TravelCrazed Artisan

Eye On Peru: Photos

2005-09-16T19:18:00.000+01:00

Finally I got the photos to show up! WOohooO! Such a pain in the ass! Anyway, this is just a bit of what I shot in Peru. Ecuador is to come soon too...hopefully... Let me know what you think of all these, it was tons of work, but I love it, so it was all worth it. I hope you enjoy them too. Right oN!

Off you go.... TO THE PHOTOS!!!

Now Here We Are. Peru.

2005-09-16T01:08:00.000+01:00

OK OK, I know it has been quite a while since I have done any blog mambo jambo, but now is the time. Oh yea, just now. So let’s see…where to begin. How about if I begin with now? Same now that I made a reference to earlier, just a more in depth look at that now. Yea, and sure, there will be some of, um, before as well. Now that I think of it, there will be more to the before than that of the now. You see, not much to discuss about now as of yet, considering that it’s still happening and all.

So yea, let’s get started. To make things interesting I am going to Tarintino this blog entry. As a result of this mal shaped story line, you should make sure you are in a relaxed position, maybe with a cup of tea and a Ritalin. Yea, that should do it.

I am currently in the occasionally beautiful city of Arequipa, Perú. After taking a nearly 20 hour bus ride from the mountain city of Cusco, I finally made it out somewhere different from where I had been for nearly a month, the duration of my stay in Perú. Now, this bus ride was theoretical not supposed to take 20 hours, no, it was intened to be 10. “Why did this bus ride from Cusco to Arequipa take 10 hours more, twice as long, then it was intended to take?” you may ask. Well, the answer is simple. Way too simple. You see, just outside of our destination, early in the dawn of the new day, we ran into a small snowstorm. The problem became not the storm itself, but the way in which all that came into contact with this storm acted. It was as if a newborn child had been abandoned in a hurricane-sized blizzard with no knowledge of anything logical. Imagine a storm such as this halting all forms of transportation in the area (buses, trucks, cars,…and no, there aren’t any llama caravans in this area, but let me assure you, they would have been better off then us.) So ok, I wake up in this midst of this ginormus dilemma where everyone seems almost incapacitated and no one seems to be doing anything. We are just stopped…along with a line of other vehicles as far as the eye can see. What to do, what to do, what to do? Wait a minute. The driver has an idea. Let’s gather todos los hombres off the bus, get them outside in the cold, and have them carve a path for the bus to follow…that way, the bus won’t have to drive through the snow anymore! OH SHIT! What a brilliant idea! For God’s sake man, why is this guy a bus driver? He’s a fuckin’ genious! QUICKLY!!! Everyone off the bus. Wow, I cannot begin to tell you how good that worked.

A few days before we left, Leonie and I stayed in the orphanage that she has been working with for two months now. This experience was extremely rewarding to say the least. The house is located about 30 minutes outside of Cusco in a small rural town called Lucre and just getting there is quite a trek. The 14 boys live in a house that was built over 200 years ago by some rich Spanish guy, but it now stands almost in ruins. Needless to say, it is still absolutely amazing to see. We ended up staying there 4 four days, cooking for everyone and taking care of the kids whole time. They range in age from 9 to 18 and all of them were extremely opinioned and possessed amazing characters that over the few days I was there, surfaced as I got to know each of them better. Along with cooking for them (which was a huge task, because aside from the 14 of them, there were 3 police men and Leonie and I), we basically spoiled the shit out of them. Most of the time, they only get to eat a small breakfast (if you can call bread a meal), and a lunch cooked for them by a local woman (which usually consisted of oatmeal), so the opportunity to give them dinner for a few nights was amazing. At night we would show them movies on my computer and make them popcorn and hot chocolate. By the time we left I had really grown attached to a few of them, as did they, and saying goodbye was tuff. But, had to be done. Leonie is continuing to work with the kids and is in the process of creating a non-profit organization to separate the kids from the currently police run organization that she has begun to see as corrupt and not beneficial to the children at all. Casa Amarilla is coming soon to an impoverished neighborhood far from you.

Where to now? Um? Oh, I ended up unknowing at a dirty Perúvian strip club in Lima. Yea, didn’t really know we were going there, but one of Leonie’s local friend said he wanted to take us to a cool spot, and there we were. Skin. Yep, that was the name. Talk about dirty. But none the less, fuckin’ hilarious!

How could I go to Perú and not make my way to MachuPicchu? Well, I just don’t have time. So much to do, so much going on, you know how it is. These things just slip your mind. Besides, who is interested in old, outdated, stupid Indian cultures anyway. Not I sir. Not I.

No. I went. Damn was it amazing. Kind of beyond words. But photos, photos are close behind. I took a train ride up to the town of Aguas Calientes which was breathtaking the entire was. I did shoot while I was there but I am not really happy with most of what I shot of the spot. It was ridiculously hazy there and the light just wasn’t working with me. Just being there made your body feel almost high. The energy and history of that place is just unbelievable. Can’t really say much more about this place. Just too remarkable I guess.

Another unreal thing I had the chance to do while I was in Cusco was go on a 3 day, 2 night white water rafting trip on the Apuramac River through this amazing canyon in the middle of nowhere. We slept in tents on the edge of the river and saw some of the most amazing views of my trip thus far. They actually took video and photos which is nice cause there was no way in hell I was going to bring my camera on a trip like that. The only semi-problem with the trip is that Leonie and I were the only non-Israelis on the trip out of 22 people. Not that I have a problem with Israelis, but when all they speak the entire time is Hebrew, it gets kinda old. You can’t really talk to anyone but each other. Oh well. We did make a few good friend on that trip that hopefully we are going to run into again somewhere down the line.

So, I guess that’s it for now. I have been taking tons of photos, some of which I really love, and I will be sure to get them online soon. Along with maybe a video clip of the rafting trip. I hope you are all doing well. I sure am. Life is quite an adventure and I am trying to make the best of it. I think it’s working out pretty well. If you feel so inclined, leave a comment, or shoot me an email, I would love to hear from people…especially those of you who I never I get to talk to.

Alrightyditydo. Adios. Or, Ciao as they say in Perú.

B

Escape From Whale Shark Island

2005-06-15T12:15:00.000+01:00

So, I know it has been quite a while since I updated my blog…so, quit your bitchin’! I’M BACK BITCHES! Here it goes.

When we last spoke I was on my way to swim with 30 foot whale sharks. Now, here comes the explanation for my extended absence from the blog world. Sadly to say, I was indeed eaten by one of these enormous beasts. After nearly 2 months of a Pinocchio style inhabitance, I managed to eat my way out. For all of you who thought I might have been to skinny in the past, I now have a strikingly similar resemblance to the mother from the film “What’s Eating Gilbert’s Grape.” For those of you who have a minimal knowledge of silver screen classics, I am fat… J

Needless to say, I crawled my way back up from the lowest eastern African coast, up through Egypt and then hitchhiked my way back to London with no less than Indian Jones himself. Funny guy.

Actually. That was all a lie. Well, not all of it. Just some. You figure it out.

The last month or more I have been working my little tail off in an attempt to get my work up in my first UK (European) exhibition. I was, in fact, successful in doing this. Along with this, I have been busy as the Art/Creative Director of a new club in London (the same club where my work is up…see how it’s all fitting together). By designing logos, signs, lighting, websites, flyers, and the interior design (hence the exhibition), I have in effect given this place an entirely new image. Quite a huge accomplishment, if I do say so myself. I really enjoyed this type of work and I can definitely see myself doing it again sometime, if the opportunity arises.

Here are some images from the interior of the new club. The works are on the wall in 24 x 26 light box frames and backlit from holes in the walls behind the frames. This is the largest I have printed single images. What do you think? A shot of me from last week is also here. Look out. :-)

Ok, so, the journey is still for from over. I am now sitting in Dublin, Ireland. As if I had yet to visit over a dozen countries in the last 10 months, I am ready for a bit more before I go give my brother away in Seattle. Oh yea, Marcy, I have yet to make up my mind (I do have a say in this as the best man right?). I am leaning towards yes, but last minute decisions are more my style. If I do go ahead with things, I am in the works of creating a Rap to give as my speech. How many best man speeches have you forgotten over the years. This one, will indeed, be different. Oh yea.

Dublin has been great thus far, but I think that come this Wednesday, I will leave Dublin and find that the rest of Ireland is less like London, and a lot more like the postcards that I have found in the Grocery stores here in Dublin. The accents are the greatest though. Better than any place I have been. Way better. You can get any cab driver to say Turd. Simply tell him to make the “third left coming up,” and he will undoubtedly repeat it, “Turd Left?” Oh yea,“You got it buddy.”

Now, I will leave you with one more tidbit of vital information. I will be coming back to the states for a little while! Get your number at the front counter. Seriously though, I would love to see you all. I come to Seattle on the 2nd of July for a major “fun for all” 4th of July party, followed by what I am sure will be the best party in the world, the wedding, followed by a few weeks in L.a. and Arizona…only to be followed by WHO KNOWS WHAT! Isn’t that great. Not knowing. Love it. Confusion is probably my favorite state of mind, as I am sure you have figured out by now.

Be good to yourselves. Stay alive till I get there. And don’t do anything I wouldn’t do (I am trying to leave your options open here people).

Love,

B

PS. If you want to see shots from my Cameroon journey, they are here!!! In an unabridged version, you can find them by clicking here, or here is fine too. Enjoy!

BJNart - Memo: Please Be Advised, There Is No Complaint Department Available

2005-04-06T16:12:00.000+01:00

Yea, so here I am in Mozambique. "Mozambique you say!?!" Yes. Mozambique. What a ride this place they call Africa has been thus far. Oh the stories I can tell. Well, if I had the time that is. This is in fact the first time I have been able to get on a functional computer in some time now, so I will take this opportunity to say that life is grand. Oh how sweet it is.

So, listen to this. I met this guy, Graham, when I went out to dinner my second night in Swaziland that manages this hotel (or so he said) in Swazi. So as my days in Swazi were coming to an end, I decided to give him a call before heading back
to South Africa (boooo kinda...not that impressed with it cause of all the crime and rape and whatnot...not impressed is an understatement I guess you could say.) He had told me a good hotel manager would never turn someone down if they had empty rooms, no matter the price. So I figured I would call him and offer him 100 Rand (ten pounds) and see what he says. He ends up telling me to come down to the Royal Swazi Villas and he has a room waiting for me, no questions asked! Without me even offering any money at all! Amazing. So, he proceeds to send a car for me, and before I know it I am staying in the King´s suite, in the largest villa on the property, all to myself, sleeping in the same bed, I might add, that the King of Zulu sleeps in when he visits Swazi. This is in fact that largest hotel resort in Swazi...owned by the King of Swaziland. It isn´t a hotel by any means though, it is a collection of 6-8000 square foot mansions rented as private villas to the rediculously wealthly or royalty. This was fucking unbelievable to say the least. And yes, I did have a bath robe and jet power jacuzzi in my bathroom. Fresh fruit you ask? Yes. That too of course. Silly of you to even ask, don´t you think?

Apparently, he told the owners I was the son of the president of the world bank, and that I was a major potential business opportunity...needless to say, everyone was very nice to me. Sorry pops, I guess the son on the President on J. M. Nolan Architects just doesn´t have as much pull. I stayed there for 2 nights and then, as if he hadn't already done enough for me....he hooked me up with a Mozambiquen visa and my plans changed sporadically once again. So, here I am, in Mozambique. Crazy shit huh!?! Yea, I would have to say so.

Plans are now to dive with Whale Sharks tomorrow and then do a bit of surfing on the east African coast of the Indian Ocean. This is just one of the many crazy stories to come out of this Motherland experience. As I said, no complaints here.

B

A-TOWN - 3WB Compilation Video Spot

2005-03-01T16:38:00.000Z

Here is a short video compiled of the trip thus far. It is a compilation music video of some of the new 3WB (3 White Boys) music. We had the oppourtunity to take short clips along the way with the camera I bought in Brussels for Allen’s host father. Now, it is in his possestion and we do not know if we will be able to take shorts with Allen’s POCPCVC (piece of crap peace corp volunteer camera). Enjoy the show. In the future, I’m sure narration will assist in helping you understand some or all of what you are about to watch.

DISCLAIMER: All ideas, sounds, lyrics, and motives, views, or comments, language, things seen, listened to, or assumed, are directly or indirectly indiscriminant. The characters assume no responsibility for their actions, or their words, ideas, sounds, lyrics, and motives, views, or comments, language, things seen, listened to, or assumed, are directly or indirectly indiscriminant. Viewer discretion advised. Not suitable for whites, blacks, Asians, and alike. Small children and grandparents should wear ear muffs. Thank you.

The video will no longer be directly displayed on the blog, so if you wanna check out my wiked stylie, please, don´t hesitate to click,...uh,...here. Or here is fine too I guess. Enjoy.

Cameroon: First Few Days; One World, Two Perspectives.

2005-03-01T16:19:00.000Z

Day 1, Day 2 - Blake

My arrival in Cameroon was immediately met with the extreme heat and humidity that is Africa. I walked off the plane and found myself sweating profusely, head to toe. I knew once I saw Allen we would be right back where we were the last time I had seen him, nearly 8 months ago. Immediately our conversation flowed. We went through discussion that was engaged at time, while at certain points we spat hyper incoherent thoughts that is the relationship of Abay and Blano. We rode in a taxi into the center of the city of Douala and arrived at a Baptist Mission where we were to stay for one night before we made our way out to the beach. After some tuneage listening, we strolled down the dimly lit street towards this Greek restaurant. Our conversation continued through dinner as the local prostitutes stared us down. They not only stared at us, but they sat inside the restaurant just a few tables away from us. It blew me away that the eatery allowed what was obviously going on to occur within the establishment itself. We continued eating and drinking a few beers as they began throwing little pieces of crumpled up paper as us…at times hitting me in the back or on the head. They would make a kissing/hissing noise in an attempt to get us to look over and acknowledge their presence. We did our best to ignore them. When we finished dinner we walked out of the place as fast as possible and went over to the “rare” grocery store to buy some more Guinness in order to continue the festivities.

When we got back to the hotel, the inspiration was flowing like crazy! We just had an endless stream of ideas that seemed to come out of us with ease. The enthusiasm of what was to come was practically overwhelming. We decided on a few key things that would help us along the way. The recording of certain conversations, mostly the discussion that occurred over a meal, became something that would be an indispensable tool in recollecting our cultural, political, and emotional/spiritual conversations.

Seeing as I haven’t been in the country at this point for more than two days, I have incessant curiosity. I feel as though most of the time I am interviewing Allen, picking his brain for the bottomless amounts of knowledge the last 8 months has given him. He seems to possess certain inquisitiveness, working alongside with his lack of a language barrier (by speaking nearly 7 languages now…could be an exaggeration, but he knows a few trilbal languages, Spanish, English, French, and a bit of Italian), which gives him continuous opportunity to learn random pieces of knowledge about the local culture and politics.

We are now in the costal city of Kribi and we have spent a lot of time talking and continuing with the progression of our ideas. It seems as though we will have little time to just be lazy and sit around. Not to say that we won’t at all, but the drive for accomplishment is definitely alive and kicking.

Photography has become somewhat of a stealth-mode procedure. A lot of the Africans feel that their photo somehow possesses their soul, while others are more than happy to pose for a photo. The ones who do end up posing for me usually try to forth their most distinguished of faces, in an effort to maintain an image of integrity. The children are ecstatic to be shot. This is tied to their deference for ancestry, and a smile will usually make them feel as though they won’t be seen as someone who deserves respectful admiration in the future.

Day 1, Day 2 - Allen

Sitting on the grass at the airport on Monday. Waiting for Blake’s plane to land. A lot of anxiety rushed through me that evening, this was finally it. Blake was coming to the armpit. I was overwhelmed with excitement, but I couldn’t let out a smile until I saw his face. He had missed one flight already, and for some reason I just couldn’t picture him here, with me. The steel bird finally appeared on the horizon. She landed gracefully and made her way towards the gate. I left my seat on the grass and headed for the terminal. I perched myself over a balcony that gave me a clear view of the baggage claim and customs area. Waiting. What will he look like now? People started filing into the area. Then he was there.

“BLAKE!” I yelled. He looked around, not sure where to find me.
“BLAKE!” I yelled again as a smile of relief and excitement lit my face. He saw me, we smiled, and he waved.
Several “hey guys” and “yeeeeahs” were exchanged. We were reunited at last. Time to conquer Cameroon.

We made our way into Douala. Exchanging stories. I don’t think there was a single break in our conversation that entire night. From his arrival at 6:30 pm, till we decided to crash and watch a movie at 4 a.m., we didn’t stop. I felt as though I was releasing an 8-month build up of creativity, things I can only share with Blake, things only Blake can understand. His curiosity is like a magnet. He wants to know all the things that I am learning here. He is quickly grasping the culture. He is a perfect visitor. He doesn’t have any expectations. He lets the picture paint itself; he takes it in as it comes. Just like me.

We didn’t waste much time that first night. After Dib, the random Lebanese guy, decided to bail on us due to “a machine failure” in his “factory,” we went out to dinner. We drank a few beers and admired the whores' ambition of planning some sort of ambush on the two, handsome, young white men. We successfully avoided their attack, although it was tempting to let them go through with it ;)

We proceeded back to our “Baptist mission” hotel room," drank some Guinness and some fine Scotch and began to unleash a Tsunami of good old fashion lyrical art. We are some creative bastards. We really are. From the balcony, to the pool, to the room, we exploded. Words, brilliant words were strewn all about. We spoke in poetry, and we spoke in conversation.

The night flew by, as will the next month. But we are going to make the most of every minute. Or at least every waking minute (Blake is now curled up on the bed, I will soon awake him because I am going to lay down some rap). We are in Kribi now, the tropical paradise of Cameroon. I can hear the waves crashing outside our hotel room. Blake is taking an incredible amount of pictures here, some of which the people aren’t too receptive to. Some Africans have superstitions about having their photos taken, like its taking their soul away. Blake wanted to get pictures of some of the people in the market, but we were turned down by everyone. A couple of aggressive teenagers were willing to let us in exchange for some jewelry, screw that. Once we get to my village, where I know the people, Blake will be able to get some of the more intimate people shots. Until then he will have to continue his super spy action photography and the drive by shooting (riding on the back of the motorcycle, hold the camera by his waste, casually snapping picture after picture of the people we passed).

We are already swamped with ideas. We are creative beasts. Idea after idea popping through our minds. I like his ideas, he likes mine. Two ideas per minute per person. That’s 240 ideas per hour. Can we realize them all? Blake knows we can, I believe we can. Better get busy. Tonight we roll, we lay out some “floetry poetry,” and we record our Cameroonian friend “Alain’s” beautiful voice. The shit we did with him last night was amazing. Overlaying traditional African chants on modern techno/trip hop/funk/electronic music. Truly innovative. Alain was eating this shit up; the expression on his face was one of pure amazement and satisfaction. He was living a dream but he kept his composure. Man, he really kept his composure. A perfect representation of the African peace of mind that is embedded in these people. There is no such thing as self-doubt. The word “confidence” does not exist because there is no such thing as “no confidence.” It’s all natural. Alain made beautiful music, we provided a platform. The new 3WB: incorporating local sounds, on our ALWAYS tight ass beats.

Day 3 - Blake

Yesterday proved to be one of hesitation and fear when it came to being able to get the photos I saw (the composition, or shot I could see without the camera up) as we walked through the city market. The marketplace resembled a medieval bazaar with its structurally unsound construction and overall smell and feel. Each vendor attempting to sell his or her goods, each and every one selling the same thing as 30 others. A lot of the time the similar goods were being sold directly across or next to one another. There is no sense of competition in this world. No sense of doing better than the other. Everyone remains in a state of constant respect for each other’s livelihood, no one individual is more important. The concern for the community is all that concerns these people. Family, brotherhood, and respect seem to dominate their approach to life.

Off to Africa - Lata' London

2005-03-01T15:53:00.000Z

Let’s see…where to begin. I’ll start with my last night in London. So back when Ben and I found a place to live, in order to celebrate a bit, we went to the hostel bar where I had been staying and enjoyed our first Guinness. Let me just say, it is one of the most delicious beers there is. Just so smooth and tasty…doesn’t get much better than that. So it was only fitting that our last night in our London flat should be capped off with a frosty Guinness. And we did just that. Once again, I was fully satisfied.

We then made our way back to 13 Frithville Gardens, but not before stopping at the liquor store to keep up the festivities. We still had some cleaning to do, so when we got back home, we got to work. Getting our deposit back was top priority, and we did just that. Nice work Benner.

Finally at around 12:00 we finished up with everything that needed to be done, and on top of that, all my packing was done as well. Not a minute left to spare. I then spent the last night with Liz in a room of that house that had been vacant for almost two weeks. Now, just a little info about this room…it’s not really supposed to be open, or used. But, it has a queen size bed. Nuff said I imagine. So, needless to say, I found my way through the window and into the room on a consistent basis.

