i could be anywhere

London: The CANS Festival

2008-05-24T12:39:00.009-04:00

LONDON, UK

Whilst my recent meanderings throughout London took me up the Northern line to Camden and it's burnt Stables Market [shame the stockings store burnt to the ground; at least I did not run into Amy Winehouse], the Picadilly line to Covent Garden, over the Hammersmith and City line to the Portobello Road [and ye olde orginal Rough Trade shoppe, which has changed it outside signage - and added a super hip gigantic store in Brick Lane, complete with in-store stage and cafe], the City line to Liverpool St and the nearby Spitalfields market, and the Jubilee line over to Southwark for my annual pilgrimage to the Tate Modern. And while I'm still easing my foot back to health from overwalking on cobblestones [do people who walk cobblestones have chiropractic problems?], I am most struck by than the shut-down Eurostar tunnel outside Waterloo station, home of The CANS Festival.

Simply put, The CANS Festival is a celebration of graffiti, stencil and street art in a defunct train tunnel, allegedly curated by Banksy.

Here is the highlight reel:

Meat Brasil: Take III

2008-04-20T12:47:00.002-04:00

C is for CHURRASCARIA – We hit up not one, but two during the course of the week, resulting in one of my colleagues achieving the title of “Beef Goddess” [she put all the big guys to shame in meat consumption]. Mostly barbecued and grilled meats on a long metal rod, served at your plate by waiters – rodizio style- brandishing large knives, gracefully carving for you anywhere from 18-35 different cuts and types of meats. There’s a round card at each seat, one side green for “more meat,” red side for “hold off.” Everything from legs and ribs to rumps and filets, beef, hams, pork, chicken – oh did I mention the offering each time of chicken hearts? Its appearance reminded me of the chicken tongues offered during dinner in Shanghai this summer. Like this tiny, gray and shriveled cornichons – but premature cucumbers. Oh, and fear not that I was completely alienated in my dining experiences at the churrascarias. These restaurants feature rather robust buffets offering 8-10 side salads, fresh salads, fruits, cooked fish, meats – even California rolls and other maki [one had strawberries!].

D is for DUTY FREE – Those in the know are quite well aware of my fondness for Duty Free shopping. While my purchases are generally limited to candy, booze [when not connecting at other airports] and occasional Swatches, I like to wander around, take inventory of their stocks and compare prices to back home. And in Sao Paulo, they were rather on-par with US domestic prices for, say, vodka, and even higher for fashion eyewear [there is a reason why I venture to London’s Camden Market every year – for new sunglasses]. Oh, and get this – there was both a GAP and Banana Republic kiosk in the Duty Free shops. Khakis, anyone?

K is for KOI – On one side of the outside our new facility, there is a small garden with three wooden seating areas [thing in my neighbor’s backyard] and a small water fountain. The fountain is lined with royal blue tiles and filled with orange koi – representing our corporate colours. I shit you not. Someone at the facility joked that they would teach the koi to form a ball, much like the icon in our corporate logo.

L is for LOCAL – The ride back from Jundiai to the airport in Sao Paulo took us off the highways and on the by-ways for half the ride, pushing the van’s get-up-and-go up hills at 40 mph. Lush hillsides, news housing developments [with security gates], old housing developments [with dogs running about – caught one rustling about in a dumpster], roadside stands with a rainbow of fruits and veggies [I don’t know if I have had more colorful and crisper lettuces anywhere], tire shoppes at busy intersections, people standing somewhat randomly at the side of the road [not sure if they were waiting for a bus or to be hired or other], garages with open doors, people lounging about their front patios, even a local carnival or two [they’re just like us – they ride ferris wheels!]. More local culture in one hour than in the four days I had been in town.

S is for SURVEY – Unable to locate and/or too lazy to walk back to the VIP lounge, I am accosted by a student wearing a vest issued by the Ministry of Tourism that says “Surveys” in three languages performing [surprise] surveys in the airport. This one about my travel plans to/in Brasil. Sure, what the heck. I had a similar experience at Shanghai PuDong airport this summer. While repackging my bag after security, two university students asked me to take their survey – and to their delight I agreed. Apparently I was the first person all morning to agree to the survey, they had spent much of their time run over by busy/apatheic business travelers. Plus, they were psyched to practice their English. In return for answering questions about my local travel, I was rewarded with not one but four little packs of tissues, each with a different twee astololgical sign.

T is for TV – Upon waking only an hour after setting off to sleep on Thursday night [thanks so not, Rozerem!], I flip on the telly to see what’s on around midnight. We’ve got “The Late Show with David Letterman,” “Late Night with Conan O’Brien” and porn – all subtitled in Portuguese.

U is for UPGRADE – That I didn’t get from JFK to LAX. Whatev.

W is for WAIT – As in hurry up and wait. I had been warned by colleagues that I should expect to spend upwards of two hours in line for both airline check-in and security at Sao Paulo airport. One of my colleagues gleefully recounted the five hours she had spent in line due to a security workers’ strike – and had claimed to have been interviewed on the local news. There were three of us, the other two on United, me on Delta, dropped off at Terminal 1, section A. We laid out a game plan to allow each of us to visit the restroom to clean up before the long hauls, while the other two looked after the baggage [physical, not literal]. Following, we parted for our respective airlines, me sneaking into the Business Class line – I have no shame in harnesses the priority power of my Delta Gold Elite status. Checked in, answered the security questions as correctly as possible and then parted ways with my silver Delsey suitcase [godspeed, Delsey! May we meet in San Diego on time and in tact]. The time was 6.20 and my flight was scheduled to depart for JFK at 9.05p. No security strikes that we were aware of, so hopefully I wouldn’t be waiting too long. I still needed adequate time to peruse Duty Free. So, I headed towards the security line, which snaked between those retractable barriers, around the food court in the middle of the A section and proceeded back towards the center of the building, adjacent to section B. From an aerial view, the line appeared similar to the snake on the “Live Free or Die” flag from Revolutionary War days [only remembering it as I’ve been following the “John Adams” series]. Not as many people as in queue for the Obama rally at RIC in early March, though also not as cold. Somewhat mild, but balmy in the building. I take my space in line at 6.25p, and the woman in front of me says something in Portuguese that sounds like “This looks like a line in America!” to me. I reply “Pardon,” to which she apologizes in English – expected that I spoke another language. End up talking with her for a few minutes about the US – I mention that I live in an area with a large Portguese population and she asks if I live around Boston [close enough!]. 10 minutes later, and about 50 feet closer to security, the other two join me in line, perhaps to the chagrin to those behind us. Ugly Americans! [Well, he is Lebanese and would most likely try to barter with them]. An hour later – or in local terms, the amount of time it would take me to leisurely drive across the state of Rhode Island – and after many pokes, prods, ironical statements, and other storytelling, we’re finally through the x-ray machines [laptops out, shoes on!]. Even passed by a statue by security of a pregnant woman with two small children in tow. Perhaps they had been mummified in the airport while waiting in line forever.

Brasil: Take II

2008-04-16T12:45:00.000-04:00

the latest from brasil:

C is for CAPIRINHA - Oh such a tasty, tart beverage. Best made with cachaca and a glass full of lime wedges. Must figure out how to bring back a bottle of cachaca during the return route through JFK/LAX/SDG/CVG/PVD.

F is for FLAIR - As in the “Flair Shop” at the hotel that sells various souvenirs, toys and other random crap. I will seek out their collection of actual flair and also inquire of their stock of collectible spoons for my collection. [Note to self: archive the spoon collection on flickr or some social sharing site so everyone can see my 100+ assortment].

