minneapolis in the future, but for now I'm enjoying a change of scene.

In Hawaii, of all places.

More on the move and the job in future posts.

I've a little stretching to do to get back into writing shape. I need to rebuild the habit, so these entries may be slow in coming. Not to mention that I don't have access to internet outside of work...

Forthcoming Posts

2007-11-27T10:36:00.000-06:00

Munich, Germany.

So, as it turns out, I forgot how much internet is a pain in the ass in Western Europe. It's pricy and hard to come by. Compound that with the fact that the German keyboard has a slightly different layout.

I've had to type every 'y' and apostrophe at least three times.

What does this mean, with respect to my posting more on this blog? I probably be doing a big dump of information in two or three long posts after I get home. Of course, Wi-Fi has been pretty common at hostels¹ here, so perhaps some ultra-portable computer might be a good idea for next time.

1. I finally figured out the best way to identify Australians. The pronounce the word 'hostel' with an accent on the last syllable, like hotel. Actually, it kind of makes sense...

Industrial Heart

2007-11-22T07:21:00.001-06:00

Dortmund, Germany.

I arrived here in one of the industrial hearts of Germany, spending the Thanksgiving holiday with my friends. We wandered around in order to find a few ingredients for the big meal. Turkeys are not huge here, no sweet potatoes, pretty much just threw together a recipe for stuffing.

Should be interesting.

As for Germany (well, Dortmund, anyhow), it's pretty clean and efficient. Actually, it's amazingly clean and efficient. The train ride from the Düsseldorf airport was on time, to the minute, and so pristine you can eat of the...well...alright, not that clean, but pretty damn clean.

Dortmund is a pretty bland city, when it comes to architecture, but the Christmas market is shaping up to be something pretty spectacular. The tree easily rivals the one they put out in front of the White House, or Rockefeller Center. They start things up tonight, but we'll be heading over there on the weekend.

I'm starting to shape up my plans for the rest of the time here. I'm currently thinking about heading to Berlin for a few days, and then down to Munich. Other than that, not much else planned out.

Happy Thanksgiving!

Wiping off the Dust, Kicking off the Rust

2007-11-17T14:00:00.000-06:00

Minneapolis, MN

Man, it's dusty around here. All this stuff just lying around, collecting dust from all those readers coming through here, looking for some new content. Yep, the vast horde that is my readership is just kicking up all sorts of dust.

That's right, hordes.

So I've been away for a while. It's been tough, what with working and all. Imagine that, I don't get out as much as I used to.^[1]

Fortunately, I'll be heading back out into the world this week. It won't be for a long time, but it will be somewhere new (for me, anyway). I'm headed off to Germany on Tuesday. I'll be heading to a town called Dortmund, via Düsseldorf. That's about all I have planned for right now. I have two weeks in country, and no idea what I'll do with most of it.

Ah, to travel again. The more people ask me what I'll be doing the less comfortable I get. I prefer not knowing what I'll be doing. There's no pressure to see everything, or go everywhere. Not having a real agenda feels good.

It should be a good time. I'll take in some sites, enjoy time with my friends who've moved there, and try to do the usual: find a tango joint and see how the locals do it. Maybe even dance at one of those places. I do feel like I've a better grasp on this whole tango business.

At least I'll take pictures.

[1] Nor do I really write much, it seems. At least this is the 100^th post.

2006 in Pictures

2007-01-19T14:42:00.000-06:00

2006 was a crazy, long, eventful year. Here's a handy little way of reviewing my year in pictures.

The Update

2006-12-02T11:25:00.000-06:00

I'm going to deliver on something for which the readers have been clamoring . There have been cries for "where are you now?" and "what are you going to do next?" So here it is, the Update. The story that everyone has wanted to know. The answer to the question of "What now?"

Back to the world of the Ordinary.

I've been working at a full-time, salaried position (that's right, I'm a salaried man again) for ObjectFX. It is a good fit for a variety of reasons. The first is that they are a vendor for my previous employer. I was familiar with the basic operation of the software, and the expected results. Secondly, I was the second of what is now three former co-workers of mine that used to work at said previous employer. Third. It's about maps.

What's more fitting than that for a traveller.

Granted, they are only maps of the good, old U.S. of A., but it's still pretty interesting work. I get to use my math training more than ever. Of course, geometry was never my strong suit, but it's coming back with a vengeance.

I've also landed myself a pretty decent apartment. It's a great old place with an interesting layout. I took the lease over from a previous tenant, and I'm currently debating whether or not I should sign an new lease. It would force me to get all my things out of storage. I think if I did that, I could truly feel like I live in the place. Perhaps I'm resisting moving in completely. It would mean that the travelling is at it's end.

It would be nice to have all of my stuff, though. I'm starting to miss a few things. Mainly my whistling teapot...

I've also met a delightful, engaging, attractive, young woman named Jessica. The bonus? She tangos.

Where does all this Ordinary leave the blog? Well, the answer to that is that it will be put on extended hiatus. I don't plan to put it down permanently. It'll make a great archive for the stories, for one. Also, I don't think that I'm going to be quiting travel anytime soon. I'll be going new places soon enough.

I'll keep you posted.

Travel Burst

2006-11-28T14:58:00.000-06:00

I recently spent a long weekend in Savannah, GA. It's a lovely, smallish city that lies on the Savannah River. The city center is full of beautiful, old pre-Civil war mansions, as well as a revitalized river-front of cotton mills - turned restaurants.

Further east lie a series of islands, some belonging to Georgia, others to South Carolina. We spent a day on Tybee Island, where many of these pictures were taken.

Savannah in late Fall has cool, but very manageable, weather. The island, on the other hand, was marred by high winds. This did not, by any means, ruin the experience.

The views from the top of the Tybee Island lighthouse were spectacular. From two hundred feet up, one can see for miles over the Ocean and the interior of the island.

It was a short, yet sweet and relaxed, trip to South. It wet the appetite for more travel. It already seems like it's been too long.

Heartland Tango

2006-09-22T14:37:00.000-05:00

Heartland Tango Festival, originally uploaded by pschwarz.

It's been a long time since I've updated the blog. Mostly due to the fact that my vagabond ways are pretty much done with.

At least there is still some tango.

In early September I went to my first local tango workshop. It consisted of daily classes and nightly milongas for the full weekend (Friday, Saturday and Sunday). It was intense, exhausting, educational, and, most importantly, a damned lot of fun.

There were a three sets of instructors, with only one half of a pair from the Cities. One couple, Cecilia and Jaymes, reminded me of my favorite instructors from Buenos Aires. They had a fantastic report and lightweight, easy-going instructional style.

The weekend also got me started on improving my low-light photography skills. Namely by getting a friend to shoot them for me (as in the above photo).

Yet another thing to practice, practice, practice.

Off into the Sunset

2006-08-06T11:51:00.000-05:00

Minneapolis, MN

I'm done with the travel game for the time being. I only have to find myself a place to call my own for more than a couple months, and then I'm settled. I'm stable, employed and sedentary.

So, now what?

Well, I still need to work on an afterward, I suppose. I mean, I'm still looking for a permanent place to live^[1]. I'm still getting the hang of this whole "working thing" again. The transition from all-the-time-in-the-world to maybe-six-hours-a-day-plus-weekends is been tough.

The other questions that still need to be answered are: what have I learned, and have I really changed as a person. I'll have to think for a while.

I can't wait too long. Otherwise, all reflection will get lost in the mundane in and out of the new day-to-day. It's funny how fast memory fades these days.

[1] If anyone knows of a great apartment, with low rent and available now, let me know. It would be much appreciated. Please?

Pretty please?

Please, oh God, Please.

Back in the Land of the Softies

2006-07-29T15:07:00.000-05:00

Yosemite Tramp, Chapter 8

Vernal Fall
Originally uploaded by RobFargo.

Having made our way back down Half-Dome, we rested for only a moment before heading back down to the valley floor. There was a cheerful spirit while we packed up camp, having just played the crescendo of the trip's little symphony. I, for one, was ready to return to the land of the Softies.

Frankly, I just really wanted a shower.

We miss calculated, in part, the number of lunch items we would need for the second half of the trip. We only had two cliff bars a piece - not quite enough calories for another four mile hike. Considering that we were heading mostly down hill, it didn't seem to be too much of a problem.

The route down took us down Nevada Falls and it's lower half, Vernal Falls. We were immediately surrounded by Softies, heading up to the top of the falls, or further, to the top of Half-dome. Again, we picked out those who would make it and those who would give up. Even though we felt a little under supplied for the hike, we were always surprised by the hikers heading to the top with only a small bottle of water, mostly empty due to poor rationing.

Both sets of falls were quite beautiful. They lacked the majesty of Yosemite falls, but they made up for it in volume. Both rushed down to the valley with amazing forth, and spilled out of their usual beds. The hike down past Nevada Falls was lined by a half-mile of stone steps, making for uncomfortable climbing, with little shade in the noon sun. The hike past Vernal Falls was a different story.

The trail next to Vernal falls splits into a foot path and a horse trail. It turns out that the horse trail would be preferable to those who did not what to get soaked head to foot. The foot path is, for a large portion, just narrow set of rock stairs along side a cliff face, overlooking the water fall. The spray from the deluge is tremendous, soaking all hikers in an instant. A good thirty minutes of this leaves one drenched. The name "Mist Trail" seems like an understatement.

One of the other down sides of hiking this particular trail has to do with the softies. They have a tendency to be very heads-down hikers, so careful with their footing that they are oblivious to people coming down. This is particularly annoying when the people in question are carrying heavy packs and have limited maneuverability when it comes to dodging clueless hikers.

Once we passed through the drenching section of the trail, and were much closer to reaching the bottom, I was feeling particularly excited about leaving the back country. I found myself whistling, talking quite loudly about the impracticality of the softies, and passing people left and right as if I was a small sports car (albeit with a heavy load strapped to the top). I may have even skipped a little bit.

We happily made it down to the valley floor by about three in the afternoon. We made our way over to Curry Village, the part of the park with showers, a camp store and beer. Picking up a celebratory meal, and more Fat Tire, we prepared for our last night camping in Yosemite.

Overall, the camp experience in Yosemite was much different then last backcountry trip in Glacier National Park^[1] in the summer of 2005. That trip involved a straight, six day hike through the backcountry. Once we were two days in, there was always at least a two day hike to get back out. It required much more from us, since we had no choice but to push on, pain or no pain. Yosemite, on the other hand, safety and soft life was always a short hike away. We were never really more than four miles away from civilization.

While this closeness existed, we never let it change our backcountry experiences. It still felt like we were far away from everything and everyone. It was only more relaxing to know that if there was trouble, it was not going to be a terrible thing to get out of. I, for one, felt more relaxed and safe. In Glacier, once we passed that two day mark, and our party members knees^[2] began to go, I was always a little nervous. Nervous about injury, nervous about food and water, nervous about bears. Just nervous, really.

Without all this nervousness, coupled with my overly relaxed personality after spending two months in Europe, Yosemite felt like more of a vacation than a hardcore test of endurance.

Still, I had a fantastic time in both parks, and am looking forward to the next ridiculous camp adventure, as sold to me and other hapless campers by Rob.

[1] Which, admittedly, I haven't really written about. It was pre-vagabond time. It does get mentioned here and here, as well as in some of the other Yosemite chapters.

[2] Why is always knees? Why not a finger, or an ear? It seems like those little hinges are always causing all the problems for the rest of the team.

Half-Dome

2006-07-22T14:42:00.000-05:00

Yosemite Tramp, Chapter 7

Three-thirty am. We woke to the deep darkness of a moonless, early morning. The stars were thick, dense, bright, and beautiful. The campground was quietly sleeping around us, as we crept out to the trail.

After the previous night's bear incident, we were all a little jumpy. Any noise, any twig snap, any strange crunching sound and flashlights flicked through the woods, landing briefly in the holes of blackness, only find them empty. With only one muffled cry of "eyes", the hike proceeded without animal incident.

The goal was to make the top of the mountain by sunrise. Given that we really only had about an hour after we left camp to make the nearly four mile hike, we didn't quite achieve this goal. Enjoying the sunrise on the side of the mountain, was still worth while. The way the rays of light descend over the range certainly reminded me that this amazing universe of random creation has some fantastic structures.

We arrived at the last quarter of the trail at about six in the morning. The surprising thing was that we were not the first group there. A group of hikers had woke left from the valley floor at midnight. They had hiked eight miles before most people in the valley had eaten breakfast. That, and they still had to hike back down to the bottom.

That last quarter of the trail is the hardest part. Of that group of four hikers, only one had the courage to take the top of the mountain. You see, it involves hiking up over eight hundred feet of elevation, with a very steep grade, using a pair of steel cables as hand-holds.

We sat for a few minutes and stared at those cables.

Half Dome cables
Originally uploaded by RobFargo.

We had come a long way for this, though. The climb had been the goal of the trip, the intended highlight, the true challenge of the week. There was no going back without conquering those cables.

At the bottom of the cables sits a pile of leather gloves for climbers to use. While climbing Half-Dome is a challenge, it still draws an amazing volume of traffic. That's the other main reason that we left so early. We didn't want to be dealing with traffic on those cables.

I grabbed a pair of gloves, grabbed the cables and started climbing. I had no desire to be stuck, frozen due to heights or the feeling of being exposed on the side of what was almost a cliff face. It turned out that I had less a fear of those things, and more a fear of tiring out. Climbing with the cables was nearly all arms. So I just kept going, with few pauses or breaks. I would climb from rest point to rest point^[1], pause for a moment, tell myself I was doing good, and head for the next one. One by one, all the way to the top, in under twenty minutes.

This left me at the top, alone, waiting for the rest of my crew. I waited a good ten minutes at the top, wondering, listening for their arrival. I later learned that they had worked incredible hard to make that top. Rob followed up the rear, acting as a drill sergeant to get Jen and Liza to the top.

On this particular climb, Liza and Jen are my heroes. Both of them were really in no condition to climb that mountain. Jen, with her bum knee, and Liza, with a back that had gone south of cheese, were in a lot of pain. Yet, climb they did and they reached the top.

We stayed up on the top for a about a half hour. Not long, given the difficult of getting to the top, but I, for one, was more nervous about the way down. I was right, in part, as the climb down took quite a bit longer then the way up. It's a lot more difficult finding footing when climbing down backwards (but there's no choice in the matter, there's really no way to go down forwards). It was more tiring as well, given that one is constantly lowering oneself to the then next foothold, solely with arm strength. I was very happy to reach the bottom.

We were buoyant, happy, cheerful, and practically floating down the mountain back to camp. It was only eight in the morning, and we were already passing throngs of hikers make their way to the top. People were surprised to see us already heading back. Knowing what we knew about the climb we all spent our hike back down picking out those who could and couldn't make it to the top^[2].

We were back to camp by nine in the morning. We still had the hike to the valley floor ahead of us, but at that point we were still bubbling with the thrill of our accomplishment. Nothing beats the feeling of conquering a challenge.

[1] These were two-by-fours laid between the cable poles.

[2] I know, we're bastards. But I really felt like we had earned it.

Short Hike

2006-07-16T13:19:00.000-05:00

Yosemite Tramp, Chapter 6

After such a long day, we woke up surprisingly late (~7:30 - oh, so late as camp sleep goes) in the morning, and enjoyed a leisurely breakfast. We packed up and shuffled off early by nine.

Fortunately, having pushed on so much the day before, we didn't have very far to hike in the morning. Our destination was the Little Yosemite Valley, nestled in a shoulder between Half Dome, Cloud's Rest, and Liberty Peak. We were only about two miles away, so our hike time was short.

The Little Yosemite campground is just that: an actual campground. There were bear boxes, camp sites, and, most importantly, compost toilets. All the comforts of home.

The plan for the next day involved climbing up Half Dome early enough to see the sunrise from the top. We were pretty much left with a day to ourselves. Much cribbage was played, feet were soaked in the river, and naps were had. General laziness was the order of the day.

