It's 2010!!
And 2009 was a wonderful year for me.
Thank ya Jesus
Thursday, December 31, 2009
so much I went to see it twice in four weeks!Tuesday, December 29, 2009
-
So said Henry David Thoreau. Of people who facetiously wax nostalgically over impossible problems am learning to regard them less than cum grano salis. One day they are bemoaning Vallarta
's growth as being too touristy, crowded, contrived. The next week, they are lamenting how too few tourists are down here.
I guess these hack-eyed critiques serve to remind them of their existence; after all, dead men can't
bitch. Or to return to the quotable Mr Thoreau, To be awake is to be alive.
So said Henry David Thoreau. Of people who facetiously wax nostalgically over impossible problems am learning to regard them less than cum grano salis. One day they are bemoaning Vallarta
's growth as being too touristy, crowded, contrived. The next week, they are lamenting how too few tourists are down here.I guess these hack-eyed critiques serve to remind them of their existence; after all, dead men can't
bitch. Or to return to the quotable Mr Thoreau, To be awake is to be alive. -
Of late I've had a constant craving for Twix candy bars
. Have never really been partial to them---they're allright---but for the past two weeks I've had an incorrigible taste for the chocolate caramel cookie bars. Go figure. Maybe it is my body's compensation for dark chocolate I miss in Europe.
And now that one store has a sale---$7.10 discounted from $9.40---going on I make a point of buying two every time I go in.
I like to put my Twix in the refrigerator.
Of late I've had a constant craving for Twix candy bars. Have never really been partial to themAnd now that one store has a sale
-
On Christmas Eve I wrote about still needing to finalize plans for Christmas Day. Well, I met that short-term goal and had a pleasant, albeit mildly solitary, holiday. After a wonderful meal I visited with a fellow expatriate friend for coffee and cake. Tres leches cake is milky moist and delicious!
After reviewing the holiday menus of a few restaurants---most advertised 'Christmas Eve' versus Christmas Day specials; but the same prix fixe carried over to the actual Day---I settled on two based on budget and curiosity.
I was curious to dine at Kaiser Maximilian. It's a poshly attired restaurant with a decidedly European flair in, both, food selection and presentation. The three course selection I preferred---main entree: Turkey medallions stuffed with pine nuts, dried fruits, sweet potato puree---was $425mxp.
I had the money but decided in favor of budget and, instead, ate at Back Alley Steakhouse in the late afternoon before the dinner crowd arrived. Their Christmas dinner cost $200mxp with a choice betwixt filet mignon cooked with red wine sauce and mushrooms or pork tenderloin slices with a pineapple and orange sauce. I chose the filet mignon.
I've eaten here before and the chef is wonderful. The meat, medium rare, was delicious and, to my surprise, ringed with a strip of tasty maple bacon. (The waiter should have mentioned this as one might have an aversion to pork and would be totally in the right in not paying for the plate.)
My only complaint with Back Alley is the obnoxious friendliness of the staff. Mexican waiters in non-Mexican businesses behave with a sense of familiarity, sometimes aggressively, that gets on my nerves. The waiter at Back Alley was chatty and inquisitive, not that he really gave a damn about where I was born or my name. In the spirit of Christmas and fear of food poisoning I didn't tell him to shut the fuck up; but will let the owner know the next time that I'm there to eat, not shake hands or converse with the waiters.
On Christmas Eve I wrote about still needing to finalize plans for Christmas Day. Well, I met that short-term goal and had a pleasant, albeit mildly solitary, holiday. After a wonderful meal I visited with a fellow expatriate friend for coffee and cake. Tres leches cake is milky moist and delicious!
After reviewing the holiday menus of a few restaurants---most advertised 'Christmas Eve' versus Christmas Day specials; but the same prix fixe carried over to the actual Day---I settled on two based on budget and curiosity.
I was curious to dine at Kaiser Maximilian. It's a poshly attired restaurant with a decidedly European flair in, both, food selection and presentation. The three course selection I preferred---main entree: Turkey medallions stuffed with pine nuts, dried fruits, sweet potato puree---was $425mxp.
I had the money but decided in favor of budget and, instead, ate at Back Alley Steakhouse in the late afternoon before the dinner crowd arrived. Their Christmas dinner cost $200mxp with a choice betwixt filet mignon cooked with red wine sauce and mushrooms or pork tenderloin slices with a pineapple and orange sauce. I chose the filet mignon.
I've eaten here before and the chef is wonderful. The meat, medium rare, was delicious and, to my surprise, ringed with a strip of tasty maple bacon. (The waiter should have mentioned this as one might have an aversion to pork and would be totally in the right in not paying for the plate.)
My only complaint with Back Alley is the obnoxious friendliness of the staff. Mexican waiters in non-Mexican businesses behave with a sense of familiarity, sometimes aggressively, that gets on my nerves. The waiter at Back Alley was chatty and inquisitive, not that he really gave a damn about where I was born or my name. In the spirit of Christmas and fear of food poisoning I didn't tell him to shut the fuck up; but will let the owner know the next time that I'm there to eat, not shake hands or converse with the waiters.
Monday, December 28, 2009
Saturday, December 26, 2009
Friday, December 25, 2009
Thursday, December 24, 2009
-
Still have not made Christmas dinner plans. I know, I know; where is my head? It is a little hard for me to "get" the fact that the holidays are nigh due to the daily sunshine, high temperatures, and lack of television and, thus, my failure to get in the spirit of things although I do enjoy NPR's 24-hour stream of Jingle Jams!
