Suzdal & Nizny Novgorod

Суздаль & Нижний Новгород
Distance Travelled: 2781 km

Ok then...

Morning of hangovers and on to the station, since there was a train to catch. Plans slightly altered the destination was now Suzdal, which is a world heritage site only a short ride out of Moscow.

We found our subway, and our station, relatively easily but then the luck sort of ran out, as we had apparently lined up in the wrong cue, which we naturaly only found out when it was our turn, after about an hours wait, wonderfull - Russian cueing, you either love it or loathe it.

So instead of another hours wait, we decided to give up on the train altogether, since it wasn't really working for us, and go for the bus instead, which turned out terribly easier, as this was quite simply a matter of boarding the first bus we saw, and paying the 150 ruble ticket, on the bus.

Well it all seemed a bit to easy, until i sat down in my seat, very much wanting to go to a hard sleep - but no - this being russia, my bloody seat didn't work - meaning i couldn't lean back for about 2 hours, through Moscow traffic and everything! After which i got so deperate that i actually managed to fix the seat, probably out of sheer desperation.

Once we had reached Vladimir, it was on with a local bus - had a fair bit of difficulty buying tickets for the bus, since the dear Babushka at the ticket counter, asked me something in Russian, and refused to go any further before i had answered a question, which, one would think, it was fairly obvious I didn't understand. Well luckely the lady in the counter next to her, seem to feel some sort of sympathy towards us, and away we were - on some German citybus - or atleast the entrance said bitte nicht aufsteigen :)

Arrived in Suzdal in late afternoon - and it turned out to be absolutely beautiful! especially in the twilight (the pictures should speak for themselves) . Well, as their always seem to be some minor complication going on in this country, obviously the Hotels were all full, since it was weekend - and a nice little weekend trip from Moscow.

Luckily we managed to land a room in Guesthouse (basicly a room in their house) at a wonderful and kind lady, it was so nice, and an absolute bargain! she even gave us biscuts and jam in the morning :)

Next morning we cruised around a bit and saw most of the sights (Suzdal is a rather small town, it does seem to have more churches than people though) and then it was of to Nizhny Novgorod, which turned out to be somewhat of a dissapoinment. However rooms was sold out, so we stayed in a proper western style hotel room - bathtub and everything - otherwise Nizhny is just a drab industrial town by the Volga..

We did have good fun ordering food here though, Russian/Cyrilic only menues. so it has basicly been a food lottery as of late - fun fun! and things havent gone terribly wrong yet! :)

Anyway, im outta time here at the internet place in Kazan, so.... to be continued :)

Still in Moscow

Slight change of plans...

Still in Moscow, ended up with a pretty cool bunch of people at my hostel here, and we went out last night, once again, I promise you guys that Moscow night-life is absolutely legend!...

Anyway, might have found an Aussie to travel around with as far as Irkutsk, if everything works out all right - there is quite a bit of difference in our schedules - it would take a few more stops going through Siberia - first one would be Suzdal a couple of hours travel outside Moscow.

Anyway, I'll keep you guys updated.

Moscow

Москва
Distance traveled: 2289 km

After 2 days further days of urban exploration, my impression of Moscow remains somewhat mixed.

Let me for a short while, go back to the subway system, since I made some additional observations regarding this peculiarity. The Russian officials responsible for the damn thing, have apparently decided on a spell of heavy vodka consumption, that if invasion is ever going come, the mighty American army will surely be taking the subway down to the Kremlin from the airport!

And so they have gone to great lengths to avoid this. For one - they can have giant flat screen TV's down in the deep, but ticket machines? they will have none of it! So at every station the potential invader would have to deal with grumpy old ladies, who just isn't going take it (or anything else for that matter). Second - They have managed at every single of the 176 stations on the system - not to place a map of the system. So unless you know exactly where you are going, and how you plan to get there, the Metro is absolutely useless, and they've made damn sure that everything is in Cyrillic too, so private Ryan won't stand a chance in hell - It's absolutely hilarious.

Well, some other stuff, I went to see Lenin, who is taking a rather large nap beneath the Red Square, apart of course, from his brain, which - sliced into thin pieces - are safely resting across town at the University of Moscow, Somehow I doubt he is going to wake up any time soon. But just to make sure no one does, the Russians have employed guards - to, well, guard, Lenin's tomb. And rather strangely at least one of them bears an uncanny resemblance to Gollum of Lord of the Rings fame, i wouldn't be terribly surprised if, after closing time, he climbs into the coffin with good old Lenin, and calls him "my precious".

Walked around the Kremlin, but couldn't get in - naturally - since it was a Thursday. That's obvious, or maybe just Russian.

Anyway during nightime i got to see the cool part of Moscow, went to a couple of clubs with a befriended Russian-Canadian guy. It was wicked, for all their flaws the Russians does know how to party, and the decor of clubs i went to, left London or New York very little to be desired. And naturally my halfway Russian host had me drink Vodka shots - i promise you - they're big, really big, and surprisingly tasty.

So naturaly next morning i woke up with hangovers - and to redeem ourself from a night of sin - we went cultural. First we wen't to the xxx museum, and among other things saw this painting which i absolutely love! then on to the armory of the Kremlin - very impressive - and i got to see some real faberge eggs too! While we were waiting for entry there, i got to see another glimpse of the bohemian Moscow that lurks in the shadows - we wen't for a bite, to a shady courtyard, down some concrete stairs, with damp walls - around a corner, through a security guard, and into the most classy restaurant i've eaten in for a very long time. Had an excellent Risotto!

Now waiting a bit until my train leaves for Kazan at 00:30.

Anyway, this anecdote, overheard on the street near the red square (Vlad translated). 2 police officers in full uniform talking to each other on the street, and one guy goes "Let's get a bottle of Vodka" And the other guy goes "Njet - let's get a box of Vodkas!" :-)

Arriving at Moscow

Москва
Distance traveled: 2289 km

- New cities can be disorienting!
- New cities where you don`t know the language or alphabet - particularly so!
- And a new city where you don't know the language, alphabet, and you arrive smack in the middle of rush hour where 10 million people are trying to get to work at the same bloody time, with the same bloody subway will just outright blow - you - up!

