Happiness is a Warm Gun

Lubljana, Slovenia

Under a cloudless red-rimmed sky and a scorching sun, we watched a selection of the most beautiful women in Eastern Europe idle by until dusk, relentlessly tantalizing us with their tiny bikinis while we alternated between sitting at cafes drinking local brews and shots of rakkia - plum brandy - and playing catch and taking dips in the river Danube with our latest group of friends. Only the night before, Scotty and I sat at Martha's Pub in Novi Sad, believing it was our last night together after 4 months, toasting to and drowning our memories away in heavy shot glasses of aqua absinthe. We recalled the good times and bad, the company we've kept and the money spent, the tourist traps and lucky discoveries, the tales never to be retold and the friendships forged in minutes. (but I then decided to go with him to Slovenia the next day!)

Gazing out along the river in Novi Sad from this man-made paradise beach on a river, or from the Petrograd fortress that rises above it nearby, we could hardly believe we were staring out at ruins. A local kindergarden teacher on a bench in the city center recounted to me her memories of hiding in her river-front home while NATO war planes destroyed the city's 3 main bridges. "It was a dangerous time here." Aside from the provisional barge bridge that sill stands today and the pillars of those destroyed 6 years ago, you can hardly tell anything happened in this city of 300,000. The objective of the bombings was to cut off "supply lines," although if you talk to people here they will laugh at that idea and say it is all just politics. Roughly 10% of the population are students, out of school since last week and partying on the beach like Pauly Shore during Spring Break 1991. This place is a serious challenge to the good looks and fashions of Plovdiv. I will return. Hey Chino, I cried across a perfect beach, "define heaven."

Our companions in Novi Sad were a group of university students recently liberated for summer but not yet returned to their homes in Bosnia. They were perhaps the most friendly and welcoming bunch yet, and the one Jewish member of the crew, Jaelco, was delighted to meet me. More important than the beers we drank together or the stories shared were the conversations about what we as Americans so terribly misunderstand and mis-learn about the wars in this region. Slavisha and Alexander enlightened us a bit during our walks to the beach, shattering all assumptions and the small factual education I had acquired. The fact is, the simple notions that world media outlets create of Serbs slaughtering Muslims or entire communities raging against others are absurd. Each village was a different story; Serbs against Muslims, government troops against Christians, Muslims against Muslims. Slavisha and his family fled to Hanover, Germany until 1993. He and Alexander were reunited only by accident after they found eachother studying in the same town, Novi Sad, 7 years later.

So we were embraced by a group of Bosnian university students, and what followed was 2 days of drunken revelry and certainly one of the finest nights of my trip at Club "Sterija." While the talented local gypsy band Absolutno Romantico belted out traditional Bosnian and Serbian tunes and original favorites - a solid drummer and two talented guitarists finger picking and strumming hard rhythms - a Sunday evening evaporated while a packed club sang along. I sat alone (Scotty passed out earlier from a rough day on the beach) in the corner with a group of Bosnians that gather each week to sip Montenegro white wines and take in the atmosphere. Each song was a new experience, as the crowd cheered and Ricky or Slavisha or Alexander or Banir or Jaelco explained to me its meaning or what was happening; e.g. "that girl over there just declared that she will run naked through this club if you do not play her favorite song!" When Ricky's girlfriend Dragona was mentioned in a song, he raised both arms straight up in the air in recognition, smiling like an idiot. Just when I least expected it, and 3 bottles deep in wine, the band made an announcement honoring the presence of the American "Fox" and apologized for not playing any Jimmy Hendrix for me. We all toasted repeatedly to the crowd of kuchke. Please excuse the language, but what a fuckin awesome time.

Talking to Binar was one of my favorite conversations, another Bosnian who had been working in town for the UN and EU for the past 7 years. He is currently working for the EU Police Mission, helping monitor police work in the area since the end of the most recent conflict and stressed out by the 26 different nationalities and languages he deals with. Underpaid and underappreciated, he found it hard to believe that UN positons were so highly sought where we come from. The grass is always greener I suppose.

