1. Why is there poverty and suffering in the world?

It’s easy to blame other people, nations and the past. But it doesn’t absolve us from not helping now. But why? Nature.
We build corporations that take advantage of lesser developed areas, by using the cheap labour.

Warlords, governments and groups of people fight over control of areas or entire countries, displacing the population as well as killing them. For what? Power.
The heads of government usually installed in the developing world is corrupt, inefficient or doesn’t give a damn, preferably all 3.

2. What is the relationship between science and religion?

Same as the one between right and wrong, light and dark or even good and evil. Science is right, it’s the light and it’s good for humanity; Religion is wrong, it’s dark and it brings evil, in the way of suffering and death. I don’t mind religious people per se, but looking at the history of the world, religion is the prime cause of death.

3. Why are so many people depressed?

Expectations for life that aren’t fulfilled, friends that abandon us, feelings of loneliness, guilt and suffering for our next ones.
We are all led to believe that we will be rich and famous, but so few of us are, the rest of us will at some point or another feel useless.

4. What are we all so afraid of?

Living, dying. What doesn’t scare us? Death is something we don’t think about, we live as though we will never die. But most people are at the same time, very risk avert; so why live?

5. When is war justifiable?

When it’s a defensive war, when you are defending yourself from an aggressor. There is no excuse for attacking, not even a pre-emptive strike.

6. How would God want us to respond to aggression and terrorism?

There is no God, and lately terrorism hos often been in his name.
But the God taught in the different holy scriptures, would never condone such tactics, but what has he been doing since… Forever? Not necessarily terrorism, but violence. All the wars etc. that have been fought in his name. His hands are stained in blood.

7. How does one obtain true peace?

There’s not such thing, people will always bicker and fight. During the Spanish Civil War, one of the reason the fascists won, was the in-fighting between the different socialist groups. They even fought each other in arms, instead of fighting the fascists.

8. What does it mean to live in the present moment?

Using every day to do something different, it doesn’t require you to go to Iran to experience something different, just try to shake your every day up a bit.

9. What is our greatest distraction?

The same as what gives growth to our society, greed, having more than other people.

10. Is current religion serving its purpose?

Killing innocent people? Yes.
“God would tell me, ‘George (W. Bush) go and end the tyranny in Iraq,’ and I did.”

11. What happens to you after you die?

Nothing, life ceases.

12. Describe heaven and how to get there.

Heaven is here, during our life, when things work out, and relaxing is not an effort.

13. What is the meaning of life?

“M-hmm. Well, it’s nothing very special. Uh, try and be nice to people, avoid eating fat, read a good book every now and then, get some walking in, and try and live together in peace and harmony with people of all creeds and nations.”

14. Describe God.

Non-existant

15. What is the greatest quality humans possess?

Compassion, a few people ruin it for the rest of us, but we don’t all have to be like them. The rest of us can successfully be compassionate people, that care for the people and the world around us.

16. What is it that prevents people from living to their full potential?

Themselves, act on your impulses once in a while, go crazy.

17. Non-verbally, by motion or gesture only, act out what you believe to be the current condition of the world.

Bit tricky that one…

18. What is your one wish for the world?

No religion, that way, big differences will be settled.

19. What is wisdom and how do we gain it?

Through life experiences, true knowledge can’t be taught, it must be experienced.

20. Are we all one?

No, we are all individuals, capable of our own choices and decisions, no fate.

So why are men the luckier sex? That has nothing to do with the millennia of the man being the stronger sex, the dominant gender, right up until the second women’s rights movement started 60’s and 70’s, when the balance started tipping (at least in Northern Europe), to the current situation, where men can feel discriminated (I know, I have, not directly though).

Women are more thoughtful, they care more for other people, can show their feelings and don’t behave ridiculously things without questioning their nature (do I really need an example of a “guy thing”?). There’s a reason women live longer, they don’t drive like maniacs, they take care of themselves, in the sense that they don’t live exclusively on fast food, beer and breath through cigarettes.

So why are men luckier? Well, we (I’m male, honestly) get to worship them. It’s men who get to end up with women, living alongside them to old age (if we look past issues such as homosexuality, divorce and cheerless marriages).

What have girls got to look forward to? Someone to change the fuses and open those tight jars, oh yeah. Interesting conversations? Anything but binge drinking? I don’t think so… Sorry.
It’s not exactly a secret that I don’t drink, but I really don’t think I fit the male stereotype.

So without further ado, what I believe are my best self-portraits since last time:

February 28th:

One of my darker portraits, conceived without the candles and just my lit up face, I preferred it like this however, it gave the picture a certain balance.

March 2nd:

B is for balloons, during March, I did a letter of the alphabet (in order) each day. It meant that March so far has been my best self portrait month, as I had to put in more work every day, and I got results like this one (my favourite self portrait of this project so far).

March 7th:

Suspending gravity, I just had a lot of fun taking his picture.

March 8th:

Left the camera outside the bathroom, commenced showering, and when I had set my hair with shampoo, opened the door for a quick snap, and this atmospheric result came out.

March 9th:

I is for Irresistible; anything else?

March 12th:

I have to do at least SOME picture in the nude, and when they turn out great… Why not. I have a female audience after all ;)

March 15th:

Not all days were born equal, including this one.

March 19th:

Visiting my uncle in Horsens, he gave (or lent) me my grandfathers old camera, so I held it in one hand, and my uncles Canon EOS 5D Mark II in my other hand (yes I held a 5D Mark II in one outstretched arm/hand).

March 26th:

But there ain’t no cure, so let this fever rock.

March 27th:

Ever tried thinking of something with X? Xerox… (No xylophone was nearby).

March 28th:

I broke of from the alphabet system for a day, taking another picture in this terrible, but wonderful, kitchen.

March 29th:

To fully understand this picture, listen to Yellow by Coldplay.

April 5th:

Alhambra Palace, overlooking Granada (Spain).

April 9th:

The name’s Bond… James Bond.

April 13th:

Go ahead… Make my day.

April 20th:

The colours, the sharpness, the blured background… It’s just right.

April 23rd:

I went to Trondheim, and met Ingrid again (not since 2006).

April 25th:

Photo excursion to a public swimming pool, just wrong.

April 29th:

Latest picture, best Mussolini effect I’ve done so far.

—

So… Status. I really should write something real, and I will. I have plenty of good ideas, but all good things come… Eventually ;).

This post is password protected. To view it please enter your password below:

Password:

January 12th:

Plain old fun, I took 6 separate pictures with a moustache drawn on my mirror, and put them together.

January 15th:

Sometimes the study life takes its toll.

January 20th:

And sometimes you get to have fun (in Spain).

January 27th:

I purposefully drained all colour from this picture, making it seem lifeless, and then drew a smiley.

January 28th:

Not much to say, I feel the picture works, and the shadow compliments it all.

February 4th:

While skiing, I managed to catch some great light in a lift.

February 9th:

Blinded by religion, the 3 symbols on the duct tape are the David Star, the Christian Cross and the Islamic Half Moon.

February 11th:

Everything works so well, although I’m unsure about the ink on my hand.

February 14th:

Meditating in a suit? Come on.

February 18th:

1984 is my favourite book, and of the 3 slogans, this one worked the best.

February 23rd:

My first diptych, eat a piece of dark chocolate or Gilbert?

So without further ado, the link: http://utopi.twaize.net/

Today, the whole world has woken up to new life, a new world and a time filled with unexpected (but hopefully) pleasant surprises, as a man we hope is capable, has taken the helm of the most powerful nation on planet Earth.
The American people have given Obama the ultimate vote of confidence, and I hope that he can steer the US onto a better course than his predecessor, and maybe regain some respect for his nation, which has been utterly disgraced over the last 8 years.

From my economy lessons I have learned that all past decisions and costs are known as sunk costs. That means that they are irrelevant, and knowing what’s irrelevant and what isn’t, is hugely important to make the right decisions for the future.
When Obama makes decisions about Iraq, any reasoning about the invasion, and the casualties are irrelevant, what matters are the future and future costs, and what the return is on staying in Iraq. I personally believe that we should have stayed (Denmark), and so should all other nations, until the task was done. It can be compared to tearing down a shoddy house, and then abandoning the project, instead of taking the time to building a new house. The old building might have been terrible, but it provided some shelter and some stability. What has happened now is that everything goes with the wind; there is no control, no system, just havoc.
With the current focus on rebuilding the economy, my fear is that the environment will be given less attention, as it has never thus far, been given the attention it deserves, but less certainly isn’t better; the environment and education is what matters most, with health coming in shortly after. But in America those 3 sectors are famously neglected (education in America is so expensive, as the government doesn’t do much about it), but here’s the new angle, Obama has promised to do something about all 3.

I fear that the glamour around Obama will fade quickly, he made a lot of election promises and he won’t be able to keep them; a lot was said, but how much will be done?
I believe change will come, but it will come slower than we feared, and it won’t be as significant as we hoped for. Obama didn’t get as large a victory as he had hoped (which would be carrying 30 states), meaning that he has to bargain with the republicans, as the democrats alone can’t do whatever they please, despite having a majority in the senate (apparently it takes 60% to close a discussion, instead the republicans can just keep it open for eternity).

But the expectations the world have are extreme, save the environment, stop war, create peace (no war, doesn’t mean peace) and do something about the pandas while he is at it.
I suspect his presidency will be about highlighting the difference from the Bush administration, and his legacy will be his skin colour, and not his politics, of course I also hope that I will be proven wrong, that he will rise to the occasion and show the world that the US still knows how to save the day, the world and the environment.

I’m not gonna go out and shout at the top of my lungs, that I’ve had a terrible life. I’ve never been abused, maltreated, misused or neglected. But that isn’t what the quote aims at either, it’s a balance in between the good and the bad.
I don’t have the right balance, far from it, but I’m aiming to get there.

My childhood wasn’t easy, I was bullied for many years (picked on and beaten), and when someone finally noticed and I got sent to a different school, people had heard of me, and instead I was just ignored.
My year at boarding school was really good, people didn’t know me, and didn’t judge me before they knew me.

My parents ended up in a fiery divorce, from which I suffered a great deal, acting a lot as the messenger and taking the blame; and those years, I would rather forget. But this isn’t a pity post, I’ve had amazing experiences in my life.

I spent 5 months backpacking in South America, I’ve travelled in 37 countries, lived abroad, met the most amazing people, spent a big part of my life scouting and most of all…  I’ve more of that to look forward to, all the travelling I will be doing, all the people I have yet to meet and the experiences ahead of me.

I’ve recently moved to Århus, I’m now studying at the Business School og Aarhus, I live in a fantastic dormitory with fantastic people, and I wouldn’t have it any other way.

Argues that George W. Bush might be remembered well as a president, as he made tough calls that had to be made; similar to the situtation Truman was in; and justifies this statement by saying that at Trumans lowest point, he had a 22% approval rating, far below anything George W. Bush has been made to suffer.

I understand that this article underlines might, but the notion is just ridicoulus, Truman might have had a low approval rating in the states, but those in the know supported him, and unlike Bush he wasn’t universally hated.
Truman initiated the  Marshall Plan, allowing a rapid regrowth of Western Europe, if that doesn’t make a good president, I wouldn’t know what does. He greatly helped rebuild Western Germany along with Britain, France and all the other devastated countries.

George W. Bush has done nought in that aspect, he has taken some of the most inhospitable countries in the world (Iraq and Afghanistan), and at least with Iraq turned it into a far worse place. There are more deaths, more suicidebombs, more persecution, more of all the bad stuff, it’s like he went to a country that was at rockbottom and drilled even deeper… Well done, indeed. I do support the war in Afghanistan, I believe it’s a necessary job, and that long term stability there is necessary, there is a cost, but it’s worth a lot.
If we pride ourselves on being the free world, then we cannot turn a blind eye to the oppressed.

I am indeed critical of George W Bush, and this isn’t just some hindsight fix, I supported both Al Gore and John Kerry; I believe that George W Bush will be looked back upon with disgrace (except maybe by some Americans), and that we need to move on from here, and hope that Sarah Palin never gets elected.

So far some of mine have been good, while others have been more generic, but I’m absolutely happy with the project so far, and I’m looking forward to continuing with this for a year, or maybe even more beyond that.
Once in a while I will update my blog, once I have accumulated enough good new shots. So here is the first batch:

January 3rd, 4th and 9th

January 5th, January 8th,

January 9th

I know it isn’t in chronological order, but it fitted better this way.

So what do you think? Voice your opinion in a comment please :)

We will undoubtedly repeat the success, although I’m a bit booked in the next couple of weeks, going both to Spain (visiting my mother) and France (skiing). But we have already agreed that we will watch Million Dollar Baby.

Mine can be found here: http://www.flickr.com/photos/twaize/sets/72157612073169406/
The little flash banner on the side, has been updated to show the pictures.

The goal isn’t just to take a picture, but to make it interesting, and to help you develop your skills.
So far it’s the 3rd of January, and I haven’t made it far yet, but I really like the picture from today.

So, which one do you like better?

I like the B/W the most, although I like the blue tshirt a lot, giving the colour version the final edge.

Having celebrated Christmas and my birthday at my uncles place, eating duck and other traditional Christmas food; I was given a candle holder and a photography book which I very much appreciate, although my uncles praise for my own book superseded it.

On the way back, DSB didn’t disappoint me. The train was 2 hours delayed, however fortunate for me, the train scheduled for departure 1 hour and 30 minutes earlier, was delayed as well, and I only had to wait for 30 minutes or so, unfortunately time had slipped through my fingers at my uncles place, so by the time I was home in my bed, it was half past 1.

But what I want to tell you is about Simon.
While waiting for the train, I came to talk to Simon, a person from Copenhagen (like myself), who had moved to Århus (like me) and was studying journalism (unlike me). Unfortunately he was going to break off his study and move back to Copenhagen, he had moved to Århus after he got divorced from his wife, as he wanted to live close to his children, unfortunately it didn’t work out.
But it was such a nice experience to talk with him, not only is it rare to just fall in conversation with strangers in Denmark, but when you do… They are usually as exciting, as dueling with a snail, there just isn’t much excitement there, although it is possible (pistols at dawn?).

He had such interesting stories to tell about where he’d been and what he’d done; he asked intelligent and interesting questions, really listened to what I said, and asked good questions about it. But most of all, he was just interested, he seemed to care about everyone around, he was modest, and in every way I can think, he was a good person, in fact, he seemed to be one of the best people I have met, not just nice, but deep inside him, rested a good core.
I didn’t know him for that long, but he has left me with a lasting impression, a lasting impression of a good person.

There are certain traditions in my life, and one of them is watching the Crazy Christmas Cabaret every year, together with my very good and old friend Christian Løber. First year we did it was back in 1997, when the show was “Tarzan, King of the Swingers”.

The show has sexual undertones, especially in the title, and takes famous stories, twists them, mixes them, and turns them satirical.

Last year the show was titled, Fogg’s Off, a reference to Phileas Fogg, who travelled around the world in 80 days, and it was by far, one of the best performances they have ever done.

This year it was Hamlet’s Private Dick (as in detective), a story about Sherlock Holmes, trying to solve a mystery, revolving around Holmes’s arch enemy’s second in command (some Austrian mastermind), disguised as a Brazilian footballer. I know it doesn’t sound that great, and to be frank, it wasn’t. Although the second act was hilarious, the first act was slow, and none of it, reached the heights of shows.

The only true highlight was that Dr. Van Helsingør from Elsinore (a recurring character every year, wildly popular), had a much bigger role than usual, and featured a lot on stage. Another “recurring” character is the fat lady. I put recurring in “”, as it is the same actor performing the same role, in the same type of clothes, and with the same personality, but it’s a different character every year.

Those two roles are simply hilarious, as always; the fat lady always has songs, extremely overdone dresses and is the character, who has the most contact with the audience. The fourth wall isn’t just broken in this show, it was never there.

Amongst the better things, was the fat lady dressed as Amy Winehouse, singing Rehab, as the character she plays in the show, has an alcohol problem. The plot revolves around the mysterious death of her husband (which is why Sherlock Holmes is brought in), and she tells a story of how they ordered gravestones for each other, prior to his death. He chose one for her which said “Cold as usual”, and she went for one which said “Stiff at last”.

The sexual undertones are there throughout the show, but it never gets vulgar like “Ørkenens Sønner” (Sons of the Desert), it’s more in a good spirit; I would say that they do it with grace, but I don’t see how you can get good sexual jokes with grace.

The mind behind the show, is Vivian McKee, who writes and directs the show, as well as having a lot of roles in the show itself. Her roles are normally diverse, and her acting is terrific. She always starts the show with asking who have seen the show before (usually a big majority), making fun of the ones who haven’t and joking about her legs (they’re nice, especially considering her age).

The show; it wasn’t bad, it just started slowly, the literary jokes were further in between, the story wasn’t as interesting (to be fair, last year, was fantastic), but I’m forgetting the most important thing. I wrote that it’s a tradition, that I go to watch this show together with Christian; at first it was his mother, father and brother as well, but the family moved to Belgium, so for two years I saw it with my own family, I also might have missed a year, but now I meet up with Christian every year (this was the second time), and we have fun. This time, I arrived on the day of our tickets, we watched the show, and I stayed at his place for the night, catching up on times past, watched a movie and just enjoyed myself.

Christian is 4 months younger than me, and I have known him ever since he was born, we grew up together (he features on so many of my childhood pictures), and then, unfortunately, he moved to Aalborg, a city in the other end of Denmark, although I did visit him there a few times, but when he moved to Belgium, it was harder, and during those 3 years he spent there, I only visited him 3 times or so. But now we are both back in Denmark, although he lives in Copenhagen, and I live in Århus. But I don’t doubt, that I will see him every time I go back to Copenhagen; the point is that, to me, the most important thing about the show, is seeing Christian again.

Quite possibly one of the happiest, come-to-life pictures I have ever seen, it is as cheerful as Hoppíppola.

I wouldn’t call it happy, but it’s beautiful, serene and secretive.

Incredible action shot, although as a photographer, I’d be afraid to get hit.

Another great action shot, it’s just the speed being shown.

Well, I just love ice cream

I’m not big on photoshop, although when it is obvious like here, it’s quite all right.

When I someday reach this age, I hope to be as happy, as these people look

I’ve went diving on several occasions, but I’ve never been able to bring a camera, but this certainly is a pretty picture

Just beautiful, nothing is needed here

1. Complete ignore, as if I don’t exist
2. Look and ignore
3. Look and laugh
4. Look and and then look in a completely different direction, this isn’t your teachers attention you’re avoiding
5. Pick up your cellphone until you’re past me and put it down
6. Lie to make yourself feel better by saying “not RIGHT now” or “not today”
7. Shout abuse
8. Claim you’ve already given someone else
9. Excuse that you haven’t got any small change (we accept all types and size of money)
10. Excuse that you’ve only got your credit card (just leave it with me)

So why do I it? I don’t get paid, I get shouted at (very rarely though), I get ignored and I haven’t got AIDS. I also don’t feel greatly with Western people who have it, yes I apologise for people who were raped, nurses who had an accident with a used needle, doctors performing operations etc.
It’s a disease you get, when you do what you’re supposed to do, when you have unprotected sex, when you think a morning after pill, is a good type of prevention. I understand that’s it’s important to develop medicine for it. If that’s achieved, the high mortality rate in Africa might be stopped, and we can work on stabilising that part of the world, and in the end… Economic prosperity, I mean that continent is so far down and out, what can one do but look on in despair?

I did it purely for my own gain, it makes me feel better, I like having done something for other people, and that’s not the way it’s meant to be, it’s supposed to be a selfless act, but I’m afraid it isn’t.

