If you have ever had a conversation with me, I have probably said one of the following:

• Why are you talking so loud?
• I’m right here…
• (while in the car together) I can hear you; you are a foot away from my face.
• (On the cell phone) You are talking directly into my ear… no need to shout.

Well, these phrases don’t exist for me in Berlin!!! Everyone is so quiet! While I was standing at a very busy crosswalk (there were about fifty people waiting to cross, some on their cell phones), I closed my eyes, the only thing I could hear, were the cars passing by and the screeching of a buses brakes. It was like I was all alone standing there. I loved it!

Another instance, I saw a couple waving their arms about and having a conversation, laughing and animated… the only thing missing was any audible tones! They were 10 feet away from me and I didn’t even hear a whisper. It’s like an art. How can one not fall in love with zero noise pollution? Then you hear the stupid American, blocks away, coming down the street on their cell phone. People look annoyingly in the direction of the bull horn. If you take a moment to inhale your environment, it’s amazing what you quickly discover the culture.

The Berghain. A dance club that begins on Friday night and continues through early Monday morning. A nonstop party with multiple Dj’s. The only thing that changes here is night and day… but no worries… you never see that change, unless you look at your watch/cell phone. The entrance is probably one of the most exciting lines I have ever experienced. A two-hour long wait… hundreds of people waiting to enter at all hours of the night. The door men either say “Yes” or “Not tonight.” No one knows as to why you get rejected… it isn’t based on looks… I was looking at fashion models being turned away… humiliated. I was thinking… they were beyond hot… and they were told no? Even they were shocked. Lol… I think it must be, if you are wearing a certain color, then perhaps they won’t let you in. Who knows. I’m happy to have experienced the wild world of European dance beats, amazing DJ’s, dark rooms (hmmm , whatever you can imagine to go on in here…does), and how freely every drug is at your disposal (none for me… thanks.). I love dancing and dance I did till 11 the next morning… I remember walking outside to the afternoon sun…I felt like a vampire, my eyes burning after leaving the smoky darkness, my skin steaming from the sweat, I thought I was going to ignite into a ball of flames. At that point I didn’t care… water is all I could think about. Instead, I met some people that invited me for drinks and breakfast. At their posh home, they had a couple of cases of Champagne left over from a birthday party the previous day… lucky for me, Moet & Chandon and Veuve Clicquot (my two favorites) were in abundance. Before this trip, I don’t think I have ever had this much champers. Mmmm… no complaints here.

The height of men in Berlin is astonishing. If you are under 6’3” go home… at 6 feet everyone was towering over me… most women too. I would say average here is 6’3 -6’9.What the hell are they eating to have this height? Is Nutella a super form of Calcium? Perhaps through evolution, they have tried to reach high up for fruit or something and the Germans evolved to their current height… like the giraffe.

City wide tour please! I had my expert tour guides with me Jan and Gregor (Superdry) … they were my history books come to life. Everywhere we went about the city, I was enlightened with fast facts. Thank you for the education and for being so entertaining. I wished I could have enjoyed Berlin for a greater length of time. I could definitely be happy living in this city.

The dinner we had one evening was interesting. Schnitzel… which is veal (baby calf) pounded flat, battered, fried, and served with lemon. More like a thin chicken fried steak without the creamy peppered gravy. It was good… but I think I’ll stick to my original instead.

While I was in route to the train station, at Alexanderplaz, a busy part of the city, a woman in distress approached me carrying a baby. “Do you speak English” she asked.

“Yes, what is it?” I said. She held out a worn dirty piece of paper in the palm of her hand. I thought I was being Punked. I said, “No. No, thank you.”

I had just bought lunch, juice, and water. I was carrying three bags and my groceries. The actress named “Distress” starts mumbling something and says on repeat (like a fuse in her brain was malfunctioning), “The bebe, the bebe, the bebe.” She then lunges her entire arm into my grocery bag.

I said, “Bitch… You’d better get your hand out of my shit, and get your ass a real job. You see that I am traveling and don’t have anything to give you. You need to get away from me right now.” She began following me a for few feet spitting out words in whatever language. I was pissed that I had been fooled by her initial phrase, that which, I was already warned about. I instantly turned into an animal that was guarding his prey (kinda scary actually). I was just hungry enough to rip her head off at that point.   Figuratively speaking… of course.

Berlin – wear your high heels to blend in, try the schnitzel, and keep your bags closed!