G if for GILBERTO – During our opening event, the DJs played Joao Gilberto-eqsue versions of R.E.M.’s “Losing My Religion,” Nirvana “Lithium,” U2 “With or Without You” and [if I did catch it correctly] The La’s “There She Goes.”

I is for INFRASTRUCTURE – While the highways and major roads seem to be well maintained, the roads in Brasil are not always easy to follow. For example, returning to the hotel, we exited the highway, drove beneath the overpass, took four right turns, though a small industrial district, then return to the other direction on the highway – and then exited again to reach the hotel. We could have hopped the fence on the side of the highway.

O is for OUTBACK STEAKHOUSE – As in the restaurant chain. Our hosts took us out for a traditional churrascaria for dinner the other night that was located in the local mall, just a few doors down from the Outback Steakhouse. As with the decadent sushi dinner we had in Shanghai this past summer, I could be anywhere…like Cleveland . We didn’t enter the mall, so I don’t know if there was a Gap around the corner [though the host did confirm that there was no Banana Republic at that mall].

N is for NUT - Because here, they aren’t called “filberts.” However, did you know that Bolivia produces more Brazil nuts than Brazil itself?

P is for PLATE OF SHRIMP – As a post-script to the Naomi Campbell sighting in customs at Sao Paulo airport, the following day’s news identified that she carried on to Rio de Janiero for her own “humanitarian mission” – to donate blood to those suffering from Dengue Fever. She was denied the opportunity not for her recent belligerent antics, but for her recent illness/hospitalization. However, the mayor of Rio would like her to be a goodwill ambassador. Please watch your head.

S is for SAKIARINHA – Like a caipirinha, but replace the cachaca with saki. Now that’s what I’m talking about.

S is for SEINFELD – Yet another country where I can find “Seinfeld” on telly, with local language subtitles. Also aired in the same manner: “The Nanny,” “ Beverly Hills 90210” [later years], “Law & Order” and a Meryl Streep movie.

W is for WATERPARKS – They’re just like us! Brasilians like to spend their free time sliding down massive concrete chutes filled with rushing water! Not that it is a national sport…

Bem Vindo de Brasil

2008-04-15T12:41:00.000-04:00

For the course of the week, I am in Campinas, Brasil, a few many kilometers outside Sao Paolo, for the grand opening of my company’s new facility. Travelling since Sunday afternoon, I had rather unevenful flights from PVD to ATL, delay in ATL but caught up in the air.

Here’s the first 24-hour recap by alphabet:

B is for BIDET - Which is situated next to the toilet in my hotel bathroom. It is surrounded by three toilet paper dispensers. Bidet, anyone?

D is for DENGUE FEVER - I thought owning the band’s new album was enough. I’ve only now been advised that the country is plagued by the actual dengue fever. That was omitted from the meeting memo. And now we are not going to have drinks by the pool this evening.

E is for ETHANOL - As one is wont to ask the locals about: weather, local government and gas prices, my driver said that the price per litre is R$1.40 for ethanol [exchange rate Real$1.00 = USD$0.50]. Gasoline was just a bit more than that. Ethanol is produced nationwide, from sugar plant, reducing the nation’s reliance on oil. There’s even a switch by the steering wheel whereby the driver [or anyone who can reach, for that matter] can switch the fuel used from ethanol to gasoline! V cool.

F is for FAVELA - Otherwise known as the slum. Changing highways, we drove past a favela, to which my driver tagged as “leaches.” Imagine pigs in a sty. Now replace the pigs with people. You choose the adventure.

M is for MOTEL - As in Hotel Hawaii 5.0, as on the side of the highway. The sign said that it rents by the hour, 2-hour minimum.

S is for SWIMMING - Pool shoppes dotted the highway leading up from Jundiai to Campinas - displayed upright to show depth, stairs, shape. now, only where to put one? From the roads from Sao Paolo to Campinas, I’ve only seen neighborhoods and favelas on the sides of hills/mountains.

T is for TIMEWARP - Arrival in Sao Paolo was the usual de-plane, hike across East Jesus [here pronounced “hey-sooz“] and an early queue in passport control. Whilst waiting, two things struck me, wondering if I had entered a time warp:

TV screens in the passport control area were showing “YO! MTV Raps” [feat. videos by The Fresh Prince and Naughty by Nature].
Bypassing the queue and passport control stations, noneother than supermodel Naomi Campbell is wisked through. A few of us in line crack a double-take and nod in confirmation. She was wearing very skinny black jeans, t-shirt, some sort of jacket/vest thing and a baseball cap. An airline agent [def not British Airways] drew her tiny designer Louis Vuitton-esque rollerbag behind him. For your concern, I was *not* assaulted by her cell phone.

W is for WTF - It’s now 5p and as I type this email at the hotel, I hear the staccato beat of a drum and crowd noise. Either the natives are getting restless or there is a futbol stadium nearby. [postscript: OK, so I just opened the window and there are tribal drummers pounding away at a private event at the hotel, in another wing. Must crash it.]

Certainly more to come! Stay Tuned!

Lollapalooza 2007: Day Three

2007-08-07T16:57:00.001-04:00

LOLLAPALOOZA 2007: DAY THREE

Amy Winehouse

the VIP platform. could someone please identify the guy in the center wearing a pink shirt and gray blazar? he was rather into his distracting hand jives and jubliant kicks during like every band.

seriously, what is holding up her hair? she says it's all natural in interviews. if that's true, then the last time she would have cut her hair would be when she lost it as a baby. my friend laura has hair down to her ass, can swing small children from it, choke a whole gang of latin kings, but for the life of her cannot get her hair to such epic proportions. would i better understand this if i had taken physics in high school?

no, no, no.

vertical photo to maximize headroom for that thing on her head.

Iggy & the Stooges

from a distance, DAMN iggy looks fantastic. up close, and yeah, he's aged a few. but so tight! could bounce double nickles and a dime off him.

even watt worships at iggy's temple.

with all due respect, iggy shows some ass to perry + mrs. farrell. simple courtesy.

WATT!

the lollapalooza dancers!

Yo La Tengo

too hot for an autumn sweater

viva hoboken!

the whole first row in the crowd just did not get it. i don't think they've ever been exposed to such beautiful drone. what a shame.

TV on the Radio

crowds may appear larger than they actually are. whatever. TV on the Radio kicked me in the ass. i'm a deer in headlights at this point.

oh, and guitar guy kyp malone is wearing what looks to be a max earplugs [left ear only].

tuning/adjusting.
oh, i have some quick video footage too large to upload here.

Lollapalooza 2007: Day Two

2007-08-07T13:35:00.000-04:00

LOLLAPALOOZA 2007: DAY TWO

I'm From Barcelona [via Sweden]

after running from the backstage area, denied from the viewing platform [those dastard sticklers actually reading our wristbands!], laura and i hightail it to the field at the bud light(R) main stage, weaving through the crowd for an upper-closer and more personal view of the swedes from down the road [ok, malmo is technically down the road from helsingborg]. first course of action? emanuel tossing a pool float into the crowd for some surfing. perhaps this is done to protect the goods.

i have built a treehouse
i have built a treehouse
nobody can see usit's a you and me house
i've been climbing rocks and stones
been collecting broken bones
i've been swimming across the lakes
just to find this perfect place
i got lost into the woods
i've been covered up in mud
i've been going through a lot
just to find this perfect spot

if he cannot hear us, then he might have noise-induced hearing loss. at least some of his bandmates are wearing howard leight fusion earplugs!

lee berman?

move over madonna! IFB truly are the H&M proto-children. add to that some skull maracas, a banana shaker, balloons, glockenspiel...i think we're on to something.

22 are from barcelona

stage crews can have fun, too!

