In Search of God Knows What

2.0

2009-09-12T00:21:00.002-04:00

(10 points for the first person who gets the reference)

My dear imaginary readers, I have neglected you far too long. What with the cares of this world, and the lack of deceitful riches, I forgot about my duty to spread enlightenment via my divine writings. Well, no more. From this point onward, I vow to take the time to post old articles I have not yet taken the time to post. Amen?

Who knows, I may even write something new and clever about the insane country I currently reside in.

Siberian Soccer

2009-09-11T22:35:00.003-04:00

The Great Patriotic War soccer game

These stirring events took place on Olkon Island, in Lake Baikal, Siberia, sometime in June 2005.

Late one afternoon, Masumi and I were playing Ping-Pong in the island village's wooden barn/makeshift gym. Three blonde guys walked in, and nodding at us casually, began playing on the free table. We asked if they would like to play against us, which they did, quickly beating both of us soundly. They told us they were Germans who were visiting Irkutsk, as the father of two of them was engaged to a woman from there. They had come from Irkutsk to spend a few days relaxing on the lake. The third was a friend who tagged along. All three were in high school football teams. Shortly their father joined them. "Do you know how to play football" he asked in serious tones. "Yes, but I'm not very good" I offerd. "We are going to play later, and we need a goal keeper" he explained. "He's a good goalie" I said pointing at Masumi. "Good, good."

Twenty minutes later we were standing in the football court. It belonged to the village school, but rather than students we had expected, our opponents were from the local army garrison. I'm fairly tall, slightly over six feet, but even so nearly every member of the opposing team was taller than me, some by quite a bit. The court was the mini football kind, enclosed by high walls made of wooden slats in the shape of a large oval. The wooden enclosure and the nature of our opponents gave me the odd sensation that we were playing in some kind of gladiatorial arena. A number of villagers and tourists had come to watch, and were sitting in the wooden stands or perched on top of the oval wall. The sun was now entering its long twilight phase, painting the sky with blood red streaks, adding to the climactic nature of the setting. There were six players per team (as this was mini-football). On one side were the four Germans, Masumi and I; while on the other were six giant Russian soldiers, who looked formidable indeed. Our main weakness, besides perhaps the smaller size of our players, was that the Russians had reserves, and could trade out tired team members, while we could not.

"Germans versus Russians, huh?" I remarked to the father, eliciting a grimace. The Russians were obviously thinking a similar thing, and were talking in low excited voices on the other end of the field. I heard the term "deutsche" (German) mentioned a few times in their hurried conversation. Then the game began. It was immediately apparent that while the Germans were the more skilled of the two groups, the Russians were simply better at playing the way they did. The clever footwork of the German high school kids would avail little when they were slammed into by a towering Russian.

At first I thought the Russians were playing dirty on purpose, but I soon realized that this was just the way they played. The Russians also had greater experience in playing as a team, and their passing was superior to ours. Soon the Russians had scored three goals despite Masumi's nearly suicidal attempts to stop them, and my questionable defensive efforts. The father was getting annoyed, and was yelling loudly at all of us in German. The curt sharp sounds of his voice were in strange contrast to the smoother Russian that the soldiers called out in.

sunset on the island

By now the sun had begun to sink under the lake, complicating things for us by shining directly in our eyes. I was exasperated with our lack of progress, and decided to play the way I traditionally played, and perhaps even step it up a notch. In former days, I had occasionally played football, and while I was too slow on my feet to play skillfully, I compensated by using my greater height to shove opponents away and mess up their plays. This was exactly the way these Russians played. I now decided to give these soldiers a taste of their own tactics.

The next time they came loping down the field towards the goal, I deliberately lunged into the first attacker and managed to knock him over. He seemed surprised, but leaped up immediately. I now had control (in the loosest sense of the word) of the ball and was heading down the field towards the German forwards, with the fallen soldier in pursuit. My way was suddenly blocked by another colossal Siberian. Thinking quickly, I decided to resort to another asinine tactic. In the past, I could often cow opponents by pretending to kick the ball right at their faces, hard. As I performed an exaggerated swing towards the ball, I realized my error.

The soldier paused for a split second and then continued towards me, looking completely unperturbed at the prospect of a broken nose. These weren't Japanese I was dealing with. Braking noses was how these men had fun. Deciding to see how tough this bastard really was, I kicked with all my might and the ball hit his face with a satisfying smack. I had expected him to duck, or at least try to head it. Instead he literally caught it with his face, and proceeded away from me to the goal, where, with the help of a hefty Buryat he scored, knocking Masumi to the ground.

The Germans were unimpressed by my tactical efforts and as it was getting too dark to play anyway, soon called the game to a close. The soldiers came over to shake our hands and slap us on the back, no doubt adding to the German father's annoyance.

On the walk back to the compound the Germans walked sullenly, obviously taking their defeat to heart. The following evening I was playing ping-pong with some kids when Masumi showed up. "Well, we finally beat those soldiers" he remarked. "It probably helped that you weren't there." I thanked him for his delicacy.

the ping-pong barn

Its 9/11! OMG!

2008-09-11T23:53:00.000-04:00

I'm sure they feel much better knowing that their flag doubles as a contraceptive.

