Welcome to my Wanderjahr

Another drive across the USA

2009-02-07T09:46:00.000-08:00

Well, I did it again... I had to move the rest of my stuff out here so I flew back to Virginia in late January and loaded up my furniture with the help of Kenny Felmly and things in a 16' rental truck and drove back out to Concord CA.

Since it was the middle of winter I went far south, to avoid any snows or storms that might slow me down. I didn't have time to sightsee like I did last trip. I immediately headed south down I-80, which goes all the way to Knoxville, then continued to Birmingham, Alabama (one more state I'd never been in!), and by the second night I was sleeping in Jackson, Mississippi.

One thing I couldn't help noticing in the Deep South: the roadkill. There were dead animals strewn along the highways in all the southern states, some of which looked weeks or even months old. One random stop in Texas I jumped out to take a photo of a speed limit sign (80mph) and looked down to see a skeleton of a deer at my feet. It appears the local counties don't bother to pick them up at all... pretty gross.

Along the way I planned one stop: outside of Baton Rouge, Louisiana, I had read about the "Tiger Truckstop", where the owners kept a large tiger in a cage outside their restaurant to attract business. This I had to see; I wanted to get some video to document it, and let the owners know what I thought of it.

It was easy to find and right along my route. I parked and brought my little Flip video camera and my phone, which has a camera too. I had been warned that these people could be nasty.
There were several buildings including a restaurant and the gas station/quick mart. Sure enough, there was a cage there in the middle of it all, not 100 yards from the highway (see videos below). All the time big, rumbling 18-wheelers rumbled in & out. The cage itself was pretty crummy, and the tiger slept in a barren, dark little cinder-blocked 'house'. I took a lot of photos and some vids, which speak for themselves.

I asked a lady at the counter if the owners were around, and she said no. I asked her to give them this message: I WAS going to buy gas, eat at the restaurant, and purchase some snacks, but now I wasn't going to spend a penny there because they kept a tiger captive in an obviously inadequate and inappropriate place. She said "Everyone's entitled to their opinion" and seemed to not care at all what I thought, and saw nothing wrong with keeping a huge, wild animal in lifelong captivity at a truckstop.

As I was leaving I snapped a few last photos with my phone camera, and the counter lady came out and said something to a big, fat, redneck-looking guy working there. He came up to me and said, "I don't know who you're with, Peta or whatever, but you've got to get out of here." I said sure, but as I walked to my truck I said "You guys lost a customer" and he said "Everyone's entitled to their opinion". Obviously they'd all been told to say that to anyone who decried the fact of their tiger's captivity. They didn't mind if you had another opinion-- but they didn't want you there to state it. He said some other things to me, but most was lost in the highway noise.

Somehow in my Penske rental truck I doubt I looked like a Peta protester, but they still acted paranoid, which is how people who abuse animals usually act to anyone with a camera asking questions about what they're doing. It must not be common there for people to actually state that they disliked the tiger's predicament; I wish more folks would speak up when they see something that looks wrong. It just might let greedy morons like those truckstop people see that perhaps they'd be better off not using animals to attract customers.

Anyway, I also made a detour to Bryan/College Station, Texas, to see some old friends, the Ramseys. I didn't have much time, but they made sure I saw a bit of their town and took me to dinner. Ramsay took me on a tour of Texas A&M, then to dinner at a local seafood restaurant which was very good. I stayed the night at Randal's amazing house, which seems to be almost as full of treasures and interesting objects he's collected over the years as the Smithsonian. He showed me a fascinating assortment of arrowheads, rifles, animal skulls, and all sorts of antiques and other knick-knacks. There was too much to absorb in one visit; I'll have to go back just to see the rest!

We also fed his baby goat in the kitchen; his dad raises them and he helps out with the orphans. They also showed me their workshop where Randal's wife Sherrie has a framing business. She makes clever use of the discarded wood from Randal's fencing business, and makes some great rustic frames and other gifts. (Website: http://www.ranshbranddecor.com/

Then all too soon it was time to leave, but I didn't have far to go: just to Austin, to stay with some other friends, C.A. and Michael Duncan and their charming little daughter Ella. As busy as they were, they graciously put me up for the night, and although my visit was way too short, it was good to see them again. I had been sending Ella postcards from around the world, and now that she's four, she's as interested in animals as I am!

Then it was a loooooong drive across the rest of Texas the next day to El Paso, on the far west corner of the huge state. I think it took about 12 hours, and I arrived at night (as usual) in the border city, grabbed the first hotel I could find and zonked out.

Then another long day of driving across Arizona took me right through Tucson, Phoenix, and all the way to L.A., where I stopped again at a Motel 8. Even the cheaper motels all seem to have wireless internet these days, which was nice, so I could keep up with my email and such.

The last day I crossed California the long way, going right up the middle of the state. I had heard that it's mostly flat and boring, and they were right. Anyway I made it to Concord and my apartment before dark, and Bruce Felmly (yes, Kenny's brother!) helped me unload. The little apartment was so full of boxes I could hardly walk through it, but I (finally) had my own bed again, which I gratefully laid down on, and slept for 12 hours. Home at last!

6 Flags Discovery Kingdom No Fun for Animals

2008-11-09T21:44:00.000-08:00

Well, I made it to the San Francisco area a few weeks ago, settling into Concord in a rented room where a nice lady boards me and 3 other guys. I started working right away at the Contra Costa county animal shelter for Dr. Bachman (see Romania blog), and checking out the area on weekends. After reading on a website about the Six Flags Discovery Kingdom in nearby Vallejo, Ca, I had to check it out for myself and see if it was as bad as was claimed. And I brought a couple of cameras with me to document any cruelty I might find. (I spent as little $ as possible getting in: I bought the internet discount ticket, and didn't park in their $15 ripoff parking lot but instead parked across the street. I also didn't spend a penny on anything extra, not even a stick of gum.)
I spent all day roaming around checking out every animal, exhibit, cage and show I could find. If I had gone a year ago I probably wouldn't have noticed much wrong with them. But the last year has been an incredible period of learning: while preparing for my round-the-world trip I spent several months online researching zoos, sanctuaries and animal cruelty in general. Then for 6 months I traveled the world checking out all kinds of animals in as many places as I could (all in this blog).
That, and 14 years as a veterinary technician working in emergency clinics, had taught me to be a bit more observant than the average hot-dog-munching theme-park visitor. I filmed the pink flamingos and their mutilated wings (done to keep them from flying away.) Check out the photo: see how the wing on the left has been amputated? The other birds were all the same.) Worse, their pond was right next to a huge, loud ride booming and hissing every few minutes, causing them all to flap their wings agitatedly. Some life, huh?

I took photos of the shy, nocturnal fennec foxes in their little cage situated right next to a tilt-a-whirl type ride, and the alligators stuck in a small pen within spitting distance of a huge rollercoaster. It was the same with the camels, lions, tigers, cougars, the list goes on. The lions had a pile of rocks to lie on and little else.

The giraffe pen was small, bare, and ugly, but it was right in front of a pretty river which gave it a bigger look and distracted the eye from the actual habitat. It was amost an optical illusion, as you can see in the photo. I asked a staff person in front of the giraffes, "Is this all they get?" She replied that they also get "walked around the park every day" when the cusomers werent' there. Now, I'm no expert on giraffes, but doesn't that sound unlikely to you, that someone "walks" them around the park? I asked her how they went about that, but she "didn't know, as she was only there during open hours". If you worked there, right in front of the tallest animals in the world, wouldn't you kind of wonder how they were walked like pets around your place of employment? Wouldn't you at least ask someone about it? Or even come early to see it once, if you had an iota of human curiosity?

I was lied to twice again. Once by a handler of a bald eagle, whose right wing was hanging down the whole time; I asked her about it and was told, "Oh, he's just tired". Look at the photo: does that look normal to you? Ever seen a "tired" bird hanging one wing (just one, mind you) down like that? And once again by an elephant handler who, when I asked about the bullhook he was holding just to see what he would say, answered, "Oh, they have skin three inches thick. They don't feel a thing." That was news to me, having studied elephants and read many times that their skin was up to one inch thick in certain areas but paper thin around the mouth, ears, and mucous membranes, a fact the handlers know all too well and use their bullhooks there for maximum effect.

The 6 Flags staff seems to take advantage of the general ignorance of most visitors of animal husbandry and behavior, and help perpetuate myths, misbeliefs and outright lies. The way they did it so easily and efforlessly led me to believe they were well practiced in it, and surely are not going against any kind of company policies in doing so. That three employees would risk being fired in one day lying to a single visitor implies that others, perhaps most, do it quite frequently. Lesson: don't believe what they tell you.

They put on little shows, wear goofy costumes and tell lame jokes, and give you brief glimpses of beautiful animals. (One of them looked uncannily like my nephew Eric-- the staff guy, that is!)

I also had to see "Shouka's Celebration" show, and fell in love with the big orca. But she didn't have much to celebrate, having barely enough room to swim around and dive in her pool. It looks big to untrained eyes; however take the water out and put in a large land mammal, and you have a barren, empty, cruelly boring and inadequate little space that angers people with enough sense to see beyond the booming music and silly tricks. The dolphins looked no better off. I videotaped the worst places (and later posted some on YouTube.)
But mostly I just watched the elephants, a mix of African and Asian females in barren, ridiculously small, and ludicrously inadequate pens. The poor elephant patiently giving rides to visitors and their toddlers paced a little circuitous path over and over through what was a nice, green, shaded area. But right next to it, practically unnoticed by anyone, were the remaining elephants, languishing in a barren, boring little dirt pen. The were standing around looking bored and depressed, one leaning to take weight off one obviously painful leg. What looked small was in fact even smaller than it appeared; the area was divided into two smaller pens to separate the Africans from the Asians.
I finished by watching the "Elephant Discovery" or "Encounter" or whatever it was called. It was a short demonstration of some basic skills they had taught Tava, the matriarch of the little clan. She was absolutely beautiful, but when I really looked closely at her, her body language spoke loudly of hopeless resignation to her fate. Her handler kept telling her "Trunk" upon which she would immediately raise her trunk up onto her head, undoubtedly to give her a happy, saluting kind of look. But check out the photo I took (attached) and see an expression undeniably sad. I wondered what kind of brutal training had made her fearful enough to keep raising her trunk so quickly for a puny human.

So that's 6 Flags today: very showy, all loud music, bright colors, fast rides, overpriced junk food and just plain junk for sale, and squeezed down among and between the rides, crowds and theaters, live the animals. Enduring long days of noisy, vibrating machines and screaming riders, these wonderful wild creatures, who should be in quiet forests and deep jungles, getting brief glances from passersby who hurry by to catch the next roller coaster ride, or pause for a moment to point out some animal in a cage to their toddler, thereby reinforcing at an early age the belief that it's okay to keep them captive their entire lives simply for us to stare at for a brief moment, then move on to watch the magician's show around the corner.

Conquering the West

2008-11-01T16:25:00.000-07:00

Driving through New Mexico after leaving Albuquerque, I was on the phone with Ramsay when I almost missed a sign that said something like "See the Wolves! Wolf Sanctuary detour here". That sounded like something right up my alley, so I turned around and took the less-beaten path off interstate U.S. 40 and into unknown territory. It turns out the sanctuary is in the middle of the Zuni indian reservation, a vast, wild and rugged area that was MUCH more interesting than the scenery along the highway.
I would have arrived at Wild Spirit sanctuary past closing time, but for some reason they don't go by daylight savings time there, so I luckily had an hour left to get on the last tour of the day.
It was fascinating. The little headquarters was cozy, the people friendly, and, of course, the stars of the show, the wolves themselves were brilliant. They didn't even have to do anything... just seeing them, being in their presence, was amazing. And when they all started howling, it was enough to give you chills. We were also lucky enough to be there when one extra-tame one was being walked, and got to pet him. To top it all off, we got a private tour into the fox's den by the director, Leyton Cougar, who had some fascinating stories to tell.

I wish I could squeeze more photos of the wolves into this blog; I took some pretty good ones. But you can go to their website and see more at:
http://www.wildspiritwolfsanctuary.org/

After stopping for the night in Flagstaff, I headed north up into Utah to the Best Friends Society's animal sanctuary, where I was to do two days of volunteering to get an idea of what went on there. (I've learned that the best way to get behind the scenes of an organization is to actually work there, so just taking a tour as a visitor wasn't enough).

Into the Heart of America

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

Leaving Memphis and the green Tennessee hills took me away from everything familiar that I'd driven through my whole life. I've traveled around, but never driven from my house to the kind of flat, dry places I was seeing now. While in Tennessee I could still imagine that I was still sort of in the East. But when entering Arkansas, there was no denying it: I was in the boonies. On a map it's almost half-way across the country.
And I have to admit it wasn't as boring as I thought it would be. Besides the excitement of finally fulfilling my dream of a cross-country drive, the landscape was so different from what I was used to it made it kind of exciting. And I was looking forward to stopping in Little Rock, a town I knew absolutely nothing about (which made it interesting) except that the Clintons were from there, and that Marilyn Monroe sang a song about it in a movie.
It turned out to be a pretty nice little city, small enough to zip in & out of, and big enough to have some cool stuff to see. It was a beautiful day, and I was hoping to have time to check out the Clinton Presidential Library, which I'd heard was really something, but didn't know where it was. Finding the way downtown, I stopped on the main drag (I forget the name of it) near the Missouri River, where places like St. Vincent Plaza and the "Flying Fish" restaurant were. The Plaza was a little park on the river, and the "Fish" turned out to be a great casual place to stop by for a plate of clams & fries.
But looking down the street, I spotted the unmistakeable silhouette of the Clinton Library, hanging over the river just a few blocks away. So in I went, paying my entrance fee and soaking up all the pro-Clinton publicity one could hope for in one building. Seriously, it was a pretty good museum of the political events of the '90's, and even had perfect replicas of the Oval Office and the Cabinet Room, as well as one of his presidential limos, with bullet-proof glass windows so thick you could barely see through it. It may well have been the one I saw pass by on Pennsylvania Avenue after his second inauguration. Hillary was waving, barely discernible through that heavy window. After 9/11, I can only imagine George Bush's limo windows must now be able to stop a tank.
I paused to check out some pups for sale on a street corner, then I was on my way to Oklahoma, which arrived surprisingly quickly. I don't know what tapes or radio stations I was listening to in Arkansas, but they must have been good because I barely remember driving through the state. Before I knew it it was dark and I was in Oklahoma city for the night. Finding a Best Western, I settled in for an evening of listening to TV while sending emails.
The next day I went to see the Memorial, officially known as the National Memorial & Museum, build where the Alfred Murrah federal building was bombed in 1995. It's a must-see for anyone even passing through, and I quickly found my way there, in the heart of the city. They did a great job, bulding a park where the building used to be, with ponds, trees, and those iconic chairs, one for each victim, in a grassy field. One special item was the "Survivor Tree", a grand old American elm that actually survived the blast, and still bears the blackened scars of that infamous day.
I also had to stop at the Memorial Fence and read some of the touching messages and see the many gifts, patches, crosses, flags, wreaths and other items attached to it. I had a sudden urge to add to it. Searching my car, I found nothing suitable. Then I remembered that soon I'd have to get new license plates in California, so I quickly unbolted my "H1BR1D" plate and clipped it onto the wall, showing that someone driving from Virginia had stopped by to visit. I also added my luggage tag (Dulles to Zurich) from an old trip. It's nice to know that they'll be added to the museum's collection of thousands of other items left on the fence.
There was much, much more to the memorial, not even including the museum, but space prohibits including it all. And time was pressing, so I headed once again westward, this time making my way across the panhandle of Texas to New Mexico. Now I was not only half way across, but truly in the West. The panhandle is the "chimney" top portion of the state, and looks rather small compared to the rest, so I figured it would pass quickly by. But, unlike Arkansas, it seemed to take a very long time, in spite of that wonderful 75 mph speed limit (which meant I could drive 84!) Forunately I had my new cell phone with me, and remembering some old friends who live in Texas, the Ramsey twins, I spent several hours catching up with them while driving the endless miles. One of them, Ramsay (yes, that's his name), told me to look out for the big balloon festival in Albuquerque that might be coming up soon. I doubted I'd hit the city the same weekend, but appreciated the info.
About the only interesting things I saw in the whole panhandle were lots of colossal windmills, and possibly the best highway rest stop in the country. It was a uniquely wedge-shaped building with gardens, a good information booth, and even a tiny museum-quality display on windmills. Some Texans must complain about the money spent on a place that mostly "out-of-staters" will use, but we travelers certainly appreciated it.
It was dark by the time I arrived in Albuquerque, and I had some trouble finding a hotel, even though I could see them from the highway. Once I exited, there were no signs pointing the way, and I quickly became disoriented in the dark, unknown city. This was an experience I repeated several times, and it seems that the cities might want to help out travelers and give them a bit of direction on where to go to places like that. But I finally found a Motel 8 which even had internet access, so I had my usual leftovers from lunch, checked my email, and hit the sack.
The next morning I had a tough choice: I could push on, or stay a day and see the International Balloon Fiesta, which I found out from the hotel clerk was starting the very next day! It was supposed to be an awesome sight, hundreds of giant hot-air balloons rising in waves at sunrise and again at sunset. I opted to drive to the fairgrounds and maybe decide then. But back and forth driving revealed only rows of RV's and campers on the fairgrounds. I guessed the balloonists wouldn't be arriving until early the next morning. Whatever the case, I found the urge to move on stronger than my desire to see all those balloons, so westward once again I went.

Next: Flagstaff, Best Friends Sanctuary, Salt Lake and Reno.... and wolves. See you there!

Go West, Young Man

2008-10-15T22:38:00.000-07:00

I'm back in San Francisco after driving across the country for the past 10 days. I didn't go overboard and make marathon 12-hour drives; instead I stopped in cities and places I wanted to see, and occasionally made brief side trips to explore a bit.
It all started when I decided to take Dr. Bachman's offer of a job in his shelter/clinic near San Francisco. The Contra Costa animal shelter has two separate clinics in it, one public and one for the shelter animals, so there's lots to do there! But everything I own was in Virginia. I decided not to move everything all at once, which would mean having to tow my car behind a moving van. Instead, having gotten quite used to living out of a suitcase for the past year, I filled my car with the basic necessities I might need for a few months and took off. I didn't even have a place in San Fran to live yet, but knew I could rent a room-- people are always renting out. I can fly back later and get the rest when I decide where to settle down.

So off I went on a bright September morning. Route 81 goes all the way to Knoxville, Tennessee, and I made the drive easily, listening in on the different local radio stations, which included everything from country music to NPR (public radio), which was broadcast in a surprising number of remote places. And that's where I soon was, in remote southern Virginia, which is a world away from the suburbs of Washington D.C. where I grew up.
It was late by the time I reached Knoxville; there was nothing I wanted to see there anyway, having visited it a while back while volunteering for a RAVS (rural area veterinary service) weekend. I found a hotel off the highway and, still bleary with road daze, found my room and collapsed. But I was excited about the days to come.
This was about as far west as I had ever driven. I've always wanted to drive across America; I've even had vivid dreams about leaving and just heading west as far as I could go. It was finally going to become reality. I must admit I was a bit concerned that it would turn out to be a huge disappointment, especially after having just returned from a round-the-world tour. But I needn't have worried.
The next day I made Nashville by noon, and found the downtown historic center, the first place I always look for, having gotten into the habit in the old cities of Europe. I had been told that there wasn't much there. It seemed like a nice enough town, and might have been interesting seeing the main street in the evening when the bars and restaurants were in full swing, but I was more interested in Memphis which was still a half-day's drive away, so after a quick drive around town I opted not to stop for lunch, but instead push on.

Along the way on a whim I got off the highway and took a parallel road just to see a bit of rural Tennessee. I stopped to check on some dogs roaming in the street, but they quickly took off. It was there I noticed a beautiful spaniel in the yard next door, whose owner I had a nice chat with after being unable to resist petting the dog.

I got to Memphis by evening, and quickly got a hotel and, knowing next to nothing about the city, asked the clerk where to go. He gave me directions and I soon found Beale Street, the neon-lit equivalent of the French Quarter of New Orleans. It was touristy, tacky, completely gaudy, and I loved it.... at least for a few hours. The tourist district is ony about 3 blocks, but there's lots crammed into that little area. There was blues music blaring from every bar, beer stands which you could walk away with a drink from, and curio shops selling everything Elvis that the most die-hard fan could hope for. Even the horse-drawn carriages had neon lights.

I never made it to Graceland, but after hearing about it later I probably should have stopped by. Well, I had to make Oklahoma City the next day, so I'll just have to go back there some day.

Next: the midwest

Final Thoughts

2008-09-27T01:11:00.001-07:00

Well, it's over. The long, wandering trek around the world is finally completed.
People have asked me things like, "Was it worth it?" and "Where was your favorite place?"
To answer the first, I'd say absolutely. I wouldn't have missed it for...well, the world. I had a great time. Sure, there were setbacks and hardships at times, things like missed connections, noisy or stuffy hostel rooms, smokey restaurants, sunburns, baffling subway systems, unhelpful officials. But I accepted all that as part of the journey. If all had been easy and comfortable, it woulnd't have been the same. If every hotel room was nice, and every station attendant was smilingly helpful, it would have somehow been less of an adventure. The scary eastern European train stations at night will not soon be forgotten, nor the creepy beggars or the pushy Turkish carpet salesmen. (Hey, I just realized that I never saw a single female store clerk in all of Turkey. I suppose it's that Muslim taboo against women working certain jobs. Shame, I bet they'd sell more rugs if they let the ladies give it a try.)
Anyway, as I was saying, I thoroughly enjoyed the trip. Even all the waiting at the airports, train stations and ferry terminals (I caught up on my reading then) and the riding itself took up time as well. The longest train journey was from Romania to Bicester England, which took a day and a half, not counting the night's stop in a hotel in Cologne. But I had several good books, including my little sudoku book which accompanied me on the entire trip (I still have a few of the difficult ones to finish). The longest flight I had was Singapore to Istanbul, 13 hours. The flights were the easiest of all to pass time on: I just watched movies and the hours flew by. Sometimes I was almost disappointed when we over; there were always more movies than time to watch! The ferry trips were never very long and most ferries are now almost small cruise ships complete with restaurants and bars, video game rooms, shopping areas and sometimes even small movie theaters. I still prefer to pass the time up on deck, feeding the gulls and enjoying the views when not reading in the bright sunshine and col breezes.