Patti Smith & Lenny Kaye [on the Kidz stage]

Patti + Lenny commandeer the Kidz stage for a 5-song set, including a Hank Williams cover. apparently last year, she hit the Kidz stage and railed against US presence in Iraq. this time was not a downer.

saint patti

with son Jackson, closing with "People Have the Power." and 50-yr-old former hippies/ters pumping fists in the air during the chorus.

Perry Farrell w/Satellite Party
late saturday afternoon finds perry and his band holding court in the eco-green area [30+ yrs ago it was called "ecology." 17 years ago it was called "evironmentalism." now it's called "green." what's the difference? exactly.
climbing on a table, encourgaing something positive through a merely discernable portable amp. my friend carl calls, i pull back of the crowd, answer

rsb: hey, perry farrell's holding court.
carl: where are you?
rsb: lollapalooza. chicago.
carl: well hang up!

for strutting his chin, teeth clenched. the amount of stuff perry's done over the past lifetime, he looks to be in incredibly good shape, though in need of a sandwich every fortnight.

bask in the glow. band plays acoustic along to jane's addiction's greatest hits [incl. "been caught stealing" and "mountain song"].

this type of thing rarely happens.

off to the side is the family, mrs. perry [who also dances for the satellite party, two little farrells and the mother-in-law].

Spoon

that's the way we get by.
[so the crowd all lights up - he said "by" jackasses, not "high." you're thinking of another song.

Lollapalooza 2007: Day One

2007-08-07T10:34:00.000-04:00

LOLLAPALOOZA 2007: DAY ONE

Thanks to Suzanne Wyatt at The EAR Foundation, I found myself with a Lounge pass at Lollapalooza 2007 at Grant Park in Chicago over this past long weekend. Admittedly, it's been more than awhile since I had partaken in the rock in a meaningful way so it took me only a few minutes to get going. The Lounge pass gained me and my audiology friend Laura access to a secluded area on the side of either of the main stages, complete with catering [delish lunch + dinners], beverages, swag, shade, seating and occassional access to the platforms on one side of the stage. Aside from some musicians, I could only recognize two celebs - Laura Dern [aka Mrs. Ben Harper] and the convulsive Juliette Lewis [who performed Sunday with the Licks].

Three days later, uneven farmer's tan, worn feet and some rather rank shorts, I'm alive and kicking. And without tinnitus!

Without further ado, the highlight reel.

FRIDAY
The Polyphonic Spree

did someone say tap dancers?

encore included a rolicking cover of "lithium" by nirvana, complete with white church robes

M.I.A.
shake it!

i'm standing on the stage left platform on the side of the stage, just walked right on up and helped myself to the view. after taking a few photos, i sung back to drop my camera in my bag, only to find noneother than mrs. amy winehouse standing behind me, voraciously typing a message into her sidekick-blackberry-thingy, holding up that mount kilamanjaro of hair. there has to be something in there to hold it up [and my bet is that it is organic, but not of her own dna].

m.i.a. sashays on stage while her backup singer/dancer directs traffic. later she was climbing on the girders on the side of the stage, terrifying the stage hands, who were beneath fortifying the speakers she then perched atop.

Sparklehorse

mark linkous has his own hair moment.

Ben Harper & The Innocent Criminals
pleasantly surprised by B Harper - had read a lot of rave reviews but never heard, til now. his band has nice rugs on stage [the floor kind, not the hair kind].

he was later joined during the finale by the dude with the hair from Pearl Jam.

ev: i really like your rugs.
bh: why thank you. they really spruce up the place.
ev: oh yeah, though they must be a pain to clean.

london calling

2006-02-14T19:47:00.000-05:00

Now get this
London calling, yes, I was there, too
An' you know what they said?
Well, some of it was true!
London calling, at the top of the dial
And after all this, won't you give me a smile?
London Calling
I never felt so much ALIVE ALIVE ALIVE ALIVE
-- The Clash

i've been to london town now a half-dozen times, so it's a bit like home. here are some highlights from past and present trips:

BUCKINGHAM PALACE
when not at her other shacks in the wilderness, the queen lives here.

i am not a robot.

HYDE PARK
"the central park" of london. two weeks before this photo was taken, Live 8 was held here. the day after this was shot, REM played in the adjacent field. who wants to pay $150 to see three old men in a field try to rock out?

please be observant of park rules.

TRAFALGAR SQUARE
site of several anti-apartheid rallies during the 1980s. to one side the canadian embassy. to the other, south africa. around the corner, the texas embassy cantina [1 cockspur place, no less].

BIG BEN
what time is it?

LONDON EYE
fun the the whole family, complete with scenic views of the city and perhaps a barf bag for the quesy. note that the eye's base is at a slight angle, and dangles the wheel towards the thames.

PARLIAMENT
[not v funkadelic]

10 DOWNING STREET
home of tony blair and fam.

HARRODS
the first time i visited london, i literally spent half a day wandering around this behemoth, two hours no less in the food halls. located at knightsbridge and kensington high street, this flagship harrods "store" has been around for 100+ years, seven floors of luxury and excess, catering to the super wealthy. the ground floor houses men's accessories, fragrances and not one but two "Rooms of Luxury" [this is where i jam my hands in my pockets, look down and hustle through, praying not to touch anything lest they have a "you look at it, you buy it" rule]. in the back are the Food Halls, where i spent a minimum 2 hours roaming. the frommagerie alone is salivating - i once asked the frommager if cheese could be brought into the US, though the man had both an accent and a stutter, totally intelligible. awkwardness ensued, and i did not ask him to repeat. i still don't know, but the cheeses under glass would be worth the risk of finding out.

from the food halls: lobster anyone?

more tasty treats.

it's owned by mohammed al fayed, father of dodi. in the basement is a tribute to princess di and dodi. under glass are two wine galsses from their last supper.

TOWER OF LONDON
if you did something bad a long long time ago, you ended up here. with a beautiful view of the thames.

ROUGH TRADE
legendary record shop/label just off the portobello road. everyone thinks it's giant, however my living room and dining room are way larger - though without the punk rock history covering every inch. posters inside date back to the days of yore [ok, mid-late 70s]. cd/vinyl kiosks jammed in there, subgenres galore. a quick glance at the new shelf, i felt at home - first cds on the rack are lightning bolt, noxagt, olneyville sound system and a few other load records artists. the providence rock beast knows no borders.

AIRPORT BOWL
yes, leeberman, there is bowling in london, and if you have enough time between flights, catch the heathrow hoppa #3, get off at the holiday inn ariel and walk a block up. you cannot miss this.

there goes...

