Strong Starts (The links don't show up well on the background)

My Friends,
   A good song is like a good bout of love-making (true or not, its an expedient segue into the topic at hand): foreplay is used to good effect.  Be it a 5 minute instrumental, a threat to the listener, or a soundclip from a film, a good lead-in to a song can set the mood or add some new perspective that the listener might otherwise not glean.  In the following list I make not pretensions about saying what the best lead-ins to songs are, simply some of my favourites:

Song: "Straight Outta Compton"

Artist: N.W.A.

Lead-in: (Dr. Dre) "You are now about to winess the strength of street-knowledge..."
Link: http://www.youtube.com/watch?v=TMZi25Pq3T8&ob=av3e

Song: "Starseed" (Live in Montreal)

Artist: Our Lady Peace

Lead-in: Five minutes or so of Raine Maida testing his vocal range
Link: No Link Available

Song:"M-E-T-H-O-D Man"

Artist: The Wu-Tang Clan

Lead-in: Torture skit
Link: http://www.youtube.com/watch?v=dWXpG266ybM

"ARE YOU NOT ENTERTAINED?..."

Song: "What More Can I Say?"

Artist: Jay-Z

Lead-in: Soundbite from the film Gladiator
Link: http://www.youtube.com/watch?v=UIJjK3IV3E0

Song: "Papa Was a Rolling Stone"
Artist: The Temptations
Lead-in: Instrumental
Link: http://www.youtube.com/watch?v=6A2QkgMvTtM

Song: "Theme from Shaft" (A no-brainer although this lead-in is more than
half of the length of the song which mebbe disqualifies it)

Artist: Isaac Hayes

Lead-in: Instrumental
Link: http://www.youtube.com/watch?v=AwTtl8IydcA&feature=fvst

"IT DOESN'T MATTER IF YOU JUST BOUGHT A FRESH BENTLEY!!"

Song: "It Doesn't Matter"

Artist: Wyclef Jean

Lead-in: "Yo, this is the Rock, kickin' it with the Refugee Camp
 and you're bout to smell what the Rock is cookin'!"
Link: http://www.youtube.com/watch?v=VAag-nlCJQ0

Song: "American Woman"

Artist: The Guess Who

Lead-in: Spelling "American" in a singsongy manner

Link: http://www.youtube.com/watch?v=JmQ7ZjpIptM&feature=related

Song: "Woke Up This Morning" (Exile on Coldharbor Lane Version)

Artist: A3

Lead-in: Monologue that you didn't hear on 'The Sopranos' theme

Link: http://www.youtube.com/watch?v=r9IsmSQmfd8

"You may think this next trick is impossible..."

Song: "The Age of Pamparius"

Artist: Turbonegro

Lead-in: Instrumental and prophetic-sounding gibberish about pizza 

Link: http://www.youtube.com/watch?v=QheUzGqZDtg

Song: "Jenny From the Block"

Artist: Jennifer Lopez

Lead-in: Singing and instrumental from the Beatnuts (This one actually pisses me off because I don't really like the rest of the song but something about the first 15-20 seconds is catchy as fuck)

Link: http://www.youtube.com/watch?v=W_Qh89-wadQ

Song: 2nd Round K.O.

Artist: Canibus

Lead-in: Mike Tyson soundbite

Link: http://www.youtube.com/watch?v=z63cQKWlDgQ&ob=av3e

Song: "Brooklyn's Finest"

Artist: Jay-Z feat. The Notorious B.I.G.

Lead-in: 'Scarface'-inspired smack talk & gunfire

Link: http://www.youtube.com/watch?v=P_DLD7OMUns

That's all that comes to mind right now but when I have my itunes library on hand to skim through, this list will definitely be augmented.

Stay Thirsty,

-Andre Guantanamo

Missing Mussolini

My Friends,
   Some of you may have noticed my prolific blogging as of late.  Such prolificity, if I may call it such, would not be possible without free and easy access to a computer, access which I simply would not have whilst hitch-hiking.  Well, somewhat shamefully I have to admit that for the last couple of days I have been derelict in my duty, insofar as my duty consists of sleeping outside, eating sparingly, walking miles every day and trying not to get robbed.

"When you say it like that, my life sounds pretty damn good!"

The problem is that I have been forced to wait here in Legnano, Italy at my cousin's place while I wait for the Canadian Embassy in Rome to send me a new passport.  The mail service in Italy, much like the trains as I found out on my first day here, leaves much to be desired in regards to expediency and reliability, hence the reference to the late Mussolini.  The good news is that based on the tracking number I have from the embassy my passport arrived in Legnano ... on fucking Wednesday!  I suppose that the Italian postal service is probably just on one of those extended coffee breaks which seem to be fashionable here.  If I'm lucky I will get it Monday, and if not, Wednesday this week because Tuesday is a holiday.

   Being stuck here hasn't been a bad experience by any means though.  Three squares (minimum) and a warm bed every night is something I can messes with.  Yet I worry that I am losing my edge doing nothing but indulging in food, wine and comfort.  I feel like every minute I stay in Legnano I get weaker...

"...and every minute Charlie squats in the bush he gets stronger."

I rationalize it and justify my excesses by saying "well soon enough I will be in austerity mode again and I will kick myself for not living it up when I could.  Nay! -when it was the only sensible course of action!"  But every day of chillin is gonna make it that much harder to face the music when I gotta tighten my belt and cozy up in a forest or building or something.  Or perhaps I have it reversed and this is much-needed recuperation time which will leave me feeling refreshed for another stint of the hobo-fabulous lifestyle.

H-O-B-O-L-O-U-S

Either way, I'll find out soon enough.

Stay Thirsty,

-Andre Guantanamo

Gentlemen at Large

My Friends,
   Today, I had the pleasure of reading "The Man Who Would be King," by Rudyard Kipling.  It is the story of two friends who sought their fortune by creating an empire for themselves in Northeast Afghanistan during the Victorian era.  It is related to the narrator by the surviving friend, after the whole house of cards of would-be sovereignty has come crashing down.  There's a very interesting parable about pride goingeth before a fall, women being your downfall, the head that wears the crown being heavy, etc.  What I find interesting was the two friends' incredibly simple plan to carve out a nation for themselves:

   "We shall go to those parts and say to any king we find ... 'you want to vanquish your foes?' and we will show him how to drill men; for that we know better than anything else.  Then we will subvert that king and seize his throne and establish a dynasty."

Indeed, in the estimation of the two friends,

   "...in any place where they fight a man who knows how to drill men can always be a king"

It makes perfect sense; while all armies are in theory bound to some sort of nation or head of state, in practice people are likely to feel a greater sense of loyalty to the tangible authority whom they see every day.  Its why coups tend to be pulled off by senior ranking mlitary officers.

Air force officers for example...

...oh those rascally flyboys.

   When someone turns the combat training of their dependants/vassals/subjects over to someone else, they are implicitly making that someone else a de facto parent or authority.  Who hasn't seen an army movie where the drill sgt. tells the green recruits something to the effect of "You want your mama?  Too bad; I'm your mama now!"  While (even sarcastically) masquerading as the one who gave them life can itself have a powerful psychological effect on the troops by commanding obedience, a father/son dynamic naturally develops on its own from the master/student one.  It kind of puts into perspective the generous offers of NATO countries to train and mentor third-world (read: Afghan) personnel.  While nominally we are trying to empower fledgling nations by training their armies and police forces, perhaps such mentoring is well-intentioned subversion (to say nothing of the quality of government there and whether or not it should be subverted).
   I am not going to labour this point because it was simply an interesting idea I chanced upon, but I will list a few points worth consideration:

-anyone who who has studied any form of martial art or any variation of that martial art is fiercely loyal to that school or style

"SHOTOKAN KARATE FTW!!"