So the traveling itself was quite nice, and the destinations were (usually) even better. What place did I like the best? I don't really have a favorite, I must admit. They all had their good and bad points. The Elephant Nature Park in Thailand was full of exciting chances to interact with the gentle giants, fantastic food and loads of wonderful people from across the globe to ejoy. But it was hot, humid, rather primitive and miles from anywhere. Almost exactly the opposite, Vienna, Austria is a stunning city of beauty and grace, yet my visit felt cold and lonely as I met not a single person with whom to really talk to.
Yet I would love to go back to both places. It's pretty much the same with everywhere I went-- some good, some not so good, yet all different and interesting. Well, maybe I saw enough of Bucharest to satisfy me, but most places had far too much to see for one visit. I feel almost like I was on a scouting trip, just stopping by for a quick look-see and then moving on. But I enjoyed it all: every museum, big and small, every grand old cathedral and quiet little church, each food market and cafe and pub, and everyone I met, from the wonderful folks who kindly took me in to their homes to the grumpy ticket agents who refused to speak english even if they knew it. They all added to the trip in their own ways. I thank them all.

Here's a few things I've learned while traveling:
- Remember to drink the water bottle before going through the security line at the airport.
- You can't see everything. Pace yourself; if it's that good, plan on coming back some day.
- Don't walk when you can ride-- you'll need that energy later.
- A quiet hotel room is a precious thing; one with air conditioning as well is a treasure beyond price.
- Don't settle in for the night without something to snack on. Especially on an overnight train. Once I went hungry all day because I figured I'd have plenty of time to lounge in the dining car that night, only to find out there was no dining car!
- ASK QUESTIONS. I cannot stress this enough. I jumped on a train which I thought was going my way. After not seeing my destination posted I asked a passenger just to confirm, and it turned out to be the wrong train. I barely made it out of the train in time.
- Even if you have a first-class ticket, try second-class sometimes. You meet more interesting people.
- If you have time, volunteer. The best times I had on the whole trip were when I was volunteering-- I met the best people, had fun with the animals, and got so many extra benefits I can't even list them all here. Trust me on this. Volunteering will change your position from just another tourist to a member of a special group of friends with local connections. It was the best decision I made!
- Never pass up a bathroom when you get the chance--especially a free one. Or a chance to recharge your laptop.
- PACK LIGHT. Then remove half of it. I thought I had packed light for an 8-month trip. I would have been fine with half as much.
Speaking of packing, some of you may have been wondering just how much I brought with me, and what kind of baggage I lugged around the world. I started out with the blue suitcase pictured (chosen because it has both wheels and backpack straps, which I never used) and the camo knapsack. I crammed them full of as much clothes as would fit, not knowing how cold or hot it might be where I was going. I had two pairs of jeans, two ultralight long pants, two shorts (one doubling as bathing suit) about six t-shirts, two sweatshirts (one regular, one polartec), a jacket that doubled as a raincoat, and a few nice shirts. This plus underwear, hat, umbrella, books, maps, travel documents, still and video cameras, toiletries and assorted knick-knacks that you collect when traveling made for quite a heavy load.
By design they were compatible and I could roll them together or carry them separately up stairs and onto trains, when necessary. But I soon found that I needed something else-- a day pack. When I'd reach a hotel and go out to sightsee, I needed something to carry my guidebook, water bottle, camera(s), wallet, passport, sunglasses and sometimes jacket and umbrella, and the knapsack was too big and full of luggage to empty and repack each time. So in New Zealand I kept my eyes open for an army surplus store, and upon finding one, quickly selected the little green bag that was perfect for my needs. It even held my little Fujitsu laptop which came in handy on trains, when I wanted to get it without digging into the knapsack. It took up hardly any room and could easily be carried along with the rest of the stuff. I also finally found a nifty little travel fan which I bought; I had had enough of hot, stuffy European hotel rooms with no air conditioning-- few of them even had a hotel I coud use. Being metal it was a bit heavy but I slept much better with it, so it was worth it.
I mention all the clothes I brought because I wanted to point out that, in spite of being all I had to last for 6 months, it was really too much! Yes, believe it or not, I had no need of half of it. Two pairs of jeans? So what if they were two different colors? I hardly wore the green ones, and who would have known the difference anyway? I was rarely with the same people more than three days. And even when I stayed longer, they understood that I was traveling and forgave me the style faux pas of being seen in the same pants the same week.
I think the reason why there are so many tourists struggling with so much luggage is mainly because people try to continue the dress codes abroad that they abide by at home with their closets full of garments. They cling to the silly belief that they must not be seen in the same articles twice in the same week. I spent three weeks in France and Spain with just the knapsack, and got along fine. I had a little bottle of laundry soap, and every other night did a bit of scrubbing in the sink, which was dry by morning. Not always perfect, I'll grant, but a lot better than pulling the extra weight around. (Of course, it helped knowing that I wouldn't need cold-weather clothes.)
Anyway, it was a mind-opening trip of a lifetime. I wouldn't travel for that long again; maybe 3 or 4 months at the most. More than that can just be too tiring. It's a lot of work, planning your next city, finding the right train, locating a hotel, walking around a new city. Day after day, week after week, no matter how exotic and interesting the locales, it wears you down. At my age, it's amazing I lasted that long.
I lost 10 pounds as well, which was part of the plan. I avoided rich desserts and gelatos, and kept to my vegetarian diet, not always easy in countries with meat-rich cuisines like Turkey and Hungaria. And I maintained my vegetarian diet, except for that one accidental ordering of Hungarian goulash in Budapest (I didn't realize it had meat in it). It wasn't always easy, like in Istanbul where there were several kebab places on every block; but I also discovered a world of new dishes and flavors that I never would have otherwise. And I'm kind of proud that I made it-- spouting on about animal welfare would sound kind of hollow if I turned around and ate them. It would be rather like a slaveholder claiming to be concerned with civil rights issues. Anyway, it's not hard now, it's just a way of life.
And I took over a thousand photos, so I'll always keep the memories fresh of the wanderjahr of 2008. Thanks for sharing it with me.
~Dave Bernazani September 2008

San Francisco Sunsets

2008-09-17T20:58:00.000-07:00

I was only back in Virginia for two days when I was flying again, this time back out to San Francisco. I had been offered work by Rick, the vet who was in Romania in May doing spay/neuter clinics. I wanted to check out his clinic and some apartments before moving out there. So after a freezing flight on Virgin America which has one blanket and pillow on each flight (I kid you not, there was ONE blanket on the entire airplane), Rick met me with his truck and cool dog "Honey", a sweet mixed mutt he rescued while volunteering in Mexico.
He let me stay at his house in Vallejo, a beautifully-decorated and landscaped place high on a hill with a fantasic view of the bay. You can even just see the tops of the Golden Gate bridge towers when it's clear. l also met his daughter Gail and other little scrapper of a dog Russell. Rick left the next day for a trip to Alaska, and after a quick tour of the house, and a spin around Vallejo, I was alone to pet sit the dogs, 2 cats, and lots of plants to water. That night there was a beautiful sunset, which turned out to happen just about every night there. Man, that house is amazing; it would be worth it just for the sunsets there alone
I met up with old friends Bruce & Loree, who took me up to the nearby Napa wine country where we met another friend Cathy. We had a great lunch at a beautiful winery in Vacaville. Then we stopped by Muir woods and later the beach, where Honey had a great time exploring.

They also had a dinner party where I got to meet some of their friends, including their new puppy "Shiloh", an adorable little black German shepherd they just adopted. And of course old Tosca was there, their venerable little shar-pei/beagle mix that they've had since before even moving out there.

Another day cousin Chuck and I took the ferry out to Alcatraz, my first time there. They have a great audiotour of the whole prison complex-- very enlightening. Outside it was a sunny day and there's a fantastic view of the city from the island. Back in the city I had to get a chowder-in-a-breadbowl, and see the famous sea lions of pier 39, two things that are must-dos in San Fran. Check out this handsome guy preening in front of the camera-- no, not Chuck, I meant the sea lion!
There's still a lot I haven't seen or done there, but I should have lots of time, as I have decided to move out there. I flew back to pack up my stuff, and soon I'll hit the road and drive back out there. I should be just in time for the fall festivals.

The Long (Rail)Road Home

2008-08-31T17:05:00.000-07:00

I finally had the right ticket, and only two days to get across Europe to London. Barring any unforseen holdups I should make it to Brussels in about 24 hours, according to the ticket lady-- yes, the same one who gave me the wrong ticket the day before. Catching the evening train out of Sibiu to Medias, I was there by ten and had an hour to wait at the creepy station. They keep the lights down so low you can't see to read, and shadowy figures pass in and out, making you clutch your bags a little tighter each time. In the dim light of an upstairs strange sort of waiting hall I did a little Sudoku and tried to forget where I was.
Then went out to wait for the train. In Romania at many stations you must walk across the tracks to get to your platform. It's an odd feeling at first, doing something that back home you've been told all your life is wrong. It really drives it in how far from home you are. Anyway, in spite of studying a handy diagram on the platform as to which car mine should be, I immediately got on the wrong one. Everyone was rushing so fast to get on I thought the train was going to pull out any moment, and I didn't want to miss it again. And of course, there were no car numbers visible, nor conductors for that matter, so I squeezed past the many people in the narrow aisles in a vain search for my little temporary quarters. I finally found a conductor stretched out in the dining car who told me the wrong car to go to. By this time I felt like you do in those dreams where everyone else is in class, watching you as you search for yours. The couchette cars all looked horribly crammed with people squeezed together trying to stretch out to sleep, and were hot, dark and stuffy; I prayed my berth wasn't in them. I found what I thought was mine, according to the recumbant conductor, and entered the sweetest little cabin you could hope for: only two beds, clean, crisp sheets, extra little cubbys, and best of all, no one else in it. It looked too good to be true.
As it turns out, it was.
Almost immediately a woman conductor brusquely entered and asked to see my ticket, whereupon she stated that I was in the wrong cabin... and look what I had done to the sheets by setting my bags on the bed! When I apologized and asked the matron where my proper car was, she proudly announced that she was not in charge of that car, only this one, and had no idea where mine was. Now, these trains always have the exact same layout, according to the diagram at the station; you would think that someone who works every night on the same 10-car train would eventually get a basic grasp of where each one was. In any event she at least pointed me in the right direction, whereupon I found my berth in a four-bunk cabin with three of the jolliest Romanian fellows I had yet met. They were on a holiday to see Nurenburg, and one of them eagerly asked me if I spoke German. When I could only say "Ein bisschen" (a little) he shrugged and, in very good English, asked me what I thought of Bush. They handed me a Pilsner beer from their cooler and we launched into a discussion on everything from U.S. politics to the war in Iraq to the price of real estate in Romania.
They seemed to be the happiest people from Bucharest there ever were, and laughed at everything from the way I taught them how to open a beer with another bottle, to each other's jokes, which were mostly in Romanian and as such were beyond me but it was nice to see such happy fellows after so much gloomy, rude service I had gotten recently. The youngest of the three was a patisserie chef and passed around some delicious, nutty-flavored cookies.
After a decent night's sleep with only the usual midnight passport check at the Hungarian border and a lot of clanging and bumping in Budapest about 3am, I woke up approaching Vienna and had to sadly say auf Wiedersehen to my bunkmates. They gave me some more cookies and I hit the ground (literally) running as the train was late and my connecting train was due to leave that very minute.
I should explain that in Europe it's pretty unusual for trains to be late, but it does happen. They generally leave right on time-- to the minute-- but holdups along the way can slow them down, and if your connection is leaving soon you have to huff it or miss it. Along with a bunch of backpackers, I ran to what looked like my train. It was going the right way (to Frankfurt) and leaving at the right time (now). We all climbed on and scurried to find seats. I grabbed the first one I found and plopped contentedly into it, only to hear an announcement (only in German, of course) saying something about "rezervations". I overheard someone explaining in English that you needed reservations on this train. It figures, right? My reservation only went as far as Vienna; for the rest I was on my own with my Eurailpass. But if I went inside the station to wait for a ticket agent I would surely miss this train and have to wait, possibly for hours, for another one. I had had enough of being delayed and decided to risk it. I slunk down in my seat and hoped for the best, as the train pulled out. The more time passed, the more nervous I got, sure I was going to be found out and dropped off at the next lonely little whistle stop. But my fears were groundless; when the conductor came around he simply stamped my railpass and moved on. I breathed a sigh of relief.
A bit later, though, at another stop a lady got on who informed me that I was in her seat. I gladly got up from the second-class seat and went in search of the first-class cabin. At this point I should explain that my Eurailpass was for first class seating, but I often found the people were more interesting and the seating almost identical in second class, and I hadn't wished to be noticed before I was sure I was safe. Now I boldly entered the hushed, sleek first-class section with its wood paneling, cushy seats and free coffee, and slid into a seat where I could even plug in my computer to recharge. It was actually a four-seat compartment with bucket seats and a nice big table. I was sure it wouldn't last long and as soon as my ticket was checked they would say something like, "Dumbkopf! Ziss car iss for Ferst-Klass peoples only! Rouse, you fool! Get out! Schnell!" Ironically, when the first-class conductor came around, he took one look at me reaching for my bag and waved me off, saying, "It's ok, I trust you." Me? With my two-day whiskers, ill-fitting baseball cap and scruffy "Stop Animal Abuse" t-shirt? Hm. Ok, whatever. At least I got to stay. He even handed out candy to us. Sweet.
Perhaps it was because I was typing on my little laptop. I was working on this blog, but it was diffucult with the beautiful Austrian and German countryside rolling by. When you leave Hungary and enter western Europe the villages just look prettier, the farmsteads tidier and (best of all) the apartment blocks-- that very symbol of the communist blight-- are almost nonexistant-- or at least not visible from the train. Any factories are hidden or kept discreetly away from the towns, and the buildings don't have that run-down look you see so often in the east. Not to say Romania and Hungary don't have their charms; Sibiu's Old Town was a delight and some of the other villages and such were very nice. And I never got to the beaches at the Black Sea and other resort-y (a word I just made up) places. But when you cross over the border you just know you're not in Krakow any more.
In first class I met a nice couple from San Diego who explained to me what had been happening between Russia and the Georgian Republic. I had only heard scraps and hints, and of course there was no CNN or BBC in Sibiu. It seems I had missed quite a bit. I wondered what else had happened in the world while I was traveling. It's ironic: I used to be a news junkie, but about the only thing I knew about the U.S. in the past 6 months is that George Carlin and Bernie Mac had died. Even more ironic is that I really didn't miss knowing all those petty details that we clutter our lives with. I saw little blurbs on Yahoo about the latest Olympics scandals and didn't care to read any more. I just wanted to connect with those I knew back home and around the world, and thus spent most of my internet time emailing people.
As the day passed we stopped in Linz, Nurenburg, Wurzburg, Frankfurt. To my surprise we even passed right through pretty Bacharach with its wonderful old buildings nestled along the Rhine, which I immediately recognized from my visit there the previous year on a Rick Steves tour; I must have passed it in the dark and not even noticed on my way to Romania. It didn't even appear on my Rail Map of Europe. I was glad I'd already seen it or I would have been angry to have come so close to such a picturesque town and not been able to stop. I wondered how old Herr Jung who gave us a town tour was doing.
The stretch of towns along the Rhine in the area is one of the prettiest I'd seen in Europe. Then after Bonn we approached Koln (Cologne) where I finally had to stop to change trains for Brussels, only there were no more running that night, so I booked the first one in the morning and stepped outside the station to find a hotel. I looked up and almost gasped at the colossal Koln cathedral towering over the platz. Checking back on my list of "things to see in Europe", the "Dom" was the one must-see of Cologne that I had emphasized. And here it was in my lap, purely by chance. In the fading light it looked solemn and mysterious, brooding over a multitude of people who, almost to a person, wholly ignored it. There is an overpass across a street that requires one to walk up the front steps of the Dom to reach it, and I watched passengers leave the banhof station and do just that, but nobody even so much as gave the magnificent structure a glance. It's amazing how quickly one becomes used to things. I took a quick stroll around the area which, as the usual manner of historic cities, has been turned into a pedestrian shopping mall, with the requisite fashion stores, McDonald's and Starbucks, which serve so well to bring history truly alive. I retired to the hotel lobby where I had a final German beer (Kolsch) and caught up on my email, before going to my room and watching some of the Olympics (for the first time with English narrative).

The next day, I had just time to step inside the cathedral for a peek (truly an awe-inspiring sight) and snap a few photos of the outside, although I wasn't happy with the light. Then, in just about 3 hours, I was in 5 different countries: after passing thru Aachen, Germany the train sliced across a tiny corner of the Netherlands, then into Belgium to catch the Eurostar chunnel train at Brussels which passes over a bit of France before tunneling under the channel to England. It would be difficult to be in 5 states in the U.S. in that time, I think, although I'm sure it's possible somewhere. By the end of the day I was all the way back in Bicester, England at my brother's house, after a nice, quiet train trip to London, a quick Underground ride to Marylebone (even conductors pronounce it differently) station and just in time to catch the commuter train to Bicester.
After a last night's packing I caught the same train back to London to figure out how to get to Heathrow airport. There were several ways to get there and I didn't have a huge amount of extra time, but luckily I happened to take the route that transfers at Paddington, whereupon I spotted signs for a "Heathrow Express" train. Exactly what I wanted! Instead of riding around and fighting crowds in the underground, I eased into a seat on a nice, quiet train going directly there! And as this was my last chance to use the "first class" aspect of my Britrail pass, I made the most of it, stretching out in the large seats, enjoying the fact that I was the sole occupant of the entire car.
Then after the uneventful flight home where I watched a few movies I was back in the U.S.A., after 6 months of almost non-stop travel. Rest was not to be, however, as I left in two days for San Francisco to check out a job and look for a place to live, should I decide to stay.

Next: What I learned from my travels.

Romania Revisited

2008-08-19T11:49:00.000-07:00

I know what you're thinking: "Dave, you had three weeks left to go anywhere in Europe, and you went to Romania?" I know, I know. I could have seen Provence again, or Venice, or gone down to Naples and the Amalfi Coast. (Hey, I could have seen Capri; why didn't I think of that?) But I've spent a lifetime visiting those kind of places, the ones with the marble palaces, the stunning vistas, the pretty seaside villages; this trip was about seeing the real Europe for once, the places not just for tourists. Anyway, I just had to go back and see everyone I had made friends with (human and otherwise). There's something special about Romania, in spite of its faults. It beckoned to me, and I had to answer. (And it could be argued that a certain Romanian girl named Sanda may have had something to do with it as well.)
And what a busy 10 days it was! We started out checking on some small groups of street dogs that she regularly fed; some had been spayed and re-released and she wanted to make sure they were doing ok. They live behind businesses and places where it's fairly safe from cars. At one site some poor people lived in an old, unused industrial building and (I think) helped feed the dogs. One posed for a photo with Sanda; an interesting-looking fellow, indubitably. I'm not sure I agree with his wardrobe tastes, but perhaps he doesn't have much choice there. Anyway he seemed like a nice guy, which is what really matters, right?
On the way back home we visited my favorite Romanian dog, the famous "Baby". She was still at Grandma's house where I stayed in May; she looked great and pranced around like a puppy, but frustratingly, still won't let me or anyone else pet her. I really wanted to make that my final accomplishment before I left. I was also sad to see Baby still living in the same former chicken coop, and only let out by visitors; they don't want her wandering in the common area shared by Grandma's neighbors, and Granny's too old to watch her.
The next day was spent meeting other old acquaintances; we hooked up with Andrea and Otilia, the two lead volunteers of Animal Friends and brought some puppies out to the shelter and vaccinated them. I found another challenge there: to "tame" four 3-month old feral pups brought in recently. I was told they were so fearful they would vomit and defecate if anyone even went into the cage. It turned out one was already pettable the first day, as it had spent some time in a foster home; the rest were skittish and hiding from me, but came out for treats and ate out of my hand. Clearly they had made progress at the shelter already. I spent an hour in their pen letting them get used to me, but by the end still could not touch the others. They were one of my projects, but I only got to visit the shelter two more times. The second day I got another one calmed enough to pet, and day three saw a third puppy giving in to my caresses. I never could get that fourth one to surrender, darn it. But they'll all make wonderful pets for someone; they sure are cute enough, and still young enough to tame fairly easily.
We dropped by Grandma's again for another session of letting Baby out of her coop (and feeding her treats). She seems happy enough with people but it would be difficult to get her adopted by any but the most dedicated of guardians; not many would take a dog home that they couldn't even pet! I'm sure she will warm up to whoever takes her, she just needs a person with patience and a loving home.
That night we all went out for a drink in one of Sibiu's wonderful squares. I love how they're filled with tables for hanging out on the warm summer nights, and judging by the crowds, it seems that the locals would agree.
Day three was spent helping at a puppy adoption fair in a town park, where I met two girls from Finland (photo) who were there to evaluate some of the dogs for possible adoption back home. They work with other Romanian rescue organizations and were meeting the Sibiu folks for the first time (I was told that my blog helped them decide to come here!) The puppy fair was a success not in that very many dogs were adopted, but they got great coverage from the press. I haven't heard details, but Andreea got interviewed on national television, and I was apparently seen walking some of the dogs! I would love to get a tape of the news broadcast; anyway every little bit of coverage helps and hopefully the Animal Friends group got some good publicity out of it.
I won't bore you with an itinerary of every day, but (along with Sanda) I finally got to see some museums in town-- a nice little one on natural history and a pharmacy museum that packs more antique medicinal items into three rooms than I've ever seen in my life. We also spent a day in Sighishoara (kinda rhymes with stegosaurus), another historic Transylvania town full of towers, cathedrals and colorful cobbled lanes. While there we noticed posters for the "Circo" and I just had to check it out; it turned out to be about like the Circus Roma in Spain, with one lonely elephant hanging out in the hot sun (while we visited, anyway) and a motley assortment of monkeys, parrots, a tiger, even a crocodile and a giant tortoise; some of the animals were obviously just used as a kind of traveling menagerie. At least they had a bit more room in their cages than at Circus Roma, but it still seemed a pretty pathetic exhibition. We talked with the owner's wife who invited us into her little trailer while her kids played in the dirt outside. It's a pity that these kind of people can't find a better profession. Anyway we made a point of tearing as many posters as we could, sometimes having to watch out for policemen. It was our own little form of protest.

