Workplace misunderstandings
Workplace misunderstandings…hahahaha. One of my hustles/jobs/gigs requires that I go into an office for about 6 to 8 hours per week, which is great because I spend the rest of my life doing other things to grow my fortune since I have some pretty crazy goals that I want to accomplish by 2013 that I will share at some point in the future.
8:24 AM so here I am in bed and finally fast asleep, which is no easy task for an insomniac like me and ring, ring…ring, ring goes the telephone. I answer it and it is the owner of the company where I work asking, “where are you?”. Reply, “I was sleeping. What’s up?” It turns out he thought I was going to be at work at 8 AM on a Saturday morning…hahahahaha. This little bugger said he was going to call me to let me know if I should come in or not and this was on Wednesday, so I sent him an email yesterday (Friday at 4 PM)…no reply by the time I finally turned the computer off at 3 AM. He said he didn’t check his email until 2 AM and blah, blah, blah. Anyhow, this is not the first time we have had one of these little “communication snafus” so I should not be surprised. Oh how I miss the efficiency of New York sometimes, but then there’s all the New York drama that one has to deal with.
After all this he said, “Can you still come?” My response, “Sure, man. I can be there at 10 AM.” He sounded shocked that it would take me so long. Well, I live an hour away and I am funky and my breath stinks, so there are things that must be taken care of first. Anyhow, I will see you next Saturday at 8 AM.
Now here I am at 9:20 AM and I cannot return to that wonderful, sleepy place that I enjoyed so much before I was jolted into this surreal place of common misunderstandings and other nonsense. Last night it was the overly friendly neighbor and now this. Maybe this means I should enjoy the wonderful day on the beach since the weather is pretty amazing today. I really do understand why Michael Jackson used propofol to sleep even though that kind of sleep is not restful, but at least it is sleep and that is what I’d like to be doing.
Coming to you live from paradise
so it is March 2, 2012 and I barely made it out of the bed today. Working from home has its challenges and certainly requires heaps of self-discipline, but I love it. Especially, when what I find myself doing is sitting in front of my MacBook Pro in my birthday suit for most of the day.
The one problem with my fabulous life is my neighbor. Here is something I posted on Facebook a bit earlier that describes my agony:
“My neighbor is driving me crazy. He is super friendly, but I do not want to be bothered at all. I hear him talking to me, but I pretend he is not there or I pretend to be on the phone engrossed in a deep conversation. He just offered me a beer as I was coming in my front door. Our doors face each other and whenever I open my door his door is also open and he is sitting there on the couch with his feet up with his computer on his lap with his music blasting. The New Yorker in me just wants to just pretend I don’t see him and walk on by, but he always speaks, so I just mumble something and keep walking…LOL. I am just not that nice nor do I really care to be. I have my moments of being neighborly, but for the most part I am an anti-social jerk. I guess this is a good chance for me to make a new friend or something…ERGH.”
I guess I have to remember I no longer live in New York or even the USA for that matter, so this sense of personal space is gone for now. The past year has taught me a lot about myself and my journey to bliss.
Tomorrow I am cooking dinner for 2 people who are close to me. Let’s see what I can throw together for the special occasion.
Life is so unpredictable
so we have to be ready to accept the challenges and the blessings at every turn. It is 2012 and I am at a really good place in my life. I have 2 new careers that I am cultivating at the same time while living abroad. I have some pretty amazing goals that I have set for myself that need to be accomplished by 2013, so I am working diligently on making sure things are in place, so these dreams come to fruition.
The last year has taught me a lot of very meaningful lessons as well as shown me who my real friends are. There is no room for fear or doubt in this life or mine and naysayers will be pushed to the side. We only live once and in order to live a totally fulfilled life it is necessary to get out there and live it, taking the good with the bad and making the most of every moment. Standing on the sidelines and watching and wishing is NOT living, folks. Life is not a spectator sport, it is a team sport–one in which we are all expected to participate and contribute.
My close friends and strangers alike tell me how much I inspire them. It used to seem strange when I would heard the words, “You are such an inspiration.” I would ask myself how someone could possible be inspired by someone who is just living his life on his own terms. I finally realized that most people hate what they do, dislike where they live and wish they had the balls to just live their own life instead of living the dreams of someone else. I feel fortunate that I have never gotten myself caught in that Venus fly trap of a life. I hope you find something useful in this little blog.
There are some pretty exciting things to come this year and I cannot wait to share them with the world.
It has been a long time I know
I know it has been a very long time since I have updated this blog. There have a been tons of changes in my life and I’d say 98% of them have amazingly positive. I have met many brilliant people from the four corners of the globe and some of my biggest dreams have come true. My goal for this year is to definitely provide more updates about how I have managed to carefully negotiate all the craziness in this world. One important update that has taken place since I last sat to write here is my address. Not only did I leave New York City, I left the United States of America. New York was really getting old to me. I was tired of meeting the same kinds of people day in and day out. Meeting people who prefer to see the glass as half empty more often than not was starting to bring me down, so I had to say goodbye to some familiar places, faces and things. New York will always have a special place in my heart, but for now I am off doing other things that do nothing but bring me that joy that we all deserve to experience. Over the next few weeks I will fill you in and let you know what I have been up to. There is a website that is currently being revamped and as soon as the web developer is done you will be the first folks to know. Come back often and look at the photos, read my stories and as always, please feel free to post comments or questions. 
Egyptian Odyssey…continued
About 45 minutes after leaving Giza, we reached the duty free store where one of his friends was waiting for us to arrive. They picked out a few different types of alcohol and the employees took my passport, stamped it and wrote some notes in Arabic on one of its pages. The entire process took about 15 minutes and we were done. After leaving the duty free store he drove me back to downtown Cairo where I picked up a sandwich and some water. I reached into my pocket to pay for my meal and he refused to let me pay. I liked the generosity, but it all left me wondering what he had planned for me. I wasn’t sure if he was gay, straight, bisexual or just a nice guy who liked meeting and hanging out with foreigners. I never asked any questions about sexual orientation, so I felt like anything was possible even though he certainly did not make any sexual advances. Ibrahim asked me if I knew my way back to the hostel and I said yes, but of course, as usual I got lost for about 30 minutes as I walked around in circles as I tried to gather my bearings. I overheard 2 young American girls, probably from California based on their accents and I asked for direction. The directions I was given were very detailed, which left me to believe that they were locals. I was only about 3 blocks from the hostel Meramees.