Well you guessed it, I did. The night train from Saint Petersburg arrived at Leningradsky (don't you just love that the stations are actually called that) station at 7.00 o'clock in the morning. And since the station seemed to be somewhat of a magnet for shady looking types, I decided against digging up my Lonely planet from the backpack, since it felt like it would be somewhat of an open invitation for one of those aforementioned shady charecters to come and rob me.

The priority, i thought, was getting my ass out of there as quickly as possible, and regain my bearings at more friendly territory. So I made for the subway, which, i wondered, was a very peculiar type of subway - as it had more than a handfull of exit points and not a single entry point. After a few rounds around the subway station, making me look like the stupid tourist i was anyway, I realized that i weren't the only idiot around, and a silly looking chap, wearing a metro sign was pointing down the street.

I followed his finger, or at least the direction it was pointing, and Eureka! 500 meters further down along the street, the architects must have run out of Vodka for a while, and actually added an entry point. However, for a metro with so many exits and so few entries there were an extraordinary amount of people in there.

And very rude ones too, at least those Moscowites haven't heard of cuing. So going down an escalator, with atleast a 1000 other people wanting to do just that, at the same time - and not being sensible enough to devise a cuing system, made navigation somewhat of challenge. Wearing a large backpack didn't exactly help things. Not knowing where i was, where i was going, and what line to take, didn't exactly brighten the outlook.

Anyway going on intuition, since i couldn't find a system map, and i couldn't find any signs informing me which station I was at (the architects must have found some more Vodka in a closet somewhere, by the time they reached 'signposting' on their agenda) I boarded a train, which was basicly just the train that send out the better vibes. 2 stations later i thought I saw some pink beneath some incomprehensible cyrilic writing, and decided to go for it - since my stop was on the pink line - this seemed to be a very reasonable idea.

And somehow, without really realizing what i did, i had ended up at Kitay Gorod, which was pretty much exactly where I needed to be.

My hostel seemed to share the general idea, that signposting is a bad concept. (I don't know, maybe it's the Vodka!) When you're located on the 3rd floor of a dodgy looking stair case, in a court yard of the main street, in my humble opinion, some sort of sign is not a bad idea!

Anyway eventually found it, and went for a walk around the Red Square and the Kremlin, very interresting actually seeing it yourself, nothing like i had imagined it to look like.

First impressions of Moscow, is that it lacks the grace of Saint Petersburg. While Saint Petersburg seems graceful, Moscow is bombastic. The girls in Saint Petersburg looked pretty, here they more than anything seem to look, well, Russian. And the clothing have changed too, from the very chick and fashionable in Saint Petersburg, to the more serious and formal here in Moscow.

Anyway, have two more days here, so you'll get a rapport on this - the largest city in Europe - in a few days.

- Stefan

Saint Petersburg

Санкт-Петербург
Distance travelled: 1639 km

Finaly inside a Russia, the border formaleties were carried out on the train, and basicly went as smooth as anywhere else - and definantly smoother than what i experienced at Newark Airport in the States.

After crossing the border with some delays, the train continued for Saint Petersburg - the difference between Finland and Russia was very clear. The houses started to look like something that would fall apart any day, the gardens are used for everyday food - and not just pretty flowers, and the roads were looking in a much more sorry state than they had on the other side of the border.

It took a couple of hours from the border, until we arrived at the Finlandzky railway station in northern Saint Petersburg. Expecting to be attacked by people wanting me to go to their hotel and ride their taxies - I was very pleasantly surprised that this was not the case - at all actually - after a bit searching around for an ATM and getting my first rubles, I went for the subway to go downtown.

Ha! - i'll never forget the look at the ticket ladies face when I handed her a 5000 rubles note (1000 Danish kroner) for a 14 rubles ticket for the Metro. But she got even when she returned a freaking large bunch of Notes back to me at a overcrowded subway station :-)

The Hostel - Cubahostel - where i've stayed, is a cool and lovely social hangout - smack downtown - 2 minuttes of the main street 'Nevsky Prospect'. The days have gone by exploring the neighboorhood around the hostel by foot. And socializing at the hotstel during the evenings - Now i'm really travelling again :o) wee!

So far I haven't been anything but positively surprised by this strange country. Things seem to be in a far better shape than we hear about in the west. Sure, there is social decay, but so far i haven't seen anything that i consider worse than a trailerpark full of white trash outside Detroit or something like that. On the other hand, the middle class here in Saint Petersburg seem to be fairly large, people even in the outskirts of the city center are very very neatly dressed, in posh brands, and drive better cars than we do back in Copenhagen. I'm sure if I went out in the real russian suburbia, the story would be different, but i'm impressed all the same.

Went to the Hermitage today - i guess all there is to say about that place is - wow! a few pictures in the gallery. Also bought my first train tickets, for the Moscow - Irkutsk leg of my journey...

... In the interrest of my personal safety, the schedule is as follows.

May 13th 23:30 - 07:10 Saint Petersburg - Moscow
May 17th 00:30 - 12:50 Moscow - Kazan
May 17th 20:20 - 14:10 Kazan - Ekaterinburg
May 20th 12:30 - 17:45 Ekaterinburg - Irkutsk (arrive on the 22nd)
May 23rd 08:00 - 16:00 Irkutsk - Khuznir (Bus - Olkhon island)

Inside Russia

Distance travelled: 1639 km

Just a quick post to let you guys know im safely into Russia, and at my Hostel in St Petersburg now - so far im pleasantly surprised, but ill keep you posted a bit later

- Stefan

Helsinki

Distance traveled: 1214 km

Finally i got to visit our brother people in the north, certainly the Finns are the odd one out in Nordic context.

My first impression comming out of the rather massive ferry from Tallinn, was something of a welcome to land of Nokia, when a girl on the bus showed a text message to the bus driver as her bus ticket - neat :)

Anyway, journey to my hostel turned out to be a bit of journey, as it was located 15 minutes outside Helsinki on the motorway, in a suburb called Mattby - and something totally unpronounceable in Finnish. Superb location though, nestled in a pine forest down by a narrow inlet in the gulf of Finland, with it's own beach - although i didn't dare venture into the water this far North in early May :-)

The next day went with sightseeing in Helsinki, which really doesn't say much, as here is not that much to see here, although the town is cozy enough. I went out to Sveaborg , which is an old giant fortification, on an island at the sea approach to Helsinki. Quite nice, it actually had a little tint of Christiana to it, probably due to the art school and the apparent left wing crowd living there.