It was quite nice to have such privacy for the last few weeks of being in London. Couldn’t of asked for anything more. It was really difficulty living with a roommate after not having to endure that for some time. I think the hardest part was the fact that I am a night owl, and Ben, having to work most of the time would crash early. I would be left to sit in the dark silence working on my computer, or watching a movie. It didn’t really lend itself to me being able to call anyone back home past about 10 pm. I got used to it though…but let’s just say I am glad it’s over. When I move back to London, my own room is going to be a huge priority. That is for sure.

So, back to the last night. Liz and I relaxed in bed and started to watch a movie on my computer, when before I knew it, I was out cold, along with Liz. I was exhausted from running around all day, as well as from the crazy amount of work I had been doing the previous two weeks in preparation for not being online and able to work for quite some time. Unfortunately, before I fell asleep, I neglected to set my alarm on my phone. I was supposed to get up at 4 in order to start my trip to the airport for my flight at 7. Thank my lucky stars, for some reason, Liz just ended up waking up at 4 on her own somehow! I would have been screwed had she not, that much is certain.

So now I’m once again running with all my worldly possessions strapped to my back and yanking my arms down. I made it to the bus stop just as my bus was getting there, said an all to fast goodbye to Liz, and I was officially off! Too bad as the bus started to drive away, I realized my smaller backpack (containing my plane tickets, passport, books, and more) was still hanging from Liz’s back. I ran to the front of the bus and some how got the driver to stop! They never stop for anything, but I think he heard the extreme urgency in my voice. Liz ran up to the bus and I got my backpack. Whew! Fuck an a. That would have been miserable had it not worked out. So…I got to the train station after a 30 minute bus ride, and the took the Gatwick Express straight to the airport.

Once I got checked in, I sat down and had a much needed “American” Breakfast. Good shit. Too bad the Brits have no idea what the bacon is. Its more like fried ham. Not bad, but I just miss the thin stripes of fatty bacon. MMMmmm MMMmmm.

I got into Brussels around 11 am and started my trek to the hostel I had reserved a room in. Train, to bus and I was there. It was unfortunately raining like crazy so I stayed inside for the rest of the day. I couldn’t check into my room until around 2, so I sat in the common area and watched a few movies. What I would do without my computer…I might never know.

Once I could actually get into my room, I immediately went to sleep. Early flights out of London don’t lend themselves to being well rested. I slept until about 6 and then I went to the bar and had a hamburger (which seemed to be micro waved on account of the rubberyness of it.) I then started up a conversation with this awesome group of Spanish guys and girls from Barcelona. I showed them some of my artwork and hung out with them for the rest of the night. My Spanish is definitely lacking, to say the least, but after a few days of chilling with them, I was no longer speaking any English. I was quite proud of myself for being able to slip back into the lost ancient knowledge that somehow made its way back to the surface.

At around 11 that night, I went in to my room and crashed for the night…not before setting my alarm for 7:30 the next morning in order to catch my flight on time. I asked a Spanish guy that was also staying in my room if the time was different from London, and he When I got up the following day, I had a sneaking suspicion that is was later than I thought. I asked one of the guys that had shown up while I was sleeping if he had the time, and he informed me that it was 8:30. Shit. Shit shit shit. Luckily I had already packed up the night before if an effort to make my getting up and going smoother.

I booked it out of the room as fast as possible, checked out of the hostel, and made my way onto the metro. I took it one stop and then walked a good ten minutes to the Norde Train Station. I then got onto the airport train and started the so-called 15 minute trek. You can imagine my surprise when the train sat at the last station before the airport for 45 mintues! 45 MINUTES! Are you fucking kidding me! I think not. I watched as the time crawled by and I started to have a bad feeling about everything that was happening. I cannot miss my flight to Africa, this is unacceptable.

Now, normally luck is on my side in situations like this, but today…today was not one of those days. I finally got to the airport, with no more then 30 minutes to spare. I thought I was maybe going to be able to get on the flight. The person who was checking me in, did not feel the same way.

So now I am at customer service getting the wonderful news that the next flight to Yoande is not for another week! A WEEK, ARE YOU KIDDING ME! Come on people! Work with me here! They apparently already had a job and that job was to not let me get on the plane.

After a little swindling and a tear jerking speech, they switched my destination and my ticket. I was now leaving on Monday morning and flying to Dubala, a coastal city of Cameroon. Let’s just say Allen was not very pleased with the news, but what can you do…what can you do.

Looks like I am staying in Brussels. GOD do I HATE rain! It’s just so damn wet. Seeing as a bit of depression had set in, I wasn’t really in the mood to see the city or do any of that tourist crap, I just felt sick that I was still there. I went back to the same hostel, got a room, and went to sleep. Did I mention I hate rain? Yea. I do.

That night I ended up meeting that super chill dude from London named Daniel who ended up being incredibly in to music as well, with very similar taste in what he was listening to currently. A lot of the bands I love, he had CD’s of, and a lot of the time, they were the ones that I did not have. That night I ripped about 40 albums onto my computer and it was then I realized I missed my flight for a reason. The harbored resentment towards the train had miraculously vanished.

The next day it stopped raining and Daniel and I took off to check out the city. I didn’t bring my camera out with me though, it was still a bit misty and I wasn’t necessarily in the mood to do any shooting. I’ll probably regret it later, but as of right now, I am just fine with it.

That night I met some super chill Canadians that had been living and going to school in Ireland. Daniel and I took of to a sweet Spanish bar where I rocked out to some sweet Latin music, and on top of that, some Gloria Estevan. Oh yea, you go Gloria…you go.

We got back later that night and I hung out more with the Spanish kids on their last night. At this point, my Spanish was stronger then it had been in over 5 years. I was really impressed…with myself that is.

In the morning I decided I would go with Daniel to watch the English and France rugby championship. It was in fact the first Rugby game I had ever seen. Good shit. Way better than American football. These guys are hard-core…bleeding all over the place and still playing their asses off.

After the game we shot a few games of pool and then went back to the hostel to call it a night and crash. I was NOT going to miss my plane the next day.
So, now its…now, and I am on the plane on the way to Africa. A few days late, but on my way none the less. AFRICA, you better be ready, cause I don’t know if I am. Here goes nothing.

Welcome To Shepherd's Bush, Mind Your Wallet

2005-01-25T16:04:00.000Z

Hear I am, sitting in my room on my PowerBook after a long day of working on web design work and editing photos, just about to go to bed. It’s 2 AM on a Thursday in London, and just like with most places, the drunks are out wondering the streets. My street is not exempt from drunken crazies and tonight was no exception. Needless to say, when I heard, “GIVE ME YOUR MONEY FUCKER!,” things changed pretty damn fast.

I hop up out of my plush leather work chair (inherited from the Auzzie girls downstairs) and looked out the window three floors down onto the street. There I see a three pack of excessively drunk white guys harassing a sole black dude. The black guy, oddly enough, seemed to have the situation under control and managed to walk off with out much of an ordeal. I took this as a sign that the incident had subsided, and sat back down at my computer for some last minute nightly BitTorrent download obsessions.

Now, here is where it gets crazy. The yelling started again, but this time it was elevated. I quickly jumped up out of my chair and looked down once again onto the sidewalk below. It was the same three white guys, but this time one of them wasn’t doing so well. He was being brutally attacked by the other two parts of the threesome. When I say brutally, I mean it. Fully wound up kicks to the head and groin, as well as full-fledged stomping to the chest and stomach. I watched in fear and shock from my window, not knowing what to do.

My roommate Ben was asleep, seeing as he had to be at work early the next morning, and I debated a second or two before finally deciding to wake him up. (He is quite the heavy sleeper, and even a full on brawl outside seems to get by him at night.) So now we are both on my bed watching out the window as this craziness unfolding.

This is when the knife comes out and my shock turns to panic. Both Ben and I are frantic by now, and we start yelling out the window, not even really saying anything at all, just kind of trying to show we can see them and take some attention off the beaten dude. We did it with a bit of restraint though, most likely out of fear of them coming up and getting us. Which now seems pretty unlikely, but at the time anything could of happened. I finally realized I had my cell phone on the table and I dialed 999 and got the bobbies on the scene.

By this time, it was escalating to fast for any one to handle. The guy on the ground seemed too drunk to get himself up and run, as well as being incapacitated by the many blows to the head. The guy with the knife was swinging it wildly, and the entire time, he seemed more racked with fear then the victim. At one point I though I saw the knife catch the guy on the ground in the forearm. Right about then, the two attackers took off down my street seemingly frustrated by their lack of success, leaving the lone guy to lay motionless in the gutter, right outside my front door.

Intense, oh yea. You can say that again.

After they took off, I ran down three flights of stairs as fast as humanly possible only to be greeted by the other girls that live in the front of the house. Most of them had only heard the commotion, but Emily was in tears out of fear and shock of what she had just witnessed. Good thing she hadn’t seen everything.

When I got outside, the police had shown up and they were helping the guy stand up out of the gutter. At first I thought his face was bloody and mangled, but then I realized it was just dark filth from the gutter he had been laying face down in. He hadn’t been cut on the arm like I had thought, but he definitely had trouble standing up. Could have been the pints, or the blows to the brain, but he wasn’t lookin’ too hot…that’s for sure.

So, there you have it. Welcome to Shepherd’s Bush, London, England. Hope you enjoyed your stay.

B-Nitty on the Spot.

Photo-blog - Rome Day 1

2005-01-20T13:05:00.000Z

Finally the pictures have arrived! 150 shots a day will bog you down for
quite some time. This is just the first installment of my trip, here we have
my first day in Rome. There are quite a few. Post your thoughts and enjoy!

View from hostel room in the morning on the first day.

Graffiti on main street downtown.

Graffiti ridden street. Mini.

Zach and Sheryl unknowingly walking toward Colosseum.

Mosaic in the hall of the subway exit.

One of many wild cat that calls the walls of the Colosseum home.

Interior of Colosseum, light streaming in through a walkway.

View of sun from inside.

...another...

...and another...

A lone grouping of flowers growing on the ancient wall inside the Colosseum.

The catacombs of the main stage. (used to be covered and hidden)

Cross on lower level.

Looking straight up a column.

...again, different column...

Wide view of interior.

Modern tourist contrasted with men in ancient Roman attire.

Arch of Constantine next to Colosseum. Love this shot. :-)

View from Colosseum (don't know what this is called, sorry, I'm lame)

Funny story. This guy was posing for a picture for several minutes, before
deciding at the last minute he was going to throw the "thumbs up." I don't think anyone saw it coming. I know I didn't.

Arch on lower level of Colosseum.

Same cross from above, different view.

More light streaming...oh yea.

Another view of the cross discussed above. Pay attention.

Hilarious drunk bastard who decided he wanted to carve this tablet. Stay inside the lines my friend.

May in fact be what he saw.

Walkways of Rome. In my opinion, a sprained ankle waiting to happen, especially in ancient sandals.

The three of us chillin' on an old wall. Thanks tripod.

Nature shot from same wall. Thanks bee.

Another walkway.

We stumbled up this old road accidentally and we found this house that someone still seemed to be living in. This is a view through an opening in the huge
wall of their backyard.

Broken lamp. Here they come, the lamps that is, beware.

Wall we were sitting on earlier.

Old fountain that used to be carved marble, but now it is so overgrown you can't even see the original. Very cool.

View of Rome from the hilltop.

Green vines covering a rock.

Water fountain coming out of previous rock. Empty water bottle anyone?

Looking down on an old brick archway.

View of Colosseum from hilltop.

Old man just straight chillin' Taking in previous hilltop views.

Crazy tree deserves crazy angle.

Old roman residences.

Crazy wall deserves crazy angle.

More streaming light (not as streamy this time), look out.

Marble column. Diggin' this shot.

Huge (HUGE) old tree.

Someone should tell these leaves they missed Fall. It is in fact December. How 'bout that lamp.

I'm not gonna be the one to tell them though, alright?

A look through an old wall. I guess you could say it's what the wall sees...another wall. Hmm...

Green. Yum.

Another HUGE tree, blocked a bit by the wall, and tinted.

Not tinted, not blocked,...I can't seem to decide which one I like more. So, you get both.

Spiral staircase in ancient building. I had no light to work with in here, so I probably took this shot 20 times to make sure it came out. I got one
that did thankfully.

This is the ceiling of the building with the staircase.

Very cool old house on top of the hill discussed earlier.

Lamp much.

Roman ant. Red head. Be afraid, be very afraid.

Wooden fence.

Check out that shadow. Two lamps in one you say?

Green. Yum.

Many greens. Texture heaven, yep.

Hey lamp, how you holdin' up?

Crazy masons. Gotta love it.

More modern Roman building.

Narrow street wall.

No parking sign that no one will see. (they are just asking for this shot to come up in court to fight a ticket, aren't they?)

Sunset, palm trees, and CCTV.

More of the same palm trees. Hey, those sure are some interesting lamps.

WOH! Lamp.

You guessed it.

Awwww.

Zach, a little too excited, but for good reason.

They just did this.

What.

Yow!

And just one more, for good measure.

SEE, ROME DAY ONE! Now you can understand why it is taking so long to get
these shots up. More to come, sooner than later, promise.

Paris In A Nutshell...How Did It Get Into A Nut, With A Shell...Like This?

2005-01-13T19:08:00.000Z

SO I AM STILL CATCHING UP WITH WRITING ABOUT ALL MY TRAVELS. HERE IS THE MOST RECENT INSTALLMENT. PAIRS. BARCELONA AND AMSTERDAM TO COME SHORTLY. ENJOY.

Following a long day of travels we landed in Paris in the evening of Saturday the 18th of December. We took three connections on trains and subways in order to get to the first hotel of our trip that we were going to be staying at for the next three nights.

This place ended up being right in the heart of Chinatown. Now, I don’t know if this is common knowledge or not, but it seems that there is a China Town in every city in the world. That is just mind-blowing to me. I had no idea that there were large enough communities of Asians across the globe to warrant China towns for each major city on the planet. Guess I was just misinformed.

UPDATE: This just in. Liz has now informed me that 1 in 3 people in the world are Chinese. If true, this is absolutely unbelievable. And a bit scary at the same time. I can see it though, can you?

Hunger had stuck once more so we walked out into the world that is Paris to find something to quell our appetites.

SIDE NOTE: Why is that one must eat all the time? Why can’t one just eat when one feels inclined to, out of a longing for a tasty meal…and not a dire hunger? It seems to me that this would make more sense. Maybe this thought process comes out of a financial necessity to have this discussion, but either way, someone should look into this. OK? Great.

We made our way through China town, looking at menu after menu and after a few 10-12 euros meals, I had personally had enough. I made the suggestion that we see what prices McDonalds was offering in this country, so that is exactly what we did. It was actually quite reasonable compared to Geneva, so I was sold. I treated my self to what they call a “Maxi Best of ‘Big Mac’” meal deal of sorts. I was so hungry I might have died, but after I ate that Big Mac in under 2 minutes flat, I felt way relieved to have some food in my stomach. (I ended up living through the event) We have been so busy seeing the sights that hunger goes unnoticed in the middle of the day and we end up skipping lunch most of the time. In reference to the previous side note, you can imagine how ok I am with this.

After this hearty meal we went back to the hotel, showered and crashed out of shear exhaustion. Sheryl ended up puking once more from a salad she ate at McDonalds. We all think she just had some weird stomach bug and she ended up getting better the following day.

So let’s see now. It’s been a while since I was actually on the trip so this will be a bit more shaky then the first European trip entry, but here it goes anyway. (Sheryl and I did take some notes at the Gatwick airport before leaving for Amsterdam, but we didn’t get very far. There will probably be a noticeable gap. My memory has never been my rock.)

DAY 7

Today we managed to drag ourselves out of bed pretty early. At this point I had started to realize that I could sleep later than the others due to Sheryl taking a ridiculous amount of time to get ready each day. I didn’t mind too much though as the trip rolled on because it did afford me certain luxuries. After making it out of the hotel and onto the subway, we ended up getting off in the middle of town. Seeing as this was our first day out on the prowl, we really had no clue as to where to go or what we wanted to do. On top of that, hunger had struck again. Good God. After a short walk in the freezing cold, we ended up sitting down for sandwiches at a local café. This is where I was introduced to the beauty of Dijon mustard in Paris. MMMmmm Mmmm Mm. There’s nothing like it, I can assure you.

After a hearty meal and some café lattes, we made an executive decision to start our day of sightseeing off with the church known as Notre Dam. SANCTUARY! Walking up to the church was an amazing sight. The sheer size of the building was quite impressive and the decorations for Christmas were in full force. A huge tree stood in the center of the square outside, complete with ornaments and all. Even though it was bitter cold outside, there we still quite a large number of crowds.

As we walked inside the church we were confronted with a fully functional church service. The place was packed in an odd juxtaposition of tourists and worshipers. Stained glass was everywhere, and even with the gloomy weather outside, it was just as beautiful as it would have been during the summer months (or so I can assume.)

As we walked around the perimeter of the church we came upon a nativity scene that had been set up for Christmas. Although lavishly created, this nativity scene was missing one crucial element. BABY JESUS! Missing. About a foot and half tall, son of Virgin Mary; please, if anyone has any information as to the disappearance of the Son of God, please call Notre Dam, they are looking for him.

After we had had about enough of God, we proceeded to walk our way out of the huge doors, being herded like cattle back into the real world. Zach made his way out first, but not before I got him with a solid “fuck you.”

BRIEF EXPLINATION: There is a wonderful game that has made its way into my sick head and it has come to be known as the “fuck you game.” Originating in the streets of Boulder Colorado, the game has since traveled to many different areas of the world. The rules are in fact very simple; get someone’s undivided attention by saying something like, “Hey Zach, guess what!” Zach looks at me, waiting for me to fill his anticipation with the answer, but no! This is where you get hit! “Fuuuuck you buddy,” with a smile of course. Now, any derivation of attention getting is welcome, as long as the person is waiting for you to say something. The longer they wait in anticipation, the stronger the hit. If you wait to long, the can block you. How do you beat the incoming “fuck you” you ask? Well, by realizing its coming, and saying “fuck you” to the person before you get hit! Great game. Can be played over the phone, email, as well as many other interesting outlets. Enjoy, and spread the love.

So back to Zach getting it. So as he was under the door frame, about to leave the church, I said, “Hey Zach, hold up!” He stopped and popped his head back into the church, only to be reamed with a solid “Fuuuuck you.” I know, I know, it was a little sacrilegious, but I couldn’t resist.

As we walked away we realized that the clothing that had gotten us through the first leg of the trip was not enough to keep us warm in this freezing cold city. Scarves were next on the list. Ahhhh, that’s better.

We then walked a long ways into the northern part of the city, used an internet café in some random area, and then went to the Museum of Erotica. Right before we got to the museum we got our first official French croissant for 70-cent euro, and let me tell you, it was greeeat. We also got a little lost for a minute on the way to the museum and we walked into this hillier area of the city, with narrow streets and people all over. We still don’t know exactly where we were, but it was different from any other part of the city we had seen, and I really enjoyed it.

Inside the Museum we were taken back by the wide array of ancient dildos. Wooden, Metal, marble, you name it, they used it. Crazy sculptures, trinkets, porn from the 20’s, Native American, Asian, and many other cultures, it was all enclosed in the 7 (count ‘em) stories of this wonderful museum. The best pieces in my opinion were these intricate wire sculptures that were animated scenes, usually containing some sort of erotic humor that also doubled as music boxes. The seventh and final floor was covered wall to wall with cartoon depictions of some of the most horrific thoughts and ideals you have ever seen. For example: The Virgin Mary giving birth to an already crucified Jesus. Isn’t that precious.

After we left we walked to the Moulin Rouge, which was already in the sex district we had come to earlier. It was a huge square with sex shops, peep shows, and just basically sex related things all over the place. At this point we had had about enough.

Right before we were going to walk down into the Metro train station, we approached a candy stand that smelled soooo damn good, due to the candy covered peanuts they were cooking. I was a little out of it and without knowing what I was doing…in a way…I picked up a piece of the candy and got yelled at for the first time in French. We already had Italian under our belts, so I was ready for it.

We finally got back to our hotel (Hotel Nuvex) after the sun went down, and got ready to go out to dinner, seeing as how we had somehow skipped lunch…again. We went to a Chinese restaurant about 3 minutes walk from our China Town hotel, and got some delicious meat and veggies. Not enough food for me though. For some reason I had strapped on an extra stomach for the trip and one meal was never enough to quell the beast within. Oh well, maybe next meal.

We had reached a breaking point in how long it had been since we were online with email and contacts, so we went to the McDonalds (where for some strange reason they had free wireless internet) and made some phone calls from my computer.

I tried to get a hold of my French housemate that was home in Paris for the holidays, but to no avail. Then we tried to get a hold of Sheryl’s friend from school who had been living in Paris for the semester, no luck there either. I then remembered how my cousin Rob gave me the name of a guy I should hook up with while in Paris, so I gave Haingo a call.

He was down for anything, even on such short notice, and within 2 hours he met us at our hotel to go out for some drinks. He had driven all the way in from a half hour outside of Paris just to take us out. Let me just say, this was the nicest guys in the world, and on top of that he was extremely smart and interesting to carry on a conversation with. Over drinks we got to know each other and I learned just how far back Haingo went with my Cuz.