Leaving, really, not much to write about during that particular day. We ate dinner and went to bed at eight, looking forward to a three AM wake-up call for the eight mile hike in the morning. A quiet end to a quiet day.

...Until I heard some rustling outside the tent. It sounded like Rob had heard it as well, since he sat up to spy what was going on in our campsite. The only thing he said about it was "bear," loudly.

"Bear!" Pause. "Bear! Bear! Bear!. Ho Bear! Get! Hey, everybody there's a bear over here!"

I've never heard the word bear spoken so many times, nor about anything other than bears in the circus^[1]. This was, however about the bear that was eating out of Jen's pack, three feet away from the ladies tent. Three feet. Just eating pack, minding his own business. Three feet away.

He just looked up from the pack at all the yelling with a distinctly questioning look on his face. Who, me? He looked a little surprised and a bit guilty, like a four hundred pound five year old with his face covered in chocolate. He dropped his head with shame and lumbered off through the campsite. He then spied another pack, poked his nose in it, looked up and said "how about this one?"

Not the kind of thing Rob was looking for, so he throws things at it. Throws things! At the four hundred pound bear. Did I mention the four hundred pounds? It's a bear! A big, fucking four hundred pound bear!

Well, it turns out that the park rangers recommend this sort of thing. Yell at them and through small items at them. They take the hint^[2] and will usually leave. Although, I would have appreciated Rob not throwing my shoes at the bear, but I appreciated the fact that he kept his cool and got rid of the bear.

Looking back on it I'm a little angry that I didn't have my camera.

[1] Also know as the Russian Ballet. But I digress.

[2] Unlike unwanted house guests, gypsies, or Rocky Mountain Squirrels

Strange Exercises

2006-07-15T16:12:00.000-05:00

Minneapolis.

For anyone who's been following this blog, I've been slowly catching up with the dailies of the Yosemite Trip. It's been a slow process, given that work and my social calendar has been preventing me from writing as much as I would like.

Alright, I admit it. I just can't seem to figure out from what part of the day I can take the time.

One thing that has been a strange and new exercise for me has been trying to write accurate descriptions from what has become older memory. I've also been writing in installments, making for a more detailed (but still relatively short) travel work. This chapter style has been rather enjoyable, keeping the subjects very small and easy to manage.

The reflection on the events, from the vantage point of weeks rather than hours, allows for the inclusion of things that may have seemed less significant at the time come to fruit. It has allowed for more honesty, as well. I have been able to examine the happenings and for a more rational opinion. There are also things that seemed more significant at the time, but really were just blown out of proportion due to exhaustion[1].

But the daily writing has suffered. I miss it. I feel that to get it back I need to quit my job and go back on the road. Fortunately, people tell me "don't quit your day job."

Thanks, critics, for keeping me gainfully employed.

[1] The other possibility being that I was still affecting some remnant "softiness."

It was widely thought that softiness was a switch: one is either a softie or not (referred to in the scientific literature as "hardcore"). Recent studies have shown that this is not the case. Studies of people being shown photos of situations (hotels versus campgrounds, for example) that should only trigger certain brain locations for softies, tended to have gradations of firing.

These gradations also changed as the subjects were directly exposed to softie or hardcore environments. The more recent the exposure to a soft or a hard environment, the shift more towards one end of the spectrum or another.

Splitting Up is Hard to Do

2006-07-06T13:51:00.000-05:00

Yosemite Tramp, Chapter 5

We had a new plan for the day. With a bum knee, we needed to somehow make it an easy day for Jen. We had seen Four Mile Trail from the other side of the valley. It looked worse than Yosemite falls; a veritable switchback nightmare. After much discussion it was decided that the best route to take back up into the mountains was via bus.

Having missed the ticket window the night before, Rob decided to start the day out by running to the Lodge. This was a good two miles from the backpacker camp. At first glance, this might seem like a good idea: last minute tickets require action to obtain. As it turns out, this was a little detrimental. You see, the tickets for the bus cost twenty dollars a pop. It was a tour bus, complete with little bits of information, and full of softies.

Yose falls reflected in the Merced
Originally uploaded by RobFargo.

Rob and I decided that it would be best^[1] if we hiked up the Four Mile trail. We got everything sorted out by mid-morning, and parted ways with the ladies at the bus.

It turned out that we needed to cross the Valley on foot to get to Four Mile Trail. With all the melt and run off, the river running through it was flooded. Incredibly flooded. We had to walk through a good three hundred yards of icy water. Stupidly, we chose to do this in sandals. Keeping those wool socks on might have been a better idea.

The weird thing about softies is that they take pictures of this sort of thing. "Look at the guys hiking through the water with those heavy packs! Jeez, they're real serious over there. Make sure to get me in the picture with them, ma!" The frozen feet, on my part, froze my sense of humor as well. I sort of broke, and double pumped the bird at some grandma^[2].

I hope she got that photo.

We hiked up the trail pretty quickly after that. It turned out to be an easier hike, in terms of grade and number of switchbacks. The heat and our pace made it exhausting, though. We really pushed - minimal breaks and high speed walking. We were probably racing that bus.

We hit the top, only to find a visitor center, complete with concession stand. This was mildly disturbing, considering the hike it took to get there, but I suppose people could drive there. They need a destination, beyond a spectacular view.

The Face of Half Dome
Originally uploaded by pschwarz.

We reunited with Jen and Liza (who had, during the day, my camera - she took one of the best pictures of Half dome out of my set), had a sandwich and pushed on.

We still had a few miles to go to get out of the day-hiker zone where we could camp. We hiked along the beautiful Panoramic trail, which passed by a large water fall, and had views of Half Dome along the whole trail. Sloping down along a ridge line, it also provided fantastic views of the valley floor below.

We pushed on about as far as we possibly could that night (another three miles), collapsing at the first (and only) campsite we could find.

It was a bloody long day.

[1] I.E. we were cheap bastards.

[2] Ok, so it was actually aimed at Rob. The grandma in question simply got in the way of a misdirected double-pumping.

Honest.

Happy Fourth

2006-07-04T13:11:00.000-05:00

Rhythm and Booms
Originally uploaded by alumroot.

Flickr is great. Any event or holiday, one can find a great photo for it. No one needs to take their one pictures any longer. It's the one stop memory shop.

Of course, if we all just quit taking pictures, who would be out there creating those memories?

Oh, the great conundrums...

Boulevard of Broken Knees

2006-06-29T09:29:00.000-05:00

Yosemite Tramp, Chapter 4

Hiking back down the Yosemite Falls trail was painful. They had built all of these fake steps, as Jen called them, in to the steep switch backs. Going up, oddly enough, one doesn't notice them. The steps are wide enough, perfect for digging one's toes. On the way down, this is a different story.

You see, for most people, down steps need to be taken using the ball of the foot. This is the part of the foot that the majority of the weight is put on during walking. Without a step wide enough, balance is very difficult, requiring more attention to where the foot is placed. It's slow work and we had at least a mile of it.

I was quite pissed off at the trail.

I had less of a reason to be pissed at the trail than Jen. She blew her knee out. Fortunately for me, I did not see the actual moment of knee blowing. I don't really handle see friends pain that well, female friends in particular. I try to be as helpful as possible, but seeing any one on the verge (or actually over the verge^[1]) really puts me on the verge of sobbing like a little girl.

Yep, I'm a big old softie^[2]. Not the kind of softie that I'll describe in a minute, mind you. I hope I am never described in that fashion.

The best solution to that is really just send Rob and I ahead at our own pace. We made it down to the bottom pretty quickly, dropped our packs, took a drink of water, and headed back up. I'm really proud of Rob, actually. Even after some pretty long days of hiking, he still can be a gentleman.

We met back up with Liza and Jen after about fifteen switch-backs. In what took a little convincing, I was able to verbally wrestle away Liza's pack^[3], while Rob took Jen's (I don't think there was a lot of arm twisting there).

We made it back down after the first of two treks into the wilderness a little bruised and broken, but otherwise in good shape.

We had a bit of a run-around after that, riding the shuttles around the park. This allowed for some interesting observations of life for the valley visitors. It was soft and I mean soft. They had hotels, shuttles (who needs walking?), restaurants and bars. We had, well, the stuff in our packs. There were so few backpackers riding around on those shuttles that we became an oddity, another attraction for the softies to photograph. I'm still surprised we never heard the statement "get my picture while stand next to them." Probably due to the smell.

The advantage to this was that the have Fat Tire on tap at the bar. This is one of my all-time favorite beers, and I only ever seem to get it when I'm on a hiking trip. It would be great if they would distribute here in the Midwest, but then it might lose it's specialness. It's become a little gift, a reward for hard work and too much mileage.

Ah, a tasty reward.

[1] What the hell is the "verge" anyway? How does some get on the edge of it. It seems like people hang out on the verge all the time, so is it really wide? Another piece of evidence that it's a really big place is that there are a lot of people on the verge of things: a breakthrough, a breakdown, madness, happiness. Maybe they just like hanging out there, like "he's on the verge, man."

The Verge must be a pretty cool place.

[2] Softie, /'sof-tE/, Etymology: ¹soft.
1. a person who enjoys all the comforts of home, while surrounded by amazing natural beauty, which is meant to be explored and enjoyed through hard hikes, whilst carrying everything needed on one's back.
2. a softhearted or sentimental person

I fall under the second definition.

[3] In a fair, physical fight, I might put my money on Liza. The woman hikes on twelve Advil. She's a veritable pharmacopoeia.

[Note] Strangely enough, I didn't really take any pictures on this day. Probably due to the fact that we were climbing back down the same trail we took to get to the top in the first place.

El Cap Nap

2006-06-25T15:10:00.000-05:00

Yosemite Tramp, chapter 3

The brilliant part of backcountry camping is waking up to the sunrise and feeling like the only people on the mountain. We woke to the sounds of the river rushing below our campsite. The air was fresh, crisp and cold. Damn cold. Icy cold.

Yet another night of freezing my ass off.

I spent my previous backcountry hiking experience freezing nightly, to the point of breaking out the emergency blanket so I could sleep. While I slept soundly, my traveling companions were more annoyed by the crinkle sound the blanket material makes whenever there is the subtlest movement. This year, I decided to go a different route: bring things designed for colder weather.

The whole of the trip a learning process of how to sleep in the cold, while still being able to carry ultra-light equipment. On the first night in the brush, I used a silk liner sheet, and wore a stocking cap. Still, I kept waking up every fifteen minutes or so. My feet were cold. Lesson learned: wear socks.

We had decided the previous evening to do the ten mile hike to El Capitan, as a day hike, instead of hiking to North Dome, which would have been a ten mile hike with full packs. After the hard hike the previous day, we decided that a day hike would be preferable. Besides, we really liked our little campsite.

We hit the trail after the usual camp breakfast of instant oatmeal. The trail itself was relatively easy with pretty minimal elevation gain[1]. We passed by snow pack, and flooded meadows. We were all still tired from the previous day, but the excitement of being in the backcountry - again, as if we were the only people there - speared us on.

We stopped off for a hike up one of the peaks along the way. Here I made the mistake of climbing around the outside of the peak, dangling myself above a long drop down the face of the mountain. It made for a great photo op, though. Liza and Jen stayed behind at the fork in the trail, only to get tired of Rob and my childish need to climb up everything. At least they left a note, made out of pine needles[2].

We found the top of El Cap in only a few hours. The top wasn't really much to see. It was a long, rocky slope with few trees and little else. We did find a very nice little wind shelter, built around a small tree, that had been put together by some previous camper. We sat in the shade of it's tree and napped for a while.

The hike back was uneventful, simply passing back along the same trail. We spent another evening pleasantly exhausted, enjoying yellow curry and cheesy rice, with cashews, a nip of Scotch, and a few games of cribbage.

[1] Only 800 feet. This didn't really seem like much after the 2700 from the previous day.

[2] Somehow, that seems very Hansel and Grettel to me.

Up the Falls

2006-06-21T12:51:00.000-05:00

Yosemite Tramp, chapter 2

We woke up early in the morning to find that we didn't need to worry at all about rangers. The patrol rate of the rangers seemed pretty minimal in Yosemite. Glacier National park was crawling with them. They were almost as plentiful as the deer, and about as intrusive.

We needed to head over to the Wilderness Center to grab our permit and bear boxes. It seemed a bit odd that one has to hike in the backcountry with a personal bear box. These box turned out to be small canisters, with clever locking mechanisms, a little larger than a paint can. We needed two of them to cover our supplies for the first two nights in the backcountry.

In fact, we thought we needed three. The whole group seemed to develop a problem with knowing the exact day that a trip would end. Perhaps they caught it from me. So with an extra day's dinner, as well as all the breakfasts (yep, I forgot to even sort through those), we set out to climb Yosemite Falls.

Yosemite Falls trail is a microcosm of American terrain. It switches to and from pine forests, through desert sands, and misty trees. Each area delights the imagination, conjuring forth different persons who lay in wait just beyond trees. I half expected to see Clint Eastwood burst from the brush, with Eli Wallach close on his heels yelling "Blondie" at the top of his lungs.

The trail itself is probably one of the most difficult hike in the park. It involves hiking up nearly 2800 feet of elevation over three and a half miles. Much of this climb is done in a series of very step and very short switchbacks. How I hate the switchback.

We arrived after about six hours of climbing. We were all in pretty decent shape by the end but quite exhausted. No one was terribly interested in hiking too far from the falls. Fortunately, we stumbled upon a really nice campsite, complete with fire pit, just off of the river.

After a brief nap, we headed to the falls to enjoy a well earned meal. Dinner and a show, actually. The Air Force's show flyers seemed to be doing some practice formations over the park. With all that Californian desert, we couldn't figure out why they choose a National Park as their training area. Still, there are less interesting things to see during dinner

Flood Waters

2006-06-17T16:00:00.000-05:00

Yosemite Tramp, Chapter One

Let me start by saying, this trip was made on a bourbon-induced whim. The decision was made with the flippancy of one who's been traveling for months, and had no qualms about finding a new destination to keep oneself out on the road.

That being said, things started out without a hitch. The flight went well, we found the hotel, and took the train down to San Jose much earlier than we had thought. The plans seemed so solid, and so perfect that I was confident that it would be a perfect trip.

Hold on, let me back up for a minute. Unlike the rest of my recent travels, this one is a bit different. It's a group trip, one planned by my Friends Rob and Liza and accompanied by her friend Jen and myself. I've hiked in the backcountry with Rob and Liza, so I know their personalities in close-quarters. Having never camped with Jen before, she was a bit of a wild card. I had no idea what to expect there. As it turned out, not a problem. Going into the trip, everything else seemed pretty well planned, and I had no thoughts that it would go otherwise.

After the strange experience of visiting a local Greek festival^[1], we headed for the park packed in to a van driven by Liza's dad, David. David is an interesting driver^[2]. The mountain roads wound and snaked through the southern half of the park, causing some of the passengers to go green. It was a damn fun ride: tight turns, too-close passes, and wicked accelerations. Who needs Disneyland?

We only had the option of coming into the park by the southern entrance due to a massive rock slide. This disaster closed off the Highway 140 under tens of feet of rubble. The delay easily added an extra hour onto our travel time.

Here's where the first of the minor hitches in the whole plan cropped up. First off, the ranger stations all closed at 5:30. We arrived after 7 pm. This prevented us from getting our permit, which would allow us to stay in the Backpacker's camp. So, for the first night in the park: no campsite. The trip was already starting to look a little less perfect in execution.

The second hitch was the fact that the Backpacker's camp was flooded out anyway.

The water levels in the park were very high, due to record snowfalls and rainfalls this Winter and Spring. Many of the walking trails near rivers were flood over with at least eighteen inches of water. This causes some serious routing problems for people who plan to travel about by foot.

With no one wanting to ford a stream, in the dark, with packs, we made the decision to abandon any attempt. Luckily, we were able to find an unused spot in the reservation campground nearby. We only had to hope that we wouldn't run into any rangers before morning.

[1] This was a little fund-raising festival for a local Greek Orthodox church. Damn good Gyros.

