Is that Colin Farell?
Friday, June 29, 2007
Thursday, June 28, 2007
Sarajevo
Yes, we are in Sarajevo, and its not what you would expect. its the 2nd favorite place ive been so far. The hostel we are staying at was attacked and the floor we are sleeping in was blown off in the war, yes the entire floor, with six bombs. Harris the owner was sleeping in the basement along with his entire family at the time it was blown off. he and his father rebuilt it after the war. the hostel is on top of his house. Harris a 19 year old told us all about the history amd the war he lived through. took us on a tour showing us the tunnel that the Serbians used to cross under a airport to a free area out side of Bosnians control. sniper alley along the side of town. and the holiday in where the journalists stayed while covering the war. its frightening to think that this all happened not but 12 years ago. The Muslim religion is the majority in Sarajevo,Five times a day the Muslim prayer happens and is played all over the city through P.As from the mosques all over the city, its pretty and haunting as the sun is setting. Tomorrow we are leaving to either Zagreb ( the capital of croaitia) or Ljubljana in Slovenia. which may be my breaking off point to northern Italy, and possibly France to see the tour! well love you guys and congrats Theo and Consuelo, they had a baby Vincent. Ok, im dead tired and and going to get some sleep.
-Spencer
Wednesday, June 27, 2007
My trip thus far in summary:
Day 1-10: Oh my God. Wow. Wow wow wow. Look at that! That thing is 2000 years old. Its huge. Look at that other thing! We can sleep in that? You made a hotel out of that? Wow! Wow! I can't believe it. Truly mankind's history has been a full and splendiferous affair filled with drama and awe inspiring wonder. I could look at ancient ruins forever.
Day 11-22: That's pretty cool. Hm. Neat. Oh look, there was a battle here. I guess that's alright. Oh, an ancient castle. Wait, didn't we see that already? No? Oh yes, it was a different one, I remember. Look at those flying buttresses. They're not as cool as those first ones we saw, but they're alright. Shall we go get a drink tonight?
Day 23-27: Ruins? An ancient castle? Site of recent international conflict? Oh yes, I see. I hand't noticed them there towering above me. They look like the ones we saw before, only smaller. I suppose they're somewhat impresivish, kind of... I'm satisfied for the day. Lets go get some iced coffee and lay under that tree, its really fuggin hot.
Day 28+: Old stuff. More old stuff. Where are we again? Oh, a cat! Look at that sweet cat! He just yawned. Thats amazing. Lets go get some coffee.
Yeah...
It is with this as introduction that I begin to tell you about my biggest ˝I told you so˝ of the trip: Dubrovnik. Take my opinion of it with a grain of salt. I'm jaded, now that I've seen the mighty acropolis, the winding reaches of Kotor, the shaded stari grad of Split, and the yawning, lazy, rolling beauty of the Makarska sierra (we have pictures of all this too, be patient). That said:
Dubrovnik is a tourist trap. Its a tourist trap surronded by the most authentic and well-preserved walled city of Europe, crenelations, statues, ornate pillars and all, but a tourist trap nonetheless. I KNEW it would be this way. I sensed it as I watched it on Rick Steves, and was given further hints the more I heard about it. But when I saw it from the bus two weeks ago on our way from Herceg Novi to Split, I KNEW that it would be so. Let me explain it thusly: You walk down the streets of the city, initially impressed by the mysterious, narrow streets that run between the five story buildings. There are no cars. There are many handsome stray cats posing like postcards in meaningful ways. Then, as a American tourist brushes past you and apologizes, the magic fades away as quickly as it took you. You are not unhappy about this. You have felt this magic before, much stronger.
Then as you pass rows upon rows, whole blocks of souvenir shops, identical in look and inventory, same prices, same merchandise, you almost roll your eyes. Perusing menus that aggresive barkers have handed you for the ˝world famous˝ restruants they work for, you notice that all have identical dishes and inflated prices. Your head turns away, you glance an extremely well-kept statue of Roland and smile, and then a giggling Italian tourist wraps her arms around it and kisses its chest, a pose for her eurotrash boyfriend. Your smile fades, and you grimace at the babbling barker and reluctantly agree to patronize his establishment. The food is the same as it has been throughout all of Croatia.
