LOGAN'S ILL FATED EUROPEAN ADVENTURE

NOTES ON TBILISI AIRPORT

You can enter and hangout within the tiny airport as long as you want.  If you want to smoke, you can do so outside or even in the lamest Burger King in the world.   This BK has no beef, no shakes and very little to commend it.  Less if you are a non-smoker.  There is a fairly heavy police presence around the airport so you get less beggars and they are all on the outside.

Remember, unless you want to lug around completely useless foreign currency in your own game of "Jason Bourne", get rid of your Lari (GEL).  Outside of Georgia they are as welcomed as a truck load of dead rats in a tampon factory.

The weight of the 'big bag' (for those keeping track) is down to 14.3 KG.  Less is always better.



ARRIVAL IN LATVIA

Down to my last pen as the changing air pressure of the plane caused more small explosions.

Customs was a breeze.  The lady looked through my passport, wordlessly swiped it and handed it back.  That is the easiest time I've ever had in entering the EU.  I waltzed through the 'nothing to declare' line reading my notebook for what bus to catch.  Out of the corner of my eye, I could tell they were wanting to stop me but didn't.  It's rude to interrupt someone reading...  Yes, that was planned.  With a soccer ball worth of medicine in my bag and double or triple the legal number of cigarettes I wasn't anxious for them to have a look.

By the time I arrived in Latvia, my hands were literally shaking with fatigue.

To their great credit, none of the taxi drivers at the airport tried to hawk their cabs at me.  It shows a lack of sophistication and a dearth of poverty when they do.

Before my tale of woe and nice people who tried to help, I'd like to point out that the lat is the most valuable currency I've ever come across.  It's roughly two US dollars to buy one lat (LVL).  Wow, that sucks.  And a five is the smallest bill.

Since I'd done a little homework I'd discovered there was a 3 LVL shuttle that took people from the airport to their hostels.  Climbing on that, I didn't realize it was the last thing to go right for me in this country.

In the not too distant mother Russia, they have a holiday called "May Day".  Guess what day it starts?  Yes, the same one I'm Latvia.  This is a huge problem because Russians seem to celebrate this day by all leaving their country and going to other Russian speaking countries.  Like Latvia.

Everything was full.

I managed to get booked for one night at a hostel but that was it.  The "May Day" celebrations last about a week and a half.  Everything up to the 70 EUR per night hotels was booked solid.  Since I start freaking out when I have to pay 10 EUR for a place to sleep, 70 EUR was a bit beyond my budget.  And made me squeal like a pig.

Honestly, I was too stressed out to do much sightseeing but what I saw was a clean, modern city.   There was even a 'Cinnabon'.  Yes, I managed to resist it.  In hindsight, should have gone.  Lot of changes from Georgia.  Cars stay in their own lane.  Pedestrian crossings weren't just put there because they had extra paint left over.  The buildings were built with skill and aren't in danger of collapse.  They even have fire escapes.

Perhaps there is no clearer symbol of 'first world' as opposed to 'third world' countries than the lowly fire escape.  If you don't have one, it sends a message.  That message could be you live in a single story house.

So I wandered around fretting.  A friend of mine in Georgia has some extremely nice people who are very good friends of his in Riga and they said not to worry - they would find a place.  They looked for hours without success.  They did feed me and give me beer though.  While sitting in their establishment (which will be undergoing a name change to "Rockabilly House") I got to see something very unusual.  Though the surprise is probably a bit destroyed by mentioning the name of the establishment.

"Pete Anderson and the Swamp Shakers".  This was a four piece 'rockabilly' combo that operated with a great deal of enthusiasm.  Not bad music either.  Yes, when they found out I was from the states I got to talk to the leader a bit.  He asked me questions like if I could sing or play an instrument.  No.  Hell no.  I couldn't help but thinking as I sat around watching them play that if the USSR had kept going for another few years they would be sneaking out to play 'decadent western rock and roll music' while working a day job in factory number seven.

It's amazing how much American music they play there - and different from Georgia where they seem to play the same twenty Georgian songs over and over.

After accepting I would not be able to stay in Latvia, the great idea of 'duck into a nearby country and wait for the soviets to bugger back off home' came to mind.

Full.

Estonia, Latvia, Lithuania and even Poland were full.

What the hell.

It  was saddening not only to leave Latvia but to realize my entire plan had been blown.  Perhaps it would have been a lot cheaper had I gone with my original plan and gone to Spain along the northern coast of the Mediterranean.  Perhaps not.

So, it looked as though I'd have to push on to Berlin.  I had a vague feeling I wanted to go to Berlin.

Back in the old days, before the internet, Logan worked in army intelligence.  Note to my Georgian readers, this does not mean I am currently CIA.  It is a Georgian  pastime to accuse various Americans of working for the CIA.  Sadly, they don't seem good at this game.  Anyway, for anyone who has ever worked in the intelligence field during the Cold War, Berlin had a special mystique.

Spy swaps, spy vs spy, the Berlin Airlift and all of those shadowy things happened there.  I know that is all in the history books but I was hoping to catch just a whiff of the old spirit.

Nothing.

My trip isn't starting off very well.



IMPORTANT NOTE FOR TOURISTS IN THE BALKANS

If you are going to go in May and June (yes, another Russian holiday then), pre-book.  I'm not exaggerating.



BERLIN

Berlin turned out to be just another ultra modern city.  If any of the old, intriguing Berlin still exists, I've not yet found it.  I've still got a couple days left to look for it but it's probably not there.

On the good news, I've blown a whole bunch of money (70 EUR) get some new shoes.  The cheap Georgian tennis shoes I'd purchased literally caused me to think I was growing spikes through the bottom of my feet or they were on fire somehow.  The new shoes are gaudy and ugly.

I also decided that since the battery wasn't charging in my MP3 player (which is used daily) it was time to get a new one.  Tomorrow, I will return it and try to get a better one that doesn't shut itself off at random.



PHILOSOPHY

It's always baffling to me when someone is traveling for a month or so how they love to yack on skype. When they're with a group, they have the same conversations they would at home. Not really much of a vacation...

To those who want to do the overly protective, 'their family and friends would worry' sappy drivel, just think "What happened before cell phones or even the cable under the ocean for transatlantic calls?" Well, they traveled anyway - that's what. And they had new stuff to talk about when they got home because they didn't discuss it nightly...

PRICES

Georgia:

Burger King chicken sandwich, onion rings and a can of pepsi, 26 GEL.  Wow.


Latvia:

Dorm bed, 7 LVL cheapest though many are 10 LVL

Cafeteria meal I got sick after eating, 5 LVL


Berlin:

MP3 player that doesn't work, 30 EUR

REGICIDE

LEAVING GEORGIA

Lots of people live for years in one place.  I lived for years in a state I really mostly hated - Illinois.  Hell, that was a decade.  After extensive travel, some people come to despise it.  I went the other way.  Seven months in Tbilisi, Georgia seemed like forever.

When you need to save up money, sometimes there is no other option.

The jobs caused me to sit around rather than wander around.  Logan got fat.  Again.  Or, as some would say "Reverted to his natural form".   Gods help me when I return to the USA.  Mt Vesuvius belly.

Affordable alcohol and sweets are a dangerous combination.



LUXURY APARTMENT

Of all of the places I've stayed so far, the $450 per month luxury apartment is high on the list.  Literally everything I needed was in there.

Only two downsides, both related to the gas heater.  First, if you left the kitchen window closed when using gas, the house fills with gas.  Possible death.  Definite downside.

The second problem with the gas heater is that the genius that built it didn't put any sort of cover on it.  When the wind blows, it goes out.  Quite a bummer if you are in the middle of the shower for the water to go from 'nice and hot' to ice cubes.

Hell no I never used gas to cook.  Didn't cook.  If food in a country is too expensive to eat out, I will fucking switch countries.  There is no need for Logan to cook.



PEOPLE OF GEORGIA

They're pretty nice.   I like them and would go back.

Sure, everyone likes to dress in black (not joking) and wander the streets unsmiling but it's almost like this is an automatic defense mechanism against the hordes of beggars and the KGB ghosts which haunt the streets.

Not a clue if it should be considered 'can do spirit' or people fighting on despite tools, training or competency but a saying I developed for Georgia is "If you don't have the right tool, any will do."

They have some weird beliefs.  Very weird.  Stay the hell away from doctors and politely ignore anyone who wants to give you any medical advice.  These things seem handed down from the same folks who brought western Europeans the 'knock on wood' beliefs.   It's easy to look at another countries' beliefs and say "Gosh, they believe in some goofy shit" but when I run into these strange beliefs it makes me wonder about my own programming.  What unquestioned yet erroneous beliefs have I?

Business beliefs and practices within Georgia also defy rational explanation.  Hidden, unlabeled stores.  No change in cash registers.  No customers, no problem.  Totally baffling.  Though labor is cheap here, rent and bills aren't.  How these are paid for is a mystery.

Most people live with their families in homes everyone was given after the collapse of the USSR.  This is handy because the wages people are paid wouldn't pay for rent.



RETURN OF THE GEORGIAN (SINCE JEDI IS COPYRIGHTED)

When discussing Georgia with Mark Rein-Hagen, he mentioned a mutual acquaintance would return to Georgia and that people often returned to Georgia.

"Why is that, do you think?" I queried.
"Dunno." he replied.  "There is just something about Georgia."

I concur.

Especially if Mark has more game design work for me.