It's been nice to finally begin encountering a majority of young people that actually speak decent English. The girls I meet at the bar for instance, though quiet, are usually the most fluent. People may still hate the American government, but they cannot deny their envy of many of the other fortunes and systems we have been blessed with and their frustration with the difficulty of attempting to visit our country. There is absolutely zero feeling of danger in this area, and Serbia has exploded up my list of top destinations to return to. Our week in Serbia was fantastic.
After Novi Sad Scott and I went back to Belgrade to catch a train through Zaghreb to Ljubjlana, Slovenia. This town, Ljubjlana, from which I am now writing, is more or less like travelling to Interlocken, Switzerland. Upon arrival through picturesque, if rainy, Julian Alps, we met a very cool girl from western Canada, Christine, who toured the city and castle and bunked up with us for the night at a hostel. Christine is on her way to Spain for a summer intensive language program - I am jealous - and helped fill us in on what it's like in her hometown of Vancouver. She is also a talented athlete, and I am now fairly knowledgeable about a sport that gets little attention at home, but that is played very seriously in over 40 countries: Ultimate Frisbee. Did you know it was invented in the late seventees at a highschool in New Jersey!? I've only played for fun, but I experienced Mardi Gras in New Orleans a few years ago with part of the Michigan team, who helped school me on how to throw the disc, but who also drank too much and their habits have hurt the team's performance...Perhaps one day it will be accepted as an Olympic sport.

So we three walked the city and toured the castle. The castle has been transformed into a modern art museum upon original roman ruins. It would be the perfect place to take a girl, with make-out points and a "drip room" with sound effects where an original well once stood. We took pictures from the tower and watched a 3-D film while wearing dorky glasses, about the history and archictecture of the city. The film was fantastic, except it rushed to the credits without telling you what happened when Slovenia went to war with Yugoslavia after declaring independence and being invaded in 1984! I believe they have only been independent since 1991. Their cultural history is very impressive.

Scott and I spent today in Bled, an Alpine glacier lake town outside of the city. It is simply gorgeous. We paddled out to the Church of the Assumption on an island in the lake's center, and ate Chinese food and drank some beers at some local spots when the daily onslaught of rain began. Tomorrow I will go to soem famous caverns outside of town - some of the biggest in Europe - before heading back east to Zaghreb and south to the Dalmation Coast.
On a final note, I just want to wish our dear friend Anika the happiest of weddings this weekend. She was none other than Scott's prom date, and the first of a series of friends soon to be married. Mazel Tov!

Crusaders in Belgrade

Belgrade, Serbia

I never thought I'd be in Serbia, but here I am (we say this about most countries we hit these days). Today we arrived overnight from Bucharest and settled into a highschool hostel in the center of the city - the kids are out for summer I guess. How can I put this...we stink. The flies were upon us on the train in today, and it made us crack up knowing that we probably didn't even realize how dirty we must be. We have been wearing the same clothes for far too many days and are having trouble finding laundry services. Today I put on my last clean pair of boxers!

Our first friends in Serbia turned out to be a few Americans staying at the hostel, part of a group of 45 college students from all over the states on a summer mission for Campus Crusaders for Christ. They showed us around a bit to the main areas and pointed out the Parliament building, the former police and security offices which still stand half in ruins from our American smart bombs 6 years ago, and the old post office once used as Nazi headquarters during WWII (underneath there is a secret tunnel running all the way to the Danube.

It's funny explaining to people what we are doing here. The answer is we are not sure ourselves. They are here to talk to poeple about their feelings about Christ; we are here because an awesome bartender in Plovdiv, Bulgaria told us it should be included in our trip. And we have to then add the customary tale of two life-long friends saving up money after college to quit their jobs and tour the world for a while before life gets too serious.

The rest of our stay in Bulgaria, on the Black Sea, was nice but uneventful. Just relaxing on beaches and staying in private apartments of old women who pounce on us at bus and train stations for business. They never speak english, they're just adorable old people who escort you through town with your big backpack to their homes for a cheap place to stay. Not a bad business! Varna was unexpectedly cool; we spent the day there while waiting for a train connection, getting our last glimpses of the Black Sea.