Instead, listen to this song:
[See post to listen to audio]

Does this look like the ideal family to you? Well it might, but it sure doesn’t to me. The queen tries hard, but her paintings are terrible, her dresses are horrible, her hats are a common joke, her handicraft (no matter what or which material) is horrible as well, she just doesn’t realise it, as none would speak against the queen, who would want to offend royalty?

But that’s the problem, they are just regular people, fucked up by a system that still reveres them; the royal family used to have privileges, but since the 5th of June 1849, all of that has disappeared (or slowly waned away); and they just can’t handle it, a lot of celebrities struggle with it, but that didn’t start until they got famous, and they can hide away; a member of the royal family is in the spotlight from birth, and there is no hiding.

These people aren’t descendants from god, chosen by god or anything like that, they aren’t better people, they are all the same fallible creatures as the rest of us, and I for one wouldn’t want that; I would like my normal life, so I’m not envious, but that doesn’t mean that they should waste their birthright, the Queens father and grandfather were immensely popular.
Her grandfather would ride unprotected through the streets of Copenhagen his entire life, even during the German occupation, and became a symbol of the Danish resistance to the occupation. He was also the last king to contain and air of superiority that belonged to the family.
Her father, the sailor king, chose the navy instead of the army, and achieved great popularity as a king of the people, amongst other things, due to his naval career and lifestyle (he rose to the rank of rear admiral), he was tattooed, something that brought it more into mainstream.
Although not a result of his rule, Denmark saw the biggest boom in the economy ever during his reign (in the 60’s), Denmark became a welfare state, something was done about equality of the sexes; summed up, during his time as king, Denmark opened up to change and became the country it is today, a modern welfare nation.

So what can be expected of our heir apparant?
I don’t know, he tries to appear normal, attending rock concerts and travelling to the Olympics, and he certainly speaks like a commoner (not very nice). On the other hand, his campaign to be accepted into the IOC, is nothing short of embarrassing. This incredibly corrupt and elitist place of gathering, shouldn’t be anything of interest to a “contemporary” king; he would never ride through the streets, but what tagging along with his wife? She always seems to know what she is doing, going to Africa to raise awareness for landmines, being the protector of a many organisations etc., and he doesn’t do much, apart from the Olympics he is rarely in the common media, so what?

Biographies have been written of course, and I greatly expect him to step forward once he is king, but when will that be? He is 40 years old, and his 68 year old mother is showing no sign of slowing down, unless she is killed by lung cancer (she smokes like a 19th century factory), she could last for a while, as her mother died at the age of 90. If she snuffs it in 10 or 20 years, he will be accordingly 50 or 60, not only a high age to take the throne, but he will be old(ish); will he really be able to leave his mark?

Only time will tell, and now this rant is long enough…

But that’s not what I’m here for, I have a rant. I have a rant about Danes, being Danish and the values connected to that. I am so sick and tired, of Danish people thinking they are better than other people, of how the Danish social system is superior, how our politics are free and that we are the freest people in the world.

Danish people are rude and remote, a Danish person will only hold the door for me in 1 out of 25 times, today I nearly had a door slammed in my face twice; Danes accept racism if it’s put up as a joke, or told by a proxy; Danes won’t talk about their emotions (not easily anyway), they complain about their low self esteem, and then refuse to talk about it; not drinking is considered very rude (alcohol that is), a problem I often encounter; Danes are very difficult to approach, you try picking up a conversation with a random person, even within the same environment (like my school), they will try to turn off, hardly reply; it’s very important to be introduced into a circle, which makes the first few weeks in a new city (I moved to Århus to study), rather difficult, since most people don’t know anyone, so the barriers shields and walls are down for a short time, and then back up.

I love Denmark, it’s my country, but I hate Danes.
Denmark is supposedly the happiest place in the world, well there’s a reason… Danes love to bitch, whine and complain, we are happy, because we live in a nation with unprecedented whining, bitching and complaining. It’s such a snug little country, the famous social net, getting paid to study, stable politics, solid economy, instead of unemployment we have a shortage of workers, so the unemployment rate is as low as it can be within a western society, the only problem is that welfare and unemployment money, is the highest in the world, meaning a certain part of the population, has almost nothing to gain by getting a job. So what do we complain about? EVERYTHING! We will complain about the smallest insignificant things; the escalating crime (it isn’t escalating, attention is simply being brought to it), the differences in the political parties (there aren’t any, at least not in the major parties), how people want more for free from the government, but pay less in tax (mathematically impossible), our involvement in Afghanistan (NATO and UN sanctioned mission); our third vote for the Euro, I know they are politicians, and I do support it, but the people have spoken… Twice! They are always trying to seize the right moment for the vote, but the right way to do it isn’t to keep trying until you get it, but accept the voice of the people, it isn’t a democracy, it’s a dictatorship for spoiled brats, if they don’t get what they want, the stamp the ground, and kick up dust until they get it!

I love Denmark, it’s my country, but I hate Danes.
What’s the biggest attraction is “Vild med Dans” (a Danish version of Strictly Come Dancing), and I feel very sorry for the sad people, who have nothing better to do, with their vapid pointless lifes, than watch that show; I’m pretty sure those people also have a subscription to Ekstra Bladet (junk newspaper (aka. tabloid newspaper)), Se & Hør, Billed-Bladet and eat about as healthily as Howard Taft. Most people watch TV, and I even do occasionally (the news, takfor i aften (a Danish 30 minute comedy show) and sometimes the simpsons), but there’s a line to be drawn somewhere, it isn’t just “Vild med Dans”; it’s the amount of crap being broadcast, like “Unge Mødre” (young mothers, a show about teenagers having children), X-Factor and the amount of reality shows that’s being forced upon us, and should a Dane turn to a real scripted show, they get 2900 Happiness, a TV show with the worst acting in history, and most TV is the same; but at least we are free from the curse of makeover shows, in previous times, it was impossible to turn on the TV, without encountering a makeover show.

So what alternative do I suggest? I don’t know, it must be up to people to control their own lifes, which is why they can watch 2 hours and 40 minutes of TV per day… I know, I’m a student, and I don’t even have time to watch that much, but I would never want to; if it wasn’t for the amount of study books I have to read, I would read in my spare time, instead I have begun learning to play guitar; once I get my camera back, I will go around Århus and look for good pictures, and I have started doing fitness twice a week, and plan to run twice a week as well.
So what am I judging Danes for?

Am I better than them? Certainly not, I have many flaws, some big and some small, other people have other flaws. That however, does not excuse them from my point of view, I just acknowledge that I’m not better or worse, we are all people, we are all the same, and we have the same inherent flaws. So what do I want Danes to do? Get off their fat arse (we are getting fatter and fatter) and do something, move about, entertain themselves, do something as a family or with friends. The youth is known for their apathy worldwide, but in Denmark, very few people actually give a damn. It’s despair mostly, we feel like Denmark has been lost, and there isn’t much we can do about it; and we blame everyone we can; the immigrants and refugees get by far the most flak, and looking at statistics it isn’t “unfair” to do so, the problem is that the vast majority are thoroughly nice people, it’s a minority that makes it a problem for everyone, however their criminal minority is bigger in percentage, than the one from the genetically Danish population; but if I came from a war-torn country, or any country culturally vastly different, I’d not only get scared, I would try and fight it, stick with my own kind, same as would happen, if a lot of Danish people got stuck in Afghanistan, or as the British did throughout the world, during their age of global conquest. Crime may never be excused, but that’s exactly the problem, the criminal immigrants and refugees make up a miniority, the same thing could be said about the Danes, the crimerate among us is a minority, but a lot of hatred fuels political parties like Dansk Folkeparti, the third biggest party in Denmark, is a racist party.

I love Denmark, it’s my country, but I hate Danes.
Why do we Danes feel that our society is superior? We are always bragging about our “social net”, yes it’s very nice; but we forget about each other. We feel that through our taxes, we take care of each other, and beyond that, we don’t need to think about each other; and it’s true to a certain degree, taxes are absurd in Denmark, and everyone is well taken care off, there is no need to worry about a health insurance, unemployment or getting old. But as I mentioned before, Danes are rude and distant; the quote “light up, forget you’re Scandinavian” comes to mind. We need to start caring again, we need to look to other people, and we need to begin Christmas in early November (although that’s a global problem).
As I said about politics, it’s all about bickering over nothing, and looking at each other with hostility, snappy retorts and thinking that we always have precedence; we need to start agreeing.
We have this feeling that we are superior, but we keep failing the statistics, Finland uses 70% of the funds (per student) we do on education, but they are far ahead of us; our health system is very costly, but in other countries they spend far less, for a longer life, and higher physical quality of life (Japan especially, but even in Spain they live longer); in fact we come in 32nd, wordwide, with countries such as Bosnia and Herzegovina, Jordan, South Korea (which has a minimal government health system), Israel, Malta etc.
If we want to to feel superior, we should be superior, and not nr. 14 on the Human Development Index, as well as nr. 14 on the Worldwide Press Freedom index.

I love Denmark, it’s my country, but I hate Danes.
I’m glad to have been born and raised in Denmark, it just doesn’t hold enough for me. I want to go above and beyond, but that doesn’t mean, that Danes shouldn’t be able to behave nicely. Every time I come home to Denmark (either from travelling, or from when I was living in Spain), I’m always appalled by the behaviour of my fellow Danes, but at no time was it worse, than when I worked in Fakta. Yes it’s a minimum wage job, but it’s also a minimum appreciation job, although people didn’t shout quite as much at me, as they did when I worked in a 7-Eleven.
Since working those jobs, I always say “thank you” and “have a nice day” when I’m done, even in a supermarket (leaves most people staring), because I know what it means to people, when people said it to me, I felt a lot better.

Please…

I had a really good time, and thoroughly hope that another party will be held.

I had great difficulty finding somewhere to live, so great that when I arrived here, I had to live in a hotel, for the first two weeks. I had cut a deal with my aunt, that if after two weeks I hadn’t found anywhere to live (and I searched high and low), I could come live with her for a week or two, although that did mean long travel times to and from school, she lives at best, 2 hours and 30 minutes from the school, and standard travel time would be longer (the right connection of buses and trains, only leave every two hours). But in the 11^th hour, I got a call from the Dorm Organisation of Århus, I had found a place to live, it’s the cheapest in all of Århus, because it’s on the outskirts of Århus, the dorm is fairly run down… And it’s in the middle of a ghetto.

Yet I’ve come to love it, it really does feel like a home. It’s dirty, the bathroom was the most disgusting thing I’ve seen, but after a week, I complained, and now it looks brand new. Even my room is beginning to feel like somewhere I might belong, but it really is the other residents that make it shine. Since the queue is very short, it’s mainly occupied by exchange students, or foreign students just doing their entire study here. At the moment, there are two Danes (Charlotte and I), 1 Romanian (Dana), 1 Bulgarian (not sure), 1 Lithuanian (Milda), 3 Estonians (Riivo and 2x not sure), 1 Hungarian (Andras) and two Immigrants (one whose family fled from Afghanistan (Mirwais), and one I don’t know where is from, other than the middle east (Arif)).

We began in school on the 25^th of August, beginning with an introduction week, a voluntary period, where we are supposed to get mixed together, not everyone attended, but by far most did; it was a lot of fun, and our introduction instructors (Paul, Søren, Anette and Jette) did a great job, it was a mixture of social activities, and information about our new school and the study we were beginning (ha.jur, that’s business and law). The first night (Monday) we all had a grand dinner together, Tuesday there was a concert (with a band called Tennis, with everyone dressed up as tennis players from the 80’s) and such, and the same on Thursday, where a hypnotizer had been booked, I must say that I found him untalented, I can make such a bold claim, as I got up on the stage, and his attempt to hypnotize me, failed. Others fell under his effect, but it didn’t seem all that convincing, none of his “patients” really fell under his spell, they were merely sleeping, and afterwards some even said that they just played along, for the sake of entertainment.
Later that evening, there was another concert, with a band whose name, I’ afraid I’ve forgotten. But they were far better than Tennis; Tennis played pop songs, and songs I’ve never heard before (or after), whereas the other band took familiar songs, and rocked them up, instead of trying to be a serious band like Tennis, they knew they were just friends having a good time, and were all dressed up as a different rock icon, and responded to what the crowed wanted, including 4 AC/DC covers (those can’t be rocked up though) and a brilliant cover of Smoke on the Water.

Later in September, there was the introduction trip (rus-tur), which is as everything to do with Danish youth, just an excuse for drinking even more. It was great fun, especially for me, as I seem to be able to remember more than just the daytime. There isn’t much to tell from this trip, nothing worthwhile anyway.

The most important thing here is the studies, and I feel different about them, and my teachers. Introduktion til Erhvervsret, is without a doubt my favourite subject, my teacher (Villy Sørensen), is a very skilled teacher and brings an already interesting subject, to new heights. It is also my only subject that has to do with law during the first semester, all other subjects are business related, as the plan is to get us going on business, and then build the law on top of that, I get the idea, I would just have loved more law early on.

So far my best friend from school is Anders (Tvede Pleth), he is a native to Århus, and we just seem to get along really well. I should also mention that I’m the only person from Copenhagen, and one of only two people from Zealand (and the other one is a farmer), it doesn’t make a difference, distances in Denmark are very short, but I am alone, in feeling that people here talk funny (which they do). Anders is 23 years old, certainly not a young age for beginning at university, but the age distribution is very varied, the oldest person in my class is 28 (!), and the youngest 19, the majority of students are indeed around my own age (20), but there are quite a few, who are a good deal older, once again, it doesn’t make a difference, it just surprised me quite a bit to begin with.
I’m a paying member of the student union (everyone is a member, some just choose to pay), it gives a few advantages (400 free prints per semester, free entrance to the school bar, the monthly magazine free etc.), but it also allowed me to sign up to the fitness club, for 350 DKK (per semester), the student union has a fully featured fitness club with instructors and several weekly teams, that I frequent. I very much enjoy it, and I’m gradually getting in a better shape, I do circuit training (cardio training) and boxercise.

Unbeknownst to certain people (my father doesn’t know… yet), I am now a vegetarian, except for the fact that I eat fish, there can be no virtue without vice. I chose so, as I want to eat healthier, I know that can be done without shunning meat, but setting those sorts of limits, makes it easier for me to eat healthily, and honestly… Have you ever seen an overweight vegetarian?
I still eat as mentioned fish, but as a normal vegetarian (and not a vegan), I also eat eggs and drink milk, although I don’t like the taste of milk any more, and will just be using it for cooking. Eggs though are something I enjoy, and in keeping in spirit with being a vegetarian, I will solely use eggs from hen that were treated well, free-range eggs, ecological eggs etc.; besides without eggs, I wouldn’t be able to make eggie in a basket, and where would that leave me?

I’m not “saved” by being a vegetarian, when I’m out eating with family or friends, I will eat meat if it’s appropriate (like a steak house), and as a guest, I will eat what is served, as good manners demand. Backpacking around South America, I met several vegetarians, who would scream and whine, if the food wasn’t prepared exactly the way they wanted it, and truthfully, not only was it annoying, but vegetarianism is almost unknown in South America. Even in a European country like Spain, the term “ecological food” is virtually unknown.
It’s not that I don’t like meat, or find animal treatment cruel (I actually do), I’m a vegetarian, to help my own body, to get healthier, and to have a warm fuzzy feeling inside.

Charlotte is the other Dane who lives in the same dorm as me, she lives in the room next to mine, and she studies anthropology. Unlike me she is a vegetarian (who doesn’t eat fish), and lactose intolerant (I once met someone who was a vegan, and had gluten allergy), which basically makes her a vegan who eats eggs. She has become a very good friend, and I appreciate all that she has done for me. On the 5^th of October, we went out to collect money (beg for money) for Red Cross, and as a warmup, I made breakfast, scramble eggs with vegetables (mushrooms and red pepper), with pancakes for dessert; not only was the breakfast a success, but the collecting itself, was the most fun I’ve had in a long time… Discounting my South America trip.

Århus is a peculiar city, it brands itself as the city of smiles (they always smile when it rains), and as the worlds smallest big city, which has to do with the city having 300.000 inhabitants, but feels like a big city, with the bustling city centre where everything can be purchased, but at the same time, it feels nice and cosy, like a provincial town. I really do like Århus, it is just that. The worlds smallest big city, it’s very nice and cosy, not pretty (at least, compared to inner Copenhagen), but very friendly. The only thing I can’t stand about living here, is that almost everybody smokes, in Copenhagen (where I’m from, for those of you who haven’t caught it yet), smoking isn’t as common, at least not among young people, as it is in Århus, not smoking is the exception, and I find that both appalling and sad, but each to his own, I will just hold my breath, and rejoice in the fact, that my clothes still smell good.

Moving to Århus was a good decision, I very much like it here, people are friendly, it almost never rains (except for my first week here, when it was always pouring down), everything is cheap compared to Copenhagen, and for the first time living on my own, I’m at least far away home, which does help make the real world scenario more realistic. The only thing the city really needs is a decent cinema, in line with Kinopalæet (Lyngby) or Imperial (Inner Copenhagen); and to be flattened out a bit, those bikerides, 20 minutes uphill going home from school, after 1 hour and 15 minutes of exercise; simply kill me.

I also have a plan to visit my aunt a good deal, I spent a weekend at her house in the middle of September, and right now (17^th of October), I’m sitting in a train, on my way down to visit her again. I love to visit, and I love being able to go somewhere familiar. Mette (my aunt) is the closest family I have in Århus, with my father living in Copenhagen, my mother in the south of Spain and my grandfather dead; however, no matter the distance, I will always love to visit Mette, and my childhood memories of her pancakes, are amongst my very best childhood memories.

But I would like to extend a thank you to a lot of people, for helping me move to Århus, and for helping me here in Århus, you have all helped me achieve something wonderful, my own little place.

“We are all in the gutter, but some of us are looking at the stars.”

– Oscar Wilde

]]> http://twaize.net/2008/10/18/the-city-that-sometimes-sleep/feed/ 0 http://twaize.net/2008/06/25/155/ http://twaize.net/2008/06/25/155/#comments Wed, 25 Jun 2008 18:27:26 +0000 Jens Vilhelm Rothe http://twaize.net/?p=155 I have just arrived back in Spain after 5 months on the road, and what a ride it has been; certain people have followed by trip the entire way on my blog, and I must say that I thoroughly enjoyed writing it.

It’s very early to have a certain view on the trip in retrospect, I’m still bewildered from being back, but it’s a trip that has changed my life, and my view upon life, but then, all great changes in your life do exactly that.
Certain people on the trip have made a bigger impact than others, of the most important I can mention: Mike Gasson, Jimmy, Dave, Sarah, Carl, Miguel, Anne Dorte, Stephen, James, Johno, Karin, Flavio, Julian, Magte, Tono, Antonio, Heather, Lisa, Moni, Bob and the star of the show… Gilbert.

I have also had a lot of help from the homefront: Hanne (mother), Jesper (father), Anne Sophie (sister), Bo (stepfather) and Anette (friend). Especially without the help of these individuals, the trip never would have been or it would have failed while I was underway.

With a disregard to all that I have just written, I would like to extend a thank you, to everyone on this list:

Family, friends and everyone who has been reading the blog!

Uruguay: Those 5 Danes

Colonia Del Sacramento: The Brit and the Aussie

Puerto Madryn: Sarah and Kyle

Rio Gallegos: Timo, Jonah and Fred

Ushuaia: Andreas, Uri, Layden and the 4 Israeli girls

Punta Arenas: Carl, Tamar, Adina, Keenan, Irish couple, Jack, Roman, Mike and the two Aussie’s in their 50’s.