At the risk of sounding like a yuppie in American Psycho, 
awesome example of contemporary American literature although, admittedly, not exactly what one might call 'fun reading', I need to secure a reservation somewhere, mildly upscale and preferably free of mariachis and Mexican children, post haste. Someplace quiet where the patrons are foreigners and will likely feel it prudent to dress...up. Even a buffet spread in one of the nicer hotels will suffice.
Wow...it's Christmas Eve.
Still have not made Christmas dinner plans. I know, I know; where is my head? It is a little hard for me to "get" the fact that the holidays are nigh due to the daily sunshine, high temperatures, and lack of television and, thus, my failure to get in the spirit of things although I do enjoy NPR's 24-hour stream of Jingle Jams!
I need to secure a reservation somewhere, mildly upscale and preferably free of mariachis
At the risk of sounding like a yuppie in American Psycho, awesome example of contemporary American literature although, admittedly, not exactly what one might call 'fun reading', I need to secure a reservation somewhere, mildly upscale and preferably free of mariachis and Mexican children, post haste. Someplace quiet where the patrons are foreigners and will likely feel it prudent to dress...up. Even a buffet spread in one of the nicer hotels will suffice. Tuesday, December 22, 2009
-
If nothing else, all this walking, no, climbing up and down the hill to my apt will build my lower body and second wind. Whew! It's exercise, per se. That is sort of good because I do not dedicate myself to leg workouts as I should; no, I suppose I do but I don't look forward to training legs.
Every time I leave the house I have to make a trip of things. Like going into the big city as if am in Brooklyn and all of Old Vallarta is Manhattan. At least am just three miles to the sky. Another two-and-a-half and I might be in a Mexican version of Queens. (Honestly, these mountain people do not act that much differently than the obnoxious lowlifes in New Yoik. Plus they raise poultry.)
But I digress: My thighs are full-bodied front and back, the ankles are definitely being utilized and it shows in the calves which now flex just from walking, and, shoot, a peso can be bounced off of my hard glutes. Boing!
Oh I loooove my life.
If nothing else, all this walking, no, climbing up and down the hill to my apt will build my lower body and second wind. Whew! It's exercise, per se. That is sort of good because I do not dedicate myself to leg workouts as I should; no, I suppose I do but I don't look forward to training legs.
Every time I leave the house I have to make a trip of things. Like going into the big city as if am in Brooklyn and all of Old Vallarta is Manhattan. At least am just three miles to the sky. Another two-and-a-half and I might be in a Mexican version of Queens. (Honestly, these mountain people do not act that much differently than the obnoxious lowlifes in New Yoik. Plus they raise poultry.)
But I digress: My thighs are full-bodied front and back, the ankles are definitely being utilized and it shows in the calves which now flex just from walking, and, shoot, a peso can be bounced off of my hard glutes. Boing!
Oh I loooove my life.
Monday, December 21, 2009
Sunday, December 20, 2009
-
Look out the windows, open the door, chill on the ledge and this is what I see: the Pacific Ocean's Banderas Bay, thatched roofs, palm trees, some tourists parasailing, and sunny weather. These snapshots were taken with my Asus netbook, whose built-in camera lacks a zoom-in feature but is suitable, and made, for webcam. As most folks know, I never carry a camera.
It is a gorgeous Sunday; think I'll pop by a garage sale before heading to the beach.
Look out the windows, open the door, chill on the ledge and this is what I see: the Pacific Ocean's Banderas Bay, thatched roofs, palm trees, some tourists parasailing, and sunny weather. These snapshots were taken with my Asus netbook, whose built-in camera lacks a zoom-in feature but is suitable, and made, for webcam. As most folks know, I never carry a camera.
It is a gorgeous Sunday; think I'll pop by a garage sale before heading to the beach.
-
Saturday, December 19, 2009
-
On my first day back in Mexico I bumped into an old acquaintance in the street, the only person, in fact, whom I forgot to email that I was coming. I'd already booked a night in the Oasis Hostel, a place I've stayed in before, deposited my things there and was off house-hunting. I like to hit the ground running. It was after visiting an apt and stopping by the local gym to check out rates that we thought we recognized one another.
Turns out his roommates recently moved and, so, there was space at his house. How fortuitous. Aside from the scruffy pup and cat---there is no such thing as a sweet cat. I dislike all pussies that purr. Eartha Kitt is my one exception. Prrrrrr---I liked the digs and moved in the next day. I moved in with full awareness the lights weren't on but under the belief electricity would be restored the next month (Nov) which was the following week. Since the matter of spoiled groceries was moot and am no high-tech geek a week sans electric light seemed doable.
And it was. As the third week came round, though, it became less tolerable and by week four, inexcusable. On the following week (Dec) I bid adios. I now stay in a furnished apt three miles to the sky; that is to say, high atop a hill. Not only can I banish darkness away with a flick of the switch---thank you Jesus!---but I've a big ass refrigerator and Internet as well. The ocean view is lovely and it's quite peaceful up here but, brother, going and coming is a mother#%@! Booyah.
On my first day back in Mexico I bumped into an old acquaintance in the street, the only person, in fact, whom I forgot to email that I was coming. I'd already booked a night in the Oasis Hostel, a place I've stayed in before, deposited my things there and was off house-hunting. I like to hit the ground running. It was after visiting an apt and stopping by the local gym to check out rates that we thought we recognized one another.
Turns out his roommates recently moved and, so, there was space at his house. How fortuitous. Aside from the scruffy pup and cat---there is no such thing as a sweet cat. I dislike all pussies that purr. Eartha Kitt is my one exception. Prrrrrr---I liked the digs and moved in the next day. I moved in with full awareness the lights weren't on but under the belief electricity would be restored the next month (Nov) which was the following week. Since the matter of spoiled groceries was moot and am no high-tech geek a week sans electric light seemed doable.