The next morning after I awoke, I pulled my sluggish, lethargic body out of bed and into the bathroom so I could prepare myself for the day’s adventures of camel riding and pyramid seeing. I knew exactly how much the taxi ride from downtown Cairo to Giza should cost, so after leaving the hostel I hailed a taxi. The driver’s first offer was 40 Egyptian pounds and I said, “That is too much. I will pay you 30 pounds.” He refused and I turned to walk away knowing that another driver would be more than willing to accept my offer. The driver followed me and agreed to accept the 30 Egyptian pounds (about $6 USD). A short while later we were in Giza and I handed the driver the 30 Egyptian pounds that we had agreed upon and he said, “It’s 35 pounds.” I kindly sucked my teeth and walked away knowing that he would accept the 30 pounds and drive away. As I exited the car, I was greeted by several touts who wanted to offer me everything from aromatic oils to offers of magnificent camel rides to the pyramids and no matter how many times I explained to them that I already had a tour booked and paid for, they seemed to want my business even more, so I just kept walking with one of them in hot pursuit until I finally reached the office of Mr. Mohammed Ali (the guy with whom I had met the previous day). Mr. Ali’s brother greeted me with a smile and and offered me some hibiscus tea. I wasn’t in the mood to be his buddy, so I told him I was not thirsty. About 15 minutes passed and a middle aged man named Solomon greeted me saying, “I will be your guide today to the pyramids and the camel is ready.” As we rode off on the camel, I immediately began to regret not buying water because it was Africa hot out there and I knew I was going to be in the direct sunlight of the Sahara for no fewer than 2 hours. Having lived in a desert, I should have thought about that, but I didn’t, so I paid way too much for a small bottle of water at the entrance to the pyramids. As the camel trotted or galloped or did whatever it is that camels do, I felt like my inner thighs were being seriously massaged. The tour lasted about 2 and a half hours and the guide did a great job of giving me as much time as I wanted to photograph the pyramids and explore the tombs. After the tour was over I handed him what was about $10 as a tip and he was disappointed and said some other tourist gave him $100 USD as a tip. I politely said, “That person probably has a lot more money than I do and if you don’t want it, please give it back.” He smiled and thanked me as he walked away. As I walked into the office of the agency that set the tour up, Ibrahim was there waiting for me. Ibrahim gave me a ride back to downtown Cairo and took me to a different tour office, so I could set up tours in the cities of Aswan and Luxor, two of southern Egypt’s premier tourist attractions. After purchasing a package that included a 12 hour train ride to Aswan, a stay in a “3 star” hotel and another 3 hour train ride from Aswan to Luxor and a one night stay in a different hotel, I was set. Ibrahim and I parted ways, but before he left me he said, “Call me to let me know what time you will back in Cairo and I will pick you up at the train station. You can spend your last night in Egypt at my place with my family. It doesn’t make sense to pay for another night at the hostel.” I was super stoked because I really wanted to crash with an Egyptian, so I could experience life as an Egyptian, even if it were for only one night.
The Train Ride to Aswan, Egypt
I showed up at the travel agencies at the scheduled time of 9:30 PM so someone could escort me to the train station and seat me. When I arrived at the agency a very nice guy met me and handed me my train ticket, which looked just like a small rectangular 2-sided card written entirely in Arabic. A few minutes later we made our way into the metro station and from there to the train station where he showed me to my seat. Several moments later a gentleman boarded the train and asked me in Arabic if he could see my ticket, so I said, “Sorry, but I don’t speak Arabic.” He signaled to me that he wanted to see my ticket and I handed it to him, so he could see it. He walked over to someone else and showed it to them and the guy who had just seated me had what seemed like a heated discussion with the guy before coming over and saying, “Do not give your ticket to anyone!” I didn’t see the harm in letting him see it because I could tell him what the ticket said since it was in Arabic and I figured he wanted to see my seat assignment. He gave me the ticket back and said, “Two number two. “ I deduced from that that we both had the same seat assignment, but he sat in the seat next to me and there was no more conversation about my seat until the train arrived at the next stop and the agent who had seated me exited the train. Seconds after I saw this agent leave the train, a very irate man came over and started screaming at me in Arabic. I politely said, “I’m sorry, but I don’t speak Arabic.” My reply seemed to only make things worse and as this guy is only a few inches from my face, I could feel spit flying. As he continued to scream, I came to the conclusion that I could do nothing to diffuse the situation, so I acted like he was not there; I completely ignored him. He boarded the train with a woman and it was obvious that she was trying to calm him down, but it wasn’t working and as the train started to move it became clear that he was not a ticketed passenger,so he jump off and onto the platform. Moments later the woman who had boarded the train with him screamed, “Hasaan!” And suddenly people on the platform rushed to where this guy has made his quick exit from the train. To this day I am not sure if he fell onto the tracks or if there was a fight or some other altercation because I didn’t have the energy to stand and look out the window. I dosed off only to startled by the woman who entered the train with Hasaan standing in my face yelling, “Mine…mine…mine.” I responded by saying, “Mine.” Moments after she walked away in anger, the train stopped again and at this point I was afraid to sleep, so I just kept my eyes and ears open waiting for the next person who wanted to take my seat. I could have just given up the seat, but the thought of standing for 12 or 13 hours was not a pleasant one and since I had paid a pretty penny for what was turning out to be a horrible train ride, I was hell bent on staying put. What seemed strange to me is that nobody from the train company had come around to check the tickets. I was very anxious and I really wanted someone official to come clear up the confusion, so I could get some rest. As we sat in the station a full 4 or 5 hours after I had boarded, a group of people gathered near the door closest to me and there was about a 10 to 15 minute conversation taking place and all eyes were on me with an occasional finger pointing my way. I tried to stay calm and I did a pretty good job of hiding my fear of being killed and dismembered on a train in the middle of the Egyptian countryside. At this point, the guy who had been sitting next to me said, “Where are you from?” There was no chance of me telling the truth, so I proudly said, “Brazil!” He seemed happy and said, “Football, football!” After this brief and friendly exchange, he got up and gave his seat to a woman who was traveling with 2 young children. After about 30 minutes the woman communicated to me with hand gestures that she wanted me to stand so that one of her children could sit. I signaled to her that he could sit on my lap, but the young boy was old enough to be embarrassed by the gestures, so he continued to stand and I was happy because I didn’t her little snotty nosed kid on me anyway. As I made myself comfortable, a middle aged man walked over and said in pretty good English, “You must get your things and go!” It sounded a bit rude to me, but I think it was just because of his lack of a total command of the English language and the words “you must”, so I said, “Sorry, but I don’t understand you.” I refused to get up and just as we were having this discussion someone finally came by t check the tickets. He said something in Arabic and one of the ladies son seemed pretty ecstatic for a second. I didn’t know what was going on and I really didn’t care because I figured they were all conspiring to take my seat. Finally, a teenage boy came over who spoke English very well,s o I could not pretend to not understand and he explained to me that Iw as in the wrong cabin. He said, “You are suppose to be in the first class car.” I responded by saying, “Listen, I was seated by the agency that I bought the ticket from, so I don’t believe you. I think you just want to take my seat.” He said, “Please…just trust me, there is a seat in first class for you.” I quickly replied, “Well, if there is an empty seat in first class why doesn’t the guy who wants this seat sit in my seat. It is ok with me, I will just sit here and give him my first class seat.” He said, “He has to sit next to his wife.” I said, “Ok. I will go with you to first to see if there is indeed a seat for me.” As we walked through the rapidly moving train, we all had to hold to the sided to keep from being thrown around. There were people sleeping on the floors and people hanging out in the sections between the cars. It was by far the worse train ride I had ever taken. Finally, after what seemed like 5 minutes of walking through the train we arrived in the first class cabin and to my surprise, there was a seat for me, so we walked by to my original car to gather my belongings. I apologized and explained to the teen what had happened and he said, “No problem, you are our guest.” I also ask him to tell the family about the mix-up. The first class ride was pretty smooth. I sat next to 2 Nigerians and across from 2 Afghanis and we talked for several hours until we all fell asleep.