Bucharest was a more exciting time, the capital of a country we planned to skip (everyone said skip Romania) but it just made more sense to go there to get to Serbia. I'm glad we saw it. A northern Italian man at the train station in Ruse, northern Bulgaria, tells me that the Romanian economy is growing at 8% a year. Isn't that approaching Chinese levels!? What is the US at, 3.5%? (Klaffky?) Mercedes and Hummers are not infrequently spotted in Romania. The wealth is there. After a couple days wandering the city, visiting the Peasant Museum and major squares, and staying at a hostel in a fancy neighborhood of embassies and government buidings with very sweet girls working and begging us to see more of their country; well, I really like Bucharest! It is broad avenues and bars and clubs, schwarma and pizza cafes and parks and cheap theatre and opera. It reminded me at times quite a bit of Beunos Aires. The only sad part is that the former communist dictator (executed on national tv Christmas Day 1989) uprooted a lot of the traditional neighborhoods and architectural relics, leaving a bland and scarred bloc-like feeling to much of the city. But the People's Palace (parliament) he built is impressive; it is the largest office building in the world after the Pentagon. I would like to return to Romania and go north, touring the mountains and Transylvanian architecture, and perhaps Moldova, which is now independent?

So that's all for the moment, not much to report. We are eating well and seeing the battered part of the Balkans (although you wouldn't know it from the main cafe and shopping areas of the city). The people are very friendly. We get the same standard reply as every other country when we inquire about thoughts on America: "we love your people; we hate your government." I think tomorrow we might try and locate what remains of the Chinese Embassy.

"AZIZ!"

Plovdiv, Bulgaria
Yesterday we bumped into a group of about 7 Peace Corps volunteers stationed in small villages around Plovdiv. They had all gathered to run a week-long day camp for Roma (gypsy) kids in town, children who rarely get that kind of attention and have that kind of fun given their poverty and the racism and lack of opportunity they endure. Naturally Scott and I fast became friends with the PCVs over some good Bulgarian beers on the main shopping street, and we went out with them all night.

I think perhaps my brother's friend Elena may be the only person who can truly appreciate what we witnessed last night (a native of Plovdiv), because it involved a local superstar. Let me explain a bit:
Aziz is sort of a Prince or Michael Jackson type of celebrity in Bulgaria. His music is extremely popular and he has a good voice, so I can't judge him badly there. Bulgarians really enjoy music that is a fusion of Bulgarian folk and remixed techno. The videos are melodramatic and very funny. But Aziz's image is ridiculously feminine - glitter, high heels, beaded skirts over tight cut up denim capri pants - all this even though he surrounds himself with huge bald bodyguards with no necks and beautiful women. If you see his poster, it looks straight out of Zoolander.

Anyways, we went to a club last night to see Aziz make an appearance on the campaign trail (he is now running for office of some sort). Forget any kind of platform or speech, the guy arrived at 1 am and walked into a dancing club crowd also containing 7-9 Americans not knowing exactly what to expect. He danced in the center of the club singing his songs (terrible dancer) to the delight of the locals. The women love this guy, you should have seen the wall of cell-phone cameras surrounding him. So he came, sang his songs, shaked his ass, and Scott and I left a little early!

We're now in Sozopol, a small beach town on the Black Sea in the east. We took a nice train ride across the country after very little sleep and rented a cheap apartment in town from an old woman who speaks no English. I think we'll hit a couple towns along the coast (although it is very quiet here before high season) and maybe one more destination before leaving Bulgaria.

I know this is just stop number 1 in Eastern Europe, but I think it needs to be said that what Americans grow up thinking about this area of the world is embarrassing and uninformed. Our education in American classrooms is based entirely on ancient history, modern wars, and communist legacies. Oh, and of course fear of most places beyond western Europe. Not knowing what to expect, I imagined we might stumble upon Soviet era gulags or anti-American armed gangs just past the border, not the undiscovered supermodels and seaside restaurants and resort towns. Contemporary classes need to be introduced immediately.

Belgrade or Bust!! (and some pictures)

F#ck Romania, we're going to Serbia.