Friday i was supposed to leave for Russia, but - luckily - i was double checking everything, and as it turned out, with tiny print, my Russian visa doesn't allow me to enter Russia before Sunday. So i tried heading for the embassy to have it changed, but the consular department was close, bummer, so i went for a travel agency close by, that had a big sign with Express Visas outside, and asked if it would be a problem. The middle aged lady at the desk looked at me with a patient look in her eyes, and with a firm voice made it clear, that this would indeed be a problem.

So on to the railway station in a hurry, since I had 3 hours until my train were leaving, and much to my great relief, there was no problem changing the dates of my tickets to St Petersburg and Moscow.

The 'Sibilius' leaves for St Petersburg at 7.00 tomorrow, and then the journey really begins :-)

- Stefan

Tallin

Tallinn
Distance traveled: 1118 km

I came to Estonia expecting somewhat of a gentle introduction to the wonders and horrors of Eastern Europe - Well - those sneaky fucking Estonians...

While we've been walking around thinking of the Baltics as poor nations, riddled with organised crime from the Russian mob, human trafficking, and an economy in ruins after 60 years of Soviet rule. They've been busy - damn busy - and frankly there's very little things left around Tallinn, to suggest you're east of the Iron curtain. The buildings have been renovated, and anything giving even the slightest stench of hammer and sickle - have been blown smithereens by the city administration. The Lada's og Trabi's of old, has long since been replaced with Volvo's, Lexus', Mercedes' and BMW's. And a pint of beer down in the city center, will set you back 40 kroner. And that's not all...

Estonia, or Tallinn at least, seem to have been subjected to somewhat of a veritable Scandinavian invasion, a couple of 100 years since the last conquests (where, for those who knows our history, is where our lovely flag comes from). Apparently business leaders around the Nordic capitals, collectively decided that 'them darn Ruskis ain't got nothing on us'. So after the last sorry soldiers of the red army left, and the Baltic peoples celebrated their new found independence - in the spirit of our ancestors, they embarked on a capitalistic and cultural conquest on their own, to regain the territory lost 100 years ago.

And so it happened that today, 16 years after the Estonian independence, people drive in their Volvo's or Saab's to the Statoil gas station, buy a pack of Prince or Red Corners, and pay with their Nordea credit card. And before they drive home, they invite their friends out for a Carlsberg beer, with their Nokia phone on a Tele2 prepaid service paid for in Estonian Kroner (or Kroon). So it seems all natural that the city's only two tall buildings, that dominates the skyline of Tallinn - along with the hill where the old town, built by Swedes and Danes centuries ago, lies - would be a Radisson SAS hotel and the Estonian headquarters of Skandinaviska EnskildaBanken. The prime minister has even gone so far, as to suggest they change their flag to a Scandinavian Cross. But hey, atleast they seem more happy about us than the Russians :-)

The city itself is absolutely beatifull, the old town is pretty big, with brightly painted old houses, impeccably renovated, rising above the cobblestoned streets. Full of (expensive) restaurants, sidewalk cafés, and trendy fashion stores. And some huge churches thrown in here and there for good measure. Outside the old town many parts of the city has wooden houses with small gardens and cedar trees. If you look carefully you can see some old soviet concrete appartment complexes - appartently the Estonians decided that if the Russians build it, they can live in it - and left it for the large (40 odd percent) Russian population to live in.

Unlike the ethnic Estonians, that doesn't look all that different from us - The Russians here, still very much look, well, Russian. And from i understand, they don't have much more money than their counterparts on the other side of the border either. But then again - who are we too teach Estonians good morals - we we're having a good time building parcel homes and selecting which jolly garden gnome to put in the garden, while they we're being deported to Siberia for buying the wrong morning newspaper.

Anyway, food, beer, sleep and up for a ferry to Helsinki tomorrow (hopefully in that order).

Tallinn

Lidt om Montreal og New York

New York New York

En eller anden paranoid sjael har aabenbart bevaeget sig fra paranoiaens hoejborg - pentagon, og ind i New Yorks administration, og vedkommende har aabenbart besluttet at frihedsgudinden er et oplagt terrormaal - well dough! saa sikkerheds kontrollen foer faergen til Liberty Island er af en anden verden. hvilket har medfoert at det kreaver en hel del taalmodighed at se den lille dame. Noget der ligner 20 minutter for at koebe billetten og 50 minutter for at komme igennem security - man faar dog lov til at beholde Sko og toej paa, foer turen forsaetter paa en jampacked bette faerge.

Min bus til Montrèal afgik kl 8, saa klokken halv syv ringede mit vaekke ur, min krop, eller mere specifikt mit hoved, var absolut ikke tilfreds med det faktum, efter en stoerre intern diskution, stod jeg op og begynde at pakke mit habengut, og hovedet luftede sin utilfredshed med at forvaerre toemmermaendene temmeligt betragtligt. Ned i undergrunden, og til bus terminalen, boarde bussen, phew, saa var det bare at lukke oejnene og blive venner med mit hoved igen. Troede jeg! for i sidste minut inden afgang. tordner en stor sort mand prustende gennem bussen, og beslutter, selvfoelgelig, at saette sig ved siden af mig, to minutter senere snorkede han som noget der var loejn, og mit hoved begyndte igen at lufte sin utilfredshed med den generelle situation - som varede indtil Albany - ca 3.5 time fra New York.

Ved graensen til Canada, blev vi alle smidt af bussen for at gaa gennem graense kontrollen, og jeg fik lidt af et chock da min taske ingensteds var at finde!!! jeg kikkede fortvivlet rundt, indtil jeg saa en dame nonchellant spadsere afsted med den. Jeg gik hen til hende - og startede hoefligt med; Excuse me, det loed for hoefligt, saa jeg forsatte med; what the fuck are you doing with my bag!? hun sagde ikke noget, hun stillede bare tasken og fortsatte til paskontrollen - uden baggage.