Puerto Natales: Bill, Kat, Bo, the guy from Punta Arenas, Monty (the cat), Britney, Jenny, German girl, Vicky and Sophia

Torres Del Paine: Urs, John, John, Susan, Katy, Rafael, Natasha, Albert, Nick, Whitney and the two Irish guys.

Calafate: Edward

Chalten: Mike

Futaleufú: Eyal, Rachel, Dave and Eddie

El Bolsón: Lucia

Bariloche: Patrick, Reut, the Israeli twins and Jimmy

Bariloche -> Valdivia: Lindsay

Pucón: Everyone at hostel Etnico, everyone who went up the volcano with me (in particular Yong)

Santiago: The staff at La Chimba hostel and Mike (of El Chalten fame)

Rapa Nui (Easter Island): Miguel, Chen, Kieran, Melissa, Larry, Jimmy (From Bariloche),John, Emma, Brian, John (Montana), Alejandra

Buenos Aires: Eddie (of Futaleufú fame), Anne Dorte, Jon, Karen, Elena, Jane, Becky, Eric, Madoka, James, Steve, Stefan, Darren, Deborah, Chris

Puerto Iguazu: Two German girls, Canadian girl and the two Danish girls

Ciudad Del Este: Dan and Rommi

Santa Cruz -> La Paz: Lorgio

La Paz: Patrick (from Bariloche) and Danny

La Paz -> Cuzco: Florian

Cuzco: Steve and James (from Buenos Aires), Karin, Anna, Heather, Ley, the 3 Norwegian girls, Ingrid, Johno, Maria, Charlotte, Mike Gasson (from El Chalten and Santiago) and the Kiwi girl.

Inca Trail: Flavio, Julian, the porters and the cook, Rob and Dee Ann

La Paz: Nadja, Yasmin, Heather, Uval, Maud, Jonathan, Ivan and Macro

Potosi: Cameron, Monica, Allan, William, Anaïs, Angela and Aaron

Uyuni: Angela (from Potosi), Declan and Judy

Sucre: Andrew, Tamsyn and Trevor

La Paz: Jimmy

Pampas: Jimmuy, Laia and Tono

Jungle: Jimmy, Antonio and Jesus

La Paz: Jimmy, Heather, Roly and Anita

Copacabana: Jimmy

Habana: Lisa, Amasa and Lily

Santiago de Cuba: Lisa (from above)

Comandancia La Plata: Moni

VIlla Santa Domingo -> Camaguey: Shane and Steve

Cuba: All the family’s I stayed with, ate with and talked with; you showed me the best side of Cuba.

Washington, D.C.: Hiro, Carlos, Rachel & Eyal (from Futaleufu and Bariloche), Bill Colburn, Jackie, Rick and Rav Shmuel.

New York: Tony, Anne Sophie (my sister), Peter & and his son Tony as well as

Chicago: Bob, Amanda and the people on the Wicker park tour

Boston: Amelia

I’m just gonna leave you with a feeling of my trip, I know with this massive list of people above, it doesn’t feel right, and I’m not saying it gives a sense of my entire trip, but you will also notice that few people are mentioned more than once (it won’t work if you are reading this in an email, you have to go to the website):

[See post to listen to audio]

So before I leave you… Beyond the sky and the earth, thank you.

21st: I had a wait from 5 in the morning (Dublin time) to 16.50 before my plane would leave for Malaga, so I simply sat around in a comfy leather chair, and read in my book Kite Runner, and sat still daydreaming when I got tired of reading, but the wait was indeed excruciatingly slow, but time didn’t stop, the plane came, I boarded and read the in-air shopping magazine for 3 hours, until I landed in Malaga, and this is where it got fun.
I waited at the luggageline until it stopped going round, and then I knew my luggage had been lost, but I trudged on, complained everywhere, until I was told that I could find my luggage in Terminal 2. So I went outside, had a heart hello with my mother and stepfather, went over to get my rucksack, and I was officially home, now I just need to go back to Denmark, before I feel I can call my journey complete.

Postscript:

Apparently I forgot to turn subscription on for my time in America, so here are those posts:

From The D, To The C!
New York Solo
New York Duo
Windswept In Chicago
Boston

I landed around 11.30, my bag came out very fast, and in no time I was on the metro on my way to my hostel. The hostel is fairly central, and very nice, with a great selection of cheap places to eat around. However I had plenty of time left, it was still early-ish (14 or so), by the time I left. So I decided to go to Cambridge to see Harvard and MIT. The universities aren’t exactly pretty, Harvard is better looking than MIT, but still awfully bland, a sort of failed federal architectural style. There wasn’t the air of education around the places either, however I do know that I am dealing with two of the best universities in the world, I am just relaying my experience.

I was back at the hostel around 17.15, and killed the time until it was 19 o’clock, and a group of people assembled in the lobby, I had signed up for a free comedy show (Celtics played the LA Lakers in the finals of the NBA, so the comedy club must have known that they had to do something drastic), and went along with 9 other people to “The Comedy Connection” for an evening of laughter (or so I thought); the first 3 comedians weren’t funny, the jokes were poor; but the final 3 comedians, were brilliant, and I laughed till I cried, and so did most people present.

After the show all of us headed back to the hostel, and I fell in conversation with Amelia from Austin (Texas), and we ended up watching Fawlty Towers together, until late in the night. She had to get up early, as she had to go to an introductory course, she would soon start studying here in Boston, and it was late anyway, so I just went to bed and slept.

18th:

I got up very late, but as always, eventually got around. I spent the entire day walking along the Freedom Trail, entering all the museums (free one’s anyway), and lingering at many of the beautiful sights. I didn’t do a lot of different things, but I learned a lot about Boston history; Boston Common, State House, Park St Church, Granary Burying Ground, King’s Chapel, Old South Meeting House (Boston Tea Party), Boston Massacre, Faneuil Hall, Paul Revere House, Old North Church, Hill Burying Ground are just among the things I saw on my trip around the city. Near the North Square I had a most amazing sandwich, not just the best sandwich, but an amazing Cuban sandwich at that.

In the evening I stayed in at the hostel, watched a movie and didn’t do much; for dinner I had a sandwich from the nextdoor place, very tasty indeed.

19th:

I started by eating breakfast at the hostel (this was the only day I had been up early enough to eat breakfast), and then walked to Fenway Park, home of the red sox, and waited 40 minutes for the next tour to start. The tour was really good, and I suddenly got a crash course in baseball, and now know slightly more. The tour took quite a long time, so afterwards I signed up for a sneak preview of Wanted, and walked around Copley (a part of Boston) and tried to get to the observation deck of the Prudential Tower (tallest building in Boston), but couldn’t as it had been rented for a private arrangement.

When i came back to the hostel, it was time to go to the cinema, so at the cinema I bought some popcorn, and watched a movie, which is one of my favourite movies ever, that movie really rocked my world, it had everything. A lot of people will undoubtedly draw comparisons to The Matrix, but disregard that, this movie is completely separate, and if anything, the only comparison is the blue collared guy hating his life; and The Matrix didn’t exactly pioneer that idea.

Not much else happened, I went back to the hostel and ate some dinner, did nothing for a couple of hours and went to bed.

20th:

Last day, oh what to do? At 11 o’clock I checked up, stored my rucksack in a locker; and went out to see the view from the skydeck, the Prudential Tower isn’t the tallest building in Boston anymore, but has the highest observation deck, and having the tallest building in the view is amazing, it is like a giant mirror. The ticket to the top of the Prudential Tower was 10 dollars, whereas both Empire State Building and Rockefeller Center charge 20 dollars, a nice change. The tour also included a free audiotour (but unfortunately it was quite boring), but the view was fantastic, better than the Chicago view and more stunning than the New York view.

After the tower I went to the Boston Apple Store, the largest Apple store in the world, and it really is enormous, 3 times the size of the flagstore on 5th avenue, 3 big levels. Both the most of the rest of the day, not much was accomplished; the Lonely Planet didn’t have many suggestions, other than those I didn’t have time for, so I sat around at the hostel, read in my book, and did random stuff to pass the time.

Eventually it was time, and when I was about to leave an English girl was headed to the airport as well, so we went there together, I never learned her name, but she was from Brighton Beach. Check-in was easy, and even though I bought my tickets separately, they checked me in all the way. After not much of a wait, I boarded the plane and left the States.

13th:

Time to do something, but first I had to move hostel, the first hostel I stayed in was wonderful, but they didn’t have any free beds for the 13th when I booked, so for this one night I had to go somewhere else. I got my rucksack stores at the hostel, and took a train some 30 minutes north. Once there I checked in, and went back out to see the city. I down south of Chicago to see the Museum of Science and Industry. There are no metro lines nearby (Chicago both has a Metro and a Metra system, just to keep it confusing), so I took a train to 51st street and walked about 2 miles (3 km) east, first through a neighbourhood with boarded windows, dead parks (dead vegetation) and split by a motorway. I got to a big park, walked through it, and stepped out in a completely different world.

On the other side was the University of Chicago, along with a big campus made out of old classical buildings for the rest of the walk, where I sat down and had a sandwich in a Greek restaurant, and then went on to the museum. The museum is quite nice, but has a few incredibly outdated exhibits (such as the one on Internet, and those involving technology), but the exhibit featuring the actual U-505, a Nazi submarine captured in 1944, was amazing. There is a tour inside the submarine, but when I arrived, the last tickets had already been sold out, to my immense grief. I had though instead paid 5 dollars to try a navy flight simulator, the box you sat inside, moved according to how you flew, so I completely disregarded the mission I was supposed to carry out, and just did barrelrolls, loops and messed about, but hanging upside down, being tossed from side to side etc. is incredible fun.

After the museum, the metro station was of course far away, so instead of going back to the one I came from, I decided to go to one further away, so that I could see parts of Chicago I hadn’t seen before, instead of going through what I had already seen. Unfortunately for me it started to rain; so I sat down in a busstop and waited it out. Eventually it stopped and I proceeded to the metro station, where a peculiar sight met me. A huge white guy, trained to the point where his arms might just burst from the size of his muscles, sat down on a chair and pulled out his pink iPod mini…

Back at the hostel, I bought some food to make for dinner, and stayed there the rest of the evening, mostly talking to an Irish guy.

14th:
It was a clear blue day, so I hoped the view from the Sears tower would be superb. So I bought a discount ticket from the hostel reception (4 USD off) and went there, with my prepaid ticket, I got to zoom past all the queue’s, waiting lines for the information movie and skip the queue to the elevator, and since it was a Saturday, the place was packed with people, so I probably saved over an hour. Once I got up, I was met by a crowd of Amish like people, everyone dressed in those 16th-17th century American farmer clothes, looking down on us (because the rest of them weren’t as pure as them in their faith, or in my case, had no faith at all); only one thing bothers me. If they are so pure and righteous because they live by the old ways as they believe good intended, what are they doing in an architectural marvel, that not only used to be the worlds highest building, but still is the western hemisphere’s highest building and the worlds tallest man-made structure (due to the antenna’s), looking over a beautiful city from the 103rd floor… Doesn’t that go against their beliefs?

The view was gorgeous none the less, unlike Empire State Building and Rockefeller Center, the viewpoint is encased in glass, there is no open air view, as the winds are ferocious certain times of the year at street level in Chicago (known as The Windy City), so imagine at 1500 feet up (some 450 meters). As I had hoped it was also a very clear day, so supposedly we could see up to 50 miles away (80 km), that is what they told us at least. Down on the ground floor again, I walked along the waterway of the Loop (the centre of Chicago), until I came to Michigan avenue, one of the worlds biggest retail streets known as the “Magnificent Mile”, where I fell to the pleasure of entertainment and watched Kung Fu Panda, a funny and amusing movie, although I do think Jack Black was rather miss-cast.

After the movie I walked to the Navy Pier, and what a disgusting place that is; I’m sure it used to be charming, but it is just a long line of junk food and screaming kids, I didn’t walk far before I turned around and walked back to the hostel along the shore. Once I got back to the hostel it was already fairly late, so I decided to check my emails and then cook dinner, but while I was checking my emails I fell in conversation with the person next to me, an American named Bob. And before I knew it, it was 2 in the morning, I hadn’t eaten yet and I was just too tired to anything but go to bed. But I had great fun talking to Bob, and I believe it was both ways.

15th:

Cultural time, after waking up just in time to catch breakfast (as per usual), I headed towards the Chicago Institute of Art, supposedly one of the finest of its kinds. Entrance was modestly priced for the states (12 here, as opposed to 20 or more most places), and the museum good. There was a truly amazing photographic exhibition alongside other things, and the permanent collection. Unfortunately much of the museum was closed off due to renovations, including the American art from 1900 to 1950, which I had really been looking forward to see. For some reason I was very exhausted, I had had plenty of sleep (7 hours) and a hearty breakfast, so I really didn’t understand. However I soldiered on, and very much enjoyed the section with sculptures and different objects from the ancient Greece, Italy and Egypt.

The amount of museum closed was enormous, it wasn’t half, but somewhere around 30%, including the parts that I wanted to see most, but such is life.
When I left the museum, I was feeling rather peckish (bananas, cornflakes and toasted bread won’t last forever), so I went to a place called the bakery corner, bought a scramble-egg, bacon, ham and cheese sandwich (sounds like it was designed for me), which I brought back to the hostel and happily devoured while I watched The Golden Compass. At the beginning of my trip, I had listened through the 3 books in the series on my iPod. The biggest problem with audiobooks is that you have to pay full attention, you can’t have it running in the background; lucky for me, there were plenty of busrides for me, so I have a clear memory of the books. Now the movie takes a great book, cuts away 60-70% of it, changes the order in which occurrences take place, dumbs down the story, flattens the characters and cuts of the last couple of chapters, giving it an indecisive end. That it still manages to be a good and entertaining movie, just tells something about the quality of the book…

While I had been waiting for my sandwich to be made, a woman with her boyfriend and I assume brother, had left the place. She had been rolling a baby stroller, but what I discovered was that there was no baby in it, she was rolling around her dog, and I almost cringed in pain, at seeing just how pathetic people get. That dog is more suited for walking, than she will ever be; in fact dogs that never walk fall ill far more easily than humans who never move. People generally have to wear shoes to walk around outdoors, whereas dogs are extremely comfortable with their paws, it just shows a sign that dogs are far more suited for the outdoor world; it’s like those women who carry around their dogs in their handbags, why?

I cooked dinner and met some really cool Irish guys (all Irish guys seem to be), followed by yet another cinema visit, where I watched The Incredible Hulk, quite a good movie, with great acting, and I just can’t help to think about how happy Liv Tyler must be that she doesn’t look like her father. When the movie was done I went back to my hostel and went to sleep.

16th:

At 10.30 a lot of people assembled (10 or so) at the information desk, where an intern from the hostel, Amanda, picked us up and took us for a tour around Wicker Park, a really beautiful part of Chicago where High Fidelity was recorded, so after seeing all the beautiful buildings, learning about the history etc. we saw some of the places from High Fidelity and went for lunch, where I had salmon Benedict, what an amazing idea for lunch!

When I got back from Wicker Park (when the other went back, I stayed around with 2 Irish guys), I took a short break and then went to the Shedd Aquarium, since the previous day, that museum along with two others had been free, and I felt very fortunate that I didn’t have to pay for that gargantuan disappointment. However afterwards I went to the Addler Planetarium, which was a museum about the moonlanding, very good and interesting (and another free place). But most importantly, it offered the greatest view over Chicago’s skyline. When I was done with all this, it was quite late, so I went back to the hostel for an early night, I had to get up early next morning for my flight to Boston.

17th:

ALERT! ALERT!
I woke up 45 minutes late, rushed out of the hotel and had to buy a kitkat chunky so that I would have change for the metro. I made it to the airport, and barely made the check-in in time, but made it. I went through the normal procedure of entering an airport (including removing your shoes) and boarded the plane, off to the Irish capital (Boston).

After much trouble, going the wrong places and annoying people who might know where I should go (JFK is a navigational nightmare), I found the right arrival location, and after 5 small minutes the passengers started arriving. It took quite a while, but eventually Anne Sophie (my sister) walked out and a happy scene broke out. That put behind us, we sat down and each ate half of our Cuban sandwich and set off back to the hostel.

The ride is quite far, JFK is in the outer region of Queens and Harlem is quite far norh on Manhattan, it took nearly two hours to get back, where we checked in (I hadn’t checked in earlier, as I didn’t have enough money on me), dumped our stuff and caught the first train back into town. The first time you see Times Square is always the best, even though you have seen it plenty of times in movies and pictures, it is remarkable, even when having grown up in a western country with all the goods of capitalism, it is stunning… Piccadilly Circus can’t prepare you for it.

Before going back to sleep, we visited some of the biggest stores there. The M&M worldstore where 22 different colours can be bought alongside any imaginable souvenir. The Virgin mega-megastore and numerous other places. Dinner was easily sorted; I ate a pizza slice, and my sister (henceforth known as AS) wasn’t hungry. Not only is a Cuban sandwich very heavy, her flight was the first direct flight from Malaga to New York, so it was a celebratory flight with lots and lots of food (and champagne).

6th of June:

AS insisted on an early morning, “I don’t want to waste time” she says… And then she walks at a pace that reminds me of a 112 year old crippled person hooked up to a life support system trying to run a marathon… THAT slow. But we took a metro back to Times Square, and I did something I hadn’t succumbed to so far on my trip, something so low it had never even entered my mind… We bought tickets to a doubledecker city tour, ought a combo package, and took a downtown tour, with a hilarious guide, who was very articulate on took us on an amazing tour through the districts. Everything from Nolita and Little Italy (where Bobby Milk or by his better known name Robert De Niro grew up) to The Fashion District (where AS was bouncing in her seat) and the UN building. Along the way we also saw a scene from a movie being shot, where Sandra Bullock was out acting (or the closest she can come) alongside some other actor, known to Americans, but not outside.

After the tour we (AS) went shopping and I trudged along, into shops with all kinds of clothing (and some without), until I saw a cinema, where the two of us dropped in to see Zohan, a thoroughly enjoyable movie, although really overgeared and unrealistic, although that is the point.

We then took the Train to the South Ferry hoping to see the Statue of Liberty, but the last one sails at 16, and that time had long since passed, so we started walking back up north towards Manhattan and stopped at a bakery, where I had a genuine cinnamon roll (kanel snegl), which was very high quality, and wouldn’t be a bad find in Denmark. We then continued on and I got to show Wall Street and ground zero to AS.

It had by this time gotten really late, and we decided to go a place recommended to me on Cuba, a place called “Frank’s” on second avenue between 5th and 6th street, however the queue was horribly long (friday night). So instead we walked to the place I had eaten dinner the night I went to the Bell X1 concert, where I had a fabulous pizza cabonara (tomato sauce, cheese, bacon and egg) and AS enjoyed a simple salad (she wasn’t hungry apparently).

On the way there we came past a video game store, selling just about everything from the first video game console ever, to the latest stuff. A giant collection of NES, SNES, PSX, PS2 and Dreamcast games (of old consoles), Commodores, different gameboys with games, Atari’s etc.
It was a wonderful place, I would really wish there was something like that in Denmark.

7th of June:

First thing we wanted to do was go see MoMA (Museum of Modern Art), so we first dropped by fifth avenue (it’s very close) and looked in some of the different stores, including a giant really cool looking Apple store, with as many people working there, as there were customers. It was followed by a visit to an Abercrombie & Fitch store, where at the front entrance there was a topless (male) model you could have pictures taken with, and every where inside the shop were other fully clothed models that kept saying “welcome”.