I won't say that I didn't enjoy Dubrovnik. I am finding it impossible to not enjoy any of my time in Europe. Rather, imagine that you have, on a whim, stumbled upon a place that you are finding you cannot help but love more and more daily. You hope to return very soon. But then there is one area of this place that is slightly less, and despite enjoying it, you can't help but feel that your time was better spent in elsewhere.
I told you so. Kotor was better.
Here's something I've been knocking around in my head recently. The inspiration for this is a Rick Steves pamphlet that Spencer found here. Inside it is a few pages dedicated to peoples stories about being knicked during their travels in Europe. Falling for shell games, pick pockets, being led around by pretty girls and getting charged 20 euro for drinks, that kind of stuff. On the next page: Rick Steves money protection wallet. Keep your valuables safe while you travel! This feels like blasphemy, as I do like Stevesie, but after being dissapointed by Dubrovnik after he hammered it so hard...
Is Stevsie running a raquet? Just what is the percentage of people that have been ripped off in Europe? Is it larger than the percentage of crime anywhere else? Do I carry a money protection wallet when I walk around Seattle? Should I? I haven't run into a single traveler, and I've met a lot of travelers, that have been robbed.
Anyway, its been awhile since I made a dedicated post. We stayed at a very nice hostel in Dubrovnik, a twenty minute walk from the stari grad. The hostel owners were a family, and they delighted in teaching me more croatian. While staying at this hostel, we met a girl from Australia named Sara. I had a wonderfully interesting, all night conversation with her about comparative politics, schooling, culture, etc. etc. Then she sort of (kind of maybe I'm just imagining it) suggested we accompany her to her next destination. So we hopped onto the bus with her and that is how we've found ourselves here.
Sarajevo!
We met another australian on the bus, named Reece (hurray), and then about five more australians and some Americans at the hostel. We are a party of ten now, all as good a friends as friends can be with the knowledge that in two days we will never see each other again. We saw the tunnel that sarajevo used to maintain itself during the four year siege. We had a quick lunch followed by rich dark sugary bosnian coffee before taking a pleasant stroll down bullet riddled sniper's alley. All the buildings here are coated in bomb strikes and bullet holes. One the the Americans, Rebecca, asked our nineteen-year old hostel owner (he build it himself after the siege and now succesfully runs it. We are all impressed!) that we hear some local music. So he called up his friend, a local performer, who, for 100 konvertible markes, is coming over to the hostel tonight for a two or so hour performace of local bosnian music. Split 10 ways, its a steal. We will get pictures. I hope it is good.
Sarajevo is a wonderful city, all the more beautiful for its recent strife. Anti-establishment graffiti has blossomed on the bullet riddled walls, and the mainly muslim population plays its own pop music in stores and cars, not America's. Its tourist areas are kitschy, and trashy, but sweetly so. Like they have heard what people from other countries like from some guidebook, and have slapped together a motely collection of shops that sell their culture as well as trashy souvenirs together, all of which they display very seriously. Reece is obsessed with finding a store he wandered by before that sold dog panties, because he wants a picture of them and did not have his camera before. Alas, the dog-panty store has proven to be like a mystic monkey paw store: did it ever really exist? The locals shake their heads and say no.
We might stay another day, but we've heard that nearby mostar is good, and some of our new friends are going. Will we follow them? If we're not too drunk, we'll decide tommorow.
Miss you all. Thanks for the translation Ian. I will put more pictures on the next entry, I promise.
Day 11-22: That's pretty cool. Hm. Neat. Oh look, there was a battle here. I guess that's alright. Oh, an ancient castle. Wait, didn't we see that already? No? Oh yes, it was a different one, I remember. Look at those flying buttresses. They're not as cool as those first ones we saw, but they're alright. Shall we go get a drink tonight?
Day 23-27: Ruins? An ancient castle? Site of recent international conflict? Oh yes, I see. I hand't noticed them there towering above me. They look like the ones we saw before, only smaller. I suppose they're somewhat impresivish, kind of... I'm satisfied for the day. Lets go get some iced coffee and lay under that tree, its really fuggin hot.
Day 28+: Old stuff. More old stuff. Where are we again? Oh, a cat! Look at that sweet cat! He just yawned. Thats amazing. Lets go get some coffee.