[2] I.e. nuts.

Into an Hour-Glass

2006-06-14T12:26:00.000-05:00

Minneapolis.

Oh, poor little blog. Neglected, lost, alone, wanting of updates, and information. My time for you is now limited, stolen away by that great sink hole named Work.

What have I signed myself up for?

It's day three of the new job. I'm still not sure how I feel about being back in the saddle. Partly due to the fact that I haven't really had a full night of sleep until last night. I flew the red-eye back from San Francisco, which denied me of a much needed nights sleep between hiking in Yosemite^[1] and the start of a new job.

This lack of sleep and lack of time has really impacted my time for writing. I've started place a lot of importance on this. Heck, I'm on my lunch break at this very moment. The writing has to be crammed in to the day somehow. This leaves me wondering: how will I continue this in the future? Where will it fit into my life? When and where will I find the time to fill the need, and will the need remain with all the other concerns pushing it out of the way?

I had come to the conclusion that I enjoy the software business. Having just entered back into it, I'm left feeling like I've made a mistake somewhere. It needs a little time, to let the dust settle from the impact of what is, for the second time this year, a major change in my life.

On the positive side, I do feel like I have a clean slate - new job, new home, and new outlooks. I can make some changes in my daily life that would have been difficult to make before. But, more on that later.

[1] Which will be syndicated in seven parts, entiled Yosemite Tramp, or How to Lose Feet, Knees, and Avoid Bears with Neither.

Forthcoming from VT Publishing, Ltd.

Broken Vagabonds

2006-05-31T17:19:00.000-05:00

Minneapolis.

The job problem has been solved. I've accepted one of the two offers that were presented last week. Funny, I think the one I wanted (and accepted) knew that I wanted it, and therefore did not budge on any of the terms. The other seemed to know that I wasn't thrilled with the company nor the offer, and, so, seemed to be willing to change anything. Too bad that wasn't compelling enough.

That's negotiation, I suppose.

It now official: June the Twelfth, I give up my short-lived, roaming lifestyle, and stay put. These vagabonds are broken, and I'm free to return to those of labor.

It's not so bad^[1]. It really just ushers in a new chapter, with new work, new locations, a new home, and a new outlook on life. It's been a while since I've worked as a full-time employee. I have been contracting for the past three years. Perhaps I'll see something different, this time around. I've had some good career experiences since then, and some changes in the attitude which will make things go quite a bit more smoothly.

It does seem appropriate that I end my vagabondage with a trip. I'm leaving for Yosemite on Friday^[2]. I'll have a Sunday to recover, before heading into the grind. I'll be in on the read eye.

Which brings me to one further subject that has not been touched on lo these many weeks. It's the question on everyone's mind: How's the Tango, since you've been back? Well, I haven't been able to make it. All that effort, wasted, you say? No, no. I'll be back out on the floor on that Sunday.

That's the way to end it.

[1] In other words, I should really stop being so fucking melodramatic.

[2] No, there probably won't be a post. There, there, don't cry. I know, it's hard, but time heals. Trust me.

Oh, shut up!

Decisions, Decisions

2006-05-30T08:01:00.000-05:00

Minneapolis.

Even I'm surprised by my Network. I had two interviews last week, as a result of openings passed my way by its members. The results came in pretty quickly: I had two offers sitting in front of me by afternoon Thursday. So now, I have been thinking through the process of deciding on which of the jobs I should accept.

It is not as hard as you think.

As it turns out, I really only want one of the positions^[1]. They both have their reasons for interesting me. They both offer a competitive salary and benefits. They both come ready made with people I've worked with before (and, therefore, an easier transition into working again). One of them is just more compelling to work for, however.

One just has a bit more interesting work, is populated with a bit more interesting people, and has a more interesting location. Otherwise, it's actually hard to compare the two. They are apples to oranges, completely different jobs, targeting completely different types of software.

So the choice for me is quite simple. I just need to get what I want out of the company. This is the really selfish stage of job hunting. The potential employee (me) needs to try and get as much out of the potential employer (the people with the money) as possible^[2]. Everybody at this stage is trying to get all they can out of the deal.

Sure, there is a little bit of compromise on both sides. I'm usually a pretty poor negotiator with, in the past, all the compromise on my end of the table. This time, I'm trying to move it back into the middle with some give-take on both sides. I'll give a little on salary, if you give a little on benefits.

I like to think that the last three months of traveling has emboldened me to think this way. I would like to think that I learned a thing or two about haggling, bargaining, and negotiating to get the best deal. I would like to think that it has given me more confidence to judge my value at a higher level.

Really, it's those two offers on the table. Says to me that I am one damned desirable little coder.

[1] I won't say which one. I don't want to tip my hand here. I'm still doing a little bit of negotiating. You'll have to guess, really. I'm hoping that I don't give too much away.

[2] With in reason, of course. It's not like I'm asking for a leased Porche, or a corner office. I'm just looking for a little more vacation time. I'm giving up my travel freedom that I get with contracting. I see that as a big sacrifice that I'm willing to make because I like the company, and feel like it would be a good fit. Otherwise, I'll just stick with contracting.

Stock Photography

2006-05-24T16:06:00.000-05:00

Minneapolis.

I've been trying to sort through my pictures to find the decent shots. It's been taking a while. There are so many photos, that I'm a bit daunted. I took just short of four hundred pictures that need to be viewed, approved and made public in my photo stream.

That doesn't include the pictures of Scotland.

It's one of the few things I've been really procrastinating about. I know that people are interested, but I don't want to overwhelm them (nor underwhelm them - they need to be the best of the best). I think there are a few decent pictures in there. A majority of them have some decent elements in them, but perhaps need to be cropped correctly.

Here's the one major complaint I have about the camera that I used on recent travels^[1]: the optical viewfinder is an asymmetrical cropping of what the lens sees. This really has ticked my off in the final evaluation of photos. Many that I thought were centered have a slight (like the one above) to seriously noticeable asymmetry.

This has created one of the major sources of procrastination: I don't really want to post-process my photos. If they didn't turn out well, then they get dropped into the archive.

It's also created a desire to drop some more cash on a new camera. I really would like to get a nice^[2] SLR camera, with a set of lenses for varied zoom levels. I would like to be able to take more intimate photos while shooting street scenes, or at gathers. It seems to be the best way to capture natural emotions if the subject doesn't know that you're shooting them.

I could probably get by just with learning how to shoot around this particular camera's idiosyncrasies, but why "get by" when I could do it right? Or is it just throwing money at a problem?

[1] The Canon SD450. It a great camera for point and shoot, really.

[2] Digital, but not too expensive. I don't ask for much, really...

Rounds

2006-05-22T12:44:00.000-05:00

Minneapolis.

I've been making the rounds, since I've been home. I've been refamiliarizing myself with Minneapolis. I've been returning to old haunts, enjoying the a strong cup of joe. Checking in with people, catching up, and basically re-integrating myself back into society.

As a result, I've already another trip planned.

I know, I just got home, but I still have this fly-by-the-seat-my-pants mentality. Go where the wind and low cost airless will take me. That, and dinner and beer goes along way to convincing me that I should join a camping expedition to Yosemite.

Granted, it's only for a week. It's not some grand adventure. Although, if I go on the planned whitewater rafting trip^[1], I might find myself dashed about the rocks. There will be some hiking and camping.

This does not mean that all's quiet on the job front. I had an interview this morning, which I think went pretty well. I'm not going to count it as won, but I'm sure I've made it past the first round.

The only thing here that really makes me step back and think about this position is that it would mean an end to contracting for the time being. I will lose the freedom that contracting provides to go on these longer term trips. It ties me back to the two or three week length vacation. Kind of puts an end to all the wandering.

I don't look at myself as a guy who does serious wandering, either. Most of the people I met in Argentina were on the road for six months to a year. Less so in Europe, only due to the fact that there are so many students who have finished up their study abroad programs. Then there is this guy, who has been traveling around the world for nine years. I have no idea how that guy can do it, but he must be making a living somehow.

I, on the other hand, am ready to get back to work. I've come to terms with the fact that I am a programmer. It's what I do and is what I'm good at.

Just one more little trip, though. I promise, it's the last one for a while.

[1] For those of you who I haven't caught up with yet. Patience people, patience. There's only so much time. If you all would quit your jobs and be a bum like me, it would be easy. That not being the case, you'll have to just hang on... I'm doing my best.

"Your best? Only losers whine about doing their best. Winners go home and f**k the prom queen." - Sean Connery, in The Rock.

Oh, the quotability of Michael Bay films.

[2] I'm freaked the hell out by rapids. I don't know why. They're a fear of mine. Water. Rocks. Brains being dashed out all over said Rocks by said Water.

Gives me the willies.

The Punches Keep Coming

2006-05-19T08:01:00.000-05:00

Minneapolis.

I feel almost Zen like in my ability to accept things that I cannot change. I'm not sure there's any problem that I couldn't pick myself up, dust myself off, and start all over again^[1].

It turns out, I'm not starting work on Monday.

Apparently, one of the joys of contracting seems to be that things aren't definite until you show up, sit down and maybe write a little code. The contract I thought I'd be starting has been pushed out three or four weeks, due to another project that seems to be running long. This does not instill confidence in me about the fact that this will be the only delay.

Here's where that Zen attitude comes into play. I got the phone call about the extension in my car, on the way home from a lunch. When I got home, I sat down with my laptop and sent emails out to all the hits I had received whilst^[2] I was away. By dinner time, I had another interview setup for Monday. All in under three hours.

Sometimes, I love the digital age.

So with emails fired off and a meeting setup with one of my pim...err...contracting firms today, I find myself less than worried about this whole delay. If I don't find a new gig in the next few weeks, the original contract should (as long as there are no further delays - I'm not holding my breath) start.

No worries, I'll be back in the ring soon enough.

[1] I'm ripping that one off from "Pick Yourself Up" by Nat King Cole. What a song writer, that Nat.

[2] Whilst is a good word. I don't think people use it enough. It seems to fit in better than while when followed by a vowel.

Ok, so I think I might be just tripping on a little too much on my own vocabulary.

Weary Tappers

2006-05-18T15:29:00.000-05:00

These guys have been through streets, mountains, and dance halls on two continents. They've been plodded along rough terrain and cobbled streets for what I estimate to be about 250 miles.

They are worn out.

This is a first really. I've never had to just throw out a piece of travel equipment due to extreme use. However, this pair has done it's duty and deserves to be sent off to it's final resting place.

I shall shed a tear for their tireless efforts.

Keep On Rolling On

2006-05-18T08:16:00.000-05:00

Minneapolis.

Jetlag is a curious thing. It affects the brains ability to feel fully awake. It steals one's ability to sleep. It alters one's internal clock, to the point the one hour feels as good as the next. It steals one's car.

Wait. Steals one's car?

Perhaps I'm jumping the gun on that one, blaming Jetlag, and all his siblings^[1]. It was incompetence that stole my car actually. Apparently, the security at the contract parking ramp where I stored my car felt, for the security of the other ramp users, that it would be best to tow it away. After all, it had been there seven weeks, it must have been abandoned.

Even though it had my license plates clearly in the place that license plates should be. Said license plates, again easily readable, also were listed on the contract. This did not deter the them from thinking it was abandoned.

Granted, this sort of situation would usually make a person angry. They would be in their right to be so. I noticed, though, that I was able to take this in stride. Backpacking has a tendency to really reduce the concern that someone has about something going wrong. While backpacking, more often than not, you are relying on public transport, publicly controlled attractions, and government employees of all types. In less developed countries, with decaying or poorly built infrastructure, delays are an expected nuisance. One just has to get used to the idea that more likely than not, something will go wrong.

In Paris, for example, I was kicked off the Metro. No, I wasn't doing anything wrong, everyone was kicked off. There was a lot of rather embarrassed and concerned looking maintenance people scurrying around the platform, trying to figure out what was going wrong. I tried to take the other line at that station, only to be told (I think) that the whole station was being shutdown, and I should find a different way home. So, I just walked, no big deal. And this was Paris.

One just has to roll with the punches. It's good when one returns home because, for a while at least, this ability to roll is great. Nothing really gets the blood boiling. This tends to wear off in about a week^[2] or so, but it's nice while it lasts.

Err...So, What Happens Now?

Right, so, I do need to answer the question of what the hell am I going to do with the blog, give that I am going back to work. Well, the answer is pretty simple: I'll keep writing for a little while longer. How much longer is still up in the air.

Going back to work is certainly part of this whole experience. That transition back may provide something interesting to write about, or it may be as boring as watching any of the CSI spin-off/knock-off shows. I have been away from work for about five months now. I wonder if it's like a break up; perhaps I'll need a week recovery time for every month I was in it.

We shall see.

[1] Jetlag is a minor Greek god from the lesser-known family of second generation gods, the Annoyances, birthed parthenogenically via Eris. His siblings include Bloating, Irritability, Dry-Mouth, Pun, Film Criticism (originally know as Theatre Criticism - he recently had his name changed after a dispute with the Tony Award Committee), and, of course Incompetence.

Every one had always hoped that Incompetence would have killed himself in some sort of an accident with one of Zues' lightning bolts, but he was always too busy petting George, the lint in his belly button.

[2] Under less stressful environments, this can last indefinitely. As I do start work for another few days, and I'm not going back to G******ks (name hidden to protect the innocent), where high stress is considered "normal", I feel that I can keep this laid back attitude a little longer.

Last Stop

2006-05-15T07:29:00.000-05:00

London.

Back up in London town, after a surprisingly quiet and relaxed weekend Paris. It really was great to be back. I found that the parts I love best in Paris, where I felt most at ease. Montmartre, as neighborhoods go, is one of my favorite parts of town to just walkabout, have a coffee, and sit in a restaurant enjoying a meal. It also happens to be a great place for people watching.

Another great people watching area is the Gardens of Luxembourg. It's the park where the Parisians come to enjoy a sunny weekend afternoon. The occasional tourist wonders through, but they don't seem to stick around past a few snaps of their camera.

But here I am, up in London, with one more day. Which is a bit odd, actually. I thought I was supposed to fly out today. I thought I had planned it so that I wouldn't have to spend more than a few hours trekking between Luton and Heathrow airports. It turns out that I actually leave tomorrow. Fortunately I figured this out a few days ago. No worries on booking a hostel, getting into to town, not mistakenly heading to Heathrow, only to be turned back.

I seem to have a problem with keeping the last day of a trip in mind. Any trip longer than two weeks and that last date starts to become a little fuzzy. I have a ballpark figure in my head, but it's usually a plus-or-minus situation. This happened to me in China, as well. There I was thinking I left a day later. Fortunately then, as now, I figured this out a few days in advance^[1].

I'm not sure I'm ready to put in closing thoughts on this little vagabond tour. It's still a little open-ended. Not that open-ended, mind you. I actually start a new contract a week from today^[2]. That has put a definite end to this whole voyage, err, adventure, err, epic expedition of Avoiding Responsible Adulthood.

Now the only question left is, what the hell should I do with a half-day in London?

[1] Would have been much more of a pain in the ass, since I would have been in Shanghai, 1800 miles from my flight.

[2] Chalk that up to some mean, international phone interviewing skills.

Bit of a Present

2006-05-12T12:16:00.000-05:00

Paris...wait...what?

I had a problem. I couldn't fly back to London from Bucharest for less than 900 bucks. My inexpensive options were Bratislava, Slovakia, or Paris. Both provided cheap hops back to London.

I gave into temptation.

I've said before, Paris is one of my favorite cities. There is so much here I haven't seen. It has cafes, it has the parks, and it has great people watching. It really wasn't that hard of a choice.

There was on thing in particular that I gave myself, as well. I happened to walk past this place called Breakfast in America. As the name implies, it's a American-style grille. I haven't had a good, American breakfast^[1] in a long time; eggs, pancakes, and some sausage. Man, it was tasty. I know, I know, I'm in Paris, and I should be sampling local cuisine, but I've been doing that for weeks.

