I feel very Black in Athens

-
You really have to be a smug so-and-so to turn up your nose to customers in the midst of economic crises. Or just Greek. Maybe these austerity measures effect customer service as well--because nary a clerk or merchant afforded me a smile, hello, or "merry Christmas." 


On Saturday, Christmas Eve, I went to the flea market in Monastaraki. Ha. They have nothing on Berlin or Paris or south Chicago or Istanbul. Those cities know flea market. So, anyway, I'm browsing around the junk - "antique" - lots looking for something that might catch my eye. The only thing I catch, however, are suspicious eyes. These mofos watched me like a hawk. One racist jackass even closed up shop abruptly after I showed up!


I made up my mind then and there to NOT spend another euro in Greece that I didn't have to. I bought a fountain pen from a brown (translation: immigrant) merchant for 5 euros and went about my business. At the supermarket I finally had to call out one of these snooty Greeks. After noticing he was following me around the store I very calmly called his attention to the following:

Excuse me. If you don't want me to shop here I'll gladly take my money elsewhere. I'm not a thief and you've been following me around like I'm a criminal.

He claimed not to understand my English but I said, "Oh I think you do," and walked away. Suddenly he comprehended English very well and started on about having the right to follow anyone in his store. Then do it, I snapped."And don't just follow ME because I'm black. That's racism. And I know racial discrimination is against the law in Greece."


Greece deserves it's economic crisis. And I won't buy one crappy souvenir to help them out. And I thought Parisians were full of themselves!    

Read More

Can do without Athenians

-
Athenians seem to have a bug up their butts. Maybe it's just the crappy rainy weather or their crappy politicians who have sunk them into a crappy economy and forced austerity measures but they don't at all give off a welcoming vibe. And I've noticed how the Greek people turn up their olive oil noses or scowl at the dark skin people around. Greeks are not the physically beautiful folks we were led to believe. Just another Greek myth, that. 
It may be more xenophobia than racism - yahoo! big difference! - but it ain't welcoming all the same.

Read More

YMCA Hostel Basel (Switzerland)

-
When I passed through Switzerland earlier this month I stayed at the YMCA in Basel because my friends were out of town. I like visiting Basel. It's a nice Swiss city that's very much bustling with fine arts cultural stuff, shopping, and borders with Germany and France. It's easy to navigate around town on the tram.

Oddly, it doesn't have the iconic big, red Y on the rooftop

As for the hostel: 
reaching it from the main train station SBB is thankfully easy because it is so damn near. Oddly, it doesn't have the iconic big, red Y on the rooftop...which, I think, is like a beacon to newcomers. Still the YMCA Basel is a straight shot from the back entrance of the train station; entire walk amounts to probably three normal blocks. I booked a bed on a walk-in.
"Do you have a reservation?" asked the boy behind the counter. "No," I replied, "but I have money." He smiled, "Oh I think that will do." I paid for two nights. Another good thing to come of my first night was finding a leather jacket on the street...especially since the weather was nippy.

The hostel is nothing short of modern and looks spanking new. Maybe it is. The place is not decked out with funky colors, garage furniture, kitch knick-knacks nailed to the walls or other backpacker/hippy/earthy rubbish. Instead the modern facilities are clean, bright, sleek, airy...nothing that feels like home or a home basement. And it's quiet. And I liked that. In the commons area/dining hall are plenty of tables and chairs and a working fireplace! Plus there are two fast public computers. Their kitchen is one of the best I've seen. It's big and plenty stocked with eating and cooking utensils along with about four refrigerators, two sinks and a microwave.

the modern facilities are clean, bright, sleek, airy...nothing that feels like a home basement

I took the elevator to my third floor dorm. The personal reading lights were too bright to be personal but everything else - mattress and bedding, individual lockers, radiator - worked fine. Would have had a nice sleep were it not for the two old geezers in the room snoring. I hate people who snore. 


website

Read More

I stayed in two hostels in Munich

-
Btw I stayed in the following hostels in Munich:

Wombat City Hostel. After being harassed by the undercover pigs in the main train station I urgently tried to find some vacancy somewhere. Bought a crisp, crunchy apple pie at McDonald's to 'legitimately' use the free wi-fi  (because I couldn't get online at Burger King in the station) and made a list of nearby hostels. Quickly jotted down four, including this one.


Wombat IS super close to Munich Hbf - literally across the street - but it's poorly advertised. The outside banners don't do a good enough job of announcing Here we are! BUT there was one - one! - bed left and I was damn relieved to get it. Not bad for a near midnight walk-in. The reception was super chill and got me squared away right away. Guests receive a free beverage with check-in. I made it in just before the bar closed -- and did I ever need a drink! 

The dorm room was big and comfortable. Had a good night's sleep and checked-out the following morning whereby I walked two doors down to...

Euro Youth Hotel.  It was a very no-hassle check-in. A dorm bed was available, I paid cash, got my receipt and came back four hours later when the rooms were cleaned and ready - 2pm - (in the meantime I went back and chilled in a hammock in the Wombat's cool indoor garden lounge). 


