tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-16054025738146985352024-03-13T07:37:25.997-07:00Where In The World Is MarinaMarinahttp://www.blogger.com/profile/17399854363474570192noreply@blogger.comBlogger34125tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-1605402573814698535.post-74214332580895836532011-12-14T09:38:00.001-08:002011-12-14T09:38:36.568-08:00The effects of seven eleven in a global economy<div><p>Seven eleven is an american chain which sells snacks and small toiletries and magazines among other things. It seems that Thailand is especially obsessed with this specific american oddity and has more of them in Bangkok than New York has starbucks. I kid you not. <br>
So traveling for over six months now in some of the more underdeveloped and unsanitary countries of the world it appears that of all things seven eleven is the danger zone. Particularly their ham and cheese rolls. <br>
After all this time, who would have thought that seven eleven of all places would be our demise and would give us severe food poisoning. And within a day of flying to Burma where I would have better luck becoming the next dictator before finding a decent hospital. <br>
To make matters worse for me and funnier for you, is that as I was puking in Ayutthaya, a world heritage site, a fire ant somehow finds its way to my palm and bites me repeatededly in what I can only guess as an attempt to teach me a lesson for disgracing this ancient city. The bites result in a lack of movement in my hand, pain, muscle cramps and blistering. Not to mention a deep feeling of inferiority to an ant and shame. The train ride home was, well, a veeeerrry long one filled with several black outs and suicide thoughts.<br>
So there you have it. I learned my lesson in trusting american grocery store chains in southeastern asia. And globalization. </p>
<p>I would love to post a picture, but amidst vomit and ant attacks, not a priority to tale a picture. </p>
</div>Marinahttp://www.blogger.com/profile/17399854363474570192noreply@blogger.com1tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-1605402573814698535.post-21512516327991577672011-12-03T07:25:00.000-08:002011-12-12T07:44:23.678-08:00An unpoetic updateWell I have decided, as lazy as I am.. to write down a bit of an update.<br /><br />CHAPTER ONE: VIETNAM<br /><br />Vietnam seems like a million years ago, and with that as usual, the bad experiences seem to melt out of my mind, and the amazing highlights are remnant. The people being the biggest draw back- and I mean enough to change you into a person even a New Yorker would consider rude. But to an extent, they deserve it. Imagine walking out of your hotel room and not only being bombarded with a hundred tuk tuk drivers (hmm how should I explain what a tuk tuk is to someone who hasnt been here... a tuk tuk is like how a pharoah felt in egypt, being carried around in that little basket on the backs of lesser men. except this little basket is on the back of a motorbike and not a half naked slave. Same same.) well each damn driver yells at you "tuk tuk, miss, tuk tuk", and it would think logical that if i just said "no thank you" the first ten drivers that MAYBE I DONT WANT TO TAKE A FUCKIN TUK TUK.. but that logic apparently is drowned out by the hope of making some money and enters the logic of "well maybe she doesnt want THOSE tuk tuks, but NOW she wants one, Im special".<br />Well then you kinda start screaming at people.<br />Besides that hiccup, Vietnam has one of the best sights both natural and historic to see. Halong Bay is out of this world with the limestone karsk stones just ripping out of the blue waters, and Sa Pa is dotten with colorful hilltribe people in a picturesque mountainous backdrop.<br />Hoi An is charming with little shops in a small river city feel while also offering a beach and the best food ever. White Rose, mmmmm...delicious dumplings, dips, sauces,ahhhh.<br />Even got my very own 'Nam wound and scar falling off a motor bike on the way to incredible My Son ruins of the Champa people (who have all been killed out).<br />Well its all great and we even chose Ca Tien national park as the national park of choice due to the hope of spotting the Rhinos that live there. This was in September. Little did we know at the time, and what we found out later, was that the last Rhino was confirmed to have been killed back in April for his horn. The rest of him left there in the jungle.<br />Regardless we did get to see our first night safari!!ooohhhh got to spot a CIVET CAT - its a wild cat like a panther or tiger.. a bit smaller though ;)<br />we buzzed through Nha Trang to Dalat where we got to ride with a motorcycle gang around the coffee plantations, waterfalls, and generally awesome views until the damn typhoon cauught up with us. Saigon is a calmer city than Hanoi but still crazy.<br />We got to crawl through the Cu Chi tunnels which is where the villagers had to live since their real town above ground was constantly bombarded with.. well.. bombs. Funny thing, once we got blocked in the dark underground tunnel by bats, and another time we started to freak out cuz someone closed the exit door and we couldnt find it...underground..tiny tunnel... no light... yes.. the perfect trifecta.<br /><br />Im going through this real fast... you got to see me in person to get the good stories.<br /><br />CHAPTER TWO: Cambodia<br /><br />ok so after a break on Phu Quoc Island, we headed to Cambodia.<br />Planning to spend a month, we did it in only 10 days. Given we didnt do any treks which i guess we should have. but we knew the guides speak almost no english, there are no wild animals, and that we would do plenty in Laos, Thailand, and India.<br />What Cambodia lacks in everythings, it makes up in food and Angkor Wat. The food was so amazing that we did a half day cooking course so we are gonna ROCK YOUR WORLD! at dinner.<br />And Angkor Wat, the remains of the Khmer empire, although doesnt have the world wonder status, definitely deserves it. Its amazing, undescribable and worth a visit! The three major temples: Angor Wat, Ta Prohm, and Angkor Thom can all be visited in one day ... which is TWENTY DOLLARS A DAY btw... and the other temples can be seen in another. Its giant. which is something I didnt expect.<br />And we got to see some rare river dolphins, the Irradaway dolphins ( I totally forgot the real way to spell it and am too tired to google it even though its only a CTRL + T away).<br />The majority of the remaining 60 live in a small pool of the Mekong river near a city called kratie.<br /><br />CHAPTER THREE: LAOS<br /><br />and here we are at the last month. Laos. It is a vast vast country with differences between each city. not only differences in the city itself but in the tourists who tourist it. For example in the south there are lots of hippies, in the middle lots of drunk Brits and Aussies, and in the sporty Germans and French for the treks. Americans still dont know where Laos is, so cant really find us a demographic... we'll get there.<br />Four thousand islands in the south were relaxing as hell, they are islands on a river. Pakse was a base for our three day motorbike tour around the Bolavean Plateau which was quiet beautiful and afforded us a sneak peak into the life of villagers as we followed a small dirt round to a random silk weaving village which never sees tourists.<br />Vientiane was the best capitol we have been to. Quiet, intimate, fun, great markets, and some beautiful sights around. Vang Vieng where all sinners go to show their true colors, and Luang Prabang, a sophisticated river town with great food and a GIANT shopping market, and street all you can eat buffets..mmmm...<br />omg so much to cover..<br />ok we managed to get all the way to the North to see Phongsali where a rare minority lives. The Akha people, with their amazing costume and head dress, were run aways from the Yunnan province in China to Burma, where they had further persecution, so continued to Laos. but they only live in the HIGH HIGHlands, so you got to take nausiating bus rides up terrible roads in a two day trip to get to the base. We did a two day trek including a home stay in one of the villages. For a full report on how unlucky we were, please see me in my office.<br /><br />finally pulling through to the west, on the border with Thailand, we got to do our most awaited and now our top five activity: The Gibbon Experience.<br />Although we had only spotted a dot of color of the gibbons, we did hear their beautiful sining after the rain had stopped early morning on the last day. and we were practically living with monkeys in our tree house since they surrounded our tree both nights and mornings. We even hear a massive gang fight.<br /><br />so thats it... in a nut shell.<br />We have now entered Thailand, in Chiang Mai, and have enjoyed it here for the last few days. off to Bangkok on Sunday to be there on Monday for a huge celebration of the Kings birthday. YAY king!<br /><br />Pictures will come later... i hope...<br />but i better get some comments!<br /><br /><br /><br /><br />LAOS<br /><br /><a href="http://3.bp.blogspot.com/-WkaDuOOyS7U/TuYXzmu4RUI/AAAAAAAAAdc/hCLNH9875hk/s1600/IMG_9123.jpg"><img style="display:block; margin:0px auto 10px; text-align:center;cursor:pointer; cursor:hand;width: 320px; height: 214px;" src="http://3.bp.blogspot.com/-WkaDuOOyS7U/TuYXzmu4RUI/AAAAAAAAAdc/hCLNH9875hk/s320/IMG_9123.jpg" alt="" id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5685257754939770178" border="0" /></a><br /><a href="http://2.bp.blogspot.com/-IqF6pofO8BE/TuYXzem0d9I/AAAAAAAAAdM/mKM4U27ppQg/s1600/IMG_8694.jpg"><img style="display:block; margin:0px auto 10px; text-align:center;cursor:pointer; cursor:hand;width: 320px; height: 214px;" src="http://2.bp.blogspot.com/-IqF6pofO8BE/TuYXzem0d9I/AAAAAAAAAdM/mKM4U27ppQg/s320/IMG_8694.jpg" alt="" id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5685257752758482898" border="0" /></a>Buddah park<br /><a href="http://1.bp.blogspot.com/-8cl46nhYg9Y/TuYXyjR2JRI/AAAAAAAAAdA/egajWWyquTk/s1600/IMG_8981.jpg"><img style="display:block; margin:0px auto 10px; text-align:center;cursor:pointer; cursor:hand;width: 214px; height: 320px;" src="http://1.bp.blogspot.com/-8cl46nhYg9Y/TuYXyjR2JRI/AAAAAAAAAdA/egajWWyquTk/s320/IMG_8981.jpg" alt="" id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5685257736832820498" border="0" /></a>This guy is giving me a reading of my future<br /><a href="http://1.bp.blogspot.com/-df_5-1W5hZw/TuYXyMxUTII/AAAAAAAAAc0/X2pWzzy8R2w/s1600/IMG_8435.jpg"><img style="display:block; margin:0px auto 10px; text-align:center;cursor:pointer; cursor:hand;width: 320px; height: 214px;" src="http://1.bp.blogspot.com/-df_5-1W5hZw/TuYXyMxUTII/AAAAAAAAAc0/X2pWzzy8R2w/s320/IMG_8435.jpg" alt="" id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5685257730790804610" border="0" /></a><br /><a href="http://4.bp.blogspot.com/-qSiQxFiRyZc/TuYX0gDFIuI/AAAAAAAAAdk/dOJQ_09Rk1M/s1600/IMG_9047.jpg"><img style="display:block; margin:0px auto 10px; text-align:center;cursor:pointer; cursor:hand;width: 320px; height: 214px;" src="http://4.bp.blogspot.com/-qSiQxFiRyZc/TuYX0gDFIuI/AAAAAAAAAdk/dOJQ_09Rk1M/s320/IMG_9047.jpg" alt="" id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5685257770325320418" border="0" /></a><br />asian calculater<a href="http://2.bp.blogspot.com/-RGrYrL6MiiY/TuYcEU4E75I/AAAAAAAAAeY/HZ32Isyq0Sk/s1600/IMG_9637.jpg"><img style="display:block; margin:0px auto 10px; text-align:center;cursor:pointer; cursor:hand;width: 320px; height: 214px;" src="http://2.bp.blogspot.com/-RGrYrL6MiiY/TuYcEU4E75I/AAAAAAAAAeY/HZ32Isyq0Sk/s320/IMG_9637.jpg" alt="" id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5685262440250797970" border="0" /></a>pipe at the chief of the village's house<br /><a href="http://4.bp.blogspot.com/-szE4bGiW1U4/TuYcD0LMv3I/AAAAAAAAAeI/k3JVR-SY8Eo/s1600/IMG_9532.jpg"><img style="display:block; margin:0px auto 10px; text-align:center;cursor:pointer; cursor:hand;width: 320px; height: 214px;" src="http://4.bp.blogspot.com/-szE4bGiW1U4/TuYcD0LMv3I/AAAAAAAAAeI/k3JVR-SY8Eo/s320/IMG_9532.jpg" alt="" id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5685262431472631666" border="0" /></a>Akha woman<br /><a href="http://2.bp.blogspot.com/-QbLhT5uaFwI/TuYcC8SKk7I/AAAAAAAAAd8/8OmoQexHdLs/s1600/IMG_9624.jpg"><img style="display:block; margin:0px auto 10px; text-align:center;cursor:pointer; cursor:hand;width: 214px; height: 320px;" src="http://2.bp.blogspot.com/-QbLhT5uaFwI/TuYcC8SKk7I/AAAAAAAAAd8/8OmoQexHdLs/s320/IMG_9624.jpg" alt="" id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5685262416469463986" border="0" /></a><br /><a href="http://3.bp.blogspot.com/-HqUOjLnY3cg/TuYgpTW1UhI/AAAAAAAAAfg/X_Ft6CcYBII/s1600/IMG_8473.jpg"><img style="display:block; margin:0px auto 10px; text-align:center;cursor:pointer; cursor:hand;width: 320px; height: 214px;" src="http://3.bp.blogspot.com/-HqUOjLnY3cg/TuYgpTW1UhI/AAAAAAAAAfg/X_Ft6CcYBII/s320/IMG_8473.jpg" alt="" id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5685267473544598034" border="0" /></a>a school<br /><a href="http://4.bp.blogspot.com/-e-BlDINDQ64/TuYcCaBiWmI/AAAAAAAAAdw/ZPp6eabfy4Y/s1600/IMG_9463.jpg"><img style="display:block; margin:0px auto 10px; text-align:center;cursor:pointer; cursor:hand;width: 320px; height: 214px;" src="http://4.bp.blogspot.com/-e-BlDINDQ64/TuYcCaBiWmI/AAAAAAAAAdw/ZPp6eabfy4Y/s320/IMG_9463.jpg" alt="" id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5685262407272913506" border="0" /></a>Zipping through the national park looking for Gibbons!<br /><a href="http://2.bp.blogspot.com/-coS3ZQFAmh4/TuYcFsifsgI/AAAAAAAAAeg/8QBNXrxMLx0/s1600/IMG_9769.jpg"><img style="display:block; margin:0px auto 10px; text-align:center;cursor:pointer; cursor:hand;width: 320px; height: 214px;" src="http://2.bp.blogspot.com/-coS3ZQFAmh4/TuYcFsifsgI/AAAAAAAAAeg/8QBNXrxMLx0/s320/IMG_9769.jpg" alt="" id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5685262463782597122" border="0" /></a><br /><a href="http://3.bp.blogspot.com/-sABkf5PqPaU/TuYgpI3amRI/AAAAAAAAAfU/lyU_UFhmkZk/s1600/IMG_9705.jpg"><img style="display:block; margin:0px auto 10px; text-align:center;cursor:pointer; cursor:hand;width: 320px; height: 214px;" src="http://3.bp.blogspot.com/-sABkf5PqPaU/TuYgpI3amRI/AAAAAAAAAfU/lyU_UFhmkZk/s320/IMG_9705.jpg" alt="" id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5685267470728468754" border="0" /></a><br /><a href="http://4.bp.blogspot.com/-GGE-QxNUSoU/TuYgoH77e0I/AAAAAAAAAfI/cqIpiv0g8Ys/s1600/IMG_9859.jpg"><img style="display:block; margin:0px auto 10px; text-align:center;cursor:pointer; cursor:hand;width: 320px; height: 214px;" src="http://4.bp.blogspot.com/-GGE-QxNUSoU/TuYgoH77e0I/AAAAAAAAAfI/cqIpiv0g8Ys/s320/IMG_9859.jpg" alt="" id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5685267453299096386" border="0" /></a><br /><a href="http://4.bp.blogspot.com/-3gnh1K0_4n0/TuYgnoW9fTI/AAAAAAAAAe8/s6Cm_k10VCo/s1600/IMG_9869.jpg"><img style="display:block; margin:0px auto 10px; text-align:center;cursor:pointer; cursor:hand;width: 320px; height: 214px;" src="http://4.bp.blogspot.com/-3gnh1K0_4n0/TuYgnoW9fTI/AAAAAAAAAe8/s6Cm_k10VCo/s320/IMG_9869.jpg" alt="" id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5685267444822539570" border="0" /></a><br /><a href="http://1.bp.blogspot.com/-HYQL11PufNU/TuYgnazfl7I/AAAAAAAAAew/jvOW2Kxday4/s1600/IMG_9805.jpg"><img style="display:block; margin:0px auto 10px; text-align:center;cursor:pointer; cursor:hand;width: 320px; height: 214px;" src="http://1.bp.blogspot.com/-HYQL11PufNU/TuYgnazfl7I/AAAAAAAAAew/jvOW2Kxday4/s320/IMG_9805.jpg" alt="" id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5685267441184118706" border="0" /></a>Marinahttp://www.blogger.com/profile/17399854363474570192noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-1605402573814698535.post-44717472510761541402011-09-17T08:07:00.001-07:002011-09-28T04:51:31.930-07:00Li'jiang Lullibies<a onblur="try {parent.deselectBloggerImageGracefully();} catch(e) {}" href="http://4.bp.blogspot.com/-i2lm0aKvAJ8/ToL60b_WLLI/AAAAAAAAAZc/Ri90lYaMMak/s1600/IMG_4929.jpg"><img style="display: block; margin: 0px auto 10px; text-align: center; cursor: pointer; width: 400px; height: 267px;" src="http://4.bp.blogspot.com/-i2lm0aKvAJ8/ToL60b_WLLI/AAAAAAAAAZc/Ri90lYaMMak/s400/IMG_4929.jpg" alt="" id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5657359860704357554" border="0" /></a><br />Walking along the thousand year old stone studded streets which twist, turn and bend like caligraphy, you are tempted to believe you are lost in a different time. The rivers sing a white tune and the ever bright red lanterns line the streets like dragon's breath has lit them one by one. But you are soon awoken out of this fantasy as you are met with new sounds and songs of this charming dreamland... Snoopdog, JZ, and the Black Eyed Peas are the new stars of the streets when the sun goes down and the bright strobe lights come on. Screaming invitations is what might put you to sleep in 2011, and the high pitch smooth Chinese singing is left for old ladies at bus stations to sing.<br /><div><p>Truly an amazing old town, over hundreds of years old and surviving an earthquake, we felt a bit at home. Getting to know each bend of the street, all of the millions of stone bridges over the streams, and every bargaining shop owner weaving their goods by the doors to show off their craft- which, just off the topic, I have bought plenty of.</p><p><a href="http://1.bp.blogspot.com/-dyAcHm1Z2SU/ToL58EW0g8I/AAAAAAAAAZE/g6Q1WwtRrRE/s1600/IMG_4890.jpg"><img style="display: block; margin: 0px auto 10px; text-align: center; cursor: pointer; width: 267px; height: 400px;" src="http://1.bp.blogspot.com/-dyAcHm1Z2SU/ToL58EW0g8I/AAAAAAAAAZE/g6Q1WwtRrRE/s400/IMG_4890.jpg" alt="" id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5657358892287689666" border="0" /></a></p><p><a href="http://1.bp.blogspot.com/-vBJABM_QPbQ/ToMDJ3C4xjI/AAAAAAAAAZ0/90Kd49DUT0o/s1600/IMG_5110.jpg"><img style="display: block; margin: 0px auto 10px; text-align: center; cursor: pointer; width: 400px; height: 267px;" src="http://1.bp.blogspot.com/-vBJABM_QPbQ/ToMDJ3C4xjI/AAAAAAAAAZ0/90Kd49DUT0o/s400/IMG_5110.jpg" alt="" id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5657369024837240370" border="0" /></a><a href="http://4.bp.blogspot.com/-iUL43nTV8EQ/ToL57ywsVZI/AAAAAAAAAY8/tXO23zhMLwE/s1600/IMG_4831.jpg"><img style="display: block; margin: 0px auto 10px; text-align: center; cursor: pointer; width: 400px; height: 267px;" src="http://4.bp.blogspot.com/-iUL43nTV8EQ/ToL57ywsVZI/AAAAAAAAAY8/tXO23zhMLwE/s400/IMG_4831.jpg" alt="" id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5657358887564367250" border="0" /></a><br /><a href="http://2.bp.blogspot.com/-MmB4ppImw_s/ToL57rsDwAI/AAAAAAAAAY0/xr3y1pyLUWc/s1600/IMG_4823.jpg"><img style="display: block; margin: 0px auto 10px; text-align: center; cursor: pointer; width: 267px; height: 400px;" src="http://2.bp.blogspot.com/-MmB4ppImw_s/ToL57rsDwAI/AAAAAAAAAY0/xr3y1pyLUWc/s400/IMG_4823.jpg" alt="" id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5657358885665882114" border="0" /></a><br /><a href="http://4.bp.blogspot.com/-hFxI1bi2I0A/ToL56z6A04I/AAAAAAAAAYs/luQ4A_i4YCw/s1600/IMG_4795.jpg"><img style="display: block; margin: 0px auto 10px; text-align: center; cursor: pointer; width: 267px; height: 400px;" src="http://4.bp.blogspot.com/-hFxI1bi2I0A/ToL56z6A04I/AAAAAAAAAYs/luQ4A_i4YCw/s400/IMG_4795.jpg" alt="" id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5657358870692025218" border="0" /></a></p><p><a href="http://1.bp.blogspot.com/-7sTeaF4PBXk/ToL60CLwjHI/AAAAAAAAAZU/BPQpSYrVbm8/s1600/IMG_4904.jpg"><img style="display: block; margin: 0px auto 10px; text-align: center; cursor: pointer; width: 400px; height: 267px;" src="http://1.bp.blogspot.com/-7sTeaF4PBXk/ToL60CLwjHI/AAAAAAAAAZU/BPQpSYrVbm8/s400/IMG_4904.jpg" alt="" id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5657359853777095794" border="0" /></a><br /><a href="http://3.bp.blogspot.com/-HGZX-kiMGRA/ToL6zpAwRcI/AAAAAAAAAZM/Mk3mjkbEHMY/s1600/IMG_4897.jpg"><img style="display: block; margin: 0px auto 10px; text-align: center; cursor: pointer; width: 400px; height: 267px;" src="http://3.bp.blogspot.com/-HGZX-kiMGRA/ToL6zpAwRcI/AAAAAAAAAZM/Mk3mjkbEHMY/s400/IMG_4897.jpg" alt="" id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5657359847020053954" border="0" /></a></p><p>Day time tranquility is chipped slowly away as the night life hits the streets:<br /></p><p><a href="http://2.bp.blogspot.com/-jCH8kBdK0HU/ToMDJfu_uEI/AAAAAAAAAZk/yvk9jL_fOpE/s1600/IMG_4955.jpg"><img style="display: block; margin: 0px auto 10px; text-align: center; cursor: pointer; width: 400px; height: 267px;" src="http://2.bp.blogspot.com/-jCH8kBdK0HU/ToMDJfu_uEI/AAAAAAAAAZk/yvk9jL_fOpE/s400/IMG_4955.jpg" alt="" id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5657369018579793986" border="0" /></a><br /></p><p>We are for sure an own delicacy, but for the locals. Many of the tourists here are from the surrounding villages and have never seen foreigners in person. We have enough people sneakily taking photos of us to make Brangelina jealous. They are particularly curious of our eating habits, which is becoming difficult since I have to stop eating to pose or hide, depending on how creepy the person taking the picture is.</p><p>One of my fans:</p><p><a href="http://3.bp.blogspot.com/-z1VVIV7IN-w/ToMDKfbExnI/AAAAAAAAAZ8/HUxnBE08JoA/s1600/IMG_5125.jpg"><img style="display: block; margin: 0px auto 10px; text-align: center; cursor: pointer; width: 400px; height: 267px;" src="http://3.bp.blogspot.com/-z1VVIV7IN-w/ToMDKfbExnI/AAAAAAAAAZ8/HUxnBE08JoA/s400/IMG_5125.jpg" alt="" id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5657369035676108402" border="0" /></a></p><p>We even ventured outside and walked to another village, about 3 hours of walking out. There we experienced much more shocked looks and head turns. Its strange, then becomes funny, and now its kind of expected - like, "you're NOT going to stare at me?!? But, I'm different!!!". </p><p>Other day trips from Li'jiang included seeing the 180 degree bend in the Yangzi river (seen below)- this is quiet unique to see and definitely requires a wide angle lense-,</p><p><a href="http://1.bp.blogspot.com/-ml-fGIgLvC4/ToMDJgTdjDI/AAAAAAAAAZs/pQ1AL27h1Ng/s1600/IMG_5071.jpg"><img style="display: block; margin: 0px auto 10px; text-align: center; cursor: pointer; width: 400px; height: 267px;" src="http://1.bp.blogspot.com/-ml-fGIgLvC4/ToMDJgTdjDI/AAAAAAAAAZs/pQ1AL27h1Ng/s400/IMG_5071.jpg" alt="" id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5657369018732743730" border="0" /></a></p><p>-and the Tiger Leaping Gorge, which is one of the highest gorges in the world. Its also home to the Rip Off Monkeys. Argueably a human species, these especially irritating type of animal has evolved with a special skill of developing clever ways not to work but instead to rip off tourists. A particularly mad driving method is to build random traps in the middle of nature, put a lock on these traps, and not let you through until you pay. Its the modern day morph of trolls. </p><p>Once you get past these troublesome little monkies, you can enjoy the eye filling views. My personal favorite way to out smart the pesks is to tell them that if they want to get back home -and that would be on my side of the locked door - that THEY would have pay US! Believe it or not that worked. Of course if you know me, then you know I'm stubborn and proud enough to actually follow through with that threat and stand there until monkey girl gives in and tries to get home.</p><p>Tiger Leaping Gorge:<br /></p><p><a href="http://2.bp.blogspot.com/-t1aZ7ORD0gY/ToMDKkWW4kI/AAAAAAAAAaE/e7IuJ9HzqaM/s1600/IMG_5141.jpg"><img style="display: block; margin: 0px auto 10px; text-align: center; cursor: pointer; width: 400px; height: 267px;" src="http://2.bp.blogspot.com/-t1aZ7ORD0gY/ToMDKkWW4kI/AAAAAAAAAaE/e7IuJ9HzqaM/s400/IMG_5141.jpg" alt="" id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5657369036998500930" border="0" /></a></p><p><a href="http://3.bp.blogspot.com/-OuqhqWuSg_g/ToMFP-Nip8I/AAAAAAAAAbE/G8p0Jk0F8qE/s1600/IMG_5363.jpg"><img style="display: block; margin: 0px auto 10px; text-align: center; cursor: pointer; width: 400px; height: 267px;" src="http://3.bp.blogspot.com/-OuqhqWuSg_g/ToMFP-Nip8I/AAAAAAAAAbE/G8p0Jk0F8qE/s400/IMG_5363.jpg" alt="" id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5657371328863446978" border="0" /></a><br /><a href="http://2.bp.blogspot.com/-4Uw2R_bzRDM/ToMFPop2ZTI/AAAAAAAAAa8/nlxTukRFA7Y/s1600/IMG_5317.jpg"><img style="display: block; margin: 0px auto 10px; text-align: center; cursor: pointer; width: 400px; height: 267px;" src="http://2.bp.blogspot.com/-4Uw2R_bzRDM/ToMFPop2ZTI/AAAAAAAAAa8/nlxTukRFA7Y/s400/IMG_5317.jpg" alt="" id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5657371323076601138" border="0" /></a><br /><a href="http://2.bp.blogspot.com/-BJ9GaZpisX0/ToMFPVnnYNI/AAAAAAAAAa0/By3kvjPH870/s1600/IMG_5302.jpg"><img style="display: block; margin: 0px auto 10px; text-align: center; cursor: pointer; width: 400px; height: 267px;" src="http://2.bp.blogspot.com/-BJ9GaZpisX0/ToMFPVnnYNI/AAAAAAAAAa0/By3kvjPH870/s400/IMG_5302.jpg" alt="" id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5657371317966954706" border="0" /></a></p><p><a href="http://4.bp.blogspot.com/-biLzH3ioqnk/ToMEY_5fVCI/AAAAAAAAAak/ZMMBgRHvnUI/s1600/IMG_5282.jpg"><img style="display: block; margin: 0px auto 10px; text-align: center; cursor: pointer; width: 267px; height: 400px;" src="http://4.bp.blogspot.com/-biLzH3ioqnk/ToMEY_5fVCI/AAAAAAAAAak/ZMMBgRHvnUI/s400/IMG_5282.jpg" alt="" id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5657370384423408674" border="0" /></a><br /><a href="http://2.bp.blogspot.com/-oAD9-yGnFUg/ToMEYlLWotI/AAAAAAAAAac/WB3WjGjzYJ0/s1600/IMG_5249.jpg"><img style="display: block; margin: 0px auto 10px; text-align: center; cursor: pointer; width: 400px; height: 267px;" src="http://2.bp.blogspot.com/-oAD9-yGnFUg/ToMEYlLWotI/AAAAAAAAAac/WB3WjGjzYJ0/s400/IMG_5249.jpg" alt="" id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5657370377250579154" border="0" /></a><br /><a href="http://2.bp.blogspot.com/-Cn6RqnTRViE/ToMEYfPnrSI/AAAAAAAAAaU/YIGJK8IFH-U/s1600/IMG_5157.jpg"><img style="display: block; margin: 0px auto 10px; text-align: center; cursor: pointer; width: 400px; height: 267px;" src="http://2.bp.blogspot.com/-Cn6RqnTRViE/ToMEYfPnrSI/AAAAAAAAAaU/YIGJK8IFH-U/s400/IMG_5157.jpg" alt="" id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5657370375657860386" border="0" /></a><br /><a href="http://1.bp.blogspot.com/-swVUENjCA4A/ToMEXxzkthI/AAAAAAAAAaM/ojrkLO10AkE/s1600/IMG_5152.jpg"><img style="display: block; margin: 0px auto 10px; text-align: center; cursor: pointer; width: 400px; height: 267px;" src="http://1.bp.blogspot.com/-swVUENjCA4A/ToMEXxzkthI/AAAAAAAAAaM/ojrkLO10AkE/s400/IMG_5152.jpg" alt="" id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5657370363460630034" border="0" /></a></p><p> Here is Monkey Girl by the way:</p><p><a href="http://4.bp.blogspot.com/-T3XOYeKasdE/ToMEZHkW5wI/AAAAAAAAAas/mmoHKU_Shkw/s1600/IMG_5287.jpg"><img style="display: block; margin: 0px auto 10px; text-align: center; cursor: pointer; width: 400px; height: 267px;" src="http://4.bp.blogspot.com/-T3XOYeKasdE/ToMEZHkW5wI/AAAAAAAAAas/mmoHKU_Shkw/s400/IMG_5287.jpg" alt="" id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5657370386482259714" border="0" /></a>She may look sweet, but notice the make-shift metal door thats attached to a rock to get me from going in!