Ok, so that and a trip to the Louvre. No trip to Paris is complete without it. I think I've gone everytime I've been here, and probably will in the forseeable future. I spent much of my visit this time around touring through the ancient artworks of Rome, Eygpt and the Middle East. These cover practically a whole wing of the building (which also exposed me to some pretty amazing rooms I had not seen before).

I stopped in the Italian Painter section, as well, for the obligitory viewing of the Mona Lisa. I had seen Da Vinci's Lady with an Ermine in Krakow, and wanted to compare the two. I think the Lady is actually his best work. The museum had re-done the Italian section, rotating in different works, as well as moving the Mona Lisa to a larger room in the section. The Da Vinci Code Effect^[2] strikes again.

It's a joy to walk around this city, again. It seems so familiar, yet there is always something here that suprises me. One of the surprising things is that it also has, apparently, a pretty good tango scene. Something to check out tomorrow...

[1] I really hope the NSA is monitoring everyone's reading of this. All this "American"-whatnot business will help your standings in the Not-A-Terrorist Department.

[2] Similar to the Slashdot Effect in the way it increases traffic to sights in the novel.

Bucharest Blues

2006-05-10T00:58:00.000-05:00

Bucharest.

I'm determined to not let Bucharest get me down. It's gritty. It's full of awful looking communist block housing. It's been devastated by war, earthquakes, and Ceauşescu.

It bloody challenging.

Bucharest used to be called "the Little Paris" or the "Paris of the East." It turns out that I was wrong about this for other cities. They all aspire to have the reputation. Bucharest had it. So much of the construction around the turn of the century was designed to make the city a little duplicate of the French Capital. Unfortunately major earthquakes and World War II destroyed much of the great structures in the city. And only a few of these buildings continued on after the reign of Ceauşescu.

Another reason is that I think I'm starting to feel a little sick. I was quite relaxed in Brasov, ready to take on a new and challenging city. I might have gotten a little too comfortable there, and a little careless. I'm normally pretty good about food, but...

So Bucharest might not be much of a stop. I'm only here for a whole day as it is, since I fly back West very early tomorrow morning. Hopefully I'll be back on the healthy train, as well.

Transylvanian Hide-away

2006-05-07T08:28:00.000-05:00

Brasov.

This is a pleasant little place. Well, it feels pretty small, anyway. Similar to Krakow, in a lot of respects, only smaller. The old medieval town center is still the center of commerce, at least as consumer business goes. The locals are quite friendly and I've had some of the best service at restaurants on the whole of my trip.

I think I might stay just one more night than planned.

I took a half-day tour yesterday to see the Bran and Rasnov Castles. Bran castle has the (false) reputation of being Dracula's castle, but is quite distant from the actual home of the historical figure, in Wallachia. It was used up through the Twenties by part of the royal family of Romania, which has left it in excellent shape, and with very modern interiors.

Rasnov castle is the much more dramatic of the two. Perched very high up on a hill, over looking the town, it is more of a old ruined citadel, than a castle. Inside is the remains of a whole town, some of which has been rebuilt to form the museum and the requisite tourist shops. The views from the top provide a dramatic panorama of the surrounding mountains, marred only be the ruined factories and nuclear cooling tower in the town below.

There are a good deal of other day-trips out of the city as well. Brasov sits in a valley in the Carpathian mountains. Many of the small towns surrounding Brasov still maintain their medieval flavor. I plan to take a day-trip out to a very well preserved town tomorrow, hence the extra day^[1].

I've really enjoyed being back in a more rural setting. The mountains are accessible from the center of the old town, full of well maintained trails. It's been a really great break from the hustle and bustle of the cities.

[1] Ok, so the other part of that is that I have not heard great things about Bucharest. Everyone I talk to seems to say that you don't need more than a day or two there. So this way, I'm just shortening my stay to about 2 and half days, before flying back west.

Apparently, totalitarianism was not kind to Bucharest...

The Danube in the Night-time

2006-05-05T06:55:00.000-05:00

The Danube in the Night-time
Originally uploaded by pschwarz.

Brasov.

This as up-to-date as it gets. I finally was able to upload a couple more photos from the Eastern Europe leg of the Journey.

I made it down to Brasov this morning on the train. It's a confusing little town, with winding, medieval streets. A Poor map and a hostel just off the map doesn't help.

The locals are pretty helpful, though. I'm amazed at how well (and willing) they speak English. I asked an older woman for directions and was suprised by the her skill. She actually left her shop and walked me half-way to the street I was trying to find.

Not that the town is that large that being off the map is a problem. Every thing (save the train station) is within a 15-20 minute walk. The town square is a small, but pretty part of town. Apparently it is the best one of its kind in the Romania.

It's on and off rainy here today, so the exploring might be minimal. Not a worry, though. I'll be here three nights before heading down to Bucharest.

Things certainly are winding down...

Can't Stop, Won't Stop

2006-05-04T02:28:00.000-05:00

Budapest.

I chose to spend an extra night in Budapest. It's such a great walking city, for one, and a couple of rainy days also made me think that I might need that extra day.

The rain did not stop me.

Slowed me down a bit, but there was no stopping. I think that it merely added a different flavor^[1] to the city. The heavy rain and thick, low clouds reduced the number of people out on the streets, making for a more tourist-free scene. Most of the people with umbrellas looked like locals going to and from their daily routines. It gave the city a more natural feel.

I did take that breather with the trip to the baths, on the first of those rainy days. The public bath is an enormous complex with a variety of pools of varying temperatures. There are both indoor (which I used) and outdoor (which somehow I couldn't find) pools. I just alternated for two hours between the 38 degree C pool and the 50 degree C sauna. I felt so relaxed.

Even still, all relaxed and prepared to just hang out for the rest of the day, I did a quick walk up Gallert Hill, to the citadel. This is the highest hill in central Buda, which affords some great views of the city, including the castle from above. The citadel itself is only the remnants of a fortress, but now is the location of a World War II monument. It is surrounded by a massive series of parks that cover the whole of the hill.

The following day was filled with more museums, more monuments, and Roman ruins. The most interesting museum, based on presentation, was the Terror House. It covers the history of the Nazi occupation, the Arrow Cross Party (Hungary's own home-grown Nazi party), and the communist era. Most of the history surrounds the atrocities surrounding each of these regimes. The museum used a multimedia approach, with many contemporary art pieces to present the concepts. The only detractor was that only some of the videos had English subtitles.

Also had quite the run around to get tickets out of to Brasov, Romania. I lost a whole afternoon, going back and forth from the station. It's all squared away and I so I'll head onto my last set of destinations in Eastern Europe. The trip is really starting to wind down.

Maybe I'll take that break in Romania...

[1] The rain, unfortunately, also added a certain smell, a wet Budapest smell. It ain't like roses...

Public Holiday

2006-05-01T05:38:00.000-05:00

Budapest.

May the First happens to be Labor Day in much of Europe, including here in Budapest. Most things are closed, but all of the state run entertainments are open - museums, baths, and monuments. But stores and many restaurants are closed. It's also a bit rainy. Really rainy. Damned rainy.

This is not a Bad Thing.

My dogs are tired. I have been hoofing it for well over a week now, doing some pretty intensive sight seeing. So the rain is providing a much needed day of rest. I may try to go up to the baths, today, but I'm not really going to push myself.

Given the holiday, I spent much of the day yesterday walking about the central park where fair-like tents and food stands had been setup for the holiday. There are rides, fair-food and a whole lot of music. It was Sunday, though, so it seemed as though it was only half setup. I actually feel a little sorry for the locals, missing out on today's holiday cheer due to weather.

The Tango Report

Budapest actually has the best list of tango venues of any city I've been to. There are about five a week, but lessons seem to be harder to find. I checked out a venue last night, a place called Cinema Urania. It was a classic place, with architecture circa 1900, but wonderfully restored. The dance floor was on the first floor, above the lobby. It was also one of the youngest tango crowds I've seen outside of Buenos Aires. They played a great mix of classic and modern tango music, which is a first for me.

For a small milonga, it was pretty impressive.

Impressions of Budapest

2006-04-28T10:28:00.000-05:00

Budapest.

First off, in comparison to Prague, Budapest is already a much more enjoyable city: a more social hostel, easier access to local night life, and fewer tourists. Given it's lack of colors on the older buildings, the city is much more reminiscent of Paris rather than Prague^[1]. More cafés than pubs make it more to my taste as well. Think of it as Paris, with a Turkish influence.

The city is divided into two distinct sections: Buda and Pest. Buda is a hilly city, capped by the medieval Castle Hill. Pest is a flat city, where much of the business and industry of the nineteenth and twentieth centuries flourished. The divider, the Danube, is one of the widest rivers in Europe. It is crossed by a number of impressive bridges, joining the two cities into Budapest.

There are two incredible fine arts museums in Budapest. The first houses a great number of European masters, many of them are Spanish renaissancee painters like El Greco and Velasquezz. The second is the National museumm, housing great Hungarian works of art from the early renaissancee through today.

The public transportation has been a bit trickier to figure out, than in Prague^[2]. There is a metro system, a tram system, and buses, but they are not as well labeled, nor as convenient to transfer between. So, for me, Budapest has been more of a walking city.

A ridiculous amount of walking.

I have heard, in the past, Prague described as the "Paris of the East". I don't really think that it deserves the title. If it was based solely on the beauty of the city, then it's possible. If we compare the cities on a few other levels, we might get a better idea.

	Prague	Paris
Beautiful and Well Preserved Buildings	x	x
Tourist Attraction Personell Rude to Tourists	x	x
Ridiculous Number of Expats	x	x
Locals Generally Friendly		x
Many Cafés		x
Great Art Galleries		x

So really, it's only half as good...

The Nouveau Tourist

2006-04-27T09:10:00.000-05:00

Prague.

I've always liked the Art Nouveau style. Great lines, cool use of symbolism, really cool in it's use of functionalism.

There was a Czech artist, by the name of Alphons Mucha who was a master of the art form. Initially based in Paris, he was a sensation in creating beautiful posters for advertisements for such things as theatre productions, as well as commercial products. He returned to the Czech republic after the creation of Czechoslovakia in 1918. He participated in much of the city's artistic designs, including the new Municipal House, and stain glass in the St. Vitus Cathedral.

While the Municipal House was closed to touring, save on Saturdays, there was an exhibit of Art Nouveau in Croatia. While much of the paintings seemed to owe much more to French impressionism, with the Art Nouveau use of allegory, and the posters seemed to be weak imitations of their Parisian counterparts, the architecture and furniture pieces were the highlight of the exhibit. Fuctional, yet with great uses of lines, symmetries and asymmetries. Beautiful pieces of furniture.

Don't Say I Never Do My Homework

I did check in into the local tango scene here in Prague. There is a weekly class, as well as weekly milonga. I checked out both. The class, as it turned out, was very small - about four couples. I really couldn't find myself breaking into that. It felt almost intrusive, especially with my bull-like capacity for English.

As for the milonga, well, it was more populated with perhaps twenty-odd milongueros. But, let's be honest, at the best of times, I'm not one for going out dancing with out a wingman (preferably a wing-woman^[1] and dancing partner). If nothing else, it's good to have someone to chat with between (infrequent) dances. Still, it was a nice space, and regular, making the local tango scene a bit better than Glasgow.

[1] Not a winged woman. This would certainly make for a memorable entrance, but may put off the rest of the dancers. I mean, how does one compete with that?

A Buzz

2006-04-25T09:33:00.000-05:00

Prague.

Once the little secret of adventurous travelers, Prague has become the tourist destination. There are swarms of tourists, many from France, Italy and Germany. It's reached that point were the large majority of visitors are middle aged. The city is relatively safe and easy.

This has knocked it out of the running for Favorite City^[1] in my book.

I had been warned, about five years ago, that it's almost too late to experience the Best Kept Secret that was Prague. I was told then that it was the time to go. I just didn't really take the chance to go until now. A bit too late, in my opinion.

Don't get me wrong, I still think Prague has a lot going for it. The architecture is incredible. I've never seen churches so bright and airy, nor with so much gilded sculpture. Prague Castle is absolutely huge; it's in the Guinness Book of World Records. The main cathedral, St. Vitus, rivals any other cathedral in size and beauty. Inside there are stain glass from many of the great Czech artists from the early 20th century.

As public transportation goes, Prague has a great system. Three underground lines, a myriad of street-level trams, and an extensive bus system. The narrow streets of the Old and New Towns require extensive use of a system like this - parking is just not an option for those who work in these areas.

Like Glasgow, there is an amazing amount of music here. Unlike Glasgow, the majority of it is classical. Most, if not all, of the churches have daily classical concerts. There are a large number of theatres in town with opera performances. In addition, they like their jazz here. Any bar downtown not into dance-beats or classical is a jazz bar. If you overhear anyone listening to music (particularly the bathroom attendants) they are listening to Billie Holiday or Benny Goodman.

The tourists have still been a bit of a problem for me. Perhaps it is because it is starting to become The Season. May is almost here, and with it brings the tourists. At least they're not the student tourists. I'm glad to missing all of the American backpackers, out to burn up a little time and money between graduation and Real Life.

Perhaps Prague is another city to visit in the depth of winter...

[1] The Top 5 list, currently, is as follows:

1. Paris, France
2. Buenos Aires, Argentina
3. San Francisco, California, USA
4. Babb, Montana, USA - I could live at the Cattle Baron Supper Club.
5. Istanbul, Turkey

Some where just below that is Minneapolis. I wouldn't live there if I didn't think it was so damn good.

And it's not like some of these cities are difficult, or hard to manage, or lack tourists. Take Paris, for example. It's very easy to navigate and full of tourists. Yet, there just a sort of je-ne-sais-quoi...

Night Train Shuffle

2006-04-22T09:19:00.000-05:00

Prague.

I took a night train to Prague last night. A rather amusing experience, being packed in a little cabin with a Czech, a German and myself. The Czech was very friendly, very chatty. He even bought beer for his new friends. He was also the most racist bastard I've ever met.

Good God, he just went on and on about Muslims. I've never really encountered someone that racist, where there is obviously no way of convincing them otherwise. At least, for once in my travels, I was actually in agreement with a German on politics, foreign policy and acceptance of different cultures.^[1]

He was, however, very informative on riding the night trains in Poland. Crime has dramatically risen on the trains. They only allow one door to be opened when the train is stopped, they tell you to lock your door at night. I never even knew that the doors locked. He blamed it all on the Gypsies (which there really aren't any in Poland, they are all in the Czech Republic - all the Polish Gypsies were exterminated in WWII).^[2]

Prague is beautiful. The city itself escaped most war time damage and, as a result, the old buildings are all still intact.

I had a lot of time to kill before I could actually check in to my hostel. I spent it wondering around before the tourist got up, while the city was still quiet after a Friday night.

The buildings are incredible. There has been a remarkable amount of restoration work in the Old town. All the buildings have been painted to their original colors, allowing the tourist to imagine the city as it was all the better. The old town is full of narrow, winding streets. The shops themselves have become quite touristy, though.

I didn't spend too much time walking around before needing to head back to the hostel to sleep. I don't know what it is about taking night trains, but I always feel a bit of something akin to jet-lag^[3]. Still after plenty of sleep, I was ready to head out to a bite to eat and watch the night life move from place to place.

Prague is supposed to be this city that keeps people: people come, people just don't leave. I'll be here a bit longer than most places on this trip, so we'll see what sort of impression it has on me...

[1] In the past, and I'm sure this is a bit of a generalization, but more often then not I've encountered German tourists who have felt like they had the right and duty to just try and show me how wrong America is.

It's as if I have never even seen a foreign country or thought about foreign policy. They feel like they should correct all the wrongs of the world by arguing with me.

Man, it's frustrating.

[2] Again, he was racist.

[3] Can I coin the term "train-lag"?

Auschwitz

2006-04-21T09:18:00.000-05:00

Krakow.

I didn't really plan on it. I didn't even know that it was near by. It was just one of those things one really should do if one is in Krakow. I debated and thought, but people kept telling me that I really should go.

