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

THE ART OF GAME DESIGN

GAME DESIGN

I'm going to write down some thoughts on game design.  

Mark Rein-Hagen designed the wildly popular 'Vampire the Masquerade' game.  He was also involved with 'Magic the Gathering'.  That's the guy I worked for during a couple months and tried to learn from.  Disclaimer:  He wasn't trying to teach me game design - we were working on games.  The stuff I've put down here are things I believe I've gleaned from him.  In fairness to him, I may be completely off on some of the stuff.  Up to him to correct me if he wishes.

For posterity, the games I've worked on include:  

Succubus - party game involving specialty playing cards.

Victoria - a board game.

I Am Zombie - a revolutionary new roleplaying game.

What I think I've learned from Mark Rein-Hagen:

1.  You have to build up a good amount of various useful contacts.  These include such people as artists, musicians, film editors, writers, editors, etc.  Game design is a team sport.  Unfortunately, all of these people will require paying.  

2.  The person who will be designing the game risks several thousand dollars in capital.  But what of Kickstarter?  Yes, this money is spent well before going onto Kickstarter.  You have to have a working game beforehand.  Also, art sells the game.  Art is amazingly expensive.  For something the size of a playing card, I've been told the usual price is $100.  Holy crap.  If someone were to ask me "How much money should I start with?"  I'm going to guess at $5000.  No clue how much profit this could roll into with a successful Kickstarter, but it could be a nice amount.  The money part I didn't really get involved with, other than being an ongoing cost.

3.  When Mark worked, he set himself a very tight deadline to complete enough of the game to appear on Kickstarter.  Keep in mind that you have to make the game then play test it a lot.  Other groups have to sign NDA (non disclosure agreement) forms and play test it.  If you are able to silently watch them play, so much the better.  If you try to help talk them through it, you get skewed data.   Most folks agree that a year or longer is needed to develop a game.  Mark chopped the time frame down to three months and compensated by working fifteen hours a day on it.

4.  When giving assignments to writers, you have to be extremely specific.  The more general you are, the less usable the result.  If these writers are in daily meetings with you, the vision can be more easily shared.  If not, be even more specific in your writing assignments.  By specific I mean you have to make an outline then ask them to flesh it out.

5.  Art sells games.  I've mentioned this before but Mark mentioned it often enough that it deserves it's own bullet point.  Mediocre art means you sell less or not at all.  This is why you have to pay big bucks for professional artists.  Trying to get your friend 'who can draw' to make art will handicap or destroy your game.

6.  Always think in terms of monetization.   The role playing industry is pretty much crippled because as soon as a book comes out it is scanned and put onto torrent sites.  If all you are printing is a book, you won't make much for it.  This also goes for movies, audio books - anything that is easy to turn into data.  Sure, there are a few honest people and collectors out there but not enough to fully fund your project.  And yes, many people spend a lot of time bitching that it shouldn't be this way.  Guess what?  It is.  Deal with it and think outside the box.  This is one of the reasons the roleplaying game "I Am Zombie" uses a dynamic character sheet comprised of playing cards.  Sure, someone could try to print out crappy copies of the cards in black and white and they could be used but the cards aren't that expensive and will look and feel so much better to use that buying them will make more sense.   Also, special poker chips are used which have many words printed on them for skill bumps.  And other things.  Very crafty, clever thinking on Mark's part.  The important thing for gamers will be that it combines into a solid game.

7.  Like all roleplayers, I've spent time working on game systems - whether new ones or altering existing ones.  The conversations would go wildly off track, degenerate into Monty Python jokes and so on.  Mark didn't allow this.  We worked hard and kept focus on the game.  Churn, churn, churn.  Whether we were driving, shopping or eating when we were on the clock we were expected to be working.

8.  You can't hype a game too much before Kickstarter comes out.  Get ten thousand people eagerly awaiting it's appearance and you are most of the way there.  Less than that it may be stillborn.  

In conclusion:  If you are wanting to develop a professional game for publication that actually earns money, it is a lot more work than altering a few rules of an existing game with your friends.  A lot more has to be ready before kickstarter than I thought.  Prepare yourself for hard work and significant financial risk.  When you think it's done, hype hype, hype...