Og saa begyndte, yours truely, at blive en anelse nervoes for at idioten havde plantet noget i min taske, saa jeg traedte ud af koen, og gik igennem indholdet fra ende til anden, og maette heldigvis konstatere at alt indholdet var mit. Vel gennem graensen var det bare en time til Montrèal. Men efter 10 timer i en Greyhound har jeg ogsaa faaet nok af busser for et stykke tid! turen var dog rigtigt smuk, gennem blodroede og gule efteraars farver i bjergene, nice!

Nu er jeg saa i Montrèal, paa det fedeste Youth Hostel jeg nogensinde har boet paa, og nogle rigtig cool companeros. Cool by, selvom det hele foregaar paa Fransk, heldigvis kan langt de fleste snakke Engelsk, men det er vist ogsaa det eneste sted i Quebec at de rent faktisk ogsaa goer det.

Torsdag er det videre til Sarah i Toronto med toget, og saa skal jeg lige have fundet en maade at komme fra Toronto til New York... 11 timer med toget, 9 timer med grayhound, 6 timer i bil, og 1.5 time med fly, surt flyet koster 350 dollar :-( da jeg ikke er saerligt frisk paa en ny omgang grayhound ;-)

Bienvenue au Montrèal

Flyet landede som planlagt i Newark Liberty International Airport, og helt som planlagt var turen gennem tolden et mareridt. En anden passager fra havde i et akut tilfaelde af barnlig naivitet, fotograferet et stort skilt med teksten, Welcome to the United States of America, paa sin vej gennem terminalen, staklen blev naermest overfaldet af vagterne i tolden, nej velkommen skulle man ihvertfald ikke foele sig. Da det blev min tur, betragtede betjenten mig mistroisk, indtil han paa en naesten grinagtig, aerke amerikansk accent halvvejs spurgte halvvejs konstaterede "traveling alone!?" hvilket oejensynligt var vaeldigt mistaenksomt, for derefter fortsatte et 5 minutters krydsforhoer, hvilket dog endte med at jeg, med en slet antydning af irritation, grundet taemeligt rationelle grunde til at vaere hvor jeg var, paa det givende tidspunkt, uden selskab, blev lukket ind i det forjaettede land.

Da toget fra lufthavnen ankom til Penn Station paa Manhattan, og jeg begav mig ind i det der maa vaere verdens stoerste labyrint, The New York City Subway, opdagede jeg til min skraek at sedlen med adressen til mit Hostel var blevet vaek. Ordene Don't Panic blinkede et par gange i mit synsfelt, uden jeg dog kunne forbinde det med nogen af de mange neon skilte der arbejdede haardt for at finde et tilfaeldig epileptikker at tage livet af. Ikke at fortvivle, det virkede paa trods af den manglede fysiske tilstaedevaerelse til at vaere et godt raad. Saa istedet for at gaa i panik besluttede jeg at det alt andet end lige ville vaere en bedre indgangsvinkel at finde et sted hvor jeg kunne komme paa internettet og slaa adressen op. Efter en stoerre eftersoegning fandt jeg en lille kinesisk internet biks, gemt godt af vejen ca. 20 blocks fra hvor jeg startede min soegning. Og derefter var det bare at finde op til 94th & Lexington paa oest siden af central park.

Efter at vaere blevet installeret paa mit hostel, var neaste punkt i programmet at faa bugt med en kold fadoel, en lille lomme filosofi jeg har, siger at man ikke er faldet til, og faldet ned efter dagens strabadser, foer man er blevet svalet af en kold oel! ca 5 minutter senerere sad jeg paa en wannabee irsk pub, og forsoegte at overbevise en ignorant bartender om at Carlsberg paa ingen maade kunne siges at vaere en Norsk oel, som de ellers paastullerede i deres drinks menu, og at det egentligt var en betragtlig fornaermelse mod hele det Danske folk at paastaa andet! Og en haandfuld oel senere sad jeg paa en lukket klub i Upper West Side til fri bar sammen med to fyre fra mit hostel og underede mig over hvordan precist jeg var endt hvor jeg var, noget med at have den rette accent og mumle nok til at man virker vigtig, men uden doermanden har en chance for at forstaa hvad man siger.

Weekenden gik med plejning af toemmermaend og sigtseeing i New York - der er nok at tage af... Frihedsgudinden, MoMa, Empire State, Ground Zero, Ellis Island, Brooklin Bridge, Wall Street, Central Park var nogen af dem jeg trods alt fik naaet.

Anyway, jeg er lige indviteret paa en omgang oel, saa resten faar i senere :-)

Last post from the Phillipines

Hep hey, so once again your uncle travelling mack brings you news from his favourite corner of the Planet, making the world unsafe for god (and my dodgy alcohol stained memory) only knows which time...

Since i last bothered you guys with mails only slightly more useful than your average penis enchanting offers (or are they?), yours truly have payed a visit to the end of the world - you heard me, thanks to my unrivalIed intelligence, or perhaps the slightly more probable explanation, thanks to alcohol intoxication induced by Filipino rum, I managed to find an end on this planet everyone thinks is round - bullocks I tell you - bullocks!

It certainly feels that way when you're strapped to a toilet with diarrhea, on an island with fuck all to do but diving...

but nice things first, we travelled by pump boat one hour, then on the local bus, on road, which left more infamous potholed dirt tracks around the planet, very little to be desired. However it was rather nice to get off the beaten track and out into the real Philippines - poor but mindblowingly beautiful.

Anyway, after countless hour getting shakn' to the bone, Cambodia style, we got on a small boat that ferried us to a small island, rally nice, white sandy beach, rain forest in the middle, and no noises by the cicada's and waves rushing on to the shore, and as the sun set, hundreds of fireflies was illuminating the ancient rain forest, B E A U T I F U L !