Here are all the photos from Vietnam, Cambodia, India, and Turkey:

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Fashion Explosion

Plovdiv, Bulgaria

Yes, it is very Euro, but Plovdiv is absolutely off the hook. Off the hizzy, true tight aight. It is the second largest city after Sophia, and rumored to be the cultural capital. I've never seen anything like this in my life - not in NYC or London or Paris or Rome. Every girl -- EVERY GIRL -- is dressed like they came off the runway, usually well put together but frequently on slut-time. Mothers with baby strollers, middle-aged women eating ice cream, 12 year old girls giggling on their cells. And they're literally wearing things that I have never even seen before. I always wondered who actually bought runway clothing, it is all here. Most of the main center of town is fashion boutiques and stores like Mavi and Diesel. There seem to be very few men at all, and their sense of fashion is nonexistent; the men must be confused, dressing like punk rockers or 80's hairband freaks with wristbands and capri pants. Scott declared that all you need to do is dress clean cut, maybe put on a nice shirt, and you're money. This is exactly one of those places where fashion magazines and Sports Illustrated discover their models.

So we wander the alleys and the main drags of outdoor cafes lined with chairs for people watching (not unlike Amsterdam). There are random ancient Roman amphitheatre ruins, and I stopped at one of the frequent casinos to drop a few levi on Blackjack. This town is all pros and no cons.

Crossing the border on a bus from Turkey to Bulgaria was entertaining. Security was not so tight and the Bulgarian border guard only gave us Americans a few gay jokes and little trouble. But the amazing part was the duty free cigarette smuggling ring. The bus company workers (3-4 per bus) stock up before the border, but are only allowed to bring a certain amount in. So what they do is distribute cartons of cigs throughout the bus - under everyone's seats - so when the dude with the flashlight hops aboard he can't do anything about it. Old women, young business men - EVERYONE freely and happily participates. Scott and I looked on in disbelief - why does nobody think it is wrong or immoral!? It is a mass campaign of disobedience and corruption among the common people, a sort of "we will all go down together" thing. Amazing. What a perfect entrance experience to Eastern Europe. It was just annoying to be delayed for cigarette smuggling at 4:30 am on a Sunday.

Bulgaria has less English speakers, but who cares. We found a sweet towny bar that plays mostly monster ballads or whatever we request (usually Black Crowes with some Hendrix thrown in). The bartender, Alexander, is a lawyer who finds plenty of work but nobody who can pay him, and so he continues to get by with a second job at the bar. Great guy, I felt bad for him. A pint is about 70 cents usually, and a good meal is a few dollars. Their beer, Kaminitza, is good, and I think the beer drinking will be picking up across eastern Europe. It has been pathetic recently. We're heading to Nesubur and Varna, resort towns on the Black Sea next.
Mom and Dad, I bought something in Turkey that will be coming in the mail from Bulgaria, so look out for a package. Don't get scared like the Morocco experience! The Turkish post has been privatized and it was much cheaper to send it here.

Our last days in Turkey were spent in Ephesus and Gallipoli. Ephesus was too touristy and I didn't enjoy it so much. Western cruise ships dock nearby and unload tours onto the grounds of the ancient ruins (former capital of Asia Minor after Persia was defeated by Alexander the Great). I had more fun hanging out in Selcuk (town) with carpet salesmen all day drinking chai, wandering the town market, eating cherries, and talking about surprisingly deep topics like capitalism and disintegration of traditional family structures, the artistic depth of Turkish carpets and kilims, and of course differences in women from different parts of the world. Marco and Emino taught me a lot more about Turkey, and I must rethink what I have said about how modern and Europeanized it is. It seems that the east of Turkey is a whole other experience, poor and much more loyal to Middle Eastern customs and a family way of life. Many people do not want to join Europe at all.

You can read and study forever in school, collecting MA's and BA's and JD's and Phd's like trophies, but you will never really begin to understand what is going on in the world until you travel.

