the world at small

siesta fiesta

2010-01-10T12:10:00.002+02:00

Finally, the long awaited,

Siesta Fiesta : A dancing documentary of the Siwa Oasis.

A MM_Procrastination Production

december

2010-01-05T11:50:00.003+02:00

Yesterday I received my 4th re-entry visa to Egypt, and besides crowding up my passport (large sticker), it represents my last trip of the year -- Athens, Greece. Yes, I and 7 others spent the New Year's Eve celebration in the streets of Greece with a man named Christos, dancing our way around the city. (Yes, me, dancing...)

So, December has been quite a month, and one I've completely neglected to write about. But between cruising, working, traveling, and flying, I just haven't had enough time. Khalas, blogging will be a new priority for me, a new year's resolution you might say, and it will start with December in review.

Thus, as a sneak peak, here are the highlights of what's to come:

Siesta Fiesta: A dancing documentary of the Siwa Oasis

Cruising the Caribbean with 140 scientists

NYC stateside

Cairo unleashed

Christmas Heathens

Have I really been here a year?

New Years Eve: Greek style

To be continued, Insha'allah. 2010 it is....

yalla flickr!

2009-11-22T13:16:00.006+02:00

Finally a Flickr update -- Islamic Cairo Mosque walking, with our host John D Martin III.

http://www.flickr.com/photos/worldatsmall/sets/72157622728039473/

cairo in mourning

2009-11-19T15:23:00.009+02:00

Egyptians are the most emotional culture I've personally ever been involved with. By far. The men especially.

Our office finished at 4 yesterday, and it took me 45 minutes to get downtown (normally 15 minutes) because of the traffic, the marching crowds of flags and painted faces, the stopping cars cheering and yelling at each other, the horns honking in unison. It was beautiful. The whole city, 18 million people, bombarding the streets since the morning. Men, women, children.

We chose this local ahwa to watch it, which is like a dive shisha joint for old Egyptian men who like to play chess and watch football, and we chose downtown because we wanted to be in the middle of the action for the win. We got there almost 3 hours before the match, and the streets around it had already set up chairs and shisha along the curbs. Electronic stores had turned every TV to face the street and on this particular corner someone had brought a projection screen which eventually brought in so many patrons you could barely see it from 15 feet away.

People on cars, on walls, on shoulders. Chairs in rows filling the whole breadth of the streets with more people kneeling in the tiny voids between them. I walked around [looking for schwarma] about 30 minutes before kick off, and I couldn't believe it, honestly, it was like crack to them. Like they had never needed anything more in their lives, than needing to see a TV right now. It was gorgeous.

Our ahwa was packed, maybe 150 Egyptians and 6 Americans in a space built for 20, all jammed around an 18 inch TV that was situated on top of a case of Stella to get it high enough to be fair to all. Cigarettes were being lit off each other, never ceasing to filter the screen, and all in unison the Egyptians told us the whole match through shouts and gasps. We didn't even need the announcer [which was great since it was in Arabic.]

When Algeria scored, it was like you had just kicked every one of them in the balls with their own foot -- a shout of shock followed by a gutting silence that pulled the whole crowd down into a paralyzing crouch. I felt so bad for them...

The rest is history. When it was over, as the silly Americans divided our tab as fast as possible so we could get on the streets to see the public reaction, the Egyptians sunk their heads and literally walked out, without saying a word. Our Egyptian friends looked catatonic, like they just didn't have the strength to talk about it yet. I was one of the first to get to a window and thought maybe I was a bit early, since everything in my immediate sight was empty.

But that was it. It was unbelievable. All 18 million Egyptians had absolutely just turned around and walked away. It was SILENT downtown. No horns, no flags, no people screaming. No traffic, no crowds, nobody. It was empty. It was an absolute 180 from life before 7:30 that night. So we just hopped in a cab, and you could see that taking us home was the last thing that driver wanted to do. Silly Americans...don't they know?

There's only 3 men at work today. And I'm certain the rest are physically unable to make themselves get out of bed. This is just how they are. They take everything to heart, everything personally. This tragedy, this injustice happened to each of them, happened to all of them. And it's going to take some time to get over.

Cairo is in mourning today.

what's she reading?

2009-11-19T14:26:00.003+02:00

CD: Do you mean a clear idea?

CG: No, a clear process: a site, a program, and a supportive client, meaning an engaged client who trusts you. The best work for me is work that comes from the pursuit of an idea. I don’t have to agree with it but I can be so moved by the commitment to the idea that I can learn from it.

MM: And the same can be true of the commitment to culture, to place, to belief, to football.

Get moving.

egypt v algeria

2009-11-18T11:53:00.008+02:00

Saturday was the World Cup Qualifying match between Egypt and Algeria. Egypt needed to win 3-0 to qualify, 2-0 to tie. The second goal was in the last seconds of the match and the whole city was in an uproar. Today is the tie breaker.

I've never seen such united passion for one team, one sport, as I've seen in Cairo the last few days -- business meetings have been postponed; vendors selling flags have lined the streets in 20 foot intervals, passing their patriotic paraphernalia to moving cars, taxis, mopeds; horns honk in unison relentlessly, day and night. This is going to be good.

We [4 Americans and 10 Egyptians] have decided to watch the match at a local joint, an ahwa to be precise, called Horreyya, where on a normal day you can find old Egyptian men smoking shisha and playing chess, hidden behind boarded up windows to conceal their pint size vices. It's one of the oldest ahwas in Cairo [which means solid locals], positioned in the center of downtown [fantastic celebration location], and tonight will be spiced up with a few newbies and a lot to shout about.

Yalla Egypt!

"oh my god"

2009-11-10T11:44:00.005+02:00

This past weekend I went close the the Libya border, about 9 hours west of Cairo, to the Siwa Oasis, and from there into the Great Sand Sea [Egyptian/Libyan part of the Sahara] We had 9 Americans, 2 Frenchmen, 1 South African, 1 Egyptian, and a Brit, led by 3 Bedouin guides, for 3 days.

Only one of us had been to this place before, and I think that naivete is what elicited such a deep response, not just in me, but in all of us. The first night, after biking around the village, the guides took us to the most amazing sand dune I had ever seen [at that point] for sunset, and we all sat in a line atop the ridge and said nothing for what seemed like hours. The sky lit up, 360 degrees around us, and the only thing you could here was silence. Unbelievable.

When I can finally wrap my head around that desert, that place, that world, I'll write about it. Until then, all I know to say is --

Silence really does have a sound. And it sounds like this:

desert camping!

2009-11-02T15:16:00.009+02:00

FINALLY, I am getting the chance to go out into the Western Desert to go camping!

Wendesday night a group of about 15 of us are heading to the Siwa Oasis to tour around a bit and then head out into the dunes whith our local bedouin guide, Fathy. He'll be leading us for 2 days and 2 nights, building fires, cooking food, and no doubt providing a sort of unique form of entertainment. My friends Megan and Jaimee have used this particular guide before, and while they said he was amazing, this time he's assured them it will be even better, as Siwa is his home turf.

Awesome.

Here's our checklist:

Swimsuit : hot spring and fresh water oasis swimming

Snacks : to accompany Fathy's meals

Bar of soap : bathing in hot springs

Sleeping bag : no tents necessary

Warm clothes : it gets cold in the desert at night

Costumes, wigs, snorkel gear : nightly costume and dance party

Music : to add to our awesome dance moves

Sparklers : why not

Cigarettes, lighters : obvious

Camera : just in case we don't remember

Alcohol : 26 bottles of wine, 8 bottles of liquor, 3 cases of beer

I think "Good Luck!" is in order. See you on the flip side.

m26

2009-10-20T12:39:00.013+02:00

Today I am older, irrational but bolder.

Though I hardly know how I got here.

What is this place? What is this pace?

Here in my twenty-sixth year?

Did I get lost on the way? I hope so, I pray.

Cause if not this was all done in vain.

From home to the east, twenty-five was a beast,

and maybe one day I'll explain.

But no time for that now, as I'm moving somehow,

like Montana let loose on the shore.

Mom really was right! Time passes alright,

especially the greater the score.

A pen and a sketchbook, some memories, some good luck,

is not what I'd call a whole lot to lose.

Yet their powers combined, have begun to define

what I like to call my subconscious muse.

So what's a birthday really? But a checkpoint that's frilly,

reminding you you've built this from scratch;

that the past has just made, a backbone brigade

to challenge the rest of the batch.

Thus a poem will suffice, maybe some vodka on ice,

to sum up my feelings on age.

I like getting old, accept it, take hold.

I'm definitely not getting offstage.

Cause whatever has happened, has been wanted, been beckoned,

even if inspired by beer.

So bring on the next one! With gusto, the big guns!

It definitely gets better from here.

allah akbar

2009-10-09T12:19:00.005+02:00

I just made my second cup of Nescafe, instant coffee [man, I miss real American coffee], and am now being serenaded by the crazed Sheikh [Muslim priest] that resides at our local mosque downstairs.

Cairo is a city of 1,000 mosques, and during the daily edans, an ominous echo of Arabic prayer engulfs the usual traffic banter of the city. Allah Akbar. There's an eerie beauty about it actually, especially with the midday Friday prayer. As the Sheikh continues to mount his defense with estranged inflection, beating his soapbox for the sake of Allah, the background is filled with the other 999 Sheikhs, singing, shouting, praying through loud speakers, at different octaves, from different minarets, across the city.

"There is no God but Allah and Mohammed is his prophet. Allah Akbar."

When Faith, Xavier, and I first arrived in Istanbul last December, it was at 6:30 in the morning, peak morning prayer time. It was the first time I had heard an edan, and I distinctly remember being moved by it, being shocked by it -- loud, forceful, beautiful, melodic. At this point I've probably heard over 1,000 edans -- 5 times a day, for the last 270 odd days. And while sadly most of them sink into my world, unnoticed, occasionally I'll take a moment to light up a cigarette, and be amazed at the synchronized hum that takes over the city.

Ilhamduallah.

2 months later

2009-10-06T12:48:00.003+02:00

It's really too bad I've waited this long to get back in to the blog. Ramadan has come and gone, new friends, new places. But khalas....

This week starts my re-initiative -- to write, to read, to focus on where I am now. I'm going to start by shying away from lengthy rambles [at first] and try to write small blurbs about the who, the what, the now.

So, today is the 6th of October, and a National Egyptian holiday [though I'm still at work] celebrating the war against Israel for Sinai. It only took me 7 minutes to get to work, everything but Metro Market is closed, and all of my roommates are laying peacefully [and hungover] on the sofa watching episode after episode of Entourage Season 6. We're trying to get a group together to go camping in the desert of Faiyum Oasis just south of Cairo this weekend, after running in the Hash, but if not, we'll do it next weekend as a pre-celebration to my 26th birthday -- 20 October. This will be two in a row I've been abroad...my how fast this year has gone. This time last year I was in Berlin I think, approaching Skylar's departure from the trip. Just goes to show you that somethings, sometimes, are better unplanned.

Cheers. I'm back.

new music sunday vol. 2

2009-10-04T13:03:00.001+02:00

it's the little things

2009-08-04T18:05:00.001+03:00

Mari Michael : "What website should I go to to pre-purchase my Harry Potter ticket?"

Egyptian Coworker : "What do you mean by 'pre-purchase?'"

Mari Michael : "You know, go ahead and buy it online so I don't have to wait in line tonight at the cinema."

Egyptian Coworker : "Oh, no, we don't have anything like that here. I mean, how would you give them your money?"

vote!

2009-07-26T14:15:00.003+03:00

With the Photography.Book.Now competition underway, they have opened up voting for the People's Choice Award. So I'm trying to activate my network and get my name out there --- thus, if any of you have a spare moment, I'd appreciate a vote for me! Just follow the link below!

[ZOOM] by Mari Michael Glassell

Voting is live through August 20!

Thanks guys!

[zoom]

2009-07-19T11:48:00.009+03:00

Competitions are always good remedies for procrastination, and for that I thank Blurb Photography Book Now for forcing me to put together at least one form of physical evidence of my trip. Yes, I along with 2,221 other hopeful photographers and graphic designers, entered their international competition last week. I mean, why not? It will be judged on cover design, the actual photography itself, and book design -- the winners being announced on September 14th.

I entered my texture series, and have been working on the book version the last few weeks. Here, for the sake of time, is the book introduction:

Culture and place are living, breathing things. Dynamic and constantly evolving on every scale, they gradually develop their own structural integrity -- their own texture.

Textures are not just about surface, but about depth as an integral part of “place.” Every city, every region, every continent has its own texture, its own quality created by the interrelation of its people, its architecture, its atmosphere. And while it is visible from many different perspectives, it’s more pronounced when we can touch it, feel it, and smell it on a human scale.

Zoom is about taking a closer look at the layers of culture, and seeing how these different places have consistencies at small, yet differ so vastly at large. It’s about exploiting similarities within their textural composition, yet celebrating the beauty in their individuality.

After 3 continents,19 countries,in 8 months,I took 2562 photographs. 408 of which were textures.

Zoom in.

http://www.blurb.com/my/book/detail/771100

new music sunday vol 1

2009-07-12T15:14:00.001+03:00

Because it makes me happy.

quarantine

2009-07-07T14:50:00.007+03:00

*again, I started this weeks ago. I'm just terrible at spontaneous posting.

"The unlucky are nothing more than a frame of reference for the lucky, Mister Fisher. You are unlucky, so I may know that I am not. Unfortunately the lucky never realize they are lucky until it's too late. Take yourself for instance; yesterday you were better off than you are today but it took today for you to realize it. But, today has arrived, and it's too late...You see? People are never happy with what they have. They want what they had, or what others have...I'm a bad man who doesn't waste time wondering what could've been when I am what could've been and what could not have been. I live on both sides of the fence, and the grass is always green."

The Rabbi - Lucky Number Slevin

I've always loved this quote, especially the way Ben Kingsly delivers it. Gorgeous. I think this outlook is a proper attitude for life, and one I suppose I've been trying to shoot for the last few months -- minus the Rabbi gangster influence. And while I could go on and on into some inevitably pretentious rambling about life, the universe, and everything, I instead use this quote today merely to discuss the Egyptian reaction to the (evil drum roll) Swine Flu.

Yes, after killing most of the pigs, most were convinced Allah would spare them, and were in shock when the government announced (suspiciously only after Obama left the country) that there were up to eleven cases. The students at the American University of Cairo were quarantined to campus and face masks broke out among the masses. My favorite, though I will say alledged incident, was when a local McDonald's employee was diagnosed with the flu at work and after he was promptly sent home, they issued a mandatory close for all American fast food restaurants in the city -- because clearly that is the most logical solution towards prevention. Efficiency is definitely NOT the Egyptian's forte.

Needless to say, a few days after my friend Lindsay arrived from America, my boss pulled me in his office and carefully explained that some of my colleagues had expressed concern with my direct contact to a recent American. I, of course, didn't take this personally as I had seen the mass hysteria towards the subject, but I did wonder, why now? I had already been in the office 3 days, utterly exposed, and Lindsay even had her temperature taken at the airport upon immediate arrival, which should offer, if only a little, reassurance. But khalas, I was asked to take a week's paid vacation from work, just to be safe. And that's never something to complain about, no matter what the reasoning is behind it.

So you see, yesterday I was ostracized for being an American (a potential carrier of Swine Flu), and today I was rewarded for it. Moral of the story: grass is always green.

(I would like to point out, if merely for clarification, that no where in the religion of Islam does it say to slaughter innocent pigs. Their decision was based mostly on govermental approval and radical ideals.)

cairo is closed

2009-06-17T10:23:00.003+03:00

*this was written the day Obama was here -- 04 June 2009

The streets were empty; almost silent in comparison to the daily rantings of car horns and skidding tires. Police stood, equally spaced, in a single file regime down the main thoroughfares in the heart of the city. New signage, shouting it's advancement in civilization, adorned the usual chaotic intersections, u-turns, medans, and from sidewalk to storefront new paint, still wet from the night before, sparkled white amidst the brown undertones of the polluted surfaces above. Everyone was quiet. Everyone was deep within their homes -- hiding, waiting, expecting.

Obama is coming.

Unfortunately I couldn't get tickets to his speech, so instead I rallied a following to stream it live at my office. Of course watching it with Muslims, among Muslims, provides a very different context than the American media, yet I still wonder whether the power of its influence is the same -- the power of its "collective conscience," of its immediate culture. Sometimes influence and impression are bred from your surroundings, sometimes they are conjured within. Either way, neither is mutually exclusive I've found, and no matter how confident I am in my own perspective, this day I found myself more tolerant, more understanding, more a part of the Arab view. But don't worry Mom...I'm far from converting.

For months now I have spent thirty minutes to an hour a day talking with my boss to work on his conversational English skills. We cover a wide range of topics, from architecture to urbanity, modernity to history, cultural identity to commonality -- but in the end we always find ourselves deeply immersed in politics. He's brilliantly aware, and though rightfully biased religiously, he's naturally "bi-partisan" politically, which has yielded a nice perspective to learn the historical and present complexities of the Middle East through. I mean really, it's like gold in my pocket.

After Obama's speech, our daily discussion was saturated in the promise of a "peaceful Arab nation" and of a diplomatic Israel -- most likely just like any two people discussing that specific speech on that specific day. But, whether good or bad, critical or supportive, BOTH of our angles were grounded in Egyptian relevance -- not American. We talked about the evidence of popular sovereignty and religious tolerance, assumed anti-Americanism, and compatibility between western and Muslim values. The reality here in Egypt, being somewhat of a major character, is much different than what is personified by American media. And while Obama obviously needed to be diplomatic in his speech to the Arab world, what few realize is that within Egypt, he was already surrounded by his biggest fans -- which is helpful in times like these.

Granted the Israeli-Palestinian conflict is undoubtedly the major point of interest for educated Egyptians, and he addressed that rather charismatically, but he didn't offer up that solid of a solution -- which was noticed by my colleagues. This fight for peace has been going on for years, and quite honestly in the minds of Egyptians, America has the power to end it, to control it, to enforce it. Especially when you look at if from a raw, "survival of the fittest" perspective. In many ways, and I don't mean this to be condescending, America is Egypt's heartthrob; the beefy guy on the front of the magazines, strategically draped over his rebellious motorcycle, basking in the glory of being number one. And though that might be a naive perspective for them to have, no teenage crush is ever rational.

That all being said, it will be interesting to see what Obama's speech will spur in the Arab world; whether a peaceful Arab nation is on the rise or whether such conflict is just inherent in this deeply historical part of the world. My boss did say one thing, that though was buried in religious connotations, had a very factual point: The Middle East, the fertile Crescent, is the only area in the whole world that has never been calm, never been peaceful, never been quiet -- it's the birthplace of humanity, of civilization, and every one, every religion, every government, has some claim to fame over it all.