-Luke Skywalker was warned about straying toward the dark side (i.e. learning from the emperor) in any small measure because then he would be in the emperor's pocket

-Daniel-san probably would have killed someone had Mr. Miyagi commanded it

-Maximus had a bunch of legions loyal to him in Gladiator who were willing to back him up in a coup

-I just re-watched The Expendables last night and the army of Vilena is pretty much in the pocket of Stone Cold Steve Austin and Eric Roberts throughout the movie after the latter provided them military training 

I think that'll suffice for examples.  I realize my argument isn't airtight and that I am drifting between discussing individuals, armies and nations, but hopefully you can see the underlying point I am driving at here.  Often proving your point of view outright is less important than presenting an intriguing idea; the latter presupposes discussion.

Stay Thirsty,

-Andre Guantanamo

 
   

Prelude to 2012

My Friends,
   The world is supposed to end this upcoming year.  I don't know about you but I'm kind of excited.  I don't think there's anyone in the circles I roll with who couldn't benefit from the kind of shake-up to their daily routine that only the end of the world can provide.  I am especially excited though because in my capacity as traveler I may find myself in the enviable position of being in certain countries as they are racked by the Mayan equivalent of the Book of Revelations.  Jealous?  Jelly?

Mad ... YOU!

Yes, if I play my cards right I could be that foreign guy who happens to be in the right place at the right time to witness the world open up and swallow all those third worlders who are indiscriminately being forced to pay for the mistakes of the Mayans, who lacked the foresight to make a calendar that wasn't finite.

   As lulzy as the plight of the third world is, I don't think too much is going to happen but I hope it does.  Let me explain: I have no wish for third-world misery, the end of the world or death, but from my understanding, 2012 is allegedly going to be a period of great transition marked by greater awareness of the ills of the world and a desire by the masses to see them rectified.  I am doubtful that this will happen for two reasons: 1) I have little faith in the masses 2) I don't believe in a guiding hand which governs human existence.  Still, I hope something happens, because in my estimation, shit is all fucked up.  

   Looking at some of the recent events which have occurred and are occurring still, it is easy and convenient to construe them as harbingers of upcoming events.  Things like the Occupy Wall Street movement are nothing if not a protest against the status quo and the way things have been.  You can construe this as some kind of sign of heightened awareness if you want, but then protests are as old as civilization itself.

   Beyond heightened awareness, I have also heard that certain "events" will herald 2012 as early as late 2011.  Well as vague as that is, it is still easy to hear news reports and forcibly fit them into the template of 2012 which exists in my mind.  For example, here in Italy there has been flooding in a city I was going to go to (Rome) and a city I had just left (San Remo).  Oh my God, the end of the world is chasing me!!  Also, last week in Italy the 24 year old motorcycle racing star, Marco Simoncelli died, which, if you really want to grasp at straws, could be construed as some kind of significant death of a Christ-figure leading up to the apocalypse (it'd be like Justin Bieber dying back in Canada).  

"How does I martyrdom?"

All of these things added up in my mind (plus the earthquake in Turkey which is my next destination), and because we are very me-centric people, I sub-consciously saw these events as signs.  Then I realized, "wait, if I was back in Canada I wouldnt give a vial of monkey-piss about an Italian motorcycle racer or flooding in some European backwater like Rome," and I smartened the fuck up.

   So who knows?  I don't expect anything will happen to overthrow the flawed system we live in, but because I have very little to lose and lots to gain, I'm down for whatever.  If apocalyptic shit does transpire in one of the places I end up, trust that I will act as your real-as-fuck correspondent, bringing you my own particular brand of justice fact-based entertainment.

Stay Thirsty,

-Andre Guantanamo 

You Can Take the Salami Out the Hood but You Can't Take the Hood Out the Salami

My Friends,
   Since I have been traveling I have been diligent in partaking in local cuisine.  Some observations I have made: Portuguese bacalhau is dope, Spanish churros taste better than that Taco Bell tripe, French cheese, wine & bread are a trifecta of win schway, and Italian pasta can't be touched.  "Well sure" you say, "thats what those countries are known for; of course its going to be better there."  Well that line of reasoning might suffice for the reasonable mind, but dammit I need to delve deeper into the questions that have been answered to everyone else's satisfaction.
   This is more (not much, but a little) than simply making much of an issue for the sake of something to write about; I got to thinking about how up until this last visit to France I have typically hated French wine.  Seriously, I cant remember buying a bottle or trying a glass in Canada that I thought much of in spite of the fact that they were marketed as mid to mid-high level wines.  However, I come to France and every bottle of wine, no matter how inexpensive, is some wild ass shit.  Ditto for the cheese: I have always loved Brie, but never did I enjoy it as much as I did in France.  I brought a smilar observation up to my cousin here in Legnano, Italy while we were enjoying some Gorgonzola, grapes, and bread.  Now since I have been here in Italy I have had something of a love affair with Gorgonzola which, in case you aren't familiar, bears more than a superficial resemblance in appearance and flavour to blue cheese.  While crushing our nth wedge of this cheese tonight I inquired as to what the difference was between Gorgonzola and blue cheese.

"It's the same" my cousin told me.

"Then why has blue cheese never tasted this good at home," says I.

"Well ya see (you simple fuck) things taste different depending on where you eat them.  Aside from the fact that they make it here, you could drink a bottle of wine made in Padua two hours away and it will taste one way.  But you take that same bottle down to Naples and drink it there and it'll taste different.  It's something in the air affects the flavours."

This explanation partly satisfied me mostly because it was an alternative to the common and widely accepted answer (if everyone believes it; I can't help but be suspicious).  However, it still sounded like some old bullshit.  Not to discount atmospheric effects entirely; I mean I could see such factors making a difference if you simply walked into Mordor with your fancy cheese and let the heat, sulphur fumes and ash really absorb into it for a few hours before eating.  But what kind of pretentious cheese/wine/bread conoisseur can claim with a straight face that they notice the subtle difference that geography of consumption makes in the bouquet, body and aftertaste of their delicacy of choice?

Since I obviously take issue with the "it's just better there" reasoning and I find the atmospheric influence reasoning a little suspect, I'm going to go ahead and assume the food tastes better here because my mind is playing tricks on me.  That is to say, I am probably just idealizing things in my head.  It makes sense; all of the amazing meals I have had here I associate in my head with where I ate them, the time of day (usually watching a sunset or sunrise), how good I was feeling at the time and how much progress I had made that day.  In fact , when it comes down to it, my meals have become ritualized to the point where simply eating is no longer sufficient; it has to be a multi-sensory experience.  Obviously, I could eat some pretty crappy food and in these circumstances I would probably remember it fondly.
   The ability of my mind to trick myself both saddens me and reassures me.  It is kind of sad to think that perhaps the food that I am enjoying so much here is no better than what is available back home (this is a fleeting sadness however, as my enjoyment is ultimately what matters most).  The reassurance comes from the knowledge that I have the ability to idealize and enjoy any meal and by association, any life experience more than I normally would by taking the time to do it right and incorporating as much pleasurable aspects into it as I can.