2005-10-08T14:01:00.000-04:00

late june 2005

on my annual june trek to saturn of albany, i took a side trip 45 minutes north to lake george. it has been years since i had been, on a weekend trip to lollapalooza 1992 with friends and one of their moms. back then, it was a ramshackle "quaint" town with cabins, third-rate "themed" hotels/resorts, gift stores overflowing with commemorative tchotchkes [generally shot glasses, name plates, cheap jewelry, t-shirts/sweatshirts, cheap plastic toys that break within 20 minutes and such all emblazoned with "lake george"]. the poor man's lake winnipassaukee.

i roll into town. motorcycles trail around town, bikers with fringed leathers and biker-mamas clutching for dear-life [or ecstasy] around beer bellies. as i near the central business district, disjointed families meander the sidewalks, restaurant signs squawk lobster specials and steaks for $9.99. i figure i'll park the car, peruse a tchotchke store for a spoon for my collection, then intend to head back to saratoga to visit some relatives.

however, all that changed when i saw this sign:

oh yes.

lake george has it's own annual elvis festival. fo reeeeeeel. now, i've been to graceland, did the full house-museum-car-plane tour. that trip was the genesis of my spoon collection. my mom and i were driving to my "new" [read: 10-month] home of san antonio] and had to find the cheapest, but most iconic and sorta trashiest souvenir. a spoon with young elvis emblazoned on the handle. that was it. obsession, hello. five years later, and i've got nearly 75 spoons [that's three racks to y'all] full of spoons from all over the US and world [am wondering how much my bourbon street spoon is worth now?].

i pakr my car, grab my camera and go. across the street, from what looks to be the "city" hall, the aptly appropriate Duffy's Tavern seems a rather happening joint.

the second floor deck loaded with fans of the king. a young one, no less.

nice ass. so talented, he's running his own music machine - and [p]elvising - at the same time.

the crowd goes wild, comprised of biker mamas, local wearing logo'd corp apparel tucked into their acid washed jeans, deck shoes. easy-on pants. this is not 2005, right?

i am blinded by the elvisitude. i catch enough of the song, tho bewildered by the display, i think it was "don't be cruel." i knew there was more fun to be had, and i needed to have *it*. at this point, i don't know what *it* is, and since it's 3.30p, i only have time for maybe 60 minutes of whatever *it* i can get. so i head back down the stairs and hit the main drag.

and what a drag it is. while avoiding the terrorist...i mean tourists, i navigate the crowds, teenagers gawkily holding hands or avoiding as such, children screaming at their clueless parents for an ice cream cone or super-duper-sized nacho plate, seniors walking slower than evolution, i take occasional steps into tourist traps for my elusive spoons, only to find t-shirts, blankets, shot glasses and other overpriced CPS/sundries.

i head up to the top of the CBD and work my way back to the car.

the restuarant of one hotel offers free elvii performances from noon - 5p. could be one, could be many, who knows? i poke my head into one, completely empty sans mid-year elvis rockin the mic. he's between songs, and beckons to me "c'mon in here lil' lady and have a seat." for once in my life, i am flabberghasted, caught like a deer in headlights. a homer simpson thought bubble sprouts from my head "what do i do??"

next thing i know, i snap a shot and run away. i don't mean to dis the king, but gut instinct said to bail. and we always listen to the gut.

i find a trail to an "event area," tho forgo the $5 entry fee and linger on a high-up staircase to hear the current elvis on stage. not bad, tho perhaps he might be lipsyncing. who knows? i meander back to the street, pass a few sad tchotchke store fronts hawking lake george grab. a few college kids snag a faux elvis "incognito" [i doubt the evlis t-shirt and graying chops gave him away] begging for gang shots. i would have loved for one with the faux-king, but withheld, out of respect for graceland.

so i continue on. ther's a walkway that counters the lake, a few bars dot the way, and a few of those have balconies...tunes from the king beckoning me forward...unless i see less than three people within. and most have less than three people within. i carry on [note a cruise barge that a few months later will capsize chock full o'elderly peoples, some of whom drown]. i find myself at the dock below duffy's.

that's it for lake george elvis fest? i believe so, but now i can honest-to-gawd say that lake george has one. no word of a lie.

the numbers

2005-10-04T19:42:00.000-04:00

i'll post about london later on [i've been there enough, it's like going to boston]. here are the numbers:

Total Days Out: 18

Airports/Duty-Free Locations: 6 - Boston Logan [BOS], London Heathrow [LHR], Bangkok [BKK], Sydney [SYD], Melbourne [MEL], Shanghai Pudong [PVG]

Airlines: 3 [American, British Airways, Quantas]

Movies [partially/fully viewed]: 10 - LA Confidential, Man of the House, Guess Who, In Good Company, Diamond Geezer, Spiderman 2, Fever Pitch, Miss Congenialty 2: Armed & Fabulous, Million Dollar Baby, Winter Solstace

Hotels: 3 - London/Holiday Inn Heathrow Ariel, Melbourne/Novotel St. Kilda, Shanghai/Sofitel Hyland Shanghai

Passport Stamps: 6 - entering UK, entering Australia, exiting Australia, entering China, exiting China, entering UK

National Holiday Missed: 1 [Fourth of July]

Days Lost: 1 [i think it was the Fourth of July]

Time Zones Crossed: 14

Days in the Office/Working: 6

Books Read: 2 ["I'm a Stranger Here Myself" and "The Lost Continent: Travels in Small-Town America" by Bill Bryson]

HOURS/MILES:
boston - london --> 6 hours, 3,267 miles
london - bangkok --> 11.2 hours, 5,919 miles
bangkok - sydney --> 9.8 hours, 4,676 miles
sydney - melbourne --> 1.5 hours, 500 miles
melbourne - sydney --> 1.5 hours, 500 miles
sydney - shanghai --> 10.2 hours, 4,888 miles
shanghai - london --> 12 hours, 5,719 miles
london - boston --> 6 hours, 3,267 miles

TOTAL --> 58.7 hours, 28,594 miles

en route: shanghai --> london

2005-10-03T19:31:00.000-04:00

in the aeroplane over the seee-beria

--> uneventful 12 hour flight from shanghai to london.

--> two words: ulan bator. i flew of fucking MONGOLIA!

--> and siberia - not as mucha frozen wasteland as expected. a few times i got up for a bathroom break/stretch the legs and peered out the window by the galley. hills and valleys everywhere. could have been appalachia, for all that matters.

--> heading over st. petersburg [nee petrograd, nee leningrad]

i could be anywhere

2005-09-12T19:05:00.000-04:00

shanghai random observations

--> i'm in the hotel all day, working on my laptop connected via wireless, watching CNN International, eating macadamia nuts, drinking coca-cola, wearing gap jeans. where am i?

--> shanghai's got a plethora of people trailing around the city on motorbikes+ bicycles = a mod's dream. i asked my hosts if accidents involving pedestrians happened often. yes.

--> after a day of work in my hotel room, and a jaunt down the nanjing road, i was in desperate need of a shower. it had been at least a day or so. clean up, but then drop my deodorant stick, on it's last legs nonetheless. ok, i'll just go around the corner to the market and pick up a new one. suit up and cross the square in a constant drizzle. scan the "personal item" shelf at the convenience store with no luck. enough aspirins and toothpicks, but nothing remotely resembling deodorant. ok, how about a pharmacy? they've got to have more "personal" items. so i run back to the hotel and ask the concierge of the closest one - it's diagonally across the people's square. so back out in the rain, slide across the plaza's slippery stones [note: attendants literally squeegee the rain off the steps to the department store next door] and land in the pharmacy. floor one is chocked with chinese herbs and traditional medicines. next floor looks more "technical," that's for sure. locked glass counters, stocked literally with pharmaceuticals [for headaches, acne, colds, etc], enough skin cremes to moisturize texas and "high-end" perfumes. the shop assistants see a white person and again call out to me to purchase their best hand cremes. while i was teetering on the edge to purchase an "expensive" perfume, i declined. ran back to the hotel and emailed my co-worker [tempted to ask her to ask her parents to bring me some] who said that i would be ok without because no one in "mainland" china uses deodorant. yes, i could find it in hong kong, but not in shanghai. i did my best to reclaim my deodorant stick, and was ok til i returned to london.

--> in the evening, sitting in the hotel bar, reading a book, making notes in my pad, ignoring the crap house band attempt at western music dressed in sequins, drinking my 3rd tsingtao [i only have an elevator ride to the 25th floor], i spot an american uni student, sporting a backwards baseball cap and a frat t-shirt.

--> the international opium commission. never knew it existed. until now.

--> snacks: green tea, a packet of squid-flavoured puffed treats and a packet of "daygum." the silver things i the back? well, you'll just have to come over and check 'em out!

