Hiatus. Is it? Was it? Here I am under the covers in a San Francisco hotel watching Sunday talk shows sipping on horrible coffee (it's so bad that powdered cream makes it better) and itching to write. Itching to restart the blog and make it better. Telwell 2.0. The blog up to this point was a picture and paragraphs of semi-decent jargon. That's gonna change. I've got my media team fired up. We're going vids, music, maybe a design or two. We're gonna put in all kinda crazy links. Now that Friedman discovered the world is flat, I've employed tech machines throughout the globe. Although we're in full force, real-time, our first video is going back in time...

Life Updated

Recent Affairs of a Good Life:

300: Wow! Is this movie an experience or what? The look is revolutionary. The off-colored film appear brushed with a metallic stroke. Heavily relied on slow motion drew you into the action. In slow motion, slicing swords appeared to cut flesh and at times through the movie screen, then blood would irrupt as if at a splatter-paint convention. Musically, the soundtrack meshed with the actions perfectly. In the most violent episodes slow motion and synchronized instrumentals made warriors appear like untouchable herculean heroes. If you don't mind violence, gore and skies darkened with raining arrows then 300 is a fabulous way to spend a few hours.

Peter, Bjorn and John: These rockers are straight outta Sweden. Home of beautiful blonds, safe yet sophisticated cars and Swiss cheese. Not that they are from Switzerland but I'm sure they have some Swiss cheese. I mean I've never yodeled at the foot of the Matterhorn while enjoying the aromatic pleasures of my herbal RICOLA!!! But I still frequently indulge in Swiss cheese. PB&J's album incorporates differing flavors better that a PB&J sandwich. Big fat bass lines aided and abetted by drum machines, samples and the round ones often times played in a garage. The main vocalist sounds like Elvis Costello and refreshingly pronounces some words with a Nordic accent. Some lyrics paint pictures, some invoke emotions and others generate ideas and inspiration. The aptly fit "Roll the Credits" soothes your inner anxiousness and suggests, "Let's take the easy way out, let's pull away for good, let's pull the curtains down and leave." Now imagine it with a finger picked mandolin and the drum roll of a marching army. I'm into the album. You can hear some tracks here.

UCLA, UCLA, UCLA
After missing last years March Madness I've come to realize home much I LOVE it. These kids want to win. There are no shoe contracts or money laden scoring incentives. It's like this: You don't hustle, you don't play. You complain, you sit. College basketball is a beautiful sport. Unlike the pros, this is about the cohesiveness of the team. There are few isolation plays, rarely do you see a player Kobe-it(dribble up court, no pass, instant fadeaway forced shot). It's all about winning. These kids play for each other and although few win, all try their hardest. March Madness is the greatest sporting event of the year...every year.

"Lost"
Like my mom says, "One question is answered and three more come up." Summed up perfectly. It's very entertaining but at times it lacks answers. Showing the events that led to Locke's stint in the wheel chair answered pre-island Locke questions. But what about delving into how and why Locke could walk after the plane crashed. Just a thought, regardless I'll tune in again this week.

Santa Barbara
Beautiful. I've mainly been on the Eastside and Downtown. Working a bit at Whitcraft Winery. We got a good crew down there trying to put the finishing touches on bottles so their contents can be poured in stemmed glasses and sniffed and drank with considerable thought. Sadly, it's temporary work but definitely a cool thing to be a part of.
Spring and it's rising temperatures have dipped in and out of the forecast lately. Last Friday I pedaled to Butterfly Beach. Once a bastion of youngsters laying around listening to tunes, throwing boches balls and sipping a cold one or two. Now, wow, what a difference. Even on a weekday it was filled with loud, out of town college meatheads more interested in making their presence known than appreciating the beach.

Shout Out's:
The boys up on Loma Media (excluding Sammy) for having Sunday afternoon BBQ's. Yesterday's menu included Tri-tip, chicken breasts and grilled crunchy asparagus with an infusion of an amazing city view complemented by a zesty setting sun.
Attorney General Gonzales and his muscular fortitude. I thought he'd have fallen off the cliff by now. He must have enormous strength in those fingertips to continually hold onto the edge. He'll slip into the disgraced abyss sooner than later.