Amsterdam (Puff puff pass)

My first taste of the green was supposed to be here… but being alone… I didn’t want to have a bad experience and risk being robbed or getting lost. The hundreds of coffee shops are sure to be any smokers paradise. They don’t even serve coffee… more like booze, joints, brownies, and space cake… everything infused with some green. Seeds only cost 3.5 euro. It is okay to grow your own… you just can’t sell it, unless you’re a business… cause if you do that, then it’s illegal. Really?

Red Light District – OMG. Where to begin? Sex on another planet. Woman wait in a glass door window for someone to strike their fancy, and then it’s off to the moon and the stars… well for an hour anyway, I think that is how it works. Girls of all ages… the super young, wearing next to nothing and older women with enormously large melons spilling forth while pressed against the glass… it’s all about subtlety here.

There were plenty of live sex shows for your viewing pleasure as well… you pay a fee and the curtain raises to a solo performance or a couple already in action. I walked into one of these lobbies and you can preview the models (by portrait) before shelling out the cash to see them in action… Wow, not anyone I would even want to see pictures of, let alone in a live performance… probably because it was still early in the day around 7pm.  I’m sure the hot models come out later at night when it’s busier.

Thank goodness I wasn’t alone during this exploration. I had my friend John leading me through the channels of the city. We were to spend a few days together in an awesome 5 star hotel… but he unfortunately fell ill and I had two large plush beds and a giant room to myself. Thank you for showing me Amsterdam John!!!

Bicycles are a big part of Amsterdam… is the main way of transport in the city… they have their own lane on the side walk. You will be run over by them if you don’t move to the sound of their bell. The rage that they have even towards each other is insane. It is road rage on a bike. If you are going to slow, someone will let you know by yelling at your ass to move! It took me a couple of days to hear the bell and register to get the eff out of the way.

Houseboats are some really great real estate in Amsterdam. They are connected to the cities plumbing and utility systems. I met someone who actually owned one and I laughed when he told me he lived on a boat. He asked why I was laughing… I said because I was fascinated by them… I showed him all the pictures that I had taken of the boats. He mentioned that there is a negative stereotype that comes along with living in a houseboat. With real estate being as expensive as it is, his boat was purchased for a tiny 300,000 euros ($390,000). Another plus he mentioned was not having any neighbors attached on any wall.

Amsterdam – Run from the sound of the bell, visit a coffee shop but don’t pay more than 12 euro for some stuff (they always try to over charge the tourists), and feast your eyes on some of the tragedy in the Red Light district.

Paris

First impressions – I board the subway and remain standing, girl #2 enters behind me and sits, begins texting madly on her phone. I look in front of me at girl #1, with her hair half pinned back, wearing a light jacket, quickly flips the page on her book and starts outlining the face of girl 2. The face is rapidly completed and very good I might add… the hair is filled in… girl 2 looks like she just had her hair done… rows braided throughout. Girl 2 is completely unaware that she is being studied and drawn. Four stops later, girl 1 is about to exit the train, the doors open, she rips out the page and throws it into the lap girl 2 (who’s still texting) and exits the train. Confused, girl 2 looks at the picture and stops texting, turns to see who it was that drew her… stares out of the window till we are off again. Then she looks back at her image and smiles. Really? Paris is awesome!  I *ucking love that I just witnessed that!

The subway system at first seemed a little ghetto… the trains run on tires… little did I know this helps them start and stop faster, like in a car. Efficiency is the word here.

I began getting ill in Paris (cold?). I walked around a lot my first day. My first stop was the Eiffel Tower and onto finish with the Louvre and the Cathedral of Notre Dame. When I had gotten to the Louvre I decided I was too tired to spend a couple of hours in a museum. Plus it was going to be free on the first Sunday of the month… good plan eh? Wrong. The next day I got there and the line was horrendous… thousands were lined up to go inside. The line was an hour and a half wait… no thank you. Europeans like to call the lines or wait times: “the queue time.” I laid down on the ledge of a water fountain to people watch and had a photo shoot instead. Remember I was sick. Last thing that I wanted was to be pushing my way around a crowded museum… It still makes me nauseous.

Paris was a bit expensive, but well worth it… very pretty and clean.

I witness a bus that had gone into a river when I was out site seeing… there were mobs of policemen and divers. I stuck around for about ten minutes, as it looked like they were taking a while strategizing their next move. I need action people!!! Hurry up!!! Hope everyone was okay.

