Live from the Ice World

It is beautiful here; everything is covered in crystal bits and wears frozen droplet beards I haven't written on this or called anyone, or emailed much lately because I've been either running around or sleeping. I finished exams for the first trimester before thanksgiving and have one set of tests on Dec. 19th before flying home to Nashville. Doing pretty well, just not feeling conversant. Time is still passing too quickly. I have some pictures of a pizza making party at my house to post but the site isn't cooperating. o well

where I am

There are not many degrees left in the air here, the sun comes and goes so quickly and un-heat-ily that it reminds me more of an old refrigerator light than anything else. I woke up at 5am the other day for a plastic surgery meeting at the hospital to a sky full of stars, woodsmoke, and a razorblade crescent moon. It is beautiful here, if brisk. Right now I'm behind a mound of papers and books in the library ready to make the push to finish my first set of final exams. yesterday I spent 7 hours in the anatomy lab, and 4 in the histology lab, all consecutively. plenty of sleep and food and hot chocolate though so I'm actually having a good time. I wouldn't say no to a national holiday involving food and napping though.

Where have a I been?

Sorry about the AWOL. The past month has been eventful, though most of the details are lost to the same current of time that's kept me from stepping aside to post. Some highlights:

meeting former Surgeon General C. Everett Koop

shadowing a plastic surgery resident for an afternoon

brewing a batch of beer and winning 2nd in a local homebrew contest with it

beginning work on a project to teach baking at a local Food Shelf

attending a lab meeting at the engineering school for a group working with orthopedic implants

roasting coffee, baking bread, and making stew

a bit of indoor rock climbing

an epic soccer match against the second year class, ending in an overtime shootout. We won and only took sending one person to the hospital for stitches!

Some trips to New Jersey and New York to see Nikki

working in the wood and jewelry workshops

Other than that, nothing but sleeping and studying. Having a pretty good time but time is rocketing by.

Write me a letter

and I'll try to answer it....

Since phone calls have been difficult to keep up with I'd like to try a different approach. Plus I like to get mail.

So mail me and I'll respond within 2 weeks or I'll refund your stamp!

895 five corners rd.
thetford, vt 05075

Under Attack

I'm a few weeks into the Fall Tree Offensive and the aerial bombardment of leaves shows no sign of slowing. Thankfully I have no significant foliage-related casualties to report, although an acorn did land on my car last week. Right now, at 9:00pm on a Saturday, I'm sitting in the basement of the library preparing for the impending bimonthly quizzes on Monday. Which actually isn't nearly as sad as it sounds. Last weekend Mom and Nicole. and my Dad came up for my jacket ceremony thing. Needless to say those few days were wonderfully unproductive. Hence the here now. But I feel much less burnt out on school since the break.

Other than that, not much to report. Thee beer is almost ready to be bottled and will be my entry into the Dartmouth Grad Student Home brew Competition in November. I roasted coffee a few days ago with some startlingly good results. And I started taking Tai Chi classes at a near bye tomato farm. Strange place, Vermont is.

Ad-ventures

Just a brief update. All the pictures I took of my house and school were apparently done with a bizarre blue-shifting camera setting activated so that's my excuse for not posting them. They make the Vermont sky look more radioactive than New Jersey's.

In other news, yesterday I went blue and raspberry picking with my associate Kendrick. We plan on making enough jam to last us the winter but only if we can find straw hats to wear. The last few weeks have been pretty productive culinarily. The beer is bubbling away in my basement and I think I finally worked out how to make a solid loaf of bread using the jimmy rigged equipment currently at my disposal.

On the medicine front, school is still chugging along towing me behind it. More quizzes next Monday. Not too much else going on. The leaves are beginning to light up and I can almost hear the hum of the great canadian snow machine preparing p to unload on Hanover in the next months. Overall a pretty good state of affairs.

Directions to the THouse

895 Five Corners Road
Thetford, VT

Take I-91 North to the next exit above Hanover/Norwich (14?)
Turn Left off the exit ramp onto 113
Stay Straight for about 3 miles passing Camp Farnsworth, The Historic Barn Museum, the crappy town center of Thetford featuring decaying general store gas station,
Finally, Turn Right onto Five Corners Road.
895 is on the left about 1 mile down. If you see a shooting range you've gone too far.

wish I was joking...

Still Alive

Hey all,

Just finished my second round of quizzes yesterday. Not so bad actually (though I don't know the grades yet so that assessment may change). Not that much happening other than school and occasional diversions involving yeast. One exception is the Harpoon Brewery event tonight in Windsor, VT.

http://friendofharpoon.com/

looks promising.

1437

That is the auspicious number of photos composing the entirety of the visual documentation of the Not Un-greatest Trip Ever, and each is now online and accessible at this address:

http://flickr.com/photos/10612096@N07/

As almost-always, I am sitting in class, Biochemistry, not paying a whole great deal of attention. After surviving the Quizzes last week, I spent a good deal of time decompressing. This past weekend was an extension of that down time. Most of it was occupied with cooking, baking, building an immersion cooling system for brewing beer, and propagating yeast for my next batch which will be an interpretation of the historical forerunner to Bock beer. The history of said beer is intertwined with the soap opera of Continental History and involves the Hanseatic League, 30 years of warfare, and a runaway master brewer.

http://www.allaboutbeer.com/style/23.1-bock.html

In other news, schoolwise, I began gross anatomy dissection last Friday, and this Wednesday will spend my first afternoon with my clinical preceptor in the Dark Green Heart of Vermont. I've ordered a pink bow tie to wear for the occasion.

My next immediate concern regarding this blog is take photos of my house and school buildings etc and post them as some people might find them interesting.

Just lovely

doing fine. First set of quizzes went well, though I don't have my grades left. The weekend visit to the NYC area was wonderful. Nikki and I ran around, covering a bit of ground between New Jersey, New York City, and Bobilink. In class right now, planning a big picture upload of middle period Eurotrip shots.

So I'm sitting in class right now...

and to say that I'm paying attention wouldn't quite be an accurate statement, but this is a good thing and I'll tell you all why. This is good because it means that, for the time being, I have a handle on the information flow and am therefore able to engage in other, more tasty activities. Projects currently germinating:
a community service project involving baking
sculpture classes in florence
medic work in germany
the construction of an adobe oven in my back yard
fly fishing
coffee roasting
mushroom hunting
beer brewing
guitar lessons

and yesterday I made a fiercely delicious sourdough loaf using my newborn belgian beer starter.
up things are looking

belated trip updates

View Larger Map

and Wacken photos are up on Flickr!

Address

in response to a contact information request:

Address:

895 Five Corners Road
Thetford, VT 05075

phone number is still 251-421-1041 but service is patchy

Photos

I have now uploaded all 368 photos from the month of June between my trip to Scotland and H and I's riot night in COlogne after the German soccer win.

http://flickr.com/photos/10612096@N07/?saved=1

The End of the Beginning of the Beginning

In approximately 17 hours I will begin Medical School, off the blocks and into Cardiovascular and Respiratory Physiology at 8am tomorrow. Am ever so slightly apprehensive of the workload but very excited to begin.

Other news: I have created a Flickr account for sharing/back up all of my photos from the trip and other adventures. Unfortunately I forgot to bring a charger with me to the library so the pics won't be live until tomorrow, but I will post the link here when they are.

That's about it for now. What am I doing with my last day of freedom? Probably running errands and cooking lentil stew. Maybe Bed, Bath, and Beyond, I don't know, I don't know if I'll have enough time...

Mooseilauke [sic]

I have just returned from an event filled overnight trip with the DMS clas of 2012 in the woods of northern vermont. Apparently there is a large, huge even, cabin owned by the college, and although it was told to me on at least half a dozen occasions that we were going, I was completely unprepared for the expedition. No sleeping bag, tooth brush, changes of clothes etc. But that, if anything, made it more fun. We arrived on a rickety old yellow school bus that was clearly Un-magical as it almost died topping the hill to the cabin, about 20 miles from Hanover. After dropping our things in the bunk houses, we grouped in the humongous timbered lodge featuring a moose head, stuffed cougar in a cooking apron, and other pieces of Dartmouth Outdoor Club's twisted sense of humor, for further orientation. We then played group games ostensibly intended to foster group feeling through participation, that in reality fostered group feeling through sarcasm. The I joined a pick-up kickball game, which was beautiful. After a banquet style rustic dinner of split pea soup, salad with apples and feta, black bean casserole, and carrot cake slathered with maple syrup icing (all chased with deliciously cold water), we returned to the cabins to change clothes then congregate while eating cheese puffs and drinking cheap beer. An acoustic guitar appeared, followed by more and more empty cans, the eventual result of which was a midnight, spontaneous alpine stream swimming adventure. Afterwards I collapsed into my surprisingly comfortable bed.

This morning we were awoken to the sound of cooking pots being beaten with spoons for a quick breakfast before the hike up Mt. Moose-whatever. Around 40 of us set out at 9, reaching the summit after an hour and a half where we were granted a 360 panoramic view of the clouds and mountains of NH and VT. We returned at noon, having passed about 1100 distinct kinds of extraterrestrial looking mushrooms. The fatigue in my legs became full on pain, the good-spent ache of exertion, as I boarded the bus to sleep away the miles between there and here. And here I am, happy, but badly in need of a shower.

My classmates seem absolutely wonderful. Already they have far surpassed any expectations I had in terms of personality, interesting backgrounds, etc. 77 characters and me, the one normal guy*. (being facetious) I can't wait to know them more deeply, but the brief to intermediate encounters we've had have been just dandy. There's not a one that I get even a single bad vibration from. An auspicious beginning.

A New Home

Have just endured my first day of orientation as a Dartmouth med student. Lots of quick introductory talks about curriculum, parking etc., a quick lunch, a few breaks, a hammy video comparing (unfavorably) the system of human medical treatment with its veterinary counterpart, fittings for white coats, and some great faculty introductions and anecdotes. In a few minutes there will be a picnic, indoors because as the brits say "it's pissing outside".

Last night Nikki and I swung into Hanover around 4pm after a 5 hour drive through Jersey, Massachusetts, and Vermont. We unpacked my boxes of junk and finally met my room mates: Tivon, a 3rd year DMS student, his girlfriend Katie, and a grad student named Kasey. The house is even better than I had remembered. It has a barn with stables, shed, potter's wheel, super spacious kitchen with dishwasher, pool table, kegerator, covered porch with hammocks, and is encompassed by acres of wooded yard cleft by a stream that I can hear when next to any window on the east side of the house. I'm anxious to actually move into my room on Sept. 1st when my lease technically starts. Right now I'm sleeping on a very comfortable couch, which I have no problems with after the hostels, tents, train seats, and benches of the Euro Trip.

Home

is where I am.

Counterintuitively, Heaven and Hell combined in more or less equal parts, is still Heaven.

Greatest weekend of my life. Was it technically on a weekend? I actually don't know, or care, what day of the week it is. H and I are at our wonderful hostel on Amsterdam's main drag by the baroque trainstation and canal cruise ships. We have survived, and thrived, in Wacken. It was the essence of Halloween and the 4th of July intertwined. There was smoke, rain, black earth, bones, bottles, leather, beer, armor, inflatable instruments, beer, beards, naked canadians, mud torrents, a wasteland of ramshackle tents, 3 gigantic stages, and 80,000 plus maniacs. We met or saw people from 24 different countries. We shared our tent with a stranded half hungarian Londoner and an incomprehensible Brazilian. Next door a Peruvian professional juggler shared a tent with a Colombian school teacher. I clearly and lovingly recall lifting a middle aged, balding, and kilted scotsman over my head during a concert. We hugged total strangers from Scandinavia, lifted the Irish after knocking them to the ground, saw and endless sea of heads simoultaneously nodding ''ýes'' to the same insane musical question. We high fived people in speedoes wearing viking helmets, towing inflated rafts filled with beer bottles. Never, not once, did we witness a fight, even a verbal altercation, and nowhere to be seen were swastikas, skin heads, or other scumbags. The youngest person I saw was maybe 6 and the oldest over 60. The tide of camraderie, the energy, the beautiful, strangely elegant quasi violence, all unbelievable and incommunicable.

So after 72 almost consecutive hours of lethally loud music, Harison and I are showered and in possession of a bed. I am less than a week from home, and we are both Beat-ific, bruised, sun scorced, and oh so happy.

Wacken!!!

We are here. There. Right now. It is incredible. I´m in an internet tent in a sea of mud that until 2 days ago was a farmers cornfield. Can´t hear a thing and the nearest stage is 200 yards away. Wonderful place. Gotta run.

Ok so about those pictures

the one below is from the lake region of Switzerland. I´ve been clicking through my 4 Gig memory card stuffed with incredible things that cant be done justice without narration. So Ill just post a few nice shots and ask everyone to stick it out 1 more week until I can upload and catalogue the 1000 or so shots.

Whoops

Hadn´t realized its been a week since I last posted. Just pure motion for the past few days with too much blurring to stop and type. H and I are in the lovely city of Hamburg, alive and well, having just met up with Harrison´s former girlfriend Mariana and our German buddy Tobias, whom we met at dartmouth last fall. We´ve been blowing around the town, along the coast of the river Elbe on a bus-ship, through the hilarious and bizzare red light district at Mariana´s behest, and to harborside cafes for gigantic sausages served with terrible coffee.

Tomorrow Harrison and I will take leave of Tobi and depart for Wacken, the setting for our next 3 days of unfathomable madness. Probably radio silence after tonight and until august 2nd, so in the mean time I will post some of those long promised pictures.

Luzern

H and I have just arrived in LUzern after a sweaty, suprisingly and very unswiss inefficient train ride. We've just dined on doner kebabs and are waiting for the sun to clear the alps around us. Tomorrow we explore the city, and after that set out to Lake Como in Italy. Took some amazing photos as we wound our way through the mountains (when the train wasn't stalled on the tracks). Will try to upload some tomorrow. it for now

Change of Pace

After spending our last night in Lisbon Portugal wandering around the tiny divy cafes until 3am with 2 people from Singapore we met in the hostel, H and I took an early morning cab the airport to catch our Easy Jet flight to Geneva Switzerland. After clearing a few mass transit snags we have now landed ourselves in a tent next to Lake Geneva for 15 usd per person per night. Neither of us has done much other than lounge around, tell stories, eat, read, and nap since we arrived yesterday afternoon. The weather is perfect, the water perfectly clear, and the both of us completely content to do not much at all (ie perfectly lazy). It's a very refreshing change from the chaotic pace, and latin sun of porugal. Tomorrow we take a mountain train to Luzerne Switzerland for more of the same intense laying down.

Lisboa

Short post: Today
wandered through the catacomb of a 12th century cathedral.
worked out in an absurd Portuguese gym.
ate all the roast meat that I possibly could for 5 euro
wandered through a rat's nest of medieval streets trying to find said absurd gym.
Was accused of being from London.

That is all.

Porto

Harrison and I arrive late last night on an ancient baby blue train and are now preparing to explore this strange city. Between the two of us we speak maybe 2 words of Portuguese so hand gestures and Spanglish will be our two primary means of communication. I think I'm going to buy some of the plentiful and cheap sandals available at every store in this city and just refust to wear boots until the Wacken concerts.

Plenary Indulgence

I can´t describe what a strange and wonderful feeling it is to be looking at a beautiful Galician city without having to continue moving past it until it disappears ine dust of the road behind me. To be not-walking is such a simple and still extremely guilty feeling pleasure that I´find myself smiling just to be sitting in a chair for an extended period of time. Santiago de Compostella is an ancient, medieval, stone and and stucco and clay and dust city of winding narrow streets, convents, castles, and cafes. The food is incredible, the prices are reasonable, and I am just so glad not to be walking past it that right now I´m inclined to say it´s my favorite stop so far. H and I are about to board a rickety Portuguese train to Porto. In an absolutely light and freely happy mood for once.

Santiagoooooo!!!!!

I´m there. I´m here. Right now. It´s awesome. I´m wearing sandals because boots are impossible. Just attended most of the pilgrims´mass and now have my Compostella. Off to the hostel with H then out and about for food and food. nada mas.

All my Jelly Fish Friends are Dead

Today....oh Today... I walked about 37 kilometers. By accident. I literally considered crawling the last few miles with my socks tied around my knees. Somehow I missed the sign from my turn off to Arca, 27 km ago, where I was counting on an easy meal, a rest, and recuperation period for tomorrow's Santiago entry. By the time I asked I had passed it by such a margin that going back would be unthinkably wasteful considering I'd have to rewalk it tomorrow. So I kept going, and going, and going until reaching this gigantic bizzare 5/7ths abandoned albergue complex made of concrete and rust within sight of the spires of Santiago, 5 hours later. I am apparently only 5 km away from my ultimate destination but I would honestly not be able to make it in boots right now. On my hands, possibly. The last 2 hours of my walk were the most unpleasant of my life. Worse even than the previous record holder, my 24 consecutive hour dorm move out day (and night and day) at the end of junior year of college. True, actual, misery.

But then I arrived, showered, put on sandals and ate a huge sandwich, half a roast chicken, a salad, some ice cream, and drank 2 liters of frigid water. And I´ve all but forgotten about 3 hours ago, which says something about the human condition I believe. I wouldn´t hardly remember the miles and hours at all except that my feet look like raw meat. And I keep looking at them and laughing at how freaking aweful that was.

Anyway,
I will be attending the Pilgrims' Mass at noon tomrrow barring the intervention of Unseen Forces.
Nap time now.

contrasts

I have been writing this post in my head all day as I walked and it has been a LONG day. I don't know what it was this morning, if I packed my bag with the weight perfectly distributed, or my feet finally turned totally into callus, or maybe it was carving 'Nimbus 2008' into the side of my walking stick, perhaps all three, but I flew this morning. I brutalized the camino. I frightened people. My 25 lb bag felt like a pair of helium wings. I passed every single monotonous thing in a much more interesting blur, finishing the first 20km of the day in a mere 3 hours which is around the average pace for a seriously overweight bicyclist. I literally jogged at times, jumping over things that 2 days ago I would have groaned around. This lasted from about 8:30 am to noon. Then as I stopped for water I began asking the distance to whatever this town is called, Azuria or something. By my most conservative calculation the answer should have been about 6km, so when I was told 8 I accepted that since the stage distance has been 10% more than estimated every single day even taking into account the 10% undercount. 8k is normally about an hour for me on average terrain so I set my playlist on my ipod to last about 60 minutes and set out into the progressively crueler afternoon sun. After I about 50 minute with no urbanization to speak of, I stopped at one of those tiny little roadside cafes that are such a relief to pilgrims' eyes. After sucking down a liter of ice water I asked the proprietor the distance to Azuria, '7 kilometers' is what she says without a breath of hesitation. At this point, my feet had long ago left all that glorious callus behind like the retread litter from 18 wheelers on the shoulder of the highway. So I limped on, ironically snacking on a strawberry flavored foot shaped popsicle. I didn´t arrive at my albergue until maybe an hour and fifteen minutes after I ate that damned popsicle. When I stepped up to the desk I literally smelled like a horse that had just galloped through a mile long puddle track of white wine vinager. I have never been anywhere near so drenched in sweat in my life. After I removed my foul socks, I just sat in a chair laughing at my feet. They don´t hurt but I could probably win 3rd place at a science fair with them on shock value alone. They have what looks like a school of tiny jellyfish swarming over them. I literally have blisters on my blisters. But thankfully nothing open or bleeding or infected so hopefully I can pull through the penultimate stage tomorrow. I´m famished so will cut this off at that appetizing point.
adios

PS: new photos are up here
http://www.facebook.com/album.php?aid=2330493&l=6548d&id=8815627

and I confirmed my supposed 24 km day as being just a hair over 31. According to both google maps and a guidebook in ENGLISH.

another 25km

All the complaining I've been doing digitally must have helped because today was better in every aspect than yesterday. The route, the sun, my feet, all were kinder. My mood was better and I even made better time to my destination. Though today was probably the least picturesque of the stages so far. To perfectly simulate it all you would have to do is put a grocery bag full of bricks on your back then walk down the shoulder of the interstate between the hours of noon and 3pm. The scenery was like one of those Looney Toons cartoons where they reuse the same background frame for every 3 transtions. Powerline....stonewall...cows....rock....powerline.... repeat ad nauseum. I am happy to say that I am only 66km from Santiago, which equals out to 3 normal to easyish days. STILL unable to post pictures, but not for lack of effort. Just Google Image search Galicia and that's probably a fair representation.

broiled and exhausted

Just arrived in my stop for the evening, a small river town called Portomarin. Like yesterday, the last few miles were barren tarmac. Even having put on sunscreen I can feel the heat radiating off of my skin in a way that means wearing clothing will be painful tomorrow. In kind of a crap mood today. Walking was painful drudgery and I felt like smashing my walking stick over every half kilometer stone waymarker telling me that a cold shower and clean bed were 4 sunstruck, knee-buckling downhill hours away. On a positive note I broke the 100km to go mark this afternoon. I believe I have something like 90 to go , which should bring me into Santiago on the 18th I believe. I have some great shots from the past few days but the last 3 spanish computers I've encountered weren't up to the task of uploading them. Time to see if a shower will improve my dispostion.

P.S.
A shower and brief nap did help a lot. I also just had a decent meal and managed to find an english book which have both made my afternoon more pleasant. At least now I feel rested. Dunno if I'm ready to face another dozen miles tomorrow though. Maybe after some sleep.

Galicia

60 km from where I began, and am on what feels like and appears to be an entirely different continent. Galicia is the Northwestern-most province of Spain and is Espana's answer to Ireland and/or the Shire. Everything is misty, and green, and mossy and cool. The average temperature when I set out at 8am is about 60 degrees F and never crosses 70. The terrain is combination of appalachia and scotland. There are flowers here that I didnt even think existed outside of nurseries. Every kilometer of trampled mud path takes me past fields of clover, wild irises, and thistles. Periodically clouds collide with the path and each pilgrim is treated to their own personal 30 feet of Camino as visibility becomes nil. Yesterday after climbing around 1000 meters to cross the mountains into Galicia, I encountered my first Pre-Roman stone town, O Cerebeiros. I stropped for lunch at a small cafe where I gorged myself on fresh local cow/goat's milk cheese covered with clover honey and bread, fried eggs with chorizo sausage, and still-boiling garlic soup. After about a liter of water and a generous cafe con leche I set out for the next town with an Albergue about 17 kilometers through the mist. When I arrived I discovered the town had about 22 residents and therefore no internet. So I have stopped enroute to update, though this ancient computer would ignite uf I tried to upload a picture onto it. My stop tonight should have a better connection so, hasta lluego for now.

PS. Am at said alternate connection without any more success picture wise. The last 5 kilometers of my 29 were hellish, all exposed dirt path in the brutal Spanish afternoon sun. Arrived alright however and just had a huge dinner consisting of a hamburger with every type of meat in Spain on it for just $4. I met a French guy today at one of my stops who had just retired and started walking the camino.... and couldn´t stop. He´s on his 6th consecutive return journey for this year. A bit over 10,000 kilometers since January he said...

Anyway, I don't think I'll have any trouble sitting and staying down after arriving in Santiago this week. Feet doing better but still looking a bit leprous.

un camino di-vino

Day walking is infinitely superior to wandering around in the dark wielding my walking stick like a spear at stray chihuahas. I set out at 8am through perfectly combed hillsides coevered with rows of gnarled vines and tiny green spherical grapes for the famous El Bierzo wine of the region. Along the way a met a fine pair of barefoot brothers from Peachtree City, Georgia that have been walking for 2 weeks since the border of France. I am currently in a Brazilian family-run hostel in a little one road town called Vega del Valcarce. I arrived here via mountain switchbacks, little logging roads along a stream, and the clear-cut zones surrounding high tension powerlines that crackle in a way that makes me wonder if walking beneath them is wise. So far I've been propelled exclusively by 2 coffees, peanuts, and a loaf of bread so I will now have a stroll down the street to find a cheap meal.

NOTE: all is well in the food department. Just ate 16 oz of Galician yogurt and 1/2 of a 10" empanada of tuna and local pimento peppers, washed down with a liter of fresh spanish orange juice.

7 hours of solitude

So I thought to myself that since I had been sitting on a delayed train for 12 hours yesterday drinking coffee that walking all night would be a good idea to escape the heat and other peregrinos. I'm not sure if the idea was a good one or not but I spent the hours between 10pm and 6am walking a few dozen kilometers from Ponferrada Spain to Cacabelos. My only company in the night were the moon, stars, the disembodied phosphorescent eyes of cats, and the hordes of yappy horrible dogs that liked to wait until I was next to their house to start barking. At times when the road angled upward it felt like I was walking into a sky boiling over with stars. I arrived in laughably named Cacabelos around 6am to find that the Hermitage for pilgrims didnt open until 12. But then I noticed people leaving their rooms open as hey departed and hermit-crab like, I moved into the abandoned shelter until 8am when the Hostel office opened next door. Today I am recuperating from last night with a shower and bandaids for my feet. I just ate a huge pilgrims meal, and then somehow wandered into a cellar filled with lawn chairs and gigantic hundred gallon wooden barrels of wine which was being dispensed at 40 cents a cup. I ducked the sun for a few minutes to sample the light cool wine and had a broken spanish conversation with the old proprieter about mushroom foraging after I saw the toad stooly calendar on his wall. I can´t wait to upload the pictures of the place with it's grape trellises, ancient casks, drinking gourds, chandeliers, spider webs, and happy Spaniards.

Buen Camino

Typing this after drinking 3 cafes con leche somewhere near Ponferrada Spain. Set out on my 8 day camino at 10pm after a huge meal at a hostel. Will camp overnight at a Refugio nearbye then continue on my way in the morning. The late start was due to an egregiously delayed 2 car train from Bilbao. Just a brief not to let everyone know I´m bueno. Have more walking to do.

The Sitting-Down-Near the Bulls

Hola,
H and are are alive and more or less well having been delivered from travel purgatory and Los Sanfermines. It´s quite a tale how we managed to get here in Bilbao since my last post from somewhere like nowhere. After our train to Pamplona we eventually managed to get tickets to Irun at the Spanish/French Border, and then to Vittoria where we had reserved a hostel via the internet. Our luck turned with the procuring of those tickets as a our hostel was easily located, near the train station, and beautifully appointed. We had a room and bathroom to ourselves for about 30 USD a piece. After dropping our bags and cleaning up, we hopped a regional train to Pamplona for the Running of The Bulls. We arrived around 8pm on July 6th, the first day of the festival, to a war zone. Everywhere were piles of grabage, prostrate bodies, puddles of wine, and wine soaked mud. The streets were wet with urine and booze. H and I each bought the traditional red neckerchief, and began to explore feeling like anthropologists instead of party goers. The place was the party of parties, which is a bit too much party for us apparently. We eventually met a group of guys from Colorado State University, who took us in to their group of 3, rounding out our number to 6 which made us all feel a bit more secure. After hours of wandering and watching, the group and I became separated somehow as I was talking to two kilted scotsman. Luckily, or so I thought, H and I had decided on a meeting place near the Plaza Del Toros in case of division. So I made my way there at about 2 in the morning, sitting on a bench waiting for Herr Sonntag. I awoke at sunrise around 5:30 to find that my wallet had been surgically removed from my cargo pocket by some gentle thief with a sharp knife and thorough knowledge of pocket anatomy. Luckily I had removed my bank card, driver's liscense, and insurance card from my wallet beforehand and stashed it in Harrison's money pouch which thankfully surved the night although the contents of H's pockets did not. So I lost a few days Euro but felt lucky to have come out with my throat and passport intact. At 8 am the first skyrocket exploded telling the runners to begin sprinting for their lives, followed by a second 1 minute later to inform them of the release of the bulls. From my bench I heard the first cheers of the crowds as the runners began to trickle in 3 minutes after the first report, followed by louder cheers for the bulls. The entire running only lasts 5 minutes if all goes according to plan, which apparently it did. At 10 o'clock after a conversation with a very nice french guy, I made my way to the bus station knowing that H and I had booked an 11 o clock bus to Vittoria, hoping that H had remembered that even if he had forgotten our meeting place. As I came to the escalator to the underground bus ramps, I felt an enormous bear hug from behind and heard "Greeeeeeeegg." H had apparently gone back to a park with the CSU crew and fallen asleep in a graveyard somewhere in Pamplona. After attempting to find our meeting spot at 9am he then thankfully retreated to the bus station. So we boraded the bus, arrived in Vittoria one hour later, and then slept for the next 9 in our red stained clothing, glad to have escape Pamplona more or less intact. Our CSU friends who camped next to their car, had also been robbed and were left only with the clothes on their backs, and their passports and bank cards which they had hidden in the wheel well of the spare tire of their car.

We spent yesterday taking it easy, and today was a day of transit. Tomorrow H will fly out to Dublin and I will make my way to the start of the Camino. All is more or less well.

a Spanish Odyssey

Ver mapa más grandeSince I last wrote Harrison and I have been drifting erractically around northeastern spain trying desperately to get from Barcelona to Bayonne France. We started off well, with an auspicious night of roasted chickens near La Rambla in Barcelona at a greasy spoon zinc topped diner staffed by roast chicken stained beer swelling profane spanish cooks. After a sweltering night in an air conditionless hostel we explored B town visiting Parque Guell, La Sagrada Familia, and a laundromat. We reserved seats on a night train from Barcelona to Zaregoza, a small town of 700,000 people that I had never heard of. After a being awoken 50 minutes before our scheduled stop at 3am, we were bussed from the middle of nowhere to Zaragoza's immense train station where we slept in an abandoned but well airconditioned lobby. At 7am we then jumped a quick train to the nearbye town of Calatayud, only to find that all of our connections from there to Bayonne were completely and mercilessly booked. Scrambling, we bought bus tickets to Madrid, only to be told later by the same rail station employee that more trains leaving from Zaragoza, the town we had just come from, to Pamplona were still available. So we handed over even more money and rumbled back to our starting point. As I type this we are in Pamplona with tickets to the Northern town of Hendaya and prayers to get us from there to Bayonne 40km away. We will consider stealing a car if we must.

much Nicer

Last Night, after aborting any further attempts at finding shelter for the night, and spending 3 sweltering hours in an internet cafe trying to prevent an identical situation in the next town, H and I sat down on the beach resolving not to move until 5 am the next day - around 13 hours total. The beach of Nice is composed entirely of skipping stones ranging in size from pebbles to street pavers. There we sat with our bottles of water, doner kebabs, and dirty, salt encrusted selves until the sunrise signalling the arrival of our train to Barcelona. We then spent the next 9 of 10 consecutive transit hours asleep on any surface that happened to be next to our heads.

After arriving in B, we took the subway to central town where we found that our hostel is adjacent to one of gaudi's sculptures-that-you-live-in. I have just taken a lifegiving shower and once H has done the same will set out in search of this place selling roast chickens for 7€. Already I love it here, probably due to the 75 degree ocean breezed weather.

It's 37 degrees celcius in Nice right now, where I am sitting. 37 degrees celsius is one of the only instant temperature conversions I know off the top of my head, because it's the mean temperature of the healthy human body. That means it's 98.6 degrees in Nice, where I am sitting. H and I arrived from Berlin via EasyJet, only to find every hostel, hovel, and hotel room within 10 miles of Nice booked. So for now we are stuck living under the inadequate fan of a grungy internet cafe waiting for our 6am train to Barcelona. We plan to stay up all night with our bags and sleep on the 10 hour journey. Nice is like Panama CIty, FL meets Spring break, meets North Africa.

Harrison has decided that his knee can't handle the camino, and so he will retire to Dublin for the week that I walk through Spain, only to meet me again in Porto, Portugal. No new pics tonight because the effort of digging my card-reader out of my backpack would just make me sweat more if that's possible.

new pics are up

http://www.facebook.com/album.php?aid=2316459&l=93a47&id=8815627

http://www.facebook.com/album.php?aid=2325040&l=ef599&id=8815627

Berlin ist Wunderbar

Harrison and I just returned from the Gold's Gym and a great workout, followed by ommelettes and wursts. After cleaning up and sight-seeing we will be in the internet cafe, uploading the 4 gigs of unpublished exclusive photos with our new card reader.

And to all concerned dont't worry about the beer; we've been drinking far more fizzy water than anything else, and certainly won't have another Munich mini-oktoberfest, especially with the coming Camino and return to France. I cannot however promise anything about stinky cheese overconsumption.

East Berlin

Just arrived in Berlin via Prague. This side of the city, former capital of the DDR, must be the graffiti capital of Europe. Every surface is tagged. But, the weather is beautiful, our hostel lovely, and food is cheap!

Unfortunately Spain strongarmed Germany to a 1-0 victory in the Euro Finals yesterday. H and I were both tired so our night was pretty subdued. We met a couple our age from Texas and watched the Game in the Wencelas Square on a giant screen.

We will be spending two nights here eating as much as possible so that we don't have to buy a bite in expensive southern france next week. H is shopping for a cellphone since Berlin prices are so low, and I will hopefully procure a usb connection for my camera so that pic posting can be resumed. Will be posting more later; time to explore a bit.

Praha

H and I are sitting in Prague, the beautiful bohemian capital that looks and feels like renaissance Florence. It is whimsical, enchanting, suprisingly clean, and reasonably priced. The skyline is dotted with red clay rooves, strangley eastern steeples, and castle turrets that look like Van Gogh's Starry night crossed with Bram Stoker's Dracula. The original Pilsner Beer, Urquell, is brewed nearbye and advertisements for it cover 44% of the walls of the town. The people, speaking a strange gibberish language, are quite friendly and apparently know how to eat. The cafe culture is thriving, and it seems there is a large italian immigrant population given the number of trattoria and italian cafes. Tonight is the Eurocup final match between Germany and Spain. We intend to watch it in the magnificent Old Town Square on a projection screen with probably 10000 other people and of course, much pilsner Urquell.

Munchen

The day before yesterday was one of the most surreal and beautiful of my life. H and I awaoke in our tent, pitched in the botanical gardens-turned-hostel near the center of Munich. We wandered into the old town and ploppled ourselves down on the oaken cafe tables of a wursthaus on the main turist drag, framed by a 13th century stone gate. We inhaled gigantic, soft, and salty preztels with whole grain honey mustard, followed by poached weisswursts, sausages made of pork and veal. I had my first mass (1L glass) of beer. It was 10am. After sight seeing a bit we boarded a suburban train to the Dachau Concentration Camp just outside the city. We arrived at the camp gates with the infamous "work makes you free" inscription, rented the audio tour guide, and spent the next 4 hours touring the bunk houses, guard towers, bunkers, memorials, gas chambers, and crematorium. The juxtaposition of the day and environment, both beautiful, with the horrible place and its history, was violently unreal. some 43,000 people died at Dachau between 1934 and 1945, although technically it was not a 'death camp' as the gas chambers were never put into full use. It was the first and served as the model for the dozens that would follow. There are many pictures that convey the experience far more than I can in this way, so I will post those soon and stop trying to describe it.

After returning to Munich, and having a much needed ice cream. I, and H, and a new friend from washington DC staying at the same hostel walked through the city market of hanging sausages and bright vegetables to the legendary Hofbrauhaus. Founded some ridiculous number of centuries ago, HB is one of the principal Munchen breweries and therefore hosts of Octoberfest. Their beergarten is an infamous tourist haven, but rightly so given the humongous banquet tables, acres of liter glasses, and liederhosen'd staff. After 2 more masses, we said goodbye to our friend, and wandered out toward the English Garten, site of a more laid back and therefore more authentic beergarten. Setting towards the setting sun, H and I passed through Grimms' Fairy Tale looking woods and into a clearing with a huge chinese pagoda. Underneath the pagoda were rows of tables, sausage venders, and kegs and kegs of HB beer. We each grabbed a currywurst and bratwurst another giant pretzel, and 2 liters of "Strongbier." After an hour or eating and lounging, a group of guys about our age wearing feathered hats and bell covered shirts with sharpie signatures came by, blowing whistles and singing. I asked one of them why they looked the way the did and he replied that tonight was their last night in the military after the requisite and universal 9 months of service. So somehow we ended up drinking with them, then running around Munich all night from one beergarten to the next, until parting ways around 6 am. H and I fell asleep on our tram back to the Tent, and awoke to an angry german conductor shaking Harrison's shoulders. After a bit more wobbly walkiong we arrived at the tent, at 8 am.

my Total Sausage Count: 6
Liters of HB Beer: 6

Moving in many ways

Rioting indeed there was, but nothing of the violent hooliganism I had come to expect because of the skin headed British Futballers that are ubiquitous in the UK. After the game, with jubilant krauts running amok in the streets, the turkish crescent and red emblazoned cars full of subdued fans would have to pass through the throng, and instead of jeers, the germans would approach and say "Gut Gespiel"- good game- and shake hands. Contrary to what H and I expected, the Turkish population here have been Germans for at least 2 generations and so the rivalry is heated in a friendly instead of rabid way. It was beautiful. And apparently the German population is still wary about flying the Deutsche flag because of what happened almost 70 years ago, and only with the 2006 Euro Cup did people begin to take public pride in their country again. Even now, some of the flags have a swastika with a red X over it to show that the pride of now remembers the shame of then. We watched the game with our German friend Torsten and when he quietly explained the flag situation both Harrison and I were affected because we had no idea of the guilt that still pervades the vast majority of the people. This is such a beautiful country,- people, food, landscape, most of the history- and to see that they felt somewhat ashamed to be german still brought on this mixed feeling of pity and agreement that is completely unique for me to this place. Today H and I will try to visit the Dachau Concentration Camp, so I only expect more of this.

We have just had a traditional Bavarian Breakfast of Weiss Wurst (Veal Sausage) and are relaxing in an internet cafe. Yesterday was transport intensive, taking us from Cologne to Basel Switzerland, to Zurich, to Munich. We drank Weissbier in the restaurant car of the train overlooking the hills and forests of Bavarian in the seeting sun. Our hostel is an encampment in the Bottanical Gardens of Munich, complete with Christmas lights and a Beer Garden. Already Germany is my favorite county of the trip.

Deutsche Land!!!

H and arrived in Cologne (Koln) via a high speed train from Brussels and are already in love with this country. After finding our hostel by asking an Argentine handbag saleswoman in German if she spoke English, negative, then spanish, affirmative. While wandering we encountered a century-old pipe shop staffed by the friendliest sales people we've met thus far. We've seen restaurants serving beautiful korean, italian, spanish, japanese, turkish, and of course the almighty schnitzel slingers. In 1 kilometer of walking we've already seen a leather bondage-wear store, and Dr Müller's Sex Häus...

Cannot wait to have a cold Kölsch beer, the specialty of the city. And the prices are reasonable! What a country! and to top it all off, tonight Germany plays Turkey in the Eurocup semi-final match, so we anticipate some very germanic, sing songy soccer rioting.

c'est la vie

in the past 24 eventful hours I have:
seen a kid fall into the horribly dirty seine river
been subjected to an elaborate gypsy scam involving a ring not unlike that from lord of the rings
wandered around lost, double lost, been pinched, laughed at, watched my paris street map dissolve in my hands- still lost, the arruive at the Louvre to find it closed,

finally found selves, sat along the river seine in setting sun, beside notre dame in the light of the afternoon, sipped coffee, beer, wine, water, orange juice, and the light of a second evening on the river.

Am very tired, sweaty, grungy looking, but full
ergo happy.

operation rendezvous: success

sitting here in the paris evening with my dear associate H. Sonntag, whom I encountered beneath the Arc D' Triomphe. After wandering down the champ d'elyesse [sic], we made our way along some canal to the arrondissement of the hostel, a beautiful, spacious residential area that's thankfully the antithesis of the my last parisian hostel. he's jetlagged, and I'm still a bit winded from belgium's brewed beauties, so ill leave this at that. or this.

Glorious

Brusells, despite it's hideousness, is a wonderful place. Last night I wandered around until I found the legendary, the infamous and gruesomely named bar, Delirium Tremens. Home to a world record 2000+ different beers, the bar is decked in tarnished copper, beer stained brew barrel wood, and miles of hung drinking glasses of every shape and size. The walls are decorated with the bars emblem, a stylized pink elephant. I parked myself in an underlit corner and spent 2 very entertaining hours watching people stroll in then totter off grinning. The place alone makes the trip to Belgium entirely justified.

I'm sitting in an internet cafe in the train station awaiting my lightning choo choo to paris where I will rendezvous with Harrison under the arc du triomphe. That is, if everything goes according to plan, and since I'm sitting next to a cafe called Murphy's Law, please pray for us both.

Brussels

good lord brussels is ugly. it looks like Glasgow if it were worked over by a lazy demolition team then rebuilt in the 1960's by a bargain basement architectural firm with a pallette limited to cement, and home improvement store colors. Everything is yellow, orange or brown, and it smells like urine was the base of most of the paint. There are more homeless people here than in paris and london combined

BUT

the plusses: the subway has leather seats and wooden trim for some reason.
and the BEER IS INCREDIBLE. ALready had this golden elixir stuff thats been brewed in smoe small abbey since 1180 AD. Wonderful. Gonna check into my room and wander for some Walloon-grub

lyon

typing this on a wonky french keyboard in my lyon hostel with letters in all the wrong places. in a much better mood; this city is like chicago if it were 500 years older and on the meditteranean. Lyon isn't actually on the sea but it feels like the coast of spain or italy. it's the largest city in the country and i hadn't even heard of it until reading up for the trip about a month ago. the streets are beautiful dust, the sun is intense, and the people are relaxed and vibrant. there seems to be some kind of 1980s american music cover festival and the streets are throbbing with tens of thousands of people eating falafels with one hand, drinking belgian beer from the other.

money is fine actually; i just like to complain apparently. The prices here are much better than paris already and this is still a huge city center.

it's strange to be traveling and instead of culture shock just have one stereotypical behavior demonstrated in abundance. French people really do say "Oui, Oui!", have a strange predilection for horizontally striped tshirts, and smoke like smug chimneys.  The food is great, the waiters neither rude nor fawning, and the mona lisa was about exactly the size i thought it was (maybe 2' x 3').

Tomorrow I may take my good mood to Brusells Belgium, depending on the trains.

escape from paris

this city has me completely overwhelmed. its labyrinthine, massive, and almost as a expensive as london. At least the people here speak more comprehensible english than the scots. Today I wandered around the Louvre, the Pantheon, and unintentionally around the huge international train station. I stood in 3 lines that apparently had nothing to do with anything, and then ended up booking a ticket to Lyon with my rail pass just to get out of paris. But looking at hostel prices, Lyon looks about as bad. I think I might stay for a night then flee even further from any known metropolitan area just so that I can eat and sleep for under 80 USD.

another quick post due to exhorbitant internet prices

1st full day in Paris. Began at the Musee Rodin, had the best bread in the world, Pain Poilane, for the first and certainly not last time. Ate stinky cheese and cherries in a park, wandered along the Seine to Notre Dame, and to the entrance of the Louvre, where I realized I couldn't enter with my groceries and left for a nap. Wandered the cafe scene at dusk. Watching the Parisians eat, and, drink, and talk, and smoke, (often simultaneously), is inspiring. Dining here is such a skill. Tomorrow I might attempt my first restaurant meal instead of the street food/grocery store thing all day. Bed early, museum blitz tomorrow.

paris

just arrived at my hostel. I apparently underestimated the scale of the map I was using and ended up hiking for about 2 hours from wherever the airport bus dropped me off to here. very tired, kinda grumpy, but it's not france's fault. will post more in the less ornery future, hopefully tomorrow morning.
bonsoir

map of this past week (i think)

http://maps.google.com/maps/ms?ie=UTF8&hl=en&msa=0&msid=113207457256630093697.00044fe1e8e355211deaa&ll=55.354135,1.098633&spn=11.132802,27.070313&z=5

Last bit of Scotland

Today was precisely what I needed. I slept in, finagled a work out at LA Fitness of all places, ate 4 plates of Indian food at a lunch buffet for around $10 which was an incredible steal considering the other indian buffet i came across was THIRTY FOUR freakin DOLLARS. I then escaped the Scottish weather by ducking into every bookstore I could find in the down town area. Books like everything else here are exhorbitant, but reading them in the cafe for 3 hours only costs the price of a huge cup of coffee, (still $4).

Tomorrow I fly out of some little airport an hour south of Glasgow (Prestwick) to some little airport an hour north of Paris (Beauvais). I'm really looking forward to the change of scenary. Scotland is magnificent , but I feel like the pattern of green-ground, grey-sky is being branded onto my retinas.

I still can't find my camera cable, though I did price them in Glasgow. Think I'll wait to buy a french one.

Glasgow

I've just arrived in Glasgow more than a little travel weary. Right now I'm inclined to describe the city, which Lonely Planet euphemistically calls "gritty" as a "bombed-out concrete soviet shit-hole", but that's probably fatigue talking. Like it or not I have 2 nights here, and at least the hostel in nice. Plus I made a less than cheery selection at the EXCELLENT 2nd hand bookstore in Inverness situated in a deconsecrated church, All Quiet On The Western Front. It's gripping but utterly depressing.

The Carbisdale Castle Hostel in Culrain was great, but unfortunately that was the ONLY thing in Culrain, except for midges, which I don't think I've described yet. A Midge is essentially a cross between a mosquito and a gnat. They are small and swarmy and like to fly in eyes, and yet they also suck blood and make itchy bumps. Truly the worst of both worlds. Anyway, I did get plenty of sleep at the castle. I fell asleep on my books at around 7 pm and woke up to catch the train to Inverness at 8am. After more sleep on the train (Ben Nevis really exhausted me), I took a bus from Inverness to Glasgow. The parts of the ride when I wasn't reading about flying shrapnel and limbs were beautiful. I have a few hundred photos from the last few days selections of which I will post later today when I manage to grab the transfer cable from my hostel room.

Oh, and a Happy Fathers' Day to any dads reading this.

*update*
I am in a much better mood after discovering an unsuspecting chinese buffet serving ommelettes for some reason; all I could eat only £7. Glasgow is partially vindicated now that I have eaten a large portion of it. I can't find my transfer cable at the moment but if this persists I will spring for another as they are cheaper than buying new memory cards.

what the highlander eats

I am back from Ben Nevis, having summited successfully. But first I want to talk about the sandwich I saw at the burgerking in the Glasgow train station. It's called the 'Big Breakfast Butty' and has eggs, sausage, bacon, bacon, special sauce, and I don't remember what else. It costs $8, and contains 3785 Calories. I'm still speechless. (no I didn't eat one)

Anyway, back to Ben Nevis. I left my campsite at 6:00 am to make my way to the trail head. I had on 3 upper layers and 3 below, as well as a fanny pack with water, granola bars, a compass and map, an emergency blanket, and my camera. Things I lacked that the info desk recommended: gloves and a jacket. It was about 60 degrees when I set out, and after 2 hours when I reached the first plateau featuring a Loch and many many sheep, that had dropped to around 50. The actual summit is hidden by clouds most of the time, making it impossible for me to judge how far it was and ration energy well. So by the time I was about where I had thought the peak was, there were still around 200 meters to go, through snow and ice and winds much stronger than predicted. The Cairn stones marking the route were frozen on the windfacing sides. I made it to the top after nearly turning around twice due to fog and chill. I spent 5 miserable minutes at the summit then turned around, meeting a nice dutch hiker en route who descended with me to the snowline before speeding up to catch a train. All in all the round trip was a little under 5 hours, which was the minimum time quoted to me. I broke camp, then took a glorious, blazing hot shower, before walking into Ft. William to catch the bus to Inverness.

Inverness is a sort of strip-mall town. Literally 88% of the real estate is shopping. I'm taking it easy tonight, then tomorrow I may make it out to Loch Ness which is 6 miles away, or do some other day trip. I'm exhausted right now, but well fed. Haggis is delicious.

I am posting the rest of the photos on my facebook page, which should be accesible to everyone at this link:
http://www.facebook.com/album.php?aid=2316459&l=93a47&id=8815627

$8 an hr internet fast post

hey all, Im alive with no time for punctuation at glen nevis in the highlands of scotland. climbing ben nevis tommorrow morning (hiking really) many piictures to poost from innverness. love all.

addendum: Meeting my professor in Edinburgh was excellent. We went out for a pint with one of his phd students then to a quick dinner with his wife at the cafe where Jk Rowling worked on the first Harry Potter.

San Francisco's Red-Headed Cousin

I love Edinburgh. My bus pulled in at 7:30 and despite around 4 hours of upright sleep the sight of the city was exciting enough to give me the energy to climb the tallest thing I could see, Arthur's Seat. Everywhere I look are castles, hills, statues, and pretty snails for some reason. The city is set on a blue bay, dotted with towers, turrets, and green trees.

After descending, I made my way to the Scottish breakfast place recommended by the hostel desk guy. There I consumed my weight in eggs, haggis, ham, toast, beans (served separately). Phenomenal. As I was strolling around the streets I passed a cemetary with a sign saying David Hume is buried there, so I popped in. His tomb was set into a tower with an open metal gate, and inside were two considerably drunk scottish guys probably in the middle of a (minor) drug deal/lunch. They mumbled something at me in a friendly tone so I took a picture and backed out slowly. I cannot for the life of me understand 68% of what scottish people say to me.

Right now I'm running errands trying to get my finances and travel plans set for the next few days. Tomorrow I catch a morning train to Fort William in the Highlands.

day 2

Things I saw today:
Napolean Bonaparte's toothbrush
the Elgin Marbles including the ENTIRE freize of the parthenon
The Rosetta Stone
Charles Darwin's movie villain-ish curved walking cane made of whalebone and topped with a grinning ivory skull with 10 karat rubies set in the eye sockets.
And speaking of Darwin I also say an old toothless man shouting "ee-vo-LU-tion!" at a flyer guy wearing a 'Jews for Jesus' tshirt.

I checked out of my hostel at 10:30 this morning having drooled all over the (former) incredibly clean and suprisingly comfortable little bed. They held on to my bag for me while I wandered around from the British Museum to the National Galley, through Trafalgar Square, over the Westminster Bridge, under the London Eye, and finally into the British equivalent of TGI Fridays for the British equivalent of Fugu, a hamburger. To give an idea of the prices here, things would still be 10% more than NYC prices if you only substituted the little wiggly pound sign (£) to a dollar sign. Factor in the almost 2.25 multiplier and you understand why I only spent one night here.

Right now I'm in an internet cafe waiting for the free hostel dinner at 6:30 before catching my overnight bus to Edinburgh, where I'll be meeting my former philosophy professor from dartmouth for a pint.

Day one -London

subtitled: The English deserve every imperial ounce of their culinary reputation.

I had lunch at a grocery store, which doubled as a cheap source of even cheaper laughs at offerings such as "whole grain yogurt", "mayonaise and prawn sandwiches on oatmeal bread", and yogurt that included whipped cream, lemon juice, and "maize derivative" in its long list of ingredients.

My timeline of the day was more or less as follows: arrive at Heathrow on the redeye at 6:30, clear customs and baggage claim, ride the underground to my hostel- a gutted mansion in a wealthy london neighborhood, wandering to find a pub older than my home country ( i didn't have to wander far), napping for 3 glorious jetlag soaked hours, then taking the tube to the Thames river bank around sunset to walk from the london bridge to the tower bridge. Right now I am sitting at a curry house on the famous Brick Lane, one that features an "off liscence" internet cafe. It's almost 10pm now and only dusk. My energy is wavering so it looks like it's back to my hostel for tonight.

the final countdown

3 days to go, until I go.  Today was more or less routine in a more or less pleasant way. I baked alone from 5am to about 4pm which entails zombie shuffling to the bake house at 5 to rake out the embers from the oven, then mixing dough until around 7:30 when the breakfast meeting happens.  After that it's constant espresso with fresh cream, loud music from my flour saturated ipod player, and an hour of dough division until the oven has cooled enough to begin baking - 765 degrees.  At 4pm I pulled the final 6lb rye loaves from the now 550 degree oven and zombie reshuffled up the hill to the intern house for a nap in the hammock with an anchor steam beer and an open book on my chest.  Around 6 I awoke to mosquitos and thunderclouds. After a small solo dinner I did a (successful) trial pack of my bag for europe.  So here I am with about an hour before I should be sleeping, since I get to sleep in tomorrow (7am!).  2....1...

Next...

*I forgot to explain the text. It´s the end of the first stanza of Whitman´s Song of Myself, in the green ink of Holden´s brother Allee´s baseball glove, in the font of the title page of the original pressing of Don Quixote.

Haven't posted in a while due to an effective combination of constant fatigue and lack of a camera, both of which are unfortunate because this place is so damn pretty.  Only 3 or 4 days left before leaving Bobolink and I seem to have finally found an equilibrium point in managing the workload and "idiosyncratic" personalities of the farm.  I've learned quite a bit, almost entirely about how to deal with people, and the vast majority of that by being shown what not to do.  I never want to to be incapable of listening to advice or receiving feedback, or being corrected.  If anyone ever sees me condescending to a subordinate please hit me in the face with something soft.  This place has been inspiring in certain ways, and has nudged me towards cynicism in others.  The takeaway for me I guess, is that quality can cover many sins.  

Leaving for Hanover, NH on June 4.  Pic is regarding a surprise to come. 

alive alive, alive

Finished work today with enough energy to think for once.  Been doing quite a bit of scheming in the last few days as to my fall plans (besides the school thing).  I've found some sources of grass fed raw milk in the VT NH area and so I intend to make my own cheese now that I know how.  

Think I might keep a hen and some ducks for eggs since pets are allowed.  

I will definitely be roasting my own coffee, and have found plans for an easy to construct brick oven using cast-able firebrick from a near bye company.  I also have a book for growing my own hops in the spring.  

Later I intend to take classes at these 2 institutes:  

florence of academy of art

Siebel Institute of Technology

 that's about it for now. i think.

NOTE: as I was typing this a bull escaped and wandered into the driveway of the intern house.  so I spent  a few minutes chasing him around with the broken handle of a rake.

the grinding wheel

time is moving so frighteningly quickly that somehow I'm halfway done here and have yet to move my sleeping set up from the couch and my bags from the living room.  Work-> sleep: repeat.   will post more text when I've finished the second stage of the formula.  More pictures for now.

things I've butchered so far:

a wild boar

a rooster

a long day

and I spent most of it covered in cow shit and boar's blood.  Since Bobolink doesn't bake on Monday or Tuesday, I spent the morning, afternoon, and most of the evening doing a number of the infinite miscellaneous chores that exist on a farm.  Herding, milking, cheese salting.  Being kicked, lifted, and constantly defecated upon.  And the final insult is having to take a snow shovel and clean up all the excrement that didn't land on my body or clothing.  I also spent around an hour picking the hair off of the boar meat that I cut yesterday.  After finishing around 6:00 I walked off into the woods to look for morels, finding a small handful.  Really looking forward to the bake room tomorrow even if I have to start at 5.  

 

just some photos

"it's my first day"

It started at 7:30 with a breakfast meeting around the kitchen table, a briefing between bites of granola with fresh cream.  I was shown dough division, shaping, resting (the dough), rising, baking, scraping, slashing, stacking, repeating.  After a quick lunch of tuna salad sandwiches and pickled chipotle pepper, I "helped" move the cows from one pasture to the next by carrying a new born calf, and looked over the misty hill field of I-can't-believe-it's-not-scotland, new jersey.   The day ended after 6:00 when the largest and last loaves were pulled from the oven, prep for tomorrow completed, and 175lbs of firewood stacked & ignited for the next day's baking.  The place is amazing, the people are amazing-er, the animals are amazingly delicious, and a glass of homebrew mead after a 12 hour day is a magnificent thing.

a swap of shoes for boots

Just finished one of the greatest meals of my life, one apparently composed entirely of "leftovers."  Stuffed veal breast simmered in god knows what goodness on soba noodles, freshly foraged morel mushrooms sauteed with fiddle head ferns and bacon, foie gras and peasant olive rye bread, followed by gulps of homebrewed buckwheat honey mead....  yeah

So I have officially begun my Bobolink Internship Adventure.  Right now I'm in the sort of foodie frat house where the interns live surrounded by obscure spices, wine bottles, piles of 5th hand work clothes, wine bottles, coffee grounds, wine bottles, and 1970s fda posters about Great Grains! . 

day will begin at 7:30 tomorrow.  Many photos to come. divine disorder in this place.  

things

1)  April 26, Went foraging around Central Park with "Wildman" Steve Brill with Nikki.  www. wildmanstevebrill.com  

I ate A LOT of little pink flowers.

2) Partied with the Ruskies in North Brunswick at Danya March-something's 23rd b

irthday bash.  Much more subdued this year, less nudity and collapsing, but fun nonetheless.    

3)  Today I retrieved my stone sumi-e seal from China town, finding a Chinese Beef Jerky store that was amazing and cheap called New Beef King at 89 Bayard St.  

Tomorrow:  the coffee roaster will be completed, my last day as a model at FiT.

goodbye to the met

If you read the website fine print closely enough and make a few phone calls, then you might be able to weasel your way into the drawing study room of the Met museum for a 2 hour session as I somehow did yesterday.  Sitting in an old and abused wooden desk in a corner in an office next to equally ill treated filing cabinets felt like being in detention.  The principal difference being that if you open those cabinets which are arranged by nationality and name, and hand a card to the librarian, then a masterwork has to join you in time-out, so that you can think about what you wish-you-had-done.  

Here is a sample menu:

Study for the Libyan Sibyl- Michelangelo Buonarotti

Study of a woman-  P.P. Prud'hon

Hand ecorche- Rubens

Nude study- Rafael Sanzio

Nativity study- Leonardo da Vinci

St. Remy hallway- Vincent van Gogh

I think I learned something.

As I wandered bright and cheery

Less than 2 weeks left in this adventure.  Today was warm and precious so I spent it zig zagging my way across manhattan on foot, at the whim of the walk signals.  On the way I saw some strange strange things including: a man riding a bicycle with a small terrier peaking out of the water bottle side pocket of his backpack, another man pitifully rolling himself across houston st. in a rickety wheel chair with a change cup, then using his legs to power his way across 4 lanes of traffic before the lights changed, and finally another guy violently- i guess you would call it necking- with a blind lady in the middle of the sidewalk as she whirled the tee-ball on a stick thing into the air like a helicopter rotor.