Somehow Zach had gone from sober to drunk in 20 minutes flat as he proceeded to ask every question twice…Haingo answered without fail….even when it came to thermal depolymerization and hydrogen power, RIGHT ON HAINGO. Way to stay on top of your shit!

In the 2 hours time that we were at this bar, Zach asked where their bathroom was…more than once. How many times can one person ask to go to the SAME bathroom, I mean honestly. And on top of that, he tripped on the same step each time he made his way to the back of the bar. Wild night.

When it came time to get the bill, Haingo was all over it! Zach thru 20 euros in the mix and Haingo spotted the other 80 or so. Very damn nice of this guy who we just met. Haingo, much love buddy.

We walked home through the freezing cold before getting home and munching an entire bar of chocolate. Zach’s drunk ass was obsessed with wanting to make soup, although there was no hot water in our little hotel room to mix with the packets we had bought in Geneva. Keep up the good work Mannon.

As we were all passing out, Zach was asleep in two seconds flat and instantly began to snore. Not long after that he awoke with one of the most violent entire-body spasms I have ever seen! He nearly fell off the bed he twitched so bad! We all laughed hysterically at the absurdity of it all, good times…wasn’t the last time either.

DAY 8

We got up a little earlier today in order to make the most of our second day in Paris, and we decided the first stop would be Jim Morrison’s gravesite. We took a few trains to get there, and Zach held onto the wicked hangover from the previous nights debauchery the entire way there. When we got into the part of the city that the cemetery was located in, we went and had some more horribly made sandwiches. Please, people of the United States, cherish your sandwiches, they are in fact the best in the world. (and not to mention Mexican food…ahhhh Mexican food.) On account of the fact that Zach and Sheryl had minimal amounts of French between the two of them, we just guessed at the contents of each sandwich. Zach ended up getting some sort of tuna/patte shit, we might never know what it really was. Ew. If that wasn’t enough of a letdown, the lattes we had were almost as expensive as the damn crap sandwiches. Lame.

As we got closer to the cemetery, Zack made it known that he wanted to get a rubbing of the gravestone. He also told me some interesting facts about Mr. Jim’s death that some of you might not know. It is believed that Morrison did not die when people say he did, overdosed in a Paris bathtub. At the time of his death, only two people actually saw his body, and it is believed that he made his way down to Mexico to live out a more secretive life, until his death some years later. Speculation, but interesting all the same. We looked around a bit until we found a flower shop with a guy working behind a desk who was nice enough to lend us a pencil and some paper so we could get the job done.

After making our way across the street to the graveyard, we walked around for a minute thinking it was going to be easy to find Morrison’s memorial. It was not. This was the largest collection of dead people I had ever seen! We had to go back to the map and look again before we started to navigate the corpses once more.

Finally we found the grave, which was guarded by a security officer and a fence that ran around the perimeter of his tomb. You couldn’t get close enough to do a rubbing, and in this case there was a 50,000 euro fine for jumping the fence! We contemplated it, but then opted against being deported. Would have been one hell of a story though, that’s for sure. Where do you think they would have sent me? Can you choose? “Um, ya, I’d like to go back to London if it’s not too much trouble…al my shit is there. Come on Frenchy, have a heart!” J

We then went back and returned the pencil to the now closed flower shop, like the good kind-hearted Americans that we are. I wanted to go and look around the cemetery a little more, so we went back across the street for some more post-mortem exploration. This place was just so old and held so much history it was amazing. Many of the walkways had warped over time from the hundreds of years of mourners visiting the gigantic resting ground.

After we had had our fill, we got back on the Metro and took a train all the way across the city to the Eiffel Tower. The ride was spectacular, chalk full of views of the entire city. River after river we made our way to the opposite end of Paris, all the while being entertained by random appearances from local musicians who would ride in our cab for a while, then move on.

Once we got off the train, I stood at the edge of the platform and lowered my camera to get a shot from the surface of the tracks. As I was waiting for the timer to count down, the train was coming up fast and it was definitely a close one, but I made it out alive! (and so did my camera) Praise Jesus! Plus, I got the shot, so that’s what counts in the end, right?

When we left the station, we could already see the tower in the distance so we headed in the direction of all the other tourist herds. As we got closer the tourism was biting, along with the cold. Once we got a clear view of the tower, I was absolutely blown away by the sheer size of it. It was WAY bigger than I had expected and it really had an aura all its own. It was honestly breathtaking…to say the least.

We chilled (no pun intended) there for a little while, just taking it all in, before we decided it was once again time to eat. After a small search, we settled on this little café about a block off the park. This was the first place we were treated poorly, just for the way we looked and sounded. They stuck us in this corner, barely paying any attention to us, until we forcibly called them over to help us. They wouldn’t even look us in the eye. Sheryl was making her best efforts at interacting with them in French and they were treating us like we were the scum of the earth. Well, we showed them, we jipped them on our bill by nearly a whole Euro. BASTARDS!

It was now time to get our frozen butts over to the mother of all museums, The Louvre. So we show up at 4:00ish and plan to be there until they close around 9:00ish. We pay our entry fee and make our way into one of the 109,827,828,172,912 exhibitions. First stop, the Mona Lisa. After reading Da Vinci Code, it was awe-inspiring to be able to walk through the halls of The Louvre, the same halls that were written about in the Brown novel. There was in fact a Da Vinci Code tour that we could have taken, but we opted against it. Next time.

So after checking out the most visited painting in the world, we started our search through the museum for other items of interest. After wandering through the Egyptian and Masters sections, the museum started closing certain area. This was interesting to us, seeing as we were planning on being there for a few more hours at least. Welp, the museum wasn’t having any of that. Leave it to us to show up at the museum late in the day the one afternoon they close at 5:30. Wow. Could our luck have been any worse. I think not.

So, we left, having only seen the Mona Lisa and a few other things. When we came outside and caught a glance of the Pyramid on the exterior of the Museum, all was good in the world of Blake J. The moon high above, the sky glowing a purple-blue tone, and the air, a nipple biting cold, things couldn’t have been any nicer. I took a few shots of the pyramid, and then we took a walk through an un-named park (un-named because we never learned the name, come on people, it was dark) towards the Eiffel Tower. I was set on seeing the landmark at night even though we had already been there earlier that day. Knowing it was our last night in Paris, now was the time.

Sheryl and Zach were set on taking the Metro over there, but I was having such an inspirational night, that I though a walk would be better. Somehow I convinced them of this, and we were on our way.

Coming up on the tower was once again breathtaking, but altogether different. At night they have it light up with sparkling lights covering the entire surface area of the tower. It is quite a sight to see. The light only comes on every hour or so, but when they do, everyone is stopped in their tracks, even the locals out walking their dogs in the park below. I don’t know if I can make it any clearer, this is one of the coolest man made things I have ever seen. I got some post card shots and we were on our way. J

We went back to the hotel room and rested for a minute before we went out to dinner and had some Chinese food, once again. Not many options when your smack dab in the middle of China town. I had just about enough of not being full after meals, so tonight I opted for the full buffet option. Man, people like me should not be able to eat at buffets. I felt like Homer Simpson. Poor bastards.

Later that night I almost went out by myself to meet up with Haingo once more before leaving, but thankfully Haingo went out to a movie with a friend of his. I was too tired anyway, and having to get up early for our flight the next morning, it was a blessing in disguise.

Bedtime was quite pleasant. Waking up was not. We packed the night before so we basically rolled out of bed and hopped in a taxi. When we got to the airport, I worked on writing some in my blog while Sheryl and Zach slept. While we were waiting to board, it started to snow. Sheryl had never really seen it snow before so she was quite stoked. I recalled the first time I saw it snow when I was a freshman at Boulder. I called my mom and sat in my windowsill till it got dark, just watching it fall. Today, I wasn’t so impressed. Having to get on a plane and take off on a snow-covered runway is not on my life “to do list,” but if it were, it is now crossed off.

Barcelona, here we come!

B

Rome and Geneva and Paris, OH MY!

2004-12-26T09:44:00.000Z

Waiting in my room to leave for Europe was a very boring experience. I had to sit around until about half past midnight until Liz returned to her BUNAC hostel from her exciting, ghost-ridden trip to Scotland. When she finally got back she gave me a call and I set off…at last! I made my way down to Tottenham Court Road and Oxford Street and hung out with her for an hour or so before I started my walk at around 2:50 a.m. down Tottenham to find a bus, which left me plenty of time to get to Victoria Coach Station. You see, I had to catch a bus at 3:30 from there all the way down to Gatwick Airport, which is about an hour outside of downtown London. So I wait for a bus to get me to the coach bus, and after 15 minutes, one shows up. I hop on and start my ride, all the while being the only person on the bus. After about 3 stops, a little tiny dude gets on the bus and shows his pass to the driver. The driver asked to see the pass again; the guy hesitated and then showed it to him. The bus driver shook his head, looking almost unsatisfied. The guy seemed to think nothing of it and proceeded to sit two seats behind me. We pulled away from the stop and then almost immediately a police van pulled up along the side of us. They had a few words with the driver through his window, and then continued in front of the bus with their lights and sirens blazin’! They got out of the van and came to the front door of the bus where they had a short conversation with the bus driver. Considering I was listening to my iPod, I pulled out my headphones to listen in. This was getting interesting. I had yet to think of the consequences this guys actions might have on my time sensitive journey.

“That’s the guy. He was attempting to pass a fake bus pass of as the real thing,” the bus driver mumbled.

“We’ll take care of this,” responded the bobbies.

They walked back to where the guy was sitting, who looked as though he had no idea what was going on. (or so it seemed) At this point I look at my watch and realize I have 5 minutes to make it to the coach station! I get off the bus and begin to run. Not even really sure which way to turn when I get to the right street! Picture this: an extremely large backpack on my back, a smaller backpack on my front, a titanium laptop case, and me…running as awkwardly fast as possible; all the while dressed in full winter garb. I got to the point where my legs were burning about 3 minutes in and my throat was closing up from the cold air and large, panting breathes. Rounding the corner to the coach station I witnessed first hand the departure of a bus headed for Gatwick Airport. The very bus I was intended to be on and held a ticket to ride! 6 pounds later, I was not on that bus.

I made my way to the information desk, already knowing that the next bus didn’t leave until 5:15 a.m., a hefty amount of time past the latest I could leave London to catch my 6:45 flight. The guy at the information counter told me that the next train would not be leaving until the same time, cutting things extremely close…not to mention pricey. I walked back to the Victoria Train/Tube Station in hopes of getting on the only train that could get me there in time, still wheezing from the marathon I had run just a few minutes earlier. Not to mention the copious amounts of sweat under my stylish pinstriped London trench coat.

Arriving at the train station, I learned there was a train leaving at 4:30 and I felt a bit of relief that I actually might NOT start off my trip by missing a flight. Having quite the reputation for it in the past, it was nice to not have to perpetuate my airport shenanigans any further. Little did I know it would come back to haunt me once more in the near future.

After £24.00 for the Gatwick Express Train, plus the initial £6.00 coach ride that…ah, …never road, I had made it to Gatwick. Delirious from being up all night I checked my bags in, got the only food in the airport (McDonald’s McBreakfast!), and made my way to the gate. Once I got on the plane, I was past the point of no return in terms of getting sleep, so I read Scar Tissue for most of the flight before I ended up crashing. (I know, I know, bad choice of words for a plane ride). When I woke up, I was over Rome! Talk about a sight to see. Beautiful.

DAY 1 - Rome

As I deplaned I was damn near hallucinating. I collected my backpack from the luggage bin, took one last look to make sure I had everything from behind the seat, and made my way down the stairs onto the tarmac. As I stood inside the airport, waiting to have my passport checked, I felt surprisingly light. Then I felt sick. Then panic! Then the mad dash began once more. I had left my 4,000 dollar laptop on the plane under my seat! Leave it me. Fuck.

I ran like a bat out of hell (well, they fly, but you get the point) back down onto the
runway area, up the stairs and onto the plane. Now, normally, I don’t run unless I’m being chased, and this was the second time in less than twenty four hours I had done so without being involved in a pursuit. As I got onto the plane a steward was walking down the isle with my case. Thank god. In fact I did, seeing as I was in the midst of the holy city. Jesus! I’m one lucky bastard.

I changed some money, and met up with some fellow American travelers while I waited for the bus to take me to the train that would eventually lead me to the center of Rome. Whew! Progress.

When I made it into the city, I found the hostel with ease and began my eager wait for my Zachary Eisner Mannon. As I waited I managed to have a great Italian lunch that consisted of pasta with egg, and bacon (carbonara)…it was almost like “Italian Breakfast Pasta.” When he finally showed up we were so stoked to see each other, at which point we began the never ending realization faze of the trip, “Hey, can you believe…WE’RE IN ROME MAN!”

At around 7ish Zach’s special lady friend (da bear!) showed up on a train from the other Roman airport, Da Vinci. I slept in the train station while we waited. Very nice.

The “we’re here” realizations continued as we made out way back to the hostel and dropped off Sheryl’s stuff. She is definitely a hyper little fire cracker. After getting all settled in we walked around the area and found a little place called the “Julius Caesar Pub.” We tipped the bartender unsure of the tipping policy, and ended up getting some free pizza at the bar. After a few glasses of wine we were all beat tired, at which point we walked back to the hostel and crashed out. Sleep, glorious sleep.

DAY 2

Now, waking up late is certainly one of my fortes. This day was no exception. Thankfully, everyone was just as jet/travel lagged as I, so we strategically positioned ourselves in bed until about 10:30 in the morning. When we finally drug ourselves out of bed, and made it across the street to a tiny pizzeria. At this point I was feelin’ pretty damn good to be in Rome.

We left after having some great food and started out journey into the ancient city. Our first stop, the Coliseum. As we walked in the direction of the great stadium, we traveled through the modern streets of Rome. Covered as far as the arm can reach with graffiti, the majority of which was in English, I was constantly looking back and forth in amazement. The melding of the modern and the ancient was astonishing to me. To see this progressive social art form melded to the surface of thousand year old buildings might seem sad to some, but to me it was a sense of progression. A comment on how the people of this great city had evolved.

As we walked down the boulevard, I looked down a side street only to see a huge ruin in the distance. We knew we were close to the Coliseum, but the street seemed to come up too soon to be one that would lead to it. We decided to walk towards it, only to realize that once we got closer we would know for sure. Unreal. That is the only word I could use to describe the sight. We stood in amazement for a minute, before making our way down to the base of the structure. We walked around the perimeter for a while before deciding that the 10 euros was worth going in and seeing the interior of the structure.

The inside was completely breathtaking. The history incased in this arena hits you like a ton of bricks. To know what went on in the confines of the arena is completely mesmerizing and by standing in the same place as people from 2000 years ago, you get the chills beyond anything you have ever felt. The one thing that bothered me, however, were the amount of modern elements that have been built into the infrastructure. They have covered almost a third of the center with wooden platforms that hide a lot of the catacombs that dominate what used to the forum floor. Running across the center of the forum is a wooden bridge that just looks out of place. From looking at the postcards in the gift shop, it seemed like a few years ago it had held onto the ancient aura of what it felt like as a complete ruin, not yet “ruined” by an attempt at making it more tourist friendly. Overall, I was definitely impressed though.

We left the Coliseum and made our way up to the Palatino, the home of the rulers of Ancient Rome. Perched high above the city, this place was a paradise. Lush green landscape, fountains, amazingly old trees, and great views. As we looked over the city we really hade no idea what we were looking at since we had yet to see any other part of the metropolis, but it was still out of this world.

While we were on the hill there were a bunch of orange trees covering the countryside…and I was hungry. I decided to eat one of these oranges. Now, the orange looked ripe from the outside, but this was not the case. It was the most tart thing I have ever had in my mouth. Bad move Blake, bad move. I officially have no enamel on my teeth. Sorry Mom.

Now as many of you know, I am not what one would call a “rule follower.” Every time we would come to an area with some ruins, there were fences, gates, and walls, all designed to separate you from things you weren’t allowed to get close to. To me, this is an open call to misbehave. With no one around to watch you, they are asking for it…I mean, come on! We made out way into some closed areas and this was by far the most exciting on the ruins that I saw. The degree of fear really made it that much more invigorating. I was able to see and touch things that the majority of the visitors never even came close to. Good stuff.

As we walked back to the hostel after a long day of sightseeing we were taken back by an amazing sight in the center of town. Millions of birds flying through the air, creating thick, fluid shapes that dominated the sunset lit sky. At times they created almost vein like shapes that would flex and expand with almost eerie complexity. Awesome…….awesome. I would have taken some photos of them, but they only come out a dusk, and they are moving so fast that it did not translate well to film. Oh well. I think you’ll be satisfied with the rest of my shots.

We then decided it was time to enjoy our first cup of Italian coffee. Not much to say here, except it was absolutely astounding. In the cappuccinos foam, the barista drew a naked women for Zach, and a heart for the lady. Very well done I must say. I had a latte, so needless to say, no nudity for me.

Later that night we went and had some dinner at the restaurant down the street from the hostel. In this restaurant, I proceeded to have the best pizza in the world. Quite literally. Spicy salami and artichoke hearts. I have now formed a loving relationship with salami, and we are both very happy. Need I say more. Quite a large change from the 1 pound pizzas I have been sentenced to in London.

DAY 3

Not that I hadn’t taken a shower yet, but I am taking this opportunity to say that the showers in Rome, and all of Italy for all I know, have the worst water pressure in the history of the world. It would almost be more satisfying to fill my mouth with water, and spray myself down with it. It’s as if in 2000 years time, they still have yet to involve plumbers into their city’s infrastructure. Oh well, the fantastic drippin system got me clean in 30 minutes.

After getting so fresh and so clean, the Spanish Steps was our first stop for the day. Being as lazy as we are, we stared at the top of these gargantuan steps and made our way down. There was of coarse an excellent view from the top, and as we traveled down the harassment began. Zach was the first victim. Armed with multi-colored thread, they delimited us with military like precision. Before we knew it, our index fingers were surrounded….uh, with string. Let the braiding begin. At first there were fears that they had other intentions for the reason that there was more than one other guy that came up after the first had made their initial moves. We told them the entire time, we weren’t interested, but to no avail, we were sucked in. Luckily, we actually had no money on us. He told me that for his 30 seconds of unwanted service I owed him 5 euros. I politely told him to go fuck himself. The entire time Sheryl was chased in a circle around the madness by a third stringman. We made it out alive, but we will never be the same.

After escaping, we hiked down to the river that runs through Rome, the Tevere. Making our way down some steps we walked along the river in almost complete solitude. No one in sight. It was really peaceful, as we inched closer to the second stop of the day,...the Vatican.

As we approached the Vatican we walked directly across Via San Pio X bridge and up towards St. Peter’s Square. The view from the street was pretty incredible, as we got closer to the smallest country in the world, Vatican City. I for one was truly excited to see the Vatican after reading Angels and Demons just weeks before, a book mostly based within the walls of Vatican City.

Once we got into Saint Peter’s Square, we had had about enough. I mean, come on, it’s a circle. As we entered the Vatican we had the pleasure of seeing the lights stream in through the windows with miraculous precision, cascading across the open interior of the grandest monument ever constructed for the glory of God. Why people have such a commitment to showing their artistic ability through the realm of religion, I might never truly understand. I’ve never seen so many unhappy angels. A little confusing. It was daunting to see, and quite overwhelming, but definitely not my style.

We left feeling holier than thou and took a stroll up Via Del Gianicolo, south of the Vatican, up a large incline. We walked a ways up until we settled on a place to initiate the Paris Protocol. In accordance with my cousin Rob’s wonderful advice, I once again initiated the protocol. This involves the distribution of wine, cheese, and bread among friends in a serene, low budget environment. Let me just say, it has not once let me down.

After eating we started walking back across the city to our hostel, in between we stopped off at another crucial site seeing…..site, The Pantheon. This was cooler to me than the Vatican for sure. It was so sweet to see other, less prehistoric buildings surrounding the old Pagan church. Conveniently, the Catholic Church adapted the church into one of their own some time ago, but the pagan symbols still riddle the interior. The building was so old and considerable in size it was just stunning.

By the time we walked away, we were beat tired. I had been suffering from shin splints from the run to catch my coach days earlier, and I was ready to go and get some rest back at the room.

We had met some cool guys from St. Louis at the hostel and later that night we met up with them. Zach and Sheryl decided to stick around in the room and have a chill night, while I was as usual, up for anything. So John, John, and I took a walk to a restaurant, Itlaian of course, and once again enjoyed some amazing food. It was nice to have one of the Johns around due to the fact that he had been living in Italy for close to 4 months at this point. With his Italian abilities and knowledge of the city, it felt a lot less intimidating.

After dinner we hopped onto a bus and made our way to the other edge of the city. Thanks to John, the bus was free. Apparently, no one but tourists pay for buses. We got off the bus and walked about five minutes to a hookah bar/restaurant called Sheesha. After chilling there for an hour or so, having some good conversation, we decided to call it a night. All of us had to leave early the following morning, and we felt we had closed our time in Rome appropriately.