An odd coincidence occured the last few days: while leaving Grandma's one evening we heard a kitten crying in a tree. I climbed up to get her and she turned out to be a sweet, purring bundle of joy. We took her home until we could get her to the shelter. And on my last day there, at almost the exact same spot, I spotted a cute little month-old puppy that had also apparently been abandoned. He was certainly not feral as he came right to me and happily fell asleep in my arms. We checked the neighbors but no one seemed to recognize him, so we brought him to the second puppy fair the volunteers were holding, and as fate would have it, a nice young couple saw him and it was love at first sight! After holding him for a few minutes they declared they would take him home. (The volunteers assured me they would do a home check and make sure he was ok.) It was probably the fasted adoption on record in Sibiu.
But it was certainly strange that two well-fed, socialized animals suddenly appeared on the same street with apparently no owners around; Sanda was sure they were both dumped there, so it would seem it was a popular site for that. Since there is no public animal shelter except what the volunteers built themselves (and is now full), I suppose people believe they have no other choice, and apparently can't be bothered with trying to find homes for them themselves. I wonder how many children are heartbroken in town because Daddy or Mommy decided "that animal has to go". The kitten, that I named "Putsina" for "Little One", is at the shelter and hopefully will find a home one day. We certainly fell in love with her the two days she was at Sanda's place, but unfortunately neither of us could keep her.

So after many goodbyes at the puppy fair, I had to leave for the long train trip back to London and Bicester.
Final note: I was never supposed to be around to find that puppy; I was actually on a train leaving town the night before when I noticed my ticket was dated incorrectly and it was too late night to fix it that night. I had to return and leave again the next night. So maybe things happen for a reason. I guess that pup will never know, but fate sure worked out well for him.
P.S. Oh, and I never really got to pet Baby; the only thing I could do was lightly brush her cheek as she took food from my hand (see video soon). The darn girl was still just too skittish, but hopefully Sanda and the rest will be able to work with her and get her placed. I'd love to come back next year and visit her in some happy home. Well, at least I got a bit of video of her to remember her by.

Next: the final journey home.

Roaming Back to Romania

2008-08-09T11:46:00.000-07:00

After getting back to Bicester, England and being able to relax for a couple of days at my brother's house (1st photo), I had a chance to plan the rest of my summer. I was originally going to go up to Scotland, circle back around Ireland, then journey up to Scandinavia to see Stockholm and the rest of the capitals, I suddenly felt overwhelmed and realized I was getting too tired to continue at this pace for 2 more months. Plus my Eurail pass was only good for another 3 weeks and if I wanted to see any more of mainland Europe I'd better do it now instead of going around the U.K. On top of that, the ever-shrinking funds were declining a bit faster than planned due to unexpected costs. For example, it turns out a Eurail pass does not mean you can jump on just ANY train; all the decently fast ones (TGV, etc.) and the overnight trains all required an additional fee-- some pretty hefty. I had tried to stick with the cheap day trains but sometimes, like in Spain, it wasn't possible, or would have taken up to three times as long to get anywhere.

I had always planned to go back to Sibiu, Romania once more before I left, and see once more the friends I had made there (and of course see how Baby was doing!). It was now or never. (Upon reflection it might have been just as cheap-- and a heckuva lot faster-- just to book one of those local European arline flights there, but I had paid a lot for those Eurail passes and I was going to use them, darn it!)

So after a nice afternoon tea with sister-in-law Peggy at a local manor house (2nd pic), I booked my flight home to the USA for August 20, and the next morning I left to start the long journey back to Sibiu. I opted to ferry across the English channel again as it totaled only ten pounds whereas taking the chunnel would cost me about fifty. Upon reaching the ferry station in France, I and the other pedestrians de-boarded. Most people bring their cars across, it turns out, but a small band of us travelers were hoofing it. When we got off the bus from the ferry to the ferry station, we found that we had to wait for another bus to take us to the train station. I had to use the bathroom, and when I got out, I saw the bus pulling out with everyone else on it! I could either wait an hour for the next one or walk 1/2 hour to the station, and get to see some of Calaise along the way, as I wanted to do anyway. I did what Bill Bryson would have done and walked. The part of Calaise I walked through wasn't worth photographing, but there were some nice clocktowers and steeples peeking out from behind the rather bland rowhouses. Too bad there was not time to explore.
I had no reservations, but got the next train as far as Lille, which, according to the lady at the station, was as far as I could go that day... to go further "was impossible", she said. When getting to Lille around 8pm, it seemed like a nice enough place. I scanned the destinations for all the departing trains from there and didn't recognize a single one. They all sounded French, and if I got on the wrong one I might end up who knows where. I decided to see if a hotel room was available; if it was, I would stay. Right across the street, surrounded by cafe tables, was the little hotel with the grandiose name "Hotel Continental". The had a decent room for a reasonable price, and best of all, internet, so I took it and set out to explore a bit of Lille's old town in the fading twilight. It actually is a VERY nice town, full of beautiful old buildings, cobblestone-lined streets and cozy cafes and bistros. As usual, there were the local losers who asked me for money; I think I was asked about 6 or 7 times that night. Now, you've seen my photos on this blog: do I look rich? Or just stupid? Wait-- don't answer that. Anyway I got pretty good at giving the brush-off.
There were also the usual "punks with pups", creepy-looking cretins begging for money who always seem to have puppies or kittens with them, getting money from suckers who feel sorry for the animals. I tried asking some where they got them from, but (of course) their english only went as far as "spare euros?". I photographed some, including this long-haired dude.... I'll say one thing: they certainly are the most interesting-looking of all the people there, even if they are a bit weird.
But think about it: if you're reduced to begging on the streets, is a dog or cat really something you should be taking care of? Aside from the food issue, can you really provide a good home and life for the pet? I tried to lecture these guys about their kittens, but they seemed to be in their own world; long-hair seemed proud of his kitten and tried to show me little video clips on his cell phone (yes, cell phone--the nice kind that I don't even have!). The other one just smiled and said that he was from Croatia. I knew I wouldn't get through, but I just thought I'd try.

Anyway I left shortly after to catch a series of trains to Brussels, Frankfurt, then the overnight to Wien (Vienna), then Budapest. At each stop there's always a wait for the next train; sometimes it's just time enough to step outside the station and sniff the air, like in Frankfurt, and look around and say, "So, this is Frankfurt. Huh. Pretty modern-looking," or some such profound quote. Often there's a couple of hours to kill, like in Budapest, where I caught up on things to do at the station (exchanged cash, reserved the next leg, sent a few fast emails) then went out in search of some doggy treats for the ones in Romania. In that country there were no biscuits, no dog houses or beds, no doggie toys or anything except the basic kibble and canned food. So I wanted to bring a dog bed back to Baby and some chew treats for the rest, which I quickly found with the help of some friendly natives of Budapest. I discovered the Arena Plaza Center, a gigantic mall (complete with IMAX theater) comparable to anything in the West. So the rest of the trip to Sibiu I carried a ridiculous-looking pink doggy bed that stuck out of a too-small bag, along with a sackful of biscuits and rawhide treats enough for a hundred eager mouths.
Then I hung out on a series of night trains for the journey into Romania, meeting a motley assortment of colorful characters along the way, like the gay New Zealander who talked with everybody a little too much, or the Romanian taxi driver hanging around the dreary train station at Arad at midnight who was also craving someone to talk to. I almost brushed him aside when he first asked me where I was from, as he seemed like the typical local "wants-something" guy, but he turned out to be a very interesting hour of chatting about Bush, Scandinavia, and the crazy president of Romania. Hey, at midnight in a decrepit train station you take what you can get. I even found a street dog hanging around, being ignored by the locals sitting at a grungy "cafe". I petted it in front of them, no doubt earning their disgust.

Finally, exhausted at 6am, I was met at the Sibiu station by Sanda who had generously invited me to stay at her place while there. She took me home where I collapsed for a 12-hour sleep!

Next: final Romanian adventure.

What I did in Madrid

2008-08-05T05:21:00.001-07:00

The short and sweet: Madrid, capital of Spain, is pretty nice. True it's a big city, but it's got a huge old section with at least six cafes or restaurants on evey block and four more in every square. The biggest plazas, like Plaza del Sol and Plaza Real (Royal), have many more and shops galore, and are must-sees. I love the "Tio Pepe" sign at del Sol, it's like the neon cowboy of Vegas.

Of course I had to visit the Prado, touted as "One of the great art museums of the world". The local fliers claimed it was "possibly the best in the world." That's debatable, especially as the vast majority of paintings there are Spanish, and the Louvre is probably twice its size, but it was still a nice afternoon well-spent. It was pretty cool to finally see the originals of some art I had long admired, such as Bosch's fantastical "Garden of Earthly Delights", that masterpiece that was centuries ahead of its time. I never realized it was created in the 1500's; it looks so amazingly modern. It was done back when most other artists were still painting the same, tired old Madonna and Child scenes they'd been doing since medieval times. Even portraits of nobles hadn't yet really come into fashion. We're talking truly radical thinking here. There were some others too, and I'm pretty sure I saw every single one that day, which is more than I could ever accomplish at the Louvre.

Another highlight I didn't want to miss was the San Miguel Market, but it was closed for renovations. No problem, it was right around the corner from the Plaza Mayor, an elegant square that once held auto-de-feys of the Inquisition and even bullfights. Today it's a bit more civilized, with street performers and (mostly) charming little shops and restaurants beneath the arcaded perimeter. (Unfortuntately the huge Rastro flea market which I had read about is held only on sundays-- I wasn't there for that).

I spent one evening conversing at a cafe with an American couple from Philly, I think it was. The mddle-aged man didn't even know the Spanish word for beer (cerveza) and was having trouble ordering. Same with his dingy wife who kept asking for water, and hadn't bothered to learn that it's called agua here (and lots of other places, like the other half of her continent-- ever heard of South America, lady?). It annoys me when tourists don't take a little time to learn a few basic words of the local lingo; I make a point of learning hello, please, thank you, yes and no, and goodbye at the very minimum. If you can't even say bon jour when you walk into a shop in Paris you're immediately seen as a clod and a bumpkin (and the prices will immediately rise accordingly). Anyway I helped them out for which they and the perplexed waiter were grateful, and we had a nice discussion about Spain. When you travel alone you tend to remember the few conversations you have in English.

I also spent an afternoon walking the huge Retiro Park with its beautiful ponds hosting ducks, geese and other birds, one lake fronting the all-glass crystal palace (disappointingly empty inside), and the nearby botanical gardens, an impressive collection of trees and plants from all over the world. On the way back I found something quite a bit less appealing: in a local pet shop there were cages overflowing with mice who were all desperately clinging to the inadequate air holes, obviously because the overcrowding was makind the air stale and foul, and probably hot as well. I waited a while to speak to the store clerk about it (not that I expected anything to be done, but just to let him know people notice such things), but here was a line that seemed to be going nowhere while he yakked on the phone. I left frustrated and angry. As usual, even if I was to complain to the authorities I had no idea who, and was certain in Spain nothing would be done anyway. And I was also due to leave in an hour anyway. Just one more example of animal neglect (bordering on abuse, really) ignored by the very people who were supposed to be taking care of them.

The rest of the time was spent wandering the old streets, perusing shops and stopping occasionally at a cafe. By the way, I don't really party much at all while traveling; I'm less like those young Globetrekker people who look for the discos that have bubble-dancing and more like the Savvy Traveler, that greying guy who at the end of a day of sightseeing, relaxes at a table with a glass of wine. That's more my speed. Only it's more often beer, or just hot chocolate. I searched for that ultra-thick cocoa that Samantha Brown touted on one of her shows--where she rested a spoon on top of it-- and found some fairly thick stuff (along with delicious churros to dip in it) but it was never quite like what was shown on tv. Maybe I didn't order it right; next time I'll be sure to research it better before I go.

Next: Back to England and then-- who knows?

Barcelona and Mazzaron, Spain

2008-07-28T15:25:00.000-07:00

Hola! Well, it took me 48 years, but I finally made it to Spain. It's pretty much as I pictured it: dry, hot (it is late July, after all), bright sunlight, lots of cafes serving wine and cerveza, menus I can't read much of (except tapas and con carne), people speaking Spanish who actually aren't from Latin- or South America. Also a relaxed, slow attitude that positively envelops you as soon as you get here. Everything closes and everybody disappears between 2 and 5pm for the afternoon siesta, and it's a great idea as that's when it's hottest. In the evening the towns wake up and everyone comes out into the streets.
It was pretty cool riding the train here from France along the coast, skirting the mountains that have long separated the two countries and stopping at a couple of little harbor towns along the way to change trains. One pharmacie sported the odd sign touting "Doctor Bobo"... not sure I would want to get my prescriptions filled there.

You can almost feel the temperature rise as you enter Spain, and it seems sunnier. Being on the coast there was at least usually a breeze, and no humidity, so the heat wasn't bad. In fact it was pretty nice after rainy England.
I always pictured Barcelona as somehow more Spanish, more mediterranean, than the big, bustling city it really is. It has some nice sights here and there, Gaudi's Sagrada Familia cathedral most notably, but it doesn't have that sense of history, of distinct culture that cities like Rome and Paris have. There are too many modern buildings, condos, offices and hotels surrounding the tiny Barri Gotic (old quarter) to give it much flavor, and the shops hawking tourist trinkets and fast food in the middle of it don't help. Even the Familia was surrounded by scaffolding and cranes, and I heard that the inside was also under construction so I didn't pay the high price to go in. I saw some of his other buildings; very unique, but he's a bit too eccentric for me.
The city has a modern harbor complete with ugly modern shopping mall and IMAX on a pier, a huge shopping street (los Ramblas) that seems to go on forever, where you can ramble down and find just about anything, including skinned goat's heads on ice, complete with eyes still staring. (I took a photo but I'll be nice and omit it). I even found a great organic vegetarian food stall in the open market and had to beg the guy to stop loading my dish with food, he gave so much. I noticed only young Americans and Brits were in line; everyone else was eating tapas and kebabs and the like. Hopefully the enlightened youth visiting will begin to spread a new "tradition" of vegetarianism to the area.

As usual for southern Europe there were lots of stray cats, and as usual, I walked too much instead of paying for a sightseeing bus; but I did make good use of the fantastic metro system. The trains were even air-conditioned, thank Neptune. A two-day pass gave me unlimited rides and I made use of it! The second day I visited even more sections of town including the Olympic stadium area. There is an interesting-looking tower that caught my eye; it looks like something from a Star Wars movie. I was too late to get into the zoo, but perhaps it was for the best as I don't see how they could cram so many different species (according to their brochure) into such a small area; I probably would have gotten kicked out for complaining.
I walked 11-12 hours each day (stopping occasionally to eat or rest) so by the third day I just had to rest. My hotel was next to a pretty nice shopping mall with a 16-theater multiplex, with plenty of the latest American movies that I wanted to see, but every single one was dubbed into Spanish, so I wouldn't have understood what they were saying. The same with television, except for CNN and BBC news. At least I'm up on current events! But I think when I get home I'll have to movie-hop for about 3 days to catch up.

Rested up, I took the train down the coast (Costa Dorada) past Valencia and by smaller and smaller towns until I was the only gringo on the train and wondering where I was going. I was met at the tiny train station in Tatona by Gail and Andrew Hurrell, a wonderful couple from the U.K. who now live down there, along with lot of other British ex-patriates. They have been volunteering for the Noah's Arc animal rescue full-time, and I had contacted them by email and offered to help if I could. They generously invited me to stay in their house, which I gladly accepted, having spent far too much on my Barcelona Ibis hotel.
They don't have an actual sanctuary, but keep the dogs they rescue either at theirs or other volunteer's houses, or pay to keep them in kennels. Another volunteer, the busy Andrea, drives the groups's van and answers the many calls they get, and still had time to show me around. We made a couple of home checks which was fun because it meant we got to chat with really nice people who've adopted dogs from them, including one cool dog who needed sunglasses for the bright Spanish sun. We also had a nice evening out at the pretty harbor in Port Mazzaron.
All these volunteers are incredible, because they work long hours not for money but simply to better the lives of what local dogs (and two burros) they can save. They mostly take in greyhounds (galgos) which are used by the Spanish hunters to run down rabbits and such; for some reason many of them are abandoned, shot or worse, usually after hunting season. Some Spaniards, just to save a bullet, will cruelly hang them rather than pay for their upkeep until the next season. Such abuse is beyond my understanding.
Anyway I was finally a bit useful when one of the Hurrell's foster greyhounds took a tumble and cut his leg pretty badly. We bandaged it and took him to the same vet's clinic where I worked and the Argentine doctor on duty there did a good job of patching the poor thing up. He's fine now but has to wear his 'collar of shame' for a bit; oddly enough, he seems to actually like it, and milks the whole "wounded dog" thing for all the extra attention he can get! Gail and Andrew lavish as much love on their foster dogs Oscar and Lucy as they do their own greyhounds; and in a few weeks they are due to be adopted by people in Holland. They can also be sent to America; if you think you might be interested or are just curious, check out their website at http://www.noahsarcmurcia.com/
We also stopped by a little circus during the day to video their animals in their shabby conditions [see below]. Even the Noah's Arc folks, used to seeing cruelty, were saddened by the dreary little cages the big cats and baboon were in; as for the sole elephant, he looked miserable, and Gail couldn't bear to look at them any more. I can only hope videos like the ones I took will help spread the word how badly circus animals are treated behind the scenes.
All too soon it was time to leave, and after saying a sad farewell to the Hurrells and their doggie family, I hopped the train for Madrid, which comes next. See you then!

[*4/12/09- note: the baboon on the video below was later rescued by a Spanish animal rights organization. It turns out his name is Moses, and he's doing great in a sanctuary where he is finally cared for and loved for probably the first time in his life!]

Lyon and Montpellier

2008-07-21T03:42:00.001-07:00

Bonjour! *Note: this will NOT be a minute-by-minute accounting of my actions this time. I have a feeling I'm getting boring with those kinds of postings (due to a glaring lack of comments). Instead I'll just relate a few interesting experiences I had in these two French cities.

After visiting Rennes I actually wanted to go to Spain, but it turns out this can be rather difficult sometimes. It seems the whole of Europe is leaving on vacation this week (some bringing their dogs like this cute thing that slept most of the way), and all of them want to spend it in sunny Hispanola. I waited in long lines and probably taxed the patience of many a rail clerk poring over train schedules and maps for me... "Ok, what about Beziers? Can you get me to Beziers tomorrow?" Sometimes it really IS true; you can't get there from here. You have to go somewhere else.

So my first stop was Lyon (pronounced "Lee-ON" with that French nasal twang), which I read (while standing in one of those lines) was a great place to visit, full of history and old cobbled streets and cathedrals and such. I had to check it out, and it was on the way south.

After Rennes, Lyon was a nice change. It just seemed sunnier, warmer and brighter there... possibly because it wasn't raining like in Rennes? Lyon really is a smaller and friendlier "Paris of the South", like the guidebooks say. There was an almost modern basilica (only a hundred years old) that was a joy to explore; so much so that I spent the 5 euros (about $7) for a guided tour of the upper rooms and views from up high... I'm usually too tight-fisted for such wild extravagances, but this time I made an exception. I think it was worth it just for the photos. The guide was pretty cute too, and brought us all the way to the rooftops, helpfully translating what she said for me, the only American in the group. In fact I've seen hardly any Americans anywhere in France so far, except a few older folks lugging those gigantic suitcases through the train stations. Honestly, all they really need here are some shorts and t-shirts... how much clothes can they possibly wear?

Anyway, I had a good time in Lyon; I bought some great cheeses after making a poor merchant let me try eight or ten different ones, and have been trying to resist the Irish pubs and taste the local wines instead (all good). I was actually approached by some friendly young guys who were interested to talk about their country ("Go to Beziers! You'll like it there.") It's unusual to find such open friendliness in northern France; down south there seems to be a more relaxed attitude-- kinda like in America.

And I got some great photos: I think in places like Lyon, as in Tuscany or Venice, you could set the 1-second delay on your camera, throw it up into the air, and almost always get a Pulitzer prizewinning shot.

Montpellier was almost as good. It's a much smaller city (town, really), so it doesn't have all the fancy museums and monuments and such that Paris and Lyon have, but I hardly go to them anyway, so it's ok. It did have a large, totally car-free historic district, which I love. It didn't have the almost obligatory huge ferris wheel that are all the rage these days in almost every big European city. It had all the usual cafes, shops and restaurants all over the old town, making strolling or sitting a joy. I only spent one night there, but it was plenty of time to see what I wanted. It also actually has an Arc d' Triomph to (almost) rival the one in Paris.

The only bad experience was when I approached a young, scruffy-looking couple of backpackers carrying some young, scruffy-looking dogs. I was curious as to why the dogs weren't walking (they certainly looked old enough) and if they were ok. When they stopped to rearrange the pups, I asked if they spoke english and the girl sullenly shook her head. Then I pointed to the puppy she was holding and asked, "Dog ok?" She nodded. Wondering if I couldn't help, I started to say, "I'm a veterinary--..." when the guy, picking up his pup by the scruff, yelled around his cigarette, "I don't speak english, so f*** off!" At that they walked off, and at first all I could mutter was "it sounds like you speak some english". Then suddenly angry I called after him, "What about as****e? Do you know what that means?" They ingored me and kept walking. Unfortunately the picture I took of them came out dark, like the stray kitten pic as well.

I have a theory about them: I'd bet you euros to navy beans that they sit all day in public places with those dogs, begging for money, then take them "home" to some godforsaken place where they tie the pups up and drink and smoke away the day's earnings. I've seen people like that all over Europe with dogs (sometimes young puppies), using them to gain sympathy. I never give them a ha'-penny. It's no life for dogs to be kept on the streets just so bums can beg for beer money.

There were also some ponies used for rides, tied fully saddled to a rail for who knows how many endless hours, probably bored out of their minds and unable to even lower their heads due to their short leads. (see photo) But hey, as long as people can have them conveniently ready to give their kids rides, that's what's most important, right?
It's also not much of a life for stray cats, which I'm seeing more of the further south I go (and the closer I get to Spain). I wonder what I'll find there. At least there's no more bullfights in Barcelona, where I go next, thanks to the good Spanish activists who managed to get them banned from the city two years ago. I wouldn't want to end up in a Spanish jail.

Next: Barcelona

Paris & Rennes: the French connection

2008-07-17T15:26:00.001-07:00

"Ok, so there I was in Paris, France, see..." Why do people always have to mention that Paris is in France? How many times do people tell stories of going to Paris, Montana, or wherever another town is with the same name? It's like those action movies that pan back to show the Eiffel Tower and the city, and then the words appear on the screen: "17:00 hours: Paris, France". Gee, really? That big tower isn't in other cities as well?
Anyway, I WAS in Paris, and although I didn't go into any of the great galleries or museums this time, I had fun just wandering around. My hotel was just a block off the Champs de Mars, the grassy "Mall" in front of the Eiffel, so my first afternoon I went there and walked down to the tower. The lines were incredible, so I opted not to go up (been there, done that). I kept going across the river and got some great photos of it with the sun behind me. From there it's a rather long walk to the Louvre, but walk it I did, savoring the fact that I didn't have any itinerary to rush through this time and could just enjoy Paris like Parisians do. This was my fourth visit to this beautiful city and darn it, I was finally going to relax here!
The only place I really wanted to go inside was the Grand Palace, a huge edifice that looks like a giant greenhouse/old-time museum. i discovered that it was closed, but wasn't able to tell why as all the signs in front were, rudely enough, in French. You'd think they would have had the grace to know I was coming and put out something in English. Seriously, it's the same almost all over the world; countries seem fiercely determined to perpetuate their own languages, thus they refuse to use any others in notifying the traveling public (except the barest minimum) about basic information they might need to know. The U.S. is not much better at this, I rush to admit. But you'd think these small countries like, say, Hungary or France, where everyone who visits communicates in English (including all of Asia, India, Africa and, well, the rest of the world), would think that it might make it easier for visitors to get around instead of having to bother tired information clerks with the same questions over and over. Hello? Is it sinking in yet? Perhaps by my next visit.

