Sorry all that it´s been so long. The last three weeks has been progressed at jungle-movie-waterfall pace. It seemed like there was still a ton of peaceful time to enjoy ahead of us, and then we turned the bend and started to ask each other, "Do you hear a sort of far-off hissing sound?" And then a couple days ago we got close enough to see the rapids and imagine the rocks and aligators. And then yesterday-- and this was really scary-- I caught this really strong dose of clunkymetaphoritis, and it´s just been completely ruining my past 15 hours.
At this point I´m not going to put up more pictures on Blogger. When I get back I´ll go through them all and open a Picasa account for the best of them. It´ll be worth the wait, I promise.
So what´s been going on exactly? Well, after Dad & Josh left I went to Barçelona for a weekend with my roommate Eddie and our friend Rebecca. It was a ton of fun. E & I got two-day passes for a hop-on-hop-off tourbus, which was a good way to decide what we did and didn´t want to spend time seeing. It´s an insanely large city-- if I hadn´t been to Istanbul, I would´ve spent this whole post raving about the overwhelming nature of metropoli-- and three days just doesn´t do it justice. Still I feel good about the trip & about how we spent time. We did some random walking around through the city center on Thursday afternoon, and then hung out and cooked dinner in the hostel after doing a lap on the sightseeing bus. It was cool to see the Olympic Stadium, although I didn´t go in. I vividly remember seeing the torchlighting for the 1992 summer Olympics, and it was neat to see that actual torch from a hundred feet away.
On Friday we went back around on the bus and stopped at various things we had wanted to see, including La Sagrada Familia and the Gaudi Park, and walked up Las Ramblas past dozens of human statues. Saturday was more leisurely and included a long bike ride through Las Ramblas, along the oceanfront, and through a park near the Arc de Triomf. It was a great deal of fun, and we left very very early the next morning to come back to Granada.
Since Barça, I´ve been done to Roquetas del Mar, a beach town near Almeria. That was a lot of fun also-- nothing particularly interesting to recount, but a lot of laying on the beach and throwing a football and drinking and karaoke singing. Good times. That was my last trip, and we´ve been reabsorbing Granada since. I took my last final today (all three went just fine) and so I have a couple days to enjoy myself and fill up my memory card with pictures. Should be a bunch of fun....
Tuesday, May 22, 2007
Tuesday, April 24, 2007
Should´ve done this a week ago...
So it was very strange to be in Spain when the Virginia Tech shooting happened. Right off, let me say-- all the heart I can biologically afford to part with goes out to those families (all of the families, including the parents &c of the perp), and I was extremely relieved to hear three days afterward that my friend who goes to VT is fine.
Part of what´s strange about being out of the country for the event would I think have been the same for any real national trauma involving multiple senseless deaths. That is, the sickly feeling that always rides around in the space between my spine and stomach after something like that happens...well the feeling is still there, but it´s different. I remember walking around for a few days after the Columbine shootings, and for about three weeks after 9/11, moving along with my life but unable to shake that shapeless, bilious pathos from my gut during any waking moment. In the few days after the shootings at Tech I found myself strolling around happily, chatting with friends, taking pictures, generally living as I have for the past months in emotional as well as logistical terms. And then I would see a newstand, or catch a TV newscast, or do the rounds of the web news I like, and it would hit me and stay with me for an hour or so, and then be gone again. Somehow that´s a lot harder to deal with.
The other part of being here at this time is not strange, but infuckingfuriating. There appears to be an unwritten rule governing Spanish media demanding that a space of no more than 3 minutes (on TV/radio) or 3 column-widths (in print) shall exist between coverage of anything to do with that day´s violence and the same ´discussion´ of American gun policy. This same rule applies in a less formal way to conversations with Spaniards. I´m exhausted with trying to explain my perspective on gun control (short version: There´s a fuckload of guns in our country, and most of the weapons used to commit crimes are unlicensed anyway, and there´s no money for enforcement against those even if there were political will for stiffer gun control regs at even the state level let alone the federal level, so put down the dreampipe and recognize that guns will be prolific among american citizens for the duration of our existence as a nation, and cater your policy objectives to that reality; also, nobody needs an assault rifle, I don´t care what you´re hunting, and we CAN better enforce against illegal high-rate-of-fire weapons, so let´s do that-- oh wait, the assault weapons ban lapsed).
I´m not kidding, that´s the short version. So since I just ralphed a bit in my own mouth while having to type that out in short form, let me give you something which I think makes a HELL of a lot more sense with respect to the sub-phenomenon of school shootings, especially mass school shootings. It´s a transcription of part of Jon Stewart´s comedy performance at the Wang Center (he spends about 5 minutes having fun with the name) in Boston last fall. Mr. Stewart?
"How can you get solutions when the people that are solving the problems aren´t really interested in solving the problems, they´re interested in whatever their own superstitions are, and putting those across as ideology, and just that being it? Prime example, all these school shootings. We´ve been having ´em now for years and years and years, and every time we have them we have town meetings and people from all over and congressmen and senators and they gather together and they talk about America´s Values, and our values, and what´s gone wrong. And the solution, there´s two solutions they always come to.
One from the right: ´We must put God back in schools. We must post the ten commandments back in school!´ What the f- What will that do? Will someone will come to a school with an AK-47 and stop at the front office and go ´Oh thou shalt not kill. Well isn´t my face red...´ If you think posting the ten commandments is gonna stop school violence, then you think ´Employees must wash hands´ is keeping the piss out of your happy meal. It´s not. It´s a ridiculous idea that is a salve on a gunshot wound. And on the left, they have an equally brilliant idea. ´Remove guns! Because then human nature will flourish!´ But you know what they forget about?