And for you Harry Potter fans, in a way the Middle East is like modernity's elder wand: he who holds it has the most power, and he who has the most power always has the most to lose.

You decide:

this has gone on long enough!

2009-06-16T13:00:00.002+03:00

Alright, I know, such neglection is uncalled for. Granted there has been a lot going on in Cairo the past month [Obama, Iranian Elections -- more on those later] and unfortunately my job has definitely taken precedent over anything else -- as it should I suppose.

Also my friend Lindsay moved here last week, which has definitely revitalized my social life, but more so than that, it has put Cairo in a new perspective -- Cairo as a city, as a place, as my home. It's strange to think that I have been so detached from my American life for so long. I mean, I'm pushing 10 months abroad! And Lindsay brings with her remnants of the world I left behind, and though that will change the longer we are here together, it's still a sort of slap in the face of realization. But honestly, it's a damn good one. From time to time it's nice to have evidence of who you were then, who you are now, and who you are aiming to be.

So now we are off to the museum, to meander the jungle of antiquities, but over the next couple days I hope to catch you up on the never ending saga of the Egyptian culture.

Inshaa Allah.

and i'm back!

2009-05-20T11:03:00.003+03:00

I got into Cairo late last night, jet lagged from the 24 hour travel time, and persuaded a taxi to take me home after the memorable, relentless, negotiation of price.

I have a lot of catching up to do, blog wise, and I plan to do really sit down and write this weekend. But it was great being home, great seeing everyone, and great smoking REAL Marlboro Lights. But at the same time, it's great to be back, going to work, catching up with Bond and Rosie. Because right now, Cairo is my home, and even though it lacks the deep familiarity of Gulf Shores or Memphis, it has just the right amount to make me feel like I'm "back."

And so it goes.

19 hours later

2009-04-28T13:32:00.003+03:00

It's definitely been a while since I've written anything -- I've been distracted by work and play, and definitely by preparation for my vacation to the States. I leave tomorrow morning, and will be in a land where everyone speaks English and a dollar = a dollar for the first time in over 8 months...and I'm pumped!

And to celebrate this glorious occasion, I will watch the Champions League semi-finals at the British Club I recently became a member of [more on this establishment later], and proudly sport my FC Barcelona jersey as they whip Chelsea! And to punish myself for celebrating in such a way, I will struggle to wake up at 4:30 a.m. to begin my 19 hour trip. But alas, it's worth it. I'm just sad I missed the Mullet Toss....

Home again, home again, jiggedy jig Skylar. Turn it Up.

old music monday three

2009-04-13T14:00:00.000+02:00

I think everyone can toast to this one, no matter which version you fancy, right Colin?

under construction

2009-04-06T14:11:00.001+02:00

I thought I could wing HTML, and was obviously mistaken. I'll fix the colors soon enough -- any thoughts on the new look though?

old music monday two

2009-04-06T12:02:00.007+02:00

This blast from the past is dedicated to Anna -- circa [all of] high school (we won't mention the year)...

Damn. And this time period just wouldn't be complete without:

This is how we roll when we ride out - Mimani Compilation
And yes, I still know ALL the words -- Cheers to ridin' out in a month!

flickr it up

2009-04-02T16:59:00.003+02:00

I finally got some time to properly update my flickr page today -- a huge array of Cairo pictures [Coptic Cairo, Ain Sokhna, Living Cairo], and some long awaited Switzerland, Istanbul, and Serbia images.

So check it out: FLICKR IT UP

[walking through coptic cairo]

arabic is fun vol. 01

2009-03-31T12:15:00.008+02:00

In the spirit of lightening up the outrageous seriousness of my blog, I've decided to add a few weekly constants: old music monday [dedicated to jen, and our music fridays], and arabic is fun [a word/sentence of the day installation].

Egypt is constantly educational on multiple fronts -- culture, politics, religion, blah, blah, blah. But the most in-your-face lesson I've found is the language [of course]. Most people at my office don't speak English very well, thus I've had to sort of force beginners Arabic into my life. I've definitely progressed the last few months, but have started to need an increase in vocabulary -- enter the blog.

We'll start basic.

Laa shokron, colo tamam henna, laken Bond shaklo sherib Vodka wa Pineapple keteer, wa Rosie bititcallem "Turquause" tany. Albanians hobl.

No thank you, everything is fine here, but it seems Bond has drank too much Vodka and Pinapple, and Rosie is saying "Turquase" again. Silly Albanians.

old music monday one

2009-03-30T11:27:00.005+02:00

dedicated to my Vampire Weekend Phase circa May-September 2008.

I just found these videos today, and it was definitely like falling in love all over again. Thus I couldn't decide which to post -- so enjoy, cause I sure did.

Sort of Wes Anderson-esq don't you think?

weird and wonderful things

2009-03-24T16:21:00.003+02:00

Dark Roasted Blend

A good tool for procrastination, research, case studies, humor -- and when all that's in one place things could get crazy.

[Actually, I was emailed an article from this website by a friend a while back, then came across it again by myself in search of case studies. And if that wasn't enough, I got word of it again today as a place to laugh at architecture. So I just had to post it.]

the modular effect

2009-03-23T15:37:00.000+02:00

1000 Portraits

I found this guy while scanning flickr in search of images for work. At first I was taken by a streetscape he had taken in London, then by a few images on the Palestinian/Gaza Protests in Trafalgar Square. But more so than great photography, this guy furthers my opinion of visual modularity. Why am I so attracted to comparisons like this? Isolated building, textures, posters, portraits?

I guess it lies in graphic appeal, rather than strictly photographic depth. There is something about having a collection of images, that takes away context and scale and forces you to focus on the authors perspective rather than your own inclinations -- and I mean actually forces you. Standing alone, these images represent a person, a place, a time perhaps. But once they belong to something, they lose individuality and become part of a larger perspective, larger conversation, larger meaning: This is London.

That power is gorgeous. And of course graphics can work for the individual just as much as the collective. But I'm completely turned on by these instances, these "parts of a whole." For one, this whole trip, this whole "project" has been about pieces as a collective comparison of culture. But what about getting smaller, more intimate with it? Textures, posters, people are all successfully demonstrative, but there's something about the remnants of people, or more so, people as remnants, that suggests a proper human scale. My mother once suggested taking shots of peoples shoes [though that could be difficult] as a way to show such comparisons -- and you know, Egypt might just be the right place to try such a tiny strategy...

shared assets

2009-03-18T14:12:00.001+02:00

Graduate school responses have begun -- slowly, but surely. I'm still waiting to hear back from a school, but have hence received three acceptance letters and a long anticipated confirmation of Texas residency. For sometime now, my federal aid application pointed out that I may, in fact, not be a technical resident of any state [that's what I get for rebelling against Texas' ridiculous auto registration process], but with the help of UT Austin and the School of Architecture, I have finally been claimed -- conveniently as an in state student. So as of now, I'm leaning towards Austin as "home."

But the last few weeks, while I was state-less, it occurred to me that in reality I am; I have no permanent address anymore, nor a temporary one for that matter. I haven't been in the States in over six months, and by the time I do come home it will have been almost a year -- and even then I won't be coming "home", but rather reestablishing [finding] "home", "place", "culture", and all those bull shit archibabble terms I love to use.

I have a home here, a place here, a culture here, and while in reality it's merely temporary, inherently it feels permanent -- even established, as if this is where I've always been. But I suppose one could ask the question, "Is it really temporary?" Cause it's not as if I will go back to the way that I was beforehand. This whole experience, this whole culture, will inevitably last, exist, serve me indefinitely, just as America has done.

Culture, place, home are all living, breathing things. They are dynamic and constantly evolving -- thriving off of us as we rely on them. They are our shared assets. Like a sort of wikipedia that we are actively changing as a whole, and in return, allowing it to constantly change the way we relate back to it, to each other. Its a symbiotic relationship, and one that's so deep within us that there's no way to determine which came first, or even which is coming first now -- the culture or the people, the chicken or the egg.

Man, I'm going home in six weeks, only to turn around and come back to Cairo -- what will that be like?

from my poster seires [sofia, bulgaria]

75% is greater than standing

2009-03-05T18:23:00.006+02:00

I don't know why, perhaps I was just in a Wes Anderson mood today, but as I was searching through his soundtracks for something to brighten my day, I came across the intro to Darjeeling Limited -- and I must say, I laughed when I realized that I truly [and deeply] knew exactly how both Bill Murray and Adrien Brody felt during this sequence. Sometimes you make it, but sometimes you get left at the Turkish-Bulgarian border...no matter how fast you run.

Cheers Faith -- to making it.

round 2

2009-03-02T16:03:00.007+02:00

Now that I've uploaded nearly 500 pictures onto my flickr page [out of over 2000], I've decided to go back through, and throw in some I didn't have the time or the internet to do before. And in preparation for my blurb book, I've also finally uploaded a good amount of Egypt pictures -- which is technically skipping ahead, so I will catch up on Switzerland, Serbia, Bulgaria, and Istanbul over the next month.

It's fun to be nostalgic.

bad hair, great picture, amesome moment
Voss, Norway

and on the seventh day

2009-03-01T10:15:00.018+02:00

Traveling is exhausting; it completely drains you mentally, physically, even emotionally -- but it's exhaustion only felt once you've stopped, like an adrenaline rush. You have power you never knew you had, and stamina you only wished for, but once you stop you remember how weak [and old] you really are and how tired you have truly become. Thus the last two months I have done as little as possible in the way of adventures. I have slept, caught up on my movies [yay for Slumdog Millionaire], and am now bordering on anti-social. But halaas [enough] -- I'm living in Egypt for god's sake, and while day to day life is an adventure in itself, there is far too much to see and do to sit and rest any longer. But, just as any other epiphany, this wasn't born of my ambitions alone -- I had help: an Egyptian Photographer I found on flickr...excellent inspiration to get out there and see what I've stumbled into.

So in the spirit of getting involved with this place, I recently bought two Cairo-intensive books: Rough Guide: Egypt, and Cairo Cosmopolitan: Politics, Culture, and Urban Space in the New Middle East. The former is long over due, but the latter I found while roaming a little book store near by apartment. Their selection wasn't extensive by any means, but they had a surprisingly high number of city analysis [architecture] books -- published by the American University of Cairo Press.

Even on the surface, Cairo looks and feels like it's had some rough transitions [urban, cultural, political]. Some aspects of the city, such as the metro or general infrastructure, have obviously taken part in attempted renovations, but still lack any real constitution or completion. There are remnants of Western influence [in the architecture, in the public spaces, in the urban planning] which have been gradually layered by Egyptian vernacular. And as a product of this, the city structure itself represents an entirely different habitat then the actual population suggests. This type of urban planning was developed for [and in reality by] a population the size of Paris; it's density is a proper environment for 2.2 million people, even 11 million when the entire metropolis is taken into consideration -- but Cairo is close to 20 million, all and all, so just imagine what that does to the street activity, the housing demand, the slums.

The end result is sort of like an early 90s graphic collage -- irrational and rebellious to structure or obedience, adorned with superfluous text and modulation. But, to its credit, Cairo isn't intentional with its overcrowding as graphic designers were back then -- Cairo is merely responding on a very basic level to what they have, what they need, and what they know. It's all about response.

Now of course, this is pretty amateur -- thus I hope these books paired with long Saturday walks help me really understand the city I'm living in. I think it's one thing to understand an American city from the inside out, like NYC, because there is something inherent within me that relates to its type of urban evolution [though there is still depth involved]. But it's quite another in a city that's over 3000 years old and host to a completely foreign culture. Plus, it's just good practice to analyze your surroundings don't you think?

coming soon

2009-02-27T14:10:00.003+02:00

Blog posts from Switzerland, Vienna, Hungary, Serbia, Bulgaria, and one fantastic Christmas in Istanbul.

Procrastination is over. The Saga continues.

blurbian

2009-02-22T13:05:00.008+02:00

Today I came across a brilliant enterprise, and something that will definitely become my new obsession: BLURB!

This trip was always a project. And though at first it might have been one that seemed far too ambitious and lacked proper articulation to possess a real thesis, while developing it for my graduate school portfolio the almanac actually started to materialize. This was in December [Vienna part 1 which has yet to be written for the blog]. But as with any design project, schematics rarely become a literal translation, and thus over the next few months I hope to develop my first draft into a more concise graphic analysis. Knowing myself it will probably take me a year or so to adequately portray what I've been trying to say through all the cultural comparison bull shit. But nevertheless, the almanac is something I think has real potential, if only for myself, and something I hope to eventually pull off -- with the help of blurb.

In the interim however, I'm going to use this blog and my flickr images and do a practice blurb book -- one focused strictly on my trip. A photography, essay, travel book let's say, divided into regions [western europe, scandinavia, eastern europe, middle east] or even into people [skylar, faith, servas hosts, vaughan town, bond and rosie] or maybe stitch it together by patterns of intimacy -- times when I was deeply involved with the trip, times when I was partying too much, when I was alone, with a group, working on graduate school [endless opportunities]. Somehow I'd like to also include my three image collections [pieces, textures, posters] but perhaps that is something in itself, and since I can get carried away with graphics, I should probably just stick to the trip [and a hot map of course].

And for the cover, I've been thinking about this:

the world at small : a pedestrian initiative

going live august 2009

isolation!

2009-02-17T12:19:00.004+02:00

Lately I've been focused more on my flickr page than my blog. And though I'm way behind on sequentially uploading general trip pictures, I've gotten sidetracked by my photographic constants. Throughout the whole trip I've been taking pictures of three things: textures, posters [all graphic art really], and building pieces [isolated]. And, until I actually started going through all 2000 pictures and organizing them, I didn't realize how successful I had been with this endeavour. So, with new found motivation to categorize these images and see what may come out of it, I've been ignoring [for now] the general bulk of my images and concentrating on those three things.

And to make matters worse, I came across this flickr album called Isolated Building Studies, and absolutely fell in love with it. This is why visual studies are so powerful -- they can isolate, eliminate, and manipulate how you view things, how you understand things, how you relate to things. And this is a fantastic example. Cheers to this guy for sure.

super floss

2009-02-11T22:10:00.008+02:00

To offset such a lengthy ramble about my current tangents, I thought I'd take the time to confirm that Cairo does indeed have successful medical practices. Yes...today I went to the dentist.

Personally, I like to take an active role in my dental assessments. If someone is going to be fiddling around with my teeth using all kinds of extensive mirrors and hooks, I like to give it a look myself -- see if we [the dentist and I] may have different opinions about what the problems may or may not be. Perhaps start a little discussion about teeth in general, why he chose such an intricate profession, and how that may relate to what we're dealing with in my case specifically. And while I'll admit, they don't normally appreciate such curiosity, they eventually cave in and let me play with the water pick.

But I got far more than I signed up for today. Much to my surprise, my Cairo dentist not only had digital xrays, but more importantly, a video camera connected to his glasses! [with amazing zoom] I got to watch everything he was doing on a TV, which was angled just so I didn't have to strain my neck! Oh the possibilities! America definitely needs to get on the high-tech, patient-doctor integration, band wagon. I think I'd go just for the entertainment value. Hell, it's just like the discovery channel, but better!

And to avoid the primitive and annoying nature of normal, generic floss, he told me about SUPER floss! So exciting...

wampeters, foma, and granfalloons

2009-02-08T20:23:00.026+02:00

"Dear Reader: The title of this [blog] is composed of three words from [the] novel Cat's Cradle. A wampeter is an object around which the lives of many otherwise unrelated people may revolve. The Holy Grail would be a case in point. Foma are harmless untruths, intended to comfort simple souls. An example: 'Prosperity is just around the corner.' A granfalloon is a proud and meaningless association of human beings. Taken together, the words form as good an umbrella as any for this collection of some of the reviews and essays I've written..."

and some of the eradicated contradictions I've made along the way.

The point Vonnegut is trying to make is that everyone, all over the world -- no matter the culture, the race, the religion -- uses these nonsensical paradigms throughout there daily lives; they are consistencies at small. And though I may not have the illustrative rhetoric of Kurt, lately I've started thinking more and more [again] about cultural commonality. Through all my bull shit of "place," and "culture," I think I've decided that neither dictate interaction, alone or together [interaction of people, religion, built environment ], but merely instill context and scale on an individual level; they simultaneously give us not just the unconscious motivation for, but the ability to respond, react, relate. After that, it's up to us and what we've learned from experience. But how do you design to mimic that type of "educated" freedom? How do you create guidelines, as an urban planner would, but allow those parameters to be permeable, flexible, even moldable, in way that somehow creates [not just allows] active, natural interaction -- which happened to be intentionally constructed? Is that even possible?

Every where I've been the last five months operates the same, functions the same, breathes the same -- fundamentally. But I'm starting to think the root of their cultural [what defines their culture] differences is simply predicated upon the hierarchy of priority. What is the most important thing to each culture -- religion? freedom? family? wine? -- and how do each of those top priorities begin to shape how people interact not only with each other, but with their place, their home, their movement, their evolution? Because whether you are aware of it or not, that priority is what you see the world through, thus it dictates how you relate to it. Design is not universal, but it does hold objective truths that can be, and should be, left to the individual to manipulate -- through context and scale, culture and place.

And just in case I wasn't nerdy enough for today [or pretentious], I'll throw in another Vonnegut idea, as it's surprisingly applicable: a phenomenon known as a chrono-synclastic infundibulum. Vonnegut defines this as "those places...where all the different kinds of truths fit together." To further explain, he "quotes" an article from a [fictional] children's encyclopedia: "since the Universe is so large, there are many possible ways to observe it, all of which are equally valid, because people from across the Universe can't communicate with each other (and therefore can't get into an argument). The chrono-synclastic infundibula are places where these 'ways to be right' coexist."

My point, though honestly I don't think I really have one, is that Egypt may sound exotic, exciting -- and of coures, it is. Exotic, as it's a different culture, a different place. Exciting, as it's a new way to look at my priorities. But fundamentally, Cairo is just a big city, dense, with shitty infrastructure and cheap taxis. There are new urbanist communes, luxury apartment towers, a downtown, subsidized housing, bars, nightclubs, and a TGI Fridays on the Nile. Sunday is a work day, you can get anything delivered, it never rains, and the call to prayer can be heard from mosques five times a day. But my daily life is just like it was in Memphis. Though I may ride in a taxi for 45 minutes to work and back, passing assorted donkeys and condemned housing along the way, I'm still waking up in the morning, going to work, coming home, and doing it all over again tomorrow. Just like everyone else in the world.

And that's what I think about that...

let em all go

2009-01-27T17:36:00.011+02:00

I'm sitting on the balcony of my hotel room in Sharm el Sheikh, at the tip of the Sinai peninsula, cigarette in hand, watching the sunset over the desert. Damn...who do I think I am?