Also, I didn't even think about it, but my full day there, by lucky coincidence, just happened to be July 14. Ring a bell? Yes, it was Bastille Day, the French version of Independence Day. There was a big military exhibition in front of the old Ecole Militaire (Army College), and the fireworks that night on the Mall were glorious, timed as they were to thundering classical music. I have a little video of some of it posted on YouTube if you're interested.
I 'also saw all the usual sights: the Louvre pyramids were as grand as ever, the Arc d'Triomph as imposing (and the traffic around it as frantic), the cafes just as pleasant and the shopping more materialistic than ever. Seriously, how many shoes are bought to pay the rents on all those expensive shoe stores on the Champs Elysees? Don't people have enough yet? Just looking at them all made my feet tired, and I was wearing my (only) pair of comfortable tennis shoes!
Speaking of dogs it's good to be in another country where the animals are taken care of and you don't see any street dogs; although there are some rather decrepit-looking people who do have them. I've seen some guys who hang around the steps of a square and always have several dogs sleeping with them. Poor things, one had a bandage on its face that was doing a poor job of covering an open wound. I asked them about it and they seemed to be managing it; the wound looked clean and the tissue healthy, so I let it go. It was hard to communicate with them but they were friendly enough and I think the dog had seen a vet already. If it had been neglect I would have reported it or something. Maybe done some kung-fu on the guys.
The last thing I did before boarding the train to leave was go up not the Eiffel Tower, but the Parnassus building, a skyscraper with a great view of the city, including the Eiffel. (pictured)
Next I wanted to see Mont St. Michel, that cool-looking cathedral on an island off of western France that I'm sure you've all seen pictures of, if not the actual thing. So I went to Rennes, a nice town west of Paris in the Bretagne (Brittany) area that isn't too far from St. Michel's. Most of the hotels were full but a nice receptionist called and found me a place; it wasn't the finest place on Earth but had a quiet room, which is always a gem beyond price. And the view from my window of a ramshackle assortment of buildings was, ah, interesting. (pictured) Even more interesting, people actually lived there; at night I could look across into their kitchens and smell the cooking.

The old section of town turned out to be prettier than I expected, with lots of cobblestone streets and half-timbered houses, creperies and the obligatory cafes. There was probably a museum or two somewhere in there as well, but I spent my time mostly wandering and investigating which cafe made the best hot chocolate.
I planned to find a way to St. Michel the next day, but couldn't sleep til past 3 a.m (probably due to having a late hot chocolate, which I always forget has caffeine too), and ironically enough was short on sleep from the noise in Paris, so I slept til noon and never made it to the abbey. But when a door closes a window opens somewhere else, and I discovered that Rennes was having some kind of festival-- I never found out what, even the locals I asked weren't sure-- with bizarre giant figures paraded around the streets. It reminded me of the Dinotopia books; there were even people wearing funny costumes handling the giant, dinosaur-like figures. I also tried some of the pub cider that's a local speciality in Brittany, and managed to not ony try some local wine, but found a couple of Irish pubs as well!
I tried to get an overnight train the second day to Spain, to meet some folks who run animal sanctuaries down there, but they were all booked for at least several days so I wound up staying two nights. The next day I lazily wandered back to the gare (train station), had a breakfast crepe outside in the square, and got the noon train for Lyon. It looks like Spain will have to wait.
Well, there's always more research to do on hot chocolate.

Next: Lyon and beyond

England - Part 1

2008-07-15T16:13:00.000-07:00

Hey, sorry for the delay; it's been an eventful couple of weeks. I had decided to take a break from traveling and rest at my brother's who is living temporarily in Bicester, England, a nice little town near Oxford. My overnight train from Munich was extra nice, as I paid a bit more for first class-- I got my own sleeper cabin complete with tiny shower and bathroom. I didn't expect it, but I even got room service! A little bottle of wine while looking out at the moonlit landscape of Germany pass by is pretty cool.
Early the next morning I arrived in Paris only to find out I couldn't get on the Eurostar chunnel train to London using my railpass until the next week (all the railpass seats were booked). After a brief time puzzling over what to do (Fly? Stay in Paris? Go somewhere else?), I remembered that there was a regular train to Calais and ferry service to Dover. I'd always wanted to see those white cliffs, so I hopped the next train and before long I was on a huge ferry boat plying the windy waters of the English Channel. It was actually quite a nice trip; I got to relax and have a Guinness (much overpriced) while throwing crumbs to seagulls. And the cliffs were just like I had imagined.
At Dover I caught the next train to London, then took the Underground to Marylbone station where the Bicester trains are. By the time I got to Bicester I was pretty tired of traveling. Worse, my "weather luck" finally ran out; it was raining, and I had no way to reach my brother. But I had the address so I managed to find a taxi at the little station which took me to the house. They were all out for dinner (by now it was getting dark) so I decided to walk to the local pub in case they were there. I had only a hazy memory of the paths behind the house to the pub from my previous visit, but managed to find it with the help of some locals. They weren't there, but entering any warm pub on a cold rainy night is always a pleasure, and I had my first real English cask ale of the trip there and thoroughly enjoyed it.
Back at the house I found that they had just missed me (of course!) but it was good to see Joe's and visiting sister Mary's families, and some other friends from America, who unfortunately were leaving early the next morning. I was sorry to have gotten there so late; it would have been a jolly night out.
i spent the next few days resting, catching up on email and such, and taking little short trips to local Oxford and Stratford-upon-Avon with the others. Both towns are as pretty as I remembered from my 1984 trip, but more touristed than ever-- although not altogether a bad thing when some pretty local girls dress in costume and let you photograph them.
I was anxious to go visit another old friend, Mike Taylor in Telford, Shropshire, who I met in the '80's when he worked in the U.S. at the same gymnastics club. We had lost touch over the years only to reconnect in '03. He's a musician who composes and produces songs for his band, and I had the idea of making a little song about animal welfare and putting it on YouTube. So I caught the train up there from Oxford and soon was in his living room talking about old times and petting his two cats. He took me to Iron Bridge Gorge, a pretty little village alongside a ravine crossed over by the oldest cast-iron bridge in the world. It made a nice picture but it was cloudy so I wanted to wait and come back on a sunny day to take photos, but alas, we never made it back.
We did however get the song and video done, and I got to watch Mike's band, Nikki Corfield and the Pocket Rocket Band perform at a wine bar. They are now also on the radio and getting good ratings both in the U.K. and in America. Right before I left Mike even heard from a guy from a big U.S. record company who was interested, so things are looking good for them. I expect any time now to hear that they've got a number one hit. Wouldn't that be great?
After probably wearing out my welcome at his and his sister Sue's house where I stayed, I returned to Joe's in time to see Mary and her family off. Then I went down to London with 24-year old nephew Tony to do a whirlwind 2-day tour. In spite of an unfortunate rain that lasted ALL the first day, I think we rode on every train in the Underground and saw as many things in 36 hours as was possible. Let's see... after popping into pretty little St.-Martin-in-the-Fields, we went to the National Gallery off Trafalgar Square, home of two more of DaVinci's portraits as well as loads of other masterworks. I was kinda proud of my nephew for insisting that we go there; usually guys his age just want to go to a pub. We also hit St. Paul's and the Guildhall, a much-overlooked grand old hall I've been meaning to see for years; the little art museum it contains is quite impressive....I loved some of the views of early London and the Thames. It also has a tiny but briliant clock museum. We next spent a couple of hours in the National Science Museum, but came nowhere near seeing everything-- especially as they closed shortly after we arrived. We'll just have to come back.
The next day we visited Westminster Abbey, which now comes with a tour headset narrated by the appropriately deep voice of Jeremy Irons. It's a very special place and I hadn't been there in quite a while-- after all, the admission was something like $30. But seeing the actual tombs of such people as Queen Elizabeth--yes, the First!--, Sir Isaac Newton, Mary Queen of Scots, etc., is just amazing. Too bad you can only take photos in the cloisters.
I saved the best for last: I took Tony to the South Bank to sit outside of the ancient Anchor Inn, a historic pub next to the Thames that makes a great happy hour hangout for Londoners and tourists alike. All too soon we scuttled underground to the train and home.
I finished the England trip luxuriously basking in the act of doing basically nothing (except watching movies and petting the neighbor's cat that kept coming over to visit): something I'd felt too guilty to do whilst renting hotel rooms in foreign cities with only a day or so to see everything. Finally rested and rejuvinated, I left for Paris. But that blog will have to wait until next time.

Next: Bastille Day in Paris

Munich (minus the Hofbrauhaus)

2008-06-30T15:09:00.000-07:00

The train from Salzburg to Munich went sweet and smooth, and I got into town feeling fantastic. I was short on sleep from the noisy Salzburg crowds but for some reason I was perky anyway. Maybe I was just excited to be in the heart of Bavaria. I had reserved a place on a website I had just heard of, hotelworld.com, but I stupidly couldn't find where I had written the name and directions of the hotel, so the first thing I had to do when I arrived was get online and find it again. Well, I finally found an internet cafe, but wouldn't you know, yours truly had somehow deleted the email with all the info, so I had to start from scratch.
Luckily I had also emailed another hostel the day before and found their reply, and they had a room available, and only a block away. The hardest thing about huge train stations like Munich's Hauptbanhof is getting oriented, and sure enough I went out the wrong side, but soon found my way to another one of those tiny rooms that I like. It may sound strange, but I actually prefer a cozy little hotel room with the single bed taking up half the room, and a bathroom to match. I guess I fell in love with them in Japan. Most American hotel rooms are four times the size, and what for? What traveler needs two huge queen beds and acres of space (all of which takes more energy to heat & cool)? I do just fine with a little desk, bed & tv. Hey, as long as the reading light's good and the bed comfy I'm in luxury.

Another thing I've noticed that seems to be the trend all over Europe: sheets and blankets are out, comforters are in. Beds no longer come with a second sheet and blanket to crawl under, only a heavy comforter... which might be nice in the winter, but it's hot here now and the last thing I usualy wanna do is sweat under a two-inch sleeping-bag-like cover. I've given up asking for sheets, they never seem to have them, but I either take one from the other bed, if there's one available, or grab one from the housekeeper's cart when they're not looking. Then I definitely DON'T want my room serviced, or they'll take it and not give me another one! There's no taking hints with these people.... they just don't get it.
Also, once again, my lttle room was warm and stuffy (with no a/c), and had a window, but one opening in a wall doesn't give you much ventilation uless there's another place for the air to go out. Sometimes I have the room door open, but that usually doesn't help much, so I asked for a fan and of course they "don't have any"; when asked what people do in August when it really gets hot, I was told, "people just open the window". Luckily after pleading with the guy (who was named Nelish, and I called Neelix), he took pity on me and pulled out a fan from under the reception desk and said we could use "their" fan for the night. I thanked him profusely and promised to return it in the moring.
But that evening I had other business to take care of: on the train there I asked some Germans where they liked to go drink beer, and they all said go to the Augustiner biergarten-- every brew has its own garden and/or brewhouse-- which turned out to be only two blocks away. As I walked there I was doubtful of my directions, as the street was lined with huge office buildings, but sure enough, right where it should be, a nice, green, tree-filled park was full of picnic tables and locals drinking from those huge 1-liter mugs. Even the potato salad was about the best I've ever had (sorry, Mom and Mary!) I was so glad I asked, because had I not, I would have probably gone to that tourists' mecca, the Hofbrauhaus, which, when I checked it out the next day, turned out to be unbearably stuffy and depressing, in spite of a quartet of perspiring German oompah players trying to sound lively. I left quickly, thankful for those fellow passenger's advice.
Over the next few days I wandered the town, which is wonderfully pedestrian- and bike-friendly, including, of course, the Marienplatz-- the town square with the cool glockenspiel clock tower with little automaton figures that come out at certain hours, built onto the stunning rathaus, or town hall. One great thing: the square, for once, was blissfully absent of the dreaded "Fan Zone" that I've run into in all the other cities, where they block off a large area and fill it with hideous inflatable huts and huge TV screens where hundreds of drunk soccer fans scream for their teams. Munich had none of that, and I was finally able to appreciate a European Old Town main square as it was meant to be seen.... except, of course, that it was full of tourists and had the requisite souvenier shops, McDonald's, and a few other eyesores. Other than that it was quite nice, and has a nearby victuallenmarkt open-air food market with all kinds of great food shops and even its own little beer garden.

I also checked out the huge "English" garden, a park so big it has its own river with a spot where sufers come out and hang ten. It's also curiously clothing-optional, so the more puritanical visitors may want to avoid it.
The last day I spent in the Deutsches Museum, the biggest, most complete science museum I've ever had the stamina to wander in for the entire day. I loved it! It has everything from sailboats to life-sized mine tunnels to every big machine, model ship and science experiment a nerd could dream of. I ran out of time just half way through the stuff, so my advice is, if you're into this kind of thing, start early!
I capped off the Munich tour with a final revisit to the Augustiner biergarten again, where I had two (count them: 2) liters of their great beer this time, yet somehow it didn't really affect me. Maybe it was their great food and giant pretzels that soaked up a lot of it, or the good company of a German architect I met with whom I had an interesting discussion with while there. Whatever it was, I loved Munich and would love to go back again, if only to finish checking out the Deutsches museum.

Next: On to Ye Olde England

Cesky Krumlov and Salzburg

2008-06-22T02:39:00.000-07:00

After all the previous cities I'd been in one after the other, I needed a small-town break, and got one in Cesky Krumlov. Listed as one of the prettiest Czech towns, I think they were right. Halfway between Prague and Salzburg, it made an ideal overnight stop. It's a nice small town (I was even able to walk from the train station to my hotel) yet it had a good-sized castle with a beautiful tower, and even bear pits. Bears seem to be the town symbol, so for centuries they've kept some right outside the castle in two large pits. I wasn't happy to see them, but they're not quite as bad as they sound; at least the larger pit has trees and bushes and even a little waterfall. I think there were two in there; it was easy for them to hide in all the shrubbery. The smaller pit, however, was pretty barren and a separated bear in there paced restlessly out of boredom. Wondering if any local animal welfare people were pushing to realease them, I asked a girl at a nearby shop if there was talk of ending the practice, but she had'n't heard of any, and in fact seemed almost disgusted that I would ask such a question.
But it was a beautiflul town and a beautiful day (I'm still incredibly lucky with the weather), so I enjoyed exploring the little town's lanes and shops. I had dinner at a wonderful riverside vegetarian restaurant whose food made me reaffirm my culinary choices. The chef must have sprinkled a little pixie dust on the food-- it was magic, what she could do with a meatless menu. If the place moved to somewhere in the U.S., I think I'd have to move there too!

There's also a great little bookstore called Shakespeare & Sons which not only trades books but has a fantastic selection of English books; I went back the next morning to trade some but unfortunately they didn't open til after my train left. So I gave my copies Musn't Grumble and Rick Steve's Prague to the keeper of my next abode, the Gasthof Hunterbruhl, in nearby Salzburg, Austria.

Just getting to Salzburg was an ordeal. Due to railroad track reconstruction, everyone had to get off the train and schlep to hot, crowded buses to another station and find their trains. The train was full of young Czech backpackers going on a canoe trip; luckily the group leader, Gerta, spoke great English and went out of her way to help me get on the right bus. Some of us got on a slower one and found out later after a conductor finally came around and told us that we could either stay on this train, or switch at the next station to another one which would get us to Salzburg an hour faster. Such are the joys of travel.
But Salzburg itself is a joy. Like a miniature Vienna, it has pretty churches and a nice, compact, easily walkable old town, as well as one of the finest castles I've seen, a huge fortress towering over the town with a great museum inside. Before that, though, I went to the abbey where Maria was a nun in The Sound of Music. I don't think it was open for visitors (I found no signs) but I overheard a bit about it from a private guide giving a tour of the outside. It had a rather unremarkable exterior but the views were terrific. The only thing higher up was the castle, which I next went to. The only thing I liked better than the castle itself were the pretty girls touring it, so I kind of followed them, feigning interest in the exhibits whenever they looked my way. I finally took the funicular down (which I should have taken up, but was already half-way there anyway at the abbey) and checked out the Mirabelle Gardens. These are the pride of Salzburg and were also in The Sound of Music. Speaking of the movie, there's all kinds of tours you can go on and see other sights from it but as they cost around fifty bucks I declined on them.
Other than that I just did the usual, peeking inside old churches, sniffing musty old furniture and stuff in museums, and trying to avoid the other tourists. The only problem was the usual blocked-off historic area with the usual giant screens and blasting music... it was kinda fun to watch until I went to bed and soccer fans kept streaming by my window singing, yelling and blowing horns...until 3:00 a.m.! I couldn't even close the windows because the little room quickly became stuffy, and when I had asked the caretaker if he had any electric fans he just kind of chuckled a "nein". The gashof (guesthouse) also didn't have internet so I found a little (expensive) internet place where the guy kindly told me that since I had my own laptop, he knew of a hotspot where I could get it free. I thanked him profusely and henceforth did my emailing sitting on some steps in front of Mozart's house. I wonder what the composer would have thought of that? And I hear he didn't even like this place and couldn't wait to leave. Pity, it's really a rather nice place.
Next: Munich-- where the REAL beer drinking takes place!

Prague Blog (sorry, I couldn't resist)

2008-06-20T12:19:00.000-07:00

Dobry-den (hello) from "Praha"! Well, I finally got to see one of the top cities on my list. I'd heard great things about Prague and the pictures I'd seen looked beautiful, so I made sure to stop there on my way west. The capital of the Czech Republic is a fun, safe, interesting place with some impressive views, grand old buildings, stunning cathedrals and just a great place to visit. I call it a "honeymoon" destination, right up there with Paris and Venice. It has that special romantic magic that just makes you wish you were with someone you love while you're there.

On the night train from Krakow I briefly met Gregg and Chris, a nice American couple from Indiana that I took an instant liking to, but little did I know they were heading for the same guesthouse "Lida" I had booked! When Jan, one of the Lida's owners, picked me up at the train platform we found out we were all going together, so fate seemed to decide that we share the first day sightseeing in the city too. Jan was a fantastic help in explaining how to get into and around the city, which can be at little confusing at first. We had our choice of tram or subway, and took the subway as the station was next to an ATM (bancomat) which we both needed. After resupplying our wallets with Czeck kroners, we took the efficient metro into the heart of the old town at Wenceslas Square.

It's really more of a big, broad avenue than a square, and it's loaded with shops, restaurants, tourists, statues and the odd beggar. (They have a new twist on panhandling here, some of them kneel and bow, forehead touching the ground, perfectly still, like muslims praying to Mecca... and hold their little cups out. There's always some new way to get money, I guess.) Anyways we strolled down the "square" along with hundreds of other tourists (I'm really starting to see them come out... must be in season) and down a lane into the REAL heart of the old town, the Old Town Square (Staromestke Namesti) maybe not as big as Krakow's but packed with wonderful sights like the astronomical clocks on the Clock Tower, Tyne church, the Old Town Hall, and the churc of St. Nicholas.
These "churches" are really cathedrals, huge and tall and centuries old. I love visiting them. I think buildings like them are what I love most about Europe, and why I'll always like it more than, say, Australia. Sorry for you mates Down Under, but I'm afraid you (and the U.S.) just don't have the history they have here!

And guess what else was going on in that square? If you've read any of my recent blogs you'll probably suspect--and you'd be right-- that there were huge TV screens set up and hundreds of people watching the Europe soccer games, of course! It kind of takes away some of the sense of history when you're trying to appreciate the cobblestones and old spires, and booming sports figures ten feet tall block half your views. I know, it's a great place to watch it and it gets everyone outside, but still... No, I didn't mind too much and I won't start complaining now, because we were in Prague and in the thick of everything! Gregg found a great little tavern (I think its Czech name meant "By the Golden Tiger", correct me if I'm wrong, Gregg) recommended by the Rick Steves guidebook that we popped in, and as Rick warns, the barmen keep bringing you beers until you ask them to stop! It was good, too, very smooth. It went down easily, in fact perhaps a little too easily, it's hard to tell the barman to stop bringing them! But we had to see the Charles Bridge, so we pushed on.

The bridge goes from a few blocks past the Old Town Square across the river Vlatva to the Castle up on the hill. We decided not to make the climb that day as it was evening and we were going to tour it later anyway. After exploring the area a bit and checking out another restaurant, we went back to the square and watched a bit of "football" (although I was watching people more) until a fight broke out and we decided to head back to the hotel.

I won't weary you with descriptions of all the places I visited and all the walking I did over the next few days, but a few highlights were the St. Vitus Cathedral within the Castle walls, whose gothic spires are what you see towering over everything in the photos, and with stained-glass windows that are about the best I've ever seen.
Also the St. George Basilica where I saw a little concert with a 12-piece orchestra. It was an hour of classical music, selections of the best of Mozart, Bach, Vivaldi and others, and was an absolute joy to hear echoing in the Basilica's hall. Earlier that day I was even luckier when I happened into the Wallenstein Palace Gardens where a full orchestra and choir were practicing Beethoven's 9th, and I got to sit in the front row and watch it all for free--incredible. There were also peacocks wandering the park, adding to the renaissance air of the day, and they even keep huge owls in an aviary, whose sad hooting presence was even more mystical. I don't like to see wild birds caged, but I love owls and was thrilled to see them.

Speaking of birds, I'd say I still seem to have a way with them: walking into town the next day a pretty black & white bird (a magpie, maybe?) was standing in the middle of a side street. I moved to the curb and it just stood there. The behavior seemed a little odd and I wanted to make sure it was ok, but didn't want to scare it off either, so I just squatted down and called to it--and wouldn't you know it hopped right over to me! That's when I noticed its feet seemed to be useless; it could stand on them but they seemed limp. It hungrily pecked at my hand, but all I could offer it was a capful of water from my bottle, which it drank thirstily. After we both hung out there for a while he showed no signs of leaving, so (and this is the amazing part) he let me scoop him up and put him in the nearby bushes. I don't know if the birds are just more trusting here or what, but it's kinda fun to hold a wild thing and have it wholly trust you. I went and bought some granola biscuits but it was gone by the time I returned, so I assume it was able to fly. Anyway sorry to bore you with yet another bird-feeding story.