It’s that time of year again, time to be bombarded with sickening images of morons waving flags and “being patriotic.” I can hardly imagine anything more revolting. The entire 9/11 episode might have had a mercifully minimal historical impact if not for the idiotic, hyped up manner with which it was treated.

Some historians identify World War 1 as “the hinge of violence,” referring to the domino effect it set off in Europe and around the world. If WW1 was “the hinge of violence”, then 9/11 is “the hinge of douchiness”. I shudder when I recall the outpouring of “patriotic sentiment”; the albums, the books, the movies and worst of all, the Bono.

seriously?

Who cares? Why the hell are people patriotic, and how is it a good thing? Dedication to a set of principles or communal goals is one thing, but this unthinking frenzied flag waving, hugging and crying bullshit is quite another. In his book documenting WW1, “all quiet on the western front,” the author relates how the German youth marched to the recruiting stations quoting Horace and singing snatches from the Odyssey. What do the frantic mobs sing now as they robotically wave their flags? Somehow I doubt its anything so sophisticated.

How has the world changed since the event of this “hinge of douchery”? For starters, Americans are internationally despised or at least mocked. Even in Albania. When the self neutered western troops are butchered in the embarrassing war of Iraq, what are they dieing for? In my opinion they lack even the questionable dignity of dieing for a resource. I think the vast majority have died for the sake of several powerful men’s uncanny stupidity.

mega fail.

I remember the day after the terrorist attack I went to karate class. The teacher called me to the front and asked what I thought about it. Even at that age I was fairly brilliant and I replied that it would be better if Americans would just carry on as if nothing had happened. He was shocked and must have thought my reply irreverent for he made a strange face. I had no idea how right I was. Following 9/11 we had about 3 years of shitty music and shittier movies. Upon visiting the states I was treated to a first hand taste of the obnoxious patriotism and new sense self-importance displayed by the uneducated idiots who comprise the

immigration service.

“Why didn’t you state your address, sir?”

“I don’t live in the

.”

“Why not, sir?”

9/11 spawned a chain of reactionary idiocy which six years later shows little sign of abating. First we had a massive reaction from the rabid wacky right, followed by an only slightly less moronic reaction from the delusional self-righteous left, and on and on, back and forth. I say: the pox take both sides. My seven point platform for a return to culture and international respectability is as follows:

Any song, poem or movie that contains the phrase “9/11” will be censored.
Anyone who implies that it’s somehow inherently wrong to disrespect the taboos of an antagonistic religious culture will have their head beaten in by a metal bound Koran.
Anyone who voted for the war in Iraq will be given a suit of mail, helmet, sword, and a white tunic with a red cross on it and shipped there. (by Venetian sailing vessel, so as to save on oil) They must provide their own horse.
Anyone moaning and/or groaning about war/peace in the Middle East will be given a camel in exchange for the gas guzzling car they drove to the peace rally.
Anyone who produces anything which portrays Islam as a "peaceful religion" will be wrapped in an American flag and dropped into the center of Mecca.
Anyone, be they American or foreigner, who utters the accursed phrase “America, fuck yeah” will be shot on site.
Lastly, anyone comparing an event to 9/11, such as “It was Spain’s 9/11” or “Could this be Russia’s 9/11?” will have their tongue removed. (Pearl Harbor was America’s 9/11. OMG! I'm as freaking genius!)

it wasn't that funny

That about sums up my stance, and now I must prepare for my 9/11 anniversary party. Something in the order of a large twin tower cake, which I will cut by stabbing with a knife while making whooshing airplane sounds. After that I will eat the cake out of my Turkish ornamental Koran plates, being sure to smear a good deal of ice cream on the Arabic text.

This done, I will proceed to the roof of my Japanese apartment and wave an American flag while drinking vodka and playing the North Korean national anthem. Any passing Japanese will likely bow respectfully, doubtless fancying they are “partaking in my patriotic pain and loss.” After I have tired of waving the flag and listening to North Korean, I will retire to my room and watch a soviet film, leaving the cleaning of the Koranic plates until the following morning, and act which will hopefully enrage Allah.

Hamburg 5/25

2006-05-24T11:12:00.000-04:00

I'm finally working on this thing, thanks to the inclement weather that seems to be stalking me of late. I recorded the 3 Egypt articles while under the influence of a Pharonic spirit, so please excuse the extreme hubris contained in them. And as I was simply talking, not writing, the articles are questionably written. Excuse this as well.

I was going to go back and rework them, but I figured I may as well just leave them be, for now at least. I have better things to do. The dates on the articles are fictional as well. I use them just to keep things in the order I want.

Take care all.

Vendetta against Dan Brown

2006-05-22T10:58:00.001-04:00

NO.

My brothers and sisters in the lord, I come before you asking this question. What the hell am I doing here? Why on this fine Slavic Friday night am I wasting time in a cybercafé, instead of doing something productive, like drinking myself silly? Why am I not out making a fool of myself in front of beautiful women?

The answer is anger. Anger at what I was forced to see. It is this anger that forces me to write.

It all started innocently enough. I had nothing to do yesterday, so I thought I would catch a movie. They were playing "V for Vendetta", and I had heard it was good. So there I was, siting in the fine cinema here, waiting for my movie. Then without warning the trailer for the "Da Vinchi Code" flashed across the screen.

Dan Brown......."An ancient secret"........"We must find the truth or it will be lost forever"........."Only then will mankind at last be free"........Tom Hanks.......