I have nothing particular to blog about, I suppose it just seemed an appropriate response to this place, this time. Traveling these last few months, of course, has been amazing. But there comes a point when the wandering ends and you realize you've reached a destination. Whether you chose it or not, whether you willed it or not, doesn't matter. And there's something brilliantly liberating about that. Like you're just being pulled along, with a false sense of control lending you the confidence to let it all happen.

I got a job today. And that means I just moved to Cairo.

the end of the beginning

2009-01-20T11:21:00.005+02:00

Don't worry Searcy, this is only the beginning -- and it only gets better from here.

This is my time for redemption in a way. I've been going strong for four months, immersing myself in cities, in places, in people -- as if someone keeps coming up behind me and pushing my head under water, just long enough for me to lose my breath. And it's been wonderfully invigorating being breathless. But now it's time to float, to see what it's like to really become part of a place, to see what a place can really do to me -- and I have 6 months to do it.

Egypt is so beautifully different from anything I could possibly know. It's density rivals that of Istanbul, with an amazing 18 million people, and it's obvious. Though they properly subsidize in certain areas, the projects look like condemned housing that wasn't finished in the first place; roofs missing, entire wall sections voided, poverty like I’ve never seen before or even thought possible. I was shocked to learn that people actually live in some of the housing clusters along not just the periphery, but inner-city. And to contrast, the opposite [though slightly more segregated] holds a strong presence as well. Driving down the major roads you can find a donkey pulling a man and cart, next to a BMW convertible hot off the lot [blaring house music.] It's crazy. And I love it.

I once had a discussion about the ability to envy poverty, to be able to look upon it as beautiful and pure in way -- as if their daily fight delivers new epiphanies of who they are and who they're meant to be in ways that I can't see while I'm smothered in financial stability. I always thought to be part of them for a while, to live without, to struggle, would be an amazing adventure -- almost the same enlightening experience as the Road to Santiago. But that's bull shit. Of course I can sit back and see the beauty in it, because I'm objective about it. There's no beauty to them, to their lives, because it wasn't their choice as it would be mine. Cairo, more than anywhere I have seen before, revolves around dramatic socio-economic divisions. There is no middle class, no grey area; there are merely kings and pawns. And this is not a negative, but in a way, beautifully positive, raw, and honest. Such blatant acknowledgement offers a chance of acceptance -- this is just the way that it is. And thus, their society works [relies] upon it.

And this is why, my dear friend Searcy, that this is merely the beginning. These types of observations or discussions can go deeper now. And even more so that I'm in a culture so different from my own. What a crazy six months ahead of me.

Insha'Allah

stop being albanian

2009-01-15T15:08:00.006+02:00

Faith and I split last Monday. Somehow she finally pulled herself away from Cairo and headed to Italy, where she will finish out the trip through Australia and New Zealand alone. I, on the other hand, am staying in Egypt.

In a lot of ways, this occasion marks the end of the trip -- at least the trip as we thought it to be. Though there was never a point where we looked at each other and thought, "well damn, that's exactly how we planned it," there was always an unspoken understanding of our guiding forces, our motivations, our decisions. And while we can kid ourselves into thinking that we were in control of all those forces, the longer we were away the less authority we had over where we were going. But alas, that's something only seen in retrospect.

We had a blast the last few days in Cairo and thought a lot about what it would be like to be home, to be among people again, to try and tell them about what we've done. I hate that it sounds so pretentious, so corny, when I talk about the trip like this -- like it's some unfathomable, elitist, experience. Because I don't mean that it all. We've just packed so much in four months; so many cities, so many people, places, that it's impossible to even know where to begin to talk about it all. Most likely I'll get home and be asked "what was your favorite place," in the most inquisitive, innocent way. But that's a ridiculous question and that's what I mean. There is no favorite place because none are comparable; there are no favorite people because everyone's different. Sure there are those times that we'll remember the most, times that are connected to place, connected to people, but this experience has been about the whole, rather than the parts -- and ironically, that's the opposite of what I sought in the first place.

It's been a week since I've seen Faith, and honestly, we've only had a few emails back and forth. But so it goes. She's bouncing around Europe again, fixing to head to Australia, and I'm finding my place in Cairo, with solid friends, an apartment, a cell phone. And though we'll always know something about each other that no one else could possibly understand, by the time we see each other again, I bet that will already have changed. As we both know Faith, nothing is certain and anything can happen. But no matter what, there are no trumpets allowed at the border.

Do you think we'll ever wait again?

the four month mark

2009-01-04T17:32:00.008+02:00

Internet has been almost non existent the last month -- as you can probably tell. And while I've continued to write [if only to myself], I've found these past weeks I've been truly immersed in the trip, different from ways I have before -- and it's been amazing. But now it's time to catch up to speed, so I'm going to try and blog over the next couple days about what's happened this last month, starting with the most recent and working my way back [if I can remember that far.] Bali?

Western Europe on a whole was pretty consistent culturally, and thus it was much easier to discuss or write about on a regular basis. Of course each country had it's own specialty and it's own ambience which made for a dynamic experience, but in reality it's a solid region and holds a solid lifestyle as a continent. Eastern Europe, Turkey, Egypt, are totally different -- they occupy different movement, different perspectives, different motivations [even from each other.] As we gradually moved east the obvious distinctions we had been used to on the trains were replaced by almost deffensive transitions of landscape, of architecture. Serbia didn't slowly change into Bulgaria, like France into Spain, or Sweden into Norway -- it stopped immediately at the border, and hardly waved goodbye.

Though there had been an obvious culture shock when we arrived in Europe, the response eastward was completely different. Shock, I suppose, is just a sudden reaction to something new; an abrupt impact by something I'm unaccustomed to. But coming into Turkey or Egypt wasn't a shock -- it wasn't quick, it wasn't abprupt, it was barely a response. It was more of a cultural emulsion, if that makes sense. To respond you have to have some context, some inherent preference that forces you to react naturally. We were completely void of any natural inclinations and our particular arrival didn't help make the transition any smoother [more on that later]. Of course there were preconcieved notions, but those were gone as soon as we stepped on the train. But honestly, it was wonderful to feel that naive, that vulnerable again.

Now we are hanging out in places where we obviously don't belong and the aclamation therefore, has been a much rougher, much more jarring process [culturally] -- and ironically this process has forced a much more honest connection to place; an almost personal validation in a strange way. We're staying with our friends Bond and Rosie in Cairo, and been initiated into their amazing group of friends. And though Cairo might be the noisest city in the world, and have a complete disaster for infrastructure -- I've absolutely loved it. The mix between the unkown of the Middle East and solid friends has been an unbelievable experience, and I hope I can tell it properly one day.

I really have been blind sided to a point where I needed time to adjust before I even attempted to describe it to you. And even now, I'm struggling to find words just to articulate the transition itself. Egypt is nothing like you imagine it to be, nor is Turkey, nor is Serbia or Sinai -- and with such a humbling realization, I needed to just admit it to myself and jump in head first.

So that's where I've been.

And now that I've finally restarted my process of description, I will try and get the last month of the trip documented over the next couple days. But right now, I'm going to have a nice night of recovery from New Years Eve in Sharm El Sheikh, by watching a movie with our new friends and ordering delivery wine from a guy on a bicycle. It's a good night to be in Cairo.

[Jeff, Megan, Faith and I walking on the Asia side of Istanbul, near the Black Sea]

thank you for smoking

2008-12-22T17:30:00.003+02:00

In the beginning smoking never entered my mind. These trains were sleek, nice, comfortable. Sometimes there were cabins, sometimes there weren't, but either way, I just knew that the other passengers wouldn't appreciate it if I lit one up in the confines of the ICE. So alas, I adapted and learned to be patient enough to wait till the next stop where I would jump off [keeping one hand on the train in case it starts to move] and take a few puffs. Eventually these moments occurred less and less, and rather than go to the trouble, I just waited till we got to our destination.

On our way into Portugal we took an overnight train. Now Faith has only been on one train where she hasn't slept, and that was just recently. Usually we get settled in our seats, chat a bit, and there she goes -- sound asleep, leaving me to bask in my anxiety about missing our stop. So as I sat there in my broken cachet, I got a little love note from the assumed Spaniard sitting across from me. Now of course it was a little more advanced that "check yes, or no", but that was pretty much the gist of it. He had slipped it on my fold out table as he went passed, and it turns out, it was an invitation for a cigarette. "Well how about that," I thought.

The EU passed a law not long ago, prohibiting smoking on trains, but before that, it was allowed in between train cars (I learned all this in very broken English). So there I was, smoking my first cigarette on a train. And man, was it a relief. From then on I became a little more willing to break the rules, a little less concerned of being kicked off. I still refrained from smoking on the train, but definitely started my two minute puff routine again.

Well, the farther East, the more liberal they are about smoking. Where in Spain or France it's about a 50-50 shot of smoking in doors, by Austria, it's a solid 80-20, and by Hungary, it's not even a question. I stayed a day longer in Vienna (Part 2) to finish my portfolio, and decided to meet Faith in Zagreb, Croatia. It was a cabin train and over the six hours I had assorted company, though rarely those who spoke English. There was one woman in particular who kept leaving every now and then, and coming back smelling like smoke. I knew it! There's a secret to this and I'm going to figure it out! So the next time she went to get up, I shook my little box o'Marlboro Lights and smiled. She stopped mid stance, looked out the door both ways, slammed it and handed me the lighter. We sat with our legs crossed like we were in some speakeasy, rebelling against prohibition, and smoked cigarettes all the way to Croatia -- using her husband as our watch man.

Today Faith and I are on our way from Belgrade, Serbia to Sophia, Bulgaria. The train we are on is amazingly old -- definitely the worst one yet. Dingy curtains, broken doors, you can forget the WC, I mean, I'm still shocked it's moving as fast as it is. We're huddled up, as it's freezing without a heater, and the other 10 people aboard seem to be doing the same thing. But, where before I was smothered by "No Smoking" signs, now I am comfortably sitting amongst smoking segregation in a smoking cabin. And I, along with everyone but Faith [we like to call her a second hand smoker], have enjoyed many a cigarette, and surely will enjoy many more -- whether in the comfort of my cabin, the hallway, or in between cars.

I don't think we're in Western Europe anymore.

i don't think they say that here

2008-12-09T22:28:00.006+02:00

Well I have to say, after all we had seen in Spain, I wondered if Barcelona would still be my favorite city. The first time I came to Europe it was where I touched down, and ever since, I've remembered it as this wonderfully active city with a bad ass football team -- and it still is. After leaving Madrid, semi-unproductive, Barcelona became the start of my grad school push. I had accepted it of course, that I would have to sacrifice a couple weeks of the trip to get really involved in this stuff and knock it out. So I found a hostel that had wireless and semi-private rooms and set up camp, while Faith went to the French Riviera for a couple days to leave me to my work.

Barcelona is just more romantic to me than Madrid. In a way it seems older, more special, more intense about its urban fabric. Sure it's cosmopolitan in a lot of ways, thus has more variety in nationalities. But overall, it's very proud of its Catalonian roots and doesn’t like to have that challenged. The last time I was there I was overwhelmed by the whole European culture, but this time, as I not just acclimated to such but practically involved, I had the chance to be taken hostage by Barcelona. My hotel was in Bari Gotic, which happened to be the perfect location for this time and this place of the trip. I would work for a few hours and then walk around, taking two or three long walks a day. And man, this particular area, just east of Las Ramblas, is beautiful. I would just get lost amongst tiny alleys and pedestrian streets -- there were bands, kids, people, all continuing their daily routine, completely unaware that I was watching them. The scale of the city is smaller, more intimate, and I think that gives the illusion that you've connected with it in a way that's unique to you -- your own romantic fling. And it's wonderful.

In the end I stayed there six nights, four with Faith, and in four different rooms. Since I wanted to really stay focused on my portfolio, I opted for private rooms, but Faith and I had decided to go to the FC Barcelona - CF Valencia match that Saturday, so moved to a 6 bed dorm to peer pressure myself into taking a night off from working. We had a great day walking around places I'd been putting off going -- Mies's pavilion being one of them [gorgeous, light, thin, lucid.] And because I am so cool, I had already bought my Messi jersey, and was wearing it hours before we even began our metro journey to Camp Nou. Somehow we made it, amidst the crowds and herds of people and even had decent seats under the big screen. Fantastic game. We got to see Barca score 4 goals, one of which happened within the first minute of the second half! I've never seen a crowd so united in praise, in shouting! But...if you listened close enough, during the uproar, you could here two high-pitched, whole-hearted, American "whoos!" streaming from our lips; the only two voices to make that sound in the whole stadium. Apparently, that's not what they say here, they whistle. And since neither Faith, nor I, can do that properly, we settled for "yeah" or just a general noise of praise. Football fans, especially Spanish, just have something inside of them that makes them unite in raw and honest passion -- deep seeded passion, which we don't have the history or cultural integration to compete with. It's truly beautiful.

And so ended our journey through Spain, and honestly, I really do miss it. It's such a dynamic place with a brilliantly charismatic culture, and I'm so glad I had the time, people, and experiences to connect with it properly. Whenever I do venture back to Western Europe, [though there are many trips in line before that] Spain is the one place, the one culture, I'll be going for.

this is the modern way

2008-12-04T14:36:00.003+02:00

I was reading our friend Matt's blog [Bohemian Babble] and definitely related to how he has slowed down on his blog posting. It's not that less is happening, per say, it's just that we are staying put for longer periods of time, and of course, having less internet. [Also my grad school deadlines are creeping up and I really shouldn't procrastinate anymore than a trip around the world inherently allots] -- so, with that said, I think I have finally caught up to real time.

We finally left Madrid Tuesday, and were honestly pretty sad about it. It's funny, as a city, it's one of the few that I didn't really see -- I didn't go to any museums, only took a couple of long walks, and barely saw much beyond my general "neighborhood." But as a place, I saw it all. Our buddies from Vaughan Town took us out Saturday night, and man do Spaniards party differently [later] than Americans! They took us out for "fancy" tapas and then to a couple bars and clubs -- of which we stayed at till 7 in the morning...which is normal for them. We had a blast, and what's more is we really got a sense of what living in Madrid would be like -- to have a group of good friends, go to dinner, go to work. Man, I just may have to move there one day...

This trip is so strange and this pace is so dynamic. We always feel a sense of attachment while we're in a place -- a sense of normality. And we always feel a bit of longing when we leave. This lifestyle has somehow transformed from something new, into reality: This is just what we do, and this is just who we are. We are professional nomads. And though I know it will eventually end, I can't remember what life was like before or fathom what life will be like afterwards

But as my Spanish friends say, "life is just life." And I guess, right now, this trip is just my modern way.

because we're worth it

2008-11-29T17:25:00.013+02:00

Vaughan Town. This is going to be a long one...

While we were in Berlin, we met a friend [cheers Nectar!] who told us about a program called Vaughan Systems. Basically, the program was started as a sort of English immersion for local Spaniards using native English volunteers as teachers of conversational English. We were under the impression that it would be mostly Spanish business people looking to improve their international communication skills, but we just so happen to volunteer for the session dedicated to those currently pursuing a Masters in English. So, though there was still a relatively wide range of ages amoungst the group [about 15 Spaniards and 15 "Anglos"], it felt like we were just spending 10-12 hours a day talking [and drinking] with our peers.

After an extra long breakfast, the days were structured by morning and afternoon sessions separated by lunch and "siesta" [awesome tradition]. We had one-on-one's, phone conversations, group activities, even pretend conference calls [I was chief of marketing] -- and of course, evening entertainment [plays, skits] directed by our master of ceremonies, Greg. It was kind of like summer camp in alot of ways -- we were stuck in a hotel for 5 days, with the same 30 people, and all of us had the same exact schedule. So all we could really do was get to know each other and try and adapt to each other's Spanglish [alot of hand gestures were involved...] Nevertheless, we pushed through and partied it up. We even had a Chilean/American Magic Chef performance. Well done guys.

I've heard that you learn alot about your own language [or anything for that matter] when you try to teach it to others. Certain aspects that you take for granted are actual issues for those learning it, and thus you have to sort of grammatically strategize through why you use specific words or phrases. For example, I learned that one of the toughest parts of the English language is a phrasal verb. Now, I don't know about you, but I have never heard of a "phrasal verb" before -- apparently this is referring to phrases like "come up with" or "eating out", phrases that we inherently know the context of and thus don't take the literal noun-verb translation. But of course, since they are imbedded into not only our language, but our culture, we are not formally taught them. Sort of like Spanish and phonetics -- their grammar lessons don't include an understanding for phonetics because Spanish is completely phonetic [a helpful bit of knowledge when traveling.]

It never occured to me how much language constitutes culture; how much culture influences language. There's a film by Sophia Coppola called "Lost in Translation" [starring my personal favorite, Bill Murray.] I've probably seen the film twenties times, own it even, but it's only now that I realize the significance of that title -- literal translation between languages overlooks major cultural distinctions, neglects them even; the meaning of what's trying to be said is inherantly changed, thus something is lost there, something based in how a culture understands it's words, how it thinks, how it listens -- what it means. It's the difference between [English] "I am thinking about you", and [Spanish, or Italian I can't remember] "I think you." Now think about that for a second.

Now of course I'm not proclaiming that I have had some "come to Jesus" moment about all this, though that's probably what it sounds like. I have just absolutely fallen head over heels in love with Spain -- with the culture, with the people, with the places. And the only thing I can contribute that to, is that it's the one country I know the best. Staying with Servas, with Isa, gave us the chance to see Spain from a local perspective; to see how people interact with their city, their place, on a human level. But this week in Monfrague gave us the oppurtunity to see why they interact the way they do. For five days we got to know 15 Spaniards -- we got to know about their families, their views, work, goals, even what they like to drink [and how much...]. And that is awesome.

So, i guess if I have learned anything on this trip, it is that people make your place. Besos, guys.

[photo by Richard, because copywriting is nothing to fool around with. cheers.]

theoretical sequential order

2008-11-27T14:56:00.000+02:00

*I've added some posts, but decided to keep the dates as they should be in reality, and not necessarily by when I wrote them or posted them. So sometimes it may seem as if I have failed to update, when in actuality there are a couple postings I've snuck in.

Cheers.

the magical city

2008-11-22T17:24:00.008+02:00

The Spanish train system may be the fanciest, but it's definitely not the most efficient. Granted, Spain has numerous montain ranges, but the fact that we've been through Salmanca three times now doesn't fair well for such infrastructure. Nevertheless, it's still my favorite country by far.