YOU AND GEORGIA

Should you choose to visit Georgia and see it's wonderful outdoor scenery, experience the warmth of the people and hunt in frustration for hidden shops on roads without street signs some advice.

Seeing Tbilisi itself is one to three days depending upon your interest.  It is also a good 'jumping off' point for hitting many outlying areas.

Though there is at least one place with good skiing, tourism in Georgia is a summer thing.  Roads get blocked and closed quickly in the winter making much of the country inaccessible.

I've never even heard rumors crime of Georgians against foreigners.



LEAVING ON A JET PLANE...AGAIN

People bitch about having to wait for two or three hours for a flight.  Fuck them.  Because it was a bit more convenient for a couple people, I showed up at the airport eight hours early.  Eight.

Georgia drew the short straw in terms of when their flights arrive and leave - between three and six in the morning.

For those keeping track, everything I own is down to 14.3 KG.



REGICIDE

While maintaining my vigil, Burger King snared me with it's siren call.  They have one at Tbilisi Mall as well that was pretty good - though very expensive.  The BK at the airport was amazing in it's 'suck-a-tude'.

No beef.  They weren't 'home of the whopper'.   Makes me think they bought an 'indulgence' from the home office king to carry on despite wild incompetency.

Figured perhaps a shake would take the edge off.

No shakes.

The only good thing (for me) - smoking was permitted there.

Die, King, die.



COSTS

Taxi to the airport, with additional stop; 20 GEL.
Shitty, overpriced, don't have beef Burger King, 25 GEL.

INSANITY, WOMEN AND GEORGIAN POLICE

INSANITY, WOMEN AND GEORGIAN POLICE

We had a guest who stayed at the hostel for three days then left, presumably and hopefully for greener pastures.  Other people who were in the hostel were all agreed on one thing - she was nuts.  I breathed a sigh of relief when she was gone.

Then, she came back.

Fortunately, the boss of the hostel trusts many of my decisions.  I tried the 'we're booked up' excuses with the girl but rather than just going off to find a different place, she insisted on staying here.  I closed and locked the heavy hostel door after telling her in no uncertain terms that she was not welcome to stay here.

She began trashing things outside, saying she wanted to kill people and die.  She insisted I call the police.

This put me in a bit of an awkward situation.  So, I called the owner of the hostel.

Unknown to me, he was literally in the middle of giving a speech on conflict resolution to a university audience.  Perhaps I could let her in until one o'clock then he could come and ask her to leave?  Not a good idea I responded.  She's trashing the place.  Eventually, he reluctantly agreed I should call the police.

While the owner was running out of the startled auditorium and heading back to the hostel, I phoned 112.  This is the emergency number for pretty much everything in Georgia.  Different than the American 911 or the much more logical UK's 999.

A couple of nice police officers showed up and worked on talking to the sullen woman who stood there hugging herself with her small wheeled suitcase nearby and large purse-pack on.  She wouldn't give them her name or passport and claimed to be a Hezbollah terrorist.

From my old days, I knew what that was.  How I wish we had been in America at that point.  While it is true that the people of America are some of the most paranoid in the world, they know how to deal with people who want to claim to be terrorists.  Cuff, search, car, gone.  Down to the department to process this bat shit crazy girl.

Not here.

This next part won't make a lot of sense without a bit of a detour into what I like to think of as the 'basic programming' that goes into Georgian's when they are kids.  In the Wikitravel page on Georgia, it says "Women are highly esteemed in society and are accorded a chivalric respect." This doesn't quite cover it.  To any Georgian man, the most important person in his life - until he dies - will be his mother.  Some cultures may find this baffling but here it is part of the 'basic wiring' that makes up Georgians.   Along with this, all women are placed onto a high pedestal.

Including women that are nuttier than a squirrel turd.

Despite the woman doing things like physically attacking the police, trying to steal their police hats and shredding the part of their notebook that contained information about her - the police treated it like a bit of a joke.   They were kind and patient with her to a point that, in my eyes, parted company with logic and prudence long ago.  Had this been a man doing these things, I am convinced he'd have been taken down hard, cuffed and stuck in a car.

Eventually, more high ranking and harder eyed police officers showed up until we had a couple dozen cops here.  Lots of cigarettes and paperwork were gone through.  One of the police officers mentioned he had even seen me on TV.  Small world.

She still refused to show her passport and nobody made her.

By this point the boss of the hostel had shown up and took center stage dealing with the police.  Despite the police dispatch having been thoughtful enough to send along a young officer who was very skilled in English, I was happy to fade into the background and let the hostel boss (Lasha) take lead.

Rather than leaving, I stuck around.  Police often have follow up questions.

They then informed me that their Criminal Investigation (CI) division would be showing up to sort things out.

CI did show up but no matter how many times they nicely asked, the sullen woman would not show her passport.  According to CI, this was not the first time she'd run afoul of the law though they didn't wish to elaborate on others.

Perhaps her rampant insanity is why she couldn't stay anywhere else and came back here.  Other hostels presumably denied her entry.  Gosh, I'm glad we didn't have any other guests.  With all of the police officers we had both in the hostel and smoking outside they would have had no where to sit.

It was baffling watching the procedure.  Nobody took the girl seriously.  They left their back open to her and even moved her inside in case she was getting slightly cold standing outside.

Eventually, CI passed the buck back to the local police who had called in the anti-terrorist unit (ATU).  After more waiting, they showed up and the local police and CI all left.

The ATU asked everyone (ie non- ATU) to please wait outside while they questioned the girl.  Again, even the gentlest of questioning could not get her to take her passport out of her tightly clutched bag to show them.

The ATU decided she was not a terrorist and posed no threat.  No bags were checked, no finger prints taken to compare on records, nothing.  They became of the opinion she was merely mentally ill.  The girl was also an Iraq citizen and it was felt that she was merely trying to get political asylum.  They have no department (or, according to the cops, budget) for such things here. 

So, despite having a go with personal property destruction, assaulting a couple of police officers, threatening to do harm to herself and others, they let her go.

Wish I was joking.

Her last words were "I know what to do!"  Earlier, she had threatened she would be back.  No doubt she will come back and reap more havoc upon the hostel.

Lasha, the hostel owner, is one of the more easygoing people I've met.  He was literally so enraged he couldn't say more than "Fucking Georgia!"

The sad thing is that had I gotten into any sort of physical altercation with her initially, I'd be cooling my heals in jail despite her being the one dancing with madness.

It's amazing to me how much bureaucracy and the programming given to children runs people.  It will be interesting to see what happens to the relatively crime free Georgia as more and more refugees keep flooding in.

THE BATTLE AGAINST TOOTH DECAY

Here's another story of Logan's pain and suffering to make your day a happier one...



SHINE DENTAL CLINIC

After getting to see the look of complete surprise on my face when a tooth fell out, I decided a trip the next day to the dentist was in order.  Putting off anything to do with your teeth has always seemed stupid to me.  As anyone who has read much of this blog knows, going to the dentist is never a good experience for me and is usually filled with pain - but it's still the smart play.

Nino is a Georgian girl who works here at the hostel.  When she came in, I requested she call the Shine Dental Clinic for me.  This is the same dental clinic that the third employee of Friends Hostel, Brigid had been to and recommended.

Nino booked an appointment for that very morning and Brigid gave me foolproof directions to get to the dental office.

Shine turned out to be reassuringly clean and staffed by three women dentists and one man whose job it was to operate the x-ray machine.

The only strange thing to happen was that the man had me hold the card in my mouth with my finger while they took an x-ray of the tooth.  He also didn't leave the room for it.  I've been told they have directed x-ray machines which don't spread radiation all over but this is Georgia.

I'm thinking he doesn't want children.

One of the dentists worked on me while the other mostly watched and translated into decent English questions and such.

They gave me a choice between simply pulling the tooth or attempting to put the part that fell out back into my head.  Their facial expressions told me they weren't at all confident about being able to get it back in nor how long it would last.

This was the same tooth they had attempted to fix back in Cambodia.  I figured that the tooth really didn't want to 'play ball' and get along with the rest of my mouth so I opted for the option to just yank it.

The procedure took over a half an hour.

Even with the shots they put into my gums to deaden the pain it was remarkably painful.  They used my other teeth to try to apply leverage and it often ended up with my lips between the unyielding teeth and the metal tools.

Teeth have three roots.  I found this out because each one ended coming out separately and painfully.  Various clamps and drills alternated for what felt like a month.

They didn't cheer when they got each root out but did have a mixture of elation and relief every time.

The dentist told me it wasn't the most difficult tooth extraction she'd ever had but it was in the top ten.

This came as no surprise.  Nothing with me ever goes easily.

After they had finished removing the tooth and I'd spit up a lot of blood they told me they felt removing it was the better option.

I'm glad they didn't say they should have left it in.

Yes, I realize that you can get implants but not at that dentist.  I'm also not sure what sort of quality they have here in Georgia.  Dentistry seems a bit...basic here.



COSTS

Getting a tooth pulled, 40 GEL (for the lazy ones out there, that's about 25 USD).
One X-ray, 5 GEL.

BARBERS

THE BARBER STORY

When looking for something, I always play a game of "Twenty Questions".  It is different from the normal game in that it is the same question spread out over twenty people.  This is a frequently played game for people visiting foreign countries simply because half the people you ask have no idea and want to be helpful by lying.