Lastly, while at the train station for the next move to Spain… I was sitting  near a column in the train station and was approached by a young boy… ”Excuse me,” he said. I nodded.  He then asked, “Can I have some water?” I looked down at my half-full bottle of water. I picked it up and handed it to him. He was careful not to put his mouth on the opening… a few sips and he tightened the lip and handed it back to me and said, “Thank you.” Ummm… that was a first. I love that that just happened. Not sure I have the balls to just ask someone for water like that. Was that a test? Hmmm.

Paris – Pay for the Louvre (although I heard the Mona Lisa was overrated, being that it is so small and is barricaded at 5 feet away for viewing), just throw yourself into the subway system (it’s easy to learn and gets you everywhere), and don’t be afraid to share what you have, as little as it might be.

Budapest, Hungary

The road (train tracks) to Budapest were long… 9+ hours actually. I met a Hungarian, Jimmy, who shared the cabin… I would soon tell him that I was ravenous and that I hadn’t prepared for such a long treacherous journey. The train that we were in should have retired 40 years ago, the heat from outside maintained a constant simmer in the cabin. I was thankful that my sweat glands were over producing for once.

Jimmy is in his twenties and after getting to know me; revealed that he had bought two sandwiches (I called them sandwiches; they were actually hot dogs, tucked inside some fancy pastry). I told him that he shouldn’t have told me, and that I was going to knock him out and take them both. He laughed and ended up sharing his lunch with me… something that I had done earlier that day with someone else (great meeting you Proffa). I threw my last bottle of Santorini wine in the mix… it tasted a little less than stellar… but the buzz made the constant train stops and delays bearable.

Budapest was very enjoyable to see… Jimmy was nice enough to show me a fun night out, which included the local hangouts and a bit of site seeing. We walked into a club at some point that evening and I was ready to visit the toilet… I asked someone where the bathroom was as soon as we walked in… I got a finger point… Jimmy led… we walked into a dimly lit room and saw four stalls with doors semi open. Confused as Jimmy walked into one… I said where is the toilet? He was confused as well, then he started laughing, the expression he made was that of a person that was just caught with their “hand” in the cookie jar. He said, “I don’t think this is the toilet!”

“What?” I said. I walked in as he passed… there were oval shaped holes on both walls. Lol!! For shizzle. Ummm… that’s a first. I slowly walked towards the exit, imagining what kind of mischief hanky-panky went on in a room like that… people were laughing as we came out. “The toilet is over there” they said. Silly rabbits.

The next day I spent walking through the cities of Buda and Pest which are separated by the Danube river. I saw something that looked like a castle built into a cliff. I discovered that it was actually a church that was built into a cave (not like the bat cave)… pretty stunning actually… no photos allowed inside.

I really enjoyed seeing all the monuments and colossal churches. I hiked through a park, thinking I was just going to cut across it to reach a bridge that I had seen from a distance… but no… these dumb trails lead me higher and higher up a mountain… being stubborn, I didn’t want to turn around and back track… the sun was beating down… only igniting my anger and stubbornness… I was determined to win. Less than half an hour later I would land the most spectacular views of the city and what would be a major tourist spot. Who knew?

Lastly, I met someone that had gone to a bar and started making out with a cute girl… he had a button style closure on his pants back pocket. After the not so brief make out session… he realized the button had come loose…. or had it? Miss cutie ended up walking away with 150 Euros ($197)… not bad for a few meaningless kisses. Maybe I’m in the wrong business?

Budapest… where tiny little kisses cost big money.

Vienna, Austria

What an amazingly clean city… right away the city seemed very similar to London. I like the trams… they remind me of the old movie “Robocop.” The crosswalks have sensors on them like at the base of a garage door… if you break the laser beam… it triggers. So sophisticated. My only complaint…. The city blocks are like Las Vegas city blocks. ENORMOUS. I was looking at a map… like in every city… thinking, oh I can just walk, it’s a short distance… apparently the map that I was looking at was not to scale. Haha. Three blocks took 15+ minutes!! Eff that noise.

Saw a few museums at the Museum Quarter (MQ)… walked around a bit and was over it. I saw something quite interesting… bike rentals… you walk up to a kiosk… throw in your card and the bike is released… you can leave it at another rental location… it’s all automated… brilliant. Why didn’t I see this before I covered the city with my footprints?  I didn’t have anymore hoodspa in me for a bike rental… I was only in Vienna one day… Prague was calling.

Vienna… rent a bike.