We trained from Marbella to Lisboa, Portugal on our second overnight train [Skylar will remember the first], arriving at 8:00 a.m., by far my best hour...Since we had to be in Madrid on the 23rd for Vaughan Systems [next blog post], we only had 3 days to do Portugal, and only 6 hours to do Lisboa. But we've learned to take what we can get and see within our means -- plus, we'll never really know otherwise. Lisboa was definitely a fantastic city, and one we could feel came alive at night -- there's an energy there, and not just concentrated in the old parts, that seems to fit our age group nicely. I know I'll come back to Spain and Portugal one day, I really have absolutely fallen in love with it, so Lisbon is first on the list for weekend blow-outs.

Our Servas hosts, Angelina and Delfina, graciously picked us up at the Porto train station Thursday night. And we knew immediately that Porto was going to be awesome. On the way back to her house, we drove along the river and across to Gaia, the sister city of Porto. I'm not sure what it was that made me respond the way I did, but I was honestly blown away. The way the city is shaped is unbelievable; like two mountains fighting over the river, battling through their strengths and weaknesses all the way to the sea. It's beautiful -- breath taking even. There are 6 bridges that span the River Duoro, all of which are fairly concentrated yet dynamically different. At night, this sequence provides an unbelievable specatcle of lights and movement -- it almost feels futuristic in a historical way, if that makes sense [perhaps like the aesthetic feeling in Blade Runner]

Angelina and her husband [and children for that matter] were wonderful hosts. She served us fantastic dinners each night and was kind enough to help us with laundry, travel plans, even packed us lunch for our 9 hour bus ride back to Madrid Saturday. Servas gives such insight to not just the culture or the language, but the people -- humanity. We get to be a guest in someone else's life for two days, and somehow in such a short time we actually form a relationship with these people -- and one under the context of mutual exchange, mutual benefit. It's beautiful really.

She and her husband are in the midst of building a house closer to the city and they are working with young, modern architects. The second night he got the plans out and let me go over it [with trash paper I conveniently had with me] and it was probably more educating for me than helpful for them. It's actually a Multi-Family project, with retail on the street level which he will rent out. But the upper floors consist of 3 units [one spreading out over the whole second floor, and two dividing the upper floor]. Of course the only professional experience I have is in Multi-Family, so as soon as I saw the plans, certain mistakes definitely jumped out at me -- but, these were mistakes believed by Amercians. Europeans have different ideas of "luxury" and "amenities". They structure their homes using a different hierarchy, thus they live and move differently within their homes than we do. Bathrooms arn't as big here, bedrooms even smaller, kitches hidden away. Houses [homes] are a prime reflection of cutlure -- they are understood and developed according to social standards and cultural traditions deeply inbedded in natural responses. And as I sat there showing them different ways of opening up the kitchen, integrating the living, maneuvering certain windows, I realized everything I was saying was not just foreign to them, but absurd in a way. Both of them questioned "why" I proposed certain changes -- changes which I thought obvious issues and changes which I had no answer for but "just because." Culture has so many layers, and such stratifciation makes it impossible to ever understand completely; just as a language can be learned, fluency even attained, it can never be spoken, nor understood, in the way of a native.

Delfina was kind enough to tour us around Porto Friday afternoon. We saw churches, wandered the beautiful streets, and visited Livraia Lello -- a bookstore/library only to be believed in person [Google it]. And with her we got quite the satisfying Porto experience. I loved Portugal.

And so, Porto has made the list: Top five places to visit before you die.

dear skylar

2008-11-20T23:26:00.008+02:00

On our way to Madrid, we wondered, we did,
if in fact we should do it again.
For the last time you see, was when you and me
swore night trains were practically a sin.

No bar car they said. No Agua. No bed.
No chance of any fun times.
Oh how high our hopes were! Our pre-drinking incurred!
We were just waiting for that train bell to chime!
But they made us sit back, with no room for our packs.
So we pouted like gangsters shot down.
What more could we do? We had obviously been duped!
We had been stripped like a two-headed clown.

But don't worry my friend, there's no need to pretend
that that was just the way that it was.
Cause Norway's to blame. Man, they should be ashamed!
For ruining such an invaluable cause.
See I knew it was real. And now I'm tempted to steal
some mini's to reparate our pain.
But I guess I'll suffice for some coke and some ice...
and maybe a glass of champagne.

Yes, the bar car is packed! And there's a dining one just back!
With liquor and wine to abuse!
I told you it could, be a night of no good,
and not just some boring excuse!

Now, there are some loud girls, naive to our whirls,
so I guess I won't aim for their heads.
There's a man with Burger King, (it looks like Faith's apt to sing).
But I'd rather have all this instead.
My chair's even broken! (though that has yet to be spoken.
I swear I pushed the button just right!)
Damn cochets and their lack, to properly lay back!
Man it's definitely going to be a long night!

But I swear I'll take it all, and try to have a ball,

just knowing I'm redeeming our grief.

So here's to you my homie, for putting up with the only

night train you had time to believe!

don't pour gasoline down the sewer

2008-11-19T23:35:00.006+02:00

*internet access delay

Gradually the trip has slowed down, though mostly from the persuasion of others. We stayed in Marbella for five days -- the longest yet. And though we had some hearty day trips, overall it was nice to feel real life for a while. We stayed with Isa, a family friend of mine, and she absolutely made us feel like we belonged there, like we were at home again, and man did we need it!

Isa's son, Karim, was having five buddies over for the weekend, so we were prepared for staying up later than usual. What we weren't prepared for was the level of interaction we had with these six 14 year old boys. By this point on the trip, we're used to being asked about the election, politics, the economy and we've definitely adapted to the way Europe views America -- but only from the minds of adults. Adolescents don't possess the same propriety or social restraints that adults do, and thus are beautifully honest and blunt about their perceptions of the world, of culture, of America.

He and his friends attend an English academy in Marbella, but one with incredible diversity. We sat at the dinner table with a guy from South Africa, a guy from Lebanon, from England, Scotland, even India, and went back and forth about US idiosyncracies, cultural differences, even politics -- in a surprisingly mature discussion [minus the obsession with our use of the world ya'll]. There were ofcourse references to alot of generational media, but overall we got a glimpse of what the US stereotype currently embodies. In many ways, it was a relief to talk about such heavy things in such light context -- without being wary of political correctness. And since we were on this "heavy made light" kick, the boys successfully peer-pressured us into watching not just Saw I, but Saw II, III, and IV [And I don't watch scary movies.] And now I MUST see Saw V, as soon as I find a proper theater. Damn addictive plotlines!

Saturday Isa took us to Puerta Banus, the wealthy nightlife haven of Costa del Sol, where we sadly failed at finding a rich Spanish boyfriend. [But alas, we still have many cities to come.] She took us to lunch, drove us around the old town, even took time to point out the vernacular architecture and modern vairiations apparent in the city. It's wonderful, and holds that wonderfully laid back attitude beach towns tend to have [and has the hospitality southern regions in every country share, which is a phenomena I'll talk about later.]

Marbella is truly a beautiful town with wonderfully involved topography, but even so, without her I don't think we we feel the same way about it. After all our travels, and all our different means of accomodation, I've decided that it really is the people that make your place. Independently ofcourse these cities have individual splendor and we can navigate it just fine -- we enjoy it, we admire it, we move on. But the places we have stayed with friends, or a Servas host, have definitely been the most memorable -- a reaction I think is only natural, because it warrants a level of intimacy in travel that you can't get otherwise. When you see a city through the eyes of locals, you are forced to understand it as they do, and invited to interact with it as they would. And it's that type of hands on experience that stays with you -- you've let yourself become part of that place for a while, and it has become part of you.

We day tripped to Cordoba Monday -- one of my new favorite smaller cities -- and Granada another to see the Alhambra. I've heard people say "you have not lived until you've seen the Alhambra," and hontestly, I think I agree. There's something about witnessing such intricate detail on such a large scale that humbles you -- puts quality on a completely new level and makes you crave that type of intimacy with your own designs. As I walked from space to space I was continually shocked that any of them could ever be topped, only to find it's superior through the next cooridor. Brilliant.

Sadly, all good things come to an end. And though this is one of the most brutal realizations inherent in this trip, I still have yet to become immune to it. Just as I find myself unable to imagine life anywhere else, we leave. Marbella was awesome, and Isa and Karim even more so. I hope to go back and teach English there, if not later on this trip then next summer -- and as one of Karim's friends pointed out, you'll be able to recognize my students as they will be the only Spaniards saying "ya'll" all over the place -- it's good to leave your mark.

Thank you again Isa! It was definitely one of the most solid times we've had yet! And hopefully I'll see you again real soon!

aguaba!

2008-11-12T15:30:00.009+02:00

*again, please ignore the lack of internet delay...

Servas is just an amazing program -- with unbelievable people. This past weekend we stayed for three days with Santiago and Godo in Valladolid, Spain. And it really may be one of the best times we've had yet -- beautiful place, beautiful people, beautiful culture.

The first night we went to a dinner at their friend [now my friend] Begona's -- where there were three other Servas hosts. We talked, learned some Spanish, discussed American politics, and debated what songs Joan Biaz actually sang. It was as if we were at a friend's house in the states, casually having dinner and drinks, catching up on each other's worlds. This program promotes such a mutual experience -- I mean, even as Americans we have something to offer, some type of insight, some way of doing things, of seeing the world [whether you belive it or not] -- and ofcourse, they have so much to offer us. It's like getting the chance to be a local for a while, getting the chance to promote cultural exchange. It's so easy to stereotype countries, and to abide by that without question. But Servas forces you to personalize these cities and understand that a "place" holds more than a reputation -- it holds people, interaction, customs, traditions.

Alicia and Theresa took us driving through the countryside Saturday, stopping at two small pueblos [with castles]. Though flatter than other areas of Spain, this region has amazing views and amazing evidence of history. The fact that they volunteered to take us out of the city is a perfect example of the generosity inherent in Servas -- we would have never known to go to these villages, never known they existed for that matter, and we would have never had time to connect with them [or Valladolid] if it wasn't for the intimacy you get from the depth of local convictions.

The Spanish culture is definitely my favorite so far, and I think it's contributed to the way they are with their families. Besides the fact that it's socailly accepted to live with your parents until your married, the Spanish rarely leave their children at home. It's beautiful really. Even weekend nightlife is no exception. They took us for Tapas that night -- Tapas here is an event however, and not just a restaurant with smaller portions, it is there social default -- and we went to three or four different bars [in Europe that means restaurant], enjoying local favorites and individual specialties. Begona and Theresa's daughters joined us the whole way through -- and we were out till almost 1:00! The girls were about 13 and 10, and if they didn't want to be inside the crowded bar, they played in the streets or the plazas with other children their age. It was wonderful.

It really is interesting to realize how different the trip has become over the last month -- and not necessarily in a bettter or worse sense, just deeper I suppose. We don't even attempt hostels anymore. We don't even crave that type of interaction [college - mid-twenties english speaking drunkeness]. And though we still move relatively quickly from place to place, Servas gives us the illusion that we are really becoming part of that place, and that place is most certainly becoming part of us.

bonjour espana!

2008-11-10T18:30:00.001+02:00

*As you can probably tell -- internet has been scarce for a while [and we had a minor incident with the converter again]. But now I'm back, at least for a while. So to catch you up, this was written on the train from Burgos to Valladolid, Spain.

After almost three weeks in France, I had finally gotten used to pretending I knew French."Merci" and "Bonjour" were quick responses for me, I had fallen in love with croissants, and I could understand most of what the man over the inercom was telling us to do on the trains -- but, c'est la vie I suppose -- on to Espana!

We arrived from Bordeaux into San Sebastian -- almost as a fluke. I knew that Bilboa was a must for me [the Guggenheim is definitely more amazing in person], so we decied to stop somewhere on the border and try and catch a smaller, regional train to Bilboa rather than going south through Burgos. So San Sebastian it was.

We had been in France so long, that I had grown completely impervious to the way the streets wound, to how the buildings were ornamented, to the daily routine of the people. Moving so gradually through the country gave us a sort of blurred lens to understand France through -- each city had it's own flare, but really distinct differences were hard to find. And honestly, we weren't really looking. It's strange how easily we adapted to an almost localized perception of the country -- by the time we left, we had begun to take French idiosyncrasies for granted, and in hindsight I wonder if that was even avoidable.

Ofcourse I didn't realize all this untill I woke up on the train -- the houses were different, the lanscape had changed [the Pyrenees]...we were in Spain. Riding along the country side you're privied to a much deeper vernacular than you are in the city, but San Sebastian definitely had a strong Spanish authority and one that was noticable all the way down do the trafficmen. It really was beautiful, and refreshing to see the ocean [I miss the water]. We stayed there for two days -- one to see, and one to rest [I had a cold], and truly enojoyed the general atmosphere, the cheap converter, and the dramatic drop in prices.

Bilboa, while a popular tourist destination, has very selective train times. And because of this, we only had a couple hours to spend there. So we hustled over to the main station, found out there were no lockers [damn architects] and booked it over to the Guggenheim with our packs on. Even though I've read about this city in school [and for recreation for that matter] I don't think I realized how much modern architecture really was there -- and so much new construction. After traveling to so many older [preserved] cities, contemporary environments like this really start to stand out -- in an almost generic way. Ofcourse there is something to be said about timeless design -- of which I'm a big fan of -- but I don't think I've ever experienced what that really means.

Most of the towns [cities] we've been to have so much character in a very place intensive way. Whether or not they promote themselves as unique, they definitely inherit the time and place of their neighbors, their region, their country. Even new and old combined illustrates a certain evolution, one that you can feel the roots of. But buildings like the Guggenheim, and it's compadres along the river, lack dedication in a way. They work with each other, and perhaps help push the city into a new realm of interaction -- but rather than reflective of the mannerisms the city already holds, they seem to want to be a mere neutral reaction. They are dedicated to the cause I suppose, and I think that's something that definitely needs further investigation [so we'll save that for later].

I had an hour inside the museum -- so put on my headphones and went at it. I didn't really get emotionally into any of the exhibits -- but there was one called "Your World, Your City" by Miquel Navarro [look him up] that actually pulled me in, and caught me off guard in a very wonderful way. I'm obessed actually with the idea of "reflecting on the notion of human scale" -- and he does this by using the neutral interaction of his audience to gain perspective and further his investigations. Brilliant.

We spent the night in Burgos, a beautiful Spanish city, and are now on the way to Vallodolid, where we will stay with our second Servas hosts -- and couldn't be happier.

radiohead was my tour guide

2008-11-01T22:28:00.008+02:00

Tours might have been our inroduction to the Loire Valley -- but it was Chenonceau that sold it to us. We decided to splurge, and do actual "tourist" excursions [like Chateau hopping] and even though they were relatively expensive, they were worth it. These types of investigations into place make everything more real in a sense, more valid. Being able to walk through these chateaus, know their history, touch the fabrics, smell the wood [since it was so cold they had multiple fires burning] forces you to see and experience these places differently then you would just wandering around them -- they force you to have a more intimate connection to them, a personified understanding of how this "place" was supposed to be interacted with, how it was used, how it was lit, how it was described.

It was raining this particular day, and we had woken up real early in Tours to catch our train. So rather than spend my time winding through the voices of assorted tourists, I let Radiohead be my tour guide -- thus my entire conversation with Chenonceau was in the context of music [intense, somber, pensive] and it allowed me to float along, room to room, without any interuption of thought. And left alone like this, all I could think about was how I felt in Versailles. I want to know the history I am standing in, walking through. I want to be able to see it, to interact with it properly, to go beyond this place as I see it now! Don't get me wrong, it was a beautiful Chateau, and Catherine Medici's gallery over the Loire is an amazing space to be involved with. It just seems that through modern preservation, these places have come to be revered as themeparks rather than "places" -- they exist as a multi-colored shadow of what was once there, and because of this, there is alot lost in translation.

We went from Chenonceau to Amboise, and from there to Clos Luce [the house Da Vinci spent his last remaining years.] It really was incredible, they had reproductions of his drawings, elaborate decor in the studies, and the gardens were massive with lifesize examples of his most famous machines [and yes, you could play on them] -- but as I walked away from it [two hours later] I wanted to be walking away from a "home" and not a playground. These places should be lived in -- continuing [though never duplicating] the way they existed then, rather than embellishing them for what we want them to be now [historically significant]. I understand the importance of historical preservation, but look at the remnants of the lower class nieghbordhoods in Tours and Rennes -- they still stand as the 16th century housing they were, they have just been integrated into 17th century urban ideals, 19th century ornamentations, and 21st century people, prerogatives, cutlure. They are gorgeous and still occupied today by a similar class, in a similar way, compiling a similar neighborhood to what they were 500 years ago -- yet they are still able to hold historical ambience and warrant toursits just as well as Chenonceau, and there's something to be said for that.

Ofcourse I would do it all again, and most likely will pay to see other beautifully preserved evidence of our historical aspirations. But I think I will always wish to be in that place, watching Da Vinci host parties in his grand dining hall or Diane de Poitiers kneeling in prayer in her black bedroom. I mean, how can you preserve "place" or "existence" in the built environment? Is it even possible? Or is it just something that we can't even get close to, and thus resort to putting up a gift shop, throwing in some audio tours, and letting 20,000 asians waltz in behind a woman holding a red flag.

Reckoner (Live From the Basement) - radiohead

degrees celsius

2008-10-31T22:27:00.001+02:00

Well we stayed with our first Servas host Wednesday night -- and absolutely loved her! We knew this program was going to awesome, and now that we've finally experienced it, I think we're addicted!

Sophie's place in Tours was in an old 16th century building, and had amazing timbers and brick running throughout. She made us dinner the first night [we got in kind of late], and afterwards introduced us to Sainte-Maure-De-Touraine, the local cheese. It's a type of goat cheese, that is wrapped around a reed of some sort, to keep the roll hollow in the middle. And it was definitely one of the best we've had yet. The first night she took us on a late night stroll around the city -- she lives in the "second city center". During the middle ages, Tours was comprised of two competeing cities: the older "City" in the east, and the newer "Chateauneuf" to the west [which also became the economic center of Tours]. The two centres were linked during the 14th century, and thus Tours is now beautifully distributed evidence of the medieval "double city" -- inhabited with a wide variety of mixed media [time periods], and complete with it's very own Roman ruins.

The streets and alleys [alot pedestrian only] are tiny, especially in the older portions of town. And the general texture is dense with little remnants of different wars peaking out from time to time. This area of France, [Rennes included] has been the most personable to me thus far. It has a sort of human scale to it that neither of the other mid-ranged towns has had [and the smaller ones have to much of]. It's very tight, very intimate, and everyone you pass by seems as if they have somewhere to go, as wandering too long could keep you in circles. And even though Rennes isn't in the Loire Valley, there is something about it that questions it's relationship to Tours -- and I like that.