The walk back was great! Seeing the city at night was probably my favorite experience in Rome so far. Plus, John was like a goddamn tour guide of sorts! Instead of historical dates and lame facts, he had the dirt of ancient Rome. Rumor has it that in order to bring women in the Rome after it was built in the early years, the men of the time decided to go to a neighboring development and drug the entire city. When the men of that community woke, all of their women had been abducted and taken to Rome. And so it began. Good to know, huh? I thought so.

DAY 4

We woke up at the butt crack of Dawn on Thursday in order to make an 8:45 flight from Rome, Caimpino to Geneva, Switzerland. Unfortunately, it was early enough. We ended up missing our flight out of Rome, and the next flight departing for Geneva wouldn’t be leaving until 12 hours later! 12 HOURS! Now I have had some bad experiences with airports, but this, this has got to take the cake. At this point we decided it would be fun to go into the small village of Caimpino and walk around for a bit, get a taste of the small village life and see how it juxtaposed itself with that of Rome. We got into the city with our huge backpacks strapped on and 12 hours to kill. After cruising around for a bit and using an internet café to email the hostel we would be late in arriving at, we settled in a small bar for some food and coffee. I worked on my computer getting some of my first writings done and after three hours, they asked us to leave. We started walking, following the road signs that pointed to the aeropuerto, in hopes that we would stumble across a bus stop that would take us to the airport. We walked for about 15 minutes until the road started getting so narrow that we were in danger of being hit by buses that were flying by, ironically taking other people to the airport. Zach and I decided it would be a good idea to try and hitchhike, seeing as the airport was only a few minutes drive from where we were. Walking was out of the question because of the highways that were involved.

Welp, hitchhiking might not be a universal thing. No one picked us up and they seemed to not even understand what we were doing. Most of them looked as though they were trying to tell us to, “Get the fuck off the road!” or “Who the hell are these jackasses!” Oh well, we gave up and began walking back the way we came. At this point I had realized that my Spanish was more helpful when communicating with someone that spoke Italian than English could ever be. I spoke for a second with this shop owner once we got back into civilization, and he told us there was a bus stop 10 meters down the road. We hadn’t seen one, but we started walking.

We got about 30 feet down the street and stopped. As we stood there, in the front of a petrol station, trying to figure this all out, a guy in a large van pulled into the parking lot. He looked over at us and said. “You guys need a taxi to the airport?” Now, he must of seen us hitchhiking or something, because he most definitely wasn’t a taxi service. When I asked how much, he told me that it was, “Uh, um, ten Euros.” Don’t bullshit a bullshitter, alright buddy. We told him we weren’t interested and then proceeded to ask him if he knew where a bus stop was. He informed us that it was at the train station in the center of town. You could see the frustration in his face, and at this point we knew he was lying. We stood there a minute longer and then realized that we were actually at the bus stop! Can we say, “Retarded!” We got on the bus and eventually got back to the airport.

By now we had killed about half the wait time, leaving us with 6 hours of waiting. We still had a bottle of wine left over from our picnic, so we cracked it open about half way through the waiting. I took the opportunity to get waste deep into my journal, writing about 2,500 words about the trip thus far. Obviously, I didn’t get this far because this is in past tense.

We got on the plane, thank god, and arrived in Geneva at around 11:00 at night. We took a free train ride to the center of town and hoofed our tired asses all the way to the hostel, about ten minutes walk from the train station. Shower, shave, brush teeth, and sleep. Ahhhh.

DAY 5 - Geneva

We woke up early today. Oh yea, early. It was nearly nine o’clock. Good god. Peeking out the window we noticed it was raining and cold. Well, the cold realization came after putting a hand out the window, but you get the idea. Zach and I decided it was time to indulge ourselves in a McDonald’s breakfast…great minds think alike. So, after showering and all that nonsense, we started walking through the hyper-clean streets of Geneva. When we arrived at the local Mickey D’s, they had stopped serving breakfast. Looking at the lunch menu baffled me right down to the core of my soul. People, a Big Mac meal, with a medium drink cost 10.50 francs. That is just over 9 dollars. SWEET JESUS!

We decided we would find a grocery store and get food for the next few meals in order to save some cash. We made breakfast back at the hostel which had all the amenities of a kitchen at home. Egg sandwiches it was…home made McBreakfast for all! Delicioso.

Man, I could not break free from the Italian/Spanish that I had been speaking and as a result the confusion had peaked at an all time high. Si, Wi, Merci, whatever. None of it was making any sense any more.

After breakfast we went to a local hooka/kabob shop and enjoyed a round of Passion fruit sheesha. I enjoyed myself, but Sheryl wasn’t feelin too hot and she actually had to clean out the pipes while we were still in the restaurant, puking in the cleanest bathroom of her entire life. Oh well, shit happens…and so does puke.

Our walk continued down the main street, past the train station, and across the river. It was sweet that from the river we could see the main attraction of Geneva, a 450 foot tower of water that shoots out of Switzerland’s main body of water. If I knew the name of the body of water, or of the fountain, it would be inserted – here – .

At this point it is raining pretty good and quite cold as we make an attempt at doing some interesting touristy activities. Zach was interested in checking out the Museum of Anthropology, so we decided to venture to that area of town. When we got there we got some horrible news. It wasn’t open for another 6 months. That didn’t really fit into our Geneva schedule for the time being.

We continued walking and when we got back near the main street we stumbled across a huge flat ground skate park. Half pipes, quarter pipe, kickers and table tops. The pinnacle of the skate park experience came not from the the watered down park itself, but from the graffiti that littered the area. Some really amazing artwork.

SIDE NOTE:

Since traveling to Europe I have become obsessed artistically with a few key features. To list them Simply; Lamps, Leaves, Trees, and by far the most dominant, graffiti. For some reason, wherever I am, these things pop out at me. God only knows why, but I am really loving this stuff. You might notice in my photos…but yea, if you don’t, your pretty slow.

After chilling at the park for a few minutes it really started to rain so we decided to head back to the hostel and get some rest, so as to be able to go out for the Friday night festivities. After stopping at a café for some coffee and ice cream, we started the journey back through the rain, across the river, and up to the front door of City Hostel Geneva.

After taking an extended nap, I got my ass out of bed and started cooking dinner. Even though we were no longer in Italy, the desire to have Italian food had far from faded. I made speggeti with meat sause and had a beer or two with dinner. It was nice to cook again after spending entirely too much money on food through the coarse of our trip thus far.

And now for a little injection of some craziness. As we sat enjoying our eats and drinks, into the kitchen walks a random hostel dweller. As he got to the sink and turned to face us, I was blown away to see that I knew this person. Mr. Joel Rinsky, my freshman year dorm next door neighbor, had somehow booked himself into the same hostel, at the same time! To think you can go as far as Geneva and run into an old friend only goes to show how small this little planet is.

Joel came and hung out in our room and watched Gladiator on DVD with us on my computer before heading out to the bars. When we got to the bar Zach and I had already put a few back, but Joel was still lookin’ to get his buzz on, and luckily they don’t mess around in Geneva. For 40 francs we engulfed ourselves in a tower of beer nearly 4 feet tall. This thing was massive, with its own tap, and between the three of us, we were done in for the night. After we decided we had had enough, we began the stumble home. Along the way we treated ourselves to a much needed shwarma at the local kabob shop.

I can’t say that I was impressed overall with Geneva. I would like to come back though and do a trip around the entire country. I felt like the city is not the place to be in a country as beautiful as this, and that the mountains and outdoor atmosphere of the summertime here would be spectacular. I can only hope I get to come back and have some more extensive travels through the countryside while the weather is nicer and the dollar is stronger. We shall see.

DAY 6

Waking up today knowing it was again going to be cold and rainy made it easy to decide to slept in, in an effort to catch up with the delirium of traveling so much. When we finally zombied out bed, we had a bit of breakfast that was left over from the previous morning. Then we proceeded to pack up our backpacks, and get ourselves ready to head out.

We had one last thing to do before we left. Seeing as Switzerland is the chocolate capital of the world, we went to the store, and bought ourselves some chocolate of coarse. Milk, caramel, cherry, truffle, of did they have it all. I got about 1 kilogram of the sweetest chocolate in the world (pun intended) for about 10 dollars. Yum.

Heading back to the hostel, we picked up our bags in order to start our trip back to the train station. Once we got there, we waited on the train platform for the train to take us to the airport. I jumped onto the tracks for a minute in order to get a shot of the tracks from a really low perspective. Was kinda scary when the train started to come down the tracks though, on account of the fact that it was a high-speed train. LOOK OUT! Turned out looking pretty cool. See pictures and judge.

After arriving at the airport I got deep into my book, Scar Tissue. I had a little over two hours to kill considering after we missed our first flight, we wern’t gonna fuck around with missing another. Man does Anthony Kedis have one crazy life story! Just endless stories of sex, drugs, and rock and roll. Scary at times, but inspiring at others. His poetry, music, and drive to be successful make me more inspired each time I read.

DAY 6 - Paris

Following a long day of travels we landed in Paris in the evening of Saturday the 18th of December. We took three connections on trains and subways in order to get to the first hotel of our trip that we were going to be staying at for the next three nights.

This place ended up being right in the heart of Chinatown. Now, I don’t know if this is common knowledge or not, but it seems that there is a China Town in every city in the world. That is just mind-blowing to me. I had no idea that there were large enough communities of Asians across the globe to warrant China towns for each major city on the planet. Guess I was just misinformed.

Hungry had stuck once more so we walked out into the world that is Paris to find something to quell our appetites.

SIDE NOTE: Why is that one must eat all the time? Why can’t one just eat when one feels inclined to, out of a longing for a tasty meal…and not a dire hunger? It seems to me that this would make more sense. Maybe this thought process comes out of a financial necessity to have this discussion, but either way, someone should look into this. OK? Great.

We made our way through China town, looking at menu after menu and after a few 10-12 euros meals, I had personally had enough. I made the suggestion that we see what prices McDonalds was offering in this country, so that is exactly what we did. It was actually quite reasonable compared to Geneva, so I was sold. I treated my self to what they call a “Maxi Best of ‘Big Mac’” meal deal of sorts. I was so hungry I might have died, but after I ate that Big Mac in under 2 minutes flat, I felt way relieved to have some food in my stomach. We have been so busy seeing the sights that hunger goes unnoticed in the middle of the day and we end up skipping lunch most of the time. In reference to the previous side note, you can imagine how ok I am with this.

After this hearty meal we went back to the hotel, showered and crashed out of shear exhaustion. Sheryl ended up puking once more from a salad she ate at McDonalds. We all think she just had some weird stomach bug and she ended up getting better the following day.

MORE TO COME WHEN I GET HOME ON THE FIRST! ALONG WITH AN UPDATE ON MY MEETING WITH THE ART GALLERY. STAY TUNED, and if you made it through this one, I will love you forever.

B

Photomatic - Two Trips, One post.

2004-12-09T16:51:00.000Z

Snape Road. On the way to the estate at Aldeburgh.

View from behind main house.

Sun setting in Aldeburgh.

Again, behind main house.

Harry and Barney looking at a dieing seagull.

Me.

Looking up the tree I was standing under in the last shot.

Fresh mushroom that Harry had picked for breakfast.

Me Again.

Thick moss on the ground everywhere. Super soft stuff.

Sunset through trees.

Tanya walking along jetty sort of thing. Very cool.

Looking up from jetty.

Me in the thick fall ground cover.

Sweet trees behind house.

NOW LEAVING ALDEBURGH

WELCOME TO CAMBRIDGE!

Blue door. Nuff said.

Cool graffiti.

Walk through the park.

Round Church. Built in the 1300's.

Cubist statue on Jesus College.

Green Door. Nuff said.

Walkway outside of Saint James Church.

Grass outside of Saint James Church.

Saint James College.

Bridge that I crossed over. No symbolic undertone. :-)

Train at tube/train station. Pigeon landed there as I sat to shoot. Good timing.

Moss infested bridge at Cambridge.

Swan under previous bridge.

Walkway in a random church.

Same shot obviously, but in color. I liked both of them too much.

1000 year old church with brand new clock. Thought it looked way too new personally.

Blue spiral staircase that led up to a dorm room. Very sweet.

Different blue stair case in same area.

Drunken statue. :-)

Found this lonely flower and set of earrings sitting on this ledge. Thought
it was sad.

Wall sculpture in random church.

Saint James College. Becoming obsessed with lamps for some reason.

Spiral stairway in Saint James College.

Same staircase, different lens. I was laying on the floor for this shot in a
busy area. Very funny looks from all around.

Saint James College.

More at Jesus College. Lamp much?

Interesting bird house on Jesus College.

Sweet leaves.

Retarded tree.

Less retarded tree.

Jesus College. Side view of next shot. Lamp.

Wow, I Think I'm Starting To Get jealous of Myself...Is That Possible?

2004-12-02T14:14:00.000Z

So where to begin? Um, let’s start right here. Some of you might have thought that my trip to Africa was just a burst of excitement coming out of the overactive mind of Blake J. Nolan. I say to you, “That was not the case.” It is now official. I am going to the “land of all lands,” the “big bad continent,” “A-Town,” that enormous continent under Europe…AAAFRICA…and I’m not looking back. I leave on Friday February 11th, 2005 and make my way through Brussels Belgium down to the armpit of Africa. I arrive in Cameroon, West Africa at 5:00pm on the following day and take the time to meet and greet with my best buddy, Sir Allen Banick III. “What will happen next?!” you might ask. Well, seeing as it hasn’t happened yet, I don’t know the answer to that either, but I can tell you one thing (ok two), we are going to rip Africa a new one! And on top of all the effort it takes to perform such a monumental act, we will be attempting to write a short photo/journal book to describe verbally and visually our experiences for the month that I am visiting. You see, Mr. Banick isn’t just another pretty face, he is one hell of a comedian as well, and on top of that quite the writer and photographer. Plus, from what I hear from the Peace Corps ladies, he is quite the shag. So “What Then?” you ask? Well, after a month of senseless shenanigans in the pit, I travel all the way back to London through Brussels and then a day later start another trip. Wow, this life…I swear it gets harder ever day. Somebody should write all this shit down for me so I don’t forget. Oh, who the hell am I kidding, I remember everything.

DISCLAIMER: All blog thoughts contained herein are free flowing, focus free, ADHD rantings. Please do not take anything with more than a minimal degree of seriousness. At any moment, you may feel lost, confused, afraid, or downright angry with the utter lack of control that exists in continuity. Please, refrain from throwing your computer and/or having to divulge in Ritalin and Addoral self-medication binge. This lack of literary concentration is not a result of your own disorder, but that of the author.

Yea…focus….back to the travel plans.

So now I have just made it back from Cameroon, A-Town….and BOY DO I SMELL. Lather, rinse repeat. That should get the African funk off of me. Right?! Hard to say, seeing as on Monday, March 14th I jump back on a plane and head straight back! My flight out of London takes me right over Iraq (30,000 feet should be enough space between me and those crazy militants) and into the Dubai, in the United Arab Emirates. I arrive there at 7:15 in the morning and by 11:30 I am back on a plane, making my way to Johannesburg, South Africa. Once I arrive there, I have another 2 hours before I get on another plane destined for my final, um…destination. Durban, South Africa, located right on the costal edge of southern South Africa. Yep, and you guessed it, I’ll be there for exactly a month before I come back to jolly old England.

So enough of making everyone jealous of how cool I am and how un-cool you all are. Sorry for that. But the truth hurts. Back to the now. Be here now. Ok, so I have been extremely busy the last few weeks, some of you might have noticed due to the non-existence of blogs for that time. A few big things are going on, or have gone on in that time. Let’s start with the not so big.

A while ago I talked about how I am able to continue making money while I’m here through the creation and maintenance of websites for US based clients. Brilliant you say! I would have to agree. Well, one of the larger projects came to a deadline last week, Thanksgiving of all days. The Boulder Arts and Crafts Cooperative is a store located on Pearl Street in Boulder Colorado and I have been designing their website from scratch since early this summer. I also shot the massive amount of photography used on the site, documenting each item in the store…which is quite a large catalogue. So needless to say, the site is now online at http://www.boulderartsandcrafts.com and both they and I are very happy with the results. Another project that I just completed is a website for a handcrafted wooden fishing lure company called Bass Munch Lures. This was a smaller site, but none the less, it took a good amount of time to complete. If your curious, this one is located at http://www.BassMunchLures.com. Ok, so one more thing to say about work. If any of you people out there reading this know anybody that is in need of web or graphic design work, look no further! I am your guy. Do your part to help me keep traveling and living it up by connecting me with these people. I have been doing web and graphic design now for close to 12 years. 12. So yea, that would be just greaaaat. Yeaaa, thanks. And I’m gonna need you to come in on Saturday.

THANKSGIVING! LONDON STYLE! Ok, so as the holy day of “Eat Too Much” drew closer and closer, I had quite a hard time dealing with the fact that I was gonna be away from my KICK ASS family for the first time, without having the consolation prize of eating with another family. In dealing with this, I made an outrageously large dinner at my flat with my two housemates, Julie and Emily, and my Bunac Hostel lady friends Annie and Liz. All ladies. You know how I do it. So instead of Turkey, I cooked up the most delicious of Chickens in the world. Quite literally, there has never been a chicken that tasted so fine. On top of that, as if there was a need for anything else, I made a ton of other food. Mashed potatoes, home-made gravy, mandarine orange jello, spinach salad (with avocado, tomatoes, garlic and onion croutons, and French dressing), Stove Top Stuffing, cranberry jam (it was all we could find), and apple pie and ice cream for desert. Damn I’m good. Not to mention the 8 bottles of wine that we consumed leisurely. Every other nationality in the house thought I was a bit crazy, but who cares. GO ON MY SON!

QUICK SIDE NOTE:
I have done a few British lingo definitions in the past, but this one is special. They seem to really get a kick out of the word “piss” because they use it all the time. Here is a new way it has been used in front of me, along with the other ways, so please listen in and enjoy:

Pissed – Drunk
Ex. “Hey Bob, wanna go down to the pub and get pissed mate?” Steve said. “Sure Steve. Sounds fuckin lush!” replied Bob.

Other, Less Logical Way
Ex. “Hey Bob, wanna take a walk down to the pub and see if that new hat of yours is gonna get you any attention from the birds (sarcastic undertone)!? “WHAT?! Are you taking a piss outta me!? Are you mate?! You takin’ a piss, outta ME?”

Now don’t attempt to understand how it came to be used this way. You won’t. I don’t. No one seems to. Accept it and move on. Ok, good.

Moving on. Big big news in the world of Blake J. Nolan Photography. On December 10th, 2004 I have a meeting with the owner and director of the largest private photography gallery in all of Europe. Pulling in more than 100,000 visitors a year to each of his galleries, Alex Proud has proven to be one of the most influential names in the realm of progressive and innovative photography. So in order to prepare for this meeting, I have been working on a portfolio of imagery in an effort to present myself as a multi-layered artist. Meaning that I want to show him that I can conquer the whole spectrum of what photography has to offer; fine art, music, experimental, and documentary style. There is more to it than that, but you get the idea I imagine. This portfolio has 36 images, each sized at 24 x16 inches, and they are assembled into a leather bound portfolio display folder. This is costing me a pretty penny. I had become really attached to that penny too. It was in fact, a very pretty penny. I will keep you up to date as to how things go with this meeting, this is for sure. All I can say is If I do actually end up getting to exhibit, it won’t happen for a year or so, but once it does, the door is officially open my friends.

I finished another book a few weeks back and It was even better than the one I read before. Same author, different book, “Angels and Demons” by Dan Brown was the first book that he wrote before “The Da Vinci Code.” My God was the book entertaining. I recommend it to everyone as an invigorating read. Yea, so after I finished I needed some time to relax as you might imagine. That time has come and gone, so yesterday I went out and bought a book that would be a definite change of pace in terms of my reading of late. I bought a book called “Scar Tissue,” by Anthony Ketis, the lead singer of the Red Hot Chili Peppers. Some of you might cringe at the idea of him being able to keep you engaged in a book, but I see it differently. He is one of my favorite lyricists, and in modern times, he could be considered one of the world most popular poets if you look at it right. Seeing as music has become the most celebrated art form in the world, and lyrics drive a good song in my book (no pun intended), it can only lead me to believe that a good song writer/poet would be able to write an enjoyable book. Maybe it’s just me, and my awesomely messed up logic, but I agree with myself.

Ok, so today I leave you with a bit of a preview of my weeks to come. So three days after I have been judged in artist terms once more, but this time by a gallery of enormous size, I am left to either feel extremely elated about my future as an exhibiting photographer, or vengeful and motivated to show the lameos of the art world that they can all just lick my balls. Either way, I’m sure it won’t matter too much in light of the fact that I am leaving to travel Europe for nearly three weeks! I have NEVER BEEN to Europe before! (people in London don’t consider England Europe for some reason, this I have found out) A brief summary of the places I will see:

12/13/04 – Arrive in Rome
12/16/04 – Depart Rome for Geneva
12/18/04 – Depart Geneva for Paris
12/21/04 – Depart Paris for Barcelona
12/24/04 – Depart Barcelona for London (yes, weird I know)
12/26/04 – Depart London for Amsterdam
1/1/05 – Depart Amsterdam for London

Okeledokely. That is it for now. Be good. Be safe. And I miss you all more than you know.