Gallipoli is a rite of passage for Aussies and Kiwis. It is the Normandy experience for them, and they come in droves every March to honor the fallen ANZAC forces at cemeteries and memorials along the coast of the Dardanelles. Scott and I toured the small war museum and walked a few kilometers along the coast to ANZAC Cove, where the main landing occurred. We met a nice family with a son at Virginia Tech for engineering, and hitch-hiked back to the museum with a couple college guys who got out of the car to say goodbye in traditional Turkish style: kisses on both cheeks. My favorite part of Gallipoli was learning more about the making of Mustapha Kemal (Ataturk), a commander at the trenches of Gallipoli and father of the new Turkish nation after WWI. He had a great tribute speech in 1934, honoring the fallen ANZAC boys:

Those heroes that shed their blood and lost their lives... You are now lying in the soil of a friendly country. Therefore rest in peace. There is no difference between the Johnnies and the Mehmets to us where they lie side by side now here in this country of ours... you, the mothers, who sent their sons from faraway countries wipe away your tears; your sons are now lying in our bosom and are in peace. After having lost their lives on this land. They have become our sons as well.

Living in Uncle Mel's Train Set

Ephesus, Turkey

Traveling through Turkey is accomplished primarily by bus; they are nice buses with full service including hand sanitizer, ColaTurka and tea service. Looking out at the countryside, which reminds me of Greece and Italy (not surprising) with it's valleys and farming and vineyards, I imagine it might look from above like we are traveling in and out of mountain tunnels on the south western coast like the ones my Uncle Mel built for his Hurwitz towns in his miniature train set world. Leaving Istanbul at night, we came upon each city on the highway as if from the cockpit of a new Airbus mega-plane that seats 800. That is, the way the cities light up around the mountain passes and over small bodies of water, you feel like you are coming in for a smooth landing as you drift off to sleep.

There is no description possible for Istanbul, where "East meets West," except absolutely enchanting. It was far better than I imagined, and is quite a romantic place to begin a journey through Turkey. It is certainly the best city we've visited yet, and the most easily walkable and entertaining on foot. The Grand Covered Bazaar and Egyptian spice market could keep you busy for days, and the Blue Mosque and Aya Sophia are breathtaking. Justinian built the Aya Sophia in the 6th C.E., and for centuries while future emperors were crowned there the people believed that it had been built with a "divine" design. We stayed in Sultanahmet, the old city, where time is easily lost and found between the frequent calls to prayer 5 times a day from mosques on nearly every hilltop. It is an amazing thing to experience it day after day, and you can imagine what the city looks like from the harbor with a skyline dotted by scores of minarets. Besides wandering, we spent some time touring by short boat trips the Asian side of the city with another traveller, Chris, and an older bakery owner near our hostel who showed us around for a free lunch. We visited, for example, an Armenian Church (shout out to Sophia!) and the archaelogical museum including the tomb of Alexander. I love seeing all things related to Constantine, the Emperor who leagalized Christianity in Byzantium in 313 by edict and changed the face of "New Rome" (Istanbul), for I studied this period in Michigan and in Rome.
At the hostel we had nice Turkish hosts, but I did witness one educational fight between an Aussie and the owner - the Aussie made the cardinal mistake of insulting a Turkish man's mother.

Thank you Josh Eisenberg for suggesting Cappadokia. Our days in this beetlejuice-esque fantasy moonscape central mountain panorama land were filled with dancing, hiking, motorcycling between small towns and rockface monasteries, bathing in hotsprings, and wine libations. Standing above the valley of Gorime drinking 16oz Efes pilsners with Setsuko (she was so thoughtful to buy those!), a pretty girl from Okinawa who had lived recently in SoCal and Honolulu, I watched the sunset over the Rose Valley and other rock formations of all kinds. Only the sight of hot air balloons rising over these same mountains each dawn is better. Only in Cappadokia to you get the tremendous combination of mountains, plateaus, and even snowy mountains in the distance. All about, the landscape is marked with cone-head shaped rock formations hollowed out for ancient tombs, holy sites and places of shelter. When I later asked Ur {wasn't Ibrahim born in Ur!?}, our pension host, what type of natural phenomenon had formed these magnificent mountains and valleys, he simply replied with a smile, "God."