Yeah...
It is with this as introduction that I begin to tell you about my biggest ˝I told you so˝ of the trip: Dubrovnik. Take my opinion of it with a grain of salt. I'm jaded, now that I've seen the mighty acropolis, the winding reaches of Kotor, the shaded stari grad of Split, and the yawning, lazy, rolling beauty of the Makarska sierra (we have pictures of all this too, be patient). That said:
Dubrovnik is a tourist trap. Its a tourist trap surronded by the most authentic and well-preserved walled city of Europe, crenelations, statues, ornate pillars and all, but a tourist trap nonetheless. I KNEW it would be this way. I sensed it as I watched it on Rick Steves, and was given further hints the more I heard about it. But when I saw it from the bus two weeks ago on our way from Herceg Novi to Split, I KNEW that it would be so. Let me explain it thusly: You walk down the streets of the city, initially impressed by the mysterious, narrow streets that run between the five story buildings. There are no cars. There are many handsome stray cats posing like postcards in meaningful ways. Then, as a American tourist brushes past you and apologizes, the magic fades away as quickly as it took you. You are not unhappy about this. You have felt this magic before, much stronger.
Then as you pass rows upon rows, whole blocks of souvenir shops, identical in look and inventory, same prices, same merchandise, you almost roll your eyes. Perusing menus that aggresive barkers have handed you for the ˝world famous˝ restruants they work for, you notice that all have identical dishes and inflated prices. Your head turns away, you glance an extremely well-kept statue of Roland and smile, and then a giggling Italian tourist wraps her arms around it and kisses its chest, a pose for her eurotrash boyfriend. Your smile fades, and you grimace at the babbling barker and reluctantly agree to patronize his establishment. The food is the same as it has been throughout all of Croatia.
I won't say that I didn't enjoy Dubrovnik. I am finding it impossible to not enjoy any of my time in Europe. Rather, imagine that you have, on a whim, stumbled upon a place that you are finding you cannot help but love more and more daily. You hope to return very soon. But then there is one area of this place that is slightly less, and despite enjoying it, you can't help but feel that your time was better spent in elsewhere.
I told you so. Kotor was better.
Here's something I've been knocking around in my head recently. The inspiration for this is a Rick Steves pamphlet that Spencer found here. Inside it is a few pages dedicated to peoples stories about being knicked during their travels in Europe. Falling for shell games, pick pockets, being led around by pretty girls and getting charged 20 euro for drinks, that kind of stuff. On the next page: Rick Steves money protection wallet. Keep your valuables safe while you travel! This feels like blasphemy, as I do like Stevesie, but after being dissapointed by Dubrovnik after he hammered it so hard...
Is Stevsie running a raquet? Just what is the percentage of people that have been ripped off in Europe? Is it larger than the percentage of crime anywhere else? Do I carry a money protection wallet when I walk around Seattle? Should I? I haven't run into a single traveler, and I've met a lot of travelers, that have been robbed.
Anyway, its been awhile since I made a dedicated post. We stayed at a very nice hostel in Dubrovnik, a twenty minute walk from the stari grad. The hostel owners were a family, and they delighted in teaching me more croatian. While staying at this hostel, we met a girl from Australia named Sara. I had a wonderfully interesting, all night conversation with her about comparative politics, schooling, culture, etc. etc. Then she sort of (kind of maybe I'm just imagining it) suggested we accompany her to her next destination. So we hopped onto the bus with her and that is how we've found ourselves here.
Sarajevo!
We met another australian on the bus, named Reece (hurray), and then about five more australians and some Americans at the hostel. We are a party of ten now, all as good a friends as friends can be with the knowledge that in two days we will never see each other again. We saw the tunnel that sarajevo used to maintain itself during the four year siege. We had a quick lunch followed by rich dark sugary bosnian coffee before taking a pleasant stroll down bullet riddled sniper's alley. All the buildings here are coated in bomb strikes and bullet holes. One the the Americans, Rebecca, asked our nineteen-year old hostel owner (he build it himself after the siege and now succesfully runs it. We are all impressed!) that we hear some local music. So he called up his friend, a local performer, who, for 100 konvertible markes, is coming over to the hostel tonight for a two or so hour performace of local bosnian music. Split 10 ways, its a steal. We will get pictures. I hope it is good.