Love You All I’m Sure,

Blaketastical

Random Thoughts and Happenings: London Style

2004-11-15T13:13:00.000Z

Good Day To YOU!

I do in fact realize that I have not written a blog in quite some time, and I want you to know that this is in no way a reflection of how I feel about each an every one of you. I do care. You see, things have been picking up around the land of jolly old London. Big things on the rise, just wait and see. I anticipate this blog being extremely scattered, so stick with it, and brace yourself for randomness will ensue.

Halloween came and went without much ado from the British folks. They seem to like the idea of Halloween, but they lack the craziness that I know to be taken seriously by most of my American brethrens. I myself did not hold back. Reminiscent of my best buddy Joey Curtis (YO JOCU!), I dawned the killer of killer costumes for the big festivities. Two pieces of large poster board, a mass of colored balloons, an artistically rendered design, and one crazy bastard; “Kissing Booth” here I come.

After putting a few back, I made my way on the Northern Line up to Hampstead with an open beer and mind. Now, keep in mind, it is Saturday the 30th of October (in European that is shown as 30/10/04). Getting on the tube dressed as a Kissing Booth could go one of many ways. I could quite possibly of stumbled into a train full of lonely Soho models looking for someone to appreciate and love them, and I would have been the man for the job. Now seeing as I did not see one person in costume while walking to the tube, nor while I was on the tube, its hard to say how the idea would go over with anyone over here.

I finally made it to the tube stop where I exited the station and hopped onto a bus in the direction of the house where the festivities were being held. The house was in an awesome area of town and I knew once I met up with my friend Tanya’s brother in law after getting off the bus, that this was going to be one crazy party.

We walked back to Ed’s house and immediately entered the land of Halloween, London style. Werewolves, witches, fairy’s, ghosts, you name it…it was all there. I’m not saying that they lack creativity in the costume department, but I just think they haven’t quite seen the potential in going a bit wild with their ideas, lets say for example, a pregnant girl scout. Some people fancied my costume, seeing the humor in it, while other made it clear that they were too dense to grasp the potential of a Halloween costume. I say to them, be a ghostwitchvampire for the rest of your lives, see if I care.

And now, in unrelated news….someone in the UK just got put in jail for 9 years, count ‘em, for send an outrageous amount of SPAM. 9 Years for for spamming people!? Can you believe that shit! “Email ruined my life.” Funny shit.

Back to you BOB.

Thanks Steve. Now for a Central London traffic report. People everywhere across London are driving on the left side of the road. In some cases, they have even been known to ignore pedestrians, lines marking different lanes, even side walks. This has been happening in the city for quite some time now, God only know when they will drive on the “right” side of the road and acknowledge that cars do in fact, kill people.

That being said, I rode my roommate Ben’s bike into traffic the for the first time the other day. After being here for over two months now, I have realized that I don’t think I’ll ever be used to looking the right way when I merge, or where it is I am supposed to be when I want to turn. It was in fact a jolly good show though! I made it through a few blocks of heavy traffic on a “push bike,” as they call it here, without killing myself or anyone around me. What a rush it was. I tell ya.

OK! Now, once again, it’s time for a crazy story! Is everyone ready? No. WELL GET YOUR SHIT TOGETHER! I made my way onto the tube the other night on my way out to meet a few friends for dinner. While on the tube everything was peachy keen until we reached the Marble Arch station, two stops before I wanted to get off. The doors opened, and we were informed over the loud speaker that someone in the next station had toted a side arm onto the tube. Everyone had to be evacuated. OH YEA! Leave it to me to find the only gun in London.

Now we have reached the time where I talk about the sweet music I went and enjoyed at Fabric, the night club I have talked about a few times in the past. On Friday November 5th, 2004, I made my way to the club with my two housemates, Emily and Julie. The act on that night, DJ Jazzy Jeff. For all of you who were alive in the 80’ and 90’s, this guy is the quintessential scratch hip-hop rap DJ and he is in fact, legendary. He got his start with Will Smith, the Fresh Prince of Bel Air, and has made his way through the scene for nearly 2 decades. I had seen him once before when I was living in Denver, but I was really far away from the stage and the sound system was nothing to be proud of. This time it was an entirely different experience. I stood no more than two feet from the tables, right in the front…close enough to touch Jazzies feet with a little effort. This guy was incredible. He rocked the crowd for nearly 3 hours and left everyone in awe of the possibilities that two turn tables and a microphone can offer. OH YEA! Good times.

On a darker note black Wednesday is behind us now. George W(anker). Bush remains the President of the Separated States of America. The world now sees the people of my country in the same stupid light as they have seen Doubya for the past four years. Our chance to redeem ourselves is long gone now, and only time will tell where things will go from here. I’m gonna keep my head up and stay as far from the US as I can. 4 years? Sounds good to me.

And we’re back. This past weekend I made my way out to a costal city called Alderbrough where I spent the night on the estate of Michael Hopkins, a world renowned architect. 700 acres of costal perfection. This place was a British paradise with multiple houses, gardens, beaches, and so on. My oh my was this a cool place. I’m still letting it all sink in, so maybe I’ll just let the photos do all the work for me. I will post them sometime next week. Promise.

So there you have it. Randomness at its best operating in full force this time. I hope you were able to follow. Again, photos to follow. Talk to you later. Rioght rioght rioght.

Love You All I’m Sure,

bLaKe

Photo Time. Hold On To Your Knickers

2004-10-29T17:10:00.000+01:00

The ceiling of the British Museum

More of the interior of the British Museum

The Reading Room at the British Museum

Entrance to the Egypt Exhibition

Early Egyptian writings

Dax and Kris quite obviously having a blast! ;-)

Wing of an Egyptian Sculpture

More Egyptian writing and sculpture

Not sure, but this could be from from a Sudan Exhibition...

A small glass pot from a long time ago, not sure of the details.

Skeleton in the fetal position

Greek Flatware with swastika.

Japanese ink drawing.

Japanese steel, very sweet.

More of my favorite part of the museum.

And more...

A shot from the floor of the Enlightenment Exhibition.

Gizzie (Dax and Kris's buddy) in Hyde Park enjoying wine.

Hyde Park.

In the tube. Close quarters.

Walk this way.

Lovely grass shot...dont you think?

Gates of Buckingham Palace

More of the gates outside the Queens compound.

Guy getting his photo taken in front of the gates. Doesn't he look like he is
having the time of his life? I thought so.

Sculpture on the side of the gate.

Other Side of the gate. Lookin good other side, lookin good.

"Changing of the Guard" Guard that didn't change.

Water in the Queens Garden.

Fountain outside the palace.

Tony Blair's motorcade.

The actual vehicle he was riding in. You could see into the one in the front,
but not into this one.

More of the Queen's Garden.

You guessed it!

A sad lady in the park. Oh well, don't worry, be happy.

Tony Blair's Residence. See the Range Rovers. Uh Huh.

Big Ben of coarse.

The anti-war march just around the corner from the heavily guarded Blair residence.

On the march!

Mike (of Mike and Rox) trying to get the police to frisk him for a photo...no
luck.

A look over the Thames at Big Ben and the House of Parliament at sunset.

A Dali statue outside the Dali museum which I have yet to go to. Soon, believe
me.

A book sale along the river.

The last standing Roman Wall during the day with Mike and Rox.

Blake J. Nolan, COME ON DOWN!

2004-10-29T14:59:00.000+01:00

So I have told a few of you, over the coarse of the last few days, that I have made a huge decision this week. Now, not later, is the time where you get to be a part of my master plan. After talking with my best buddy Allen in AAAfrica I have since decided to go and visit the crazy bastard! Yes, Ladies and Gents, Mr. Blake J Nolan is taking a life-changing trip! (not that it hasn’t been so far, but come of people, London is no Africa) In the beginning of February of next year I will be on a plane headed straight for the armpit of Africa. You see, Allen has been working in the Peace Corps for quite a while now stationed in the lovely country of Cameroon. What better way to continue my crazy journey then to add a place like this into the itinerary? What’s that you say, “How about going to a few places in Africa?” Brilliant! Ok, so after spending a MONTH in Cameroon with Allen, I am going to make my way down as close to the south pole as I’ve ever been and check out South Africa! South Africa people! OH YEAAA! Now you might be asking yourself, “How is he going to pull this off? How long can he possibly stay in Africa?” Simple. My rent in London at the moment is the equivalent of $640 a month, a return ticket to Africa cost right around $1300. See where I’m going with this? Oh, you don’t? Dense bastards! Well, I’ll fill you in. If I go to Africa, not paying any rent for two months in London or Africa, I save right around $1300. “WOW Blake, that’s the cost of your flight.” Holly shit, it sure is! “Now where are you going to be staying while in Africa for two months?” you might ask.

PRICE I$ RIGHT Showcase Showdown Breakdown:

Well Bob, while in Cameroon, Mr. Nolan will be staying in the lap of luxury. In this West African paradise, anything goes. Bouncing from one Peace Corp member’s house to the next, any traveler is sure to have the best of times. You’ll visit beaches, deserts, volcanoes, and much much more!

AND THAT”S ALL BOB! As you make your way down to the southern most tip of Africa, stop in for a quick bite to eat at one of Africa’s most lush and serene areas, Nairobi Kenya! Say hello to the over 300,000 species of monkeys, but watch out for that pesky AIDS virus!

Arriving in Durban South Africa is the next stop on your whirlwind trip of this beautiful continent. Beaches, Babes, and Beers await you in this southern paradise. Don’t worry about it being March, summer sticks around for some time down here Bob. While in South Africa, you’ll be staying with your London housemates at their lavish apartment with spectacular views. This is one trip you won’t soon forget! BACK TO YOU BOB!

Blake: Um…yea, I bid 1345.00 even BOB.

And, I’m back. So, pretty intense stuff if I do say so myself. I just can’t wait to pop a few malaria pills and take a dive into a lucid dream. Good stuff.

Ok, so now for a completely unrelated story that I have been meaning to write about, but just never got around to it. I don’t know if many of you knew about this, but for the first two months of living here I have been using Internet at coffee shops called Café Nero, at the Shepherds Bush Library, and in front of a random persons flat on the street across from my house. The reason for using these places is because I have no Internet at my house as of yet. These are also the only places I can use the wireless Internet card on my laptop. This is one of the best inventions the world has ever seen. Almost as world altering as the iPod, but not quite. I would sit in front of this person’s house and basically leech their Internet connection from out on the street. Some days and night I would be out the for hours at a time. All the while, they had no clue I was doing this. You see, they didn’t have a password protecting their connection, so as a result, I can use it with out any issues. Seeing as they have no password, they are too dim-witted to realize why people sit in front of their house with laptops. Ok, so with an understanding of this situation, I can finally begin the story. Almost two weeks ago my roommate Ben was outside at about 8:00 at night using his computer to check and send his email. As he sat using his mo-bile on the ledge outside, he felt a presence standing over him. When he looked up he saw two large and in charge black dudes with a bike standing right up on him looking down at him and his computer. “How much did that thing cost you?” they asked. Ben hesitated with his answer, only getting a few words out along the lines of, “None of your business.” Before he knew it they had reached to grab his computer from out of his hands. He jumped up and began to run with the two guys right on his ass. As he attempted to make his way back to our flat, they chased after him, on foot and on their bicycle, as they made ever effort to trip him and get his computer. He made it to the front door and some how got his key out in time to open the door and slam it behind him. Not expecting any of this, I sat in our room as he busted in. Out of breath, a bit delirious, and making little sense at all, he attempted to explain to me what had just happened. Before he could get through the whole story, he realized that in all the craziness, he had left his cell phone on the ledge next to where he was sitting. He put his computer down, and ran back outside to see if he could find it. No luck. All I can say is that we do not go outside at night to use the free internet anymore. Intense.

Ok, so now I will end this journal entry with a few words of wisdom. New photos today. There you have it. Muhahahahaha!

Love You All I’m Sure,

Blaketastic

The Unrelated Joys of Pizza and J-e-l-l-o

2004-10-25T18:40:00.000+01:00

So I had pizza for dinner….once again. It seems as though when you live on a diet of just pizza, and some chips every once in a while, you end up feeling pretty damn poor. And this is not luxury pizza, this is pizza you get at the store for 1 pound. No good. I guess this is the life of an artist in London. Or maybe just a poor artist. Hopefully sometime soon, I will be not so poor, and more so well-fed, famous, rich and powerful. I think these are the four pillars of happiness. Yes, actually I am sure of it. I could be wrong though, ask me tomorrow.

So quick recap of this weekends events. Seeing as I drank nearly every night, I will do my best. This weekend marked the departure of one of my favorite housemates. Miss Shannon Walton is making her way back to South Africa as we speak. So, as a result, this weekend became a full out “party hardy” weekend. The only things missing were Jason and Nathan Hardy out of Arizona. What’s up fellas!

Thursday night the housemates and I made our way up the block to the crazy Australian establishment that has come to be known as the Walkie. It’s actually called the Walkabout, but you know how those crazy Australians can be sometimes….um…ah…yea, crazy. We danced the night away to music and drinks, and you guessed it, they played that “land down under song” 100 times. Don’t fret though, they played all your favorite Poppy Trance tunes as well. My god I hate that shit. Could music get any worse. Anyway, it wasn’t about the music or the drinks that night, it was about having a group oriented “go get em” type of night so Shannon would sho’ ‘nuff (“sure enough” for the non-american-slang-speakers) know how much we all love her before she leaves. Cause Shan, we do, were gonna miss ya.

Friday came along without regard for the Thursday we had undertaken. What is with Friday anyway, always pullin’ that shit. Oh well, I made the best of it and had a mid-day beer to beat off the hangover leach that was riding me pretty hard that day. Some how we discovered that Shannon had yet to ever enjoy the sweet pleasure of J-e-ll-o shots, so we made it the job of the day to find Jello, and make shots. Too bad England doesn’t believe in Jello. I thought they loved Mr. Cosby over here too. I was dead wrong. We finally found this box that looked and felt like a Jello box, making the assumption that due to the weight of the packaging, there was indeed a pack of powder enclosed that one could make Jello with. They called this “Jelly.” Jelly I say. Try to find that in a store that carries jellys, jams, and no Jello. Crazy business. Well, needless to say, we made our way back home and opened the package. Inside was a Jello box shaped Jello mold, cut into sugar cube sized pieces. What the fuck are we supposed to do with this. Read the directions you say. Ok, great idea…to bad they are in English. “English, great, just read them and figure it out. It can’t be that hard.” Riiiiiiiight….pint, ml, cl, you name it, it was all there. Cooking words like boil and so on are all different as well. Let the guessing begin. We came to the conclusion that the cubes were concentrate and if you can believe it, we were right. Apparently, you don’t eat the cubes, you dissolves them into the boiling water and then add the ridiculous amounts of Vodka. Perfect, we were on our way.

Later that night I made my way to the Westminster Tube stop, which exits right in front of Big Ben and the House of Parliaments. I was to meet Jim Barnhill and his mother Maile Barnhill. At this point, every one in my house is pissed at me (not drunk, angry :-). I get to have family friends who I love come into town just about every weekend to love me endlessly with free food. I must have been fat in a previous life because at this point I just can’t seem to eat enough, thanks to everyone one buys me food. Wow, I am one lucky bastard. Well, we ate at a Chinese restaurant in the front of the Saatchi gallery, directly across from Big Ben on the Thames River. The food was good, the conversation was better, and the view was the best. Out the window we could see Big Ben, in all its glory. As Jim pointed out, they should call it Little Ben and go ahead and build another Ben somewhere. When they do, they should actually make it Big, and then they could use the “Big” adjective to describe it. Until then we will have to be happy with the 8-10 story, so called “Big Ben,” that they currently misrepresent to the masses.

After dinner I rushed home to make it back in time to enjoy the “Jelly Shooters” I had made earlier that day. To bad my housemates were too eager to wait for me and by the time I made it home, they had already had shooters and left for the bars. This pissed me off cause they got pissed and I was left to get pissed on my own. Follow? They even went as far as to lock the door where the remainder of the shots were being held hostage. Never put the fate of your pissedness in the hand of others, this is the lesson of the evening. I dragged my sober ass to the bar where they were hanging out, pissed, and gave them a call when I made it there. The bar was one I had already been to, Zoo Bar, in Leicester Square. In a previous blog entry I described this bar as “Nothing really that exciting to report, a lot of American music, dancing, drinking, and all that jazz.” It ceased to impress me the second time around. Why I went is beyond me. All I can say is at this point I was extremely happy that I hadn’t paid to get in. Not that there wasn’t an 8 pound cover. You see, when my housemates came out to get me, I was told to go by the cashier on the way in. Under no supervision, I tend to not do what I am told. Actually, now that I think about it, I tend to not do what I’m told under supervision as well. As I walked in between my housemates, I acted as though I had already been in the club as well. No prob bob, I was in. All I know is that when a DJ spins the 50’s song Twist and mixes from there into the Friends Theme Song, you know you are not in the states anymore. At this point, I knew I had to leave. When I got home I helped myself to the much-anticipated Jello, or Jelly, shots. Whew, I needed that.

My Saturday went pretty smoothly. I watched Dawn of the Dead with a few people in the house on my computer. That movie is out of control. I wouldn’t really recommend it to anyone though, its not very good. After the movie was over I made my way out to the Chalk Farm Tube station to meet up with my friend Tanya that is helping me out with promotion of my art in London. She has been working in the music and art industries the past few years and has made many friends and contacts that could prove to be useful for me. While we sat enjoying a beer and a pizza (yes, another pizza), I had to use the toilet (as they say here). I went into the loo (also a bathroom here) and when I walked in the only other guy in there was beat-boxing. Now for those of you who don’t listen to hip-hop, beat-boxing is the way an artist would create beats and sounds with his mouth as his instrument. As I walked into the bathroom, he stopped. I let him know right away that he didn’t have to stop for me. He replied, “Alright, I’ll beat-box if you rap.” Now for those of you who know me, I do enjoy the occasional freestyle session, but I maintain no degree of seriousness when I do. I proceeded to throw down some fly ass shit. (Not really, but I did keep up with the beat and rhyme which is about all I can hope for.) When I lost my concentration, the guy proceeded to tell me that my “shit was tight.” I said, “yea, right.” And he’s all, “You here all night.” I’m like, “Right…you too? tiiiight!” See my shit is tight, right? No but seriously, I gave him my card and told him that I do shoots for musicians. He then went onto tell me he was the lead singer/rapper/beat-boxer of a live hip-hop band called the “Hipopratives.” I got his number and I will definitely be at their next show. Tiiiiiiight.

After enjoying dinner and a few beers, I took my first ride in a car in almost 2 months. I rode in the passenger seat and I have to say it was quite a trip. Fun stuff. She dropped me off at the tube station that I had come in from and I made my way back to The Bush. On the way back I called my friends Melinda and Chip, whose engagement party I had attended a few weeks back. They were going out for a little bar hopping in their town, the burrow of Wimbledon.

I got home, dropped off my computer and a few other things, and ran back out to hop on the tube to get down to Wimbledon. I met up with Chip and Melinda at a bar called Suburban in the heart of Wimbledon, about a 2 minute walk from their front door. We had a few drinks, a few shots, and a few words with each other, and then we made our way to another bar via taxi. I have to say a huge thanks to Chip for all the kindness he shows me when I go out with them. He definitely makes the evening happen for me when we go out…this is for sure. We went to one other bar and then made our way home to their flat to call it a night. They put me up in their extra bedroom and in the morning Melinda cooked up a delicious egg and toast breakfast. Thanks you guys! Great night!

Ok, so that is all for now. Missing you guys. Promise.

Love You All I’m Sure,

Blakeroo

Hangin In There

2004-10-20T21:00:00.000+01:00

Fellow Americans (in light of the election I am not there for),

Blake here. Live from Zone 2, Shepherds Bush, London, United Kingdom. So since we last spoke, quite a lot has happened. First off, let me just say real quick, television is over rated. I have yet to watch a second of TV here other than a single music video at a friends house. Worth it? Oh hell ya! For those of you who are in the know, The Streets are a British Hip Hop group that has gained minimal fame in the states, but here they are the “White Gods of Hip-Hop.” I don’t know what that means either ok. Anyway, I just wanted to bring up the fact that I don’t even have a television in my room and its great. Besides, people in my house that watch television use antennas and even though I live a block and a half away from BBC headquarters, the signal is shit (pronounced with a sharp I, as it would sound when you said “I”). Now these is sheer bullocks (bullshit). How can one of the largest broadcast companies not have a strong enough single for it to come in clearly this close to their headquarters? British Technology maybe? Not sure, but I do know its lame. That’s for sure.