The result of this barrage was an epileptic fit, complete with foaming at the mouth. By the time I was resuscitated, I had missed half the movie.

So WTF? Why? The book was bad enough. Anyone who managed to read that book without feeling insulted has mental problems. His material was unoriginal in the extreme. The fact that Danny boy became so popular because of that one book is proof to me of a massive decline in the intellect of the masses. The fact that some people can read that, take it seriously, and then consider themselves "alternative" causes me to lose sleep.

"Oh, Im gnostic now." Vomit.

In this increasingly fickle world, where people change there beliefs like they change their clothes, this sort of foolishness is the last thing we need. Before, if someone were to claim to be "gnostic" it would be the prelude to and interesting conversation, involving Alistair Crowley, Abraksas etc... Now its all about Dan fucking Brown. With this rubbish the banalization of society has reached a level beyond the obscene.

Thinking all this wasn't bad enough, now he must needs make a movie. We wouldn't want the illiterate to miss out on the "emancipation of mankind". And as if to insure the maximum yield of vomit from those present, he casts Tom Hanks as the "hero". For such a smugly written story, I cannot think of a better choice than the star of "Castaway". (Wilson!!)

So fellow humans, what do we do? Do we submit to being force fed this excrement? Hell no, I say. I say we boycott this film. I say we take pride in not seeing it. (Remember "Titanic"?) I say that we make it an excommunicable offence to see this film!! Amen? Praise Jesus!

On a happier note, "V for Vendetta" was rather good. So good in fact, it deserves a sequel. In the dementia that followed seeing Dannys ghastly trailer, the plot for a sequel has emerged. Hows this:

"B for Bolshevism"

Set in Russia ten years from now. The people are crushed under the autocratic rule of Putin, whose government has grown rich off of oil. In this time of trouble our hero emerges. "Remember, remember the 6th of November". (Red Oktober was actually on the 6th of November) Wearing a Lenin mask, a red cape ,and wielding a hammer in one had and a sickle in the other, he sets out to thrash the Kremlin guards. This movie would have the added benefit of involving multiple Russian women. Furthermore, in this movie, the man (B), and not the women would be bald.

The final scene would involve hordes of red clad, Lenin mask wearing Muscovites storming the Kremlin.

You must all agree, Dan Brown has nothing on me.

Four Days in Cairo

2006-04-22T07:37:00.000-04:00

We landed in Cairo at around 2:45am, so needless to say I was rather tired. Our flight was possibly the most turbulence filled flight I have ever enjoied. This was likely do to the fact that our plane made a Cessna look like a jumbo jet. It was basically a flying minibus. Nice and bouncy. At one point I looked out the window and observed the engine sort of flapping round on the wing. After that I decided just not to look back there. We flew from Istanbul, spent the day in Athens and then flew to Egypt. I mention this because I feel I should get some kind of award for eating 3 meals in one day, each on a different continent. But I digress.

Upon emerging from the airport we were sized opon by several thousand taxi drivers, each trying to stuff us into there cars. After extracting myself from them (I did this by yelling at them loudly in Russian), we found a rather official looking personage who I was able to make a deal with.
This man in turn handed us over to an extremely disreputable looking driver, who drove us to "dowen towen" at a speed which I approved of.
We got a room at a decent hotel/hostel thing, which was a good thing as I proceeded to die, and did not move from my bed for 3 days. Must have been the mixture of the food from 3 continents in one day. Probably caused so kind of toxic chemical reaction. I emerged rather timidly from my room on the third day after our arrival. While I was sick I discovered that my camera also had a recorder on it, so I've started making audio logs. This suits me well, as I'm far to lazy to write consistently, and, as anyone who's met me know, I love the sound of my own voice. (I cant help it) Below is a log I did for my first* four days in Cairo: (*out of bed that is)

Cairo: Day 1-2

2006-04-20T14:37:00.000-04:00

The first day I went to the Egyptian museum even though I was feeling kind of dizzy. It was fairly interesting, but very disorganised. There were statues tumbled every which way, they also wrote the Pharaoh's names wrong.

Lets see: they wrote the Pharaohs names wrong, spelled their gods names wrong , and got a few mixed up, for good measure. And you ask, how do I know this, how can I know better than the Egyptians. That's a good question. I just do. There's no answer to these things, you just have to except it by faith, that I know more than everyone else, OK? PTL, TYJ for that insight.
Yeah so, the Egyptian museum was cool. I saw king Tuts stuff. His mask, sarcophagus (sarcophagi I should say, plural.) four chariots, jewelry etc.. All the jazz he had in his tomb. That was fairly interesting. Downstairs they had a bunch of statues, some that were huge, but unfortunately they don't allow cameras in there. After that we ate at this place called "GAD", that Masumi seems to have a great fondness for.

The place serves pretty good food, a bit spicy, but it doesn't seem to agree with me for some reason. At night my stomach always begins to trouble me. I don't recall sleeping well since I started eating there. We've been eating there every night, the past few nights.

The next day we got up and went to the pyramids, which were awesome. They are huge actually, thought the Sphinx wasn't that big.

The camels were fun, and the drivers were great. Here is Masumi about to get his ass kicked. Luckly, I saved the day.