Country of the Week: Iran. The gull, under all this international pressure, to detain a boat full of British soldiers. Like the country or, in all likelihood not, they sure make the news interesting...them and that whole legal custody battle over Anne Nicole Smith's infant child. I think the father is her deceased billionaire ex-husband's son. It's the only way he could get that fortune back.

Bye.

The Saddest Four Year Anniversary

This administration is shit. Sorry grandma and everyone that I may have offended with my language. If you were offended because I'm calling this Bush Regime excrement then take off your partisan veil and look at what's happening. Oh man, a war started and being conducted with lies. An unnecessary war that has sparked a civil war and may further destabilize the most volatile region on earth. A freaking war that has inflicted pain on mothers in Kansas, mother-less children in Baghdad and a saddened young man sitting in a coffee shop welling up with tears in his eyes. My pain is probably the easiest to overcome. I don't have first hand suffering. My brother isn't worrying about IED's, my father can safely walk at the farmers market and my mom isn't grieving over her children whose lives were taking prematurely.
Do I bear responsibility for this war? Did I do everything I could have to prevent it? I was demonstrating over four years ago against Bush's push for war but what have I done since? I guess I voted against Bush in '04 but was I out there encouraging others to vote? No. I know that I'm not to blame for this bloody war but I can't help but feel some responsibility for what MY country is doing. I'm ashamed. I'm angry. I'm sad.
I'm not about pointing fingers. Well, actually, let's just get this one out of the way. This is the fault of Bush/Cheney/Rumsfeld and all those neocons who lied to and in essence cheated the American people into this quagmire . For those of you who voted for Bush I'd love to say you bear responsibility. That by backing this guy your support led to war. A war that continues to escalate as I type every letter. But I'm not gonna blame you. I'm not gonna say "see what you've caused." I know a lot of people like to be partisan, blaming those who vote in different primaries and agreeing with those that tell you what you want to hear. I'm so over division. We need to come together and figure out a solution to this mess. We need dialogue and if I hear one more of those SOBs who says I don't support my troops or I'm un-American because I question the actions of my government then I'm just gonna say it louder. Do you hear me Tom Delay? You don't scare me punk ass.

QUESTIONS

Where in the World is Tommy Franks? Has our valiant general who "Hoorad" his way to Baghdad disappeared. I'm guessing hunting in Texas and routing for North Carolina in the Tourney.

How many young men and women serving in a war zone are gonna come back and not be taken care of? Do you think that those with mental health problems will get help? Shit this "troop supporting" admin. isn't even caring for those with blown off appendages.

What was the price of Halliburton stock before the war? $20 Now? $32.45 (but it split once since the war). Cheney's snarling all the way to the bank. Freaking Puto.

Is this war worth one more American soldier's arm or Iraqi child's life or one cent that could be spent here on education, health care and permanent housing for those ignored during Katrina?

What are you doing to oppose this war?

Here's the very least I can do...the website to the House of Representatives, you can write a letter expressing your views. Remember we have the freedom to voice our opinions here and don't let some bantering, partisan bully tell you otherwise. Lois Capps I'm watching you. Feinstein and Barbara also. Arnie, I'm still disappointed in you for campaigning with Bush in '04, but you can make it up to me if you don't do the same for the Hawks in '08. Bush, I'm done with you. Enjoy that presidential library. It will serve to us as a reminder of your disastrous performance and in turn it will be your only positive legacy.


PS. I'm pissed because these partisan Republican hacks hijacked my American Flag. They must have stock in the flag business because all over the world they're buying them...and burning them.

Lets change things. Start with yourself.