After quite the troublesome quarrel with a tomato at the supermarket [apparently you wiegh the vegtables yourself], we [Faith] cooked dinner for Sophie the second night. We enjoyed talking, sharing travel stories, and went to bed early so we could have breakfast together before our train. And while we learned alot of valuable lessons on this excursion, the one I think I'll take away with me is that Europe [and the rest of the world] work within degrees celsius, not fahrenheit -- even with their ovens. Nice try Faith!

maybe this is the start of emaciation?

2008-10-28T17:33:00.010+02:00

Well were pretty much killing France right now, and don't show any signs of slowing down.

A few days ago we got off the train in Pontorson, just south of Mont St. Michel. And since it is now low-season [dead of winter] we've been winging our accomodations -- so we figured it might take us a bit to locate one of the cheap hotels listed in our tour book. But as the train moved on, we were left standing under a small covered bench looking at the smallest town [village] we've been to yet. Yes, quite the culture shock really -- as if getting dropped off on the side of the road at a tiny interstate town with hopes of some privileged adventure coming your way -- only to find that the one 7 eleven is closed and everyone has gone home. [Apparently the closed on Sunday rule applies here as well] So we wandered a bit, came back to the "hotel", and realized that mustard on wasa can be quite the satisfying meal.

We took a bus to Mont St. Michel the next morning, which made the whole extravaganza worth it -- an amazing sight, even in the rain. Even now I'm not sure what it was that made it so enchanting, perhaps just the combination of it all -- the size, the abbey, texture, water. Either way, there's just something vast about it, and that's all I know to say.

That afternoon, we planned to hop a train to Rennes, so found a place for lunch [one day, when you're older, I'll tell you of the chocolate muffin I had there] and sat in the brasserie next to the train station to wait. There were two older men there, reading their newspapers and drinking tea -- so we brought out the cards. The owner walked over and gestured that he wanted to play, so we gestured back and said the word "Gin." He caught on amazingly well considering Faith and I were both trying to point and find pairs, lay out examples, all at the same time. And we sat there for almost an hour, never knowing his name or his story, and only speaking enough broken French/English to know that he also owns a kabab in Rennes.

the view from Mont St. Michel

the overlord tour

2008-10-26T17:18:00.001+02:00

Well we went all the way to Bayeux [north Normady] -- the first city the allies liberated during WWII, and one of few that's still intact. I love medieval towns, though I always struggle with trying to equate them to some little city in America. And whether or not they are beachfront, I lean towards Seaside or Watercolor -- not from an architectural or "accoutrement" standpoint ofcourse, but from an industry perspective. I mean, who works there? Who lives there? Who is the man behind the curtain? There was one main drag really, and it was packed with brasseries and toy stores, shoes and clothing retailers, ice cream, galettes, crepes -- anything to catch the wandering tourist eye. And to make matters worse, the tourists are just there to bide the time till their D-Day tour starts and they can be on a bus to Omaha Beach.

In essence, the locals work every day just to satisfy the need for a "middle-man" -- a place to see another place from. It's identity is just ambiguous -- it takes the form of whatever someone needs it to be. So, though beautiful and quaint and condensed, it has basically surrenedered to the tourists and is perfectly content with that. But I guess in times like these, it's places like this that will always have a bustling economy -- so surely these people sleep better at night than the rest of the world. [And have fantastic buckwheat gallettes].

This place for us was a resting place. Finally a town where we didn't feel obligated to walk all day and see a million sites. We could just sleep late, play cards, and go to the grocery store [i'm out of peanut butter]. Traveling at this pace has been like an endless weekend, but without the Sunday afternoon to sleep it off. We never know what day it is, and honestly it doesn't really matter. And while at first this concept was awesome, now it's time for some stability, at least every now and then. So we got some -- and now are on a train to Pontorson, where we will day trip it to Mont St. Michel tomorrow -- wikipedia it that right now, it's going to be amazing.

And so it goes....

little america

2008-10-23T22:52:00.006+02:00

There's been many times in life where I've taken a moment to wonder if I'll ever be at a certain place ever again -- and if so, how different my perception will be then. I've been to Paris three times now -- and each time I have been to a totally different city. I've decided that this observation is just evidence of how much a product you are, not only of your experiences, but of the process that led you to them -- the people, the weather, the circumstances. As each of those factors vary, so do your responses to place. And it makes me wonder how subjective this trip really is [and will be] -- which will completely contradict the idealistic tendancies I have invested into such successfull objectivity. But I suppose this type of discussion could be reserved for any point in life -- and rather than exaggerate it to the point of redundancy [as I tend to do], I'll just move on to more loose and illustrative annecdotes.

I finally got a poulet-fromage gallete -- and man was it everything I remembered! And since that was my main goal [and I found it the first day], the rest of Paris was just a series of surprises and aimless excursions. Ofcourse, Paris is always enchanting, but I still perfer Barcelona [or now Stockholm or Berlin] over it. Certainly you can congratulate it on such adament patriotism -- and relentless aggitation to the English language. But overall, its ambience is what makes it, and its urban planning isn't bad either. It's so diverse [culturally, sociologically, structurally] that everywhere you go is a new adventure. There are tons of mini-neighborhoods kind of like NYC [Chinatown, little Italy, SOHO] We meandered north one night to see a band that we met at our hostel, Bellafea, and after the show we went and had a beer outside and realized [or sara realized] we were in a sort of "little america" -- what a wierd thought, that there would be an american sub-culture integrated somewhere in Paris! And I always forget how much I enjoy French architecture -- there's something pompous about it, and I appreciate anything that's that pationate about itself.

There's so much to see and do that if you only have a few days, it's better to just take it as you go. We made some new friends [word up Lis and Matt] -- which made the whole situation more solid and eventful. And we decided to spice it up with Versailles -- which actually is a pretty big deal. The palace itself is still hard to fathom, and the gardens [though I don't particulary care for 17th century French garden structure] are quite the production. It's definitely one of those places where you stand in the center, only to look around and see 5000 Japanese tourists, and wish [so much] that you could see it as it was and not as it is today. How did people interact with it? Did he walk the same path everyday? What did it sound like? But since I can have none of these answers, I settled for walking about it for a few hours -- enjoying the free admission.

So I suppose every place and every time has its ambience. Seemingly the twenties [and Paris] are just selfish and arrogant -- a time where each experience or decision is "life-changing" and "significant" and "momentous" -- blah blah blah. But hell, I mean why not embrace that, and be as honest about your own irrationality as possible [and the absurdity of the language of your blog posts]. "Searching is a goal; moving laterally is a goal" And I'm pretty excited about that.

And yes, we finally found a converter....in a vending machine. Oh the places you will go....

pigeons don't mess with me anymore

2008-10-22T22:37:00.000+02:00

This is dedicated to the memory of Skylar Reeves. May all your days be without birds.

twenty five

2008-10-20T10:48:00.008+02:00

When I was twenty five I took a trip around the world.

And while I thought I knew exactly what it would be like, for, about -- in the end [middle] I realized I had no idea. Sure I could be pretentious and dive into how seemingly significant this trip will be to my life -- how different I will be, how much I will have seen -- but really i'm just doing what I do: waking up, walking around, seeing the world -- just like when I'm at home.

Transitions are the time in life where you can get away with this stuff -- and not because it's about avoiding reality, but because it forces you to make something out of nothing, to try and learn something from things you knew nothing about -- and to take time, step back, smoke a cigarette, and destroy your perspectives -- cause it only gets better from here.

I once had someone very smart tell me that as long as everything I do is working towards a goal [no matter what goal], then I'll be fine. And the way I see it, I may not be able to quite articulate that goal right now [or ever], but I know that whatever it is, I'm going towards it. So ofcourse, this will be [has been] a heavy trip, and one that will probaby secure itself as the frontrunner of my next lifetime -- but not in some provacative, enlightened way....but merely because [Kurt Vonnegut says it best: ] "If this isn't nice, then I don't know what is."

Happy Birthday to me.

kdang kdang; click clack

2008-10-19T14:41:00.010+02:00

Well, rather than try to put all the entries I've been writing by hand into one long blog -- I decided to try and catch up to real time and just write about the general ambience that's settled since Skylar left [a week ago].

The last hoorah [or first, as it's all relative] actually took place in Amsterdam, where Skylar and I had a little romantic weekend alone. Faith met up with some friends in Cologne, Germany and our rendevous point from there was Rotterdam -- for the Port O'Brien show [which was short, but fantastic -- great guys.] Holland was definitely fun and uniquely entertaining -- though I'm not sure I could handle either city for more than a couple days.

But Sunday night [last week] I had to walk Skylar to the train station to say goodbye. And while I know I have 5 or so more months ahead of me, it really felt like the end in a way -- and I was strangely ok with that. To be sad at this point is understandable, to wonder what it would be like to be back in the states, driving a car, drinking a real diet coke -- but more so than sadness, this revelation just brought reality to the surface. We've already done so much that I feel like I could pack up, head home, and pat myself on the back for a job well done -- and if I feel this way now, I can't even imagine how I will feel at the end of it all.

I spent a day alone for the first time in months [really, months] and had a blast. And traveling alone is so much different than traveling with a group [3] or a friend [2] -- each process has such different layers, different types of interaction, different integration really -- and honestly, I think all are needed. I took a day trip to Haarlem [just north of Amsterdam] and loved it. It was quaint, quiet, and perfect for that particular day of the trip. So if any of you ever wish to travel to the Netherlands and go beyond the major tourist points -- go there, and have a Jopen, and sit in Grote Markt.

So I suppose I just rambled anyway -- but at least I'm caught up to real time. Faith and I just settled in at our hostel in Reims, France where we will bless this fine city with the celebration of my 25 birthday [tomorrow, Monday, October 20] and our friend Sara [we met in Lille] will arrive later tonight for the festivities. We're going to relish in our free breakfast, thoroughly enjoy a champagne tour [as we are in the Champagne region], and continue our struggle with the French language.

So Skylar, this was for you -- and all I have say is "kdang, kdang....kdang, kdang" -- we miss you man...and your gloves.

burn after reading

2008-10-13T23:04:00.005+02:00

It's amazing how controversial one city, one "place", can be -- that somehow, even through destruction, it's inherant conflict lingers in the architecture, the pavement, the appeal. Berlin was the first city that we really got to come to terms with, and though that may seem impossible in two days, there's just something about it -- the way people talked about it, bragged about, lived within it -- that we could relate to. Most of that probably stems from the youth that absolutely moves, positions, and shapes the city -- as a whole, the 20 something demographic has taken hold of Berlin, and is seemily relentless about it's grasp -- and as a result, unemployment is high, but so is "their" culture [young artists, professionals, hippies] and honestly I think they perfer it that way.

We stayed at the Circus Hostel [finally] and just wandered around it the first night -- grabbed some solid German dinner and decided to try and go to a movie. The hostel was on the East side [in Mitte], and though at the time we had nothing to compare it to, we were told that the feel of the city differed between its counterparts. At first this seemed hard to believe, as so much has changed overall -- but somehow it really is different when you step on the other side. I suppose new construction plays an obvious role in the distinction [not just the presence of, but the modern intervention in], yet both have evidence of youth [artwork, posters, livlihood]. We did end up going to a movie that night, in an awesome independent theater, and quite enjoyed watching the Coen brother's latest with a German audience.

Admittedly, the success of our Berlin experience is largely contributed to signing up for a tour. Rather than taking up our usual routine of walking aimlessly and reading [researching] as we go, we took a recommendation from our friends in Prague: the Fat Tire Bike Tour -- and really, it may just be the best thing we've done yet. We rode on old school bikes for almost 5 hours, hitting all the historical high points -- checkpoint charlie, the brandenburg gate, hitlers bunker, pieces of the Berlin wall, holocaust monument -- and were led by our fantastically hot tour guide, Mike. Yes, it was an excellent day. Mike was a history major, with a German focus, and charismatically changed our world. He not only showed us all the important historical points of Berlin, but went deeper into the connection and modern implications they had on the rest of the world [complete with sidewalk chalk illustrations]. I mean, even when you think you know the history of a place, it takes a whole new role when you actually see it, stand in it, interact with it. And as a perk, Skylar and I have mastered big city bike riding. High five man.

Traffic and movement are ofcourse, always interesting -- especially when cultures house different hierachy and etiquette for such. In stockholm, a group of feminists are petitoning that 50 percent of all pedestrian street signals [red and green] men be changed to [red and green] women -- apparently the ambiguous shape cannot be interpreted as a woman with pants on, and therefore is a strike against the very core of their equal rights. Well, as ridiculous as this is, it occured to me how different every green and red man [fine, woman] is, as you travel from country to country -- and righfully so no doubt. Now this may seem a silly thing to observe [but what a cool coffee book it would be], but in berlin it actually means something -- and is now fascinating to me.

Which brings me to my favorite random lesson of the day: there are actually three types of "men" that direct you around Berlin.

East Berlin: The Sporty Socialist. Yes, he's got his shoes tied tight, his hat on straight, and is intently marching along to his next big rally. He's short, a bit stocky, and quite content spreading the civic duty of traffic control.

West Berlin: The Wanderer. Just your average guy really, relishing in his freedom during a leisurely stroll. His destinations are limitless, as yours should be -- but he's happy to guide you along in his beautiful western world.

New Berlin: The Equalizer. Now this guy came about after the wall fell -- and it was his job to neutralize the rampant segregation of light up pedestrian enforcers. He has no feet, as he's not going anywhere. He's just here to do his job and keep movement stable. No, nothing happened here, so keep walking.

Believe it or not, even after the wall fell, East Berliners petitioned to have The Sporty Socialist [that's just my affectionate term for him, a love-at-first sight type of response] back in the game -- as he's part of their history and he belongs there. So as tourists today you have the privledge of being led by a wide range of German men...and that makes me happy.

So Berlin is right up there with Stockholm for me -- it's young, provocative, inovative, and growing. And it would be a great place to go to school....something to think about.

jeopardy

2008-10-11T23:03:00.004+02:00

Skylar uses this word to describe situations or events -- places, people, almost anything really -- that makes her uncomfortable. But not necessarily in a general sense of uncomfortablility, more of a "I don't understand, thus I don't know how to adapt" type of way.

A prime example of this phenomena is a themed hotel -- one adorned with fake boat windows on all the doors, fish-scapes along the base of some tacky blue wallpaper, and glass elevators... just like a submarine. Another could be an excessive amount of mascots roaming about -- let's just say a pirate or a moose perhaps. And ofcourse, jeopardy is definitely involved in anything titled "Color Fantasy."

Well, we maxed out our jeopardy in 20 hours aboard the Color Fantasy ferry line -- and then topped it off with the live musical. [There are some American musicals Norweigens should just stay away from]. Yes, we had thought boating would be a nice alternative to training from Oslo back to Germany, but instead we learned a valuable lesson. If I had ever wanted to go on a cruise before, I'm certain now that no amount of all-inclusive benefits will get me aboard.

So, to make a long story [night] short, the three of us sat in the "Tower Bar" -- which highlighted it's programatical features using fake stone archways [some with cross bars, some without], and had a dragon that floated above the purple velvet lined dance floor -- and wondered what any of us had originally imagined this little adventure to be. And though Faith got seasick, we pushed through, bought some wine in the tax free shop, and somehow brought ourselves to cling our glasses [a few times], if merely to relish in the fact that we would never be in a bar shaped like a lone castle tower, dragon threat and all, again.

Sometime you gotta stick to what you know -- what you understand -- and stay away from jeopardy, even if the night train doesn't have a bar car...

they're dead for the winter

2008-10-10T18:28:00.006+02:00

Have you ever read the Hitchhiker's Guide to the Galaxy? Well, if the answer is "no", then get on it, cause Douglas Adams is wicked brilliant. But if you said "yes", then you'll know that the characters visit the legendary planet Magrathea, home to the now-collapsed planet-building industry, and meet Slartibartfast, a planetary coastline designer [architect ofcourse] who was responsible for the fjords of Norway. Arthur [the main character, naively from earth] watches in awe as they coast above them, and learns that Slartibartfast actually won an award for such an unbeliavable creation. And man did he deserve it! They really are indescribable -- and the more time you invest them, the more real they become.

Norway was sort of a beautiful dichotomy for us. Voss and Bergen share such similar mindsets, pace, and movement -- yet they each relate to the topography [fjords] differently. Voss is nestled in, sparse but cozy, craves fireplaces, baileys, and knit sweaters and is absolutely content existing as little pockets [of cabins] all over the montainsides. But Bergen is a city -- the second largest in Norway in fact [though that only means about 250,000 people], and it holds a density of vernacular industry. It favors seafood and beer [and falafels suprisingly], and skirts with leggings instead of ski jackets and sweat pants. The city center is urbanistically obvious, as are it's neighborhoods and shopping alleys -- but I suppose the culture has allowed it to evolve a bit slower than a normal [metropolis] -- or perhaps more inwardly than American cities tend to. So thumbs up Bergen.. for city structure.

Yes, we absolutely loved it -- and though we were only there for a day, Anders [the viking] walked us around, showed us the hightlights, and took us up the tram to the top of the mountain. I feel great about it -- all of Norway really. And if it weren't for how cold i'm sure it gets, i'd find me a nice Norwiegen sailor and move there.

"Adams claimed that the title came from a 1971 incident while he was hitch-hiking around Europe as a young man with a copy of the Hitch-hiker's Guide to Europe book, and while lying drunk in a field in Innsbruck with a copy of the book and looking up at the stars, thought it would be a good idea for someone to write a hitchhiker's guide to the galaxy as well. However, he later claimed that he had told this story so many times that he had forgotten the incident itself, and only remembered himself telling the story. His friends are quoted as saying that Adams mentioned the idea of "hitch-hiking around the galaxy" to them while on holiday in Greece, in 1973.

And that's exactly what's happening. I've forgotten what life was like without this trip, without these stories, without knowing what these places feel like, move like, taste like -- and that's awesome. Now i'm definitely not claiming that I've "found myself" or any of that bull shit -- i'm just saying it's wierd how one day i'm sitting in a cubicle in Memphis and the next in a hostel in Bergen, Norway knowing that i'll never know what life would have been like otherwise. And honestly, I don't think I'll ever have the desire to.

out of the [snow]

2008-10-08T19:56:00.000+02:00

Well, we've finally returned to city life -- and feel unbelievably rested and satisfied from our weekend festivities -- it's amazing what a little time [without internet] in a cabin in the mountains of Norway can do.

Voss was amazing. We stayed in a cabin Christina's dad built, in the middle of no where, high up the mountain [note: don't attempt to drive a small car, with 6 people + luggage + beer + loose muffler up an almost 90 degree slope.] It was beautiful -- in ways I can't begin to explain. Skylar's friend Anders and his girlfriend Christina were amazing hosts [and his brother Eric an awesome compadre]-- we cooked dinner every night [I made our spaghetti mom!] and ate by a fireplace -- drank beer and baileys, and just had fun doing nothing [but ofcourse we played Plump]. And man it felt good to sleep late!