Prague,Czech Republic

I met some people from Southern England that arrived at the same time as me. Two young lads that seemed to be over traveling together… I thought, at least I don’t have to deal with somebody that wants to act up… but perhaps I’d rather be playing off someone while traveling, then experiencing the adventure alone… safer and cheaper… so much cheaper when you are a 1+1,2,3,4.

“Why are you traveling alone?” they asked. In every country that question comes up… so I’m asking YOU PEOPLE…. WHY AM I TRAVELING ALONE? I’m tired of making up excuses. I tell people, my friends are broke, they hate to travel, couldn’t get time off cause they love their jobs, they are busy with families and functions, or are hermit crabs, or because I don’t have any friends, cause I am really shy, and I have a dead personality. Bah.

It’s all good. Trust. I am meeting really great people and when we vibe… the hours and activities are countless together. It’s an intense meeting of energies, all elevated due to the new surroundings. We are blended, shaken, and stirred with the passion for travel, enjoying one’s life, and most importantly having as much fun in the moment as possible. I have finally found my new hobby. I want to be surrounded by wanderlusts… and currently, I’m submerged.

Prague, or Praha, as everyone calls it, was a little gloomy the second day I was there to site see… it made for some interesting pictures. I had received an email from Cartier that mentioned that the Prague Castle was holding and exhibit of Cartier treasures. My heart began to vibrate at the thought of being at the right place in the world at the right time… I suppose this is why I’m here… to work. This is perfect to give me ideas for the future of this website.

Louis Cartier created (Christmas music is suddenly coming through my Ipod – I’m dreaming of a White Christmas… you know… it’s the little things that really make the moments in life.) as I was saying, while I’m floating through the country side of France, en route to Paris for the weekend, in my empty first class train sectional. Why isn’t someone here enjoying all the worlds’ silly beauty with me? Come on people… you got to dream and believe in yourself. You CAN have EVERYTHING you want. We are taught through schooling to think linearly… A-to-B. Enough with the… you have to work hard your whole life in order to get what you want and to be happy. I have never gotten anything I wanted by following those rules. Work hard to be on 4 different soap operas/countless shows? Work hard to land reality TV?… to  mingle with billionaires… private planes… exotic destinations…to build some amazing friendships… to have so many incredible experiences… to travel. You create your reality… mine caresses chaos at times… but, I’m never bored… and never stressed. I *ucking love my life. I hope that you can say the same. Break the box and make your own shape.

I could go on with excitement… but let’s get back to all the Cartier diamonds… I didn’t expect my eyes to feast on such a collection. Case after case of jewelry created beginning in the early 1900’s. Mostly made up of pieces that were created by special request that adorned Kings, Queens, the Rothchilds, the Vanderbuilts, and countless socialites and movie stars. Of course Elizabeth Taylor had a few pieces in the collection, she is quoted saying, “Money is not the only thing in life, there are furs and jewelry too.” Good girl… she gets it.

Two of my favorite pieces in the collection were inspired by the Mexican actress Maria Felix. She was always covered in expensive jewelry, but never Cartier. Being very well known for her extravagance, Cartier wanted her to wear his jewelry. Felix commissioned Cartier to create a necklace that looked like a snake, and if it looked worthy, she would wear it. The design was created and thousands of diamonds were added to create the snakes’ body. Felix was so impressed; she had Cartier create another necklace in the form of two crocodiles. These pieces are said to look like they come alive when they are held in your hand… we love Cartier crocodiles.

“There isn’t a bigger victory than when I bought a jewel for myself,” Maria Felix.

I should end there… but there was another occurrence of “When Gypsies Attack.” One of the Southern boys that I had met was walking with two girls… three gypsies approach him… “you talk English? It sounds so nice… say something, say something in English.”

“Go away,” he said.

Gypsy #1 plunges her hand down his back pocket… he throws her arm away and begins yells obscenities too good to write here. Gypsies #2 & #3 lunge for a girls purse… they all defend each other and the gypsies scurry back into the night.

Prague… Go to the Cartier exhibit and pretend to not speak the English.

Sofia, Bulgaria

Hmmm… who knew that Eastern Europe was going to be such a challenge mentally? Later, I will come to find out that Northern and Western European occupants, never have or will never visit Eastern Europe.

The main way of transport in all of Europe is the railway system. In E.E. it is a way of life for the gypsies, tramps, and thieves. Let me explain how sleeping with one eye open, or not at all, can help you benefit while traveling on the rail system in most of E.E.