To be continued…
Egyptian Odyssey
I arrived in Cairo, Egypt on September 20th at around 1 PM after enjoying a conversation with an American man from Texas on the short 2 hour and 15 minute flight from Istanbul, Turkey. As I stepped off the plane onto the jet way, I realized I was in the motherland. I was breathing African air for the first time and as my lungs continued to expand and deflate, I started to feel a little emotional. I had always wanted to feel African soil beneath my feet and the time had finally arrived. I was so excited, I practically ran to get my passport stamped, passing many of the passengers who had disembarked before me. I joined the line of about 3 people and when it was my turn the really official, serious looking guy in the military looking uniform said, “You have no visa, you have to go over there to the bank and get it.” I said, “Over where?” And he pointed to a bullet proof window and gently shooed me away kind of like one does a mosquito or a gnat. I made my way to the window and I paid the $20 US dollars and the lady on the other side found an empty page on my passport and quickly affixed the stamp to it. I turned around and now each of the lines to get my passport stamped had swollen like the Mississippi River after a quick moving flash flood. I joined the shortest line and the person at the desk seemed to have a problem, so I made hastily made my way over to one of the other lines that seemed to be moving a bit faster. It was my turn and before I new it, I was free to roam about Egypt, the great land of King Tut and Nefertiti. I looked around and there was a sign that read, “Baggage Claim” and I made my way there and I waited for my one and only checked bag. It finally appeared and I picked it up in a hurry and looked around for the driver that was suppose to be there waiting for me and to my surprise, I did not see him. I walked around and around looking for a placard with my name on it and nothing, so I found a desk and I asked, “How much to downtown?” The guy on other side of the desk first tried to see me some tours to Giza, Aswan and Luxor, but I kindly declined his offers, telling him that I would be much better off booking my own tours because his prices were a bit too steep for me. I told him I was a student on a limited budget. He offered me a pretty hefty student discount, but of course, I could not produce a student ID, so they offer was null and void. Anyhow, I told hi the name of the hostel that would be my home for the next 2 or three nights and he said he knew where it was and summoned a driver who said he would charge me about $16 USD for the ride.
Part 2
As an experienced traveler, one would think that I would have all the pertinent information about my accommodations in a handy little notebook, right? Especially after what I went through in Kuala Lumpur, Malaysia some time ago. Well, I didn’t learn my lesson because I thought the driver from the hostel would be there, so I didn’t have the address on me. It was in my email, which I did not have access to at this particular moment in time. The driver said he knew where the place was, so I we made our way to the car and started our journey into Cairo, a thriving, busy, congested, polluted, somewhat dysfunctional metropolis with somewhere near 22 million people, according to several estimates I heard. As we twisted and turned through the overpopulated streets of downtown Cairo, it became crystal clear that this driver had no idea where he was going. As he stopped to ask one passerby after another if they knew where the place was. We were sent in what seemed like a dozen different directions when suddenly the driver stopped the car and said, “Oh! There it is, Hotel Meremees.” I said, “Where? I don’t see it.” He pointed and said, “Right there. It is written in Arabic, so you don’t understand what it says, but that is your hotel.” The Naïve, former church-going Christian wanted to believe him, but the street smart, savy, world traveling New Yorker said, “Call his bluff!” As he opened the trunk of the car, I grabbed my bags and said, “Follow me inside and I will pay you once I know this is the right place.” He looked at me like he wanted to beat the bloody hell out of me and with a raised voice, he angrily retorted, “This is it. This is your hotel. It is in Arabic. I cannot park here, they will put a boot on my car” Again, I said, “If this is my hotel, just follow me inside and I will pay you the agreed upon amount once I know this is where I am suppose to be. There are other cars parked here, so why can’t you park here for 1 minute as you drop me off inside?” I had my bags in hand, just in case he decided to jump behind the wheel for a quick get-away. There was no way I was about to pay this man a dime until he could make me believe in him. We both took our seats in the car and he immediately called him boss and began to speak Arabic. About 30 seconds later, he handed me the phone and the guy on the other end said, “You are in front of your hotel. Pay him and get out.” I explained to the person the the phone that I was not comfortable just getting out in a strange city unless the driver could go there with me to make sure this was the right place. I handed the phone back to the driver and an argument took place, but my mind was made up and nothing was going to change it at this point. The driver started the ignition and started to drive, stopping at the corner to ask where the hotel was and we were pointed in yet another direction. At this point, I was so proud of myself for sticking to my guns and refusing to back down. Traveling alone is a huge confidence booster and a great way to learn a lot about people. The driver stopped the car and yelled, “Back to airport, you! Back to airport, you!” I responded in a calm voice, “Ok. That is fine. Take me back to the airport.” The driver then demanded more than the agreed upon rate to take me back to the airport, so I said, “If you take me back to the airport, you get nothing.” “You pay zero.”, he said and I said, “That’s right. I pay zero if we go back to the airport. I am paying you to take me to my hotel and you cannot find it. If you did not know where it was, the you should not have taken the fare.” Of course, the driver had no idea what I had just said, so I repeated it a bit slower with a hint of sarcasm. He sat there next me yelling at me, but I felt my blood boiling, so I decided to just sit there looking out the front window, giving him the silent treatment until he decided to move the car and it worked. After more than 1.5 hours, he found it and I handed him the equivalent of $20 for the $16 ride and demanded the change. He said, “You no give driver tip. You no give driver tip!” I said, “No. You have just wasted an hour of my time. You get no tip.” He said he didn’t have change, so I gently removed the note from his hand and said, Fine, I will go get change.” And I crossed the street , but the vendor on the adjacent corner did not have change and suddenly the driver pulled change out of his pocket. I walked over to the hostel and yelled at them for not sending the driver. The receptionist said the driver was at the airport waiting and he called him to tell him to return. The hostel refunded me the amount that I paid the driver.