George Costanza: A rare genius unappreciated in his own time

Stay Thirsty,

-Andre Guantanamo

What We're Taught vs. What We Learn

My Friends,
   In the last few days I have been involved in a friendly Facebook debate based on some comments I made regarding the recent death of Muammar Qaddafi.  In defending my position rather than explaining it, as I should have, I went off on a bit of a tangent as I am wont to do.  This tangent was useful in the sense that it gave me some new ideas about things I already believe.  Luckily for the other parties to the debate, I had the restraint to not flood the thread with every thought in my head.  However, I will exercise no such restraint here.
  Actually, all I really want to express is a truism that most everyone probably realizes to some extent or another in their lives even if they have never vocalized it: The people we are taught to be as children and the people we learn to be as adults are vastly different.  Think about it like this; as kids we are taught to share, to be charitable, to love thy neighbour, etc...  For lack of a better word I will call it "altruism."  Essentially, we learn nobility, duty and putting the needs of others before ourselves.  I learned these things in a Catholic school so everything good related back to the Christian God, but I'm sure all primary schools of every religion or none espouse the same basic ideas of good citizenship.  Furthermore, this conditioning (a word I use with no negative connotation) is compounded by a set of laws which at their most basic, serve to reinforce ideas of altruism and duty.
  However, we are faced with a contradiction in that to actually survive in this world, we must abandon to some extent the principles which have been impressed upon us.  I am talking about the pursuit money of course. How much is enough?  I dont know but I do know that you will have a hard time getting that much if you are altruistic and charitable.  From our first dollar, we are forced to compartmentalize in our heads how we should behave to be good people and how we must behave to survive.
   For a practical example, it is as simple as walking by a person asking for money on the street, one who appears destitute and hungry.  Ok, maybe you give them money and they buy booze, so you justify walking by them with that logic.  But why not just buy them a sandwich?  Because a sandwich would cost money; money which you could put toward your own survival.  Regardless of the fact that a sandwich probably doesnt cost shit for most passersby, it is still an incredibly unsound economic decision as there is no tangible return.  So in spite of what your teachers may have preached to you in grade school, common sense tells you different: instead of acting noble and compassionate, you act base because it makes good sense in the world we live in.
   I must be clear though, I am not condemning the passerby.  Quite the opposite, I am lauding his instinct for survival; it is hard to condemn someone for doing what life and his experience have taught him.  And this world teaches us not to view the suffering as fellow human beings, but as speed bumps.  That is the fundamental contradiction I wanted to express in this entry: we struggle because we have been taught compassion (and I would hazard a guess that we all want to be compassionate) but we are forced by the system we live in to be individualistic and self-serving.  
   I laugh when I hear the anecdote about John Dillinger, who, when asked why he robbed banks, responded, "Because that's where the money is."  How can you fault anyone who resorts to base means for money?  Sometimes...often in this world, money by honourable means is nowhere to be had.  In these instances we must resort to, at worst, criminal enterprise, and at best, a shitty job we hate, in order to survive.  While one is more legal than the other, both are simply base compromises of self, albeit necessary ones.
Stay Thirsty,
-Andre Guantanamo

"...with muscles in his back and a song in his heart..."

My Friends,
   Prior to this excursion I laboriously labored to make the comprehensive travel playlist for my ipod (see "Movin on ... thinkin of you when Im gone ..." 1 Sept 2011).  What with all my shit getting jacked that labour seems now to have been for nought.  Still, I listened to that playlist extensively in the weeks leading up to my departure so it is no small wonder that the songs I now sing to myself on the road are those which featured prominently on said playlist; more specifically, the ones I can remember the words to.  Here is a few of the little dittys which I belt out on the highways and biways with reckless abandon whilst hitchhiking, likely scaring away more than one potential ride with my gaping mouthed singing face and the intolerable racket I produce.

"My Way" - Frank Sinatra
A no-brainer.  It appeals to me both from the chasing your dreams angle and also from the traveling angle.  I feel like I can sing it honestly at this point and I hope that 50 or so years down the road I can sing it with the same honesty, having "lived a life thats full."
Favourite Line: " I've loved, Ive laughed and cried/Ive had my fill; my share of losing/And now as tears subside I find it all so amusing..."

"Born to Wander" -Rare Earth
Another no-brainer.  I have liked Rare Earth for a few years now but only got wind of this oldie but goodie classic this past summer.  The verses express the same kinds of ideas I tried to express to my woman before leaving and the chorus rocks so hard.  I even used this song in my unsuccessful video attempt to get corporate sponsorship for this trip from Dos Equis (that can be viewed here: Dos Equis Proposal).  All in all a dope, if too short song.
Favourite Line: "Im just followin my heart, girl and its followin the sun/lookin for an answer I know may never come"

"Beach Chair" - Jay-Z
I never really got into Jay-Z's Kingdom Come album until lately save for one or two songs.  However this song, featuring Chris Martin of Coldplay, has a melody which I am not sure if I find haunting or enchanting.  I played it a lot this summer and something in it really speaks to me.  I dont know all the words but certain lyrics stay with me.
Favourite Line: "Im not afraid of dyin/Im afraid of not tryin"     "Some say "Hov, how you get so fly?"/By not bein afraid to fall out the sky"

"Don Quixote" - Gordon Lightfoot
I sings me a lot of Gordon Lightfoot -"For Lovin Me," "Sundown," "If You Could Read My Mind," but only this and one other really resonate with me for their adventure angle.  Anyone who has read my earlier entries might be familiar with my fondness for the book Don Quixote by Cervantes.  Well, I liked this song long before I ever started the book.  Lightfoot's ability to strum the guitar like a bastard (thats a technical term) is showcased as is his knack for writing lyrics with compelling imagery and meaning.  Various lines from this song have touched me at various times in my life.
Favourite Line: "He is wild but he is mellow/he is strong but he is weak/he is cruel but he is gentle/he is wise but he is meek"

"Folsom Prison Blues" - Johnny Cash
I guess I sing this ironically to some extent because I feel anything but fettered.  But I think at one time or another we have all felt stuck where we were at and I am just glad to be out of that situation if only temporarily.
Favourite Line: "Well if they freed me from that prison, if that railroad train was mine/I bet Id move it on a little farther down the line..."

"Gone 'til November" (Video version) - Wyclef Jean
Gonna be a little past November on this excursion but I understand what 'Clef is trying to express to his woman here.  Sometimes the daily grind and personal happiness are mutually exclusive.
Favourite Line: "Girl, I gotta leave, please dont cry/when I come back you know the limits the sky"

"Early Morning Rain" - Gordon Lightfoot
My all-time favourite Lightfoot song.  So good that Elvis even covered it.  A perfect song for the destitute traveler who misses his far-away home.  About a week and a half back I mentioned that I had cried more than once out of despair (6 Day Adventure Recap: 6 October 2011 - 11 Oct 2011 LONG!!!!,12 OCT 2011).  This was not quite true as I only despaired that hard only once.  However, quite often I have sung this song on the road and when I reach certain lines my voice cracks and I struggle through it, because it reminds me of my dad and home.
Favourite Line: "This old airport's got me down, its no earthly good to me/cause Im stuck here on the ground, as cold and drunk as I can be" ->The whole song is good

Those are the songs that have been at the forefront of my mind as I have traveled these past few weeks but as I stop at each internet cafe I look up the lyrics to a song which is in my head but which I dont quite remember well enough to sing on the road so my library is always expanding.  I figure by the time I get back Ill have the whole travel playlist memorized.  Finally after years of post-secondary education I finally have some worthwhile knowledge in my head.
Stay Thirsty,
-Andre Guantanamo

The Essential Kit List

My Friends,
   Getting robbed three days into my 6 month quest to circle the globe was a difficult thing to endure.  However, the subsequent weeks have shown me that most of the stuff that got taken I didnt actually need.  While this knowledge hasnt softened the blow, it has still made me cognizant of the fact that I got so caught up with having a complete and comprehensive set of kit that I lost sight of what I actually needed and what I could do without.  Certain pieces of gear I was left with have served me very well and I daresay I got lucky for not losing them or acquiring them since the robbery as trhe case may be.  So, for the benefit of those who may be planning a backpacking trip, here are a few items that I would consider must-haves.