Unfortunately, that was how much i got to enjoy, as monsoon rain, and severe stomach problems kicked into gear at the exactly same time, conspiring bastards! but all the same, considering this island, is smack in the middle of monsoon winds, we've been really lucky with the weather so far, so all the same. More worrying however was the fact that i was 6 hours from the nearest doctor, and displaying all the symptoms of dengue fever. As the boat that was to ferry us to the reef we were heading to dive was broken down, we headed back after two days

(and a miserable birthday, in company with a toilet which at this time had come a very close friend of mine)

when we got to the port city on our return leg, the surf looked like it would make any Hawaiian's mouth water and grasp for the nearest surfboard, which with our luggage unfortunately wasn't an option. after some looking around, and quite a bit of bargaining, we found a sailor, which, i trust, by mere coincidence looked very much like Buddha, and with his very little, rickety, but somehow charming boat - we threw ourselves into the waves - (since you are now reading these lines, and guess ill just have to drop the suspence and say that i survived)

so a couple of days of restitution awaits here on the resort, i am allready feeling better, after the family doctor (she sometimes come in handy my step mother) got me on a antibiotics treatment

Tthen we will head back to the Manilla meyhem!!! DADADAM!

catch you guys when i get home :-)

regards

El Grande Mucho Stefano Con Patatas!

Holla Mi Chica Cuapas!

Greetings from the white shores of Puerto Gallera on the phillipines, glad i got here in the first place...

Our flight to Frankfurt had gotten delayed, so when we landed in Frankfurt Airport we had only 30 minuttes to catch our flight for Manilla - unfortunantly the otherwise splendid airport in Copenhagen has been declasified to a high risk airport by our friends in Bruxells, so when we got of the plane we were houled by busses, to outside the airport area, to have a "proper" security check, fair enough, but unfortunantly it also left us in a rather delicate situation - as we had to recheck in on the plane, get through security, and immigration, and get to the gate in something rather close to 20 minuttes.... if you've ever had the questionable honors of transitting through frankfurt, you will know that this is indeed utterly impossible. Luckly i was able to charm a rather dodgy looking german lady, into checking us in to the flight anyway, following was a hectic run through the airport, my brother managed to have a immigration counter open just for us, and a 'apparently' gay securtity worker, let us straight trough to que to the security check. So against all odds we managed to catch out flight, albeit we had a large airbus with a mere 400 passengers waiting just for us for something like 10 minuttes.

VIP or what? :)

After a short stopover in Guangzhou, China - we landed in the terribly run down airport of Manilla, looked alot like something bought from a soviet airport wholesale some 20 years ago, just wondering how they managed to transport it here :) first impressions proved to be right, the country seems to be quite pure - much worse than Thailand and the likes, however i have to say that so far i like the philipinos very much.

Anyway, due to high seas on the crossing to the island we were go to, mindoro occidential, we had to spend the night on Hotel in Manilla. for dinner we went to a rather fancy Japanese restaurant, quite nice to be greeted by a large choir of "Irrashaimase" again - allthough to rest of the family seemed rather perplexed by this. Apparently it was really a japanese restaurant, so i had to order for the whole family in Japanese. including a fair amount of Kirin beers for sleepers.

Next day a bus picked us up in the airport and drove us to Bandang, from there we had to take a small ferry boat over the strait to our hotel. We have a typhoon roaming somewhere up north, so the sea was pretty rough, oddly enough it was the Asians that puked, while all the Europeans seemed ok.

This afternoon we arrived at our Hotel - and holy cow - what a change from the standard im used to when travelling this part of the world. Our bungalow, for instance, have a line connected to a house, which residents, a quite nice family, only serves our bungalow, shocking! can't say im to fond of the principle, allthough it is very nice. i just don't like being the rich white boy very much. Allthough i do like the fact that mojitos are 6 DKK a piece :)

The resort is stunning, nested around a small cove, with crystal green waters, a white sandy beach, and the bungalows in traditional phillipino style - dotted around beneath the palm trees. Gotta love Asia man!

anyway, im gonna catch a nice cold beer, prepare for my dives tomorrow, and leave you guys to it...

ill keep you updated, when i can drag myself away from the beach bar :)

- Stefanowich

Action packed!

Det viser sig at vaere en temmeligt action packed afslutning paa mit
ophold her i Japan....

Jeg fik mine penge fra konsulatet i Fukouka, tog en bus tilbage til
Kagoshima, nede paa sydspiden af mainland Japan. og fik fat i en
faerge til Okinawa...

Jeg indlogerede mig paa en Tatami maatte sammen med alskins Japanere,
da moerket faldt, lagde jeg mig paa min madras med den klare intention
at faa noget soevn. 1 time senere opgav jeg det koncept da der var
hardcore Japansk druk igang, 2 meter fra mig, hvilket er en temmelig
hoejrystet afaere....

Da jeg ikke havde specielt meget lyst til at vaerre den dumme gaijin,
var den naest bedste loesning jeg kunne finde paa at tage del i
festlighederne. Hermed min introduktion til Okinawas legendariske
Awamori, ildvand naar det er vaerst! og en kurioes japansk drikkeleg,
hvor den foerste holder en lille tale, skaenker awamori op i alles
glas, skaaler, holder en lille afslutningstale foer han vaelger, den
naeste, som saa gentager proceduren - og saadan forsaetter det saa til
man enten loeber toer, eller alle er gaaet kolde. Og hermed har jeg nu
holdt min foeste tale paa Japansk, til store bifald, selvom der nok
ikke skulle saa meget til at impornere samlingen af buisness folk,
kokosei piger og altskinds andet godtfolk.

Vel fremme paa Okinawa, checkede jeg ind paa hvad der viste sig at
vaere noget af et bohemisk hostel, med alle typer mennesker, og
naesten dansk hygge i stuen om aftenen.

