The Unbeaten Path

Back From The Top Of The World

2006-11-09T01:51:00.000-08:00

Namaste! We've only just returned to Kathmandu and in checking my email, I found this from a loyal TUP reader:

"Jake,
You have until tomorrow before its 2 months between postings on your travel blog. I never would have thought you would have gone more than 60 minutes without a CHECK OUT MY BLOG email, let alone 60 days..."

Ahhhh blog fans. You have to love them. Yes, it's been a long time. My apologies. Thanks for helping me beat the two-month deadline. I'm also pleased to see that there are so many out there just dying for a update on the progress of our amazing around-the-world adventures. Unfortunately, my best-laid plans of a constantly-updating travel blog have been laid to ruin by unanticipated circumstances on our travels. Specifically, ever since we left Eastern Europe, the dearth of decent Internet connections have severely hampered my ability to get anything done on the computer in any reasonable time. Now I suppose a more dedicated man would have painstakingly sat through hours of tedious computer time to write exciting posts home to you all. However, I am not that man. Sorry.

So I am happy to share my experiences (in fact, I can't WAIT to) but I'm afraid not going to be real time. Instead, I am focusing my energy on exploring and experiencing the incredible trip I am on. Then once major sections of the trip are concluded (and I can dedicate some serious time to it), I will be able in an excellent position to post our progress on the web.

Still I appreciate all your concern about the future of this blog so I say now "DO NOT FEAR, TUP WILL GO ON!" Keep this page bookmarked, please! Much like novocaine for pain at the dentist, I'm not really STOPPING the postings, I'm simply POSTPONING them. In short, we are simply running behind. So you WILL eventually get the entire story of the incredible round-the-world adventure that we are on. However you might have to wait a little longer than many of you might like. Stay tuned.

For a brief update, Dana and I have just returned from a month-long trek through the Himalayas. We trekked up around Manaslu, the 8th highest mountain in the world, for 15 days topping out at Manaslu Base Camp. Then we crossed the Larkya La, a pass of over 17,000 feet, to join up with the Annapurna Circuit trek in Dharapani. From there, we trekked the entire Annapurna Circuit, crossing another even-higher mountain pass, while trekking between mountains such as Dhaulugiri and (of course) Annapurna, the 7th and 10th highest mountains in the world. The photo at the top of the post is me at the top of the Larkya La, sick, winded and tired, but still smiling (Dana came be seen in the background with our guide, dead tired and suffering terribly from altitude sickness. I do not believe she is smiling). Much like the Larkya La, the whole trek was an incredibly exhausting but also incredibly rewarding experience. We hiked about 300 miles in 30 days and reached altitudes of almost 18,000 feet. The scenery was spectacular. It was, in a word, awesome.

So now we're back in Kathmandu, where we can sip Everest beer and eat yak steak in K-Too Steakhouse and try to forget the non-stop numbness and aching in our poor feet. There's not much time for resting though, because on Sunday we're off to Bangkok Thailand for a few days then Hong Kong and China. The trip rolls on! Thank you again for all your concerned emails and I'll post more when I can...

A Quick Austrian Excursion

2006-09-10T10:06:00.000-07:00

After Prague, we said goodbye to Morgan & Reimer and loaded up our trusty Renault Megane for a trip to scenic Austria.

[Editor's Note: Never rent a Renault Megane. Just get a LeCar instead. First of all, what the hell is a Megane anyways? At least we know where Tacoma is and we could come to an Accord if we had to. But a Megane? That just sounds dumb. Second, it's actually is just a terrible car to drive. Our little beauty seemed to believe that it should only be in two positions: 50 kph or stopped. The engine had no get-up to go anywhere and the brakes were so crappy that slowing down gracefully was impossible. I felt like an overcaffinated teenager on his driving test. "I'm just going to gingerly stop us at this red light and...[SCREEEEEEEEECH!] OK, great. Remember, please keep all hands and feet inside the ride at all times..."]

Off we went to Austria in our Megane for better or worse. Archer was taking us to the place where she and her husband met -- Lech, Austria, a small ski village high in the Alps.

Before we made it to Lech, we spent a night in scenic Salzburg, the birthplace of Mozart. It's pretty much impossible to be in Salzburg without knowing that Mozart was born there. He's featured almost everywhere -- shop windows, giant statues, tourist pamphlets, T-shirts, coffee cups and various other places. I'm pretty sure if you're from Salzburg you have to get a mandatory Mozart tattoo at birth. Funny how Mozart is so famous, yet none of you out there know even ONE song of his, right? Well, here's your chance to brush up on Wolfgang's 600+ compositions. As for favorites, I'm torn between "Concerto in D for Piano, No. 16" and "Quartet in A for Strings" myself.

Salzburg was nice enough, but after a good night's sleep we quickly headed off to Lech to see the sights. Unfortunately the weather wasn't cooperating, but we still had a chance to really experience Austria...

With a few cold beers, of course. It's funny -- in Austria (and Germany and much of Europe in general) beer isn't really even considered alcohol. It's just a staple of human existence. Everyone drinks it from morning until night, in cafes, on park benches, at home or in bars. And there's no such thing as light beer (for instance, "Amstel Light" here is just called "Amstel"). I'm just not sure if beer is that bad for you -- everyone here seems pretty healthy. I think the key to their health isn't what they drink, it's how much they have. In our time here, we've never seen Europeans have too much -- they just come in and have a few half liters, then head home. Much like drinking coffee in a cafe. I think these Euros would view some of the drunken overindulgence of many Americans much like we'd view someone doing backflips in the Starbucks after pounding tweleve venti lattes. It's just strange.