This hotel/hostel has a nice old-school decor - wooden banisters and wood paneled walls - which I find charming and free of the 'fabricated' feel of some backpacker or economy hotels. There is free tea in the lounge. Wi-fi gets good reception...but phone calls don't.

When I returned later that evening and headed for the bar/lounge I was stopped by, "HEY WHERE DO YOU THINK YOU'RE GOING?!" I didn't like this kind of reception from the Reception and wrote a letter to the management. Granted, there was an employee shift change and these guys didn't recognize me as a new guest but I felt the aggressiveness of their tone was 1) rude and 2) carried an undercurrent of my-kind-didn't-belong-there. The management emailed a sincere and prompt apology and promised to address the matter.  I appreciate that.  After the racial profiling at the main train station this whole thing of being a black American in Munich had well reached its limit. As a matter of principle I personally wouldn't elect to stay in Euro Youth Hotel again - because I wouldn't like to revisit Munich outside of business - but its facilities were fine, modern, and clean and affordable. 
     

Read More

Found leather jacket in Basel (Switzerland)

-
Last week I went to Basel. Travelled from Munich via a carpool. The ride took four or five hours and was very smooth (a new Mercedes Benz) but can you believe the driver didn't stop for one food break?! So German.... I was thirsty as a mofo.


On my first night in town I found a genuine leather motorcycle jacket -- on the sidewalk. It was just laying there on top of a nice, small coffee table. The things folks throw out in rich countries! (And, yet, America couldn't bring itself to dump W.) Lest the owner - jilted boyfriend/angry roommate/robbed motorcycle guy -suddenly appeared - "Hey! that's mine!" - I took off my winter jacket and put on the leather one underneath. I'd say that was a pretty good night in Basel. 

Read More

I suffered Eurolines from Paris to Frankfurt

-

If you think hitch-hiking is bad and mitfahrgelegenheit.de (or, in English, carpooling.co.uk ain't much more steady), then you'll find the unhappy medium, Euroline, right up your alley.


Like America's Greyhound Bus, Euroline is equally shitty but with matching prices (Greyhound, on the other hand, is starting to get a bit expensive). I took the night bus (the only bus) from Paris to Frankfurt. True to form it was starting to rain again. Twas just the beginning....


First, getting on board is not as easy as it can be. Bought the ticket the previous day from the agent office which is on the same saucy street as the Moulin Rouge. There are more sex shops and neon lights on that street than you can shake a oui, oui at. Curious attractions, those sex shops; but, really, how many explicit box covers and impossible dildos can you look at before concluding: if you've seen one feather duster or ramrod, you've seen them all? Thankfully, the agent spoke English and kindly told me which subway line to take to get to the bus station. 

asking a fish a question is only useful if you already know how to speak fish

He did not, however, tell me the bus station is still in the station just on the other side so naturally I headed for the wrong exit, carried my bags up the many stairs out onto the street, and walked from one end of the block to the next in search of a location that had no %$@! street sign. I was sweaty, I was anxious, my suitcase was falling apart - merde - and I had twenty minutes to get on the bus. At that point I got the bright idea to head toward the Info sign. Normally this would have been the no-brainer first move BUT asking a Frenchman anything is like asking a fish a question: it's only useful if you already know how to speak fish. Just then I spotted the teeny-tiny arrow directing to the bus station. Exxxcellent! I was spared from needing to try to parlez vous fish. Down the other stairs I go, pass the begging Gypsy good-for-nothing punk, following more teeny-tiny arrows until I see a line of people and luggage. Thank you Jesus! But no line for me. I already had my ticket!


Went up to the bus landing, spotted my bus, and handed over my ticket. I could tell he was German so I said in spotty German, "Hier ist mein Fahrkarte!" But the driver refused it. "No, no," he said in English, "you need a boarding pass." And I answered in perfect English, "What the f---?!"  So I hurried back down the escalator, dreading the long line I'd just laughed pass and, in my huffing frustration, noticed a different window with what I hoped was French for "ticket-holders." It was.

Since it only runs once a day I was glad to be aboard. That's where my gladness stopped. The bathroom reeked even before departure. On board were an Indian AND African pairs -- who talked non-stop.  Cluck-cluck-cluck, gibberish, gibberish, gibberish! And, of course, these people talked too loudly. Why is that? After two hours the Indian girl finally shut up. Then her friend had the nerve to ask the African woman to please lower her voice. This only made Madame Zulu talk even louder declaring, "I am free! I am free! I buy ticket just like you. I can talk," and, more absurdly, "You are not my chief!" Right about then I wish Chief Backhand was there. Silence, he would bellow. SLAP! It took a while before Madame Zulu's travelling companion could persuade her to lower her voice; but she never shut up. Did I mention the bus departed at 9:30pm. So much for sleeping en route.... And the bathroom reeked.