It was wonderful to spend the days with our friend Setsuko as well, who at first I mistook for a staff member at our Cave Pension. With some travellers you just have much better conversation. She explained at length the political situation and tensions between Japan and China which I found quite interesting and complete. With her we were driven around the 600 km area of underground tunnels and cave dwellings where once 20,000 people lived to escape harsh weather, prehistoric animals, and religious enemies. Numerous sites contain ancient churches and fading frescos of Jesus and company, and underground cities with 20 plus rooms remain intact in the valleys. Locals believe you can travel nearly 600km underground at the longest point. Star Wars was also filmed in one valley we visited with particularly unique rock formations. You just don't find places like this anywhere else in the world.

At our pension in Cappadocia, where "Hotel California" gently and continually pulsated from the stereo speakers, we dined with the family and sometimes local gendarmes -many local police stop by frequently for Chai. One Turkish officer spent the entire meal offering Setsuko the moon, literally, for her hand in marriage. After kicking us under the table for help, Scott and I attempted to negotiate further for sheep, camels, etc. As Turkish music blared and we toasted glasses of cheap wine (my favorite) and chai tea, the ladies danced until the old grandma smacked me in the tush enough times to win my participation.

We spent another entire day motoring around the area on rented bikes, CRT style baby, just Scott and I. Oh man was that a crazy day. What started out well quickly deteriorated into me finding Scott hitch hiking in the back of a Canadian car after running out of gas. This, of course, after I lost him on a straughtaway through a valley smewhere near a town called Mustafafasa after a lunch in Guzoluz where we tried to superglue Scott's rear brakelight back on after he crashed just before on a dirt road heading toward a snow-capped mountain. Whew. Obviously we went off the map and paid for it. I wish someone had filmed Scott falling off the bike, and me throwing mine aside to tear down the hill with my helmut still on screaming "No! -- Chino!!!!" while he rocked back and forth in pain with the bike landing on his knee. He is fine, by the way, no worries just memories. We ended up riding for more gas on just one bike back to a town called Urgup, like in Dumb and Dumber. We were lucky the rental place gave us such shitty bikes, we returned to cups of chai and no extra charges.

After Cappadokia we headed south to the beaches, hopping around the Fethiye Bay area for a few days in Cilas Beach, Fethiye, Oludenez, and our favorite, Butterfly Valley. The small dingy to Butterfly Valley took an hour across choppy waters, but we met very cool Americans. Two were from Park City - one recruiting manager for Deer Valley (yeah Scott!) and another guy a hippie from Westwood, LA with dreads and all. The captains smoked and drank 3 beers each, each way, reminding me of the good life in Thailand...The waters of the southern coast are gorgeous. The water is light blue and turquiose by the famous Blue Lagoon where it laps agains the rocks, but out further on the water it is a blue so deep it is purple. High above Oludenez paragliders leap from the mountain tops - the area is the best in Europe and only second to Venezuala, they say, for the sport. But it's also a hndred bucks, so we skipped it! Butterfly Vallet is literally like the movie The Beach, a small locked sandy cove between two cliffs with one bar/tent rental place and a bunch of hippies dancing to Bob Marley and Fugees. Perfect. We hiked to the waterfall and got out of there with our drunk captains as the Utah man's free-spirited and topless wife waved us goodbye.

We are now in Ephesus for some educational archeology on our way back up and into Bulgaria. We're talking about stopping at Gallipoli as well, where the great Ataturk first won his fame defeating the British, who futiley hurled waves of ANZAC (Aussie and New Zealand) soldiers at them in the epic Turkish battle of WWI. Mustafa Kemal went on to lead and reform the new Turkish nation, and his picture graces the walls of nearly all small business and certainly all government and police stations - I know this because we had chai with the chief of police at his station in Taksim, a neighborhood in Istanbul, for 2 hours without him ever actually producing a cup of tea, but I digress.

It will be sad to leave Turkey. I love it here. I can't believe they are not yet part of the EU - they are clearly ready on the face of it. Further, why are they not even included in Eastern Europe traveler books? They may be part of the Mid East, but gimme a break, this is Europe.