In any case, these beers were in the actual place, Cafe Gotthard, where Archer met Milo, Dana's father. He had defected from Czech Republic into Vienna and eventually made his way to Lech for work. Archer was backpacking across Europe with friends and had ran out of money so she started working in the hotels around Lech. He approached her in the bar and spoke German to her (the only language they had in common) and they started hanging out with a tight-knit group of ex-pats and traveler regulars in Lech. And the rest, as they say, is history...

The next day, we rose early and caught the cable car to the top of the mountain to do some hiking. We headed up even though the tourist information office informed us there was 100% chance of rain (I think this means "it's raining") so it wasn't optimal conditions. Still, once you got past the large amounts of water falling from the sky, it was quite nice and beautiful.

We hiked up and over many passes to the small chapel at Burstegg, then made our way back down to Lech. The rain helped make the waterfalls that much bigger and dramatic. Not Niagra Falls but close!

Seriously, it was a very nice hike despite the weather. Besides, it gave Dana the chance to get up close and personal with some of the other Lech locals, which she obviously enjoyed.

After we caught a bus back into Lech, we spent one last night, then headed off for Munich Germany drop Archer off at the airport. Of course, after a few days of straight rain, the drive to the airport was in bright sunshine. D'oh! No matter, it was still great to see Archer and walk in her old footsteps in Lech. Thanks again for everything Archer!

Having to drive the Megane back to Prague (or risk a huge drop-off fee) and not yet sick of beer, Dana and I drove straight from Munich Airport to Plzen, Czech Republic, home of the world's first pilsner beer, Pilsner Urquell. Plzen was a great little town off the beaten tourist track. We ate authentic Czech cuisine (pork with cabbage and dumplings) for pennies then drank a few half liters of Pilsner Urquell at the free jazz concert in the main square. It was perfect.

Less than perfect was our creepy old accomodations, the Hotel Slovan. A former Communist office building, the place just reeked of old Soviet backroom dealings. It was basically one Jack Nicholson short of The Shining. Besides the overall creepiness of the place, the layout was just plain ridiculous for a hotel. The floors were huge, probably 50-100 rooms in a ring set around a gigantic staircase, and since it used to be an office building, the rooms were all boxy large office types with no bathrooms, just a makeshift sink. So there was exactly ONE toliet and shower for each sex for the entire floor. We've shared bathrooms before, but this was ridiculous. My bathroom was close to our door, but I think Dana had to trek like 2 or 3 kilometers to take a shower. Not optimal. Still it was cheap and in a good location, so that's all that matters right? I'm not even going to ask why every room had not one but two doors to unlock before you got inside.

The next morning, Dana and I headed over to the actual Pilser Urquell brewery (the real reason for our visit). "Urquell" is German for "original source" and Pilsner Urquell is the world's first pilsener (those "golden beers" we know and love) and most lagers produced in the rest of the world are based upon this original beer. Basically, any beer that calls itself a pilsner is referring to being made in the style of Pilser Urquell! Dana and I got to tour the catacomb of tunnels the brewers dug to make their beer way back in 1842. Then we even got to drink fresh not-fully-filtered murky pilsner straight out of the barrels! Delicious!

Unfortunately Pilsner Urquell is now actually brewed by SABMiller (the second-largest brewing company in the world formed in 2002 when South African Breweries merged with Miller Brewing Company). And it's brewed in Poland, not even Czech Republic. So as much as I like it, I can't recommend it. Try some of your hometown local brews instead. But definitely get to Plzen if you can.

Later in the day, Dana and I made the drive back to Prague and Penzion Louda. The next morning, we woke early and headed to the airport. (Thank god we were still full from some of Jana's amazing cooking so we didn't have to grab a "foot sandwich" for the plane. Nasty.)

We were on our way to catch a plane and begin the next stage of our round-the-world adventure. We'd already (1) driven across the entire United States and (2) traveled throughout Western Europe with friends and family. For the third stage of our journey, Dana and I would trek overland through Eastern Europe from Helsinki all the way to Athens. All total, we have since traveled south on foot, bus or boat through Finland, Estonia, Latvia, Lithuania, Poland, Slovakia, Hungary, Croatia, Montenegro, Albania and Greece. So stay tuned loyal TUP readers, there's much to come!

And not to spoil the suspense, but the stage was completed yesterday as we arrived in Athens by bus and ferry from Corfu. Today we hiked the Acropolis to see the Parthenon and all the rest of Athens all around us. Tomorrow we'll fly off to Delhi to start the fourth stage of our trip: India and Nepal. On Tuesday in Agra staring at the Taj Mahal. There's no time to lose!