Read More

Strolling through Paris

-
The bulk of my stay in Paris was clouded over with grey skies, rain, and predictably cold weather. But the last two days were unseasonably warm and sunny. So...since my bus (Euroline) didn't leave until nighttime I decided to take a stroll through the famous city, and see if I couldn't fall in love with it.

 
I started with Notre Dame. Entrance is free - after all it IS a church - and I walked the whole circumference. Sooooo many statues and altars and saints this-and-that and the architecture - the architecture! - is jaw-dropping amazing. It is a marvel to take in. From there I strolled to the little park behind the church and sat down for a little bit. Then walked across the bridge covered with people's locks. I think they are 'love' locks meant to symbolize couple's devotion to one another. Interesting but a bit too kitch for my tastes (last week I noticed the same fad growing on Frankfurt's famous bridge).  


I didn't enter the museum but I did walk through the Louvre's court yard and saw the enigmatic glass pyramid structure. Then onto the gardens with sculptures and tiny bush mazes. If you walk inside the bushes you won't find any rabbit hole but you will be amazed at the sheer litter of used condoms. Rubbers, rubbers, rubbers everywhere! I'm short so crouching through was not so difficult but I find it hard to imagine so many (short) people regard this as the perfect spot to screw...but there lay the evidence. So much for romance!

On the way back to the subway I could see the Eiffel Tower. I went to it last year so didn't feel up to walking to it (but it would've taken, maybe, fifteen minutes to reach it on foot)...plus I was hungry. Then a woman bent down and shouted, "Oh! I found a gold ring!" Indeed. I saw her reach down but didn't see her pick up anything. When she kept trying to give it to me I knew something was fishy.

1. No one in the history of mankind and the world has EVER given away gold
2. A poor person does not give away valuables to perfect strangers
3. This girl was a Gypsy -- and Gypsies ARE full of shit
4. This author is not a fool

The nerve of that chick! A very pleasant stroll otherwise. 

Read More

St Christopher's Inn - Paris

-

group pic in Paris hostel

-
Stayed at St Christopher's Inn this last trip in Paris. I'd just left Berlin and slept at the St Christopher's Inn in Mitte, and really enjoyed their operation so...I looked them up when I hit France. 


My first night was a bust: rainy, chilly, and zero vacancy. Arrgh! So I went and bought a locker in a sauna and spent the  night inside warm, relaxed, and very, very clean....
Now back to the hostel: I slept in a 12-bed dorm room BUT it was a seriously spacious room and didn't feel cramp at all. My bed was comfortable and came with a reading light, two power outlets and a curtain for a little privacy and shutting out light. Great wi-fi connection. I ended up staying three nights.

Read More

Racism in Munich

-
Last week while in Munich I experienced a stark deja vu: racism.


More accurately this was a repeat; for deja vu means to sense one has encountered  the thing before. I wasn't sensing a fuzzy memory of anything...I was targeted because of my black skin -- and I know very clearly what that feels like.


Just like two years ago I was hurrying through Munich Hbf (main train station) and just like two years ago I was racially profiled and 'casually' stopped by a pair of undercover pigs who, naturally, were looking for drugs. (Naturally all black men deal in drugs -- or are illegal Africans.) They called in my passport number. They left disappointed. Less than two minutes later - more like 35 seconds! - ANOTHER pair of undercover pigs stop me from moving from the spot I had yet from which to move. They, too, demanded to see my passport and one of them actually tried to argue it, the passport, was inadequate/insufficient identification. Supposedly these two Bavarian assholes were of a separate branch of law enforcement than the previous Bavarian assholes.

Apparently Munich is the only EU member with borders

Let me get this straight: multiple branches of police patrol Munich Hbf and they don't communicate with each other...they don't share information?
And, if that is true, it is not only pathetic and unorganized but also MORE racist because it means I was independently stopped and searched by, not one, but two police agencies in less than 90 seconds apart in a big bustling train station...where, yes, I was the only black as far as my eyes could detect. (And two years ago it was during uber crowded Oktoberfest! But, my, racist pigs do have eyes like eagles.) Loads of travellers and backpackers pass through this travel hub but so long as those travellers look Oriental or blond or white or, maybe even, downright African with the tribal robes and stuff it is not as suspicious as a lone black man in Western clothes. Apparently Munich is the only EU member with borders. That the exact same thing happened to me also means this was not racist individuals but, rather, racist police training: the pigs were doing as they were trained to do: seek out dark skin travellers. 


I was glad to leave Munich because you want to know something? Freedom is mobility.

Read More

Carpooling.co.uk

-
I tried carpooling.co.uk again -the English side of mitfahrgelegenheit.de - and made a reliable contact owing to the website's new booking system. With the booking feature, both riders and drivers go "on record" as agreeing to go through with the trip. Should the driver or rider cancel for any reason then the agreed fee is still paid and, at the least, the other party gets an explanation or apology.


What really pissed me off with using mitfahrgelegenheit.de was that too many drivers just flaked out or overbooked, leaving me stranded and having to scramble a Plan B. There was no accountability. Now I only search for rides/drivers which use the new booking system to CONFIRM the trip is on.