AS went to see MoMA (I saw the reception) while I walked around the surrounding area looking at upscale New York, as well as same not so nice parts, had a quick stroll into Central Park, and then in no time the 2 hours were up (we had agreed to meet up again after 2 hours). AS is an art buff, but even she was a bit disappointed with MoMA, apparently she had hoped to see more Roy Lichtenstein.

Following up, we headed to the South Ferry again to try and go to the Statue of Liberty, only to discover that the combo bus-tour/boat ticket we had bought didn’t cover this boat, but another one that we wouldn’t be able to reach in time. So we decided to go and do the uptown tour to Upper West Side, Upper East Side, Harlem and generally anything north of 49th street. Getting off the subway walking the last part, we saw a police officer with a small bird on his shoulder, and I was about to ask if I could take a picture of it, when he himself suddenly discovered it and tried to get rid of it, using his hat to knock it off. All he succeded in was getting the bird into the hat, causing come confusion until finally it flew away.

We boarded the uptown bus tour, andit was just as good as the downtown tour; the guide was very kind and informative, and somehow had a passion for what he was doing. We saw the worlds largest cathedral, got sprayed from a firepost (someone had taken the cap off, and sprayed the bus), the building where John Lennon got shot and Yoko Ono lives today and the many hills of Manhattan.

Done with the tour, the same old question arose “now what?”. So we grabbed a metro to Brooklyn Heights, grabbed a bit of lunch and an ice cream, saw the Brooklyn Heights Promenade, walked around in DUMBO, saw the tube to London, walked to the nearby parks and sat down watching some picture taking of a happy newly married couple. On the way back we saw the Jehovah’s Witnesses Watchtower and walked back across the Brooklyn Bridge, which in this late day light was far more beautiful then when I had walked across it. Needless to say, I took a lot of pictures once again.

Back at our hostel, neither of us felt hungry for dinner, so both of us went to bed without.

8th of June:

This morning we went straight to South Ferry first thing, bought our tickets and joining the fast moving queue, and in not time we were sailing out towards the Statue of Liberty… It is quite small, far smaller than you imagined, although more or less everybody is disappointed with the size of The Little Mermaid in Copenhagen. It is beautiful none the less, and truly is a sight to behold, not just because of the skill in making it, but also what it stands for, and what is has stood for for so long, for all the immigrants coming to America. However we decided not to land on the island or Ellis Island, there isn’t much to see and we didn’t feel like it, so we just took a circuit and came back to Manhattan.

Ate breakfast/lunch and took the train up to Central park, trailing around there for quite a while before coming upon the Puerto Rico national day celebration, the second biggest parade in New York (surpassed by the Gay Pride parade). Never in my entire life have I seen so many people dressed up as “hood gangsters” or in tshirts proclaiming love towards Puerto Rico, and blocking up all of Fifth Avenue for an entire day (one of the biggest streets in New York) is by far overdoing it, nice for the Puerto Ricans, but a hassle for everyone else.

Having rounded round that, we took a train to the Museum of Natural History (the one from A Night At The Museum with Ben Stiller), and started out by watching a movie called “Cosmic Collisions” in IMAX format voiced by Robert Redford, it was informative but mostly just darn beautiful, showing huge collisions between Earth and a smaller planet (creating the moon), the Milky Way and the Androma galaxy crashing together and so on, and so forth.

Outside the cinema, AS and I walked around the museum till it closed at 17.45 (two hours later), and saw a life size model of a blue whale (needless to say it is FREAKING huge), endangered animals that have been stuffed and confiscated (such as a stuffed animal), a collection of giant worms, spiders and other huge disgusting animals and a lifesize model of a jellybox fish (worlds most poisonous being) amongst tons and tons of animals. I then huried up to the fourth floor to the dinosaur skeletons, their collection is enormous (I know the real ones aren’t on display) and so were the dinosaurs, animals that big always intrigue me (likewise for the blue whale). Coming from a country where the most dangerous animal is a chicken (salmonella), seeing animals larger then a fox (or deer in protected areas) is very unusual, so jumping from cute fuzzy creatures to a giant carnivore like a T-rex or an even bigger Broncosaurus is mindnumbing. The museum also has a very good conservation department, outlining the effects of environmental destruction and what gone be done to help the planet, it houses a big exhibition on how the planet was created, from the beginning of the sun, to the formation of earth’s rocks, the mountains, seas and current state of government; what interested me the most was the part of an extremely old ice core drilled up on Greenland.

When we left the Museum of Natural History we left for a slow trip to Piola the mastery pizzeria, where this time AS was up for a full pizza. I had the same Pizza Carbonara and AS had a pizza with rucola salad, mozzarella and tomatoes. Having eaten our most wondrous dinner (AS most of the time gaping at the TV behind me, an idea common in South America, the buzz draws you) we went for one of those “must” experiences in NY, a trip to the top of the Empire State Building. And although it is most common to do in daylight, we went up there in the dark, and had a gorgeous view. Suddenly there was thunder and lightning, without a tripod it is near impossible to capture, but what it meant was rain, and that we had to go inside until the bad weather had passed, and so we did. It was quite a while before we were let out again, but still the views were stunning, New York is always lit and it looks gorgeously so.

By the time we got out it was quite late (had to wait inside for 30 minutes, and sitting down wasn’t allowed), but our plan had always been to go back to our hostel in Harlem and get a good nights sleep.
The pizzeria is Italian owned and most of the people who work there (waiters, chefs, all of them) are in fact Italian, so the European Championship in Football was a big deal, and they handed out scorecards so people  could keep track and everything. Being a pizzeria AS thought, that it was the European Championship in Pizza, and was keen to know how it worked. Looking around the room she saw football shirts for nearly all countries in the cup (Sweden missing) and must have assumed that they were for the chefs…
On the way back on the train, 3 people were sleeping (strangers to each other) leaning up against each other, two of them woke up, and the woman in the middle found a strangers head on her shoulder, and tried for quite some time to wake him up, as she was uncomfortable with it. In the end another man present grabbed his arm, and shook him awake.

9th of June:

At first we went to the Rockefeller Center and went to “The Top Of The Rock”, as their observation deck is called, and the daylight view is stunning, but in a different way from the night view. But having the Empire State Building in the dayview, was very nice, and I was glad that we had done it in this way.

Afterwards we went to the New York Academy of Medicine, said to held a part of the first batch of penecilin made, George Washington’s dentures and a pair of leper clappers (used by lepers to alarm a village of their arrival), but upon arriving we were told that why the place did indeed posses those, they are not on display, and can only be seen by appointment, if doing relevant research.

So we went down to Fifth Avenue and the SE (South East) corner of Central Park, where while AS did some Abercrombie & Fitch shopping (don’t know if she entered other shops), I sat in Apple’s flagship store and watched Steve Jobs unveiling the iPhone 3G live. I also entered a huge toystore next to it, where they had a wealth of collectors items and other cool items related to Harry Potter, Narnia, Lord of the Rings and other similarly themed movies (fantasy movies generally).

When AS came back we went to 14th street, where the great regal cinema is, we each bought a ticket, I a ticket to Iron Man at 7:10 and AS a ticket for What Happens in Vegas at 7:40. All of this was more than 2 hours away, so we sat down for some lunch, and afterwards I read in my book and wrote postcards while AS went shopping in Forever 21 (at the table next to me was a man who farted VERY loudly quite frequently, for a long long time). About 30 minutes before my movie was set to begin AS returned, we walked to a pharmacy for some movie sweets (outrageous price inside the cinema) and on the way back (she would go do some more shopping) I came past a teddy bear ‘Domo Kun”, which I bought without a moments hesitation. I met another person doing the same, who was seeing the same movie as me at the same time, so we talked all the way to the cinema, and during the commercials. The movie itself is a masterpiece of a superhero movie, it is wonderful, I really like all these movies I am watching.

When I went outside I only roamed for about 5 minutes before AS’s movie was done and she came out, she had also really enjoyed her movie. None of us were hungry, so we want back to the hostel without dinner and slept.

10th of June:

AS was determined to do some shopping, we took a train to Macy’s department store, but believe it or not, they didn’t have what she wanted, so we walked to Times Square where AS did some shopping and I bought a pair of Levi’s jeans (505). We also went into the giant Virgin store there and browsed a bit about. We ended up walking a very long way to a Ralph Lauren store, where AS wanted to buy a polo shirt for our mother.

We then wanted to go to the Bodies exhibition, took a train there, ate lunch and decided not to see the Exhibition, it might have been a lot, but fairly priced is not one of them. So instead we walked to Brooklyn, ate a wonderful ice cream, looked into the London tube and found a park, where we spent 2 hours doing nothing much, just lying down on the grass relaxing. About 10 meters from us, was a guy doing some sort of crazy Yoga (or something), moving into what I thought would be impossible postures.

For dinner we took the metro to Second Avenue and walked up to between 5th and 6th street, where we found Frank’s, a place that had been recommended to me in Cuba by an American, and I dare say, that was one astonishingly good ravioli, there wasn’t a lot of it (rather the opposite), but it tasted oh so yummy.
It was rather late when we were done, and none of us had packed, this was the last full day in NYC, so we headed home.

11th of June:

What happens when you are for once, not in a hurry to get out the door and seize the day? We stayed for quite some time at the hostel, but eventually checked out and left our bags there, and then headed for the glorious Central Park. We walked around for a very long time (even with a map, getting lost is a given), but eventually came upon our goal in the park, Strawberry Fields Memorial to John Lennon. It is a part of the park, but at the very memorial itself is a mosaic in the ground, a round circle with the word “IMAGINE” in the middle. Like the previous day in the park, we stayed for a while, relaxing on the grass, and watching Japanese people photograph every square-inch of the area.

One thing I had regretted not doing, was trying a Grimaldi’s pizza, supposedly the best pizza in New York, both by word of mouth, and by the number of awards they have won. We took a train, and this time, there was no queue (last time we had tired, it had been horribly long) and we got seated straight away. The pizza was excellent, although not the best pizza I have ever had (oh sweet Puerto Natales), the place was fantastic though, “I’m gonna make you a pizza you can’t refuse” poster, the Italian red/white tablecloths, the coal fired pizza oven, everything was just so authentic.

Afterwards we took a train to Union Square, where AS bought me a pair of Converse as a thank you for paying for her ticket to NY, and then we went back to the hostel, relaxed for half an hour or so, grabbed our bags and headed to the airport. First AS checked in in terminal 1, and then followed me to terminal 6, an entire terminal exclusive to JetBlue, quite stylish. But whereas AS’s check-in had been extremely fast, mine took ages. It came through though of course, and we said goodbye to each other, although we would see each other again in 10 days.

I arrived at Madison Square Garden, got off the bus, grabbed my bag and got lost. On my trip I have been many places, Buenos Aires has 13 million people and is insane; but nothing is as confusing as New York, their subway was set up to harass first time tourists, I wrestled my way around it and found the right place, bought a ticket (2 USD whether you go 1 stop or spend 12 hours just going around) and set off for 96th street. My hostel wasn’t hard to locate, I had just forgotten how damn heavy my rucksack was to walk lengths with.

After I had checked in I got sent to my room… On the sixth floor…
I toughened up and dragged myself all the way, got familiar with the place, my room had a private terrace with a view, but on the other side was a much bigger one, the common room was outdoors, with a fair view.

I took the metro (subway, but henceforth referred to as the metro) back into town, 34th street, found some food and found myself on Times Square, the image that is the very essence of Times Square. In reality it is tourists stumbling over each other, and people yelling out their services, musicals, city tours, comedy shows etc.
Especially the comedy show I would like to mention, they kept asking me if I liked to laugh, so I finally stopped and talked with one of the guys. I only asked one question “where is the stand-up comedian from?” and got “The United States” back. It is (for me) a commonly known fact that American stand-up comedians (except for Robin Williams) are utterly useless, and nowhere near funny.

So in the evening when people were coming back from town, and a few had been to the show, and this is their general feedback: “We had to pay 20 USD to get in, and once inside we were told that we had to buy at least two drinks, adding another minimum 20 USD on top. And then the comedian was rubbish, he didn’t even make us giggle”.

For dinner I ate at one of NY’s many famous pizza restaurants, where everyone from Nicolas Cage to Bill Cosby had been, which was fairly good (have had better) and went back to sleep.

4th of June:

On the 4th of June 2008, Bell X1 would play the last concert in their worldtour following their latest album release, and having known this since late April, I had long since purchased my ticket, I went to pick it up from Will Call, but after going a long way out of my way, and waiting around for them to open at 12, I was told that I couldn’t buy it before the doors opened at 20. So I went back and took the train to Brooklyn Heights, and walked around for hours, absolutely worshipping the place, Brooklyn Heights is by my standards one of the most livable places in the world, it is quiet, gorgeous but still near somewhere where everything (EVERYTHING) can be gotten. And to the west end of it is the Brooklyn Heights Promenade offering a breathtaking view over Manhattan and in the distance, the statue of Liberty.

I walked to a place nearby called DUMBO (Down Under Manhattan Bridge Overpass) a small sliver of land between the Brooklyn Bridge and the Manhattan Bridge. There I found the best ice cream since Jauja in Argentina (El Bolson and Bariloche), and a huge tube… The tube functioned as a webcam to Tower Bridge in London. You looked down the tube, and looked out in London. And the same effect went the other way, so that you could see the people on the other side, with just a few seconds delay. And being nothing but a giant baby, I immediately started dancing in the worst Travolta disco moves (as well as some suggestive moves), and it was immediately returned from London, with dance moves just as horrible, and before long about 5 people on each side were dancing horribly with a delay of 4-5 seconds… It had been a long time since I had last laughed that hard (in fact, it wasn’t longer ago than when I left Jimmy).

After quite a while, I walked on and explored more of Brooklyn and found some wonderful parks, before I decided to walk back to Manhattan across the Brooklyn Bridge and saw the headquarters of Jehovah’s Witnesses in the process. The bridge is meant to be walked and bicycled across as well as driven across, and the views over the East River are fantastic just like the view over the Manhattan skyline, Brooklyn and the wonderful bridge itself, it is one of those rare moments where you almost take more pictures then you thought possible, there is always something new, new colours, new angles, everything.

I landed on Manhattan and walked to Ground Zero, much unlike what I had imagined. The entire thing is boarded up, except for a small fence you can see through (from a distance), and although I knew they were planning a new tower to build there, I had no idea that they had already begun, it is still a whole in the ground (they have 7 towers to build, and only the first (and lowest) is complete, and it won’t be till 2012). There is an overpass to the other side of the road, with a glass window, but that has an even bigger safety distance.

I continued to Wall Street, saw the Stock Exchange (which is now closed to tourists due to security concerns) and the general area, where up to $44.000.000.000 changes hands every day. It was by this time getting late, so I headed back to my hostel to recharge, and then went out to attend my Bell X1 show.

I took the train, had some good dinner, and then went to stand in line, picked up my tickets and entered the floor. It took quite a long time to fill up the room, so I signed an environmental petition, bought a Bell X1 tshirt, and talked for a long time with an Oxfam volunteer named Bob. Eventually the first warm-up band went on (two in total), 3 women. The first played piano, the second played cello and the third kept going between an electrical guitar, acoustic guitar, tambourine and one of those shaky things you rub a stick against. After that came a long break followed by the second warm-up band, a woman with a wonderful voice accompanied by her guitar and a man on a piano. Eventually Bell X1 came on, and played quite a lot of songs, all of them amazing, this band is fantastic, and the lead singer is like a child up on the stage. Running and jumping all around, pouring all his emotions into what he is doing (like singing), and he would also sometimes grab an extra set of drumsticks from the drummer, and start playing on a set of drums. In the end they all got very emotional, and started thanking everyone who had been touring with them (their last concert) and announced that they were going out to get wasted (they’re Irish).

I met a guy called Peter Jensen (Danish parents, but he was born and raised on Long Island) and his son Tony (I think). We started talking due to the girl in front of me. If I at any given time looked behind me, I would see 20 people trying not to laugh, and I had looked at myself in a mirror, I would see myself trying not to laugh. During the two warm-up groups, nobody was dancing, just standing still. And during Bell X1 some people were moving a bit, but nothing special. This girl was all over the floor, while the rest of us were fairly cramped, she had two or three square metres of space, as none wanted to go near her. She was jumped, running and moving all over her space, shouting, whooing, flailing her arms lake a madman, when she wasn’t clapping out of tact with the music (to say that she was moving with the music, would be an outright lie). At one point she kept jumping into me, and smashing her hair in my face when she decided to do horizontal headbanging (no, really). So I asked her to behave, and try not to ram into other people, she of course was gravely offended (as anyone with an IQ between a doorknob and a morning slipper usually is) and said that it was perfectly alright to dance. I told her that as long as she wasn’t a nuisance to other people it was alright. Somehow that managed her to shut up, and exchange places with one of her friends, and then she continued flailing.

There isn’t much else to say, the concert ended after midnight, so I simply went to the metro to catch my ride back to the hostel for some peaceful sleep.

5th of June:

I had met some really nice people in my hostel, especially Tony from Australia. He was a very nice fellow who had been staying in the States for 3,5 months and was now headed back on this day. I packed up my rucksack as well, but unlike him I didn’t go to the airport, I went to Harlem. Harlem is today a very nice place, the former mayor of New York (Guilliani or something) started a massive project to clean up Harlem some 10 years ago and it has really paid off. I stayed on 146th street and Bradhurst, a very nice place with a Swedish speaking receptionist.

After having checked in I went out for a huge walking tour of Harlem. Harlem isn’t pretty, but it is full of history, from Malcolm X to Martin Luther King, everything in between and a lot of things away to either side, such as the famous Apollo Theatre. Harlem is also a very believing area, with many churches, and my first ever encounter with one of those Christian sects that live by old ways, the men and women dressed as American settlers were several hundred years ago.

When I came back to my hostel I bought two Cuban sandwiches (without pickles before you ask) and boarded a train with the intention of going to JFK airport.

I had arrived a day early (I don’t know why I didn’t set my booking to start a day earlier), so I had to change room and checkout time was 11, and check-in time, 14. So I checked out at 10.30 and sat around waiting until 14, when I checked in. I could have left my bag and walked around DC, but $4 for a few hours of storage, was more than I was willing to sacrifice, and I had to upload my Cuba pictures anyway, although the internet connection is so slow, that I never even finished Habana.

When I had finally checked out, I was so hungry my stomach felt like it was turning inside out. I found a sandwich cafe called Cosi, and had the most delicious sandwiches, it might be much more expensive than South America, but for this kind of increase in quality, I can live with it. I spent the next many hours, just walking around in Washington DC, in the general area of my hostel, stopping west just before I could see the White House (saving that one) and east at the end of Chinatown.

Around 17:45 I left my hostel and took the metro to White Flint, where after waiting for 30 minutes (I was 30 minutes early), a girl named Jackie picked me up. Jackie is a friend of Rachel, a girl I met in Futaleufu in Chile and later in Bariloche, who invited me to come to her fathers birthday. They drove me to the party, a surprise party, which excited me as I had never attended one before. It was outdoors on the sixth floor (top floor), with a good view and a great many people. After about 30 minutes of waiting, talking with Jackie, Rachel’s mother and grandmother, David (Rachel’s father who turned 50) arrived, together with Rachel and Eyal (her boyfriend who was also there in Chile and Argentina), it was very nice to meet them again, the food was good, and a very talented musician named Rav Shmuel (David and his family is Jewish, nearly everyone present was Jewish and Rav Shmuel is in fact, besides a rock musician, also a rabbi).

As the birthday party ended, everyone was given a surprise bag, with an anti stress toy, a small towel and a Rav Shmuel CD (shortly before I had asked for his name, so that I could try to buy his CD); I was then given a ride back to the metro station (in a hybrid car, no less), and took the train back to my hostel. It was fairly late, so I went straight to bed, and quickly fell asleep.