Paa min foedselsdag, hookede jeg op med fire Japanske piger fra
Kyushu, og tog paa en klub kaldet "Slum", hvilket skulle vise sig at
vaere et meget passende navn.
Der var fuld af amerikanske soldater fra den gigantiske Kadena Airbase
der ligger paa hovedoen.

fulde amerikanske soldater og naive japanske piger, doedsends farlig
cocktail! og det viste sig at holde stik, en to meter hoej og vel lige
saa bred sort marine i hip hop outfit, begyndte at tage paa en af
pigerne i selskabet, da hun legede med, blev han straks mere serioes,
og saa var det ikke sjovt laengere. paa trods af gentagende gange at
have raabt yamete! (stop) blev idioten ved. fatesvage amerikanske
soldater, IQ som et baseball bat!
frustreret over skuet gik jeg hen og oversatte stop, planen var at at
koebe den stakkels pige nok tid til at kunne undslippe, hvilket for
sin vis ogsaa virkede, men resulterede i et resulut knytnaeve slag
lige i mellemgulvet, og saa skulle jeg ellers bare laere og lade vaere
med at blande mig, for det blev efterfulgt at slag efter slag efter
slag, jeg var fokuseret paa at parere slag mod hovedet, hvilket resten
af kroppen nok ikke var saa tilfreds ned, men jeg havde absolut ingen
intention om at proeve et knock-out! efter at have faaet laesterlige
taesk i et minuts tid, ankom security, som koldt og kynisk smidte os
begge ud..... paa samme parkeringsplads!!!! og saa var det ellers bare
benene paa nakken, og ind i den foerste og bedste taxa. fucking hell,
og saa paa min foedselsdag! som bortset fra det, indtil da havde
vaeret super!

Efter en dags restitution fik jeg booket et dyk med en australsk
divemaster, dagen efter. Men uheld kommer aabenbart sjaeldent alene,
for det er Typhoon season, og en af slagsen hyggede sig nede syd for
oen, hvilket betoed at alt dykning blev stoppet, alt for hoeje
boelger, saa dykning blev der ikke noget af. Og da jeg stod op naeste
dag, viste det sig mit fly til Tokyo, havde samme opfattelse af
situationen :-(

Saa jeg soegte ly fra den heftige regn og endnu mere heftige vind paa
en Canadisk baro g sidder pt og haaber at mit fly gaar i aften, ellers
kommer jeg til at have vaeret i Japan uden at have set Tokyo.

De dage med solskin her har ellers vaeret super cool, chilling og
volleyball paa stranden, pina colada (som er billigere end en oel!!!),
snorkling, etc. super fedt sted, som nok bliver coolere hvis det
lykkedes den lokale regering, at faa smidt Amerikanerne ad helvedes
til!

Hilsen
Stefanowitch

Crisis on Kyushuu

Lad os starte med Korea, selvom jeg ikke har så meget at
kommentere på netop det punkt. Fra Busan tog jeg bussen til Gyoung-ju,
som skulle være Koreas svar på Angkor i Cambodia, well, lad os bare
sige at hvis jeg var Angkor ville jeg blive fornærmet, og så har jeg
vist ikke sagt for meget, og så afslutte sætningen med at tilføje at
Vietnam og Korea pt fører skyttegravs krig et eller andet sted
tilfældigt sted i mit sind, om at tage prisen for det værste sted jeg
har sat mine ben, resultatet blæser stadigt i vinden.

Dog skal de siges, at jeg fik mig en positiv oplevelse da jeg jeg på
færgen mellem Busan og Fukuoka på Kyushu i Japan, blev stuvet sammen
med en flok unge koreanske studerende i kahytten, ellere rettere
rummet med tatami måtter på gulvet og japanske foldud madrasser langs
væggen. Det udviklede sig hurtigt til et sandt overflødelseshorn af
Øl, Saké og dens Koreanske pendant, samt diverse andre obskure
asiatiske drikkevarer, efter jeg vist kom til at ytre at asiater ikke
kan tåle alkohol - og så måtte jeg ellers lære at drikke på Koreansk
manner. Men jeg kan med en slet stolthed meddele de herre og damer at
jeg slap helskindet gennem mine prøvelser - i hvad der må kaldes en
uafgjort mellem Danmark og Korea, med Japan som taber (men de var
også kun repræsenteret af en, selv efter Japansk standard, meget
spinkel pige, skal det lige siges til deres forsvar). Men det hele
foregik nu i en overordenlig hjertevarm steming, i et miks af Japansk,
Engelsk og Koreansk - krydret med et par skoul (skål med koreansk
udtale) - herligt!

Næste morgen skulle skibet forlades inden kl 8.00, så vi var mildest
tale ikke særligt friske da vi ankom til immigration, og jeg havde
lykkeligt glemt hvad jeg havde fået fortalt om folks prøvelser på
dette rædselsfulde sted. Men efter efter kun 20 minutter var jeg
igennem første del af prøvelserne, og var nu udstyret med en nyt 90
dages visa til Japan. Derefter kom tolden, og jeg blev naturligvis
hevet til side, til det famøse chikan...erm.... told check.

Den unge kvindelige tolder gik som forventet voldsomt til værks, til
dels berretiget, da de unge vestlige engelsk lærer står for langt over
halvdelen af canabis distributionen i Japan, men efter 10 minutter kom
jeg, i en uklog kombination af overmod over at have fået mit Visa, og
tømmermændenes ubehagelige bieffekter til at proklamere over for dens
stakkels pige, at hun ikke behøvede at checke efter porno, det havde
de gjort meget grundigt i Korea (de har meget strænge import
restriktioner på den slags :) ). Hun rødmede helt, og pakkede
hurtigt alt mit habengut tilbage i tasken, og fik mumlet Welcome to
Japan, før hun hurtigt begav sig afsted til den næste blegfjæs.

Ha! så kan de lære det! dumt, jeps, men hey, whatever works :)

Om aftenen forsatte vi festlighederne i Fukuokas berømte/berygtede
underholdnings distrikt, hvor jeg, gud forbyde det, blev tvunget op
foran en mikrofon, og så måtte jeg elles slå mig løs til Robbie
Williams - gys! men det så ud til at være god underholdning for det
øvrige selskab!

næste dag, videre til Nagasaki. Jeg ved ikke helt hvorfor jeg besluttede
at udsætte mig selv for en anden omgang selv tortur, men det var et godt
museum, så alt vel. Jeg havde indlogeret mig selv på et Youth Hostel hos
en rar gammel dame. Om aftenen trak hun alle gæsterne ud af deres værelser,
og så fik vi ellers serveret hendes mands hjemmebrændt, herligt, og som
den eneste blegfjæs fik jeg kamp til mit hår med at prøve at konversere.
urgh! tricket ligger i at trække mit begrænsede ordforråd mest muligt ud
med en masse tillægsord og japanernes mange udbrud, så konversationen
varer mere end et kvarter :) denmaaaakuuuu waaa saaamuuuuiiiii deeesuuu
neeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeee! heldigvis var der en koreansk japansk lærer blandt
selskabet, så jeg kunne få lidt assistance nu og her.