Dana's Czech Republic Roots

2006-08-29T03:33:00.000-07:00

Since we've decided to leave, I've learned that when planning a trip of this magnitude, everyone you know seems to get excited for you. In the few months leading up to our departure, Dana & I heard "I'm so jealous" more than we care to admit. I think this is because either (a) we have nice friends and family who won't say "You're Insane! What The F**k Are You Doing??" to our faces or (b) somewhere deep down, EVERYONE harbors dreams of traveling abroad to far-off lands. Either way, I know from personal experience, the mere fact that someone else you know is quitting their job and leaving everything behind to just "go" is inspiring (thanks Pell). If that guy can do it, you can do it too -- even if only for a little while. Of course, in this whole planning process, I've also learned that when you leave on a trip of this magnitude, you're scared as hell and you want to plan on seeing as many friendly faces along the way as you can. So I'm not sure if our long trip was their inspiration or if they finally just gave in to our begging, but in early August, Dana's family came out to Prague to meet us. It was good to see familiar faces. If only to ride the subway with.

Of course, there was more reasons than just us for Dana's mom and sister to come to Prague. Dana's dad defected from Czechoslovakia in the mid 1960s (right in the heart of the Communist era) so his family is still there. Morgan and Archer had also come to see Otto, their uncle and brother-in-law, as well as a whole bunch more of their family. (On the left in the held photo is Dana's dad. He couldn't make the trip for various reasons but he was with us in spirit.)

It was an exciting time. Dana and her sister were back in their half-homeland for the first time in 10 years, when they were backpacking across Europe.

Of course, this time they had some very handsome men tagging along. What a difference ten years makes. Finding men this attractive ain't easy.

As soon as Morgan, Reimer and Archer had arrived, we had a large dinner together with all the family. Their cousin Jana (in stripes) cooked a magnificent feast for us to enjoy. Delicious! Not only that, but she was also letting us stay in her wonderful "Penzion Louda" with its amazing views of the city of Prague. Thanks Jana! The couple on the left is another cousin, Fred, and his wife. They and Jana both spoke good English so the conversation (with translations for Otto) was flowing.

After such a good meal, all we could do was curl up and go to sleep. (the fact that the other three had just flown from Florida didn't hurt either). The next morning, we rose early, had a wonderful breakfast cooked by Jana and then headed out to see all the sights of Prague. Like Prague Castle on the hill behind us.

And Charles Bridge (which was quite nice to look at while we dined in elegance with Czech beers).

During the day, we saw the whole city with little or no problems, save the occasional almost-falling-over-the-castle-wall mishap.

Though almost all of us had been there before, it was easy to appreciate the beauty of Prague.

Just as it is easy to appreciate the beauty of our two ladies and their lovely mother...

After the sightseeing, it was time to eat again. We dined on traditonal Czech favorites, like spit-roasted pigs knuckle. Yummy. We also had beer. Beer in Prague is cheaper than bottled water. Such a great excuse to have more.

After dinner, Reimer and I were blessed with wonderful gifts from our lovely girlfriends -- Russian-style nesting dolls of our favorite NFL football teams.

It goes without saying we loved them. I mean who wouldn't?!? They were NFL NESTING DOLLS. Are you ready for some foootball!

We stopped in another small Czech pub for some more drinks and toasted to Prague and family.

Then we played with our world-champion Pittsburgh Steeler nesting dolls while making our best Bill Cowher face.

Finally, I topped off the night by downing a little absinthe, the green liquor Prague is famous for. Banned in the US and Europe back in 1915, it's hard to experience its ridiculously strong and potent green flavor anywhere but Prague. It was blamed for having psychotrophic properties (from the wormwood it was distilled from) but many artists and writers during the late 19th and early 20th centuries were noted absinthe drinkers. If this stuff was the choice of guys like Vincent van Gogh, I was going to give it a try. Well, now I know why he cut his ear off. It was definitely quite nasty -- like licorice fermented in rubbing alcohol. But I did feel tough. If only because Hemingway drank it. He liked some Pernod as an apertif. Too bad I never got to see a bullfight in Spain...

The next day, the whole gang headed out to Malin, a small town outside Prague near Kutna Hora. This was where Dana's dad was originally from and we went to visit his family home, now lived in by Lenka, their cousin, and her husband Libor and their son Jakub. It was a short visit by a good one.

Afterwards, Otto picked us up and took us to a traditional Czech lunch of dumplings, pork and cabbage. It was delicious. Then he drove us out to the family's old vacation home somewhere far far from Kutna Hora. Then we came back to visit the Kostnice Ossuary right near Kutna Hora in Sedlec. Also known as the Bone Church for obvious reasons, it was originally was a Cistercian Monastery dating back to 1142 . The arrangement of bones dates from 1870 and is the work of a Czech wood-carver, František Rint. He was given authority to mess around with the bones by the new owners of the place after it ceased to be a church. There's supposed to be the bones of 40,000 people in there. Legend has it that Dana's dad once took a skull from this place, but he had such bad luck and was wracked with such guilt that he returned it soon after. We had to see it to confirm. There was no evidence of a stolen skull however. Just some coat of arms made from bones. Spooky.

After the bone church, we headed over to Otto's favorite bar for some traditional Czech drinks -- vodka and beer. Thouroughly sauced, we headed back to Otto's house for tea and coffee. By this time, we felt just like locals. Thanks for everything Otto!

Finally it was time to bid Otto adieu. We headed back to Penzion Louda for one late night (and then one more splendid breakfast by Jana!) before traveling on. Reimer & Morgan were bound for Italy, while the rest of us were off to Austria to see the place where Dana's parents met, Lech. After all that planning, it felt like our time in Czech Republic was over in the blink of an eye. But we'll remember it for a long time. On to Austria!