I visited Auschwitz.

The day started like any other day: chatty, happy, out to see the sights. Once the first exhibits were reached on the tour - the gas chamber/crematorium of Auschwitz I - the whole crowd took on a very hushed and somber disposition. That lasted the rest of the day.

It was intense. Absolutely, emotionally intense. It is a harrowing place. Nothing has ever really driven home the scale of the Holocaust before. There are actually three camps that make up Auschwitz - Auschwitz I, Auschwitz II-Birkenau, and Auschwitz III. The Birknau camp was built solely for extermination. The scale of the place is unbelievable. The whole camp is over 400 acre. It takes 15 minutes to walk across the camp at a brisk pace from the train gate to the end of the line.

It was good to go out for a meal and a drink afterwards. It helped to remember that we are alive and lucky.

A Little Farther East...

2006-04-20T17:35:00.000-05:00

Krakow.

I flew into Krakow on Tuesday morning. Quite a change of scene, really. The architecture is quite different. The language is amazingly different. The history and old wealth is just incredible.

Old Krakow is dominated by a 15th century castle that makes the Scottish castles look a bit like a cabin up on Lake Mille Lacs. There is a distinctly eastern orthodox influence in the castle itself, but all the churches are Gothic cathedrals. It makes for a very interesting mix.

I am finding it a bit strange walking around town, passing statues of historical figures that I've never even heard of. I've been thinking a bit about why this is, and I think I know why. For those of us who grew up in the eighties and early nineties, these countries were still under communist rule. Much of the news reports that we got and the history that we discussed in school was related to the post-war period, with its emphasis on the Russian sphere of influence. Because of this, I've always had the impression that there is little in the way of architecture or historical monuments from outside the twentieth century.

It's something quite different and yet very similar. Oddly enough, I find that the bar culture here is more similar to that at home than the culture in Scotland. It's more laid back, and seems to be much less about the drinking, and more about the having a drink and a conversation. Only the visitors seem to really tear it up.

I haven't been terrible good with the language. There are very few phrases in my guide book (there isn't even a phrase for buying tickets). I feel a little bit of remorse for it. Like a bull in a china shop, throwing my English weight around, shattering that rapid flow of the natural language.

I'll head to Prague on Friday night.

Music City

2006-04-17T04:38:00.000-05:00

Glasgow.

Glasgow has been great for culture. Edinburgh has all the neat and pretty streets, the castles, the seat of government. Glasgow has the School of Art and so much music it hurts.

Well, it's loud.

I've seen a couple of shows, now, with another on the docket for tonight. The first was the aforementioned Charlie Winston show. Last night included a total crap band, a interesting band (We are the Physics), and a technically good band (the Science). I wasn't as happy with the show as with the Charlie Winston show. Partly due to the fact that the bands weren't great, partly due to the fact the venue was that great either. Too much bar, not enough band focus. The bartender wasn't terribly impressed with any of the bands, either. He described the middle band as a "Glasgow Flavor-of-the-Month" with their Franz Ferdinand guitar stylings.

As for a seeing the inside of museums, churches and whatnot, I haven't really had a chance to do that. With the Easter holiday, most things have been closed. Today is, in fact, a bank holiday, which means everything is either closed or on sale. I'm not sure which is which.

With the holiday, I did happen across a strange site: a motorcycle rally. Apparently, every Easter this huge group of bikers get together for a rally at the Children's Hospital, in order to bring treats to all kids. Unlike American motorcycle rallies, this was all colorful crotch rockets. Hardly a Harley to be seen. Damn whiney sounding, as well.

I did go to that tango workshop on Saturday^[1]. It wasn't bad - not great, but not bad. There are better tango instructors in Minneapolis, that's certain. I also was not happy with being the youngest person in the room by at least five years. I did, however, enjoy the compliments about my lead. Felt pretty good about my ability to do basic tango, because of that.

Way to go, confidence level.

[1] Are you surprised? Have you looked at the title of the blog?

Onward to Glasgow

2006-04-15T08:48:00.000-05:00

Glasgow.

Skye was pretty, but due to weather, nothing to really write home about. Another case of being up on top of a mountain in weather that I probably shouldn't have been. Snow, rain, and high winds, but quite beautiful. As with all the weather of this sort, it's also peaceful with not too many tourists around.

So it was straight on to Glasgow. I'm rather glad I've allocated it as much time as I have. It's an interesting city. It's certainly not the neat and clean city that is Edinburgh (or most of Eastern and Northern Scotland, for that matter), but it has it's own flavor. It has a great music scene, as well as some interesting art exhibits and old cathedrals.

As for the music scene, I went out last night to check out a music club last night. I just sort of picked one rather randomly using the following criteria: first, that it was close; second that there were at least three groups playing - more bang for the buck; last, that it was cheap - not a lot of bucks.

I ended up catching the middle and closing bands at a bar called King Tut's Wah Wah Hut in central Glasgow. The middle group, which appears to be the headliner, was a guy named Charlie Winston and band. Mr. Winston played acoustic guitar or keyboards, while singing vocals. While the tracks were hit and miss, for me there was more hit than miss. The best numbers had a complexity of lyrics and great vocal change-ups. Mr. Winston's stage presence was great, with good audience interaction and high energy.

Particularly good numbers were his opening number with a political song about, er, well, the war ("Gone, Gone"), a song called "Finding Home" (simple, but good), and "Yes, Yes", which was a very high energy and humorous look at the male sexual response. There's a lot of potential in Charlie Winston's work. I'll have to keep an eye out.

As for the rest of the weekend, I'll try to see another few more shows. And hit up a tango workshop...

Yeah, I know. What the crap is that about? Tango in Scotland?

I wonder if they'll have some in Poland...

A Little Bit More on Orkney

2006-04-10T12:30:00.000-05:00

Somewhere on the Scapa Flow.

Minor note on the date of this post. I wrote it on the ferry back to Scotland from Orkney. I know that I'm publishing it a bit later, but I figured I would still date it when it was written.

One of the beautiful things about Orkney is that it feels so remote. The windswept, treeless islands, the farms and their sheep, and the Orcadiams, with their fierce independent nature reinforces this feeling.

It is intensely relaxing.

The winds are incredible, causing remarkable rapid changes in the weather. I spent Sunday walking up Wideford Hill, just outside of Kirkwall, to get some panoramic views of the island. I started out just after noon under partly cloudy skies. As I made my way up the hill, I could see out into the bay where a wall of Storm was rolling in quite rapidly. By now, being a seasoned Orkney tourist, I figured that it wouldn't last. I kept on walking.

All the sheep seemed to lay down in unison. I think they're a bit more clever than I am.

It hit hard. Driving sleet and snow made the side of my face raw. Visibility dropped off to about fifty meters. I ducked behind a stone field wall to wait it out. Ten minutes later, there were clear, blue skies.

After that, it was a pleasant, although steep, softy climb to the top of the hill. It was worth the trip: the views were stunning. Those high winds threatened to blow me off the top, however - I almost lost my footing several times. Snapped a few photos, and headed back down.

On the way down I passed a footpath over to a Neolithic tomb. Orkney has the highest density of prehistoric sites in all of Europe. Just walking past a path to some tomb is not so surprising.

The path itself was exceedingly muddy and on the windy side of the hill. In fact, I had to try it twice, heading back once to avoid another snow storm that was strangely only on one side of the hill. Unfortunately, the cairn was locked up, so I couldn't actually get inside. Still, it was interesting to be the only person on the side of that hill.

It wasn't a terrible disappointment. I had gone on a tour^[1] the day before of various Neolithic and Stone-aged sites. I had seen the inside of Maeshowe, the largest and oldest chambered tomb on the Mainland. More impressive of these sites was the Ring of Brodger. It is a huge circle of standing stone. In either site the fact that these stones were moved at all is impressive. Some weigh up to twenty tons, and were moved up to nine miles.

The hostel in which I stayed in Kirkwall was far from the town center (over a mile), institutional (it was like staying in an elementary school), and had few backpackers. So far, it's my favorite hostel in Scotland. The sole staff member, while a bit eccentric, was very friendly, and was enjoyable to talk with. He was very helpful with tips on where to go, and even offered to loan me his bike. The few backpackers were all early season travelers, so they were more laid back.

Overall, Orkney is a great stop on a s Scottish tour. It's a nice cultural change of pace and a beautiful place, as well.

[1] A note on tours: I usually don't go on anything remotely like a tour. I like to be self-guided. I'm starting to find out that this is not a good idea for two reasons.

First, I don't learn nearly enough about the place if I just look at it. The only exception to this, of course, is museums. They already have an explanation at each installation.

Secondly, often times things are spread out to the point that I can't walk to any of the interesting bits. This was definitely the case with the Orkney sites.

Radio Silence

2006-04-10T03:49:00.000-05:00

Kirkwall.

I'm leaving Orkney this morning, heading back to Inverness, and then tomorrow I'll be heading to the Isle of Skye (I've been told it's worth the trip). So, since I'll be pretty much travelling for a couple of days, it might be a little while before I can put something up.

This morning is the first day with calm winds. Sure, there will be constant cloud cover, but it means that the ferry ride will be nice and smooth.

Windswept Isles

2006-04-08T05:21:00.000-05:00

Kirkwall.

Up here on the Orkney Isles, the weather is particularly strange. The temperature is apparently the same all year round. It's island weather.

North Atlantic island weather.

One minute it is bright and sunny, the next it is sleeting ice. The winds are fierce and cold. Yet there is never really snow, and they never have a frost, even in the middle of winter. The only thing holding back the tourists during the winter months is the lack of light, I suppose.

The winds made for a very interesting ferry crossing. Probably the most turbulant boat trip^[1] I've ever had, and that includes the times where I've flipped a sailboat. Luckly, that only lasted for forty minutes, until we could get inside the Scapa Flow. From there, it was smooth sailing.

It was a late ferry, due to the winds. I had to walk, in the sleet, to my hostel at about eleven PM. The only time I've really been caught in the rain, so far. Thanks, strange island weather.

There are some marvolous sights up here. The center of Kirkwall is dominated by the magnificent St. Magnus Cathedral, built by the Vikings in the 12th century. It is full of great stained glass, and old tombstones from the the early 17th century. The interesting part of the inscriptions is that they all end with Memento Mori - Remember Death - instead of the standard Rest in Peace or whatnot. I'm not entirely sure what the significance is.

There is also a great single malt wiskey distillery in town, Highland Park, which offers tours of their facility. They bill themselves as the "most northerly distillery of whiskey in the world." A very tasty Scotch.

Interesting, but not worth the entry fee, are the Earl's and Bishop's Palaces, ruins of 17th century castles. The tour is self guided, and the cold made for a rather rushed experience. For once, being the only person at an attraction also made it a little less interesting. It was a little too quiet.

Today, I'll head out to see some other sights on the island. There are some great iron- and stone-aged sights to see...

[1] Not enough, mind you, to make me ill. I just lay there and listened to music with my eyes shut, hoping that it would all just go away...

Inhabiting the Uninhabitable

2006-04-06T10:11:00.000-05:00

Inverness.

The wind howls, the grey clouds hang low and cold spits of rain fall. The hills are covered in rust-brown, short vegetation, peppered with emaciated trees. Snow-capped mountains sit in the distance, looming in among the clouds.

One can see why the highlands are so sparsely populated.

The wet of the ground has made it difficult for the Scottish forests. The tree cover, in the last five thousand years, through the spred of the marshes as well as human activity, have been reduced to one percent of it's orginal area. Even in densly wooded areas evidence of the damp nature of Scotland can be seen: All of the trees are covered in a shaggy, pale green moss.

Even in early April, the mountains are still covered in snow. They have low peaks, at around a thousand meters, but still look quite challenging to the day hiker. The vegetation, even at such low altitudes, seems rare. The high winds of the area must make it difficult for things to grow.

This uninviting character makes the fact that the area has be inhabited for thousands of years all the more unimaginable. The very remoteness of it all seems complete when, in the middle of Loch an Eilein on a small island, a lone castle is spotted, it's stone work falling into ruin. Yet there are few signs of civilization surrounding it.

The modern towns are inviting though, perhaps more so given the landscape. Inverness is a beautiful town situated on the Ness river. A walk along the river is great way to while a way a few hours on a sunny afternoon, even in the cool Spring weather. Small yet impressive churches line the river, owing to Inverness' past and present status as urban center of the Highlands. People still come from as far as the Isle of Skye to their shopping.

As for me, I'm making my way still farther North. I had hoped to set out early, but a slight misunderstanding caused me to miss the early train. Forteen and forty sound very similar in the thicker Scottish accent. Lesson learned for the future: err on the side of forteen, rather then the other way around.

To get to the Orkney Islands, I have to travel half again the length of Scotland, the take a bus to the port, followed by a ferry ride to the islands themselves. It will be a very long day of travelling, indeed.

A Morbid Fascination

2006-04-05T12:49:00.000-05:00

I've discovered that Scottish cemetaries are really damned interesting. There's something about the moss and stone color combination that is remarkable. The rain, I think, brightens the green and darkens the stone for a brilliant contrast.

I'm hoping to get some more pictures up soon (it's rather expensive to upload pictures in the UK). Hopefully then, I can get my point across a little more clearly.

Just to keep everyone up to speed, click on the picture to go see more of my pictures...

Swiftly Goes the Current

2006-04-04T10:53:00.000-05:00

Inverness.

Very quickly I passed through a few towns on my way up North. Stirling was a nice small town, with a castle, and a fantastic graveyard surrounding the high kirk. I was lucky^[1] enough to be there on one of the two days of the year where there was free entry to the castle. The castle was a little bit more impressive in scale then Edinburgh castle.

While there has been a castle in some form on the hill, the most recent incarnation was updated by King James IV to impress his French^[2] bride. He didn't actually live to see the renovation finished, due to his death two years later. His son, James V actually completed the renovation. Stirling was the capital of Scotland only through James V's reign, however. Once his grandson James VI (and later I of England) was crowned king, the capital was returned to Edinburgh.^[3]

I headed up to Dundee, misreading my guide book about it actually being "worth a stop." It was entirely the opposite, actually. Being a bit of a industrial town (and one where all the interesting things to see were closed anyway), I ended up relaxing and catching a movie. Capote, is a pretty good film, by the way.

I'm up in the central Highlands at the moment, in Inverness. I plan to head over to a nature reserve/national park tomorrow to do some walking (as if I haven't done enough...). Here there is snow-peaked mountains, clear rivers and amazingly bright skies. This made for probably one of the most enjoyable train rides yet.

Actually I've been surprised at the amount of sun there's been up here. Although every day seems to either start out as shit and then suddenly become sunny, or start out sunny and suddenly become shit. I've noticed that's about what the weather forecasts are worth as well. They basically say rain all week, but none of it has really proven to be at all accurate.

[1] Or Unlucky, depending on your view point. I actually enjoyed Edinburgh castle a little more in comparison for two reasons. First, there was hardly anyone there due to the weather. Second, there were almost no kids. Free day was like noisy kid central.

[2] This could be the original word used for "high maintenance."

[3] This concludes the history lesson.

Heading Up North

2006-04-02T01:34:00.000-06:00

Edinburgh.

It's been a rather brief visit to Edinburgh. It's a great small city, but I'm anxious to get moving. I bought a plane ticket for Krakow, on the eighteenth, which has me on a time limit now. A long time limit, but a time limit nonetheless. So I'll be heading to Stirling this morning.

But as for Edinburgh, it's a lovely little city. One thing that has surprised me is the quality of the museums. The National Gallery has a rather impressive collection of paintings from early renaissance to impressionism. It includes paintings from two of my favorite artists, El Greco, and John Singer Sargent, as well as some other fantastic works.

The Museum of Scotland and the Royal Museum (they are combined) is another impressive set of exhibits. The Museum of Scotland contains exhibits relating to the history of Scotland, from prehistoric times to the nineteenth century. All exhibits excellently displayed with superbly written labels. The Royal Museum houses collections of both global sculpture (Egyptian, Japanese, etc), as well as scientific exhibits. Maybe it's this new interest in music that I've developed of the last five years, but the exhibit of historical phonographs was damned interesting.