Interviewing the older members of society who actually know where things are.  As they possess know knowledge of English but make expansive hand gestures which can be as difficult as interpretive dance to understand.

Eventually, I found myself at what I always think of as a 'manly barber shop'.

Since the 1980's these have not been seen within the USA.  Within them, you can get a straight razor shave while terminally nicotine addicted men lounge about.  These are extinct within the USA having been replaced by either 'fu fu' salons or chain barber shops with their revolving door staff.

In a fairly run down part of town was the barber shop, it's presence being marked by a highly stylized pair of scissors you could only see from the sidewalk in front of it though looking into the barred windows was easier.  After wandering around the building a bit, I discovered the only entrance was through a shop selling eyeglasses.

The sixty year old (he told me) barber was finishing up with his previous customer who sported a fair amount of blood on his neck.  Undeterred, I got a chair.

We spoke in a mixture of English, Georgian, German and sign language - the latter being the most useful.

Shave and a haircut, 10 GEL - half the price or less at a chain store in the USA with a lot more care and quality.

Sadly, the quality part didn't rub off on me, but the barber did the best he could with what he had to work with.

Since I only get a shave and a haircut once a month, my appearance is usually midway between 'basic trainee' and 'terrorist in training'.

Unexpectedly, I found myself back in the Elvis restaurant.  Certainly, I did take the subway there and walk to it but it was the siren call of hamburgers that brought me.

Because I am a perverse person, I instead had a very mediocre steak burger while being freaked out by the numerous statues and pictures of 'the King'.



NERO STORY

The cabana boy story:  Once upon a time, Derek and I went up to Canada.  I don't remember which chapter.

We found some young guy and hired him to be our 'cabana boy'.

Any time we would call out "Oh cabana boy!"  He was to loudly and immediately sound off with "Yo ho ho sir!".

He did literally everything for us - fetching drinks for us, doing our dirty dishes, being ambushed by monsters if we thought there might be a trap.

If we saw him sneaking up on monsters, we would call "Oh cabana boy!" just for the hilarity that would ensue.

Note, for those that are reading this thinking "So you abused this poor low level newbie for the entire event, yes.  Yes we did.  But we did promise to pay him well.  We didn't.  We paid him obscenely well.  We may have left him the richest guy in his chapter.

I consider him a crunchy because he would die very quick.  I have a very broad view of 'crunchies' - they include low level players.

HIP PLACES TO EAT IN TBILISI GEORGIA

MCDONALDS

Love it or loath it, McDonalds seems to be a fairly accurate representation of American culture.  Though not the best food by a long shot, falling woefully short in anything approaching 'nutrition' and packed with enough calories that a single meal could suffice from the day, all McDonalds serve approximately the same crap and that attracts people in droves.

Years back, someone had submitted a paper stating that no two countries with the McDonalds restaurant had ever been at war.  Guessing he got paid a lot for this but how he padded it out to an entire paper as opposed to a memo remains a mystery.

McDonalds is so prolific if we had a real space program it would be interplanetary.  Perhaps it is the fear of gaining several unwanted kilos keep alien races from first contact with Earth.

The McDonalds in Tbilisi has quite a veneer of hip on top of the normal Georgian business practices which I term "WTF business".  Fashionable chairs, a wooden paneled curving staircase and American street music contrive to give the art deco look to this McDonalds.

The Georgian part comes in with the hiring of four extra pretty women in tight skirts.  Two sit behind a desk while the other two roam the floor of the restaurant.  Their purpose in the restaurant is mysterious - probably just to give the owner more status by employing extra people.  The trendy bathrooms do not include paper towels and to get even ketchup, you will shell out .7 GEL per packet.  BBQ sauce is cheaper at .55 GEL.

Many people habitually eat fast food without apparent side effects, but a resistance can be built up to iocane powder as well.  A bit of sickness and mopery dog me the day after ingesting this processed crap.  It must be done to touch base with the American roots.



ELVIS RESTAURANT

I've always been wary of people who still celebrate Elvis.  Too much Elvis paraphernalia gets my Agent Orange up and I start feeling stabby.  They were rumored to have a tasty burger there and since no 'Big Kahuna Burgers' were around, off I went.

Lots of Elvis stuff around though they didn't play Elvis music over the PA.  I counted myself lucky and figured that the staff would go postal at the 1083rd rendition of 'Love Me Tender'.

It was stylish and clean, an unholy combination of a 1950's diner and 'art deco' stuff made possible with special lubrication.

The burger was alright but nothing to get too excited about.  Sure, it was better than McDonalds but what isn't?



HEALTH WATCH

Logan is up to 125 KG.  Forced inactivity combined with blisters from distressed footwear have moved the weight up a bit though I still look thinner in kilos than I ever did in pounds.


Since Georgian bandages (plaster) contains some sort of acid.  I've had bandages from several countries but these are the first which seem to dissolve the top layer of skin and peel off the second.  It is pretty disgusting.  Hence, we're no longer using those.  Now, I have a giant piece of gauze wrapped around my waist several times, pulled as tight as an overweight girls clothing with my blubber hanging out of the top and bottom.  The spherical surface the wrap is on causes it to roll to lessen the protection.  The doctor did say to keep it covered and that's what I'm trying to do.

The doctor also said not to get it wet from the shower.  In this I have been less successful as this country doesn't stock large sized water proof bandages so as a compromise, showering has become an every other day ritual for awhile.  Can't wait until this scar heals.  I feel like an American football.

Tomorrow, perhaps, the stitches come out.  The second set of stitches, that is.



GEORGIAN HEALTH

Georgia has never been bitten by the 'diet bug'.  Healthy food and exercise have never really caught on here and if someone was so inclined they would have to be rich.  The cheap food to eat is bread and everyone who knows about health knows bread is not your friend.  The average Georgian consumes a staggering amount of bread daily.  Call it a loaf or two.



PRICES

McDonalds or Elvis, 10-15 GEL, depending on what you order.

POST APPENDIX BLUES

POST APPENDIX BLUES

To set up my latest "WTF is going on in my life" moment, I am going to need to set the stage a bit.

I am working at a hostel in Tbilisi.  The owner and his wife are off touring western Europe.  The owners mother comes in to do things at the hostel while he is away.  There is also a South African girl (the sturdy, competent type named Brigid) who has been working here for months.

As mentioned previously, I had told Brigid I was heading to the hospital.  She was not worried at all.  "You're a big boy" was all she said.

The owners mother went...the other route.  She freaked out.

Freaked the fuck out.

I thought she had just called a bunch of hospitals.

No.

She called the Georgian police.

They looked for me.

On Facebook.

Go take a look at the picture of me on a camel.

Yeah.  The one on my profile.

According to other Georgians, that picture made an appearance on Georgian TV.

So.  To all of those people who make "FML" posts, I think I can say I have one upped you.  Sure, it would suck more if my computer blew up - but having the Georgian police airing a picture of you riding a camel and saying "Have you seen this man or his camel?" on TV is at least a tad more interesting.

TWO DAYS LATER

I was just sitting around.  I'm spending even more time than normal doing that because I don't want to aggravate my wound.

I had brushed my hand over my shirt where the wound is because it was feeling a bit moist.   Behold, my scar had popped back open.

After a brief photo op with a reluctant and grossed out cameraman (Brigid) it was back to the hospital with me.

A local, two stitches and crappily put on band-aid and I'm back.

FUN AT THE GEORGIAN HOSPITAL

THE BIG HOSPITAL STORY

[Disclaimer 1:  If you are easily grossed out, be advised that this may be as hard to stomach as mongoloid porn.]

[Disclaimer 2:  This is written a bit disjointedly.  I apologize for that.  However, I am still a bit out of it and in considerable pain.]

Throughout the day, I had diarrhea.

No big deal - I am in a foreign country, eating foreign food.  It happens.  I carry anti-bacterials on me for just such an occasion.  I popped a couple and just dealt with it.

This time was different.

I woke up to discover I had 'sharted' myself.  For those not in the know, it is what happens when you thought you'd fart, but shit came out.  This was unusual because I'd done it in my sleep.

OK.  Off to the bathroom to change my pants and clean up.  \

These things happen I suppose but this was a first.

Then, I woke up to discover I had truly messed myself in goo.  And  I had a bit of stomach pain.

Since I had no other clean clothing, I washed these off, put them back on and went downstairs to wake Bridget.  She has been in Georgia for a year or two and might have some useful information.

I asked her to write 'doctor' in Georgian in my notebook.  Since it was 5:30AM, she wrote it in English.  Not a lot of help but she tried.

I went down the hill feeling a bit like a sieve to the small square near the hostel.  There are usually a couple of taxi cabs there.  The drivers didn't understand the words for 'hospital', 'doctor', 'help' or 'sick'.  I should really learn more Russian.  Eventually, I found a friendly Georgian here on vacation from his new home in the USA to translate.

They got me to a hospital.  I had no clue which one.

This was a hospital out of horror movies.  In most hospitals, the emergency entrance has some doctors or nurses loitering around just in case someone pulls up spurting blood.   Although it wasn't blood I was spurting, it would have been nice to see someone.

Instead, there were darkened corridors and closed doors.

The cab driver was nice enough to come in with me and made noise to wake - yes, wake - the staff who were asleep in various rooms to explain my situation to them.

A team of doctors were eventually summoned to deal with this foreigner.  They spoke no English.  Surprisingly, they did speak very bad German.