Damn Iberia Airlines Baggage Handlers

2006-08-24T10:21:00.000-07:00

So we were supposed to fly from Barcelona to Prague on Friday to meet up with Dana's family who were flying in Monday. I'd booked the tickets months before when we put the whole plan in place.

Well, as fate would have it, the day before we were scheduled to fly, the ground staff of Iberia airlines blocked the runways at El Prat airport and effectively shut down the airport.

We'd seen the strike on the late news at Paula & Ivan's the night before, but we didn't have any other option but to head over there the next day. Once we arrived, we realized that Spanish TV had downplayed the magnitude of the problem. The airport was a complete disaster area. Like almost-post-hurricane disaster area. We stayed only long enough to (1) grab sandwiches and water from the first aid workers giving them to the thousands of people camped out on the floors, benches and every other foot of available space in the airport and (2) find out our plane had been diverted to Girona Airport the day before and (3) NO ONE was going ANYWHERE from El Prat for a very long time.(Indeed, we were supposed to leave on Saturday,the day after the strike and things were still screwed on Monday, the day we were supposed to be in Prague.

So Dana & I took matters into our own hands. We took off to the train station to travel overland to Prague. Simple, right? WRONG. The train station was jammed with people doing the exact same thing -- trying to find alternatives to their flights. Plus the Barcelona train station was like being in a DMV. We literally waited in line for HOURS just to have the ticket lady "Oh no, you need to stand in THAT line to get your itinerary" before gesturing to the other end of the station.

Standing in THAT line, we were reduced to just picking random cities in France and Italy and Switzerland which might have trains to them in the next 12 hours. Then we had to take those schedules to the OTHER line to see if there was open space. And there NEVER was. It was awful. We finally got a hit with a combination of five different trains which got us to Zurich, Switzerland the next day. This after four hours in the train station. Except that for some reason in the middle of the booking, the Spanish ticket lady couldn't get us there -- she could only book tickets to Lyon, France and we'd have to plan from there. We were just happy to leave Barcelona.

So we left Barcelona at 7pm Saturday taking a train to Cerebere, Spain then Marseille, France then finally to Lyon, France at around 8am Sunday morning. The second leg, from Cerebere to Marseille, we were lucky enough to have these lovely couchette sleeping beds. They were the best seats we'd get the rest of the way. We had them from 12am to 5am Saturday night.

In Lyon, we stood in line and finally got tickets to Prague itself, via Paris and Frankfurt. We took the superfast-and-extremely-expensive TGV to Paris, then had back-to-back eight hour trains from Paris to Frankfurt, then Frankfurt to Prague. Plus the train to Frankfurt left from a different station in Paris. This then turned our 50 minute layover into a full-out barefoot sprint through the streets of gay Paree in the pouring rain looking for missing bus shuttles before finally racing into the metro and barely making it by minutes. Then our connection to Prague had a 10 minute layover, just enough to walk off one train and on to another. On top of all this, we only had unreserved tickets. Which means we were left scavenging for seats together as we walked on. In short, it was awful.

We made it to Prague at around 8am monday morning, sharing the last hour of our ride with commuters. One old woman yelled at me for having my feet on the seats. I could have bludgeoned her with her handbag. We'd been almost constantly moving since Saturday at 7pm. Any possible chance to be more comfortable and I was taking it. She could take her train rules and shove them up her a**. But I didn't speak Czech and I didn't have one spare ounce of energy. So I put my feet on the floor. Of course.

After a few hours of wandering the streets and subways of Prague, we found Penzion Louda and the sweet bliss of their best room. It was heaven on Earth. The whole debacle ended up costing about four times what the original Barca-Prague ticket cost. But it was worth it. It was Monday and Dana's family was coming in the next day. Time to explore Prague!

Good Times in Sant Cugat

2006-08-20T07:01:00.000-07:00

After Andorra, Dana & I drove back across Catalonia to Barcelona. A few days early for our flight to Prague, we were warmly welcomed into Paula & Ivan's beautiful brand-new condo in the Barcelona suburb of Sant Cugat. They let us crash there even though they'd just had their first baby only 25 days before! What friends! We were humbled by their generous hospitality. With the lovely Candy also in town, Paula took us out for sushi and some Spanish nightlife. It was her first night out without the baby!

Later Ivan joined us at the club. He was treating his employees for a job well done running a 4-day golf tournament in Platja d'Aro the weekend before. Great work people! We drank it up, did some dancing then headed home early. Which in Spain is like 3 am. It was fun.

The next day, we headed to Paula's parents house where we finally go to visit with young baby Izan. Only 26 days old! What a charmer.

While we were there, Paula's parents Joan and Encarna treated us to a delicious authentic Spanish lunch. (Seriously "delicious" cannot be overstated). First was beer and Iberian ham and bread in the kitchen, then we headed outside for large and delicous helpings of meat, pasta, salad, bread and, of course, Spanish wine. This feast was then finished off with some extremely strong coffee flavored liqueur from the Galicia region of Spain (pictured). After all this food and drink, I suddenly realized why Spainards take a siesta. You HAVE to.

Oh man, I love me some siesta.

After we had sufficiently recovered, we headed out to see Sant Cugat and then had a late dinner. The next day Paula took us to the Barcelona airport, where we were bound for Prague. Thanks again for everthing Sant Cugat-ans! It was wonderful!