The driver got us to Munich in three hours. The autobahn is a wonderful thing!  And unlike most German drivers he actually stopped for food break along the way -- and we still made it there in under four hours.  

Read More

Bye-bye Berlusconi

-
What a difference a year makes. Last year around this time I was in Rome - saw the Coliseum, Vatican City, the pyramid, Sistine Chapel! - and Prime Minister Berlusconi, the Italian version of George W (only a much more competent businessman), was in the midst of a vote of confidence. He barely won. But instead of mending the divisiveness he and his all thumped their chests and smirked and cheered, "Haha! We're still in power!"


Thirteen months later he's out of power...and humiliated -- much like his turd face friend Gadahfi. 


Bonga-bonga, baby!

Il mio paisano! Que paso baby?

Read More

Fundburo (Lost & Found)

-

As the saying goes, When in Rome..., only in this case Rome is Berlin and the very model German behaviour is returning lost items. (I would not so generously suggest turning oneself into a German. Nein, nein, nein. They are worrisomely serious (note the italics) about recycling, animal rights, and Green power.)


At least three times last month I found lost items on the subway in Berlin. One was a pair of ladies winter gloves then there was something else and the one I'm most proud of was a cellular phone. Don't misunderstand: I'm not bragging. Last winter I hopped off the bus to run and catch the S-Bahn line. Unfortunately my phone stayed behind on the bus. You can read about it here.

So...I saw this as a golden apple dropped by Atlanta, a test of conscience, an opportunity to complete the circle and repay the good that was done me. I ran ahead to the conductor and tapped on the window, waving the phone. He took his hand off the gear and rolled down the window. He smiled, "Ja, bitte?" (In NYC the smug motherfucker would've flat out ignored me and kept on roaring through that rat infested, poor excuse of a metropolitan subway system. I highly doubt American Lost & Found's have many reclaimed items. We have a saying: Finders keepers, losers weepers; or even more melodramatically heartless, Too bad, too sad.) 


"Someone lost this handy," I quickly explained and added in my limited German, "Fundburo?"


"Oh! Okay," he said. "Danke! Auf wiedersehen."


The exchange was so typically German I almost half-expected to turn around and see youth in liederhosen playing the tuba. Off he went into the tunnel and off I went to wrestling practice.


It was a really nice phone, too. Then again, temptation is rarely un-pretty. 

Read More

Crossfit Mean Streets group pic (L.A.)

-
Here's a nice nice group pic of the Mean Streets bunch. They're all smiling so this was probably snapped before the daily exercise regiment....  

Crossfit Mean Streets

Read More

Joggers abound in Paris

-
Parisians certainly do like to jog! The weather has been 90% cold and crappy during my visit yet the Parisians lace up their running shoes and trot out. In fact, this morning while having breakfast I looked up and saw a group of fit men in matching navy blue sweatshirts and red shorts jogging about. Not a one of them wore a skull cap or gloves. I think they were firemen recruits...but since I don't read French I couldn't discern what was written on the back of their shirts. For sure they were all white. Paris has lots of black - and I mean BLACK! - people but none of them feel compelled to run in the cold ass morning in short ass shorts and no head covering. Since there was no rainbow on these joggers' shirts and since it was also unfashionably cold as #%@! I don't think it was another homosexual rights group 

Read More

Mitfahrgelenfucked

-

Ridesharing, or hitch-hiking, in Europe is still common and lawful (unlike our free America). One popular connection site is a German one called Mitfahrgelegenheit.de, which is German for "rideshare", but, unfortunately the Germans who post rides on the website are less than typically organized and upfront. In fact, they are goddamn liars.


Twice - twice! - in one day last week I was burned by German drivers offering rides to Basel, Switzerland. Possibly it was the same jerk who posted two separate announcements but, either way, he flaked out and I was left stranded wondering what to do asap. In short I was mitfahrgelegenfucked. That is not a pleasant position in which to be. With my Swiss travel plans screwed I managed to get a bed in the very happening Berlin hostel, St-Christopher's Inn on Rose-Luxemburg Strasse, for 13.50euros.

In short I was mitfahrgelegenfucked

Stayed two nights when a last-minutes rideshare to Paris came through (50euros). It was through the same website BUT the driver/organizer was French, not German. The ride was twelve hours long but comfortable.
And unlike German drivers we actually took bathroom breaks! Yes, a stick-up-his-ass German would honestly try to drive to Paris, France, from Berlin, Germany sans any stop that wasn't related to a gasoline fill-up.


Arrived to Paris with no problems and plenty of good music en route. Unfortunately it was raining by the time of our arrival. A rainy night in Paris....

Read More

A band called Trike (Berlin)

-
Whilst riding the typically quiet U-Bahn subway two days ago passengers were entertained by a shamelessly ridiculous pair of Canadian musicians called Trike. Their brand of music is electro-art-pop. That's the normal part. Their appearance is another matter.