Cairo: Day 3-4

2006-04-19T15:09:00.000-04:00

The third day we went to Fatimid Cairo. Wait, first we went to the grand market, great bazaar, whatever its called. We walked thru millions of people, looked at loads of souvenirs, and got over a million sales pitches thrown at us.

After a bit we got tired of that, so we went to these old buildings, that were from the Fatimid period, around 500-800AD.

Interesting, we saw some private peoples houses and some mosques. The way the Fatimid's built was very different than the Ottomans that later took over. In fact no one builds like them. Their mosques are distinctly Classical looking. They didn't use minarets either, the built some kind of echo system into their mosques.
The forth day we did more of the same. We went to see some Coptic churches, and had this short, enthusiastic, kind of cute, fanatic, Coptic christian girl give us a tour, enthusiastically, about Copicness, and all things good about it. She told us how other (non Coptic) bibles don't tell the "real words' or something. It was fun, though she didn't think it was funny when I was joking about killing people instead of being martyred. That's alright, I did my best to make here day, it didn't work.
We learned some interesting things, like this story about 'moving a mountain'. I knew of this story, but had no idea it happened in Egypt. Simon the one eyed Tanner was tanning something and he made a mountain move. His body is supposedly in the church that we were in, somewhere.

Then we went to this mosque, we were just siting around in there, when suddenly this bus load of these old tourists unloads in front and they all start pouring in. The great thing was that all the women were wearing these green environment suits, so they don't show any skin. They were elf suits or like druid clockes, but they were bright green.
They were trying to look really P.L.O. or something. Hamass, that's it, really Hamass. They had this Hamass thing going with these green suits. Speaking of Hamass, you know those really corny head dresses, the thing that Arafat was always wearing?

There were these Japanese wearing them in the Egyptian museum. These idiots, I really wanted to kill them for some reason. I had this strong urge to murder them, just because they thought they were cool, and that offended me, because I knew that they weren't cool. They weren't up to my standard of coolness. It just wasn't good enough.
Anyway, after seeing these Imams gingerly clothing these women (with glee), we went outside and kicked the ball at some Egyptian kids on the road. I was trying to be nice and play around with them, letting them take the ball from me, to show them that not all Americans are bad, so they wont be suicide bombers in the future. Then for no reason, Masumi decides to go beat them up and take the ball from them. Japan will probably experience terror in the future because of this.
Then we went thru some huge garbage heap and saw some donkey eating garbage. Next we were trying to take the metro back, and we jumped in the women's car or something. All these veiled women freaked out. Well actually, they just kind of stared at us in a weird way, so we jumped out swiftly, and ran to a normal carriage.

The men all thought the whole thing was great fun. They tried to hold the door to their car open for us, but they weren't strong enough, they don't have those muscles from building the pyramids anymore. So we caught the next train, it was alright.

We went back and watched a movie, but more on that later.
Well their you have it. All I can say is that so far Egypt is a great place, and Cairo is...well... Cairo?

Can I buy a carpet? PLEASE? CAN I?

2006-04-19T08:36:00.000-04:00

Im curently in central Turkey. I escaped from Istanbul, only after coming down with bird flu twice, getting bombed once, and being overcharged perhaps 100 times. (That I know of)

Its amazing, everyone in Turkey seems to be related, as they all have the same brother who is a direct desendant of the maker of the first 'Turkish' carpet, and lucky me, he is willing to sell to me. (I'm special) He doesnt do it for the money, you know. Its only for the family pride. His mother has been weaving this small carpet for ten years, just waiting for someone worthy (me, of course, yet more undeniable proof of my devine nature) to come and apricate her Herculean labors.

How much does it cost? Why does that matter? This woman wove it over TEN YEARS!!!! What is ten years worth to you?

This has led me to wonder exactly what carpet weavers are doing during those ten years. I mean, the carpet clearly says 'made in China' on the tag. What took ten years? The shiping perhaps? In any case, I now hold the Turkish post office in the deepest suspicion.

That being said, I just turned 25. So I figure, if I take good care of myself, dont drink to much, and stay away from fast food, I'll be able to make three, maybe even four carpets.

I will then retire on the vast sums of money generated by their sale. I've already sent the order to China. More on this to come.....

Rant about foolishness in Istanbul

2006-02-14T15:46:00.001-05:00

I’m more than a little annoyed be this entire cartoon foolishness, as right now I’m in the thick of it. I mean there were demonstrations going on about one hundred meters from where I’m staying.

I’m in Istanbul, by the way. The thing that annoys me the most about the whole thing is the deliberate hypocrisy of it all. The Turks have just put out a new movie, (their most expensive ever) which has become a mega hit here. Its now playing all over the middle east, and will screen in Russia, the US, and most of Europe.

Its called “Irak” The plot is something to the effect of this:

An “elite”(such things exist?) Turkish army group goes into northern Iraq to seek revenge or something for a comrade that was humiliated by the Americans. (They found him in Iraq without ID, so the put a bag on his head and marched him back to Turkey. This humiliation caused him to kill himself. See “Last Samurai” etc… )

When they get there they are “horrified” to find that the GIs are breaking into weddings, shooting the kids, after raping their mothers in front of them. The rest of the party is generaly rounded up and sent to Abu Garab, where (get this) a Jewish doctor cuts them up and sends their organs off, to be sold in Telaviv and New York.