Other than that I'd say you just have to come here and appreciate it for yourself: the museums, churches, the beers and Czech food, the stunning vistas from different towers and castle walls. It was a great end to my eastern European tour, and one of the places I just may have to come back to.... but next time it'll be with someone special, I hope.

Next: Cesky Krumlov and Salzburg

Bratislava and Krakow

2008-06-16T14:49:00.000-07:00

[I'm squeezing two countries into one blog, as they're right next to each other and I only zipped over to see one city in each.]
Remember Czechoslovakia, that country whose name you learned in school and nothing else whatsover about? Well, it doesn't exist any more. As you probably know, the Czech Republic broke off from Slovakia in 2002 and they've been amicably divorced ever since. Tourists flock to Prague, the Czech capital, and rightfully so: by all accounts it's one of the world's beautiful cities (as I plan to personally confirm in a few days.) But how many go to Slovakia?
Unfortunately Bratislava, the capital, isn't nearly as stunning as Prague, but the Old Town and its castle were thankfully left alone by the communists, who concentrated on building their apartment blocks elsewhere in the city. It's worth a day or two to explore the pretty, crooked cobblestone lanes and try out the many cafes serving Slovakian, Hungarian and many other cuisines. There are even some playful bronze scultptures of characters like the ones pictured here.

Much of the rest of the city is mere modern cityscape. A bridge across the Danau left over from 1970's "modern" communist days has a UFO-like restaurant at the top, giving it a strange "hatted" look. I call it the Martian walker from "War of the Worlds".
I've been trying the beers of each country I've visited, and they keep getting better the further west I go. The Slovakian beers are really good. By all accounts the Czech beers, like Pilsner Urquell are the best, so I'm looking forward to that! Although I don't think it will be easy to top the great Romanian, Hungarian and Slovak beers I've tried. I know that sounds strange, as Americans are totally unfamiliar with them and therefore might be prone to sneer, but to them I have only this to say: come here and try them, and those haughty looks will be quickly replaced by smiles of amazement!

Back to the city: there's no underground metro but many handy trolley cars, trams and buses that criss-cross the city. I sometimes risked a fine by jumping on without buying a ticket first at a kiosk, but it just proved too temptingly easy to do! (And everyone else seemed to be doing it). I paid a hefty 5 euros in Vienna for a 24-hour transpo pass and only used it twice, so I didn't feel too guilty. Hey, I've gotta save money somewhere!
The castle is under reconstruction, but views from its grounds were pretty nice. It looks down on the Old Town and the rest of the city.
P.S. When I arrived the taxi driver asked me, in pretty good english, "Who next president be, Obama or McCain? Hillary kaput!" It seems every European on the continent knows more about U.S. politics than I do. Not that it's hard to keep up; the election minutae are broadcast in every country around the clock. I never realized the rest of the world cared so much about who our president will be. It's rather humbling; it should make anyone who doesn't vote ashamed, and make them think twice about who they vote for and how it will affect the rest of the world, instead of just voting on their own little personal agendas.

Oops, there I go, lecturing again. Sorry. Anyway, I spent 36 hours in the city and it was enough, I think, to get a good taste of it. It's an up-and-coming city of half a million that is fun to visit, has a long history, and makes good beer. I'm glad I checked it out. I also thought I saw a clone of Matt (in the green shirt), and fed a feisty little pigeon with only one foot, and that one was missing a toe.... it's amazing how they survive crippled like that. I also visited a nice little museum that told the history of Slovakia in the 20th century, with good coverage of early costumes, the Nazi and communist occupations, and the final liberation and nationalization of the country. It even had a decent exhibit hall on the diversity of life upstairs, except that some of the dioramas looked straight out of a 1950's biology book, and the main attraction, a lonely-looking mammoth, looked more shaggy than woolly.

Oh, and sorry, ladies, but I just have to mention that the eastern European girls are, well, hotties, to put it in terms my nephews will understand. I've included just one photo of LOTS that I took-- strictly for journalistic purposes, of course. To balance things out, I also include here a shot for the ladies of a typical clothing storefront, so you can see what some of the fashions are like here. I know, I'll probably get some women screaming at me for not taking photos of guys....

Anyway, after I checked out of my massive Hotel Kyjev (the only one I could get a room in) I snapped a picture of its gloomy, dimly-lit lobby to remind me that I was still in eastern Europe.

The second night I caught the overnight train (my first time) to Krakow, Poland. I spent a little extra and got a bed in a sleeper car (schlaftwagen), and I'm glad I did. As it was I had to share the little cabin with two other guys who were already asleep in the two upper berths by 11pm when I got on, so I quietly slid into the cozy little bottom bunk, found the nightlight, and read "White Fang" for a few hours, too excited to sleep. I probably couldn't have anyway, with the train screeching to a halt ever half hour, and clunking and unhooking cars at least twice that night.
But I did get some sleep and woke up in Krakow. That's what I love about trains: they take you right into downtown of the city. In fact I found a hostel right across the street from the station, where I got a cheap but decent little room (complete with giggling youths at night in the hallways), and went to check out the Old Town of Krakow. (You may have noticed that all these places have "old towns", the central historic areas where the cities had their starts, and are always the most interesting parts to visit.) Krakow is no different; it has a great city center. All these places have a main square or plaza; Krakow's is the biggest by far: 'Rynek Glowney' is 200 meters on each edge... it's so big, there's a giant cathedral on one side and still plenty of room around it. The rather haunting-looking photo here of the guy surrounded by animal pelts was taken in the central market place... I just had to take the picture, in spite of the gruesome surroundings.

Walking there I almost got run over by one of those huge, old, communist-era street trams (pictured) that glided up behind me; I had to do a quick jump to get out of the way. You can be sure I checked both ways before crossing streets after that! The city castle/cathedral complex up on a hill (where else?) was pretty interesting to visit. The buildings may not quite be the most beautiful in Europe, but it certainly was prime pigeon-feeding territory. There were little stands selling the round bread 'pretzels' you see everywhere, giant screens showing the European soccer cup games, and of course the obligatory horse-drawn carriages (with some quite beautiful horses) I keep seeing in all these cities, as well as an assortment of street performers and entertainers.

I also visited the National Gallery of Art, a modest collection but with some pretty surprising items, including Leonardo DaVinci's "Lady with an Ermine". I never knew it was there. Unfortunatly I wasn't allowed to take photos, but you probably know it.
Krakow isn't even the capital of Poland, that's Warsaw. But it used to be long ago, and still retains some of its old influence, I supposed. Anyway the museum had a nice little collection of Roman and even Egyptian art, the odd Rembrandt, and as I said the DaVinci. I think there's only about four women DaVinci painted, two in the Louvre, and one, of all places, in Washington D.C.'s National Gallery. So to find the fourth here in this old, somewhat lesser-known town was quite impressive.
That, and a nice dinner at a table on the square, followed by a tasty Polish beer, and I was a bit sad to leave. But it was time to catch another overnight train, this time with the whole sleeper cabin to myself... talk about luxury! See you in Prague!

Vienna (the one in Austria)

2008-06-12T12:44:00.000-07:00

Vienna, Austria is only a quick train ride away from the small towns of Hungary but a world apart in sophistication. The city just oozes cosmopolitan elegance and charm. The grand white buildings, the beautiful statues, the steeples so tall and high they just beg to be photographed, yet no photo can do them justice... they have to be experienced in person. Smartly-suited businessmen and ladies of all attire stroll the back streets and sit at cafes, chatting on cell phones to--no doubt-- other impeccably dressed Austrians sitting at other cafes.
This is where the cafe was invented (not Paris, contrary to popular belief), and even better, the chocolate house, where people would go to drink the new concoction from the New World. I was in search of a special version of the drink I discovered in Paris called "chocolate Viennese", which consists of melted fudge (real fudge, not some stuff from a bottle), hot milk and sugar. You mix them together for the richest, tastiest hot chocolate drink you ever smacked your lips to. Or, if you like, they mix it for you and top it off with whipped cream... the piece de irresistable. Anyway I figured it was probably invented in Vienna since it was named after the town and should be available everywhere. But no dice. I checked at least ten cafes and spoke to waiters at each one and they had either never heard of it or said they didn't serve it. The last waiter I asked finally explained: "We don't serve it like this in Vienna." So I sadly had to order the regular stuff, which, along with some whipped cream on top, was really very good on its own. OK, so I couldn't rest a spoon on it, but it was the best I'd had in a long time! I guess my bourgeois Parisian tastes were a bit bohemian for the Viennese!
I also discovered, right around the corner from my cozy hotel room, a blocks-long outdoor row of markets, selling everything from gourmet cheeses to all kinds of Mediterranean and middle-eastern foods, spices, clothes, etc. I immediately found that wonderful orange cheese I discovered in Germany that turned out to be well-aged Gouda. When new it has a completely different taste from the mature stuff. I tried some that was "middle-aged", and it was very good too. I also found some great spinach pies and had a nice lunch. The photo is of me having a big dumpling and other things for lunch the next day at an Austrian cafe in the market. There's another photo of a beggar holding a dog...not liking the fact that I'm taking his picture! Some people use animals to play on people's emotions for money, but the animals are usually treated badly and have a hard life on the street. I give no money to these people.
I mostly just wandered for the two days I was there... and just by sheer accident I stumbled upon the "Musik Museum" which I had heard about... it was great, it had lots of high-tech hands-on stuff where you could, for instance, mix your voice with sound effects, or test your hearing, or see how sound waves created sand ripples (pictured), and even conduct a symphony orchestra. The exhibit I looked forward to the most was where you could create your own music, but the setup was faulty and it only produced a cacaphony of noises. I also paid (too much) to check out part of the National Library, set in a stunningly beautiful hall that again the photos cannot begin to match. The thousands of old books must have been priceless... I'd love to be able to read german and browse in there for a while.
I tried to find some other museums but they were either too far away or blocked off by a huge fence covering much of the public areas in the core of the inner historic district. It turns out it was a soccer ralley-slash-festival, where people who paid could get in and watch the games on huge outdoor screens. Strangely enough they even blocked off tourist attactions like the Parliament building, so I couldn't get in them. I saw at least a hundred policemen guarding the perimeter, huge pavilions and giant corporate logos inside, and I couldn't help but wonder how many millions of dollars had been spent on the whole thing, and what help even a tiny percentage of that could have done if sent to, say, the little animal shelter in Romania paid for now out of the pockets of the very volunteers who run it. I know some of you are probably rolling your eyes now, but I think it's important to keep things in perspective and not forget that when we spend money on our entertainment, that amount that could have gone towards a more worthy cause is gone forever. Sports scores will be forgotten tomorrow, perhaps it's good to occasionally remember that.
Anyway that's about it for the Vienna stopover; the final morning I took the fast, clean underground metro back to the train station and was a bit nervous that they wouldn't have trains going to Bratislava; I've gotten in the routine of buying my ticket to the next destination when I arrive at a train station, so I don't have to worry about it. I forgot this time, but was told not to worry, that they had trains going often to nearby Bratislava. I've learned by now not to take anything I hear as gospel, but this time they were right; there was a train leaving in 15 minutes and I got a comfy seat and settled in to read a bit, and was almost disappointed when I arrived within an hour! (I was just getting into "Call of the Wild", a book I haven't read since I was a teen.)

Next: Bratislava

Gyor and Sopron

2008-06-09T14:47:00.000-07:00

Two towns in Hungary that are fairly close to Budapest and recommended in the Lonely Planet guide are Gyor and Sopron. I already wrote some about Gyor: how I got stuck at a cafe in the rain with a bunch of people under an awning (first picture), and later stormed out of my hotel's restaurant because they wouldn't give me non-smoking seating (it was reserved).
That pretty much summarized my 24 hours there, but there's a bit more. My arrival was rather interesting-- like in Budapest, I got off the train without a clue as to where I was going to stay (because I only decided to go 24 hours before, so too late to email, and I couldn't figure out the weird Hungarian city-to-city dialing), but unlike Budapest, which has a nice tourist office which helpfully found me a good hotel nearby, Gyor's tiny station had zilch. Luckily the station is right in town and I walked a block, lugging my bags behind me, and saw a sign that said something with the word "Tourismo" in it, but it was closed. But a bit past it a little sign pointed to "tourist info" or something like that. It being a saturday, I wasn't too hopeful that it would be open, but started heading that way. A bit past that another sign pointed to "hotel", so I went THAT way, and a block later walked into a rather nice hotel!
So things have a way of working out. And I noticed the bathroom had a very large tub. I had been noticing that all the previous hotel rooms ony had showers, and not that I take many baths, but it's when you don't have something that you miss it, and as it rained that afternoon, and I was tired, chilled, not feeling well, grumpy and just needed to recharge, I took a long, hot bath. It was wonderful! I read several chapters of Bill Bryson's Made in America, a book I picked up in Tokyo but haven't had much chance to finish yet. Feeling much better I went downstairs and discovered to my delight that I could get internet in the lobby without having to go back into the dreaded smokey restaurant. At the same time, though, they were having some sort of very loud concert right outside my window (sans audience), so I had to switch rooms (see video at bottom--you can see how tired I am!).

The next morning it was raining again, but as usual my "weather luck" held out and it stopped just before I stepped outside to walk to the train station. I think the hotel clerk felt bad about my having to switch rooms because of the concert and asked me where I was going next. Sopron, I informed him, whereupon he told me they had a "sister hotel" there, and reserved me a room, which was a good thing, as this time there were no handy hotels that I could see anywhere near the station.
But the town was even prettier than the last one. Lonely Planet says Sopron is sometimes called "Little Prague", a rather ambitious nickname, but it does have a very nice walled historic center, and the tower was a fun little climb with great views of the whole area and beyond, almost to the Alps (Sopron is very close to the Austrian border; for those of you who like to look up the places I've been, just look to the left of Budapest). The photos show some nice churches and cute little old streets, but I'm afraid you're going to get very tired of these after a while, so I've tried to take some closeups to catch some of the local details.
As usual I've been incredibly lucky with the weather: the days have been glorious, sunny and warm and it almost always seems to rain only at night. I've also had most of the sights to myself; I have yet to wait in line for anything. The tourists are few (only a few German ones to be seen lately) and yesterday I had a nice wine-tasting with just me and the sommelier. There were a few Americans in Budapest but only around the downtown tourist areas. Sometimes I almost wish for some company! Even the trains have had plenty of room; I can sit in first-class whenever I want and nobody cares, so few seats are taken. I do, however, see that the children commute by train as well; I'm not sure if they're going to & from school or what-- they don't seem to (or want to with me, anyway) speak much English around here. (I've heard that many Europeans are embarassed to try because they're afraid their English isn't good enough.)
Anyway now it's on to Vienna (Austria that is, not my home town in Virginia), and in case you're wondering, I plan to go from there to nearby Bratislavia, capital of Slovakia, then Krakow, Poland, then back west to Prague in the Czech Republic. I'm trying to make up for the extra time I spent in Romania and see as much of Eastern Europe as I can before my eastern railpass runs out, and it'll be time to check out the glories of Spain, France, Italy and the rest of the western countries. When it gets too hot in midsummer I plan to head up north to the U.K and Scandinavia.
P.S. In case you're wondering what I've been seeing on these train trips through eastern Europe, it's been pretty much the same as you would see anywhere: mostly fields, woods and occasional towns. I haven't even bothered to take pictures (until now, on right), the views have been so ordinary. Nary a castle, walled hill-town or palace to be seen anywhere. I could almost be in America, the differences are so slight.
Well, see you in Vienna!

Smokey Business in Budapest

2008-06-07T12:30:00.000-07:00

Well, I left Budapest and I just lost my whole blog of it. The WordPad program I use asked if I wanted to save it when I opened it, so of course I clicked "yes", and it saved a blank page. Nice going, Bill Gates. What genius employee of yours thought up that neat trick?
Anyway I had a fairly good time there in Hungary's capital. It's not a bad city to visit: good Hungarian food (especially if you like meat!), some impressive architecture (the castle and palace on the Buda side are very nice, with great views of Parliament and the rest of Pest), and other interesting differences, like the language, etc. Although I couldn't understand a word--it's funny, but in Romania, which is further east, I could make out a bit of it, written or verbal, but Hungarian is total gibberish to me. It seems to have no roots in latin or greek that I can figure, just Slavik, I suppose. I gave up trying to say anything in it and just relied on good old English, hoping, like a true tourist, that the rest of the world cared enough to learn it too (not always).
And in some ways it really is the "Paris of the East" or something like that. Some of its buildings have an elegance and charm of (almost) old Paree, yet they're often dirty and darker, and a lot of infrastructure needs work. Maybe not quite as much as Bucharest, but you can see the after-effects of communism even today; the big, ugly concrete apartment blocks, the "modern" '60's buildings that clash with the surrounding historic structures, and the general shoddiness of things like decaying park benches, old subway cars, pretty cool but eroding statues (one kinda reminds me of Wayne--photo below), creepy beggars using caged kittens to make money, and the like. And, like many other cities, they made the mistake of building a highway right along the riverside, ruining the atmosphere of anyone who has to walk under the tunnel to enjoy it. As if that wasn't enough, they (probably the communists) also built a railroad, for God's sake, also along it. See how it ruins the view of the Danube in the photo.
Not to say that the whole city is like that; some places are quite nice. I walked down some leafy neighborhood streets that reminded me of old Georgetown, complete with embassy-type mansions and beautifully wrought iron gates. Another good thing: NO stray dogs, just plenty of them on leashes. Nice change from Romania.

Yet I was disappointed. I don't know if it was the crabby people I happened to meet, the many shops that were always closed whenever I tried to go in, or just the fact that my throat and sinuses were bothered by all the smokers. Ahh, the smokers! They are everywhere, just like in Romania. Just once I wanted to have a smoke-free dinner, but was foiled every time during my three nights there. The first two, I sat outside, naively thinking that the breeze would blow any smoke away (I should know better by now), but both times, no matter where I sat, someone would light up next to me and puff away, causing me to get up and move to another table, where yet another wisp of smoke would always reach me, as if to taunt me.
I suggested to one manager that they have a "no smoking" section outside, and it seemed a new concept to her, but one that she promised to pass on. Perhaps if enough customers request this they'll someday start to actually do it.
The third night it was too cold and windy to eat outside, so I went in my (by now) favorite Hungarian restaurant and the waiter said there were no seats in the non-smoking section but nobody was lighting up in the smoking room. He showed me in and sure enough it was clear. But I know my luck-- people who know me know that I have the luck of a dog born in China-- and I knew that sure as apple pie and daisys, someone would sit at that last table behind me and fire one up. But with visions of fried mushroom caps and cream of garlic soup swimming before me I hungrily sat down (I had walked all day with only an apple for lunch) and ordered. Sure enough, before my food even showed up, a party sat at the last table and some moron lit a--no, not a cigarette-- a big, stinky cigar! Talk about the epitome of thoughtlessness: he could have smoked on the way to the place, but waits until he gets inside a small, closed room, assuming that all the other diners will WANT to smell the noxious fumes emanating from his stogie while they're eating. Luckily by then a table in non-smoking had opened up and I quickly moved. Another party sat at my table but must have also disagreed with the concept of sharing tobacco vapors with obnoxious puffers and immediately switched tables as well.
I remembered asking one Romanian about it, who he said he thought it was because "during the communist years, they had so few choices in life, this was one choice they could make." I remember thinking, yes, but too bad they didn't make the right choice. So now a huge percentage of the two countries (and probably the other former Soviet bloc nations as well) smoke, and I never saw a single tiny effort to ease it, no posters or ads or public announcements of any kind warning of the dangers of cigarette smoke. In fact they seemed to almost encourage it, allowing smoking in every building I was ever in, public or private, including the train stations. This is sad, because not only are they wasting their money on such a revolting habit, but they're saddling their own countries with massive future debts in health care, lost work, wasted resources, and lessening of tourism due to it. It's just one of the many examples of how the communist damage will last in those poor countries far beyond their regimes. Like I said, sad. And let's not forget to thanks, Big Tobbacco. You really did your part to help out there.
One good thing: I never saw a single stray dog or cat on the streets. There were people walking dogs everywhere, unlike in Romania, so there seems to be a fundamental difference in how they are thought of here. And the beer is very good; it seems to get a little better each time I get further West... so Czech beer should be fantastic!
So now I'm in the small Hungarian town of Gyor (pronounced, strangely enough, jyeur). I was hoping the fresh country air would help my sore throat and give me a break for a while from the smoke, but it was not to be. Remember how I said I had bad luck? The little cafes here were almost empty, so I sat down to enjoy a bite to eat and a smoke-free Hungarian beer. I should have noticed the ominous black clouds gathering. The rain didn't spoil my meal at all (I was under an awning, and I DO have good luck weather-wise) but it made people run under the awning and, of course, light up, which did rather spoil it! Then back at the hotel I was told the free internet is only available in the restaurant, not in the rooms. Ok, no problem, I'll go in, have a beer and relax, right? Dave, Dave! How naive and foolish you are! No sooner did I sit down and start typing than the old, familiar stench started irritating my throat again. I realized I must me in the smoking section. Only it gets worse: I asked the staff if there was a non-smoking area and was told yes, there is, but it's all reserved! This was the last straw. I got angry with the manager and told him that he was required by law to provide a non-smoking area for customers (I don't know if it's true or not, but it sounded good) so he said I could sit at only one table into the section-- right next to the one I was already at! Furious I paid for my beer and left, slamming the door behind me, louder than I meant to.
Then up in my room I found that it was facing the loudest speakers this side of the Nissan Pavillion right outside my room, with some idiots rapping in Hungarian! (I made a short video of it that I'll attach soon.) So I asked to move to the back of the hotel, and surprisingly enough they actually let me. Now I'm in the lobby on the internet again-- where they allow smoking too, by the way. And someone on the next sofa over is kind enough to share his with me. I would go into the restaurant for another beer but I just can't face them again.
I am so sick of cigarette smoke I think I'm gonna kiss the next NO SMOKING sign I see in Ireland or wherever it is.
Next: Small towns & big cities (and hopefully a less cranky Dave!)

Therapy for Baby

2008-06-04T11:55:00.000-07:00

Well, the last time I wrote I was about to go back to Sibiu, that pretty town in Transylvania that we held some clinics in. I meant to actually see some of it this time as well as help the "Animal Life" volunteers at their shelter and maybe help an abused dog recover emotionally. I jumped on a train and left the traffic and noise of Bucharest and headed for greener parts of Romania.