Lisbon, Spain then Cali

Lisbon, Lisbon, Lisbon. A city of rich history and cheap eats. Located on a river that saw many of an explorer sail to an unknown, but adventurous fate. Portugal, pushed to the edge of the Atlantic by Spain but unrelenting when distinguishing itself from it's only land neighbor. Oh Portugal, how I miss thee.
Before arriving I was informed that Lisbon was a piece of work. Unique by its own right, and proud of it. An island on the Iberian Penninsula which survived the centuries when Spain was the greatest conquering nation on Earth. Portugal, small in area, people and GDP but not heart and mind. The worlds greatest navigators, shipbuilders and, arguably, at one time, conquerers. Just take out your atlas and find Brazil, Angola and Macau. Besides Macau, they're all a tad bigger than they're mother tongue land, to see the very least. Before arriving at the Sete Rios bus station I knew I was in for something special.
Being the unorganized person I am at times I didn't have a place to stay upon arrival. It's never a good thing to arrive at a busy bus/train/metro station in a large city at night with no place to stay. But as if heaven sent, a computer with free internet access stood glistening in the station. I hadn't seen many computers in bus stations and to be FREE, man you had to be kidding me. It wasn't the greatest of connections but I found a few hostel searching websites. On one search I found a hostel by the name of Oasis that had super high ratings. Somewhere in the mid 90s, almost unheard of. After finding directions, next were my bearings in the metro and I was off. I got off at my stop, up 4 flight of escalators and I was in the middle of a square next to a statue of a man that I assume by his hand shading the imaginary sun was some sort of an explorer. I walked the hilly streets looking for the hostel. Some drunk guy befriended me. (Note to you travel novices: Don't follow drunk guys who offer you directions at night in a European capital...unless you willing to punch him for the slightest reach of your stuff.) The guy thought he was funny but in the end directed me to the hostel. I walked in right after a group of 7 Aussie girls. Not a bad start.
Lisbon is very similar to San Francisco. Hills, trolleys, hippies, a replica of the Golden Gate Bridge and art. Every night I would sit at a vista spot just steps from the hostel and watch the sun set behind the red bridge. People of every variety were out. Stoned dread-lockers, thugs with corn-rows, old-folks supported by canes and the government, babies in strollers gazing at some of their first sunsets. Those nights were some of the most magical I've ever spent. I met amazing people in Lisbon, including a young lady that is very special to me.
The magic of Lisbon can hardly be conveyed in writing or pictures. It was about the time, place and people. Go and you'll see.

*Although I traveled Spain for three weeks after I left Lisbon I'm not going to go into too much detail. Not that it wasn't great but I'm now home and I want to talk about other things. So here's a quick overview. Madrid is big and there are lots of things to do. Frankly, I wasn't huge on it. BIG cities aren't my fav's in general. I have two that I love and that's enough for me. New York and Paris already take up enough space in my heart. Granada in southern Spain is unreal. It was the last bastion of Islamic power on the Iberian Peninsula. The Moorish architecture is beautiful, crowned by the Alhambra, the city is set below the ominous Sierra Nevada Mountains and the tapas are gratis. Go. Last but certainly not least: Barcelona. Up in Catalonia, this olympic city is dark-chocolate rich in culture. The architect Gaudi reigns but Ronaldinho is king. I stayed with my special lady friend I met in Lisbon. We had a blast, it was hard leaving her and the European continent but the Golden State was a callin'. A morning Swiss air flight landed me in LA(I can't stand that place). Then an Airbus ride up to East Beach and bam! I was back on the Riviera. So now, after being home for a while and adjusting to SB life, I'm really glad to be back.