The portrayal of the American solders is comically evil, to say the least, with demonic growls of “yessss…YESSS” while raping veiled women, and “whose a naughty boy?” while gunning down four year old children. This would be funny if I was sitting in my apartment in Japan watching it. But I’m not, like I said, I’m in the thick of it.

People here are for the most part simple. They are very prone to believe nearly anything they’re fed. This country also borders Iraq. Is it prudent to release a movie (now of all times) that glorifies suicide bombers, while demonizing one of their supposed “closest allies”?

I find it aggravating that nearly everywhere I go I see or hear the trailer from this movie being played. (“yessss…..YERSSSS!!!”) ......................No.

In the end of the movie the Turks rally the northern Iraqi’s and together the kill every last American. This is done in the name of Islam.

Reality check. Who lives in northern Iraq? (Kurds) WTF were the makers of this movie thinking? They could try to make it slightly more realistic. The sad thing is, they don’t need to. These people love to believe in obvious lies, while suppressing to this day the numerous atrocities they have perpetrated. (Armenians, anyone?)

I have yet to hear a single murmur of a complaint from the US. This is blatant slander of the wildest kind, targeted at the people who least need to here it. Yet they do nothing? Why? Tolerance perhaps?

Perhaps these teribly sensitive Islamic folk could stand to learn a thing or to from, dare I say it, the great Satan, the USA? And the next moron who says 'American, baah!' to me is going to get kicked, or at very least knocked over the head with a kebap. A pork kebap. The same goes for anyone who offers me a carpet.

Halloween Special: The Ousuary (or fun with bones)

2005-11-05T08:42:00.000-05:00

I heard tell of a strange church in the middle of a graveyard. A church built with human bones no less. Naturally I scoffed at such wild rumors, but they were compelling. I made up my mind to see if there was anything to them, and made the ardorus journey over land, across the dark forests in the east of Bohemia. ( in an air-conditioned first class train carriage) Little did I know I was heading to my own funeral.

When I reached the small village, I found it nearly deserted. No one seemed to be about at all, (excepting the hundreds of cars that nearly ran me down as I crossed the road) save an aged crone who raised a gnarled finger in the direction of a spire hanging menacingly over the ruinous town.(I swear she muttered something like "stupid tourist") As I approached the church I noted with a thrill of terror that the traditional cross of Christ was missing, and in its place a giant golden skull leered down at me. (I thought, wow that must be for stupid tourists, like me)

I crept along behind the wall of the graveyard, till I was certain no one was in sight. Then I stealthily vaulted over and took cover under a particularly large headstone. (I was to lazy to walk around to the gate so I tore my pants trying to climb over the wall.)

The instant I had entered the yard I was nearly overcome by the foul stench that pervaded the place.(old cigarette smoke) An aura of palpable evil seemed to emanate from the heart of the yard, the church. Above the massive gates of the church I could barely make out in faded lettering the name that has become my life: "Ousuary".

Swallowing my growing panic I peered thur a crack in the door. A freakishly tall hag stood guard on the other side. Mustering my courage I threw open the door and strutted in with all the swagger I could effect. She spun around apparently shocked that anyone would dare to enter, and greeted my impunity with a shriek of rage. The hag flew at me with a rusted sword, but I deftly deflected it with a well aimed shurinji rui kick. Seeing herself thus thwarted she proceeded to hurl curses at me. Having had enough of her, I silenced her by tossing a large thigh bone at her head , while yelling "fetch!". (She still made me buy a ticket to get in. Lucky I got the student discount.)

Having thus incapacitated her I gingerly crept down the winding stairway emerging after several minutes in the dungeon. Words fail me for the sights that greeted me.(Japanese tourists doing "cute" poses for pictures)

Note the darling cupid (a nice touch I thought), and the bone chandelier. Supposedly every bone in the human body was used in its construction.

The coat of arms of the family of necromancers who built this abomination of a church.

A close up of a detail in the afore mentioned coat of arms. Note the feathery bones coming out of the top of the skull. Its meant to be a turkish general, the raven picking at its eyes symbolizes their defeat at the hands of the necromancers.

The Unholy Grail.

When I saw this I couldn't help but start humming Godsmacks "Voodoo" to myself.

Over 40,000 corpses were used in the construction of the unholy sanctuary. She would know.

As I was taking this picture, I failed to hear the sound of the hag creeping up behind me.(She caught me taking pictures.) To late I jumped aside. The rusted sword plunged into my side, and I fell to the stone floor. I lay there among the bones helpless while she shouted an incantation.(you must pay 20 crowns extra for pictures!)

Now as my skeletal fingers click and clack against the decaying keys of this ancient computer, I cant help but think that for all their powers, these necromancers need to upgrade their hardware. (Seriously.)

The Trans-Siberian

2005-11-02T12:03:00.000-05:00

The trans sib is a great way to travel. Not the fastest, and not the cheapest (though its pretty damn cheap, aerofolt could be slightly cheaper than one of the nice trains). Its very relaxing, or at least in my case it was (vodka), but then I wasn't in some plazcart (Russian for gulag transport) with half the red army for company. It takes about 7 to 8 days on one of the faster (better) trains.

And believe me you don't want to do these 7 days straight. After 2 days of seeing the same trees and grass go by with absolutely no interruption, you beginning to develop what I call
Napoleonic/Nazi brain fever. Try as you might, you cant shake of the uneasy feeling that the train isn't really moving, that its some kind of trick they play on tourists, that the tracks must be placed in some kind of large circle. You try to tell yourself, no, why would they do a thing like that, then you realize that its just the kind of thing that would make Putins day.