The first day we hiked [much] higher up the mountain -- which just threw one amazing view after another at us with full force. I know I've seen mountains before, even the Alps, but I suppose whenever you bear witness to such great hieghts, you forget that you have ever felt that small before. The landscape, of all of Norway even, is just written in a different langage -- one without adjectives or adverbs -- just solid nouns and exuberant punctuation. It was beautiful, and we got to sit amoungst it like we owned it for a weekend.

We woke up the second day to almost 8 inches of snow -- and man, Skylar and I didn't waste any time getting our winter wear strapped on so we could run around like drunk children in awe of what we were seeing. It was liked we were dropped down into a Hallmark Christmas card [or awkwardly positioned into one after just waking up without coffee] -- snow on the trees, on the ground, across the valley, up the mountain. Ofcourse [as most of you know I get pretty excited about these things] all I wanted to do was play in it -- so we hopped about, wrote our names in the snow, I smoked a cigarette, we aggressively built a snow armadillo [too cold for snowmen], and ofcourse I made a midget snow angel...Skylar's mini-me if you will. Life was good in our winter wonderland...and so was the Cognac. Cheers.

I mean, who do we think we are....

We are now sitting in Bergen [which looks awesome as well] in our hostel having a beer and catching up on life. I have so many more posts to come, and honestly I feel like I'll never catch up on real time...but alas...

trains are our intermissions

2008-10-06T22:42:00.004+02:00

So, just to put some context in this void that we've considered time to be, this was written as a mixture, between the train ride from Hamburg to Copenhagen, and then more aggressively from Oslo to Voss:

Your body can only absorb so much at a time, and while we're buried in one city, the last one seems so far away -- even nonexistent. It's not until we come out of it all, and sit on the train, that we really begin to process what's happened[ing] to us. I guess trains have become the space inbetween -- and whether it holds the depth that destinations may [or may not], it's this "place" that we lose context and can begin to see our travels objectively. We sit, drink, talk, laugh about things only we would laugh at, and just relish in the general resonance of where we've been, where we are, and where we're going.

It's a beautiful place to adjust, to accept, and to differeniate [and exchange money].

Since it's such a frequent influence, it's easy for me to see how deeply involved the train has become to our life[style], and I can exaggerate it's neutrality to you -- but while conceptually it's our time to "soak it all up" on level ground, literally its role is much different. We've gotten damn good at physically seeing borders because of them -- how suddenly the topography will change, the roof structures will evolve, the colors will darken. It's unbelievably strange how quickly countries take control of themselves, and not only that, but embellish each other.

Germany's rail lines have these little "hut" communes [we like to call them] that spring up from time to time -- unexpectedly. They resemble hot dog, or some type of street vendor, huts [in size] and vary in color and programmatical orientation. But they all have large gardens [maybe twice the size of the hut itself] that exist between the rail and the door step. The lot lines are all even [almost communist] rectangles perpendicular to the train lines. I really just want a scale figure [a garden knome even] so I can grasp what these mean. Honestly, there are tons of them, usually in groups of 10-20, and are just fascinating! [I'm obsessed] What are they for?! Why are they there?! I must know, cause they are definitely inhabited.

But it's this type of contextual detail that trains sneak us into. And while we have no other method of transportation to compare it to [well, bus...long story], it seems the most inherant route for vernacular observation. And it's wonderful.

When we arrived in Oslo from Stockholm, we found out there had been a fire in a tunnel between there and Bergen, so we opted to stay the night and hop the train-bus transition during day light. And what a fantastic choice -- and if only for what the train offers.

Norway is by far the most beautiful country we've been through. It was overcast, and such clouds give illumination the freedom to move along the mountain faces and choose what it finds attractive. It was amazing -- and so hard to properly describe. It's sad how much depth is lost in translation actually -- from seeing, feeling, to writing it all down. Though I suppose it's not lost, just different...but like certain streetscapes [Stockholm and Prague especially] just engulf us -- take control of how we walk, respond, feel -- these mountains are dominating this ride, this train, this experience, and it seems hard to believe that one could understand that from words. But then enters the "don't they know" ideal, and that's a whole other story...

But now I'm rambling, and I know it. Basically, the point of this entry is that where depth is concerned, you always need a shallow bank to compare it to -- to understand just how heavy it all is -- and that's what train rides have become for us. And it's perfect. They supply a necessary function, but hold such a unique form, that I wonder sometimes what a fantastic project designing rail lines for America would be.

But grad school sounds so much more fun...

But for now...save yourself -- take the train.

courier new

2008-10-02T21:02:00.000+02:00

Courier New has an immediate and involuntary response embedded in it [as do most expressional typefaces.] As soon as I see it, anywhere, I respond with a specific feeling -- I know the meaning it holds on its own, the influence it wants to have on me, and the reason people use it. But personally, it's a time warp -- I was addicted to it my last two years in architecture school, and like looking back through pictures or drawings, when I see it, I think of that time in life.

And music does the same damn thing. And it's wonderful.

Both Faith and Skylar have mp3 players, that they get to enjoy on trains, walking through cities, sleeping in hostels -- and I finally got to the point where I craved a proper soundtrack. So I bought a Nano -- and man what a fine investment!

Skylar put all her music on it, and most of which I don't know -- which is beyond beautiful. This way, I have no preconcieved notions of these songs, these artists, these playlists -- and thus they will hold this trip hostage. And that's fucking great.

So, in honor of our first night with mutual music, Skylar and I listend to this song -- having just left the bar we were pretty tipsy, so rather than just playing it to ourselves, we danced to it [while walking] in the 2 a.m. abandoned streets of Stockholm [poor Faith...] And it was awesome.

We're going to see them the 14th in Rotterdam, and can't wait to thank them for such a fanastic contribution to our Europe trip. Just as MGMT has become our mascot, Port Obrien has become our cheerleader in a way.

Enjoy. And for god's sake, turn it up! [we sure did]

Close the Lid - Port OBrien

the presence of per

2008-10-01T12:08:00.007+02:00

Stockholm is by far my favorite.

Though we arrived to a rather quiet [boring really] hostel, we had Skylar's buddy Per [sounds like Par] to show us the way. We meandered around the city, toured around with Per, and went to an Indian restaurant for dinner -- which is apparently quite popular in Scandanavia.

Basically the city structure is segregated by demographic -- or lifestyle really. The city center is on the central island and just south is where young professionals/students live. It used to be the lower-class nieghborhoods, but started changing with the bohemian market [of the last decade] into a SoHo type environment. Lots of bars, lots of beautiful people, lots of design. The north is victim to more of a young professional/young couple sydrome. Still a vibrant texture, but quieter, and nicer -- and that's where the grocery store is ofcourse. Per lives up that way, though he is still fun, and we ended up cooking a traditional Swedish meal at his apartment the second night. Now...I'm not going to lie, I was a little apprehensive of the pickled Herring, but it turns out, it's quite nice with potatoes. We also had salmon, that resembled what we would consider smoked, on Wasa [yum], and specific beer [not wine, which I found refreshing] to compliment the meal. It was damn good -- we even craved it on the train later...so thank you Per, for such a fantastic introduction.

But basically that city has it all -- the water, the people, the texture -- I mean, just aesthetically it's amazing, not to mention the movement! Skylar and I both ranted that we should apply to school there [though it's bound to be freezing in the winter.] But we'll see....we still have a ways to go.

time to pretend

2008-09-30T13:33:00.006+02:00

We just arrived at a hostel in Stockholm. I've been blogging on the trains lately, so don't worry, more will come about Copenhagen and Gotenburg and all kinds of other surprises when I can get them off Skylar's computer. But I think, right now, everyone should listen to our happy song...real loud...and maybe have a beer...bob and weave man, bob, and, weave.

obama eats wasa

2008-09-30T12:04:00.001+02:00

Sweden has been a relief really. We trained over Saturday morning from Copenahgen along the coastline, and it was absolutely beautiful. Though Sweden is a huge country, it's population is small -- thus creating a rather sparse, hilly landscape between cities.

Nik picked us up at the train station in Gotenberg -- we toured around, got some lunch, and headed back to his apartment [with an unbelievable view of the city, the sea in the background] and he and his sister Helen cooked us dinner -- and an unbelievable dinner at that. We went with them to a party, and though we were surrounded by natives, everyone spoke english to us [not without comments on our lack of language skills however] I know Europe is much more interdisciplinary when it comes to languages, but the more we travel, the more we realize how presumptuous Americans can be -- I mean, most people our age are at least fluent in English, if not German or Spanish -- and frankly it's just embarrassing. New goal: learn another language, as this shit is ridiculous.

All in all Gotenberg was awesome and relaxing. We cooked dinner every night [Nik was a chef once upon a time], watched a movie on the couch, ate a lot of Wasa [my new addiction] and had some damn good [sober] political discussions. It turns out when alcohol is removed, it can be quite productive to debate American politics with those who have an objective perspective -- and especially a different governing structure. But Nik, i still stand that just because he eats Wasa, doesn't mean he has any idea what to spread on it...

We went to an open mic jazz club Monday night, and it was odd to see how many aspiring Swedish artists sing in English. The older generation of course, stuck to Swedish [which was great to hear], but english was definitely dominant. Faith and I debated as to why this was the case -- is it because phonetically it's easier to rhyme in english, or because if they wish to make it, they need to stick to a universal language? [even though music is one of Sweden's top five exports] Something to think about at least.

Gotenberg was also the introduction of Plump [more on that later].

The one thing I think I'll take from this city -- from a cultural standpoint -- its that the Swedish are by far the friendliest and most outgoing people we've met yet [Prague being the opposite -- Czech's definitely don't like us.] So many people are willing to help you when lost [and man did we get lost], offer up their cell phones, smile as they pass by -- it's wonderful really -- and to top it all off, most everything is well designed.

So...now we are on the train to Stockholm, individually worrying about what's going on back in the States [as I'm sure you all are as well], and whether [in the end] this will prove to have a been a good time to be traveling abroad. Perhaps surrounding ourselves with relentless objectivity on the subject is the best thing we could do right now...or the only thing rather.

in no particular order

2008-09-28T18:05:00.005+02:00

We've finally started our flickr page -- but don't really know how to manage it quite yet, so the pictures arn't in any real order. It also has a limit on how many we can upload at once, unless of course we pay to become "pro" -- so, if anyone has any hints on how to properly use flickr, please, feel free to drop us a line. Until then, we'll work on it during our downtime, which isn't right now....so.

It's a start I suppose.

http://flickr.com/photos/worldatsmall/

[also located along the side of the blog under THE PICTURES]

tough it out

2008-09-26T12:00:00.000+02:00

As Collier so brilliantly said when we arrived -- looking like death on too much coffee.

We finally arrived in Copenhagen [thankfully with assured accomodations] Thrusday afternoon, and even through exhaustion, loved it immediately. It's a brilliant city -- a nice size, an even better scale, and a curiously strong culture. Definitely my favorite so far. There's something about the density I think, or rather the urban structure that's generally breathtaking -- it was easy to wander through, to follow the crowd, to sneak along tierchiary arteries. Everyone is beautiful, everyone is happy [it's actually voted the happiest, or most content, country in the world] and everyone is just doing what they do. And I guess as a proper product of this unique characteristic, there are tons -- and I mean like 1 in 4 -- of babies being strolled around in antique carriages. Hell, I guess if I could pick one culture to reproduce like crazy, it'd definietly be them. So go for it Copenhagen, get yours.

We really were so tired the whole time that we just wandered aimlessly. The only true "destination" we had was this place secluded away just outside of Copenahgen called Freetown Christiania -- a separate [township] from the EU. They are completely independent -- from taxes, laws -- and completely exploit it. The general gist of it feels like a hippy commune [though Danish hippies enjoy techno, not Bob Marley], and since drugs are legal there, it functions like one as well. No cameras are allowed anywhere within it's borders, especially along the main drag where huge camera icons with red slashes are spray painted on the sides of almost every building. What was once called "Pusher street" for it's outdoor shopping mall-esq of assorted varieties of hallucinogenics, hash, and marjuana [sounds the same when sung in Danish by the way], the main drag is now host to all kinds of vendors -- falafel [not as good as your mom's Rema], pipes, handmade skirts, t-shirts. We just happen to be there for there annual "birthday" festival, where everyone is celebrating the day they emancipated themselves from the EU. It was surreal for sure -- as if we had stepped into a completely different world, with completely different people walking the streets.

We had mostly early nights, though the first we bought a six pack of Elephants [Carlsburg 40s] and carried it with us as we just roamed the streets with Collier and Grant. We came across this photography exhibition on Christiania, beautifully displayed on concrete partitions, and lit from above -- just hanging out in the middle of the city center -- and we knew after that, what a fluke that little township would feel like.

Check out the exhibit: http://www.oestervang.dk/

Wandering proved to be a perfect first impression. And a brilliant way to see this city. So many bikes, so many people, just [happily] living everyday lives on a unbelievable backdrop.

adaptation

2008-09-26T00:19:00.000+02:00

Prague pretty much ended the honeymoon period of the trip [though our fucking McDonalds incident pretty much did the same thing]. It's still romantic in every way, and definitely sexy most of the time -- but I've been much more introverted since then -- writing more, waking up earlier, transitioning priorities [drinking less]. We've started to really get to know this transitory lifestyle, and it's that point in a relationship where you celebrate the general greatness of the other, and begin to see exactly how much you will learn from joining forces. Yes, where before [we left] it was absolute lust, now it's love -- and man am I in love!

My favorite analogy lately [thank you Rusty] is the idea that travel [or grad school] can be one of two ways -- horizontal or vertical. And this way of traveling is definitely horizontal. Of course there is appeal to both, but this trip was never suppose to be about depth really -- well at least depth in this context. It's about seeing the world for parts -- trying to get as much as possible and spend the rest of our lives peicing it together. We don't have enough time to really bond with a city, or have destinations. We merely have time to try to involve ourselves in the different streetscapes and initiate some type of connection with the cutlure -- locals, specialites, music. We've adapted, not to "Europe" but to travel -- and it's a very odd feeling sometimes. Our forte[s] are not language, or history, or sight seeing -- but transportation systems, annual festivals [came upon another in Copenhagen], and walking aimlessly. We see each place through a routine of scanning a map, buying a beer, and walking down streets that look appealing at the time. Sometimes we've had people show us around -- someone to float on, see from -- and that's been amazing, but most of the time we just wander and take it all in -- and it's brilliant. Now of course we hit the high points of everywhere we go, but this trip is so transient, that it's become it's own "culture" in a way -- and the one that we've adapted to. Thus we've developed....

The Veteran Syndrome:

We move so fast, that our scale -- of city, place, world -- has become so small. The more we move, the more we realize how close everything is, how similar and different culture can be, and how fast you can realize these comparisons. From topography to language to people -- and so many more facets -- one could definitely rally the argument of distinciton. But this type of observation, adaptation, analyzation to us [right now] is all about comfort level -- or authority in a way. The best way to describe this syndrome is how we felt the second day in Prague. When we first arrived in the city, we were seemingly naive, new, unfamiliar -- even when checking into the hostel. It's like we were new students on the first day of class, a little reserved, a little nervous, and a little excited. But by the end of the night we had a presence -- we knew the hostel, we knew the people, and we had found our place in this strangely pliable mold that's indigenous to travel. The second day we had Prague's tram system licked, our orientation was relatively solid, and we were old news at the hostel. We got back to the hostel late the second night and immediately went down to the pub to see who was there from our "posse". A few were, but a few had left -- and there were newbies everywhere. All the first-nighters were already drunk, crazy happy to be there, meeting tons of people, being loud and fun -- but we had done all that nonsense the night before, and now just wanted to casually have a beer and a good conversation.

The point of this is that in 24 hours we went from one extreme to the other -- from completely naive and new to the city, to veterans with a solid role in this "place". Once we realized this -- we laughed. I mean, how can we feel so confident, with such a close and comfortable relationship to this [Prague] place and this lifestyle so quickly? Is it a product of adapting to transition? To learning how to subtly sneak your way into a culture immediatley so as to involuntarily maximize you experience? This may all seem like bull shit of course, as it probably is, but nevertheless -- it's strong and blatantly apparent everywhere we go.

We're 24 hour veterans -- and it's wicked fun.

czech this out

2008-09-25T04:04:00.006+02:00

Prague.

Though the city was aesthetically brilliant, culturally it was rather disappointing. It functions a lot like Roma to me -- large, dense [in population, history, urban fabric] and a magnet for tourists -- thus creating a more spontaneous feel culturally, rather than offering up a distinct "czech" experience, which we've kind of gotten used to around Germany. As with any tourist destination, the main industry is exploiting the city -- or drawing [mentally] a charactiture of the city -- for others to understand, find their way through, and appreciate quickly. It's completely reliant upon transition -- even internally from one tourist spot to the next -- and is subsequently lined with vendors waiting to profit from historical bohemia. I blame this word actually for my expectations -- Bohemia. It immediately elicits a certain response [in my head], and a very specific one at that -- Moulin Rouge. I suppose, with admittedly lack of research, I was expecting a tangible form of this style of cinematography to come to life in Prague [though I know the movie wasn't set there]. Quick paced, artsy, overlapping ideals of the same origin -- and though at first, through our Euro-Czech adjustment period, it seemed to lend itslef to this notion, but by the end, any traces of that were gone. Don't get me wrong, the city itself is beautiful! The built environment definitely takes control of the historical [cultural] remnants and we found some great areas to just wander aimlessly -- the layers of the city are unbelievable, the way that the facades weave about each other, through each other, creating movement all on their own accord -- even just the general magnitude of it is inspiring! And it's the home of Pilsner, so i mean, come on....

I suppose the moral of the story here is to not have preconceived notions, or specific expectations of places. Time, weather, people, mental state, comfort level -- all these factors effect how we are seeing and understanding our travels -- they all play a role in designing "place" in our minds. And I guess, since we are moving so fast, love at first sight is all we can hope for. And I'm ok with that.