<br /></p><p>As our next stop we went to an unimaginably beautiful town called Yangshuo near Guilin. I wont talk about the people because I would rather not complain, but we had a spectacular introduction the the limestone karsks that line the coast of China and Vietnam. Had some leisure bike rides, and a bamboo raft down the river... well, see for yourselves:</p><p><br /></p><p><a href="http://2.bp.blogspot.com/-efa3fJ9ZlN8/ToMFQSwvRsI/AAAAAAAAAbU/w8A_a873Wd0/s1600/IMG_5534.jpg"><img style="display: block; margin: 0px auto 10px; text-align: center; cursor: pointer; width: 400px; height: 267px;" src="http://2.bp.blogspot.com/-efa3fJ9ZlN8/ToMFQSwvRsI/AAAAAAAAAbU/w8A_a873Wd0/s400/IMG_5534.jpg" alt="" id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5657371334379783874" border="0" /></a><br /><a href="http://3.bp.blogspot.com/-oLD2b7CAUUo/ToMFQIyRh2I/AAAAAAAAAbM/53JRMRXpNVQ/s1600/IMG_5483.jpg"><img style="display: block; margin: 0px auto 10px; text-align: center; cursor: pointer; width: 400px; height: 267px;" src="http://3.bp.blogspot.com/-oLD2b7CAUUo/ToMFQIyRh2I/AAAAAAAAAbM/53JRMRXpNVQ/s400/IMG_5483.jpg" alt="" id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5657371331701868386" border="0" /></a></p><p><a href="http://4.bp.blogspot.com/-AlMnu5T7e2U/ToMHXQjZ8OI/AAAAAAAAAbc/CyfKAC2FhTE/s1600/IMG_5553.jpg"><img style="display: block; margin: 0px auto 10px; text-align: center; cursor: pointer; width: 400px; height: 267px;" src="http://4.bp.blogspot.com/-AlMnu5T7e2U/ToMHXQjZ8OI/AAAAAAAAAbc/CyfKAC2FhTE/s400/IMG_5553.jpg" alt="" id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5657373653069328610" border="0" /></a></p><p><a href="http://1.bp.blogspot.com/-U6gSvBfAoDc/ToMHYUOCeVI/AAAAAAAAAb0/MhRQY0HM7G4/s1600/IMG_5616.jpg"><img style="display: block; margin: 0px auto 10px; text-align: center; cursor: pointer; width: 267px; height: 400px;" src="http://1.bp.blogspot.com/-U6gSvBfAoDc/ToMHYUOCeVI/AAAAAAAAAb0/MhRQY0HM7G4/s400/IMG_5616.jpg" alt="" id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5657373671233321298" border="0" /></a><br /><a href="http://2.bp.blogspot.com/-H756-Cfz4CQ/ToMHYhNCf9I/AAAAAAAAAb8/vGMczQca07A/s1600/IMG_5651.jpg"><img style="display: block; margin: 0px auto 10px; text-align: center; cursor: pointer; width: 400px; height: 267px;" src="http://2.bp.blogspot.com/-H756-Cfz4CQ/ToMHYhNCf9I/AAAAAAAAAb8/vGMczQca07A/s400/IMG_5651.jpg" alt="" id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5657373674718789586" border="0" /></a><br /><a href="http://2.bp.blogspot.com/-U0na01xdIpk/ToMHX_ER8iI/AAAAAAAAAbk/SUzdni4cK4w/s1600/IMG_5597.jpg"><img style="display: block; margin: 0px auto 10px; text-align: center; cursor: pointer; width: 400px; height: 267px;" src="http://2.bp.blogspot.com/-U0na01xdIpk/ToMHX_ER8iI/AAAAAAAAAbk/SUzdni4cK4w/s400/IMG_5597.jpg" alt="" id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5657373665555247650" border="0" /></a><a href="http://2.bp.blogspot.com/-MXhw3Qb1Hk8/ToMIUW9vrGI/AAAAAAAAAcM/5MIVzQUNPpo/s1600/IMG_5669.jpg"><img style="display: block; margin: 0px auto 10px; text-align: center; cursor: pointer; width: 400px; height: 267px;" src="http://2.bp.blogspot.com/-MXhw3Qb1Hk8/ToMIUW9vrGI/AAAAAAAAAcM/5MIVzQUNPpo/s400/IMG_5669.jpg" alt="" id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5657374702762437730" border="0" /></a></p><p><a href="http://2.bp.blogspot.com/-WpaNn2aVecQ/ToMIUIkwepI/AAAAAAAAAcE/xgVKgQkpq1Y/s1600/IMG_5665.jpg"><img style="display: block; margin: 0px auto 10px; text-align: center; cursor: pointer; width: 400px; height: 267px;" src="http://2.bp.blogspot.com/-WpaNn2aVecQ/ToMIUIkwepI/AAAAAAAAAcE/xgVKgQkpq1Y/s400/IMG_5665.jpg" alt="" id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5657374698899536530" border="0" /></a></p><p><br /></p><p>Leaving China was mixed feelings, and to celebrate we had to see the Detian waterfalls which lie on the border of Vietnam and China. The second largest intraborder waterfall in the world (First being non other than our Niagra!! woop woop!)</p><p><a href="http://1.bp.blogspot.com/-M2l3Dmz10UY/ToMJVVCWwyI/AAAAAAAAAcs/uZ4QNthRi3U/s1600/IMG_5816.jpg"><img style="display: block; margin: 0px auto 10px; text-align: center; cursor: pointer; width: 400px; height: 267px;" src="http://1.bp.blogspot.com/-M2l3Dmz10UY/ToMJVVCWwyI/AAAAAAAAAcs/uZ4QNthRi3U/s400/IMG_5816.jpg" alt="" id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5657375818936402722" border="0" /></a></p><p><a href="http://4.bp.blogspot.com/-esjxZNdIYrA/ToMIVWGNuiI/AAAAAAAAAck/AM_EMBBcGeU/s1600/IMG_5813.jpg"><img style="display: block; margin: 0px auto 10px; text-align: center; cursor: pointer; width: 400px; height: 267px;" src="http://4.bp.blogspot.com/-esjxZNdIYrA/ToMIVWGNuiI/AAAAAAAAAck/AM_EMBBcGeU/s400/IMG_5813.jpg" alt="" id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5657374719709395490" border="0" /></a><br /><a href="http://4.bp.blogspot.com/-lK-11yqJcT0/ToMIU7RjvWI/AAAAAAAAAcc/Dqf47lGed-Q/s1600/IMG_5805.jpg"><img style="display: block; margin: 0px auto 10px; text-align: center; cursor: pointer; width: 400px; height: 267px;" src="http://4.bp.blogspot.com/-lK-11yqJcT0/ToMIU7RjvWI/AAAAAAAAAcc/Dqf47lGed-Q/s400/IMG_5805.jpg" alt="" id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5657374712509218146" border="0" /></a><br /><a href="http://2.bp.blogspot.com/-vetXFlY851c/ToMIUhaSFoI/AAAAAAAAAcU/9v0MIfEx2JY/s1600/IMG_5786.jpg"><img style="display: block; margin: 0px auto 10px; text-align: center; cursor: pointer; width: 400px; height: 267px;" src="http://2.bp.blogspot.com/-vetXFlY851c/ToMIUhaSFoI/AAAAAAAAAcU/9v0MIfEx2JY/s400/IMG_5786.jpg" alt="" id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5657374705566488194" border="0" /></a></p><p><br /></p><p>As amazing as all of this was, I am sure you all must know by now, the most amazing experience by far is the Panda hug!! Worth every penny of the 100 euros I HAD to donate!</p><p><a href="http://3.bp.blogspot.com/-A1DcaZ-_Jt4/ToL56kuIrFI/AAAAAAAAAYk/VM1qJuMMUU4/s1600/IMG_4577.jpg"><img style="display: block; margin: 0px auto 10px; text-align: center; cursor: pointer; width: 400px; height: 267px;" src="http://3.bp.blogspot.com/-A1DcaZ-_Jt4/ToL56kuIrFI/AAAAAAAAAYk/VM1qJuMMUU4/s400/IMG_4577.jpg" alt="" id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5657358866615675986" border="0" /></a></p><p><a href="http://2.bp.blogspot.com/-4V2CVq3233s/ToL3TAzZMJI/AAAAAAAAAYU/cC58QEvrsu4/s1600/IMG_4410.jpg"><img style="display: block; margin: 0px auto 10px; text-align: center; cursor: pointer; width: 400px; height: 267px;" src="http://2.bp.blogspot.com/-4V2CVq3233s/ToL3TAzZMJI/AAAAAAAAAYU/cC58QEvrsu4/s400/IMG_4410.jpg" alt="" id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5657355987935899794" border="0" /></a><br /><a href="http://3.bp.blogspot.com/-ElN578A2PqI/ToL3S2k_PEI/AAAAAAAAAYM/0yEdEju-ln4/s1600/IMG_4398.jpg"><img style="display: block; margin: 0px auto 10px; text-align: center; cursor: pointer; width: 400px; height: 267px;" src="http://3.bp.blogspot.com/-ElN578A2PqI/ToL3S2k_PEI/AAAAAAAAAYM/0yEdEju-ln4/s400/IMG_4398.jpg" alt="" id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5657355985191124034" border="0" /></a></p><p><a href="http://2.bp.blogspot.com/-uDbcQ5NrbHk/ToL3TQK4f2I/AAAAAAAAAYc/oNRI-Iqap28/s1600/IMG_4480.jpg"><img style="display: block; margin: 0px auto 10px; text-align: center; cursor: pointer; width: 400px; height: 267px;" src="http://2.bp.blogspot.com/-uDbcQ5NrbHk/ToL3TQK4f2I/AAAAAAAAAYc/oNRI-Iqap28/s400/IMG_4480.jpg" alt="" id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5657355992060952418" border="0" /></a></p><p>Some extra pictures of conquests:</p><p><br /></p><p>Climbing the Great Wall and Eating Snake (Both from our first stop in Beijing)<br /></p><p><br /></p><p><a href="http://4.bp.blogspot.com/-Cmbnme4Y2TM/ToL3SnHR1YI/AAAAAAAAAYE/BnkAuMjTzik/s1600/IMG_4103.jpg"><img style="display: block; margin: 0px auto 10px; text-align: center; cursor: pointer; width: 400px; height: 267px;" src="http://4.bp.blogspot.com/-Cmbnme4Y2TM/ToL3SnHR1YI/AAAAAAAAAYE/BnkAuMjTzik/s400/IMG_4103.jpg" alt="" id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5657355981039981954" border="0" /></a><br /><a href="http://2.bp.blogspot.com/-4sFqArgdF_U/ToL3Sbwc5sI/AAAAAAAAAX8/Di2MiDsXJso/s1600/IMG_4077.jpg"><img style="display: block; margin: 0px auto 10px; text-align: center; cursor: pointer; width: 400px; height: 267px;" src="http://2.bp.blogspot.com/-4sFqArgdF_U/ToL3Sbwc5sI/AAAAAAAAAX8/Di2MiDsXJso/s400/IMG_4077.jpg" alt="" id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5657355977991448258" border="0" /></a></p><p><br /></p></div>Marinahttp://www.blogger.com/profile/17399854363474570192noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-1605402573814698535.post-30859415978368864402011-09-01T02:13:00.001-07:002011-09-01T02:13:05.990-07:00Censor THIS big Red...<div><p>Fuck Ulan Baatar, just have to say it. Im sorry mom and dad, ja znayu...ja gavaryu kak capozhnik!<br>
But a bunch of animal criminals! Don't stay there!</p>
<p>But, now we are in China. Its like everyone here was brainstorming modernization ideas while they were squating in the toilets and thats why everything had been advanced.EXCEPT the damn toilets. </p>
<p>Crossing the border from Mongolia to China is surreal. You go from dirt to skyscrapers, from boiled old meat to Kung pau chicken. Roads, malls, high speed trains, lights flashing. What THE HELL happened to the bathrooms?? Why am I still peeing in a hole in the ground outside of my room? Did you guys NOT notice hygene while you were out coping the rest of the world?</p>
<p>It's really funny. China seems pretty much like they took the things they were producing and just started using it themselves without knowing what it's for and how to do it properly. For example fashion. They have nice copies. But they put together the most random things. Looks horrible.</p>
<p>There is a trend now here to wear contact lenses that are two times larger than your natural colored part, makes them look like vampires, but they think it makes their eyes look rounder... Nope... Just like your a vampire.</p>
<p>If theres something nice to see, you pay for it. Park? Pay. Statue? Pay. A square? Oh yea. Toilet? No, thats free, you can enjoy the free hole in the ground, but if you want toilet paper? Pay!</p>
<p>Google doesn't work. Facebook doesn't work. Youtube doesn't work. Freedom too does not work. Lonelyplanet China doesn't exist according to the government. If you want to travel China you can only go on the advice of....Theeeeee Governmennntttttty :D <br>
Ting, shiny smile </p>
<p>But it's strange and we laugh all the time at how crazy things are. For example. Do you like your personal space? Well the chinese liked you're personal space too. And if you enter a super market they follow you, RIGHT, behind you (like you feel their breath on your neck), just in case you will have a question. And when you turn around to look at them, they stare with big hopeful eyes that you might ask them something.</p>
<p>The best are the shops that sell nothing. They are open right on a shoping street with just a table and some day men sitting around watching tv or just staring. With big posters behind them, like a panda and osama bin laden.</p>
<p>Girls don't shave their arm pits... Just saying.</p>
<p>Ok, long post again...hope you enjoyed. Can someone let me know if this posted, because my blog is also censored in china do I cannot go online to see if it's up. </p>
</div>Marinahttp://www.blogger.com/profile/17399854363474570192noreply@blogger.com3tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-1605402573814698535.post-55926622038182511792011-08-21T22:44:00.001-07:002011-08-29T07:36:47.701-07:00A Land Before Time<div><p>Im sitting in a sun bathed valley, in a place which time has forgotten. Either that or time simply doesn't exist here. It took a 16 hour jeep ride, and a two day horse trek to get here, and although it was intensely annoying, it was definitely worth being here right after being news of another financial meltdown on the other side of the planet. The biggest crisis we have been aware of is that tribe the tribe we are living with, the tsaatsan (reindeer people), had to migrate a week early because 6 horses had been stolen-one of which was shot-and taken over the russian border. </p>
<p>So we find ourselves in the middle of a migration since we arrived right at this decision. We are told we are the first tourists to witness it. We have no horses or reindeer- I forgot to bring mine from the north pole- and the people couldn't spare any since they needed all animals to transport their belongings. So you'll never guess what we had to do....oh yea, we did the migration via hiking through mud. was it hard? Ugh thats what she said...and yes it was...but another big pay off once we got to the new camp: we became local legends! People came from far and wide to take a look at us, and to give us their compliments. It took a day to rest those pains off.</p>
<p>We exist now only with the river, reindeer, blueberry picking, and the wind. I wouldn't be honest if I didn't mention how they have a satellite dish on one of the tepees, where they gather everyday to watch an unimaginably over dramatic japanese soap opera. It's funny. But thats a new and only technological connection to the people. <br>
Even beds are an unnecessary neusance. We sleep in the orts (teepees) with the families with only a rug and our mattresses on the grass. So spiders and other moustachey bugs have become ordinary visitors and I've even stopped screaming when they come into sight.</p>
<p>Stepping out in the morning is magical. The dogs sleeping by the orts, horses grazing a few feet away and reindeer passing by to say good morning. It's really easy to see life as being something beautiful and something we should cherish. </p>
<p>Bathrooms: people who are sensitive to toilet stories should not read...<br>
Well there are no toilets haha, so you have to get used to walking a bit ways away and squaring behind a tree. It takes some time to get used to it and not be in panic mode as your doing you're business. Don't you just hate it when a reindeer or a little boy goes by as your trying to be invisible behind a tree?</p>
<p>I think I've forgotten what trains and noise and work is. It's a great feeling. </p>
<p>But as magical and amazing as it was to be in this place, its also great to think ahead of showers, beds, and maybe a massage hehe..</p>
</div>Marinahttp://www.blogger.com/profile/17399854363474570192noreply@blogger.com2tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-1605402573814698535.post-57540474090118748202011-08-06T03:59:00.001-07:002011-08-06T04:01:26.097-07:00Mongolia- first impressions...sorry this is out of order<div><p>So I'm kind of going to skip the last for Russian cities: Tobolsk, Novosibirsk, Tomsk, and Ulaan Ude. In general though, I can say although the towns are a million miles from anything, they are still pretty Russian. The towns are very pretty on a whole, have a bunch of Lenin streets, are not very welcoming and very expensive. I might write about them later but I am too excited about Mongolia to write about what has already faded. </p>
<p>Two days before our 12 hour bus ride from Ulaan Ude to Ulaan Baatar, we met a really cool group of guys in our hostel who incidentally were traveling on the same bus, on the same day, at the same time! So during three two days before we got to know each other pretty well. Two Israelis, one French guy, and one weird american kid who was traveling with his mom. Others who were not on the bus were two really crazy Iranian hippies, a German man with a goat beard, and a few here and there people. I can't say enough how fuckin cool it was to sit there on the carpet, drinking out of a 5 liter beer bottle called Bierbag, and exchanging our funny stories, experiences, wishes and expectations. We learned from the Israelis a lot of survival techniques they learned from the army (like reading a mad and compass when it's the only things you have), we learned from the 60 year old Iranian hippiess, well, that you really shouldn't smoke so much ganga hahaha (they were wack!), and also some secret places to visit in south east asia and about some magic trees in Brazil that cure cancer, and how not to get arrested when carrying pot in cuba, like he did. And from French guy, Camal, we learned that France is ruge best at everything, and that it even invented cheese! Like, as in INVENTED, like it wasn't there before France! Hahaha. </p>
<p>Well Frenchie and the Israelis and we ended up remaining a group for the give days we were in Ulaan Baatar. Driving over the border and into Mongolia was magic! Despite the fat Russian woman screaming at us for clapping, we were overcome with jubilation and energy as we saw the magic of mongolia. </p>
<p>I can only speak for myself of course, but this was the first time I felt again the joy of being an explorer again. It was great to be alive, great to be me, great to be there. The bus made it's way down from the north to the city, and the sites along the way were sporadic bits of life. No cities, no busy traffic, no buildings..nothing. Green for hours. Only broken up by horses, and gers (a ger is the name of a mongolian rent that it's typical only here, and is stil today the way people live outside the capital). In fact, our hostel was such a ger. We arrived and walked about 30 min to the outskirts of the small city, to somewhat of a slum area because there was no longer houses but get camps instead. As we approached up the dirty path uphill, and found our to-be lodging grounds, we were escorted to our ger and were told the electrify was cut of for the day and should return tomorrow. And so it begins! Haha.</p>
<p>So the next days were spent exploring camping shops, the giant market called the Black Market, where, as warned, many of our comrades were robbed at the spread of light, and we made preparations for our journey out into the wilderness. Our plan was to group up, Camal the french guy is traveling by bike, so it was for of us and hopefully one extra to be found to cut down the costs of renting a jeep. But as it turns out, the guys were complete douche bags and fucked us but good on the night before our departure. Thats life, and people are people. We didn't expect such behavior since we had become somewhat close and trustful of each other, but you live and you learn.<br>
As we thought we were going to be doomed and lose our car, three polish guys arrived and were cool to go even on two hours notice. We packed up our shit, and off we went on a Russian jeep.</p>
<br/><img src='http://lh5.ggpht.com/-NcoKU18MmyM/Tj0eiWau0FI/AAAAAAAAAXw/Rlc-V56Bi80/2011-07-26%25252009.58.00.png' /><br/><img src='http://lh5.ggpht.com/-tgnuhByQGqo/Tj0ejLofJPI/AAAAAAAAAX0/QUHBBUDz-ec/2011-07-13%25252016.08.17.png' /></div>Marinahttp://www.blogger.com/profile/17399854363474570192noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-1605402573814698535.post-69558364905503059822011-07-28T04:06:00.000-07:002011-07-28T04:26:18.043-07:00Shepards on WheelsIn a land of nomads, we too have got into the habbit.<br />I write to you from Khovsgol lake at the northern part of the middle of Mongolia, from a city called Hatgal. With the rest laying in front of me, I can reflect on the adventure that has been the last three weeks of July 2011 of my life.<br />Being in Mongolia is like seeing what the rest of the world was like before electricity roads or plumbing. Before banks, bilboards, fashion, social classes, greed, personal property, personal space, and privacy.<br />The only things that have seemed to change here is that the shepards guide their animals with motorcycles - as the title suggests. But even that is not the majority. It is funny to see however since the shepards are only between 5 and 11 years old... even the ones riding the wheels. The youngest we've seen looked like he was about 5, and since Mongolians tend to look older than they really are, in reality he was probably still a few months old :P<br />So back to the nomad life style.<br />As I have already written, we have become really good at packing up our tent in the mornings (down to about a minute now) and laying it back out in the evenings. The landscape is not spectacular, I wont lie. We are a bit disappointed. But I mean I am a little spoiled having seen the Grand Canyon, Niagra Falls, and the Alps in Austria. Nothing here can visually stimulate my soul or appetite, however the culture and experience sure has given me something to remember for a long time.<br />We already see a lot of ground being laid for roads to be built, so this rough untouched feeling wont last long.<br />The people have no own land, nor property, nor space. You move where you want, and when you like a place, you just set up your Ger there and that becomes your home until you want to go somewhere else. When a person is hungry on the road, as we have been, you just enter one of these gers (without knocking) and sit down. You of course say hello and ask how the family is doing. The next step is that this family feeds you and if needed offers you a place to sleep (which we have needed and accepted). This goes on the general Mongolian principal of "whats yours is mine". This of course may be the reason our driver takes our vodka and food whenever he wants.<br />It would be fair however to mention how he also was the reason we ate one of the weirest things of our lives. He stopped by a ger to ask for the way and came out with a burnt animal which was whole except for the head missing. After eating it, we found out it was a Marmot. Look it up in google, i have no idea what the hell it is- kind of like a beaver I guess. Well this thing gets prepared by removing its head, sticking your hand through its neck hole, and removing all the meat and bones carefully so as not to rip the skip or open the neck hole more. Then it is seasoned and stuffed back inside with scorching hot river stones. This way it gets cooked from the inside keeping all its juicy stuff - wait for the pictures, youre going to love it!<br /><br />The days are hot, and the nights are cold. Emir is quiet creative with our food. We only have rice, potatoes, flour and oil. Sometimes we pick up jam or sardines. But even with that he managed to make me fries one night :D<br /><br />We also did a 3 day horse riding tour (maybe I already wrote about it). Our asses hurt, and the animals are not very trained. 9 months out of the year they spend alone in the mountains so they dont respond to commands, more their own. But it was a pleasure to be out in the mountains and lakes with these Mongolian horses.<br /><br />The people we meet outside the capital are quiet friendly, and are very curious. They stare without shame. the children screem "hello" about 50 times and giggle. Its very amuzing.<br /><br />I will stop now since its already too long, but wait for the pics in the next blog, this cafe doesnt allow pic uploads :(Marinahttp://www.blogger.com/profile/17399854363474570192noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-1605402573814698535.post-36235977715966493672011-07-23T19:52:00.000-07:002011-07-23T19:53:03.835-07:00Back from Gobi and into the forrestSo I am back from the Gobi desert and also from one National park in the middle of Mongolia..<br /><br />It was really fuckin hot .. i dont know what we were thinking about going to the desert in July, but it was worth it. we went on top of a 300 meter sand dune.. and it was the hardest thing ive ever done so far. But once on top the feeling of conquering yourself and the view was undescribable!! we tried once during sunset and failed, so i got up at <span style="border-bottom: 2px dotted rgb(54, 99, 136); cursor: pointer;" class="yshortcuts" id="lw_1311475940_0">5 am</span> to go it before the sun came up and managed! It took about an hour so i coaght the sun rise from the peak!<br /><br />since then we went camping by a lake and waterfall in the national park in tents. and went deeper into the park for three days by horse because there is no roads there. our asses hurt a lot!! but was amazing experience!<br /><br />it has been a long time since i had a shower which wasnt a river... haha today was the first time in 2 weeks :D<br /><br />we are now in Harhorin, the old capital during Ghingis Khan times, now a village, and we will go to some volcano today, and then north to some more fun things! We will end at Khovsgol lake at the border with <span style="border-bottom: 2px dotted rgb(54, 99, 136); cursor: pointer;" class="yshortcuts" id="lw_1311475940_1">russia</span> and we will try to find a mysterious village people who live with reindeer. after that we will go west to the altai... i dont know about internet... so dont worry.Marinahttp://www.blogger.com/profile/17399854363474570192noreply@blogger.com2tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-1605402573814698535.post-30292124546148537932011-07-23T19:50:00.000-07:002011-07-23T20:27:35.205-07:00Post date post from before the Gobi<a onblur="try {parent.deselectBloggerImageGracefully();} catch(e) {}" href="http://3.bp.blogspot.com/-U0OP_DYoVgU/TiuNcmJTQmI/AAAAAAAAAXk/_7EO9_NOUkk/s1600/IMG_1177%255B1%255D"><br /></a><br /><a onblur="try {parent.deselectBloggerImageGracefully();} catch(e) {}" href="http://4.bp.blogspot.com/-dVTOkZQAw7U/TiuNcLAK2TI/AAAAAAAAAXM/iIo-c4N9Urg/s1600/IMG_1160%255B1%255D"><img style="display: block; margin: 0px auto 10px; text-align: center; cursor: pointer; width: 320px; height: 240px;" src="http://4.bp.blogspot.com/-dVTOkZQAw7U/TiuNcLAK2TI/AAAAAAAAAXM/iIo-c4N9Urg/s320/IMG_1160%255B1%255D" alt="" id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5632751274086291762" border="0" /></a><br />Date: <span id="25_messageHeaderControls" class="headerControls" style="width: 205px;"><span id="25_messageHeaderDate" class="headerControls fontT2 fontHeadline" style="line-height: 20px;">Fri, July 15, 2011</span></span><br />wow, happy to get to an internet cafe! First time i have showered in 6 days...not in the internet cafe though! that was in our hotel..."hotel"...