Crazy. You can´t remove crazy, we need real solutions to help crazy. If you remove the guns, the only effect will be a ten-thousand-percent increase in bludgeonings. There are sick fuckin people out there, and it´s not the guns´ fault, and it´s not rock music´s fault, and it´s not rap music´s fault, and lack of God. It´s adolescence and perspective. And what we need to do is teach fifteen-year-olds that high school ENDS; and that whatever weakness they have now that makes them prey turns around and gives them uniqueness and success later in life. What they need to stop school violence are field trips, and not to planetariums and museums and bullshit like that. Take high school sophomores on field trips to 25-year high school reunions. Done.
Walk ´em around the room. Show ´em the whole thing turns around. ´See that fat, bald, sad, crying, pathetic fuck? Captain of the football team. The only place they call him captain now is Long John Silver´s, kind of a sad story.´ Done!" -js
Also, it´s worth noting that a day where only 30-odd people turned up dead in Iraq would probably be about average, and that even when FIVE TIMES as many people are killed in a single day of violence it is barely front-page news. Wildly different circumstances and situations and I do not intend to in any way minimize the horror, the tragedy, the utterly disgusting infliction of one man´s psychosis on dozens of innocent peers that took place last week in Blacksburg. I do think it´s worth noting that while our lives as American civilians are punctuated far, far too often with violence on small and large scales, generations of Americans have shaped a society in which that kind of violence has a place, like it or not. Unlike the Iraqi people, we have not had a state of not just civil war but civil war played by the rules of engagement of TERRORISTS (read: none) inflicted on us not intentionally through craft but unintentionally through incompetence, laziness and ideological purity.
Again...all the horror and sympathy and therapy I can manage is being broadcast by my brainwaves to the VT community; MK, I´m thrilled to know you´re ok, even if I haven´t heard it from your own voice.
Part of what´s strange about being out of the country for the event would I think have been the same for any real national trauma involving multiple senseless deaths. That is, the sickly feeling that always rides around in the space between my spine and stomach after something like that happens...well the feeling is still there, but it´s different. I remember walking around for a few days after the Columbine shootings, and for about three weeks after 9/11, moving along with my life but unable to shake that shapeless, bilious pathos from my gut during any waking moment. In the few days after the shootings at Tech I found myself strolling around happily, chatting with friends, taking pictures, generally living as I have for the past months in emotional as well as logistical terms. And then I would see a newstand, or catch a TV newscast, or do the rounds of the web news I like, and it would hit me and stay with me for an hour or so, and then be gone again. Somehow that´s a lot harder to deal with.
The other part of being here at this time is not strange, but infuckingfuriating. There appears to be an unwritten rule governing Spanish media demanding that a space of no more than 3 minutes (on TV/radio) or 3 column-widths (in print) shall exist between coverage of anything to do with that day´s violence and the same ´discussion´ of American gun policy. This same rule applies in a less formal way to conversations with Spaniards. I´m exhausted with trying to explain my perspective on gun control (short version: There´s a fuckload of guns in our country, and most of the weapons used to commit crimes are unlicensed anyway, and there´s no money for enforcement against those even if there were political will for stiffer gun control regs at even the state level let alone the federal level, so put down the dreampipe and recognize that guns will be prolific among american citizens for the duration of our existence as a nation, and cater your policy objectives to that reality; also, nobody needs an assault rifle, I don´t care what you´re hunting, and we CAN better enforce against illegal high-rate-of-fire weapons, so let´s do that-- oh wait, the assault weapons ban lapsed).
I´m not kidding, that´s the short version. So since I just ralphed a bit in my own mouth while having to type that out in short form, let me give you something which I think makes a HELL of a lot more sense with respect to the sub-phenomenon of school shootings, especially mass school shootings. It´s a transcription of part of Jon Stewart´s comedy performance at the Wang Center (he spends about 5 minutes having fun with the name) in Boston last fall. Mr. Stewart?
"How can you get solutions when the people that are solving the problems aren´t really interested in solving the problems, they´re interested in whatever their own superstitions are, and putting those across as ideology, and just that being it? Prime example, all these school shootings. We´ve been having ´em now for years and years and years, and every time we have them we have town meetings and people from all over and congressmen and senators and they gather together and they talk about America´s Values, and our values, and what´s gone wrong. And the solution, there´s two solutions they always come to.
One from the right: ´We must put God back in schools. We must post the ten commandments back in school!´ What the f- What will that do? Will someone will come to a school with an AK-47 and stop at the front office and go ´Oh thou shalt not kill. Well isn´t my face red...´ If you think posting the ten commandments is gonna stop school violence, then you think ´Employees must wash hands´ is keeping the piss out of your happy meal. It´s not. It´s a ridiculous idea that is a salve on a gunshot wound. And on the left, they have an equally brilliant idea. ´Remove guns! Because then human nature will flourish!´ But you know what they forget about?
Crazy. You can´t remove crazy, we need real solutions to help crazy. If you remove the guns, the only effect will be a ten-thousand-percent increase in bludgeonings. There are sick fuckin people out there, and it´s not the guns´ fault, and it´s not rock music´s fault, and it´s not rap music´s fault, and lack of God. It´s adolescence and perspective. And what we need to do is teach fifteen-year-olds that high school ENDS; and that whatever weakness they have now that makes them prey turns around and gives them uniqueness and success later in life. What they need to stop school violence are field trips, and not to planetariums and museums and bullshit like that. Take high school sophomores on field trips to 25-year high school reunions. Done.