He, the electric keyboardist, is a tall, lanky blond who looks every bit the starving artist. She, the tap dancer/front man, is a be-striped, polka-dot wearing performer of so many bright and uncomplimentary colors that one might've disbelieved his own eyes! The show opened with his barker's voice announcement of their "Bubble" song and her added effect of blowing soap bubbles. They both sang (and, yes, homegirl actually tap danced a diddy) poptistically loud and upbeat -- about soap bubbles. 

amusing, yet utterly ridiculous, song-and-dance

Ever stare at someone's audacity to make utter fools of themselves in the spirit of Now-or-never? That's what this was like. We were so shocked and embarrassed for them that we just had to watch their amusing, yet utterly ridiculous, song-and-dance. It was fun. And guess what. In the end we all applauded and laughed. I even overheard one guy invite them to play at his next party! Those Canucks made pretty good tips, too. Not bad! So that's what it takes to make Germans crack a smile: a Canadian band called Trike.
www.trikeaband.com
trikefangroup@gmail.com    

Read More

"Andorra" (Berlin)

-

This past Friday I attended the last performance of Andorra at the Berliner-Ensemble Theater. The theatre is one of those nice old things one can easily imagine dressed up people in the 1920's went to with coats and hats and gloves. As a point of fact, the coat-check girls this time were very un-busy: no coats were bothered to be checked and hardly any man wore a hat he couldn't stuff in his pocket or book bag. But back to the building: the gilded frescoes of muses...the wonderfully, gargantuan tacky chandelier...roomy, plush seating...wall mirrors...wall-to-wall carpet and wood banisters all lent themselves to experiencing a quiet evening at the theatre. I got the impression "What book are you reading?" was just as if not more likely to be asked than "Are you on Facebook?" 




As for the play I liked it -- despite only catching on to three words in the whole two hour performance. Does not high art transcend language barrier? (Low art certainly does.) When my aunt learned I was going to Berlin she implored I see this one if nothing else. So I did. I wore my tuxedo (yes I tend to travel with one), caught the metro to S-/U-Bahn Friedrichstrasse and made it to my seat on the fourth floor - whew!- just in the nick of time. At eight o'clock sharp, or as they say here, 20:00uhr, the house lights dropped and the dialogue began. No C.P.T. here! At the drawing of the swastika there was an audible gasp, like seeing two men hold hands, yet at the end of the performance I found the German audience amazingly...restrained in their applause. Almost stingy with it, really. When the star actors took their bows the applause was no louder than it was for the bit role of the co-worker. Egalitarians.... 

Read More

3D model of Flex Lewis

-
Here is a cool computer animation of British bodybuilder James "Flex" Lewis

Read More

Baby shoes hurt man feet (Berlin)

-
Monday's rain was just an annoying mist and drizzle. Tuesday and Wednesday was the shit. It came down in fat plops, making staying indoors feel all the more lazy cozy and wunderful. But out we went for coffee and dessert: to, at least step outside for the day and visit a cafe and, also, because I mentioned my need to go to a second-hand shop for shoes and a heavier coat.

I was couchsurfing in Wedding (pronounced: Vedding). The four of us set out - two housemates and two couchsurfer guests - and in no time I was determined to buy another pair of shoes. The ones on my feet were running shoes and very porous. My feet were getting wet just the same as if I were barefoot. We found a HUMANA store - it's like a Goodwill store - and I found a pair of Adidas for 3euros. The size read "7.5in" (I wear a 9-9.5) but was sure it would only be a matter of breaking in the shoes. At any rate, it felt good to have a pair of durable DRY footwear -- and cheap, no less. 


After two days I could take it no more. I had to get my feet free from these tiny, ungiving Adidas! Was en route to a writer's group somewhere - I forget the location now - when I turned around, got my butt back on the train, and beat it to Alexanderplatz where I knew there was a HUMANA store. This time I lucked out with a pair of rugged New Balance cross-trainers -- size 12. They cost 12euros. As for the Adidas? I donated them back to the store. 


What comes around, goes around....

Read More

Rainy Monday in Berlin

-
Last Monday it was grey and misty - and, naturally, chilly - as I walked across the Warshauer Strasse bridge to the East Side Gallery. Actually, I was just walking aimlessly when I saw the stretch of artistically painted preserved Berlin Wall and realized I had been here before -- a decade ago on my first trip to Europe.


I got my passport stamped with a Checkpoint Charlie (West) stamp. Can't wait to see the German officials' reactions to that one in the airports!


Since I wasn't in the tourist mood - and am not a big fan of walking in the rain - I hopped a train to visit a familiar in Charlottenburg and eat some hot tea and apfeltasche (homemade apple pie).

Read More

Greyhound wi-fi buses are busted

-
The new fleet of Greyhound buses are sleek black and have more comfortable seating. I rode on one from Indiana to New Jersey earlier this week. It was my second time being on a new bus. In lieu of those damn monitors blasting movies at you the entire way - there are no TV monitors! - the buses have outlets for plugging in your laptop or mobile phone (or whatever), obnoxiously bright reading lights (but, hey, at least they work for a change), roomy seats with a nice leather texture and free wi-fi. 