And it was. As the third week came round, though, it became less tolerable and by week four, inexcusable. On the following week (Dec) I bid adios. I now stay in a furnished apt three miles to the sky; that is to say, high atop a hill. Not only can I banish darkness away with a flick of the switch---thank you Jesus!---but I've a big ass refrigerator and Internet as well. The ocean view is lovely and it's quite peaceful up here but, brother, going and coming is a mother#%@! Booyah.
Thursday, December 17, 2009
One of the major mistakes people make is that they think manners are only the expression of happy ideas. There's a whole range of behavior that can be expressed in a mannerly way. That's what civilization is all about---doing it in a mannerly and not an antagonistic way. One of the places we went wrong was the naturalistic Rousseauean movement of the Sixties in which people said, "Why can't you just say what's on your mind?" In civilization there have to be some restraints. If we followed every impulse, we'd be killing one another.
Judith Martin (Miss Manners)
Judith Martin (Miss Manners)
Tuesday, December 15, 2009
No one likes crazy people, least of all me, but sometimes at the risk of seeming crazy I allow myself to smile and beam aloud, I love my life
. Looooove it! And I do.I don't hold off from shouting this wonderful declaration. All too often I have to hold back shouting negatives - civility demands it - at every damn simpleton, asshole, nitwit and brat so to express, it seems to me, a life affirming idea should be a good thing for civilization. Who knows, maybe the positivity will spread to somebody who overhears it. How many times does one hear I love my life? How rare is it to hear (or say) I hate my life?
At any rate, I've known misery and despair; I know what it is like to be beat, broke and busted with nary a living soul to lend a helping hand. Hence am now in the habit of acknowledging, as it were, good times with an expressive, I love my life! I don't really mind if people look at me crazy. I don't mind most people anyway.
To express a life affirming idea should be a good thing for civilization....How rare is it to hear (or say) I hate my life?
Usually when am working-out
and I achieve that good pump - I love my life! -through each repetition feeling my muscles aching and growing; swimming out to where my feet no longer touch the bottom and on all sides of me except above is the warm, salty ocean - I love my life! - where am merely a small splashing, frolicking, treading disturbance in the blue-green vastness; smoking a premium cigar or hookah pipe
and taking quiet pleasure in the exhaled smoke - ( psst, I love my life!) - or walking down the street and stopping, actually stopping, to smell the flowers, visually eating the sunny landscape and palm trees and sand and incorrigible home structures, or looking out the window of the plane, train, Greyhound bus - I love my life! - watching that particular speck of the world literally go
and I achieve that good pump - I love my life! -through each repetition feeling my muscles aching and growing; swimming out to where my feet no longer touch the bottom and on all sides of me except above is the warm, salty ocean - I love my life! - where am merely a small splashing, frolicking, treading disturbance in the blue-green vastness; smoking a premium cigar or hookah pipe and taking quiet pleasure in the exhaled smoke - ( psst, I love my life!) - or walking down the street and stopping, actually stopping, to smell the flowers, visually eating the sunny landscape and palm trees and sand and incorrigible home structures, or looking out the window of the plane, train, Greyhound bus - I love my life! - watching that particular speck of the world literally go
by; getting paid always makes me happy; seeing fat or badly dressed or fat, badly dressed people and then looking at myself - I love my life! - my fist flies upward, Thank you Jesus; realizing the moment is quiet and peaceful or having cooked a delicious, wholesome meal or standing under a hot shower and feeling, truly sensing, the dirt and stress run down into the drain or even watching the tip of my pen complete each letter until the word forms. Or remembering a bad time and knowing that that time is not now.Monday, December 14, 2009
After months of writer's block produced since my trip to Italy more entries will be published within the next couple of days. My apologies for the lapse. Some people have taken the time to write to let me know that they follow my web log and, so, I've re-energized myself to relaying mishaps and adventures of my travels. Feedback truly makes a difference.
I send a big Thank-you to those readers who wanted to know what's up.
Am currently in Mexico and will update this web log to include my travels from Italy to the present. Again, sorry for the procrastination.
Scholar Spartan
I send a big Thank-you to those readers who wanted to know what's up.
Am currently in Mexico and will update this web log to include my travels from Italy to the present. Again, sorry for the procrastination.
Scholar Spartan
Monday, November 9, 2009
This time last year I was beyond happy to have started working at Club Maeva. It would turn out to be probably the worst job of my life. I republish this earlier post as a celebration of having left that awful place with the hope of sparing would-be applicants one motherfucking demeaning job experience!
This all-inclusive beach resort is a very popular vacation destination in Mexico. One is located in Manzanillo and the other, Tampico. Club Maeva is a great place to vacation (if R&R is part of the goal otherwise the constant "animation" can be a bitch) but a far less than great place to work (if you're non-Mexican).
I had the experience of working at Club Maeva, Manzanillo, last November, and would forthrightly caution any foreigner considering emploment as a Maevamigo: supervisors are harsh, working environment is not fun, Mexican guests are pigs, stressful long hours.
The team leaders---wannabe "chiefs"---in step with the boss who is sychophantically referred to as Chief are high-strung, overbearing, loud, egoists whose reactions are often out of proportion and sometimes bluntly irrational. (With this as the accepted model of leadership is it any wonder Latin American countries keep electing strongmen to power?)
Working conditions are stressful and non-stop---and degrading: Most of the guests are Mexican and seemed to equate all-inclusive with servitude. They were always demanding I pose for their stupid ass photos and thought nothing of interrupting my or any other Maevamigo's work and rehearsels for it. Even in mid-swing during a game of ping-pong they were piggish enough to poke me on the shoulder for a picture. This happened more than once! During meal breaks, which the "chiefs" begrudgingly allow, Maevamigos must interact with the guests which often meant subjecting myself to more stupid ass snapshots, intrusive questions, crude and inappropriate jokes whilst the plate of food grew cold right under my nose.