As of now, we're in Vilnius, Lithuania. It is a strange place. We just returned from a visit to possibly the only Frank Zappa statute in the world. Don't ever say there is nothing to see in Eastern Europe! And Dana & I are trying to see it all! Tomorrow we are off to Warsaw, Poland...

Andorra!

2006-08-14T01:47:00.000-07:00

Dana & I are currently in Lithuania, enjoying the good weather in the coast town of Klaipeda, before heading out onto the Curonian Spit tomorrow. The Spit is shared by Lithuania and Russia, and back in July, we visited another shared land: ANDORRA! After we'd soaked up the sun on the Costa Brava, Dana & I wanted to hike in the mountains. (That is to say, *I* wanted to hike in the mountains and Dana agreed, provided she got just a little more time on the sun-kissed coastline of Cadaques to work on her tan.) With the Pyrenees close by, we jumped in our little Citron and sped off towards one of the only co-principalities in the world!

Sandwitched right in between France and Spain, Andorra is tiny -- only 180 square miles and most of that is mountains. Dana & I drove up straight north from La Seu d'Urgell, the only road to Andorra from Spain. Basically, back in the 800's, Charlemagne granted a charter to the Andorran people in return for their fighting the Moors. Governance of the territory eventually passed to the bishop of the diocese of Urgell. In the 11th century a dispute arose between the bishop and his northern French neighbor over Andorra. In 1278, the conflict was finally resolved by the signing of a parage, which provided that Andorra's sovereignty be shared between the French count of Foix (ultimately the French head of state) and the bishop of La Seu d'Urgell, in Catalonia, Spain. This gave the small principality its territory and political form. With a few twists and turns, Andorra has lasted another 700+ years as much -- shared by France and Spain. Still, it was only with recent advances in transportation and communication (which in turn helped boost the thriving tourist industry) that Andorra was finally admitted into the United Nations in 1993.

So over 9 million tourists visit Andorra each year, but as Dana & I found out, a vast majority of them came only to shop. With no taxes to speak of, everything in Andorra is duty free. The capital Andorra de Vella was packed with stores featuring all imaginable consumer goods and products, mostly expensive things like electronics, jewelry and designer clothes. Traffic on the small streets was a nightmare with touristas everywhere. We got out of town as soon as possible.

The few tourists that don't come to Andorra for shopping come for the mountains. The principality sits in two small valley ringed on all sides by the Pyrenees. In winter, the ski resorts are apparently extremely busy, but in summer, the vibe was distinctively more laid back. In fact, there was pretty much no one around when Dana and I rolled into Arinsal, a small ski village north of the busy capital. Already 4pm, we checked into a nice but inexpensive hotel, then grabbed the gondola to the top of the mountain.

So we were high above it all, hiking in the Pyrenees! We just hit the ground and kept on hiking. There were almost no tourists around down in Arinsal and there were exactly zero up in the mountains at 4pm. It a welcome respite from busy Barcelona and Spain -- just us, the sun streaming through the clouds and the mountains all around us. Later we saw a sheperd herding his sheep and a few mountain bikers but we were pretty much all alone. Wonderful.

Dana and I climbed for a while pretty much straight up. We hiked almost 2,000 vertical feet -- from Comallemple, the top of the gondola and base of the ski lodge, at 6,400 feet to a little bit below the top of Pic Alt de la Cara at 8,400 feet. The scenery was breathtaking and the weather was gorgeous, although clouds were rolling in being so late in the day.

It was after 6pm when we descended and the gondola was already closed for the day. We didn't mind however -- we simply hiked the rest of the way down to Arinsal on some rocky mountain bike trails. We finally made it back to the hotel and grabbed a bite to eat on the deck with the sunlight fading.

The next morning, Dana and I had a homemade breakfast on the beautiful balcony of our room, which looked out over the same gondola and mountains as the day before. Always satisfying to look up and say "I've been up there!" What a great way to start the day!

With no real time to spare before we were due back in Barcelona, Dana and I waved goodbye to Arinsal after breakfast and sped off in the Citron for Catalonia. It was a brief visit but a memorable one. I can truly say Andorra is one of the best self-governing principalities I have ever visited and surely the best in between France and Spain! Until next time...

The Costa Brava

2006-08-09T04:09:00.000-07:00

Leaving Barcelona and the hordes of touristas on Las Ramblas behind, Dana and I escaped to the Costa Brava, a strip of gorgeous coastline that stretches from Blanes to France. We drove north through small towns like Tossa del Mar, spent the night in Sant Feliu de Guixols (known affectionately by us Americanos as "San Fee-loo dee Guac-shoals") and then finally made it to our chosen destination, Cadaques, near the French border. Cadaques is a beautiful white-washed town right on the ocean with plenty of charm. Spaniards have been vacationing here for ages.

Before we got to Cadaques however, we stopped off in Figures, an inland city with only one main attraction -- the Teatro-Museo Dali, the crowing achievement of famed Spanish surrealist Salavador Dali. In the early 1960’s, Dali came back to his hometown to construct his museum inside the ruins of the old Municipal Theatre. Once finished, he lived out his last years there and was eventually buried on the grounds. The outside of the place said it all -- classic Dali.

Unlike Gaudi's mosaics, I've always been enchanted by Dali's work. We spent the afternoon walking through the museum looking at art. While it appears quite boring, the place was incredibly interesting. The museum itself was a work of art, not just the paintings on the walls. As the guidebook said "the museum deserves as much time as you could give it."