Supposedly, there's wi-fi. 


Keyword: supposedly. I couldn't get a signal during the entire 16hr trip. Didn't appear the Asian girl across the aisle or the tall Russian kid did either. The Greyhound.com web page came up. But that's it. It just keep reloading itself ad nauseam. Click on the permission button and around and around spun the loading button. It was so vexing! I tried using Internet Explorer and Google Chrome. Still nothing doing. On top of that the bus drivers - both were women - were useless to do anything about it. Useless because they were 1) too lazy to even try to fix the glitch and 2) had they listened to the simple instructions to press the re-set button or momentarily switch off the router I am sure they would have effed that up, too. So the whole "free wi-fi" is bull. A gimmick. A pipe dream that this lazy American company, who already outsourced Customer Service hotline to the Caribe which is an accent even harder to understand than the Indian ones, can make work. Wi-fi in moving vehicles or public places like airports and parks does function -- just not on Greyhound Bus.


But our travel was on time. And that's saying a lot for the company.

NOT a Greyhound Bus...but the name is befitting

Read More

Tired of Firefox updates

-
I stopped using Firefox and FINALLY uninstalled it from my laptop. I got tired of their damn near daily updates. Update these...!

Read More

Muscle Pit (Venice Beach)

-

Thee one and only - legendary - Muscle Pit in Venice Beach, California. Where young bodybuilders from back in the day (Frank Zane, Franco Columbo, Arnold Schwarzeneggar) trained regularly. Seeing Muscle Beach was one of my first stops when I first visited L.A. a couple of years back. Venice Beach looks just like it does in the movies: packed with streaming threads of tourists and street performers; lots of fit torsos and bikinis; weird, pitiful vagabonds; roller-bladers.

I even saw the late Jack LaLanne receive a lifetime award at a Labor Day bodybuilding contest. But I never went to the gym. I just stopped by it. Just one of those things where you ask yourself, Damn what took me so long?

The facility is run by the city parks and recreation department so user costs are super, super low ($10 day pass). It's outdoors so one gets plenty of natural sunshine and air -- and curious gawkers who don't hesitate to whip out the trusty old phone cameras. Immediate fans! Easy to see why Arnold thrived here! Like the other young cat there that afternoon, an amateur bodybuilder, no less, I worked out in a posing suit. Felt a little naked at first but gave a proverbial shrug of the shoulders and got down to business. Easy breezy. The equipment is standard bodybuilding fare and far from posh or shiny, and that's the way I like it. Want to use chalk? Use it. No pooh-pooh rules about chalk or gym attire (one guy was even dressed as Satan! Seriously. The Jesus freak was resplendent in red from head to shoe with a Devil mask covering his face and religious axiom across the front of his shirt. Seemed woefully overdressed to me) and  spraying down every piece of equipment after usage; no ubiquitous television screens or electronic dance music; no pretty people/Mr Big Shots gabbing on their phones or Bluetooth or with each other.  

I can dig training in this environment on a regular basis.

Read More

Computer glasses = snake oil

-
I bought a pair of Magnivision Computer Readers (strength +1.00) to combat the eye strain of working in front of a computer monitor for long bouts of time. The lens are orange (I've also seen them tinted yellow) and they seem to work -- but that's all in the head. They don't work. In fact, my eyes felt more irritated by wearing them. I finally tore up the piece of crap and threw it in the garbage.

Read More

Brazilian Day & Chinatown Summer Nights (L.A.)

-
Yesterday I went to L.A.'s Brazilian Day Party at the La Brea Tar Pits. Loads of loud music and dancing and everybody shaking their booties to the Samba grooves. There was a square of dance floor near the stage and plenty of dancing got done. There were also mini parades and, of course, capoeira. It was a lot of fun! The Brazilian community (and Brazilian Consulate) really organized and staged one helluva FREE celebration. (Two lucky so-and-so's won round-trip flights to Sao Paulo courtesy of Korean Air. I wasn't one of them.)

Then I followed other CouchSurfers (CSers) on to a house party  where we mingled and talked and drank and ate in a more decimal-friendly environment. It was a pot luck gathering - totally impromptu - and a really good time. I think I met more people in L.A. yesterday then all my time here put together. I don't get out much. 

Then we followed that up with a visit to Chinatown. Holy ching-chong! This was my first trip to L.A.'s Chinatown. The DJ was smoking! With an even bigger dance floor than the one at Brazil Day there was lots of people dancing and bopping around. Some actually looked Chinese but most did not. I bought a souvenir T-Shirt because the price wasn't a rip-off -- and I was feeling good. 2011 is the year of the rabbit. 

 

Although both outdoor functions were FREE and freely publicized I learned of them via couchsurfing.com so I gots to give propers to the other website members who post information about happening events. Otherwise I wouldn't have had such the hopping Saturday evening!