If you've seen any of those WW2 documentaries where they have some ancient Nazi sergeant talking about how the land in Russia drove them mad, how it just goes on and on, how it swallowed their company, you know what I mean.

God the music in this cybercafe reeks. I know this has nothing to do with anything but its hard to type while being serenaded by some chipmunk singing that abomidable "so lonely" atrocity, followed by some usher perfidity. Next will no doubt be that "Gassolina" horror. Its worse. No less than that child molester R.J. Kellys "I believe I can fly". Yeah right, I bet he "thinks about it every night and day" in federal pen that sick fucker. I don't see him "running thru that open door" anytime soon.

Well enough griping, back to the train. All I can say is that its was a good experience(If lengthy), but don't do it as then I wont feel as special. On with the pics:

A typical view from the train window. This is what you see for days on end, with only the telegraph wire to remind you of that its not sometime B.C. (Well, that and the train.)

The occasional village. Its funny that even in these miniscule villages with tons of land all around they still have the standard Stalinist apartment blocks. Whats the point of that?

The dining car. When I was taking this picture the waiter came up to me and said "What are you doing, you American spy?" He was a cool guy. Bizarrely, he spoke fluent German but barely and English. It seems that the Germans still enjoy invading Russia, in the form of tourists, loads of them.

Another Russian invention. Its a hot water heater. Everyone is drinking tea all day so they have this thing constantly boiling. They use an open wood fire to heat it! I mean like each car has a chimny with smoke pouring out. Note the fire extinguisher.

The corridor of the second class car. Each door opens to a small room. There are four beds to a room. I have no idea what the balloons are there for. Someone's birthday?

Some freaks who we hung out with. The guy is Kevin (Sin City). The girl had never spoken to a foreigner before, but she could speak English well, with a crisp British accent (?). Apparently they have a pretty decent educational system. (For those who go to school, that is)

Another cute girl, with a British accent. It was surreal.

Well must go find some food.

Moscow

2005-10-02T08:58:00.000-04:00

As I've caught a rather bad cold, and this village is snowed in I shall take the time to update this thing. I'm in the Tatra mountains in the south of Poland, and have been here for about a week. I'm bored to death but cant leave as I'm too sick, so I shall content myself by messing with this thing.

I've posted pictures of east Russia so I suppose I should continue by starting with Moscow. Moscow is truly a great city. Its style and architecture were designed to awe the "proletariat" and in this respect I have to hand it to Lenin and his successors. The city is also amazingly clean, due to the small army of immigrants employed to clean it nightly. Its also arguably the safest city I've ever been in, as no one wants the cops nightsticking them, or worse. There appears to be zero crime (gypsies don't count, there not Russian), but this could just be propaganda. Lastly, Moscow is DAMN expensive. Worse than Tokyo by far. Really. Anyway, on with the pictures:

Ever wonder what a "traditional Soviet breakfast" is? Well wonder no more! The hotel I was forced to stay at actually advertises that they serve this abomination. Stalin would be proud.

The actual suit of the FIRST DOG IN SPACE!!! This and other treasures I was fortunate enough to uncover in the aeronautics museum in Moscow.

Typical Russian church spires. These are in the Kremlin. The crescent under the cross is a symbol of the Russian triumph over the Mongul Tartars.

The ceiling of a church in the Kremlin. The paintings are extremely indicate, though you cant see it in this picture.

The residence of Putin.(Kremlin) Now where would you rather live, here or the white house? The stars on top of the towers are supposedly 5 meters across.

Outside of "Victory Museum", a monument commemorating the "Great Patriotic War" (WW2) A good example of soviet architecture. It doesn't really look it, but the building is huge. Made of marble to boot.

The grave of Nikita Krushoff. The reason I look so abused is that I spent over hours hunting through party member graves before I finally found the damn thing. He is arguably the one "good" general secretary that the soviets had. So they chucked him in an unmarked grave. (The rest are in the Kemilin wall, excepting Lenin who is a vampire sleeping in red square)

The Moscow metro is the second deepest (St.Petes is the first) and definitely the most impressive metro in the world. Its also arguable the loudest.(Due to the soviet steam engines)

I would post pictures of hot Russian women, but as one of them took a swing at me for trying I have none.(that I can post). So yeah, just take my word for it (they're hot). People in Moscow are very easy going and overall quite nice. The cops are another story.

While in Moscow I decided to go see Lenin as they might get rid of him soon. For those no in the know, Lenin as The Patron Saint of communism has an incorruptible carcass (vampire) and can be seen sleeping in his crystarl coffin by anyone willing to line up for about 5 hours, thus perpetuating the religion he started(waiting in lines) by his undead hairless glory.So after waiting in line for about 6 hours I finally make my way thru the metal detectors only to find that my friends from the hostel are forced to wait in another line to put their cameras away.(No cameras allowed into His sacred vault)

So I go over to where they are lined up and start talking to them through the fence. Instantly a platoon of Kremlin guards swooped down upon me, shouting Dubai!Dubai!! (Move) So I'm stupid enough to say "Yeah, alright alright.." Instantly a paticularly patriotic woman guard seized me by the arm and glowering says to me, "Ve are NOOT so STUPIT as you sink!" To which I replied (lamely) "What? I don't think your stupid..." But it was no good. She hauled me off for an extensive search, which was fun. Anyway, the point of this story is don't mess with the women of the red army.(Unless like me you enjoy being searched by them.)