Now, I must say, our overall success in converting [money, mindset, languae] to the Czech Republic is completely contributed to Matt -- our train buddy from Munich. We really wouldn't have made it without him, and definitely wouldn't have found such a cool bar. So thanks again buddy -- it was awesome! We stayed at a fastastic hostel as well, the first one of many I'm sure. Sir Toby's -- standing ovation. The first night we were exhausted from getting lost in the city [with our packs on] that we just went down to the pub in the basement, and man what a good choice! We met a bunch of awesome people, from all over the world, and played guitar, drank beer, and taught everyone a little Presidents and Assholes [our little American contribution]. It really was a happening place and one that inherantly validates our common bond -- travel. Everyone there had a story, everyone there had been to different places, for different amounts of time and had great recommendations. It was easy to meet people, as that's what people stay there for, and we were in a 6 bed room with awesome roommates from Canada [Dan and Toby -- it's time!] This place absolutely made it for us -- which just furthers my hypothesis that people play a major role in not only the overall "experience of place", but also the general happiness of your travels -- so cheers to all the guys from Sir Toby's.

The second day we literally walked for 8 hours straight and met Matt near the museum. Chose to hold down a low-key night, as the first one was NOT, have a pilsner or two downtown, and try and get to bed early. Our train left at 10:30, and we didn't want to miss it. Man, if only we knew then what we know now, we would have just kept sleeping and headed straight to Copehagen later. But alas, we can now check that box -- chalk it up to experience -- and never eat [or enter] a McDonalds again.

Even after all that, pushing through Germany with no place to stay -- we stand optimistic about Berlin -- our new found friends have said it's awesome, as is the hostel we almost stayed at. So we booked it for 3 nights on our way back down from Scandinavia and can't wait to give it another chance.

But as for now, Copenhagen.

mexikanisch

2008-09-25T03:32:00.006+02:00

It's 3:15 [a.m.] and I'm sitting in a suprisingly crowded 24 hour McDonalds in the Hamburg, Germany train station looking at Skylar asleep on the table.

We left Prague [will blog about when I'm not delirious] this morning about 10:30, mind you we woke up way before that to insure that this day ran smoothly. We had debated between heading straight for Copenhagen this morning, or stopping in Berlin and hitting Copenhagen on the way back from our Scandinavian Extravaganza. But eventually settled that even though Berlin is huge, better to do it now than backtrack later.

Wrong.

Germany has become somewhat of an anchor for us at this point. We've learned some phrases, can recognize words [ Hauptbahnhof -- central station, critical to our survival] and quite enjoy the general air of the culture. Pretty much, we claim that we've adapted to Germany [more on what that really means in such a transitory existence later] -- and pride ourselves in our ability to integrate so successfully. Well...no matter how confident you may be, you must admit to yourself that external factors will always screw things up.

Berlin was full.

So, no worries -- all we have is time. Let's book Berlin for a couple weeks from now and go to plan B: stop in Hamburg, Germany [which we hear is great] for the night and head to Copenhagen tomorrow. So we sit, have a beer, and have a damn good time mapping out the next few weeks.

Hamburg was full.

And no more trains. Lesson learned: no matter how invigorating spontaneity might feel at the time, sleeping on and off at a McDonalds in Germany is not.

always follow the music [germany part 2]

2008-09-22T10:42:00.001+02:00

Man, we're going so fast now, that so much happens between blogs. It hasn't been trying yet particularly, though surely the pace isn't sustainable, and it definitely allows us to see alot in the one month Skylar will be us -- so I promise shorter, more concise blogs
later....now, about our little stop on the way to Prague...

Regensburg, Germany. AMAZING.

We arrived, exhausted, to this little city just as the sun was setting -- it was rather rainy and cold so we just headed for what we assumed the main area to be to try and find a cheap hotel. It was beautiful! Tiny alleyways winding around through colorful row houses...we were truly speechless. Excellent choice.

It was pretty empty actually, and so quiet -- which just added to it's unique splendor. The sidewalks and streets were all one, so cars and people completly merged together as they each found their way. We had a map this time [fucking helpful for sure] and made the river our destination, but as we approached it, we heard music across the way -- a pretty aggressive distraction from the subtle, sleeping town. I mean, why not? The bridge lead us down a small street with food and wine vendors in tents lining the edge -- and a small stage at the end. The "barber shop quartet" was singing American music, dressed in striped suits and red bowties. There was an accordian [not for Polka Rob], guitar, and a huge German guy with a beard singing in perfect English. Elvis is still popular guys. The backup singers had sparklers that they waved in synch to the music while only about 50 people danced in the streets. We had just walked in on their annual wine festival -- celebrating the local vinyards. It was awesome.

To only be somewhere for 12 hours, and have it impact you that much is amazing. By far my favorite stop yet -- so much so that I can't believe how lucky we were to just pick it off a map from hundreds of other choices.

Well done team.

We've decided to start a Flickr page since it's so difficult to post multiple pictures on the blog....so i'll post that link soon.

*This was the song we happened upon the festival to....let's just say, it sounds amazing from a large German voice in the middle of a wine festival...dancing all around. fucking perfect.

bavaria today, bohemia tomorrow [germany part 1]

2008-09-21T14:26:00.009+02:00

Our random stop in Heidelberg Friday was an awesome decision. It turned out to be a pretty large German college town that had some amazing textures. Though slightly touristy because of a castle on the mountain that we climbed 300 steps to reach...fantastic...it proved to be an awesome 2 hour stop. We finally got a true "old town" Germany experience -- aesthetically at least -- and definitely fell in love with it. The culture there was so different than Weisbaden, but I suppose most college towns do have their own little flare -- a much younger demographic, bicycles as the main form of transportation, and the most American shops we've seen yet [including Starbucks and a local STA Travel office].

We got to Munich late and had the awesome experience of staying in Grafelfing, barely outside of the city with Peter and Petra -- Skylar's amazingly generous friends. Their neighborhood was an awesome seaside-esq area, and their house was beautifully German. Each morning we woke up to a feast of rolls, [homemade] jams, meats, and cheeses. We couldn't have asked for anything better! Thanks again guys!

Oktoberfest...

Definitely a hit. We started out by strolling around Munich, winding our way towards the festival -- which was insane. We missed the tapping of the keg ceremony, but definitely made it in time to see nearly a million people on opening day drunk and singing songs! It was way harder than we thought it would be to que in, but we finally got aggressive and found an opening in the beer garden of the Spaten tent, and just grabbed a beer, leaned against a rail and watched. Basically the tents all have outdoor drinking areas for those who don't want to wait to get inside [though it's equally as hard to find a seat there]. What a celebration though, i mean these tents are huge, and they were jamb packed, with drunken outbursts of German drinking songs leading the way -- food, bands, and more lederhosen than I've ever seen. Yes, it was quite the full day -- there was beer, song, dance, a pedi cab ride [thanks again Matt], huge pretzels, and some fun new friends from Scotland and Manchester.

We leave today to start our journey to Prague, but after such a great day in Heidelberg, we've decided to look up a small town along the way to spend the night -- as Prague is a 6 hour train ride. Faith and Skylar are in charge of choosing one, as I'm the resident blogger, so pretty much I bought them a beer, blindfolded them, and spun them around a couple times to see where they point on the map....

This is awesome.

this time tomorrow

2008-09-19T13:15:00.003+02:00

We are off to the train station to head for a little place our couch surfer told us about last night called Heidelburg, Germany -- then we will head to Munich later tonight for some solid rest, as tomorrow is the first day of Oktoberfest -- and the tapping of the keg.

And I meant to post this video the day I left the states [as it would've been much more appropriate], but I couldn't get internet access. So I'm just going to go ahead and do it now.

Hey oh! [that's for you Rob]

the almanac begins

2008-09-18T19:39:00.006+02:00

So, i must say, earlier at the internet cafe, the German text wouldn't allow me to type the way I'm used to [aka with contractions and proper z/y locations] and I was a little delirious from jet lag. But now, I have Brandon's computer, a proper English keyboard, and a nap [with beer].

Brandon lives in not so much a "small" town, but more so a "medium" sized one, right outside of Frankfurt, called Wiesbaden. Apparently it's described as the "Beverly Hills" of Germany, and his apartment demonstrates nothing less. He lives in an amazing area, where the urban texture flows through variations of what you would think "German" architecture would be, and French,with a little Roman influence here and there -- tree lined streets and beautiful people walking by . We've been sitting on his roof deck, playing guitar and watching the sunset over the fabulously dense landscape...with rural cottages spreading throughout the valley into the hillside.

The German culture has proved easy to coordinate with, as English is spoken by most -- though we've of course had our miscommunication mishaps and weather shocks [it's way colder than i thought it would be...like in the 30s!] We've strolled along the pedestrian-only avenues and people watched while drinking coffee to attempt to keep ourselves awake. There's a small cafe downstairs with a plethora of German beer, where we sat to come back to reality [if that's what you call it]. All three of us still can't believe we're here, and how much we wish to live this life -- and how we still can't fathom that we will be for 7 months. Honestly, there are areas that are reminiscent of D.C. [or D.C. is reminiscent of this rather], and parts that remind me of the shopping districts of New York or Chicago. But all in all, for our kick off spot, it's been awesome! We have a local to show us the ropes, an amazing place to stay, good German beer, and couch surfer on her way!

Germany definitely recieves a thumbs up. And hell, this is just the first fucking day.

good morning america! where you been....

2008-09-18T16:06:00.005+02:00

So we landed in Germany this morning while you were all sleeping soundly. And now, exhausted and cold, we have stopped at an internet cafe on our way to grab a solid German beer...yes, it appears we are pushing through quite nicely.Skylar's friend Brandon picked us up at the airport in Frankfurt and drove us over to the little town just outside the city where he lives...in which he happens to rent one hell of a hot apartment. Yes, we will be sitting on his roof deck tonight, with seventeen layers on, kicking off this amazing trip...overlooking the unbelievable hillside of Germany....Life is damn good right now. I plan to update my map and post a picture of this sweet little town before we leave for Munich tomorrow afternoon....so untill then...I'll be sure and have a beer for all of you back in America.

Word.

a little bit deeper

2008-09-10T05:16:00.010+02:00

So now I'm excited.

When you plan a trip of this magnitude, it seems to shy away from any substantial sign of existence -- it becomes this awesome thing that sounds great in discussion, looks unbelievable on paper, yet remains hypothetical, even romanticized in [my] head. The more I get caught up with the logistic details that weigh down my mental preparation, the farther i get from fully grasping the reality of the next seven months of my life. I mean, damn...this is crazy. And what's even more so, is this is real.

I've traveled before. I've lived abroad, been immersed in another culture, gone to market, walked the streets , blah blah blah -- but this trip holds such a different concept, and honestly I'm not always sure why. Sometimes it seems comparative to the instinctual differences between undergrad and graduate school. Your first shot at college [or architecture] is fully responsive through innocence, naivety -- each project, each discussion, each review relies on an adherence to trust -- trust in your professors, in what they've taught you, in how they move you through design -- and while you slowly begin to challenge that as you progress, its hard to step outside of your specific educational process and really begin to look at what you've learned objectively.

I imagine graduate school to be a vertical dive into what I think I already know, but with the fortunate addition of a break to have realized that it's all bull shit. Sure I have a solid foundation. I know the pieces of the whole, I can apply and objectify, I can confidently own the surface -- but whether I like it or not, I do have an inherent definition of architecture left over from the way I was taught to see it. Grad school seems like it would be a chance to break that down -- to sit in another studio, in a new place, with new teachers and try to articulate everything again -- this time, however, you're not innocent and you're not naive, in fact you're probably arrogant and persuasive [and all the better] -- then you are exposed, vulnerable, maybe even humbled, but ready to build everything you thought you knew back up again.

This is my grad school -- this is my second round, and this time I'm diving deep. I have no idea what will happen, but I'm damn sure about why I want it to. I didn't know that i didn't know, and I wasn't sure what I wanted before. But now , I absolutely know that I don't know shit, and I can't wait to start from there.

Let go or be dragged.

it's lists that get me through the day really...

2008-09-08T19:32:00.000+02:00

Man, talk about burning a candle. One week to go really, and I still have lists taped to any surface available. I did finally purchase some fundamental accessories -- sleeping bag [you just never know where we'll end up with our budget], wool long underwear [since we thought it a good idea to go to Norway in the winter], and a quick drying towel [thanks to the expertise of Jessica]. So my anxiety has dropped a bit, now that I feel slightly prepared. However, I have a feeling I'm going to wake up in Frankfurt next week and wonder how the hell I got there....

Plans have changed, we're now hanging in Frankfurt for a while with a friend of Skylar's and then heading straight to Munich on a night train -- always an adventure. Dave's parents are in France right now, so we're hoping to catch them in Germany on our way back south. It definitely sounds like an amazing place to visit.

Other than that, we're just diving into this whole ordeal head first -- we have no concrete plan, no solid itinerary, and no way of understanding the magnitude of what we're about to begin.....but man, is it exciting.

Let's do this!

it's a perfect roy g. biv!

2008-08-27T05:54:00.015+03:00

3 weeks....and I'll be hanging out in Germany!

So Laura has brought us an awesome contact -- her friend Dave! [who I look forward to buying a beer for when I trek to Atlanta.] His parents live in this sweet little German village, where the Grimm brothers wrote their fairy tales -- and he has ever so kindly offered up their pad to us. I've been told his parents will introduce us not only to the village in all it's rural glory, but also to an old woman who can catch a fly with her bare hands. This is reality people -- and it's going to be awesome!

We've also added music to our list of destination catalysts [amongst Servas hosts, assorted festivals, and random friends] -- there are multiple amazing bands touring Europe that we hope to see, most of which will play in smaller venues. Mogwai is the first on Skylar's list -- and we're shooting to see them in Paris or Copenhagen. So on top of weekly blogs, I hope to start a groupie link to keep tabs on who we've discovered and where we'll hear them....kind of like music Friday's, but better.

It's all coming together...and it feels great -- just like a perfect Roy G. Biv!

Bob and weave....bob and weave.

standing elicitation

2008-08-21T20:57:00.000+03:00

I recently broke out an article I read a while back, which at the time I found fallibly hopeful -- particularly because of it's closing statement: "We will go beyond architecture because we do not know what it is!" But after attempting to articulate what it is I'm trying to do exactly, it hit me that this just might be it. I want to find ways in which design, or architecture, has been elicited beyond its primary role. Surely such a profession, with supposed propriety in observation of human response, movement, interaction, has more outlets than just buildings.

We are one of the few professions that are completely dependent not only on the client, but on the current market -- we do not solicit our own work, and we rarely get a chance to exploit what we can do. We are "client-servers." Now, I go back and forth on whether this is totally negative, as historically the service we provide is necessary. But it seems to limit ourselves to a client-need-only basis, is to forgo half of our natural inclinations. So what if we began to look beyond architecture in it's generic, unopportunistic air, and tried to make a new architecture -- a temporal architecture of sorts, that exists through current necessity and appropriation; that still facilitates a bottom-up refuge, but seeks out contiguous needs.

"It is said, with all the self-evidence of the truly trivial, that 'architecture cannot change the world.' This cliche hyperbolizes the inertia of a dubious opposition, one which pits what we know architecture to be [autonomous buildings], against what we know is beyond the limits of architecture [information, politics, human rights, ecology]. The opposition itself is architecture, beyond itself, beside itself."

Volume 1 :: Laura Kurgan: Beyond the Client

And it is analysis of data that helps you find connections, understand, even form opinions -- therefore this documentary, or visual exploration, is inherently a resource for myself, rather than an argumentative assertion. I want to find patterns, "align objects with their projections," reorganize my views on what design is and what design can be, and go from there. How can we [architects] really begin to relate to what we do? How can we begin to accentuate what's already there, rather than manipulate what's not?

only you can prevent forest fires

2008-08-20T20:40:00.007+03:00

Tree hotel opens in Germany

And you better believe I'm going to be there. I'm going to sit on the balcony, refrain from smoking [because it is up to me to prevent forest fires], and see that life is damn good in Saxony, Germany. This is a prime example of ordinary transformation and what innovative design should be looking towards. Not necessarily themed accommodations of course, just taking exactly what you have and exactly what you need and making it your own. Thank you Laura, for such an amazing recommendation. I'll be sure and get you the t-shirt!

just take a left at berlin

2008-08-18T06:40:00.005+03:00

One month to go....

That's right, it's almost here, and man, there's just no way I'm prepared! But hell, now that Skylar has joined the trek, preparation wouldn't be worth it. Plus, our goal is to see the smaller side of things -- so we're banking on the people we stay with to advise us on our next destination[s]. With the addition of Skylar, also comes the addition of Norway, Sweden, and if we're not dead from hypothermia by that point, Finland. A friend of hers lives near Bergen, Norway and has a cabin in Voss -- not to mention her other list of buddies up there in the Nordic region. I just can't imagine how I'll feel and what I'll be thinking about when I'm sitting on a porch, smoking a cigarette and drinking a beer [though whiskey would be warmer...] on a Nordic lake. Man...not long now!

I've been so busy lately with other "ventures" that I really haven't had time to get excited about the reality of this whole ordeal -- and sadly have had to take a break from most of my research [project and all]. But good news, Skylar has a family friend in Munich, so we're set now for Oktoberfest! And now that she's preparing her Servas information, we've pretty much got all the sensate logistics out of the way. Now it's just trying to figure out what to pack into one backpack for seven months and four seasons. Man that's going to be wicked fun.

Though we don't have a concrete itinerary, we're definitely hitting northern Europe first and will try to head south for winter. Luckily, contacts have started to present themselves, which has given us a pretty general synopsis of our first couple months -- and for the sake of interest, here's what we have so far: Germany, Czech Republic, Sweden, Norway, [Finland], Denmark, Netherlands, Belgium, and France.

Of course more will follow, as we're there for almost four and a half months. I've decided to skip Italy [except for Cinque Terre] and head through Switzerland and Austria to Turkey and then down to Greece. I have a family friend studying abroad in Cairo, so if we can find a cheap[er] way to get there from Greece, we'll definitely be heading that way. I've always wanted to ride a camel!

And that's all i know for now. I just couldn't resist blogging today. And now back to work....

handy accoutrements

2008-08-10T22:23:00.008+03:00

There's no sense in being hasty about my seven month sabbatical around the world. I mean, who knows who I'll meet in my travels and what they might add to my life. So in the spirit of opportunity, I've decided to make [calling] cards -- a nice accoutrement to travel i think. This way i can keep in touch with anyone: Servas hosts, other backpackers, brewers, architects, designers, hot Australians....the possibilities are endless. Plus it'd be pretty sweet to get people i meet involved with my travel log [blog] -- kind of a promotion for collaborative experience, or networking if you will.

And they fit in your pocket, which is always convenient.

deutschland ist es!

2008-08-09T21:51:00.013+03:00

Well rather than change planes in Frankfurt, only to fly east to Paris, we've decided to save time and start there. Munich's Oktoberfest is September 20 - October 5 this year, and it's just not in me to miss such a fantastic celebration -- and of beer no less! So, we'll spend a couple days in Frankfurt and casually eurail our way down to Munich in hopes of at least a camp site that hasn't been booked since January. Apparently, being of the magnitude this festival is, September/October is high season in Germany, thus most of the larger cities are full of tourists, backpackers, and the like. We're crossing our fingers that when we receive our Serves book there will be a host family in a nearby town, or even in Munich for that matter, and our problems will be solved. But alas, if not, we're going anyway -- we can sleep when we're dead.