--> best restaurant name ever: eat here or be square restaurant. around the corner from our office. i think i saw ducks hanging upside down in the kitchen window at the entrance. but total mod colors inside.

--> one evening, our hosts took us to a "western" behemoth of a chinese restaurant in pudong - Xiao Nan Guo. the main floor reminded me of the olive garden [minus the hospitaliano]. we were led upstairs to a private room, all 12 of us. mix of chinese, french, american. round table, 4-ft. lazy susan in the center. immediately 12 dishes line it, swirling around. we had been advised that one should only ask about a dish's ingredient after indulging [lest be freaked out by yak tongue or monkey testicles in advance], however we knew better. my hosts know that i only eat seafood, and one of my co-workers is extremely inquisitive [read: extremely wary] of what's been put in front of us. a lot of seafood, tofu veggie dishes, some meats. nothing that looks out of the ordinary. take a little, swirl around. i swill a local white wine, "wall of china" label, while others sip a kiwi daqueri-type [non-alcoholic].scrumptious! til the dessert, which was a white ball. snap up with chopsticks [my handling acumen impressed all] and took a bite - ack! WTF is this? it's mushy, but solid, something brown in the center. translated, it was a ball of rice gluten with fermented soybeans in the center. i'll take a toothpick for dessert any day!

--> a view from above: the city approx. 10a. industrial haze rolls in precisely at 9a. air quality is constantly poor. add summer humidity/temps around 95F, and everyone needs a lungbrush.

--> environmentally conscious trash cans.

--> brochures i pick up in the hotel lobby: oriental pearl broadcasting tower, maglev train, shanghai's specific bars [includes the hard rock cafe], shanghai golf tour, huangpu river cruising, a tour of shanghai: happy farmer's life.

--> do's and don'ts from the hotel safety brochure [aside from the usual precautions]:

Hands off from the fire-fighting equipment.
Dry nothing on the lamp.
Hotel guestrooms cannot be used for other purposes.
Keep your air tickets and passports in a proper way.
No fire-works or dangerous articles in the hotel.
Advise your visitors, if any, not to overstay.
No excessive drinking.
Use Internet properly.
No fighting.
No gambling.
Follow no strangers to the fun places.
Be alert against overcharging while shopping.
Ask for help from policemen when you get lost.
Ask for a receipt when you take a taxi.
Watch out against pickpockets in crowded places.
Be careful for foreign currency exchange with private dealers.
No prostitution. No porn articles of any kind. No drugs of any kind.

lost in translation

2005-07-26T19:22:00.000-04:00

shanghai - part one

--> i spent most of monday in my hotel room, catching up on work. it’s climate controlled, cnn international on telly, mini-bar with coca-cola and heineken, “do not disturb” door sign, hair dryer, shower cap in the bathroom. i could be anywhere – san diego, shanghai, sweden, smithfield, samsara.

--> shanghai is considered the showplace for china to the outside world and accounts for nearly half of the nation’s economy. thus, the moment the clock strikes 9a, the industrial haze rolls in and the sky is prematurely dark. cough cough. the smell is worse than i realized.

--> a few local highlights:

Nanjing Road East – shopping area in the heart of shanghai. the stretch in front of my hotel is a pedestrial mall, full of food markets, clothing stores with bright neon signs, tchotchke and souvenir shoppes, apartments, alleys filled with designed knock-offs [of graded varieties, nonetheless]. look up and you’ll see either offices, or apartments with clothes hanging to dry in the window. i spend a few minutes in the morning walking along nanjing road east. miniature trams drive through the middle, transporting tourists in tiger balm-sponsored cars. our friend colonel sanders is stationed every 100 yards, with a mcdonald’s thrown in for good measure.

Shopping - i poke into a few stores, an easy target for all shop assistants who see “white person = buy things.” not necessarily the ticket, though when i was shopping, the assistant would follow me around the cramped store with a small wicker basket, extremely helpful. they’d communicate the price with a calculator and i would simply nod, and hand over a few maos. if i was browsing, such as i did in a clothing store, they stood every 5 feet screaming “silica” at me, hawking their silk shirts [very ugly designs, i’d never even consider buying them for laura bush], often grabbing at me. i had no qualms about tossing out a resolute “NO,” making them talk to the hand and bailing out of the store. i do buy a pair of bjork-ish sandals at a department store for i think $25.

The Bund – historic strip from the days of yore – late 1800s/early 1900s - built to look like european cities. still a hub of culture, though mostly high-end international boutiques [eg. Armani and friends] and restaurants [Three on the Bund, owned by jean georges vongrichten].

Pudong – the modern city as noted below. super fancy modern architecture, looks like Dubai. the narrow tower with the ball on it is the Oriental Pearl TV Tower, the third largest tower in the world. barges in the Huangpu River cruise with goods, quite possibly a delivery of watermelon.

The People’s Square – central gathering place adjacent to my hotel on nanjing road east. there’s a large stage with two jumbo screens on either side. it’s quiet during the day, though after 5p, the people gather, videos on the screens, people on the stage and bellagio hotel-inspired fountains dance with water. even when it’s raining.

big pimpin' in pudong

2005-07-24T18:56:00.000-04:00

melbourne - sydney - shanghai
sunday 10 july

--> early morning cab ride from hotel to the melbourne airport. cab driver and i held a rather articulate conversation on the evils of this modern world and american culture [sometimes the lines are blurry as both are sometimes the same]. ended the ride with his inquiry "so, tell me, what's the story behind JFK's assassination?" i said that the popular belief is that the mob did him in. i should have gotten his email address and had my mom explain the exact conspiracy theory.

--> after an additional $50 fee for heavy baggage [literal, not figurative] and the queue through immigration/security/duty free, i caught up on some reading at the gate ["the lost continent: travels in small-town america" by bill bryson], it was as if on cue that the area was invaded by 40 chinese businessmen toting a bag from the crown casino. a few had a green tour bag, some had duty free bags, some had nothing else. ready to board a 12 hour flight. now, tell me, how could one board a flight for half-a-day and not carry something - a newspaper, book, snacks, pillow, rubik's cube, navajo rug? the in-flight entertainment is barely that [considering the crap movie selections on all my routes, i developed ADD, thus my constant photography of the flight map]. well, this group was on, strapping on the feedbag, chowing down the contents of their bag - a three course breakfast [yogurt, hardcooked egg, muffin, fresh fruit, roll, juice - not that i was noticing]. overcompensating for traditionally boring and overcooked/flavourless airline food [and the argument of "high altitudes have a negative effect on the tastebuds]. many of the "white people" seated at the gate moved to a different section, visibly annoyed by the group. the flight to sydney was delayed by 90 minutes, and by the time boarding is called [by row numbers], it's a mosh pit [good thing i've had practice in my years of attending gigs; i'll elbow when necessary or not].

--> through Australian customs, i am given a slip of paper reminding me of items that are not allowed to be brought into the country. this list includes: blowpipes; bb guns; air powered weapons [incl: bb guns & air pistols]; flick knives; push knives; trench knives; pistol grip crossbow; nunchakas; knuckledusters; anabolic/androgenic steroids; ephedrine; diet pills [dhea]; electronic fly swatters; coral/clam shells; and reptile skin goods. basically, anything that you would need to get through the outback in one piece.

--> ok, who burped? in close company, i'll let it go, but not in the airport, surrounded by strangers. WTF?