Walk ´em around the room. Show ´em the whole thing turns around. ´See that fat, bald, sad, crying, pathetic fuck? Captain of the football team. The only place they call him captain now is Long John Silver´s, kind of a sad story.´ Done!" -js
Also, it´s worth noting that a day where only 30-odd people turned up dead in Iraq would probably be about average, and that even when FIVE TIMES as many people are killed in a single day of violence it is barely front-page news. Wildly different circumstances and situations and I do not intend to in any way minimize the horror, the tragedy, the utterly disgusting infliction of one man´s psychosis on dozens of innocent peers that took place last week in Blacksburg. I do think it´s worth noting that while our lives as American civilians are punctuated far, far too often with violence on small and large scales, generations of Americans have shaped a society in which that kind of violence has a place, like it or not. Unlike the Iraqi people, we have not had a state of not just civil war but civil war played by the rules of engagement of TERRORISTS (read: none) inflicted on us not intentionally through craft but unintentionally through incompetence, laziness and ideological purity.
Again...all the horror and sympathy and therapy I can manage is being broadcast by my brainwaves to the VT community; MK, I´m thrilled to know you´re ok, even if I haven´t heard it from your own voice.
Monday, April 23, 2007
Random updates & beach pictures
Hey all. Been a while again...apologies. In my defense, there´s not a whole lot to report. Not that´s it´s been a banal couple of weeks, mind you-- I´ve been having a great time. But there have been no grand voyages, no breathtaking daytrips, no borders crossed since the end of spring break. The few days of Semana Santa processions that I saw upon return from Istanbul were worthwhile, and I´ll put up some pictures of them as well. The only other trip I´ve made was to the beach at Nerja, about an hour and a half from Granada. It´s a beautiful strip of coast. Swathes of brown-grey beach dotted with umbrellas are broken into shortish chunks, partitioned from one another by hulked formations of rock. Despite their impressive silhouettes, most of these rocks seem ready to crumble underfoot-- they are composed primarily of small stones and shells sedimented together with sand by centuries of surf. It´s a nice town, more or less what I expected from a coastline that has been progressively built up over about a half-century. I´m looking forward to seeing some other beaches when Josh & Dad are here.
So that was two weekends ago. This past weekend Sebi was at a wedding, Eddie was with some friends at a rented mountain house, Bart was hanging out with his parents, and I was living the bachelor life in Granada. It was fun. I could have made more of it, certainly, but it was way relaxing to sprawl out on the couch & watch soccer (most of it bad soccer-- La Liga games are usually on premium cable channels). Think of it as an independence recharge-- there are a ton of things I love about Spain, several attitudes I prefer to their American counterparts, but I could never jamas get used to the invasive motherliness that seems to define generations and generations of Spanish women.
The weekend before Nerja was spent recovering from and longing for Istanbul. Megan and her boyfriend were in town after what sounds like a fascinating but stomach-churning week in Morocco. The three of us went up to the Puerta de la Justicia-- the main entrance to the Alhambra-- to see a procession leaving the fortress to make for the Cathedral.
These are from the Saturday Alhambra procession...cool stuff. They had to take the float apart to get it through the arch, and then reassemble it to carry it down a really long hill, march around the city for about 5 hours, and then carry it BACK UP THE HILL at about 1 am. Oh, and it´s solid silver. And it rests on the crown of the carriers´ heads. Good times.
It´s hard to get clear shots of the hoods at night. (these were from a different procession, the night before-- good friday. very sad. not supposed to clap when they pass). These guys look like ghosts, which is actually a good thing because if I´d gotten them in tight focus they´d look like Klansmen.
A lot of kids make balls out of the wax drippings from the thousands of candles that accompany these processions.
Monday, April 2, 2007
Fınally some pıctures
Moon rises over (I think) the Atik Ali mosque.
St. Anthony's church in Taksim, Istanbul-- a very hip district that's home to most of the theaters involved in the Istanbul International Film Festival, as well as several European embassies.
Gilded cage (actually, it's solid silver) from the Topkapi palace. Couldn't take pictures of the majority of the treasury exhibits, but the simplest things in the no camera zones make this look like a pile of poop.
Section of the old Roman aqueduct that runs through the city. I've got better pictures of it than this, you'll see them some other time.
This is the bellydancer who comes to the hostel twice weekly. Picture says a thousand words.
The main dome of the Suleymaniye Mosque, one of the places I stopped on my leisurely walk Sunday morning and afternoon. Beautiful. Stunning. I think I liked the interior here more than that of the Blue Mosque.
Not quite sure what's going on here, but it looks cool. Also from Sunday AM.
Some folks on the street in Istanbul make their food money by selling trays of birdseed to tourists, resulting in huge flocks of pigeons. Sometimes this works out awesomely for the rest of us. I'm pretty sure that this is Nuruosimaniye Mosque in the background.
This is taken in Asia, on a stop for lunch during our Bosphorus boat cruise aboard...
THE GOOD SHIP DOĞANYURT II, piloted by trusty (that is, licensed) Captain Omer. This was a lot of fun, and the weather was great until the last hour or so.