The hours are looooooooong, running from possibly 7 or 9am to 11pm or 1am with nary a respite in between (revert to above paragraph) six days a week. Sports activities piggy back one after another; then there are dance and theatre rehearsals in preparation for the nightly shows and further entertaining ("animation") at the Tropical Hut after the show. On top of all this, the pay ranges from maybe to little: maybe you will get paid if the Chief likes you and extends a work contract after the first month OTHERWISE the company tries to screw you out of pay, arguing the illegality of paying for labor rendered sans an inked contract. Barring that corruption, the $4000 pesos is little for all the work and hours logged AND, worse still, was less than the advertised $5000 salary.
Oh, and the other departments---0% foreigner---especially dining services, are envious and resentful of the Maevamigos. Why? Principally because we had the task of humoring and entertaining their crude, fat, ignorant countrymen with song, dance, and posing for stupid ass pictures from morning to midnight. (Guests are audacious enough to ask you to work on your day off. Talk about no class!)
Sadly, but tellingly, being a Maevamigo is a step up, nay, a bragging right for Mexicans for whom four thousand pesos and degradation and a sense of belonging beats working in a warehouse or taco stand. For some peoples, any attention is good attention.
Personally, I cannot abide nor find anything endearing in ignorance, racism ("chocolate bar", "little nigger"), lack of privacy, whimsical job security, in-house animosity, or dressing in drag. And so I left. A boy gots to draw the line somewhere. By all means go as a guest but flee from any job agency's lure of working as a Maevamigo.
This all-inclusive beach resort is a very popular vacation destination in Mexico. One is located in Manzanillo and the other, Tampico. Club Maeva is a great place to vacation (if R&R is part of the goal otherwise the constant "animation" can be a bitch) but a far less than great place to work (if you're non-Mexican).
I had the experience of working at Club Maeva, Manzanillo, last November, and would forthrightly caution any foreigner considering emploment as a Maevamigo: supervisors are harsh, working environment is not fun, Mexican guests are pigs, stressful long hours.
The team leaders---wannabe "chiefs"---in step with the boss who is sychophantically referred to as Chief are high-strung, overbearing, loud, egoists whose reactions are often out of proportion and sometimes bluntly irrational. (With this as the accepted model of leadership is it any wonder Latin American countries keep electing strongmen to power?)
being a Maevamigo is a bragging right for Mexicans for whom $4000 pesos and degradation and a sense of belonging beats working in a warehouse
Working conditions are stressful and non-stop---and degrading: Most of the guests are Mexican and seemed to equate all-inclusive with servitude. They were always demanding I pose for their stupid ass photos and thought nothing of interrupting my or any other Maevamigo's work and rehearsels for it. Even in mid-swing during a game of ping-pong they were piggish enough to poke me on the shoulder for a picture. This happened more than once! During meal breaks, which the "chiefs" begrudgingly allow, Maevamigos must interact with the guests which often meant subjecting myself to more stupid ass snapshots, intrusive questions, crude and inappropriate jokes whilst the plate of food grew cold right under my nose.
The hours are looooooooong, running from possibly 7 or 9am to 11pm or 1am with nary a respite in between (revert to above paragraph) six days a week. Sports activities piggy back one after another; then there are dance and theatre rehearsals in preparation for the nightly shows and further entertaining ("animation") at the Tropical Hut after the show. On top of all this, the pay ranges from maybe to little: maybe you will get paid if the Chief likes you and extends a work contract after the first month OTHERWISE the company tries to screw you out of pay, arguing the illegality of paying for labor rendered sans an inked contract. Barring that corruption, the $4000 pesos is little for all the work and hours logged AND, worse still, was less than the advertised $5000 salary.
Oh, and the other departments---0% foreigner---especially dining services, are envious and resentful of the Maevamigos. Why? Principally because we had the task of humoring and entertaining their crude, fat, ignorant countrymen with song, dance, and posing for stupid ass pictures from morning to midnight. (Guests are audacious enough to ask you to work on your day off. Talk about no class!)
Sadly, but tellingly, being a Maevamigo is a step up, nay, a bragging right for Mexicans for whom four thousand pesos and degradation and a sense of belonging beats working in a warehouse or taco stand. For some peoples, any attention is good attention.
Personally, I cannot abide nor find anything endearing in ignorance, racism ("chocolate bar", "little nigger"), lack of privacy, whimsical job security, in-house animosity, or dressing in drag. And so I left. A boy gots to draw the line somewhere. By all means go as a guest but flee from any job agency's lure of working as a Maevamigo.
Saturday, October 10, 2009
Friday, October 9, 2009
Since coming to Europe in July I've either lost or discarded (mostly lost):
three pairs of sunglasses (but then I found a pair in an Italian post office which, three weeks later, I realize are Emporio Armani!); four hats; three jackets and hoodies; four pairs of pant; four dress shirts and a sport coat (I am a stylish man); two T-shirts; two pairs of footwear; three scarfs and sarong. And as if that wasn't enough for my grandmother to call me the absent-minded professor I just missed my return flight!!
Holy #%@!moly.
The former items' days were numbered anyway since I'm all about travelling light and would have put my rucksack on a strict diet before flying back to North America. But now the weather's changed back to chilly so...two days ago I bought a skull cap, a pair of jeans and a denim jacket. Hello!
Wednesday, September 23, 2009
-
Staying at San Tomaso isn't much cause for writing home. It's not haute coutre and not hostel which means it is, apparently, somewhere in between.