RANGER BLANKET: Army guys will be familiar with this piece of kit, but for the civvies, its a lightweight blanket (camoflage in this case) with insulating capabilities beyond what you might guess for its light weight.  Better still, it retains a measure of this insulating ability even when wet.  When used in conjunction with a waterproof gore-tex outer sleeping shell you can stay warm and dry provided temperatures dont go extremely cold.  I am sure MEC would sell an equivalent but a surplus store might sell the army version for cheaper.

BOOT BANDS: Another military staple, these elastic bands are what army guys use to blouse their trousers over their boots, but I have used them for years to roll pants up into shorts.  However, wearing your pants like this also allows you to put money or documents out of your pockets and into your pants where they will stay out of the reach of pickpockets and other thiefs of opportunity.

BANDANA/SCARF: In this case I am not talking about your typical patterned bandana but rather a length of fabric with elasticity that can be used for multiple purposes.  Fortunately I was left with my MOdrobes Eucalyptex bandana which wicks away the sweat well, but which I have been using of late more to block the sun: it covers my ears and head so that I havent had to worry about burns while walking all day.  As well, since my kind of trip often involves sneaking onto private property for a good night sleep, I also wrap this bandana around my head when I am wearing a headlamp as it cuts down my light signature significantly.  Speaking of which....

HEADLAMP: My Petzl headlamp has been indispensible and not because I need it to see in the dark.  Quite the contrary, I may use the headlamp to make sure I havent left anything at my campsite if I am leaving before sunrise, but Id like to think I can set up and tear down by just feeling around.  Instead, my headlamp has proved most indispensable when hitchiking ort walking on the road after dark.. I have a day-glo vest which I wear on my backpack to make myself visible to approaching cars, but a blinking LED is that extra bit of assurance, especially when not all cars rock headlights after dark.

On the other hand, I did lose some things which were also essentials.  Well maybe not essentials cause I have gotten by without them, but I am endeavouring to replace them.

SHOES: A no-brainer, but youd be surprised how well I have done with just bare feet and a $5 set of flip flops.  Not that it has been an easy go; aside from my instances of running from the cops and bushbashing, flip flops have also proved lacking in instances where I need traction while walking on wet cobblestone and they dont keep rocks out for shit.  Furthermore, my flip flops have massacred my feet:  I have gotten blisters in places I never thought I could blisters and the tops of my feet have been torn raw from the thongs.  However, I acquired some medical tape at a hostel a few weeks back which has ameliorated the rubbing.
   That said, as far as I have come with flip flops, I have ordered a replacement set of Vibram KSO Trek FiveFinger shoes.  Theyre a good shoe, and a good shoe is one of those luxuries you shouldnt deprive yourself of when your highest ambition is walking.

COMPASS: I didnt use my compass that got stolen in conjunction with a map, as compasses are designed to be used, but rather just to give me an idea of cardinal directions and roughly where I was going.  So with that said I have been faring well enough using landmark references like the Mediterranean coastline and the position of the sun in the sky to tell which direction I am traveling in.  However, as I move toward the Middle East and Asia Minor, coastline will give way to endless desert and except for the early morning and evening the sun will be unreliable.  Furthermore, I expect to do some travel at night because it is a good way to stay warm in the cold desert nights while you rest during the peak of the heat midday.  For these instances, I would like a new compass to replace my last one if only for that reassurance when I am in the middle of nowhere that I am traveling to the middle of somewhere.  For the record, I dont use maps beacuse as incredibly frustrating and detrimental as it has proven to be in some cases, talking to people for directions makes for a more interesting experience.

Thats about all that comes to mind right now, but as my environment changes so might my needs and the pieces of kit I place value upon.  Do not be surprised if this list gets augmented in the coming months.
Stay Thirsty
-Andre Guantanamo

Hobo Nutrition

My Friends,
   For the last four weeks since I left my home I have maintained a simple and unextravagant diet which, although supplemented with new, regional delights, remains largely unchanged wherever I go.

Each day I eat:
1 (min) link of chorizo
1-1.5x Baguette
1-2 espressos
1 slab of LIndt or Ritter Sport chocolate
Wine/Liquor/Beer

I occasionally supplement this diet with:
Tomatos
Apples
Regional Cheeses

With even a cursory glance it should be clear that this is perhaps not the healthiest diet in the world, but life on the road comes with its own set of demands, and nutrition is often a tertiary concern when grocery shopping.
   The most immediate concern is refrigeration; except for sleeping outside when its chilly, I have no way of keeping my food cool.  The south of Spain and France were particularly hot during the day which was cause for some concern.  To combat this I only purchase quantities of meat which can be eaten within 36 hours of time of purchase.  Chorizo, and sausages in general, while they should be kept cool, are not really a danger for spoiling like other types of meat.  So even though consumption of fatty, salty meat on a daily basis is a practice I would abhor back home, out here it just makes good sense.
   Baguettes and bread are less of a concern for spoiling so I will typically buy more bread than I need because it is good to snack on while walking even when I am not sitting for a proper meal.  The concern however, as I recently found out, is bugs: while camping west of Cannes I was in some dirt and the next day I noticed small ants all over the inside of my backpack concentrated around the food.  Had I been on grass this wouldnt have been such a problem, so it is as much an issue about picking the right spot to camp as it is about sealing food properly.  Luckily the bread spoiled was cheapo supermarket baguettes which I had no trouble losing.  Since this loss I have begun to individually seal my bread in produce bags.  Though I eat more bread here than I would at home, it also makes good sense; bread is such a universal food for a reason and the different variations in each country make it a constantly changing dietary staple.
   Similarly, espresso, and coffee in general, has been a staple of my existence.  I drink A LOT of espresso, and because of this it has become the key indicator of price fluctuations in various European countries.  So far, Portugal and Spain (south) has been the cheapest places to travel while prices got steeper in France and ropped again slightly in Italy, these economic observations are based solely on what I pay for espressos.  FTR, Portugal has had the best coffee as well as the cheapest.  Spain is a close second.
--->As I move further east, the espresso as I have come to know it will give way to Turkish coffee and other variations on that theme but I think the value of coffee as an indicator of cost will remain valid.
   I never buy chocolate at home but its value on the road is indispensable.  Not only is it delicious but it is also a solid slab of morale; if it works for depressed women it works for me.  Also, like chorizo I can justify eating a slab a day when I am walking a minimum of 15 km a day.
   Typically I have kept a bottle of Spanish brandy (7 euros per litre) in my backpack.  It goes great with espresso and is tolerable on its own when I wanna wet my beak before bed (when I wake up, when its lunchtime, when Im waiting for a train, etc....).  Beers I will purchase as I feel like having one or if it comes with a snack, such as the tapas in Granada.  I dont really drink beer anymore back home and the same applies here.  However, wanting to experience it all, I realize the necessity of occasionally taking one for the team and crushing a cold one after walking for hours in the sun...its a hard life.  On the other hand, I fucks with wine!  A bottle of local wine, especially in the south of France, which I can buy for 2 to 3 euros, is so good and goes so well with my simple meals that I really cant afford not to crush 2 to 3 bottles a week.  I dont think I have enjoyed wine this much ever in my life no matter how fancy a bottle I have bought when back home.  Its just on another level here.
   Fresh produce I buy as I need it.  Tomatoes typically go good with my bread and sausage meals, while apples are good for those days when I dont feel I have walked enough to earn my chocolate.  But if I go a day without these things I dont lament it because they are more or less the same as back home so I dont feel I am missing out.
   Cheese, I dont buy that often but I grabbed some Camembert back in France.  While it was good with bread, chorizo and wine, I have always been more of a Brie man.  Even the supermarket Brie in France was just ridikilis.  I bought 200g the night I got the ant infestation and almost crushed the whole thing while I sat having dinner.  The next day I bought another block in Cannes and ate it with a boulangerie baguette (best bread yet) in front of the Cannes Film Festival theatre with the last remnants of a bottle of wine.  Perhaps my simplest and best meal yet.
   But alas, I have things easy for the next week or so living with my cousin.  His mom is making meals for us and I am not walking every day so I am trying to rein in some of my excesses.  Once I hit the road again however, it will be business as usual.  I am curious to see how this diet changes as I move south to Anatolia and the Middle East from there.  I wonder how the chorizo is in Muslim countries?
Stay Thirsty,
-Andre Guantanamo
 