Sarajevo is a wonderful city, all the more beautiful for its recent strife. Anti-establishment graffiti has blossomed on the bullet riddled walls, and the mainly muslim population plays its own pop music in stores and cars, not America's. Its tourist areas are kitschy, and trashy, but sweetly so. Like they have heard what people from other countries like from some guidebook, and have slapped together a motely collection of shops that sell their culture as well as trashy souvenirs together, all of which they display very seriously. Reece is obsessed with finding a store he wandered by before that sold dog panties, because he wants a picture of them and did not have his camera before. Alas, the dog-panty store has proven to be like a mystic monkey paw store: did it ever really exist? The locals shake their heads and say no.
We might stay another day, but we've heard that nearby mostar is good, and some of our new friends are going. Will we follow them? If we're not too drunk, we'll decide tommorow.
Miss you all. Thanks for the translation Ian. I will put more pictures on the next entry, I promise.
Sunday, June 24, 2007
Wednesday, June 20, 2007
Girls in Croatia.
My hrvatski progresses. At the internet cafe where I am writing this, the hostess/administrator commented that my hrvatski was good and that I was the only Americiki that she had met who had spoken so much hrvatski. I have decided to buy this book to translate at night or when I'm hanging out on one of the many beaches in Croatia. If grandma is reading this, relax. I also decided to finnally read the bible, and have purchased one for just that purchase. I figure this book and that balance out nicely.
We have finally exhausted our week at the Pavlovic's in Split proper, and are now heading to one of the nearby islands of Supetar to try our hands at camping. We scouted out Supetar before and found many secluded forests, abandoned buildings, and other clever little nooks that we might use for a campsite. Its so hot here that I don't think we'll even use our sleeping bags. I'm not sure how readily we'll be able to use the Internet, but I should be able to update every once in awhile.
Split has been interesting. Their weren't as many people that spoke english as I'd hoped, a discovery that was one of the impetusus (i? That's classic latin. Maybe impeti. Is Acci reading this blog?) for learning hrvatski. But with my limited grammar and vocab, I cannot... speak so good. No... more. I have not made as many aquaintances here as I'd hoped to... but it has been relaxing. It has been nice to be sedentary. And enlightening. I learned a lot. About girls especially. Let me tell you about that.
I had been expecting to see this. I have known a few american girls that went to Europe and returned home with horror stories about aggressive European men. So perhaps there is a little bit of "finding it because I'm looking for it syndrome" going on here. I am a fat white donut eating cop stopping black guys in nice cars, except that... I'm a gentle American boy (me, gentle. Ha!) documenting vicious European sexual predators. Even if I am expecting to see it, though, I have not had a hard time finding aggresive european boys. Objectifying women, and men too for that matter, is par for the course over here. Worse than America? I would say so. But, I did not think of how this would affect the girls, but it makes perfect logical sense.
They have very very thick skins.
I have noticed this about American girls as they get older, but to a lesser degree. Its a simple equation. The more male attention a girl gets, the less she values it. That makes sense to me, anyway. If I had girls pinching my butt in crowded subways, hollering at me on the street, approaching me at cafes and buying me drinks and telling me I was the most beautiful thing they'd ever seen, I'd eventually think I was pretty damn hot and value such attention much less. I guess you don't really know if you're attractive until you attract.
So if I look at a girl here and smile, or approach her to ask for directions, I often get immediately shunned. They assume I'm trying moves. Its like they know who I am! But this time, I'm not doing anything wrong. I promise! I'm getting punished for crimes I have not committed. Or even intended to commit! Its infuriating. I know that many of your mental images, with the exception I hope of my mom, probably just conjured a grinning, winking Rhys sidling furtively to the side of a croatian girl and saying (literal hrvatski translation):
"Hey, How doing you do, at babies? Are looking you very beautifuller, tommorow. Signs is what yours?"
I forgive you. There is a large, easily accessible palette that you may draw upon to paint this picture. Regardless, I really am just asking for directions. I have mostly stopped approaching girls to ask for directions or help because of the experiences it leads to. Young males my age (my historic rivals and enemies!) are surprisingly the most helpful, and also speak the best English. A close second is elderly females, with young children of both sexes coming in a distant third. But of girls, really, unless the girl is trying to sell me something, she is not out to help me.