Næste dag, videre til Kuroshima, Jeg gik ned på stationen og fik bestilt en
billet, men var nær drættet om med hjertestop da billetdamen uden at vride
sig i skam, kold og kontant, meddelte at det blev "mankyuusengohyaku en desu"
19500 yen!? voldtægt! røveri! men japan er nu engang japan, og tog systemet
er hyper effektivt men usandsynligt dyrt. lettere forvirret over
billetautomaten ikke ville acceptere mit billet satte jeg mig ind i toget.
forvirringen steg, endnu et nøk, da billet automaten heller ikke ville
acceptere mit billet da jeg skulle ud. en venlig saleryman på jernbanen
opklarede mysteriet. "Kaerimasuyo!" "hvad! retur? jeg skal fandme ikke
noget kaerimasu! jeg skal se palmer og bikinier på en sandstrand sydpå!"

Efter en 30 minutter lang, meningsløs diskution med en Japan Railways,
informations medarbejder gav jeg op, bandede og svovlede hende langt væk.
og uden hverken at bukke eller neje, fandt jeg med hidsige skridt ud af
togterminalen, mens jeg gennem mine tænder bandede "bakka da neeee!"
(den kære læser bedes venligst notere sig denne opførsel - forklaring
følger)

jeg spenderede et par dage her med en mildest talt eksentrisk youth hostel
ejer, og en sød australsk pige fra Melbourne, før jeg forsatte til en ø syd
på, hvor jeg indlogerede mig hos et ungt japansk par, i en fantastisk træ
hytte. Dagende gik med trekking i bjergene (jeg erobrede et 1953 meter højt
bjerg) aftenerne med hyggelig snak og druk med ejerne og de andre gæster,
i den store stue. Og - brace yourselves - jeres egen, Stefan Ertmann himself,
spiste flyvefisk - med så meget selvdicisiplin at mine forældre ville have
fældet en tåre. FANTASTISK STED! jeg vil helt sikkert komme tilbage hertil.

Efter et par fantastiske men udmattende dage, tog jeg færgen tilbage til
Kagoshima, for at komme videre til Okinawa med en anden færge... og så brød
helvede løs!.... DA DA DA DAAAAAM!

jeg kunne ikke hæve penge, hmmm, jeg ringede til Danske Bank - der stod penge
på kortet, jeg skulle kunne hæve! jeg prøvede en anden automat, den samme
besked. "credit limit exceeded". ringede tilbage til min bank, som denne gang,
meddelte at jeg havde overskredet Mastercards grænse på 15000 kr pr 30 dage.
Og den kunne de ikke ophæve. Jeg var allerede på min reserve beholdning af Yen.
og med et tvunget køb af ny taletid til telefonen, var jeg nede på 4600 Yen.
Jeg ringede til ambasaden for at høre hvordan jeg kunne få overført penge til
Japan. Svaret var yderst nedslående. Det kan man ikke. Tvivlende på dette tog
jeg en rundtur hos bankerne og til posthuset - og måtte konstatere at ambassaden
havde ret. Nu var gode råd dyre. 4600 Yen forslog som en skrædder i helvede,
jeg kunne få en nat med tag over hovedet og et måltid, eller en fandens masse
cup noodles. Det er svært at gå i panik i Japan, og jeg havde prøvet
det der var
værre, så min puls var rolig, men jeg var så småt begyndt at få lidt sved på
panden.

Ambasadens redningslinie bestod i formidle en overførsel til det
nærmeste konsulat,
hvilket var vældigt, borset fra det faktum at det nærmeste konsulat lå
i Fukuoka,
250 km væk, hvilket også betød at togbilleten ville koste sådan omtrent 2000
Yen mere end hvad min sølle pung indeholdte.

Jeg tømte alt min baggage ud på en bænk for at se om jeg kunne finde
nogle ekstra
penge et eller andet sted, og mens jeg gennemsøgte diverse bruchourer,
faldt min
retur billet til Nagasaki ned på jorden. HA! Hvem sagde svine held? måske ikke
særligt mange, da de kære læsere nok ikke kender så meget til Japansk geografi.
Men svine held var det nu engang, da jeg nu kunne komme til Fukuoka
for højst en
minimal ekstra skilling, og måske endda få nogle spir tilbage.

Jeg skænkede det førnævnte monster af en skrankepave en stilfærdig taksom tanke

Og så var det ellers afsted til stationen...

[To Be Continued]....

Korea

Konichiwa

Hey allesammen...

Hr Batholdys mail mindede mig lige om hvor daalig jeg har vaeret til
at give lyd fra mig, saa hermed et lille forsoeg paa at kompensere :)
Og nu jeg skriver er det ikke engang fra Japan, nix, i laeste rigtigt,
sider pt paa en internet cafe i Busan eller Pusan eller whatever, de
kan ikke engang blive enige med sig selv om hvordan det skal staves,
men det udtales saadan omtraent ligsom Jakob Bartholdy der efter ca 17
fernet branca, gennem alkohol taager og dobbelsyn opdager han er i
faerd med at snerve den famoese broendby fan, og til sin
overraskeskelse netop i det oejeblik udbryder BUSAN!, det er muligvis
ikke alle der kan forestille sig det, men hvem har nogensinde sagt
lingvistik skal vaere nemt?