Well on that note Ill bring this thing to a close, some Polish guy just took my water bottle.

Lake Baikal

2005-08-03T04:48:00.000-04:00

Lake Baikal has got to be one of the most beautiful places I've ever seen. Its like duh, of course, but what I mean is that the beauty is on a titanic scale.(as in titans, not the ship)

Like all things in Russia its huge. Supposedly it contains one fifth of the earths fresh water, and its crystal clear to boot. Unfortunately its also freezing cold, as I experienced first hand. I had to try it even though the Russians laughed at me.

I stayed on a small island in the lake called Oklhon or something. Its said to be one of the last places where shamanism is still a living religion. Even the bus drivers etc.. While they cross themselves passing Christian sites will stop to lay a coin on the "sacred stones" after landing on the island. It seems the general consensus is that while Siberia belongs to the Christians the lake and the island still belong to the old gods, whoever they might be. The funny thing about it is that the people here really seem to believe this, its not just some show for the tourists, as I had the misfortune to discover, but more on that later.

This is the pier where we had to wait for the ferry to the island. They only have one ferry that leisurely makes its way back and forth. The interesting thing about this picture is that the truck waiting there still has Fuji Pan all over it. That really tickled me. People are always going on about the influence of American culture, well what about the influence of Japanese trucks? I mean, this is in the absolute middle of nowhere, and yet we still have little Fuji Pan trucks parked everywhere. I saw this kind of weirdness all over Russia.

These are exmilitary vessels that are now used for fishing. I was treated to the sight of several mega macho rugged siberians cleaning their nets while rocking out to nsync and the backstreet boys. Heavy stuff.

Went swimming here, and nearly died. The water was so cold that my head still hurts just thinking about it. Furthermore I was in constant terror of getting a toe or two bitten of by a giant sturgeon or something. Those fish get to be huge, and a seriously freaky looking.

Masumi had the brilliant idea to borrow our hosts boat and row out to a distant island.(see right side) This proved to be rather perilous as we nearly tipped our boat and froze to death on several occasions, due to the extreme instability of the boat, waves, and hordes of angry gulls. It doesn't sound dangerous now, but I would dare anyone to try to swim to the shore (200-400 meters) in that water. Above is Masumi's contribution to the expedition. Below is mine.

This photo is self explanatory.

Lost on part of the island. Well sort of. Rented a bike but it kept getting stuck in the sand so I left it in the forest, then of course couldn't find it. While I was stumbling around on these endless dunes I was accosted by this strange woman shouting, "You American boy, move your lazy butt, come take my picture." (said with a thick Russian accent) I got here to take mine as well. I ended up hanging out with her for the next few days. She is easily the funniest girl I've ever met.

Place where we ate and hung out on the island.

attempting to cut a dramatic pose while raising one of these shaman flag things on top of a mountain. Riding bikes up there was extremly tiring, and riding them down was painful.

I later learnt that I probably shouldn't have messed with that flag thing. A shaman was kind enough to pay a visit to my window that night and start singing some kind of curse or something. He sat outside my window on some firewood that was piled against it and muttered something while looking in at me for about 30 minutes. Every dog in the village went completely wild and was barking as if possessed. I had no idea what to do. It was around 3 am, pich dark and I was in this isolated cabin (this place had no electricity or water etc...) and my curtains wouldn't close. I could see this freak about a foot from the window, moonlight gleaming off his painted face, as he mumbles and chants staring right at my bed. ARGG. This guy wasn't Russian either. He like half of the people in the area was 'Buriat'.(Mongolian looking) The next night I slept with a club sized piece of firewood within arms reach.

There were these very peaceful cows roaming all over the island. Note the sky, it was almost always like that there, which is something I never saw in Japan.

The rock furthest back is "Shamanika". That strange girl told me that legend has it there is a cave in it that leads to a hidden pool, but that all those who enter the cave have nightmares for a month after. I climbed all over that thing(its huge) and after almost deciding that she was full of it, found a small entrance to what appeared to be a cave. I managed to squeeze into it and sure enough it went deep into the rock finely ending at a small pool. That was cool, but I still waiting for the nightmares.

Sunset in the village.

I have loads of other cool pictures (thanks to my unpered photography skills) but its very difficult to upload them. I may add more later, but for now this is it.

Vladivostok

2005-07-19T08:47:00.000-04:00

Vladivostok is in my opinion the most intimidating Russian city there is. Its more barbaric and wild than any other Russian city I've seen since. Everyone, and I mean everyone (baring perhaps some of the children) walks around with a cigarette in one hand and a beer in the other, from dawn till dusk. I am NOT making this up! The city has a kind of pirate mentality, likely to do with the fact that its blatantly Mafia run. The mafia strut their stuff in a very overt manner. Unfortunately this has a way of driving up the prices of restaurants hotels etc.. As only Mafia go there anyway, and they've got plenty of cash.

The good thing about this city is that as the cops are busy chatting with the low level thugs over vodka they have little inclination to harsh tourists, unlike in Moscow etc..