So now we're going to go back in time. No, not as far back as when television antennas actually worked (or did they?), but only back about two weeks ago. This would bring us to Wednesday, October 6th 2004, the Wednesday before Dax, Kris, and Dave came out to visit. I never talked about this seeing as I wanted to see what would come of it. I was walking down Portobello Road near Notting Hill when I stumbled across an art gallery where a show was being set up for that evening. Being curious and unafraid as I am, I poked my head in and took a look. I, in turn, received a few looks myself. Before there was any sort of altercation, or in other words, me having to lay down the law, I started to walk on past the gallery. One of the people inside came out and asked me if I needed something. I told him I was an artist and I had let my curiosity get the best of me. You see, artists have a thing with people seeing their shows in the midst of being set up. I respect this way of thinking because you do not want people to see your presentation different from how you intend it to look. If you do, you are not seeing the work in the light the artist intended. Presentation is 50% of the show. This is true. So going against everything I just said, I was asked to come in and check out the show. “Artist Privilege” I guess. It could have been that it was a show for the release of a book, but that didn’t stand in the way of the interesting presentation that had been nearly completed at this point. The group of about 6-8 people had draped the entire space floor to ceiling, a two story building, with pages from the book. The floor, the ceiling, as well as from the floor to the ceiling. Get it? That was a tough one to figure out how to write. Needless to say, I met the author and a few of the others in the room. They told me the show was later that night, so I decided I would go.

I had already made plans to go to a rock show at a local pub of a band who’s demo CD I got randomly from this guy on the tube. Deciding I would go to the art show first, then make my way to the opposite end of town to do a free shoot for this band I had never met, I headed out with my camera and tripod. When I arrived at the event, a large crowd of people outside the show’s front door greeted me. I walked up to a man in a suit that was holding what appeared to be a guess list. As far as I knew, I was not on the guess list. I told him this, and he didn’t seem to understand what I wanted…understandably so. I explained how I ended up coming to the show and somehow he got the idea that I was shooting photos of the show for the author. He then proceeded to let me in.

SIDE NOTE: You think that because you speak English you can come to England and understand people, as well as be understood. This IS NOT the case. Every time I ask someone a question, or generally speak to someone for the first time, they don’t have a clue as to what I am saying. After the second “what?” they end up realizing I am American. My first question is usually, “Can I ask you a question?” I enjoy asking this question, I find the simple humor of it hilarious. The response I usually get is either “Yea, sure.” or “No.” Either way, I win. They answered a question for me.

Back to the story. So I walked into the event, standing out like a 6’4” white man in Cameroon West Africa. (YO Allen!) Everyone seems to be fascinated with cameras and tripods, I would have to say it doesn’t bother me one bit, I like the attention it garners. Now for the best part of the story. Here it is, hold on:

OPEN BAR.

Wasn’t that fucking great. I thought so. Red Bull vodka for all! I waited in line for the bar, and once I got there I had already made the executive decision to get two drinks. You know, one for me, and one for my…uh…friend. One thing led to another, and after a little while I broke out of my shell. My shell is thinner than most, so this did not take long. I ended up meeting a bunch of cool people involved in the London art scene. Somehow, all these people do is go to art shows with open bars and hang out around really interesting people. This is now officially the crew I want to be a part of, but, I want to be the artist whose show has an open bar and a bunch of posh Londoners looking and buying. This to me sounds very ok. Maybe some day soon, watch and see. Or shall I say read and comprehend.

None the less, It became quite clear that this evening was not for doing a free shoot for an OK band I had never met, but rather for lubing up the social track that I am attempting to take a ride on.

One of the people I met was a New Yorker named Edward. He has been in London for nearly 3 years now, and is living and working here after graduating from Oxford with a masters. He ended up getting a hold of me the following day, after looking at my work, and I must say, he was stoked on it. He is not an artist, nor is he involved in the art scene on the business end of things, but he loves art and tries to surround himself with artists. Remember that group of people that “go to art shows with open bars and hang out around really interesting people,” yea, well, he is also one of those people. This is a great guy to know.

The following week, which would now bring us to Friday, October 15th 2004, I attended an art show called Scope. Scope has shows in the major metropolises around the world once a year. I received a call from Edward earlier in the week telling me he had a pass for me to get into the daytime art show, as well as getting me on the list to go to the party that would take place after the day’s events. I attended the show on Friday after running around trying to find this package that had been kept at some random “depot” in a crazy part of outer London. This is another story all together, and quite frankly, I’d rather not relive it. The show was interesting to say the least. It took place in an old hotel near Regent Park in Central London. Two floors in the hotel had been converted into individual galleries in single hotel rooms. Every room was a different gallery, each from a different part of the world, each showing work that was being exhibited in their gallery at the time. I walked around for a few hours taking it all in, talking to people, and getting business cards of the galleries whose work I enjoyed the most. I decided I was going to call it a day and go home to get ready for the party later that night.

I rushed home and got myself looking so very spiffy before I made my way back to the same place I had been earlier that day, Regent Park. I met Edward and his friend Samira at the party at around 10:00 and we made our way into the event. Samira was someone I had yet to meet, but I have to say, I am glad I did. She is a native Londoner and a painter. She is also quite attractive. As we walked through the party we were immediately greeted by a couple of performance artists dressed in Classic Greek attire. When you made eye contact with them, or as Edward found out, when you attempted to speak with them, they began making noises and blocking your path. Something along the lines of the flashbacks from Wayne’s World, “dododalu, dododalu, dododalu!” You get the idea. For Edward, this was quite a trip because Edward had gone to Oxford with the guy involved. We walked around for quite a while, looking at some pieces that I had not seen earlier that were hung in the common party area. After looking at a bit of Samira’s work in her small book-style portfolio, we took a walk up the stairs and went back into the area that I had seen earlier that day.

Somehow, in the mix of things I lost everyone and ended up hanging out in a room with an artist out of New York. His name is Adam Stennett and his work is quite interesting and thought provoking. His latest body of work basically revolves around inner city populaces that one normally does not give any thought to. Rodents and other small creatures that surround us in our every day lives, unnoticed. You can check out his work at http://www.adamstennett.com. I won’t go into detail, but that’s not to say his painting aren’t chalk full of detail (Allen, why can I not seem to get enough of this simple, extremely stupid humor? Who knows?). Along with the artist, I met the owner of the gallery representing him, his fiancé, as well as a few of his friends. They were heading out to some bars and whatnot, and they asked if I wanted to tag along…so I did. Nice huh? The rest of the night actually turned out to be pretty uneventful, but, it was great to be out with some artists who were actually making it.

The following day marked the arrival of Michael and Roxanne Brennan. These people are as close as you could get to being my parents, but due to obvious reasons such as their last name and the existence of my own parents, they are not. They are the parents of my all-time-best-friend Sean Patrick Brennan (who I doubt is actually even reading this, slacker). They were scheduled to arrive at their hotel at 2:30, The Kensington Hilton, which is about a 10 minute walk from my flat. I was their waiting for them but due to a fat tour guide and some annoying tourist they were with, they ended up getting to the hotel somewhere around 5:00 in the evening. Understandable. I made my way over to their room where we took a look at a few of Rox’s photos from their trip to Italy on her new digital camera. We then made our way down to the Concierge in an attempt to find a nice restaurant to eat at. After a few crap suggestions from the Italian Concierge who for some reason only wanted us to eat Italian, we decided we would go and grab some dinner in Leicester Square (pronounced Lester c ). We got off the tube and walked just across the street to a steak house. Dinner was delicious, Rox and I had Rib Eye Steak and Mike had a Bacon Cheseburger. All of us were extremely happy to be eating some American style food, too bad Mike had come down with a 140 degree (actually more so just over 100) fever and could only eat half his burger…luck was on my side seeing as I got the leftovers. I tried to pick up the bill seeing as I make more money than God, but they generously bought dinner for me. Mike decided he wanted to call it a night seeing as he was under the weather, and we decided we would pick it up the next morning.

The following day I was supposed to met the two of them for breakfast at their hotel, but seeing as I didn’t make it home the night before, I was too late to make it. When we finally met up we began a world wind tour of the sights of London, some of which I had yet to actually see. We started our journey at Buckingham Palace (again, for the morons of the group, this is where the Queen and the Royal Family reside). As we stood outside the palace, motorcycle and regular police vehicles flew by Mike and I. In the middle of it all were two posh Range Rovers with tinted windows. We knew it had to be someone of importance, and our thoughts were affirmed later when we saw the same vehicles in front of what we learned to be Tony Blair’s residence. Helicopters, armed officers, and police vehicles were everywhere at this point. As we walked a bit further towards Big Ben and the House of Parliaments we found that there was an Anti-War rally with close to 44,000 people under way through the streets of central London. I have photos of all this which you will see soon. We walked along the outer edge of the protest and at one point, as we crossed a bridge over the Thames, it looked as though we were about to be in the middle of a riot. The protesters decided that they wanted their revolution right then as they began pushing the barricades over. Deciding this was not the place to be, we hurried our way off the other side of the bridge. We continued down the river to a few of the other keynote sights, The Milennium Eye, London Bridge, Tower of London, Tower Bridge, and the last standing Roman wall in London. At this point, we were all beat.

We took the tube back to Notting Hill in search of a place to eat for the evening. We walked and walked, and at that point, we decided to walk a little more. As if we had not already walked today for five hours, we walked a bit more. At one point we came to the conclusion that we would not find a restaurant along the way back to their hotel, so we decided we would eat there instead.

This dinner, can I say, was fucking delicious! We ate at a restaurant called Zen and after a dinner like this, I definitely felt enlightened. MY GOD WAS IT GOOD! It was so good that when I tried to tell my housemates and roommate about it, they stopped me mid sentence, not wanting to hear anymore about how spoiled I was. And I was indeed, spoiled. Appetizers, Soups, Main Courses, Deserts, man was it good. Did I mention it was good…yea, cause it was.

After dinner I made my way home. I decided to have another beer and watch Harry Potter 3 which I had just gotten from a friend of mine. It was really sweet to watch that movie again now that I have been here for a while. I actually recognized certain parts of the beginning where they are flying through the city on the big blue double decker bus. BRILLIANT!

The next morning the Brennans once again treated me to another meal. After we sat and talked for a while, we made our way outside to say our tearful goodbyes. No tears really but it was definitely a sad goodbye…as most are. I will miss them for sure.

So now it is Wednesday and I am trying to keep busy, just waiting for the next exciting thing to happen to me. It’s hard to stay level headed and positive though. It feels like one minute I am high as a kite, then the next morning I wake up a bit down on it all. And no Mom, and it is not drugs that are making me feel this way. I do feel good about being here though. I feel as though its just a matter of time before I get a break in the art world, someone to give me the chance I deserve and show my work to the right people. I am not going to give up, that is for sure.

Ok , well, until next time. Hope everyone is well.

Love You All I’m Sure,

B-Lake

Touristerrific

2004-10-13T15:18:00.001+01:00

Hello Again Everyone!

So last Friday marked the first visit from friends to the lavish land of the United Kingdom. To start the day off right, I played my first video game since I have been gone. I couldn’t exactly focus on anything but the arrival of my friends, so I looked at it as an opportunity buff up on my hand-eye coordination. I must say I have lost the skills…and I had MAD skills (that’s right ABAY, JOCU, SHOCO, C-Nasty, and mIkey, I got all your numbers).. Now, I have yet to decide whether this is a good thing, or an a very bad thing. Only time will tell if the downfall of my skizzies (aka. Skills) will have a heavy effect on my social status in the future. Do to the fact that I was one of the best, I doubt it, so keep practicing you bastards. I’ll see you in a few years.

After an entire day of waiting around, I finally received a phone call from my good buddy David Craig. He had arrived at the Standsted Airport somewhere in London. Now this is the furthest airport from where I live apparently (learning, learning, learning), and neither of us knew this when he booked his flight. He already purchased his tickets to come out to London around this time a while back, just so happened that I ended up moving here. Worked out pretty good for Dave, staying for free is what I look forward to doing a lot of while I enjoy other parts of Europe. After landing, it seemed simple enough to take a train into the main downtown area of London, somewhere where he could jump on the Tube at the Central Line, and make his way eventually down to Shepherds Bush. Too bad. The train decided it wasn’t going to work that day. Guess we all have the same attitudes at certain points in our lives. He ended up having to take a bus, to a train, to a bus, to the tube. Nice huh? When he had finally arrived at the tube station, he phoned me on his mobile (a little local terminology…pronounced mO-bile). I was damn excited to meet up with Dave seeing as it had been over a half a year since I had seen the man. He was already making his way down the ghetto-fied street known us Uxbridge Road when I left the house. We came back to my flat, dropped off all his stuff, and made a B-Line to the liquor store. The sun was setting and the ground was still a little wet from the rain earlier that day. When we got to the little liquor store, we each bought 8 tall boy beers each for 5 pounds.

I had recently discovered this liquor store after being frustrated with the price of beer over here. You see, after doing the math (that’s right, math and reading, I’ve turned into a real scholar) I found that compared to the states beer prices here are far from fair. To put it into perspective, you cannot buy six packs here of cheaper beer, only 4 packs. Now, this beer is all right in terms of taste considering it is the cheapest beer available here, but in contrast to the US, you pay an arm and a leg for the cheapest beer. In a conversion, a six pack of an Ice Beer (such as Natural ICE, Keystone ICE, etc.), would cost about $7.50 US here. You catch that? Over $7.00 US for a six pack of ICE beer?! Yea, so needless to say, there are never any fallen soldiers if I can help it because getting “pissed” here is not as easy as it might seem.

We made it back to the flat after enjoying a beer along the way. A beautiful thing about this place is its lack of concern for drunken people. They tolerate people drinking at all times of the day, anywhere they please. Regrettably, this has a large effect on the urine saturation levels around the city. Mmmm, can’t you just smell it now? After relaxing with Dave for a minute in my room, we decided we were going to figure out a plan for the evening. We decided on going to China town, near Leicester Square, to grab some authentic Chinese food.

When we got off the tube, the energy of all the people around us was invigorating. Just walking around was a time in itself. On the way out of the tube station Dave found himself attempting a 10 point slide down the escalator rail, he was successful. It was perhaps the fastest dismount I have ever seen, flying into the escalator at full speed and sliding down a few steps to gain his composure. Brilliant. We finally decided on one of the many similar looking Chinese food places, all of which were in cahoots somehow…charging the same price for the same meal. As we sat down we ordered a beer, I mean come on, first things first here people. We then ordered the meal deal for 2 people. I would at this point go into detail about the food, but seeing as I don’t know what it was other than meat, rice, veggies, and sauce, your going to have to take a minute to create your own visual of this authentic Chinese meal. Got it? Doesn’t it look good. What are you waiting for, eat it up.

After dinner, we took a stroll up the main part of Leicester Square. Deciding we were going to meet up with my housemates from Virginia and some British mates they have been hangin’ with lately, we made our way to a club in Notting Hill. It was a restaurant on the main floor, with two floors below containing a huge dance floor and many bars. Dave was nice enough to get my cover at the club (thanks buddy!) and we made our way inside, yea, that’s right…in style. When we eventually made it downstairs they were playing American Music, once again. I feel as though I will never escape this, so I am beginning to come to terms with it. After dancing a bit, I ended up talking with this girl from Australia for a minute or two about something unimportant. For some reason, she asked me to hold her cigarettes for a minute, so I put them in my back pocket and forgot all about them. The night went on as Dave and I bantered back and forth with some Brits about accents and slang, which I must say was pretty interesting.

The pleasure was all mine meeting these folks seeing as I have a free, say it with me now, “mAssage”, on Thursday of this week. Apparently you can get anything for free if you just put your mind to it. Now, as we sat with these local night lifers, my phone informed me that I had received text message (the preferred means of communication in the European Realm). It was the Australian lady friend from earlier that evening. Evidently she had forgotten to get her cigarettes back from me, which I had forgotten as well. But the kicker here is that the pack had her coat check ticket and 10 pounds in it. OH YEA! SCORE! Too bad I’m such a nice guy. I went back down to the dance floor/coat check and found her, returning all her belongings to her. She was stoked to say the least, and I then made it clear she wasn’t going anywhere without buying me a shot. She did. It was nice.

Dave, Emily (housemate), and I walked to the bus stop after the club was kind of dyeing down, and took the 94 all the way back to Shepherds Bush. On the bus, I made some comment about Shepherds Bush being the “Ghe-ttoooo” and this crazy old man started giving me a bit of flak for it. According to him, he had lived there for 20 years, and it was the best place in the world. Needless to say, he was wrong.

The next morning Dave and I got up around 10:00 am, took some showers, ate some muffins and bananas, and headed out of the house. We did not realize until later, but we had been running on Germany time, due to Dave’s phone being an hour ahead still. So, we got less sleep than we had thought, and had been out of the house earlier than expected. We made our way onto the Hammersmith Line from the Shepherds Bush tube station (which is less than a minute away from my front door), to the Northern Line, on our way to Camden Town. Now this was the second trip to Camden Town that I have taken since I’ve been here. This place is a trip. It is here that I have been enlightened to the most eclectic view of the local sub-cultures of London. You get a range of looks and styles here: punk, goth, retro, raver, bum, degenerate, hippie, tourist, hardcore. For example, I have officially seen the largest mohawk in the world at Camden Town, and it was a 3-tiered one at that. As you walk around the area, you find a different take on the outdoor market around every corner. Some of the markets are extremely tight and claustrophobic, while others are very open. Some are even on the edge of a canal, you have to take remarkably old walking bridges over the canal to get to them. We walked around, saw all the sights, had a good laugh or two, and at that point it was time to go and pick up Kris and Dax at the train station.

They were to arrive at 2:54 pm at the Waterloo station, just off the Bakerloo and Jubilee Tube lines. This station is everything you picture when you think of a European train station; high glass ceilings, tons of people, tons of trains…and so on. They were coming in on a Eurostar train, but, as things tend to go for me, I had no idea where they were coming from. I knew they were in France, but not knowing if they took just one train, or if they had made connections, made finding the correct place to wait a bit difficult. After walking around with Dave for about a half an hour, we finally found the train platform they were coming in on. We sat and had a beer as we waited, and then finally, Kris and Dax had arrived. WOOOHOOO!

Walking back to the main area of the train station and we made a short visit to the ATM for them to pull out some Pounds. Kris, in here delirious state, did not quite understand the conversion rates after countless explanations, and proceeded to pull 200 pounds from the ATM when she had only wanted to withdraw $50 US (which means she instead pulled $400 US). A mistake she didn’t understand until 2 days later. Good times.

After riding the tube back from the train station, we went to the grocery store near my house and picked up some ingredients to make a stir fry dinner. We came back, had a few beers, cooked up some food, and tried to figure out what were going to do with the rest of out night. Just a little side note, my roommate Ben picked up some candles at the local marketplace recently and they have offered such awesome atmosphere to our otherwise dark, single bulb lit room. That should help you get more of a picture of us chilling in my room. If it doesn’t, well that’s just too bad.

Going to the Ministry of Sound was out first option for the evening, but I could not seem to find the address anywhere, so we decided on another club that I had already been to called Fabric. We had a few more drinks around the house and went out for the night. We took a ride on the Hammersmith line up to Farrington Station in North East London. The club was just a few blocks from the tube station so we hoofed it from there. When we got to the club, we took a look around and scoped out the many rooms and styles of music that it had to offer. In the smallest room, they were playing hip-hop mixed with some progressive house. When we first came into this room they were playing the song “First in Flight” by Blackalicious. The mix to the next track was pretty inclusive, sampling the hook from the last song for quite a while into the next hard techno beat. Nice. The other room was some harder, faster beats with a few stages for people to get up and get their grove on. We checked out most of the stages and got a stellar view of the laser show that dominated the room. This was the most technologically advanced laser show I have ever scene. The laser created 3D geometric forms that floated above the crowd and flexed to the beat of the music. Just plain amazing. Now the third room was bar far the best musically. A DJ named Matthew Johnson ripped it up spinning a type of music that I had never heard. The best way to describe it would be to say 80’s Industrial Progressive Hard House. The sound was so clean most of the time I was just looking over at Kris, Dax, and Dave with astonishment, “Can you believe this shit?” And they are like, “No!” Let me just say, it was TIIIIIIIIGHT! He had covered most of the stage with soundboards, tables, and his 17” Apple Powerbook (the same one that I have). It seem as though he was mixing and creating most of the music live, which I have yet to see done well very often, all the while creating surround sound effects that just blew your mind. I would have to say this was one of the best DJs I have ever seen. Matthew Johnson people, if you ever get the chance. This club was open till 7:00, but at around 4:00 we decided to jet, seeing as we had been dancing for most of the night. Kristen and Dax made their way home a bit earlier at around 3:00 in a taxi, while Dave and I eventually caught a bus home. The buses here run all night. Very nice.

The next day was sleepy time. Kris was still a bit jet lagged, and on top of clubbing the night before, we had all had enough of this “no sleep” thing. When we ultimately got up around 1:00 in the afternoon, we decided to make the day one of the sights and sounds of the London area. Now, this seemed like a good idea to me as well, considering I had yet to really see any of the sights. Our first stop was the London Bridge.