Read More

Tripup LA

-

Last month's Tripup LA, organized by Triptrotting.com, was a new one on me and I had a really good time. Thanks to the explosion of Internet social sites I've been put off by the automation of "networking" and, more deservedly of quotation marks, "friends" and I just don't dig these meet-and-greet functions. My impression is that everyone is a walking CV and none too subtle about it. Grace, dear one: Never leave home without it (and enough bus fare to get back).

The finger food spread of gourmet fries and burgers and cheese plates was cool - and spot on! - and who can complain about free wine?

Heard about Tripup LA via a post on Couchsurfing.com. It sounded too awesome to be real and I quickly clicked my RSVP. The social was held the same Sunday evening as the MTV VMA Awards Show (also in Hollywood) and at the very swank W Hotel on Hollywood Blvd. Niiiice. I wore my new double-breasted suit and cuff links and met some other engaging young people. Many foreigners and exchange students were present. The finger food spread of gourmet fries and burgers and cheese plates was cool - and spot on! - and who can complain about free wine? (Well I did; but that was only because the first glass was 80% vinegar - just my luck to start the evening off with the one bad bottle in the crate - but the rest - and I had many more glasses - were crisp delicious!)   


I also got to meet the two young ladies who started Triptrotting.com. I tip my hat to them. The party was so organized and professional and upscale you wouldn't imagine it was all brought off by two co-eds...one half expected to see a banner with a slew of sponsorships. Paid for by Pepsi, Motorola, Nike, Dell, Powerade, Axe, Diesel jeans....

I like jazz. I like Michael Jackson. This was a perfect combination!

After our outdoor wine social we headed inside the lobby, with its plush deep red carpeted stage, to enjoy a live jazz tribute to Michael Jackson. I like jazz. I like Michael Jackson. This was a perfect combination! The music wasn't all that jazz but it was good. Live musicians and dancers are always an entertaining treat. The one celebrity I spotted in attendance was Spike Lee. He really is very short...and, true to image, wore a sport jersey instead of a suit.

triptrotting.com

Read More

Greendot = SCAM/FRAUD

-

I almost went ahead and bought one of those newfangled prepaid Greendot Visa cards. These cards are sold in popular retailers like Wal-Mart, Rite-Aid, CVS, Walgreens and probably some gas stations too.

Since I avoid credit cards and Paypal debit cards (also via Visa) are full of %@#! I thought these prepaid debit cards might be the perfect alternative. Nope! GREENDOT IS FRAUDULENT. Thankfully I researched consumer complaints on Consumer Affairs (some horror stories!)before throwing away my money to this shady foreign outfit. 

Read More

Swinging around Muscle Beach (Santa Monica)

-

Weeks ago I stood in the sand at Santa Monica Beach with my right hand in a temporary splint. All I could do was watch as everyone else took turns flying from ring to ring or climbing rope or doing handstands on parallel bars. It sucked. One boy told me he once broke his hand and it took three months to heal. He was waiting in line for the rings...so that was sort of encouraging.


Well yesterday I was back down at Santa Monica (original site of Muscle Beach, which is now located in Venice Beach) and took a turn on the rings. It'd only been a month since but, unlike homeboy, my injury, thankfully, required far less than 12 or so weeks to mend! It was fun. I went the whole length without a problem. And before that I climbed to the top of a rope. I was back! 


Take my word for it: it sucks not being able to play in the reindeer games.

Read More

Crossfit crossing my mind

-
Last Saturday morning I tried an introductory Crossfit workout at Crossfit Mean Streets in downtown Los Angeles. Loved it (as I knew I would)!

It wasn't easy or fun - in the ha-ha sense - mainly because one is grasping air to breath let alone any extra wind to laugh. By fun I mean it's exciting, fast, challenging, and very, very kick-ass. 

That's my instructor Ronnie in skins

When I first happened upon the gym (in Crossfit lingo it's known as a 'box') strolling one uneventful sunny Sunday morning my hand was in a splint owing to a boxer's fracture injury. That was a month ago. Once it was removed a couple of weeks later I went and sat in on a training session, which only stoked me more! I knew I could do the drills - pull-ups, squat-thrusts, rowing machine, etc. - if I joined up but I wasn't foolish enough to think it would be a cinch; BUT I KNEW I COULD DO IT.

And I did. The intro routine that Saturday morning (I did not want to leave my warm bed!) made me wish 1) I was back in bed snug and cozy under the blankets and 2) that I was in better shape. Man, was I getting winded! As a longtime athlete, though, I know that all growth requires discomfort..."no pain, no gain" isn't just some smug, meathead mantra. Or to use another cliche: if it were easy.... That's right, you know the rest.

 

Our introductory workout consisted of 500meters row followed by 21 kettlebell swing followed by 6 kettlebell shoulder presses (per arm); repeated three times as quickly as possible. The warm-up was a stretching walk holding a plastic rod over head, 15 squats with plastic rod over head, 15 crunches, 10-15 push-ups. At the end of the hour our instructor, awesome young, Ronnie Teasdale (also the hardcore gym owner) congratulated us and then dropped the bomb: our workout is what the regular attendees do for a warm-up...in under 8 mins. Hello!