It amazes me how often that language comes up.  It makes me feel a bit validated for all that time I spent studying it.

Eventually, it was determined that I was American and a couple doctors who spoke very bad English were summoned.

So it became a three way linguistic ho down  - Georgian, English and German.  Yee haw.

After doing a bit of pushing and prodding on my stomach, three different people announced it was my appendix.    Since I know that an appendicitis is an expensive, painful and expensive operation I asked if there was anything else that could be done to make sure.  They smeared goo on the hurty area and rubbed a wand on it so they could see what was up.  Was it an ultrasound?  An MRI?  Magic?  Didn't care.  The results told them it was time for them to cut me open.  It was explained that the diarrhea is a symptom as well.

Cost naturally came up.

I explained to them with great difficulty and only gradually that I have no insurance.  Statements like "Who travels without insurance?" came up.  Well, poor people.

The head of the hospital (nicknamed 'the professor') and five others showed up to argue about the money part.

The price was disclosed to be $600.  Goodbye, savings.  I did get them to agree that this was the 'total price' because they wanted to keep tacking on other crap in the great tradition of hospitals everywhere.

Spending lots of money is worse than accidental death.  Poverty is the gift that keeps on giving.  With death, you're only fucked once.

They brought me paperwork to sign.  It was all in Georgian.  I don't read or understand any of it.  Rather than signing, I just wrote "I don't understand Georgian" in English at each place they wanted me to sign.  This seemed to satisfy the guy and he went away.  Yes, I know that in sue happy America they won't treat you unless you sign their crap but this is a whole different world.

It was the first time I ever walked into a surgery before.  In every other hospital, they stick you into a bed with wheels (possibly a gurney) and wheel you in there.  Here, I walked in.

It might be worth noting they did not give me any other clothing.  I was still in my literally shit stained clothing.

Yeah - I was operated on while still wearing these clothes.

After I laid down on the table, everything started in flashes -

Blacking in and out
In so much pain my teeth were chattering

Eventually, I came around in my very basic room.  There were two gurneys in there with blankets reading "US" on them.  I got one.  This is their idea of a private room.  Unfortunately, the walls were so thin I'm not sure if it actually helped.  These beds were very narrow and about as comfortable as hostel beds.

There are no 'nurse call' buttons.  If you want something, scream for ten minutes.

No food is permitted on the first day.

They had no straws.  Weird - and really a pain in the ass to those who trying to sit up causes them a world of pain.  Heck, there wasn't even any soap or toilet paper in the bathroom.  Bring your own.

With nurses so difficult to summon, I was very curious to see what would have happened if I had to crap or pee.  In retrospect, I'd have probably just had to lie in it.  Glad I didn't need to.

The whole medical  system is set up on the premise you will have your family with you.  Should you need anything one of them is dispatched to get a nurse.  This includes food.  The hospital doesn't serve it.  You have to give a nurse money - she runs out and buys something from the market for you.  Better still, your family brings you food.

The nurses didn't have any monitoring equipment hooked up to me and checked on me only infrequently.  Honestly, the hospitals in India were more modern.

The first day gave me a lot of really vivid drug dreams as well as convincing me that 'Intelligent Design' is utter bullshit.  Not only is the appendix completely useless but if you've ever bitten the inside of your cheek while chewing you have to doubt the competency of any deity you are 'made in the image of'.

One of the things which went  through my head is 'what kind of food would I love to have right now' - assuming eating whatever I wanted wouldn't cause me to die or explode.  The surprising answer was Bert Isla's Thanksgiving feast.  Yeah, that was awesome and all home made.

On the second day, I was permitted bread (cracker crunchy type) and tea.

I spent the entire day lying around in the clothing I'd shit in, then had surgery in.  I smelled fantastic.

The hospital seemed to me very 'USSR style'.

The only cleaning done was by one of the old women wearing all black.  She came in with a mop and did a very perfunctory sweep with it then left.  If something was spilled (it was) on the floor later, tough.  It doesn't get cleaned until the next scheduled time.

One skill which seems pretty basic to me for nurses is how to run an IV.  They had a lot of problems doing it.  At one point, it just leaked out all over the bed instead of going into me.  They shrugged and took off the IV and removed the needle.  Perhaps they figured I was full.

Because I didn't have any phone numbers on me, my only visitor was some old lady who wanted to sell me stuff.

Speaking with the sister of a lady who had the same procedure it turns out that I got charged the same as natives.  That makes me happy.

Somehow, I don't see Georgia becoming a 'medical tourism' destination.

Eventually, it became time to pay.  The best thing to do after really painful surgery is walk for several blocks because the hospital doesn't take credit cards.  No kidding.

After paying, I departed.  I'll have to go back in a week to get my Frankenstein like stitches removed.



RETURN TO THE HOSTEL

Something I totally didn't expect was the reception I got.  The owners mother was freaking out as though I'd been shot and carted off to an unknown hospital.  Bridget, the lady I'd worked with was  completely neutral.  She knew I'd be back when I could.

The funny thing is that the owners mother had gone through my gear trying to find my name and such to give to the police.  It wasn't in the gear.  Logan is a cautious and suspicious person.

CAMBODIA TO GEORGIA

LEAVING SIEM REAP

The torrential rains of the night before seem to have mostly drained away.

I arrived about forty minutes early to the bus station.  The people at the Siem Reap hotel I'd been staying were very sad to see me go.

Even at 7:20 AM, the day was getting very sweaty.

An Aussy dressed in poofy pants, a cowboy hat and a bed sheet in place of a sheet met me at the bus station.  His name was Joey and I spoke with him a bit as we went.  When asked about the bed sheet, he explained that all of his shirts had gotten wet in the previous nights downpour and it was the only dry thing he had to wear.   Instead of purchasing extra shirts as he had intended, he got drunk and bought three different hammocks.  Funny ole world...    



ONE NIGHT IN BANGKOK - AGAIN

It was a dark and stormy night when I finally arrived in Bangkok.

During the storm, Joey wanted to hang out under an awning.  Since I was getting soaked along with my gear it became time to part company.  The bindle was getting heavier and heavier as it absorbed more water.

After diving into an Indian restaurant to eat the best mutton curry ever, I bargained down a tuk tuk from his wildly optimistic 500 THB to 300 THB and took the uncomfortable ride to the Sukhimvit district.   Because of the rain and the time of night, I'd considered just staying in the Khao San Road area.  On their price cards, they usually have one reasonably priced 'simple' room and several other very high priced options.  The 'simple rooms' - if they ever really existed - are always full.

Stopping twice to argue with the tuk tuk driver that he should actually take me to my destination rather than dropping me off in the middle of nowhere and one other time so he could ask someone more competent where it actually was that he claimed to know, I got dropped off at the hostel.

This is the same hostel I had met two people I'd seen in different parts of the world.  Yes, I met someone else I'd seen in a different part of the world there.  Kind of an interesting vibe to that place.

The hostel was - with three notable exceptions - filled with the usual foreigners who liked to alternate between partying hard and sleeping.

Two of the exceptions were an old couple staying at the hostel.  Possibly in their eighties, I thought they were someone's grandparents who were meeting them at a hostel.  They said they had been vacationing and staying at hostels for the last four decades.  Their only complaint was that the young people pretty much ignored them.

Ignoring the old couple, I went to bed early.

Since I knew the partiers would be inconsiderate and definitely wouldn't be carrying flashlights, I just left the light on when I went to sleep.  Easier.

The air conditioner was blasting cold enough it gave me a new cough for a couple days.  Despite that, my body was still hot in that room.  Odd.  I punished the young people by sleeping only in my underwear.  They avoided me after that.

The next day, I awoke early and talked to the third exception at hostel.  He  was an old redneck named Mike.  He has inoperable lung cancer and a two pack a day habit.  He spoke of perhaps quitting smoking.  Since the doctors told him he only had six months to live I said "Smoke up.  Enjoy your remaining time how you want."  He had come to Thailand to live on a beach till death takes him.  That way, he can enjoy himself and not be a burden to his family.

Sounds like a plan to me.

We talked about having both served in the same town in Korea although a decade apart.

After that, I took my leave of him and headed to the airport.

On the way, a couple cops told me to go stand over there, possibly due to my jaywalking.  They were then distracted by several other people jaywalking.  During their distraction, I wandered off.  I didn't feel like paying bribes to the police just then.

After a couple blocks, I recalled I'd left one of my locks attached to an empty locker.  Didn't feel like going back to see if the police were upset with my earlier disappearance and reasoned that buying a new lock would be cheaper than buying two cops.

Off to the airport.

Arrived eight hours before my flight, five hours before I could have even checked in.  Some people would say I could have left my bag at the hostel and gone around Bangkok.  Been there so often there is absolutely nothing I want to do.

The big back is up to 17.9 KG.  Possibly something to do with the new business cards printed in Cambodia.

The Bangkok airport has one of those new 'controversial but accepted because we are more scared of terrorists than keeping our rights' body scanners at the airport.

As readers know, I wear a couple of pouches inside my shirt for money and ID's.  They insisted I put the pouches through the xray machine.  Despite the machine being able to see through my clothing to look at my pathetic little cock, they wanted my security pouches off.

I stripped off my shirt and the pouches and dumped all of that into the xray machine.  Going through dressed in only my shorts, I raised my hands and said "If you need to frisk me I totally understand and am happy to comply."

The Thais stared in horror as the waves of fat rippled like currents in the sea.