I stayed one night here (25 euros)---my first day in town---and, honestly, the only things I can rightfully recall are: 1) the stingy Chinese woman who runs it, 2) it's located three floors below Hotel Kennedy and 3) the teeny-tiny ass elevator which is only big enough for one backpacker!
I have no complaints about my stay although if you don't have a laptop you will probably balk at the un-FREE computer and poor English speaking Asian staff. One receptionist is, I guess, English or Aussie, and speaks English and Italian very well. You'll notice her easily: she's an old hip chick who moonlights as a DJ! She's pretty funny to talk with.
Viale Tunisia 6 (3d floor)
Milano, 20124
+39 02.29.51.47.47
hotelsantomaso@tin.it
website
Staying at San Tomaso isn't much cause for writing home. It's not haute coutre and not hostel which means it is, apparently, somewhere in between.
I stayed one night here (25 euros)---my first day in town---and, honestly, the only things I can rightfully recall are: 1) the stingy Chinese woman who runs it, 2) it's located three floors below Hotel Kennedy and 3) the teeny-tiny ass elevator which is only big enough for one backpacker!
I have no complaints about my stay although if you don't have a laptop you will probably balk at the un-FREE computer and poor English speaking Asian staff. One receptionist is, I guess, English or Aussie, and speaks English and Italian very well. You'll notice her easily: she's an old hip chick who moonlights as a DJ! She's pretty funny to talk with.
Viale Tunisia 6 (3d floor)
Milano, 20124
+39 02.29.51.47.47
hotelsantomaso@tin.it
website
Tuesday, September 15, 2009
-
The Do Step Inn is only a couple of blocks from the Westbahnhof train station so is within walking distance and easy to notice by the huge banners which hang out front.
When I arrived there were a lot of people waiting in the lobby; or, rather, there were people waiting in the very small lobby. The Front Desk, though, kept her chin up and smile on and attended to everyone as best she could even fulfilling the gesture of pouring complimentary drinks to fresh arrivals. Impressive. Note: choose water or Coca-Cola or even crappy Fanta---Fanta is sooooo popular here---over the red wine (horrible!) but it's the thought that counts; and I emptied the glass.
I found the single room, albeit with television, private shower and toilet, too lacking for the forty-something euros it cost and immediately downsized to a dormitory. My new room was located around the corner and up the block. That's right: around the corner and up the block. So...depending on where you're bunking, Do Step Inn can become the Mucho Step Inn. But I was very satisfied with my 5-bed dorm. It cost 13.50 and was comfortable and preferable to the single room. The building annex has separate showers for men and women---the men's shower area consisted of two private showers---bathrooms separate from the showers, which appears to be a common design in the Old Country, and a wonderfully furnished kitchen and commons area.
What the hostel lacks in lobby space it makes up for in other areas of its buildings. Plenty of spaces for socializing and hanging out. And wi-fi access is available in the main building. No laptop? There are two FREE computers and the Internet connection is fast.
Felberstrasse 20, A-1150
Vienna
Tel: 0699.1923.2769
Fax: 01.982.3348
office@dostepinn.at
website
The Do Step Inn is only a couple of blocks from the Westbahnhof train station so is within walking distance and easy to notice by the huge banners which hang out front.
When I arrived there were a lot of people waiting in the lobby; or, rather, there were people waiting in the very small lobby. The Front Desk, though, kept her chin up and smile on and attended to everyone as best she could even fulfilling the gesture of pouring complimentary drinks to fresh arrivals. Impressive. Note: choose water or Coca-Cola or even crappy Fanta---Fanta is sooooo popular here---over the red wine (horrible!) but it's the thought that counts; and I emptied the glass.
Depending on where you're bunking, Do Step Inn can become the Mucho Step Inn
I found the single room, albeit with television, private shower and toilet, too lacking for the forty-something euros it cost and immediately downsized to a dormitory. My new room was located around the corner and up the block. That's right: around the corner and up the block. So...depending on where you're bunking, Do Step Inn can become the Mucho Step Inn. But I was very satisfied with my 5-bed dorm. It cost 13.50 and was comfortable and preferable to the single room. The building annex has separate showers for men and women---the men's shower area consisted of two private showers---bathrooms separate from the showers, which appears to be a common design in the Old Country, and a wonderfully furnished kitchen and commons area.
What the hostel lacks in lobby space it makes up for in other areas of its buildings. Plenty of spaces for socializing and hanging out. And wi-fi access is available in the main building. No laptop? There are two FREE computers and the Internet connection is fast.
Felberstrasse 20, A-1150
Vienna
Tel: 0699.1923.2769
Fax: 01.982.3348
office@dostepinn.at
website
Thursday, September 10, 2009
-
In Innsbruck I couldn't find a hostel---even though HI has one there...somefuckingwhere---and, even more shocking, could not find wireless Internet anywhere. Hell, I barely found one Innsbrucker who knew what was 'wireless Internet'.
Finally found a 5-star hotel called the European Hotel or something like that which had wi-fi available in the lobby---for 3euros. Not bad. Except the Front Desk led me to believe it was free so long as I patronized the bar; so on top of my tab I had to pay for being online. Me no likey surprises.
Generally speaking, I have a low opinion of places that lack access to the Internet. And that's my two cents on Innsbruck.
In Innsbruck I couldn't find a hostel---even though HI has one there...somefuckingwhere---and, even more shocking, could not find wireless Internet anywhere. Hell, I barely found one Innsbrucker who knew what was 'wireless Internet'.
Finally found a 5-star hotel called the European Hotel or something like that which had wi-fi available in the lobby---for 3euros. Not bad. Except the Front Desk led me to believe it was free so long as I patronized the bar; so on top of my tab I had to pay for being online. Me no likey surprises.