We got off the tube at the London Bridge station and walked around aimlessly for a little while in an attempt to find the notorious bridge that always seems to be falling down. After a little bit of searching, we eventually realized that the signs weren’t kidding around. If you follow them, you will get there. Interesting. We walked out on the bridge, and immediately I decided I would like to see what the bridge actually looked like from the side. Without a second thought, I hopped up onto the edge of the bridge. As I did this, my sunglasses hopped off the neck of my t-shirt careening into the Thames River below. We came up with many theories, but the one that seemed to make the most sense was that they were pissed at me for some reason, and decided to go for a swim. Later sunglasses, hello sun.

From there we went to the main tourist bridge. You see, the London Bridge is kinda lame. The Tower Bridge is where it’s at people, as far as bridges go. This bad boy is stands way above the Thames with two huge towers and a section of the bridge that splits and lifts for boats to cross under. Supposedly in the top of the towers there is a bar and club for VIPs, but I have yet to hear anything about what time to show up. I will keep you informed as to the first time I go. Mark my words.

Next to the Tower Bridge is the Tower of London. This is an enormous castle that used to be the home of Henry VIII. We didn’t have the chance to go inside, but we did try, and seeing as it’s a castle, I have to say that we had no luck. Quite breathtaking though. It looks like a huge city contained within the walls of an enormous military hold. I gather it looks like that because if effect, that is what it is.

I then took them up to get a look at the last standing Roman Wall. Now, you might recall some of the photos in the last photo release having a few shots of this wall. Even though it was the second time seeing it, it still hit me like a ton of bricks. (Get it.) Oh yea, I said it.

We then took a short walk and made it to Big Ben and The House of Parliaments, which I had yet to see. Especially interesting at night. The glow of the clock created a certain ambiance in the area, and being able to see the Millennium Eye from that vantage point was also quite motivating. I will go back and get some shots for sure.

That reminds me, on the day I go out sightseeing with my friends, I had forgotten to bring my camera. I guess its all for the best though, considering I might have dropped it from the edge of the London Bridge instead. And besides, it wasn’t on the checklist of things to bring when we were leaving the room anyway, my bad. Shit, it happens.

After just about enough of Big Ben, we walked along the edge of the Thames (pronounced Tims) until we found a place that had Nachos. You see, Dax is a bit Mexican…and I am not about to fight it out with a Mexican. The restaurant ended up being a sweet place right on the water. Actually, it was on the water. A very BIG boat. (That one is an inside joke for the kids that were here). We got some nachos and a few Guinness, man was it nice to have chips and salsa. I think I miss Mexican food more than I miss my friends. Quite possible, but highly unlikely.

We came back to my flat after enjoying the 8 pound meal on the BIG boat and we were all pretty much spent. Laying around my room for what for seemed like forever as we tried to put back a few more beers and muster up the energy to go out again. After a while of lounging, we went to a place just down the street to lounge around just a bit more. The Blue Jay Jazz Lounge is a modest posh venue in Shepherds Bush where some big name acts come through, but tonight it was a local musician show. You can come in with your instrument, whatever it may be, and jam out with the band that is playing that night. Now, normally this seems like it could be a hell of a time, but tonight, having no energy left, we sat as though we were already asleep. It was a good attempt, but who did we think we were kidding anyway. Stayed for about an hour, then came home and crashed.

The next morning Lt. David Craig left at sometime around 6:30 in the morning. We knew he was leaving, but we didn’t know he wasn’t going to say goodbye. So, Dave, goodbye buddy. See you soon I’m sure. Kris and Dax say later as well. Good times huh? When the rest of us finally arose we started to get ready for the day. We decided to go grab breakfast at Pastry Shop just a few blocks from my flat before we caught a Tube to Tottenham Court Road. When we got off the train and walked up to the main streets, we began our search for the elusive British Museum. I should let you know, when and if any of you reading this come visit me, I hope I have a better feel for directions in this city. The streets make no sense, there are no grids by any means, and its always cloudy so finding your way by use of the sun is nearly impossible. Eventually we stumbled upon a sign leading us in the right direction, just as we were coming to the conclusion of our argument as to who was going to ask for directions. I was loosing as usual. Thank god for signs.

Entering the Museum grabbed you by the stomach and made you feel especially small. The vaulted ceilings were high above our heads, draping the wavy glass fluidly above us. I will include some photos of this place soon, but till then, your just going to have to imagine. Besides, the photos don’t do the feeling it gives you much justice, it definitely has a presence. The British Museum contains a large collection of world artifacts. Originally purchased in the 1700’s for 20,000 pounds, the collection contains pieces from cultures such as Ancient Egypt, Sudan, Asia, Greece, and Rome. I’ll quickly say that my favorite part of the exhibits was the Asian Art section, specifically the Samurai Swords. After seeing Kill Bill a while back, I have more of an idea as to what goes into the creation of each sword. Not just the steal that was crafted with such expertise, but the soul that it embodies.

We left the Museum, again feeling tired from all the walking and standing. Man, is walking and standing tiring. Never would have guessed. Taking our tired asses, and legs back to the tube, we rode over to Marble Arch. I had passed this tube stop a hundred times at this point and never knew the history of the arch. Thanks to Kris and Dax, I now know. This arch was the site of nearly 600 hangings, and most famously, the hanging of William Wallace (Braveheart for the retards of the group).

In accordance with my cousin Rob’s wonderful advice, we initiated the Paris protocol. This protocol involves the distribution of wine, cheese, and bread among friends in a serene, low budget environment. Walking past the arch, we made our way into Hyde park. The wind was blowing with some serious furry as we made our way through the park down near the lake/pond where we sat on a bench. It was on the way there I realized we had no way of opening the bottle of wine! Wankers! The Paris protocol had become ineffective. We decided that sitting near the water might kill us by way of frost bite, so we went back up the hill a bit into the trees. We sat under this gargantuan, beast of a tree and immediately we were surrounded! The squirrels had found their mark, and we were it. Deciding the best course of action was to ignore them, after a while, they left us alone. OR SO WE THOUGHT!

As we sat unsuspecting of the danger that lie ahead, knee deep into the bread and cheese, a hollowed out nut fell from high up in the tree, landing in our bag of trash. The little bastards decided that considering we didn’t dish any food off to them, they were pissed, and they began throwing things at us to show their dissatisfaction with our attitudes towards them. We decided to write a treaty that involved the allocation of a few choice pieces of bread to be left behind for the little bastards. As of yet, the squirrels have not signed the treaty. The bread is nowhere to be found.

Making the arduous trip back to the tube station through the blaring wind and cold couldn’t have been any more fun! We finally made it back to my flat after another long day of touristy happenings. I instantaneously crashed onto my bed when we got up to the third floor, and was out for about an hour I think. When I finally got up, the task at hand was once again to find an exciting nighttime venture for the 3 remaining Boulderites. With a little help from Ben, we settled on playing some snooker at a local pub. Dax and I were going to go outside, get on the internet, look up the rules to snooker, learn to play, then go out and start school some brits. Needless to say, we realized that reeked of effort. We decided to go to the pool hall, get the snooker table, and make up a game we would respectfully call, American Snooker.

We made our way, once again, to the Central Line Tube station to the Notting Hill Gate stop. I proceeded to walk us in the complete wrong direction, eventually realizing this and feeling like a complete jackass. Not like this was the first time I had done this, but considering it was their last night here, I felt an obligation to show them a high-quality last night in London. Well, this didn’t happen. We ended up having to catch a bus back to something I had heard of, once we realized how far south we were (instead of North). After we arrived at what is called Oxford Circus, we got on another bus…this one, hate to say it, was going the wrong way too. Same number as the one going the right way, 207, but this one was NOT going the right way. Well, shit happens. We got off that wrong bus, and got on the right bus.

Eventually we made it home, crashed out, and said goodnight for the last time. Was the room ever so cozy with 5 people in it, how am I ever going to survive without them here? (just kidding you cheeky bastards!)

The following morning we had to go get some of the kid’s money changed over to Euros again, so we walked over to the Post Office. This is where you conveniently mail packages, convert your currency, and get your car insurance. What!? Then we walked over to the Tube station, and I sent them on their way. Tear.

This was by far the longest blog I have ever written. If you are still reading, congratulations you literate bastard. I’m so proud. If your not reading, you can go fuck yourself. J/k, and I love you mom. HAHA. Ok, so, by for now. Who knows when I will muster (second time I’ve used that word, this thing is way too long) up enough gall (that’s a good one too…look, im getting delirious.) to write another blog entry. Considering this one took me nearly 2 days, I don’t know if I have enough words in my vocabulary to get through another one of these. Hope to hear some comments from all of you, that means you! Love you and miss you. I really mean that, I’m not just blowing smoke up your asses.

Love You All I’m Sure,

B-Lake

Wow, Reading. Never Would Have Thought

2004-10-06T18:21:00.000+01:00

So after my last blog, I spent the remainder of the weekend working on the design and layout of my new website BJNrock.com. This site is a culmination of tons of new work that I have done this past summer for three different musical groups. The groups include Ember Coast, Storytyme, and Les Ballets African. The reason I put this site together was to give people a look at the other end of my photographic expressions. I wanted to be able to show the many different directions I can take my work, and by doing that, soon enough I feel like it will pay off. So I worked on this project for over 100 hours time, and that doesn’t include the obvious time I put into the actual photographs. It completely dominated my whole week last week until the moment I launched it on Monday. You can see it now if your curious, its at http://www.BJNrock.com . Please take some time out to appreciate all my new work. There are close to 150 new pieces up and I put every bit of myself into the work as a whole. I love hearing feedback too, whether bad or good. I also made updates to the design of BJNart.com, found at http://www.BJNart.com for you laymen. Oh, and one more bit of business, if you are reading this, comment at the end. It is really easy and it makes me feel all warm and fuzzy when people do. It only takes two seconds. OK?

OK, now for a crazy story…short, but crazy. So the first week I was here my roommate Ben and I were trying to find a place to live still and we decided to go check out this part of London called Camden Town. When we got off the tube we were immediately approached by this crazy looking lady who started asking us if we could help her. She said that nobody had stopped for her and she had been trying for a while. Now being a nice guy, I decided to see what it was she needed help with. She was extremely grateful I said I would stop, all the while saying, “God bless you! God bless you for stopping!” She then proceeded to take her hat off and show us a huge gash in her head that looked pretty fresh. She said that she had been hit in the head by someone, who knows really what had happened, but I know this much for sure, she was crazy. Really really crazy. She asked us if we knew where a woman’s shelter was, and we both had no idea, so we weren’t much help. Then she asked us if we had any pounds we could spare, and neither of us had that either. Again, not much help at all. At this point she started yelling at us. Yelling at us, when we were the only ones that actually stopped and listened. As we walked away the sweet crazy lady had turned into the princess of darkness, screaming obscenities at us as we walked on in disbelief. Yea, wild story, huh? Just remembered that, thought I would share.

So I have begun reading since I’ve been here. For all you people who know me, you know that I am NO reader. I never have BEEN a reader. Never WANTED to be a reader. Never THOUGHT I would be a reader. But now, I AM a reader, and I love it. As my best buddy Allen so eloquently put it, I have just recently become literate. I started reading my first book about 2 weeks ago. The book is called “The Da Vinci Code” by Dan Brown, and let me tell you, if you haven’t already heard about it, you will. This book rocked my socks off to say the least. My one fear at this point is that I will never learn to love another book for as long as I live, due to the fact that this book is perhaps the best book ever written. Now, I am definitely no authority in this field, but I could not stop reading this book. Well, in the end I had to stop, because I finished it, but, that was such an awesome feeling that I decided to combine it with the feeling you get from having a beer. Now you might be saying, “He celebrated finishing the first book he ever read all the way through by having a beer? That crazy bastard!” And I would then respond to your inner monologue with this simple reply, “Yes, yes I did. And yes, yes I am crazy.” So now I cannot stop telling people about this book and I think I might be getting a bit annoying with it. But, I don’t seem to care, so I’m not going to stray, I’m just gonna keep it up. Now I have begun reading the second book I have ever read. This reading thing is way under rated. This next book is known to many as “The Celestine Prophecy.” And if your name is Allen Banick, and your reading this right now, isn’t that a weird coincidence. You see, my friend Allen is in Cameroon West Africa (the armpit of Africa as he puts it), and he has just finished reading the same book. This book is a doozie ladies and gents. It is about this manuscript written some where around 600 BC that was recently discovered in Peru. The manuscript describes the history of human evolution, and more specifically the next levels that the human specie will come into, in terms of their evolution. The manuscript refers to these levels as insights. One of these insights is being aware of energy fields, and at one point, being able to actually visually see them. Now this is mind boggling to me, and quite interesting at the same time. I have been having dreams about it ever since I read the first 100 pages. Anyone who is curious about the meaning of life should check this book out though. A word of caution: I have yet to finish this book, so as of right now, my opinion of this book means little. Also, having recently become literate, my opinion should be questioned outright. OK.

Now for a word about dental care; People over here need it. No, but seriously, they do. Seriously. I have recently been downgraded to using a regular toothbrush again after a few years of living the high life, similar to that of the Queen, with a Sonicare Elite 7300. For all of you who have never used a Sonicare Elite, you are missing out on one of the best experiences of your life. In all seriousness, this has been one of the toppers of my whole life. The subsonic bursts this thing can contain within its minuscule head are astonishing. Now, as I said before, I have been downgraded to a regular toothbrush. This is due to the fact that when I went to charge my poor “out of work” Sonicare Elite, I didn’t plug the charger into a converter first. Big, big mistake. You know, in London they have one type of toothbrush…a crappy one. Hard, not soft, bristles. This is something I hope none of you ever have to experience. My brother has been kind enough to dust the cobwebs off his scammer past and buy a new Sonicare Elite for me. You see for you inexperienced “Corporate American Bastard” scammers, you first take the newly bought charger out (which is now your working charger), put the broken charger in the box, and return the newly purchased Sonicare Elite with a charger that doesn’t work. Now to avoid some other person getting this broken charger accidentally, eventually taking its toll on you psyche, when you return the broker charger, you kindly inform them that the charger didn’t work. School is now out.

Now for a story of this weekends drunken rants. On Sunday morning I attended what some might call mass, and others might refer to as a huge strip club and bar. Now that comment might have caught you a bit off guard, but to me it made perfect sense. You see, I found myself at this place called The Church. This is the sorta place you should avoid by any means. The “so called” fun begins at around 11:00 am. You show up at the front door, pay 6 pounds to get in, and buy a bag full of beers for yourself that you promptly tie to your belt loops, as to not stand out in the crowd. Now, this place is extremely packed, even though it is 11:00, and I doubt any of the people here have said any sort of prayer in the last few years. Funny, they still gather to worship at the church though, but instead of God and The Bible, its booze and strippers. Full of mostly Kiwis (New Zealanders), Auzzies, and Saffers (South Africans), this place had quite an eclectic look at the subcultures that dominate the London area. So after a few hours of this, I had experienced enough. I left and came back to my flat in Shepherds Bush to continue drinking for some reason. Still trying to figure that one out. I took a coveted “Beer Drinking Shower,” and then got ready to go out again, for the second time in one day…all before 5:00 pm. So now I found myself at a bar called the Walkabout. This place is a trip as well. Full of mostly the same types of people (actually, most of the people there had actually been at The Church earlier that day), they play all American music here except for one song they play at least 5 times a night. I’m not sure what its called, but you all know it I’m sure. “We live in a land down under.” Nuff said. And for some reason, these people can’t seem to get enough of this god damn song. You think that after they went through the 80’s, like us, they might have written some new music. But no, not the case. This is the only song they have ever written (aside from that Kyle Monoge chick.) I stayed at this place way to late. At one point I thought of looking at the time, and by now I was completely trashed. Beyond trashed actually. I thought it would be somewhere in the realm of 11:00-11:30, but in actuality it was only 7:30. That’s right kids. Trashed on a Sunday night at 7:30, after spending the earlier part of my day at church. Weird day.

This weekend coming up is going to be one of the best times of my life, I can already feel it. My best girlfriend in the world, Miss Kristen Law, is coming to London. She is accompanied by one of my best buddies in the world, her boyfriend, Senior Dax Matthews . On top of that, another best buddy of mine, Mister David Craig, will be coming over from Germany to make it one crazy time for sure. Dave has been in Germany based there in the Army. At some point I will visit him there, you can count on that. He is an Abrams Tank Commander. Not only does he command the most badass tank in the world, but he commands four of them. Four. To give you an idea of what these things are all about; they shoot depleted Uranium shells, and they take somewhere around 3 gallons of gasoline just to start. Crazy shit! Will keep you posted on how this weekend goes for sure.

Another kick ass thing that is in the future for me is my first travels. I will be going to a shit ton of places for 3 weeks with a guy I’ve known since he was born. I just got my tickets courtesy of EasyJet.com and man am I stoked. Zach Mannon and I will be traveling all over Europe right near Christmas, and let me just say, they will not know what has hit them (Europeans that is). You will definitely hear about this one.

For now, I feel as though I have written enough. Let me know what you thought. See where it says comments right under here, click on it. It is a simple button you can press that instantly makes me happy. Missing you all sooooooo much it hurts. I thought I could just get over all you people, but not the case.

Love You All I’m Sure,

Blakalicious

New Photos...Whatcha Think

2004-10-04T16:46:00.000+01:00

House across the street I can see out my window. Love the bright green plant in front. Interesting contrast.

Tower of London.

My side of the room. Window seat.

The remains of my money when I only had ten pounds to my name.

Lambs of the Underground. Baahhhhh.

Tube self portrait. Housemate Julie next to me.

This random guy laughing at me taking previous self portrait.

Another tube self portrait.

Shot of the tube leaving without me.

Last standing Roman wall in London. A taste of the modern coming through the ancient.

Me at the same wall. Little blurry, but i'm trying hard to get in some shot, so you know I am really here.

Alongside the Tower of London.

Walkway by the Tower of London. Nice lighting.

A castle that I can't remember the name of, and a glowing waxing gibbous. Nice vocabulary huh?

Tube escalator.

Walk back along the Thymes River from getting my credit cards.

Same walk. Different picture. Following? This is another abstract self portrait.

Some factories along the river.

Lonely bottle in the river.

Same walk different shot.

Some mushrooms they sell on the street here. Don't they look magical?

An interesting Greek restaurant next door to the place that sold mushrooms. Camden Town street market.

Same.

Flowers outside the Greek Cafe. Anyone know what there are called? They are everywhere.

Same flower, but after the flowers fell off. Thought it was just as interesting.

Flowers outside my flat.

MMMhmmmm. Same flowers.

Yep.

Self portrait in Oxford Circus.

Mary Poppins the in the background, random eastern transport, old man. He seemed lost, so I made him loose focus.

A crazy Queen stage show. Supposed to be cool.

No beating around the bush here. Can't get away from materialism, even 3000 miles away. Gotta love it I guess.

Oyster Card, Credit Cards, Business Cards, and Much Much More

2004-09-27T15:32:00.000+01:00

Monday morning has arrived. Tuesday is not far off. Now we all know what that means…say it with me now, “RENT!” Yaaaaaay, Rent! Isn’t that fun everyone. I thought not. Yea, so at least this week I have the money to pay for rent, and food. I successfully received the package with my credit cards in it from my parents, and now I am happy to say that my debit cards have afforded me many luxuries.

The extravagances began to take hold at the end of last week, Wednesday to be exact. On this day, I sat on the stairs of the first level of my flat, on the floor, for seven hours…waiting. The reason for this is that the house doorbell is not in working order, and seeing as I live on the third floor of the house, knowing someone has arrived is all but impossible. Now you might be saying, “That is not lavish by any means.” And I retort, “Do you stay at your London flat all day with nothing to do but read “The Da Vinci Code” and wait for a package?” A moment of silence, just to let that sink in, and then, “I don’t think so.” So why so long, seven hours, one would think a package should show up in this allotted amount of time. But no, this is not the case, nothing should ever be that easy. So at this point I decide to call FedEx one more time before I give up for the day. I had spoken with them earlier in the morning, at which time they informed me the package was out for delivery. So very informative. When I spoke with them the second time, I was once again informed, but this time with different information all together. It seems as though the package did not go out for delivery at all, it sat in the warehouse waiting for me, while I patiently waited for it. I then decided it was time to go down to the FedEx center and straighten then wankers out. Having no money at all, I was was forced to borrow a housemate’s Oyster Card (a top of the line tube/subway pass) to get down to Southeast London in order to get my package. The problem was that it was already 4:30 pm when I left, and the offices were to close at 6:00 pm. I ran to the Central Line Shepherd’s Bush Tube station, which is a good ten-minute walk from my house, and hopped onto the first train that showed up. When I finally arrived at the Vauxhall station it was already 5:40 and I had no time to waste. Unfortunately, going somewhere you have never been before lends itself quite nicely to wasting time. Instead of stressing about which way to begin, I took a guess, and proceeded to run. I just kept running and running and running (jenny.) Now this was quite the picture. Wearing a hooded sweatshirt, a beanie, jeans, and long socks (due to the fact that it was damn cold this day), I ran further and harder than I had run since the days of high school soccer. But, on account of my running, the clothing became a lot to handle. I finally arrived at the FedEx offices with two minutes to spare, amazed that I had even gone the right direction. As I stepped through the front doors, panting and sweating like a bitch in heat, I got strange looks from all around the room. I walked up to the counter and managed to get a few words out between pants. “I made it.” The agent behind the desk, with a confused look on his face, said, “Made it? We close at 8:00, it’s only 6:00.” I took a seat.