A couple other tourists goggled at me and I said "Yeah, they're a bit strict on their security here...  It's almost as bad as in the USA.  At least here I don't have to get naked and have a cavity search!"

My goods were quickly returned aside from a bottle of water and my beloved mosquito killing device.  These were taken away.  Sad.

The best thing about the Bangkok airport is a cheaply priced 7-11 within the airport.  This is a good place to eat and drink while living in the airport.

If I eat fast food, I feel sick for a day afterward.  Not sure why - possibly the low food value and toxins within the food.  Despite this, I did look into the prices of Burger King at the airport.  Drink, burger and fries - $13.  Screw that.

Security and customs took about two hours.   I was told that my bag would next be seen in Istanbul.  I was hopeful.

The lady at the Malaysian Air counter interrogated me about my length of stay in Istanbul.  Started having bad flashbacks about the Philippines fiasco where I had to trash the ticket due to having no 'onward tickets'.

She seemed satisfied with my explanation I'd be taking a bus immediately out to the Republic of Georgia.  I exhaled.

While waiting on the plane, someone else got hauled off for not having 'onward ticket'.

Super.

The flight was one of those 'good news, bad news' things.  The layout of the chairs was two, aisle, five then two.  I got lucky and was in one of the two.  The bad news is that it was a 'screaming baby' flight.

During the flight, some cross eyed kid kept staring at me.  Then again, maybe he wasn't.



WELCOME TO TURKEY

Going through Turkish customs from the airport was dead easy.

I found the line marked 'visa', handed them my passport with $20 USD and got a visa.  No questions at all then a new line to get a stamp and off I went.

The airport in Istanbul is one of those which has a subway under it.  Figuring I'm eventually going to need to head back to Turkey, I hit an ATM rather than getting raped by the money changers.  Figure I'll play the Jason Bourne game with currency.  Since the ATM only gives 100 lira notes, I went to a money changer and got some change.  The currency exchange guy thought that was a good idea.

When I got down to the subway, lo, the machine accepts only 5, 10 or 20 denomination notes.  Go team.

For three lira I got a subway ticket and went ten stops to the 'autogar'.  This is the main bus depot.

When I arrived, it looked like a big open square surrounded by various transport agencies.  Like the center of a flower.  Around this like the pedals and screened by buildings are the actual buses.

Turkish for 'bus station' seems to be 'argument'.

Since plane tickets were selling in excess of 300 euros and going through either Munich Germany or Kiev and a Russian prison term for no visa bus seemed a better choice.  On the plane, a Turk was telling me that a plane would actually be the better option but it turned out he had wildly over estimated the cost of a bus ticket and horribly under estimated the cost of a plane ticket.  Bus wins.

A guy asked me where I was going then took me on a long walk to one of the sellers.  This is a mistake, I should have just sought out the Metro bus office.  Metro is a good line and cheaper than the others.  After taking me to the office the guy seemed to be expecting a tip.  I gave him 5 lira.  He grumbled but took it.  Figured that meant it was about the right amount.

While in Turkey, I couldn't find any Turks who spoke English any better than I speak Arabic, French or Korean (aka 'poorly') but due to the number who have dealings with Germany, it was again German for the win.  I was able to use that at a restaurant.  I suspect they heaped my plate a bit higher as well as forcing a free tea on me because I knew German.  Excellent.

One nice thing about the buses in Turkey is that unlike other parts of the world, they keep them quiet.  Everyone gets their own little TV and headphones.  With the exception of a couple hours near the end, no idiots played their music over the speaker.  I know we have that sort of thing where people are subjecting others to their music in public places but it is hoped that people outgrow it by the time they are done being teenagers.

For Logan, a quiet bus is a happy bus.  I can listen to my MP3's and sleep.

The Turks gave up trying to communicate to me in anything other than Turkish since I seemed to understand them.  Go go body language and voice inflection.



INTO GEORGIA

Compared to entering Turkey from the airport where the 'well heeled' (rich) guests come into the country, crossing land borders is always a bit of a 'cluster fuck'.  Daily laborers going back and forth, people hauling goods, lots of trucks, whatever.

To go through the border, we had to dismount the bus leaving our stuff.  We walked to the place to get our passports stamped out.  After getting our passports stamped (eventually) we waited for the bus to make it's way through the onslaught of trucks.  When the bus arrived, we retrieved all of our possessions so we could go through the Georgian side.  I was carefully told by a border guard who I don't think spoke English "Welcome to Georgia".  None of the Turks were told this.  Perhaps they like seeing an American passport.

If you are coming via the border from Turkey into Georgia headed to Batumi and wanted to save time, you could grab everything off of the bus immediately, walk through both borders and immediately catch a taxi.  That would save perhaps half hour to an hour.

After crossing the border, it was eight more hours (of my 26 total hour bus ride) to get to Tbilisi.  Most of the distance between Batumi and Tbilisi is twisting and winding roads.  I know they have night buses and such but no clue how anyone could sleep on them.  I'd have to be passed out from exhaustion to do so.  There are some pretty scenic parts  to see.

Having traveled without cease or shower, I got pretty ripe after three days.



ARRIVAL IN GEORGIA

What I had expected and what I got were remarkably different.

When I left, the hostel had lots of the owners (multiple owners) friends hanging out here, drinking, partying and so on.  As I understand it, the hostel is now owned by just one of the original owners.  The others have gone off to do other jobs.

There were no excited Georgians around to greet me and chat with.  I was disappointed and miss them.

There is a nice lady from South Africa named Bridget who I will be getting to know well as we'll be working closely together for several weeks.  I also got to go out to have some food and wine (very cheap at 4-5 GEL for a liter) with so I am not complaining.



TURKISH CHARACTER

Compared to SE Asia, the Turks I witnessed seemed extremely aggressive.  I'm not talking about violent or hostile but much like Indians who will cut in front of you in lines and so on.  Their body language and demeanor also seemed to suggest this.



NOTE TAKING

Whenever I pull out my notebook and take notes I get curious reactions from the natives.  Some look at me in amusement, some in amazement and some in horror as though I am making notes to pass along to the secret police on their behavior.



VALUABLE LANGUAGE TRAINING SKILLS

Turkey dubs the American movies they get.  This is why the people there don't speak much English.  Dubbing deprives people of valuable free language training as well as making the movie crappy.



REFLEXIVE ACTIONS

Do you remember when you were young and a doctor took a small hammer and hit you near your knee?  Do you remember how your foot - void of any conscious action on your part kicked him square in the testicles?  How the doctor doubled over and began to vomit?  All of these things are what I am terming 'reflexive actions'.  If you were someone like Travis and pulling out a gun and saying "Try that one more time..."

But I digress.

Reflexive actions.

The next time someone tells you there is a difference between normal heat and dry heat, the reflexive action  should be to backhand them.

Either way, you are miserable.

I've lived in Asia now for about a year and am happy to be moving on tomorrow.  I've been to 'non-hot heat' and dry heat counting at least three different deserts.

Miserable and I am tired of smelling Logan.

Tomorrow, should all go according to plan, I will spend a day in Thailand then heading back to Turkey to make the trip to Georgia.

[As a side note, the last person to slap Travis was the doctor when Travis had just been born.  Travis is still looking for him.  In the doctors defense, as all doctors dealing with newborns they say the slap on the rear is to give  them a general idea as to what they should expect form life.]



MP3 PLAYER

Mysteriously, my MP3 player began working again.  This makes me quite happy because in Siem Reap, you are given two basic Chinese knockoff choices - 2gig for $35 or 4gig for $45.  This seems a fairly unreasonable price to me as they have 8gig for $30 on Amazon.

Who needs so much storage room?

Music can be uplifting, relaxing and inspiring.  However, I usually find it after enough repetition to be dull and trite.  Music teaches me nothing.  Books on  the other hand, can offer much.

Books take significantly more room than a few crooned melodies.

We'll see if better offerings present themselves in Georgia.



INTERESTING  ARTICLE

The Five Best did a nice article on beer drinking.  The number five company surprised me.



SHOE STORY

Yet another sandal has broken.  Sadly, it is always the left one which breaks.  Were it otherwise, in addition to my badly patched clothing mismatched sandals could complete the ensemble.



CAMBODIAN BUSINESS MODELS

There is a restaurant close to the hotel.  It is a pretty pricey place on good real estate.  Looks very nice.  The place can hold about a hundred people.  

There are three outdoor cooks, more in the back - and about ten wait staff.

The owners are opening another restaurant within the even more valuable 'Pub Street'.

What confuses me is that this restaurant rarely - if ever has customers.  I've been there several times in several different months and this is always the case.

How the heck do they make money?



STORY IDEA

Hookers, Ho!

A story of dirty pirate hookers through the ages.  Follow these lusty beauties as they ply their trade upon the Seven Seas pursued by an evil Englishman who is intent on making them all disappear!



LOGAN MEDICAL

127 KG.  I can't recall if that is up or down from previous.  I'm guessing up due to Mexican food.  So good.




CAMBODIAN PRICES

Sandals, $10.  Note, prices before bartering can start as high as 150%.

Bus from Siem Reap to Bangkok, $10.



THAILAND PRICES

An excellent meal in the Khao San district of Bangkok of Indian food, $10.

Travel from Khao San Road (the cut off from the rest of the tourist district by intent so the cab drivers can squeeze the tourists for money) to Sukhimvit district by a filthy smelly tuk tuk, $10.