Dali was clearly a genius who loved upsetting the status quo. Many of his paintings inside the Teatre were ordinary things, with something amiss or all sorts of strange ants and nails all over them. Others were just amazing, such as this "portrait" of Picasso, done in the style of Picasso.

Another one of my favorites was this one. I forget the exact title, but it was something like "Part of a Series Where From 10 Meters A Tiger Is Seen, But From 2 Meters, Three Small China Men Appear". Or something like that.

After we were saturated with Dali art, we headed to Cadaques where he used to spend his summers as a small boy. The gleaming white buildings, blue ocean and bizarre and rough volcanic beaches no doubt inspired some of the landscapes in his works. While Cadaques was full of touristas (mostly Spanish and French), there were plenty of secluded swimming spots on both sides of town. We headed north from the main beach and made our way down dusty dirt roads to spots far away from town. We swam in the cool ocean and generally had a wonderful time.

This photo says it all. And yes, that is Dana. In short, Cadaques is bliss. We would have stayed there for a week, but we had to catch a flight to Prague. So we headed back to Barcelona...

Baaaarcelona!

2006-08-09T02:58:00.000-07:00

First, an apology. It was my full intention to update the blog more frequently than once every few weeks, but without constant access to the Internet, this has proved difficult. If only I had an indestructible-yet-featherweight laptop seamlessly connected to a worldwide satellite internet network, i'd be blogging from cramped seats on crowded trains and from the back of tiny Euro rental cars. Sadly, this is not the case. So I simply have to make due with aging PCs in smoke-filled Internet cafes like this one in Prague on the second floor of a wine shop. (The logo of the cafe is a photo of Sherlock Holmes. He's smoking a pipe. Go figure.) In any case, dear reader, let it be known, I am trying to keep the posts coming and the stories flowing. So just keep checking because you never know when I'll be able to steal a few hours in front of a PC in Helsinki (our next stop).

Barcelona was a few weeks ago, but it already seems like years. After coming up separately from Alcoy, Dana, Celia and I headed out to the famed Las Ramblas to drink the night away Catalan-style in the various bars and pubs.

In short, we're supertough. (When you are supertough, it is crucial and mandatory to show off the guns to let everyone else know.)

After we were all good and toasty on Spanish beer, Amanda and Oli eventually made it over to the Ramblas from L'Example and we met up at City Hall, a happening nightclub. The mere fact that City Hall was just opening at 2am should tell you all you need to know. Good times.

Tired and drunken, the three of us headed back to our extremely fancy room in the Front Hotel Martim which is where you stay when you let your girlfriend book the room on Hotels.com. Still, Dana got a good deal and the place turned out to be right across the road from one of the best beaches in Barcelona. So it was perfect. We slept in, showered like 6-7 times in the amazing bathroom, and headed over to the sand to sun ourselves silly. Oli and Amanda made it over and we all drank and hung out and generally had a good time.

The next morning, we said our goodbyes to the Alcoy kids and headed over to the train station to rent a car. Alas, the Spanish siesta struck again and the place was closed from 1-4pm. It was a blessing in disguise however, because it gave us just enough time to grab the subway into the city and see the touristy things we'd been missing. We first witnessed the famed Sagrada Familia, Anton Gaudi's magnificent unfinished cathedral, then we trekked up the hill to Gaudi's beautiful Parc Guell, featuring lots and lots of mosaic art.

In truth, the park itself was beautiful but I wasn't overly impressed with the iguana made from bits of broken tile. Still, he was a massive hit with almost everyone else in Barcelona that day, including Dana who bought a little replica of the beast later in the day. So we were glad we got to see it.

And even the babies liked the little lizard. So maybe I'm being too hard on him.

After soaking in the view from the park for a while, we made our way back to the train station and the now-open rent-a-car office. Then we picked up our tiny-but-powerful Citron C2 and headed North to the Costa Brava. It was goodbye to Barcelona for now, but we would be back...in the next post...

Spain with Friends

2006-07-22T17:50:00.000-07:00

There´s nothing better than Spain with friends. Even new ones. Dana and I had no plans when we landed in Madrid late last Monday night. So we felt lucky when we headed for Alcoy, despite the fact that it was a small inland industrial puebla with nothing particularly good about it. My friend from college Amanda had lived there for almost a year and we were invited. Over the next week, we had the pleasure of spending most of our days with Amanda, Celia and Oli, old friends and new.

After a night in Madrid, we caught the train to Valencia where we met up with Celia, Amanda´s cousin who´d just recently moved there. A few beers later (establishing a theme for the week) we hopped a train to Alcoy. Meeting up with Amanda and Oli, we hit the town. Apparently, it is a custom in Alcoy after a night of drinking to have one last tequlia shot with the bartender free of charge. Makes for a great morning.

The next morning the five of us rented a car and headed to the beach. After only seven or eight wrong turns, we finally got on the right track. We made the beach and sunned our selves.