Generally speaking, I have a low opinion of places that lack access to the Internet. And that's my two cents on Innsbruck.
Tuesday, September 8, 2009
-
Having read an offhand reference to Linzer torte (also spelled as one word) in a recent email I was keen to try this regional delicacy.
Since I failed to go to any of the highlighted cultural attractions I wanted to leave with a Linzer experience. Plus I love sweets so it was easy to be adventurous in this regard. A slice of linzertorte was served to me with a side of whip cream (upon request). 
I had, at the same time, a slice of another Austrian invention---which the citizens insist means NOT GERMAN---apple strudel also served with a side of whip cream (upon request). I loves me some whip cream.
Didn't know what to expect from the Linzertorte. For some reason the taste reminded me of spiced Christmas carols. The strudel was not
pocketed in the crispy, though buttery, crust I had Mcmagined, uh, I mean imagined. Delicious, the both of them. However do I keep THIS jock figure eating such tongue yummy fattening goodies---->?
Mmmm I'll never tell.
Gosser Beer (Radler):
Am not a big drinker of beer but Gosser gets high marks from my taste buds. The Austrains have this concoction of lemonade and beer---not making this up---called Radler which has something to do with a bicycle rider.
In the olden days drinking and driving pertained to, well, riding and to keep within the law bicyclists---those cavalier road warriors!---diluted their beers with the ever wholesome lemonade drink thereby transforming it from an evil alcoholic intoxicant into a nice refreshing beverage. Oh brother! Anywho, the drink/drinker association stuck and now whenever I'm near the Austrian land I'll make sure to enjoy a radler (made with Gosser Beer) because I like the lemony sweetness that comes from Gosser.
Having read an offhand reference to Linzer torte (also spelled as one word) in a recent email I was keen to try this regional delicacy.
Since I failed to go to any of the highlighted cultural attractions I wanted to leave with a Linzer experience. Plus I love sweets so it was easy to be adventurous in this regard. A slice of linzertorte was served to me with a side of whip cream (upon request). 
I had, at the same time, a slice of another Austrian invention---which the citizens insist means NOT GERMAN---apple strudel also served with a side of whip cream (upon request). I loves me some whip cream.Didn't know what to expect from the Linzertorte. For some reason the taste reminded me of spiced Christmas carols. The strudel was not
pocketed in the crispy, though buttery, crust I had Mcmagined, uh, I mean imagined. Delicious, the both of them. However do I keep THIS jock figure eating such tongue yummy fattening goodies---->?Mmmm I'll never tell.
Gosser Beer (Radler):Am not a big drinker of beer but Gosser gets high marks from my taste buds. The Austrains have this concoction of lemonade and beer---not making this up---called Radler which has something to do with a bicycle rider.
In the olden days drinking and driving pertained to, well, riding and to keep within the law bicyclists---those cavalier road warriors!---diluted their beers with the ever wholesome lemonade drink thereby transforming it from an evil alcoholic intoxicant into a nice refreshing beverage. Oh brother! Anywho, the drink/drinker association stuck and now whenever I'm near the Austrian land I'll make sure to enjoy a radler (made with Gosser Beer) because I like the lemony sweetness that comes from Gosser.
From the Austrian capital I rode the train to a little place called Linz. It's a city big and important enough to be included on general maps and, to my surprise, has the distinctive honour of being this year's European Capital of Culture. Actually, the running joke among the citizens is that it was a surprise for them as well that Linz is the European Capital of Culture. Oh those Austrians and their disarming self-deprecating humour.
Adolf Hitler came from Austria but his humour was not so...disarming or self-deprecating or...developed.
I enjoyed my brief visit with my friend and her counter-culture friends. They were all kind and playful and principally comprised of artists, dj's, taggers, reggae lovers, students, eco-conscious rebels...y'know, hippies. I felt like Freud in a Jungian den of bohemians.
For all of its littleness, Linz is pretty high-tech and forward moving. Free wi-fi was accessible in the town square from any of the several cafes or a bench unlike Innsbruck where they've hardly even heard of wireless
fidelity let alone 'wi-fi'; futuristic-looking trams zipped pass; there's the ARS Electronica Center (aka computer museum) and Modern Art Museum whose glass wall buildings reverberate with light and sound designs. Watching the buildings is like seeing a fireworks display architecturally imprisoned.We went to see "Inglorious Basterds." Enjoyed it! Had more of a good time in Linz than I had in Vienna.
Monday, September 7, 2009
-I know I should have been floored by Vienna but I wasn't. I spent four nights there and there was nothing remarkable or eventful about it. Won't go so far as to use "bored." More like frustrated.
For starters, getting around town is confusing. Judging by the three tourist maps I collected Vienna is chock FULL of sites that answer the interests of history, cultural arts, curiosity, and the simply worthwhile; but each of the maps were so congested as to be hard to trace one point to another. I got a headache from trying to find and then follow the subway line markings.
Perhaps he was a Catholic virgin who'd never seen a condom up close, or perhaps he was just racist
Many suspiciously shady, mostly swarthy, characters hang out in the subways. They mumbled things to me but I had the sense to just say no. Maybe they were offering drugs or sex or directions or cheap opera seats; I don't know and, judging by the watchful groups of pigs that patrolled the platforms, I wasn't trying to find out. (Once while exiting the train, something, unbeknownst to me, dropped from my back pocket. Rather than help me, the watchful pigs walked me back to the spot, had me pick it up, and then demanded, Let me see (this he pronounced in English as his cop skills deduced my lack of German), as I quickly tried to put it back in my pocket. "Here," I said, handing him the XL Lifestyle condom---no lie---which all the nosy bystanders could clearly see it was. "Jesus Christ!" Perhaps he was a Catholic virgin who'd never seen a condom up close, or perhaps he was just racist. Something "drops" from a black man's pocket has to be suspicious. He was rightly embarrassed by the mini spectacle and waved me proceed on my un-merry way. Imagine if I were a woman and that had been a diaphragm. Holy mother! I've absent-mindedly walked away without grabbing my sunglasses, vending machine change, pens, brand new shoes, hats, backpack, calling card and NOT ONCE has anyone called, Excuse me you forgot this; but drop a condom....)