Anyway, I'll bet I'm doing something wrong. Also, it cannot help that I'm sweating a lot and my feet smell. Girls the whole world over probably understand what that means.
Rhys
Monday, June 18, 2007
You know who's a jerk?
The sun. That guy is a dick. Seriously. Spend one hour with him. He will screw with you.
Saturday, June 16, 2007
Difficulties and Hrvatski
I'm sorry guys, I really am, but Ian is jealous of our adventures. And you know how much I hate to see Ian unhappy. So, first thing tomorrow, we're going to call our airline and see if they can move our return tickets to next week. Its been fun.
Ahem. Yeah.
So today's blog will be about some difficulties we're having. Also, I noticed that the blog has been very picture heavy, and while I dearly like those pictures, and from the comments it seems as if ya'll do too, putting them on is very time consuming and detracts from the writing. I have lots of stuff I want to say. So... less picturey today.
Travel continues. Or doesn't, really, as we have connected with Spencer's friend Milos' parents, who have kindly offered us a nice place to stay for a week au gratis. So we're in Split until Tuesday. Where will we go next? Ah, the first of our difficulties. I'll come back to that.
The second is difficult for sure but extremely pleasant. Since we're going to be in Croatian speaking countries for a while, I'm going to try to learn a little Hrvatski. Zelim uciti Hrvatski. I can ask how much things cost, count to a thousand (numbers in Hrvatski are the easiest ever), and engage in extremely simple conversation. I can also conjugate a few verbs, but my noun declension... needs work. I bought this little translation book for 65 kuna that has all the grammar in it. Er, well, all the simple grammar anyway. It doesn't show how to do continuing actions in the present tense, or gerundives. Hrvatski has these things, doesn't it? Like, I can say govorim hrvatski. I speak Hrvatski. But how do I say I am speaking Hrvatski? Or I am learning Hrvatski? ucitem Hrvatski?
Grarg! Our third difficulty is that nowhere in all of Split can a guy in need buy a second-hand bicycle. Nowhere. Every bike store we ask at laughs at the very principle of the thing. Stara bicikl? they say. Sto? So, as much as I utterly loathe hate can't stand detest angry at stridently disapprove ardently dislike saying, but getting bikes seems less and less possible. Even renting them is 400 kuna a week, roughly 72 dollars. Although thats not SO bad, everything is mountain bikes, which increase onroad travel times almost twofold. Paying for bikes for that long will rapidly untie the shoestring that staying gratis at Milos' parents house has allowed me to secure. But gah! This was supposed to be a bike trip. I'm beggining to wish we had sucked up the trouble and just taken our bikes from home. Then again-
Sigh... also, its looks as if Spencer and I might split (Split? haha) for awhile, eventually. Relax, we aren't fighting. Thank God, as one of my top fears for this trip, marching in formation, its shield prepared to defend its neighbor Not Making Any Friends, was seeing this trip tear my friendship with Spencer apart. Did that last sentence make any sense? No, thank God, we aren't fighting. He just really wants to see Venice, and... me, not so much. I want to spend longer in Austria. But we'll see.
Life is also somewhat difficult in Split. Since we aren't staying in a hostel, we don't have easy access to other travelers. Other travelers are easy to talk to. There are many easily accessible conversation topics. But... just going up to someone in a Split bar (almost all outdoor, by the by) and trying to kick up a good rozgovor, especially if your hrvatski is bad. Its tough. It has a high potential for utter failure. Utter. Higher, I think, in my limited experience, than it has for success.
I rely so much on being good with words back home! I'm a conversationalist! I like talking! To be reduced to a few memorized phrases, a smattering of poorly recalled conjugations, and a tentative understanding of how reflexive pronoun gender works (I keep calling myself a girl!)... its almost more than I can bear. If it wasn't so goddamn fulfilling to learn all this stuff, I don't know why I'd bother. Seeing people laugh and smile when you say something that the average tourist can't. The delighted expression when you say 'zelim uciti Hrvatski.' Its approval. I like approval. I like it when people approve of me.
Too bad I'm coming home in a week. Ian.
Ian smells. Also I miss him and everyone else.
Also, uh, Milos... what does this mean? Is the grammar bad? Does it even make sense?