The last two days were also on-again-off-again sunny. This made for excellent walking in the local park. The park includes a small hilltop peak named Artur's Seat. I would have missed it actually, if I hadn't walked around the other large hill that was closer to the city. The hill provided some great views of the whole city.

The best views of the city were back at the Museum of Scotland. The rooftop terrace, which is actually not that easy to find, has some excellent in-city views of Edinburgh castle, the University and all of the Royal Mile. It was an exceptionally clear day, as well. By the look of it, the last one that I'll see for a while.

Edinburgh, given it's size, is a very manageable city on foot. I'm always surprised that everything seems much closer than it appears on the map. It makes for some rather easy walking from sight to sight. Plus given how centrally located the hostel is, it easy to come in for a sit and a coffee. Sure that makes me sound a bit like an old man, but, well, really.

As for seeming a bit like an old man, I have been going out for a pint at the pubs. There is a vast selection of pubs right off of the Royal Mile. Given how touristy the street is, you'd think that the pubs would be filled with foreigners of all stripes. It turns out that this is one of the bar areas. There are locals abound at the pubs. The pub life is quite a bit more my speed than the club life in Buenos Aires.

But back to the old man bit. I haven't been able to stay out much past eleven. Perhaps I should blame it on the jet lag, really.

For Those Who Might Have Missed It...

2006-04-01T08:30:00.000-06:00

Photos can be found here.

Quick Trip on the Slow Train

2006-03-30T10:26:00.000-06:00

Edinburgh.

Wow. So I really only spent an afternoon in London. Just enough time to wonder about and have a coffee. I admit it, I stopped at a Starbucks, but it was raining cats and dogs, the store was right there...

Bloody addict.

Very, very early in the morning I caught the train up to Edinburgh. There is some really lovely countryside on the way up here. Lush farmland, nestled in low, rolling hills. There are quite a few villages, very close, that are dominated by huge, medieval churches. It made for interesting scenery.

As well as sleepy scenery. I only had about six hours of sleep since leaving Minneapolis. I slept the last few hours up to Edinburgh (it was a five hour trip overall). After finding a hostel, which is quite centrally located, and near to the train station, I found some lunch and had a two hour nap.

I wandered about the University area, which is full of some nice parks and greens. I found myself a little lost after that. I generally seem to forget that most cities that grew out of medieval castle towns tend to radiate outward, rather than work in a block system. So often I get a little confused about the cardinal directions.

The whole reason I was wandering around that area to begin with was, well, to look for this tango club. There's not a whole lot of tango here in Edinburgh, but I thought I would check out what's here. It turns out that it is the equivalent of spring break here, so the building was closed. I might have to change the name of this blog.

Today has been full of a cold, thick mist, or maybe it would be called a dense fog. Cold, wet and wanting to at least see some sights, I went up to Edinburgh Castle. While not really terribly architecturally interesting, the exhibits are quite historically informative and interesting. I found that of the building itself, the World War I memorial, built in the twenties was probably the most interesting. Some bits, like the remains of David's tower, seemed to be half closed, or incomplete exhibits. Often I would find myself, after climbing a well lit stair or down a well lit hall, in closed off alcove with no explanation.

St. Giles church, just down the Royal mile from the castle, was excellent. The stained glass there, installed in the 18th century, is beautiful. On one wall it depicts the life of Jesus, on the other it follows the apostles, and early saints, as well as some of the early biblical figures such as King David and Moses. The faces of these figures are excellent.

The problem as I see it right now, is trying to come up with a better plan if tomorrow is a rainy day. I can't very well go traipsing about parks in rainy/foggy/misty/crappy weather.

Wait. Traipsing?

Long Day

2006-03-28T08:27:00.000-06:00

London.

I made it in one piece, as usual. I've never actually had any trouble with flights before. This one probably had the closest thing to an issue. I neglected to print out my itinerary before heading to the airport.

This could have been a Bad Thing.

It turns out that, in the case that they ask, if you don't have proof of onward travel, Immigration will not let you into the UK. As a consequence, Icelandair will not let you on your flight.

This was pretty simple to take care off, as long as I could find a printer. The airline couldn't print out an itinerary for me - their computers were down^[1]. So I found the one printer in the whole airport I could use. I charmed - that's right, charmed - my way into printing out my itinerary at the reception of the airport conference center.

Who knew I could be so charming?

On an Apologetic Note...

To all those folks that I did not get a chance to see before I left again, sorry about that. I was a bit of a lazy bastard. I'd blame ballroom dancing, but there wasn't even a whole lot of that going on...

[1] No wonder all the airlines are having issues. They seem to have the biggest, piece of crap computer system out there. It's really time to modernize that one, guys.

Mismanagement and Misadventure

2006-03-21T13:44:00.000-06:00

Minneapolis, MN

Again, as a trip draws near I have done very little towards the preparation of the trip. I've order some books, I've paid for plane tickets, but naught else has been accomplished. You'd think, in this modern age of the Internet and email that I would have things more readily researched, hotels booked, and routes plotted.

In fact, I don't even have the slightest idea of where I will go.

Scotland, it turns out, is a remarkable small part of the British Isles. Bigger than Wales, but with a small population - roughly six million. Doesn't seem like much for a culture that apparently invented the modern world.

All this mismanagement and lack of planning certainly removes all the interesting travel related bits out and leaves us with ...well, very little.

I have been trying to keep myself active, though. It seems, mostly at night, though. There was a little tango dancing on Sunday, at the Loring. That felt pretty good. I couldn't remember any of the interesting bits I had learned (they'll come back), but I did feel very comfortable just navigating the floor. There was a certain confidence in my step that definitely wasn't there before.

Saturday night involved a trip out to The 400 Bar to see a band called The Heartless Bastards. They were billed as being a cross between The Black Keys and some other female lead singer that I had never heard of. While not having as much musical range as the Black Keys, the lead singer had a fantastic voice that conveyed just the proper amount of darkness and depression for a blues-rock band.

Good stuff.

Something Missed

2006-03-16T21:17:00.000-06:00

From AP News, via Chron.com:

Portion of Patagonian Glacier Collapses^[1]
BUENOS AIRES, Argentina - A vast Patagonian glacier shed a 200-foot wall of ice with a roar during the night, sending debris plunging into a lake in southern Argentina as hundreds of tourists struggled to watch in the dark.

About 400 tourists were on hand when the Perito Moreno ice bridge collapsed, a phenomenon that has been repeated every few years. This time, cameras were unable to capture the final crack late Monday night.

Carlos Corvalan, supervisor at Los Glaciares National Park, said a section of ice had been showing signs it was ready to fall for three days before it finally gave way at 10:55 p.m.

Corvalan told the independent Diarios y Noticias news agency that many spectators had been keeping a round-the-clock vigil, sleeping in their cars at an overlook. Although it was a cloudy night with visibility obscured, he said the booming sound of cracking ice could be heard for miles.

"It was quite a sonorous event, quite impressive," Corvalan said.

A branch of the Perito Moreno glacier regularly advances across the lake, repeatedly forming a natural ice dam. The latest wall of ice fell as lake levels began rising on one side, exerting enormous pressure. Only a portion of the 3,000-year-old glacier, known as the "White Giant," was affected.

On Monday, the Todos Noticias television network frequently interrupted regular programming with live footage of large chunks of ice breaking from the towering glacier and crashing into the water.

The footage also showed a kind of natural tunnel forming inside the glacier ice, reminiscent of the March 12, 2004, collapse, when a huge section crashed into the water as tourists on shoreline walkways cheered and shot footage with video cameras.

The glacier is one of 48 at Los Glaciares National Park, an international tourist destination visited by thousands of people visit each year, about 1,335 miles south of Buenos Aires in the remote Santa Cruz province.

Writer's Block

2006-03-12T13:15:00.000-06:00

Minneapolis, MN

I've come to realize that there seems to be one way for me to really write regularly. I think it involves being able to walk frequently.

The suburbs are not providing this for me.

I have really lived in a suburban area for a quite a few years, and I've forgotten how often one has to drive from place to place. Sure, I could walk around the block, but it's the same set of houses that have been there for twenty-five-plus years. There has been remarkably little change in the neighborhood that I grew up in. So there seems to be remarkably little to provide some mental stimulation.

Perhaps that what's really missing. Lots of mental stimulation. I'm not even reading very much. I'm not even sure where the time has been going, during the day.

Not that things changed rapidly in my old neighborhood. I'm here at the coffee shop again (seems to be the only place I can sit and write with any kind of coherence) where I generally spent most of my time outside of my apartment in Uptown. It's a place of subtle changes, though. The art peaces change on the wall, as the shop features new artists. They changed bakers once. That did not receive high acclaim. A week later, it was changed back.

Fortunately, I have been doing more thinking about the next leg of my vagabond days. I'm headed to Scotland for a two weeks, followed by another four in Central Europe. It'll be a little more whirlwindy. I don't want to make it like my first backpacking trip to Europe, but I probably won't be staying three weeks in one place, like Argentina.

So I've thought that I really aught to write the location of the post at the top. Seems a little journalistic, and also a little pretentious, but, hey, it'll keep people up to speed with where I'm at. Plus it eases up the whole writer's block. Just getting a few words typed can help trigger a bit more.

Back North

2006-03-10T13:45:00.000-06:00

Back North, where water drains clockwise, and the weather is cold.

It's strange to be back, really. There was quite a bit of thought put into to staying on Monday morning. I really liked it down there. The city was really starting to feel comfortable, and I was just starting to get the hang of Tango.

I had met some pretty cool people, as well, some of whom are staying on in BA for a while. I would have know some people while I was there, and not just been completely on my own. Certainly would have made the transition from visiting to living very easy.

But here I am, sitting in the coffee shop.

I decided, as it is, to stick with my original plan. So, I've already bought plane tickets for the next destination: Scotland. Well, London, actually. I'll get up to Scotland somehow.

The Tango Zone

2006-03-05T19:53:00.000-06:00

Imagine, if you will, a rock concert. A Band plays on stage, up front. A sea of people expand out around the stage, cheering the first notes of songs they know, going wild at the end of each number, and listening with rapt attention in between. Pockets open up in the crowd where hard core fans thrash away, only to die down at the end of a song, openning again in another part of the audience.

Now imagine that the band is a Tango orchestra.

Same scenario, different music. Except instead of thrashing and moshing, pockets open in the crowd with a few couples dancing. The dance lasts for the length of the song, and then the pocket collapses. The next song begins and another pocket opens. All this happens to the cheers of the crowd.

The Tango festival's crowning event was this sort of scene. The Gran Milonga al Aire Libre, on Saturday night, consisted of a band shell constructed in the middle of a large, five-lane avenue, and three city blocks of the same street blocked off for spectators and dancers. The band was an orquesta tipica - four bandoneóns, four violins, a viola, a bass, and a piano, accompanied by a singer. Beautiful music, accompanied by beautiful dance.

The large city blocks created one of the largest dance areas I've ever seen. The dancers included an amazing variation: young and old dancers mixed together on the street. This mix showed just how alive and well tango is here in Buenos Aires.

This is only the eigth annual Tango festival, so it doesn't necessarily have a long history. It seems like an affirmation of local culture. It really celebrates the major contribution to world culture that tango has been. It's also very much a Buenos Aires contribution. It's origins are here, and it's future is here. Neo-tango sounds, from groups like Tanghetto and the Gotan Project^[1], as well as changes to the dance are keeping it alive and vibrant.

The festival certainly created a great cultural experience with the Gran Milonga. The event was enjoyed by dancers and onlookers a like. A beautiful, late summer night, made more so by a highly enjoyable event.

[1] Ok, so the Gotan Project is actually a French group. The French have been playing very similar music for years - accordian and violin-based jazz.

Last Weekend in BA

2006-03-03T13:35:00.000-06:00

Today starts the last weekend in the city, before heading back to the States. It's starting out with something I haven't really experienced first hand here in Argentina (outside of the busride from Mendoza): it's damned rainy.

I am absolutely soaked.

I have this little travel umbrella. Sounds great, right? The key is travel umbrella; in heavy rain it covers my head, and the top of my shoulders - not all the way to the ends, mind you - and about three inches below that.^[1] Walking the last ten blocks in this fashion was not the brightest idea I've had all week.

Still, it hasn't been a bad day. I had one of my last tango lessons (one more on monday). It went pretty well, actually. The last two have dealt with the milonga style of tango. This is a much faster paced dance, in terms of the tempo. It often results in stopping and shifting weight in place, as milongas are usually very crowded. The last two classes covering this subject pretty much involved exercises consisting of taking a step, and closing, taking a step and then closing. The step could be taken in any direction (forward, backward, side-left, side-right, and cross-diagonals), with either foot. The weight is shifted for the desired foot at those closes. Now, one doesn't have to stop and weight all the time, it was just a very useful exercise.

I'm trying to see a movie this afternoon, just to wait out the rain. I've a ticket to see Munich. The movie schedules seem to be a bit odd, as the film is not at the same time as the previous day. Maybe it's because it's friday, maybe because it's Argentina. So I have to kill a little time, here.

My plans for the rest of the weekend (hopefully tonight, as well - I'm starting to feel a bit under the weather) is to go to various milongas. There is one tonight at Confiteria Ideal. Another one outdoors as part of the festival. The third, on Sunday, is outside in the Plaza Dorrego. I've heard that the Sunday one is really laid back. I'm looking forward to that one.

The instructors seem to think I've improved somewhat, which is good. Hopefully this means I will get out and dance a bit more...we'll see.

[1] How's that for a sentence. It has probably too much (incorrect) punctuation for its own good.

Luna Park

2006-03-01T09:28:00.000-06:00

I had seen posters for this concert the week before I left for Mendoza. I thought to myself "that would be cool to go see, if only I could get tickets and some people to go." Monday, in talking with some of the folks I had met previously, they were going to go, that they got there tickets on Saturday, and I should try and grab a ticket myself.

So, last night, I went to see Franz Ferdinand at Luna Park in Buenos Aires.

Bloody good show. We were standing just in the middle of the crowd of to the right, at first. When the band started (there was no opening band - I was blown away by that fact alone) the crowd surged up to the front, and I was dragged along with it. Pretty quickly, I was standing in a sea of Argentines, five people deep from center stage. People jumping, pushing, screaming, singing along (very strange to hear people singing English songs with a Spanish accent). It was fantastic.

They played straight through for an hour, followed up by a four-song encore with a really great drum solo, played by three guys on one drum set. It seemed like both the crowd and the band had to warm up to each other. Perhaps it was the langauge barrier, perhaps it was the fact that they were really in town to open for U2. They played a lot of songs from their new album at first, but once they started playing numbers from first album, the energy really picked up.

This was a much different show from the first time I saw them. They played at the Fine Line in Minneapolis two years ago. That show was much more intimate, with a lot more conversation in between songs. Of course, they had only released the one album and a single at the time. They did less improvistion during the breaks at that show, though. Here, they seemed more at ease with adding some variation on the songs during the breaks.

Absolutely covered with sweat as we left (the down side of the center-front - other people's sweat), I enjoyed a well deserved beer.

Check off Night Out in a Crazy Crowd off the list.

"Here I Am Back Home Again..."

2006-02-28T13:36:00.000-06:00

I'm back in Buenos Aires, to finish out the trip. Hopped of the bus, checked in, cleaned up and rushed off to the first tango lesson of the week.

It's good to be back.

Having a few days off really helped, I think. It gave some time to let it sink in. The subconscious seems to have done its job, because I felt more comfortable in the class then I had the first week. Not that I'm necessarily any better, I just feel more comfortable.

It's like anything, really. A new subject can be quite hard to learn when studied intensively. The brain needs time to process, create connections, reinforce the old ones, and clean up the useless bits^[1]. Then the brain can really start to work on new things.