Rumelihisari Fortress, as seen from the Bosphorus. Actually built before the Ottoman's conquered Constantinople, and used to mount tower guns and control shipping through the Bosphorus. Probably not too long passed between completion of the fortress and the fall of Constantinople to Mehmed II. 
Industrial district, seen from the boat....
If Carmen Sandiego ever stole Istanbul, this is roughly what the heist would look like.
I was psyched about this picture even before I bought a postcard yesterday sporting the exact same composition in slightly different lighting. That's Sultanahmet, or the Blue Mosque, which lends its name to the entire historic district. Good times. Very rare for a mosque to have 6 minarets.
I took this from atop the Galata Tower, in a district across the Golden Horn from where I'm staying. I really like this picture. Saturday, March 31, 2007
Istanbul part deux
Even when it's rainy, completely overcast, slightly foggy and more than a little cold, this city is incredible. Today I slept in an hour later than intended, as my ipod clock is still on Spain time. When I finally did get up and out, I headed to the Basilica Cistern. I don't think that this is the same underground waterway from the Bond flick, but it's pretty cool. Just like every other must-see tourist item in the historic district, it's a ten lira ticket for an unguided visit, and given that it only takes about a half-hour or forty minutes to see all there is to see I was a bit disappointed at the price. Nonetheless, glad I did it. Took a few good pictures, although I'm still not adept enough with the light metering on my camera to make them extraordinary. Incidentally, there'll be no pictures in this post as the computers in the hostel lounge are fossils and it would take forever to upload them. The wait for computers is bad enough without somebody clogging up the line with picture posting. Hopefully I'll be able to find a time up here when it's empty-ish to post some, but worst case scenario they'll be up when I get back to Spain. I think some of them are quite good, especially the handful I took of the Blue Mosque last night.
After the cistern I strolled about aimlessly for a time. It hadn't begun to rain yet, but there was no doubt that it would, so I put on my rain jacket. Decided to head across one of the footbridges to the other side of the Golden Horn (still Europe). I walked a winding route pretty much on purpose, eventually making my way to the Taksim district, a very polished shopping area with one wide main street that is home to several foreign embassies and also St. Anthony's church, a big impressive structure that is apparently not open to the public. In the mist and gloom and beginnings of a rainstorm, Taksim is quite magical despite its modern feel. It's also home to about a half-dozen Starbucks joints, so I stopped and had my first truly oversized cup of coffee since leaving the states. It was a real treat. I forgot my book at the hostel, so I had nothing to do but sit and write while sipping my coffee, and that was fun until my pen ran dry. At that point I headed back out into the street, taking pictures at many points on my walk down toward the Galata Tower. Another 10 lira ticket, a short elevator ride, two flights of spiral stairs and I was rewarded with a great view of the city. It is absolutely sprawling. The fog and greyness add to the effect, but I think the edges of the metropolis might still be invisible on a clear day. Took a few pictures, the quality of which I won't be able to evaluate until I see them on a bigger screen. Mostly I just stood and took in the height and the surrounding rooftops. It's a very cool spot. After descending I did a bit more winding, most of it on very steep inclines, before heading back to the hostel. I had decided it was time to get in touch with Dad's friend in Istanbul. This turned out to be a very frustrating project as Turkish pay phones don't take coins but claim to take credit cards. 30 minutes and many a curse later I gave up and bought a local phone card (a waste of a few lira since there's no way I'll make 50 minutes of local phone calls while here, but whatever). Couldn't get a hold of Dad's friend, however, so I decided to head back to the hostel and hang out in the terrace bar. The view from here is actually much more fun when the glass is covered with rivulets of rainwater. I've been up here since-- the cook makes a damn good Iskinder kebab (that's a local specialty, delicious tomato-based sauce over lamb garnished with yogurt...magnificent). I think I'm going to call it a night pretty soon, although I'll probably end up staying here for a few more beers with the couple of pals I've made. I love hostel travelling.
After the cistern I strolled about aimlessly for a time. It hadn't begun to rain yet, but there was no doubt that it would, so I put on my rain jacket. Decided to head across one of the footbridges to the other side of the Golden Horn (still Europe). I walked a winding route pretty much on purpose, eventually making my way to the Taksim district, a very polished shopping area with one wide main street that is home to several foreign embassies and also St. Anthony's church, a big impressive structure that is apparently not open to the public. In the mist and gloom and beginnings of a rainstorm, Taksim is quite magical despite its modern feel. It's also home to about a half-dozen Starbucks joints, so I stopped and had my first truly oversized cup of coffee since leaving the states. It was a real treat. I forgot my book at the hostel, so I had nothing to do but sit and write while sipping my coffee, and that was fun until my pen ran dry. At that point I headed back out into the street, taking pictures at many points on my walk down toward the Galata Tower. Another 10 lira ticket, a short elevator ride, two flights of spiral stairs and I was rewarded with a great view of the city. It is absolutely sprawling. The fog and greyness add to the effect, but I think the edges of the metropolis might still be invisible on a clear day. Took a few pictures, the quality of which I won't be able to evaluate until I see them on a bigger screen. Mostly I just stood and took in the height and the surrounding rooftops. It's a very cool spot. After descending I did a bit more winding, most of it on very steep inclines, before heading back to the hostel. I had decided it was time to get in touch with Dad's friend in Istanbul. This turned out to be a very frustrating project as Turkish pay phones don't take coins but claim to take credit cards. 30 minutes and many a curse later I gave up and bought a local phone card (a waste of a few lira since there's no way I'll make 50 minutes of local phone calls while here, but whatever). Couldn't get a hold of Dad's friend, however, so I decided to head back to the hostel and hang out in the terrace bar. The view from here is actually much more fun when the glass is covered with rivulets of rainwater. I've been up here since-- the cook makes a damn good Iskinder kebab (that's a local specialty, delicious tomato-based sauce over lamb garnished with yogurt...magnificent). I think I'm going to call it a night pretty soon, although I'll probably end up staying here for a few more beers with the couple of pals I've made. I love hostel travelling.