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.

FUCK BEGGARS

FUCK BEGGARS

I was sitting in Mark's car waiting for him to get back.  A beggar came 'a beggin' to the window.

As those who have been keeping up with my travels and such know, I have a pretty good ability to understand what is going on despite not speaking many languages fluently.

The guy tried begging in Georgian then in Russian.  I played the 'no comprende'.   The beggar than held up a coin to indicate what he wanted.

I put on a big shitty grin and held out my hand.  With a shrug, the beggar gave it to me.  I made noises of approval and he moved off.

'Francois', who was in the car, was amazed I was able to get money out of even beggars.

To me, this incident drove home three points:

1)  It is not always good to be able to 'understand' other languages (even if you do).
2)  I hate beggars.
3)  I am a complete bastard.

I came across much more pathetic beggars during my three months in India and didn't give them even one rupee.  Here, the beggars are often dressed better than I am.

Fuck beggars.



ENGLISH

English has got to be a rough language to learn. Even a single changed word can alter the entire meaning of a sentence. Consider:

"It takes a village to raise a child."
Meaning: This addresses social responsibility (as well as perhaps the impact of environment) in regards to children.

"It takes a village to make a child."
Meaning: Village orgies.

LOGAN THE GAME DEVELOPER

LOGAN THE GAME DEVELOPER

After working for seven months at Friends Hostel, I was burned the heck out.  I won't say a bad word on the hostel, but seven months of dealing with customers and drama is more than enough for Logan.

I'd been thinking about leaving after six months but then enter Mark Rein-Hagen.  He liked the creativity I brought into his games so he decided to hire me for a bit.  So that keeps me up till month seven.

Mark notices that some mornings I am dragging ass into his place due to being work up during the night...  Once.  Twice.  Four times, whatever by guests - drunken or not - coming or going.  I announce it may be time to leave Georgia.

But wait!  Says Mark.  I've got big projects here and want you in them.  So much so that I will pay for you to stay somewhere if you can find a place for a month.  We look for a couple weeks with absolutely no luck.  Enter François Thibault.  He starts working with Mark.  He is clever.  On the last day before I was to buy a plane ticket, he finds a place.

The unkind among you (like Tim or Chris especially) might say "It is better than you deserve you fat bastard."  They are probably right.  It's a newly renovated efficiency apartment with pretty much everything I could use in it.  And, in an evil plot to keep me in Tbilisi, the rent is all paid by Mr Vampire himself Mark - in addition to my normal salary.

I feel like a very grateful and very very lucky man.

Did I mention that it seems to be in a nice part of town with an inexpensive Arabic restaurant right across the street?  Yeah boy.




ROLEPLAYING

Note:  This is something that happened in the Heroic Cthulhu Roleplaying game and copied from Facebook to save it in perpetuity.

A Sal Brothers story, told by Justin Doyle


So there we were, two 1920's gangsters in Dunwich. Looking at the map, Matthew Lunn decides we should check out Panther hill:

Me: "I don't want to get mauled by a panther."
Matt: "There are no panthers in Massachusetts."
Me: "Fine."

So off we go to Panther Hill. Suddenly, Logan Horsford calls for a spot roll. I fumble. Unbeknownst to me, Matt sees a panther in the forest, about to maul me. What does Matt do? Waits for it. I get a little chewed up before finally killing the beast.

Score: Dunwich - 1, Sal - 0

A little while later...
Matt: "We should check out Bear Gorge."
Me: "No. No bears."
Matt: "There are no bears in Massachusetts." (I see a pattern developing...)

Cut to: I've been mauled by a bear, I'm near death and unconscious. Matt finds a helpful local NPC and a stretcher and they begin running with me to a local doc. Running rolls for everyone! Matt passes, of course. What does Logan do? In Logan-esque fashion, he fumbles. Great, now I'm tumbling down a hill whilst strapped to a stretcher.

Miraculously, I survive the run/fall/roll/catastrophe to the doc. Matt, in a moment of "divine" inspiration, calls upon Yig to help heal is mortally wounded brother.

Cut to: The doctor dies from venomous snake bites.