Part 3
I checked into the hostel, showered and made some phone calls from my computer. I grabbed a map (I don’t know why because I cannot read one) and ventured out into the hot streets of Cairo. I had my big DSLR camera hanging from my neck, like a Japanese tourist without those big paparazzi type, telephoto lenses they always seem to have. I took one picture and two guys apprached saying, “Brozer, wassup?” I said, “I just got here and I am checking the place out. What are you guys doing? They said, “We are about to smoke some shisha (a fragrant tobacco often called nargilé in Turkey) and have some hibiscus tea. Do you want to come?” I went along and we had tea and one of them smoked his shisha. We sat and talked and I told them the truth about where I am from. Generally, I lie about being from the states because I hate being looked at like a bank, so it has served me better to say I am Brazilian or half Brazilian and half Cuban. Shortly after we sat down, I asked about going to the pyramids in Giza and how much it costs to make the short trip from Cairo. Suddenly, Ibrahim said, “Hey, we live over there, so we can take you now if you want.” I was ecstatic and unconcerned about my safety for some reason. I felt very comfortable in their presence, so I knew things would be ok, but before we left I said, “Look guys. I need to ask you something and I hope you do not get offended. You both seem like nice guys and I appreciate the offer, but I just want to know if you are going to ask me for money later.” The looked shocked that it would even occur to me that there might be a charge for such kindness, so I went into a brief explanation about how that is usually what happens when people are nice to foreigners in strange lands. The promised me that there would be no charge. As we left the bar, the second guy who I will call Ahmed because I don’t remeber his name got a call from his girlfriend and he left us saying he would catch up with us in Giza. I was totally stoked about seeing the sun set behind the pyramids and as Ibrahim and I made our way to Giza he said, “Look, there are the pyramids.” I was so overcome with emotion, I didn’t know whether I should cry or piss my pants, so I just pulled out my video camera and made a quick video as we made our approach. We parked and made our way inside an office where I feel like I was overcharged my a guy calling himself Mohammed Ali, but I didn’t care aboutt he money because I was off to ride a camel and see the sun set behind the pyramids. To my unpleasant surprise, I was about to miss the sunset, so as I made my way with my guide to our spot in the Sahara desert behind an ugly fence that blocks the pyramids after hours, I became pissed and it became obvious. As the guide rushed me to take my pictures, I yelled at him telling him to wait a minute. Before we left the office with the camel “Mohammed Ali” told me that the guide’s tip was not included in the price and he said, “If he does a good job, be kind ot him.” Anyhow, I was not happy, an his tip reflected it. He had the nerve to ask me for a $75 tip and I kindly handed him $5 and told him that I paid to watch the sunset and I didn’t even get to witness it. Unfortunately, I had already paid for a tour tomorrow of the pyramids and I began to regret it. When I went back tot he office Ibrahim was there waiting and I told him that I wanted to cancel to tour for the following day. He said he would talk to them for me, but he seemed uneasy about it, so I brought it up and they told me it was too late. In typical Robert fashion, I did not back down and I stayed there debating with them for more than an hour until I had about a third of the money back and a tour scheduled for the following day. The guy who sold me the tour was nowhere ot be found, but I was dealig with a guy who said he was his brother. The promised me an amazing tour the next day followed by a traditional Moroccan lunch. After missing the sunset they invited me to the roof to watch the “sound and light” show. This is where they illuminate the pyramids with lights and a soundtrack is plays that talks about how they were constructed. I was bored and I knew I would not be able to last 50 minutes, so I told Ibrahim I was ready to go. Ibrahim and I had agreed that he would get me a taxi back to Cairo for about 30 Egyptian pouns (about $6 USD), but he agreed to take me to take me back to Cairo, asking for a favor as we were en route. He suddenly said, “Can you do me a favor?” I said to myself, “Here we go. This is where he tells me about all of his problems and asks me for money to help solve them.” I said, “What is it?” He said, “Can you buy me some alcohol from the duty free store near downtown? My sister is gettign married and I want to have a party for her. She is my only sister.” I quickly replied, “How much?” He said, “I will pay. It is just that here in Egypt one can only buy alcohol when they just arrive and you can only buy it once. They will stamp your passport, saying that you purchased alcohol with the date.” I already knew this and I agreed since it wasn’t going to cost me anything. I offered to buy gas, but my offer was declined. I asked Ibrahim if he got commission for taing me to that place and he said they offered to raise the price of my tour by 20% if he wanted commission, but he refused it. To this day I am sure if I believe him. Shortly after I met Ibrahim and his friend he told me that he was home on holiday from Finland where he studies Finnish and something tourism related. I asked him why he chose Finland of all places and he said that none of the tour guides here spoke Finnish and that he would be able to earn a lot of money. He also explained that his university had a special exchange program with Finland. As we were headed to the duty free shop I soptted his passport and asked if I could take a look at it. I wanted to see if it actually had stamps in it form any country outside of Africa and to my surprise it did. It seemed as though he was telling the truth.
please excuse any typos, my spell check is set to Portuguese and I cannot figure out how to change it back.
To be continued……………..
Please do not forget to check out my photos from Egypt!