Thursday, March 29, 2007
First day in Istanbul, by the numbers
Minutes waited in assorted lines in airport at 2 am: 47
Cost, in lira, of cab ride to hostel at 3 am: 35
Hours of sleep: 7
Jewels seen in Tokopi Palace (in karats): 4,000,000 (roughly. Now I know what the phrase 'jewel encrusted' means.)
86 Karat diamonds: 1
Swords: 23
Letters handwritten by Mohammed: 1
Carpet salesmen encountered: 2 (note: shockingly low. One of the two even took a solid 7 minutes of conversation before slipping in the question 'You like carpet?' And then he showed be to a delicious, cheap restaurant, despite my refusal to check out his shop)
Turks instructing me not to support Bush: 1 (seems low, but in terms of percentage of turks talked to, this jumps to 33.3333333)
Mosques seen (entered): 5 (1, but Sultanahmet/Blue Mosque should probably count triple. Astonishing.)
Calls to prayer heard: 1, but a tag-team operation of the 6 minarets of the Blue Mosque, the 4 of the Haya Sofia, and the 1 of the other mosque that was in view. Pretty impressive)
Kitties: 9
Puppies: 2, both sleeping
Moments of true awe: minimum 29
Pictures taken (kept): 200 (145)
Cost, in lira, of cab ride to hostel at 3 am: 35
Hours of sleep: 7
Jewels seen in Tokopi Palace (in karats): 4,000,000 (roughly. Now I know what the phrase 'jewel encrusted' means.)
86 Karat diamonds: 1
Swords: 23
Letters handwritten by Mohammed: 1
Carpet salesmen encountered: 2 (note: shockingly low. One of the two even took a solid 7 minutes of conversation before slipping in the question 'You like carpet?' And then he showed be to a delicious, cheap restaurant, despite my refusal to check out his shop)
Turks instructing me not to support Bush: 1 (seems low, but in terms of percentage of turks talked to, this jumps to 33.3333333)
Mosques seen (entered): 5 (1, but Sultanahmet/Blue Mosque should probably count triple. Astonishing.)
Calls to prayer heard: 1, but a tag-team operation of the 6 minarets of the Blue Mosque, the 4 of the Haya Sofia, and the 1 of the other mosque that was in view. Pretty impressive)
Kitties: 9
Puppies: 2, both sleeping
Moments of true awe: minimum 29
Pictures taken (kept): 200 (145)
Tuesday, March 27, 2007
Eve of Thrace/Anatolia
Sure enough, excitement is setting in. I was thinking about stopping at a Vodafone store to ask about using my cellphone while in Istanbul, and trying to put together the question in my head (I hate being stuttery and obviously foreign when dealing w/ sales personell). Train of thought went roughly así: "Me voy mañana a Estambul, y quiero saber-- wait. I´M GOING TO ISTANBUL TOMORROW!!!" So yeah, I´m increasingly stoked about all of this.
I´ve spent my spare moments today looking at various websites sporting information on the only metropolis in the world which bridges a continental gap. The best part of all of this is that I have a full week in the city-- I have absolutely nothing to keep me from seeing everything. Which is a lot-- most tourism sites list about a dozen mosques and cathedrals, and those are just the huge & historical ones. There´s an afternoon to spend taking a boat tour up the Bosphorus. There´s the Grand Bazaar, and then at least one or two other un-grand ones. There´s multiple huge business districts. There´s bellydancing and hookah bars and the best baklavah in the world and a system of tunnels beneath the city (according to the Bond franchise anyway) and castles and islands and a beautiful coast and two separate seas and millions upon millions of people. It´s all a bit overwhelming, and that´s before I´ve even gotten there. I cannot possibly overstate my excitement.
I´ve spent my spare moments today looking at various websites sporting information on the only metropolis in the world which bridges a continental gap. The best part of all of this is that I have a full week in the city-- I have absolutely nothing to keep me from seeing everything. Which is a lot-- most tourism sites list about a dozen mosques and cathedrals, and those are just the huge & historical ones. There´s an afternoon to spend taking a boat tour up the Bosphorus. There´s the Grand Bazaar, and then at least one or two other un-grand ones. There´s multiple huge business districts. There´s bellydancing and hookah bars and the best baklavah in the world and a system of tunnels beneath the city (according to the Bond franchise anyway) and castles and islands and a beautiful coast and two separate seas and millions upon millions of people. It´s all a bit overwhelming, and that´s before I´ve even gotten there. I cannot possibly overstate my excitement.
Friday, March 23, 2007
Sacromonte pics
This past week has been very relaxed. Not a whole lot to report-- I´ve got a hostel booked in Istanbul, Megan and I are approaching a plan of sorts for meeting up in Spain after I get back from Turkey. It really hasn´t hit me yet, but I´ll be in Turkey...practically in Asia...able to straddle two continents...in all of 5 days. More to come on this...I´m guessing that sometime Tuesday afternoon I´ll be freaking out about how cool that is.