30th of May:

Major sightseeing day, I skipped out on breakfast (2 dollars for some bread rolls?) and went out walking, first crossing into the NE neighbourhood to see a bit of that part of the city (not nice), and then walked down south to the Capital building, walking along Pennsylvania avenue (where I ate some lunch) to see the White House which is closed for for non US citizens (and they have to apply to their senator or congressman 3 months in advance, in groups of 10 or more), Washington Monument (which had run out of tickets, so I couldn’t go up close, but I think it is meant to be seen from afar, and it is beautiful), the WWII memorial (where apparently WWII didn’t begin till USA joined in 1941), the Reflecting pool, the Lincoln Memorial, Korea Memorial, Vietnam Memorial and all that stuff in that general area.

Everything in that neighbourhood of Washington D.C. (known as The Mall), feels very sterile, is very very grand (architecture) and more imposing than inviting, but I imagine that’s what you want in a city, designed to be the capital. Of all my sights on this day, the Lincoln Memorial was by far my favourite, it also included a free tour, which was very informative and good (the guide even pointed out a misspelling in the second presidential inauguration speech, which had been filled out later), but the place in itself, is more beautiful. Outside the memorial on one of the marble slabs, it says “I Have A Dream” followed by “Dr. Martin Luther King Jr.” and a date “August 28th, 1963″, the slab is located on the site where Dr. Martin Luther King Jr. gave the famous speech. Two great men, remembered in one place.

Back at the hostel, I had signed up for jazz tour, where we were about 10 or 11 people that left with a volunteer, who took us to a free jazz concert in a nearby park. The park was absolutely stuffed and the band had a habit of playing for 5 minutes and then taking a 20 minute break, so after about an hour or so, we all left and most of us went to Chinatown for dinner.
Afterwards I followed up on one of my great desires, I went to see Indiana Jones IV. I won’t reveal anything, just tell you not to get your expectations up too high.

After I had left the capital much earlier in the day, I saw a woman crash on a Segway, I thought that was supposed to be impossible? I also later learned (from my trusty Lonely Planet) that the Chinese restaurant I had eaten at, was the place where the murder on Lincoln had been planned (although, I doubt it was a Chinese restaurant back then).

31st of May:

I had been told that Adams Morgan was a by far more beautiful part of DC, so I spent the day walking there, walking around and walking back. The first time it started raining heavily, I dived into a pizza restaurant recommended in the Lonely Planet for their jumbo slices, which took up 2 plates, and did a lot of sticking over the edge, it was easily the size of a normal pizza, but I liked that it was just a big slice. Second time I was on my way to Massachusetts avenue, where Embassy Row is; the street where most embassies are. I never found a Scandinavian embassy, but it was interesting anyway, aside from the fact that I was completely drenched. Had I found a Scandinavian embassy I wouldn’t have gone near it, just looked from afar. I am not going to go home early, as technically the land on which an embassy is located, belongs to that country.

Instead of spending the last part of the day trudging around, I went back to the hostel, and tried to dry my things, and just had a relaxing evening, with some not very kebab like kebab food for dinner, from the deli across the street.

1st of June:

I thought I would walk around to a lot of museums, and see a lot. Instead I walked into the Newseum as my first museum, and stuck around all day long, till closing time, which is the closing time for all museums in DC (17 o’clock). It is a museum about “news”, freedom of expression, ad he costs they come at, displayed by a memorial wall to American journalists who had died doing their job, artifacts from famous journalists who died in the field (or gotten injured). It also had a huge wall with all the Pulitzer winning pictures in chronological order, and the history behind them, often very tragic. There was a very cool 3D movie, which recreated famous histories of journalism such as Nellie Bly (although no Watergate). A section dedicated to 9/11 with frontpages from many newspapers from around the globe, videos about people who survived and died, and part of the radiotower from the north WTC tower.

On the jollier side, there was a big interactive part of the museum, with big touchscreens that quizzed you on your knowledge about journalism and freedom rights, there was an introduction to the TV world in a real TV studio, where later in the day I was in the audience watching an interview with a local celebrity, Arch Campbell a movie reviewer. There was a big exhibit with radio and TV broadcasts of the most famous even the 20th century, and a section on the future of journalism, focused heavily on the use of Inter, blogging and Youtube. There was an historic exhibit with a big part of the Berlin wall, a Soviet watchtower (from near the wall) and the sign saying “You are leaving the American sector” in 4 different languages from checkpoint Charlie.

When I left around 17 o’clock I still hadn’t eaten anything and was really hungry. I walked by a place called Potbelly, it was a sandwicheria and the sandwiches were absolutely world class, I had two on account of hungry I was, and was somewhere near the best sandwiches I have ever had.

The rest of the day was without much excitement, just hung around the hostel, not doing much.

2nd of June:

I started out by going to the National Zoo, where I saw Panda’s for the first time ever, and then a lot of other animals, including the ever cool Komodo Dragon. The zoo is very good, with a very large range of animals, and a lot of conservation programs. It has something called a “ThinkTank” where you read a lot of different signs, see illustrations etc. meant to question the definition of animals, whether or not they are intelligent etc. it was well done, except for one place where it was supposed to say “Take The Red Bag” in about 50 different languages, although all the Scandinavian languages had misspellings.

When I left I went to the Library of Congress and got a tour, it is big, marble, marble, marble with a beautiful main reading hall. There isn’t much to tell about either place (Zoo or Library of Congress), one place has a lot of animals, and the other has a lot of books. I had never seen Panda’s before, but I had indeed seen a Gutenberg bible before.

Later in the day I did nothing but eat more sandwiches at Potbelly and finish my book “White Oleander” by Janet Fitch (I think). It is a very graphic, but very serious book; it is very good, but not for the faint of heart.

3rd of June:

I had set my watch to wake me up at 8 in the morning, but I woke up by myself at 6.30, and just took everything in my slow pace, until I finally set out, and walked to the corner of 8th street and H street, from where my bus to New York, New York (so good they named it twice) would be leaving. I had good time and I knew I wouldn’t be in NY before 13 or 14 o’clock, and I was hungry, but not much was open. So for my healthy and nutritious breakfast I ate a flatbread ham and cheese and six doughnuts (only open place was Dunkin’ Donuts).

The bus came, I boarded and we set sail (almost) towards New York. On the bus I started reading the next book, one I had purchased (since I am now in an English speaking country, there aren’t really any book exchanges at the hostels (there is one, but it only has horrible books, with fainting women on the covers), so I had bought “A Walk In The Woods” by one of my favourite authors, Bill Bryson.

I arrived at the international airport of Habana around 1:30 in the morning, and was asked to pay 50 CUC instead of 40, as the airport is 25 km outside the city, I didn’t like this new concept, and refused to pay anymore than 45 CUC. Inside the airport the security is incredibly tight, and I felt good about going to sleep lying own on a bench, with my bag underneath. It took some time to fall asleep, and my sleep wasn’t comfortable. But my flight wasn’t till 11:20, so any way of passing time was a bonus, and I was nodding off anyway.

When I woke up again, it was 7:30, and I felt like watching a movie. So out my music/video player bought in La Paz was pulled, and the Bucket List watched. It is a wonderful movie, that I like most of the movies I watch would recommend, but this movie especially is worth watching, I consider it a small life confirming masterpiece with a good if unrealistic ending. I check in, and with absolutely no money left and an airport tax of 25 CUC to pay, I exchanged my 50 USD into CUC, which came out at 40 instead of the 46.3, that it should officially, but the USD dollar suffers from an extra fine in comparison with other currencies.

Whenever I go through the metal detector, I always make a small celebratory dance when I don’t beep, it always makes the security personnel smile, even laugh, and that makes me feel a lot better. This time they called me “Jackie Chan”, so I pulled off some extra wannabe kung fu moves, to more amusement.

I bought a sandwich and sat down to write in my diary, but fell in conversation with some Aussie’s not from Melbourne (I don’t believe it), but instead from Adelaide. But it didn’t take long before I had to board the flight, and had the 3 seats on my side to myself.

I arrived in Montego Bay airport (not Kingston, other end of the country) in Jamaica, it is a very nice and shiny airport, but the waiting was substantial (5 hours) so I bought a book called White Oleander, the selection was very small, it looked like the best and the main characters have Swedish names… Wasn’t a hard choice.

On the flight to Baltimore (BWI) I sat next to a friendly lady named Jacqueline, that I spoke with on most of the trip. Having something to do while waiting is always nice, and when nice conversation comes along… Even better.

I arrived in the US, and immigration went perfect, my luggage took quite a while, and then things just went to hell (“I would rather reign in hell, than serve in heaven” from White Oleander, although I’m pretty sure it is from somewhere else). As I had been to Cuba (wasn’t gonna start lying), they decided to toss my entire bag, and initially wanted to keep everything I had purchased in Cuba, my wooden toycar of a 1957 Chevy, my Fidel Castro hat and my wooden (empty) Cohiba box. But a supervisor came along, and told them that as I am not a US citizen, I can freely go to and from Cuba, and I can bring Cuban items with me, as long as they won’t be used in Cuba, and as all those items are coming with me to Denmark, there is no problem.

As I had been detained for quite some time while they searched my bag, I had missed the last bus to the metro station. A taxi driver told me that it runs till 2 in the night, and so he took me there for a staggering 40 dollars (28 miles or 45 km). Once I made it there, he drove off, and I discovered that the last train leaves at 23:30 on weekdays, the 2 in the night train is during the weekend. So I took a second taxi all the way to my hostel for 30 USD, where I checked in and was hit with an extra fine for checking during the night (WHAT?). Annoyed and exhausted I went to sleep, cursing the pathetic customs procedure.

Early morning, tiny breakfast, and out about to see Camaguey. It is a great place, especially the lack of city planning appeals to me, after months of every single city and village being laid out in a grid, these random streets seem to cheer me up. Camaguey is not an extravagant place, square etc. are simple and mostly empty, restaurants (even really nice ones) are cheap, entrance fees to museums and churches are neither non-existent or a mere 1 CUC.

Unfortunately there isn’t much to see in the city, so my first action was to go to the bus terminal, and buy a ticket to Trinidad for that very night, at 2:10 in the morning. I then pranced about the city, taking in the sights and eating ice creams (it is a great pastime in Cuba), where I dared enter Coppelia, the greatest ice cream place in Cuba, with one in the biggest cities (Camaguey is the fourth biggest city in Cuba), and here they supposedly serve the best ice cream. What you do is turn up, say “el ultimo” which means “the last”, stand behind that person, and wait. Eventually a new group of people will be taken in, and there is a great chaos, and you have to try and retain your place, or be thrown back to the start again. Then you enter, order your ice cream, sit down, wait for a waiter, reorder the ice cream and wait. When the ice cream comes, you dig in and realise… That this is not the best ice cream you have ever had, far from. In fact that very day I had bought an ice cream from a street salesman, that would by far beat the famous Coppelia ice creameria any day.

At the square San Juan de Dios, there is an old hospital (museum now) with a viewpoint over the city from its tower, Camaguey is a lot more beautiful from above, I wonder what Habana would look like from a high viewpoint, they do exist, but only in forms of expensive restaurants.

Back at the casa one of sons (named Jose) of the hostess, put on a movie in English (he is studying English at the local university) and I joined in, it was a zombie movie with Josh Hartnett, I liked it, first zombie movie I have ever liked. It had a very clever twist to it that I have never seen before, nor heard of it. For fairly obvious reasons I won’t reveal them, in case anyone here wants to see it, but the ending was really good as well.

After the movie sitting at a table, Jose was joined by his girlfriend Susy (yep, Cuban) and his brother Liuber. The conversation flowed freely for about 2 hours, with only an occasional hiccup where I dug into the Spanish-English/English-Spanish dictionary I had bought back in January in Uruguay, and hadn’t used till now. I also now discovered that Jose who is studying English (he had just recently begun) doesn’t have a Spanish-English/English-Spanish dictionary, as not only are they very pricy, they are also near impossible to get, they can only be bought in Habana. So I offered mine to him for free (I have never used it, and I am almost out of the Spanish speaking world), however he refused to accept it, and I had to insist for about 5-10 minutes before he reluctantly (but in a state of near ecstasy) accepted it. I felt it would do a lot more good for him, and that I hadn’t wasted money on the book, it will serve a better purpose now.

The conversation broke as left for dinner. I went to the same place as I had gone earlier today; my breakfast had been tiny, and there is an amazing Spanish restaurant in town. So instead of eating breakfast or lunch out, I had two small tapas during the day, first a wonderful tuna sandwich (it was on the tapas menu), and later in the day, a cut up and fried chorizo sausage with french fries. However for my dinner (quite cheap actually), I had a wonderful piece of meat, cooked in redwine and served with a mushroom sauce, in best South American/Cuban tradition, served with french fries on the side. I was however very hungry, and followed it up with a 2 CUC pizza, which did in the end fill up my stomach.

Around midnight I took a bicitaxi (a giant tricycle with two passenger seats) to the terminal 4 km away, and the poor man only asked for two convertibles, an amount so low, I paid him 3. Without about 2 hours to wait, I bought a big bottle of water, two chorizo hotdogs and watched The Darjeeling Limited, a very funny movie, although I was surprised by the content, but then all I knew about the movie, was the name. at the second the movie ended, I looked up and saw my bus roll in, what timing.

25th of May:

I woke up as the bus rolled into the Trinidad bus terminal (alarm in my watch), found a casa particular owner who offered a place with a good location at a very good price (15 CUC). Walking through Trinidad in the wee hours, I saw what a beautiful place Trinidad is, and instead of going straight to bed as I had first planned, I grabbed my camera and walked around for little more then an hour, taking pictures, with the city covered in morning light, but still empty (people). But I had hardly slept that night, so I surrendered at 8 o’clock, and went to sleep.

I woke at 12, got dressed, grabbed my trusty shoulderbag and headed out. Trinidad is the most beautiful city I have seen so far on my trip, taking the crown from Colonia del Sacramento which I visited in Uruguay all that time ago in late January. The city is nothing but old beautiful colonial buildings and towers, no new buildings to spoil the look, just perfection. I was starving right about now; I found a place where I would get a giant piece of delicious chicken along with the traditional rice with black beans, and while eating (delicious chicken) Israel Moreno appeared and started playing, a famous trovador mentioned several times in the Lonely Planet, and his music truly is bliss, what guitar work and what a voice.

After walking around and taking several pictures, it was museum time, I started with the Museo Historico Municipal, by now the old artifacts etc. doesn’t hold much interest for me, I have seen them all, but the museum has the highest accesible viewpoint in the city, and the birds eye view of Trinidad just adds to the beauty. It was followed by a visit to the Museo Nacional de la Lucha Contra Bandidos, which does have a higher but inaccesible tower. The main attraction here is the fuselage from the U2 plane shot down in the Cuban crisis, as well as a fairly high point, with a different view.

Earlier in the day I had also purchased a Fidel Castro hat and a Cohiba cigar. The hat is merely a souvenir, whereas smoking a cigar in Cuba is vital to the visit. Yes I know smoking is wrong, and it is not a habit I intend to pick up, I just have to try it while I’m here. After eating a sandwich I went back to my casa particular for a short nap; on the way back I came past some trovadors on the street, and while I stopped to take some pictures (and a make a donation), a horse pulling a cart with two boys in it, came thundering past. They weren’t in trouble, as they were simply boys and were trying to go as fast as possible. As soon as I had made it inside into the casa, a thunder cracked and it started pouring down big time. When I awoke from my nap, the floor was covered in water, and although most of stuff was placed a bit higher, my trousers were soaked. So I put on a different pair, my rainjacket and went out walking in the rain, both because I love doing it, and because I wanted pictures of Trinidad covered in water, as this was really a flush.

When I sat down for a tuna sandwich, Israel Moreno reappeared, and started playing while I was eating, and caught up on my dictionary, which for the third time now had gotten water damaged. It is very annoying and I am always afraid that the damage will be more permanent, maybe even mould my book. However this time, I am only 3 days from the states, and by extension a hairdryer. My shoulderbag is as waterproof as a camel, the problem is that I would open the bag now and again to get out my camera, and when it pours this much, water always gets in. The same can’t be said for my rainjacket which by now (not due to the trip, but how much I have used it previous to the trip), is far from leakproof.

Back at the casa particular, I hung my clothes and shoes out to dry (not raining anymore), and sat down to eat dinner, a giant portion of the wonderful Cuban rice/black beans combination followed by a lengthy conversation with my hostess and her sister, later joined by her husband, all while I was smoking my Cohiba siglo II. And when I say that a Cohiba is a strong cigar, you better believe it. I haven’t exactly got experience (my first time smoking… anything), that thing could almost make my eyes water and I did get rather dizzy; on my tour to the cigar factory, it did get explained how to smoke a cigar, so I wasn’t inhaling the smoke (my hostess, her sister and her husband helped me as well), but only keeping it in my mouth before blowing it out. Another problem is keeping the cigar alive, those things easily go out.

By the time I was done, it was quite late, and clearly bedtime, after a long day walking, and I do believe a cigar can tire a person easily.

26th of May:

I woke to the sound of salsa being played downstairs, and took a cold shower (no hot water), and as I sat down in the morning to write some postcards, the neighbour who works in the local cigar factory, showed me his giant collection of Cohibas, trying to sell me some at a favourable price. On the way back to Spain and Denmark, I am crossing through the United States, and I really don’t want to chance it, so I politely turned down his offers.

I had already seen most of Trinidad, but I had saved a few places of the historic town, as well as outside the historic town to stroll through today, but I didn’t find much picture material, except for a man sitting in the street with his rooster and his cane. So I bought a bucket of chocolate ice cream and watched some episodes of Futurama on my iPod. I also discovered that I needed some money, being almost out, and at the first bank I found, I was told that there is no ATM  in Trinidad, it is impossible to get money with a VISA… However I had already bought my bus ticket and had just enough money for lunch, and the next destination is Santa Clara, a fairly big city (4 times the size of Trinidad), which should have an ATM.

So with my remaining money I found a very secretive pallador (very good, meaning it isn’t the regular tourist catching place), however my fish turned out to be quite tasteless, but the fried bananas were the best I have had on Cuba so  far, and they be themselves justified the price for the entire meal. By now it started pouring down, just as heavily as the previous day, although a couple of hours earlier on this day; by my bus was leaving fairly soon, so I went back to my casa particular, packed my rucksack in its raincover, put on my rainjacket, and walked in the pouring rain to the busstation.

The busride isn’t that long in km, but the road is either unpaved or very bad on this particular stretch, so it takes quite some hours. As a preemptive move, I bought two sandwiches, and here the whole moneda naconal versus peso convertible come into play. Due to my money shortage, I only had moneda nacional left, and I was allowed to pay with those. The sandwiches cost 10 moneda nacional each (I had 2), but 2 peso convertible. For the 4 peso convertible two sandwiches cost (normally), I would have been able to buy 9 (and a half) sandwiches, some catch.

The bus was on time and left in the pouring rain, but after about 10 minutes or driving or so, the sun broke out and shone.

Arriving in Santa Clara, the city of “Che” (his monument and mausoleum is here, as this is the location where he won his most important battle), I was almost assaulted by casa owners, but found one I deemed good, and went there in a horse pulled carriage for hardly any money (a bicitaxi would be more expensive, which makes no sense). The owner (technically her sons own the casa) is a sweet red haired woman in her 60’s who talks very lively. Once settled in, I decided to walk to the busterminal to figure out a ticket to Habana, and on the way back eat dinner.