Now, what does any insane gangster with access to a small pharmacy filled with unlabeled bottles do? Inject the medications at random till something works!

Score: Dunwich - 5, Sal - 0.

In a moment of luck only Matt could acquire, he does, in fact, find the right meds. A little sloppy first aid (I ended up with a bandage job that looked like Jack the Ripper went to town on a person being mummified alive), some pain killers, and time to get the fuck out of Dunwich.

Score: Dunwich - 5, Sal 1.

Most stories like this end here. But oh no, not a Sal Brothers story! See, in dealing with the "thing" in Dunwich, Matt and I managed to kill just about everyone. This left an incredible area of low cost land that was just waiting to be developed. So we did what mobsters do: Buy all the land, level the town, build a casino, and give it to our Uncle, the Don.

Winner? The Sal Brothers.

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.

TV TIME

TV TIME

It's odd that someone who completely shuns televisions as I do would get onto TV in a foreign country but here's what happened.

I have a friend named George who is a producer.  Yes, it was another of those sorts of conversations:

Logan:  "You are a producer?"

George:  "You know that I am."

Logan:  "I do?"

George:  "Yes."

If I don't have Alzheimer's, I may be able to fake my way into it.  Unintentionally.  Sad.

So, George called me up and wanted to 'make me famous' by having me on Georgian television.  While I don't think it would make me famous, I figured it might be interesting.  Since I was suppose to work for him that day and because I respect his opinion, I contacted Mark, the game designer I've been working for and he encouraged me to try it out because it was something new and different.

It was different.  

They sent a car out to get me.  I ended up talking to the driver in a mix of Georgian, English and Spanish.  While I know that anyone who actually speaks Spanish would laugh at how little I know, I can 'make that shit work'.

We arrived at the station.  George was curious as to how I would handle this but in the USA I was on TV for some horrible 'cable access' type show so the cameras and lights weren't new to me.

I spent a short time in an office where the mayhem normal to a TV station took place.  A lady with blond-white hair seemed incredulous that in seven months I hadn't learned a lot of Georgian.  Despite it being one of the hardest languages in the world that I can't even hear some of the consonant changes of the truth is that I just can't be bothered.  But I didn't mention that.  Probably a good thing as she turned out to be one of the hosts of the show.

After a short time of waiting, I was whisked off to the set.  They were trying to explain I'd need to be wired up (earpiece, mic).  Since I didn't see any boom mic operators around, figured that would be the case.  

It would have been nice to be dressed in something other than a sweater and black t-shirt but I'm sure as hell not buying anything for a fifteen minute spot on a television show I don't even know the name of.  If the president or prime minister of the country invited me over for dinner, I'd ask their intermediaries if clothing would be provided or if I had to go buy something for the night.  Or if I can just come naked.

The earpiece they gave me came in really faint and kept trying to pop out of my ear.  While it is accepted that you have to wait for the translation, it was horrible to be trying to get it and not hear what the guy was saying.  This is at least part of the reason I look as clueless as I do.  The rest is all natural.

Interesting stuff on the way they do things:

It was all live.  They didn't tell me but it was.  Interesting.  Suppose it is cheaper than editing later.

The food on the table was not only real but fresh.  I expressed surprise at this.  Normally, food is either cold or fake.  They told me "You can eat it if you want."  Fortunately, I had enough common sense not to eat on camera.  Survivors tell me it is horrifying enough to live through but I don't want the moments captured and shown to prisoners as torture.  Violates the Geneva Convention.   Even the wine was real.  As you can tell by my slight choke it was pretty horrible.  Stuff I buy in plastic bottles for 5 GEL per liter is better.  Much better if I get the fancy stuff for 8 GEL per liter.  Don't know why they had that stuff.  Probably to discourage people from trying to drink it all.

There was no 'on the air' or guy giving a countdown.  When you are on the air it comes as a shock to the guests I suppose.  Well, at least those who don't speak Georgian.

The hostess had a laptop on the table.  Not sure why this is.  Haven't seen enough American TV to know if they ever do that.

No make up.  Due to the lighting, you can see how shiny my forehead is.  Bling!

At the end of the interview, I asked George what he thought.  He seemed happy and said I spoke from my heart.  Being just myself is what I was going for but I can't help but feel that if I'd understood the language it would have been a bit better.