We had a soccer game on Wednesday night. Fútsol. Not a typo-- that´s what they call soccer played on a much smaller, much more made-of-stone court with teams of six. It was fun, but frustrating. One consequence of having a group composed of 60-some girls and 18 guys is that the group sports teams can´t really compete with teams with the opposite gender proportions. We´re really a pretty decent team, all things considered, but the Iowa State boys we played were very competitive, very fast, and had far more people who actually play soccer than we do. Still fun, I guess, but we got whipped. Turns out I curse a lot, and at a high volume, when I play sports. Huh.
So that was Wednesday-- last night was pretty tranquilo. Went to one of the bars we frequent, played some pool (which made me miss playing daily), wrapped things up around 3. Eddie went to Camborrio, the club up on Sacromonte, and ended up getting home around 6. He´d be the first to tell you that that´s an early night at Camborrio. That place is wild. I didn´t have the energy.
Today Paula took about 25 of us up through Sacromonte to the Abbey. Long, steep walk that rewarded us with a terrific view.
After sitting around for about a half hour waiting for another group to move through the abbey, we took our tour. There´s a museum with a pretty great collection of paintings, a map of Granada from the 16th century along with the original silver printing plates, a letter from Francisco Pizarro to Charles V, and a whole bunch of other stuff. We toured the museum, the small church, and the caves where it is believed San Cecilio was martyred. Pretty cool stuff all around.
In other news, I finally figured out how to use the manual focus feature on my camera effectively:
Monday, March 19, 2007
Gibraltar & Sevilla pictures
That´s Africa back there, across the Mediterranean. No big deal.This is one of I believe 3 mosques in Gibraltar, with the Rock in the background. This is approximately the opposite direction from the view of Africa, shot from almost the same exact spot.
This rock ape took my apple. I had brought the apple into the ape sanctuary fully intending to give it to an ape, but also hoping to coax said ape into some cool pictures. This intrepid dude jetted right up to me as I was taking a picture (I didn´t see him). Kinda freaked me out, but I kept a grip on the apple, and then gave it to him ´cause he gave me a reproachful look and I felt bad.
This rugged guy accosted our friend Stu and pulled a banana out of his pants pocket, eliciting (1) incredulous, high-pitched and non-stop yelling from Stu and (2) a bunch of dirty jokes involving bananas, pockets and monkeys.
First picture I took while walking into Gibraltar... Bird of Paradise. Killer.
And we´re into the Sevilla pictures. This is one of the towers at the Plaza de España. Lens flare provided free of charge. 
Picture in the Real Alcazar in Sevilla. Part of this palace, originally built by the Moors, has been added onto by three separate Catholic rulers of Spain, and includes space still occupied by the royals when they travel to Sevilla.
By far the coolest thing in Sevilla, though, was the Catedral.
The Cathedral in Sevilla stands on the spot formerly occupied by the city´s Alhama, or main Mosque, during the 700 years of Moorish rule of al-Andalus. As in most such cases, the mosque was almost entirely razed and built over-- only the irrigated patio (with its orange trees and fountain for ritual pre-prayer ablutions) and Alminar (minaret) remain. The old Moorish Alminar has been built over in Christian style, and a bronze statue of a 4-meter-high woman holding a shield stands atop the tower. This one-ton woman, whose shield is designed to catch the breeze such that her other hand will always indicate the wind´s direction, is named Giralda and lends her name to the tower itself. These are some shots from the very top of the tower, which is scaled by way of 34 long slopes-- no stairs.
the bull ring of Sevilla, as seen from the Giralda belltower. 
Sevilla & the Guadalquivir & some bridge -- Approximately the same stretch of the river on which we pedalboated later that day.
the aforementioned patio, from atop Giralda.
Torre de Oro-- kind of a deceptive name, since only the dome is actually Golden, but whatever. Shot from surface of the Guadalquivir, in a hidropedal. Sweet.
Monument on the banks of the Guadalquivir, next to a large plaque with a quotation from Elie Wiesel, which I will not try to translate in its entirety but which is about tolerance. Cool stuff.
Tuesday, March 13, 2007
Whirlwind Weekend (pictures later)
So this past weekend´s pre-paid AIFS trip was a friday-morning-to-sunday-night trip from Granada to Gibraltar to Sevilla to Cordoba to Granada. I don´t feel like going to Google maps and finding out how many miles that is, but trust me, it´s several. When you´re not riding a slightly-too-small bus for hours at a time, you´re strolling briskly along behind a well-rested tourguide who´s very nice but frustrated that you are so tired.
Don´t get me wrong, I enjoyed the weekend. Three very cool places that I would have been angry to have missed. If Mother Nature made a Best Of record, the Rock of Gibraltar would be the hard-to-find track that made you drop 15 bucks for the CD even though you already have a copy of everything else on the compilation. Seriously, it´s incredible. And the rock apes are very, very cute, especially when they hump each other on top of your tour bus.
I think the Ludicrous Speed of the tour was part of what got me sick in Sevilla. Friday night, after arriving from Gibraltar to our hotel in the city, I went to dinner with a few people and found I had developed a profound cough worthy of the Marlborough man. The next day I felt mostly fine, although still cough-y, as we wound our way through various tourist attractions in the city (very cool, more later w/ pictures). That night, after making a fucking delicious and completely improvised chicken stirfry with some friends in the hotel, I started feeling feverish, my cough started carrying stuff up, and my throat felt like it was made of pumice. After watching the exhilirating end of the Barcelona-Real Madrid match (Leo Messi, my personal favorite futbolista & Argentine, completed his hat trick in the final minute to tie the game and save a point for Barça, who was a man down and had been screwed by a lousy PK call in the first half), I was positive I had a fever, and decided to play it safe and not go out drinking. Trust me, it hurt, but it was the right decision.