Hasta la próxima vex mi gente bonita,
a1globetrotter
A Turkish Delight
Turkey was unlike anything I had ever experienced: the people, the scenery, the food, the hospitality, the architecture and the culture. The first shock came shortly after I arrived. I expected the people to much more “Middle Eastern” looking and by that I mean, I had this expectation that most, if not all of the people would have dark hair, dark eyes and have thick , bushy eyebrows, but that could not be further from the truth. What I found upon my arrival at Turkey’s airport was a large variety of looks. Some of the people looked exactly as I had imagined, but the vast majority looked much lighter. There was a tremendous variety and it was very obvious that the people of this vast land were very mixed.
My original plan for this long awaited visit to Istanbul was to spend some time with my long-time friend Jerry from Amsterdam whom I met many years ago while I was in my early twenties living on Miami’s famed SOBE (South Beach). Jerry moved to Turkey from Brooklyn several years ago and has been begging me to pay him a visit ever since. Of course, things never seem to work out the way we plan them and this time was certainly no different. A few days before I was scheduled to touch down on Turkish soil, Jerry found out that he was going to be working in Mombasa, Kenya during my time of arrival, but he offered to have one of his roommates, Çadas meet me at the bus stop less than 2 miles from where they share a 3 bedroom right in the heart of Istanbul. I had a free place to stay and a strong desire to explore a new, foreign city.
My flight arrived in Istanbul from London a few minutes earlier than expected and in this day and age of airline delays of epic proportions, I was delighted. I quickly made my way through passport control, picked up my Turkish visa and collected my bags from luggage carousel number 3. Jerry had given me very detailed instructions on how to take the bus from the airport to Havas Taksim and finding the bus stop was just as he had explained it. After a short delay, we we headed to the place where Çadas and I were scheduled to meet. No more than 45 minutes later I arrived and I pulled out the picture that I had printed of Çadas and as I looked and looked no one seemed to match the description. I had his phone number bu no way to call him, so I waited for about 40 minutes or so until I tapped a gentleman on the should and gave him the international do you have a phone signal. You know the one where you put your thumb by your ear nd extend your pinkiy finger, so it looks like you are on the phone. He was polite and handed me his phone, but I asked him to make the call and he was kind enough to do so. He spoke with Çadas and negotiated a price with a taxi drive who was there waiting for a fare. The ride was only about 5 minutes and Çadas was waiting in front of the Osmanbey metro station, which was less than 2 short blcoks from the apartment that I would call home for the next 10 days or so. Çadas had apparently arrived at around midnight at our pickup point at around midnight which was only about 55 minutes after my flight had touched down, so he grew tired of waiting because I did not arrive at the bus stop until about 1 AM. Going through customs, waiting for luggage and getting visa take a bit of time and he had not accounted for such a delay. I was really in the mood to go out, but arriving in a foreign city at such a late hour and not knowing anything about one’s surroundings seems like an easy way to get lost and I was not in the mood since it was now about 2 AM.
The next day I seemed to wake up at the crack o’dawn and I looked out the huge picture window that was situated right about my head. The first thought to come to mind was, “Wow…this reminds me of San Francisco.” I later found out that Istanbul was built on seven hills, so the immediate comparison to San Francisco made a lot of sense due to its similar topography. I spent most of this day walking about the city familiarizing myself with my surroundings, making sure to sample as much of the local delicacies as possible. Turkish baklava was one of the things that I discovered on this day and for the duration of my stay in Istanbul I made sure to eat several of these delectably unforgettable, bitsize morsels per day.
As night appraoched and the sky grew dark, I was approached in Taksim Square (Istanbul’s most happening location) by a handsome young man who chatted me up for a bit before asking me if I had plans for the evening. I told him that I was just going to walk around to take some pictures. I explained that Iw as staying with a friend who was away, so I was just goig to hang out alone. He replied by saying, “Do you want to grab a drink or something.” I said, “I don’t drink, but I will have a fruit juice or something.” He said he was from the Greek side of Cypress, but was visiting from Spain where he lived with his brother. I decided to quiz him by speaking to him in Spanish and he did not understand, so I figured he was lying, but I agreed to have a drink with him. He led me into a club that had no more than 5 people inside and shortly thereafter 2 young ladies came over to our table and as they started to oder I said to the waiter, “I am only paying for what I consume.” I had recently read about a scam where foreigners are taken to a club or a bar and are befriended by locals who run up the tab to as much as 1000 Euros. The waiter asked the girls to leave the table and the young man from Cypress and I enjoyed our orange juices. I started to feel uncomfortable and I asked fo the check. When I saw the total, I laughed. I was charged the equivalent of about $80 USD for 2 orange juices. I pulled out about $7 and said, “This is all I have. Orange juice on the street is about $1.50, so I was not expecting it to cost this much.” The guy from Cypress, said, “You are kidding, right?” I said, “I am as serious as a heart attack!” I had more than enough money nd a credit card in my pocket, but there was no way in hell I was about to pay that sum for 2 orange juices. The waiter said to me, “Why did you leave your hotel with no credit crds and so little money?” I said, “First of all, I am not staying in a hotel and second, this price is way too much.” He said, “Well, this is a club and this is the price. I handed the waiter the $7 and the young man had a conversation with him in Turkish and we left. I later found out that the waiter was in on the scam. Several minutes later, I was approached by someone else who tried to trick into the same scam and after a few minutes of chatting I said, “Listen! I am from a big city and I already know this game.” He said, “Oh really?” And smiled as he walked away.
In the days that followed I visited the Blue Mosque, the Dolmabache Palace, the Spice Bazaar, Hagia Sophia and many other sites in this phenomenal city.
One of the most pleasant and most surprising things that happened to me time and time again while in Istanbul was the adoration that I was shown. One night three guys walked over and gave me hugs for no reason. I had a lady hand me her two month old baby,s o she could take a picture of me holding him. I had sveral girls come over to take pictures with me. One of them said, “You are so attractive!” Turkey was great for my already much inflated self-esteem.
About 4 or 5 days into my trip, my friend Jerry returned from Kenya and he showed me where all the cheap clothing stores were. Jerry is what I call my “personal shopper” because he has worked in fashio his entire life and he knows exactly what loos great on me, so I usually take his fashion advice. Over the next 2 days, I ended up buying about 20 nice quality shirts and 3 pairs of jeans (Levi’s) for about $170 USD. I was later told that many of the big brands that sell for exorbitant amounts in the USA and Europe are made in Turkey, so a shirt that may cost $40 USD in New York may only cost $3 USD in Turkey.