<br /><br />We have been on the road for four days now and will reach the Gobi desert tomorrow... once there the driver leaves us and we go into the sand dunes for a 3 day hike to the other side. we bought lots of water!<br /><br />there are NO roads here by the way.... the only asphalt road was from <span style="border-bottom: 2px dotted rgb(54, 99, 136); cursor: pointer; background: none repeat scroll 0% 0% transparent;" class="yshortcuts" id="lw_1311475783_0">russia</span> to Ulan Baatar (the capital), now we are on a Russian jeep from WWII probably and going over whatever path we can find. thats why it has taken so long. we spent one night in a <span style="border-bottom: 2px dotted rgb(54, 99, 136); cursor: pointer;" class="yshortcuts" id="lw_1311475783_1">Ger</span> or Yourta, its tents of the Mongols. You just arrive at any tent on the road and they have to let you sleep and feed you, it is their tradition of hospitality. its fascinating. sometimes the driver stops at one during the day, looks around, gets some cheese for us and leaves hahah. he doesnt really know that we hate this cheese..you know why? ITS HORSE MILK!!! salty like hell... you make a stranger face when you eat it than when you eat a lemon. but its definitely a good experience! the other times we find a beautiful spot to put up our tents, like yesterday at white cliffs that look like a mini <span style="border-bottom: 2px dotted rgb(54, 99, 136); cursor: pointer; background: none repeat scroll 0% 0% transparent;" class="yshortcuts" id="lw_1311475783_2">grand canyon</span>. sun sets and sun rises are unbelievable, and its amazing that we are completely alone where ever we go. we dont see anyone else other than some shepards here and there or some curious nomads riding up to us on their motor bikes and then riding back to their tents.<br />we have seen wild camals and horses, also while we camped.. and GIANT vultures eating a dead camel. I mean up close, not driving by. There is a lot of death in these parts, because we are already in the desert, just not the cool one :) and its amazing to see that life continues even though a horse has been lying dead on the steppe, we have also seen a family slaughter(kill) a sheep that we were feeding just moments before. it was for their holiday. and they do it without blinking an eye. death is death, and to kill is to eat. I hope when we get to the north, I can experience some life.<br /><br />The desert really only teaches a few things. 1.death is normal, 2.patience and quiet, 3.and drink a lot of fucking water!<br /><br />So! after a good shower, and some internet time..i can go off into the desert feeling good...<br />so it maybe another few days or week before you hear from me!!<br /><br />love you all....<br /><a href="http://3.bp.blogspot.com/-U0OP_DYoVgU/TiuNcmJTQmI/AAAAAAAAAXk/_7EO9_NOUkk/s1600/IMG_1177%255B1%255D"><img style="display: block; margin: 0px auto 10px; text-align: center; cursor: pointer; width: 320px; height: 240px;" src="http://3.bp.blogspot.com/-U0OP_DYoVgU/TiuNcmJTQmI/AAAAAAAAAXk/_7EO9_NOUkk/s320/IMG_1177%255B1%255D" alt="" id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5632751281372349026" border="0" /></a><br /><a href="http://3.bp.blogspot.com/-QaohWyILxrk/TiuNctYT98I/AAAAAAAAAXc/raqqI9kS_5I/s1600/IMG_1167%255B1%255D"><img style="display: block; margin: 0px auto 10px; text-align: center; cursor: pointer; width: 320px; height: 240px;" src="http://3.bp.blogspot.com/-QaohWyILxrk/TiuNctYT98I/AAAAAAAAAXc/raqqI9kS_5I/s320/IMG_1167%255B1%255D" alt="" id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5632751283314358210" border="0" /></a><br /><a href="http://3.bp.blogspot.com/-EDqYDrEluh0/TiuNcXeMDtI/AAAAAAAAAXU/Ox0iwniJc0w/s1600/IMG_1165%255B1%255D"><img style="display: block; margin: 0px auto 10px; text-align: center; cursor: pointer; width: 320px; height: 240px;" src="http://3.bp.blogspot.com/-EDqYDrEluh0/TiuNcXeMDtI/AAAAAAAAAXU/Ox0iwniJc0w/s320/IMG_1165%255B1%255D" alt="" id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5632751277433425618" border="0" /></a><br />This one is of what we are driving through:<br /><iframe allowfullscreen='allowfullscreen' webkitallowfullscreen='webkitallowfullscreen' mozallowfullscreen='mozallowfullscreen' width='320' height='266' src='https://www.blogger.com/video.g?token=AD6v5dz8mwvpwPDrar_8-1nD0mf_AWyseQOJSUte74YpPlgQuVXNrO_-SsWxSE3jTLaZOgr0TzFc2AQDarA1xHI2CA' class='b-hbp-video b-uploaded' frameborder='0'></iframe><br /> and here we had to get out of the jeep because it couldnt make it up the hill with us in it...just another day in Mongolia <iframe allowfullscreen='allowfullscreen' webkitallowfullscreen='webkitallowfullscreen' mozallowfullscreen='mozallowfullscreen' width='320' height='266' src='https://www.blogger.com/video.g?token=AD6v5dxkk52511OyB-gcUIYuLlU66s9C7J41opc-e2mKqqnHwEzUH3MM1aUNZADW9_rrgSZBhEu0AqR7s-J7mBL7oA' class='b-hbp-video b-uploaded' frameborder='0'></iframe>Marinahttp://www.blogger.com/profile/17399854363474570192noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-1605402573814698535.post-16619130700662136502011-07-01T02:55:00.001-07:002011-07-08T21:32:00.909-07:00Kazan - Tatar capital, Ivan The Terrible's conquest<a onblur="try {parent.deselectBloggerImageGracefully();} catch(e) {}" href="http://2.bp.blogspot.com/-aEPYFZqnr6I/Tg3h8U-puAI/AAAAAAAAAW8/7leZjO7DoTk/s1600/IMG_1708.JPG"><br /></a><br /><a onblur="try {parent.deselectBloggerImageGracefully();} catch(e) {}" href="http://2.bp.blogspot.com/-QglzfYgQmpE/Tg3h80W3ekI/AAAAAAAAAXE/wNc2i80o4ls/s1600/IMG_1712.JPG"><img style="display:block; margin:0px auto 10px; text-align:center;cursor:pointer; cursor:hand;width: 320px; height: 214px;" src="http://2.bp.blogspot.com/-QglzfYgQmpE/Tg3h80W3ekI/AAAAAAAAAXE/wNc2i80o4ls/s320/IMG_1712.JPG" alt="" id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5624399944618572354" border="0" /></a><br />We arrived in Kazan at about 2 pm after a pretty comfortable ride in a coupé. It was shared by a Tatar girl, not particularly smart, and a guy from St. Petersburg, who was a pleasure to talk to and a great insight once again into the opinions and views of the Russian people. He lost a few points temporarily when saying that america was behind the protests in Algeria and Lybia, but partially got them back when he admitted that it's what they say on the news. <div><p>Which reminds me about a story I forgot to mention in my Piter blog: apparently there is a rumor going around that Medvedev is secretly a Jew and uses all the money from corruption to give out to random jews.. If thats true, where the hell this place at where I can collect a part of that!?! </p><p>Sooo, I'll make the next entries short so you can read them without complaining :D</p><p>Kazan is a very beautiful town. Unique because it's kremlin has both a mosque (reconstructed after it's destruction by the russians but almost the same as the original tatar mosque) and an orthodox church built by Ivan the Terrible.</p><p>Some buildings were impressively modern and keeping their traditional architecture. </p><p>Their main pedestrian street, Baumana, is filled with jewelry shops and cafes. We chose a cheap cafeteria which made the BEST triagolnichkis with ground meat!</p><p>**COOL STORY ALERT**<br />Medvedev might be following us.. We saw him and his gang as they closed down half the city in St. Petersburg, and NOW he arrived in Kazan..SAME DAY... Coincidence? I think not! Maybe ill be being that Jew money after all!! Funny thing, is that he crashed into the crowd with his car! While driving it himself..check it out on youtube:</p><p>http://www.youtube.com/watch?v=RM5tqJi1YaA</p><p><br /></p><p>And enjoy the pictures:</p><p>Inside kremiln:<br /></p><p>Tatar restored mosque: <span class="st">Kul Sharif</span><span class="st"></span></p><p><a href="http://1.bp.blogspot.com/-1ifE4590aiY/Tg3dK4Aal1I/AAAAAAAAAVc/ify_tCuGrO4/s1600/IMG_1672%255B1%255D.JPG"><img style="display:block; margin:0px auto 10px; text-align:center;cursor:pointer; cursor:hand;width: 320px; height: 214px;" src="http://1.bp.blogspot.com/-1ifE4590aiY/Tg3dK4Aal1I/AAAAAAAAAVc/ify_tCuGrO4/s320/IMG_1672%255B1%255D.JPG" alt="" id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5624394688558176082" border="0" /></a></p><p>interrior<br /></p><p><a href="http://3.bp.blogspot.com/-rOJACUeh5cI/Tg3dLY_SG8I/AAAAAAAAAVk/veRhyaquSzI/s1600/IMG_1673.JPG"><img style="display:block; margin:0px auto 10px; text-align:center;cursor:pointer; cursor:hand;width: 214px; height: 320px;" src="http://3.bp.blogspot.com/-rOJACUeh5cI/Tg3dLY_SG8I/AAAAAAAAAVk/veRhyaquSzI/s320/IMG_1673.JPG" alt="" id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5624394697411795906" border="0" /></a>Russian orthodox church: Annunciation Cathedral: built in 1554-62, the only 16th-century Russian church to have six piers and five apses. </p><p><a href="http://1.bp.blogspot.com/-MpiYrv5lOHQ/Tg3dMJRdWwI/AAAAAAAAAVs/6w1z-IHt0CM/s1600/IMG_1681.JPG"><img style="display:block; margin:0px auto 10px; text-align:center;cursor:pointer; cursor:hand;width: 214px; height: 320px;" src="http://1.bp.blogspot.com/-MpiYrv5lOHQ/Tg3dMJRdWwI/AAAAAAAAAVs/6w1z-IHt0CM/s320/IMG_1681.JPG" alt="" id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5624394710372932354" border="0" /></a><a href="http://2.bp.blogspot.com/-spUdNu8QnVg/Tg3dMcG176I/AAAAAAAAAV0/ZY4Id_EoRI0/s1600/IMG_1678.JPG"><img style="display:block; margin:0px auto 10px; text-align:center;cursor:pointer; cursor:hand;width: 214px; height: 320px;" src="http://2.bp.blogspot.com/-spUdNu8QnVg/Tg3dMcG176I/AAAAAAAAAV0/ZY4Id_EoRI0/s320/IMG_1678.JPG" alt="" id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5624394715428679586" border="0" /></a></p><p>View down from the kremlin onto the city<a href="http://1.bp.blogspot.com/-ER-e6Pw5nu4/Tg3fKJUx50I/AAAAAAAAAWU/x-P0yldf6gY/s1600/IMG_1687%255B1%255D.JPG"><img style="display:block; margin:0px auto 10px; text-align:center;cursor:pointer; cursor:hand;width: 320px; height: 214px;" src="http://1.bp.blogspot.com/-ER-e6Pw5nu4/Tg3fKJUx50I/AAAAAAAAAWU/x-P0yldf6gY/s320/IMG_1687%255B1%255D.JPG" alt="" id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5624396875050379074" border="0" /></a></p><p>The building you see above, is the same you see below :D<br /></p><p><a href="http://4.bp.blogspot.com/-P_Yoq1tz1Vk/Tg3fJkoGeqI/AAAAAAAAAWE/ecjDGn2LsI8/s1600/IMG_1657%255B1%255D.JPG"><img style="display:block; margin:0px auto 10px; text-align:center;cursor:pointer; cursor:hand;width: 320px; height: 214px;" src="http://4.bp.blogspot.com/-P_Yoq1tz1Vk/Tg3fJkoGeqI/AAAAAAAAAWE/ecjDGn2LsI8/s320/IMG_1657%255B1%255D.JPG" alt="" id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5624396865199307426" border="0" /></a><a href="http://1.bp.blogspot.com/-5zodw7eUGaQ/Tg3fJy6S9ZI/AAAAAAAAAWM/s523pg0Vk4o/s1600/IMG_1666.JPG"><img style="display:block; margin:0px auto 10px; text-align:center;cursor:pointer; cursor:hand;width: 214px; height: 320px;" src="http://1.bp.blogspot.com/-5zodw7eUGaQ/Tg3fJy6S9ZI/AAAAAAAAAWM/s523pg0Vk4o/s320/IMG_1666.JPG" alt="" id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5624396869033719186" border="0" /></a><a href="http://4.bp.blogspot.com/-P_Yoq1tz1Vk/Tg3fJkoGeqI/AAAAAAAAAWE/ecjDGn2LsI8/s1600/IMG_1657%255B1%255D.JPG"><br /></a>The modern houses in traditional architecture I wrote about earlier<br /><br /><a href="http://4.bp.blogspot.com/-ZLIxnP6UI9o/Tg3fJbW7nWI/AAAAAAAAAV8/gNC8RS4Diso/s1600/IMG_1655%255B2%255D.JPG"><img style="display:block; margin:0px auto 10px; text-align:center;cursor:pointer; cursor:hand;width: 320px; height: 214px;" src="http://4.bp.blogspot.com/-ZLIxnP6UI9o/Tg3fJbW7nWI/AAAAAAAAAV8/gNC8RS4Diso/s320/IMG_1655%255B2%255D.JPG" alt="" id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5624396862711373154" border="0" /></a></p><p>The not so modern Tatar village<a href="http://2.bp.blogspot.com/-y1m2LBhG_Iw/Tg3fKqqABcI/AAAAAAAAAWc/3ZRcvjhwA70/s1600/IMG_1696%255B1%255D.JPG"><img style="display:block; margin:0px auto 10px; text-align:center;cursor:pointer; cursor:hand;width: 320px; height: 214px;" src="http://2.bp.blogspot.com/-y1m2LBhG_Iw/Tg3fKqqABcI/AAAAAAAAAWc/3ZRcvjhwA70/s320/IMG_1696%255B1%255D.JPG" alt="" id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5624396883997754818" border="0" /></a></p><p>Walking around the Kremlin, we found this :D<br /></p><p><a href="http://2.bp.blogspot.com/-aEPYFZqnr6I/Tg3h8U-puAI/AAAAAAAAAW8/7leZjO7DoTk/s1600/IMG_1708.JPG"><img style="display:block; margin:0px auto 10px; text-align:center;cursor:pointer; cursor:hand;width: 320px; height: 214px;" src="http://2.bp.blogspot.com/-aEPYFZqnr6I/Tg3h8U-puAI/AAAAAAAAAW8/7leZjO7DoTk/s320/IMG_1708.JPG" alt="" id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5624399936195508226" border="0" /></a>The main street, which is a pedestrian only zone... fascinating contrast of beauty and poverty: Baumana Street<br /><a href="http://1.bp.blogspot.com/-FCHXpNoDXtE/Tg3h8AnZh5I/AAAAAAAAAW0/TiA4yVUqyvE/s1600/IMG_1707.JPG"><img style="display:block; margin:0px auto 10px; text-align:center;cursor:pointer; cursor:hand;width: 320px; height: 214px;" src="http://1.bp.blogspot.com/-FCHXpNoDXtE/Tg3h8AnZh5I/AAAAAAAAAW0/TiA4yVUqyvE/s320/IMG_1707.JPG" alt="" id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5624399930729269138" border="0" /></a>exactly across the street from the picture above<br /><a href="http://3.bp.blogspot.com/-KFI0HSvNtZQ/Tg3h7eVaYII/AAAAAAAAAWs/DO7K_4eOYYU/s1600/IMG_1705.JPG"><img style="display:block; margin:0px auto 10px; text-align:center;cursor:pointer; cursor:hand;width: 320px; height: 214px;" src="http://3.bp.blogspot.com/-KFI0HSvNtZQ/Tg3h7eVaYII/AAAAAAAAAWs/DO7K_4eOYYU/s320/IMG_1705.JPG" alt="" id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5624399921527021698" border="0" /></a></p><p>The view of the street<br /><a href="http://2.bp.blogspot.com/-4pIObVsfr2A/Tg3h7JKS01I/AAAAAAAAAWk/dQm08zgV9cU/s1600/IMG_1700.JPG"><img style="display:block; margin:0px auto 10px; text-align:center;cursor:pointer; cursor:hand;width: 214px; height: 320px;" src="http://2.bp.blogspot.com/-4pIObVsfr2A/Tg3h7JKS01I/AAAAAAAAAWk/dQm08zgV9cU/s320/IMG_1700.JPG" alt="" id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5624399915843244882" border="0" /></a></p><p><a href="http://2.bp.blogspot.com/-4pIObVsfr2A/Tg3h7JKS01I/AAAAAAAAAWk/dQm08zgV9cU/s1600/IMG_1700.JPG"><br /></a></p></div>Marinahttp://www.blogger.com/profile/17399854363474570192noreply@blogger.com2tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-1605402573814698535.post-15613038578165341082011-06-23T04:44:00.001-07:002011-06-24T11:22:00.602-07:00The way to Kazan, reflecting on Piter<div style="text-align: center;"><a onblur="try {parent.deselectBloggerImageGracefully();} catch(e) {}" href="http://2.bp.blogspot.com/-PR4EzW6wp1M/TgS8K8cwJwI/AAAAAAAAASI/5tHA3YBHUoE/s1600/IMG_1652%255B1%255D.JPG"><img style="margin: 0px auto 10px; display: block; text-align: center; cursor: pointer; width: 200px; height: 134px;" src="http://2.bp.blogspot.com/-PR4EzW6wp1M/TgS8K8cwJwI/AAAAAAAAASI/5tHA3YBHUoE/s200/IMG_1652%255B1%255D.JPG" alt="" id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5621825131076658946" border="0" /></a><span style="font-size:78%;">Thats me now<br /></span></div><div><p>So once again I'm on a train. Finally on our way out of St. Petersburg after an unexpected delay due to waiting for my bank card to arrive from Vienna. </p><p>It doesn't seem like it's been that long but my calendar says it's been three weeks. The last day of our stay in Piter was the best. It was our first official night at a hostel at an attempt to se the city the way it should be seen (as you might have already read in my 3am buzzed last entry). But to summarize the last week here, I can complain and admire a few things. Since I'm Marina, I'll complain first. That might sound like a bad thing, but it's only so that you are left with the good things in memory when you've finished reading. </p><p>One thing I hate is that when I come up to a desk of some sort; whether it be an info, register, our sales desk; and ask a question, they tell me to read the long ass sign on their window. I can't read damn russian, and if I did, why would I stabs around reading for an hour til I finally got to the answer? When I can just ask, and you can just answer, since you MUST know the answer after working that for a hundred years - judging by that nasty mug of yours.</p><p>Specifically annoying of these is the ticket sales window at the train station. The line seems to have no shape but rather a bunch, with people cutting in and out, saving spots in three windows, and generally being strange. So in this chaos you end up waiting about 30 minutes until you finally get to the window, when suddenly she shuts off the lights and says she's decided to go on break. So you jump immediately to the next line, wait another 20 minutes, and then THAT ONE goes on break too!! And then the third woman says,i think shes sick, I should go help her, shuts her window down, and makes her way out... </p><p>ARE YOU FUCKING KIDDING ME</p><p style="text-align: right;"><a href="http://4.bp.blogspot.com/-OMPflDTlSNE/TgTCWxpqTII/AAAAAAAAASg/yn8IG3y9wPY/s1600/IMG_1215.JPG"><img style="margin: 0px auto 10px; display: block; text-align: center; cursor: pointer; width: 321px; height: 214px;" src="http://4.bp.blogspot.com/-OMPflDTlSNE/TgTCWxpqTII/AAAAAAAAASg/yn8IG3y9wPY/s400/IMG_1215.JPG" alt="" id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5621831931406208130" border="0" /></a></p> <p>And this is supposed to be Europe?<br />Well the russians complain but more to each other and amongst themselves than to someone who could actually change something. The fact of the matter is, there is no one who could make it different, or who could appologize for the bad service, or who would even feel accountable. </p><p>The next complaint is about the richie riches over here. What's the deal? Why you gotta be so damn stuck up. And why your man like 30 years older? Well everyone has a path in life to follow, and I guess some chose different paths based on different goals.</p><p><br /></p><p>BIGGEST regret of the trip award goes tooooooo..... this story:</p><p>Once a year, there is a huge festival in St Petersburg called Aliyeh Parusah, which means Red Sails... It is meant for all students graduating, but gives reason for huge partying in the city, marked with fire works, drinking, music, and a huge ship with lipstick red sails which sails into the horizon.<br />What did we do that night???..<a href="http://4.bp.blogspot.com/-8KDa8Vivnvc/TgTSbtSf1JI/AAAAAAAAAVQ/GTL03eqT2cA/s1600/IMG_1078%255B1%255D.JPG"><img style="margin: 0px auto 10px; display: block; text-align: center; cursor: pointer; width: 320px; height: 240px;" src="http://4.bp.blogspot.com/-8KDa8Vivnvc/TgTSbtSf1JI/AAAAAAAAAVQ/GTL03eqT2cA/s320/IMG_1078%255B1%255D.JPG" alt="" id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5621849608320701586" border="0" /></a></p><p>Persuaded by others, we were convinced to go to an "outrageous" party on the beach by some world renound DJ from london, with massive crowds and ridiculous partying. What really happened? A tiny shaq on some beach, with a hammock!, and about 5 people dancing. One drink later we went home. BOOOOO!!!!<br /></p><p>enough with the complaints and on with the good stuff...</p><p><br /></p><p>A funny note is how early and often people have their beers here... even strolling through the park with a baby carriage, at 10 am, a man will have drink in hand :D</p><p><br /></p><p>I LOOOOOOVVEEEE the white nights... you never want to go to bed because its always so light outttt!! I wish it wasnt Russia so I could at least consider living here!!</p><p><a href="http://4.bp.blogspot.com/-knsalUoe458/TgS9SoZbLKI/AAAAAAAAASQ/yiLTyNH62OI/s1600/IMG_1632%255B1%255D.JPG"><img style="margin: 0px auto 10px; display: block; text-align: center; cursor: pointer; width: 400px; height: 267px;" src="http://4.bp.blogspot.com/-knsalUoe458/TgS9SoZbLKI/AAAAAAAAASQ/yiLTyNH62OI/s400/IMG_1632%255B1%255D.JPG" alt="" id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5621826362644573346" border="0" /></a></p><p style="text-align: center;"><span style="font-size:85%;">This is 11 pm... the sun doesnt set til about 1 or 2 am!!</span></p><p><br /></p><p><br /></p><p>Well one of the fascinating stories I have about Piter is the cathedral Spas Na Kravy, which means the Savior On Spilled Blood. It was built on the spot where Tsar Nicholus<br />The first was shot and fatally wounded by a few men who were considered terrorists against his reforms of ending slavery. Before this, nobles and land owners were also owners of the people who worked on their lands. So they could be traded, given as gifts, killed, mated and so on. Nicholus I made a reform that any Christian man can be free, and can work to buy himself out from his master. In actuality no one knew how to accomplish this freedom because a price was never set by law, and neither was any procedure of how to obtain this freedom. Although room was made to put forth and erect this church in his honor, this Tsar, as most tsars, is not thought of with respect or admiration.<br /></p><p>Savior on Spilled Blood day and night views<a href="http://3.bp.blogspot.com/-h0NWqZekdHM/TgTQuhi6vxI/AAAAAAAAAU4/E2mJSbIoupc/s1600/IMG_1055.JPG"><img style="margin: 0px auto 10px; display: block; text-align: center; cursor: pointer; width: 240px; height: 320px;" src="http://3.bp.blogspot.com/-h0NWqZekdHM/TgTQuhi6vxI/AAAAAAAAAU4/E2mJSbIoupc/s320/IMG_1055.JPG" alt="" id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5621847732562607890" border="0" /></a><a href="http://3.bp.blogspot.com/-q_cwMFaUvgI/TgTQuPcMMOI/AAAAAAAAAUo/wEp8HSKIVRs/s1600/IMG_1066.JPG"><img style="margin: 0px auto 10px; display: block; text-align: center; cursor: pointer; width: 240px; height: 320px;" src="http://3.bp.blogspot.com/-q_cwMFaUvgI/TgTQuPcMMOI/AAAAAAAAAUo/wEp8HSKIVRs/s320/IMG_1066.JPG" alt="" id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5621847727702552802" border="0" /></a></p><p><br /></p><p><br /></p><p>We took a really wonderful trip through the canals on a teplahod. The swim was on a warm sunny day and three canals opened up to awe inspiring views of ask the beautiful architecture. That is something special aboutSt. Petersburg. The color of the buildings is astonishingly un communistic. Although truth be told the restorations of the facades, including the pastel colorings and greek like statues were only began recently and after the fall of the Soviet Union. There is quite a lot that went to ruins due to the neglect and disinterest that occurred during the 70 some years that communism reighned.<br /></p><p style="text-align: center;"><a href="http://3.bp.blogspot.com/-OCgmWNOhB9g/TgTCX3QBP1I/AAAAAAAAAS4/rtrfIgVN1xo/s1600/IMG_1326.JPG"><img style="margin: 0px auto 10px; display: block; text-align: center; cursor: pointer; width: 400px; height: 267px;" src="http://3.bp.blogspot.com/-OCgmWNOhB9g/TgTCX3QBP1I/AAAAAAAAAS4/rtrfIgVN1xo/s400/IMG_1326.JPG" alt="" id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5621831950089142098" border="0" /></a><a href="http://1.bp.blogspot.com/-H2KBZTQQ5Zk/TgTCXbgRefI/AAAAAAAAASw/t5Vw3TDHyCM/s1600/IMG_1315.JPG"><img style="margin: 0px auto 10px; display: block; text-align: center; cursor: pointer; width: 400px; height: 267px;" src="http://1.bp.blogspot.com/-H2KBZTQQ5Zk/TgTCXbgRefI/AAAAAAAAASw/t5Vw3TDHyCM/s400/IMG_1315.JPG" alt="" id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5621831942641121778" border="0" /></a><span style="font-size:85%;">Thats us on the ferry tour boat, with once again the Hermitage behind us, on the Neva river</span><br /></p><p><br /></p><p>Another great day was the visit to the Petrodvorets in Petrograd. A lot of Petro's, I know, but Peter the Great is the only exception to what I wrote earlier about the tsars, and how most of them have no admiration attached to them. In fact Peter the Great was the only tsar in his lineage to die naturally (of some disease), all others were murdered for their reforms. Anyways, this city is a granduer of fountains and parks. After Peter's architects were sent to europe to discover styles for the Tsar, they returned with their renditions of places such as Versaille and other palaces. And in true Russian style, Peter said, ooh I like that, now make it 2 times bigger!!</p><p><a href="http://4.bp.blogspot.com/-xF7MouebDQI/TgTCYOrhAgI/AAAAAAAAATA/74W8cd9JoYA/s1600/IMG_1501.JPG"><img style="margin: 0px auto 10px; display: block; text-align: center; cursor: pointer; width: 400px; height: 267px;" src="http://4.bp.blogspot.com/-xF7MouebDQI/TgTCYOrhAgI/AAAAAAAAATA/74W8cd9JoYA/s400/IMG_1501.JPG" alt="" id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5621831956378485250" border="0" /></a></p><p>So this is now a magically mischievous playground, with secret joke fountains and majestic ones that are more profound than funny. <a href="http://3.bp.blogspot.com/-exAHtmFppPs/TgTKcu4SgAI/AAAAAAAAATw/o1e68xLJTEg/s1600/IMG_1476.JPG"><img style="margin: 0px auto 10px; display: block; text-align: center; cursor: pointer; width: 320px; height: 214px;" src="http://3.bp.blogspot.com/-exAHtmFppPs/TgTKcu4SgAI/AAAAAAAAATw/o1e68xLJTEg/s320/IMG_1476.JPG" alt="" id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5621840829834493954" border="0" /></a><br /></p><div style="text-align: center;"><a href="http://2.bp.blogspot.com/-fwjI55FeHNo/TgTKcRf2LDI/AAAAAAAAATo/vuDVwSzf23k/s1600/IMG_1457.JPG"><img style="margin: 0px auto 10px; display: block; text-align: center; cursor: pointer; width: 320px; height: 214px;" src="http://2.bp.blogspot.com/-fwjI55FeHNo/TgTKcRf2LDI/AAAAAAAAATo/vuDVwSzf23k/s320/IMG_1457.JPG" alt="" id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5621840821947345970" border="0" /></a><span style="font-size:85%;">Getting hit by a surprise fountain</span><br /><br /><a href="http://2.bp.blogspot.com/-aWce8oKvrXU/TgTOstmFr3I/AAAAAAAAAUQ/xeOOJxYjYVk/s1600/IMG_1439.JPG"><img style="margin: 0px auto 10px; display: block; text-align: center; cursor: pointer; width: 320px; height: 214px;" src="http://2.bp.blogspot.com/-aWce8oKvrXU/TgTOstmFr3I/AAAAAAAAAUQ/xeOOJxYjYVk/s320/IMG_1439.JPG" alt="" id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5621845502414139250" border="0" /></a><br /><br /></div><p>All in all, it is for sure a beautiful city, still recovering from wars and bad management. Whats most interesting to me is that you learn more from the people you encounter on trains, for example, than you do on tours or in our books. </p><p>People are audibley dissatisfied and fed up with their government. Nothing is working right, no one is responsible for anything, monopolies make it hard for cheap prices, corruption makes it hard to get ahead. In fact, one has told me that it is very hard for a company if they succed into their third year. At that point people start to notice you and ask of course you to pay from your successes to the pockets of officials who do nothing but patrol success and steal from it. Thus, most companies open, and close on their second year and open again under a different name. This is why even designers cannot have their own label and sell internationally. Because it because far too expensive to pay off whoever it is you need to pay off. And the line of people waiting to bank in on your success is far too long. </p><p>Now that that is in the past, I can enjoy the ride in my coupe. The first and last time I will enjoy one on this trip. Afterwards, it will be once more platzcard seating. </p><p><br /></p><p>I can focus on the journey, writing this blog, and looking out my romantic window in the pauses between the talks with the two others who share our cabin. </p><p>The windows in your cabin on the train don't open, so you have to go out into the hall. And once you do, you can pry open a little crack, just wide enough to stick your curious nose out while the frame blocks your eyes from the view. And then mmmm how the wind smells of wild grass which had never known the shreek of a grass cutter, nor felt the thumping pressure of man's footsteps. It smells of fresh dew, wild flowers, wildreness and freedom.