The train passed the "Transylvanian Alps", those huge mountains with snow still on them that branch out from the Carpathians. Otilia, one of the animal rescue girls, and her friend Gabi kindly picked me up that evening at the train station and brought me to Andreea's (who was out of town) grandmother's house where I stayed. It's a nice little place not too far from the town center, a bit old but equipped with all the comforts, including 14-foot ceilings, rock-solid interior walls and doors, and neighborhood roosters that crow at odd hours of the night and day. It even has the traditional "eye" window in the roof, unique to the Sibiu area. And notice no front door? For privacy, I guess.
We were greeted by "Grandma", a sweet little lady who kinda reminds me of Mom, and an Irish Setter being fostered there. I was shown into a little parlor with a day-bed where I would sleep. The dog that was beaten and is unapproachable is kept in back, where a fenced courtyard adjoins some neighbors' gardens. Though it was dark I wanted to see her; she was locked in what used to be a chicken coop-- basically a shed with fencing on the front. Unfortunately it was necessary for the meanwhile, but I knew that the first thing I wanted to do the next day was get her out of the damned thing.
Before we were even in sight I could hear her barkng at our voices. Inside the coop was a little black dog of uncertain ancestry, possibly of corgi-shepherd origins; she has funny short legs like my dog Henny had, and a cute shepherd face. They told me she had been beaten so badly she wouldn't look up at anyone and bit one Andreea. She barked nonstop at us while we were there, and as it was getting late "Otie" and Gabi took me out to dinner at Gabi's restaurant, a nice little place in town with outdoor seating (a good thing for me as lots of people smoke here!)
That night they dropped me off at the house and the Irish Setter forced her way out of the garage to greet me, and of course wanted to follow me inside. I hated to leave her out in the courtyard but didn't want to take liberties at the lady's house the first night. But the dog sat outside on the doorstep whining in a very human-like way, so I soon gave in and snuck her into my room, where we shared the day-bed for the night! Early the next morning I slipped her outside again.
Then I went to see the black dog, and of course she started barking at me. The first photo clearly shows the fear in her eyes. I could go into a long explanation of how I befriended her, but to make a long story short by the end of the day she was snoozing happily in the sun outside her coop. At midday Grandma called me in to lunch ("Kommen Sie"-- she speaks German as well as Romanian, so we could do some basic communication). She treated me to some very good home-made soup and a sort of spinach-and-cream on potatoes--delicious! After lavishly praising it in what little German I could remember ("Wunderbar!") I asked to take a little of it out to the dog. Baby wasn't too interested in it, but I noticed something else: she never barked this time as I approached, and in fact seemed much more calm.
I got permission to keep the Setter in my room that night, thanks to Sanda, another volunteer who dropped by and helped me ask grandma to let the dog in. It turned out the Setter is another stray that they're keeping at her house. The poor thing is just starving for love and the joy she shows at being allowed to stay in my little room is amazing.
The next day I helped the volunteers put in some fence posts at the shelter all day, so I only saw the dogs first thing in the morning and late that night. The Animal Life shelter is a temporary sanctuary for about 60 dogs that the group has rescued; it has no running water or power, but built completely by volunteers, and provides a safe haven for many of Sibiu's street dogs, as well as a nice little cat area too. They took what was a field and turned it into a green sanctuary for abandoned animals. The amazing thing is that the volunteers have all done it with absolutely no town or county government support, they just do it because, as Otie says with a shrug, "Somebody has to." I think that says it all. These people are my heroes!
We sectioned off some new enclosures so they could separate the rest of dogs that now roam free in the main enclosure. This should help prevent the spread of infection and make for easier management and less fights. It was hot, tiring work but it felt good to get it done. That night the Setter (I've taken to calling her Lady Rosta [pronounced "Roshta"], Romanian for red) was positively ecstatic to get out of the garage and into my room. Baby barked at me, but more of an excited, "Where the heck have you been all day?" kind of bark.
Over the next days we fell into a routine: in the morning I would let them out and feed them, and have my breakfast out on the patio, usually juice, fruit, and honey and a white cheese (like feta, only not salty) on some wonderful local bread. I always made sure to give some to the dogs; Baby loved it and I hope it helps the Setter's flaky coat. Baby was still cautious of me but got a little better day by day. She even seemed a bit playful when I let her out. She really is a feisty little thing. I got her a stuffed animal from Andreea as a toy which she sleeps with.
I spent the next two days working at the Animal Life shelter, building a doghouse and doing misc. work like grooming a dog that had incredibly thick, long hair and bad skin. It's getting treated by one of the vets we worked with, the one who in fact owns the land lent for the shelter. That night I met Anka, another volunteer, and her friends at a nice piano bar in town. One of her friends is an emergency room physician and it was interesting to hear about how he works alongside American doctors who teach them the latest ER techniques. Then Sanda showed me around the town of Subiu for my last few days, visiting churches, back streets, and even a half-day at a great open-air collection of traditional Romanian houses. I was also lucky because it was International Arts Festival week in Sibiu and there were all kinds of interesting (and often unusual) free shows on the town square.

I continued to spend mornings on the patio with the dogs, making sure to give Baby some special treats (eggs or cheese, mosty). The neighbors have some chickens and brought over some fresh eggs that were wonderful hard-boiled. They even own a cow and bring Grandma farm-fresh milk in those old-style milk bottles, but it tasted too grassy for me.
The last few mornings Baby really started getting friendly, running around happily and waiting for me to feed her. She's still too cautious of me to let me touch her, though. I would have liked to pet her just once, but I've done all I can for now. I also took Rosta for a long walk into town the last day, making sure to stop and pet her whenever there were kids around, encouraging the local kids to do the same. They were mostly curious about her, but infortunately I couldn't answer their questions in Romanian! But I think it's important to teach them that animals, especially dogs, are not dangerous and should be treated kindly. I also picked up trash in the local park while the residents watched me. Some mothers were smiling at me by the time I left and one thanked me; I hoped to "lead by example"-- and I hope they didn't just think I was some weird American tourist!
When I finally had to leave that morning it was hard to say goodbye to them. It was very hard to lock them back up before I left. I know they'll get taken care of, but I hope Baby continues to get her "therapy", and Rosta finds a good home. (Note: dogs can be sent to the U.S. fairly easily and cheaply; please leave a note for me if you're interested in adopting either one. )
Next: On to Budapest!

More on Romania

2008-05-26T12:27:00.000-07:00

Buna (hello)!
Well, by now Dr. Rick and Nancy are home the 'Frisco Bay area, Cristina's back in Buzau with her mom; I'm the only one left of the "Romaniacs" here in Bucharest. Sorry I haven't written lately, but I've had literally no time, what with getting up early for a day of travel or spaying and going out to dinner afterwards to unwind and drink a well-earned beer or two. We all left for Sibiu, the walled town I spoke of last time, after a long day of driving in the van which held us and our supplies & luggage (luckily Nancy and Cristina arranged for a driver, a Bucharest taxi driver named Dan who spoke a little English and smoked too much! His motto: "Don't worry, be happy.). We had to pass over the Carpathian mountains and through part of Transylvania, so you can imagine some of the views were quite awesome! There are still lots of horse-drawn carts to be seen in the fields and along the highways; perhaps the last generation to use them. I tried to get some pictures, but didn't get much with my camera which only seems to focus when it's in the mood (I just bought a new one, so the next batch should be fine). Anyway, that evening we strolled the main pedestrianized avenue in the Old Town, a street that has been beautifully restored ever since the communists did their best to make everything ugly. For instance, Rick and I both noticed that some places that must have once been pretty riverside villages now had hulking abandoned factories straddling the streams. (They seem to have taken the "Saruman" approach to modernizing the country.)

But inside the walls, the town hasn't lost its Transylvanian charm, and for a few precious evenings we were able to roam the streets and stop by little wine bars and such inside old fortress-like buildings, or relax at tables outside the many cafes along the street or the expansive main square, the Piata (plaza) Mare. My photos probably don't do it justice.
It wasn't all fun and drinks, though. For three solid days we held spay clinics (dogs only-- cats are not really a problem here) to both teach local vets the new techniques and to spay as many dogs as possible. The local animal rescue people were the best we've met. A group of young twenty-something people (mostly girls) in the area have banded together to try to fix Sibiu's street dog problem by both founding their own shelter (very rudimentary now, but the best they can do on their own funds), and trying to change the outmoded animal welfare laws. One of them, Sanda, sued the local government when they tried to use barbaric killing methods on the dogs, and actually won! The rest were also fantastic, especially their young "leaders" Adreea Roseti (a distant relative, perhaps?) and Otilia Pana, who used their vacation days to take off work to bring the dogs to us and help in their preparation and recovery (even our driver Dan helped). They also made sure we were well taken care of too, by bringing food & drink to the clinics and taking us out afterwards. Of course, Nancy & Cristina, our sponsors, refused to let them pay for dinners, but you gotta give them credit for trying! The even sweetly gave Rick & I traditional wooden flasks full of a strong traditional drink reminiscent of moonshine as souvenirs.
We stayed in a cute little pensiunea (a sort of cross between bed & breakfast and little hotel) with a house "Mama" who let us use her washing machine for our laundry, hanging them up in the huge attic to dry. The rooms were nice and the staff friendly. We also visited a local shelter which was one of the best around, but still left a bit to be desired, as the photo may show.

Nancy fell in love with a puppy there (Just look at him: can you blame her?), and I suspect the feeling was mutual, but she is already taking seven home with her and couldn't take this one, so we can only hope that someone will adopt it (although not many people adopt shelter dogs here like back home-- they all want fancy breeds, mostly so they can make money from them.)

At another shelter we spotted a heartbreaking case of an old, thin, lame dog (pictured) just barely alive that we all agreed was beyond help and was euthanised. Blind in one eye and dangling a rear leg, it was amazing it had survived as long as it did. Fortunately most of the dogs looked pretty healthy and we hope that this was a rare exception.

On the way to the shelter we spotted a momma dog and her puppies on the side of the road, but a car was there with them so we kept going. On the way back we found only the pups, so we brought them back to Sibiu, where the rescue girls gladly took them in. They ate hungrily and slept during our afternoon clinic! It was a good thing for them we found them; it poured all afternoon and night, and much of the next day.
The clinics were interesting, to say the least. I learned some new things, like how to shave the dog's tummies with an old razor blade until Cristina came back with some electric clippers she bought (we donated them to the rescue people when we left). I also got pretty good at sedating dogs with xylazine and ketamine (older drugs in the U.S.), and figuring out doses myself by weight-- we managed to keep them asleep just long enough for the surgeries without the need for anesthetic gas, something nonexistant in vet clinics here. Other things they do without: autoclaves (they sterilize their instruments in solutions; we used a pressure cooker ingeniously adapted by Dr. Rick), X-ray machines (never mind ultrasound machines), or just about any modern diagnostic piece of equipment.taken for granted in the west. Surgery tables were sometimes made of glass (probably adapted kitchen tables) and usually stashed in the backs of tiny rooms with minimal lighting. Rick's surgical head lamp often came in handy! Even instrument tables had to usually be rigged from other things, and once the dogs had to be recovered outside-- until it started raining-- then they were crowded in the waiting room, which made things even more cozy!

I was so impressed with the Sibiu rescue people that I plan to go back there soon and do some training and help them in any way I can with their shelter. I'd also like to work with a dog I heard about that was beaten so badly by its previous owner it can't be approached now. One of the girl's grandmothers has it now, where I've been told I could stay for free while there; I'd like to see if I can tame it.
But first I'd like to see some more of Romania while I'm here. On the way back to Bucharest we bought some farm cheeses from the locals on the roadside, and stopped by one of the Royal castles in a beautiful mountain setting reminiscent of Neushwanstein. (Too bad all the photos of the actual palace turned out blurry, but I got some great pics of some statues!) Unfortunately we arrived too late to go inside, but got a fast tour of the courtyard and outside of it, thanks to Cristina. She also arranged for all of us to get professional massages our last day in Sibiu, a nice reward after three days of hard work. I've been resting in a litle apartment arranged for us by Livia, another Romanian animal supporter, but I've also been doing some touring around town, including the huge Parliamentary Palace, the second largest building in the world (second to the Pentagon). Tomorrow I hope to head back to Sibiu, and when not working there I plan to use it as a base to check out some other places in the area. There's also another vet who I haven't met yet who wants me to work with him, and I have to be in London by mid-June to meet another friend. I also promised Nancy to write the text for a children's book about a Romanian street dog, and I've got to help Livia with editing some campaign letters and such. Rick has also promised me a job in the San Francisco area whenever I get back. So I've still got some things to do. I'd better get started!
A Few Notes on Romania: The language sounds like a cross between Italian, Russian and a little Greek. For instance, "yes" is the Russian "da", but other words come directly from latin or Greek. It's a fascinating language I wish I had time to learn.
Transylvania is not the exotic, dark, scary place they picture it to be in the movies. It's simply the pretty heart of Romania, with wooded mountains, streams and villages, some little changed since medieval times. Horses often work beside tractors in the fields.
And in spite of what the local politicians may say, street dogs ARE a problem; you see them roaming in public from Bucharest to the smallest village, and along every highway in between. They are usually friendly, sometimes shy, and almost always eager for affection even more than for food. It's sad to see them sleeping on sidewalks and limping across the streets, some with injuries or birth defects, drinking from puddles and begging for food. One wonders how they manage to survive. They've probably been such a common sight for so long the Romanians hardly notice them anymore. But if Nancy and the rest have anything to say about it, they will hopefully eventually be safe in homes or shelters and off the streets for good.

Romania

2008-05-18T18:12:00.001-07:00

Wow, where do I start about Romania? So much has happened in the past few days I can barely remember it all. I arrived at the airport in Bucharest and was approached by several taxi drivers, whom I ignored. But one, who seemed like an honest guy, finally convinced me that to get into town required two train changes and a bus, and he told me a price up front to take me directly to a hotel. So I jumped in and we had an interesting conversation about the state of Romania. He boiled it all down like this: Since the revolution, they have freedom, and more material goods in the stores, but not much money to buy anything! Which I'm finding out is true-- most of them make way less than people in the U.S., but housing costs the same here. Most still seem to live in the old communist apartment blocks that are everywhere. And the guidebook mentions that many people park on the sidewalks; I soon found out it was true!

Anyway, the hotel I chose was a bit expensive for me (for Romania) at 66 euros, but was pretty shoddy inside, and a long walk down dark sidewalks from the train station (which turned out to be a good place for sneaking pictures of people). The street lighting, and in fact lighting in many public areas, is minimal. It can make walking at night sometimes creepy. And when I popped out of the hotel to see if I could catch a bite to eat, hopefully some local Romanian food, the only restaurant open was a Chinese place that smelled strange, aside from the smokey interior, so I skipped it and bought some cookies and crackers from a convenience shop. While looking for it, I was approached by some friendly young teens who, when I asked if they knew "someplace to eat" brought me a young prostitute! I thanked them but said I was only hungry for food.

Did I mention people smoke EVERYwhere here? I noticed it as soon as I landed at the airport. There is no such thing as a "No Smoking" area, as far as I've seen. My guidebook even mentions a youth hostel that gives out free cigarettes. Anyone want to guess which large American corporation is behind that little bit of charity? I'm betting it starts wth "Phillip".

But the next morning the area looked much better; an old church across the street was even quite pretty. I caught a train to the town of Buzau, and had a great talk with a nice young college student named Florin, which (sad to say) is a guy's name here. He was a bit nervous about making his first trip soon to the U.S. where he'll spend the summer at Rehobeth Beach, Delaware, working at a Cold Stone Creamery. He speaks great english and will probably be lonely, so any of you east-coast ladies interested can go there and look for him-- I've included his picture here for you!

In Buzau I met Nancy Janes of Romania Animal Rescue, and Dr. Rick Bachman, a veterinarian, both donating their time to help teach local vets modern spay and neutering surgical techniques. The Romanian vet schools are a bit behind the times (for instance, they don't use spay hooks, a basic tool of spaying in the U.S. for years). Nancy and her Romanian-American friend Christina aren't in the medical field, but are primary supporters of this trip, and are invaluable help. Nancy has been coming to Romania for years (see her website http://www.romaniaanimalrescue.com/), and pretty much single-handedly founded the organization with her own time and money. When she's not crossing Romania working and meeting with people who can support her cause, she's raising funds back home in California. She also brings back lots of puppies and finds homes for them in the U.S. And Christina also donates her time and money, and is an invaluable translator and has many contacts in the country.

"Dr. Rick" is just incredible; while working with him I've watched him patiently and tirelessly teach local vets (with Christina's translation) in primitive conditions, and later over dinner talk with them about how it would benefit them to help with the stray dog problem, which many seem to either ignore or even think that stray dog overpopulation is good business for them. The Romanian government does next to nothing about it; their involvement is mostly periodic slaughters. Together Nancy, Rick and Christina do far more than the entire government of Romania! It's a real honor and a privilege to be able to travel and work with them. They've been supporting me as well, paying for my hotels and meals. In fact I haven't been able to spend a leu (Romanian currency worth about 30 cents) since I've hooked up with them! I took a picture from my hotel window of the town square next door with the odd but colorful blue and yellow building next to it-- a definite improvement over that hotel in Bucharest-- and no hookers outside the hotel!

When Nancy picked me up from the Buzau train station (where I had already made friends with a street dog in front of my bags), within a half hour I was helping with some spays at a local shelter run by a couple who use their entire back yard to house stray dogs (and one nervous cat!) The next day we drove to another town to train a couple of vets in Rick's techniques at their clinic. Then the third day we drove to a nearby city dog pound where the hospital supplies were almost nonexistant but with Rick's equipment and some fast scrambling, we managed to set up a fair surgical suite and recovery room. We only did five dogs that day, but trained two more vets, both of whom seemed very grateful. Every local vet who gets trained is one more who could be supporters of spay/neuter, instead of the government policy of ignoring the problem or periodic slaughter.
Tomorrow we drive to a much more distant town; it promises to be an interesting ride,over the Carpathians and across Transylvania. And I hear it's a walled city, which are always historic and beautiful. I'll write more from there!
P.S. Unfortunately, something's wrong with my camera and most of the pictures are slightly out of focus. I'll get some better ones from the others' cameras soon. And if anyone has any suggestions on how to fix my camera I'd love to hear from them!

Relaxing in Athens

2008-05-18T00:59:00.000-07:00

Our final stop in the tour of Greece was Athens. After taking the airport train to downtown to save money, we still g0t ripped off by a cab driver who took us to our hotel by a very roundabout way and charged us 20 euros for it. But the hotel was in a great location, right in the heart of the "Plaka", the oldest part of Athens right at the very foot of the Acropolis. ln fact the room had a partial view of it, and from the hotel roof you could see the whole thing practically right in your lap.
We only had a day and a half, so the first day we explored the streets and ruins of the Plaka, which include-- besides the funky bars and gelato stands among the shops-- Greek and Roman foundations, the beautifully preserved Roman "Tower of the Winds", and a great museum inside a "Roman" agora building they actually rebuilt recently according to what they believe was the original design. We then wandered up to the Acropolis itself, which I never get tired of seeing, and Jen was amazed she was actually there. I still miss the old childhood days when we could stroll through the Parthenon, but I suppose it's for the best to keep tourists out now.
We are also interested to see several dogs roaming among the ruins. We spot a Parthenon employee feeding them and ask her about them. She explains that before the '04 Olympics, the Greek government rounded up the Athens street dogs, and the "nice" ones were sterilized and vaccinated, given collars, and after the Olympics, re-released to the streets. Fortunately, now the Greeks seem to like the dogs more now that they know they've been treated. They feed them more and the dogs seem to be tolerated better than on my earlier travels here.
I only hope the government continues the spay/neuter program now that the Olympics are over. Only time will tell.
The Plaka is also full of those great sidewalk cafes and tavernas I love (with the usual cats playing on the walls next to you, like in the picture) and of course we dined at one.
The next day we scrambled to meet Costas, an old Greek family friend, in Syntagma Square, the main plaza of Athens, but got started in the wrong direction. Luckily Costas is patient and was still there by the time we showed up, and we had coffee and a nice chat in one of the square's cafes. Then it was off to the National museum, where the country's greatest archeological treasures are kept, to get a glimpse of Greece's past glory. I'm still awed by some of the masterpieces produced by the early Greeks, who set the standards for classical art and sculpture.
After another sidewalk dinner, we watched the sun set on the Acropolis from our rooftop, and toasted a wonderful, wandering two weeks in grand old Greece.

Unfortunately Jen found out at the last minute that they changed her flight's departure time to 7:00 am (due to an airline strike), so she hardly got any sleep and had to take a taxi to the airport at 4 a.m. instead of the train later like we had planned. I later found out that she also got stuck in Frankfurt and had to spend the night there (courtesy of Lufthansa). And my flight to Romania was bumped to the afternoon, so my arrival there was late also.

But more on that in the next blog, "Roamin' in Romania", where a whole new chapter of my travels and animal exploits starts. See you soon!

Santorini & Crete

2008-05-14T19:56:00.001-07:00

From Naxos we took another ferry (this time the open-decked, slower kind that are much more fun to ride) and were met at the harbor by a driver from our hotel. It was nice not to have to squeeze into a crowded bus with the other touists to go up the cliff to town, but instead be driven right to the hotel. The Agnadema Hotel turned out to be even better than it looked on the internet: We got a free upgrade to a spacious studio with our own little balcony and a breathtaking view overlooking the caldera and other islands of the Santorini group. The photos don't do it justice.
That evening we ate at an open-air restaurant and nearly froze as the wind picked up and the temperature dropped. It was worth it to watch the sunset (and the dog on the wall) but just barely. Tne next day we rented a car and drove from one end of the island to the other. We peeked at the black beach (lava rock sand) and the red beach (a rare reddish sand) but we just aren't the types to lay around on a beach, so we pushed on. We checked out a village where I saw a mule tied out in the hot sun with no water, and got yelled at by the drunk owner for photographing it. The bar owners came out and apologized for him, but it left a bad taste for a while.
I soon felt better when we stopped by a couple of wineries and did some tasting of Santorini wines. My favorite was a semi-sweet red, and Jen liked the vey sweet dessert wine "Vinsanto". She also tried the ouzo, but alone it tastes like cough syrup (we thought), so most of it was left for the maid. By the afternoon we were at the western end of the island where we watched a great sunset from "Dimitri's", a little seaside restaurant down the cliff right next to the water. We had a nice talk with the American owner who had married a Greek man and now ran the place. Talk about fresh: they cooked the just-caught fish right out back of the place. And we shared our chairs with the ownder's cat who slept through the whole evening until the sun set.
The ride back to our hotel along the cliffs in the dark wasn't so fun, so the next day we decided not to drive anywhere else but stay with our pattern of relaxing on the second day. We did little more than stroll the winding alleys and browse in the unique little shops selling local artisans' crafts, and (of course) enjoy great Greek food at some of the seemingly endless number of tavernas. Santorini is so beautiful that you really don't have to do much more than that, and gaze out at the views, to enjoy a vacation there. The next morning we caught a high-speed hydrofoil to Crete for one final island stop. For some reason the boat sat in the harbor for almost an hour while we waited, which delayed our arrival in the huge, unnatractive capital city of Iraklion just enough to cause us to miss the bus to the much prettier (and smaller) Chania harbor town, where we had a hotel reserved. We thought about renting a car to get there, but it was a 2-hour drive at night, and I had no idea how to get there anyway, so we nixed that idea. Schlepping our luggage, we walked to several nearby hotels until we found one with a room at a reasonable price. Tired, hungry and both a bit nauseous after the long boat ride we gladly took it and collapsed.
The next day we caught the bus to Chania (pronounced without the "C"), and found that once again our little 500-year old hotel.was even cuter than the pictures had portrayed. The old man running the place forgave us for our late arrival and gave us the best room-- the top floor complete with loft, cat, and sweet dog out the back door. Thanks to our late arrival we only had one night there, but it turned out to be all we needed to explore the maze of shops in the old section of town, and walk out on the harbor wall to the lighthouse to watch the sunset, then dinner in the harbor.
The next morning we had to pack yet again for the morning flight to Athens, coming up next. Stay tuned!