Click here to watch Logan on Georgian TV!

WTF is up with my silly looking grin the whole time?  Guess I am just a happy person.  Or it was the fish hooks.  Not sure.

DO YOU HATE AMERICANS?

LINGUISTICS


Although I have picked up and can speak bits of more languages than I can usually remember, nobody other than the most generous - or demented - would ever think of me as a linguist.  With that in mind, I present for your reading pleasure,

A GEORGIAN LANGUAGE PRIMER - FOR AND BY NON LINGUISTS

Several factors make the Georgian language a huge pain in the ass for non tourists.  First, they have a unique alphabet.  While it can be argued that it is pretty, it doesn't type well on normal keyboards and looks completely incomprehensible to anyone looking at it.  This includes anyone who has not bothered to learn the alphabet.  That is to say, most of the world.

Compared to English, Georgian words often have two to three times the syllables.  This means that for simple things, long words.

Not sure if this language is in any way related to Russian, but like many central and eastern European languages, they have sounds not found in western European languages.  You may not be able to correctly hear the sounds, much less pronounce them.

It seems that the proper way of speaking Georgian is something between normal conversation volume and shouting.  Not sure why this is but anyone who says Americans are 'loud' clearly hasn't been to Eastern Europe.  This trait is not unique within the world, there are other languages which do it.  But, my brain seems to have seized up and none are coming to mind right now.

The one saving grace of the Georgian language is that they don't have words for many things so have stolen these words from English and added an 'ee' (as in 'tree') to the end of them.  Thus, 'computer' becomes 'computer-ee'.  Not sure why they do this but it is common.  At a guess, one out of ten nouns seems to be a word waylaid from English.  Unfortunately, as in many other cultures you have some people who don't understand their own words even when pronounced correctly.  This could be due to the foreign ear not being able to hear subtleties within the word, the dimness of the person or their obstinacy.   Hence, when you are trying to find something, attempt adding the 'ee' sound to the end of the word.  Even if the word itself hasn't changed, no understanding will be reached without the 'ee' sound.  Why is unknown.

In conclusion, it is dubious whether the Georgian language will catch on within the rest of the world.  Lazy people won't enjoy it as you have to make a lot more noise to express the same idea.  Computers don't like it because the keyboards are set up with the 'common alphabet'.  Quiet people won't like it.  My guess is that even 'pillow talk' is shouted.



NEW JOB - SOUNDING BOARD

How much is an idea worth?

Well, unless you know how to package it, market it and so on the painful answer is 'nothing'.

While I'm a great person for ideas, it is hard to get hired to simply come up with them and let someone else do the implementation.

Fortunately, I was hired by Mark Rein-Hagen.  For those who don't know, he did stuff like the company White Wolf, wrote the Vampire RPG, Magic the Gathering and so on.  And he has hired me to be his 'sounding board'.

The back story:

A friend let me know that not only was Mark on Facebook, but he was living in Tbilisi (Republic of Georgia).  I contacted him and we got together.

I pitched him the idea of me doing three free sessions with him as a sounding board to see if I could feed him useful and interesting ideas.  I figured that would be ample time for him to see if I was worth hiring and for me to see if I'd enjoy working with him.

Working with Mark has really put a new and interesting spin on staying in Georgia.

After the three sessions, we negotiated out a per session price.  For him, I figured this would be fair.  If he has a lot of projects and feels he is getting good value for money out of me, he can have me over to work more often.  If not, less often.  He is the kind of person who always seems to have several projects going so I figure there will always be work.

For me, I get paid every time.  Assuming we meet at least twice a week, I'll be making about two and a half times what I'm currently getting from the hostel.  If I do good work, he may have me over more often or up the rate.  All good.

I'm also enjoying this work for reasons than money:

Credit - I'm getting credit within the games.  Having my name in various projects made by someone with such a track record is a good thing.  Should I ever decide to write something, I'm pretty confident that it would at least get a serious perusal rather than just tossed into the 'unsolicited manuscripts' pile.

From my earlier attempts at writing fiction, I'm thinking that I will never be a serious writer in my own right but should I be a sounding board to a great (and apparently prolific) writer, that's great.