The last bus of the date I wanted is actually the day after, at 3.20 in the morning, that way I can take a taxi straight to the airport when I arrive at 7 in the morning, however it isn’t possible to buy a ticket, I have to go there at 2.20 in the night, to wait and hope for the best; the taxi from the busterminal works out at 25 CUC, quite a lot, but the airport is far outside the city, and with the busticket at 18 CUC, it is quite a high cost. When I left the terminal, a taxi driver offered his service, pickup at my casa at midnight, and a direct drive straight to the airport for 50 CUC, too much, so now with the ability to haggle a bit (I am REALLY ad at hagling), I ended up with a price of 40 CUC for the following midnight (between the 27th and 28th of May).

On the way back I stopped by La Concha restaurant, and had a wonderful meal and dessert for hardly any money. I caught a bicitaxi back to my casa and enjoyed sweet sweet sleep.

27th of May:

I woke up at 7 in the morning, hardly believing what had just happened, but after 2 hours of lingering I was fine with getting up, grabbed my stuff and after a quick shower went out to see Santa Clara. The supposedly best cigar factory in Cuba is in Santa Clara, so I went to take a tour, but I was sent to a faraway tour agency to buy the ticket, and then return. But due to one of the mainstreets being under construction, the one the tour agency is on, it took a very long time to find it. I eventually found it, bought a ticket and went back to the factory, where I waited for roughly 30-40 minutes before I was given a tour.
The factory is very different from the one in Habana. It was a lot more personal (I was the only person on the tour), and it seemed much more authentic.

Afterwards, I went to the spot that has made Santa Clara famous, the place where the last battle as fought, where Che Guevera  derailed a train filled with 300 heavily armed Batista soldiers, and defeated them. There is a half hearted attempt at a museum made out of train wagons, but it isn’t all that much worth seeing, so I headed towards the “Che” mausoleum and museum, at the far end of Santa Clara. On top there is a giant Che statue which can be seen from far away, and not only is the museum fantastic, really world class, the mausoleum (with his remains together with those of 16 of his fellow soldiers that fell with him in Bolivia) is incredibly eerie. Camera’s aren’t allowed in the museum or mausoleum, just like it wasn’t allowed inside the cigar factory in Habana. In Habana we were told that it was because of the workers being annoyed, but in Santa Clara the explanation was that it was due to political reasons.

I then walked around to the other points of interest in the Lonely Planet book, although none of them were interesting in even the least, so I walked back to my casa particular and rested. I went downstairs (two floors) and talked with my kind hostess, who showed a particular interest in Denmark (her niece is studying in Denmark somehow), and our political system, as well as the economy, and anything I could possibly say about the country, I also asked her about the “periodo especial” (1990-1995), a time of severe food shortage in Cuba, as the USSR fell and the US passed the Torricelli act.

Just like in Trinidad, it just suddenly started pouring down, although this time the thunder was very close and VERY loud. It didn’t alarm me, but one year old Jonathan wasn’t happy, so Robin Hood was put on in Spanish, and we watched it together. My dinner wasn’t till 20, so I got rather hungry, but it was raining too much, I had gotten my shoes soaked just a few days before, and it is hell to get them dry again. So I soldiered it out, and when the dinner came on the table… My oh my. I suddenly realised why my kind hostess had such wanted to cook dinner for me the previous night. She simply just loves cooking, for tourists as me, she can cook food that she wouldn’t be able to cook for her family, maybe except for special occasions, and she is something of a cook. Tastiest rice, tastiest pork and tastiest potato soup I have ever had.

After dinner I finished watching Robin Hood with Jonathan, I packed my rucksack. The taxi wasn’t supposed to come before midnight, but around 22 o’clock, it rolled up, and the driver insisted that we leave. So I said goodbye, and walked out that door, towards my last moments in Cuba. After picking up another person, we started driving towards Aeropuerto Internacional Jose Marti, and what I remember is the lightning, it was still going off in the distance ahead of us, and while we were driving it slowly shifted to being on our right, before in the end being behind us, it was stunningly beautiful. I also remember the driver trying to smoke, but his two front windows couldn’t close, so he had to duck his head down below the dashboard and light a match (requires two hands), and try to turn on his cigarette; but the wind would still most often blow the match out, so it took several harrowing attempts, although luckily the highway was deserted, so nothing happened.

I didn’t sleep in the taxi, but that day, the 27th of May, was my last whole day in Cuba.

I studied the Cuban revolution quite a lot in sixth form (college/high school/gymnasiet/VGS), and I am therefore quite eager to see the important sites of the revolution, but first I went to Santiago, some two hours east of the Granma landing. It didn’t see any hard fighting, but it is Cuba’s second largest city, and was described very positively in the Lonely Planet.

As soon as we stepped out of our bus we were assaulted, assaulted by jinoteros (hustlers) trying to get us to their casa particular, or simply just trying to get us to use their taxi. Out of the crowd we chose the most reasonable and a very forward taxi driver, who didn’t mind stopping so that I could by a ticket; the following day I was headed to Bayamo, capital of the Granma province, named so after the boat Fidel and his soldiers landed in (in that province).

Lisa and I somewhat quickly discovered that there wasn’t much to Santiago, it didn’t look or feel particularly Cuban, just a dump of a city. Food is quite expensive, but at least it isn’t as hot as Habana. After quite a lot of looking, we found a place that suited our budget and taste buds, and it was absolute heaven, simply gorgeous sandwiches for next to no money, sharply followed by 650 CC (6,5 DL) of chocolate ice cream between us. After 30 minutes at a netcafe, where I mainly spent my time trying to post my last blog (La Habana), which felt like it took the time a slug takes to run a marathon (30 minutes?).

Being tired after a night in a bus, almost no matter how comfortable, is very normal, so a siesta at the casa was in order, after which we went out for a final dinner, when I was to take my bus to Bayamo, Lisa would already be on her way to Baracoa. The Lonely Planet mentioned a very good pizzeria, which also turned out to be inside a resort. I thought the pizza was quite expensive, but remembered that not only was it cheaper than in Denmark (everything is), it was actually cheaper than pizzas in Argentina, and the pizza was an absolute dream, Lisa had some pork chops, and can unfortunately not attest to just exactly how good that gourmet pizza was.

For dessert I felt that some ice cream was in order, so we walked to the other side of the street, but the only flavour left (ice cream at state run restaurants is buckets only), which I had never heard of (mammy), so instead I went for a tuna sandwich.

After the dessert, things got funny, we got a taxi for 3 CUC across town (very cheap), and went to a place called Casa de las Tradicionas, where a band was playing wonderful music, much in the style of Buena Vista Social Club, in fact they even played covers of their songs. There were 8 people in the band, and just 6 spectators, but they played wonderfully. A bass player, a trumpeter, a drummer, a drummer/cowbell player (MORE COWBELL), a guitarist and 3 singers; the first playing with 2 sticks, the second a long tube with rills, which he would let a pen glide over, and the last a dancer, a man in his late 50’s with converse like shoes, big canvas trousers and a very colourful blue and red shirt, he was very funny, and had the best moves in this hemisphere (that’s better than Michael Jackson). Instead of simply tipping them, I bought their CD, which came to the same amount as what I wanted to tip.

22nd of May:

Damned early morning, my bus wasn’t till 9 o’clock, but Lisa was leaving at 7.35, so I came along to save money on the taxi, and to give a proper goodbye. The milk at the breakfast was outright repulsive (first milk I have had on my travels), but the eggs were very tasty, so with a good stomach we climbed into a taxi and went to the terminal, checked in our luggage and waited. Lisa and I said goodbye, and some time after she had left, I thought to myself “wait a bugger”, my luggage checked in for Bayamo, had gone on her bus to Baracao, so I raised the alarm, and with flailing arms, I alerted the employees to their mistake.

A search and rescue operation was set in motion, all the stops where the bus would about be at, were called. The rucksack was located and dropped off. The initial plan was for me to go to Bayamo, and pick it up there at 17 o’clock, but they could see that didn’t please me, so a jinotero went off on a motorbike, and relayed my bag to a different bus headed in my direction (he couldn’t take it all the way on a motorbike), so about 2 minutes before my bus was to leave (it was being held for me), another bus rolled in, and brought me my bag; it was such a relief, not having to be claiming my rucksack all around Cuba, lacking my stuff. I had to pay 10 CUC for the extra service, but the jinotero had actually been rather kind, so I just accepted it.

In Bayamo one of the jinoteros knew my name, turns out that when the casa owning lady in Santiago de Cuba, had asked me if I was interested in some accommodation in Bayamo, she had called ahead and told them I was coming. So I got a lift on a bicitaxi, which is a giant tricycle with two seats and some floor space (for my rucksack). They aren’t allowed to take tourists, so in a place like Habana they are incredibly expensive for tourists, the driver charges more for the risk, and because tourists do it as a novelty. Here there is no risk, and it is the dominant form of taxi around.

I arrived and was in awe, the place (the casa, not Bayamo) was gorgeous and luxurious, the shower was fantastic and nothing lacked, I was sure it would cost a fortune, but the lady in Santiago de Cuba had told me it would be cheap, and if otherwise she would be the first Cuban to lie to me.

I had come to Bayamo to visit “Comandancia La Plata”, Fidel Castro’s rebel headquarters during the revolution, the main problem is getting there (no public transport), whether or not it will be open (intermittently) and getting back on the same day (still, no public transport). I went to a travel agency to try and get some more information, and by a miracle, they could arrange an excursion, by taxi both ways (50 km on shoddy roads), a jeep up Cuba’s steepest road (climbs 800 meters in a distance of 5 km) and the necessary guide for the tour (illegal and impossible without), for a total price of 100 USD. And considering how important it is to me, I accepted without hesitation.

The rest of the day I wandered around Bayamo and ate quite a lot of ice creams (you can get 48 ice creams for what is equivalent to one dollar), which were just damn good, they had only two flavours, chocolate and strawberry, and they both just blew me away. Unfortunately, there isn’t much to see in Bayamo, it looks like any South American city, just a lot more prosperous. I only had CUC (peso convertible) on me, and the price of the ice cream was in peso nacional; so the first time round, I just tried to pay with my smallest coin, 25 centamos (roughly 25 US cents), or what is equivalent to 12 ice creams, and I was only trying to buy two. The saleslady refused to take my coin, and gave me two ice creams for free, one of the reasons why I kept coming back, as soon as I had traded some money from CUC to pesos nacionales.

Back at my casa, I took a nap which ended up taking several hours, and when I awoke, it was dark and I was starving (it was 20 o’clock), so I went out for dinner, and then noticed the culinary disaster that is Bayamo. I walked for ages and in the end found 3 places. One that wouldn’t accept me on account of my shorts, one that charged 20 CUC for a small piece of meat (outrageous price) and a vegetarian place which was out of pasta. I went for the veggie place, and had some huge fruit cut in slices and fried, the taste wasn’t all that bad, but a wafer would have filled me more, so I looked in my Lonely Planet, and decided for a little walk to a place some distance away, but I really needed food. I went there and had a fish, which was much more tasty, much more filling and came with decent rice and black beans.

23rd of May: Comandancia La Plata

Early morning, I was to catch a taxi to Villa Santa Domingo, to go visit Comandancia La Plata, Fidel’s wartime headquarter from 1957 to 1959, something I had come a long way (and paid a good deal of money) for. A taxi picked me up at 7.45 and took me the 1 hour and 15 minutes to Villa Santa Domingo, where I had a tiny breakfast, a 2 egg omelet with 2 crackers, as that was all they had.

I then met Mino, my guide for the trip, as it is illegal to go alone, however unlike as the Lonely Planet writes (it has changed very recently), it is legal to bring a camera into the area, for a beefy fee of 5 CUC.

The tour was started by an uphill struggle in a 4×4, the road at it’s steepest rises with a 40° inclination, it is as steep as a black skiing run, except you are going upwards, with the driver trying to dodge the giant rocks that have fallen down on the road. Once at the top, there is a 3 km hike through cloud forest, it isn’t hard, just on occasion it can get a bit steep. About halfway, there is a small village for people working at Comandancia La Plata, maintaining it, and the place is just full of solar panels and satellite dishes, I noticed that besides having them for phones, they are also equipped with internet, a rarity even i Habana.

The first revolutionary hut, is the outlook, and Che’s medical treatment post, it is a simple straw house, some distance beyond that is a museum, with assorted artifacts and a lot of pictures from the old days. But that is just the warm-up for the actual thing. The first thing really to be seen, is a tree that Fidel would use for target practice, and which is still riddled with bullets, the poor tree. Immediately beyond that, is Fidel’s house, with a phantom door, which when opened reveals his living quarters, along with his fridge that has a bullethole in it and his writing desk, in the adjacent room is his bed and library (he read a lot, even during the revolution).

Further on from his house is his personal toilet, where the revolutionary leader could have some… Personal time. Further on is the building in which Fidel Castro drafted and wrote the final, initial constitution and declaration of a “new” nation. There are several other buildings surrounded which was used as accommodation for the troops under Fidel.

The trip back brought us out in front of the outlook post, and the trip back was exactly the same as coming in, no big surprise, the visit had been like Easter Island, just like standing next to those statues gave of a feeling of something special, something unique, visiting that place (Comandancia La Plata), there was something special, something unique about it. It was without a seconds hesitation worth it, I absolutely loved to visit the place; and my guide Mino was something special, he described everything in wonderful detail, gave great attention, and was thoroughly interested in my camera, as he was planning to buy a digital camera this June. His intention was to buy a Panasonic camera with a 12x optical Leica lens, a Zf-51 or so, and have it shipped from Germany to here, he had been saving up for the past 9 years; so because he had been such a great guide, I gave him a fairly handsome tip, so that I could help him take pictures of his 4 grandchildren and his one young child. Did I mention that he only speaks Spanish?

Back in Villa Santa Domingo (having gone down that harrowing road), I was told that my taxi driver had buggered off and traded me off to another driver, who would be waiting for a group of Americans that we leaving about 2,5 hours later, so no ice cream for me, as I was planning to leave on that same day for Camagüey. I ate some mentally expensive lunch (I was starving), and sat down to wait around. After about 2 hours, an American and a Brit cam tumbling in, they weren’t the ones I was waiting for, but on account of my taxi voucher saying “3″ under turistas, I offered them a ride, and together we waited for the taxi. When it came in, we went to the driver, and told him that the three of us wanted to go; he at first would only take me, but we soon got him turned around, and were off. I imagine another taxi would take the American group, but I have no idea.

We arrived in Bayamo, just so that I had enough time to go to my casa, check out (it came to 15 CUC, hilariously cheap, considering the luxurious place that it was), go back to the terminal, eat an ice cream, and board the bus, where I discovered that the American and the Brit had paid me ticket, as I had refused to let them pay for their share of the taxi (I would just have gone alone otherwise).

Somewhere along the trip we stopped for 45 minutes in a tiny town, still hungry, I set about trying to find some food. There was a small restaurant next to the busstop, it was outrageously expensive, so I tried to find somewhere else. Being unable to find anything, I wondered why such an expensive place would look a bit crummy and be next to a busstation, although the latter might explain the price; but that wouldn’t explain why only Cubans were eating there, a fried chicken cost 15 or 20 CUC. So I went back in to make sure the price was in CUC, which it wasn’t, it was in peso nacionales, so the prices were cut to about 4% (96% discount) or more accurately, the price was cut by 1/24; so I had a giant meal for about 1,5 dollars, even cheaper than Bolivia, hard to believe.

Onwards on the trip, I finished Wild Swans, something I had very much been fearing, I absolutely worship the book, and when I finish books that I worship, I always feel empty inside, and I miss reading the fantastic books. Wild Swans is a unique first, second and third hand account of an incredible change in a country, it offered a personal view from experience, of something that I have endlessly toiled over in classrooms and by reading dusty history books; it is not a replacement, but a deeper understanding, and a very important book to read.

I arrived rather late (23), took a taxi to a casa particular, and had my own little crash course in just falling asleep, there was nothing to do this late, not even as I felt a bit hungry.

Having gone to bed around 2 in the morning, both of us (Lisa and I) slept very late, but when we got up, we checked out of the casa particular (wasn’t a nice one, and we both had reservations other places), and headed to where Lisa had a reservation, and then I would go to my place afterwards. But the location of Lisa’s place was infinitely better located than mine, so I forfeited my deposit (4 USD), for the advantage of a wonderful location.

After our check-in, we left the casa particular, and spend the rest of the day walking around the Vedado part of Habana. Walking around daylight, I quickly became aware of what Habana is like, it is a dreamlike place, nowhere isn’t beautiful. The buildings may be crumbling in a lot of places, but they look gorgeous anyway, the look and feel of the place is so genuine, and it fits perfectly with anything around it, no place has been more picturesque on my entire trip. Especially pictures along streets, the lada’s and the Yank Tanks (American cars imported prior to the revolution), all make the place exactly like in movies, nothing hidden or covered up.

Malecon is the sea barrier, running all the way along Vedado, and is a very nice place for a walk, but where Lisa and I first came out to it, is at the US Interest office, much like an embassy, but not officially an embassy. The US decided to set up a gargantuan news-ticker, showing international news that the Cuban government would normally censor, so Fidel Castro, had 50 enormous flagpoles set up, obscuring the view so the ticket can’t really be read. Walking along, I suddenly sensed how incredibly hot it was (38 degrees, a sudden change from the 10-15 degrees in La Paz), so I suggested one of Habanas famous ice cream parlors, and so we went to the most famous one, Coppelia.

Coppelia is a legend around here, the problem however is that tourists have to go to a special cafe there for their ice cream, instead of joining the real queue. As tourists the money we have is CUC (pesos convertibles) where as the locals have pesos (pesos nacionales). So we couldn’t get the real ice cream, but had to do with the tourists edition, which isn’t as good and has a smaller selection, so I made it a mission to buy some with pesos nacionales at some point, the problem can just be getting a hold of it.

After the ice cream, we walked towards the University of Habana, which is supposed to be very stunning, and on the way there, we came past the most beautifully made logo of the Communist Youth League I have seen so far, as well as a wonderful bus, driving for the 5 Cuban heroes, from DC to Habana.
After a lot of problems (such as getting lost), we finally found it, and it really is gorgeous, but the day being Saturday, most everything was closed, such as the museums.

Afterwards we made the way to the Revolutionary Square, with a giant statue of Jose Marti, and a giant face of “Che” on nearby hotel; followed by a trip to the graveyard, which in any case was closed. Walking away from there (looking for a taxi), we realised that we had approached the graveyard from the wrong angle, and that where we were, was actually a very bad neighbourhood, but we made it out intact, with all our possessions, and took a taxi back to our casa particular.

Back there, we were extremely exhausted and ate dinner in the casa, and just did nothing, except plan the next day (somewhat), and hear about what was going on. The dinner was delicious, and a mere 3 CUC.

18th of May:

The morning was much earlier then the previous day, and while taking a shower, I discovered that I had a beautiful view of the nearby church, but which was nothing compared to the view of the roof we had been shown the previous day, from the top everything worth something in Habana can be seen, it is truly amazing.

Yesterday was Vedado, so today was Habana Centro, which is smaller, but also more tightly packed with places and things to see. Yesterday we had been told that in a specific location (about 4 blocks away), there would be a sort of dancing competition with local music, and some performances, so we arrived just as it was about to start, and the music was so alive, and the dancers very skilled. It really was one of those things, you just hope to see while you are travelling, so after a lot of watching, we moved on. This part of Habana isn’t all that “different”, it is just that every is picturesque, and every picture seems better than the previous one, so stopping often for pictures is a passion of mine, as well as one of Lisa’s.