Anyway-- I didn´t sleep for more than an hour straight the whole night, getting up constantly to spit foul-looking stuff into the sink, finally coughing so violently that my body quit and went to purge mode even though my stomach felt fine (bye-bye delicious, hand-made stirfry). Definitely high fever by this point. Trying to remind myself that you´re supposed to bundle up and sweat these things out. Trying not to get up and use all the spanish curses I´ve learned on the cabrones clapping and singing on the street outside our hotel WHERE THERE WERE NO GODDAMN BARS to facilitate such assholery. Trying to keep my up-and-down, bathroom-to-bed movements to minimum. Trying to keep my coughing below 50 decibels so as not to wake Eddie. What I´m getting at here, it was a miserable night. Except for the Messi hat trick, which was pretty freakin sweet.
Anyway-- I feel a hell of a lot better now. When we got back on Sunday night Sebi was very sweet and made me about a gallon and a half of mint tea before sending me to bed early. The next day I went to AIFS´s doctor, who gave me 4 separate prescriptions, which have me feeling near human again, although I sound like a zombie when I talk to people.
More on Leo Messi (youtube him, or google video search him....there´s good reason some people are heavily pushing the ´next Diego Maradona´ mantle onto this guy). As a kid, he received hormone treatments for dwarfism. Heavily scouted by the best teams in Argentina, but was bought by FC Barcelona when he was roughly 16, I believe. Started for Barcelona´s B side, and averaged over 1 goal per game. As a 17 year old, he made his first start for FC Barcelona in the Spanish Primera Liga, one of the best national soccer leagues in the world. Wears number 19 (I swear that´s not why I like him so much, but yeah, it helps) He is currently 19 years old. Nineteen. One-Nine. And he´s marking hat tricks against Real keeper Iker Casillas, the starter for the Spanish national side and possibly the best at his position in the world (definitely in the top 3). And he´s making Adidas commercials where he comes off as very personable. And he´s charming in post-game interviews. And he´s saucy as HELL. A couple weeks ago, in a Liga game, an opposing player was jawing with him and resting his forehead aggresively on Messi´s while jawing. RESTING his head, not headbutting. After listening to his trashtalk for a few seconds, Messi grabs his forehead and falls to the ground. Result: red card for the other guy. After the game, asked about the obvious (and successful) dive: "Somos Argentinos, y nos conocemos." That is, ´We´re both Argentinians, and we know each other.´ Next question. This actually makes me like him more. Go ahead and hate the diving in soccer if you want to, I won´t quarrel. But in a sport that rewards things like that, why not abuse the system? Spirit of the Game is fine for Ultimate, where nobody´s making any money or facing harassment for failure, but professional Futbol is a billion-Euro industry, and gaming the system is as much of a problem there as in any other major sport. Maybe you find Soccer´s way of gaming the rules to be less honorable or less manly than cheap zone-blocking schemes in American football that are designed to take out defenders´ knees to create holes for RBs, or steroids in the MLB, or easily-drawn touch fouls in the NBA. I say, get the hell over it. And in a sport where teams openly celebrate when they succeed in drawing a bullshit penalty kick, why shouldn´t a player use a daytime emmy-worthy performance to get a man advantage when the referee isn´t quite paying attention? And if he´s going to do it, shouldn´t he be saucy in saying, essentially, ´dems the breaks´ in a post-game press conference? Love it. Love Leo Messi. Each of his celebrations on Saturday outdid the previous one. First goal he lifts up his jersey to reveal a t-shirt with ´Fuerza Tio´ handwritten on it, apparently encouragement for a sick uncle at home. Second goal he runs around screaming and looking generally stoked. Then, after receiving a pass in traffic he elects not to stick a through pass to one of two partially-covered teammates inside the 18. When the pressure´s one, winners want the ball. He beats two men just enough to get some daylight, putting himself at a very difficult angle to goal in the process, and absolutely rips a ball past Casillas to the far corner, leaving the Spanish national keeper face down on the grass, not getting up. Sprints around screaming even louder, his eyes almost literally aflame, like he never doubted he would score. Brilliant. Absolutely fucking brilliant.
Don´t get me wrong, I enjoyed the weekend. Three very cool places that I would have been angry to have missed. If Mother Nature made a Best Of record, the Rock of Gibraltar would be the hard-to-find track that made you drop 15 bucks for the CD even though you already have a copy of everything else on the compilation. Seriously, it´s incredible. And the rock apes are very, very cute, especially when they hump each other on top of your tour bus.
I think the Ludicrous Speed of the tour was part of what got me sick in Sevilla. Friday night, after arriving from Gibraltar to our hotel in the city, I went to dinner with a few people and found I had developed a profound cough worthy of the Marlborough man. The next day I felt mostly fine, although still cough-y, as we wound our way through various tourist attractions in the city (very cool, more later w/ pictures). That night, after making a fucking delicious and completely improvised chicken stirfry with some friends in the hotel, I started feeling feverish, my cough started carrying stuff up, and my throat felt like it was made of pumice. After watching the exhilirating end of the Barcelona-Real Madrid match (Leo Messi, my personal favorite futbolista & Argentine, completed his hat trick in the final minute to tie the game and save a point for Barça, who was a man down and had been screwed by a lousy PK call in the first half), I was positive I had a fever, and decided to play it safe and not go out drinking. Trust me, it hurt, but it was the right decision.