I finished it in 12 mins (and breathed as much a gust of relief as I had left in me).  

Crossfit Mean Streets

213.245.1612

Read More

" Avoiding the downfall "

Read More

My Puerto Rico book is published!

-
It's taken me years to complete the manuscript and publish the doggone work but - whew! - now it is done! Holla! Begun in Puerto Rico, outlined in Belize, illustrated in Mexico, completed in Indiana and California, and having travelled with me everywhere in between, the book Autobiography of an American Nigger in San Juan (non-fiction?) is published and available in paperback, hardcover, and electronic download. 
To preview simply click on the cute Lulu button before the frog mistakes it for a fly!

Read More

Walgreens clerk never before saw a passport

-
Now the liquor law in Indiana, for one, requires customers show proof of age for purchase if they look less than forty years old. Why not just mark it at the retirement age of 65?! This ought to be an insult to every grown-up Hoosier. The things a lazy or short-sighted constituency permits lawmakers to pass.

being a native "gee-iieee!" the woman had never likely even seen a passport let alone own one

A few days past I went to a Walgreens in Gary, Indiana, to buy some wine. For identification I showed the cashier girl my passport to which she hesistated. "I don't think we can accept this for identification," she hedged. Huh? See, being a native "gee-iieee!" ("Gary, Indiana" citizen for those unfamiliar with the irrational regional pride) the woman had never likely even seen a passport let alone owns one. "I'll need to call the manager," she said.

Fine. 

I didn't move from my place in line. We all waited. 

In short order the white manager arrived and, of course, confirmed for her with a bewildered smile, "Yeah that's good. It's a passport. Sorry for the wait, sir."

Some people NEVER learn there's a whole world outside of their precious hometown. Tsk, tsk, tsk. Pitiful....

 

Read More

Back on campus

-
I travelled up from Pto. Vallarta, Mexico - with stops and stays in LA and Chicago along the way - to come back to Crawfordsville for my 10th college reunion. Holy cow ten years has gone by already...and I really don't feel it (or, even better, show it)! 

Once I touched down in town I felt right back in my zone...as if I hadn't been gone for more than a week. The campus has some new buildings and new faces but the spirit, the spirit of scholarship and camaraderie and masculinity, is still there in spades; and the breezes that coursed all round me was like inhaling air of my youth; And I'm still young so imagine the stirrings of those Wabash men catching up on their 30th or 50th class reunions!


I went swimming, participated in our beloved Chapel Sing, drank and smoked cigars with classmates (and two recently minted 2011 alumni) on the back porch of Martindale Hall, and generally laughed and had an awesome weekend.

Read More

Cadbury calls Naomi chocolate

-
Cadbury chocoletiers pulled a new ad campaign for a rich chocolate bar lounging in diamonds in which they compared it, the candy, to supermodel Naomi Campbell.

Said Miss Campbell:

"I am shocked. It's upsetting to be described as chocolate, not just for me, but for all black women and black people. I do not find any humor in this. It is insulting and hurtful."

Yes it is. Except in Mexico where ignorance and name-calling of (black)people is standard. And the white people who escape south of the border think it's cute.

Read More

Robbed in Mexico...and nobody gave a damn (Vallarta)

-
I woke up that Friday and pulled myself out of bed and down to the beach for a morning exercise of jogging, crunches, and swimming. It felt good. Before heading back I stopped and cashed in an I.O.U. for a massage. Then I hurried home, showered off the beach and did laundry (by hand) and left within the hour for the 2:15 massage appointment. It felt good. This was looking to be a good T.G.I.F. and I had only several more days in Mexico.

I went practically straight home after the massage to find my door open, my computer gone and the room a mess. My place was burgled...in broad daylight (3ish)! Stunning, disheartening, and terrible summed the mish-mash of my emotions in that moment. I was burglarized. Some motherfucker broke into my house, messed up my neat home, rifled through my things and stole what pleased his criminal desires. My laptop..cell phones...and cash: GONE. He hit up my next door neighbor as well. The two "gringos" in the building got got. 

Stunning, disheartening, and terrible summed the mish-mash of my emotions in that moment. I was burglarized

And, of course, none of our Mexican neighbors, the devoutly theatrical God-fearing pagans that they are, saw or heard anything. That actually bothered me more than the burglary itself. I can never stomach cowards and complacency; maybe because, ultimately, those attributes are the stuff of weakness and hypocrisy. And the Mexican police? What a sad joke. Lazy, sorry ass do-nothings. The pig didn't even pretend to investigate the scene of the crime -- which I and the landlord had to telephone twice to come out. The malefactor left behind shoe and full hand prints. But that didn't interest the pig in the least. Are you kidding me?!

As I wrote in my journal later that night I suddenly realized the date was Friday the thirteenth. And, boy, was it ever.

Read More