--> for no apparent reason [or perhaps to check me for beef jerky again], and as we're on the same physical plane to shanghai, we must all deplane, go through security and re-board. flight attendant instructions on board as to where to go are unclear, and the other shanghai-bound travellers and i are like a flock of sheep in the terminal. not sure where to go and a bit unclear after a quantas staff member points us to the security line. once again, we have to remove our laptops and pocket items, and hustle through the metal detector. still 45 minutes between flights, though by the time i [and my fellow chinese businessmen] reach the gate, the flight is further delayed. i call my contact in shanghai and explain my predicament. a company car was supposed to meet me and take me to the hotel, though now i'll have to take a taxi.

--> 10.5h from sydney to shanghai. no seat mate. fly back up through indonesia, over the phillipines [this is the closest i've ever come to vietnam], and up the eastern coast of china. realize the best investment in sanity i've made in a long time is an MP3 player [creative digital nomad w/30 gig of space and 14h rechargable battery].

--> at the beginning of the flight, the staff passed out rather nice menus that outlined the lunch and dinner options. too bad i had already ordered a vegetarian meal [VGLM], though worked off the drink column. i asked a flight attendant for a beer and they brought me a Fosters [Australian for "beer"].

--> i need a haircut. something about low shower water pressure incites rapid growth.

--> towards the end of the flight, there is a woman one row ahead of me who has removed what looks like a racquetball attached to a stick and has begun tapping herself with it like a loofa. for about 5 minutes. everyone around her is quite intrigued and amused, tossing shrugs at each other.

--> prior to arrival into the shanghai pudong airport, several immigrations/customs forms are distributed. each requires our passport and travel info - where i'm going to stay, nature of my visit. i had rushed prior to the trip for a chinese visa [highly recommend prioritypassports.com for a 2-day turnaround]. one form asks me if i am carrying over $9K in US currency. another asks if i am carrying anything that would insult the chinese government. or if i have been near livestock or in either africa or south america. or if i have any sort of mental illness, STD or nuclear devices. or meat-related product. last time i checked [and, yes, i did pack my own bags, they had been with me at all times - unless they were in the plane's cargo hold - and no one had given me something to take on board], the answer to all these questions is a firm "NO."

--> i am expecting a long wait through immigration after landing in shanghai. i am on my best behaviour, ready to answer with little words as possible, a pair of earplugs at the ready in the event i must explain what i actually do. deplane, hit the loo [very clean, modern set-up] and get to the queue. which lasted all of 10 minutes. i handed the agent my passport and papers, no verbal communication, a few scans, stamp stamp stamp and i was free to go. what a let down!

--> MOAS was one of the first bags off the baggage claim. i hit an ATM for local currency - the yuan, aka RMB. the quantas inflight travelogue advised that the taxi would cost approx. 150 RMB. i took out 500. every bill has the chairman on one side, either birds or a building of some importance on the flipside. after a certain point, it's all funny money that i can use to buy additional properties on mediterranean avenue.

--> there are certain words that i learn prior to visiting a country, or just upon arrival - hello, please, thank you, toilet. basic things to get by. in swedish, i can say "hello, where is the toilet located please? thank you." it's quite the conversation. mandarin, no such luck.

--> in queue for the taxi, i break out the paper with my hotel info written in both english and mandarin. the odds of me making it are 2-1, not sure if it's in my favour. i end up in a volkswagen santana, which looks like an old toyota corolla that my friends used to drive [the square-ish model with the handle you had to lift when closing the door]. the seats are covered in stark white sheets, the driver is wearing white gloves and his seat is surrounded by a clear plexiglass visor. product of the SARS epidemic. MOAS, briefcase, travel bag and i jam into the back seat for a 50 minute ride to the hotel. it's 90F. and not even a "dry heat." barely any air conditioning in the car.

--> did i mention that this santana is of "La Raza" ilk, with the most pimp-like front end suspension? the car bounces for the entire journey. cue 70s blaxploitation soundtrack! i'm cruising to puxi in S.T.Y.L.E., which is more than i can say for trucks that pass by, loaded with workers hanging off the payload. with watermelons. at stoplights, all i can see are feet. tijuana did not prepare me for this. the highway is like all other highways in the US and Europe - four lanes, rather clean, topiary/geometrically designed landscaping along all sides. billboards hawking everything from mobile phones, delivery services, food and Hooters. the driver actually uses signals to change lanes, so that thing i just said about "just like" other highways is a load of crap. there are lights along the highway, though the sky is ominously dark. pass apartment buildings that are barely lit. no tvs viewable through the window. i ain't in lil rhody any more.

--> Pudong is the "new" part of the city, established in the late 1980s as a special economic zone [read: money]. it used to be farmland, as as the government opened up trade with the western world, it established pudong as the modern financial hub [to quote wikipedia]. the buildings are new/clean-ish looking, the architeture is rather bold, much like melbourne, and at times round. l;ike towers with balls atop or at base. one of my co-worker's parents live in pudong, and she has been there several times, gave me the low-down on the town. Puxi is the old part of the city, home to the legends of imperialism as noted below.

--> as we approach the bridge from Pudong to Puxi, we're in a more residential area. i had been advised by co-workers that the lights generally go out earlier in the evening than most cities. it's 9p and i'm in gotham city, waiting for the batlight to shine in the sky. tim burton must have taken notes waybackwhen. we are at a stoplight, off the highway, approaching the bridge, and i see a chinese restaurant. as if i'd see one anywhere else. at another intersection, there's a gas station on a corner, with a few guys hawking watermelons. in the dark. must be watermelon season. the driver keeps referring to the paper with my hotel address. the odds are upped to 3-1, though i see highway signs for Puxi, the old part of shanghai where my hotel and office is located.

--> we travel over a bridge that crosses the Huangpu River. i think that's what i'm smelling - pu. the bridge goes on for miles until its penultimate spiral to street level. the driver weaves his way through one-way and blocked off streets, along The Bund [historic road from the turn of the 20th century, full of mobsters, traders, opium dens, shopping, theatre and imperialism]. people are out and about, tourists, locals looking along the river, snacking at kiosks. there are lightboxes and signs along the road that read "Develop Good Hygiene Habits: Wash Your Hands Often" or "Ventilate Your Room Often." SARS. remnant. more KFCs than dunkin donuts in new england.

--> we arrive at my hotel - the Sofitel Hyland on Nanjing Road East. i remember this road from reading "Empire of the Sun" by JG Ballard [recount of the British author's internment in a Japanese camp during WWII, later made into film by steven spielberg, starring a 12-yr-old christian bale and a non-12-yr-old john malkovich]. i'm literally thrown out of the taxi as another hotel guest tries to get in. 150 RMB. it's 9.15p. i'm dog tired and just want to lay down. i am sent up to the "executive check-in" upstairs. i think my dad would be giddily impressed by that. the hotel clerk is rather attentive and swift with my check-in. all papers in order, credit card impressed, even handed a book called "Chinese Are on Cloth." odd title, until i open and spot the real title on a page - "Chinese Art on Cloth." i could make a lot of money out here as a proofreader.

--> elevator to the "club leve" on the 25th floor. super modern dark wood design. down bed. reminds me of the hilton @ copenhagen airport. view of nanjing road. i take my obligatory photos of the room, discover two pairs of white slippers in the closet [one goes into MOAS for future use, the other pair on my feet], flip the TV on to CNN international and order in-room dining. prompt service - shrimp dumplings, sauteed bok choi and a coca-cola [dubbed "american wine" by a roberto begnini-looking british airways flight attendant]. within an hour i'm out.

i thought barbie was from malibu

2005-07-20T13:10:00.000-04:00

melbourne, australia
5-10 july

a few realizations:
--> i am standing on the bottom of the world and have not fallen off [yet]. nor has all the blood rushed to my head and exploded.
--> if it’s july, then it’s winter – a bit mild, breezy but not terribly cold. approx. 50F daily high, though it rained on and off while i was in town. [though, i did hear that the high temperature in providence that friday was only 63F.]
--> my boss implored me to immediately flush the toilet and watch the water go down in the “other direction.” well, i tried that and the water just went down the hole. outside of north america, the human waste industry has yet to discover “low-flow” toilets. the shit just goes down, and an entire niagara fallsian wave of water gushes. in fact, the force is so potent, that one could be sucked down with the contents if one does not back up enough prior to flush. so i plugged up the sink, filled it with water and then watched the water drain in the other direction. v cool! [am working on uploading a video file of this]

anyway . . .