I found the Turkish food good, savory and heavy. The portions were enough to satifsy my raging, American apetite without any of the processed crap that we are accustomed to in the USA. Turkish cuisine is full of fresh vegetables and they eat a lot of lamb. I am not a fan of lamb, so I decided to eat a lot of chicken while I was there. One thing I will say is that the vegetables have a full, robust flavors that I seldom find in the Americas. The tomatoes have a full-bodied tomato taste like the tomatoes we grew when I was a child. I find that tomatoes in the USA taste like water with a slight essence of tomato. Though I was certainly more than satisfied with the food in Turkey, it certainly does not compare to the food I ate while traveling through Thailand. During each of my dining experiences in Thailand, I felt as though someone had painted a Michaelangelo on my tongue; each dish was full of color and life-complex, but not over complicated, spicy and sweet.
I hope to return to Turkey in the spring, so I can venture further south as I lose myselef in the Turkish culture once more.
Make sure you check out the photo gallery for some exciting pictures taken during my Turkish delight.
Hasta la próxima vez mi gente bonita,
a1globetrotter
easy, but I made it. I booked an usually difficult itinerary on Delta Airlines because I had a pretty significant amount of frequent flyer miles that were scheduled to expire in August if I did not fly by then. I was scheduled to leave New York’s JFK airport at 7:15 PM with a 45 minute layover/connection in Atlanta, then another layover/connection in Manaus, Brazil, then a change of airlines in Manaus for a flight to Brasilia where I would have a brief layover with no change of planes before heading onward to Salvador. This itinerary was 26 hours and I knew it would be hellacious going into it, but I did it anyway. The first problem was the brief layover in Atlanta. I knew that if the flight from JFK was late, I would not make my connecting flight from Atlanta to Manaus and I even had this discussion with a friend and fellow frequent traveler days before I purchased my ticket, but I knew this was going to be a busy day for me, so I opted to book the later flight, which gave me an opportunity to handle some last-minute affairs prior to traveling. I arrived at JFK at about 5:50 PM, quickly checked in and found my way to the gate. I spent most my time on the phone, so I was unaware when 7:15 PM rolled around until there was an announcement that went something like this, “Passengers on flight #73 bound for Atlanta, please be advised that flight #73 is delayed. Our new departure time is 8:30 PM.” I immediately went to the counter and asked if I could be re-booked on a flight with a connection in São Paulo and I was advised that I should go to Atlanta anyway. I said, “Well my flight to Brazil is scheduled to leave Atlanta before this flight is scheduled to arrive.” The agent quickly retorted, “Yeah, but a lot of flights are delayed, so that flight MIGHT be delayed too, but if it is not delayed and you miss your connection we will NOT put you up in a hotel because the delay is weather related: there are really high winds in New York today and all flights are delayed out of the New York City area.” I asked when the next flight from Atlanta to Manaus was and I was told that it was 7 days later. Yes, Delta only offers this schedule on Fridays and Saturdays and this was Saturday. I called Delta’s toll-free number to get some advice and I was on hold for no fewer than 30 minutes. When I heard that my flight was boarding I hung up and had to make a quick decision…do I board and risk paying several hundred dollars in hotel fees or do I cancel the trip? I decided to tell them to pull my luggage from the plane. The ramp agent said, “It is too late to pull your bag. Your bag is going to Atlanta.” I said, “What do you mean? I am not getting on that flight. I have already missed my connection due to the delay. Can you book me on a different airline?” “Sir, you will need to go to gate 4 to see if they can help you.” is what he said. The question in my head that I was afraid to ask was, “Isn’t it a breach of security to have an unmatched bag on the aircraft?” (I thought I would be tagged as a terrorist or something or that the question would be repeated to someone else and completely reworded) I booked it on over to gate 4 and after explaining what happened to the agent behind the counter, he said, “Why did they send you here?” I guess this was a rhetorical question, but I felt compelled to reply anyway, so I shrugged my shoulders and let out a simple and pitiful, “I don’t know.” He said, “Give me a minute and I will help you.” After about 15 to 20 minutes, I was booked on a flight for São Paulo that was scheduled to leave 2 hours later. (I gave the agent a candy bar for his help…lol) This meant getting to my final destination 7 or 8 hours before I was scheduled to arrive. This made me happy, but my friend in Brazil was not expecting me until much later and with no way to call him, I just went for it. I know Salvador like the back of my hand, so finding ways to fill my time wouldn’t be a problem.
Getting in and out of São Paulo was easier than ever. I had to file a delayed bag claim, but the staff were helpful, so it took no longer than 5 minutes. I have been to São Paulo’s airport so many times, it was really a piece of cake, even though I left my camera on the plane. I was fortunate to realize it 5 minutes after I walked off the plane, so I just went back and had one of the employees get it for me. We left São Paulo on time and I arrived in Salvador da Bahia just before 3 PM, but of course my bag was still in Atlanta. Not having my bag made my departure from the airport super easy and timely. I exchanged about $300 USD, which gave me a little more than 500 Reais (pronounced hey-Ice) and I caught the bus to the center of the city and walked to a friend’s job. Unfortunately, my friend had already left for the day, so I found an internet cafe and sent a quick text message to his cell phone and called him on Skype. Since he and the person I am staying with are friends, he called him to let him know that I was here much earlier than expected, but he was out-of-town and would not be back for several hours, so I just hung out and did some of my favorite things before heading to his apartment.
The next few days were a bit of a pain because I had no clothes, but Delta has a daily spending allowance for passengers whose bags are delayed, so I was able to buy some new threads on Delta’s dime. Delta does not have service to Salvador, so they had to get my bag to TAM or GOL on a Salvador bound flight. This frightened me because I felt like involving too many people would surely get my bag lost or stolen. I called Delta and I was told that my bag had arrived in Salvador on a TAM flight, but when I called TAM, I was told that they did not have my bag, so after calling Delta again I was advised to just make the hour-long trip to the airport to check. I declined and called the office in São Paulo. The first several calls went unanswered, but I am relentless, so I called back several times and I finally spoke with Senhor Branco and he told me my bag was there and he would try to get it on a later TAM flight. My bag finally arrived 3 days later, but I had to make no fewer than 10 calls to get it done. Let’s see how long it takes Delta to get me my reimbursement check!