Though reservations are helpful, they're not necessary [thankfully]. The festival is set up through tents, 14 to be exact, all sponsored by a specific brewer. These tents seat hundreds and feature music, meals, and local drunks. The catch is that you can't be served beer unless you're seated [in a tent] -- so, going stag, we have to get there early and hope to que in, and just stay till they kick us out. But no matter how much trouble it may be to get in on this phenomena, I'm certain it will all pay off; as the project is concerned, it will be a landmark celebration and as the trip is concerned, it will be one hell of a story.

So, good sir, Germany it is. And with this executive decision comes the makings of a plan: we fishhook from Frankfurt to Denmark, hitting up Munich, Prague, and Berlin as major destinations, and hope to find some awesome rural Servas hosts along the way.

Cheers!

to each his own response

2008-08-06T07:07:00.005+03:00

"we can deceive ourselves into thinking we are developing spiritually when instead we are strengthening our egocentricity through spiritual techniques" -- the same can be true for design.

let go or be dragged....

abstract necessity

2008-08-05T06:02:00.004+03:00

as "architects" we sometimes neglect the architecture of the practical man of affairs; design and it's role in the involuntary plight of existence. we do, however, pay close attention to rock star buildings and their premeditated performances -- we drool over ancestral movements and debate how our own perspectives might parallel, intertwine, grow against them -- we read constantly about the theories and careers, home runs and base hits, of other architects, designers, and innovators -- so much so, that basically we have become incestuous; we use architecture to design architecture, and i'm quite certain you should never use the word your defining in its definition.

see, words can hold so much weight in modern linguistics. they, just as people, can form personalities and biases, and completely neglect their origin. this word [architect] triggers so many connotations, has such specific baggage, yet from a strictly grammatical perspective, its just a verb. we all "architect" our own worlds -- we arrange parts, people around us, the aura we live in -- we structure our day to day activities, our beliefs, our politics, our pleasures -- this is all architecture. so what do we really mean when we call ourselves "professional architects?" in the princess bride, inigo montoya says to the arrogant vizzini: "you keep using that word. I do not think it means what you think it means." well ladies and gentlemen, neither do i.

"if an architectural medium wants to be a place where ideas reside, it has to be open to the way ideas organize themselves today. to achieve that openness, it must go beyond itself."

ole bouman - volume one

the world at small is about bringing a sense of scale to "architecture", and to the process of [my] design for that matter -- to prove that separated from the mothership [the building], design is its own entity -- an instinctive resource of distribution that should grow from open response, rather than its own predecessor -- for it's far wider and far smaller than we architects claim it to be. but, as with any word, we can't be completely off track, architecture is dependent on condition -- current condition, built condition, political, circumstantial, even religious condition; it relies on human response and interaction, whether in construction, economics, or consumption. it is a verb, already being used in the discussion of abstract necessity and the conditional subjection which shapes the design of culture.

so i guess i'm saying, architecture should not be spoken with a capital "A", but with an fundamental lower case-ness. because architecture is a bottom-up operation, and everyone is involved.....i mean, after all, it's a small world.

a brief history of servas

2008-08-02T06:08:00.001+03:00

we found this organization through friends of friends who participated and raved about it -- not only as a way to travel, but most importantly, as a way to engage in your travel. a way to feel the places you go and build relationships with the people that live there -- and that is exactly what our goal has been all along -- to see and experience the lives and cultures of others, and not just as a bystander, but as an active player on any and every level. we want to be exposed, integrated, connected, in ways we can't even fathom yet....i can't wait!

"Over the past fifty years, dedicated peace-minded people have created the vital worldwide hospitality network known as Servas. Servas was initiated in 1948 by a conscientious objector to war who believed it was possible to build stronger foundations for world peace by helping concerned people to meet and learn from each other and to recognize that we all belong to one world family.

For years, many had been cut off by political and military barriers. A devastating war had also created many psychological and economic barriers. Volunteers were first found in countries ofnorthwestern Europe who gathered lists of people who could offer free hospitality to approved foreign travelers. It was hoped that, by traveling in the opendoor style, people would build links between groups and individuals seeking a peaceful and just society.

A group of leaders from several pacifist organizations in England gave sound roots to the hospitality system, which was known by several names: Peacebuilders, Work-Study-Travel, and Open Doors. Meanwhile a dedicated Gandhian and Quaker woman in California, "Grandma" Esther Harlan, created the even more extensive hospitality system in North America—using only correspondence to compile a roster of people identified as potential Peace Builders. Within a few years, the movement had taken root in a number of other countries. Lists were circulated of those willing to open their doors to travelers within the system. Early US hosts included leaders in race relations, Quaker, Jewish, Protestant and Catholic leaders, leaders of cooperatives, peace leaders and village rehabilitation workers.

Though a peace-oriented organization, it has never excluded non-pacifists; it has, in fact, welcomed travelers in uniform. From these humble beginnings Servas has reached out to people all over the world, driven entirely by the efforts of concerned volunteers. The name Servas—meaning "serve" in Esperanto—was later adopted to denote the spirit of international mutual service which characterizes this movement.

Today, with hosts in more than 130 countries Servas has become a global program of over 14,000 member hosts and thousands of travelers... and continues to grow. Volunteer national committees have compiled lists of hosts in countries of every form of government and provided bridges of understanding between people of every profession and persuasion.

Though started by pacifists, we have never rejected anyone because of other ideologies: open mindedness and a commitment to cooperation are the only criteria. Since 1973 Servas International has been recognized as a Non-Governmental Organization (NGO) registered with the United Nations Economic and Social Council (ECOSOC).

As it has grown Servas has become more inclusive, rather than exclusive, but it has never relinquished its goal of striving for world peace by providing opportunities for people of all cultures, races and backgrounds to meet and share their mutual concerns. Join us!

US Servas is a non-profit membership organization fostering understanding and cultural diversity through a global person-to-person network promoting a more just and peaceful world."

exert from http://www.usservas.org/pdfs/trvlr-pkt.pdf

the application process takes about three weeks, including an "in-person" interview, letters of recommendation, and dues. we are all pumped about the possibility of being part of such an unbelievable opportunity -- and thought i should share.

by popular demand

2008-07-31T20:41:00.002+03:00

hooray! the count down begins:

65 days : 3 hours : 21 minutes (seems like there should've been a drum roll don't you think?)

now, the trip has turned out to be exactly 7 months -- we lost about 3 weeks from when we began our planning, but there's something sweet about rounding it out with the 17th -- i'm going to definitely make that a holiday in mari michael world, a day where i sit back, have a beer, and think happy thoughts...every year.

we're definitely signing up for the servas travel organization -- which we have to interview for -- but basically it gives us access to a whole plethora of hosts all over the world -- people that offer travelers a place to stay for a certain period of time, cook dinner, and tour them around their lives pretty much. so not only will this prove more economical, but definitely more valuable as an experience. we're pretty pumped. and though it's alot like couch surfers, it offers a little bit more security since everyone has to pass an interview/application process -- plus to go through it, they must be pretty interested in hosting and being hosted while traveling. so, here's to travel! we've also found a program where you join a group that walks from france to spain, over the pyrenees -- sweet.

anyone and everyone is welcome to join us at any point, just let us know when and we'll tell you where we are! we've got the big jumps down, but as for inner-continent travel, we're far too unorganized to predict this far out. and actually, it's pretty cheap to change our flights, so these dates could shift once we're over there.

all we know for sure: 1. hit as many countries in europe as possible 2. don't miss kosovo 3. try our damnedest to get to cairo 4. go north in india 5. save money for beer in australia 6. pray for a ride to the south island in new zealand and 7. celebrate holy week in argentina

oh, and we'll be in germany for oktoberfest. that i know for sure.

so, without further ado:

2008

17 september : fly out of dallas for paris
18 september : 6 hour layover in frankfurt, germany then to paris
20 september - 5 october : somehow find ourselves in munich for oktoberfest
(?) september/october: ferry over to morocco from gibraltar for a week

2009

28 january : fly out of roma for india (bombay is nice this time of year)
25 february : off to drink beer in sydney, austrailia
01 march : small hop to auckland, new zealand
20 march : take off to buenos aires, argentina to hang with the argentinians
04 april : faith and ruth fly back to dallas
17 april : mari michael reluctantly heads back to dallas

so, there you go! -- it's going to be a one hell of a ride!

almanac, almanack, almanach

2008-07-28T20:10:00.000+03:00

al·ma·nac (noun) [Origin: 1350–1400; ME almenak <>

1) an annual reference book of useful and interesting facts relating to countries of the world...

2) usually annual reference book composed of various lists, tables, and often brief articles relating to a particular field or many general fields...containing various forecast and predictions

the original transfer to discussion: how can i graphically chart, list, and map common threads (or common needs, transitions, trends) of design (as a wholistic principle of restructuring and reinventing) evident in everyday existence, within different cultures around the world -- so as to form educated predictions for what our role really is, could be, will be, as designers, and for that matter, as people.

i suppose in a way, i'm attempting to reinvent the almanac genre, or at least reformat it as a new media form of informative expression -- to shift it into a modern relationship between graphics and analysis. its strongest asset is its ability to be almost temporary; it changes with time, it can be constantly built upon, it doesn't claim to be conclusive. it's assertive with its information and has the potential, graphically and functionally, to document many fields of expression in one bite (and it's tabular, which is just hot ). it keeps its focus, because it doesn't have time to mess around with bull shit fillers -- and it's shallow, but not in a condescending way, in an aggressive way, and that's what i like about it -- it keeps me in line and lends itself to a practical and rational way of diagramming a variety of cultures. and while it does hold a strong sense of static and factual presentation as an object, conceptually it forces itself to be intuitive, especially when it adds different mediums -- photographs, essays, maps, charts, all possess a truly successful dichotomy of surface and depth, just as the almanac can; it pulls you in, connects with you visually, and only gets better from there.

in essence, design is slow, growth is slow, books, discussion, are all slow -- but people are fast, society is fast, and the almanac is fast. this characteristic makes it a good parallel to such a fast paced trip, cause inherently it's merely a series of small doses of big ideas; 6 continents seen through 6 big ideas:

shelter : consumption : transportation : family : religion : celebration

the almanac was important, just as these issues are important -- especially to the people living them everyday -- its existence as a media form is based in meeting the needs of "the common man involved in common man production" -- "the people's architecture" -- individuals functioning and growing through the process of their culture -- and that's exactly what this study is about. now if i can only pull this off....

and it's important to know my recent crush:

it's graphic appeal is unbelievably applicable to what i'm searching for -- we have a lot in common content wise, though not too much which is always good, and personally i think we make a great couple for the moment. but as we all know, things will change and i'll move on to another, but for now, it definitely gives me what i need.

*and isn't it hot!!!

http://www.architectureforhumanity.org/designlikeyougiveadamn/

the layman architect

2008-07-26T20:40:00.000+03:00

"Architecture is too slow. Yet the word 'architecture' is still pronounced with certain reverence (outside of the profession). It embodies the lingering hope -- or vague memory of a hope -- that shape, form, coherence could be imposed on the violent surf of information that washes over us daily. Liberated from the obligation to construct, it can become a way of thinking about anything -- a discipline that represents relationships, proportions, connections, effects, the diagram of everything".

- rem koolhaas

and i want to do just that: use architecture as a way of understanding, analyzing, breaking down the whole into pieces, so i can finally see properly. i want to use "design" as my vehicle for seeing the world: the built, unbuilt, religious, emotional, political, mental -- all these schools of thought must be cultivated in someway, nurtured by someone into a movement, on some scale, and more so than how it began (because all of these are matters long in motion), i want to see how it is still carried out, how it has grown as a custom, as a belief, and how it continues to change today; the role of design in existence -- how can it differ so widely across the world, when the core is the same?

process.

though i'm going to use design to structure this documentary of process -- it is not about design, well at least not as we tend to view it, as the design of -- it is about the design in [humanity, society, place]. i think in some form or another it is design, and not that of an architect or planner, but of the common man, that defines "culture", defines "place". it is the process of "the people's architecture" that becomes this beautiful catalyst for differentiating one shelter from another, one market from another, one city from another, one family, one attitude, one network. and as architects, we sometimes fail to recognize this part of the process, much less acknowledge it, and thus hold a skewed view of our role. it is the cultivation of attitudes, customs, beliefs that design these systems of human organization, these ways of existing -- a mental and emotional discipline held by the individual through society, and built around place. and i want to be a bystander, a layman almost, and just witness how different these places, these designs really are.

i am going to diagram it, and force the process of graphically articulating what i see to "dislodge my present positions" and challeng what i was taught in school. and not in some profound, prophetic way, but in an honest way -- merely using the only thing i know how to use: design. how can i diagram what i see, what i feel, where i've been -- how can i use that to understand culture versus society versus the individual; relationships and connections, cause and effect -- how can i begin to see comparisons between want and need across regions, classes -- how can i begin to define "place" using people, politics, custom, and belief? these are the things i want to see and experience, at small, because in essence these pieces are the fundamental process of existence.

so, in the end i hope to take everything i know and watch it crumble at my feet, so i can laugh at it, pick up some pieces, walk away from others, and start building it all up again -- only with more clarity about what i'm looking for and why i looked that way, and let it slowly manipulate where i will look next. because wherever that is, i can't wait to watch it be destroyed again someday, because that's exactly what the process is all about.

holla back!

2008-07-20T18:28:00.000+03:00

so we're thinking about nixing the eurail idea -- i think in the end, the money we'd save wouldn't make up for the 3 month rush. without it, we won't be limited to where we can marinate for a few days, and won't feel obligated to see as much as possible in the first 3 months. ( plus no matter which direction we go, i want to peer pressure the group into flying off to germany for oktoberfest, and i won't feel so bad if the eurail isn't in play). with that in mind, it seems like the europe trek might be a little more laid back than we first imagined. so...

if anyone has any friends studying abroad, traveling, or living over there during the fall (or will be themselves) -- let us know! it'd be great to have people to hang with who know way more than we do about our travels. we're going to start a notebook soon on contacts, and though we have a good bit right now, the more the merrier man! and hell, any advice or places to see from anyone, here or there, would be useful. we will probably divvy up the research, since the whole of europe can be overwhelming, and have at least one of us be fully informed about each country. (i'm on spain and portugal right now...and dappling in the czech republic) and after talking to my family and assorted other compadres, the uk actually sounds fascinating, especially getting into scotland and wales -- fucking amazing castles i hear. so though we had first thought to skip over it (product of eurail ticket, time, etc) i might push to add it. i mean, while we're over there, might as well. plus we have some contacts there, which could justify the extra money.

besides europe, we'll probably do joint research for india, australia, new zealand, and argentina -- plus, skylar might meet us for a month in europe, and jenny for india, so that's a few more heads of knowledge to add to the journey -- which is always nice.

so holla back g!

the start of something

2008-07-18T20:29:00.001+03:00

The intent of this blog is to not only keep a record of my travels, and the process of such -- but also to have a way to continually articulate my thoughts about where i am, how i got there, and how it's affecting me. this trip is going to drop me in such diverse situations and places, that at the end of it all, i want to hold it as a project -- a compilation of cultural integration through multiple mediums. and this is my travel log. so along with my camera, sketchbook, and spiritual, emotional, and intellectual responses, i plan to have a strong enough movement of character and mindset to create a solid piece of evidentiary support for my travels. and i'm going to format it as an almanac -- relating multiple countries and cultures through consistent fields of comparison over the 8 months i'm traveling. the almanac is about charting the needs of the common man, and common man production, but what it lacks is the comparison of what those needs are, how they're met, and how they're carried out, within different cultures, states, and regions, and i intend to exploit that premise through the design of what i see.

my thesis is a cultural comparison and contrast of the small and large makings of "place." to visually compare how people work within their scale, within their basic human needs (at small)-- and then how they make it their own, culturally (at large). i hope to understand this through the built, the social, the economical, and the spiritual environment -- but most importantly through the integration of the individual (or collective) and these shaping political and physical conditions. it's a pedestrian initiative -- it is about seeing and understanding all these things at a human scale and to become part of a bottom-up exploration of the world at small, so that maybe one day, i can understand the world at large.

onward!

2008-07-18T04:03:00.000+03:00

now that we have something solidified, it's time to get really excited -- and spend all our spare time researching the hell out of everywhere we might go, want to go, or don't know to go. everyday my favorite place we're going changes, i find something out or see a picture of spain and can't get enough of it -- until i watch the darjeeling limited and realize i'm going to fucking india -- then i talk to ruth about morocco and can't believe how awesome it will be!

ruth's friend in morocco is hooking us up with an apartment for a week! she's offered to drive us around, take us to market, teach us to cook, and show us everything from a local perspective! i will say, it's pretty nice to know that we have at least one place relatively secured for accommodations -- as the more i think about it, the more i see the eurail as our most common sleeping arrangement. but what the hell, that's what this is all about. our rail pass is only for 3 months, so after it runs out, we hope to take advantage of the servas traveler organization -- which sets you up with locals around the world that hope to host travelers for more than just a couple days, and really take them under their wing; integrate them in their culture and their family. it sounds like an awesome program, and the perfect way to rest from our 3 month rail marathon and really sink into our travels. we're hypothesizing this will happen around germany, as we are going clockwise from the french-italian border. so we hope to find families in small german villages, and on into prague, perhaps vienna -- just any city or town we wish to dig deeper in. fuck. it's going to be great.

so as you can see -- today i'm pumped about morocco and europe -- which is exacerbated by the two travel books i just purchased on spain/portugal and prague. but who knows what tomorrow will bring....i have a feeling that argentina will be next! yes, argentina is going to be amazing!

always jump head first

2008-07-14T17:23:00.001+03:00

"fuck it, let's just go" is where this all began a week ago. and many gin and tonics later, we did. we booked our tickets last night -- this is it: backpacking for 8 months, on 6 continents.

i had a big road trip this weekend, which gave me 7 hours alone to finally let everything that's happened to me in the past month really sink in. and man, it's heavy. it's as if i've been on auto-pilot for a month and it all came crashing into me, full speed, sunday afternoon; a slap in the face from reality. yet somehow the weight of it all didn't bring me down with it, but instead brought an unexpected sense of clarity to my world. life really does just happen, and this trip has been the most tangible evidence i've ever had of that philosophy. you can plan and hypothesize and attempt to design your life accordingly, but you just never know where you'll end up -- and more often than not, it's miles away from where you started.

so fuck it i say -- it's go time.