</p><p><br /></p><p>Also really cool is that we got to see Sting rehearse for his concert that night. So we got a free concert and close up look. Video at bottom</p><p><br /><a href="http://1.bp.blogspot.com/-337ZLD-R4_w/TgTSbWU5eVI/AAAAAAAAAVI/JjsroXG3dCY/s1600/IMG_1046%255B1%255D.JPG"><img style="margin: 0px auto 10px; display: block; text-align: center; cursor: pointer; width: 320px; height: 240px;" src="http://1.bp.blogspot.com/-337ZLD-R4_w/TgTSbWU5eVI/AAAAAAAAAVI/JjsroXG3dCY/s320/IMG_1046%255B1%255D.JPG" alt="" id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5621849602156755282" border="0" /></a></p><p><iframe allowfullscreen='allowfullscreen' webkitallowfullscreen='webkitallowfullscreen' mozallowfullscreen='mozallowfullscreen' width='320' height='266' src='https://www.blogger.com/video.g?token=AD6v5dy3eUjKPFMKCD37C_lhB5u3rwkQbaZcIAqO6L5ZBEmYD5sDZ5vEjwsjWA7LyWGseYP2RGgZX7pgJFNs3elArg' class='b-hbp-video b-uploaded' frameborder='0'></iframe></p><p>Here is the picture part ...</p><p><br /></p><p>The Hermitage<br /></p><p><a href="http://2.bp.blogspot.com/-DlqIIyQ2YKc/TgTCXOur9OI/AAAAAAAAASo/-tNnw7Rzgtc/s1600/IMG_1232.JPG"><img style="margin: 0px auto 10px; display: block; text-align: center; cursor: pointer; width: 400px; height: 267px;" src="http://2.bp.blogspot.com/-DlqIIyQ2YKc/TgTCXOur9OI/AAAAAAAAASo/-tNnw7Rzgtc/s400/IMG_1232.JPG" alt="" id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5621831939211916514" border="0" /></a></p><p>inside the Hermitage<a href="http://1.bp.blogspot.com/-uYMV1sE3e3o/TgTQuVUBSLI/AAAAAAAAAUw/EYclWJAUucM/s1600/IMG_0998.JPG"><img style="margin: 0px auto 10px; display: block; text-align: center; cursor: pointer; width: 240px; height: 320px;" src="http://1.bp.blogspot.com/-uYMV1sE3e3o/TgTQuVUBSLI/AAAAAAAAAUw/EYclWJAUucM/s320/IMG_0998.JPG" alt="" id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5621847729278896306" border="0" /></a></p><p><a href="http://3.bp.blogspot.com/-Hlrzrb5HWNY/TgTQvBO0U0I/AAAAAAAAAVA/Pf16hm0Ib0k/s1600/IMG_1006.JPG"><img style="margin: 0px auto 10px; display: block; text-align: center; cursor: pointer; width: 240px; height: 320px;" src="http://3.bp.blogspot.com/-Hlrzrb5HWNY/TgTQvBO0U0I/AAAAAAAAAVA/Pf16hm0Ib0k/s320/IMG_1006.JPG" alt="" id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5621847741068235586" border="0" /></a><a href="http://1.bp.blogspot.com/-efDncnfnYyE/TgTQuH26CLI/AAAAAAAAAUg/sc6rj9YGSOI/s1600/IMG_1003%255B1%255D.JPG"><img style="margin: 0px auto 10px; display: block; text-align: center; cursor: pointer; width: 320px; height: 240px;" src="http://1.bp.blogspot.com/-efDncnfnYyE/TgTQuH26CLI/AAAAAAAAAUg/sc6rj9YGSOI/s320/IMG_1003%255B1%255D.JPG" alt="" id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5621847725667125426" border="0" /></a></p><p>A park with miniature St Petersburg<br /></p><p><a href="http://1.bp.blogspot.com/-FmjzuAsnynY/TgTI2JdaWWI/AAAAAAAAATY/fN7RcdgzgDE/s1600/IMG_1277.JPG"><img style="margin: 0px auto 10px; display: block; text-align: center; cursor: pointer; width: 320px; height: 214px;" src="http://1.bp.blogspot.com/-FmjzuAsnynY/TgTI2JdaWWI/AAAAAAAAATY/fN7RcdgzgDE/s320/IMG_1277.JPG" alt="" id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5621839067442993506" border="0" /></a><a href="http://1.bp.blogspot.com/-28MJmxw3nek/TgTI1vXY_yI/AAAAAAAAATQ/05HB7ASPE58/s1600/IMG_1275.JPG"><img style="margin: 0px auto 10px; display: block; text-align: center; cursor: pointer; width: 320px; height: 214px;" src="http://1.bp.blogspot.com/-28MJmxw3nek/TgTI1vXY_yI/AAAAAAAAATQ/05HB7ASPE58/s320/IMG_1275.JPG" alt="" id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5621839060438417186" border="0" /></a></p><p>No we"re not crazy in love, just kissing on The Bridge for Kissing<br /></p><p><a href="http://1.bp.blogspot.com/-TQshggoUqrs/TgTI1akFZFI/AAAAAAAAATI/AN8n03d3zdQ/s1600/IMG_1268.JPG"><img style="margin: 0px auto 10px; display: block; text-align: center; cursor: pointer; width: 320px; height: 214px;" src="http://1.bp.blogspot.com/-TQshggoUqrs/TgTI1akFZFI/AAAAAAAAATI/AN8n03d3zdQ/s320/IMG_1268.JPG" alt="" id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5621839054854513746" border="0" /></a></p><p>A mobile nuclear rocket at the military museum</p><p><a href="http://3.bp.blogspot.com/-VFdpgxQA0s0/TgTKcIsw8PI/AAAAAAAAATg/wAFDyfj7pfs/s1600/IMG_1290.JPG"><img style="margin: 0px auto 10px; display: block; text-align: center; cursor: pointer; width: 320px; height: 214px;" src="http://3.bp.blogspot.com/-VFdpgxQA0s0/TgTKcIsw8PI/AAAAAAAAATg/wAFDyfj7pfs/s320/IMG_1290.JPG" alt="" id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5621840819585609970" border="0" /></a></p><p><a href="http://2.bp.blogspot.com/-9Hk8RiRbsHI/TgTOs_FshmI/AAAAAAAAAUY/TEZqXLTld1E/s1600/IMG_1293.JPG"><img style="margin: 0px auto 10px; display: block; text-align: center; cursor: pointer; width: 320px; height: 214px;" src="http://2.bp.blogspot.com/-9Hk8RiRbsHI/TgTOs_FshmI/AAAAAAAAAUY/TEZqXLTld1E/s320/IMG_1293.JPG" alt="" id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5621845507110110818" border="0" /></a><a href="http://2.bp.blogspot.com/-aWce8oKvrXU/TgTOstmFr3I/AAAAAAAAAUQ/xeOOJxYjYVk/s1600/IMG_1439.JPG"><br /></a></p><p>From inside Peter and Paul Fortress.. where St Petersburg was formed<a href="http://4.bp.blogspot.com/-0hzMHLDNYZo/TgTNfHFpT2I/AAAAAAAAAUI/8E0OIEXwQrg/s1600/IMG_1434.JPG"><img style="margin: 0px auto 10px; display: block; text-align: center; cursor: pointer; width: 320px; height: 214px;" src="http://4.bp.blogspot.com/-0hzMHLDNYZo/TgTNfHFpT2I/AAAAAAAAAUI/8E0OIEXwQrg/s320/IMG_1434.JPG" alt="" id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5621844169227587426" border="0" /></a>Walking around<br /><a href="http://3.bp.blogspot.com/-3UCr26OE-9M/TgTNe7hpiMI/AAAAAAAAAUA/yBeVmc92nN0/s1600/IMG_1416.JPG"><img style="margin: 0px auto 10px; display: block; text-align: center; cursor: pointer; width: 320px; height: 214px;" src="http://3.bp.blogspot.com/-3UCr26OE-9M/TgTNe7hpiMI/AAAAAAAAAUA/yBeVmc92nN0/s320/IMG_1416.JPG" alt="" id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5621844166123817154" border="0" /></a><br /><a href="http://2.bp.blogspot.com/-Ba_Xgkp4IGI/TgTNekgdNYI/AAAAAAAAAT4/7zMyW5_B5r8/s1600/IMG_1412.JPG"><img style="margin: 0px auto 10px; display: block; text-align: center; cursor: pointer; width: 320px; height: 214px;" src="http://2.bp.blogspot.com/-Ba_Xgkp4IGI/TgTNekgdNYI/AAAAAAAAAT4/7zMyW5_B5r8/s320/IMG_1412.JPG" alt="" id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5621844159944799618" border="0" /></a></p></div>Marinahttp://www.blogger.com/profile/17399854363474570192noreply@blogger.com3tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-1605402573814698535.post-75962875178062755432011-06-21T15:48:00.000-07:002011-06-24T09:47:51.202-07:00White Night Night<a onblur="try {parent.deselectBloggerImageGracefully();} catch(e) {}" href="http://1.bp.blogspot.com/-1nucCj88y7c/TgS-WldwP-I/AAAAAAAAASY/yDjGpm6D7M0/s1600/IMG_1634%255B1%255D.JPG"><img style="margin: 0px auto 10px; display: block; text-align: center; cursor: pointer; width: 400px; height: 267px;" src="http://1.bp.blogspot.com/-1nucCj88y7c/TgS-WldwP-I/AAAAAAAAASY/yDjGpm6D7M0/s400/IMG_1634%255B1%255D.JPG" alt="" id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5621827530088529890" border="0" /></a><br /><br /><br />Following the river down the never setting White Nights sun, the landscape opens up to the giant cobble stone square in front of one of the most magnificent palaces I have seen. At night its quiet stilness is even more daring and the pride of the facade breaks through where otherwise noisy day tourists make the place much more about themselves than about the beauty of the Hermitage, the Winter Palace for some of the most influencial Tsars of Russian history. Its playful pastel green paint contrasted with the white columns mimics the illusion of a lighthearted background, when in fact this palace is a warrior withstanding some of the toughest conditions anyone or anything has had to face. The Leningrad blockades were the most recent where not only men but also stone were subjected to cruelty, shame, starvation, and the depletion of soul.<br />These days, almost forgotten, and littered with happy brides frolicking in search for the best picture, the square must hide its medals behind its playful pastel green coat.<br />At the moment though, I enter the square just as the lighting begins to flicker on, almost in its own ligt show, as some lights are delayed, some flicker, and some are ready to shine piece by piece. Its own fireworks before the full light. The saxophone, as if on cue, starts to cry a sad melody, and my sadness makes me want to give him everything I have in my pocket, just so one of us at least feels some joy. Listening to him, a few horse hoofs in a distant courtyard, and a few barely audible horns honking in celebration are the only sounds to greet me this evening on this lonely Hermitage square. The sky refuses to darken, as the clouds surround the sky in a dance of the shadows. They are grey in contrast and again deepen the mood for deep thoughts sent to the heavens.<br />It is true that every city has a different soul that comes out at night, and I have had a glimpse of this one. The bridges surounding this beautiful oasis have been lifted and stand high lifted in all their strength, and the soul of this city can sulk to the rythem of the saxophone undisturbed and unafraid of its own vulnerability.Marinahttp://www.blogger.com/profile/17399854363474570192noreply@blogger.com2tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-1605402573814698535.post-53047540302399109452011-06-14T06:38:00.001-07:002011-06-15T13:54:25.830-07:00Moscow - The herd of the heels<a onblur="try {parent.deselectBloggerImageGracefully();} catch(e) {}" href="http://1.bp.blogspot.com/-riCq84A7RFw/Tfeett6xnvI/AAAAAAAAAMw/KbiUPzgAacA/s1600/IMG_0809%255B1%255D"><img style="float:left; margin:0 10px 10px 0;cursor:pointer; cursor:hand;width: 320px; height: 214px;" src="http://1.bp.blogspot.com/-riCq84A7RFw/Tfeett6xnvI/AAAAAAAAAMw/KbiUPzgAacA/s320/IMG_0809%255B1%255D" alt="" id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5618133568425402098" border="0" /></a><br /><div><p><br /></p><p><br /></p><p><br /></p><p><br /></p><p>Thanks to our wonderful hosts in Moscow :<br /></p><p>Stas and Nastia</p><p><br /></p><p><br /></p><p>Being my first official blog from my adventure trip comes to you from a tiny hanging cot on a rather noisy (fort now in a fun way) train from Moscow to St. Petersburg, at 11am. </p><p>This is what our living quarters look like right now:<br /></p><p><img src="http://lh5.ggpht.com/-70pekChF3Bg/TfdkQH9Z9DI/AAAAAAAAAMk/36z1Ht3a9JQ/2011-06-12%25252023.16.17.png" /></p><p><br /></p><p>Not for the lack of trying, but it appears Emir and I will NOT be sharing a bunk "bed" like I thought. Im not even sure I can share it with myself, come to think of it. Its SO tiny! Had to eat my dinner with my chin in my chest and head against the top of the train.</p><p>So, Moscow... I called this post the herd of the heels since, in this choice of passage, I have found the herd too which I belong. For those who think I wear crazy heels to crazy places, you don't even want to see the shoes worn around here...<br />And the women are absolutely gorgeous! dressed sexy, modern, chick!<br />I am also not the only one posing for pictures, achem, achem!<br /></p><p><img src="http://lh6.ggpht.com/--JA8ODvBIws/TfdkQ5gPVPI/AAAAAAAAAMo/8P4VmwUaquM/2011-06-10%25252012.36.18-1.png" />This is not me, but I wish it was :D<br /></p><p>But enough about that, Moscow is a wonderful place to visit. None of the horror stories ive heard have touched me. Maybe its because of the wonderful couple we lived with, but also because its not such a scary place. Of course my benefit is that I know Russian, which I can guarantee would have been almost impossible without. There are plenty of signs in English for getting around, but not many people can point you in a given direction. </p><p>Speaking of people, they have a very distinct and unique characteristic here. They are super friendly only if you close your eyes. Haha. Ill explain. Its like a magic trick.if you keep your eyes open, their mean expression would make you believe they would rather hit you in the head for asking then something. BUT if you momentarily close your eyes, at least metaphorically, you would see that they are actually very open and willing to help in any way they can. Magic! They are good people!</p><p><br /></p><p><br /></p><p>Some Stories: to read one at a time:</p><p><br /></p><p>I<br /></p><p>A little thing of history. The Kremlin is actually NOT that cathedral with the spiral colorful roofs. In fact that is the cathedral of Saint Vasil. The kremlin is a walled area which most Russian cities possess. And as usual of most famous sites, the cathedral is much smaller in life than it appears on tv our books (if any of you read those anymore).</p><p><a href="http://1.bp.blogspot.com/-5v6xbHXHA4U/Tfel-CsTs4I/AAAAAAAAAM4/kO9Hzp5dO90/s1600/IMG_0842%255B1%255D"><img style="display:block; margin:0px auto 10px; text-align:center;cursor:pointer; cursor:hand;width: 320px; height: 214px;" src="http://1.bp.blogspot.com/-5v6xbHXHA4U/Tfel-CsTs4I/AAAAAAAAAM4/kO9Hzp5dO90/s320/IMG_0842%255B1%255D" alt="" id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5618141545461166978" border="0" /></a></p><p style="text-align: center;">Pic taken from the Red Square outside the walls of the Kremlin</p><p style="text-align: center;"><a href="http://2.bp.blogspot.com/-GXEDc7Dtm-k/TfkN5z7fa3I/AAAAAAAAAQI/pqPbMyvjF5Q/s1600/IMG_1067%255B1%255D"><img style="float:left; margin:0 10px 10px 0;cursor:pointer; cursor:hand;width: 320px; height: 214px;" src="http://2.bp.blogspot.com/-GXEDc7Dtm-k/TfkN5z7fa3I/AAAAAAAAAQI/pqPbMyvjF5Q/s320/IMG_1067%255B1%255D" alt="" id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5618537296964840306" border="0" /></a></p><p style="text-align: center;"><br /></p><p style="text-align: center;"><br /></p><p style="text-align: center;"><br /></p><p style="text-align: center;"><br /></p><p style="text-align: center;"><br /></p><p style="text-align: center;"><br /></p><p style="text-align: center;">This picture taken from the Aleksandrovsky Gardens ouside the Kremlin<br /></p><p style="text-align: center;"><br /></p><p style="text-align: center;">The following pictures are from inside the Kremlin:</p><p style="text-align: center;"><a href="http://1.bp.blogspot.com/-1YBhxb8SDFo/TfkN7VwkASI/AAAAAAAAAQg/EV_R9dqQ4DE/s1600/IMG_1089%255B1%255D"><img style="float:left; margin:0 10px 10px 0;cursor:pointer; cursor:hand;width: 320px; height: 214px;" src="http://1.bp.blogspot.com/-1YBhxb8SDFo/TfkN7VwkASI/AAAAAAAAAQg/EV_R9dqQ4DE/s320/IMG_1089%255B1%255D" alt="" id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5618537323225678114" border="0" /></a><a href="http://1.bp.blogspot.com/-ev5hAtwIOh0/TfkN7Jlt7qI/AAAAAAAAAQY/Yuzg63luq68/s1600/IMG_1078%255B1%255D"><img style="float:left; margin:0 10px 10px 0;cursor:pointer; cursor:hand;width: 320px; height: 214px;" src="http://1.bp.blogspot.com/-ev5hAtwIOh0/TfkN7Jlt7qI/AAAAAAAAAQY/Yuzg63luq68/s320/IMG_1078%255B1%255D" alt="" id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5618537319958965922" border="0" /></a><a href="http://3.bp.blogspot.com/-0Sc7SWJv4dk/TfkN6aL6J7I/AAAAAAAAAQQ/bZm-m8P9SPk/s1600/IMG_1069%255B1%255D"><img style="float:left; margin:0 10px 10px 0;cursor:pointer; cursor:hand;width: 320px; height: 214px;" src="http://3.bp.blogspot.com/-0Sc7SWJv4dk/TfkN6aL6J7I/AAAAAAAAAQQ/bZm-m8P9SPk/s320/IMG_1069%255B1%255D" alt="" id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5618537307234248626" border="0" /></a><a href="http://2.bp.blogspot.com/-qHETl2wxO20/TfkN7oUoEQI/AAAAAAAAAQo/ompgLqYRRdo/s1600/IMG_1108%255B1%255D"><img style="float:left; margin:0 10px 10px 0;cursor:pointer; cursor:hand;width: 320px; height: 214px;" src="http://2.bp.blogspot.com/-qHETl2wxO20/TfkN7oUoEQI/AAAAAAAAAQo/ompgLqYRRdo/s320/IMG_1108%255B1%255D" alt="" id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5618537328208777474" border="0" /></a></p><p style="text-align: center;"><br /></p><p><br /></p><p><br /></p><p><br /></p><p><br /></p><p><br /></p><p><br /></p><p><br /></p><p><br /></p><p><br /></p><p><br /></p><p><br /></p><p><br /></p><p><a href="http://4.bp.blogspot.com/-OKmBGwko8_Q/TfkQY4gdR-I/AAAAAAAAARA/31A5aPCAgiI/s1600/IMG_1100.JPG"><img style="float:left; margin:0 10px 10px 0;cursor:pointer; cursor:hand;width: 214px; height: 320px;" src="http://4.bp.blogspot.com/-OKmBGwko8_Q/TfkQY4gdR-I/AAAAAAAAARA/31A5aPCAgiI/s320/IMG_1100.JPG" alt="" id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5618540029792831458" border="0" /></a><a href="http://1.bp.blogspot.com/-GMpqwljMnqo/TfkQYQEEeuI/AAAAAAAAAQ4/JFpm5OGWFRU/s1600/IMG_1085.JPG"><img style="float:left; margin:0 10px 10px 0;cursor:pointer; cursor:hand;width: 214px; height: 320px;" src="http://1.bp.blogspot.com/-GMpqwljMnqo/TfkQYQEEeuI/AAAAAAAAAQ4/JFpm5OGWFRU/s320/IMG_1085.JPG" alt="" id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5618540018936347362" border="0" /></a><a href="http://4.bp.blogspot.com/-GBXXKppGLRw/TfkQYA3kD7I/AAAAAAAAAQw/chsBJSQDD5o/s1600/IMG_1122.JPG"><img style="float:left; margin:0 10px 10px 0;cursor:pointer; cursor:hand;width: 320px; height: 214px;" src="http://4.bp.blogspot.com/-GBXXKppGLRw/TfkQYA3kD7I/AAAAAAAAAQw/chsBJSQDD5o/s320/IMG_1122.JPG" alt="" id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5618540014857359282" border="0" /></a><a href="http://3.bp.blogspot.com/-xb5IU9GgxdU/TfkQZuedehI/AAAAAAAAARI/y6boqNfqa0k/s1600/IMG_1109.JPG"><img style="float:left; margin:0 10px 10px 0;cursor:pointer; cursor:hand;width: 214px; height: 320px;" src="http://3.bp.blogspot.com/-xb5IU9GgxdU/TfkQZuedehI/AAAAAAAAARI/y6boqNfqa0k/s320/IMG_1109.JPG" alt="" id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5618540044279970322" border="0" /></a></p><p><br /></p><p><br /></p><p><br /></p><p><br /></p><p><br /></p><p><br /></p><p><br /></p><p><br /></p><p><br /></p><p><br /></p><p><br /></p><p><br /></p><p><br /></p><p><br /></p><p><br /></p><p><br /></p><p><br /></p><p><br /></p><p><br /></p><p><br /></p><p><br /></p><p><br /></p><p>Largest bell in the world<br /></p><p><br /></p><p><br /></p><p><br /></p><p><br /></p><p><br /></p><p><br /></p><p><br /></p><p><br /></p><p><br /></p><p><br /></p><p><br /></p><p><br /></p><p><br /></p><p><br /></p><p><br /></p><p><br /></p><p><br /></p><p>The plate you see above is the 0 mile point from which all other distances and cities and measured. Tradiotionally you make a wish and toss a coin over your head whilst standing on the mark.</p><p><br /></p><p><br /></p><p><br /></p><p><br /></p><p><br /></p><p><br /></p><p><br /></p><p><br /></p><p><br /></p><p><br /></p><p><br /></p><p><br /></p><p>I.5 ( side note about being here)<br /></p><p>Walking around Moscow, you do get the sense of the separation of classes. It is true what they say about that. Some people walk around wearing things worth more than my life, while three others in outdated or polyester attire. I mean that doesn't mean they are any less sexy, because believe you me, there is plenty of that no matter what the social level of scale.</p><p>Prices here are kept exceptionally high sure to corruption. It seems to open up a whether a franchise or your own place, you need to pay out lots of bribes. Even Ikea was about to bounce, piter much stating in a paper "common, you've got to be kidding me, how more bribes do I gots to pay!" So in short don't plan on doing much shopping. Which is very unfortunate because the fashion is damn good.<br /></p><p><br /></p><p>II.</p><p style="text-align: right;"><a href="http://2.bp.blogspot.com/-zX3isGtCu0s/TfkJIm-MgQI/AAAAAAAAAQA/a1iRfMjC3VE/s1600/IMG_0964.JPG"><img style="display: block; margin: 0px auto 10px; text-align: center; cursor: pointer; width: 264px; height: 352px;" src="http://2.bp.blogspot.com/-zX3isGtCu0s/TfkJIm-MgQI/AAAAAAAAAQA/a1iRfMjC3VE/s320/IMG_0964.JPG" alt="" id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5618532053626421506" border="0" /></a></p><p><a href="http://2.bp.blogspot.com/-bo5nHQy4moQ/TfiAB9W4OwI/AAAAAAAAAPY/sKzj2MSuLSw/s1600/IMG_0961%255B1%255D"><img style="display:block; margin:0px auto 10px; text-align:center;cursor:pointer; cursor:hand;width: 320px; height: 240px;" src="http://2.bp.blogspot.com/-bo5nHQy4moQ/TfiAB9W4OwI/AAAAAAAAAPY/sKzj2MSuLSw/s320/IMG_0961%255B1%255D" alt="" id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5618381306283440898" border="0" /></a></p><p>My favorite day was actually the last day.<br />It happens to be the day of Russia, a national holiday, and it was on Sunday. On the advice of our gracious hosts, we went to the area know as VDNH - Vistavka Dostixenja Nationalnich Xozyastvo, which means Exhibition of Achievements of the National Economy. But really what it means is a shit load of people prancing around the wide flowered allies, splashing around in fountains, and having really strange pass times like putting their kids in balloons on a small pool. </p><p>There was an impressive entrance, and strangely the sound escorting us was "the road to hell" playing out of a biker's stereo. A small symbol of americana in what used to be it's greatest enemy's exhibition of achievements- haha-ironic. Also ironic was the monkey sitting on the back of that bike, but I won't get into that (or I will upset mirza).</p><p>It is quiet amazing how much money, labor, and detail was put into all of this. The people really take advantage of it's glory and really know how to enjoy life. They socialize in a way rarely seen in the western world and I think it is a great gift to them left over from communism.</p><p><a href="http://3.bp.blogspot.com/-FXN_jgh2eQM/TfiACIUwAiI/AAAAAAAAAPg/uiGJlFPiyCE/s1600/IMG_0979%255B1%255D"><img style="display:block; margin:0px auto 10px; text-align:center;cursor:pointer; cursor:hand;width: 320px; height: 240px;" src="http://3.bp.blogspot.com/-FXN_jgh2eQM/TfiACIUwAiI/AAAAAAAAAPg/uiGJlFPiyCE/s320/IMG_0979%255B1%255D" alt="" id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5618381309227303458" border="0" /></a></p><p><a href="http://1.bp.blogspot.com/-pzO88dx1IjQ/TfkGYca8ESI/AAAAAAAAAPo/Wv-tUYFJRPU/s1600/IMG_0976%255B1%255D"><img style="display:block; margin:0px auto 10px; text-align:center;cursor:pointer; cursor:hand;width: 320px; height: 240px;" src="http://1.bp.blogspot.com/-pzO88dx1IjQ/TfkGYca8ESI/AAAAAAAAAPo/Wv-tUYFJRPU/s320/IMG_0976%255B1%255D" alt="" id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5618529027137212706" border="0" /></a><a href="http://2.bp.blogspot.com/-ZkBbeGuspdM/TfkGYqS4-8I/AAAAAAAAAPw/nudRFKjr72g/s1600/IMG_0973.JPG"><img style="display:block; margin:0px auto 10px; text-align:center;cursor:pointer; cursor:hand;width: 240px; height: 320px;" src="http://2.bp.blogspot.com/-ZkBbeGuspdM/TfkGYqS4-8I/AAAAAAAAAPw/nudRFKjr72g/s320/IMG_0973.JPG" alt="" id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5618529030861552578" border="0" /></a></p><p><a href="http://4.bp.blogspot.com/-CLIP0nRXyrI/TfkGkoquedI/AAAAAAAAAP4/V9TnxEZ9MHo/s1600/IMG_0983.JPG"><img style="display:block; margin:0px auto 10px; text-align:center;cursor:pointer; cursor:hand;width: 240px; height: 320px;" src="http://4.bp.blogspot.com/-CLIP0nRXyrI/TfkGkoquedI/AAAAAAAAAP4/V9TnxEZ9MHo/s320/IMG_0983.JPG" alt="" id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5618529236583086546" border="0" /></a></p><p><br /></p><p>III.<br /></p><p>But what real Moscow blog post would be complete without mormons. Mormons? In the most orthodox country? Oh yes, mormons. Americans trying to mormonize in Russian no less. Jake Anderson and Milton Zim. MILTON!!! hahaha... Well he looked how hits name sounds. </p><p>We were walking along a beautiful lake in Moscow, passing the very skin showing russian men and women, enjoying their saturday morning with beers and shishlicks (bbq skewers). We followed the shore until the beach turned into wood, and even further til suddenly we came to a fence that went perpendicular to our path and duped into the water. It seemed we were lost with no answers and no one to show us the path to freedom. As our heads sank in despair and all hope was sunk, we heard a noise coming from deep inside the woods. English? We waited til the image came closer and closer and was finally upon us like angels onto George Smith. It was Jake and Milton. With only their bags of wisdom (in the form of the mormon bible). I dared to ask them who they were and what they were doing here. Even more daring was when I asked them to explain. Needless to say, they didn't save or souls, but another russian couple did as we watched then go through a secret whole in the fence, and gave us an excuse to cut the conversation off. We quickly took the chance and ran after them. And while we ran, there were distant echoes beseaching us to "go to w-w-w-dot-mormons-dot-org for more vital information".<br />Well alls well that ends well, right?</p><p>Can you imagine being called milton (with dorky glasses and a talking style that reminds me of milhouse from the simpsons), american, a mormon, and being sent on a mission to RUSSIA, to convert drunk, highly orthodox russian macho men, wearing speedos on a saturday trying to relax at a lake? That is one job I do not want to have!