Sukhimvit to the airport via 'sky train', about $3 USD.



TURKEY PRICES

Plane ticket from Istanbul to Tblisi, around 300 euros or more.
Bus ticket of same, 100 Turkish Lira.   Note, "Metro" is only 90 lira.  Go Metro!

Access to a filthy squat toilet, 1 lira.

Cup of tea, small, 1 lira.

What is claimed to be 'Turkish Fanta' and isn't as good, 2 lira

FOUR DAYS TILL LEAVING SE ASIA

NARRATIVE

Still hanging around Cambodia eating Mexican food.  In about four days unless everything goes to hell a plane should be winging me rapidly toward Istanbul.   Since enough of this town has been seen to  be ignored, books have been read and a pretty awful free MMORPG called 'Crystal Saga' have been my only indulgences.

It will be nice to return to the Republic of Georgia.



SHOE STORY

Since making the extremely minimal effort at health known as 'walking around', shoes have begun to be demolished as rapidly as cheesecakes in times past.  Not only have my Czech walking shoes moved into the irreparable category but yet another pair of sandals has been lost.

Only the left shoe of the sandals seems to get destroyed.  Apparently left handed is indeed left footed as forensics has taught and the strain upon the primary foot greater.  This has ruined yet another left sandal.   Should it have been the right, perhaps mismatched sandals could have been added to patched and sewn shorts and - regrettably - tee-shirts.

Asia has become synonymous with a vast over abundance of shoe stores.   Should all shoe stores be forced to close and give their stock without charge to the inhabitants of the country, every person would be ten pair of shoes to the better.

Sadly the fashion of these shoes is regrettably Asian.  Shoes made by the same culture that thinks multicolored lights within a mouse which twinkle incessantly does not make the sort of unobtrusive goods I prefer.  Not being a teenage girl nor redneck, these sorts of overenthusiastic products are made to attract attention.

Better if my shoes made no sort of statement than quiet and competent.  Gaudiness pulls attention from where I'd prefer it - my face and my words just as the  overenthusiastic mouse draws attention from the computer screen with it's needless incessant carnival light show.

Knowing that any pair of sandals I purchased with the shoddy workmanship endemic to Asia will perish within a couple months, I went for low price and managed to ruthlessly bargain a poor lady down to $10.  Given that I may have been her only customer for the day it eludes me how she and others are able to keep their stalls open.




BOOK REVIEWS

John Keegan, "Winston Churchill - A Life".

Long have I had an abiding interest in Winston Churchill.  Arguably the greatest Englishman ever and certainly one of the most determined people to have lived.  Long conversations chiding my friend Matt Lunn that he wasn't nearly as cool as Winston Churchill come to mind.  His retort that I wasn't all that cool fell of deaf ears as I wasn't even English.

Reading this book helped dispel some of the illusions about W.S.  He was a great man - but a deeply flawed.  He was extremely smart but prone to many poor choices.

Overall, an excellent book.  It was detailed without becoming dull.  Unlike some of the other biographies of W.S. I've read this one kept things moving along at a fast enough clip you could listen to it without either nodding off or slitting your wrists.



Stephen Fry "Moab is My Washpot"

Prior to listening to this, I only had three thoughts on Stephen Fry:

1.  He is a 'treasure of England'.  This is the guy whose sonorous voice did the wildly money generating 'Harry Potter' audio books.  And, he just seems to be a 'treasure of England' though I'm sure that many people - including Stephen Fry - may disagree with that.

2.  He is a very smart person.  I've seen him on QI - 'Quite Interesting'.  I know that they feed him a lot of the answers and such via an ear piece, but this guy strikes me as very smart indeed.

3.  He is funny and has been in several comedy TV shows and movies.

After listening to the first twenty years of his life in autobiographical terms, my opinion of him is the same as of Winston Churchill after listening to a biography of him.  Both men are deeply flawed individuals, very human and it would be very nice to know them personally.  They are interesting people.

As to the book itself, Mr. Fry is very easy to listen to.  Much of what he says is interesting though he goes off onto huge tangents and a bit of rambling.  Since it is his autobiography, I feel he is allowed to do so.  Glad I heard it though it won't become something like the Discworld  series that I like to listen to again after a period of time has passed.


The Fry Chronicles - an Autobiography

This book picks up where 'Moab' leaves off and covers the next decade.

Although it is an interesting look into the rapid catapulting into fame, it wasn't as endearing as Moab.  Also, he makes  quick reference to many names, businesses, products and such that - not being English - I've never heard of.  For his countrymen, these probably bring a quick whiff of memory.  For foreigners, they become tedious lists of no consequence to the overall narrative.

Interesting but not as poignant as Moab.


Stuff White People Like


Currently listening to the book "Stuff White People Like".  As the philosopher Homer Simpson once said "It's funny because it's true."

They even covered an experience I've noted earlier in my blog about how upset other white people get when they are traveling abroad, in an obscure place and spot a fat white guy lounging around.  Since this destroys both their 'unique experience' as well as the 'authenticity' and they no longer feel like some sort of explorer, they become sad and upset.

Wack jobs.

The book itself is ironic and humorous.  Reading it immediately brings to mind many people who are white and middle class I know.  Disturbingly, I myself have done many of the things listed there.

More disturbingly, various directors and such listed are completely unfamiliar.

I don't feel like I am being a good white person.  I didn't even get a liberal arts degree.

I recommend this audio book.



LUMSIE STORIES (NERO LARP)

Lumsie loved the undead. Being a necromancer was great. Story: I was up at a chapter in Canada. It was dark and foggy out and all of the PC's were hiding in their cabins. "What's up?" Oh, I was told, there are loads of undead out there. We're going to stay in here till the morning. "Bugger that." So Lumsie wanders out of the warded cabin. Immediately two death knights jump out of the shadows. "Take me to your leader, beotches!" One is into it, the other makes lots of threats. I am taken to the leader. He rants about how it is his town, everyone is his subjects and he will crush everyone. Including me. Then, he asks who I am. "Brother Lumsie!" The guy playing the NPC and the NPC himself were both of one mind at this point. "Oh my god!" He gushes. "I have always wanted to meet you!" Big hand shakes and back slapping all around. Lumsie points to one of the death knights. "He was mean to me." Glower and a growled "I will deal with him...later..." The death knight shifted uneasily. I was then taken on a tour of the town and given armed death knight escort back to my cabin when tired. Upon gaining entry "Were you OK?" "Yeah", I responded. "Pretty quiet out there..."

Lumsie was hanging out in the woods.  There were half dozen ogres wandering around throwing up.  Their blood had apparently been tainted.  Tempest (Seth Warfield) wandered up and screeched in the high pitched dragon voice "Lumsie!  What happened?"  Lumsie, looking panicked said "Plague!  Real sudden like!  Best I should go!" and scurried off.  Tempest glared after Lumsie grunting "Uh huh..."


Big I'm not sure but one that comes to mind:  Lumsie has undead for parents.  'Not consorting' is simply not able to be done as it would be 'rude'.  So, it is Lumsie's birthday, Oct 31.

There were only a few people in the tavern.  Lumsie's mother (played by Amy L) - a very nasty vampire - swoops into the tavern with several minions.  Everything stops.  The people who are there are either unwilling or unable to take on this level of Fa King undead.  Plus, to do so might start a really nasty interplanular war.  They just sit, riveted to their seats.

Amy had baked me a chocolate cake.

It got very 'upper class English' after that.  "Lumsie are you being good?"  "Yes mummy!" and so on.

She would alternatively threaten and speak at the other people in the tavern.  Whenever she had her back turned, I stuffed as much of the chocolate cake into my mouth as possible.  When she looked back, sit up straight and attentive - with huge chunks of chocolate cake falling out of my mouth.

She utterly failed to notice - by design is my guess since my face looked like I'd eaten out a chocolate golem.

"Yes mummy!" I'd say in stereotypical upper crust English to whatever question she had or statement she made then back to the face stuffing.

The thing I remember most about that whole scene was the frozen looks on the witnesses faces, halfway between humor and horror.  It was a nice birthday for Lumsie.

PHNOM PENH MEDICINE RUN

MEDICINE TIME

I was sitting around Siem Reap.  The name means 'Siem Defeated'.  What a great name for your town.  Anyway, I decided it was time for me to get out of there.  After two weeks there was starting to feel pretty restless.  And five dollars would get me to the capital, Phnom Penh.

I've been to Phnom Penh two or three (I forget) times and I have a basic understanding of the city.  From the central market, you can either go south to some sort of tourist ghetto that many of the better known tourist guesthouses are or straight toward the river to get to the places I normally stay.

Naturally, I messed up when I got there - again - and was in the tourist ghetto.  Why anyone stays there is a mystery to me.  Not much going on there as far as restaurants, bars and other things tourists like.

I was going to go check into a new place but I was told that a room would open up at noon and to check back then.  Since it was eight in the morning, that gave me some time.  I got a shave and a haircut ($3) and then found out about the 'French pharmacy' that allegedly had 'everything'.

A half dozen other pharmacies were trying to convince me that one of the medicines I am on was the same as ibuprofen.  I had told them it wasn't but they still wanted to sell me...anything.  I tried carrying around the boxes of the medicines I was actually trying to get.  This worked better as it seemed to prove to the pharmacists that lo, they actually exist but still no luck.  A visit to the 'French Pharmacy' which I wasn't smart enough to get the business card to finally ended my hunt for the medicines.