Back in Pacific Standard Time

We'll here I am back home. Santa Barbara, California. Home of Karch Kiraly, La Super Rica, and rude, honk-happy L.A.ers who think that they own the place. It's good to be back home. But really, I'm happy just to see my family and friends. SB is a beautiful place. The Coastal mts. slope to the foothills flattening to the beach where the sea extends to the Channel Islands. On the eyes it doesn't get much better than these next of the woods. But all this said and done I'm not quite sure that SB, California and the U.S. is the place for me at the moment. I can't handle the rules everywhere. I'd like to make decisions based on my ability to judge what's right and wrong.
Maybe this is just my initial reaction to change. Well of course it's my initial reaction and I'm in need of adjustment. We'll see.
Back to the last few months of my trip. It's amazing how lazy I was writing this and how fast time flew. I believe I left off in Hungary. My plan after Hungary was to head down to Romania. I was intrigued by Transylvania, castles, the grand party on New Years Eve due to Romania's EU accession, and rural areas virtually unchanged for the last couple hundred years. I arrived at the Budapest train station early in the morning mid-December in order to transfer to a train heading in the direction of Bucharest. My connecting train wouldn't arrive for the next 3 hours and during this time I started to have some doubts. Did I really want to continue heading east in the dead of winter? Where temperatures can drop to -20 or -30 Celsius? I had planned on meeting my friend in Madrid at sometime and heading in the complete opposite direction with an exceedingly depleting bank account didn't make much sense. I took out my little organizer and made a list of 5 possibilities. Going to Romania, back to Berlin, staying in Budapest at a hostel, or with a friend there or catch the next train heading west. I went with the last choice. I checked the schedule saw a train leaving to Prague in 30 minutes and decided to head back to the Czech capital.
I spent a semi-frigid birthday and Christmas in the once Soviet invaded capital. I really enjoyed this tour of duty in Prague. Probably because I mostly stayed out of the touristy areas. I would walk through neighborhoods, sit in squares and read in cafes. A great book to read, especially in Prague because it takes place in Prague and is written by a Czech, is "the Unbearable Lightness of Being." Strange but good. I met some really cool folk at the hostel. A couple of savage Tasman's, a stony Canadian (from you guessed it BC) and a couple of wrilly Americans to name a few. After almost two weeks of guitar playing (I bought me a travel size for my birthday) and countless Czech Budvars I decided it was time to get to the Iberian peninsula.
Through Germany and onward to Paris. I spent a day in Paris with my friend Louis. I ate an amazing eclair, watched a weird movie and did a tasty bistro dinner. After goodbye cheek kisses to his cousin and her friend I hastefully grabbed my bags from his apartment and metroed it to the train station. I jumped on the train, unloaded my bags and went to put on my iPod. Bummer. The pod was back at Lou's plugged into the wall charging. It was alright, I had been listening non stop to anyone of my four different ones for the past 5 years. I slept upright in a seat that night surrounded by African immigrants. I woke up at the crack of dawn in fog shrouded French Basque country.
My final destination was San Sebastian. Or as I will refer to it for now on as "the Bastion." The Bastion is the cultural center of Pais Vasco, or in English, Basque Country. The Basques are a cultural group with one of the most distinctive and unique languages on Earth. No one really knows where the language originates from because it has no linguistic relatives. Some scholars believe it was the language of the original Iberians who occupied the peninsula thousands and thousands of years ago. The Basques were heavily oppressed during the Franco regime which ruled Spain from the late 30s, following the civil war, to the mid 70s when Franco eventually died. During this period the language was banned. Not only in schools or public but in households as well. A story goes that a couple was married for thirty years and only after Franco died did they realize they both spoke Basque. During the civil war the Basques sided against Franco and with the Communists. The communist promised complete self rule to the Basques if they helped in winning the war. Unfortunately they lost and the Basques were to pay a heavy price. A quick factoid. Hitler and Mussolini were allies of Franco and helped him with troops and fire power. In fact one of the first aerial bombardments was executed by the Nazis on the Basques in a town called Guernica. This slaughter was later depicted in a famous Picasso painting of the same name. Check it out here.
I really enjoyed my time in the Bastion. It's one of the most picturesque places I've been...ever. Two large cove shaped beaches are separated by a river that empties into the Atlantic. Or when the tide is right big swells come up the river and crash 20 yards in. Next to the river a large, lonesome hill bearing a Basque flag and a statue of Jesus is squeezed between the sea and the old quarter. The old quarter is full of bars serving pintxos. Pintxos, or tapas, are little snacks that one eats generally during lunch or before dinner. The Bastion has the reputation of having the tastiest ones in Spain, but also the most expensive. Here's a picture. During my stay I went on hikes through the surrounding hills, played soccer on the beach, played more guitar, met fabulous people and rang in the new year. The Bastion is truly a special place and I can say very confidently that it's my favorite small city that I went to in Europe. Go if you can.
After two weeks, I decided to head west along the northern coast of Spain. While in San Sebastian I met a girl who was to be studying there for the semester. Classes didn't start for a little while so she decided to join me for about a week. We went to the provinces of Cantabria, Asturias and Galicia. They are all quite small but unique in their own ways. Asturias is famous for its sidra, a cider made of apples, Galicia for its language and Celtic heritage and Cantabria, well actually it doesn't have much going on but that's what makes it unique. We departed in Santiago de Compostella, a famous destination for many catholic pilgrims. There is an amazing cathedral there and we stayed with a nice guy who we met on couchsurfing.com.
Lisbon was my next stop. An amazing city, which I fell in love with. I met amazing people, saw things my mind hardly could comprehend, and discovered some fantastic music. For these reasons and many more I am going to devote the next post entirely to the Portuguese capital.
Till Next Time...Ciao.