Sad to say, but I did not manage to visit Sigmund Freud's house or Mozart's apartment or the opera house (that one I just plumb forgot about) or the funky Kunst Museum. In town there is also a tiny museum devoted to "The Third Man," which was filmed in WWII Vienna and has one of the greatest entrances portrayed on celluloid as well as Orson Welles' very quotable reference to peace and cuckoo-cuckoo clocks.
Oh and Vienna is zehr expensive. One thing that turns me off faster than expensive is zehr expensive.
"You know what the fellow said—in Italy, for thirty years under the Borgias, they had warfare, terror, murder and bloodshed, but they produced Michelangelo, Leonardo da Vinci and the Renaissance. In Switzerland, they had brotherly love, they had five hundred years of democracy and peace—and what did that produce? The cuckoo clock."
Austrian flagSunday, September 6, 2009
-
I've had my experiences with goddamn tourist scams so am glad to direct you to this helpful article about five scams making suckers of unsuspecting foreigners.
I've had my experiences with goddamn tourist scams so am glad to direct you to this helpful article about five scams making suckers of unsuspecting foreigners.
Wednesday, September 2, 2009
-
I don't watch much television and I hardly watch any abroad since none make any sense to me---even IF I understand the language---especially the comedies. But when the Sun sets the television is on because, as Ray Charles sang, the night time is the right time. One thing European television seems to
have in common is shameless nudity. T&A is standard here, baby!
Just now I was watching EuroSport's live coverage of the U.S.Open when I decided to change the channel. Time:11pm. Little did I know that I was one button away from a platinum blond frau wearing nothing beyond white stockings, a belly piercing, and smile. And playing with her firm titties for good measure. Hello! The program was some sort of call-in game show but, to be truthful, the nonchalant absurdity and perversity of it all distracted me from further investigation. I couldn't keep my eyes off of her eyes.
her mesmerizing eyes
If this is woman's lib, then why the hell has American television gone all faggoty with Oz, Queer As Folk, The L Word? The closest thing we have to this nightly Euro smut is the annual uber glamorous Victoria Secret Fashion Show (which, predictably enough, sends American feminazis in a tizzy). Trust me, it is nothing compared to what I'm looking at right now. Otherwise, American insomniacs, God-fearing, obese and dull minded, are bombarded with a buffet of infomercials for worthless, semi expensive gadgets.
Can't say that I would approve of big bare bimbo tits hosting game shows but, hey, it would be an improvement on dumbass exercise machines and cutlery infomercials. Who knows? I may just learn German yet. Booyah!
I don't watch much television and I hardly watch any abroad since none make any sense to me---even IF I understand the language---especially the comedies. But when the Sun sets the television is on because, as Ray Charles sang, the night time is the right time. One thing European television seems to
have in common is shameless nudity. T&A is standard here, baby!Just now I was watching EuroSport's live coverage of the U.S.Open when I decided to change the channel. Time:11pm. Little did I know that I was one button away from a platinum blond frau wearing nothing beyond white stockings, a belly piercing, and smile. And playing with her firm titties for good measure. Hello! The program was some sort of call-in game show but, to be truthful, the nonchalant absurdity and perversity of it all distracted me from further investigation. I couldn't keep my eyes off of her eyes.
her mesmerizing eyesCan't say that I would approve of big bare bimbo tits hosting game shows but, hey, it would be an improvement on dumbass exercise machines and cutlery infomercials. Who knows? I may just learn German yet. Booyah!
Sunday, August 23, 2009
-
I went to see the Ballet Teatro Espanol's flamenco production of Carmen playing at the Hamburgische Staatsoper. I expected to enjoy a Spanish take on the famous opera with whims of castanets and passionate boot stomps interspersed throughout singing. Well. There was no singing and no shortage of stom
ping (and clapping and angry whooping) to punctuate the non-existent singing. Flamenco, flamenco, flamenco...and only two minutes of castanets in the first act.
What transpired on stage in the second half of the show I do not know. I left at Intermission. Maybe if I'd stuffed aspirin tablets in my jacket pocket instead of crunchy almonds to snack on I might have had the nerves to stand the rest of that bull fighting bangy yelping cacophony. I didn't so I didn't.
The dancers were superb. I, however, did not anticipate nor desire to see a non-stop stomping production. They stomped my ass right out of there.
I went to see the Ballet Teatro Espanol's flamenco production of Carmen playing at the Hamburgische Staatsoper. I expected to enjoy a Spanish take on the famous opera with whims of castanets and passionate boot stomps interspersed throughout singing. Well. There was no singing and no shortage of stom
ping (and clapping and angry whooping) to punctuate the non-existent singing. Flamenco, flamenco, flamenco...and only two minutes of castanets in the first act.What transpired on stage in the second half of the show I do not know. I left at Intermission. Maybe if I'd stuffed aspirin tablets in my jacket pocket instead of crunchy almonds to snack on I might have had the nerves to stand the rest of that bull fighting bangy yelping cacophony. I didn't so I didn't.