(Sidenote: Navigation in Spain by car is more difficult than it has to be. For one, there is a roundabout every 10 kilometers. Now I´ve got nothing against these in theory but after a while, they make driving around awfully confusing. Especially when there´s some arcane sign at the beginning of the roundabout directing you where to go (wait, was Alicante the turn at 3 o´clock or 2 o´clock!?! Ahhhhhhhhhhh!!) Luckily however, not much harm is done by roundabouts, because, by their very nature, they allow the lost traveler to keep circling and circling until you decide which way to go (look kids, Big Ben...Parliment...) However, it doesn´t end at the roundabouts. The highway numbers themselves are inconsistent. You can´t trust them. They change for no reason and people in Spain are the first to admit this. So you basically have to follow the signs for the town you want to go to. Of course, the town you want is not always the town on the sign. Not only that, but the tricky Spaniards like to switch it up on you - they like to throw all sorts of different random names at you. So you´re driving north from Valencia and one sign will say "This Way - Barcelona" and you´re happy because you want to go to Barcelona. But then 20 seconds later (after a few small turns), you´ll get a sign that says "This Way - Figures" pointing the same way. So now you´re all turned around and panicked that somehow in the last 20 seconds you´ve suddenly missed the turn for Barcelona and you are now heading to far-off Figures and for certain doom. What you don´t know is that Barcelona and Figures are both the EXACT SAME DIRECTION from Valencia. Not only that, but Figures is WAAAAY PAST Barcelona, which is obviously a big city. So you´re still going the right way -- Spain just wanted to switch it up on you.

Imagine driving up 101 north from Los Angeles. Most (if not all) of the signs say "101 North -- San Francisco". Sure you´ll get the occasional "101 North - Santa Barbara" or something in there, but it´s usually pretty clear. I mean at least they put the DIRECTION on there - you know you heading north! Imagine if the signs on the road just read "San Francisco", then 20 miles later the signs read "Portland" then 10 miles later "Seattle" and then "Sacramento" and "Anchorage" and on and on. And every 20 miles there was a roundabout for good measure to make you nice and confused.

All of this results in the American in Spain having to constantly check the map to make sure the town on the sign is in the same direction as the one you want to go to. EVERY sign. If the stupid highway signs from Alcoy had simply said "EAST", we´d never have made a mistake. Thank god when I´m driving, I have Dana to read the map. She´s like the Rain Man of map readers. It´s amazing. I just drive. In any case, I digress...)

Where was I? Oh yes, we were chillin´ on the beach in Spain. Perfect. Like a Corona commercial. Except I´m much fatter and more pale than any of the models in those commercials. But no matter! We were still there enjoying the sun and surf and the aftereffects of a huge meal of paella and sangria. You should be jealous.

After the sun went down and we had a few more beers at the beachside bar, we headed to Altea to experience the tourista nightlife. Amanda´s ex met up with us and we drank until the wee hours of the morning. And we took all sorts of strange photos like this. And then I drove us all home, somehow miraculosly not getting lost on the way back to Alcoy. (We took the new highway. And I quote "It´s so new, it´s not on the map...") Then we slept. And it was good.

Next up -- Barcelona...

The Giant's Causeway

2006-07-16T10:38:00.000-07:00

After we'd had our fill of all the selections of beer & whiskey in Dublin, Dana & I hired a car and drove up the coast to Northern Ireland. The scenery was unbelievable -- the same kind of wide green meadows and even greener cliffs over the ocean that your imagination conjures up when thinking of Ireland. The most famous attraction was definitely the highlight -- Giant's Causeway, an incredible stretch of coastline that was unlike anything I've ever seen before. Apparenly not many others have either, because it was recently named the fourth-greatest natural wonder in the United Kingdom!

(And yeah, apparently Northern Ireland is part of the United Kingdom, but there's not even any visible border to cross. In fact, the only way to even know you're in a different country is that suddenly everything costs pounds instead of euros. Which makes everything more expensive. Laaaame. And yeah, there used to be a whole lot of fighting up there. It was known as The Troubles when residents were trying to join back up with Ireland. That unrest ended in early 1998 with a peace accord, but you could still get a sense of a significant police presence. In fact, I think most of the animosity was aimed at the police themselves, since they were seen as the British government. The police cars were huge armored tank-vans and the police stations had tons of razon wire and high walls. Serioulsy the police stations even had surveillance cameras watching their surveillance cameras. All of that was just enough to make Dana and I uneasy when we visited the city of Derry to find a place to stay. And Derry basically scared the hell out of us. There was almost no one on the street except for young hooligans and all the stores and bars were closed and sometimes boarded up. Overall, it was just spooky and unfriendl. So we bolted to the warmer and safer Donegal, back in Ireland proper. One of the new rules of the trip is we never stay in a city whose citizens can't even agree on the name of the place.

But back to Giant's Causeway. Legend has it that a giant named Finn McCool built the causeway to walk to Scotland to fight his Scottish equivalent Benandonner. Once you witness the sheer physical beauty of the place, you realize why men needed myths to explain it. There were shapes there that I'd never seen before in nature (at least not without a microscope.) The major attraction are these incredible basalt columns in hexagonal shapes. There are over 40,000 of them, resulting from a volcanic eruption over 60 million years ago. The formation of them juts out into the Northern Channel below huge green cliffs.

After we were finished climbing all over the columns, Dana & I hiked up to the tops of the cliffs above. (If you look over our shoulders in the photo, you can see the columns jutting out into the water) After that hike, we were hot, hungry, tired and thirsty. So we retired to the tea room near the beginning of the path and drank lemonade and ate cake. Just like all good Englishmen (and Englishwomen) do.