</p><p><a href="http://1.bp.blogspot.com/-rER2Ll_LBII/TfiABWDpNzI/AAAAAAAAAPA/kIW6lYo9WzQ/s1600/IMG_0936%255B1%255D"><img style="display:block; margin:0px auto 10px; text-align:center;cursor:pointer; cursor:hand;width: 240px; height: 320px;" src="http://1.bp.blogspot.com/-rER2Ll_LBII/TfiABWDpNzI/AAAAAAAAAPA/kIW6lYo9WzQ/s320/IMG_0936%255B1%255D" alt="" id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5618381295733782322" border="0" /></a>Running away from ....THE MORMONSSSSS<br /></p><br />IV.<br /><br />Just a word about the pollon. For those of you with allergies, consider Moscow to be your living hell. When I say theres a hell of a lot of polon, it would be a drastic understatement. The trees are beautiful, it's called Topol, but might as well be called sent from hell. I dont have allergies but I do have eyes, and jeezus were they filled with that damn fluff. Just to give you another example, we lived on the SEVENTEENTH floor, and do you think that stopped the constant inflow of white fluffy friends? No! Walking in the streets, it would seem at first glance that it was snowing. But when you realize that its like 80 degrees you know better.<br /><a href="http://2.bp.blogspot.com/-PMgF_GVbOVs/TfkbTApGEsI/AAAAAAAAARw/IBpVox_mPdM/s1600/IMG_1064%255B1%255D"><img style="float:right; margin:0 0 10px 10px;cursor:pointer; cursor:hand;width: 400px; height: 267px;" src="http://2.bp.blogspot.com/-PMgF_GVbOVs/TfkbTApGEsI/AAAAAAAAARw/IBpVox_mPdM/s400/IMG_1064%255B1%255D" alt="" id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5618552023525233346" border="0" /></a><br /><br /><br /><br /><br /><br /><br /><br /><br />POLLON<br /><br /><br /><br /><br /><br />Ok Here come some pictures!<br /><a href="http://2.bp.blogspot.com/-geauXKB61o8/Tfena-YFDFI/AAAAAAAAANQ/O3cY5r8Ac2M/s1600/IMG_0877%255B1%255D"><img style="display:block; margin:0px auto 10px; text-align:center;cursor:pointer; cursor:hand;width: 320px; height: 214px;" src="http://2.bp.blogspot.com/-geauXKB61o8/Tfena-YFDFI/AAAAAAAAANQ/O3cY5r8Ac2M/s320/IMG_0877%255B1%255D" alt="" id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5618143142030412882" border="0" /></a>An aisle in a TINY deli, just for Vodka.. thats right, that is ONLY Vodka<br /><br /><a href="http://2.bp.blogspot.com/-oK6nwFkqp8c/TfenatxypxI/AAAAAAAAANI/vhuHth1d264/s1600/IMG_0869%255B1%255D"><img style="display:block; margin:0px auto 10px; text-align:center;cursor:pointer; cursor:hand;width: 320px; height: 214px;" src="http://2.bp.blogspot.com/-oK6nwFkqp8c/TfenatxypxI/AAAAAAAAANI/vhuHth1d264/s320/IMG_0869%255B1%255D" alt="" id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5618143137574856466" border="0" /></a>We got to see a fire :D very exciting...<br /><br /><a href="http://4.bp.blogspot.com/-4DoFZrnNbZg/TfenbkPUlPI/AAAAAAAAANY/W9yxhrP3KDU/s1600/IMG_0902%255B1%255D"><img style="display: block; margin: 0px auto 10px; text-align: center; cursor: pointer; width: 352px; height: 235px;" src="http://4.bp.blogspot.com/-4DoFZrnNbZg/TfenbkPUlPI/AAAAAAAAANY/W9yxhrP3KDU/s320/IMG_0902%255B1%255D" alt="" id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5618143152194229490" border="0" /></a>The guys, just hanging around...<br /><br /><a href="http://3.bp.blogspot.com/-yfWnJEzTFRs/TfenaSd8i4I/AAAAAAAAANA/AKp9Ybdci6U/s1600/IMG_0861%255B1%255D"><img style="display:block; margin:0px auto 10px; text-align:center;cursor:pointer; cursor:hand;width: 320px; height: 214px;" src="http://3.bp.blogspot.com/-yfWnJEzTFRs/TfenaSd8i4I/AAAAAAAAANA/AKp9Ybdci6U/s320/IMG_0861%255B1%255D" alt="" id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5618143130243861378" border="0" /></a>Roof of the Cathedral of Vasil<br /><a href="http://3.bp.blogspot.com/-31ewN2Og-Uk/TfencCct-4I/AAAAAAAAANg/JM_htdl4Q4Q/s1600/IMG_0919%255B1%255D"><img style="display:block; margin:0px auto 10px; text-align:center;cursor:pointer; cursor:hand;width: 320px; height: 214px;" src="http://3.bp.blogspot.com/-31ewN2Og-Uk/TfencCct-4I/AAAAAAAAANg/JM_htdl4Q4Q/s320/IMG_0919%255B1%255D" alt="" id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5618143160303483778" border="0" /></a><a href="http://1.bp.blogspot.com/-GCvAs5n0Zgk/Tfe2EM87XxI/AAAAAAAAAN4/F_qOb3iGloE/s1600/IMG_0912%255B1%255D"><img style="display:block; margin:0px auto 10px; text-align:center;cursor:pointer; cursor:hand;width: 320px; height: 214px;" src="http://1.bp.blogspot.com/-GCvAs5n0Zgk/Tfe2EM87XxI/AAAAAAAAAN4/F_qOb3iGloE/s320/IMG_0912%255B1%255D" alt="" id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5618159243480489746" border="0" /></a><br />A memorial to all those lost in the hands of Nazis...a truly moving peice. Maybe the best I have seen.<br /><br /><a href="http://1.bp.blogspot.com/-fCUEqegtrgo/Tfe2FFR3A3I/AAAAAAAAAOI/eg_CZGVYtZo/s1600/IMG_0986%255B1%255D"><img style="display:block; margin:0px auto 10px; text-align:center;cursor:pointer; cursor:hand;width: 320px; height: 214px;" src="http://1.bp.blogspot.com/-fCUEqegtrgo/Tfe2FFR3A3I/AAAAAAAAAOI/eg_CZGVYtZo/s320/IMG_0986%255B1%255D" alt="" id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5618159258600670066" border="0" /></a><a href="http://4.bp.blogspot.com/-z5x3CbqyBX0/Tfe2Eino0vI/AAAAAAAAAOA/3r7RKqU6Oi4/s1600/IMG_0973%255B2%255D"><img style="display:block; margin:0px auto 10px; text-align:center;cursor:pointer; cursor:hand;width: 320px; height: 214px;" src="http://4.bp.blogspot.com/-z5x3CbqyBX0/Tfe2Eino0vI/AAAAAAAAAOA/3r7RKqU6Oi4/s320/IMG_0973%255B2%255D" alt="" id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5618159249296773874" border="0" /></a><br />The Red Square at night<br /><a href="http://2.bp.blogspot.com/-j1RkVc8wbnk/Tfe2FvR6AkI/AAAAAAAAAOQ/PstLSNDQ0yY/s1600/IMG_0998%255B1%255D"><img style="display:block; margin:0px auto 10px; text-align:center;cursor:pointer; cursor:hand;width: 320px; height: 214px;" src="http://2.bp.blogspot.com/-j1RkVc8wbnk/Tfe2FvR6AkI/AAAAAAAAAOQ/PstLSNDQ0yY/s320/IMG_0998%255B1%255D" alt="" id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5618159269875155522" border="0" /></a>A bridge for lovers. When you get married you have to buy a lock, lock it to the tree, and throw the key off the bridge. Thus ensuring that your loved one never runs away.<br /><br /><a href="http://2.bp.blogspot.com/-IqHQK4kao5s/Tfe35-YZK4I/AAAAAAAAAOo/wpFzT4Mk41s/s1600/IMG_1029%255B1%255D"><img style="display:block; margin:0px auto 10px; text-align:center;cursor:pointer; cursor:hand;width: 320px; height: 214px;" src="http://2.bp.blogspot.com/-IqHQK4kao5s/Tfe35-YZK4I/AAAAAAAAAOo/wpFzT4Mk41s/s320/IMG_1029%255B1%255D" alt="" id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5618161266793720706" border="0" /></a>A view from the bridge leading to and from the Church of The Savior<br /><br /><a href="http://3.bp.blogspot.com/-ZtpvwrWskVk/Tfe35aR4W6I/AAAAAAAAAOg/f7jwloX7tx8/s1600/IMG_1016%255B1%255D"><img style="display:block; margin:0px auto 10px; text-align:center;cursor:pointer; cursor:hand;width: 320px; height: 214px;" src="http://3.bp.blogspot.com/-ZtpvwrWskVk/Tfe35aR4W6I/AAAAAAAAAOg/f7jwloX7tx8/s320/IMG_1016%255B1%255D" alt="" id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5618161257102728098" border="0" /></a>The Church of The Savior<br /><br /><a href="http://3.bp.blogspot.com/-2HnBT5Ko0a8/Tfe36arYIBI/AAAAAAAAAOw/MXo8rN4oVgM/s1600/IMG_1055%255B1%255D"><img style="display:block; margin:0px auto 10px; text-align:center;cursor:pointer; cursor:hand;width: 320px; height: 214px;" src="http://3.bp.blogspot.com/-2HnBT5Ko0a8/Tfe36arYIBI/AAAAAAAAAOw/MXo8rN4oVgM/s320/IMG_1055%255B1%255D" alt="" id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5618161274389536786" border="0" /></a>Also<br /><a href="http://1.bp.blogspot.com/-T3dmwbK9OHY/Tfe36wrgnrI/AAAAAAAAAO4/2LS-Q7rkqLk/s1600/IMG_1059%255B1%255D"><img style="display:block; margin:0px auto 10px; text-align:center;cursor:pointer; cursor:hand;width: 320px; height: 214px;" src="http://1.bp.blogspot.com/-T3dmwbK9OHY/Tfe36wrgnrI/AAAAAAAAAO4/2LS-Q7rkqLk/s320/IMG_1059%255B1%255D" alt="" id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5618161280295673522" border="0" /></a>No one is gonna save HIM though<br /><br /><a href="http://4.bp.blogspot.com/-xdNGk-yMo9I/Tfe35PUexRI/AAAAAAAAAOY/HCd6vSJDsf8/s1600/IMG_1002%255B1%255D"><img style="display:block; margin:0px auto 10px; text-align:center;cursor:pointer; cursor:hand;width: 320px; height: 214px;" src="http://4.bp.blogspot.com/-xdNGk-yMo9I/Tfe35PUexRI/AAAAAAAAAOY/HCd6vSJDsf8/s320/IMG_1002%255B1%255D" alt="" id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5618161254160844050" border="0" /></a>Old Arbat - one of the main streets in Moscow- very artistic and full of life<br /><a href="http://1.bp.blogspot.com/-47Dy-6WnOis/TfkRJl3nLCI/AAAAAAAAARQ/xw0FpsqERhU/s1600/IMG_1011.JPG"><img style="display:block; margin:0px auto 10px; text-align:center;cursor:pointer; cursor:hand;width: 214px; height: 320px;" src="http://1.bp.blogspot.com/-47Dy-6WnOis/TfkRJl3nLCI/AAAAAAAAARQ/xw0FpsqERhU/s320/IMG_1011.JPG" alt="" id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5618540866603265058" border="0" /></a>Also on Old Arbat<br /><br /><br /><a href="http://4.bp.blogspot.com/-MHBbqpLmOxg/TfiABqjjyTI/AAAAAAAAAPQ/PY525vlZdkg/s1600/IMG_0959%255B1%255D"><img style="display:block; margin:0px auto 10px; text-align:center;cursor:pointer; cursor:hand;width: 320px; height: 240px;" src="http://4.bp.blogspot.com/-MHBbqpLmOxg/TfiABqjjyTI/AAAAAAAAAPQ/PY525vlZdkg/s320/IMG_0959%255B1%255D" alt="" id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5618381301236353330" border="0" /></a><br />Selling kittens on the street<br /><br /><br /><a href="http://3.bp.blogspot.com/-uck9W-hzBz4/TfiABj6G4FI/AAAAAAAAAPI/KbHbU6M7yAg/s1600/IMG_0947%255B1%255D"><img style="display:block; margin:0px auto 10px; text-align:center;cursor:pointer; cursor:hand;width: 320px; height: 240px;" src="http://3.bp.blogspot.com/-uck9W-hzBz4/TfiABj6G4FI/AAAAAAAAAPI/KbHbU6M7yAg/s320/IMG_0947%255B1%255D" alt="" id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5618381299451879506" border="0" /></a><br />Some different looking ducks by the lake<br /><br /><a href="http://4.bp.blogspot.com/-4dtZmonm1pg/Tfkb19fpVZI/AAAAAAAAAR4/UYZhTmZc5XE/s1600/IMG_1042.JPG"><img style="display:block; margin:0px auto 10px; text-align:center;cursor:pointer; cursor:hand;width: 214px; height: 320px;" src="http://4.bp.blogspot.com/-4dtZmonm1pg/Tfkb19fpVZI/AAAAAAAAAR4/UYZhTmZc5XE/s320/IMG_1042.JPG" alt="" id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5618552623975716242" border="0" /></a>HE'S ON A BOATTTTTT <br /><br /><a href="http://3.bp.blogspot.com/-DvmsDFdM2t0/TfkRKs5NyiI/AAAAAAAAARg/AT6Vp9JuoIE/s1600/IMG_1150.JPG"><img style="display:block; margin:0px auto 10px; text-align:center;cursor:pointer; cursor:hand;width: 214px; height: 320px;" src="http://3.bp.blogspot.com/-DvmsDFdM2t0/TfkRKs5NyiI/AAAAAAAAARg/AT6Vp9JuoIE/s320/IMG_1150.JPG" alt="" id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5618540885668907554" border="0" /></a><br /><a href="http://1.bp.blogspot.com/-ueQ_o2-chQY/TfkRKF5x7eI/AAAAAAAAARY/-oNy05X8VHY/s1600/IMG_1131.JPG"><img style="display:block; margin:0px auto 10px; text-align:center;cursor:pointer; cursor:hand;width: 214px; height: 320px;" src="http://1.bp.blogspot.com/-ueQ_o2-chQY/TfkRKF5x7eI/AAAAAAAAARY/-oNy05X8VHY/s320/IMG_1131.JPG" alt="" id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5618540875202293218" border="0" /></a>Some wild night life... notice how at 2 am it is not dark out!!<br /><a href="http://2.bp.blogspot.com/-zX3isGtCu0s/TfkJIm-MgQI/AAAAAAAAAQA/a1iRfMjC3VE/s1600/IMG_0964.JPG"><br /></a><br /><br /><a href="http://1.bp.blogspot.com/-7YtpgE7_7tk/TfkRLOABo3I/AAAAAAAAARo/Tw8-dyivjQ0/s1600/IMG_1169.JPG"><img style="display:block; margin:0px auto 10px; text-align:center;cursor:pointer; cursor:hand;width: 320px; height: 214px;" src="http://1.bp.blogspot.com/-7YtpgE7_7tk/TfkRLOABo3I/AAAAAAAAARo/Tw8-dyivjQ0/s320/IMG_1169.JPG" alt="" id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5618540894555841394" border="0" />Saying goodbye and getting on the train (from which I wrote most of the blog)</a><a href="http://1.bp.blogspot.com/-rER2Ll_LBII/TfiABWDpNzI/AAAAAAAAAPA/kIW6lYo9WzQ/s1600/IMG_0936%255B1%255D"><br /></a><a href="http://4.bp.blogspot.com/-CLIP0nRXyrI/TfkGkoquedI/AAAAAAAAAP4/V9TnxEZ9MHo/s1600/IMG_0983.JPG"><br /></a><br /><a href="http://3.bp.blogspot.com/-FXN_jgh2eQM/TfiACIUwAiI/AAAAAAAAAPg/uiGJlFPiyCE/s1600/IMG_0979%255B1%255D"><br /></a><br /><br /><br /><br /><br /></div>Marinahttp://www.blogger.com/profile/17399854363474570192noreply@blogger.com6tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-1605402573814698535.post-30666081803677736952011-06-10T04:11:00.001-07:002011-06-12T02:33:36.214-07:00Pop quiz<div><p>I would like to have guesses from people who have not been or are not from russia..</p><p>Which famous celebrity, and an almost dance partner of mine, is the face for a russian bank?</p><p>Since three answer has been given...here is the proof:</p><br /><img style="width: 392px; height: 237px;" src="http://lh3.ggpht.com/-E39tHmxPvAQ/TfN-H_Q4YeI/AAAAAAAAAMY/gCuBgUAFKas/2011-06-10%25252012.19.21.png" /></div>Marinahttp://www.blogger.com/profile/17399854363474570192noreply@blogger.com4tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-1605402573814698535.post-23242868924719890832011-06-07T01:24:00.001-07:002011-06-07T23:25:04.288-07:00Am not happy<div><div><div><div><p>So we just put on our backpacks..<br />20 kilos!</p><p>At the airport...<br /><br />I think im going to throw a hell of a lot out, and SOON!<br /><br />bag was torn upon arrival.. so hopefully insrance will kick in soon so I can get a new one..</p></div></div></div></div>Marinahttp://www.blogger.com/profile/17399854363474570192noreply@blogger.com3tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-1605402573814698535.post-70252439853353058742011-05-28T07:59:00.000-07:002011-06-05T07:16:41.946-07:00An unplanned path around 1 Quarter of the World<a onblur="try {parent.deselectBloggerImageGracefully();} catch(e) {}" href="http://2.bp.blogspot.com/-LlID9E8e6-g/TeuPuQZLoqI/AAAAAAAAAL0/3WFEw5t-LAA/s1600/IMG_0787.JPG"><img style="display:block; margin:0px auto 10px; text-align:center;cursor:pointer; cursor:hand;width: 200px; height: 150px;" src="http://2.bp.blogspot.com/-LlID9E8e6-g/TeuPuQZLoqI/AAAAAAAAAL0/3WFEw5t-LAA/s200/IMG_0787.JPG" border="0" alt=""id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5614739385284797090" /></a><br /><div><p>This enormous journey is not only the marking of a life long dream about to be fulfilled. Its also a markation of the close to my Vienna chapter. How can I describe this feeling before I set out on my journey.<br /></p><p>Well Emir finishing his exam, packing all our stuff, packing the backpack (which I still havent finished), cleaning and painting the appartment, selling the car, and a few small logistic matters, all in one week. Sounds like a Marina thing to do. Poor Emir, however is not so used to this last minute type of fun.<br /></p><p><br />But its almost underway now. Cant really fully understand whats about to happen. Just know I got a flight to Moscow. The rest feels like a dream. Its amazing though. You have an idea, a dream, a wish. You make the steps needed to get there. Start saving, buy travel guides, buy backpacks and sleeping bags, get visas, and vaccinations. Finally you buy a ticket. But all these things are just steps. You , or at least me, can not see the big picture. IM ABOUT TO RUN AWAY TO ASIA FOR A FEW MONTHS!! haha.. well, we'll see how I survive it. But its still fascinating that these things can just simply be done. You want something, and just start doing things without listening to the voices that might instill fear, worry, doubt, or whatever else. Im glad, and feel very lucky for my journey!</p><p>I hope its not more serious or dangerous than I imagine.<br /></p><p>Today is Sunday. We are leaving Tuesday morning. The nervous butterflies in my stomach appear only twice a day for a few seconds. The night before? I imagine I won't sleep much :D<br /></p></div>Marinahttp://www.blogger.com/profile/17399854363474570192noreply@blogger.com1tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-1605402573814698535.post-86542681220624922252009-08-13T04:44:00.000-07:002009-08-25T14:14:44.905-07:00Rolling Towards the Past- Moldova via Romania<div style="text-align: center;"><for those="" with="" little="" pictures="" and="" videos="" are="" at="" the="" you="" may="" skip="" straight="" there=""><span style="font-size:85%;"><br />For those with little time, you are invited to skip to the bottom where you will find all the Videos and more Pictures. And Please remember to click on pictures to enlarge them for more details. There is a section just dedicated to Moldova, once again for your selection. </span><br /></for></div><div style="text-align: center;"><for those="" with="" little="" pictures="" and="" videos="" at="" the="" you="" are="" welcome="" to="" skip="" this=""><br /><span style="font-weight: bold;font-size:180%;" ><span style="color: rgb(204, 0, 0);">ROMANIA</span></span><br /><br /></for><a onblur="try {parent.deselectBloggerImageGracefully();} catch(e) {}" href="http://1.bp.blogspot.com/_QPqSBhDkf6k/SoQiWm_0rGI/AAAAAAAAAG4/AQADzHC_whI/s1600-h/IMG_5044.JPG"><img style="margin: 0px auto 10px; display: block; text-align: center; cursor: pointer; width: 320px; height: 214px;" src="http://1.bp.blogspot.com/_QPqSBhDkf6k/SoQiWm_0rGI/AAAAAAAAAG4/AQADzHC_whI/s320/IMG_5044.JPG" alt="" id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5369454427553180770" border="0" /></a><br /><for those="" with="" little="" pictures="" and="" videos="" at="" the="" you="" are="" welcome="" to="" skip="" this=""><div style="text-align: left;"><br />Slamming the doors of the car, knowing this seals my destiny for the next two weeks, I begin to think of what it is I'm actually expecting, feeling, thinking, etc. As usual, my consideration happens only after the action is set forth. Although I have never considered myself to NOT be American, I have also discovered, just at this moment, that no one around me considered that I WAS. This train of thought, through the refreshing breeze brought in from the opened highway window, was brought on as I imagined people asking me where I was from. I imagined a stranger in Moldova asking me this, and instantly I compared it with my experience of the last 20 years. Finally, when a stranger asks me where I am from, I can say " Oh, just around the corner", but in short, I am from HERE. I am one of YOU. You are one of me. Of course, I will never be more Moldavian than American. Life has made too many changes for that to be true. But maybe I will feel some unity the way I have never felt before. And I got excited thinking who will be the first to ask me.<br /><br />In Moldova, I will not be exotic, however I will have roots. I think that is important to feel at least for a week in your life. Me and this stranger will not have friends in common, or like the same current song, but as I answer their question of where I am from, I will feel my feet planted 26 years deep below me as I stand there talking to a family stranger.<br /><br />With all fantasies and philosophy put to rest for the ride, we finally make a stop at the end of the day at <span class="blsp-spelling-error" id="SPELLING_ERROR_0">Arad</span>, Romania after a short drive through the city. Hotel Fortress, though not so much a fortress it is still guarded like one, by three street dogs. This did not make a fun walk with Winnie, but I had a huge stick in hand since they managed to scare the shit out of me. The non English speaking "clerk" managed to sign language some information about our room, but failed to tell us there was no air conditioning. Early morning we were awoken only to be told that the hotel staff is ready to leave and are only waiting for us. No it was not that we woke up late. It was actually 8 am, it is simply Romania. Funny, but true, we left as they requested without the inclusive breakfast we were promised. The reputation of the hotel was only saved by the owner of the hotel who had come out to talk with us. He was pretty cool, told us some stories, and we were on our way.<br /><span class="blsp-spelling-error" id="SPELLING_ERROR_1">Arad</span>, the city of door-less tramways and home to the happiest wild weeds who seem to have found a way to go unnoticed as they rule the streets.<br />As we pass Romania, I can say it is the most Americanised poor country I have ever seen, proved only by the juiced up guy with plucked eyebrows, wearing a bright pink tight T shirt and some surfer short, who was pumping our gas. Huge fitness gyms (4 floors) and even bigger shopping centers with Home Depot-<span class="blsp-spelling-error" id="SPELLING_ERROR_2">ish</span> knock off <a onblur="try {parent.deselectBloggerImageGracefully();} catch(e) {}" href="http://3.bp.blogspot.com/_QPqSBhDkf6k/SoQDwrU-WzI/AAAAAAAAAEQ/ZDmKXohME8Q/s1600-h/IMG_4967.JPG"><img style="margin: 0pt 0pt 10px 10px; float: right; cursor: pointer; width: 236px; height: 158px;" src="http://3.bp.blogspot.com/_QPqSBhDkf6k/SoQDwrU-WzI/AAAAAAAAAEQ/ZDmKXohME8Q/s320/IMG_4967.JPG" alt="" id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5369420790531775282" border="0" /></a>stores are seen scattered between large stretches of farmland, and little villages. The contrast made me laugh every time we passed such a center. With such centers to take up your time, it seems the people have no time to pick up the dog corpses rotting on the streets every few yards. (<span class="blsp-spelling-error" id="SPELLING_ERROR_3">dont</span> worry no pictures of such glamour).<br />Also seen driving are many churches, despite the early Communist influence, which are all brightly painted and knew. Which brings me to all the fence painting going on in the middle of the day on a Tuesday. It seems like people take their fences and house colors very seriously, because instead of working (god knows where) all the people in small villages are out painting their fences and houses.<a onblur="try {parent.deselectBloggerImageGracefully();} catch(e) {}" href="http://1.bp.blogspot.com/_QPqSBhDkf6k/SoQJPTAt_KI/AAAAAAAAAEY/h1aKVhayDSY/s1600-h/IMG_5099.JPG"><img style="margin: 0pt 10px 10px 0pt; float: left; cursor: pointer; width: 290px; height: 194px;" src="http://1.bp.blogspot.com/_QPqSBhDkf6k/SoQJPTAt_KI/AAAAAAAAAEY/h1aKVhayDSY/s320/IMG_5099.JPG" alt="" id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5369426814138449058" border="0" /></a> Despite the majority of the properties and land falling apart, people seem to appreciate the magic of bright colors and it shows by the facades if these little shacks. Men and women seem to gather in pairs or groups and enjoy festively painting with pride and admiration in their 100 year old clothes- in almost every little village we passed. All fences were bright white, and houses varied from such bright colors as baby blue, hot pink, sunshine yellow, or canary coral :D. Although the people look like they haven't changed since our time in this region, with old babushkas walking around in floral dressed and <span class="blsp-spelling-error" id="SPELLING_ERROR_4">kasinachkis</span> on their heads, the cars on the road were <span class="blsp-spelling-corrected" id="SPELLING_ERROR_5">surprisingly</span> modern. Only once in a while would an old style <span class="blsp-spelling-error" id="SPELLING_ERROR_6">Ruski</span> car be seen.<br /><div style="text-align: left;">Also scattered on the road, between villages, are masses of hitch-hikers, who left me wondering how long will they stand there before they actually get a ride, and random monuments with nothing or no one around, which left me wondering how long will it stand there until it is actually visited be <span class="blsp-spelling-corrected" id="SPELLING_ERROR_7">someone</span>. <a onblur="try {parent.deselectBloggerImageGracefully();} catch(e) {}" href="http://2.bp.blogspot.com/_QPqSBhDkf6k/SoQLQMg7H1I/AAAAAAAAAEg/2N_H6eCrR8U/s1600-h/IMG_5009.JPG"><img style="margin: 0pt 10px 10px 0pt; float: left; cursor: pointer; width: 247px; height: 165px;" src="http://2.bp.blogspot.com/_QPqSBhDkf6k/SoQLQMg7H1I/AAAAAAAAAEg/2N_H6eCrR8U/s320/IMG_5009.JPG" alt="" id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5369429028597604178" border="0" /></a><span class="blsp-spelling-corrected" id="SPELLING_ERROR_8">Perhaps</span> the hitch-hikers should gather at the monuments and waste their time at least looking at something. However, these older babushkas and <span class="blsp-spelling-error" id="SPELLING_ERROR_9">dedushkas</span>, who were the hitch hikers, got around pretty rapidly as I started to <span class="blsp-spelling-error" id="SPELLING_ERROR_10">notic</span>e.