We made it to a pedestrian street which leads to Parque Central, where the Gran Teatro is, and which is right next to El Capitalo, the capitol building which was built to resemble the US capitol building in 1902, and which is a museum today, and very interesting to see, and some funny pictures were taken. Afterwards we walked down the main street Prado (Paseo de Marti), to the bastillo, which is quite broken down, and the main interest being on the other side of the bay, which isn’t accessible by foot, so some people watching was done, more specifically Cuban boys jumping into the water from the Malecon.

Afterwards we walked to the Plaza 13 de Marzo, where the Museo de la Revolucion is housed, which is almost a funny museum, I mean funny in the way, that some of the things displayed make you laugh to yourself, “This pen used by a soldier from the revolution when he was in Spain” and similar artifacts which hold little or no historic value, except for having some remote tie to the revolution. On the other end of the scale, the Granma boat that Fidel Castro and his 81 revolutionaries landed on Cuba with, still exists and is kept in a constantly armed glass building just behind the museum, and is somewhere between awe and weird.

Being extremely hungry by this time, we started looking for somewhere to have a bite, and finally found a place where I had a nice simple sandwich (saving my hunger for dinner), and Lisa had a big rice dish with chicken and some vegetables. We headed back to the casa, where I had about an hour till I was to be picked up at 19 o’clock, by Per, a friend of my fathers, whom I was having dinner with. He picked me up on time together with his Cuban wife (Cathrina), and they took me to a palladore, a private restaurant, which in theory can only house 12 people, and not serve meat of any sort, cow, pig, chicken etc.

But these rules are rarely obeyed, and in reality it could hold something like 50 people, and served all kinds of meat. I ate a wonderful chorizzo starter, a “mixed from the grill” main course containing meat, fish and some assorted shrimp/prawn like things, and for dessert a wonderful sort of cake covered in chocolate. But the really wonderful things was the company I had. Per is a very interesting person, who like me loves to talk, and his wife Cathrina is in all likelihood the closest I will ever come to talk personally with on this trip, regarding the government and the way of life for Cubans, as she speaks fluent English, and in private did not appeared bothered to speak about the government, but the conversation went on throughout the meal, and I very much enjoyed myself.

During the meal I had asked about the bar where Hemingway went to booze up (the only fitting term for Hemingway), as I wanted to visit it. Instead Per and Cathrina took me there, but it was absolutely stuffed, so we went to another place where he used to drink, at the sixth floor (top floor) of a very nice hotel, which has an extraordinary view. Per ordered mojitos for all of us, but neither Cathrina or I liked it. To me a mojitos apparently tastes like eating a spoonful of sugar, with some lemon squeezed on top of it, but who am I to judge?

Per and Cathrina then took me back, and I had had an amazing time, it really was pleasant to be in there company, and they gave me a lot of hints of what to do and see. At the casa particular I was exhausted and went straight to bed.

19th of May:

One of the earlier mornings, with a wonderful omelet. And the lady owning our casa particular, told a story about how people from Habana call people from Santiago de Cuba (where I am going next) Palestinians, because they are always making trouble, quite horrible, but still funny somewhere. We set out at 11 o’clock, and took a car (normal car’ stop, as well as taxis) to the Viazul terminal, with the objective of buying a busticket to Santiago de Cuba. We each bought a ticket for the 14 hour trip, for the 22 o’clock bus for the next evening, and then took a taxi to Habana Vieja, and at first did the Lonely Planet walking tour, which begins at Plaza Vieja, goes past Plaza San Francisco de Asis, Plaza de Armas and ends at Plaza de la Catedral, which is right next to La Boquedita, where Hemingway used to empty glasses of mojitos. And true to the spirit, Lisa had a mojito, which I tasted and still didn’t like, although it wasn’t as sweet as the previous night.

We then sat down for lunch, where I had a delicious cheese burger (although I had ordered a tuna sandwich) followed by a tuna sandwich, all of which worked out quite cheaply (4,5 USD). The nice looking places in many cases are the same price, as those places that look far worse, a result of everything being state-run/owned, none of which I am complaining about, as a tourist. And after lunch, we started hitting museums, old presidential palaces, chocolate museums as well as a closed museum, supposedly containing a lot of older cars (older than the ones on the street), but more interestingly (or not) a car that Che Guevera himself crashed. In one of the presidential palaces (which later housed the US governor (not ambassador), there was a peacock strutting about, as well as the guards, would swing the barriers aside, and guide us around the restricted areas, which really made all the difference, especially when they would talk about the different objects.

We then started heading slowly back towards our casa particular, taken in the look and feel of parts of Habana we hadn’t yet seen, and entered a supermarket, which adhered to all ideas of socialism. There were plenty of products, but just one of each. When we made it back to the casa particular, we had been walking for 8 hours (although, that does include when we had lunch, so maybe 7,5 hours), and gracefully ate dinner at the casa, which was very good, and for dessert included a sort of “risengroed”, a favourite Danish dish of mine.

Habana Vieja, is very different from the other parts of Habana, it doesn’t feel nearly as genuine, as in the last 8 years, it has been fully restored, as attracting more tourists there will generate more profit, so all the buildings look new and clean. But the real Habana, the Habana that Cubans inhabit is different, that Habana is more like Vedado and Habana Centro.

Jazz, Lisa and I went to a jazz club on the main street in Vedado, and so help me, I loved it. An amazing band played, and although I don’t favour the sound of the clarinet, the double bass player, and the drummer were fantastic, when they cracked at it, the roof lifted and the world rocked. The jazz kept playing, and after ttwo hours of appreciation, I was knackered and I had trouble getting back, although I eventually did. Speaking of that, finding the place was almost as fun as getting back; Lisa had found it in the Lonely Planet, but by the time we were on the street, she had completely forgotten where it was. And the casa being on the fourth floor, we tried to find it. All Lisa could be rememer was 4 or 5 blocks in a direction, and then to the left.

So after walking 5 blocks in one direction, we turned around and tried another direction. After 6 blocks we came to the main street, and I mentioned a jazz place that Per had shown me, and that was it. In all fairness, Lisa did remember that it was in the direction of the water, which limited it to 2 directions.

20th of May:

4 months out travelling (I’m not in South America anymore), and luckily I have so much to show for it, the places I have been, and the things I have seen, all add up to the wonder that is this trip, I feel truly fortunate to have been granted something like this.

On this the last day in Habana (on this stint, I am staying a night when I leave), we decided to do all the things, we hadn’t done. When we went to the cigar factory the previous day, it was closed. When we had gone to the cemetery, it was 20 minutes from closing, and the side we were on didn’t have an entrance.

So we started by going to the cigar factory, and got a brilliant tour there, it was very interesting to see how cigars are made in Cuba, and be ascertained that the conditions they are made under, are a far cry from appalling, it was well ventilated, and the workers seemed happy. There was also a lot to be leaned, how the leaves are treated, separated and made into cigars. Also what dictates quality, type and taste, and finally how much a cigar can cost, up to 375 euro, for the most expensive cigar produced, which is a Cohiba Behika.

That was followed by a visit to the Museo de Bellas Artes (the museum of beautiful art), which is a gorgeous museum, exhibiting Cuban art, all the way from the 17th century up to today, exhibited in chronological order. I must admit to liking the art from just before, during and just after the revolution, it really is the most interesting. The more modern forms of art do not appeal to me, and the older art, I unfortunately found a bit boring, except for paintings depicting naval vessels from the age of wooden ships, Napoleonic and such, I really do love those. Equally fascinating was the ham and cheese sandwich served in the cafeteria, wonderfully delicious, high quality bread, ham and cheese, with the ham and cheese liberally dealt out in the sandwich, at a low price.

Having eaten an entire sandwich each, Lisa and I headed to the Necropolis Cristobal Colon, like Recoleta in Buenos Aires, this is the place in Cuba to be buried. Hosting more than 2.000.000 corpses, this place is also extremely big, and plays host to several famous people. Maximo Gomez, general during the second independence war; senora Amelia Goyri aka. La Milagrosa (the miraculous one; named so, as she died in childbirth, and was buried with her child at her feet. When she was exhumed 12 years later, her body hadn’t decomposed at all, and the child was now resting in her arms), the 1890 monument to firefighters etc.

It isn’t as beautiful as Recoleta (I have never seen or heard of a cemetery to match it), but it holds its own air, the feeling of limitlessness is however absurd, the place is enormous, measuring roughly 700 by 300-400 meters, it actually takes quite a while to leave it. Having done so, we walked towards Parque Lennon.

When I had first mentioned Parque Lennon, Lisa had replied “Isn’t he the guy who killed millions?”. Having confused Lennon with Lenin, and Lenin with Stalin, she left me in a horrified state, which took a certain while to snap out off, but which later on caused quite a lot of laughter, although Lisa still insists on that I said Lenin.

The park is rather small, only takes up a tiny block, but features a statue of Lennon cast in bronze, although a guard is employed as his glasses would frequently get stolen. When we arrived, the glasses were in fact missing. “They say that I’m a dreamer, but I’m not the only one” is engraved in the stone the bench is set on in Spanish, and the compulsory funny pictures as well as some serious ones were taken.

Afterwards it was getting late, and we headed back to the casa for dinner before heading towards Santiago de Cuba, where Lily (the casa owner) served us the most divine fish, with a magnificent sauce, the dinner was spectacular, and once again it was followed by the risengroed like dessert, with cinnamon.

A taxi was taken to the luxurious bus terminal, with a luggage belt, a proper waiting room and air conditioning, all very nice. We were called to the bus, where I started the journey by watching “Into The Wild”, a movie I had had for some time, but which I was even more interested in watching now, as when I had been at the cigar factory, an English person had approached me and told me that I looked like the main character in the movie.

The movie is amazing, I really loved it, and it moved me. I have no plans of carrying out a similar plan, but his intentions were beautiful.

So I boarded my first plane from La Paz (Bolivia) to Lima (Peru), where I hardly had any time before my next plane to San Jose (Costa Rica), where I had 5,5 hours before my next flight, so I strolled around the airport, hung about the internet for a short while, ate a Schlotzky sandwich, which is a wonderful thing, those taste fantastic, and as well I bought a cinnamon roll, but something that the Danes have perfected, have been completely messed up by the Americans. It is a lot taller, soggier and the icing stays liquid and has a vanilla taste, it was almost repulsive, so sweet it was.

Waiting for the flight to Habana, I fell in conversation with an Aussie girl called Lisa, she was stunned that I wasn’t wearing a jumper, as the air condition in the airport, was cranked to the max. We sat far from each other in the plane, but had agreed to meet on the other side, and share a taxi to the city, as our casa particulares (sort of like a bed and breakfast) were close. On the other side, immigration was burning fast, and my bag was out immediately (with the plastic unbroken). But I had arrived from Bolivia, drug country of drug countries, so I was asked a lot of questions about my background, as well as  my future plans, and my rucksack and shoulderbag got a thorough search for drugs, once I had been cleared, Lisa and I left and took a taxi, 28 CUC (pesos convertibles, it is worth slightly more then a dollar) for the total trip, which took about 40 minutes. But my casa particular was closed for the night, and so was Lisa’s. But luckily the driver knew a place (they always do, don’t they?), where we went and slept for the night.

I don’t think any of us wanted to say goodbye, but that was the way it was, I packed my rucksack, and went to grab my bus back to La Paz. Next to me on the bus, was an Argentinian (from Buenos Aires), whom I talked with for a good deal of the trip (in Spanish), until settling down with Wild Swans; I must say that lately I have really felt blessed with the books I have been reading.

The trip took 4 hours like last time, and dropped me off about 10 meters away from where I left for Copacabana. I went back to the Wild Rover to stay, one of my favourite hostels in South America, and went to a netcafe, hoping to reach my parents on skype, which I did. But on this day in La Paz, the internet was so miserable (it changes from day to day), that conversation was very hard, so it was very short with my mother, and horribly difficult with my father.

On this my last evening in South America (surprise!), I was alone, as I have often been. But normally in those situations, I would eat even cheaper than usual, and cooking isn’t possible at Wild Rover (in fact, it’s difficult in Bolivia, no supermarkets), but seeing as it was my last evening, I went to a nice place that I have been before (Mongo’s), and had a llama steak (to commemorate South America) with potatoes and gratin brocoli, with dying for.

Back at the hostel, I decided to go fairly early to bed, I had to get up at 6 to go to the airport, but sleeping proved hard. I didn’t mind the music from the bar, but inconsiderate people, who kept turning the light on and off, making a lot of noise and shouting, instead of talking. During the night, one person woke everyone else up, with snoring that reminded me more of a glacier calving, then a human being. It became such a problem, that the person in the bunk above me, woke him up, telling him “I’m sorry, but none of us can sleep, when you snore so loudly”.

As I am going to Cuba, internet will be scarce, and I certainly won’t be updating every day, although I do hope I will be able to once in a while. Also I will only be spending two weeks there, which I have discovered isn’t nearly enough, and I really should have planned some more time there, although I am not sure, where I could have taken it from.

Slow start, I was going to Copacabana with Jimmy, and he didn’t wake up till around 11 or 12, so I spent the early day walking around La Paz. Eventually Jimmy got around, and we took a taxi to the cemetary, where the buses for Copacabana leave. So we bought a ticket each for 20 Bs. (just under 3 dollars) and boarded the bus, which was a 4 hour journey, only split by the river crossing at one point, where everybody gets out, takes a boat, and then rejoin the bus on the other side.

Once in Copacabana, we found a very cheap hostel, which despite that is very highly recommended in both the Lonely Planet and Footprint (Empenador or something similar). We then went out and booked our tour to Isla Del Sol the following day, ate dinner and went back to the hostel and slept early.

14th of May: (Lake Titicaca pictures)

Jimmy and I both woke up early (went early to bed), and went for a wonderful breakfast, a giant ham and cheese omelet with bread, followed by a fantastic meat and egg sandwich. Jimmy and I then went down to the boats, showed our ticket and were shown towards one of them. Onboard I saw Cameron and Monica (from Potosi and Pampas), but they went upstairs to set on the roof, while Jimmy and I sat inside the boat. We sat in front of a Dutch couple, whom Jimmy talked with for most of the two hour trip, while I listened to music.

We arrived on the island, and first saw a very… Modest museum, and were then guided around the first part of the island by a local (for 5 Bs.). The island is beautiful, and beautifully located. The walk from the northern part back to the southern part (where we were to be picked up) is a 3 hour walk, up and down along the mountain-like ridge of the island. Most of the way, we had the company of the Dutch couple, which was very nice.

Eventually we made it to the end, and sat down for a sandwich, the four of us. But time was a bit scarce, and since the Dutch couple were staying on the island for the night, Jimmy and I had to go on to get the boat back, which we managed succesfully. We also survived the 2 hour boatride back (that boat, is INCREDIBLY slow), chilled out for a little while, before we had dinner, where our starter was a cheese and garlic pancake, which numbed out tasteuds to such an extent, that the pizza which was our main course, was completely tasteless.

We had nothing but a very long day ahead of us, lots of pictures to be uploaded and a fresh supply of empanadas, right next to the internet cafe, so what we did on this day, can hardly surprise anyone. We had a nice breakast and lunch in Rurre, but at 16.45, we went to the Amaszonas office, went onto a bus and was taken to the airport, where we checked in, and waited for about an hour before we boarded the plane, waited an additional 45 minutes, and then we were in La Paz.

In La Paz, we (by this time, only Jimmy and I) grabbed a taxi towards Wild Rover hostel, checked in, and went to Mongo’s (famous restaurant amongst backpackers) where we had an amazing meal, where for the main course, I had the most delicious local trout from Lake Titicaca. But it had been a long trip so when we made it back to Wild Rover (after a 3 course meal), I immediately hit the bed, and slept the night away.

12th of May:

Although in La Paz, not much was done. I met Heather whom I met the second time I was in La Paz, just fooled around most of the day, went to a beautiful viewpoint over La Paz, spent a good while of the day uploading even more pictures from the Camina de Muerte, as well as some videos.

For dinner I went to Mongo’s with Jimmy, Heather, Anita and Roly (both Anita and Roly are friends of Heather), as well as some other English girl whose name I never learned, and who left very early. I had a most astonishing lasagna, that I had also had before at Mongo’s and which simply blows me away.

Back at the hostel I watched The Other Boleyn Girl, a very good movie, worth a recommendation and a watch.

Down the Camina De Muerte (Death Road) for the second time, however it was Jimmy’s first trip. This time I went with a company called B-Side, at $55 they are more expensive than Pacha (last time) and a good deal cheaper than Gravity (biggest company). However their bikes are superb, at least the same quality as Gravity, the bikes of both company are priced at $2500.

We got up much earlier than Jimmy liked (he is NOT a morning person), and went to the B-Side office, sat down and wait, met our companions for the day (Susie and Gavin from Ireland), so only four people, a very small group, what luxury. After a few minutes, a van stopped next to us, and Simon, our guide, jumped out, introduced himself and picked us up. So we drove to the top of the road (4800 meters), were given our super deluxe bikes, with a wonderful suspension system. When you see a big rock in your way, you prepare for the jump, brace yourself etc, but with these bikes, nothing happened, the bike would take the entire shock.

We started rolling down, and everything was fine, except for the fact that I couldn’t keep up, I had the disadvantage of being too light, so I never could gain the momentum of the others, so I had to use my brakes a lot less to gain speed, whereas Jimmy had to use his brakes, in order not to go to quick. The ride was exactly the same as the last time, all the way down to the payment area. Now that the road isn’t used for actual traffic, but only for tourists (a professional asphalt road has been built around it), there is now a 24 bolivianos ($3) entrance fee, for maintaining the road. At this point on the last trip, we all got picked up in the van, and taken to the beginning of the Death Road, it should also be mentioned that on this trip, we were the first to make it to the payment checkpoint, meaning we would have the road exclusively to ourselves.

This time we got to bicycle up the hill, a long and arduous trip, which meant that after my initial attempt, I surrendered and climbed into the van. I was the only person to do so, but I didn’t mind much, I just couldn’t get up. After a short break at the flat level we had stopped, I picked up my bike, and managed to last small climb to the top. From here it was mostly downhill, down the fantastically beautiful Camina de Muerte, and this time I had brought my camera, knowing now how dangerous the road actually is, I felt like it wouldn’t be a problem to bring it, and it was a gorgeous day. We got a cloud cover below us from a fantastic point, and our guide who had been doing the tour for years, told us that it was only the second time he had seen it, and for him, it was the most beautiful view he had ever had; the pictures don’t really show exactly how good it was, but at least it was an attempt. (I provided a link at the top for all the Death Road picture, and thus won’t be linking them separately)

We continued down, this trip was also a lot more fun, not just the better company (all 3 others and the guide), but also the guide was a lot better, and was always in front, with the van following behind us. He (the guide) set a good (fast, but not dangerous) pace, and Jimmy and I tried to keep up, Jimmy did a very good job, but he sent a lot of dust into my eyes on the flat pieces, where I would then fall behind, and then try to catch up when it was going downhill. I am writing this with all my limbs intact, so I made the trip down fine, although once (at a very broad point in the road), my rear wheel suddenly flew out, and I almost crashed. I would like to say that my catlike reflexes saved me, but truly, I lucked out.

By and by, we made it down, were loaded into the van, and taken to a luxury hotel, where we each got a room for taking a shower, and changing into some fresh clothes, and then had a most wonderful late lunch, with some extraordinary salted pork. For dinner, Jimmy and I went back to the pizzeria from the previous day, where Jimmy had a gargantuan pizza, which he in ways I can’t comprehend, managed to finish.

This was however also a very bad day, when I returned to my bed from the Death Road trip, the cleaning crew (two witnesses in the room) had stolen my glasses and my Lonely Planet book, something which greatly upsets me, but there is unfortunately nothing I can do.