The dancers were superb. I, however, did not anticipate nor desire to see a non-stop stomping production. They stomped my ass right out of there.
-PAT GRAHAM, AP SPORTS WRITER: The families of Jesse Owens and Luz Long took in the long jump final Saturday at the world championships from the box where Adolf Hitler once sat for the 1936 Olympics.
It was inside the Olympic Stadium, with Hitler looking on, that Long, the German long jump great, famously befriended Owens. (continued)
Saturday, August 22, 2009
-
Hamburg's Reeperbahn Avenue was probably the shit back when polyester and 8-tracks ruled but now it's just shit. As far as its red light district intrigue goes it is still the locale for smut and sleazy thrills but I wouldn't unzip my fly in that district to take a piss let alone penetrate anyone. Holy snikes!
At night it is tacky, crowded and loud. From every building protrudes cheesy neon signs bright and big. In the day time the Reeperbahn is plain tacky and, worse, ugly because there isn't night to cover it. The "sexy girls" posters are all faded and resplendent with hair dos from the '80s. So un-sexy. My hunch is the girls are desperate Eastern Europeans or other waifs ensnared by the Russian mafia. And they either look old or under fed. I couldn't possibly contribute to white slavery.
One bar absolutely refused me entry due to the color of my skin. The supposedly private party was open to everyone else in our group which included two Bavarian girls, two white southern males from Atlanta, two Englishmen and an English girl. We were all offended and went to the claustrophobic 99cent Bar instead, where all shots cost just ninety-nine cents; and I played Sinatra's Something Stupid on the jukebox. But, of course, as every non-black person and homosexual informs me, racism no longer exists.
Hamburg's Reeperbahn Avenue was probably the shit back when polyester and 8-tracks ruled but now it's just shit. As far as its red light district intrigue goes it is still the locale for smut and sleazy thrills but I wouldn't unzip my fly in that district to take a piss let alone penetrate anyone. Holy snikes!
At night it is tacky, crowded and loud. From every building protrudes cheesy neon signs bright and big. In the day time the Reeperbahn is plain tacky and, worse, ugly because there isn't night to cover it. The "sexy girls" posters are all faded and resplendent with hair dos from the '80s. So un-sexy. My hunch is the girls are desperate Eastern Europeans or other waifs ensnared by the Russian mafia. And they either look old or under fed. I couldn't possibly contribute to white slavery.
I wouldn't unzip my fly in that district to take a piss
One bar absolutely refused me entry due to the color of my skin. The supposedly private party was open to everyone else in our group which included two Bavarian girls, two white southern males from Atlanta, two Englishmen and an English girl. We were all offended and went to the claustrophobic 99cent Bar instead, where all shots cost just ninety-nine cents; and I played Sinatra's Something Stupid on the jukebox. But, of course, as every non-black person and homosexual informs me, racism no longer exists.
One of the coolest hostels you can stay in is Meininger Hostel. As one fellow traveller put it, they don't know whether they want to be a hotel or a hostel...and that sums it up nicely.
Meininger Hostel is a chain of upscale lodgings for budget travellers be they modern backpackers---who, let's face it, expect more for their money in regards to comfort and modernity than hippies of yesteryear---or young tourists on holiday. Note: during my stay there were also several guests who were either "family," "group," or just plain older so it is not all about students in between school terms.
During my visit to Hamburg I stayed the entire time (about a week) at the Meininger. I was a walk-in and was able to secure a bed. As I re-booked or extended my stay every morning, for the first four nights I must have stayed in about three different dorm rooms on three different floors (it has six floors)! I couldn't really count it as a nuisance since I was just glad to have a place to sleep but, aside from that, the hostel/hotel was great. The place is within walking distance and easy to reach from the Altona subway station (S1); when all else fails just look for the red M.
The youthful German staff are fluent in English (and other languages) and quite professional and polite. They really aim to make you feel welcomed. This is probably due to the "hotel" mentality. Everyone with whom I spoke marveled at the (affordable)chicness of the hostel. We were all impressed and pleased. I paid between 15-19 euros for each night's stay.
FREE Internet is more appealing than shilling out money on a perfect stranger who probably won't hit the sack with you
The hostel provides FREE wireless but you have to pay otherwise; there is FREE luggage storage and use of the kitchen. A buffet breakfast can be had for four euros and use of the laundry is about 5 euros. There is a swank bar and two commons areas in the lobby but I did not notice much socializing between guests. For one, the drink prices are rather high considering you can walk around the corner and buy your coffee or alcohol for a third of the price; and two, most guys were busy surfing online. Sorry girls but FREE Internet is more appealing than shilling out money on a perfect stranger who probably won't hit the sack with you.
I loved the rooms. Each---each---room has its own separate toilet and shower and television. Every bed is equipped with a reading light and
linen and, get this, because the bunk beds have wooden frames they don't squeak. A tall locker corresponds with each bed and, like the door, is activated by the electronic key (so one needn't worry about a padlock).One morning I spotted a bed bug approaching my backpack and killed it with a vengeance! The cleaning staff of the establishment are on the ball so the bed bug had, doubtlessly, hitched a ride from a fellow traveller. I've had no signs of the monsters since so am grateful I killed the bloodsucker before it had a chance to strike and reproduce.
The youthful German staff are fluent in English and quite polite. They really aim to make you feel welcomed
Although I spent most of my time in Germany in Berlin I didn't learn about Meininger Hostels until I went to Hamburg. Turns out Berlin has three of its own! Although they are slightly more pricey than some independent hostels it is only sligtly and, yes, a guest gets his money's worth. Look for the red.Meininger City Hotel Hamburg
Goethealle 11
Hamburg (Altona) 22765
website
Subscribe to:
Comments (Atom)