Overall, the beaches of Ireland were extremely impressive. I'd imagined windy and cold pockets of sand tucked under cliffs similar to Northern California. But these beaches were bright and sunny large expanses of sand with beach houses lining the dunes. The water was cold, but people were still braving it even though we were pretty close to Iceland! (I got in up to my waist, but couldn't bring myself to dive under the waves. My legs were numb and in pain.) Still driving back to Dublin, D & I both agreed it was someplace we could spend our summer vacation. If we didn't have the rest of the world to see, that is...

Tomorrow we leave for Spain. So slán for now (that's Irish for "goodbye"...)

Jameson & Guinness

2006-07-14T04:38:00.000-07:00

Dana & I hit up the two most touristy locations in Dublin yesterday -- a distillery and a brewery. Jameson makes some of the most popular Irish whiskey on the planet and Guinness is a beer that needs no introduction. After tasting them both at the source, I'll go for a pint. I think I've had too much Jack Daniels to switch over now. Although Jameson was quite nice in that Irish coffee. Perhaps a few more days of both and I'll come around...

Dublin! At Long Last!

2006-07-12T06:21:00.000-07:00

Dana & I have landed on the Emerald Isle safe & sound! From Orlando to New York and then to Dublin on the red-eye. We cruised the town, had some Irish lunch and now we're heading to check into our first hostel of the trip! At long last, we're finally in Europe.

(for the record, I didn't take this photo. Some gentleman named "asteridesign" did. But this is Dublin. It really looks like that. Not bad...)

Work To Live

2006-07-09T21:38:00.000-07:00

This seems like a very good philosophy. Sometimes you just have to take a vacation. Man cannot live on work alone. So I'm leaving right now for a red-eye flight to Florida. Tuesday, we fly to the Emerald Isle. Let the journey begin!

From Sunshine to Golden

2006-07-06T17:54:00.000-07:00

It seems I move across the country with the greatest of ease. After driving over 5,000 miles from California to Florida, I'm suddenly back again. Yesterday I was watching fireworks explode over the beaches of Jacksonville and yet today I'm climbing rocky trails looking for waterfalls in Yosemite National Park. What a life.

July 4th was spectacular, spent frolicking in the lovely goodness that is the Reimer's lake house. We drank cold beers in the sun then dove off the dock when we got too hot. Then we ate shrimp ceviche and fresh berry cheesecake until we couldn't breathe. Then we went waterskiing. It was bliss beyond words.

Yet once the 4th was over, I didn't waste any time. I caught a flight to San Francisco at dawn and my parents were waiting at baggage claim to whisk me away towards El Capitan and Half Dome. Now I sit here typing away in the upstairs lounge of the Ahwanhee Hotel. It's amazing where you can find wireless these days.

Tomorrow we'll head back to civilization and spend a few more days together before I catch the Sunday red-eye back to the East Coast. I meet up with Dana in the Jacksonville Airport and the next morning we're off to Europe.

And finally the real trip will begin...

The Trip Begins...

2006-07-02T13:54:00.000-07:00

It took 11 days and 5,071 miles but Dana & I successfuly traversed America from Palo Alto, California to Gainesville, Florida. Leaving last monday from my parent's house, we arrived in Florida this past Thursday a few days before D's 10 year high school reunion on Saturday.

The drive to the Sunshine State was an adventure in itself. We got a flat tire on the way to Elko, Nevada, saw Mount Rushmore in all its glory, visited with Grandma on the banks of the Mississippi, partied at Pat & Krissie's wedding in Long Island, sailed the flooded Chesapeake with Debbie & Michael and saw Valley Forge at moonlight when we stayed with Woody, Monica and Baby Byron. We ate Geno's cheesesteaks in Philly with Travis & Laura, real italian food with Mazz in Jersey and crabcake sandwiches with Sama in Baltimore. We couldn't quite make it back to Dana's hometown on Wednesday so we crashed out at Josh & Krissy's house in Atlanta. Then Florida at last!

Thanks to everyone who housed us and fed us and made our roadtrip an amazing beginning to our round-the-world adventure. Please check out my Flickr gallery for the most recent photos posted and we'll update more soon...

The Last Day In LA

2006-06-18T23:30:00.000-07:00

06/16/06 -- just three different digits, but a whole lot of value. That was my last day in LA. I walked out of the elevator of my office building in downtown Los Angeles, got into my truck and drove out of the city forever. Just like that I kissed smog-filled days goodbye. You don't move to Los Angeles, you end up there. And we'd had enough. Enough of the traffic, the pollution, the crowded seemingly endless expanse of urban sprawl. There's just something about LA. Even the postcards are depressing.

So we're not going back. We hit the road tomorrow bound for the East Coast and beyond. The whole world awaits. I don't want to see those LA freeways for a long long time...

Are We There Yet?

2006-04-28T17:12:00.000-07:00

The truth is, we haven't even left yet. It's not even May. We're still in the planning stages. Everything has to be in order before we leave stability behind and plunge off into space. We need to be ready to pull that ripcord.

Stepping out into the unknown is difficult. It's a test of courage and confidence. Many of us are flying along in the plane of corporate life. We've been buzzing overhead for some time now. We've been outfitted with parachutes, we fiddle with our jump jackets and chin straps. But we just keep sitting here on the plane, staring out the open door full of sky.

Well, now is the time. Time to spread our wings and fly. We need to jump and care not where we land. But I know with the soft fluffy parachute over our heads and the entire world stretched out before us, we will have safe and happy landings wherever we come down. And you will to, if you join us...