Zelim uciti Hrvatski. Ja cu kupiti pizza za vas ako rozgovore. Djevojke dobiju pica, takoder.
I'm willing to bet dimes to dollars that it doesn't make a lick of sense. I want to make sure before I hang it from my back like a friggin battleflag.
Ahem. Yeah.
So today's blog will be about some difficulties we're having. Also, I noticed that the blog has been very picture heavy, and while I dearly like those pictures, and from the comments it seems as if ya'll do too, putting them on is very time consuming and detracts from the writing. I have lots of stuff I want to say. So... less picturey today.
Travel continues. Or doesn't, really, as we have connected with Spencer's friend Milos' parents, who have kindly offered us a nice place to stay for a week au gratis. So we're in Split until Tuesday. Where will we go next? Ah, the first of our difficulties. I'll come back to that.
The second is difficult for sure but extremely pleasant. Since we're going to be in Croatian speaking countries for a while, I'm going to try to learn a little Hrvatski. Zelim uciti Hrvatski. I can ask how much things cost, count to a thousand (numbers in Hrvatski are the easiest ever), and engage in extremely simple conversation. I can also conjugate a few verbs, but my noun declension... needs work. I bought this little translation book for 65 kuna that has all the grammar in it. Er, well, all the simple grammar anyway. It doesn't show how to do continuing actions in the present tense, or gerundives. Hrvatski has these things, doesn't it? Like, I can say govorim hrvatski. I speak Hrvatski. But how do I say I am speaking Hrvatski? Or I am learning Hrvatski? ucitem Hrvatski?
Grarg! Our third difficulty is that nowhere in all of Split can a guy in need buy a second-hand bicycle. Nowhere. Every bike store we ask at laughs at the very principle of the thing. Stara bicikl? they say. Sto? So, as much as I utterly loathe hate can't stand detest angry at stridently disapprove ardently dislike saying, but getting bikes seems less and less possible. Even renting them is 400 kuna a week, roughly 72 dollars. Although thats not SO bad, everything is mountain bikes, which increase onroad travel times almost twofold. Paying for bikes for that long will rapidly untie the shoestring that staying gratis at Milos' parents house has allowed me to secure. But gah! This was supposed to be a bike trip. I'm beggining to wish we had sucked up the trouble and just taken our bikes from home. Then again-
Sigh... also, its looks as if Spencer and I might split (Split? haha) for awhile, eventually. Relax, we aren't fighting. Thank God, as one of my top fears for this trip, marching in formation, its shield prepared to defend its neighbor Not Making Any Friends, was seeing this trip tear my friendship with Spencer apart. Did that last sentence make any sense? No, thank God, we aren't fighting. He just really wants to see Venice, and... me, not so much. I want to spend longer in Austria. But we'll see.
Life is also somewhat difficult in Split. Since we aren't staying in a hostel, we don't have easy access to other travelers. Other travelers are easy to talk to. There are many easily accessible conversation topics. But... just going up to someone in a Split bar (almost all outdoor, by the by) and trying to kick up a good rozgovor, especially if your hrvatski is bad. Its tough. It has a high potential for utter failure. Utter. Higher, I think, in my limited experience, than it has for success.
I rely so much on being good with words back home! I'm a conversationalist! I like talking! To be reduced to a few memorized phrases, a smattering of poorly recalled conjugations, and a tentative understanding of how reflexive pronoun gender works (I keep calling myself a girl!)... its almost more than I can bear. If it wasn't so goddamn fulfilling to learn all this stuff, I don't know why I'd bother. Seeing people laugh and smile when you say something that the average tourist can't. The delighted expression when you say 'zelim uciti Hrvatski.' Its approval. I like approval. I like it when people approve of me.
Too bad I'm coming home in a week. Ian.
Ian smells. Also I miss him and everyone else.
Also, uh, Milos... what does this mean? Is the grammar bad? Does it even make sense?
Zelim uciti Hrvatski. Ja cu kupiti pizza za vas ako rozgovore. Djevojke dobiju pica, takoder.
I'm willing to bet dimes to dollars that it doesn't make a lick of sense. I want to make sure before I hang it from my back like a friggin battleflag.
Subscribe to:
Posts (Atom)