Naxos

2008-05-11T03:40:00.000-07:00

Naxos was better than I remembered. I've already been there twice-- with my sister Betsy in 1994, and again with a friend in 2003. This time we stayed again at the wonderful little hotel owned by Stelios and Anna (and their sweet dog Rea), friends of Costas, an old family friend we knew in Greece back in the '60's). Anna and Stelios have also become old friends now, giving warm hospitality in their hotel and the beachside restaurant "Odysseus". Unfortunately we arrived too early in the season for the Odysseus to be open, but right next door the neighboring taverna served wonderful Greek food by "Yanni", which of course we took full advantage of!
We oohed and aahed at our room, then went for a walk on the beach, where we met a young couple carrying some old nets that had washed up. The girl explained that turltes and other sea life can get caught and drown in the nets, and birds will eat pieces of plastic and also die. So we, too, embarked on a beach cleanup walk. Over the three days there we collected two large trash bags of all kinds of plastic junk including some netting, all the way down to lots of straws that are used in proliferation here. It was a nice feeling to leave the beach cleaner and safer than when we got there. Jen even found an encrusted ring that at first looked like an antique, but turned out to be a tourist trinket still seen in shops today!
The next day we rented a little car and drove around the island. On my last two trips there I had been woefully negligent in seeing more of Naxos besides the beach and Naxos town, but this time we did a pretty thorough job of exploring it. On Stelios's advice we headed for the center of the island and drove through several cute little villages. We stopped to check out a little church, which turned out to be gated... But we met an old Greek man next door, probably the caretaker, who hardly spoke a word of English but invited us by sign language to go in the gate ("Porta") and see the gardens. He seemed impressed at our admiration of the plants, because then he also waved us into his own garden next door, where we met his smiling wife who offered us cookies and coffee. I remembered the legendary Greek hospitality and knew we were likely to be asked inside for lunch, so after a short visit we indicated we had to go. Before we left they gave us some lemons from their tree and took our picture in their garden!
Our lack of communication inspired Jen & I to brush up on our Greek, and we quickly learned (re-learned, in my case) some basic phrases. Now we can both say enough words to please the local shopkeepers, etc., at least enough to show that we've made an effort. I was even asked if I spoke Greek!
The drive turned out to be pretty cliff-hugging, including avoiding some goats and other obstacles like rocks and oncoming buses, but we made it to a great little village on a mountain where we were served a wonderful lunch at a sidewalk taverna. The village also had some great artisans' shops where we browsed before continuing on around the top of the island and back down along the coast. We finished up in Naxos town and walked out to the giant "Porta".ruins of an ancient Greek temple. (The remains are what's left of the door-- hence the name), and then had a harborside dinner and checked out the many shops in the labyrinth of winding little alleys.
It was such a full day we did nothing but relax the next day; only going for another beach walk and cleaning up another section of beach. We read a lot and worked on our tans, and had a final dinner at Yanni's. Anna was kind enough to let us use her washing machine, and hanging up our clothes out back, she showed us a little cubby hole where a pretty dog was nursing some adorable puppies. Speaking of dogs, I also fed a nearby Rottweiler chained all day in an empty lot with a doghouse. He had water, but ate my canned food ravenously, and was very grateful!

All too soon it was time for the ferry the next day to Santorini, and after our goodbyes Jen got to ride on her first open-air ferry to Santorini, which will be the next blog. See you then!

Istanbul Revisited

2008-05-10T06:13:00.000-07:00

My flight from Bodrum got me to the Istanbul airport just in time to meet Jen, who flew in from Virginia, all according to plan. I knew enough not to fiddle around with trying to get to the hotel by train or bus, but just take a taxi. It's fast, easy, and fairly cheap... kinda like me.
The little hotel was back in the Sultanahmet (Blue Mosque) area, but on an even better block, just around the corner from my last place. The Zuegma Hotel is right in the middle of a tiny cobblestoned street that seems taken right out of a village in the countryside: quiet, and lined with sidewalk cafes and little shops.
I took Jen on a short walk to show her the views of the mosques, and then (having had less than two hours sleep on the flight) let her nap. She got up in time for dinner which we had on a rooftop restaurant across the street which had incredible views.
I have to admit she adjusted pretty fast; by next morning she was on Istanbul time. We got up too late to have the complimentary breakfast (which wasn't much anyway) so we got some juice and pastry in a shop and went to see the sights. First up was Aya Sofia (also spelled Hahgia Sophia), the mosque-turned cathedral-turned museum that should have been listed as one of the wonders of the ancient world, but I guess anything built in the sixth century A.D wasn't around to make Herodatus's list. Anyway it was a real pleasure to finally see first-hand the genius of the architecture. I'm no expert, but I believe the incredible domed ceiling covers an area much larger than St. Paul's in London, and that was built over a thousand years later. Jen mentioned that nobody she knew had ever heard of the Sofia, which is a shame, it really is a wonder of the ages. The Blue Mosque, also built a milennium later, is also a masterpiece of domed beauty, but inside had huge columns supporting the roof that the Sofia didn't need, yet another testament to that unknown genius of ancient Turkey. Still, being much newer, the Blue Mosque is in much better shape, and the inside is so beautiful it's still used for prayer in the afternoon-- and because of that Jen had to wear a temporary "skirt" to get inside!
We snacked on some of the local food, including "corn in a cup", a circular sesame bread thing, and of course baklava. Then we passed the mannikin-like guards and went thought the gate into Topkapi Palace. It was much better preserved than I hoped, and we spent all afternoon exploring the various chambers, exhibits and buildings. We finished on the Sultan's terrace which gave spectacular views of the bosporus. Dinner was at one of the cute little restaurants on our street.
The next day, sunday, I took Jen for breakfast at the wonderful Four Seasons (the former prison) just around the corner, and spent far too much on it, but it was something I just had to do. I also had planned to take her to the Grand Bazaar and on a bosporus cruise, but fate seemed to be against us. First we found out that all the bazaars were closed un sundays, not only the Grand but the Spice and the Egyptian bazaars as well. And it was drizzly and cold all day, too wet to enjoy a boat cruise. Instead we intrepid travelers walked to the Spice Bazaar area and found another open-air market that was open, with many shops that sold animals, so you can imagine how interested we were! Most of them actually seemed pretty well cared for, but some conditions weren't ideal, like some of the puppies in small dark cages, including a sweet Rottweiler that probably never sold as a pup and was now getting big. He licked my fingers and I wished I could have found him a home, but as usual I knew nowhere to take him in Istanbul. We couldn't imagine why anyone would want to buy a dog or cat there when the streets were full of friendly strays just begging to be taken home.
There were also restaurants in the area and we had some nice hot apple tea which is everywhere there, and visited a nearby mosque which was not as big as the Blue, but pretty impressive on its own, as many of them are. We also crossed the bridge to the other side, but there wasn't much to see there. In fact the bridge itself was the most interesting part, with guys fishing off the top, and the lower level had lots of shops and cafes, including some lined with colorful '70's-style beanbag chairs outside-- but it was too cold to sit there.

That night we ate again at another sidewalk restaurant on our street. I don't think there's a bad place in the whole area; with all the competition, it would soon go out of business, which was good for us; we had some memorable meals of shrimp casserole, mussels in rice pilaf, and all manner of delicious Turkish dishes. Our favorites are tomato and feta salads (with some black olives), drizzled with fresh, local olive oil--also great for bread-dipping afterwards. Jen also has a special fondness for the ztaztiki sauce (yogurt/cucumber dip) that comes wtih pita bread to dip. I was again sorely tempted to have a kebab (they have chicken, lamb, beef and gyro or donner types all over) but somehow managed to avoid it once more.
Next day we had an early flight to Mykonos, where we caught a ferry to Naxos. Mykonos is nice, and has a lot to offer, but I thought Jen would like quiet, less touristy Naxos better. I think I was right-- see the next blog soon. [Internet has been hard to get on the Greek Islands, but I'll try to catch up soon...]

Traveling Lean and Green

2008-05-04T06:12:00.000-07:00

Here are some tips I've learned or developed along the way to travel clean, lean and green, leaving as small a footprint as I can as a tourist, and maybe even helping to spread the word that not all tourists are lazy, self-centered slobs only interested in pleasure and self-gratification no matter what the cost to the local (or global) environment.

Hotels. I'm finding many hotels around the world that offer "green" laundering choices. In many rooms there will be a card or sign that says something like "Every year billions of gallons of water and millions of pounds of bleach and detergents are wasted cleaning hotel sheets and towels, not to mention the energy wasted. To help our environment, re-hanging your towels means you don't wish to have them changed, and if you do, place them on the floor." I look for this type of sign now in every hotel, and always re-hang my towels. I mean, who needs their towels washed after just one use? If there is no such sign, I mention it to the management and remind them that they can save money by such practices, and tell them that hotels all over the world are doing it. I also ask them to please not change the sheets until I check out. Some maids are so used to doing this that they do anyway, in which case I remind the management of my request, and ask them to please abide by it, in the hopes that they will start to get the message.
I also only open one soap. Usually there are two or more little bars of soap, and if you open more than one they might change them for new ones the next day. In one hotel in Thailand new soap and shampoo, which both came in little bottles, arrived like clockwork every day in my bathroom, in spite of the fact that I wasn't even using it! I think this is a waste of soap and energy, and helps pollute the environment. Now I have just taken to ask that NO room service be performed while I visit. That way the maids don't get the chance to be wasteful, and probably appreciate the break. And I don't have to straighten up the room before they come, either!

Eating. Many people may not realize that eating meat makes a HUGE impact on local pollution, wastes lots of energy, and certainly does nothing to stop the global move towards cruel "factory farming". Some might be curious how hard it is to find meatless food while traveling. I have yet to find a restaurant, cafe, pub or any place (except maybe a gyro stand) that doesn't serve plenty of delicious meals I can eat. I love eating at the little outdoor tavernas and such, especially if there's a harbor view. But I also try to avoid the main tourist restaraunts, like the ones right next to the big attractions where hungry tourists normally migrate, or the big chains and ones in large hotels, etc. I try to find a little, out of the way family-run place where the locals eat, the food is better and cheaper, and you're not ignored by some snobby waiter.
I also never, ever go into American fast-food places that are now all over the world. I don't want to support the globablization of KFC, McDonald's, or Starbucks. When exploring the winding, cobblestoned streets of a cute little village in Europe, the last thing I want to see is a Burger King in the town square--which unfortunately I do, all too often. There's no telling how many local places these chains have put out of business, but I'll certainly never help them do it.
I also try to eat locally and seasonally. If someone visiting London for Christmas demands fresh strawberries, for example, she would get them, but they'd either be flown in from South Africa or grown in heated, energy-gobbling hydroponic farms. I've also been asking at tavernas if the tomatoes and such are from that island or area, but often there's a language problem. They often smile and say, "Yes, very fresh!" leaving me to wonder what the real story is.
And I'm starting to see why the travel guru Rick Steves loves picknicking; it's fun to nip into a little mom & pop store and buy some bread and cheese, and maybe some fruit (I also used to get salamis, more's the pity) and walk around munching it or find somewhere to sit and people-watch. It's easier on the budget and fun to try new things to eat. And of course I always try the local beer or wine. Only a moron would go to, say, Prague, and ask for an American beer.

Transportation. One of my friends back home and I were discussing global warming, and he brought up a good point: if I was trying to help prevent climate change, how did I reconcile all the air travel I've been doing this year? I admit there's not much defense-- air travel is one of the biggest causes of carbon dioxide in the atmosphere, not even counting the particulates and water vapor released into the upper atmosphere which some scientists think could double the action caused by the CO2 alone. No doubt it's a high-energy, polluting way to travel. I could only tell him that for this trip, the time constraints force me to use some air travel, and that when I can I take trains, buses, ferrys and other public transportation, and only taxis when necessary in a big, strange city (like Tokyo or Istanbul). I've also done a heckuva lot of walking, which not only allows one to really see and experience a new place, but is great exercise too-- I've shed quite a bit of extra "baggage" while traveling.

Also now when you purchase plane tickets you are often given the option of buying "carbon credits", which is supposed to be invested in activities that balance out the CO2 released, such as planting trees, etc. I admit I know little about what is actually involved in this new field, but I buy the credits anyway, which hopefully balances the books better. I know that no credit system can take the carbon out of the air, but maybe it helps.

Spreading the Word. When I go places, I ask questions; not necessarily to get answers, but to make people think. For example, in a cafe, when I'm finished with a bottle of juice, I hand it back to the person behind the counter and ask if they recycle. If they say no, I ask, "Why not?" Or say I'm in a tourist souvenier shop and they're selling skins of their native animals; I might ask them if this is how they want tourists to see what they think of their own wildlife (then I tell them that I'll never shop in their store, and tell them why). If I buy milk in a store or eggs in a restaurant, I might ask if they know anything about how the cows or chickens are treated where they get their produce-- for instance if the cows are treated with BGH and antibiotics, or whether the hens are kept in battery cages. The people are usually baffled, but perhaps if enough customers start asking questions like this, they'll get the message that visitors actually do care about such things.
I've asked bookstores why they had so few educational books and so many romance novels, and pet store owners if they knew how the native birds they sold were trapped or bred. I've written to heads of state and asked why they don't do more to support the care and rehabilitation of their own native wildlife--even the species that they tout as their country's 'symbols', and told them that their lack of interest was noticeable even from an outsider's point of view (I have yet to get an answer from any of them on this one). Along the way I've probably annoyed quite a few people with my hard questions, but it's my little way of showing that some tourists actually care about the environment, even if they're not in their own countries.
Pollution. Finally, I never, ever litter; in fact, sometimes I'll clean up other people's litter, especially if local children are watching, to demonstrate by example that it's ok to care about their environment. And I rarely buy a new bottle of water; most places I've been able to refill my bottle (a used juice bottle from the U.S.) with good water from taps and have had no problems. Only at the Elephant Nature Park were we asked to drink their bottled water; I figured I've saved over a hundred bottles worth of plastic so far on this trip, and the energy to transport the water. Not bad considering I'm on the road and traveling in questionable countries; I wonder how many people from developed countries with modern purification plants can make the same claim.

Istanbul, Bodrum and Kos

2008-04-30T14:36:00.000-07:00

(That title sounds like a Turkish law firm)

The flight from Singapore to Istanbul left around midnight. Too wired to sleep wtih the thought of finally getting to Europe and seeing a brand new city (for me), I stayed up all night. A silent asian girl sat next to me so I read and movie-surfed until we reached Dubai to refuel and let off some passengers. The Asian girl left, letting me strike up a conversation with the older guy in the next seat, who turned out to be Captain Hiko, a Turkish charter boat skipper who lived near Bodrum, where I was going after Istanbul. He really tried to be helpful and gave me all kinds of advice.
Istanbul: Upon arrival I heard pages for "David Benazai", and at first thought it might be Jen (my friend from Virginia) coming early to surprise me (she was due to meet me in a week), but it was a chauffer with a ride to the hotel that I forgot I had booked months earlier. And what a location! I had no idea it was practically in between the Aya Sofia and the Blue Mosque, AND steps away from the walls of Topkapi Palace! You should see the incredible views from the roof! The top picture is one. You can see how close I was to the Blue Mosque. Also, remember "Midnight Express", that movie of an American stuck in a horrible Turkish prison? It too was just steps away, but incredibly renovated into a beautiful Four Seasons hotel with no room under $600 a night (pictured here). I took a wander inside, and now I can say, why yes, actually, I HAVE been in a Turkish prison.
Of course I did my usual arrival walk after dumping my bags. While trying to decide which mosque to go into first, a young Turkish Andy Garcia look-alike (I think named Ali) told me the Blue Mosque closed first, so I should go there. Oh, and it just happened that he owned a carpet shop in the mini-bazaar behind it! The Mosque was incredible inside, but outside, for the rest of the day, it was a battle of wills between me and every carpet salesman in Istanbul (so it seemed) trying to lure me into their stores. One actually charmed me into stepping inside to see some, even though I told him repeatedly I had no intention of buying anything. There wasn't much pressure and it was kind of interesting to see the different types of weaves, etc. There are also a few establishments with imperfectly translated names, leading to sometimes humorous results, like the restaurant called the "Meat House", or the little store called the "World Cheapen Market".
Obviously I was pretty tired by the afternoon (as it was my night) having skipped a night of sleep, so I went to bed early and slept about 12 hours. Refreshed the next day after breakfast served by a grumpy waiter who refused to give me juice or water, just tea, I felt up to the challenge of the Grand Bazaar. It had its interesting moments, but all in all it was like a gigantic shopping mall without the ritz and glitz. Hundreds or perhaps even thousands of shops within a walled and roofed section of the city, selling a dazzling array of things. I took a picture of an outrageously ornate telephone for Dad.

But a pattern quickly started to develop: one whole area was jewelry, antoher rugs, another antiques. For a suburban boy raised in the land of shopping malls, only the odd store selling unusual items held any real interest. The book section didn't hold a single english-language tome, but one book dealer had a bunch of cats hanging around, so of course I liked that!
A back gate led to the Istanbul University, and along the way back a square held little old women in rags selling birdseed, just like in "Mary Poppins", but without the cockney accent.
I explored more areas but skipped the Aya Sofia and Topkapi, saving them for when Jen comes. The next day I took a short flight down to Bodrum, (where the flight attendants flirted with a young passenger), a small harbor town on the Mediterranean. It's a fairly nice port with an interesting castle next to the harbor, and I found my hotel easily enough-- Captain Hiko had recommended the Hotel Grup. Not a promising name, but the Captain said it was good. Too bad I trusted him; I was overcharged for a room with no blanket, no towels but a fantastic view (pictured here)... which was noisy that night--especially after Turkey won some soccer game and the whole town went crazy, chanting and honking horns...right outside my window! And the "balcony" was a skinny strip of slippery marble with a rail only about two feet high... so that kinda took the fun out of using it.
One downer: so far the whole time in Turkey it was cold & rainy. Even the next morning waiting for the ferry it rained, but it finally got sunny as the ferry approached the Greek island of Kos--perhaps a good omen.
Kos: I got off the boat not knowing where the 2 hotels were that the book recommended, but a guy stitting on a scooter asked if I wanted to see his hotel. He seemed like an honest sort (I'm getting an instinct for reading people) so I got on his scooter, luggage and all, and we made a mad dash past people on the harbor to his hotel, which turned out to be really quite nice, and only 30 euros a night. The guy, Halil (whose name sound more Turkish than Greek but I didn't want to risk insulting him by asking about it) is really friendly and anxious to please. And if the truth be told, he's quite the Greek Gary Cooper, so I took a picture of "Hal", as I call him, for you ladies... now you can fantasize about summer trips to Mediterranean islands and handsome Greek men!

As usual I dropped off my bags and hit the streets. As I was walking it started to rain, so I ducked into a cafe and found cheese pies. How could I have forgotten them? I got a big round one and it was great! It's funny how even things like rain can have unexpected good consequences. By the time I was done the sun came out, so I continued down until I found (by accident) the Plane tree of Hippocrates. Long story, but it was cool to just happen on it, like turning the corner in Paris and seeing the Eiffel Tower in front of you for the first time. Well, maybe not that special, but you know what I mean!
Now guess what movie's on? "My Big Fat Greek Wedding", what else?
The weather the rest of the stay was beautiful, and it was a real pleasure to just stroll around the town, snooping in little shops, some with some beautiful Greek plates that I just had to shoot, and occasionally checking out some ruins now & then. The Romans must have liked this place; every other block is fenced off around some ruins, including the smallest little ampitheater I think I've ever seen. Most you can just walk down into if you like; all are free. There's also a large castle on the harbor (Just like in Bodrum) that I explored today. Inside it's pretty overgrown, and in a clump of grass I spotted a clutch of newborn kittens. I left some food for Mama. In fact I've been feeding cats all over town; they're everywhere and usually hungry. I finally met the mysterious other person who leaves them food: surprisingly, it turned out to be an old Greek man-- he was leaving all kinds of old-looking fish, and even filling some water bowls with bottles. Unfortunatly he didn't speak a word of English, so I couldn't ask him about it.
I had a final stroll through town this evening to see how pretty it looked with the tavernas all lit up and full of tourists, and the harbor was pretty nice too. I had a final Greek salad and those giant beans, and headed back to "Hal's Place". Today, my last day here, I rented a bike and wore myself out biking way outside of town just to see more of the island. You really need a car to explore the entire thing, but I got a good look at the countryside, which was typical quiet Greek island stuff, except the shore facing Turkey which is still littered with old abandoned bunkers left over from their little "cold war" with their now-fellow EU members. Hopefully the old animosity will be ancient history soon.

Next: back to Istanbul.

The "Pet Shop" in Malaysia

2008-04-26T22:20:00.000-07:00

I'm on the bus now back to Singapore, with heavy heart. Sad not only because I had to say goodbye to two new and already dear friends, but sad for the animals in this country. I just left the Malaysian version of a pet store, and inside was sad indeed. All manner of animals were caged inside and out for sale, from the parakeets and mackaws and sugargliders outside to many more inside. Chicks and ducklings crowded in cages, American porcupines (God knows why we would allow them to be exported here), doves and pigeons crammed together, and cages full of very tiny birds, almost as small as hummingbirds, each cage with some of them dead on the bottom. Also turtles and large fish of many kinds in green, cloudy water. Many of these animals will not be pets, but meals. I take a few pictures. Other tortoises languish on the dirty floor in a corner.