<a onblur="try {parent.deselectBloggerImageGracefully();} catch(e) {}" href="http://1.bp.blogspot.com/_QPqSBhDkf6k/SoRGuHi6b3I/AAAAAAAAAHw/nJUxH8esLjg/s1600-h/IMG_4974.JPG"><img style="margin: 0pt 0pt 10px 10px; float: right; cursor: pointer; width: 320px; height: 214px;" src="http://1.bp.blogspot.com/_QPqSBhDkf6k/SoRGuHi6b3I/AAAAAAAAAHw/nJUxH8esLjg/s320/IMG_4974.JPG" alt="" id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5369494413845884786" border="0" /></a></div><br /><---------><br />Random<br />monuments<br /><br /><br /><a onblur="try {parent.deselectBloggerImageGracefully();} catch(e) {}" href="http://3.bp.blogspot.com/_QPqSBhDkf6k/SoQQfK1M_oI/AAAAAAAAAE4/_ph_Xe702Jo/s1600-h/IMG_5029.JPG"><img style="margin: 0pt 10px 10px 0pt; float: left; cursor: pointer; width: 320px; height: 214px;" src="http://3.bp.blogspot.com/_QPqSBhDkf6k/SoQQfK1M_oI/AAAAAAAAAE4/_ph_Xe702Jo/s320/IMG_5029.JPG" alt="" id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5369434783401967234" border="0" /></a><br /><br /><br /><br /><br /><br /><br />(below) Hitch-hikers... gypsies in this<br />case they are gypsies<br /><a onblur="try {parent.deselectBloggerImageGracefully();} catch(e) {}" href="http://3.bp.blogspot.com/_QPqSBhDkf6k/SoQM4OSA4KI/AAAAAAAAAEw/POsxbp0Zp1c/s1600-h/IMG_5051.JPG"><img style="margin: 0pt 0pt 10px 10px; float: right; cursor: pointer; width: 320px; height: 214px;" src="http://3.bp.blogspot.com/_QPqSBhDkf6k/SoQM4OSA4KI/AAAAAAAAAEw/POsxbp0Zp1c/s320/IMG_5051.JPG" alt="" id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5369430815778332834" border="0" /></a><br /><br /><br /><br /><div style="text-align: left;"><div style="text-align: left;"><br /><a onblur="try {parent.deselectBloggerImageGracefully();} catch(e) {}" href="http://4.bp.blogspot.com/_QPqSBhDkf6k/SoREnNU1-0I/AAAAAAAAAHI/rm6KpswisNQ/s1600-h/IMG_5050.JPG"><img style="margin: 0pt 10px 10px 0pt; float: left; cursor: pointer; width: 287px; height: 192px;" src="http://4.bp.blogspot.com/_QPqSBhDkf6k/SoREnNU1-0I/AAAAAAAAAHI/rm6KpswisNQ/s320/IMG_5050.JPG" alt="" id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5369492096115145538" border="0" /></a><a onblur="try {parent.deselectBloggerImageGracefully();} catch(e) {}" href="http://4.bp.blogspot.com/_QPqSBhDkf6k/SoREnlUjhxI/AAAAAAAAAHQ/Q1YwFEjAuEk/s1600-h/IMG_5053.JPG"><img style="margin: 0pt 10px 10px 0pt; float: left; cursor: pointer; width: 320px; height: 214px;" src="http://4.bp.blogspot.com/_QPqSBhDkf6k/SoREnlUjhxI/AAAAAAAAAHQ/Q1YwFEjAuEk/s320/IMG_5053.JPG" alt="" id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5369492102556387090" border="0" /> </a><br /><br /><br /><br /><br /><br /><br /><br /><br />exciting stroll and dinner in <span class="blsp-spelling-error" id="SPELLING_ERROR_11">Brasov</span>, a beautiful city, we finally crossed all of Romania to take one last rest before entering Moldova: <span class="blsp-spelling-error" id="SPELLING_ERROR_12">Galati</span> (pronounced <span class="blsp-spelling-error" id="SPELLING_ERROR_13">Galtz</span>). The city where I THOUGHT my grandfather was born, was not only a destination for touristic reasons but a place I thought I might find some birth records. We stayed the night, and wasted a whole day in search of papers that never existed. My grandfather, as it turns out, only lived there for a few years, but had NOT been born there. Although it was a technical waste, I did get to visit the <span class="blsp-spelling-corrected" id="SPELLING_ERROR_14">synagogue</span> where my <span class="blsp-spelling-error" id="SPELLING_ERROR_15">gramps</span> used to work and spoke with the friendly remains of a Jewish community. When I asked the man attending to the place "How is the Jewish community here?" he answered "We have one Jewish <span class="blsp-spelling-corrected" id="SPELLING_ERROR_16">cemetery</span> not too far from here, a bit run down, <span class="blsp-spelling-error" id="SPELLING_ERROR_17">THATS</span> where the Jewish community is, they're all in the graves!". Although a bit explicit, I can understand his frustration and vulgarity. Not nice to be chased out of your own city.<br />And we did manage to have one adventure as we were told upon leaving that there is a parking controller standing on the street where we parked. "Yea but you told us that we are allowed to park here...".... " No mam, we said you could park there, but its not actually legal. If she catches you getting into your car, she will charge you 6 Lei" .."SIX LEI?!?!"... "Yes mam, that comes out to 1 Euro". Well one euro or not, the battle has begun, and the hunting instincts kicked. Crouching under windows to peek at her location, me and Emir devised a plan of action. As I distract her with my luggage and Pooh bear, Emir <span class="blsp-spelling-corrected" id="SPELLING_ERROR_18">covertly</span> runs with all his strength to the vehicle, with just enough time to jump in and lean the seat back before she shoots a cautious eye his way. With her attention diverted once again, he starts the engine, hits the gas peddle, jumps out into heavy traffic turning his wheel like his life depended on it, turns the corner out of sight, where he picks up his scam ladies, and within seconds,2 suitcases, 3 bags, a dog and the <span class="blsp-spelling-corrected" id="SPELLING_ERROR_19">accomplice</span> are all packed and underway. <span class="blsp-spelling-error" id="SPELLING_ERROR_20">Whewwww</span> what an event. As we laugh, filling the car with giggles of energy, we realise this was so much more eventful than paying the damn euro!<br /><br />As it goes, with it being VERY late, we <span class="blsp-spelling-corrected" id="SPELLING_ERROR_21">proceeded</span> onwards to Moldova.<a onblur="try {parent.deselectBloggerImageGracefully();} catch(e) {}" href="http://3.bp.blogspot.com/_QPqSBhDkf6k/SoQSSf3PMSI/AAAAAAAAAFA/-vgDNCIdK00/s1600-h/IMG_5069.JPG"><img style="margin: 0px auto 10px; display: block; text-align: center; cursor: pointer; width: 320px; height: 214px;" src="http://3.bp.blogspot.com/_QPqSBhDkf6k/SoQSSf3PMSI/AAAAAAAAAFA/-vgDNCIdK00/s320/IMG_5069.JPG" alt="" id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5369436764732600610" border="0" /></a> <span class="blsp-spelling-error" id="SPELLING_ERROR_22">Brasov</span><br /></div><br /><a onblur="try {parent.deselectBloggerImageGracefully();} catch(e) {}" href="http://1.bp.blogspot.com/_QPqSBhDkf6k/SoQS2X6xx3I/AAAAAAAAAFI/DBGMy5Kp528/s1600-h/IMG_5073.JPG"><img style="margin: 0px auto 10px; display: block; text-align: center; cursor: pointer; width: 320px; height: 214px;" src="http://1.bp.blogspot.com/_QPqSBhDkf6k/SoQS2X6xx3I/AAAAAAAAAFI/DBGMy5Kp528/s320/IMG_5073.JPG" alt="" id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5369437381075257202" border="0" /></a> The <span class="blsp-spelling-corrected" id="SPELLING_ERROR_23">synagogue</span> where my grandfather used to work-<br />although empty and currently serving no purpose, its pretty <span class="blsp-spelling-corrected" id="SPELLING_ERROR_24">majestic</span> in its simplicity and its presence in such a small city.<br /><br /><br /></div>All those things aside, the drive was actually quiet beautiful, and the view was breathtaking. Green lush <span class="blsp-spelling-error" id="SPELLING_ERROR_25">vallies</span> and hills lined with sunflower seas. Literally, it was sees of sunflowers. We were lucky enough to have crossed the border into Moldova and be well on our way inside it during dusk and right before the sunset. We decided to make the most of it, and stop wishing we were running through the fields, and actually do it! It is one of my most favorite memories from the whole trip.. I hope you can tell through the pictures....<br /><br /><br /><a onblur="try {parent.deselectBloggerImageGracefully();} catch(e) {}" href="http://1.bp.blogspot.com/_QPqSBhDkf6k/SoQXtlR4-wI/AAAAAAAAAFY/dQZUdJdvp2Y/s1600-h/IMG_5123.JPG"><img style="margin: 0px auto 10px; display: block; text-align: center; cursor: pointer; width: 320px; height: 214px;" src="http://1.bp.blogspot.com/_QPqSBhDkf6k/SoQXtlR4-wI/AAAAAAAAAFY/dQZUdJdvp2Y/s320/IMG_5123.JPG" alt="" id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5369442727601175298" border="0" /></a><a onblur="try {parent.deselectBloggerImageGracefully();} catch(e) {}" href="http://1.bp.blogspot.com/_QPqSBhDkf6k/SoQiXCGKagI/AAAAAAAAAHA/I5uI19dJvX8/s1600-h/IMG_5101.JPG"><img style="margin: 0px auto 10px; display: block; text-align: center; cursor: pointer; width: 320px; height: 214px;" src="http://1.bp.blogspot.com/_QPqSBhDkf6k/SoQiXCGKagI/AAAAAAAAAHA/I5uI19dJvX8/s320/IMG_5101.JPG" alt="" id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5369454434827528706" border="0" /></a><br /><a onblur="try {parent.deselectBloggerImageGracefully();} catch(e) {}" href="http://3.bp.blogspot.com/_QPqSBhDkf6k/SoQVBI9Q70I/AAAAAAAAAFQ/Ze5G1kXJVKw/s1600-h/IMG_5091.JPG"><img style="margin: 0px auto 10px; display: block; text-align: center; cursor: pointer; width: 320px; height: 214px;" src="http://3.bp.blogspot.com/_QPqSBhDkf6k/SoQVBI9Q70I/AAAAAAAAAFQ/Ze5G1kXJVKw/s320/IMG_5091.JPG" alt="" id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5369439765060972354" border="0" /></a><br /><a onblur="try {parent.deselectBloggerImageGracefully();} catch(e) {}" href="http://2.bp.blogspot.com/_QPqSBhDkf6k/SoQXutBBHlI/AAAAAAAAAFo/67XMTEvLo8o/s1600-h/IMG_5119.JPG"><img style="margin: 0px auto 10px; display: block; text-align: center; cursor: pointer; width: 320px; height: 214px;" src="http://2.bp.blogspot.com/_QPqSBhDkf6k/SoQXutBBHlI/AAAAAAAAAFo/67XMTEvLo8o/s320/IMG_5119.JPG" alt="" id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5369442746857758290" border="0" /></a><br /><a onblur="try {parent.deselectBloggerImageGracefully();} catch(e) {}" href="http://1.bp.blogspot.com/_QPqSBhDkf6k/SoQXuD1OSwI/AAAAAAAAAFg/yTCMWR7EBos/s1600-h/IMG_5118.JPG"><img style="margin: 0px auto 10px; display: block; text-align: center; cursor: pointer; width: 320px; height: 214px;" src="http://1.bp.blogspot.com/_QPqSBhDkf6k/SoQXuD1OSwI/AAAAAAAAAFg/yTCMWR7EBos/s320/IMG_5118.JPG" alt="" id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5369442735802436354" border="0" /></a><br /><a onblur="try {parent.deselectBloggerImageGracefully();} catch(e) {}" href="http://3.bp.blogspot.com/_QPqSBhDkf6k/SoQXvHAEI4I/AAAAAAAAAFw/YJ-7OwcOhTM/s1600-h/IMG_5137.JPG"><img style="margin: 0px auto 10px; display: block; text-align: center; cursor: pointer; width: 320px; height: 214px;" src="http://3.bp.blogspot.com/_QPqSBhDkf6k/SoQXvHAEI4I/AAAAAAAAAFw/YJ-7OwcOhTM/s320/IMG_5137.JPG" alt="" id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5369442753833083778" border="0" /></a><br /><a onblur="try {parent.deselectBloggerImageGracefully();} catch(e) {}" href="http://1.bp.blogspot.com/_QPqSBhDkf6k/SoQbLk5UqkI/AAAAAAAAAGI/p_FkS5IaGuA/s1600-h/IMG_5162.JPG"><img style="margin: 0px auto 10px; display: block; text-align: center; cursor: pointer; width: 320px; height: 214px;" src="http://1.bp.blogspot.com/_QPqSBhDkf6k/SoQbLk5UqkI/AAAAAAAAAGI/p_FkS5IaGuA/s320/IMG_5162.JPG" alt="" id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5369446541429090882" border="0" /></a><br /><a onblur="try {parent.deselectBloggerImageGracefully();} catch(e) {}" href="http://2.bp.blogspot.com/_QPqSBhDkf6k/SoQXvvDRqsI/AAAAAAAAAF4/SHD6jgj0tGU/s1600-h/IMG_5158.JPG"><img style="margin: 0px auto 10px; display: block; text-align: center; cursor: pointer; width: 320px; height: 214px;" src="http://2.bp.blogspot.com/_QPqSBhDkf6k/SoQXvvDRqsI/AAAAAAAAAF4/SHD6jgj0tGU/s320/IMG_5158.JPG" alt="" id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5369442764583971522" border="0" /></a><br /><a onblur="try {parent.deselectBloggerImageGracefully();} catch(e) {}" href="http://1.bp.blogspot.com/_QPqSBhDkf6k/SoQbLHqm6XI/AAAAAAAAAGA/j03iDLoPv6A/s1600-h/IMG_5156.JPG"><img style="margin: 0px auto 10px; display: block; text-align: center; cursor: pointer; width: 320px; height: 214px;" src="http://1.bp.blogspot.com/_QPqSBhDkf6k/SoQbLHqm6XI/AAAAAAAAAGA/j03iDLoPv6A/s320/IMG_5156.JPG" alt="" id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5369446533582743922" border="0" /></a><a onblur="try {parent.deselectBloggerImageGracefully();} catch(e) {}" href="http://1.bp.blogspot.com/_QPqSBhDkf6k/SoQbNK4C5SI/AAAAAAAAAGg/VDm1TRjWroU/s1600-h/IMG_5177.JPG"><img style="margin: 0px auto 10px; display: block; text-align: center; cursor: pointer; width: 320px; height: 214px;" src="http://1.bp.blogspot.com/_QPqSBhDkf6k/SoQbNK4C5SI/AAAAAAAAAGg/VDm1TRjWroU/s320/IMG_5177.JPG" alt="" id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5369446568804148514" border="0" /></a><br /><a onblur="try {parent.deselectBloggerImageGracefully();} catch(e) {}" href="http://3.bp.blogspot.com/_QPqSBhDkf6k/SoQbMtXiu0I/AAAAAAAAAGY/nr4f7cd02rA/s1600-h/IMG_5175.JPG"><img style="margin: 0px auto 10px; display: block; text-align: center; cursor: pointer; width: 320px; height: 214px;" src="http://3.bp.blogspot.com/_QPqSBhDkf6k/SoQbMtXiu0I/AAAAAAAAAGY/nr4f7cd02rA/s320/IMG_5175.JPG" alt="" id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5369446560883194690" border="0" /></a><br /><a onblur="try {parent.deselectBloggerImageGracefully();} catch(e) {}" href="http://2.bp.blogspot.com/_QPqSBhDkf6k/SoQbMAF_2NI/AAAAAAAAAGQ/q410eVz4yak/s1600-h/IMG_5169.JPG"><img style="margin: 0px auto 10px; display: block; text-align: center; cursor: pointer; width: 320px; height: 214px;" src="http://2.bp.blogspot.com/_QPqSBhDkf6k/SoQbMAF_2NI/AAAAAAAAAGQ/q410eVz4yak/s320/IMG_5169.JPG" alt="" id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5369446548730009810" border="0" /></a><br /><br /><br /><br /><div style="text-align: center;"><span style="font-weight: bold; color: rgb(0, 0, 153);font-size:180%;" ><span style="font-family:lucida grande;">MOLDOVA</span></span><br /><br /><br /><a onblur="try {parent.deselectBloggerImageGracefully();} catch(e) {}" href="http://3.bp.blogspot.com/_QPqSBhDkf6k/SoP9aSrA2uI/AAAAAAAAAEI/cmZz_tNuL2k/s1600-h/IMG_5166.JPG"><img style="margin: 0px auto 10px; display: block; text-align: center; cursor: pointer; width: 320px; height: 214px;" src="http://3.bp.blogspot.com/_QPqSBhDkf6k/SoP9aSrA2uI/AAAAAAAAAEI/cmZz_tNuL2k/s320/IMG_5166.JPG" alt="" id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5369413808886438626" border="0" /></a><br /></div><br /><br />So this is where it begins. First, I must tell when that moment came which I have been waiting for since that fateful day as I entered the car and slammed the door. It was of course at the border between Romania and Moldova, our first border. Without even expecting it, as our car <span class="blsp-spelling-corrected" id="SPELLING_ERROR_26">received</span> the OK to <span class="blsp-spelling-corrected" id="SPELLING_ERROR_27">proceed</span> to the officer, we opened the window and handed in our pass<a onblur="try {parent.deselectBloggerImageGracefully();} catch(e) {}" href="http://3.bp.blogspot.com/_QPqSBhDkf6k/SoQhMqou6DI/AAAAAAAAAGw/st7rWefWC3E/s1600-h/IMG_5102.JPG"><img style="margin: 0pt 0pt 10px 10px; float: right; cursor: pointer; width: 320px; height: 214px;" src="http://3.bp.blogspot.com/_QPqSBhDkf6k/SoQhMqou6DI/AAAAAAAAAGw/st7rWefWC3E/s320/IMG_5102.JPG" alt="" id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5369453157219756082" border="0" /></a>ports.<br />"Where are you from?" .... " <span class="blsp-spelling-error" id="SPELLING_ERROR_28">Im</span> from <span class="blsp-spelling-error" id="SPELLING_ERROR_29">Bendery</span>"... without even realising my moment has come I answered nonchalantly... "<span class="blsp-spelling-error" id="SPELLING_ERROR_30">Ahh</span>... <span class="blsp-spelling-error" id="SPELLING_ERROR_31">nasha</span>... nu <span class="blsp-spelling-error" id="SPELLING_ERROR_32">prayeshai</span>" (<span class="blsp-spelling-error" id="SPELLING_ERROR_33">ahh</span>, <span class="blsp-spelling-error" id="SPELLING_ERROR_34">youre</span> one of us, go ahead)... just then it hit me, and yes, the moment was, proven by my tear filled eyes, very fulfilling. I have no idea why I got emotional. But it shows it was something I have been missing. And that was my <span class="blsp-spelling-corrected" id="SPELLING_ERROR_35">introduction</span> to Moldova.<br />(of course I wont go into how we waited an hour in 100 degree weather, with no air conditioning, in our car for the border gate keeper to decide to let a line of 10 cars through).<br /><br /><a onblur="try {parent.deselectBloggerImageGracefully();} catch(e) {}" href="http://2.bp.blogspot.com/_QPqSBhDkf6k/SoQgpR2G46I/AAAAAAAAAGo/Tokm7cNaEXc/s1600-h/IMG_5201.JPG"><img style="margin: 0pt 10px 10px 0pt; float: left; cursor: pointer; width: 320px; height: 214px;" src="http://2.bp.blogspot.com/_QPqSBhDkf6k/SoQgpR2G46I/AAAAAAAAAGo/Tokm7cNaEXc/s320/IMG_5201.JPG" alt="" id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5369452549269545890" border="0" /></a><br /><br />All of a sudden, the radio was not in German, nor Hungarian, nor Romanian. It was in Russian and playing familiar songs that I have only come across in Russian restaurants. As we pulled to to pedestrains to ask for directions, they too were speaking Russian, and to my growing enthusiasm every damn last one of them asked me where I was from. HA! Im from Bendery niggaaaa!! WHATCHYA GOT NOW?! hahah... they were all happy to help me and all curious as to where I was coming from or going and how the hell I ended up 20 minutes in the wrong direction hahah. Maybe its because Moldova is a land with NO FREAKING ROAD SIGNS. But who needs road signs? doesnt everyone know where these roads lead? No worries, stopping in these dirt roaded, goat chasing, heavy drinking villiages was all the more fun when youre lost. Its actually very surreal, because not only do they look exactly like my grandmas and grandpas they seem to think that we are related in some way... I mean we both know Russian...<br />"Izvenaus, mi nemnoshka zabludilis, mi ishim darogu v Bendri...<span style="font-size:78%;">(Excuse me, we're a bit lost, we are looking for the way to Bender)</span><br />And in reply<br />"Ah nu vernis nazat tuda tam gde, nu ti znayesh, vasa tamgde shivjot, e paverni na prava v storanu parehmaterskayu...." <span style="font-size:78%;">(Oh, well go back to where, you know, adam lives and turn right towards the hair salon...)</span><br />It was great to already have so many people to rely on.<br /><br />Its a good thing the road through Moldova was so pleasant, because I was going to need ALL that good feeling to help me get through the "border" to Banana Rpublic. Thats what me and Emir cleverishly dibbed Transdniestria. As it turns out, Bendery is behind the so called border of this self proclaimed country which no one else in the world recognizes to be one. In their own words, they have been wrongly treated by the Moldavians and want nothing more to do with them or their new adaptation of the old traditions (Romanian traditions that is, since Moldova never existed as its own country but was just a part of Romania). So they have put up some sort of self made border with self made officers given orders be some sort of self made government (oh wearing self made uniforms!). Of course we suspect the "self" in self made is actualls "Russia" since nothing would be possible without a financial backing. So this is how you get into Banana Republic a.k.a Transdniestria: You come to a random stop sign barely visable. When nothing happens, naturally you procede, when all of a sudden a man jumps our from some sort of booth which looks like a port-a-potty. He asks you for your documents, and after registering you, he tells you that you have broken a law. You have failed to stop at the clearly marked stop sign. Naturally, you would like to defend yourself and you explain to the officer that in fact you did stop for several moments but saw no one or no thing so there was only one thing to do, which was to procede slowly. No, you did not stop, and therefore you disrespected me. Follow me to the toilet.. I mean.. my office where you will pay the bank. As you enter this "office slash bathroom", you notice a whore lying in bed, and to your surprise she gracefully dresses and walks off into the darkness. The man requests a 30 euro payment. I suppose the story here ends for most with them paying the damn 30 euro or whatever the sum he just concucted is. But I am not only broke, proud, sneaky, and Jewish (joke), but I am also a fan of a challenge. So After shmoozing for a few seconds about how this is where I am from and this is my "rodina" (mother country), he begins to have some "sovist" (I dunno how to translate this.. reasonability, sense?!?) he desides to ask us to give him whatever we can afford for it to be fair since he makes only 10 dollars a week. So we give him 5 and call it a day.<br />WAIT WAIT... thats just border number one! theres more<br /><br />Border number two was easy but VERY intimidating. It consists of Russian "Peace Keeping troops" Who have the biggest or longest army riffles pointing at you as they ask if you have any questions. No? you can proceded. Who the hell can think of a question when a big angry Russian commi soldier is pointing a riffle at you in the middle of the night, surrounded my bushes big enough to cover all three of us in the car. We proceded.. thinking its over... oh boy!<br /><br />So border control number three was a bit more comical (well looking back... as it was happening I didnt know what to expect. With all the stories I heard I was almost ready to disappear from this earth).<br />Pulling up we came across men.. well boys... we were asked once again for our business here, how long we plan to stay and so on, we then had to "register" our vehicle, because as they explained, we might sell it illegally here in Bendery. I wanted to argue my point of having a dog and about 3 tons of luggage, and besides how the hell were we supposed to leave without a car anyways?!? There are no trains running to Transdniestria since Moldova cut it off. But never-the-less, you don't try to marry logic and communism together, so we proceded.<br />"Ok, we need photo copies of your license, registration, car insurance, and passport"<br />"we don't have copies but you can gladly take a look on these, or make copies"<br />"We don't have a copy machine, but it is required for your entry"<br /><br />Hmmm... this became a perdicament. Here we are, 11 PM in the middle of nowhere on some crazy loony bin border, about 5 hours away from a hotel (none in Bendery) with no where to go.. oh and after 12 hours of driving. It turns out that I cant call into Transdniestria from Moldova, and my uncle cant call me from TN (lets make it short) to Moldova because of the conflict. So Im forced to call my mom to call my uncle who then calls her who then calls me. WOW. You think YOU'RE CONFUSED... add hunger, fear, ass stiffness, fatique, desperation, a barking dog, guns, Russian technical words that go on longer than the Nile river, and a lot of other emotions. To make it short, we paid them to leave the car there on the border so that we can enter for the night and stay at Petya's house and return in the morning with copies. Which is what happened. So 7 am sharp, we're up like true Peiyaneri to find a damn xerox machine store, to make it to the border by 9 before the shift change. Some more yelling occurred here, good thing it was directed at my "uncle" who dared to ask how long I am to wait by the door since no one else was in line. But more funny was the following: Registering the car, beside the copies, consisted of me writing a report of the car. They need a detailed essay about the size of the car, the dimensions of the engine, the engine number, the car weight, and I mean what the hell should they do with all this information?!?! Anyways, the last thing I needed to fill out was the liscence plate number and color of the car. The car is white. In Russian its Belij. Not so easy when you haven't used cirilic letter since you were 5. I gave it a try anyways and spelled out the following: <a href="http://en.wikipedia.org/wiki/%D0%A6" title="Ц" class="mw-redirect">Ц</a><a href="http://en.wikipedia.org/wiki/%D0%92" title="В" class="mw-redirect">В</a><a href="http://en.wikipedia.org/wiki/%D0%84" title="Є" class="mw-redirect">Є</a><a href="http://en.wikipedia.org/wiki/%D0%A2" title="Т" class="mw-redirect">Т</a>:<a href="http://en.wikipedia.org/wiki/%D0%91" title="Б" class="mw-redirect">Б</a><a href="http://en.wikipedia.org/wiki/%D0%9B" title="Л" class="mw-redirect">Л</a><a href="http://en.wikipedia.org/wiki/%D0%AF" title="Я" class="mw-redirect">Я</a><br />I expect those who can read Russian to laugh just about as loud as those burly scary soldier men did. In fact even the general was called over to take a look. Instead of "White" I wrote most of the word "Fuck". Yes. As they laughed heartily at my scribble, I didn't know how they would punish me. Would it be a stick to the head, or maybe a trip to Siberia. <a onblur="try {parent.deselectBloggerImageGracefully();} catch(e) {}" href="http://4.bp.blogspot.com/_QPqSBhDkf6k/SoROVkNXAtI/AAAAAAAAAH4/1ICMaLS1DBc/s1600-h/DSC00148.JPG"><img style="margin: 0pt 0pt 10px 10px; float: right; cursor: pointer; width: 215px; height: 161px;" src="http://4.bp.blogspot.com/_QPqSBhDkf6k/SoROVkNXAtI/AAAAAAAAAH4/1ICMaLS1DBc/s320/DSC00148.JPG" alt="" id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5369502788136403666" border="0" /></a>But no. They crossed over the mistake, rewrote it and as it happened the laugh I had bestowed on them warmed their little hearts, I was set free, and the world was good again. I know its crossed over, and then I tried to change the last letter to an A but still.. you can make it out if you try, for those who dont believe. Of course I have no pictures of the border as it is strictly forbidden, and I think I've had enough adventure for one day.<br /><br />My first impression of Bendery is that its much larger than I imagined, and despite earlier belief the streets are wide, and there is not many stores of eateries or anything in general. However there were many trees and flowers, and a few squares. As the day progressed I saw more and more people on the streets and that made me happy. I had a few conversations with random women at the registration house (YES, more paperwork) who were quiet unhappy with the situtaion and hated how they were being treated. I dont blaim them, when we asked a secretary what the procedures are she finally answered after completely ignoring our first two attempts, by saying "You've got eyes, read the damn sign on the door and come back when your mind is in order". Ouch. I have a video of this cow... I think its funny. She also kicked my uncle out of the room after he made a joke. I asked him who the statue was of that was somewhere behind the desk. He said Visotskij (who was an old Russian singer and of course NOT the man whom the statue was meant to honor). Lacking her humor bone, the cow kicked him out of the room. HAHAHAHAH oh man! You have to laugh to keep from shitting in your pants! Well the video isnt so great, but hey, why not.