Better Late than Never...

Okay. Now I'm not sure many people care about this thing anymore because I know a month and a half break shows a lack of interest on my part. I could explain why it wasn't a lack of interest or care but that just I didn't get around to it. But all of that is rhimsical, not living in the now, twig terd bullocks. (Haven't heard that one in a while, huh?) So let me began where I left off. Seeing that I'm on a community computer in a stylin Lisbonion hostel this may take a couple posts, I like to share.
Left off meeing Co Mike Elwell in Paris. Or better me meeting him. In Paris, I emailed Louis, a buddy I had met a few months back on the Laotian and Chinese border waiting for a promised, but uncertain, bus. He hooked me up in Paris at a friends house and I was able to really enjoy Paris. IE: talking politics while chewing on a flakey croissant, and adjusting my beret in the mirror.
After Paris I went up to Amsterdam. I stayed with Jess and his girlfriend Jenneka and once again had a blast. I went to the Van G(hrrr)ogh museum and the Rhikts museum. Both really interesting. Van Geezes and Rembrantdizzles.
From Hammsterdam on an over night train to Prague(Praha). Supposed to be a sketchy train but it was cool. I shared my compartment with two German citizens of Russian origin were going to visit a friend for his 30th birthday. Had a brew hit the sack.
Prague:
Arrrived to Prague central station at 8ish. Get my berings, take a bus(don't pay, play ignorance) find my hostel. Hostel Elf. Really nice play, patio, nice lounge, cheap original Czech Budweisers. Not consistent hot water, but yoiu gotta know the right times to take a shower.
Mitchel B showed up a day after I got there. He was geeking out on the drive from the airport. We caught up a bit and then took a walk around the city. Czecked out Charles Bridge, an Ice Hockey game and our fair share of bars, clubs and restaurants. After a few days in the Czech capital we went down south to Czesky Krumlov. A small medievel city, with a large ominous castle and a horseshoe shaped bend that nearly encircles the old town when viewed from a bird's eye.
Budapest, Hungary was the next to be red X'd. Budapest was great. We walked around the city a bit met up with some folks we had met in Praha, climbed a fantastic hill, Citadella I think was the name, and rewarded ourselves a g'old Hungarian bath. Huge pools of hot spring water undera doom contructed of tinted glass. Mosiacs on the walls. The sauna was killer though. The heat stung the flesh of your lungs.
Following Hungary we took numerous trains up to Krakow, Poland. Another beautiful place. A red castle sits on a large hill along the river. From the castle's vantage the old town, with it's huge square, and the Jewish quarter are easily spotted.
We went out to Auzwitz and Birkenau. Heavy, heavy stuff. Stuff I can't understand. How can humans treat other humans so bad? That's been my question everytime I think of the Nazis. Actually, frankly, its all wars. Yeah I know some are worth fighting for. I dare anyone, including the US army to come into my home, my city, my state and enadnger those I love. But before this happens every last means necessary must be taken to avoid the armed conflict. This US Admistration, and I mean admisitration because it was me and it probably wasn't you either, who concocted every thing. WMD, greeted with flowers, other governments will follow, link to Al Qaeda. That's not me and that's not you. I don't understand how these people get away with that. Are we letting them? Do we not care enough about others? I guess this is old news. Kinda though. 21,500 more troops. Ouch. I'm not home, I don't know how everyone is reacting and truthfully I feel a bit odd questioning fellow Americans when I'm not even home. But 21,500 more. On top of 120,000. On top of 3,000 troops, sons and daughters, dead for lies. How many wounded? 10, 20 thousand? 30? This is not right. I gotta do something.
Back to the Past. From Poland Mitch took an overnighter to Praha where he was flying out a day after the morning his train arrived. At the last mintute I decided to stay in Krakow. I was enjoying the city and I thought I was gonna head over to Romania. Transylvania, wildlike, castles, Dracula, all intrigued me. I stopped off in Eger, Hungary on the way. Really cool place. A road lined with door that lead to wine caves, cellers and barrels. Some great, young, still fermenting wine. I met some Russians studying in Budapest. We hit it off clanking glasses full of the local red, "bull's blood."