Too Tired to Sleep

My Friends,
   Showing utter disregard for my hastily and spontaneously-made plans, after blogging from Barcelona last week I decided to, in fact, not spend another night in that fine city.  For two reasons: One, I went to the adjacent city of Badalona in an abortive search for a new set of Vibram FiveFingers shoes.  I ended up walking 8 km out of Barcelona and decided I had gone too far to go back.  Two, I had, after blogging, spoken with my cousin on FB chat and said I would endeavour to hitchhike to Milan by the following Wednesday (19 Oct ... today).  Since hitchiking is not an exact science but a grind where luck and persistence are your best friends, I decided that to make good on this pledge I had to get back on the road ASAP.
   I was taking a bit of a gamble pledging to make it to Milan in 7 days.  So, like another famous gambler, for a taste of your readership, I'll give you some advice...

You got to know when to hold 'em...
   As stated, persistence persistence persistence.  A whole day of no rides can turn around real quick with just one lift if that person happens to be going the same way as you.  But you cant win if you dont play.  Therefore every coffee break, every pee break and every grocery break involves a certain level of strategy; youre taking yourself out of contention for a ride so you want to wait for breaks in traffic or slow times of the day.
   i.e. For whatever reason sunset is a really good time to get a ride, but after dark rides taper off pretty quick.  So if I have to pee and I'm on a busy road I will hold it for a good half hour until after it is dark because I could miss a good many potential rides in just that few minutes I am indisposed.

Know when to fold'em...
   Police are a constant reminder that I am perhaps not living the most legal of existences.  I guess overall hitchiking is illegal but only the Spanish traffic guys gave me any trouble for it; In contrast, when I went to a police station in the south of France for directions they seemed positively enchanted by the prospect of me thumbing a ride all the way to Milan. Once I got to Italy, I was warned by a helpful Italian dude (I held on to my wallet the whole time) that hitchiking was illegal.  This, compounded by the rep of Italians and their police for corruption, made me wary of being caught with my thumb out by them ("How much money you have, Signor?  Si? What a coincidence, thats what the fine for hitchiking is...payable directly to us of course").
   In general, I would say I am not as alert to the presence of cops as a criminal of my stature should be.  I typically dont spot cruisers until I am in plain sight with my thumb out and they have already seen it.  In these situations I quickly fold my thumb away and look away.  Noone has stopped me yet so maybe discretion when breaking the law is an adequate substitute for abiding the law in Europe: At least try to make a secret out of breaking the law and the police will respect the effort.

Know when to walk away...
   When heading into "La Joncquera," the border region in Spain just before France, I got picked up by this Moroccan dude who spoke no English and was kind of crude i.e. honking at pedestrians and making rude gestures at the hookers (I forgot to mention the hookers last time, but brothels dominate the Spanish and French countryside and usually every one of them, while discreetly tucked away in a field, has one or two girls scantily clad on the road enticing truckers and travelers into sin.  Its a crazy juxtapoition, the idyllic Iberian countryside, flecked with fishnets, make-up and of course, the clap).
   Anyway, this dude was kind of unsettling but I figured that was perhaps just his way.  Warning bells went off though when he stopped for two more hitchikers.  Not travelers either, just this white trash looking couple who wanted a lift to the next town.  In spite of the fact that this guy was allegedy going to take me 200km that I sorely needed after a slow start from Barcelona, I decided to err on the side of caution, jumping out and explaining to him that I was thankful but two was plenty.  Onward I pressed the last two kilometres to France on foot.

Know when to Run...
   After camping out behind a restaurant in the Pyrennese mountains my first night in France, I awoke to a chilly but clear morning and proceeded to hit the road feeling like my luck was on the up and up..  Then Michele (a dude) stopped for me.  I got in the car and here is how the conversation went:

Me: Thanks for picking me up.
Michele: It is no problem but I dont go to Perpignan (my dest) only to S______.
Me: No problem, every little bit helps
Michele: Have you had breakfast?
Me: Naw, usually I grab something to eat when I get to a town
Michele: And you go all over France?
Me: Nope, all around the world
Michele: Ok, I see.  Why not, instead of going to Perpignan cause it is far and it is till cold and early you come to my house just down the street and I make you coffee.
Me: (naively) You know what, I should be hitting the road, but yeah its my first morning in france, lets have an authentic French coffee.  Thank you
Michele: (not sure I had caught his drift) So are you free?
Me: (Misunderstanding his meaning) Well yeah, I got as long as I need to circle the world.  I only want to take six months though.
Michele: I see (pulling over) Here is where I turn toward my house. Let me explain.  I am bisexual, I like sex with girls and boys.  You understand what I mean?
Me: (Finally grasping the situation) Ah yes, si....I mean oui.
Michele: And you? You have sex with boys?
Me: Um no
Michele:  You think about it or ever want to try it
Me: Um no, Im straight and I have a girlfriend.
Michele: Maybe you come back to my house and you try it and like it
Me: No, thank you.  Im flattered but no thankyou
Michele: Questce que c'est?
Me: Im flattered...I appreciate you asking but not thanks.  I think I should get out here.
Michele: Yes (asshole).
Me: (Getting out of the car) Thank you for the ride though
Michele: No problem and if you decide you change your mind and want to try you come by.
Me: I dont ttink so but thank you though.

  After this bit of weirdness, things kind of normalized and I made pretty good progress in France, drank some good wine, and crushed some good cheese.  It was a beautiful countryside and if I hadn't set a deadline to be in Milan I could have easily taken more time there and done some swimming in the Mediterranean even.  Next time.
   Anyhow, I am at my cousin's place for the next week or so which should give me a chance to put words on paper (internet) and express some thoughts and experiences that I have been lacking in opportunities to communicate for the past while.  Should be a relaxing week, Hope I dont get soft.
Stay Thirsty
-Andre Guantanamo

I like South Beach, but Im in St. Tropez ... kind of

My Friends,
   Trust me when I say it has been an eventful few days, even if only for one 18 hour stretch where I seemed to enter the twilight zone.  More on that when I get to Milan.
   I am doing well, and as per the title I am near the baller-mecca of St. Tropez.  As I walked toward it I half expected Jay-Z to pull over in a limo and give me a ride to his villa.  Instead I got Herve and Valerie, who have taken this stray puppy in, fed him, and given him a warm bed to sleep in for the night.  Yup, they fucked up lol.   Seriously though, I love this.  This is exactly the kind of goodwill that you are wont to come across when you put yourself out there and search for adventure.  Things are winding down so I gotta go.  Last night I slept in the dirt, and tonight I have a queensize and a plasma screen.
Stay Thirsty
-Andre Guantanamo

6 Day Adventure Recap: 6 October 2011 - 11 Oct 2011 LONG!!!!

My Friends,
   What a week.  I went hard for seven days straight, implementing austerity measures and trimming for speed.  So much happened Im gonna rock it point-form style for your perusing pleasure.

Thurs Oct 6 2011 - A Journey of a Thousand Miles Begins With a Single Step...
   I was supposed to leave Rota early  in the morning and catch the ferry to Cadiz to leave with the two Annas in their rental car for Gibraltar and from there, Malaga.  However, I woke up late as the bed at Ricky´s place was dumb comfortable.  With a heavy heart, I emailed and called the Annas and let them know I would not make it in time and they should go on without me.  Fortunately, Ricky was at the same time hosting Wolfgang and Javier who were also heading to Cadiz to pick up a car and head south, not as far south, but it was a start. 
-Wolfie and Javier dropped me off at a rest station about half an hour south of Cadiz.  I was reticent to start hitchiking on a freeway but I figured I had ground to cover and nobody ever got anything done by being a pussy (Courage Wolf)
-picked up almost immediately by Jose who drove fast and got me 10 km shy of Tarifa. dope!
-after climbiong some medieval tower on the side of the road I began hitching again and was picked up by three Russians, Sergei Andrej and Dimitri, who took me all the way to Tarifa. NOTE: my name is Sergio Andre Jose and at this point I had been picked up by a Sergei, an Andrej and a Jose all in the same morning and afternoon.  What are the odds? 
-Kept walking east to Gibhraltar and got scooped up by Bianca, a sweet lady and the first solo female to pick me up on this trip.  She took me to Algeciras (pronounced like Al-Jazeera in plural), and advised me to stay off the freeway.  I didnt listen.  Walked all the way from Algeciras to La Linea, the city outside Gibraltar because nobody apparently wanted to stop on the highway to pick me up.  Slept on a secluded sand dune in sight of the Rock of Gibraltar
PROGRESS MADE: Rota to La Linea

Fri Oct 7 2011
-Woke up with the sun after a fitful sleep and began walking the last few kilometres to Gibraltar.  When I got there I was struck by how dissimilar it was to Spain.  Ive never been to London but it was what I pictured London looking like (ie red telephone booths)
-I searched the streets for mens pants because my beloved desert camo cargos had gotten ripped by the crotch the previous day and I decided they were beyond repair.  found some tight fitting green cargos at a store called peacock.  Theyre very...lets say European.  But tight pants are better than no pants.
-took the bus to the Strait of Gibraltar to have a burial at sea for my cargos.  This may seem weird but you must understand that these pants had been with me for many adventures and furthermore had not been stolen in Madeira.  They had great sentimental value to me and it upset me to part with them.  I hopped over a wall to a cliff overlooking the sea.  After weighting them with a rock, pouring some brandy on them and a quick eulogy I threw them in the drink.  It was a fitting end for a worthy pair of pants
-walking back through Gibraltar to Spain I noticed a sign for a Royal Air Force hangar (RAF).  It occurred to me that as a member of NATO and the Commonwealth to boot, I may be able to arrange a service flight (free flight on military cargo planes) if they were wont to provide them,  After doin some asking, I got a hold of a sergeant named Alec who told me that they didnt do Indulgence Flights, (most of their planes were tied up in Afghanistan) but that I should come to the mess for some beers, it being noon on a Friday and therefore quitting time for military personnel (this rule applies in Canada too).  I could fucks with this and after they fed me a few beers (I wanted to pay but only had euros and they took pounds), I bid them adieu and had a wobbly walk back to Spain.
- got picked after about an hour or so by Toby who took me all the way to Malaga airport.  This was rather seredipitous as they two Annas were there waiting for a flight back to Holland and I got to say a proper goodbye, plus a free place to sleep (if you can tolerate the announcements every ten minutes and people walking around near your head, airport terminals make great sleeping spots).  I had made it to Malaga and only a day later than planned.  Would such luck hold out?
PROGRESS MADE: La Linea to Gibraltar to Malaga

Sat Oct 8 2011
-got woken up by starbucks guy at airport who said I couldnt sleep in their restaurant area.  took the bus (driver was a prick) from the airport to Malaga proper to begin the journey to Granada.  stopped at a farmers market for some veggies, cheap bread and expensive coffee, and plus because it would make my woman happy because shes loves farmers markets (nerd)
-walked north on the freeway cause I decided that was how I was gonna roll from now.  after a couple of hours got a lift at a gas stn from a German dude and Hungarian girl who took me just a few clicks up the road til the cutoff for thier destination.  No swet though because I got pìcked up soon thereafter by Stefano, Theresa and Hannah, who were traveling, wouldnt you know it, to Granda.  At this point I was convinced noone could really fuck with me when it came to this whole hitchhiking shit.  But pride goeth before a fall, as I would soon find out
-after doing a tour of the city and getting some tapas (ps they do tapas right in Granada; whereas many Spanish cities market tapas as a menu item, in Granada you order a beer for 2 euros and they bring you food with it, were talking good sized appetizer portions here) I parted ways with my new friends and began the frustrating walk out of Granada.  With the noontime sun not providing a great directional reference and no compass to speak of I was desperately trying to find someone who spoke English well enough and who knew directions well enough to point me to a highway out of the city.  I ended up walking from one end to the other.  While frustrating, i admit i did do some great sightseeing. by the end though I had my first freakout and started cursing loudly the stupid fucks I was surrounded by who didnt even know their own city. 
-finally I chanced upon a British Petroleum station, a good sign because petrol means highways.  I instantly forgave them for the spill in the gulf of Mexico and managed to thumb a quick lift to the highway east, and then another lift about 40 km to Guadix.  I thought my fortune had taken a turn for the awesome but it was the beginning of the hardest 24 hours of the week.
-while walking east on the highyway, la Guarda Civil Traffico (Spanish OPP essentially) stopped me and told me to get the fuck off the freeway.  grudgingly I did and headed into Guadix.  I found out there were no national roads (ok to walk on with enough traffic to make hitching possible), only freeways (which I had gotten kicked off of) and the service road (no traffic to speak of).  Still over 200 km from the next major city of Murcia I found myself in somewhat of a SNAFU but resolved to check the bus stn. 
-the estacion por autobus looked like a dilapadated building from Fallout 3.  I found out that they only did service to Granada on weekends and after making my escape from there I sure as fuck wasnt going back
-went into the bathroom to rock a piss.  the flicking dim light was creepy enough but then I heard shambly footsteps and Darth Vader breathing approaching.  My butthole clenched up and I thought shit, Im gonna die in this one burro town.  Fortunately, it was not Don Diego de la Vader, but some old Spanish man with a tube in his neck likely from years of smoking.  After reasoning that I could probably kick his old Spanish ass if he tried anything, I felt a lot better
-I resolved to head to the service road and head east all night in the nearly full moonlight.  I went a little crazy this night as I was by myself in the desert and I realized that if someone came up on me and wanted to MDKR me, (murder death kill rape) I really wouldnt have much help forthcoming.  Thus ignoring my hitching instincts, I made a game of jumping into the bushes and canyons which adorned the side of the road every time a vehicle appraoched.  my heart was beating in my chest and the adrenaline made me forget that I was in bare feet and stepping in thorns, rocks, etc.. Plus I did all this while cradling a carton of wine, which perhaps contributed to my mania
-sometime after midnight I reached Ville Hernan and slept in the moonlight under a tree
PROGRESS MADE: Malaga to Granada to Guadix to Ville Hernan

Sun Oct 9 2011
-got up before the sun and got on the highway just as the sun was rising over the mountains.  it was incredibly beuatiful and I figured at this early hour I could get a couple hours of hitching on the freeway in before the next shift of traffic cops putt a stop to my antics
-grabbed a coffee from a rest stop and after another hour of walking I noticed a police jeep westbound getting off the ramp.  I thought for sure he was going to get on the eastbound portion and kick me off the highway.  however, to my shortlived delight he kept on going down the street he exited on.  I fancied myself untouchable and kept on
-half an hour later I was approaching a bridge which spanned a canyon and I saw two motorcycle cops (the kind who had kicked me off the highweay the previous evening) approaching westbound.  I had no illusions about it: they were after me.  I waited til they were out of sight and hopped over the bridge into the canyon below.  It was steep and rocky with thorns, vines and thorny vines.  I felt a little like Cool Hand Luke ducking the law as I was.  After scraping the fuck out of my hands and feet and ankles and every exposed part of my body (ps dont run from the law with flip-flops and a backpack on; it sucks) I made it to the bottom where there were some horses and a river.  I peed in the river as I crossed and made my way up the other side of the canyon constantly looking the several hundred feet up to the bridge to see if 5-0 had gotten wise to my escape.
-back on the highway I was thinking how clever I was then BAM, the pigs caught up with me and escorted me off the highwway instructing me to walk this shitty desert dirt road which led to a train station allegedly.  I felt a little like Clint Eastwood in The Good The Bad and The Ugly, when Eli Wallach forces him to walk through the desert.  I wasn't too far from where they filmed it which kind of added to the experience.  After going what I assume was the wrong way at an unmarked fork in the road I ended up at a another highway rest area where I regrouped and decided that I would sacrfice mobility for the chance of a ride by standing on the rest areas ramp to the highway with my thumb out.  This was an ok compromise as 5-0 saw me and let me be.  But after hours people kept driving by.  It was kind of upsetting when I thought oif how many people passing plain didnt give a fuck about me. 
-finally at around 630 this one dude reluctantly said he would take me to Lorca where they had eastbound trains.  he was short with me at first but warmed up as we talked (he spoke no English ftr)
-took the train from Lorca to Murcia and crashed in a constrrction site til the next morning
PRGRESS MADE: Ville Hernan to Lorca to Murcia

Monday Oct 10 2011
-caught the early train to Alicante and made it to the beach just in time for a beautiful sunrise over the water.  copped some groceries and I was ghost.  decided to play it smart and stick to the national roads north to Valencia for hitching so 5-0 wouldnt harrass me.  It was slow at first but over the course of the day got five hits if memory serves.  Noone took me very far but every little bit helps.
-after the last guy dropped me off just before sunset I proceeded to head east as the prospects for catching a ride diminished with the sun.  I had gotten used to hitting a target city per day at this point and was mad I wasnt going to make it to Valenica.  Then two police coming from the opposite direction espied me walking with my thumb out and in their infinite cuntery wagged their finger at it.  Great!  I had just had my first warning which meant that I now had to walk looking over my shoulder so they didnt fine me for catching me again.
-I kept truckin til I got south of Cellura and made camp in one of the Valencia orange groves that had began popping up around me.  After several nights of little sleep I crushed a ten hour stint and woke up after the sunrise which was unusual.
PROGRESS MADE: Murcia to Alicante to south of Cellura

Tuesday Oct 11 2011
-I figured Id keep my thumb out as I departed for Cekkura and the train stn there.  In my frustration I had resolved to take a train to Valencia and then Barcelona because I had wanted to reach Barcelona within a week of leaving Rota.  Maria picked me up and she was the sweetest girl who said something that made me cry.  [hitchhiking] is hard, but its beautiful.  It was like in Lord of War when the president of Liberia says "bath of blood" instead of "bloodbath" and "lord of war" instead of "warlord," and insists that he likes his way of saying it better; perhaps she didnt mean beautiful the way we mean beatiful when we say it, but she meant something deeper which resonated with me.  she was on her way to class in Valenica and dropped me off near her school where I jumped on the freeway
-getting on the freeway was a mistake because I was trying to throw a hail mary (people on the freeways will typically be going farther than those on national roads) so early in the day and nobody was biting.  I found a couple of euros on the side of the freeway and a reflective vest which I attached to my backpack for safety.  My feet, which has been suffering all week because I had been walking kilometres every day in shitty flip flops really started to hurt, especially my left ankle.  I took a detour in a nearby town where I cursed my bad luck and grabbed some groceries.  Although I had previously contemplated hopping a train to Barcelona when my luck was bad, my 11th hour victories always led me to let my luck ride which is why I had proceeded to walk out of Valencia.  I was again thinking of resigning my self to a bus when I saw a Johnnie Walker billboard which had the slogan Keep Walking.  I took it as a sign (everything is a sign when youre desperate) and limped on, crushing a click or two north on the beach then back to the highway. 
-at length on the highway I got picked up by Xavien who spoke English well enough but couldn't understand it for shit and was hard of hearing, and insisted I sit in the back cause people in the front made him nervous.  (you meet all types when hitching).  We talked about politics and music and he lamented his wasted life (he wanted to have adventures like me but never did).  I tried to reassure him by saying that adventure sucks.  I wasnt lying: I was really down on things at that point realizing that I was still 300 km from Barcelona and in pain from walking.  Xavien took me 40 km further north of his destination but balked at taking me another 2km to a gas station so left me in the middle of nowhere.  I though how very human of him: We all want to do right by each other and we show so much promise in that regard.  Then we fuck up the endgame.
-dropping me in the middle of nowhere was a blessing in disguise though because I walked to a BP and began journal writing as an Algerian couple, Ali and Keira got there.  Ali said something to me in French then we got to talking and he began asking me about what I was writing.  Then his wife began talking to me (neither spoke English btw).  When they ascertained that I was going to Barcelona they offered me a ride because it just so happened they were going to Barcelona as well.  It was 8 oclock and I had been about to find an orchard to sleep in and I pulled off the 11th hour surprise win of a lifetime.  I couldnt believe my luck.
PROGRESS MADE: South of Cellura to Valencia to BARCELONA!!!!!!!! VICTORY 

Of course it wasnt luck, because my luck had been shitty all day.  Perseverance has been my most important asset on the road.  You gotta keep at it especially when it sucks and noone stops for you.  My emotions have been up and down all week and I have cried out of despair more than once.  But then I have been jubilant and ecstatic too.  Im gonna probably crash in Barcelona for one more night before heading to France and then Italy to see my cousin Stephen.  It might be a tough road but if youre going through hell, keep going.  (Courage Wolf)
Stay Thirsty
-Andre Guantanamo

The Most Useful Blog in the World

My Friends,  
   I am in Rota, Spain right now. I left Cadiz this morning on the ferry and met up with Ricky, who reached out to me over couchsurfing.net yesterday. He must have seen what a standup guy I was (you can see too: ) and been moved by my blog entry, "Hostel California" (4 Oct 2011). In any event, he invited me to take the ferry to Rota and crash at his place, which I did after considering that I was less than thrilled with my accommodations in Cadiz and also that he is a fellow member of NATO.
I arrived in Rota just before one, and after getting him on the phone we met up at Castillo de Luna, which is an old castle that has been turned into a municipal building here in Rota. Some of my loyal readership may remember my 16 August 2011 entry, entitled "I Used to Like Meeting New People," where I detailed my encounter with Rob, am overly social senior who balanced out incredibly interesting life stories with incredibly mundane ones. Well, I mentioned that he had been in a coma and he fell into that coma here in Rota in the 1960s disarming sea mines left over from World War 2.

"Wow, that is soo interesting; please tell me more."

Perhaps if I run into him again I will have something to contribute to the conversation now before he goes on at length for an hour.
Back to the situation at hand, my host, Ricky, has been very welcoming. He showed me around the house and basically told me to make myself at home while he headed back to work. Finally being in a position where I have access to a computer that not only has a mic and camera, but also no other travelers waiting to use it, I have made the most of my time, first catching up on "Arby & the Chief," a youtube series I like, then doing a little bit of vlogging. My clothes are performing well; just showered with them yesterday and I am smelling good. I realized they needed washing yesterday when I woke up and all I could smell was myself (ps, salt waterswimming is no substitute for a shower). Anyway, me and some friends ended up going to Torre Tavira to see the camera obscura

and all I could think the whole time we watched the demonstration was "oh man, I hope these people can't smell me." Now, no such problems: smellin good and feelin good. Gonna crush a shower tonight and that should keep me agreeable with people's olfactory glands for the next few days while I visit Tarifa, Gibraltar and Malaga.
Speaking of which, as it looks now I dont think I will be heading to Munich for Oktoberfest. Its not a definite no but the chances are looking slim, in spite of the drunken post I made the other night (see "The Best Drunken Idea of My Life," 2 Oct 2011). If I do go, that will be great and will definitely provide me with lots of blog fodder. If not, I will have to make my own adventure, hitchiking, dehydrating, starving, and generally suffering as I hitchike up the arid east coast of Spain. I'm up for the challenge so I hope you're up for reading about it.
Stay Thirsty
-Andre Guantanamo

Hostel California

My Friends,
   I am still in Cadiz.  It is a beautiful city with fantastic beaches and the people at my hostel are friendly so I am enjoying myself. I will be looking to exit the city soon however; either by flying out to Munich on Friday or leaving with some new Dutch friends for Gibraltar before then.  But for now, I wait.  Living at this hostel is cheap (10 Euros per night to sleep on the terrace) so I can justify staying here with my budget, but the little things are getting to me, perhaps a sign that I need to hit the road again soon.
   Like many hostels, this one has areas which close around midnight; the terrace patio closes so that the people sleeping in hammocks on the roof can go to bed, and the kitchen and lounge close so that the neighbours are not disturbed by excess noise.  The problem is then that no place is left to share the company of friends after a certain time.  We found this out the hard way last night when one of the hostel employees told us to basically pack up our shit and get out.  When I asked where paying patrons of the hostel were supposed top go to hang out, he suggested to come go to the beach or come to the bar.
   I have been to enough hostels to know that this is some old bullshit.  Not everyone wants to go to the bar and if someone doesn't want to go to the beach, what option are they left with?  Perhaps I am being too picky and perhaps I should also have read the fine print when I checked in.  I had entertained the idea of checking out this morning and searching for accommodation elsewhere but I realised that I had grown comfortable here and chummy with my fellow guests, whom I had also made travel plans with.  Checking out now would throw a wrench in these plans.  So for better or worse I have decided to stay put with the knowledge that party-time ends at midnight.  Somehow I will manage.
Stay Thirsty

The Best Drunken Idea of my Life

My Friends,

   In Cadiz, Spain.  Canadian dude at this hostel recommended hitting Oktoberfest in Munich for the last wknd its on.  The more I drank, the better it sounded.  So I will be saying "fuck Gibraltar" for the time being and heading north-east to Munich to crush some fancy beer and eat animals.  That is all.

Stay Thirsty

-Andre Guantanamo

Resting my Fitted-Cap on Jupiter

My Friends,
   I left Lisboa (finally) Friday morning and took the long ass four hour train to Faro.  I got to Faro and walked around a bit, but I decided there was progress to be made so made my exit for the town post haste with only the vague goal of reaching Espanha.  I proceeded east barefoot (I knew I was going east because the setting sun silhouetted me on the ground in front of me: suck on that fucker who stole my compass among many other things) and reached then passed Olhau.  Iit was around this point that I decided I would hitch because my feets were sore and my flippy floppys arent the best for walking in, they tend to rub the foot raw.  However, it being after dark and Portuguese people being fuckers, nobody was picking a pimp up.  It was during this unsuccessful bout of trying to find a ride that traipsed ( I traipse a lot btw) into a small little hamlet called Fuseta.  There was nothing noteworthy about the town save for the loud voice I heard coming over speakers in emphatic Portuguese.  I figured it was either a DJ or a Bingo but as I got closer I noticed there was a prevalence of "espiritus" and "dios" being dropped.  Could it be?  Had I found a Portuguese evangelical?  I had
   I wandered closer and these little kids tried to wave me in as a caught of Portuguese Elvis waxing theological from the pulpit.  I debated having a Borat moment and letting them save me.

Hell Heck, religious people are great for wandering types (read: potential converts) like me: you never know how far they will go to show you how righteous they are, as I found out in Australia when I was shown great hospitality by a couple who were 7th Day Adventists (they let me crash in their spare room after I disavowed the theory of evolution).  However, I decided in my tired and fragile state that I might in fact be susceptible to their cult programming and walked leaving them to their God.

"Good Riddance, more Jesus for us!"

Back on the road, I was all in "fuck that, Ill walk til someone picks me up" mode for a while but the yawns became more freqent and I spotted a nice little flat spot that I wanted right on some dudes property.  So I asked him if I could crash.  In the no English he had, he was emphatic that I make "no problem," but after talking to his wife they let me crash in their garage and even brought me inside for some coffee, wine bread and sardines (midnight snack of champions).
   The next morning (today) I was on a hot streak.  I got three rides in the morning, and although noone took me far I managed to get to Villa Real do San Antonio when it was all said and done.  Once there, I crushed a ferry ride into the Spanish town of Ayamonte, saying goodbye to Portugal until round two sometime in the future.

"IMMA FUCK YOU TIL YOU LOVE ME, PORTUGAL!!"

   It took me a while to get my bearings in Spain but once I did I wound up hiking this baja trail for a while before I found the highway east to Lepe and Huelva.  The hitching again slowed although it was beautiful country_side to walk through: lots of orchards and vineyards and it smelled great.  I stopped in a roadside restaurant for water and the proprietor broke a pimp off some bottles of water when I would have been satisfied with the tap.  I grabbed an espresso and brandy (truly up there with beer and pizza, shrimp and white wine, or Dom Perignon and chicken wings, as one of the dopest pairings).  It was my second of the day, but fuck it, I wasnt driving.  I entertained the notion of offering this guy a few hours of labour for an authentic Spanish meal, but work was slow so I made my way but to the highway for what I was sure would be hours of fruitless hitchhiking.  Not the case!  Samuel picked me up with his two kids and took me to Lepe, but then I guess he realized how much he enjoyed my company and said hed take me all the way to Huelva.  For those no in the know, this is what is known to a hitchhiker as "dope as fuck."

   In Huelva, I sighstseed a bit (its truly a nice town and someday Ill come back with my pet midget) until I caught the bus to Seville, which Samuel informed me was the hub of south-west Spain.  So here I am, feeling very old in a hostel that is evidently party central for the city.  While this place would have been right up my alley five years ago in Australia, Im so old now that I dont even want to go check out the rooftop patio.  God, when did I become so lame?

   Anyhow, I had a churro for the first time on the way here (ps I messes wit fried dough!) and I think I will go find out what a tapa is.before heading to Cadiz tomorrow.  

Stay Thirsty,

-Andre