Last night we went for a Turkish Bath at 10 o'clock at night. Very weird experience, but we think most dads would like it for some reason! It's basically a rotation of showering, sauna, heavy massage with a guy who rubs your naked body down with mittens that scratch off layers of dead skin (exfoliation), and finally a soap massage. Worth the experience, but the exfoliation better not mess up my georgeous tan.

If you know me well, then you know that I am not always a big eater. Hunger is sometimes elusive for me. Well, here in Turkey, especially after no meat and deathly heat in India where we lost weight, I am relishing the kebabs potatos beans rice-pilaf. The food is simply fantastic, and I sometimes eat a donner kebab right after dinner off the street just because. I think a good kebab stand would do really well by the bars back home. But Turkey is not cheap. Our 15-20 dollar per day budget from Asia is not maintainable here with pensions costing 10. I hope Bulgaria will be better. We are heading to Plovdiv and Varna on the Black Sea, and probably skipping Sophia all the way west in favor of heading up into Romania (maybe rent a car).
I have a personal resolution to try to be nicer in Eastern Europe. India in particular hardened me to the point where I am often a real asshole to locals trying to sell something or even give free advice. It is not odd for us to simply ignore the bastards offering genuine help, but after I got in a fight with a shopkeeper about the price of his postcards yesterday I realized I need to tone it down. We are back in Europe, we can relax right? It just might take some reconditioning, but behold the post-India Peter Fox nice streak! Local hospitality here, when given, is second to none.

Another random thing learned: if you lock your hands together, fingers intertwined, and open them in the middle to look, the lines on your palms form the word "AllA." Pretty cool, huh?

Sheikh Sheikh Sheikh Your Booty

Dubai, United Arab Emirates

Remember that amazing SI picture of Agassi playing tennis way up on top of a heli-pad on the side of a fancy hotel in Dubai? I just took a picture of that same hotel about an hour ago. It costs about $1,000 minimum to stay there, and the most expensive room is about $20,000 per night. That's right, with 8 hours to kill in the United Arab Emirates during our layover on the way to Istanbul, Scott and I ventured into the Kingdom of Dubai. We were astonished at the wealth, cleanliness, and new construction springing up all around. Man do these people have oil money, and it only costs them about a dollar per liter to fill up.

Dubai is the Singapore of the Middle East. It is a blend of Jupiter, FL and LA - too many skyskrapers to be FL and too clean and quiet to be LA. Believe it or not, we spent the day basically cabbing it around the city checking out hotels and expensive skyskrapers, and taking a dip in the gulf; the beach is only 15km from the airport and boasts perfect shades of turquoise and blue. What an amazing place. I'm so sorry I just missed my friend Max here by a few days. His aircraft carrier (US Navy) docked here for a few days while the men got to tour the city and hang out at Wild Wadi water park! We didn't see any Americans (go figure), but there are tons of businesspeople and many European tourists by the beaches. The locals wear typical Arab dress, but you're more likely to see them driving by in a Mercedes with a hands-free mobile and a labtop than riding by on a camel into the desert.

The UAE is actually 7 different kingdoms, each with its own Sheikh, the largest and richest of which are Dubai and Abu Dhabi. I don't know much about the government here, but obviously the Sheikh has done well allowing capitalism and private development to thrive. People are rich and happy, and tourism is booming.

Emirates Airlines is officially my favorite airline. Amazing service, brand new planes, choice of movies and video games, and economy seating with adjustable lower back cushions! Woweee! Seriously, the stewardesses speak not only Arabic and English, but Swahili and Hindi and German, and god knows what else.

There's not actually all that much to do here if you don't have a reason to be here, but it is so nice to be back in a safe, secure, clean city where everyone is so friendly again and helpful. The only problem is it's more expensive - 3.5 dirham to the dollar. By 2010, Dubai is planning to complete a new village by the Gulf of Oman with a building taller than the Petronas Towers in Kuala Lumpur. That should be a sight to see.

OK, got to run through this Mall of America airport to catch my plane. I hope Istanbul has internet this fast.