One odd find: several American porcupines, as identified by Raymond, though as he said, "As to how and why they wound up here, who kows?" All we knew is that someone in the United States is exporting our wildlife to Asia, where what happens to them (if they survive the trip) is anybody's guess. He then asks a man hosing down the cages (including the birds inside) what is in one cage; something little and fuzzy sleeps in a bowl. The man reaches in and dumps four more sugar gliders out of it. They are nocturnal and should be allowed to sleep, but they groggily stir about, one climbing to the cage top try to hide.

In the very back corner a cage holds one of the tiny birds, flying back and forth, for some reason alone in this cage. A brick holds down the mesh flap covering a hole in the top. No one is looking; I move the brick and flap so a hole is made that hopefully the bird will use soon after I'm gone.

He and his lead volunteer Marilyn (sp?) question the store owner about the poor conditions of two kittens in a bare, dirty cage. There is no water. After they talk the owner brings out a bowl of water for the crying kittens. I don't have the heart to look at them for long.
What hit me the hardest was seeing, in one cage all by himself, a half-grown gosling still partly yellow with fuzz, but looking about to sprout feathers. His beak looked worn down, perhaps from pecking at the cage so much, and he quacked desperately at me as he padded back and forth on the wire bottom of his dry, lonely cage. For some reason I instantly name him Gus. His little goose feet had never known water to swim in, his face had never felt sushine or a mother's love. How I wished I could buy him and set him free in some pond, able to paddle about and live in peace as he was meant to. But my bus to Singapore was leaving in less than ten minutes and there was no time to take him anywhere. All I could do was say goodbye to him and hope someone actually DID want him as a pet instead of as dinner. But I know I'm just kidding myself; no one keeps geese as pets in this country. Too late I wonder if perhaps I should have asked Raymond to take him. I also wish I had taken a picture of him. I only got a shot of some ducklings in another cage.

Ducks, chickens, geese and all other birds are raised by their parents, like mammals, and their mothers teach them the ways of the wild as they grow up. All the chicks and other babies in the cages were motherless, and would probably not survive if released on their own. It's no better in the U.S. of course, where birds like that are crammed even tighter in even more horrible conditions (darkness, stifling heat, ammonia-reeking air), but you never see that. What no one sees is easy to ignore and forget about while eating that Thanksgiving dinner or lunch at KFC. Raymond urges me to eat some meat; he thinks I gave up eating flesh too quickly, and that some in moderation is not bad. I nod but I know, especially now after what I've just seen, that I will never eat it again. Goodbye, Gus. I'm sorry I didn't save you. But at least you helped to inspire me to do better next time.

Singapore and Malaysia,then Goodbye to Asia

2008-04-24T00:57:00.000-07:00

Whew! It's been yet another incredible visit, this time to Singapore, the city/island/country at the southern tip of Malaysia and only one degree above the equator, as it turns out. I flew in exhausted after fighting my way through the Tokyo metro to the aiport, then flying the 7 hours here. I didn't know quite what to expect. I mean, you see pictures of Japan all the time, and maybe some of Thailand, but how often do you see anything of Singapore? I didn't know if it was another poor, crowded city like Bangkok or super-teeming like Tokyo.
Well, it's neither. It's actually beautiful, clean, modern, uncrowded and amazingly diverse. The airport itself is a marvel of modern design, complete with clear, easy-to-read signs in English, and I got my first glimpse of the new Airbus 380 double-decker jumbo jet pictured here. For the first time I had not pre-booked a hotel, but they have a desk for that at the airport that does it for you. And they have a system of "shared-cabs" which is just that: you join other travelers into the city and share the expense-- which is nowhere near as steep as Japan was, by the way.
So I went right to sleep the first night, and the next morning, rested up, I walked around "Little India" which the hotel was in, and picked up a new power cord for my laptop which I had stupidly lost somewhere on the way from Tokyo. I got it at the "Sim-Lim" building, a 5-story shopping center with nothing but electronics stores. Amazing. Most of the pictures I took here were from the Little India sector, which is older than most of modern Singapore. The pics are not representative of the rest of the city.

Anyway, then I was met by Jackie & Jim Haas, who took me to some temples. (Jackie's brother Bill Boniface is married to my cousin Leslie in Seattle.) Even though they are only "relatives" in the most liberal sense, they took me in and hosted me like I was a long-lost brother. The temples were a Buddhist one and a Hindu, both in service, but very different from any western church: no formal masses are said, people just come & go and leave offerings and pray to whatever God they want, while tourists (like me) wander between them snapping photos! Quite an experience.
Then I went to the Haas's beautiful home in the suburbs and met their two terrific kids, Eli and Taylor. I don't think I've ever met two more polite, sweet children. Taylor's a gymnast and we all had a bounce on their trampoline. Then we went out to dinner on the riverfront and took a short cruise afterwards, seeing the historic old British buildings compete for attention with the giant Ferris Wheel that seems to be the new thing for cities these days. Then it was home for a wonderful sleep in their guest room, complete with its own bath.
The next day I was kindly shown how to use the bus & train system by Ema, their housekeeper and au pair extraordinaire, (as the Haas's were all at the American School where both parents teach), and I left the island and went across the channel into Johor, Malaysia. I had arranged to meet Raymond Wee, the founder of Noah's Ark Animal Sanctuary. Raymond is to Malaysia what Lek was to Thailand: a leading force for modern, humane solutions to their countries' animal problems. Raymond has taken on the huge task of changing the way the people (especially the government) deal with stray dogs, cats and other animals. The traditional method is periodic "culling" (a polite way of saying "killing"), with no thought to build shelters, educate people, or initiate any kind of spay/neuter program. Raymond aims to change all that, chiefly by leading by example. A self-taught veterinarian, he has single-handedly founded spay and neuter programs in several parts of the country and travels back and forth doing the procedures mostly by himself. The local vets, according to him, are mainly interested in making money, and rarely help in the mundane population control surgeries. One gives him discounts, and he can send the more complicated cases to some others, but he does a lot himself!
He first took me to his main Noah's Ark sanctuary, not far from Singapore, where he houses, along with some rescued horses, about 750 dogs and 500 cats. It sounds incredible that anyone could humanely accomplish this, but somehow Raymond does with the help of a staff of trained assistants who work tirelessly to clean the place and keep all the animals fed and cared for. He showed me isolation kennels for newcomers, a huge cat house (due to be moved & expanded soon), a clinic, stables, and a nice treehouse-like habitat where guests can stay along with him and a few of the luckier cats.

Most of the dogs are free to roam and socialize within the sanctuary... and they love it! The range of breeds was vast-- I think every breed of dog was represented, from plucky little dachshunds to big friendly Danes and a lazy old St. Bernard. But mostly they were just mutts, rescued from the brutality of street life. Many were missing limbs or showed other signs of abuse, but all seemed happy there. They even have a kind of moat they can wade in, and lots of them did, clearly enjoying it! And the way they followed Raymond around they clearly adored him.
I made a lot of new friends myself... a few special dogs in particular, including a three-legged mix who stayed by my side when the others of a particular "pack" held back as I moved between different group's territories. A behavioral scientist could write a Ph.D. on the way the packs interacted and defended certain areas and somehow all got along in spite of their great numbers. Raymond also rescues horses, most from the hard life of racing, which have been discarded when they become damaged from bad management practices. (The horses give all they have when racing, then when they develop tendonitis, laminitis or other ailments, the rich owners sell them for horsemeat. It's an ugly industry and I hope nobody reading this supports it or goes to horse races.)

Visiting the cat house was a treat... the cats also have plenty of room to lounge, socialize, and observe the dogs from a safe place. Notice the two dogs in the background scheming for ways to get in!
Later, wading through dozens of dogs to get to the shower took me quite a while, because they all vied for attention and I had to pet each one. My clean shorts I put on the next morning were dirty within minutes from all the eager paws on them!

Then Raymond took me deeper into Malaysia, where I could see how the oil palms were replacing the forests as a way for the country to produce energy. It was sad to see so many hills and fields no longer wild with native forest. But every country has to make sacrifices, I suppose. Anyway Raymond has another little clinic in the town of Muar, still in the large state of Johor but two hours north of Singapore. He has a network of volunteers who bring in stray cats from the streets for spaying and neutering. He even let me do a few of the neuters! I was pretty nervous, as I had never gotten a chance to do them back home, but he was a good teacher and before long I was doing them pretty well.

Raymond is an excellent veterinarian, even if he didn't go to school for it. I saw him diagnose several animals just by looking at them, knowing their history, and having a very good feel for veterinary medicine.

He's also an excellent host, and insisted on treating me to some really tasty Malaysian food. Knowing that I'm a vegetarian, he took me to places that served all kinds of seafood. He even took me to a local shopping mall when I mentioned I needed some new tennis shoes.

We also stopped by a road where dozens of macaques come out of the forest to beg for food from passing motorists, a lot of whom now stop and hand-feed them. I probably shouldn't have, but I just couldn't resist the novelty of it. Something like that would never be allowed in the States!

Well, I have to go catch my flight to Istanbul now, so I'll be out of touch for a while, but I hope I've given you something to read meanwhile. See ya in Turkey, then on to the rest of Europe!

Crazy Japan

2008-04-22T18:16:00.001-07:00

Wow, Japan! What a busy, teeming mix of old and new. The airport is so far away from Tokyo it's surrounded by rice paddies. When I flew in I splurged for a taxi to take me to the hostel; I wanted to take on the challenge of the infamous Tokyo subway, but not on first arrival with luggage, at night, when I had never set foot in the place. Even the cab driver, armed with my hostel's address and a little map, still had trouble finding it in the maze of twisted, unnamed streets and warrens.
Yes, suprisingly enough, most Japanese streets have no name, and a compicated numbering system. Example: here's the hostel's address: Homeikan hostel, 10-5 Hongo, 5-Chome, Bunkyo-Ku, Tokyo. Anyway, he finally found it and it turned out to be a traditional, old-fashioned Japanese guesthouse where you take your shoes off at the door (they give you little slippers) and the rooms have sliding doors and futons and little tables that you kneel up to. Very traditional. I took a quick walk around the neighborhood then called it a night.

The next day was my one full day for sightseeing, and the choices for a huge city like Tokyo were almost overwhelming. I first attacked the dreaded metro, which was not quite as bad as I thought. Some signs had English names for stations, which is the most critical. The rest I figured out by asking questions and reading signs and maps. I found the Japanese to be friendly and helpful. Even the crustiest old attendant or station guard seemed to know enough English to point me in the right direction. "Go revel three, turn light, track two". I had to quickly learn to translate that funny mixup they have with their L's and R's.

I should have taken some better photos of the subway stations, but I took one of a bunch of schoolkids waiting for their train-- their teachers must have told them all to sit down! And one of a woman in a kimono, and wearing one of those surgical masks that lots of people here wear, for the pollution. Later I spotted a policeman wearing one and snapped this shot. I also took a photo of a Japanese fire truck for Jim to see.

I wanted to see that area of Tokyo that you always see in pictures, that looks like New York's Times Square with the huge neon billboards and the punk teens dressed in outrageous styles. I wasn't quite sure where it was, but started by going to the core of the city, Tokyo Station, which was also next to the Imperial Palace. The station was crazy! It just went on and on, with shops, branching passages,bustling commuters,even a homeless old Japanese guy or two. But once out of there it was a normal downtown, with a pretty square complete with cherry blossoms. The palace, it turns out, is not open to the public, but there was lots to see anyway. I spent some time tracking down the Tourist Office by going through an interesting crescent-shaped building (pictured). The friendly ladies in the office gave me maps and good directions. I spent the rest of the day taking the subway to several different areas and exploring.

I didn't go to Tokyo tower; just about every large city has its obligatory tower with viewing area for tourists, but I've found that most cities look pretty much the same from these high-dollar eyries. I usually prefer to mingle with the crowds on the street, wander through back alleys or along the waterfront. I also missed out on the famous Tokyo fish market, an early morning feast for the senses. But after over two months of continuous traveling, I've stopped trying to see everything, and just enjoy myself. Hey, if it's that good, I'll just have to come back, right?

The next day I made my way back to Tokyo Station with my luggage to catch the Shinkansen, or bullet train, to Kyoto. It is supposed to be the least-changed large city in Japan, largely unaffected by allied bombing. The parts I saw were still disappointingly modern, but I must admit I didn't see a whole lot as it was cold and rainy almost the whole time I was there, I was tired, and I had a great, cozy little hotel room that just made me want to stay in and catch up on some email, blogging and reading. It even had a short, deep bathtub that was more like the Japanese hot tub-like baths than a western one. In fact Wayne would be interested to see the bathroom, as it was molded almost all out of one piece of plastic--very efficient. TV was out of the question as there were no English-speaking channels, not even CNN or BBC, usually available everywhere. They played "Ocean's Thirteen" over and over, but dubbed. It was strange hearing George Cloony and Brad Pitt speaking Japanese, but the music was good so I had it on for about six showings-- I think I have it memorized, even in Japanese!

I know, someone's going to probably say, "Dave, you missed out on some great sights!" But sometimes you just have to rest! I did go out a few times and look in some food stores, but felt like a real foreigner when I realized I didn't know what anything was that I was looking at! I mean, look at the photo: how would you know what's good?? I took several other shots as well, all of them as mysterious as this. I'm afraid I fell back to having junk food like cookies and crackers and such, alhough at least I did try the Japanese versions.

So I left Kyoto the way I came, on the incredibly fast train that fairly flies on rails, back to Tokyo for one more night. I saw more of that metropolis, including finally getting to the Rippong district (the Times Square of Tokyo) but I didn't see many crazy teen fashions, but it was a bit rainy so maybe they stayed in. I did however wind up getting some fantastic shashimi and sushi. It's expensive even there, (as is everything else) but I had to try it. I had some trouble with the chopsticks, but was too proud to ask for silverware, so sometimes the sushi fell apart and sometimes I just used my hands. I got a few odd looks, but the fish fairly melted in my mouth, so I didn't care much!.

Then, craving something western, I stumbled upon an Irish pub, and decided to see how the Guinness was in Japan (a bit bland, to tell the truth). But I met a foin Oirish lad named Sean who was enjoying a night out without his Japanese wife, and we shared many travel tales along with a few pints. The prices were steep (about ten dollars a beer!), so I didn't get too many.
Then it was time to go, and I slugged my way one last time through the metro back to the airport, and can now officially say I have conquered the Tokyo subway-- and compared to that, ANY underground will be easy! Paris? No problem! Istanbul? Piece of cake! Speaking of that, I'll be there soon, but first I have to write about Singapore. See ya there!

PS One curiosity: the public men's rooms in Japan all have "western" style toilets and "Japanese style" ones, a little trough in the floor that looks like a miniature bathtub. Why in God's name anyone would want to squat when they can sit is beyond me, but what'reyagonna do? (I don't know about the women's rooms. Anyone? C.A.?)

Next: See ya in Singapore!

The Elephant Nature Park

2008-04-15T05:59:00.000-07:00

[Something new: 2 video clips at the bottom- check 'em out!]
Hello everyone! I just finished the week volunteering at the Elephant Nature Park. Let me start off by saying the Park is much more than that; it's really a sanctuary. In fact I think the only elephant sanctuary in Thailand, a country with a strange dichotomy of attutudes towards pachyderms: they claim to revere elephants, and in fact they are cultural icons and used as symbols everywhere, yet the Thais have a centuries-old history of the most extreme brutality towards them imaginable, especially the young.

But I'll get to that later. I had a fantastic time at the Park; I shoveled manure (briefly) and planted corn and worked my duff off, and probably lost 10 pounds in the heat, and loved every minute of it!
I could list a detailed summary of what I did every day, but that would be tedious for both you and me, so let me just list a few memorable images from the week, with photos of most of them.

The whole complex at the Park is build of mostly renewable and/or recycled wood and bamboo, and for those who ever saw my toothpick "house", it looks quite a lot like that! It's got cool little walkways zig-zagging around that took me almost the whole week to figure out. And the forty or so dogs have plenty of places to hang out, sleep, and play. As I mentioned before, the Park is also a shelter for dogs, cats, water buffalo and other cattle who were all rescued. Sangduen "Lek" Chailert (the founder) loves them all, and her Park is a shining example of what can be done with a little love, some hard work, and a bit of forward-thinking.

While it's not the Four Seasons Hotel, it was pretty comfortable. I had my own hut with futon and mosquito netting, not that I noticed any of those. No air conditioning, but the nights were cool and each room had a fan available if you wanted one. You'd fall asleep listening to crickets, gekkos, distant exotic, haunting birdcalls, and the occaisional elephant hoot. Once in a while the dogs would get in the mood to howl, and serenade us with a chorus that sounded almost like wolves!

Anyway, some memorable events: trekking through some tropical forest to a camp known as "Elephant Heavan", a patch of woods Lek uses to give the elephants some time in a more forested area than the main camp. A small group of us volunteers got to spend the night out there, have dinner cooked for us, and we talked and sang around a little campfire until sleep overtook us. The next day we hiked back, but not without tying buddhist monk-blessed sashes around trees, in the hopes that illegal loggers would be too superstitious to cut them down. Lek uses every method she can to save and preserve what's left of the habitat. Even in spite of that, there were some patches of woods that some locals had burnt to try to clear; it's a never-ending battle-- or at least a long one. Hopefully it will end some day.

Another memorable moment: "Hope" giving me a muddy kiss! The young elephant has been trained (by rewards) to give a big sucking smooch to people's cheeks-- it's the cutest thing ever! I never quite got a picture of him (yes, a boy) actually doing it, but this photo is right after one. Note: Hope is quite literally that: he's the first baby elephant Lek got that has not been "broken" by the primitive Thai "phajaan" elephant torture techniques, which are almost too horrible to describe here, but are assumed to be the only way to control elephants. Lek hopes to show the world that they can be trained and controlled with kindness instead of brutality. As you can see, it seems to be working!
Speaking of elephants, I think my favorite would have to be Medo, a sweet old lady pictured here with a broken back (or pelvis, I suspect) who was damaged by a greedy owner who tried to breed her with her foot already broken. But she holds no malice, and the old girl determinedly limps around the place, making sure she's included in the goings-on, especially the feeding and bathing! She's always gentle, and was a pleasure to sneak extra bananas to! Here she is in her usual spot, next to her big boyfriend "Uncle Max" who also happens to have an old broken foot. They seem to take comfort in each other, along with another old female missing a foot from a land mine. I was asked not to feel sorry for them, instead to be glad that they will spend their remaining years in loving care. I quickly agreed with that philosophy.

Then there was building the benches. It took two days, and I worked through lunches, as this was the best time to get stuff done without people coming to borrow tools and such. I built one long one and a little triangular one, and it was interesting re-learning carpentry with bamboo and the hardest teak I've ever used. (I owe them a new box of drillbits!) Anyway, they came out pretty nice, though I wish I had had time to build another one around a big tree growing through the deck. I was surprised and touched when, on the last day, some other volunteers showed me a sign they had painted saying "Dave's Bench". It was great... thanks again, Anna!
There were lots of other great volunteers-- too many to mention, but the two couples I seemed to hang out with the most were Paul & Barb, and Greg & Therese, all from Australia, pictured above at the Heaven Hut in the foreground. I wish I had known them when I was Down Under! Thanks, guys, for making it extra special. And thanks also to Matt & Hanna, Chris & Cathy, Jack, Lief, Lee & Anna, and all the rest. And Polly, you were a terrific group leader!

Let's see... there were also the delicious meals cooked up by Phom and her crew, sometimes joined by Lek herself who whipped up the best vegetable fritters I've ever had... and the Chang (which means elephant in Thai) beers given to me by Derrick (The one in the middle), Lek's partner, after a long day's work, which we drank along with Chaz, the head maintenance guy. Those two are the most talented handymen I've seen since Pappa; they can fix anything from water pumps to electric heaters. Unfortunately, they're both going on extended leaves this summer; I hope the place survives without them. Any volunteers? They could sure use you, Dad or Jim!

There were also trivia games and contests, memorable dinners--especially one where we had to use teams to represent animals (can you guess which animal they are above?), more elephant baths and feedings, and finally, best of all, a talk and video by Lek herself, about the current state of elephant care in Thailand and her plans to change it.
Later I got her autograph in her book and a great photo of her and Derrick at the final night's party.
The last day before I left I couldn't resist a final bath in the river with the elephants. I was glad I did, because Lek was there and I was able to get a photo of both of us-- quite an honor to be with someone who's won the "Hero of Asia" and "Hero of the Planet" awards!
Then all too soon it was time to go, but not before I said goodbye to all my new friends, human and otherwise!

**Check out the new video clips below.**

For anyone who's interested in reading more about the park, and maybe to order some gifts or even visit or volunteer yourself, here's the link:

http://www.elephantnaturepark.org/index.htm

WHAT I LEARNED ON MY VACATION: If you travel, especially to Asia or India, please keep the following in mind:

**Do NOT give money to feed elephants on city streets. You may feel sorry for them, but what they don't tell you is that they are owned by rich people, not the beggars you see, who make a profit on the suffering of the elephants as they wander the hot, hard, dangerous streets-- don't fall for this scam! The elephants are usually weak, hungry and scared, and usually torn from their mothers when far too young; they don't belong in the city, period. If nobody gives them money they'll stop the cruel practice.

**Before you go on an elephant trek or to a camp where they perform or give rides, you owe it to them to educate yourself on what goes on behind the scenes. All kinds of abuse takes place that you don't see (and some you do), including beatings, lack of food & water, separation of families, exhaustion, the list goes on. Elephants are trained to paint, for example, with up to four men poking them with sharp sticks or other weapons. Please don't support this kind of abuse. If you really want to see elephants, go to the Elephant Nature Park and see happy, playful elephants just being themselves.

**Pretty much any time you see elephants in some kind of show or display designed to get your pity-- and hence your money-- remember, they've all been through the phajaan torture, and think: do you want to support and perpetuate this? Be an educated traveler, not a clueless tourist, and don't pay for animal "entertainment" anywhere-- that includes "dancing" bears and ANY animals posed for photo ops.

[These photos were NOT repeat NOT taken at the Park; they were gotten online and taken somewhere in Thailand or Burma at a real phajaan, the "breaking" ritual that all domesticated Asian elephants go through-- except for Lek's.]

**If you have any questions at all, please email me at: hodave40@hotmail.com , leave a comment or check out the Park's website listed above.

Bathing "Jungle Boy" in the river: