In less than 24 hour I will be on a jet plane. My impending departure brings a fair amount of unfinished business.

I failed to pack my billing information, so that my bills could be paid in my absence. Yet luckily I unearthed a bill from last year that had enough pertinent information for me to get by on, found in the deep recesses of my back pack, funny that. Additionally I found a semi-heinous bug in the photogallery. The bug has been summarilly squashed, it failed to process the style sheet in IE. Peter and I are not sure of what is supposed to transpire on the 13th, yet we aranged it months ago, I shall be lost in Paris if peter does not get my message in time.I am at the office gathering information so that when I land I can be prepared for the worst. Since it seems more and more likely things may not go smoothly. I must go and aquire copies of my passport, and develop Parisan contigency plans. A little adventure and uncertainty may be fun, but I am not looking forward to them on day one. Ready to go, jitters are fun.

At 12 noon on the 12th of May I took off for my summer adventure in earnest. I originally thought i had a four hour layover in philly, but it turned out to be only one hour. Very uneventful. After that i was off to Paris. I slept the through the entire flight. This is due to my nocturnal exploits. Tyler, Adam and Myself all went night skating around our old highschool. The time aboard the plane melted away as dreams mingled with reality, and elbows mingled with other elbows. Upon our descent I saw pastures, and more importantly french cows, how exotic and foriegn! Moo-la-la!

On the ground i wandered around the air port looking for the elusive "terminal 3" that housed the car pickup place. I gave in and just called them, and they sent a shuttle right over, the whole process was very painless. I was surprised with their efficeincy. Not only that, but when i got there they allowed me to make limitless international phone calls to Italy. The copious amounts of phone calls stemmed from the fact that the french were doing what they like to do, striking and as a result, the public transport system was at a stand still. After roughly 4 hours and 12 phone calls (horrid connection) enough we were able to exchange enough information allowing me to find Cameron's (sometimes camron) apartment in paris. I raced through traffic quickly mastering the standard transmission (after i found out about that pesky parking brake that was causing me to stall). The city was pretty easy to navigate, and the drivers were excellent, everyone watched everyone else, they were aware of their surroundings, bodacious! Would you beleive that Paris has a parking problem? i parked two miles away, and put on my skates and set out to find the apartment "on foot". I succeeded but peter had just left to explore the city, he later confessed that was sure it would have taken me much longer. Cameron and I went out to try and figure out where i had parked, and it turns out I lost the car. The day became strange when the clear blue sky started to rain. So i was searching for the car on my skates, in the rain. Cameron wimped out, and went home allowing me to cover more ground. I found the car, and spent the rest of the day skating around Paris. I took part in the "riot/strike" because thats the first thing us travellers are supposed to do. The parade led me to some of the cooler places in Paris, and then later Cameron and I walked about and saw the things I had missed. It was a great day, it alternated rain and sun no less than four times. Rocking out in the free world.

The photos here illistrate the very tempramental nature of the parisian atmosphere, the two shots of the bastile are only hours apart. One is a blue skied peaceful shot, and the others is an over cast riotus affair.

We went out into the country these past few days. We drove through Normandie and the Loire river valley. Arriving back in Paris via Versallies.

We left about three in the afternoon (GMT +1, sorry tyelor) for the Norman coast. It was very strking to see the french rural communities, not to mention the amazing scenery they harbour. I cant decide which I enjoyed more, the rolling terrain or the villages. The roads themselves were excellent, curving around and travelling up and down the diverse country side, I miss my motrcycle. We arrived in Bayuex late that night. The streets were deserted and the town was ours. I felt like the sturmtruppen. This town looks like the template for the maps many current video games use, Day of Defeat, Medal of Honor, etc. after wandering around the deserted streets looking for aplace to stay we went back to the car and slept there.

The next day we woke up and took off for Mont Saint Michel. We stopped at some of the more intresting D-Day beaches, Omaha and Point du Hoc. We arrived very early, and we were able to explore without the precense of other tourists. I really enjoyed Omaha, it helped me understand operation overlord. I left feeling very satisfied with the trip and ready to move on. I later saw Point du Hoc and thought one more beach would be fun, especially since Point du Hoc was not "Just another beach". This landing point was insane, it was nothing like Omaha. Omaha had a huge beach with hills looking out to the sea, Pt. du Hoc had sheer cliffs plunging down to the sea. Additionally the ground at Pt. du Hoc was horribley mutilated. Huge craters were dug out by artillery and bombs and trenches snaked across the terrian like so much scar tissue, the most disturbing thing was the Allies contribution, the shelling left the land covered in deep gauges and the resulting hills between them. After this we went on to Mont Saint Michel, our quest was to find one of the seven monks that live there. This particular monk has a very special job, he is their webmaster. We failed to find him, he must have been in the secret webmastering cloister. Looking upon the Mont was definatly the most impressive. Hopefully i can find a way to get some pictures to you folks. Just seeing this marvel was reason enough for coming over here. Going inside was a bit of a let down initially, stuffed with tourist shops it was dissapointing. The tour through the monestary was neat, and so was finding the back alleys and crawlspaces to get us around the maze of tourist shops.

After the Mont we decided to head through the Loire valley on our return, cause we had time. One of the shocking things about being over here is that everything is so close, really. Athens is a days drive away. Compounding this is the use of the metric system, and notably kilometres, also known as "mini-miles" when I see 120km i calculate time and distance to bout two hours, but in reality its only an hour, color me surprised. on top of all this fun stuff, these wonderful roads (and some towns even) dont even have speed limits. the only thing regulating my speed in france is the curves and towns. In our 1000km+ trip we only saw one official, and I think it was an ambulance, not even a policeman. We stayed in Blois during our night in the Loire valley, the hostel was full, so we camped out on top of a hill overlooking the river. Only this time we were able to procure blankets at a local Auchon Hypermart. While Blois is marvelous and full of ancient architecture and palaces, there is a town to the south of it, which we called "Katy" (aka, the suburbs) that was full of hyper markets and mcdonalds. The contrast was startling. The next day(yesterday) we headed back to Paris. We drove through Chartes and stopped at the Cathedral of Notre Dame, it was a cathedral full of relics and ornate opulance, and also, tourists. We left for Versailles after a short while. Versailles was amazing, its size is unimaginable, unfortunatly their parking lot is not not so grand. Failing to find a parking spot, we settled for a hike in the woods. We managed to get somewhat lost, but we were certianly used to this. We found the car and eventually found Paris. Mission Success.

Today I skote all around Paris. Peter woke up and went to fetch his father from the trainstation. I went out for a skate while he sought his father. My skate took me from the gare de lyon(east) to the Effifel tower (west) and from Sacre Coeur(north) to Cemetary du Montparnasse(south).

It was great fun, the weather held out until i made it all the way to the Effil tower, then it gave me a bit of a shower. I found a group of Parisian skaters practicing their moves outside the museum of modern art, I played around with them for a moment, very few of them were familer with the aggresive skates it seemed, even though some of them had "aggressive-style" skates. The stairs here were very easy to bash, and I only made a fool of myself once, I didnt go down, but I certianly had a deficit of grace. Very much like the attempt to skate Notre Dame(paris) when i stumbled on the cobble stones and the large tourist groups roared with laughter. Obviously they failed to realize that skating on cobble stones is more difficult than I made it look. Another memorable moment from this skate was when a "begger/thief" hailed me. She asked if I spoke english, and then told me this sob story. She had initially shaken hands with me which i thought was a bit forward, so I decided to keep my space and skate around her in a circle. As she told me her story it came out that she was from the ukraine, and her parents had died. so i said in my finest russian "ne ochen harashoa, guspadra mary" while my pronunciation may be flawed and the composition a bit basic, it struck like a thunder clap. She failed to speak russian, or any basic slavic. Her story was shot down and I was not letting her get close to me so she walked away quite upset. As for those musuem skaters I ran into them about an hour later, they had made their way to the other side of the city as well, so i formed up and I skated with them in a little pack until they were no longer going my way. Paris is great for skating, all their pavement is smooth and what stone they use has long been worn down by the flood of feet and wheels for hundreds of years. Here I am, in paris in the internet cafe, with my skates on. Hi.

Peter's father took us out to dinner last night. I got some nice solid sleep last night as well. I have been sleeping fine, but i have been only getting six hours or so, perhaps it is my lust for life. Today i awoke around 11am when Peter and his dad came to get "stuff" for their adventure de jour. I wanted to go see Versailles. I have added some select pictures.

I went to the train station to begin my quest. it was drizzling while i walked there. Once i got there I wandered around for a while looking for the right train and ticket. After getting the situation under control I took an hour and a half train ride out there, only to discover that Louis XVI's palace was not right there, and that it would require further navigation. The weather was cooperating, mildly, but it was by no means pleasant. I turned around headed home, it was a bust. It was not a total loss, i found where the Highlander lives (on the river boat in Paris, not the candian rip-off) and i enjoyed the scenery from the train it was certainly worth my $2.4.

We are in Antwerp at the moment, dutch is a crazy language. Thier keyboards are even crazier. This trashy old computer wont let me load my site, it is "blocked". We skote around antwerp last night, the sun doesnt set until about 10pm so it is great. My gps cd was destroyed on the flight over, and my pda reset itself since i left it in houston, and it had to wait a few days before getting to paris to get charged. As such it lost the GPS program and with the cd destroyed we were out of luck. TomTom navigator has built in support for my gps reciever which is great, thats really uncommon these days. We are off to Amsterdam now.

Welcome to Amsterdam. At least I think thats how you spell it. We arrived in the afternoon, it took us about 3 hours to cover the 158km from Antwerp. This is because we drove through the Netherlands Island chain, most notably Zeeland.

Zeeland was really neat not only because it was gorgeous and green and well suited to pleasure, but because they fly the old flag. The same flag that flew in 1419, or a very similar derivative. When we arrived in Amsterdam the rain begain to fall. After we checked into the hostel we went to park the car in the old olympic stadium, I didnt know they had hosted the olympics here. On the way back we were a little lost, during one of our re-orientation peter walked away. After i searched for him for 45 minutes he found his way home. We went exploring at night, red light district, woo! More to come.

The line for the internet never ends here at the Flying Pig .

Tonight I smashed my camera, and now my laptop has taken some more cosmetic damage. Pretty or not I am using my own computer to post this update. I am trying to upload the photos, but that port is blocked, pictures covering the Benelux (belgium netherlands and luxemburg, ok really just "bene" since we havent been to luxemburg yet). I really like Amsterdam. Amsterdam is not beautiful or really "interesting" but it really does have charecter. And if you know where to look it has a sense of subtle beauty. the canals were an unexpected surprised, and little ponds hide behind the lush greenery. Another reason I like it is not because you can smoke weed, but it is because you are allowed to smoke weed.

Small government is so marvelous. For these tiny europeans nations it is really evident, their populace is so small that they are more directly represented, they really do have a voice, it is not muted by the masses. This can be seen in the efficent mass transit system and the relaxed laws. On a three lane road, One is for bikes, the second is for the train and the third is for all the cars. originally I did not like this, as a car driver. When you think about in terms of numbers served, the distribution of roadways makes sense. Also I have not yet met a town I could not cross on skates in under 2 hours. I am sure the bikes have it a lot easier. The sizes of these "cities" are miniscule and it makes public transport and bike riding a viable alternative. This is a complete shock since I expected spawling cities that have been bulging outward for the past thousand years.

We decided that Norway would be too far. So instead we took off for Spain, we planned top drop down through luxembourg and Switzerland, and cruise the Cote d´Azur.

This journy took us through some really neat places. On the first day we went to visit the Ardennes, Bastogne specifically. There was a great monument there that we just stumbled across, back roads are great that way. We made it just south of Colmar from Amsterdam on that first night, we started at noon.The next day we start south intending to pass through Switzerland so we drove up into the alps to the swiss border, it was a great drive. The border checkpoint had not seen a car all day, we were crossing in the most remote of areas. So these guards decided to search us. I personally think it was how absurd our passport photos looked, I will have to post photos sometime. So we unpack the car, under the instruction of some monoglot Francoswabians. They run our papers and do every they possibly could do. They searched us, they searched our car, and they searched our things, then they searched us again. We were detained for nearly an two hours. I took a snapshot to remember the occasion by, and my camera was promptly confiscated. After all that they found nothing, and let us go, after stamping our passports with ¨banned, do not admit¨ so we had to go back to france. This is all because we had the X-factor. We looked like pot heads, we smelled like pot heads, and we were direct from Amsterdam. I was profiled!

As a followup to the European political state, I would like to comment on the lack of speed limits and point out how this corellates to my previous state in a "by the people for the people" manner.

The government does not farm the driving public for funds, they opt for the tollway method. The lack of real interstates has been slow at times, but the beauty has more than made up for it. Our Alpine detour was the best waste of a day ever. The lack of speed limits is compounded by the lack of a real police presence. France can answer with their Napoleonic code, but belgium and the netherlands lacked police prescen too. Hand in Hand with the lack of police is the lack of enforcement on the part of the police, i hear that the police rarely bother enforcing the little laws. While this may be "freedom" it is can be seen in an economic sense as a stagnating factor. The government cant enforce its laws how can it follow a sound economic policy? much less cultivate a stable business enviroment, one where the proprieter does not have to fear the lawless populace. It is a fine line we walk.

Opting for the warmer climes was certainly a wise choice. We covered the south of france at a pretty good pace. The views were spectacular, and the coast was blue...I couldnt beleive it. We made it to Barcelona from Montpellier in half a day, Barcelona has the most charecter of any city I have had the pleasure of exploring.

It boggles the mind how things are done, and not done here. There is a huge mass of people that exist down the street from our hostel, they dont do anything but stand there, endlessly. A mystery for the ages. Interrestingly Spain, a member fo the EU, was conducting border checks, something i was not expecting from a member of the EU. The spainiards were not on the look out for the X-factor, so we were able to pass easily. Easily means, only 50% of the officials wanted us to pull over, so I decided to listen to the other 50% who were waving us on.

Ten minutes after my last update i discovered what all those people were doing out there, and i now have a brand new dinner jacket, for only 2 euros. Barcelona was great, Guadi's park was super-cool. We went from Barcelona to Madrid the next day. However there is his really cool monestary inbetween, Montserrat.

We spent the entire day on top of the mountain. We spent the day hiking and exploring abndoned buildings, and looking at silly religious relics. In order to make up for our dilly-dallying we drove late into the night. We arrived on the outskirts of madrid around 3am and camped in the car once more. We slept in a posh neighborhood outside for various reasons, but one of the ones we over looked was the traffic the next day, it was horrendus. Madrid is just another big city, it had some neat older buildings, but it lacked charm, or anything similar. Not to mention it was filthy, but not for lack of effort, they had so many cleaning crews removing graffiti and rubbish on every corner. We went to the Prado, the walmart of museums. I focused on just the sculpture and the 15h century spanish works. That night we hit the road for Toledo. I had no desire to spend a night in Madrid. Toledo is only an hour outside of Madrid, but it is seperated by 500 years. Toledo is centered around an old walled city. We got a chance to cruise the city multipe times while we were looking for lodging. The city itself has a powerful presence the walls and towers ooze potency. We went to the old jewish temple just to see how 500 years after the explusion it was getting along. It was still being rebuilt. Much like Barcelona´s and Gaudi´s Segrada Familia, which was begun 100 years ago, and it still not finished. And they work on it every day.The Temple was a very srong reminder about how not nice some people are.

While peter has been busying himself with taking pictures of spanish rocks i have found a diffrent intrest, Graffiti. I am not used to this 'art' except for what i see in Beatsreet, or electric boogaloo, movies you all should see. But it strikes me as oddly political. In the land of riots and frogs, there were few real messages within their scrawlings, besides 'peirre was here'.

Perhaps this stems from a feeling that their voices are not cleary represented in the government, but then what of the riots? Spain´s scribblings could be attributed to an unresponsive government. Then again spains government is 'of the people'. The only political parties present are the socialist and communists. And these two groups compete amongst themselves. With such a situation stymies would be the norm, but the ANZAR government in power is noted for its effective rule and progressive policies allowing spain to take part in the EU with other developed nations. Achieving this in only a quarter of a century after the demise of Franco´s dictatorship is amazing. Maybe I should stop rambling and actually get to talk about 'of the people to for the people' ... later. ciao.

After storming the ramparts at Toledo we moved in to Al-Andalus, and the city of Cordoba. It seems tat these towns while magical and wonderful only contain one or two significant sites. Upon entering Cordoba I realized there was more to see than we had anticipated.

We arrived in Cordoba at a reasonable hour and squandered all our time getting lost. We traversed the entire city by foot. What a wonderful way to waste time. We saw tons of people in flamenco dresses and other traditional vestaments. After finding a place to stay, we looked out from our balcony to see a galaxy of lights sitting on the other side of the river. We took off at once to investigate the commotion. It seems that the week we picked to visit Cordoba was their annual fair. We had wondered why the entire town was closed during our wandering. I guess this explains the garb too. We went all around the fair in amazement at the Spainiards ability to go hog-wild-nuts at the start of almost any song. Not to mention their uncanny ability to groove, I havent seen such skill since I was in Venezuela.The next day we went to go see the mosque, i mean Cathedral. It was a real shame, it really upset me. The place was in better hands under its original owners, the moors. As a westerner I am used to the christian architecture and the like, but this structure was unlike anything i had seen before. Its construction was open, and light, not like the catholics prefrence, closed and dark. This is where the injustice occured, it was converted into a Cathedral with reliquaries built into the side and varous other catholic accutremonts added in places they were illfit to fill. It was not a great mosque nor a great cathedral, it was a great example of two incompatible styles and cultures. As can be seen from he moorish expulsion after the jewish expulsion. The first photo here is of a roman mill located on the river, and the third picture is of a moorish bridge that croses that same river. The third photo is the very "galaxy of lights" that indicated the fair was in town.

We repeated what has become the routine this afternoon. We got to town in marvelous time, but then got lost for hours on end. Eventually we found lodging, at the cheapest pice we have yet to find, and free parking to boot. We stumbled upon Alhambra, but will go back tommorow to do it justice. Hasta Siempre.

Do I want to run with the bulls? It would be a long drive, but I am free during the week it occurs. Also stampedeing bulls are somewhat dangerous.

- Sounds like a riot to me =P - tylor
Dont do it. :P - Phillip

The bullfight was great. I dont know why, not for any malice i hold towords bulls, or love for spanish culture. I think it was just the experiance, I cant describe it. During the show we saw the gamut of permances, every I could have imagined happened. One bull even earned his freedom, I dont know how, but they let him go. Of course after the show, after all the others had left, when I was exploring the bullring they brought his dead body out.

We are in Bruxells, after completing the first leg of our trip. After we left Sevilla we decided not to goto Morocco, and that we were short on time if were going to be in Belgium for my Motorcycle rallye thing. Portugal seemed like the best option.

We went to the Algarve region and Stayed in Lagos. It was a beach town, simple but with hints of development cropping up everywhere. After that we went to Evora, upon reaching Evora I realized I was without a wallet. It had to be back at the Hotel in Lagos so we drove back to retrive it. And back to Evora again, it was a 3 hour drive each way. In Evora and with a wallet, we walked around a little bit, looking for the "world heritage sites" but it turns out the town itself was the site and there was nothing in particular to look at. We did get to see one of those "bone chapels" though, and that has influenced me to seek out the real bone cathedral. After Evora we Went to Tomar, headquarters for the Knights Templar, the monastic military order who held more sway in the Catholic world than the pope. We decided to go see Sintra, which we had originally abandoned in the sake of time. Sintra is a tourist town west of Lisbon in a national forest, it contains a castle dating from 8th century and a Palace from the 19th century. It was rather neat, we hiked up the mountain to these places.

The rally was super plus fun. We showed up, and felt kind of out of place, since we drove there in a car. When I went to check in and to give them the donation put together by the Chain Gang those apprehension melted away, the reception was very warm.

After a fun day of stunt riding and Motorcycles, I was lucky enough to ride a bike in the parade, it felt wonderful to be on a motorcycle again. After that we went to Brugge for the evening where we explored and ate dinner. A fellow I met at the rally suggested this wonderful town, it was so picture perfect. After dinner we drove to the a small town on the german border. We didnt go any further so peter could use up his phone card. In the morning I explored the town while peter slept in. In the bakery the baker took orders from her customers in three diffrent languages it was a site to see and hear. That day we bolted across Germany stopping to have one of the best meals of our trip. Why are there so few german restraunts in the states?

At least thats what I say back to the Czechs. We are in an apartment in Prague at the moment exploring the city. We got the chance to haggle for the first time yesterday, and are loving the low prices, if one were to order a pint, it would cost 75 cents as opposed to 4 dollars in Gibralter. English is widely spoken, but we have taken 'eastern precautions' above and beyond what we did in the west.

The snapsnot is of Jan Hus, the man who led the first protestant rebellion, a century before protestantism was even formed. Bohemia is always on the cutting edge.

Prague is fun. It really helped me understand the term bohemian. There is a large population of people who just sit in the park all day and idle. Maybe they are paid by the government, as part of a tourist program? As a result of an inability to lead we ended up sitting on a corner doing nothing for a few hours, how very native of us. Little did we know what was in store for us around the corner.

After our stint on the stoop we walked around the corner. Immediatly after this we were approched by two drunk females who were very happy to see us. I would have to saw they were entirely unattractive reminiscent of schoolmarms in both beauty and garb. Being the out going fellow I am I interacted with them for a few meters, as they rambled on in pigeon english. Shortly the pleasentries and innocent questions gave way to the more pressing matter of comosellamasex. comosellamasex is not quite as obvious as the "bad touches" we recieved, i wanted to immediatly "go find an adult" as i was instructed, but none were around. Well these hookers knew a fair amount of english, but "no" was not in their vocabulary. We carryed on getting groped and what not as we strolled along repeating "no thanks". We could not dissuade them by claiming to be homosexuals, they would not accept it. We were stuck with the two hookers Until I finally proclaimed "You are ugly, I would never sleep with you" which elicted the exact reactionI was hoping for, Total cessation of sexual activity followed by two frustrated hookers, standing still and yelling explatives in Czech as we walked on.

A concrete slide? Those silly commies.

After Prague we continued eastwards. In Eastern Czechland i experianced the language barrier for the first time on this trip. As is our custom we stop at all local super markets. where else can you buy pudding for 6 cents?

At this market i attempted to procure ice. I know the word for ice, and they understand it. The problem is the item i want is about as real to a Czech as Tinkerbell is real to us. I want a "bag of ice" imagine that. They have ice, and they have bags, but a large bag containing ice is about as relative as a Bidet is to the US. I have not been able to find ice since we left spain.

The sun set at 11pm last night, about 30 minutes before we arrived in Kracow. We spent the day lost in the Czech country side, we visited Litomysl amongst many other towns. A new country a new funny money.

We spent all of our Czech crowns at the last gas station in the Czech Republic. So the Zloty is in and the Crown is out. I extracted some from "bankomat" since they are not ATMs over here. this accomplished we found some food and a peaceful street to park on. We searched around for habitations, but none were to be found at such a late hour. We nestled in on our quiet street for a good nights sleep at one or two in the morning. The sun rose two hours later, at 4am.

Peter and I slept for two hours the park bench with this wonderful vista.

We left for the Ukraine late afternoon. Around 12am we reached the Ukrainian border. Here is where I fully reallised what a sphere of influence really is. The border guard spoke Russian, German and Polish. And the Negotions were not expedient.

I was told i needed a Visa to enter the Ukraine, and that i would have to go back to Krakow ot get this visa. In addition to this, The Officer wanted me to buy insurance in order to continue my journey. This really confused me, i was trying to leave poland and they want me to buy the insurance for the Ukraine? But i am not able to goto the Ukraine. Turns our i needed insurance for poland, that the first border guard forgot to mention. We drove back to Krakow that night. The next day we learned it would cost $100 usd to get Visas for the Ukraine. Peter was not ammenable to this, so we decided to skip the Ukraine, and spend more time in Turkey. Which we are working to secure Visas for at this very moment.

With our extra time in Poland we decided to visit a camp of sorts, a death camp. below is view from Auschwitz 2.

Instead of Kiev, we went to Budapest. This was peters second time in the city, so i was looking forward to his expert guidance. Tuns out he had not done anyof the things I wanted to do. The number one thing i wanted to do was go see all the old Soviet era statues that they removed from the city.

Also on the list were Buda Castle over looking the Danube, and St. Stephens Basilica, and the Turkish baths. All of these things were accomplished. Except the Statue garden. The Church and the Castle were neat, but hardly one of a kind. The Castle was more of a palace than a real castle, but it was neat to see the 1956 uprising's effects on the castle. And the Church was very nifty and ornate, but arnt they all? I did get to see St. Stephens hand, so i guess that was cool, right? I am definatly cooler than i once was because of it, someone please validate this theory.

The two shots are shots of Buda Castle, and the Turkish baths on the far side of the Danube. We visited both, extensivly. We were naked for only one of our visits.

The home of Dracula, and they wont let you forget it. The Romanian tourist industry knows only one selling point, the Vlad Tepes or Dracula. All their tourist destinations are intertwined in the Vlad Tepes/ Dracula myth.

With such slim offerings they often invent ways to tie Vlad Tepes to their Land. An example is "Dracula's Castle" in Bran, which was never a residence of Vlad, but the locals all think it was. Another example is Vlad's Tomb, which seems to be a recent construct, devoid of any tomb. The lies behind the tourism cannot taint the real beauty that romania has to offer. If they had to tell me a tale to get me to row across a lake to an island monastery, then so be it.

Leaving Sighisoara we decided to see "Dracula's Castle" that he is in no way connected with. Unfortunatly the 2nd best navigator was not up to the job, and as a result I had to invent a more suitable route.

The suitable route was entirely usuitable, in france a white road (lowest capacity road) would not have defined lanes, but be wide enought for two cars. In Romania the white roads are nothing more than dirt tracks through the hills. Driving through the mountains offered limited options to correct our course, so we were had to take this road or go back 100km to another junction. I fought as best i could to keep our small little city car on the road, and rolling. Eventually the path splintered into 12 other and smaller roads, at which point we turned around and gave up. No Bran castle for us, yet. Back on pavement, i was elated to get out of 2nd gear. The pleasure soon turned to pain since even the main thourough fares into Bucaresti were riddled with pot holes. If the offroad jaunt would not do in the renault certainly these potholes would. Some of these potholes were more than a foot deep.

We drove through Bulgaria as fast as we could, but still managed to have a story to tell.

From Romania we had to pay three "taxes" at three diffrent points, just to cross the last 3 km before Bulgaria. Thank goodness for real currency, since we make it a habit of squandering all remaining ruples and peso's. A few greenbacks later we were in Bulgaria, were we were told to wait, since they change shifts soon. So we waited for 15 minutes while they shuffled papers and cleaned the desk. After that and two more "taxes" later we were allowed to enter Bulgaria. i was shocked to see Cyrillic on the road signs, along with the Romanized text. 50km later the Roman letters disappeared, and we were left with Cyrillic, which is one many parts of russian i have yet to learn. Our atlas, which is horrible for eastern europe, just became that much more worthless. We aimed south and east using the sun, and by night time we had figured out enough cyrillic to get us pointed in the right direction. But all the direction in the world cant help you avoid the killer commie potholes. The potholes took the life of one of our hubcaps late at night. it spun off into the blackness of the bulgarian night, they dont have streetlights, so it was gone, the only light was from the trashcan fire that the bums had across the street. We camped out in some black coast town, and finished up the rest of the trip early the next morning.We left bulgaria relativly easy, but getting into Turkey was anything but easy.

Turkey is the land of international playboys, or that is what they think. They want $100 just like the Ukraine, so i figure the countries only cater to the super rich internationl jet set. My traveling companion is not part of that catagory and became an illegal alien.

Peter beleives in travellers cheques. And i beleive in Legal tender. So peter had his passport held for failure to pay for his visa, and he had to go back into Bulgaria without it. In Bulgaria he obtained the $100 that he needed to pay the crossing fee. When he got back i offered to sell him a newpaper clipping that i claimed was worth $100 dollars just like his visa, which looked slightly less official than the newspaper clipping, he failed to see the irony. Istanbul is great and historical and marvelous, its better than i could ever attempt to convey, so i just wont.

Today we shall break free of the grasp of turkey and its siren call.

Turkey. Turkey has been the best part of this trip, without reservations. It will be hard to have a better time anywhere else. It is so hard to say that, because we are no longer in Turkey, and that means it is all downhill from here. On the Fourth of July we made the choice to leave glory of Turkey and the girls behind.

Our Turkey travels begin in IsTANbul. A wonderful city with an intresting layout. Every major city in Europe is based along a major river and sprawls both sides, IsTANbul is divided by a two seas a river, and a strait between their two seas. If water is the lifeblood of any European city then IsTANbul is Kevin Costner's "WaterWorld". All this water breaks this huge city into small manageable parts that manage to feel small and comfortable. The people of Turkey are so socialble that you cannot help but respond in a similar manner. It starts with rug salesmen talking to you for half an hour about nothing to do with rugs, continues with men in the park talking to you about the state of the Turkish economy and develops into a deep social comparassion between countries, for about an hour. It ends with a wonderful man in Konya adopting you as his children after an hour of conversation, and one tank of gas from their gas station, complete with home address and cell phone number. That is only the highlights, there are many more interactions inbetween. Turkey is so wonderful, as Rick Steves would say, "Go to Turkey, They will love you".

In IsTANbul we sat by the sea, toured Mosques and visited Palaces. Before we left the big city Peter and I had agreed that Turkey was the most intresting and wonderful place on our journeys. The greatest glory had yet to even show its head. We decided to goto to Cappadocia, and their wonderful rock formations. It was "neat" . We also saw an underground city, and scared some tourists, not to mention I out haggled a Turk. From Cappadocia we were heading to Pamukale, when peter suggested we goto Olympos, a beach 500 kilometers out of the way, but still close enought to be considered "on our way". plus they had treehouses, and who can say no to tree houses? We drove all day, stopping only for Ahmet in Konya. We drove south until the road ended and then we drove some more. Arriving a little before midnight. Dinner was served buffet style, hours before hand, but they managed to find some food for us inspite of the "rules". Our accomodation was quaint. The next day peter and i went to the beach, and what a marvelous beach it was. The beach shares realestate with ancient ruins and as a result no non-natural building materials may be used in the surrounding areas, also that means another 10million lira to the turkish government for the admission price, since its a museum.

The next day in Olympos I was sitting in the shade reading respecting my sunburn I recieved the day before when some strange lady asked if she could sit with us. Her friend then joined us, we spent the entire day in that spot, and the entire night on the beach. The next day, we checked out and lounged around till the evening when the girls decided to leave olympos with us. We drove to Kas, and spent the next few days camparing the quality of various beaches. It was blissful, we accomplished absolutely nothing. We kept pushing back our scheduled departure as a result of our wonderful companions. We eventually drove back to istanbul with them. Kinda. We made it about half way, when one of the girls elected for a bus, something we had been fighting the entire way. It was here that I had some real experiances. In the bus terminal I approched the girls, and said hello. At this point the man behind the counter got very upset and would have proceeded to "straighten me out" if the girl had not interceded on my behalf. Another fun moment in the Culture Club was when a goodbye kiss raised many an eyebrow. Not to be outdone by our adventures that night. we were looking for a room with the remaining girl. The first place we went to gave us one look and said "we are full" the next place said it would be ok, but then when peter and I approched the desk with out turkish friend, they too magically became full. Other places were willing to accomodate us, but at higher rates. We went back to the first place, since it was by the car, and the inkeeper sensing our situation, opened up a little. He did in fact have rooms, two of them, since girls and boys are not allowed to sleep in the same room. he spoke at great length about this and that, but eventually agreed to let us stay in his rooms. This is a shot of one of the marvelous beaches near Kas.

We rose early the next day and made our way to IsTANbul. There we were reunited with the lost girl. We toured a school and their neighborhoods. After this we went back to the tourist area for dinner and lodging, since neighborhoods dont have much in the way of Hotels usually. After some intense negotiations we secured a room for the night. Nothing remotely similar to small town Anatolia occured. The culture diffrence is greatly muted in IsTANbul. The next day we did a lot more of nothing, and we decided it was best to go on. Eventhough nothing is so great and wonderful, there must be an end, an end we all know was coming at some point. And there it ends.

- william, we do have names you know :P
Posted by kiraz, one of the girls @ 07/06/2003 04:41 AM CST

We left Turkey, and made for Greece. The Demilitarized border was fun to see, but the greeks were not so thrilled with our travels, we went too far south in Turkey, and as a result we were thouroughly searched.

After the agent took my UNESCO world heritage list and peters old train tickets. We were free to go. We raced through Greece, driving so fast that not even sleep could catch us. Eventually either we slowed down or it sped up, and we pulled off in some random town. But in greece, some random town is bound to have a beach. So we pulled up to the beach, and went and slept on the shore. in the morning i went for a swim before waking peter. We drove on, today we observed the European ritual, siesta. I guess thats what a week of sleepless nights will do to you, not to mention the 44 degree heat. That night we were on a ferry to Italy, 90 dollars, for two boys and a car.

We took a ferry from Greece to Italy. And in Italy we explored the south. We visited Ostuni and then drove over to Sicily. Italy really stuck me, I had always thought it's dimensions were somewhat limited. but the boot is really quite large. Sicily itself is quite large, or at least hard to travel on backroads. But we were rewarded by sitting in on a Sicilian wedding party.

It was a short ferry ride over to Sicily, there we stayed in Taormina, a small touristy town. The next day we drove around the island just to see its geography. We ended up crashing a wedding banquet. We stumbled onto a nice restraunt, with tons of cars out front. I figured this had to be a good restraunt, since we had not seen this many cars in total all day. We went in to discover the wedding party in full swing. We were instantly absorbed and taken to a table and bottle after bottle of wine was presented to us. Peter said italians were cold, but we all know peter lies. We got a chance to meet all the notables, even though neither of us actually spoke italian, and they didnt speak english. It was a wonderful experiance, compounded by the fact that the food was excellent. Sicily was great, the next day we drove north to Sorrento, where we stayed in a camper trailer. Sorrento was the first "tourist hell" we have been in, we met more obnoxious travellers than I thought could ever exist. This night really soured me on Italy and its tourists. Not to mention we payed as much as 1 euro for ten minutes of internet (thats almost a buck twenty now days). We went to Pompei the next day and finished up in Perugia. I really like Perugia, peter really did find a wonderful town to spend four months of his life in. Matter of fact, I think I am going to get more Gelato from the place up the hill right now, ciao.

Alright. I left pete in Milano on the 9th,I drove straight to Pamplona which from now on will be called Iruna, because i like the Euskadi. I arrived the next morning pre-dawn. The huge amount of people out in public at 5am was astounding. I tried to sleep but I felt to energized, and also insane. I had no idea where to go or what do to, but eventually I found the crowds Plaza del Mercado, thats where the disaster begins.

Every one is dressed in the fermino costume, and I mean everyone. Only the most blatant tourists are in their street clothes. So there I was in my street clothes. While i was looking for this place i passed by several photographic displays painfully illustrating why I should NOT run. I think they highlight people who get maimed in street clothes, and gloss over the ferminos who meet with disaster. So after all this i must admit my conviction was shaken quite a bit. So I started. The bulls hadent started. But I had. This idea was not an original one, as the majority of the runners had already begun the course. It was not as bad as i imagined it, the begining was tolerable and relativly safe. I had no idea how long this course was, since i had no time to reconoiter. But after a minute or two things got worse, a huge wave of flesh came streaming up from behind. I had no thought of bulls in my mind now, I was running from the hoarde. I continued on, the mob actually made us go slower, and shortly the bulls or bull was upon us. I say bull because they are singular entities, I was expecting a horrible killer wall of moveable death. Either way one bull was enough for me, I hopped the barricade and continued running in a less restricted space. The end came when the bulls entered the arena, with the other runners. I knew this would be my fate if i continued running, and bulls, arenas and myself dont mix well.

So i ran. I didnt run into the Arena of Death, but I ran. The route was a lot shorter than I thought it would be. Or maybe it was the fact that time is immeasurable under those circumstances. After the fact I found a sash that some runner misplaced, in the middle of the corridor. They wanted money to let me watch the bullfights, and i wanted sleep. So i went to lie down, After driving all night and running for my life i was a bit tired, also delirious.

Nine hours from milan to Iruna, nine hours and 60 dollars. Plus another 60 or so for gas. Posted by William @ 07/12/2003 01:19 AM CST delerious together in completely different lands and completely different circumstances =p Posted by Pietro @ 07/12/2003 08:32 AM CST

So the car is mine, all mine. With only one driver I can make her do some ungodly things. As a matter of fact in the past three days I have made her cover nearly 4 thousend kilometers. The night i left peter the oil light came on. it went off after i filled up with gas farther down the road. It reappeared as I left Iruna,Yesterday at noon, I hit a lurch in the smooth sailing, italian traffic was not cooperating. This time i got a new set of lights, my engine light came on, and stayed on.

Thats not a light i want to look at, or ignore. I figured it was related to my oil light, which was spending more time on than off these days. I pulled into a station to check my oil level, which was far below the minimum. I would say i changed the oil, but there was no oil to change, so i just filled it back up and hoped for the best. Thus far in the trip Clio, the car, has had the following illnesses: (2) cracked hubcaps: dirt roads, and peters turning. (1) missing hubcap, previously cracked: I hit a pothole in Bulgaria. Air conditioning, humming of the compressor when its hot out and not moving. Passenger side vent "blew out" and whistles, adventures in chocolate cooling gone wrong. Impact damage, rear bumper and quarter panel, Peter had strong feelings for a wall, love or hate. Tires, hahahaha, bald.

On an unrelated note, the ferry was packed, and I had a chance to share dinner, conversation and bedding materials, with some Kurds who were returning to Iraq. Thats right peter, Kurdish picnic. Posted by William @ 07/12/2003 01:37 AM CST

Ok well for those who want to know, that last post was from Igoumenitsa and this one is from Istanbul. What occured between those two points was an experiance I will try and relate. My Kurdish friends, who I shared dinner with went our seperate ways that night, I slept on the deck and they remained below. I never saw them again, but I saw a couple thousend of their countrymen on my way across greece.

The ferry was totally packed, with cars and i raced every one of them, and many more ships worth of cars too, across northern greece. At first it started with an obervance that there was a large concentration of swiss plates this far south, extranationals are not uncommon on european highways. But even still you will not see huge caravans travelling. I saw the swiss caravan some 14 cars long, germany had many convoys, all limited to three cars each. But the real show stoppers were the belgiques, there were more cars from belgium than from greece on the road at any given time. After awhile i realized that these people may be from many diffrent lands, but they all were very "not european". This realisation was cemented when i arrived at the border, there was a sea of cars waiting to wait. And so we waited.

My vacation within my vacation is drawing to an end. After another glorious week in Turkey the real world is interfering with our lives once more. It`s a crime to leave, but I take solace in the fact that such breaks from reality do exist. Alternatly, while living in a dream world I could actually feel my understanding of our very real world expanding, it has been a learning experiance like no other. Play the game like it never ends.

- Thank you for the pictures - Peetah

I left Istanbul once again. This time I was headed for Pamukkale and Ephesus. Whipping through Turkey`s fine mountain roads I realized that my tires are done for when I begun slidding through every turn. Alright I should stick to the flat farm type land. Cotton country is not any more safe, as I found out after picking the cotton ... from clio`s grill.

I must do a lot of speeding, because once again I was whipping through some back country on my way out of Pamukkale, which by the way is a bigger dissapointment than finding out your father is Santa Claus. I think this is the first time it has rained in Turkey, but sure enough the day my tires gave up, the rains came. Along with the rain comes a wonderful curvy road. What goes best with curvy roads? Stalled motorists in your lane on the blind side of the turn. I didnt hit them, but Clio did spin out and jump into a cotton field, a muddy swamp of a cotton field at that. No less than thirty people got out of the van I dodged and helped me drag Clio out of the swampy mess.

I arrived in Selçuk at about 22.00, but my sightseeing was cutshort by the local Jendarma (military police), seems I was in a restricted area. They tried to pull me over head on, they slowed to a stop, in their lane, while I just continued on it wasnt until 4km later that they caught up to me and asked me to turn around. Fair enough, I wasnt sure what they were up too, and I dont think they were either, since they left their siren and lights on most of the way back down the mountain. I decided to goto sleep in a remote neighborhood to avoid any more attention.

I found the perfect spot to sleep, and went to bed. I was awake at 2am when the police dropped by to say hi. I had the car running to get some AC and was reading my book, which confounded them I imagine. They wanted to search the car for people sleeping in it, someone must have notified them. After finding out that there was no one else there, and most importantly, no one else who was a girl, they told me if I wanted to sleep they would show me the most proper place, since it is "impossible" to sleep here. Anyway they were nice and spoke excellent english. Just like the man who woke me up at 9am. He was trying to get me to stay in his Hotel. When that failed he tried to sell me everything from Beer to Rugs. He told me where the beach was, and I went for a morning swim.

Then I went to Ephesus. Old rocks, large scale. neat. I like the idea of ruins, I just dont think I appriciate visiting them.

G`day mates. Yesterday I went to aussieland, on the dardenelles. Gallipoli and its trench fighting were still evident, I even found some Great War refuse, 1918 tin cans wooo-hoo. All in all the Gallipolli sights were far more intriguing than any ancient ruins.

Looking over the geography I had to give pause and ask my self "why?" over and over. I think that such things give more insight into the human condition than any book. The Great War was over a long time ago but I promise not much has changed, except maybe media coverage, which is also what ended the Gallipolli Campaign.

I hung out with some guys from SMU last night. Classmates from arab nationalism. I dont suppose It would have been right to meet them anywhere else, except maybe Beirut.

A man in France stopped me on the toll way, and asked me my Nationality. I sat there dumbfounded. I am from The United States of America. I may be American, but so are Canadians and Bolivians. So what is my Nationality? I dont believe in nationality, not like the Bosnians, or the Serbs, the Palestinians or the Kurds. So as all this raced through my head I fumbled for words and told the Frenchman I was a Citiyen of the United States. Which I had to shorten to, American. What does it mean to be an American? To this man it meant, ½you can go½.

This phenomenon was first brought to my attention in Romania. With passport fromt he USA you can get away with a lot. I paid this no mind, we are all equal, some of us just need more visas than the others. Throughout my travels I have never said its ok to do this " cause i am American" Sure i have said "I am a tourist I can do this" but never because of my "nationality".

After being flagged in France, then released once they found out I was "American" I paid it no mind. Recently the issue has surfaced again. Entering Serbia there was a large line of cars at the border station. I got out to look for a change hut, since I had managed to pull out a Bulgars yearly wage in Bulgarian Lev. I was told to get back in my car and wait, then the guards came up and asked for my passport for some reason. After discovering I was "American" I was passed to the front of the line.

Similarly long lines we found at the Croatian and Bosnian borders, these lines were a result of intese passport and document scrutnity. When I arrived they asked for my green card (insurance) title of ownership and my passport. Which are all quite standard. But when they saw my passport, thats all they needed, they didnt care if I was insured or had stolen the car. I was waved through what I thought would have been two of the more difficult crossings.

Once upon a time there was a boy in Turkey. This boy decided to leave Turkey, for the billioneth time. He decided to goto Greece get some euros and then go back through Bulgaria, since Bulgaria is quite expensive to enter. So the boy crossed at the secret Greece checkpoint because he is so smart and experienced at leaving Turkey. There is only one group ahead of the boy, but they are being agressive with the border guard, never a good sign. The boy took a seat and waited patiently ... for his turn, or the power to get knocked out. Guess which happened first? These random Istanbul photos had to be shared before i exited Turkey officially!

So the power went out, and came back on. And the Greeks ahead of me kept bickering until the power went off for good. What knocked out the power? A raging storm came through and hammered the earth with such huge powerful chunks of water that it actually managed to coax a shine from beneath the layers of dirt smothering clio's brilliant blue paint job. Using my limited turkish "Yok Electricity, Yok hadi? Evet ve Telephon?" I inspired the guard to process us over the phone. Of course it took me 30-45 minutes to come up with these words of inspiration. So the line is moving again, and this time I got to cut the belligerent greeks.

In greece I passed no problems, until I found the road had been flooded in the cleansing rains. I have memories from my childhood of watching cars drown in the neighboorhood floods. So I am well aware of the danger, but i have also fought the currents on my own, and laughed at those who got stuck. So i attacked the tide with my Ford Explorer´s ferocity. I found Clio much shorter on stature and power. The water was at the door, and the gear I had chosen was not correct at all. This much resistance required first, but not just first, first AND clutch. Either way we made it across. Kinda. It seems that the forces arrayed against clio were too great. The resistance had dislodged her already sensitive front fender guard. I discovered this due to the horrible scraping sound it made against the ground. I finished the job, yanking it off and putting in the back seat.

I slept in a small Greek farming town, since it rained all night long I didnt want to drive on. The next day I did. I went to Bulgaria. Last time we went it cost us about 30 dollars to get in. And they wanted it all in real money, Dollars or euros. but this time, it was free. Not because I had been there before, but because ... just because. (ok well maybe it was because the line at the cleaning booth was long and I drove in through the exit lane, Following a Taxi) either way no one seemed to care. I stopped in Plodiv and Sofia. I pulled out about 100 bucks to spend since I was going to stay for awhile. after an afternoon of extravagence and eating in three towns i had spent about 7 dollars. and I realized at this rate i would be stuck in Bulgaria until early november. So I decided to head for Serbia.

"Istyurm Sigorta"

Serbia wanted me to buy insurance, costing 80 euros. Poland only wanted 5 euros for their insurance. Unlke poland we did have the ability to communicate, except it was in turkish. I dont know why but we did. They refused to change my Bulgarian lev since it is quite worthless, but i persisted. Eventually i was told they would give me 30 euro credit towords the insurance for my lev(Bulgar money), but that was not enough, since it was worth about 47 euro. After even longer, I mean i had no where to go so I just sat there, i reinitiated negotiations and actually got 50 euros credit out of 47 euros worth of lev. Talk about miraculous. I thanked the man profusely, in turkish of course. I was off into Serbia, and Monte Negro of course, dont forget the Monte Negro.

Serbia was not all that cool, considering the price I paid. Dont get me wrong, it was great and I am very glad to have gone, but it was on par with say, Romania. The highlight of my Serbian adventure was not Beograd, it was when I was pulled over for illegally passing. I usually just ignore these guys, like everyone else, but this guy had a case, and I was going slow, and he made eye contact. I couldnt ignore him. So I pulled over, and played dumb. Its amazing what you can understand if you try. I of course did not want to understand. You need to realize I have nothing but time. Its quite obvious, i am bad, in the wrong even. He wants 1000 dinar, and he has my passport. This is very simple. So the first thing we work out, is "Why I am bad?", we go to the exact spot and it turns out there is some confusion with lines, which he is very kind and explains in detail, in serbian. I stare and finally admit that he is indeed "good" or right. at which point we come to the next matter, the 1000 dinars, which i of course dont have, a quick look in my fake wallet prooves this. This confuses the man, who now wants me to goto the exchange office then when he finds out i have nothing to exchange I offer to goto the bank, which seems to be 100km away. We come to a consensus, I am going to the bank to get him money. At which point I ask him if its ok to take photos of him and his buddy, with the camera. He mistakes this for continuing negotiations and releases me, hands back my passport and sends me on my way with a smile. I was so elated I decided to forgo the photo. I spent the day exploring Beograd, which is neat and fun, but devoid of things that would be considered touristy. I slept infront of this gorgeous home in Serbia, I cant say enough about it. The place oozes a quiet country charm, so rich in color, but so devoid of care. Every crack speaks to me in some manner.

I crossed into Croatia then jump into Bosnia, because, well... just because I seem to have more luck coming from more reputable nations. Croatia and Bosnia are scary because each have signs all aloong the highway telling me that if I go off the road, I will die by a land mine. Bosnia is super cool, they only have mountain roads. Plus the recent war is evident every where you look. I got caught passing illegally again, but I had speed and and I never made eye contact so I felt confidant ignoring it. It was for the best. I arrived in Sarajevo last night and I am really enjoying this city. Someone called it the "european jerusalem" thats a bit much, but it is still quite cool. I suppose Sarajevo is second to jerusalem, when it comes to the amount of bodies that a single city has destroyed. Sarajevo of course being responsible for worldwar one and two. The following shot is a picture of the very bridge that started it all.

- haha. the power of turkish. arent you glad you learned the necessary words will? hadi, istiyorum! :) Posted by kiraz @ 07/30/2003 01:53 AM CST

I left the wonderful Sarajevo. I had fun there, I played lifesize chess, Icecream was 25 cents and the pavement was perfect for skating. I started hitching rides from trolleys and moved onto cars in the oldtown. I was pulled over by the police, on skates, it was fun.

They spoke perfect english, but just asked me to stop, which I did. I crossed into Croatia three times in the past three days, but my passport says i have only left it once, and never entered it at all. I was pulled over leaving Bosnia, the guard looked at my passport and said "ohhh Venezuela, Spain, Turkey, pull over to the right please"

I am in Dubrovnik, Croatia. Who knows for how long

I followed the drina out of Sarajevo to the coast, which led me to the gem of the croatian coast, Debrovnik. Dubrovnik developed quite well. Dubrovnik is hosting some sort of festival, but who isnt this time of year. The hostellers bonded over a watermelon sharing type event. Thats a lot like a kiwi sharing experience but quite a bit bigger.

After the watermelon was long gone we ventured out into the city/festival. My mates for the evening were italian and spanish, english speakers were in short supply. After stumbling around long enough to miss half the performance we found our venue. I can only describe it as "gypsy jazz" i am sure tyler could do better, Hi Tyler!

Over there I found some sco-ish people that were speaking some corrupt and long defunct form of english. We shared the evening with them. If you dont speak english natively, listening to scotch is near impossible, and honestly, even if you do speak english its quite rough. OK so it wasnt that bad, I knew I was in for a good time the moment we got lost, the first time, and the talk of wee gnomes commenced. I hung out with the Scots the next day as went island hopping and bushwacked our way to a super remote private beach, or so we thought. We climbed a mountain for 3km knowing that not a single living soul had been down this path for years. This is on an island where cars dont exist and the best draft team is a man named Vilia, and his dolly, or cart. Cresting the mountain we see the beach, and it is beautiful, except for the 30 other folk who have found it too. Seems there was also a well marked well paved trail that is half as long and half as steep, that we missed. Ooops.

The night moved on and back on the mainland I tricked half a dozen brave souls into exploring Hotel Libertas, a derilect hotel that was lost in the war. Peter had great success with this endevour and i wanted to share in his glorious expedition. After "breaking in" the more sage adventurers found an open gate. After some early reconoitering it was determined that there was a party going on down by the old pool, and the nearby shore. The party was such a blast somebody called the sun to come break it up. Oh well, at least my backpack got to enjoy my room at the hostel.

In dubrovnik, tired, sunburned, and with a lust for life. I think I am heading to split, if I can get untired.

I managed to get out of Dubrovnik without any more sleep. On my way north, to split I decided to pick up a couple of hitch hikers, they seemed harmless enough.

And indeed they were, one was a History major and we discussion magyar history. While his girlfriend, the neurobiologist translated for us. I left them in split where I stopped to walk around and explore the old town. The old palace has been over run by the old town, its quite a shame. I decided to go to Trogir to spend the night. Trogir has everything split does, but it has about half the tourist traps, and three times the amount of water. And we all know the greatness of a city can be measured by how much water it has around it.

Rejuvenated i set about spending the last bit of my Croation Kuna, a goal that was soon acheived at a local restraunt. I was off to Slovenia. The Croatian coast was so breath-taking that traffic moved at the pace of a customs line. So i had plenty of time to soak in the sights. Unfortunatly i had less than enough time to read the map properly as my road diverged and sent me driving off into the islands. The only way back for me was to take a ferry or drive 3 hours back out the same way i entered. Of course the ferry takes money. Which i spent on a fine steak in Trogir. I asked if i could pay in Euros, which was an affirmative. The catch was the change would be in Kuna, a currency i had no use for, or so i had thought. I only had 50€ bills. So i was stuck, i raided my change bin and was able to dig up 4 euros and i had a 5 euro bill, to settle a 15 euro bill. It seems the man had miscalculated when converting the Kuna to Euros, While he claimed the exhange was 15€ when i calculated it myself i found that my 9€ would be sufficient. Now i had to just convince the man that my conversion was correct. He was less than thrilled to learn that i too was capable of math, however limited. He was even less thrilled to learn that my euros were in coin form for the most part. He understood my situation and realized that he was going to have to break even and not profit absurdly from the tourist. I was very grateful that i did not have to drive back and i thanked the man, and i was off to Lubjlana.

At the border crossing I had the wonderful experiance that follows. The customs agent looked over my passport and kindly inquired, ½where do you live, currently?½, I had been warned of this question by a sage man in Romania, I quickly replied, Texas. Its a good thing the trip is almost over, the customs agents are starting to get a bit too suspicious.

I have been very lucky with these encounters as i have recounted them but it is important to note that i am not demanding my way or expecting any such luck, nor am i being abrasive, except maybe when i was to pay 80€ for insurance in Serbia. I am not asking for anything more than fair or equal treatment, and in most cases i have already accepted my fate, and my failure before the kind people solve my problems for me, not that i expected them too. I welcome failure, but i am ready for success?

Except in Venice. Its a shame too, their city is pefect for it. Thank goodness the 12 policemen in Venice are all at the main plaza in a huddle, playing grab-ass all day long. I just wont go back there, on skates. The renault palace never closes. I have been alternating between car/hotel, this allows me to never miss a day without a shower. So much to say so little time, everything is more expensive in Venice, its true.

I've destroyed my camera, and my computer, both are on their last legs. I recently abandoned my camera at some gelato place, I went back in due time, but that was after i left it on a park bench, did i mention its strap is broken? perhaps thats why i leave it behind all the time. I once again got the last room at the inn, travelling alone is great, once again i am surrounded by comrades, long live the international brotherhood of travellers. Still miss peter, in an unhealthy and sick kinda way. I spent my days in Lubjlana skating and hanging out with skaters, i am bleeding. I went to some cool caves in Slovenia, the sokjame or something like it, not the posjane, which i can actually recall the name of. My caves were cooler and bigger, and on the UNESCO world heritage list. I got lost looking for these caves, but it was nto so bad since i found this wonderful little spot to sit and read for an hour. Thats the best way to deal with traffic give it an hours head start, or break, depending on whose side you are on.Speaking of Traffic, there was very little going into venice, it was kinda eerie. it was not until i realized that the road network in Venice is only 8km long. A 7.5km bridge and .5km worth of U-turn. Venice is not as horrible as pete says, but we will see what develops tonight, and the next day before i put the final stamp on it. i am Keeping a journal of sorts, to remind me of things that happen on the endless road i am traveling on, without to peter to mark time, i find it nessacery. Maybe next time i am in front of the machine, i shall bring it with me, and impart greater insight. Ciao.

- Are you ever returning to the USA - Phillip Soon, Soon, every moment has its place. - Will

Its really quite intresting who you will meet on the road. Ive met classmates from Dallas in Turkey, and ive met dockhands from, venetian docks, in well, venice. One of themost startling part of this trip has been the abundance of personable people. I am sure this is because i am looking for such people, since they do a wonderful job of enhancing the fun. This is really quite odd, because well, i hate people. I think it works out so great because everyone understands that tomorrow is a new day with newfolks, and as a resultyou dont have to make sure that your new friends are totally compatible with your lifestlye, because this is your life style.

Venice was an intresting night. The night started with myself and some Mexican friends and we went exploring the city. These are good guys thats for sure, but it illustrates the point i have come too over these travels quite well. They werent my type. But what did it matter, tomorrow would bring more people and more fun. It actually turned out to be a better evening because we did have diffrences. I had a chance to see their world, through my eyes. We did not have to contend with the major problems such a bond would normally have to face, such as the fact one of my new friends loves Christina Spears, or what ever her name is. That is just a superficial diffrence but it represents some of the core diffrences that did exist. Either way none of these presented a problem.

Thats what makes this so much fun, I can be a skater, or i can be a hippy, or a Frat boy. It allows me to live many lives at once, without regard for my soul, since tomorrow i will still be me, me 1000km away from the them i was yesterday.This is what allows such indescriminant friend making, and party time having. I mean the were wearing Kappa Kappa Gamma short shorts, how could i ever tolerate that, tomorrow i Wont but last night i was able to over look it. Of course the real golden moments are when you do find people you would love to hang out with for ever. And that happens too, with less frequency, but thank goodness, cause that is almost less fun, because tomorrow doesnt bring liberation, it brings dred.

Either way all signs point to yes. Its all verying degres of fun. Some people have the ability to change your life, forever. Yes thats right, I now organize my wallet like the turks. I didnt say huge change did I?

I passed from Venice through the alps yesterday afternoon. Peter Said Bolzano had some great food and was the star of italian culinary arts. I was too late, when I got there it was a german city, fear the blitzkrieg.

Alps are fun, the motorcycle population triples in them. I really miss my bike now that i am alone. Of course i didnt miss it last night as I slept in the car. Watching a bike making acute angles with the pavement is one of my most favorite things to do, whenever i find a lone biker i follow him just to watch him carve. I miss my bike.

German scares me, german scares me the way polish scares me.Thankfully most germans speak english, thanks to the Marshall Plan! I had dinner theatre last night in Italia, where i acted out what i wanted, and the audiance in lieu of applause brought the food, that was because they only spoke german, and yet they lived in Italy. Munich is so cool, their streets are so smooth aswell as their side walks. Wonderful architecture and touristy things, my one gripe is that the city is too well lit, and its hard to find a place to sleep steathily. I have seen endless numbers of roller skaters here, so I must do my duty and go chase them around, its always more fun to see where the locals go.

But then i forget it. I am in Copenhagen now. But I am being dragged outta here right now, maybe more later.

Oh yea, I was also in berlin. More on that later.

I have always wanted to type that. Kobønhavn was fun, i had a chance to see the famed hippie town, Christiania, it was dirty. But so am I, I havent showerd since Munich. I bathed in the Baltic last night in Gotenburg.

Gotenburg was a great town, I had just intended to crash there, thinking it would be untouristy and quiet, but i was wrong. Every place was full, and people teemed forth into the streets. I went to a wonderful art exhibit on the same streets Earth from above. it was eco-political, so it was more than just pretty pictures, I enjoyed it.

The next day i went to Oslo, it was just 300km down the road, but a Carmageddon style accident held up traffic for a few hours. Speaking of roadways, Scandanavia is not done with their road network, this really surprised me. of course what they have thus far is for the most part free, if you dont count the 30 dollars it costs to get to cross 20km to Copenhagen. Or the 20 dollars it costs to cross another 20km stretch to Målmo. Everything else is really pricey, but the internet is free at least. I am making use of the tourist boards free computers, like I did in Copenhagen. As a result, i must go now, since my time is limited, maybe one day i will actually be able to share. Although there is not very much to share on this side of the world, things are tame, I even subconciously left the car unlocked yesterday to try and inspire hijinks, but to no avail.

6 days till I am home.

"Welcome to Finland" , That was the greeting i received on the streets of Berlin. Of course under the circumstances it was quite apropos. i was on a three lane road, that was blocked by two people. Completely blocked. And how i arrived in Belgium from Berlin, via Scandinavia. All of these are fine topics for this rambling catch all of an update.

They stopped me and asked me for directions, it seems that if you are skating you are a local. I always thought it meant i was a tourist. But throughout the travels more people have approched my when i am on skates than without.

Get used to it, this is going to be long and rambling.

I really didnt want to stop, i mean these people were huge, and not cuddly huge, menacingly huge. Very similar to the Incredible Hulk in a crowd of midgets. The next thing i notice about these people is that one of the mouths has a gold star inside one of the front teeth. it takes me awhile to determine the sex of this object, but its female. Its the kinda of Female that would make scrapper wriggle with joy, or lack of oxygen. They were not obese, ok yes they were, but they were quite agile. belive me, i know, i tried to skate around them and failed. After i had been stopped and engaged in coversation my fate was resigned, i had to help. but thus far i have only found one of the entities. There was another one around, this one was male. But he had no such destinguishing marks as his mate had. He on the other hand was stark white, and wearing all black. Disheveld hair and a face so distinct he did not need any gold embedded in his mouth. I wondered what land could produce people so diffrent, their likes i had never seen before. To this question the reply was "Welcome to Finland". Gravitationally speaking, i am sure i was under the jurisdiction of finland. Once they stopped trying to knock me down and block my path, also screaming in german, and also forcing me to give them directions they became a little less scary.

It turns out they were looking for a site that i had difficulty finding, Hitlers bunker. So i was able to empathize. I even went so far as to skate down the street to ask how much the hot air balloon ride would cost, for my friends. But when i got back they were long gone. I searched high and low for them but no sign. NO SIGN OF PEOPLE THAT GET STARS STUCK IN THEIR TEETH! See, i told you they could move.

So can I. After a horribly hot night in Munich, with a terribly cool lady, i went to Wittenburg, place of the cataclysm, also known as the Reformation. Where that heretic Luther Posted his Whiny list of 95 Complaints. Much like everything it wasnt the real door (drats) but they still protected the fake one as if it were real. Mnaybe they expect to fool people into beleiveing that Luther was a metal snith and carved his 95 thesis into a door with intricate handiwork to boot. Either way it was a neat small town, with and even more picturesque castle (the church is part of the castle). From there i went to Berlin.

Berlin is so neat. As i got out of Clio, i had the biggest grin on my face. I was so elated to finally be in Berlin, even though i never had any desire to be here beforehand. i skated down the main strand thinking BERLIN BERLIN WOO WOO! Before too long i came to some soviet monument to the victums of fascism. And a a couple of Quad Skate dancers. I played with them for a bit, i really wish i could be better at skate dancing its really neat. But I will never be that good at it for one simple reason. I am straight. I saw the wall, it was kinda moving, but i dont know if it was the hatered for hippies or the empathizeing for mankind. I really think the dirty hippies who cover the wall in their silly 1st grade artwork should stop. It alters the meaning of the wall, i dont see a cold idescriminate alienator of mankind i see a bright daisy. I appriciate what they have done to "heal" or bandage the wound. But uhm, Covering up the past in pastels doesnt change anything.

Did you know that berlin bottled water is labled in Turkish AND german? I spent some time exploring the Multicultural side of Berlin, and by multi i mean mono. and by mono i mean Turkish. Another cultural note, the old east sector has been entirely rebuilt since '89. Every building over there is bright and shiny displaying some of the most cutting edge arcitecture i have ever seen. it was a sight. It almost made me stop hating hippies. Almost. Hippie dont make buildings, they paint them. :P

So then i went to hamburg. Where i slept. Onto Copenhagen, where i walked around. I only walked to make peter smile. And because I was a bit sore from Munich and Berlin. Copenhagen is small enough for walking to be viable. Of course they spread city bikes out across the city for you to use, for free. They were all destroyed when i got there. But even by foot i was able to see all the sights. I witnessed what was to become a trend, blah royal scandinavian arcitecture. I love the scandinavian cities and their modern yet classical look, but it really shows poorly on royal residences. It seems that they can only muster four really big walls and one really big roof for their welfare family, i mean royal. I had a bit of a money situation, what was only the begining of many more to come. it seems that Scandinavia is all for the EU but just not the currency. I knew this of course, and got money out, i gauged how much i would need based on the toll i had to pay to cross the bridge. The bridge cost 30 bucks. So i pulled out about 150. The hostels in Copenhagen are madhouses. No really, imagine an insane asylum mixed with a 1920's factory. row after row in an endless sea of beds. So i decided to keep on trucking. Only problem was i had 120 dollars of local currency. I changed money on the street. I am scum, but really it worked out to my advantage. Since they only charge the commission if you buy the local currency, and they actually want to offload all the foreign currency they get during the day. In addition the rate was favorablem since it was unfavorable to the buyers, and not the sellers. So i won, i think. Now i have 30 norwegian and 30 Swede, i was ready to party. (the other money got eaten when i used it to pay for gas, once i realized i over bought).

I dont really hate hippies ... that much.

Gotenburg. I already spoke about its wonders. Oslo.Oslo was fun and neat, as any foriegn city is. but Ultinately it was dull. Even though they, like every other city are having some sort of festival. They cities layout works agaisnt itself drawing people to all diffrent sides. creating a sense of emptyness and suck. Not to mention food costs and arm and a leg. A 2$ gyro was 8$. I saw their old castle watched the scandinavian grand prix. (boats). Alsom this is the first town people thought i was a bum. And they had reason to. All the bums in Scandinavia are dressed better than i am. And when i saw a parade of them circling a park examining the contents of the trash cans i couldnt help myself but to follow their lead. I mean what could be so intresting inside of a trash can? ICE CREAM. Thats right. These trash cans were outside icecream stores, and people would throw away the foul tasting flavors, i know i have done it. but have i ever dug out ice cream from a trash can an eaten it? The world will never know.

That night i followed some guys i met back to their hostel and borrowed their shower, before i found a quiet park to sleep in. The next day I had planned to goto Stockholm and see greater Sweden. Because after all i had used all my Norwegian money up. Instead i decided to head into the fjords. I dont know how i had forgotten about them, but at that moment i remembered they were they and they were calling my name. Of course they were a thousend km out of the way, but such trivialities are of no concern for a time traveller such as myself. So i drove to the Fjords.

Superplus fun! After not even remenbering they existed one day, to an undeniable call the next. I was bound for the Fjords without so much as a second thought. Maybe it was the dissapointment of Oslo, but I knew Norway had something more to offer. And boy did it ever!

Our little atlas has routes in green which signify scenic routes, and we normally used those. But in the Fjords every route was green. I spentabout an hour getting into the good stuff, i mean the marvelous oohh ahh kinda stuff that mountains are good for. After a bit of that i found some hitchikers, and took them a few miles down the road, they were out hiking, and their bags were larger than peter. Did i mention they were German? my norwegian greeting puzzelled them, i still think that they think i am Norwegian. Any way about being german. I now know how the germans had so much success militarily. this full grown peter carrying man screamed "ACHTUNG" as I was snaking around the mountain roads. I surrenderred immediatly.

I dropped them off at the foot a nifty Glacier, corny photo-oppertunity. and then drove on into the park, my freeloading friends were agast that their pristine park was permeable to cars, we found a route up and over the range that saves 4 hours. Its not the best path, it reminds me of Fall River road in the rockies, but even a little more frightening. Not from cliffs but from rocks in the road. The path, not the road, over the mountain dropped me at the start of Sognefjord, The longest and deepest fjord that Norway has to offer. it starts as a wonderful river, the color of the sky. and it feeds farms that are ... well "really bright green". Green the color of winter rye grass. its really quite striking. Striking isnt the word, but breath taking is. I mean it, as i crossed the horizon, my lungs failed me. Every part of my body was focused on the wonder that surrounded me, i had to look away to continue breathing, it was that impressive. And that was just the river. I stopped and had a picnic and a swim where the river turns into fjord, the water was quite chilly. It was Just a pretty, but I was already spoiled rotten. the farther i went out into Sognefjord the less impressive it became, but it was still worth every km. In the end I drove too far. I was not able to make it back to the tame country before nightfall. I had to find a mountain town to crash in. I found a place that was still open and ordered a mexican pizzam just like the kind we used to have in Elementary school. I think i was the only one who liked it back then, and i still liked it now, even when it cost 30 dollars. I had a chance to interact with some locals in the restraunt where I ordered pizza. I met the Norge who didnt speak english. So we spoke in Norwegian, until i accidently told him i was going to kill his mother in a very rude way. Luckily i was able to skidadle before he fully understood what i said. Kids, this is why you do not learn languages from crazy drunk vikings named ulv, dune or just crazy drunks named mukluk. You only learn the parts that will get your pikk trynned.

I drove.

It took me 6 hours to get out of Norways inner reaches, thats how far up i was, not to mention the 4 hours i put in before bed time. But i made it out, only two tanks of Norwegian gas, at 4.75 per gallon. You would think they were not an oil exporter at those rates.

I sailed through Sweden stopping in Varberg to goto the beach and visit their castle. it was a grass beach, i was confounded. Either way half of sweden was present at this beach. It was quite a sight. I took a moment to bathe with the natives. I bet i wasn't the only man out there holding trying to work up a good lather in the ocean. I sped on to denmark, crossing the evil twin toll bridges of terror and exhorbinent(someone tell me how to spell it and i will change it later.) prices. and into germany. Where I slept in hamburg, once again.

The next day i decided to goto Amsterdam, cause its cool, and i am familer with it. When i arrived I rememberred that there was no free parking and it was not very car friendly, and the things i needed were are very car oriented car wash,car cleaning, car unpacking. So after a brief foray into the city, I proceeded onward to belgium, which is a lot cooler than the Netherlands anyway. i went back to Leuven, where i found a car wash place and have been cleaning clio for the past two days and today I just handed her over to a professional, for the final cleaning. I pick her up at 6pm, local time. Its 5 now. This is a shot of the train terminal before all the workers come home to lueven, which appearently is a major labor center for bruxelles. :P

After my initial cleanings i have discovered many dints and dings that the dirt had concealed, maybe I should have left her dirty. - The car is clean, its more than clean, its beautiful. I want her for another 40k km. Also, i am in a real Hotel tonight for the first time this entire trip. my last euro shower. Posted by Will @ 08/12/2003 01:05 PM CST

I broke my camera the last night in Leuven. Right after my last post i dropped it in the street, for the last time. It only captures black now. Maybe that PSP from bestbuy will pay off now. I went from Leuven to a small town north of CDG(roissypole/paris' airport). I wandered around and haggled for dinner as most indigents do. I slept in the car for the last night, and began the final hours of my journey this morning.

I awoke far to early, my appointment to return clio was not until 10am but at 8.30am i could wait no longer and i drove the 15 min to the station. Clio was no longer ours, without so much as a glance the lady checked in clio, recording all 3881 km. She should have written 38817km. She didnt even bat an eyelash at the body damage. After that i was shuttled to the terminal, where i waited in line for the next 3 hours. My skates werenot allowed to go upstairs, they were afraid i might ... skate. So i had to check them. Also i had to unpack my bag to show them my computer was indeed a computer. This is hard to do when, well, the computer doesnt work. I wasnt making friends. After an hour of hogging the screening table they turned me loose to get the next guy. Good thing no terrorists walked by while i was occupying the terrorist checkpoint. I met some nice girls who had missed their flight yesterday due to a mechanical failure, and we spoke at length during our line waiting time. They let me know that some kids on their flight thought i was Shaggy from Scooby doo. So when they mobbed me and asked me i confirmed their suspiscions, i am indeed shaggy from the scooby doo movie. I signed autographs and kibitzed with MY fans. We arrived in Philly without any delay, of course that was before the Immigration nightmare. See the country was scared of a poweroutage, first blaming the terrorists, not the weather. As a result, security went from slow to super scooby slow. it took me an hour to get through customs, and recheck my bags, and by that time i had missed the connecting flight, which was at 5pm or 530pm depending on where you looked on my ticket. The "terrorist" attack seems to have delayed my connecting flight too, and it didnt leave until 1.50 hours and a secret gate change later. of course all this turmoil would wreak havok on my already sketchy pickup arrangements. Thank goodness peter was able to make something out of nothing and found me as i was begining to get worried down in baggage claim. We went for Chachos, that place is going downhill, while the prices go uphill, 1.25 to "make it sloppy" these days, geez.