While I was there a constant fog hung over the city, and even though it was late June it was quite cold. The main attractions in vlad are old pieces of the pacific fleet. And the lifestyle. Not wanting to stand out the first thing I did on arrival was purchase a beer to walk around with.

Fixing up the old party headquarters. All over Vlad it seemed like they were doing repairs or renovations. In a year the city will likely look pretty good.

This sub supposedly sank several Japanese convoy vessels. Its amazing how cramped the damn things are on the inside.

This fine piece of soviet art commemorates the red army's victory in driving the Japanese out of Siberia during the Russian civil war. Funny thing though, as I was posing for this picture some babuska comes up to me and insists I practice English with here grandson.WTF? So I'm like "Whats your name" and he starts spouting off in fluent English something about American solders or something. So I say "Wow his English is quite good" to which she replied, "Of course". Right...

Some Japanese punk sitting at the controls of a gun made to fight his parents. Ironic, no?

Speaking of the Vladivostok lifestyle, this bottle says it all. Note the road and the license plate on the bottle. This gives the notion of "one for the road" new meaning.

Lastly we have the everpresent fog. That's the pacific fleet down there, by the way. Supposedly the reactors in them are rusting and will soon release radioactive waste into the Japan sea.(If they haven't yet) Good to know, huh?

Not a lucky charm

2005-05-19T01:36:00.000-04:00

Fun at the Post Office

2005-05-19T01:30:00.000-04:00

I just finished arranging a bank transfer at the local post office. I’ve never had to do this before and to say the least, it was not pleasant.

11:30 I take a number and am waiting
11:35 I begin to get bored
11:37 I start roaming around the post office
11:40 I see a door open to a back room, and decide to investigate
11:41 The room is some kind of museum of inkans and nengajos
11:42 An old man leaps out of the shadows and starts explaining the meaning of each display to me in rapid Japanese.
11:44 I am puzzled at his complete lack of surprise (or even recognition) that I am conversing with him in fluent Japanese.
11:54 He has reached the section regarding Okinawin stone carvings, and is going into minute detail as to the subtle difference between them and those of mainland Japan. “Okinawa people are the same as the Chinese” he proclaims.
11:55 I am bored.
12:10 I must escape.
12:20 I make a dash for the door only to be stopped by an old lady
12:25 I finish signing the guest book, receiving sembei, giving blood etc..
12:30 I get back to the counter just in time to see the number after mine come up. I timidly ask if I can go next. Take another number I’m told.
2:30 I finally finish the paperwork.

Apparently if you make even the slightest mistake you must rewrite the entire page. I had this worried 30 something year old munchkin of a woman (strangely cute, cute in a strange way, as in LOTR) standing over me trying to be helpful, sighing in dismay as I wrote ASU instead of USA. I ended up rewriting the damn thing 3 times. Really.

In my defense I think the sembeis were spiked. When I finally finished I felt more than a little relived. Now if they can just figure out how to send the money…

From Russia with love

2005-05-18T05:19:00.000-04:00

I am off to a foul start. I’ve spent over a month trying to work out a Russian visa. I swear, they must think the cold war is still on (is it?) Be that as it may, my faithful Russian travel agent just contacted me with the bill for my visa etc… 2000$ Right… I wonder what mom will think when she gets her credit bill…

However, I take some consolation in the irony that this fee will be paid(in part) by my Russian coworker. You see, I’m selling her my furniture. When she asked me to lower the price, I promptly replied, ”You wouldn’t want to take money from the fatherland now would you?” This whole situation has me somewhat tickled. I’m quite literally ‘robbing Peter to pay Paul’(or Putin as the case might be.)

Exchanged for a Russian visa?

2005-05-18T05:03:00.000-04:00

My livingroom

Finally a decision!

2005-05-17T05:53:00.000-04:00

Today we finally decided to go thru Russia, via the trans-siberian. I can’t say I’m altogether pleased with this prospect. I am however, glad that we finally came to a decision. I just hope we have time to pull it off.(visas, tickets, etc…) Gulag here I come!

At work

2005-05-16T05:13:00.000-04:00

profie2

In the begining...

2005-05-01T10:20:00.000-04:00

Well I finally decided to start a page to document my travels. My premise is to try to do, see, and learn as much as I can in one year, or until my yen runs out.

My Hero

2005-03-19T10:35:00.000-05:00

sis

My sister is better than yours.

2005-03-18T10:38:00.000-05:00

My sister is awesome. She must be a descendant of Hercules and Atlanta, with some Minerva thrown in for looks. If we were to go back in time she would most certainly be some sort of Greek goddess(except she would be the one throwing lighting), while I would be an Egyptian peasant. (Well I would at least be a priest. You would be the peasant)

Not only is she brilliant, but she can kick some serious butt as well. After thrashing lowly mortals she likes to retire to her lair where she composes rock ballads (!) detailing her various victories.

How much cooler can a sister get? Her latest achievement was a double championship at Kagoshimas yearly karate tournament. Mind you, the best karate fighters in Japan come from Kagoshima, and Japan has the best karate fighters in the world. The denizens of Kyushu where so grateful for a chance to partake of her divine luminance that they are even now erecting several obelisks in her honor.

My sister is so excessively powerful that I don’t see the point of working anymore. I think I'll just go around dropping her name here and there and collecting protection money.

I like the sound of that.