It's nice to be back to the hostel, as well. A few of the people I met before I left are still here. Nice to see familiar faces and places. I'm sure I've said it before, but this is a really comfortable city. I could easily live here. Yeah, I've said that about a lot of places: Paris, New York, Seattle, San Francisco. Just another one to add to the list of places I really like.

A Brief Note for the Nextel Folks^[2]

Get into the Buenos Aires market. Nextel is in like Flynn down here. I haven't seen this much push-to-talk since the great walkie-talkie craze of 1983. Translate that junk into Spanish, open a sales office, and get on it.

Chirp, chirp.

[1] OK, so I probably need months of clean up time to get rid of all the useless bits.

[2] You know who you are.

Harvest Time

2006-02-26T11:15:00.000-06:00

Harvest Time
Originally uploaded by pschwarz.

Ripe for the plucking

Not The Brightest...

2006-02-26T07:41:00.000-06:00

Mendoza is really close to the Andes Mountains. It's the main reason it's great wine country; the mountains keep it dry, but provide enough ice melt for the irrigation. So I thought to myself, I really should head out to the mountains.

I went to the mountain, Aconcagua.

Aconcagua is the highest mountain outside of the Himalayas. At 6,962 meters, it's pretty damn tall. Everest, in comparison is 8,850 meters. The tallest in the States is Mt. McKinely (Denali) in Alaska at 6,194.

The bus ride out there was three hours, the first of many reasons this turned out to be a less than bright idea. I was dropped of at Puente de Incas, which had this strange natural bridge over the river (used, obviously by the Inca). From there, one has to hike or hitch 2km to get to the park entrance.

The entrance is not at all obvious. There was a little road sign, similar to those you'd find in the states, saying something to the effect of "Mt. Aconcagua Viewing Area." This is a national park. You'd think there'd be some sort of sign to indicate such.

I started my hike at 2,700 meters. The air was already pretty thin, so I spent most of my day with a pretty severe headache. I hiked up to the first base camp, at 3,300 meters^[1]. There, climbers spend four or five days to acclimatize to the altitude. Oddly enough, I spent my hour up there acclimatizing to the French couple that I met there. Mostly it was advice about why it's not an issue to be single, that there is plenty of time, and how there is probably "the woman of my life" in any one country that I could go to (all about timing). Strange the sorts of conversations one finds themselves sucked into.

I was getting pretty light-headed so I made my way back down the mountain. Aconcagua is still part of the desert, so it's dry and dusty, with almost no vegetation. The winds were whipping across at about 30 miles an hour. So the decent, while quick, was absolutely painful. I could hardly keep my eyes open from all the dust. I can see now why most climbers use enclosed sunglasses.

I had a couple hours to kill before the bus picked up at nine. I was exhausted from the altitude, the hike, the lack of water - it was recommended that you take two liters of water with you, I only took one. I closed out the one little shop while waiting for the bus, just guzzling water.

Now, it had become pretty cold. I was waiting outside for the bus, figuring that it would be along at any moment. At this point, all I wanted was some sleep (I had had a short night the night before) and a warm place out of the wind. The bus was late. Very late. I had begun to curse the whole idea all together. The only consolation was that the stars up there were amazing. The most absolutely brilliant night sky I have seen in a long time. I was suprised to see Orion, in all his glory, in the Southern Sky. Fantasic sky watching down here.

I promptly passed out on the bus. I only woke a few times during the trip. A bus stop here, a side of the road there was all I saw on the way back from the mountains. About forty-five minutes out of Mendoza I awoke to heavy breaking, a thud and a crunch sound. It was two in the morning, and we had just hit a horse.

That's right, a horse. A nice looking horse. A lovely color of brown, if the headlights were at all telling. The kind of horse that an adolescent girl would name Chocolate, or Brownie, or Betty Crocker. Poor horse.

Finally rolling into Mendoza at about three, I couldn't get a cab to save my life. I had slept enough on the bus that I felt up to walking back to the hostel. It was probably due to the return to higher oxegen levels. Damn, it felt good to breath again.

All in all, an interesting day.

[1] Lots of meter, references, I know. I'm just trying to educate y'all.

Wine Country

2006-02-23T15:44:00.000-06:00

Ah, Mendoza. Lovely part of the country. Beautiful weather, mountains...wine.

It's an incredible change of pace. None of the congestion and chaos of Buenos Aires. Out by the wineries I was told not to even worry about locking up. Sounds like small town living.

Mendoza is actually in the middle of a desert, so it's quite dry this time of year. Surprisingly, I did seem to come here on one of the rare weeks where it is cool and rainy. It makes it a bit unusual, but damned comfortable after the heat and humidity of BA.

In an even more surprising lucky accident, it is also harvest festival time The week is filled with evening activities, such as markets, live music,street performers (they like their jugglers here) and, of course, a beauty pagent (what farm-related festival would be with out one).

I hopped a bus out to one of main winery areas and rented a bike for the afternoon. Given that is was cool and breezy, this was the perfect day to tool around in the wine country. I only made it to two different wineries, and this incredibly fancy delicatessen (in the middle of nowhere - with a huge, remote gate). Learned quite a bit about wine making, but not a whole lot of tasting. Still, I don't think there is a better way to tour about a wine making region.

The brilliant thing is that it is harvest time. The grapes are ripe on the vine, ready to be plucked. At the first winery I visited, they were loading truck loads of grapes into the processors to begin pressing. They have enormous pnuematic presses for juicing the grapes - no feet here.

The second winery was basically a private tour. I was able to ask more questions about wine making then I ever thought I could even ask^[1]. Go forty-five minutes before close on a Thursday, and it's no wonder that there was no one there. The winery, Tempus, was more of a research vinyard for their full operation. There they were five years into a fifteen year project of breading better Malbec grapes. They had more then 250 varieties of Malbec in the 2 acres of land.

Language Limbo

I've hit this odd stage in my ability to communicate. I starting to feel pretty comfortable with the basics of ordering food, buying tickets, and generally how to get where I want to go. My understanding of Spanish is impressive by my standards, in that I'm getting the drift of most of what's being told to me. The problem is still one of constructing sentences.

Here's the real crux of the problem. If someone startes to speak to me in Spanish, I switch my brain into Spanish mode. It's working overtime trying to peice together the whole concept trying to be conveyed. What happens on numerous occasions is that I fumble trying to respond in Spanish - I just don't have the words.

Now, occasionally, the person I'm talking to realizes that I speak English and will switch. This catches me off guard and, suddenly, I can't speak in either language. Here's where I look and act like a total idiot. I seem to only be able to point and grunt[2], and eventually the financial transaction is completed^[3].

I always want to return to those people and try and convince them that I am an intelligent person, if only I could talk...

[1] Ok, so it was probably the wine. I had drank about three glasses of wine at this point. Those of you who know, you'd understand.

[2] Thank you, Logical Positivism.

[3] Now in the case most fresh in my mind I was trying to buy popcorn. I had no idea that in Spanish is Palomitas (according to google translator, that is).

A Bit Before Leaving

2006-02-21T09:04:00.000-06:00

I'm heading over to Mendoza tonight on an over night bus. I've heard that the buses here are really comfortable, like flying first class (in terms of the seats and leg room). Shouldn't be too bad of a twelve hour ride.

Thought I'd toss up one of the few pictures that I've managed to upload in the last few days. I have some more from the weekend, it just took forever to upload all the action shots from the tango of the previous week.

All in good time...

Sabado y Domingo

2006-02-20T08:33:00.000-06:00

Saturday night, before going to a milonga, a group of folks from the hostel (great hostel, by the way) went to eat dinner at ten pm. This is the standard dinner time. Although, I think many of the tourists eat the same way as they would at home: a smaller lunch and a large dinner, where the Argentines do things the other way around. It turned out to be the slowest. Meals. Ever. Good company, but, good Lord, it was long. We left around half past midnight.

Straight into a parade for Carnival. There are a number of local neighborhood parades going on right. There were a lot of young kids, eight to twelve, as well as adults with these cans of spray foam. Never really crossed our minds what they were doing with these things. So, of course, wandering through as wide eyed tourist, we became targets.

All of us ended up covered in this spray foam.

Wish I had pictures of that...

A little after one, I figure I should really get over to the milonga. It could be winding down, I thought. I pull up in a cab at half past and the dance is going strong. In fact, there's still a performance in the middle of the dance yet to happen. I spend some time watching (I know, I know) before getting out there (that's right). Good God, it was intimidating. There were some fantastic dancers on the floor. Needless to say, I danced one set, and called it good. I need more lessons.

Of course, I'm comparing myself to people who have been doing this for years. It seems to me though, that one doesn't really go to milongas (at least as a lead) until you've been studying it for a while. There weren't a whole lot of inexperienced dancers on the floor. Although, there was a girl, probably seven or eight, out there dancing quite well.

Leaving the milonga a bit after three, I called it a night. An early night for Buenos Aires.

Markets and Music

Sunday was a relaxed walkabout day. I spent the day walking about the markets in San Telmo and Palermo with frequent stops for cold beverages. Up in Palermo, the market was in a park. It was almost like going to a music festival. There was a number of bands, rock and the like, playing out on the grass. Each properly set up to have a hill between them, in order to minimize the crossfired noise. It was a great way to pass the cool evening.

After the relaxing, but long day well all cabbed it down to the best parilla in all of BA. The best steak I've had since being here, really. Ridiculously cheap as well - under five bucks for tenderloin. Brilliant.

Holy Crap, There's So Much Tango

2006-02-17T12:39:00.000-06:00

The following question was presented to me: "so, what's the deal.. there's just tango.. everywhere?"^[1] That has a really simple answer.

Yes. Yes, there is.

I had wondered, earlier, if tango is starting to die out. It turns out that there is just so much tango here that the market is close to a saturation point (at least in regards to classes).

I picked up this magazine, El Tangauta, which lists out all the classes, milongas and performances in the month. On any given day of the week there is roughly seventy-five classes. Seventy-five. If one actually wants to just dance, there are ten milongas every night of the week.

Good Lord, that's a lot of tango.

[1] Which really is more of a statement, with a question ending. A bit like in Jeopardy, where someone fucks up answering a question and then just adds the upwards sound ending to make the statement a question.

Minor Disappointments

2006-02-15T20:04:00.000-06:00

I was invited to go to a milonga tonight by some of my classmates. Interestingly enough, the foreign tango enthusiasts have something in common. However, it didn't quite go off.

I couldn't find the bloody place.

I mean it just wasn't there. I checked every street, every corner every building. A place called El Nacional shouldn't be that difficult to find. It just sounds grand.

Same goes with another site to see yesterday. Now, it's not one that would make it on everyone's list of must-sees here in BA, but I was going to go to this religious theme park last night. Tierra Santa is this religious theme park where the highlight of the show is that Jesus gets resurrected every half-hour. Kitschy as all hell.

Turns out it was closed, only open on weekends. Ahh...well. I don't think I'll try to go there again, as it's seems to be only place one can visit with the Scottish.

Weekend Wandering

2006-02-14T12:54:00.000-06:00

Like I said in my last post, I spent a lot of time wandering around over the weekend. Sunday was great, since there were a number of open air markets in the plazas. They seemed to consist mostly of antiques^[1] or art, most of which was tango related.

There were a number of street tango performances, dancing for change, and posing for photos. Some were quite good. One of which explained, at length, and in very rapid Spanish, the history of the dance. Apparently, the gauchos that came to BA walked with the tango stride, as well as rubbed the tops of there shoes on the back of there trouser legs. This was due to several possible reasons. The first was that they had machismo in their strides. As for the shoe-rubbing, it grew out of their use of pant legs as a way to clean off the cow crap^[2].

Classy.

As for the second possibility, the simple did these things because they had new shoes. They would take these long strides that present the foot first, showing of their new kicks. As anyone knows with new shoes, they can hurt. This is where the leg rubbing came from.

I don't know how much fact there was in his history, but it was all entertaining non the less.

The great part about these parts of town is that the tourists mainly seem to bus from place to place. Once you go out onto the streets, you're left with the locals. Mind you, there's certainly streets that you should not wander down.

There's a tiny little section of this neighborhood called La Boca that has these house painted with bright colors. The story behind the paint is that the sailors who lived there were so poor that they stole what ever paint they could from the boats they were on to paint their homes. Granted, I think this history is quite true, given how poor La Boca is.

As For My Tango...

I did get back to classes on Monday. I've had lessons with really small class sizes, to the point that they were almost private lessons. Two teachers for the four to six students in the classes. It leaves me wondering: is Tango a dying art here, or is it merely that there are so many teachers that the class sizes are small. I think going to a milonga will help answer that question.

At least I think I've found the two sets of instructors that I will go to for the week. One for technique and improvisation, the other for various standard moves. Both have been good.

I will say this though: one class a day is probably plenty.

[1] read rubbish.

[2] Oddly enough, some PC's are censored. I wanted to use the word the guy used. Use your imagination.

Street Tango

2006-02-12T16:56:00.000-06:00

Bloody nice tango. There was this excellent couple performing tango at the sunday market in San Telmo. The guy spent quite a bit of time explaining the history of the dance in very rapid Spanish. I was glad to have a decent spanish speaker in my company.

I spent a really good weekend just wandering around town, walking through the various neighborhoods. The city is really a joy to walk through. It has marvolous character.

The strange thing was that there really weren't a whole lot of people around on the weekend. They went to the parks and the outdoor markets, but otherwise the streets seemed pretty quiet.

I'm feeling a little bit sunburned at the moment, so I'm enjoying a little be of AC in the Locutorio Internet. Not really in the mood to write too much as a result. Perhaps after a bit to drink and eat.

Hopefully I'll be back in full swing once I start lessons again...

Tossed Right In

2006-02-10T13:46:00.000-06:00

I've taken a few Tango lessons in the last two days. One was a beginner class, the other was, well, a non-beginner one.^[1] It was at the same hall, but with very different instructors. They did have one thing in common:

They throw the students right in.

The beginner class wasn't that bad, for me at least. I have a little foundation to work with, so I could pick up the steps pretty quickly (in fact, I probably had seen them before, I just never really used them correctly). The difficulty lie in the fact that they would demo the steps once, and then let people at it. I'm always suprised that I have a harder and harder time leading someone who doesn't really understand how to follow. I've become used to the follow telling me that I'm not doing it right...

The intermediate^[2] class was a bit different. The instructor probably would have made it more of a formal class, if there were any people with zero knowledge. Instead, it involved everyone simply dancing. The students would either ask questions (like "why am I having such a hard time leading X?") or the instructor would notice something the students weren't doing quite right (as in "hold your arm this way and relax you shoulders...").

The second instructor was much more observent then the first, and did a much better job of explaining things than I have had in the past. Unfortuneately, it was one of those classes where I think I'll only be able to remember and use one of the many things that I learned. If I try to remember more, I'll probably just end up thinking too much.

Bits and Pieces

I enjoyed my first Argentine steak last night. At twelve in the AM. Damn late to be having a steak that big. It was huge, I'm talking Cattle Baron huge, and absolutely brilliant. I think I was drunk of the beef more than the wine.

I love the graffiti here. There are all of these great stencil tags all over the place. I liked this one in particular, as it reminded me of how I feel most of the time.

[1] Well, I can see that the lack of sleep lately has minced my brain into pudding...

[2] I have no idea if this is the case, it just seemed more difficult to me.

A Few Photo's, At Last...

2006-02-09T10:26:00.000-06:00

Ohare Sunset
Originally uploaded by pschwarz.

I've put up just a few photos to start with. There's not much there yet, but I thought I should get some proof of being here.
Most of what I've photographed, so far, has just been random things. I'd like to try and pick up the flavor of the city. We'll see if there's ever anything good...

First Impressions

2006-02-08T09:13:00.000-06:00

First impressions are important. So far, so good. We seem to like each other, Buenos Aires and me. I haven't had any real issues, not even getting lost.

Well, not really lost. I found myself lost last night after dinner on the way back to my hotel. I stopped at a shop to by something to eat and met an American trying to explain how much more expensive cigarettes are back in the states. In English. I was amused. I also learned a little bit about the popcorn seed business. Interesting the type of people you meet.