Jeg er netop ankommet med faergen fra Japan imorges, og hold da op et
kultur chock! det er saadan omtrent som hvis man forestiller sig at
sidde paa den chickeste cafe i nyhavn, og derefter stige paa en baad,
og gaa direkte i land paa en fisker bodega i Thyboroen.

det er saa proviensielt i forhold til Japan, og saa anderledes. mit
foerste kulturchock var da jeg frisk ankommet gik direkte ind i en
Family Mart for at koebe en sodavand. Den saa neasten ud som i japan,
og jeg var noget helt hen til koeleskabet foer det slog mig.... der
mangler noget.... jeg stod lidt og undrede mig over hvad precist det
var der manglede da endnu en kunde kom ind i butikken, saa slog det
mig, ekspedienten sagde ikke noget... hvad fanden? ingen irreshaimase?
(irreshaimase er et meget sofistikeret japansk ord, der direkte
oversat betyder noget i retning af "velkommen til vores butik, vor
kunde, vor gud, sig hop, og vi vil spoerge hvor hoejt? vi haaber dit
ophold i vores butik vil blive meget behageligt")
det foeltes meget maerkligt, den Japanske hoeflighed, er noget man,
som saa mange andre af de smaa maerkvaerdige ting i Japan vender man
sig lyn hurtigt til.

Og deres toej, det er et chock at komme fra din meget strikse
dresscode i Japan og saa hertil Korea. De gaar i shorts!!! what the
fuck!?!?!?!?!?!? faar ikke at naevne at jeg ikke har set et eneste
slips selvom jeg har vaeret her en halv dag, jeg er intet mindre end
maaloes! I det hele taget foeles Korea meget meget Asiatisk, og meget
fattigere end Japan. Der er et kaempe markeds distrikt her i Busan,
med kopi varer af alskins slags, og.....frugter wow! det er noget jeg
har savnet i Japan. Man kan saagar faa frisk blaendet juice, det er
noget der er uhoert i japan for et aeble koster 300 Yen... PR STK.!
(ca 16 kr) Og saa er de saa direkte, i forhold til Japanerne, det
foeles meget maerkligt, de opfatter en som rig fordi man er hvid,
saadan er det slet ikke paa den anden side af straedet.

Og saa er der en anden meget tydelig forskel, man har ikke den
foelelse af total tryghed som man har i Japan, det er svaert at saette
fingre paa hvorfor, man jeg foelte det saa snart jeg kom ud fra faerge
terminalen. Det er en virkelig maerkelig fornemmelse, saadan at gaa og
holde oeje med sine ting, hvilket man slet ikke goer i Japan fordi der
ikke rigtigt er kriminalitet, anden end den meget organiserede, som
Yakuzaen staar faar. Og den foregaar som saa meget andet i Japan paa
et meget mere sofistikeret nivau end tyveri og lign. Her er ogsaa
mange tiggere, hvilket man slet ikke ser i Japan, det er en af de
positive ting ved den meget staerke nationalisme i Japan, de har en
faelleskabs foelelse der goer de ikke rigtigt kan acceptere at se
japanere der tigger, saa istedet for at tigge, opfinder de nogle
meningsloese job til dem, som f.eks. parkeringsvagt.

Nu tager jeg lige et par dage her i Korea og ser mig lidt om nu jeg er
her, mens jeg lader op til hvad der skulle vaere verdens vaerste
graense overgang, immigration naar man er fra vesten, i japan, efter
faergen til Korea, er ikke for sarte sjaele. Der er saa mange der bor
arbejder illegalt i landet, at man automatisk bliver opfattet som
saadan, selvom man er helt reel (hvilket jeg jo ikke engang helt kan
siges at vaerre!) saa ifoelge andre gaijins, kan jeg se frem til et 2
timers forhoer hvor jeg b.la. skal fremvise beviser for jeg har vaeret
turist, bank udskrifter, flybillet etc., et skraemmende grundigt
baggage check (hvor de skulle checke alt, selv inden i hver enkelt
sok!!!!) og saa et par timers yderligere ventetid som ekstra chikane,
indtil de loeber toer for undskyldninger og forhaabentligt lader mig
komme ind i Japan igen. Og saa skal jeg for alt i verden lige meget
hvad, ikke ytre et eneste ord paa Japansk!!! hvilket ioevrigt er
coolt, ihvertfald her i Pusan, er der flere der snakker japansk end
engelsk - saa her faar jeg ogsaa nytte af mine haardt tilkaempede
japansk ever :)

anyway, det var en lidt lang mail, men som sagt der var den del at
kompensere for... Men jeg er faardig med skolen nu, Kyoto var for cool
- men det maa i hoere om naar jeg kommer hjem, det var fedt at opleve
at bo i Japan, og ikke bare vaerre turist, hvis jeg komme ind igen
(hvilket jeg trods alt regner med) saa rejser jeg ned gennem Kyushu
til Okinawa, og tager et par dage ved stranden og maaske tager et dyk
eller to, foer jeg flyver tilbage til Tokyo, og derfra til Koebenhavn

vi ses om en maaneds tid!

- Stefanowitch

Shopping in Osaka

Shopping in Osaka...

Today i went to a very peculiar neighboorhood in Osaka called
Dotomburi, a crazy place that lives on a rather peculiar form of
darwinism; survival of the flashiest, much less flashy by day, but
just as crowded, i went shopping after a Japanese laundry machine in
an much impressive manner had managed to rip a pair of my trousers
apart.

Much to my surprise in a country where stores sell apples at a dollar
a piece, and perhaps much more impressive, actually gets away with it.
Clothing in japan it seems very reasonably priced. I have to say i
was in an utter state of complete disbelief when i checked the first
price tag, but plowing to serveral stores, left my with no other
choice, but to, albeit gradually, accept this fact.

A very nice Cardigan, a pair of trousers, a pair of shorts and 10 much
needed new socks (even after two rounds the washing machine wasnt able
to git rid of the godawfull smell of sweaty socks), set me back a
mere 7000 Yen (65 USD, 380 DKK)

Walking around in the neighboorhood also gave me a very good chance to
do some people watching, which is outragously fun in japan, after much
philosophising and testing of my thesises, i came to the conclusion
that while god may have acted unjustly when he genetically
conditionened the poor japanese girls to have small tits (small, but
rock solid, erm, firm - i hasten to add) he, as compensation equiped
the fairer sex of this race, with an extraordinarily tight ass, simply
amazing, i have travelled alot, and nowhere have i seen anything
remotely like it. If youre not an ass person, this country will
definantly straighten you out.

And much to its credit, the japanese fashion industry, have not been
late to exploid this fact to its fullest, the japanese girls wear
either very tight jeans, or mini skirts, in a freigtfull combination
with the highest heeled sandals i have even seen.