--> melbourne is a relatively new city, established less than 200 years ago, and has benefited most recently from an industrial and housing boom. as sydney is positioned as the worldly, metropolitan “showplace,” melbourne is the “cooler sibling,” with a thriving art scene and rather bold, angular architecture. even graffiti, the bane of many cities, is embraced and accepted in certain public establishments [esp. tram stops].
--> highlights:

Flinders Street Station – victorian-style train station in the CBD [central business district, aka downtown]. it’s a bright yellow and hard to miss.

Swanston Street – shopping district with major department stores, office buildings and tourist-oriented stores chock full of Australiana tchotchkes and KFC every 100 meters.

Federation Square – across from Flinders Street Station, Federation Square was established approx. five years ago to commemorate Australia’s history and provide a central gathering place for it’s citizens. The square, along the banks of the Yarra River, includes a large park and series of museums that celebrate Aussie culture – national art museum, museum of moving image, the new design museum. in the center is a large open area where festivals and other events take place.

Yarra River - sourced at Mt. Baw Baw in the West Gippsland region of Victoria, the Yarra River flows through Melbourne and feeds into Port Phillip Bay, and then into the Tasman Sea.

Crown Casino – gambling, shopping, dining in one center along the south bank of the Yarra River. along the riverwalk are tall, rectangular pillars that spout 5 meter gasping flames periodically in the evening [file under: public safety risk in America].

Crosswalks – when it’s ok to cross, the green light on the signal box is accompanied by a 150+ bpm woodpecker. when it’s changed to red, the beat slows to a tick-tock.

Trams – Melbourne operates a well-organized rail/tram system. the trams consist of three “busses” joined by flexible hinges that facilitate easy corner maneuvering. each tram drives like a bus, though, for efficiency, the tram has driving positions on either end. so when the tram reaches the end of it’s line, the driver gets out of one seat, walks through the bus and gets into a seat at the other end – and reverses the route. now, why didn’t you think of that?

other things to note:

--> similarities – K-Mart; Target; infomercials promoting real estate schemes and crap music compilations; 7-11; the popularity of iPods.

--> Differences – Burger King = Hungry Jack’s; a boom of either mobile doggie groomers/doggie daycare transport; occasionally asked to pay for plastic bags in stores as there is a push to utilize paper or reusable bags when shopping; driving on opposite side of the road; clean, user-friendly tram network; Nick Cave as national icon; Bananas in Pyjamas and a cadre of other children’s programming involving adults in full animal/vegetable costume making gurgling noises; Billabong.

--> I never realized, until I began traveling outside of the United States on a regular basis, the popularity of the greasy “is it really chicken or is it some other animal” chain, Kentucky Fried Chicken. While it’s a strong chain in the states, I am flabberghasted by the sheer quantity of KFCs outside of the US. On the Nanjing Road East in Shanghai, adjacent to my hotel, I counted no less than five within a mile stretch, even a few knock-offs appropriating the Col. Sander’s image [insert comment here, re: “what, no chairman mao’s famous chicken shack?”]

international date line

2005-07-19T23:19:00.000-04:00

tues 5 july

somewhere over indonesia - sydney - melbourne

--> flying is rather boring. as glamourous as the cities i visit are perceived, sitting on an airplane for nearly 20 consecutive hours is less than thrilling, and can cause one to become overly lethargic [not to mention the risk of one’s arse locked in the seated position – rivals that numb feeling when one sits on their foot for a long period of time and does the jelly walk-n-stumble when they stand up]. i entertain myself the duration of the flight by taking photos of the flight map.

--> the arrivals process is similar to a steeplechase – a mad dash to go a short distance, with hurdles, pools and other obstructions in the way. i’ve got two hours between flights and i need to: queue for arrivals hall; clear immigration [the agent barely spoke english and i asked him to repeat himself frequently – i could just play stupid and blame it on “hearing loss”]; proceed to baggage and reclaim my luggage [after 10 minutes and no show, i corralled an agent who located the mother-of-all-suitcases [from now on to be known as "MOAS"] – it had gone to “a different” area and 5 mins later is dumped out on the conveyor belt – talk about service! tears of joy nearly streamed from my eyes, it was the fastest lost bag retrieval I’ve ever witnessed]; queue for customs; answer additional questions regarding the contents of my bags [Australia has strict rules about food entering the country, and was questioned if i had beef jerky on me as i mentioned that i had crackers and candy in my bags – the customs form required declaration of all “food items,” so i declared it]; race to the transfer hall, check in with the airline [again]; clear security [including removing the laptop from my briefcase – at least i can keep my shoes on]; shuttle to another terminal [which took a scenic tour of the airport grounds, including the worker’s café]; enter the terminal; locate the gate; and board the quantas “city hopper” to melbourne. oh, and cruise through duty-free for souvenirs and snacks [gravity pulls me]. PHEW!

--> compared to sydney, my arrival in melbourne was a breeze. deplaned, cleared through to the baggage hall, meet the driver. took an inordinately long time for the luggage to arrive, though the MOAS made it successfully, and we were off. after 24+ hours without decent sleep, a strained back from the ergonomic-my-arse airplane seats and overall low blood sugar levels, i’m ready to pass out on contact. the driver is amiable, and shares some local highlights, as well as some tidbits – such as the “unknown” fact that the Australian army is “owned” by the US army, who provides their troops with all training and “share” secret bases up north. i check in at the hotel around 11a and am out like a light when my head hits the pillow for the next nine hours.

losing today

2005-07-07T00:54:00.000-04:00

sunday 3 london

--> make plans to visit with the bros. pearce in southeast london by late morning. take hoppa back to heathrow, and notice that just beyond my hotel is the heathrow lanes - bowling alley. how american! i check the mother-of-all-suitcases for the afternoon and while i head towards the underground entrance in terminal 3, i spot a pointy-nosed man with crooked teeth, with a manager-looking type, a cart of hardcases and a fan asking something. my inital reaction was that it's graham norton, though an hour later i realize it is none other than sting, who performed the day before at live 8.

--> fire alarm sign in hotel lobby read "If you discover a fire, break the glass in this fire alarm point." this is a distinctly british phrasing, as the word "discovery" in america [or even canada or australia] usually relates to exploring a new geography or something to be found in a laboratory after years of scientific research.

--> i'm quite fond of public transportation in greater london, especially the tube. the stations are clean [depsite the lack of trash bins - a result of IRA bombings during the 70s and 80s] with no NYC-ish offensive odors [esp. in summertime] and are easy to navigate. color-coded lines with real names [ok, the cockfosters station on the piccadilly line always gives me a chuckle]. each station has it's own logo/decorative titles. some stations bring songs to mind - when i pass through sloane square, a few lines of "hairdresser on fire" by morrissey run through my head. grand stations, such as Victoria [intersection of victoria, circle and district lines, as well as national rail hub] bustle with people rushing to and fro, food/drink kiosks, pay toilets [which are cleaner than many public toilets in "nice" stores in the US]. the tube has never failed me, though i've jammed up a few turnstyles of my own with oversized luggage. i'd say that i know the london underground better than i do driving in NYC and boston/cambridge.