<br /><br /><iframe allowfullscreen='allowfullscreen' webkitallowfullscreen='webkitallowfullscreen' mozallowfullscreen='mozallowfullscreen' width='320' height='266' src='https://www.blogger.com/video.g?token=AD6v5dx89TVc3Suy7EHVmXvXEMktF53T1NDTPu9NcdB59gGlNclEg7mFmVgBiocgDvYM04QaaageV7Ei50HeBvJTBw' class='b-hbp-video b-uploaded' frameborder='0'></iframe><br /><br />Here are some pictures of the town. For some, nostalgic, for others, boring :D<br /><br /><br /><a onblur="try {parent.deselectBloggerImageGracefully();} catch(e) {}" href="http://4.bp.blogspot.com/_QPqSBhDkf6k/SoRTaVd0MRI/AAAAAAAAAIA/tn_jptmRPNw/s1600-h/IMG_5261.JPG"><img style="margin: 0px auto 10px; display: block; text-align: center; cursor: pointer; width: 320px; height: 214px;" src="http://4.bp.blogspot.com/_QPqSBhDkf6k/SoRTaVd0MRI/AAAAAAAAAIA/tn_jptmRPNw/s320/IMG_5261.JPG" alt="" id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5369508367636377874" border="0" /></a><a onblur="try {parent.deselectBloggerImageGracefully();} catch(e) {}" href="http://3.bp.blogspot.com/_QPqSBhDkf6k/SoRTbI_QqlI/AAAAAAAAAII/IshyumwVOBE/s1600-h/IMG_5278.JPG"><img style="margin: 0px auto 10px; display: block; text-align: center; cursor: pointer; width: 320px; height: 214px;" src="http://3.bp.blogspot.com/_QPqSBhDkf6k/SoRTbI_QqlI/AAAAAAAAAII/IshyumwVOBE/s320/IMG_5278.JPG" alt="" id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5369508381466864210" border="0" /></a><a onblur="try {parent.deselectBloggerImageGracefully();} catch(e) {}" href="http://4.bp.blogspot.com/_QPqSBhDkf6k/SoRTchF_MOI/AAAAAAAAAIg/9L-ssyCeT80/s1600-h/IMG_5334.JPG"><img style="margin: 0px auto 10px; display: block; text-align: center; cursor: pointer; width: 320px; height: 214px;" src="http://4.bp.blogspot.com/_QPqSBhDkf6k/SoRTchF_MOI/AAAAAAAAAIg/9L-ssyCeT80/s320/IMG_5334.JPG" alt="" id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5369508405117399266" border="0" /></a><br /><a onblur="try {parent.deselectBloggerImageGracefully();} catch(e) {}" href="http://1.bp.blogspot.com/_QPqSBhDkf6k/SoRTcIK6LzI/AAAAAAAAAIY/5RULiTA2cPM/s1600-h/IMG_5294.JPG"><img style="margin: 0px auto 10px; display: block; text-align: center; cursor: pointer; width: 320px; height: 214px;" src="http://1.bp.blogspot.com/_QPqSBhDkf6k/SoRTcIK6LzI/AAAAAAAAAIY/5RULiTA2cPM/s320/IMG_5294.JPG" alt="" id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5369508398427156274" border="0" /></a><br /><a onblur="try {parent.deselectBloggerImageGracefully();} catch(e) {}" href="http://3.bp.blogspot.com/_QPqSBhDkf6k/SoRTbqV2JpI/AAAAAAAAAIQ/SuOLDRqDkqA/s1600-h/IMG_5281.JPG"><img style="margin: 0px auto 10px; display: block; text-align: center; cursor: pointer; width: 320px; height: 214px;" src="http://3.bp.blogspot.com/_QPqSBhDkf6k/SoRTbqV2JpI/AAAAAAAAAIQ/SuOLDRqDkqA/s320/IMG_5281.JPG" alt="" id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5369508390419965586" border="0" /></a><a onblur="try {parent.deselectBloggerImageGracefully();} catch(e) {}" href="http://2.bp.blogspot.com/_QPqSBhDkf6k/SoRYAaQC9cI/AAAAAAAAAJI/XG-t1nt9iog/s1600-h/IMG_5364.JPG"><img style="margin: 0px auto 10px; display: block; text-align: center; cursor: pointer; width: 320px; height: 214px;" src="http://2.bp.blogspot.com/_QPqSBhDkf6k/SoRYAaQC9cI/AAAAAAAAAJI/XG-t1nt9iog/s320/IMG_5364.JPG" alt="" id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5369513419802342850" border="0" /></a><br /><a onblur="try {parent.deselectBloggerImageGracefully();} catch(e) {}" href="http://1.bp.blogspot.com/_QPqSBhDkf6k/SoRX_113ApI/AAAAAAAAAJA/2lBf6gB0vOQ/s1600-h/IMG_5344.JPG"><img style="margin: 0px auto 10px; display: block; text-align: center; cursor: pointer; width: 320px; height: 214px;" src="http://1.bp.blogspot.com/_QPqSBhDkf6k/SoRX_113ApI/AAAAAAAAAJA/2lBf6gB0vOQ/s320/IMG_5344.JPG" alt="" id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5369513410028831378" border="0" /></a><br /><a onblur="try {parent.deselectBloggerImageGracefully();} catch(e) {}" href="http://3.bp.blogspot.com/_QPqSBhDkf6k/SoRX_Sj72VI/AAAAAAAAAI4/HwG9AiTE78k/s1600-h/IMG_0816.JPG"><img style="margin: 0px auto 10px; display: block; text-align: center; cursor: pointer; width: 320px; height: 240px;" src="http://3.bp.blogspot.com/_QPqSBhDkf6k/SoRX_Sj72VI/AAAAAAAAAI4/HwG9AiTE78k/s320/IMG_0816.JPG" alt="" id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5369513400558410066" border="0" /></a><br /><a onblur="try {parent.deselectBloggerImageGracefully();} catch(e) {}" href="http://2.bp.blogspot.com/_QPqSBhDkf6k/SoRX-9GYxZI/AAAAAAAAAIw/Nce-6CtrlDo/s1600-h/IMG_0809.JPG"><img style="margin: 0px auto 10px; display: block; text-align: center; cursor: pointer; width: 320px; height: 240px;" src="http://2.bp.blogspot.com/_QPqSBhDkf6k/SoRX-9GYxZI/AAAAAAAAAIw/Nce-6CtrlDo/s320/IMG_0809.JPG" alt="" id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5369513394797331858" border="0" /></a><br /><a onblur="try {parent.deselectBloggerImageGracefully();} catch(e) {}" href="http://2.bp.blogspot.com/_QPqSBhDkf6k/SoRX-M0jEUI/AAAAAAAAAIo/RjN02puvxfs/s1600-h/IMG_5282.JPG"><img style="margin: 0px auto 10px; display: block; text-align: center; cursor: pointer; width: 320px; height: 214px;" src="http://2.bp.blogspot.com/_QPqSBhDkf6k/SoRX-M0jEUI/AAAAAAAAAIo/RjN02puvxfs/s320/IMG_5282.JPG" alt="" id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5369513381837607234" border="0" /></a><br /> Next following several pics are Bekker/Milman Dvor<br /><a onblur="try {parent.deselectBloggerImageGracefully();} catch(e) {}" href="http://2.bp.blogspot.com/_QPqSBhDkf6k/SoRdax40eZI/AAAAAAAAAJQ/uo7kRbrdSI4/s1600-h/IMG_0775.JPG"><img style="margin: 0px auto 10px; display: block; text-align: center; cursor: pointer; width: 320px; height: 240px;" src="http://2.bp.blogspot.com/_QPqSBhDkf6k/SoRdax40eZI/AAAAAAAAAJQ/uo7kRbrdSI4/s320/IMG_0775.JPG" alt="" id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5369519370382113170" border="0" /></a><br /><a onblur="try {parent.deselectBloggerImageGracefully();} catch(e) {}" href="http://2.bp.blogspot.com/_QPqSBhDkf6k/SoRdbWFmzFI/AAAAAAAAAJY/jloTG42zODM/s1600-h/IMG_0776.JPG"><img style="margin: 0px auto 10px; display: block; text-align: center; cursor: pointer; width: 320px; height: 240px;" src="http://2.bp.blogspot.com/_QPqSBhDkf6k/SoRdbWFmzFI/AAAAAAAAAJY/jloTG42zODM/s320/IMG_0776.JPG" alt="" id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5369519380099419218" border="0" /></a><a onblur="try {parent.deselectBloggerImageGracefully();} catch(e) {}" href="http://2.bp.blogspot.com/_QPqSBhDkf6k/SoRddcxOKiI/AAAAAAAAAJw/3nXmEQ4fPf4/s1600-h/IMG_0790.JPG"><img style="margin: 0px auto 10px; display: block; text-align: center; cursor: pointer; width: 240px; height: 320px;" src="http://2.bp.blogspot.com/_QPqSBhDkf6k/SoRddcxOKiI/AAAAAAAAAJw/3nXmEQ4fPf4/s320/IMG_0790.JPG" alt="" id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5369519416252705314" border="0" /></a><br /><a onblur="try {parent.deselectBloggerImageGracefully();} catch(e) {}" href="http://2.bp.blogspot.com/_QPqSBhDkf6k/SoRdcmAB2vI/AAAAAAAAAJo/96icKMQ4yp8/s1600-h/IMG_0786.JPG"><img style="margin: 0px auto 10px; display: block; text-align: center; cursor: pointer; width: 240px; height: 320px;" src="http://2.bp.blogspot.com/_QPqSBhDkf6k/SoRdcmAB2vI/AAAAAAAAAJo/96icKMQ4yp8/s320/IMG_0786.JPG" alt="" id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5369519401550863090" border="0" /></a><br /><a onblur="try {parent.deselectBloggerImageGracefully();} catch(e) {}" href="http://2.bp.blogspot.com/_QPqSBhDkf6k/SoRdcK7fz-I/AAAAAAAAAJg/JP1lOd5T0Fc/s1600-h/IMG_0782.JPG"><img style="margin: 0px auto 10px; display: block; text-align: center; cursor: pointer; width: 320px; height: 240px;" src="http://2.bp.blogspot.com/_QPqSBhDkf6k/SoRdcK7fz-I/AAAAAAAAAJg/JP1lOd5T0Fc/s320/IMG_0782.JPG" alt="" id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5369519394284097506" border="0" /></a><br /> Dnester nabereshnaya<a onblur="try {parent.deselectBloggerImageGracefully();} catch(e) {}" href="http://3.bp.blogspot.com/_QPqSBhDkf6k/SoV1bb5qqdI/AAAAAAAAAKY/VmCUnQ2jjwM/s1600-h/IMG_0851.JPG"><img style="margin: 0px auto 10px; display: block; text-align: center; cursor: pointer; width: 320px; height: 240px;" src="http://3.bp.blogspot.com/_QPqSBhDkf6k/SoV1bb5qqdI/AAAAAAAAAKY/VmCUnQ2jjwM/s320/IMG_0851.JPG" alt="" id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5369827244915730898" border="0" /></a> Moms School<br /><a onblur="try {parent.deselectBloggerImageGracefully();} catch(e) {}" href="http://4.bp.blogspot.com/_QPqSBhDkf6k/SoV1bICAwlI/AAAAAAAAAKQ/uxBzX6b0Iy8/s1600-h/IMG_0840.JPG"><img style="margin: 0px auto 10px; display: block; text-align: center; cursor: pointer; width: 320px; height: 240px;" src="http://4.bp.blogspot.com/_QPqSBhDkf6k/SoV1bICAwlI/AAAAAAAAAKQ/uxBzX6b0Iy8/s320/IMG_0840.JPG" alt="" id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5369827239582024274" border="0" /></a><br /><a onblur="try {parent.deselectBloggerImageGracefully();} catch(e) {}" href="http://4.bp.blogspot.com/_QPqSBhDkf6k/SoV1aZ-_X4I/AAAAAAAAAKI/Zi1DaQ0K1t0/s1600-h/IMG_5331.JPG"><img style="margin: 0px auto 10px; display: block; text-align: center; cursor: pointer; width: 320px; height: 214px;" src="http://4.bp.blogspot.com/_QPqSBhDkf6k/SoV1aZ-_X4I/AAAAAAAAAKI/Zi1DaQ0K1t0/s320/IMG_5331.JPG" alt="" id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5369827227221319554" border="0" /></a> Babushka Eta's House<br /><br /><a onblur="try {parent.deselectBloggerImageGracefully();} catch(e) {}" href="http://4.bp.blogspot.com/_QPqSBhDkf6k/SoV1Z-8J31I/AAAAAAAAAKA/i5KGiMlbKmI/s1600-h/IMG_5311.JPG"><img style="margin: 0px auto 10px; display: block; text-align: center; cursor: pointer; width: 320px; height: 214px;" src="http://4.bp.blogspot.com/_QPqSBhDkf6k/SoV1Z-8J31I/AAAAAAAAAKA/i5KGiMlbKmI/s320/IMG_5311.JPG" alt="" id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5369827219961667410" border="0" /></a><a onblur="try {parent.deselectBloggerImageGracefully();} catch(e) {}" href="http://2.bp.blogspot.com/_QPqSBhDkf6k/SoV4XNbaYKI/AAAAAAAAAKo/bWP9CaQo5ck/s1600-h/IMG_5319.JPG"><img style="margin: 0px auto 10px; display: block; text-align: center; cursor: pointer; width: 320px; height: 214px;" src="http://2.bp.blogspot.com/_QPqSBhDkf6k/SoV4XNbaYKI/AAAAAAAAAKo/bWP9CaQo5ck/s320/IMG_5319.JPG" alt="" id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5369830470846144674" border="0" /></a><a onblur="try {parent.deselectBloggerImageGracefully();} catch(e) {}" href="http://3.bp.blogspot.com/_QPqSBhDkf6k/SoV4WlsNKOI/AAAAAAAAAKg/Le__elaiQ58/s1600-h/IMG_5323.JPG"><img style="margin: 0px auto 10px; display: block; text-align: center; cursor: pointer; width: 214px; height: 320px;" src="http://3.bp.blogspot.com/_QPqSBhDkf6k/SoV4WlsNKOI/AAAAAAAAAKg/Le__elaiQ58/s320/IMG_5323.JPG" alt="" id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5369830460179163362" border="0" /></a><br /><br />Zaks <span style="font-size:78%;">(... I dunno, wedding house)</span><br /><a onblur="try {parent.deselectBloggerImageGracefully();} catch(e) {}" href="http://1.bp.blogspot.com/_QPqSBhDkf6k/SoV1ZDxhvMI/AAAAAAAAAJ4/NEKtwLJ5hak/s1600-h/IMG_0845.JPG"><img style="margin: 0px auto 10px; display: block; text-align: center; cursor: pointer; width: 320px; height: 240px;" src="http://1.bp.blogspot.com/_QPqSBhDkf6k/SoV1ZDxhvMI/AAAAAAAAAJ4/NEKtwLJ5hak/s320/IMG_0845.JPG" alt="" id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5369827204079402178" border="0" /></a><a onblur="try {parent.deselectBloggerImageGracefully();} catch(e) {}" href="http://4.bp.blogspot.com/_QPqSBhDkf6k/SoV4YuLOtII/AAAAAAAAAK4/eUY3r09yalQ/s1600-h/IMG_5512.jpg"><img style="margin: 0px auto 10px; display: block; text-align: center; cursor: pointer; width: 320px; height: 214px;" src="http://4.bp.blogspot.com/_QPqSBhDkf6k/SoV4YuLOtII/AAAAAAAAAK4/eUY3r09yalQ/s320/IMG_5512.jpg" alt="" id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5369830496816510082" border="0" /></a>Moi Radom, the place I was born:<br /><a onblur="try {parent.deselectBloggerImageGracefully();} catch(e) {}" href="http://2.bp.blogspot.com/_QPqSBhDkf6k/SoV4XxqjumI/AAAAAAAAAKw/KvfR59Hkwno/s1600-h/IMG_5326.JPG"><img style="margin: 0px auto 10px; display: block; text-align: center; cursor: pointer; width: 320px; height: 214px;" src="http://2.bp.blogspot.com/_QPqSBhDkf6k/SoV4XxqjumI/AAAAAAAAAKw/KvfR59Hkwno/s320/IMG_5326.JPG" alt="" id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5369830480573348450" border="0" /></a><br /><br /><a onblur="try {parent.deselectBloggerImageGracefully();} catch(e) {}" href="http://3.bp.blogspot.com/_QPqSBhDkf6k/SoV4WlsNKOI/AAAAAAAAAKg/Le__elaiQ58/s1600-h/IMG_5323.JPG"></a><br />( STILL ADDING PICS AND VIDEOS)<br /><br /><br /><br /></div></for></div><iframe allowfullscreen='allowfullscreen' webkitallowfullscreen='webkitallowfullscreen' mozallowfullscreen='mozallowfullscreen' width='320' height='266' src='https://www.blogger.com/video.g?token=AD6v5dwLZY0MdluTEWvZnlHs1gJXNFAiKF09Jk_RKyJV86kP-AG-LCE-RjuRHV_4CX6fXz9kJvgRW5nvr1qj8YKusQ' class='b-hbp-video b-uploaded' frameborder='0'></iframe><iframe allowfullscreen='allowfullscreen' webkitallowfullscreen='webkitallowfullscreen' mozallowfullscreen='mozallowfullscreen' width='320' height='266' src='https://www.blogger.com/video.g?token=AD6v5dyIiVioIWee71eqNMyopnpNRykliMYtzg2vK49dyKNIynFF8NQP-hF2OnPgfbbdjXBm4kZeQjLKg8jKVIeakw' class='b-hbp-video b-uploaded' frameborder='0'></iframe><iframe allowfullscreen='allowfullscreen' webkitallowfullscreen='webkitallowfullscreen' mozallowfullscreen='mozallowfullscreen' width='320' height='266' src='https://www.blogger.com/video.g?token=AD6v5dxY0aZ0nKzngcXOh0taBrkxPuF8rSdWQnG7mT3FemzQTqghpsB-NuOgcWAoAx_eEawBJNNM-erxRo2OI8FVrA' class='b-hbp-video b-uploaded' frameborder='0'></iframe>Marinahttp://www.blogger.com/profile/17399854363474570192noreply@blogger.com1tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-1605402573814698535.post-21701642329467467142009-06-25T09:15:00.000-07:002009-06-25T10:37:53.531-07:00The Little Moldavian Girl Teaches the Turkish Consulate English<a onblur="try {parent.deselectBloggerImageGracefully();} catch(e) {}" href="http://1.bp.blogspot.com/_QPqSBhDkf6k/SkO14rLhU7I/AAAAAAAAAEA/ovU3HA33TRk/s1600-h/so_turkish_bath.jpg"><img style="margin: 0px auto 10px; display: block; text-align: center; cursor: pointer; width: 400px; height: 269px;" src="http://1.bp.blogspot.com/_QPqSBhDkf6k/SkO14rLhU7I/AAAAAAAAAEA/ovU3HA33TRk/s400/so_turkish_bath.jpg" alt="" id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5351320767514629042" border="0" /></a>Going upon the recommendation of a friend, I now have a possible student who is actually the Turkish Consulate. Sounds fancy, but more importantly sounds like money dropping into my empty piggy bank, and this particular investor must possess some heavy coins! Seems like a simple task, speak English. I think I can do that- in fact I do do that... A LOT.<br />Arriving at an unimpressive, immigrant-home-like "office" of the consular, I felt put at ease. Oriental rugs, Turkish coffee pots, tea kettles from the middle ages, lace curtains. Its like the Turkish grandparents home I've never had. Joining him by his 40 year old beat up desk, in front of some flags and posters or <span class="blsp-spelling-error" id="SPELLING_ERROR_0">mosks</span>, I introduce myself to <span class="blsp-spelling-error" id="SPELLING_ERROR_1">Tahsin</span>. As suspected, he was a Turk. Dark skin, dark hair, dark eyes, even a dark little mustache. His nervousness makes me feel pretty important, in my little button down shirt and slacks. So. We make a plan. We head off. Where do we go? He's Turkish.. we go for coffee that's where.<br />Walking along looking for a place, I still, for some reason, felt like a teacher. This was my student. A man in his late 50's, in a cheap suit, with a shitty office. I am his ticket to enlightenment. But once we were situated in a dark little corner of some busy Viennese coffee Cafe, I suddenly felt the weight of my task. As smoke filled our little corner, and after a little bit of a brooding silence, we began to talk. Politics. Oh boy. Should I play the Moldavian who sees the flaws of American society, or should I play the Moldavian who became the American who sees that everyone has flaws and <span class="blsp-spelling-error" id="SPELLING_ERROR_2">AmericaNS</span> are no different from any other people who are judges by their governments.<br />It actually didn't matter what I play. I am up against literally thousands of years of history of brooding men sitting in dim and foggy bath houses, smoke and steam mixing and clashing as much as the opinions of the men sitting among it. It was strange to feel the transformation. I felt quickly humbled, because his cheap suit and silly mustache was no indication of his mind. Some prejudice? Yes he had, some anger? That as well. But that aside (and I am quite satisfied in my ability to put him at ease), we had a great intellectual dual. Like two old fat men in white towels <span class="blsp-spelling-corrected" id="SPELLING_ERROR_3">wrapped</span> just beneath our sweaty bellies, whipping each other with branches, as we discussed our vision of the world. Slow and calculating, he is a master to my fast and easily rising blood pressure. And we sit, throwing around a dictionary here and there instead of whatever it is they threw around in the bathhouses- maybe women, but me, <span class="blsp-spelling-corrected" id="SPELLING_ERROR_4">I'm</span> the little <span class="blsp-spelling-corrected" id="SPELLING_ERROR_5">grasshopper</span>, with those little beanies, fetching more coffee as I watch the masters decide the future of economy and community. Maybe I did not feel that young, because after all, I have been known to be <span class="blsp-spelling-corrected" id="SPELLING_ERROR_6">philosophical</span>, and I did impress him with my wit. But damn, his <span class="blsp-spelling-corrected" id="SPELLING_ERROR_7">rhetoric</span>, metaphors and general outlook of the <span class="blsp-spelling-corrected" id="SPELLING_ERROR_8">ideological</span> universe was a bit impressive. Besides his "Do and Americans actually read?" or "All of your best doctors and engineers and thinkers are actually imports from other countries...you buy off your geniuses", other than those irking questions, I am now both scared and awaiting to receive my own enlightenment from this darkish man.<br /><script src="http://shots.snap.com//client/inject.js?site_name=0" type="text/javascript"></script><script src="http://shots.snap.com//client/inject.js?site_name=0" type="text/javascript"></script><script src="http://shots.snap.com//client/inject.js?site_name=0" type="text/javascript"></script>Marinahttp://www.blogger.com/profile/17399854363474570192noreply@blogger.com2tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-1605402573814698535.post-61052333018649940602009-06-21T17:06:00.001-07:002009-06-21T17:12:37.140-07:00BlackSo I've read the after-life, which ever way you want to put it, described as a black comforting void. A void so big that it holds within itself everything. Never the less, it is a darkness (and, as it was written, a light both at once. But for me, I'm concentrating on the black part. Why? It will all unvail itself). I am trying to take comfort in this description, but how can someone who for the last twenty six-and a half- years has been deathly afraid of the dark, find comfort in darkness being the answer to the ultimate question? If darkness will bring me the purest of love, as it has before I arrived here, then why am I so uncomfortable with the dark, even for the brief moment as you shut off the lights in your bedroom, before your eyes adjust to the moonlight breaking through the curtain, when all you feel is darkness. I can't handle even that brief moment. How can I accept that for eternity? If this darkness gave me peace before, what makes me so afraid of it now. What has happened in this darkness? Was it really peace? If that was true, wouldn't I secretly enjoy the dark, without even understanding why, instead of being so damn uneasy? Wouldn't I retreat, for some strange reason, into a dark cave any time I needed to feel warm? How can I accept it? A person who is afraid of the dark.<script src="http://shots.snap.com//client/inject.js?site_name=0" type="text/javascript"></script>Marinahttp://www.blogger.com/profile/17399854363474570192noreply@blogger.com2tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-1605402573814698535.post-59348002723557429142009-05-07T05:17:00.000-07:002009-05-23T14:28:28.911-07:00Croatia, Bosnia.. the Warm Welcome To The Eastern parts<div style="text-align: center;"><span style="font-size:78%;">(Small note, to see a picture bigger just click on it, it will open in its original size in the web, so you dont even need to save..enjoy the blog and please leave comments)</span><br /></div><br /><br />So Easter holidays is a time for families to gather, to reflect on god, on tradition, and of course on god again. Well for Christians that is. For myself and Emir, its a time to think about where we should go as our first vacation as a European couple. Having both a financial issue ( I STILL, more or less, HAVE NO JOB), and a Winnie issue (no planes), the only solution was to take the car to the Benca palace in Bosnia passing through the Benca Summer Residence in Croatia. So off we go on our road trip. First stop... Croatia!<br /><div style="text-align: center;"> <a onblur="try {parent.deselectBloggerImageGracefully();} catch(e) {}" href="http://2.bp.blogspot.com/_QPqSBhDkf6k/SgP4LBDMqfI/AAAAAAAAAC8/sG2vGf6zwZE/s1600-h/Sarajevo+%2832%29.jpg"><img style="cursor: pointer; width: 319px; height: 213px;" src="http://2.bp.blogspot.com/_QPqSBhDkf6k/SgP4LBDMqfI/AAAAAAAAAC8/sG2vGf6zwZE/s400/Sarajevo+%2832%29.jpg" alt="" id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5333379251880897010" border="0" /></a><br /></div><br /><br />Croatia, for those of you unfamiliar with it, is a part of the former Yugoslavia, and is now a center for European richie riches to gather in the summer on the beautiful beaches that Croatia has to offer. Unfortunately, I never got to see these marvelous blue waters, as my sweetie of a boy friend had forgotten the key to the house. FAIL! haha so the romance was limited to the inside of the car, front seat only, as Winnies harmonious snoring was taking up the entire back seat. Where<a onblur="try {parent.deselectBloggerImageGracefully();} catch(e) {}" href="http://2.bp.blogspot.com/_QPqSBhDkf6k/SgLTaI9ps4I/AAAAAAAAAAM/AkL66uSOg8Y/s1600-h/Sarajevo+%2836%29.jpg"><img style="margin: 0pt 10px 10px 0pt; float: left; cursor: pointer; width: 237px; height: 159px;" src="http://2.bp.blogspot.com/_QPqSBhDkf6k/SgLTaI9ps4I/AAAAAAAAAAM/AkL66uSOg8Y/s200/Sarajevo+%2836%29.jpg" alt="" id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5333057354796217218" border="0" /></a> most people leave with sun tans and sunkissed hair, I left with a bruise on my back left by the emergency break, which was keeping us from skidding off the cliff. But I now have Croatia marked off as a place I have been, proven by a stamp on my passport, and all said and done, it was still a fun adventure, and one I will always remember. Here is us having dinner before we realised the elusive key situation: we look happy dont we...<br /><br /><br /><br /><a onblur="try {parent.deselectBloggerImageGracefully();} catch(e) {}" href="http://4.bp.blogspot.com/_QPqSBhDkf6k/SgP5Kqi0z8I/AAAAAAAAADM/uP3brHmiJRI/s1600-h/Sarajevo+%2834%29.jpg"><img style="margin: 0pt 0pt 10px 10px; float: right; cursor: pointer; width: 320px; height: 214px;" src="http://4.bp.blogspot.com/_QPqSBhDkf6k/SgP5Kqi0z8I/AAAAAAAAADM/uP3brHmiJRI/s320/Sarajevo+%2834%29.jpg" alt="" id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5333380345351163842" border="0" /></a><br /><br /><br /><br />Fortunatley, I got a beautiful view of the shore line at least. I wont say whether this is the sunset as we were arriving to the city, or if this is the early morning sunrise as we decided to drive to Bosnia at 3 am. Either way it was beautiful and worth the suffering. :D<br /><br /><br /><br /><br /><br /><br /><br /><br />Sooo Off we go again to Bosnia<br /><div style="text-align: center;"> <a onblur="try {parent.deselectBloggerImageGracefully();} catch(e) {}" href="http://1.bp.blogspot.com/_QPqSBhDkf6k/SgP4LdMujSI/AAAAAAAAADE/uIeDRsB7YcE/s1600-h/Sarajevo+%2824%29.jpg"><img style="cursor: pointer; width: 331px; height: 222px;" src="http://1.bp.blogspot.com/_QPqSBhDkf6k/SgP4LdMujSI/AAAAAAAAADE/uIeDRsB7YcE/s400/Sarajevo+%2824%29.jpg" alt="" id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5333379259437059362" border="0" /></a><br /></div><br />Arriving in Bosnia was pretty spectacular, even if it was still 6 in the morning after 5 hours of driving. I was not warned of how beautiful the landscape was. Although Vienna is surrounded by mountains as well, they somehow don't seem as green and "soft" as these mountains. Each green mound of fairtale-like mountain is lined with a whispy little river, winding, kissing, and rushing through and around the landscape. At the moment, as tired as I was, I couldnt stop no<a onblur="try {parent.deselectBloggerImageGracefully();} catch(e) {}" href="http://1.bp.blogspot.com/_QPqSBhDkf6k/SgLWrAwoGfI/AAAAAAAAAAU/b4TgbilnS8k/s1600-h/Sarajevo+%2852%29.jpg"><img style="margin: 0pt 0pt 10px 10px; float: right; cursor: pointer; width: 239px; height: 159px;" src="http://1.bp.blogspot.com/_QPqSBhDkf6k/SgLWrAwoGfI/AAAAAAAAAAU/b4TgbilnS8k/s200/Sarajevo+%2852%29.jpg" alt="" id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5333060943186762226" border="0" /></a>ticing all the cute little scenes a camera could capture, and somehow managed to miss taking an actual picture, as I was too busy LOOKING. haha. Im sorry this sucks, you know how I pride myself on pictures. So you can image my embarrassment to show you this: I know the picture is pretty horrific, but try to look past the badly placed light post on the right and the barbed wire lining the bottom, and notice the green carpet of grass dotted with villager's homes, and even that river at the bottom making its way to the other side to warn the mountain that the sun is coming around. Well in any case, go there for yourself and see :D<br /><br /><br />The people were even more surprising. Stricken by betrayal, persecution, barbaric torture, and otherwise all words that describe war, these people were not at all dressed in black as I expected. Walking through the streets, the only thing brighter than the clothing adorning these people were their smiles, well and their fake Gucci glasses. Bright lipstick accompanying bright dresses and sparkling eyes, the Bosnians were a people full of conversation and happiness. I had a great time walking around, welcoming all questions about Winnie that were helplessly spewing from stranger's mouths. <a onblur="try {parent.deselectBloggerImageGracefully();} catch(e) {}" href="http://3.bp.blogspot.com/_QPqSBhDkf6k/SgLZyeU5M0I/AAAAAAAAAAc/ZxiSFGqDllo/s1600-h/Sarajevo+%28624%29.JPG"><img style="margin: 0pt 10px 10px 0pt; float: left; cursor: pointer; width: 156px; height: 208px;" src="http://3.bp.blogspot.com/_QPqSBhDkf6k/SgLZyeU5M0I/AAAAAAAAAAc/ZxiSFGqDllo/s200/Sarajevo+%28624%29.JPG" alt="" id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5333064369917473602" border="0" /></a>They couldnt help themselves to ask, and I couldnt help myself in enjoying the attention. I mean, after Vienna, could you blame me? Its hard enough talking to someone who is actually in a circle of friends in Vienna, never mind trying to start a conversation with a stranger. So I really enjoyed the socialization that Sarajevo was offering. I got to stretch my tongue a bit in conversation. Cant say the enjoyment was equally as filling for Winnie dog to have all those strangers approach us for friendly conversation, but she was actually pretty good for once.