Anyway-- I didn´t sleep for more than an hour straight the whole night, getting up constantly to spit foul-looking stuff into the sink, finally coughing so violently that my body quit and went to purge mode even though my stomach felt fine (bye-bye delicious, hand-made stirfry). Definitely high fever by this point. Trying to remind myself that you´re supposed to bundle up and sweat these things out. Trying not to get up and use all the spanish curses I´ve learned on the cabrones clapping and singing on the street outside our hotel WHERE THERE WERE NO GODDAMN BARS to facilitate such assholery. Trying to keep my up-and-down, bathroom-to-bed movements to minimum. Trying to keep my coughing below 50 decibels so as not to wake Eddie. What I´m getting at here, it was a miserable night. Except for the Messi hat trick, which was pretty freakin sweet.
Anyway-- I feel a hell of a lot better now. When we got back on Sunday night Sebi was very sweet and made me about a gallon and a half of mint tea before sending me to bed early. The next day I went to AIFS´s doctor, who gave me 4 separate prescriptions, which have me feeling near human again, although I sound like a zombie when I talk to people.
More on Leo Messi (youtube him, or google video search him....there´s good reason some people are heavily pushing the ´next Diego Maradona´ mantle onto this guy). As a kid, he received hormone treatments for dwarfism. Heavily scouted by the best teams in Argentina, but was bought by FC Barcelona when he was roughly 16, I believe. Started for Barcelona´s B side, and averaged over 1 goal per game. As a 17 year old, he made his first start for FC Barcelona in the Spanish Primera Liga, one of the best national soccer leagues in the world. Wears number 19 (I swear that´s not why I like him so much, but yeah, it helps) He is currently 19 years old. Nineteen. One-Nine. And he´s marking hat tricks against Real keeper Iker Casillas, the starter for the Spanish national side and possibly the best at his position in the world (definitely in the top 3). And he´s making Adidas commercials where he comes off as very personable. And he´s charming in post-game interviews. And he´s saucy as HELL. A couple weeks ago, in a Liga game, an opposing player was jawing with him and resting his forehead aggresively on Messi´s while jawing. RESTING his head, not headbutting. After listening to his trashtalk for a few seconds, Messi grabs his forehead and falls to the ground. Result: red card for the other guy. After the game, asked about the obvious (and successful) dive: "Somos Argentinos, y nos conocemos." That is, ´We´re both Argentinians, and we know each other.´ Next question. This actually makes me like him more. Go ahead and hate the diving in soccer if you want to, I won´t quarrel. But in a sport that rewards things like that, why not abuse the system? Spirit of the Game is fine for Ultimate, where nobody´s making any money or facing harassment for failure, but professional Futbol is a billion-Euro industry, and gaming the system is as much of a problem there as in any other major sport. Maybe you find Soccer´s way of gaming the rules to be less honorable or less manly than cheap zone-blocking schemes in American football that are designed to take out defenders´ knees to create holes for RBs, or steroids in the MLB, or easily-drawn touch fouls in the NBA. I say, get the hell over it. And in a sport where teams openly celebrate when they succeed in drawing a bullshit penalty kick, why shouldn´t a player use a daytime emmy-worthy performance to get a man advantage when the referee isn´t quite paying attention? And if he´s going to do it, shouldn´t he be saucy in saying, essentially, ´dems the breaks´ in a post-game press conference? Love it. Love Leo Messi. Each of his celebrations on Saturday outdid the previous one. First goal he lifts up his jersey to reveal a t-shirt with ´Fuerza Tio´ handwritten on it, apparently encouragement for a sick uncle at home. Second goal he runs around screaming and looking generally stoked. Then, after receiving a pass in traffic he elects not to stick a through pass to one of two partially-covered teammates inside the 18. When the pressure´s one, winners want the ball. He beats two men just enough to get some daylight, putting himself at a very difficult angle to goal in the process, and absolutely rips a ball past Casillas to the far corner, leaving the Spanish national keeper face down on the grass, not getting up. Sprints around screaming even louder, his eyes almost literally aflame, like he never doubted he would score. Brilliant. Absolutely fucking brilliant.
Thursday, March 8, 2007
Pictures (read: Bribes)
So...two posts in a month...probably not what y´all had in mind. I apologize. Looky, pretty pictures!
FROM THE ALHAMBRA, over a month ago...a handful of the several hundred I took over 4 hours.
awww lookitdakitty... many many cats in the Generalife garden complex that connects the Alcazar (castle) to the summer palace.
"PRODUCERS LOVE LENS FLARE."-- M. Sanders... these were taken from...not the foot...sort of the shin of the Albaicin. 
This is also from the Albaicin, a bit higher up...former Mosque/Alminar, now Church/Belltower.
That´s "A thousand machines could never make a flower." Albaicin graffiti.
From the Palacio Real in Madrid...12 string guitar made with Mother of Pearl...really proud of this picture ´cause I had to be clever to get it lit...looks way cooler in full resolution.
OF THE ALHAMBRA, at sunset, a couple weeks ago, from El Mirador de San Nicolas, possibly the best view of the city/palace/mountains. Would have many more pictures from that day but my batteries have figured out how to die at the least opportune possible moment. 
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