!Pampas/Jungle pictures!

6th of May:

I woke up at 3.30 (I have no watch and thus no alarm anymore, so I do this by going early to bed), I then spent 30 minutes leaving the hostel, as the nightguards couldn’t figure out that I had already paid. I then woke up Jimmy, and Jimmy not being a morning person, wasn’t happy about it being 4 in the morning, but we had to go and catch our flight to Rurrenabaque, a small 19 seater from the company Amaszonas, a rather bumpy ride.

We made it to Rurrenabaque in one piece, and went to the office of the agency we were going with (Indigena), registered and had breakfast. Went back and were off on a wonderful 3 hour carride that kills any organ you might have inside yourself, kills your eyes and throat with dust and generally just tear you to pieces. I should also mention that the car (Toyota Landcruiser) stopped very frequently to pour water into the engine, it leaked like a broken colander on a rainy day. We stopped for a spot of lunch, and then went into our boat, and had a beautiful sightseeing tour to our lodge, where we saw a lot of different animals, squirrel monkeys, pink dolphins, alligators, cayman crocodiles, a plethora of birds and a huge animal, that I have no idea what is called. We eventually arrived at our ecolodge and had popcorn, crackers and some serious hammock action, those were just… Sublime for the place. For sunset we were sailed to a sunset place, where I at first played some football with Jimmy, but soon after a lot of people arrived, and it didn’t take long before I was involved in a hilarious volleyball game.

After the sunset, we want back for a wonderful dinner, and I then went to bed and read my latest craze, The Adventures of Huckleberry Finn, a book which started out slow, but really has picked up and redeemed itself for a bad beginning.

7th of May:

Got up at 8, picked out a pair of wellies (rubber boots), but since I had slept so late, there were only size 39 left, so trying to force them on, I broke the sole off. When I went back to put them in their place, someone had left a size 43, which I could fit into. Ate breakfast and then we were off on Anaconda/Cobra hunting, where out guide Toño, really showed us what a man from Bolivia can do, when Anthony (an Aussie) found a Cobra, and Toño just came running towards it, dived headfirst in an attempt to grab it (Cobra’s are fast), but missed, jumped up like a frog, and went for it again, catching the tail, coming out of a bush, swinging it everywhere, it then goes for his leg, but hits his boot, digging its fangs so deep into the boot, that he had to wait until it had relaxed enough, before he could pull it out; this all mainly happened while I was trying to swap my lens around, to get the lens for close pictures (I had my telezoom lens on). We later found an anaconda, a small specimen, but an anaconda none the less (somewhere around 2 metres), and a second Cobra, where Toño put up a similar struggle, without being bitten. Of which there are plenty of pictures at the above link, although I will bring the best one here.

Toño then took us (Anthony & Michelle, Gil & Nicky, Laia, Jimmy and I) on a walk through the surrounding area (we had been walking around looking for the snakes, they live in lagoons where the water sinks down in the day, revealing a lot of mud to walk in, hence the wellies), where we walked through some countryside and he explained different things to us about the snakes, alligators and crocodiles, how they live and what to do in case you are attacked. Gil then noticed a crocodile in the water, some 3 or 4 metres from us. Toño threw some sticks towards it, suddenly got up running away screaming (get away, get away, it is coming), which didn’t fool anyone except Michelle.

After lunch at the ecolodge, we sailed out to swim with pink dolphins, which is considered safe, as there are never alligators or crocodiles around in the water, when there are dolphins swimming about. I didn’t go in the water (as I never do), but everyone else except for Laia had a dip, and especially Gil spent a lot of time swimming. Most thrilling time, was when a lot of sardines made an incredible splashing noise, right next to the shore, making everyone (except Toño I expect) think a crocodile or alligator had entered the water, spreading incredible panic, especially for Gil who was by far the closest. Taking a picture didn’t enter my mind, because we all thought it was a real danger, I did however get one picture of Gil, just at the moment he realised it was sardines, and not an alligator. We sailed around to some different locations to find more dolphins, which was partly successful, but taking a picture of one, is next to impossible. They surface for such a short time, that the only one who got anything was Jimmy, who recorded a video, where one by chance surfaced. After the swimming, we went back for a little snack (popcorn and crackers) and then went for a sunset in a different location, and this time the sunset was a lot more gorgeous, it was stunning. There I also met Cameron & Monica from Potosi, Eyal and Amit from Salar de Uyuni and struck up conversation, with a Canadian called Kent. After the sunset, we sailed back in the dark, where the eyes of alligators shine up red, if lighted upon, it was a very beautiful sight. Back at the lodge we ate dinner, and I was back at my book, how does a person write so well? The book is almost as enchanting as the Aubrey-Maturin books I have read 2 of on this trip.

8th of May:

Piranha fishing, after breakfast. However we got up at 5, and sailed around in the complete darkness to listen to howler monkeys primarily, but other animals as well. It was a good experience, and the sunrise we saw out there was stunning. We went back for our breakfast, and then went piranha hunting, we each got a long fishing line, with a hook at the end, and a small pile of meat cut into tiny pieces (bait), and then set about catching. We moved around to different locations, to try and get the best results, fishing both from the boat and from the shore. I managed to catch the biggest piranha, the biggest black salmon and just two more fish, whereas Anthony kept pulling them in, and Jimmy kept loosing them when he tried to pull them in. Just before we want back, Toño held one piranha up to another one, and the first one immediately, started eating the second one, the crunching sound was especially appalling.

We went back for lunch, where we ate the fish we had caught (amongst other things), and then headed back towards Rurrenabaque, which was a long boatride in the opposite direction from which we had come (surprise), and then the 3 hour carride. This time was a lot better however, we didn’t stop once to pour water into the car or anything similar, the only problem that arose, was that Jimmy had forgotten his boots. Something which was really bad, as he and I would go on the jungle tour the following day, but we couldn’t go back for them, as everyone else would miss their flight.

We made it back to Rurrenabaque, just to be told that our jungle tour was cancelled, so we went with 3 Irish girls to another agency, and book it there. We then called our travel agency (Viacha tours), to tell them of the change of plans. About 10 minutes later they called our hostel, and told us that Indigena had not cancelled our tour, and that we had to go with them, or forfeit our 100 dollars, paid for the tour.

So this all arranged we went out for dinner, and then went back and went to sleep. The place we ate was quite nice, although the portions was quite small, the music played was amazingly good.

9th of May:

Our big jungle tour, Jimmy had  borrowed some wellies a size too small (biggest they had), and we met up with the other person going, Stephanie from Montreal, Quebec. We set out on a 3,5 hour boatride (infinitely more comfortable than the carride), after about an hour we made it to the entrance of the Madidi park, and sailed on for 2,5 hours to our lodge for the night (during which I finished The Adventures of Huckleberry Finn and started reading Wild Swans). Once we arrived there, we had some lunch cooked by our chef Jesus (nicknamed Jesusito, meaning Little Jesus), and then Antonio took us on the first jungle excursion, where we saw trees with self defence mechanisms (huge spikes sticking out), and other random assorted things, including lots of insects and ants, including a very interesting tree called “The Devil’s Tree”, called so because the devil dances around it, which is why nothing grows within a metre of it; in reality the fire ants that live on it, spread acid around it, preventing anything from growing.

Back at the lodge we had a popcorn/crackers snack and later dinner, before we went out on a night trip, completely engulfed in darkness, except for our torches (and I don’t have one). On this night trip, I took what might be my best picture of the trip, and scared the living daylights out of Jimmy, when I (intending to scare him, just for fun) touched him gently on the back with a flat hand, making him scream, jump around and curse in Dutch. However we all had the feeling, that at some point Antonio (our amazing guide), would try and scare us all to death, but he never did so.

10th of May:

111 days in South America, what a wonderful number. I didn’t mention it, but my day number 100, was the day I had food poisoning, and tried to make it from Uyuni to Sucre but failed. This was the day of the most extensive jungle tour, so after breakfast we set out around 9 or 9.30, and didn’t come back to the camp until 12.30. We crossed a river twice (going there, and coming back at another place), saw a tree with a diameter of 6 meters, we swung on lians, and saw more amazing trees, insects etc.

We made it out after a very long walk, where the vegetation had grown so thick, that Antonio had to bring out his machete and chop his way through the trail, with us walking behind. Eventually we made it out, and Jesus had amazing food waiting for us, before we began our 3 hour boatride back down to Rurrenabaque, where due to the rain, out flight had been canceled. So we settled into the hostel we had stayed at before, and went out for dinner at a different place, and this time received decent sized pizza’s. We also had our flight rescheduled to 18 o’clock the following day. And thus ended our Death Road/Pampas/Jungle tour.

We had a very good if spartan breakfast, and set out to find travel agencies. The first one was closed, so we went around to the major street, and had some talks at different locations. However we ended up choosing a 3D/2N pampas tour (72 dollars) and a 2D/1N jungle tour, as well as flying to Rurrenebaque (where the tours begin), and a Death Road tour (my second) the following day.
There really wasn’t much more to the day, we had great fun, and for dinner I had chorizo sausages with a small steak and mashed potatoes at the hostel, by some miracle for free.

“I am writing this on the eve before I go to the jungle, and you wont hear from me again until the 11th of may, until then… Best of luck”

Now that my watch has run out of battery, I have no idea when I wake up. But I was feeling much better, so I went out for a big breakfast; and what did I see where I went? The part of breakfast I had been missing for nearly 3,5 month? A hash brown! So I had scrambled egg, with a (giant) hash brown and pancakes. However the hash brown was like a giant soggy roesti, and unfortunately disappointed me.

I spent most of the day trying to sort out flight tickets and similar, which proved something of a hassle. But that’s right, “Tie a yellow ribbon ‘round that old oak tree, because I’m-a coming home”. However, it will be a while, and I have some stops on the way back; but as per usual, I have no intention of revealing my plans.

I went out to the same place as the previous day for dinner, although this time alone, and had a wonderful pasta bolognese. After dinner I went back to the hostel and rented Hercules, a cracking movie with an incredible amount of references to greek mythology, what made the movie even better was that about 3 minutes into it, I was joined by Andrew, Tamsyn and Trevor. After the movie it was late, and I went to bed.

2nd of May:

On this day I went to Cal Orcko, the worlds biggest collection of dinosaur footprints, located just outside La Paz, they were nearly destroyed as the area was used to mine for stuff used in cement, however the area with the footprints had too much of something in them, and thus that area wasn’t mined. The footprints were unfortunately far away, as we had to watch them across a valley, as to make matters worse, recent rain had done damage to the footprints. The trip was a bit too long, with a guide who was much too boring, but it was a spectacular sight, with footprints 80 cm wide (the biggest), and lifelike statues created of the dinosaurs who walked around there.

Back in Sucre there wasn’t much to do, it may be known as a very beautiful city, but it is only so by Bolivian standards, and even that I found Potosi far more attractive. I took a taxi to the busterminal and bought a ticket to La Paz, and on the way back, come across two good sights. Back at the hostel, I caught an early day movie (first part with Andrew) called Bad Boys, a movie I realised for years I had been thinking about. For so many years I had been wondering about (not constantly, but occasionally) where I had seen a four barreled gun, the answer is the end of Bad Boys.

For dinner I went out to a Chinese place with Andre, Tamsyn and Trevor; we each ordered a dish, and then shared everything. It was a great dinner, followed by a great ice cream. When we came back to the hostel, the TV room was occupied, a bit disappointing as we had hoped to watch Aladdin.

3rd of May:

Another full day of nothing, I have pretty much exhausted whatever there is to do in Sucre, so I wasted the day doing nothing much but watch Aladdin, and buy different things for my bus ride, such as bread and a can of tuna (to be mystically combined), different kinds of sweets and some water.

However I had a very strong experience, that really showed me how far I was from home, not in kilometres but in a different world. At the supermarket, there was an escalator, and whenever people stepped on it, they would scream and be lunged forwards or backwards, some would jump off and take the stairs up, while others would hold on for their lives. It was a completely new addition, and a lot of people had never seen them, and looked at them very curiously. Some people just looked at it and refused to step onto it.

At 18.30 my bus set out and I was on my way to La Paz!

You would think that getting to Sucre would be easy, just a nice comfy 10 hour busride… Well after eating at Minuteman last night, I got a bad case of food poisoning, my third. This time was a lot worse than in La Paz, but I managed… Sort of. I began by going out to find breakfast, but returning to my hotel feeling very ill. I knew I had to go on a busride to Sucre, and that even standing still or sitting on my bed, I felt as if I was about to vomit, so a bumpy road, 7 hours long (the 7 hour trip to Potosi is unpaved, the part from Potosi to Sucre is paved) would not be a good idea. However I wanted to go, there is nothing in Uyuni and plenty in Sucre… So I did what I thought I would never do… I shoved two fingers down my throat, forcing myself to vomit, and was done with it.

I went down to the bus stop, just to have a kind lady tell me that my bus was canceled… But luckily I got a free transfer to another bus company, so I loaded my rucksack onto a nice looking bus and went inside, still feeling rather queasy. And of course it wasn’t much more than 45 minutes before I thought to myself “oh… fuck” and vomited down on the floor in front of me, much to the surprise of well… Everybody.

So I spent the remaining 6 hours and 15 minutes with my head hanging down, and just trying to force off the thirst, dehydration, headache and boredom; but of course it didn’t last long till some South American idiot slammed his seat down on top of my head, and greatly worsened my headache. If I thought my 3 day trip from Asunción to Cuzco was bad… I had no idea what it could be like. After hours of pain, we arrived in Potosi, which meant that there would only be 3 hours left, but I called it quits, right then and there.

I took a taxi back to the hostel I had stayed at before, “La Casona”, and went straight to bed. However there was a lot going on in my dorm room, so instead I started talking with a Kiwi (New Zealander) named Andrew, for quite a while, before I finally saw an opportunity to… Go out to the reception, buy a busticket for the next day, do my emails and then go to bed.

30th of April:

Early morning and I was feeling fine, so I went out and had a big hearty breakfast (not eating for more then a day, does make you hungry, and the food poisoning has passed). I then kicked about the entire day, mostly uploading pictures to flickr, before my bus finally left at 13 o’clock, where I was seated just behind Andrew and his two friends he was traveling with, Trevor and Trevor’s girlfriend Tamsyn (don’t ask me). The busride was quite enjoyable, and I got to finish Memoirs of a Geisha (I hadn’t been able to finish it the previous day due to my illness), and immediately began reading The Adventures of Huckleberry Finn.

In time I arrived in Sucre, and hailed a taxi to take me to the Amigo Hostel, where I checked in, and set out looking for a net cafe with a working headset, something I never managed. So I found a call centre (they have more of those, than you would ever want to know), and called home, both to my mother and father.
I then walked back to my hostel and uploaded the last of my pictures from Salar De Uyuni, and then felt rather hungry. So I asked for a good place to eat dinner… And I believe it or not I was directed to a pizzeria, where of course I went. At the pizzeria, I was fortunate enough to meet Andrew, Trevor and Tamsyn. So we each had pizza, and then went back to the hostel and watch Chronicles of Narnia together, and I must say that I was quite pleasantly surprised. Afterwards it was late enough to be bedtime, so I went to bed.

26th of April:

There were 10 of us, 4 Israeli’s (Amit, Eyal, Or and Asaf), 1 Colombian (Cesar), 1 Pole (Olga) and me. There was also a driver, a cook and the cooks daughter (Magte).

We set out at 11 o’clock, and drove for several hours, until we came upon a sight, so spectacular, it could easily have been from another world. It was the saltflats of Uyuni, the “Salar de Uyuni”, the largest in the world. When we first saw it, it was but a white line below the horizon, but as you get closer, it just grows. But the most stunning part, is the lack of contours or any kind of variation. It is perfectly level and extremely white; the only variation is the mountains in the distance.

The pictures you can get out there are spectacular, and for once I would include people in my pictures, it really was the only way to get variation. After some more driving, we arrived at the salt hotel, which as the name (and place) implies, is a hotel built exclusively from salt. Further on from that we arrived at the Isla de Pescado (Fish Island), which is named such as the island is fish-shaped (from the air). It is an extraordinarily beautiful island, filled with cacti that grow up to 1 cm every year (although some grow severely less, making one cactus 1200 years old). We also had lunch here (it was around 15 or 16 o’clock).
Around us a bicycle race started, with a person holding the “Olympic” flame. It was of course not the real Olympic flame, but rather a small community event.

Afterwards we drove to our hotel for the night, which was made of salt as well, everything except my mattress and the chair cushions were either made from salt or salt-rock. There we had dinner, and I hit my bed for an early night. But just before eating dinner, I heard some noise from a room, and went to check it out. There in the middle of nowhere in Bolivia, were 3 children playing Duck Hunt,

Magte (pronounced “Maijte”), the daughter of the cook, is a 5 year old girl, who just can’t get enough of Gilbert, constantly playing with him, she is such a sweet girl, and the first place we arrived, she also let another girl play with Gilbert, who tied him to her back, as Bolivian women do with small children.

27th of April:

I overslept a lot, by the time I got up, most everybody else was ready to leave. So I chewed my breakfast very quickly, and we set off. As we were driving I picked out my latest book, The Motorcycle Diaries by Che Guevara; a book which must be read while backpacking around South America, there really is no choice. However it is a rather short book, and it was done in 5 hours. Around 13 o’clock, we arrived at the first lagoon, and near the shore we were parked at, two foxes were circling about, posing for pictures. But the real attraction of the lagoon, were the flamingo’s walking about, finding food.

At 13.40, we stopped at another lagoon, where we had lunch. Unfortunately there were no flamingo’s, but a fox was eating something, and a bird kept circling about us, which for me was the best picture of the Salar De Uyuni trip. At 16 o’clock, we made it to a famous rock (no idea what it is called), although the shape of it, explains the fame. At 16.40, we arrived at the last lagoon of the day, where I got a great shot of our vehicle. At 17.30 we arrived at our accommodation for the night, everything went as expected for the rest of the evening, and knowing I had to get up early, I went early to bed.

28th of April:

Up horribly early, and there was no light. I have no torch, and I haven’t had one for any part of my travels in South America. It was also at this time, I discovered that my watch had run out of battery. So i fumbled in the dark, but was ready quite quickly in any case. When Cesar, Olga and I were ready, we still had 45 minutes of waiting to do, before Amit, Asaf, Eyal and Or were ready. We eventually set out driving, and had to drive for a couple of hours, until we finally reached the geyser. We had to get up so early in the morning, as this particular geyser, is active exclusively around sunrise. It quickly got lighter, and we continued to a nearby area with volcanic activity. We then drove on for some hours, and when it got light enough, I started reading a new book: Memoirs of a Geisha by Arthur Golden, it is 498 pages long, but so good that by the time I went to bed, I lacked 3 chapters. Around 9.30 we arrived at the hot springs, where we had breakfast, and the rest went for a dip in the water.

Afterwards we just drove all day long, stopping only for lunch, then again at some unique rocks and then finally at the train graveyard. After that we all arrived back in Uyuni, where Magte had a heartbreaking goodbye with Gilbert (I really couldn’t give him up). I went to a hotel where I had booked a room (cheaper and better than the hostel I had stayed at previously in Uyuni), and after a while, went back to Minuteman for dinner, and ordered the same pizza (although this time a small one, which still is rather big) and bought their tshirt, and like my tshirt from Erratic Rock (Puerto Natales, ages ago), it is a size small (American tshirts) and it is orange, so when I wear it, some people come up to me and say “alles goes?” (“how are you?” in Dutch). After the pizza, I felt stuffed and walked back to my hotel, and straight to bed.