<br />However, once you turn you attention away from the happy curtain that the people become, whose happy faces cover the sad truth about the past decades, once you pull back from their joy, you can see what's behind. What cannot be erased as easy as a frown, and cannot be rebuilt as fast as one can learn to smile again. You see that behind the smile, and right there on the streets, is a daunting reminder of what has plagued the town for five years. Metal locusts flying overhead, covering the sun, and landing down below- destroying all that it met. Houses, schools, hotels, parks, cemeteries.. none where safe from the plague. From the vicious devourment of human heart and soul. <a onblur="try {parent.deselectBloggerImageGracefully();} catch(e) {}" href="http://4.bp.blogspot.com/_QPqSBhDkf6k/SgLceHPvQ_I/AAAAAAAAAAk/V_AcIfx0Ndo/s1600-h/Sarajevo+%28123%29.jpg"><img style="margin: 0pt 0pt 10px 10px; float: right; cursor: pointer; width: 217px; height: 146px;" src="http://4.bp.blogspot.com/_QPqSBhDkf6k/SgLceHPvQ_I/AAAAAAAAAAk/V_AcIfx0Ndo/s200/Sarajevo+%28123%29.jpg" alt="" id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5333067318659335154" border="0" /></a>And I cannot suppose, because I have not gone through any of this, but I can imagine, how hard it must be to remain such an optimistic and positive population after what they went through and while the reminders still haunt their streets. These aren't your Roman or Greek ruins, seized by time. This is an average home that was destroyed with bombs, machine guns, and explosives while people were still inside. And if this is not the story of the particular building you see here, it is the story of hundreds others like this in the town, a story which you can read while talking with any local, or on the marble painted cemeteries.<br /><br />Enough of the sorrow, because if Sarajevo has taught me anything, is that you can never forget fast enough the sorrow and begin with the Gucci :D.<br /><br />There is still enough to see in Sarajevo and the surrounding areas, and I have already written a novel.<br /><br />We went for an amazing hike, through the rain, which honestly made it so much more fun for me.. because whats an adventure without umm and adventure haha. So here we are, soaking wet, hiking through villages in a far away land. How far away? Well lets just say an old man with more wrinkles than my grandmother (for those of you who know her are fairly impressed right now, right??) comes over to Emir ready to hug him, swearing that he knows him. In fact he knows his village (Šabići) and his father and his name is not really Emir, as he tried to remember his REAL name. Awe, I didnt know whether to hug him at his cuteness or to give him some Xanex or some other medication to calm his crazy down hahahah.<br />Winnie was particularly impressive, not only does she look like a goat, but she actually jumped, hopped, puffed, and climbed her way up the entire mountain, which was mainly rock, and very steep. Good job! Oh, and she also mushed her face into a pile of cow shit. That part was not so impressive, but the guys found in hilarious. ok so did I hehe.<br /><div style="text-align: center;"><a onblur="try {parent.deselectBloggerImageGracefully();} catch(e) {}" href="http://2.bp.blogspot.com/_QPqSBhDkf6k/SgLf--XOsvI/AAAAAAAAAAs/jc-KAdX9HNI/s1600-h/Sarajevo+%28329%29.JPG"><img style="margin: 0px auto 10px; display: block; text-align: center; cursor: pointer; width: 240px; height: 180px;" src="http://2.bp.blogspot.com/_QPqSBhDkf6k/SgLf--XOsvI/AAAAAAAAAAs/jc-KAdX9HNI/s200/Sarajevo+%28329%29.JPG" alt="" id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5333071181745402610" border="0" /></a><a onblur="try {parent.deselectBloggerImageGracefully();} catch(e) {}" href="http://4.bp.blogspot.com/_QPqSBhDkf6k/SgLga-SEyUI/AAAAAAAAAA0/tXS2Gi89bDI/s1600-h/Sarajevo+%28446%29.jpg"><img style="margin: 0px auto 10px; display: block; text-align: center; cursor: pointer; width: 239px; height: 155px;" src="http://4.bp.blogspot.com/_QPqSBhDkf6k/SgLga-SEyUI/AAAAAAAAAA0/tXS2Gi89bDI/s200/Sarajevo+%28446%29.jpg" alt="" id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5333071662760118594" border="0" /></a><a onblur="try {parent.deselectBloggerImageGracefully();} catch(e) {}" href="http://3.bp.blogspot.com/_QPqSBhDkf6k/SgLhI4BrUOI/AAAAAAAAAA8/XnoMwhF816M/s1600-h/Sarajevo+%28464%29.JPG"><img style="margin: 0px auto 10px; display: block; text-align: center; cursor: pointer; width: 237px; height: 177px;" src="http://3.bp.blogspot.com/_QPqSBhDkf6k/SgLhI4BrUOI/AAAAAAAAAA8/XnoMwhF816M/s200/Sarajevo+%28464%29.JPG" alt="" id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5333072451354710242" border="0" /></a><a onblur="try {parent.deselectBloggerImageGracefully();} catch(e) {}" href="http://3.bp.blogspot.com/_QPqSBhDkf6k/SgLj1dbNm1I/AAAAAAAAABE/hyYl56EbJ3M/s1600-h/Sarajevo+%28509%29.JPG"><img style="margin: 0px auto 10px; display: block; text-align: center; cursor: pointer; width: 236px; height: 176px;" src="http://3.bp.blogspot.com/_QPqSBhDkf6k/SgLj1dbNm1I/AAAAAAAAABE/hyYl56EbJ3M/s200/Sarajevo+%28509%29.JPG" alt="" id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5333075416331426642" border="0" /></a>Our sheep<br /><span style="text-decoration: underline;"><br /></span><a onblur="try {parent.deselectBloggerImageGracefully();} catch(e) {}" href="http://4.bp.blogspot.com/_QPqSBhDkf6k/SgLlBjz92TI/AAAAAAAAABM/Zt5vNqb87Ao/s1600-h/Sarajevo+%28551%29.JPG"><img style="margin: 0px auto 10px; display: block; text-align: center; cursor: pointer; width: 372px; height: 278px;" src="http://4.bp.blogspot.com/_QPqSBhDkf6k/SgLlBjz92TI/AAAAAAAAABM/Zt5vNqb87Ao/s320/Sarajevo+%28551%29.JPG" alt="" id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5333076723715922226" border="0" /></a><br />Group pic at the peek<br /><br /><a onblur="try {parent.deselectBloggerImageGracefully();} catch(e) {}" href="http://2.bp.blogspot.com/_QPqSBhDkf6k/SgLx5Y2MF-I/AAAAAAAAABU/5hL0JnXOFiQ/s1600-h/Sarajevo+%28555%29.JPG"><img style="margin: 0px auto 10px; display: block; text-align: center; cursor: pointer; width: 400px; height: 300px;" src="http://2.bp.blogspot.com/_QPqSBhDkf6k/SgLx5Y2MF-I/AAAAAAAAABU/5hL0JnXOFiQ/s400/Sarajevo+%28555%29.JPG" alt="" id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5333090876984661986" border="0" /></a>Winnie's Facebook Profile ;D<br /><a onblur="try {parent.deselectBloggerImageGracefully();} catch(e) {}" href="http://3.bp.blogspot.com/_QPqSBhDkf6k/SgLx5lR8VOI/AAAAAAAAABc/sKYzuA56LSA/s1600-h/Sarajevo+%28571%29.JPG"><img style="margin: 0px auto 10px; display: block; text-align: center; cursor: pointer; width: 300px; height: 400px;" src="http://3.bp.blogspot.com/_QPqSBhDkf6k/SgLx5lR8VOI/AAAAAAAAABc/sKYzuA56LSA/s400/Sarajevo+%28571%29.JPG" alt="" id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5333090880322295010" border="0" /></a>Oh dont worry, it gets more dangerous<br /><a onblur="try {parent.deselectBloggerImageGracefully();} catch(e) {}" href="http://2.bp.blogspot.com/_QPqSBhDkf6k/SgLzijMzpxI/AAAAAAAAABk/qFYrcCIrnDA/s1600-h/Sarajevo+%28587%29.JPG"><img style="margin: 0px auto 10px; display: block; text-align: center; cursor: pointer; width: 400px; height: 300px;" src="http://2.bp.blogspot.com/_QPqSBhDkf6k/SgLzijMzpxI/AAAAAAAAABk/qFYrcCIrnDA/s400/Sarajevo+%28587%29.JPG" alt="" id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5333092683650148114" border="0" /></a>but you know what your parents always said would happen...<br /><a onblur="try {parent.deselectBloggerImageGracefully();} catch(e) {}" href="http://2.bp.blogspot.com/_QPqSBhDkf6k/SgLzjKYlHzI/AAAAAAAAABs/1LsVj5QSz70/s1600-h/Sarajevo+%28592%29.JPG"><img style="margin: 0px auto 10px; display: block; text-align: center; cursor: pointer; width: 400px; height: 300px;" src="http://2.bp.blogspot.com/_QPqSBhDkf6k/SgLzjKYlHzI/AAAAAAAAABs/1LsVj5QSz70/s400/Sarajevo+%28592%29.JPG" alt="" id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5333092694168510258" border="0" /></a>you would have way too much fun if you stand close to the edge haha..<br /><br /><a onblur="try {parent.deselectBloggerImageGracefully();} catch(e) {}" href="http://4.bp.blogspot.com/_QPqSBhDkf6k/SgL1HI0nDeI/AAAAAAAAAB0/zDyJsVkIATw/s1600-h/Sarajevo+%28609%29.JPG"><img style="margin: 0px auto 10px; display: block; text-align: center; cursor: pointer; width: 400px; height: 300px;" src="http://4.bp.blogspot.com/_QPqSBhDkf6k/SgL1HI0nDeI/AAAAAAAAAB0/zDyJsVkIATw/s400/Sarajevo+%28609%29.JPG" alt="" id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5333094411736124898" border="0" /></a><br />Was a beautiful end to what could have been a very cold day, and the view was very rewarding.<br /><br /><a onblur="try {parent.deselectBloggerImageGracefully();} catch(e) {}" href="http://2.bp.blogspot.com/_QPqSBhDkf6k/SgL1HPsRagI/AAAAAAAAAB8/22o-8oJ-hE4/s1600-h/Sarajevo+%28611%29.JPG"><img style="margin: 0px auto 10px; display: block; text-align: center; cursor: pointer; width: 300px; height: 400px;" src="http://2.bp.blogspot.com/_QPqSBhDkf6k/SgL1HPsRagI/AAAAAAAAAB8/22o-8oJ-hE4/s400/Sarajevo+%28611%29.JPG" alt="" id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5333094413580200450" border="0" /></a>Needless to say, Winnie was pretty pooped!<br /><br /><br />The outskirts of Sarajevo were quiet breathtaking, but the city itself had some nice places to share. Here is some pics from the old city, which was full of weird dancing people, cotton candy, and of course SHOPPING. Walking home, we took the scenic route back alongside the river, and of course some more photo opportunities arose, which I gladly grabbed :D I figure seeing some pics would be a bit easier than reading about my gracious stroll through the bricked streets and blooming flowers, and villagers in funny hats selling cow skin rugs on the street fences (I of COURSE had to get not one but TWO- I sure know how to bargain).<br /><br /><a onblur="try {parent.deselectBloggerImageGracefully();} catch(e) {}" href="http://1.bp.blogspot.com/_QPqSBhDkf6k/SgL3ZMIIE_I/AAAAAAAAACE/1KhzjJ3bVpA/s1600-h/Sarajevo+%28169%29.jpg"><img style="margin: 0px auto 10px; display: block; text-align: center; cursor: pointer; width: 320px; height: 214px;" src="http://1.bp.blogspot.com/_QPqSBhDkf6k/SgL3ZMIIE_I/AAAAAAAAACE/1KhzjJ3bVpA/s320/Sarajevo+%28169%29.jpg" alt="" id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5333096920884188146" border="0" /></a>One of my favorite pictures from Sarajevo. Reminds me of Einstein and his friends trying to figure out the Theory of Relativity.<br /><br /><a onblur="try {parent.deselectBloggerImageGracefully();} catch(e) {}" href="http://4.bp.blogspot.com/_QPqSBhDkf6k/SgL3ZvMByyI/AAAAAAAAACU/G06APd0JXJY/s1600-h/Sarajevo+%28179%29.jpg"><img style="margin: 0px auto 10px; display: block; text-align: center; cursor: pointer; width: 214px; height: 320px;" src="http://4.bp.blogspot.com/_QPqSBhDkf6k/SgL3ZvMByyI/AAAAAAAAACU/G06APd0JXJY/s320/Sarajevo+%28179%29.jpg" alt="" id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5333096930295794466" border="0" /></a>I dont think anyone actually gave him money for dancing like a Martian, he just does it for the love of the game :D<br /><br /><a onblur="try {parent.deselectBloggerImageGracefully();} catch(e) {}" href="http://4.bp.blogspot.com/_QPqSBhDkf6k/SgL3ZdSuZAI/AAAAAAAAACM/_ujvELSWouI/s1600-h/Sarajevo+%28174%29.jpg"><img style="margin: 0px auto 10px; display: block; text-align: center; cursor: pointer; width: 214px; height: 320px;" src="http://4.bp.blogspot.com/_QPqSBhDkf6k/SgL3ZdSuZAI/AAAAAAAAACM/_ujvELSWouI/s320/Sarajevo+%28174%29.jpg" alt="" id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5333096925492044802" border="0" /></a>Mmm cotton candy. Oh, thats a new bag I bought :D<br /><br /><a onblur="try {parent.deselectBloggerImageGracefully();} catch(e) {}" href="http://3.bp.blogspot.com/_QPqSBhDkf6k/SgPy1ZvgofI/AAAAAAAAACc/7qyBJbXHHeE/s1600-h/Sarajevo+%28187%29.jpg"><img style="margin: 0px auto 10px; display: block; text-align: center; cursor: pointer; width: 267px; height: 400px;" src="http://3.bp.blogspot.com/_QPqSBhDkf6k/SgPy1ZvgofI/AAAAAAAAACc/7qyBJbXHHeE/s400/Sarajevo+%28187%29.jpg" alt="" id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5333373382993945074" border="0" /></a>Mr. Sexy himself hahah<br /><br /><a onblur="try {parent.deselectBloggerImageGracefully();} catch(e) {}" href="http://3.bp.blogspot.com/_QPqSBhDkf6k/SgPy1uP7VRI/AAAAAAAAACk/k0wWxG6nDsg/s1600-h/Sarajevo+%28199%29.jpg"><img style="margin: 0px auto 10px; display: block; text-align: center; cursor: pointer; width: 400px; height: 267px;" src="http://3.bp.blogspot.com/_QPqSBhDkf6k/SgPy1uP7VRI/AAAAAAAAACk/k0wWxG6nDsg/s400/Sarajevo+%28199%29.jpg" alt="" id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5333373388498621714" border="0" /></a><br /><br /><a onblur="try {parent.deselectBloggerImageGracefully();} catch(e) {}" href="http://4.bp.blogspot.com/_QPqSBhDkf6k/SgPy2MjSJTI/AAAAAAAAACs/0D1Bb2Qa774/s1600-h/Sarajevo+%28219%29.jpg"><img style="margin: 0px auto 10px; display: block; text-align: center; cursor: pointer; width: 267px; height: 400px;" src="http://4.bp.blogspot.com/_QPqSBhDkf6k/SgPy2MjSJTI/AAAAAAAAACs/0D1Bb2Qa774/s400/Sarajevo+%28219%29.jpg" alt="" id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5333373396632872242" border="0" /></a>Oh did I have an audience at the other side of the river? I did..<br /><br /><a onblur="try {parent.deselectBloggerImageGracefully();} catch(e) {}" href="http://2.bp.blogspot.com/_QPqSBhDkf6k/SgP4K1o9PCI/AAAAAAAAAC0/anc5uHkXNEQ/s1600-h/Sarajevo+%28228%29.jpg"><img style="cursor: pointer; width: 400px; height: 267px;" src="http://2.bp.blogspot.com/_QPqSBhDkf6k/SgP4K1o9PCI/AAAAAAAAAC0/anc5uHkXNEQ/s400/Sarajevo+%28228%29.jpg" alt="" id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5333379248818043938" border="0" /></a><br /><br /><a onblur="try {parent.deselectBloggerImageGracefully();} catch(e) {}" href="http://4.bp.blogspot.com/_QPqSBhDkf6k/SgP8NeFVC8I/AAAAAAAAAD4/eQ23efoJu40/s1600-h/Sarajevo+%28231%29.jpg"><br /><span style="color: rgb(0, 0, 0);"> And last but not least.. the lovebirds perched on a fence <3</span></a><br /><br /><a onblur="try {parent.deselectBloggerImageGracefully();} catch(e) {}" href="http://4.bp.blogspot.com/_QPqSBhDkf6k/SgP8NeFVC8I/AAAAAAAAAD4/eQ23efoJu40/s1600-h/Sarajevo+%28231%29.jpg"><img style="margin: 0px auto 10px; display: block; text-align: center; cursor: pointer; width: 400px; height: 267px;" src="http://4.bp.blogspot.com/_QPqSBhDkf6k/SgP8NeFVC8I/AAAAAAAAAD4/eQ23efoJu40/s400/Sarajevo+%28231%29.jpg" alt="" id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5333383692080712642" border="0" /></a> So Bosnia...definitely recommended for those who like to have a good time and smile in the face of adversity and sorrow, and live another day with a wrinkle by the eyes instead of folds by the lips. </div><script src="http://shots.snap.com//client/inject.js?site_name=0" type="text/javascript"></script><script src="http://shots.snap.com//client/inject.js?site_name=0" type="text/javascript"></script><script src="http://shots.snap.com//client/inject.js?site_name=0" type="text/javascript"></script><script src="http://shots.snap.com//client/inject.js?site_name=0" type="text/javascript"></script><script src="http://shots.snap.com//client/inject.js?site_name=0" type="text/javascript"></script>Marinahttp://www.blogger.com/profile/17399854363474570192noreply@blogger.com4tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-1605402573814698535.post-3691259368870637202009-03-13T06:32:00.001-07:002009-03-13T07:07:45.937-07:00Brunette Is The New Blonde- 'cause im in ViennaSo quiting my job, leaving my family and friends behind (love you Xen), and giving away my car aside... I did finally follow my heart to Europe (namely Vienna but thats not really the important factor here). Ahh Europe, where you get assigned seats at the movies, the toilet is made with a balcony for displaying your masterpiece once you've finished, and not to mention where the "Z" and the "Y" have played musical chairs on the key board making it extra annoying to write a post. Its quite sensational, and if you would like further and deeper explanations of the craziness listed above, please feel free to inquire, I assure you, it can be entertaining hahah. Yes Im finally here.<br /><br />So the differences are quite frequently throwing themselves at me. Mostly, as the title of this post startes to describe, there are more blondes here than brunettes. And i dont mean the trashy staten island type blonde hair which is accompanied by an orange, almost nucleaur, glowing skin. I mean the kind of blondes you see accompanied by German shouts that you saw in Holocaust movies hahah.. its great. I feel like their sky blue eyes can pierce through my jacket and see the yellow star on my bicep. Well ok, its not so bad. I guess thats something thats instilled in you, but once you look around, you realize they their beautiful blue eyes to good use as they stare abhoringly at almost everyone. That makes it easier :)<br />And the good thing about the blonde situation, is that I can finally be the blonde, while being a burnette.. following me here? well in the center of town that is. Thats where all the pure breds hang out with their blonde manes shimmering as they prance about.<br /><br />My street is nice and diverse. I live about 3-4 blocks away from the "booming"* shopping street (* when I saw booming, please remember this is Vienna, which means the shopping area is about 8 blocks long and one street wide, and closes at exactly 10 min to 6 or so) known as Mariahilferstrasse. No no, you can do it. Maria-hilfer-shtrasse. See, not so bad.. Which brings me to German.<br />Its strange, but when I was a traveler, I didnt mind not knowing the language. In fact i was pround to try and sound out these gutteral words out to locals, and show them that I respect them enough to try to speak their language. But now, being a local, well at least being a temporary resident haha (I wont get too ahead of myself), I find it abnoxious that they keep throwing it in my face how good their German is. I mean honestly! Do you HAVE to speak on your cell RIGHT next to me.. if you dont mind, I dont appreciate you mocking my lack of knowledge of German and thus making it IMPOSSIBLE to eavesdrop on your conversation! So please, stand next to someone who can appropriatley do so. Hahah.. well in all seriousness, It feels like they're all ganging up on me, staring at me, probably telling their friend on the other side of the phone how bewildered I look. So I'm forced to stand on the train in misery. And once in a while, when I feel- as the British say- cheeky, I whip out my own damn cell and in PERfect, AMERICAN English, I pretend to talk to Marian (damn woman.. PICK UP!! I need to look super cool!).<br />I think I have adjusted to the cool demeanour of the Ausies.. oh wait thats taken.. hmm, Austies? Yea that will work. I think I have adjusted to the cool demeanour of the Austies, and now I enjoy walking around, exploring. It was a bit frustrating at first that no one makes eye contact, I mean even in NY you do that when theres only the two of you on a cross walk waiting for the light to change, or passing on a narrow street in opposite directions. And even damn men dont like to look.. I swear they know Im a Jew! But yes, aside from the occasional Italian tourist, Rico Suave glances are never seen around these parts. And thats fine with me now. I just get back at Vienna by not doing my make up as often hahah.. I gather not to many of you will understand the logic of that statement, but i wont go into that. In fact, I dont think Ill go into much more, as Im sure ive lost most of you by now. Novels arent appreciated by those who have jobs and can only read this during a small window of boredom.<br />The only thing I will say, aside from telling you that when you ski here (just small mountains) they dont have lifts to get you to the top, but ASS STICKS, which you shove up your ass practically and it drags you ever so gently up the mountain while your skiis stry to stay as straight as possible to ease the pain of getting ripped a new one. But the funnest part comes when youre at the top, and you have literaly a second to remove your new closest friend out of your ass before drags up into neverneverland, by your ARSHE. Right, so aside from that, There are awesome places, cool rich snobs, a new outlook, and more walking that Ive gained. I went shopping my first week here, for food, and thought it would be an AWESOME idea to surprise Emir with a fridge full of food at our new place. So I went like a good little house wife, down to the food store (about 10 blocks away), and loaded the cart with anything and everything. Only to realize AFTER Ive paid for everything- and returns are myth to Europeans- that I HAVE NO FUCKIN CAR IN EUROPE!!!! yea well, needless to say my back and arms were soar the next day, but I did manage to SLOWLY drag this shit to the appartment. Im proud of myself.. well not the lack of prethought, but more the ability to stick with my stupitidy and work it out hahah..<br />Gotta love it!<br /><br /><script src="http://shots.snap.com//client/inject.js?site_name=0" type="text/javascript"></script><script src="http://shots.snap.com//client/inject.js?site_name=0" type="text/javascript"></script>Marinahttp://www.blogger.com/profile/17399854363474570192noreply@blogger.com4tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-1605402573814698535.post-3032735313536696612008-08-17T21:38:00.001-07:002008-08-17T22:35:37.388-07:00Barefoot on concreteSometimes you need some fresh air. I don't know what it is about walking barefoot, even on the cement blocks which carve out the neighborhood, that I enjoy so much. Maybe it makes me feel a part of the world again. Sometimes you get lost in your own thoughts and the metaphysical bubble in your head gets too big, and you need to reconnect. Maybe its the opposite, feeling the hard ground beneath your soft steps helps you forget the world you live in and helps you form a bubble of your own- in which only you and the sensation brushing up your body with every step exists. Walking out and making the darkness part around you and it lets you wonder the land but still hugs your path, it is comforting to look down and see your naked feet, unfolding flashes of light beneath you- blink by blink- on the grey cement.<br />Toes and heel pushing off the ground, it might almost look like you're helping the world spin with every stroke. And I guess that's why it seems so scary to stop or slow down, would I fall off? or simply realize the world I imagine around me isn't at all what I thought it would be. Its getting clearer and clearer how little say people have in the world. My feet are tired of spinning the world without getting what I want out of it. With every step my feet get dustier and dustier... you figure out the metaphorMarinahttp://www.blogger.com/profile/17399854363474570192noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-1605402573814698535.post-27539229722239005142008-07-21T17:46:00.000-07:002008-08-25T18:24:48.320-07:00At the airport again...and I thought my trip just began yesterdayFor the next eighteen hours this is my life. For the next eighteen hours this is my life. I train my eye to loose focus as it stares out of the three meter airport window out onto the arriving flights. My shoulders slumped; my head cocked, or rather fallen to the side I realise nothing is in focus. I am most probably only a few walls away from you but I might as well be miles away. And when the chimes of the airport wake me from my emptiness i stand up and follow the zombie herd to the passage way. No, of course not, they are not all zombies, some are quit happy: maybe they are just launching their own voyage, or going off to vacation, or reuniting with loved ones, but to me, I only see empty.For the next eighteen hours those airport chimes will be watch and I will train my ears to speak the language.<br />Life is a river, yes, and chapters are opened and closed as the river bends, and all of this has been pleeded to me, but to process this I have naively failed. Cant a river finally find its fill and be satisfied enough to stand still?<br /><br />Why is happiness something we find in the ripples of the river and not the sand which is the foundation and what carries the river throughout its journey?<br /><br />Enriched, I have absorbed so much, changed in some ways and reinforced my character in others. What makes me different from someone who has only read about Europe in books and websites: about every monument and every square and can recite to me the importance of each? Experience, thats what. The people that I have been have been unforgetable, the smiles and the giggles I will hear for all my life; the nuisances and the nuances have taught me to be patient and open; the joy, the hardships, the drinks, the debates, the adventures, braving the unknown, standing up for things that are right and things you believe in, and helping someone see something in a different light as they do the same for me. Not to mention I got to steel a pen from the Flying Pigs, and you couldnt do that by reading a book now can you !! And now thats all behind me..and now poof! and im home. Poof and im home!Marinahttp://www.blogger.com/profile/17399854363474570192noreply@blogger.com1tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-1605402573814698535.post-64846011331480733352008-07-20T13:16:00.001-07:002008-07-20T13:16:58.645-07:00An Aside...Just a bit of a warning, please dont expect my last entry to be a happy one haha, so prepare to be deep, depressed, or get out of my kitchen hahah.Marinahttp://www.blogger.com/profile/17399854363474570192noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-1605402573814698535.post-27550124292533182342008-07-20T13:00:00.000-07:002008-07-20T13:13:03.744-07:00Rio Duoro, Porto (Portugal)- Last stopTo watch a city get dark while sipping on sweet wine, to watch the swarms of seagulls grow and drape the simmering sky and the sky breaking cathederal tower in the distance. The pastel rooftops, bleached my the ages of the sun, break the silence of the sky as the river running beneath echoes the violin and accordian blowing the symphany of old dirt stained fingers. I dont know this city but I feel at home amoungst the twinkle of the water and the twighlight of the sky.<br />The glimmering lights of the night remind the day that it is time to set, as me and my friends watch the shift change, spectators of a tradition as old and as inevitable to the universe as breathing is to us. Inhale..exhale...day...night...And just as the day can only last for so long, so can this moment. Thats what makes this voyage so incredible and so painful. As amazing as it was to be here, you must maintain this philosophy in your mind. Hard not to get attached. Heavier and heavier is the sand in my sand watch, pooring faster and faster as the sun sets inch by inch. With every next beat of my heart and every desperate breath that I take, I know that this does not last.<br />This city will remember my face, as the faces of all the locals, the travelers, the seagulls, the builders, the wreckers, the layers, the finders, and that is all that will be left of me here... a footprint.Marinahttp://www.blogger.com/profile/17399854363474570192noreply@blogger.com0