--> eventually make it to the bros. pearce's new home in west dulwich, noon-ish. visit for a few hours, lunch and a pint at the pub, then back to heathrow around 7p. i'll see them in 10 days.

--> did you know . . . that you need a visa to enter australia? well, guess what! i learn this after 45 minutes in queue. i had scrambled the week before to obtain a visa for entry into china [minor coronary when fedex misplaced the package with my passport en route to the visa agent], but "WHAT DO YOU MEAN I NEED A VISA TO AUSTRALIA?" they speak english [or a version thereof], for gawd's sake! two hours before departure and this is less than welcome news. however, the british airways ticket agent, vivien, explained that she could obtain one for me, at an additional charge of 25 quid [current exchange rate is $1.82 to 1 british pound]. 15 minutes later, the visa was obtained [not even a stamp or label for my passport - the boarding pass itself was it].

--> it's 11h to bangkok, 3h layover, then 8.5h to sydney, change planes, 90m to melbourne. 22+h in flight. will i lose my sanity? better, even, will i lose circulation in my arse from sitting for such a long period of time? hmmm . . .

--> board flight 30 minutes prior to depature. window seat with two unreleated seatmates with no passive-aggressive struggle for the armrest. it's 10p and i'm ready to crash. there was a reason why i slept poorly the night before and had two pints with craig in the afternoon. i passed out before we took off, and 30 mins into the flight i awoke to my head performing "the bobbing chicken," careful not to drool on myself too much. the drink cart was about to make it's way down the aisle, followed by dinner [as much as airline food, esp. domestic when it exists, is crap, international flight meals are usually tasty and the vegetarian option is always creative - dinner was a red thai curry]. watched "million dollar baby" [decent, tho drawn out in the end]. slept on and off, mostly off.

monday 4 [en route to] bangkok

--> happy birthday america.

--> welcome to the world, nathaniel jesse wheeler.

--> in-seat video options include a rotation of movies and TV programs, as well as the flight map. the map shows the plane's progress, in real time, and includes a few views of the plane en route and flight stats [elevation/speed/time to + at destination]. mysteriously, the flight map was unavailable by the time the plane reached germany and didn't come back on until we approached bangkok airport. wonder if that has anything to do with the plane's route over russia/former republics and current/future war zones.

--> descent into bangkok was rather stunning, but somewhat familiar. farms divided evenly, narrow fields closed to levees and creeks like the netherlands. groups of houses, often spot blue blotches that in the western world would be swimming pools; in this instance, painted roofs.

--> closer to the city, round temples dot the landscape, often with grand plazas in front.

--> file under "no word of a lie" - there is a golf course that is adjacent to the bangkok airport, and golf carts actually cross the tarmac to access either side of it. yes, fucking way.

--> 3 hour layover at the bangkok airport meant - you guessed it! - SPOONS! don't call me "grandma," but i have a large collectible spoon collection - nearly 70 in all. where ever i travel [and some friends/family have also contributed], i pick up at least one spoon for that location. it started when i visited graceland, intent on obtaining the most craptacular, but sophisticated memento possible. perhaps i'll archive them in a photo library when i have some "free time."

--> bangkok airport is simple, somewhat modern and clean. the toilet stalls feature a kitchen sink-like hose for those who'd rather not utilize toilet paper. cafes, kiosks, duty free. picked up some gifts for my parents, magnets, spoons, thai kick-boxing candy [two guys kickin' it on the lid] and some other novelties. returned to the gate area, listening to my mp3 player [sonic youth "teen age riot" and rem "i believe" somewhat out of place], watching the tv at the gates air music videos [kaiser chiefs, anyone?].

--> i forgot to mention that at this point "in time," i have no idea what time it is in london, RI or california, let alone melbourne australia. i text message my dad, letting him know that i made it to bangkok. he responds "Did you get any sleep? Do you speak Thai?" i think i woke him up because the time stamped as 2.23a.

--> anyone hungry for some big fish?

--> at this point in time, i have not had a shower for more than 24 hours [i think]. as much as the bangkok airport is air conditioned, it is a steamy 90+F. i'm feeling a bit gamey right now, and the millisecond thought flashed in my head to hose myself down in the bathroom with that hose [i abstained]. i shoulda paid for a shower or brought extra unders for a quick refresh.

--> we re-board the plane around "6p" and there is an empty seat between me and the aisle seat. finally can stretch out and get some "decent sleep." i doze off during take off, and awake 10 minutes into flight.

--> two airplane bottles of red wine [i guess i have an accent because i said "white"] and dinner, i'm still awake. i don't know if it has to do with the small germanic child seated behind me who, while they should be asleep, is rockin the gameboy and kicking the back of my seat. BORED & plotting how i can seek revenge on this child upon arrival.

new england to old england

2005-07-06T11:58:00.000-04:00

saturday 2 july
boston logan [BOS] to london heathrow [LHR]

--> i started my excursion early saturday morning/6a, car service from my home in providence to logan airport...rather relaxing [i'm always stuck with the driving, being chauffered around is a treat - i could easily get used to it]. mildy chatty driver, i just stared into space. arrived at logan one hour later and gasped from the curb at the massive queue spotted from the door. NO! not this early, i'm not ready to wait. so i entered the terminal door and was relieve to discover the queue was not for check-in, but for dunkin donuts. PHEW! or so i thought. it was for my check-in line. american international flights. either i underestimated the length of queue, as i usually depart internationally from the international terminal, or just had no clue to begin with. an hour later, and thoroughly bored. 45 mins before flight departs, quickly hit duty free, scoot through secutiry [my sneakers stayed on!] and then a few minutes at the gate prior to boarding.

--> that's the whole thing with travel - it's a constant state of waiting: waiting for the date of the trip to come, waiting to get to the airport, waiting to check in at the counter, queing in line at security, waiting for the family with small children and all possible accessories to sort out their belongings on the x-ray machine at security, waiting for your shoes to come through the x-ray belt, waiting at the gate to board, waiting on board while other passengers board and eventually position their arse in your face while stowing bags, waiting for take off, waiting for snack/meal service, queuing up for the toilet [that has either an odd smell or a mysterious puddle on the directly infront of the toilet], waiting for the plane to land, waiting for the plane to arrive at the gate, waiting for the door to open and all passengers to collect their belongings [insert george carlin joke about "stuff"] and deplane, waiting at baggage whilst [trying] not [to] freak out when your bag is the last one on the belt. face it, waiting is tiring. and boring.

--> uneventful flight, aside from the dorky college girl who asked me "do your travels take you on business or pleasure?" when she sat down and then proceeded to sing to herself. watched "spiderman 2" [never saw #1] and soaked in the new york times.

--> arrival at heathrow the usual routine - long walk from the gate to customs, 15 mins in line, flight card/passport stamped [they should recognize me by now] and then baggage claim hell. quick message to craig and off to the hotel via hotel hoppa. complementary pint in the hotel bar and catch the final hour of live 8 [bono-free, thank gawd]. two more beers later and i'm out.

[almost] around the world in 18 days

2005-07-06T05:36:00.000-04:00

passport? check.
travel visa? check.
hotel/airline cards? check.
mother-of-all-suitcases? check.
itinerary? check.
clean underwear? check.

grab the map of the world, throw a dart and i might be there. from july 2- 19, i'm on the road again, flying 25,000+ miles around the world, push a piece of foam that one shoves in their ear. hearing protection's the game, travelling fool is my name.

my schedule is as such:
providence - boston - london
london - bangkok - sydney - melbourne
melbourne - sydney - shanghai
shanghai - london
london - boston - providence

the jetlag has kicked in, so i'll post about part one of my journey tomorrow. stay tuned!