More updates with new pictures from some really beautiful places here in Brazil. I have been here for 1 month and I have done a lot.
Hasta la próxima vez mi gente bonita,
a1globetrotter
I arrived in Singapore after enjoying the first class bus ride from Kuala Lumpur, Malaysia on December 25th at about 9 PM, but by the time I arrived at my friend’s sister’s apartment, it was a bit too late to do anything, so we decided that we would take on the city the following day.
On December 26th we did just about everything there was to do in Singapore: Sentosa, Chinatown, Little India, Orchard road and so many things in between. By the end of the day, we felt like we had just completed a task on one of those reality t.v. shows. Sentosa was cool, but a little expensive for travelers on a budget. I picked up some clothing in Little India for my myself as well as my mom.
The following 2 days in Singapore were pretty uneventful because we did just about everything there was to do the first day. For some reason we thought there were so many things to do that we would not possibly be able to do them all in 3 days, so day one was jam-packed with activities which left us a little bored for the remainder of the short trip.
My little theory about taking travel advice with a grain of salt was proven yet again while I was in Singapore. I had been told by countless people that Singapore was expensive and very westernized and not really worth visiting. I strongly disagree. I mean, it is very British, but not all that expensive for a budget traveler. If you are like most American vacationers who need 5 star living arrangements with cable t.v. and a swimming pool and you are not willing to use public transportation and you only want to eat at the hotel then any place in the world is going to be expensive. However, if you travel with just a little common sense and are not afraid to take a bus or a subway and search the internet for great deals you will spend far fewer dollars. I found the food in Singapore just a little more expensive than the food in Thailand and pretty close to the same price as food in Malaysia’s capital city of Kuala Lumpur. I could eat a decent lunch for about $3 to $5 USD which isn’t bad. In Thailand I often had to order 2 portions to satisfy my mammoth American appetite, so my meals were almost the same price in both places. Living in Singapore is quite expensive compared some of its neighboring countries, but I wasn’t interested in living there, so the cost of living for its resident was totally irrelevant. As I have said before, I would rather travel and have my own experience than taking what someone else has to say into consideration when choosing my travel destinations. Life is about taking risks and living with the consequences.
“I am excited by all of the possibilities and I love all the risks involved, can overcome the challenges and am surely not afraid at all” – Robert Bumpers
My second bus ride to Malaysia was just as comfy as the first with a bit less stress since I did not get lost on my way to the bus station. Upon my arrival in Kuala Lumpur, I checked into the hotel and immediately went out to get something to eat. I had a taste for Nasi Lemak, which happens to be Malaysia’s national dish.
Here is a recipe for Nasi Lemak that I found online for anyone who wants to try to make this delicious dish at home.
Nasi Lemak:
1 cup rice
3 screwpine leaves
salt to taste
1 grated coconut
Sambal Ikan Bilis:
1 bombay onion
1/2 cup dried ikan bilis ( anchovies )
1 clove garlic
2 tbsps tamarind juice
4 shallots
8 dried chillies
Prawn paste ( belacan) ( Optional )
Salt and sugar to taste
Instructions
Nasi Lemak:
Clean the rice and drain. Squeeze out 2 cups of thick coconut milk with screwpine leaves. Add in salt. If you desire, you can also add in some sliced shallots and ginger. Serve this rice with sliced hard-boiled eggs, cucumber and sambal ikan bilis.
Sambal Ikan Bilis:
Fry the ikan bilis until crisp and put aside. Grind the prawn paste together with shallots, garlic, deseeded dried chillies. Slice the bombay onion into rings. Heat 2 tbsps oil in a pan and fry the ground ingredients until fragrant. Add in the onion rings. Add tamatind juice, salt, sugar. Cook, stirring occasionally until the gravy thickens. Add in the ikan bilis and mix well. Serve with steaming hot Nasi Lemak.
This was my 3rd trip to Malaysia in about 5 weeks and Kuala Lumpur certainly felt like a city with a lot to offer and tons of energy. Kuala Lumpur is very cosmopolitan an very hip with lots and lots of malls and just as many restaurants and brothels, for those who are into that kind of thing. I was propositioned by both men and women and several pimps tried to talk me into checking out their stable of young, hot things.
On this 3rd trip to Malaysia, I was certainly hoping for a party and a party was what I got on New Year’s Eve. The streets were just as packed as they were on Christmas Eve and every single person was in good spirits. There were no fights that I am aware of and the people were super nice and friendly. I heard that there would be a firework show at the “twin towers”, so I walked on over and commandeered a spot and snapped a few shots to make sure the camera was in working order for night-time photography. Once the settings were right, I just relaxed until the show began and before I knew it, it was over. I swear the fireworks lasted all of 5 minutes and they were not all that fantastic. I guess they were fair, but I was expecting more, a lot more, but I had a good time nonetheless. Before I knew it I was back on Bukit Bintang (the street where I stayed and party central. It is kind of like Kuala Lumpur’s version of Times Square. There is even a building called Times Square in the area.) and there was a party going on for sure. I hung out for a bit taking a few snap shots of the crowd before heading back tot he room to get some shut-eye. I needed to pack my bag and make some last-minute phone calls since I had only about 24 hours left in S.E. Asia.
Things I liked about Malaysia in particular order.
1. The food was divine! The Malay dishes were fantastic as was the Middle Easter cuisine.
2. The shopping was great. I am not a big shopper, but if you are, this is the place for you. (skip Thailand)
3. The people were warm and friendly and pretty helpful.
4. Chinatown and the section I call Little India were definitely worth visiting.
5. The weather.
6. The public transportation rivals that in any major city anywhere I have been.
7. The accommodations. There are accommodation for any budget from $20 USD per night to several hundred USD per night.
Hasta la próxima vez mi gente bonita,
a1globetrotter
Malaysia was a blast!
