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Monday, August 27, 2012
Sunday, August 19, 2012
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I've only tried it once before; and that was out of sheer desperation. In Mexico City, of all places! I gave it another shot the other day because, after all, I'm in Europe and the European take on it is very much different than in America. It's an accepted and commonplace practice. So when in Europe...hitch-hike.
I found the demarcated liftplaats in Amsterdam, held up my sign - BERLIN (with a a little bear drawn on for good measure) - and waited. Clean-cut, showered, and travelling light (I discarded and 'donated' nearly half my luggage to the hostel the previous night) I was hopeful and in place at 11am. Ten minutes later three white girls came by. Two were heading to Osnabruck and the one with the guitar, Berlin. Five minutes later three white girls, rucksacks, guitar and all were riding to Germany -- in the same vehicle. Oooooookay. After twenty-five minutes of nothing the hitch-hiking guide suggests one head to the nearby gas station around the bend, reasoning drivers would be easier to talk to and, thus, less resistant to picking up strangers. Another twenty some minutes dragged by. Nope, no luck there either. Running out of patience and time - I figured to use the remaining minutes on the 1hour metro card to get back to the hostel - I headed back to the liftplaats for one last try. There I saw an itty-bitty little two-seater giving a lift to a typical-looking backpacker and his typically overstuffed rucksack -- with the original passenger squeezing in the back to make room. And with that all optimism went with the wind.
Thankfully I managed to get a discounted bed in the hostel and comfortably regrouped for another day. To infer my skin color negatively effected my chances of scoring a lift may not be empirical data but, then again, I'm not an empirical scientist. I'm the oft overlooked traveller: a black man. Real world is my laboratory. And that's what this website is all about.
Or As the old rhyme melodically chimes: If you're white, you're all right. If you're yellow, you're mellow. If you're red, go on ahead. If you're brown, stick around. If you're black, get back.
PS: I didn't get a ride in Mexico City either.
I've only tried it once before; and that was out of sheer desperation. In Mexico City, of all places! I gave it another shot the other day because, after all, I'm in Europe and the European take on it is very much different than in America. It's an accepted and commonplace practice. So when in Europe...hitch-hike.
If skuzzy-looking cannabis activists can get picked up, then surely I canThis time it wasn't desperation as much as economic experimentation: Try hitch-hiking, I convinced myself. Everyone else does and gets on just fine. I read about it on couchsurfing.com...I've met guys and girls who swear by it...so I finally said, Why not? Why exhaust my little funds paying for bus and train tickets and organized carpooling when I could have that much more money to spend on myself? Shoot, if skuzzy-looking cannabis activists can get picked up, then surely I can be trusted to be given a ride. How hard can this be!
I found the demarcated liftplaats in Amsterdam, held up my sign - BERLIN (with a a little bear drawn on for good measure) - and waited. Clean-cut, showered, and travelling light (I discarded and 'donated' nearly half my luggage to the hostel the previous night) I was hopeful and in place at 11am. Ten minutes later three white girls came by. Two were heading to Osnabruck and the one with the guitar, Berlin. Five minutes later three white girls, rucksacks, guitar and all were riding to Germany -- in the same vehicle. Oooooookay. After twenty-five minutes of nothing the hitch-hiking guide suggests one head to the nearby gas station around the bend, reasoning drivers would be easier to talk to and, thus, less resistant to picking up strangers. Another twenty some minutes dragged by. Nope, no luck there either. Running out of patience and time - I figured to use the remaining minutes on the 1hour metro card to get back to the hostel - I headed back to the liftplaats for one last try. There I saw an itty-bitty little two-seater giving a lift to a typical-looking backpacker and his typically overstuffed rucksack -- with the original passenger squeezing in the back to make room. And with that all optimism went with the wind.
Thankfully I managed to get a discounted bed in the hostel and comfortably regrouped for another day. To infer my skin color negatively effected my chances of scoring a lift may not be empirical data but, then again, I'm not an empirical scientist. I'm the oft overlooked traveller: a black man. Real world is my laboratory. And that's what this website is all about.
Or As the old rhyme melodically chimes: If you're white, you're all right. If you're yellow, you're mellow. If you're red, go on ahead. If you're brown, stick around. If you're black, get back.
PS: I didn't get a ride in Mexico City either.
Friday, August 17, 2012
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Oh how I'd love to have been back down in Mexico this week...
when United States of America beat them for the first time ever in soccer.
Sure, it's one small soccer match for US, but one big motherfucking loss for Mexicans!
Oh how I'd love to have been back down in Mexico this week...
when United States of America beat them for the first time ever in soccer.
Sure, it's one small soccer match for US, but one big motherfucking loss for Mexicans!
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| Viva America! Aye, aye, aye |
read more about Mexican fans' reaction here
Thursday, August 16, 2012
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The one obnoxious episode in bunking at Sarphati Hostel involved some girls.
Dumb, punch-drunk girls...from England for what it's worth. (Certainly not the type whose parentage ever fretted over "presenting" them to society.) I believe the local word for them is...twats?
Read more: A Muckraker Other: The infallibility of women in Christian society
The one obnoxious episode in bunking at Sarphati Hostel involved some girls.
Dumb, punch-drunk girls...from England for what it's worth. (Certainly not the type whose parentage ever fretted over "presenting" them to society.) I believe the local word for them is...twats?
Read more: A Muckraker Other: The infallibility of women in Christian society
Tuesday, August 14, 2012
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On my second venture to Amsterdam I stayed at the Sarphati Hostel on the southside (near, conveniently enough, Sarphati Park). The weather was much, much better this time...sunny and warm.
Travelling on the 0600 Eurolines Bus from Frankfurt Am Main, I had no idea where I was going to sleep once I reached Amsterdam so I sent an SMS to a couple of friends to go online and reply back with some addresses. Purely on the suggestion of one of those replies I chose Sarphati Hostel -- because it was the closest to the Amstel bus station where the bus stopped. Hello! And, miraculously, trusting my friend's text msg over the locals' directions, I walked through the park and found the place with relative ease. NOTE: Sarphatipark(street) is only a small section of the principal Ceintuurbaan Street so it might be more helpful to ask walking directions to the latter.
unlike many other hostels, rooms don't require forever to be cleaned; this probably owes entirely to the entirely male staff....The outside announces HOTEL SARPHATI but, don't worry, it's one and the same. An old hotel cum youth hostel, there are three floors (no elevator makes heavy luggage even heavier), 24Hr reception, Commons Area/kitchenette, and also two computer consoles with free access for those who don't have a laptop. The reception are very helpful and, unlike many other hostels, rooms don't require forever to be cleaned; this probably owes entirely to the entirely male staff....
website
58 Sarphatipark (aka Ceintuurbaan)
1073 CZ Amsterdam
Thursday, August 2, 2012
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