This is just the beginning.  Who knows where it will go?

QUESTION AND ANSWER


Michael Stone asks:

Do you ever get harassed/etc by being an american in these countries? A lot has been said since Bush was in office at the damage done for Americans travelling abroad and I was curious if any of it was true?


Logan answers:

I remember hearing a lot about that before I started traveling. Since traveling, I have discovered it is utter BS. Either it is xenophobic people or people who are justifying why they are too poor/scared to travel. In fact, I have found that in many countries, Americans are loved just as much or maybe more than other nationalities. Now mind you that people may not like the government but that doesn't apply to the individuals. Nobody from any country I've ever met seems to like their government. Also, I've met up with people that America is dumping bombs and shit on (Iraq, etc) and they've never given me any grief about being an American. Of course if they did I'd probably say something like "We're not charging you for the bombs are we? Stop yer bitching." Then they might start hating Americans.

5 DAYS OF WAR

SNAPSHOT

Snapshot of a day in the life of Logan:

About a week ago, I'd managed to burn my legs with hot water.  They are still very painful so it was with great reluctance that a trip to a hospital was planned.

Lasha (the owner of the hostel) was contacted and agreed to act as driver and translator.  Rather than just any old hospital, he took me to a clinic in the upscale part of town.

It reminded me a lot of the hospital in it's physical appearance.

We passed various offices in which medical staff loitered, doctors smoked and so on.

Two older ladies in white coats agreed to see us but mentioned that the burn expert was out and wouldn't be in for two hours.  Knowing that two hours could be two hours or much longer, I said "I don't need a burn specialist - I just need a competent doctor."

In translator mode, Lasha dutifully translated this.

They took a look at my legs.  They then told Lasha that in order to suck the heat out of the legs, I should put ice on them three times a day.

"I did specify I wanted a competent doctor."  I told Lasha.

This was also translated.

We managed to escape the 'medical' establishment before they could tell us anything like the correct construction of voodoo dolls and so on.

Lasha seemed to think we won a small victory because we didn't have to pay the 40 GEL consultation fee.  For the kind of mumbo jumbo they were spouting, I'd have been pissed if we had to pay that.

After picking up some ointment at the pharmacy next door to the clinic, I introduced Lasha to the American custom of "If you drive me around, I insist on buying you breakfast."

Georgians aren't really into breakfast as nobody in this country seems to like being awake or opening businesses before ten in the morning.  So, what we ended up getting was called a 'morning meal'.

It was served with the local moonshine known as 'cha cha'.

Logan: "Georgia is the first country I've ever been in where they drink hard alcohol as part of breakfast."

Lasha: "You are lucky because people travel round the world to find a place like this where for breakfast you can find high voltage alcohol."

For those curious as to what the morning meal entails, it was pig stomach and hooves boiled for six hours till it turned yellow (or was it green?  Probably yellow - not sure) served with (of course) bread.  Lasha really liked this but the stomach was how I imagine chewing on boiled car tire.  There was also cooked barley, mashed potatoes and cutlets which were probably beef and had no bones - unlike the stew.

I explained that because Americans like a nice steady flow of food from their plates to their bellies, bones piss them off.  Not so much with a big obvious bone, such as a t-bone steak but with little naggling bones which lie in the food like an upturned rake in tall grass.

The cutlets and mashed potatoes were very nice.  Didn't eat much barley.  Despite my last name, I am not a horse.



5 DAYS OF WAR


Nobody ever thinks of themselves as 'the bad guy'. It is human psychology to think of yourself as 'in the right'.

I'm watching the movie '5 Days of War' which deals with the very brief friction between Russia and Georgia. Haven't finished the movie yet but my guess is that it is resolved quickly. Like within say less than a week. Just a guess.

Anyway, there are 'militia' used by the Russians that wear masks. I'm wondering how the hell you justify to yourself that you are not the 'bad guy' when you wear a mask doing stuff. These were also popular to wear in other conflicts within Ireland.

The movie was useful in one regard.  When you ask people, whether in Bosnia or Georgia, what was the war like, they don't get into specifics.  They only say "very bad".  Many people aren't natural story tellers or the story is too painful.  The movie helps give some possibilities of what it was like.