As for my Spanish... Yeah, it's pretty rusty. But I can order coffee, and say that I have a reservation, but I do fall very easily into English. Also if there's someone who speaks Spanish more fluently than I do, I'll probably still end up deferring to them. That could get me into trouble, perhaps.

I had dinner with Swiss guy I met on the bus from the airport. Interesting to here the viewpoints from a citizen of a neutral country. Very...neutral. I've noticed that I do a better job meeting people from other countries when they're not in their own country. Weird.

I'm just settling in here, so there isn't really that much to tell, yet. I think the hostel might provide a little more fodder...

One small note, reguarding photos - I haven't taken very many yet, so I haven't uploaded any yet. Soon, my pretties, soon...

More Tango

2006-02-06T09:38:00.000-06:00

DSC_0155
Originally uploaded by elurew6283.

I thought this was a really nice photo of tango (again, at the Loring Pasta Bar). Wish I could say I took the picture myself.^[1]

Here we can see the concentration required by the pair as the navigate their way across the floor. It has an intensity, grace and style. The dance is subtle and beautiful.^[2] Watch, as they move through the sea of people...

[1]I will say this: it's from a damned nice camera. I have to get me one of those...

[2] Starting to feel a little like Jacques Cousteau, now.

Not Even in a Backpack, Sam-I-Am

2006-02-05T22:27:00.000-06:00

Ok, so I haven't packed yet. Not at all. Not even a little. I finally just grabbed my backpack out of the car.

I've got all day tomorrow. Well, ok, I have until about four PM or so. That's plenty of time. I should be able to get ready with no problem.

It's not like I haven't accomplished anything for packing. I've been to Target at least once a day for the last five, since I've never really been a list person. I mean, who really needs to write things down. It's not like I won't remember (snowglobe) what I need. I've a good memory, damn it.

Now, where was I.

Right. Packing. I pack light. Damn light.

Five t-shirts - check.
Five pair socks - check.
Five pairs of shorts^[1] - check.
Two pairs of trousers - check.
One pair shoes - check.
One pack towel - check.
One sleeping bag, ultra-light^[2] - check.
Toiletries - check.
Medkit - check.

Packing - done.

Knowing I won't keel over to do excessive weight: priceless.

Although, now that I think about it, I did settle on War and Peace as my travel reading.

Heavy.

[1] Ok, so I really can't allow myself to refer to them as underwear. At least not on paper. Makes me a little uncomfortable. Not really sure why.

[2] But not warm. Stupid ultra-light material.

Prep Work

2006-02-03T13:44:00.000-06:00

I should be studying Spanish. I should be looking over my guide book and planning out an loose itinerary. I should be checking over my travel supplies and make sure that I have all my bases covered. What have I been doing with my time to prepare for this trip?

I've been dancing.

Weird, I know, but true. It's good prep work. Gets me thinking about balance, movement, and dancing with a partner (as opposed to dancing by myself, which, as it turns out, is not that useful). If I plan to go done and dance tango, I really need to be as comfortable with it all as I can possibly be. So this is good. I've gone dancing three times this week, I'll go again tomorrow.

The Waltz has lately been one of my favorites. I'm not sure why. Perhaps it has to do with it's elegance and grace. I don't consider myself terribly graceful, even when dancing the waltz. It does get me closer. Of course, it's very hard to dance in a smaller space. It needs breathing room.

Swing is not bad either, mainly because I'm most practiced at it. I think it (it being East Coast Swing) is one of the easiest dances to learn and lead. It has a certain amount of energy, making it both fun to do and watch.

As for Tango, eh, what can I say? It's beautiful..

...when not lead by me...

Finally Done

2006-02-02T14:23:00.000-06:00

I'm out of my apartment. Homeless. Officially a vagabond.

I handed over my keys with little fanfare and lament yesterday. Sure, I'll miss the apartment. It was a damn fine apartment. A little old, a few cracks here and there, but a nice apartment. It was always warm and comfortable. An excellent place to spend time, if one were so inclined.

I really never was.

I'm not, as it turns out, a homebody. I get really antsy if I'm cooped up all day. Which also then proceeds to surprise me how much time I do spend indoors. I do need to get out of the house, but I usually will go and spend that time indoors somewhere else. I seem destined to become one of those people who spend all their waking moments walking around malls for the climate control, or sitting in coffee shops discussing how things used to be better.

Which is odd, the latter prediction, since I do spend an inordinate amount of time discussing how much better things were under the previous administration. All I can say, at least economically, things are bound to get worse regardless of the party in power. We're about to dry up the well of hyperconsumerism sooner than later. Then, who'll be left holding any cash?

Not me, that's for sure. I'll probably blow it all on traveling abroad.

And Now For Something Completely Different...

A note about The People's Temple playing at the Guthrie: it's just not good. I don't consider myself a true devotee of theatre, but I've seen enough to know what I would like or dislike. It was flat, uninteresting, with strange flow and poor production of tension. The cast was likewise flat, their performances inspiring very little interest in the subject matter. The only saving grace was that the performers were allowed to where many different roles as they played each testimonial.

I think it is only playing for another few weeks, but my recommendation is to avoid it.

Coffeholics

2006-01-30T14:11:00.000-06:00

One more little observation for the day. I was wondering around the coffee shop and noticed something a bit strange.

Even coffee shops have their share of sad drunks.

Now, I don't think these guys are actually drunk. They seem to have taken on all of the characteristics of an alcoholic. They sit, hunched over there coffee or coffee-like beverage, staring off into space with a strange and lost look in their eyes. There's this strange haze, induced by that fix, the fix of caffeine.

The eyes seem to betray a look of longing. Looking for a past, full of happier times and populated with the people yet to be harmed by this awful addiction. Lonely, they drown themselves in hot, tasty, coffee goodness.

Almost Empty

2006-01-30T13:36:00.000-06:00

The movers came this morning. Odd to stand by, feeling useless, unnecessary, as they moved everything out.

Well, almost everything.

I still have to move my clothes, some personal items, the remains of the linen closet, and my A/V equipment. A small list, really.

Still, it seems as though this step is over. Sure, I have a few things to do to finalize the move - cleaning, mostly. Even so, it feels done. I'm able to relax a bit before the last push.

I did have a small party last night. Mainly for ballroom folks. Actually, it was the first and last party at this place. I will say this, though: It's not that hard to through a relatively informal party. It was a good way to see a bunch of people before I go.

Another odd thing about this whole deal: people seem to think that I'm not coming back at all. It's as though I'll never see anyone again. I don't think that's true, since I'll be back in a month, at least for a little while.

It is nice to get those goodbyes. You never know...

Prattlin'

2006-01-29T11:30:00.000-06:00

I'm starting to get the sense that I might be just prattling on about absolute nonsense. It's like I've gone all Abe Simpson on my meager readership:

Like the time we went over to shelbyville during the war, I wore an onion on my belt....which was the style at the time...you couldn't get those white ones, you could only get those big yellow ones.................Now where was I........Oh yeah, the important thing was I was wearing an onion on my belt, which was the style at the time, you couldn't get those...^[1]

I at least feel that, for the most part, I tend to keep a rather coherent structure on my posts. I have been accused of prattling on about nothing. I have, in fact, in the past railed against the use of blogs as a way to just talk about nothing. Am I a hypocrite?

As For Things to Prattle on About...

I'm close to done on having things packed up for the movers. I'm need to get everything finished up this afternoon. There are a few things they won't be taking, so I don't have to work about that stuff too much. All that's really left to do is my clothes for storage, my records and home office. Three more days...

I haven't really been able to think about the trip very much. This move has sort of sucked up all the worry. I have, at least, booked myself a room for the first few nights. That takes all of the worry out of me. It's the summer season there, so I was a little worried that I had waited too long to make those reservations. Getting the room so easily actually assuages my fears that I'd have trouble finding places for the rest of the trip.

Well, when it all happens, I'll tell you all about it. In rambling detail...

[1] Ok, so I know this is from The Simpsons, but I have no idea which episode. They all kind of run together on me. Like that time I tried to make omelets with only oil and margarine. It was back during the Great War. I'm not taking that one against the Germans, but the Big One, you know, the one with the Germans. Well, anyway, we couldn't get eggs during that time, up at the front. All they would ship us was cooking oil,margarine, and these little tea biscuits. Well, we saved those biscuits for our afternoon tea. We learned how to drink tea from a British unit that was stationed just north of us there. They were a crazy bunch, with their "Cheery-o's" and "Pip-pips." Well, anyway, that was the summer that Private Doyle broke his one teacup, because he hadn't learned to keep only his pinky off the cup...

Zzzz....zzz....zzz...

Walkabout

2006-01-27T12:56:00.000-06:00

I frightened myself off the other day. I was just a little bit too ranty. Spending too much time reading new and information at this day and age's rapid, instantaneous pace had caused my to just plain pissed off.

So I went on walkabout yesterday.

Really odd, needing to get away from doing...nothing. I think that doing nothing has gone to my head. I had worried that about a month into this whole business I would start to go crazy. I think that's true, to some extent.

Things I've become obsessed with:

Number of views of my flickr account^[1]
Email^[2]
Writing about nothing^[3]
Downloads of various TV comedies that I would prefer to watch on my own time^[4]

What I needed was to force myself away from these mild OCD tendencies and go walkabout.

It was an absolutely fantastic January day yesterday, another good reason to get out side. Forty-odd degrees, sunny, spring-like, half expecting to see roller-bladers come round every corner.

It was refreshing, really. No TV. No Internet. Admittedly, no packing, but I needed a break from that, anyway. Long walk, though. I hiked on up to downtown from my apartment. Twenty-eight blocks of pavement-pounding goodness.

It did remind me that I need few things. First, I need to get back in the habit of carrying a little notebook and pen. More often than not my best ideas come along when I'm walking around, looking at buildings, people, parks, and what not. When I used to have a little notebook, I'd be able to pull the notebook out and see the idea for the crap it really was. Occasionally, there'd be a gem in there.

Another thing I noticed, is that I really need to write by hand more. I did bring a journal with me (I know, why not use that for ideas? Not really convenient to pull out the larger book-sized writing pad when I just want to write down something like "Is the grass greener due to a lighting effect?"). My hand cramped up after about a paragraph. The rest of whatever it was I wrote looks like it was writing by a three year old^[5].

Finally, I learned one more thing on my walkabout: After twenty-eight blocks of pavement-pounding goodness, take the bus home.

[1] Please, please go look. I need the view count higher. Need it.

[2] I should really check that. The three different mail alert tools might be wrong.

[3] You're reading it.

[4]Which, by the way, The Office on NBC is actually rather good. Steve Carell is no Ricky Gervais, but who is? They play too very different characters. Once you can get past that, it's a pretty enjoyable show.

The structure is also a little different due to the port to American TV. There is more character development, even with the boss. I think American viewers, these days, seem to need even the worst characters to grow and change. In the original series, the only way that David Brent could grow as a character was to have major change happen - i.e. be made redundant.

Other than that, it has a pretty decent cast, and keeps some of the best parts of the original (the awkward looks at the camera, keeping the majority of the action in the office or at office functions, people so odd, that they're normal).

[5] Which, in fact, it was. I hired the first person I could find that I could dictate to. It happened to be little Timmy Jones, who would probably be upset that I said he was three. For the record he's three and a half.

Getting Angry

2006-01-25T12:39:00.000-06:00

Since I have a lot of time on my hands, in the mornings anyway, I've been reading a lot of news. I've also been following the blog of a friend of mine, which covers a lot of political and legal news. Here's what's beginning to take shape: a really angry person.

Frankly, I'm starting to get pissed off.

There's the war (which really isn't a war, it's an "Authorized Use of Force" - we live in an age of doublespeak). It's a mess that's only now trying to win the hearts and minds of the American People. We're stuck in it, so now we should start to care about it.

Then there's the NSA eaves dropping issue. Now, I agree with a lot of commentators, that all the people that are under surveillance are suspected terrorist operatives. They're bad guys, sure, but that doesn't mean that their right to a warrant should be ignored. It's a slippery slope. Once we start down that path, what's stopping people from pointing fingers, going on anti-terrorist witch hunts. It has the potential to become McCarthyism all over again.

Then there's the torture debate. That one really gets me riled up. I'm pissed off about the fact that there even was a debate in the first place. Even so, if were going to have the debate, let's start off with the fact that torture provides little to no useful information. In other words, it's all about just hurting someone for the sake of hurt. We're supposed to be the good guys, right? One of the necessities of being the good guy is not doing what the bad guy is doing. Again, it's a slippery slope. We start by torturing possible terrorists, we follow up by torturing war prisoners, we end up torturing American citizens. War's all about innovation: innovation in weapons, supplies, policies.

The debate was won, but then the President, quietly, signed a statement that basically says, that's great and all, but I'm still going to do what I damn well please.

Which brings me to the whole issue of unitary powers. It was the only thing that concerned me in the Judge Alito senate hearings. Basically what it boils down to is more powers for the presidency. It undermines the whole system of checks and balances. The thing^[1] that Bush signed about the torture debate is one great example of the fact that this administration wants to do what it damn well pleases.

I operate under a theory that it only gets worse before it gets better. Things are starting to get really bad. Aside from the issues listed above, there's the prescription drug plan issues, the Jack Abramoff scandal, and other things. All these things are adding up, making people mad. We need to get people mad to make change in the administration.

The one nice thing I enjoy about my friends blog, is the fact that he backs up all his assertions with articles and statistics, cited in a strict manner, only adding his commentary on the outside. I've been a bit ranty^[2] here, but I've been feeling that way about it this morning.

[1] Which, I wish to God I knew what it was called. It made me so made that I couldn't remember it.

[2] Interestingly enough, being ranty has its advantages. Maybe it's the caffeine, maybe it's the anger, but I've typing like a maniac (and probably sounding like one as well). Or maybe it's that I'm actually starting to get really concerned about these issues and the direction that the US is moving. I've got time on my hands, maybe I should start doing something.

In Earnest

2006-01-24T10:11:00.000-06:00

Now with the existential crisis-type entry behind us, we can get back to a simple, and oh, so interesting descriptions of my Exciting Life.

Packing has moved in to the forefront of my activities. I decided to start with the hardest bit first: the kitchen. I'm not usually one to try and tackle the hardest thing first. I normally like to get into a groove, and work my way up to the harder bits. Another thing to feel good about, with respect to the move.

But packing up the kitchen does leave me wondering: what the hell am I going to eat? I guess I'll have to <twist my arm> eat out.

Boxes. I need more boxes. Not for big things, as I seem to be getting rid of a lot of the bigger things. If I haven't used it, nor see myself using it, it gets tossed, or given away. I do have a lot of books. A lot. Of. Books. Too many. And I can't part with them. Well, OK, that's not quite true. Some of them truly were crappy. No point in keeping those. But I still need to deal with them.

Aside from packing, I've been reading a lot of comics lately. In particular, I've really enjoyed the Hellboy comics. Damned good stuff. That Mike Mignola really knows how to put together a great comic. Great use of shadow, and, as action comics go, it has some of the best writing I've seen. Then again, I've never really read a lot of action comics.

One thing I've noticed about comics, though is that they leave very little room in the end for conclusion. That seems like my kind of speed for writing. I've always been terrible with conclusions. Now if only I could draw...

I have been trying to figure out what the hell to read on my trip. I like to be covered for reading material on a long trip but a month might be too long. I've been thinking about picking up some popular physics books. There are two (apparently) really good books about the forefront of the field, both by Brian Greene. The first, is The elegant Universe, which was made into a Nova mini-series. The second is a follow-up (?), The Fabric of the Cosmos. Elegant Universe takes on quantum physics, and the truly bizarre natures of reality, where Fabric discusses things on the macro scale. Both cover subjects I was heavily interested in as a young lad, growing up in the Midwest.

So coming back from a minor existential crisis seems to have left my writing all over the board.