And then I figured 'why stay'?  I've spent a lot (too much) time in Phnom Penh and it really didn't thrill me so I went to the bus station, bought a ticket and hired a tuk tuk to drive me to the hotel then return with me to the bus station ($2).

When I burst into the hotel, I grabbed five cigarettes out of the case and said "I want to make a gift of these cigarettes to you for keeping an eye on my stuff but I won't be able to stay tonight - I've been called to Kampot."  Remember, bribe before you need to.  Had I not done that, chances are good they might have demanded money for gear storage.  Even if they didn't, I figured it was the 'classy' thing to do.

Either way, a win.

So, I went to Kampot.  They said it was a four hour bus ride.  Naturally, that means a six hour bus ride.  I found out later that it is possible to get a shared taxi where you sit alone in the front seat for $10 and it takes two and a half hours.  As Adam points out though, I do have plenty of time.  I can't help but fantasize that for a bribe of a soft drink I could demand no music for the entire trip though.

It wears you down to watch these god awful Cambodian music videos.   They film people doing karaoke and line dancing and make a music video out of that.  Horrible dancing, horrible music.  I've never been tortured before but if I am, I pray they don't find out about my hatred of these sorts of videos.  I'm sure that they would put them on, loud.  I'd rather just hear the sounds of my own screaming and begging for death.  Really.

So, I got to Kampot and allowed myself to be persuaded by one of the annoying touts to go see a guesthouse.  It is called the 'Cozy Elephant'.  I'm not sure who would name their guesthouse thusly, but it has been done.

After I specified I was looking for a room for $10 per night, the Belgian owner said his was $12 per night and I wouldn't be able to get anything in Kampot for $10 per night.

I looked him dead center and said "Want to bet?"

So, I am staying at the Cozy Elephant, $10 per night.  It has hot water and air conditioning but no mini fridge.  In deference to the cost of electricity, the lighting is so dim that I am worried about going blind here.  Not cool. It does have a balcony.  No view to speak of but there is a place to smoke.

The neighborhood it is in is extremely poor.  We're talking corrugated metal roof type of poor.  But, it's away from the regular tourist area and - aside from the noisy packs of half wild constantly barking dogs allowed to flourish in poor countries - quiet.  I may stay for one or two nights.

The problem I ran into was when I was walking down the street, I said "Fuck, does this look familiar."

And it was.

You see, I am both an idiot and forgetful.  I am forgetful in that I forgot I have been here before.  I am an idiot for not checking my own blog to see if I've been here before.  Ah well.

After doing some research on other towns within Cambodia and seeing the prices of their rooms (alarming) I'm thinking stay here for a couple days then possibly go to a place called Koh Kong.  It looks like a small and possibly shitty border town that Thais go to for gambling.  Or I'll just go back to Siem Reap.  Not sure.

The big problem I have right now is that I need to burn time until the Georgians are ready for me in October and try to spend as little money as possible in the meantime.

Unfortunately, the only countries really cheap enough for hanging out in give me a choice of Thailand and Cambodia.

My possible plane route would go through Dubai (very expensive city) then to Istanbul.  Turkey is fairly expensive.  My plan is to basically bus through it unless I find very cheap airfare to Tbilisi.

So, I'm stuck in Asia.  If I wanted to stay longer than two weeks in Thailand (not sure if I want to) I'd need to buy the plane ticket to show 'proof of onward travel' when getting a visa.  Otherwise, I can just do a land border crossing in and get two weeks.  That will take me up to September.  Spend September in Cambodia and then head off for Georgia.

Who knows?  I may just buy the plane ticket if my research can turn up other cheap places to go hang out in Thailand.

Either way, I'm looking forward to getting out of SE Asia.  If the Georgians were ready for me, I'd go there tomorrow...  Well, as soon as I could procure a cheap ticket that is.



WEIRD SHIT

Basic Celsius for Americans.

Many Americans become confused about Celsius vs Fahrenheit.  They normally try to figure out the conversion from one to the other.  This is frustrating and time consuming.

May I instead submit this easy to follow chart:

0   You may freeze to death.
10  Oh my god is it cold.  Bundle up.  You may be in Canada, eh?
20  Comfort.
30  Really hot.  You will try to find air conditioning if possible and sweat if not.
40  You are in a desert.  Your camel may complain loudly.
50  You may melt and die.   Your camel is already dead.

That's how easy it really is.  These are not absolutes.  Some people will  say "Actually, I find 18 C is comfortable.  Just slap them.  These are general readings so that you have an idea what is up.


Chris will especially enjoy this.

Years ago, several people were sitting around the table during a table top RPG.  One of the people decided to make a disparaging remark about someone who was not there.  I can't remember the person's name so I will call them X.

The person said "X is book-smart, but not street-smart."

I asked the person if they knew where to go in downtown Chicago right then to buy a fully automatic weapon.  They said they didn't know so I said "I don't consider YOU to be 'street smart' either."

"Oh, like you do."  said the 'disparager'.

I smiled at the person as everyone else around the table assured the person that 'yes, I did'.

In a new update, I have recently learned which country to go buy an atomic bomb in.

I do have doubts if I could actually get it into the USA.  In a country where they have you take off your shoes to get x-rayed (the only one BTW), I'm thinking that I might have trouble getting that in.

Sure, I could claim it was for 'home defense'.  I guarantee that if it were set off there would be no living beings around alive to actually burgle my home.  But, I don't think they would like such a large 'kill radius'.



COSTS

In both Phnom Penh and Siem Reap if you are paying over $10 (or possibly $12) per night you are either desperate, gullible, silly or living at a higher social standard than I.  For this amount of money, you should get air conditioning, hot water, wifi in your room and probably a mini-fridge.  If not, seek better lodging.

Beer cost:  Siem Reap has the cheapest beers at $.50 for a draft beer pretty much everywhere.  The 'happy hour' cost in both Phnom Penh and Kampot is $.75.  Not very happy by comparison.

Motorcycle ride - can be to multiple destinations $1.  Tuk tuk (also can be to multiple destinations), $2.  Note, it wasn't a long wait - it was 'take me to the pharmacy, I will buy something then take me home and I'll give you this shiny dollar.'  Yeah, it worked.  Yes, they did try to convince me it was that amount each way but when I said "Let me go check with the other guys to see if they'll do it."  I got waved into the vehicle.

EXITING GEORGIA, ARRIVING IN TURKEY

GEORGIAN CUSTOM

If you sneeze while someone else is talking, it is proof from God that they are correct in whatever they were saying. [Logan thinks this is some goofy stuff.]



MONEY MUSEUM OF THE NATIONAL BANK OF GEORGIA

I had gone to the "Money Museum of the National Bank of Georgia" on a whim during my last day in Tbilisi, Georgia. I was hanging out and looking at a case of coins when one of the people who worked there came up to me. In typical Logan fashion, I look at him, smiled and said "Hi there! You want to be my unpaid tour guide?" Well, it turns out he did! His name is Roland and he literally knew more about coins than I ever want to. He is pretty good in his field and history in general. Sending out a big thank you to him for his excellent tour. Below are a few of the notes I put down.

Old coins were made by stamping. "Mint" means to stamp.
Silver coins were often measured in grams. The silver coins I saw were four grams each. There were also three and six gram coins. Some coins were twenty or thirty grams. Clipping would be rough as merchants would weigh the money. Amount of metal equals value.

Money was known in some places as 'taler' which became 'daler' which then became 'dollar'. I found that interesting.

Some very small coins had holes in them for women to be able to wear them.

The small money in Georgia is called 'tetrie'. Tetrie means white. This change use to be made out of silver - silver is white hence the name. Pretty neat.



DROP YOUR TROUSERS AND GRAB YOUR ANKLES

I decided to go scope out the Tbilisi Marrott and see what they were charging for a room. If you wanted breakfast with that, it was $220 USD +18% VAT. Without breakfast is only $205 +18% VAT. VAT is a way for governments and people to pay more and get extra hassle. Plan on paying it. What an amazing rip off. Naturally, there were some tourists in the lobby as well as taxi drivers outside the hotel. These taxi drivers could speak some English and could literally 'take you for a ride'. [For readers not up on US slang, the phrase 'taken for a ride' could refer to someone literally taking you for a ride, robbing you or taking you off to be killed. In this case, I am referring two two of the three in an amazing play on words. Sit and look amazed.]



EXCHANGING GEL FOR NTL

When I was exchanging lari for lira I went to a bank to see what the best rate I could get was. I found that exchanging 70 GEL I got 70 NTL - with 1.4 GEL change. So, it's pretty much one to one. Just shit here (in Turkey) costs more. Joy! But I was warned. Repeatedly.



PHILOSOPHY

I was in a park with many paths.
People wandered the paths, distracted by their own thoughts
and appearing not much pleased with them.
When a path went a direction of my choice,
I walked along it for a time.
when there was no path toward where I wished to go,
I made my own way.
The grass against my sandaled feet brought faint happiness.
A simple pleasure
in leaving the path.



SHOES
These shoes are only a few weeks old! I think they are three weeks old. Obviously, I'm trying to walk a bit more than before...



INTERESTING ARTICLE

I found this article on boat hitchhiking to be of interest although honestly, Adam had already covered it when I spoke to him in the past.



LEAVING GEORGIA

Not a peep from my new travel alarm today. My cheap wristwatch I was worried about not working worked like a champ to get me up and going on time. Well, to be fair, I was already up. Excited at what the day would bring. Not sure what's up with the travel alarm. Piece of shit.