As far as the 'Hollywood spin' on the movie - way too many people spoke English and way too well.  This is not the case.  In Georgia, you are more likely to speak German.  The main languages are of course Georgian and Russian.  But, Americans believe everyone speaks (or should speak) English and so the movie reflects this.

My final take on the movie - it's always depressing when people are dicks to each other, no matter who starts it.

AUTO-EROTIC ASPHYXIATION

WHY DON'T YOU WRITE MORE?

Honestly, I'm just sitting around the hostel most of the time.  Nothing really much to discuss.



PHILOSOPHY

Some people I've met display all of the competency of Chernobyl nuclear safety inspectors. Hopefully, they will die of auto-erotic asphyxiation dressed in Batman suits. As is the style of the day.

NERO LARP, stories of FA

I had put a request of Facebook for stories of the land of Fa.  Here is one from Kevin DeJaynes:

My first visit to FA. Jeremy Kennedy and I are going through a gate that Lumsie is going to open for us. he has prepared a guide to take us to King Nusmba to meet with him.

Lumsie gives us a two hour lesson on the etiquette of meeting the with king. We forget almost all of it before we even go through the gate.

Once we arrive in FA we are led past feild upon field of undead planting crops. We have no idea why they are planting crops because everyone in FA is dead or undead.

We arrive at the temple and our guide takes off running screaming "Your gonna die, Your gonna die." The door opens and group of Death Knights come out and surround us. We are then relieved of all our weapons, mystical energy, alchemy, scrolls and even some of our gold was taking as a "Fine for carrying weapons to the Kings Castle."

We are then instructed to follow the lead guard but after each step we must place our hands together and bow in a show of respect, the progress to the kings court is painfully slow. Once inside his chamber we have to assume the position of respect, one hand held out in front of us and the other curled up behind our heads, it was to prevent us from taking any actions.

The king is no where to be seen, soon we here a toilet flush and a door opens and a Lich comes out zipping his pants and takes a seat upon the throne.

We are instructed to kneel and bow and lick the floor. Licking the floor is a time honored tradition that basically means if the king wants you dead they put deadly ingested poison on the spot you are to lick. Next the king ask us for our names and demands his gift.

Opps Lumsie forgot to tell us about that one. My buddy JK looks at me and I look at him and we both shrug. Once again Numsba demands his gift and the Death Knights start chanting and moving in closer.

JK speaks up and says "You can have my death knight as your servant. The king accepts the gift and we begin talking. After a while we are told to leave and we stand and begin to bow and walk backwards to get out.

As we reach the door I ask JK, "Where did you get a Death Knight?

His only response was "Im sorry I panicked"

As we reach the door, the guards grab my shoulders and hold me as JK was escorted out, It then dawns on me, HEY IM A DEATH KNIGHT.

That was our first of many trips to FA.



VIDEOS

Some old videos I hadn't been able to upload yet - here they are...

Siem Reap Balcony
Bus Service in Istanbul
Driving Through Istanbul
More Driving Through Istanbul
A Little More Istanbul
Tbilisi
Tbilisi Skycar

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.

MORE HEALTH FUN FOR LOGAN

MORE DENTIST FUN

When I lived in the USA, a saying I heard stuck with me.   "Only floss the teeth you want to keep."

Last night while I was flossing, a molar fell out.

No warning, no loose tooth, no pain.

It just fell out.

Hence, today I will get to bring you a report on the Georgian dental system.  Woohoo.

Sometimes, bears come into the city of Tbilisi and eat random people.  The only defense against them is cha-cha.

For those who haven't heard of cha cha before, it is a clear alcohol.  This is normally brewed by individuals and sold under the counter.  If you've ever had moonshine, this is similar.  It has enough alcohol that you can light it on fire.

The taste ranges between 'drinkable' and 'ass'.

Bears don't like cha cha.

They prefer rum.



PHILOSOPHY


Any time I hear people conversing in a foreign language and they often switch into English because their language does not have the vocabulary, the same thought comes into my mind.

"Abandon your native language.  It has failed you.  Import more native English speakers at once!"

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