I arrived in Kuala Lumpur, Malaysia on December 24th in the early afternoon. The weather was quite humid and I was a little tired, but at the same time I was ready for yet another S.E. Asian adventure, so I boarded a bus from LCCT airport (Air Asia’s exclusive airport about 1 hour outside of the city) to KL Central, a major public transportation hub right in the center of Malaysia’s capital city. Once I reached KL Central, I was approached by a taxi driver who quoted me a price that was a lot more than I was willing to pay and even though I was tired of carrying my backpack, I was not about to be ripped off, so I wandered about until I found another driver who quoted me a price that was about half of what the first driver tried did. I told him to take me to the Binton Royale Hotel and within seconds we were speeding through the busy streets of Kuala Lumpur. When were were within 1 block of the hotel, the driver asked if he could let me out there and I firmly said, “No. I am paying to take me to the door, so that is where I would like to go. Thank you.” Once inside I was very impressed by the decor of this fabulous hotel, but when I handed the person behind the counter my passport she could not find my name in the reservation system, so I opened my computer and realized that I was at the wrong hotel…lol. I was supposed to be at the Binton Garden Hotel. I asked the clerk if she knew where it was and she did not, so she asked one of the hotel’s emplyees who happened to be standing a few feet away. He told me my hotel was located about a block away on the opposite side of the street, so I grabbed by bag and left in search of the Binton Garden Hotel. I walked about 2 blocks and I still did not see it, so I asked 2 security guards who were standing nearby and they pointed me in a direction that my instincts told me was way off, so I stopped in a travel agency and the receptionist told me exactly where it was. I walked about 1 block and there it was, this tiny little budget hotel sandwiched right between a restaurant and a souvenir shop, right accross the street from a 7 eleven and several other convenience store. I said to myslef, “Self, this is a cool area. I think I will like it here.” You know how some cities just have a certain vibrant energy and you know immediately if you will like it or not, well Kuala Lumpur has it and I knew I was in for a good time in this city with a population just shy of 2 million inhabitants.
I ended up checking in, dropping off my belongings and hitting the streets and my first impression of this city was spot on; it was vibrant and full of excitement. I went back to the room and tried to get online, but there was a problem with the internet, so I had to take my computer down to the lobby where the wifi was working. I logged onto Facebook and I updated my status. After spending placing a few calls with Skype and responding to some emails, I took a nap. A few hors later I went down to the lobby and the manager asked if I was going to go out to Bukit Bintang to celebrate Christmas eve. Bukit Bintang is the street where the hotel was located and once I exited the hotel I noticed the street was jam-packed, I mean there were people everywhere and everyone was in a festive mood. There were cans of fake snow, cameras, and even a marching band-it was a massive street party full of people celebrating Christmas in what is a Muslim country. I was shocked that Christmas was celebrated on such a large scale there. I assumed that most of the people there were young Muslims just taking advantage of an opportunity to party hard and party hard is absolutely what they did. I walked around with my camera around my neck taking pictures and shooting videos and taking some fake snow to the face. Yeah, I was sprayed a few times right in the fae, but it was all in good fun and I just laughed and walked speedily by as I protected my camera of course. I stayed out until about 2 AM before heading back to the hotel to get some sleep, so I could be prepared to check out of the hotel at noon. At 4 PM later that day I was supposed to meet a Malaysian friend from New York and we were going to head to Singapore together for a few days.
I rolled out of bed at about 10 AM, showered and packed my bag. I checked out of the hotel, but I sat in the lobby until about 1:15 PM using the internet and chatting with Nina, the receptionist. As I left I told Nina I would see her in a few days after my Singapore trip and I asked her where the Pasar Rakyat Bus Terminal was. She advised me that it was about a ten minute walk from the hotel and she pointed me in the general direction and told me it was near the Times Square building. I figured when I made it to the Times Square building I would ask for more detailed directions. So after grabbing a bite to eat I reached the Times Square building and I asked for directions and time and time again I was told that I would need to take the monorail to the other side of town to the bus terminal. I repeatedly said, “No, the bust terminal is close to the Times Square building.” But everybody I asked (no fewer than 20 people) including someone inside the booth at the monorail station told me that I would need to go to the other side of town, so against my better judgement I took the monorail and as I sat in the bus terminal a feeling came over me and I knew I was at the wrong place, so I asked a stranger he told me that the bus terminal I was looking for was near the Times Square building. I was hot and sweaty and I really wanted to just cancel my trip to Singapore at this point, but I am not a quitter, so I could not stop until I found the Pasar Rakyat Bus Terminal. I spotted a taxi driver and I asked him how much he would charge me to take me there and he said 30 Ringit and I walked away. I knew the price was inflated and I just didn’t feeling like being taken advantage of, so I found my way back to the monorail station and finally made it back to the Times Square building where I found a pay phone and called my friend who was supposed to meet me at the bus station. The pay phone was out of service, so I set out to find another and it was also out of service. Drenched in sweat, frustrated and annoyed I asked someone else and as I had done previously I showed him the name of the Pasar Rakyat Bus Terminal written on a piece of paper and he told me that I needed to take the monorail tot he other side of town. I said, “No. I just came from there and the Pasar Rakyat Bus Terminal is close to this building.” Well I ended up walking away and asking someone else who told me the same thing. Finally, I stopped a foreigner, Chinese I think and she told me she had no idea where the terminal was and seconds after I walked away she called out to me and said, “Ya know, I just remembered seeing a bus terminal in that direction, but you may want to stop in that hotel and ask just to be sure.” I walked and I spotted 2 police officers, so I asked one of them if he knew where the Pasar Rakyat Bus Terminal and he said, “Go straight, turn right.” I said, “Where do I turn right?” And he answered with, “Straight, straight, turn.” I decided to go with my instincts and I walked until I saw a bus and then another bus, so I figured the Pasar Rakyat Bus Terminal was near. I asked a group of teens and none of them spoke English, but I was able to use sign language and I pointed ot a bus and said, “Singapore, Singapore!” And they pointed, so I walked for about 5 more minutes and I spotted my friend there on the sidewalk freaking out because she thought I wasn’t going to make in time. Check-in was at 4:00 PM and departure was scheduled for 4:30 PM. I arrived at 4:20 PM and the first thing out of her mouth was, “Oh my God, you are so skinny.” I explained that the malaria prophylaxis caused me to get very sick and loose a lot of weight. Then she said, “You look like you just stepped out of the shower, but you forgot your towel.” Sweat was pouring off of me and I was exhausted…
The 5 hour ride to Singapore was relaxing and very comfortable. All the chairs on
the bus were almost like first class airplane seat and they were all equipped with massage pads that were activated with the touch of a button.
Here are some picture from the Christmas eve festivities in Kuala Lumpur…
Hasta la próxima vez mi gente bonita,
a1globetrotter