Until today, I've never had a 'bad' cup of Turkish coffee. The bus station obliged me.

It turned out that the 'direct' but to Kars wasn't really. To me, 'direct' means you get on one bus and your ass stays in that seat for the trip. Instead what happened was we got the meanest ugliest way to travel in Georgia - a marshrutka. Note that in Turkey, these traveling torture machines are called 'dolmus'. They called it a 'service bus' because 'automatic torture machine' would have sounded a bit negative. The driver, however, spoke some English and was much less insane than others in the same field of work. This is why they had him only driving a service bus I suspect.

After waiting there for forty five minutes, we had to wait another twenty because three asshats who had bought tickets didn't show up. Rather than doing the thing that makes sense (putting up a sign saying 'no refunds, mutherfuckers' they delayed the bus twenty minutes. After we got going on the road, the tardy people showed up and convinced them to have the bus wait en route while they got a ride out to it. For another half an hour. I was fantasizing about riding in a German bus, I've got to say. Whole different story.

Because I didn't know when or if I'd get to eat within the next eight hours, I bought some sort of bread which looked less and less appetizing in it's plastic wrap. Eventually, it became 'dwarf bread'. If I felt hunger, I would take it out and examine it and ponder eating it. This caused the hunger to go away.

Due to early arrival, being personable and of course asking, I got to ride up front in the marshrutka to the Turkish border. It was nice but after enough dramatic mountain views, I just fell asleep.

Eventually, our 'service bus' got us to the Turkish border. Nothing much to look at as most borders are. I ended up getting served in preference to the other passengers because my passport was blue rather than red I'm guessing. Or, they detected I had nothing other than 'dwarf bread' and might eat the other passengers. For an entry visa into Turkey, $20 US or (in my case since I didn't offer any dollars), 35 NTL.

I met up with a guy motorcycling through the world. Tbilisi was on his route so I suggested Friends hostel as a good party hostel. He seemed interested. I also gave him the last of my coins from Georgia as it wasn't much and they can't usually be cashed. I also warned him about insane Georgian drivers and cha-cha.

At the time of this writing, I have only a 10 GEL note left so even if I can't get that cashed, it's not a great loss.

For those wanting to hitchhike at the border near Posof, Turkey, I wouldn't try it there. I don't think the amount of traffic is heavy enough to make it work. Sarpe near Batumi is a much better choice for hitchhiking.

Also, for those traveling in this part of the world - rolling suitcase is not your friend. We had to get off the service bus and walk across the border. A long walk. Fortunately, I had on my backpack but for those with the rolling suitcases, I've seen people during funerals looking happier.

We then got on a nice big bus to continue on. But, not long after that we got transferred to a dolmus to take us the last hour or two into Kars. More nightmare. Fortunately on the dolmus I met a nice girl named Mary Ann who is from Switzerland and also headed to Kars. Like most of the women I meet, she seemed comfortable with me and we decided to share a hotel room for our two days in Kars. I didn't know I'd be doing two days here but it kind of makes sense - I can see the town after the lost city of Ani and buy a ticket to the next destination. I just need to find out where the bus station is and such. As a side note, don't get a taxi to the hotel - there are some within walking distance. We went to one she had heard about rather than any my research provided the names of. The hotels in this area are pretty crappy overall and a bit pricey. This is a town that could really use a cheap hostel or few.

Kars is a town on the way from Tbilisi to Iran. We had at least three Iranians in the transport with us.

The first sound I heard in Turkey was the call to prayer.

Next up: Are Turkish prisons really that bad?



COSTS

Tbilisi to use a bus station bathroom a blind man could easily locate by smell, .2 GEL.

Hotel room (double) in Kars, Turkey; 55 NTL per day (hence half that for my cost).

Going to Kars tomorrow morning, 35 NTL. Bit pricey but it's door to door service.



VIDEOS

The things on the stairs

REFLECTIONS ON GEORGIA

DOWNTIME IN TBILISI

Within an hour or two after arrival in Tbilisi, I had my bus ticket. Props to Lasha #1 on that. He called the bus station and found out there is indeed a bus that goes straight from Tbilisi to Kars, Turkey. Someone had said on a year old post in the Lonely Planet forums that the trip took twelve hours, wasn't direct, etc. Although the bus stops in other places it does eventually go directly to Kars - and in only eight hours. I've heard that the roads get better once you leave Georgia. I have no idea if the driving does or if it is still an ass clenching adventure ride.

The bad news is that the bus doesn't leave until Wednesday morning. There is no Tuesday bus. And (at the time of this writing) it is Monday. That sucks hairy balls. (This blog is award winning material, I'll tell ya.)

Hence, I'm basically trapped in Tbilisi tomorrow. I'd be less trapped if I didn't mind spending money, but I do mind. Thinking of the boredom and such brings to my mind the immortal words of my mentor Adam. "Shut the fuck up and stop yer bitching." Words to live by. Adam did warn me that travel was full of boring downtime, but it still beats a nine to five job.

I may end up reading a book and walking around tomorrow. I've already walked around a bit in this town and can tell you that there really isn't anything I know of right now tha I am wanting to see. I'll do some more research later and see if I can find a little gem.



LASHA'S VILLAGE

Lasha's village was interesting to visit, but take it from me that a day or two is enough. Most people watch TV as their big recreation. Given my pathological aversion to it and not having watched it for a decade or more, this left me with not a lot to do. Since the invention of TV and the internet, things like weekly village get togethers for singing and dancing have been relegated to the movies only.



TONIGHT

Being that this is a party hostel, despite the owners claims to the contrary, I suspect there will be a party tonight. This is a good thing - it may help me sleep in a bit. We'll see. I normally don't sleep a lot due to pain. If I'm somewhere interesting, that means I get to see more. Look on the bright side.

For the party, I'd purchased a twenty lari bottle of "Whore-tits-ah", a vodka I am fond of. Sure, cha-cha is about half the price but I'm pretty tired of it. About sixty percent of the cha-cha I've tasted thus far has been absolutely foul. It's the kind of drink that you're told to exhale when drinking so you get less of the 'taste'. So, for my "I'm fucking off soon" drinking I am planning on doing tonight whether I'm joined or not, I've gotten something nice to drink. [Note, that although I know the Georgian custom of when a man wants to get drunk he goes out and buys a lot of alcohol and invites his friends to help him drink it, I am still on money conservation mode and follow 'Logan customs' more often than others. I did buy a big enough bottle that I might get some help to drink it but they need to buy more alcohol too.



TOMORROW

Many countries (perhaps even Georgia) have a common problem. That is that once you have left the borders of that country, their money is worth a bit less than the paper it is printed on. Hence, I'm going to try to figure out how much money I will need to survive tomorrow and get the remainder changed into Turkish Lira. Unfortunately, that's my only real project for tomorrow.



WHEN I GET TO TURKEY

One of the things I plan on looking into is their postal system. I want to go have them weigh one of my notebooks and see if it is going to be feasible to have it mailed to Jana in the Czech Republic.

On the subject of Jana, I wonder if she ever got in trouble for using the money she was given for a washer to go on vacation? Well, that will teach her parents the importance of gift cards, I suppose.



REFLECTIONS

Why is it that whenever something is ending, people feel the need to reflect upon it? Is it some part of the human condition that feels loss? Is it needing a sense of closure? Is it that we are all a bit nostalgic?

Looking back on Georgia, it's been an interesting experience. They have a lot of history here and a lot of culture. While I'm not overly interested in much of the history, I have made quite a study of their culture. And thinking back on the things I have done in this country, I've worked for a hostel and was fortunate enough to be invited into three people's homes. I've witnessed life in anything from the capital city down to a small village. I've been robbed. I've tasted some whines that Pete would say (in his usual reserved way) were "Very nice indeed." I've tasted cha-cha which is foul enough that you should exhale immediately after drinking it to cut down on what you taste. I've become a regular at many different business establishments. I've met more backpackers than I can remember - and been fortunate enough to have many of them Facebook me. I've had what could be the best beer in the country - made from Czech hops. I've made some good Georgian friends who have really shown me hospitality.

But it's time to go!

Unless something really wild happens tomorrow or en-route to Turkey, the next blog should be from somewhere in Turkey.



FEEDBACK

Let me know if you have watched and enjoy the videos. If I don't have enough people tell me they are enjoying them, I'm just going to keep them for myself as the internet connections at hostels are usually shitty. [Note that if you are not watching them or don't like them, you don't need to respond to this - I'm looking to see if perhaps ten out of the hundred or two hundred people who read the blog every day say 'yes, please keep them coming'.]


TRAVELER'S TIPS

Just because something is or is not on the internet, doesn't make it so. This is doubly true with the bus and train schedules of 'developing nations'. To find out the real information, get a local on the phone with them - or better still standing in front of them asking the questions.

If you're wanting to catch a bus or train to an out of the way place, remember that somme rides only take place once a week. Best to check as much ahead of time as possible to avoid sitting around for several days scratching yourself and wondering if this is what Hell is like.

How to spot a party hostel: Noise level and cleanliness. If they have a party a couple times a week (or more) that's a bit of a hint as well.

Dump all local currency before leaving the borders. Get the currency of the country you are going to. Lacking that, I'd recommend Euros as the dollar has tanked and continues to do so at an alarming rate.