The following day, with credit cards in hand, I walked about 4 doors down from my house. I was off to get passport photos done in an effort to finally get an Oyster Card, freedom from not going anywhere. They offered passport photos in house for 10 pounds and this was definitely not alright by me. Finally, after talking to them for a while, I got them to give me a free blank CD so I could go home, shoot my own passport photo, and bring them the file back to be printed. This cost me a total of 67p. What a deal.

The credit card situation could not have been sorted out any sooner. I got a phone call later this same day, Thursday, from a friend of mine who I had met the previous week when he so kindly took me to lunch (still standing as the best food I have had since I’ve been here). Him and his fiancé invited me to what he thought was going to be some sort of fashion show. My first reaction was, Hell yea! I got an Oyster Card baby! I can go anywhere I want. And my second was, Fashion show? Photographers, and promoters, and artists, oh my! I proceeded to put on my best digs, filled my pockets with business cards, and took off onto the tube. The event was held at an office building’s floor level bar on Great Portland Street in Zone 1 of downtown London. I arrived a little earlier than my buddy Chip, and before long I realized there was an open bar. How delightful? Very. The night was off to a great start. After putting back my first cocktail, the promoter of the show began speaking over the PA. She proceeded to introduce the “photographer” of the show, whose work was hanging from the windows in the front of the bar. If you haven’t put it together yet, this event ended up being a photography exhibit, and not a fashion show. Could I have asked for much more? No. I couldn’t have. As the night went on, I rubbed elbows with some of the biggest show promoters in the London area. Business cards were flying and a great attempt was made at getting as many of them as I could, introducing myself to anyone that I thought I might like to know. I also had the pleasure of meeting the billionaire bosses of Chip (who works as a venture capitalist in London). When I say billionaire, I mean they have over a billion pounds. Crazy. But I have to say, I was more impressed with the photography then anything else. This work was so progressive. It utilized the advertising technologies that are implemented so regularly in this area. Surely you have all seen this technique used at some point in the states. When you look at the image from different locations, or as you walk by it, certain aspects of it change. In his work, he shot outdoors in wooded areas, or areas with vast open fields. Green dominated the landscapes, and juxtaposed against the powerful scenery were female figures draped in long, bright, flowing fabrics. As you stroll by, the girl vanishes, leaving only the scenery and the ghostly garments standing in the open.

Now for a bit of a tangent. Let me tell you, my first experience with a French person is everything I expected it to be. One of the girls in the house, actually living right next door to me, is a complete spoiled snob. I don’t know if being French has anything to do with it, because I have yet to visit France, but let me tell you, she has no respect for anything. There are two sinks in the house, one on our floor (a floor with 5 people), and one of the first floor. For the first two weeks, I could not even use the sink upstairs due to someone (take a guess) not doing their dishes. The stench, oh the stench. On top of that, when she takes a shower, somehow she makes the entire bathroom soaking wet, to the point where you can’t even walk in there on account of you might slip, fall, and die. Ok, enough of that…trying to be positive.

Continuing on with the weekend. On Friday night I went to a bar/club at Leicester Square called Zoo Bar. This is a really crazy area. Mostly tourists, from what I could tell, but I have to say that this is the most people I’ve seen out late partying since I went to Mardi Gras in New Orleans a few years back. Just people everywhere. As we walked through the madness we were handed free entry passes, along with complimentary drink passes, to the club we were on our way to. How convenient. This saved us 8 pounds each for entry, and another 15 pounds in drinks. That’s more money than I even brought out with me…way more. Nothing really that exciting to report, a lot of American music, dancing, drinking, and all that jazz.

Saturday came without regard. My Virginia girl housemates had met some British guys the previous night at the Zoo Bar, and they were going out with them tonight so I decided I would go too. Every night a new adventure. We ended up going to this crazy club called Aquarium where we had to be on a guest list, and luckily these guys had gotten us on. On top of that, it was 15 pounds to get in here. It was disco night! Crazy fun for sure, but the narliest part of this night was the fact that there was a swimming pool and Jacuzzi inside the club. Seeing as I only brought 6 pounds with me tonight, and I had given the lot to one of the guys who paid for all of us to get into the club, the pound it cost for a towel was way over my head. I had an awesome time though dancing to a bunch of old Michael Jackson and checking out all the disco clad British babes. We took a bus home and got home around 3:45. Damn…you can go all out in this town, I love it!

All right, that’s it for now. I hope you liked this one.

Love You All I’m Sure,

Blakers

Pubs, Clubs, Bars, & Lounges, What IS the difference?

2004-09-21T16:16:00.000+01:00

     After my previous blog entry, where I had been a little down on being here, I am since feeling more in control of my fluctuating feelings. The roller coaster ride of thoughts, highs and lows, has taught me something that is very clear to me right now. When moving into a large city, by yourself, with no standing friendships and no comfort zone, it is easy to find that there is no escape. You cannot allow yourself to deal with issues that arrise at a later date. If you don’t deal with them when they occur, when you fall, you fall hard.

     I am really starting to enjoy writing in my blog, that is for sure. Injecting a bit of humor into what I go through here helps me deal with things easier, and it also allows for it to all come back to me at an even pace. Going through it all at once has proven to be quite overwhelming. In addition to that, it shines a different, motivating, and almost 3rd person perspective on things.

     As for this last weekend, I had a really great time. It marks the first time I was drunk in the UK. Considering how I have spoke once or twice about the expenses that come into play here, you can imagine that alcohol is not left far behind in the mix of thing (no pun intended). I had the opportunity to have a few drinks in the first few weeks, but this last Saturday night proved to be different altogether. I found myself drinking at the hostel where I stayed the first night, just down the street from where I live. If your curious, or you want to get a visual, there were a few pictures of it in the last blog. So at the lovely Belushi’s of Covent Gardens, I was treated to an absorbent amount of tequila. It is the most financially friendly drink I have found in London thus far, sitting at a cheap 1 pound a shot. I came to the bar with my usual 5 pound in my pocket, not expecting to get drunk…again. But then, to my surprise, a few of the bar tenders had begun to remember me as the “Crazy American Guy Who Drinks Tequila Cause He’s Broke” guy. Now this was a great surprise to me, and it was even more of a surprise when my head was ripped back, and my mouth was smothered in 2 free shots of tequila. Did you catch that, “FREE,” now you try and tells me that’s an American concept. Well, it seems as though they respect my poverty-stricken position, and are doing their part to keep a starving artist on his feet (or at least enough to stumble his way back to his Mary Poppin’s flat). This beautiful habit of the bartenders continued through the night. You can see where this might of led me.

     Now this bar is known for being full of Australians (Auzzies). As I sat at the bar, I realized I had spoken in the past with a few of these crazy bastards. I engaged myself in a high volume conversation, over the blaring American punk music, with a set of these Auzzies who had been at the bar seats next to me for quite a while. Somehow we discovered that they lived on the same street as me, and only a few doors down. They then proceeded to inform me that they were having a party after the pub closed.

     Back to the pub closing, and the Auzzies having a party. So, I did indeed take my drunk self to this party across the street from my place after the pub had closed at midnight. It was nice to meet some of my neighbors, but I have to be blunt and honest, none of them struck my fancy. Kinda boring.

     So as the weekend progressed, I realized I was getting awfully close to not having any money at all. Seeing as I needed to get new credit cards before I left the states, and I forgot to until the last minute, my lovely parents were so kind as to send out the new cards in a FedEx package at the end of last week. I have 90 pounds total left, and in the thick of the UK, you pay rent weekly (which is 80/week paid on Tuesday for me). It is really a great tool for making you feel as though you have no money at any time, as paying an exceedingly high rent tends to do to one’s financial esteem. The package has yet to arrive and so as of today, Tuesday, so I am officially down to my last 10 pounds. High hopes that it will get here soon.

Love You All I’m Sure,

-Blakester

Settling In

2004-09-16T15:56:00.000+01:00

Hello Again!!!

So it has been over a week and a half since I have been here, and it feels as though I have been gone for months. I have to tell you, it feels like I left everything I have ever known to be in this strange place by myself. Just writing these thoughts and reading them back to myself puts me on the brink of tears. It's good though, I feel as though after putting myself voluntarily through something this hard I will forever be able to experience anything that comes my way unexpectedly with high hopes. Now I don't mean to seem down on this whole thing, but I never expected to be as hard as it has been thus far. I find myself going back and forth. Some days I am doing really well, stoked on all the new things around me, but other days I feel like I made a grave mistake in ripping myself from all my best friends in the world, and from my most loving of families. I truly appreciate all that I have, not like I didn't before, but they seem all that much more important to me now. I feel at times like this place isn't at all what I expected; Reasons for coming here (music, art, exciting people and places) aren't really even here (or so it seems to me at the moment, still waiting and looking I guess). My experiences thus far have led me to believe that it is just the same as the states. Not progressive in art (specifically photography), and the music scene seems to be just as fabricated as back home. OK...so now that I have made you think I am having a horrible time, I'd like to talk about why I feel like I am going to have a good day today. (I just wanted to get all that negativity out in the beginning, now its gone...don't you feel better, I do. I actually wasn't going to write about it to help me keep my head high, then I realized it's all part of the experience, and if I were to leave it out, I would just be lying to myself. I feel like I need to remember the struggle as well.)

So now for a funny story. So about three nights ago I went out drinking with my roommate, and most of the cooler housemates I live with. We all had quite a good time, and when we got home we were hanging out in one of the girls rooms with about 9 or 10 of us listening to some music. Some of the people in the room were smoking (which the girls whose room it was were ok with, of course). After a few minutes of being in there, we were stoked to find that the fire alarms actually worked. Now seeing as I was in a room full of people in my same shoes, just having moved to London that is, none of us had come into contact with this type of fire alarm. This fire alarm is LOUD! Large bells in every room (BELLS!) began to go off, even in the rooms of the flat-mates that didn't come out with us. All of our first reactions were to try and find a way to turn it off, but seeing as none of us knew how these things worked (by that I mean they were not at all like the common smoke alarms that one is annoyed by, rips off the wall and throws the batteries out in rapid fashion.) we were all running around the house like chickens with our heads cut off. Each of us going in different directions with different ideas, at times running into one another. All of us were laughing historically the entire time as well. I hope you get a good visual of this, because it was one of the funniest things I have seen in a while! So there was this box with fire escape propaganda that I recalled being in the entry way of the house with a key in it, so that was the first stop for most of us. Others went looking for the fuse box and so on. Ideas were flowing people, let me tell you. Anyway, while all this is happening, one of the american girls, in true american fashion, called 999 (english equivalent of 911). On the phone, over the blaring bells, she proceeded to tell them, "Do not send trucks. Were are OK!" To which the operator exclaimed, "What?! DO NOT send trucks?" This is when the true confusion set in! She responded, "YES! DO NOT send trucks! We are OK!" The british woman then took it upon herself to hang up the phone without a response. The american girl later explained that she had figured that as in the states, when an alarm is set off, the police and fire department are automatically sent. She also made the assumption that when you call 999, they know where your calling from. Which could be true, but definitely not when your calling from your mobile (as they call it here). So the confusion on the other end of the line must have been immense, which in a way coincided with the confusion were were faced with, and the utter retardation that the american girl was experiencing. After a few minutes of this, someone found a labeled button on the top of this fire box, which you had to be on a chair to see (wankers!). The fiasco had ended. What a night.

So today, thursday, I have decided to go and get a work visa, and put a stop to all this nonsense of living in London as a Mexican (YO BIG C and T-NASTY!). I feel like it will help me to have more of a purpose here. With a job I feel like I will have more of a schedule, a better way of meeting some locals, and more of an income. This income will not be cut in half before I even see it, which I look forward too immensely. I am still going to continue to do my contract work from the states, but I need to start making the pound so as to stop myself from feeling sick every time I buy something. You see, I have learned that converting things is not a healthy habit. And I am not joking when I say this, I get physically sick! Anyway, I feel like I have done enough soul dredging at this point for one day, so I leave you with this one thought. Three meals a day are better than two. Try to keep that in mind while you eat three, because it is definitely on my mind as I eat two.

Love You All I'm Sure,

Blake

Here are some photo's from my first week. Sorry it took so long. There will be more as I take em.

My roommate Ben and I in our room.

The Hostel I stayed in for one night before I found a place to live.

The bar conveniently located under the Hostel I stayed in the first night.
(too expensive even there to afford a beer, crappy.)

Shepherd's Bush Green, the park in my area of town.

The Train crossing just East of the hostel. Cool Graffiti.

Some city life shots in the early morning (couldn't sleep, jet lag).

Kids going to school, all dressed in suits. That'll teach elm to screw around!

More city life shots in Shepherd Bush (my home Burrough).

Again, more city shots. Bright large licence plates. More cool Graffiti.

A long shot of another kid walking to school. The back of the houses on my
street.

Tree that just jumped out at me. Austin Powers (well, just plain british)
phone booth.

Interesting poster for the band Oasis. Bridge that I have yet to learn the
name of crossing the Thymes River.

Tube (subway) Shots. "I'm Ron Burgundy?" (YO EMILY!)

Cool shot of sculpture at the Tate Modern Museum! Chisum buddy, doesn't this
look like your sculptures you made for Chong's class. I was blown away, it
was just massive!

More shots near the Thymes.

Shot of Broder, an Auzzie friend I made that went to the museum with me. I
saw my first Picassos in person. Gave me chills. Still does. Got any extra
shoes. Place them in this convenient bin on the main streets of london....WHAT!!?!

Dizzee Rascal BABY!!! Hell Yea. Too bad i'm broke.

Another Tube shot. Can't you just smell it! Try not to breath.

Broder on the train. I liked the composition of this one. You be the judge.

Siamese twins of yourself are as easy as riding the etude with "tubed"
windows.

Now that one was just too easy. Pretty cool though, huh?

Interesting mural under one of the bridges in shots above.

I almost got killed taking a picture of these paintings. Apparently they are
copyrighted. Who knew? The artist was pretty pissed. I was gonna tell him
I liked them, but he started yelling at me in Italian before I could. They
shall live on forever now. You better like elm too, and be thankful i'm still
here after that experience. Lessons to be learned I guess.

More street shots. Kinda getting into this. There are a lot of crazy looking
people here. I bet I am just as crazy looking. Write back to me! Comments,
suggestions, thoughts, love, I read it all.

Love you all!

Officially Living In London

2004-09-08T12:12:00.000+01:00

Hello Again!!!

So Here is the story. Since I got here I had that feeling of excitement, but that soon after turned into a sick to my stomach feeling. Not knowing if I could financially survive here actually began affecting my health physically and mentally. I had thoughts of packin up my things and traveling around the rest of Europe where my dollar would stretch a bit further. Since I got here I have started looking for a place to live and let me tell you, It is quite a task. The first two days I had no luck at all looking for a place after doing it all day long. Everything I looked at made me feel like I was in the US during the great depression...closet like rooms that were dirtier than some of my friends mouths (tony, behave yourself, huh?). After Travel on the Tube (what they call their subway) for nearly all day, both days, my calfs are so sore I was getting real turned off by London and any hope of living in this city.

I met up with a guy that my buddy Troy hooked me up with, who also oddly enough lived in Boulder for the last few years. He is a musician (jazz, hip-hop and such...he plays the bass clarinet, the flute, and the sax) for a band called the Break Mechanics, and like me, he came to London with not much of a plan for anything except for getting involved in the music and art scene here. He grew up in New Zealand (kenner!!! YO Buddy) and moved to Colorado when he was about 11, he's now 28). He lived in a commune for the first part of his life! Crazy, but we have more in common than most people i've ever met. He is not only an artist (musician), but he does web design as well. It works out that he does all the aspects of web design that I lack (flash, and other quality multimedia programs), and I am skilled in what he has no idea about (graphic design, layout, web design, java...etc). I met him the second day I was here and he had been here for nearly a week looking for a place. He was getting as frustrated with things as I was and after looking at a few places, we were both quite discouraged. We had to buy calling cards just to call people who were offering places.

We finally got ahold of someone who actually picked the phone up (apparently, when someone list an apartment in London, they would rather NOT lease it). This landlord picked us up in his blue jaguar and drives us on the wrong side of the road through London to the same place where I ended up finding a hostel to stay in (this hostel cost the equivalent of 36 dollars a night!!! JeBUS CHRISTO!!!). The area of London is called Shepherds Bush (located in the west end of London, Zone 2, and it is probably, by what I've been told, the hippest place for music in London. When we got to the apartment, which is actually in a house, it made me feel as though I was going to walk right into Mary Poppins...but I didn't...hehe! By that I mean, It is what you would think of when you think of London, and surprisingly enough, most of London doesn't resemble your thoughts) We walked inside and the room was a double. Two beds, one room, really clean and nice. There are two washing machines, a community kitchen, 3 bathrooms, what they call a garden (a backyard for you dirty americans), and a nice front stoop. Having a place to chill outside is not very common apparently. The room was on the 3rd floor, the top, and it was by far the nicest thing I have seen here.

We ended up signing the lease in the blue jaguar (imagine the accent, lovin' it :-) ten minutes later. Good times. We moved in right away. So as of 52 hours after arriving in London, I had found an apartment in the sickest (in a good way g-pa) part of town, a great guy to be roomies with. All of a sudden the sick feeling turned into a per-ma grin! The whole house is full of girls too, did I mention that, I don't think I did, but now you know.

So now your up to date (Wednesday, September 8th, 2004 ;-). j/k

Anyway, I love you all I'm sure. Please email me, or if you feel so inclined, call that bastard you call "Blake."

Later On You Wankers!

- B

First Days In London

2004-09-06T12:10:00.000+01:00

Hello To All My Family and Friends,

As of right now I am sitting in a hotel room of a few guys that I met on the plane. They are here writing and recording a new album for their band Barefoot. I got pretty lucky to meet them seeing as they just got signed to Geffin and EMG a few weeks ago and they have already been sent abroad to work with the top European Producer. Anyway, I have yet to be here for 24 hours and I already have a cell phone. The number to the phone is 001-07891-670249. I think 001 is the country code, but I'm Not sure, call the operator to find out I guess. I can receive calls at any time for free and talk as long as I like, but making calls on it is pretty expensive. It's a prepaid thing so you guys know how that works. So place a call to your Londonite friend Blake anytime you feel like it, I promise, I won't mind at all! I think one of those 10-10-whatever numbers work really good for super cheap overseas calls. L.a. time is 9 hours earlier than London.

This place is so expensive I think I might die! :) The exchange rate is at 1.94 right now and that pretty much means that when you give them 100 US Dollars to exchange, they give you 50 Pounds. Crazy Business I tell you! I think I'm going to be on a diet of peanut butter and jelly sandwiches for a while. That's ok though, I do like them...for now anyway. It does feel really great to be here though, it's finally real and I still can't believe it. I went and had dinner with the guys I met last night and got some alright food actually. I am already looking for an apartment and I think I might of found one, if you can believe it. That is the one thing that surprised me in terms of how much it costs to live here. I found that most places aren't much more than 55 pounds a week (which comes out to about 100 a week, 400 a month) if you live in a room with other people. Mostly australians live in areas like this so that should be interesting for sure.

I have a feeling of excitement over my whole body at this point which at times feels amazing, but other times its almost overwhelming. I have no clue about any part of this place, and let me tell you, that doesn't help when you are asking questions and the answers contain things you have to ask more questions about. Kinda Crazy!!! I already miss everything I left behind but I feel as though this will become a defining time in my life and I wouldn't trade that for anything in the world.

In terms of supporting myself while I am here, I am working for clients in Boulder that are keeping me on their payroll while I am over here. I don't know who was in charge of making that decision, but I really do dig whoever that was. I will be doing web design for them as well as a few other companies out of Boulder, but I am still looking for work, so keep me in mind if you hear of anyone in need of a graphic artist and web designer.
In terms of my artwork and creative outlets, I am going to constantly be shooting photos while i'm here. I'm trying to get involved in the local UK rock scene as well as anywhere else that is rocking! I am soon going to have a new website (other than BJNart.com) called BJNrock.com where all you guys can check out the progress I have made in that industry. We shall see, right now I don't know how things are going to work out but that is pretty exciting. I am also going to have an online journal within the week that will allow me to avoid all these mass emails where you can read about what I'm up to, as well as check out some shots of London and such that I take while I'm here.

ALRIGHT! So for now, this is Blake. :) Email me back, I will write you, I promise. Hope to hear from all of you soon. It will make my day I'm sure. Love you all!!! Cherio you Blimey Bastards! (i have no clue if I spelled any of that right!)

Love,

Blake J. Nolan