At a checkout counter while making my reservation, the attendant told me to get a sleeper train, and to not sit in the general seating area while traveling, so as to avoid the gypsies. “They will take everything… they will go through your bags and take your passport… they are looking for money.”

“Let them try,” I said, “I will fight!” Nuh-uh, not on my watch… I will knock a bitch OUT!

Well, that mentality was just me being a young, cocky, arrogant, hard-buck of a muscle-stud babes.

The reality of it is…. Where you sit on the train generally has six seats in a compartment (three seats facing the other three seats), with a glass sliding door that closes to the hallway. There are smaller vents on the floor area below the sliding door. Sophi, a young Bulgarian traveler (who studies in Vienna), told me of various techniques that thieves use to nab your belongings. Through the vents, the bandits will release a gas, to make you pass out. When you are nice and unconscious… they come in and steal everything… I imagine them taking my underwear… oooo that makes me angry.

Sophi then alerts me to the, “do not under any circumstance…open the door” to one of these gold diggers… because the moment that you do…. they will spray a substance on your face, and it’s off to neverland you go. Now I know where to come, when I need some good sleep and Tylenol PM no longer works. Maybe put some play money in my pockets to see how much they take. But then again…. that’ll probably piss them off and land me a few bruises. Sophi mentions that chains can be put onto the door to avoid any unwanted entry. Really? Really.

A clever way that these gypsies get their stab on you on land is by using their children. They will walk up to you and hand you their child… while you don’t want the baby to fall… you grab the child in confusion, all-the-while, moms busy shopping through your pockets. Lesson learned here… let the baby fall. Funny, in America… I’ve never had so much stress while traveling. Eastern Europe makes you grow and extra pair of eyes, 10 sets of ears, and a sick sense that EVERYONE is out to get you. It makes you very aware of your surroundings. Thank you E.E. for giving me Spidy sense.

Let’s move back now to the city of Sofia… the train ride through the Bulgarian mountains was just stunning… beautiful, lots of greenery, the train hugged a river for a great deal of the ride… that’s about when it began…

I was taking pictures of mountain sides, when I started seeing some small homes and trash thrown about. Hmmm?… we need to call that show “Hoarders” I thought. It didn’t stop there, every house I was seeing was the same. I don’t understand, you have a nicely built house, a back yard, and directly behind the fence of the back yard, were trash bags… lots of trash bags… some sealed, but mostly broken, as if shredded apart by animals… the trash lay scattered everywhere. Perhaps, because these homes are closer to the train, this could indicate that they are in the lower income bracket… which means they cannot afford trash pickup… hence, the people dispose of it any way they see fit. All assumptions of course.

All on the contrary… the whole city (what I saw in 8 hours – because I wasn’t about to stay one min longer) was like this… one giant trash heap. I didn’t take any pictures… because I don’t want to remember any of this.

Moving on from the self-made land fills… I had a dumb moment when I was in Bulgaria… I went looking everywhere for a bathroom… there were none to be found the 4 times I circled the inside of the worn down train station. I walked out of the station and into this newer shopping center for what was to be “Operation Bathroom.” After circling the entire thing twice, Op Bath was a failed mission… I gave up. I decided to go into an eatery for a quick bite and some wifi access (which -big surprise- the clerk didn’t know the password to log on).

Confused as to how Bulgarians don’t use the bathroom… I had had it… my body was ready to release without my consent. I ask the girl at the counter where the bathroom/toilet was. Unlucky for me, she didn’t speak English, right on par with the 10 other people I had tried to communicate with… WTF… I turned into a mime and acted like I was washing my hands and then put my hands up… like the “Where?” gesture… she laughed and shook her head like I was an idiot. Yes, I’m an idiot… but I have enough sense to not choose you, to be on my team during charades. I pulled out my final card, being that I was about to just relieve myself right there: I held my hand to my groin and pretended to be peeing from left to right… again, she laughed at me and then pointed to a structure that I had passed several times before labeled “WC.” What the heck is that? I tell you… with these silly games that are being played with me… I was thinking of doing the big dirty on the side of the small WC building… Why don’t you use pictures Mutha *uckas… they’re universal!! I tore in there, after already firing some blanks while looking for the *ucking bathroom, the beads of sweat on my forehead getting larger with each misfire. I felt like I was playing a new twisted version of  rush and roulette… my number was up. While on the toilet with no ventilation, I was there thinking what the hell did I eat that had me feeling this way? Oh, that’s right, my routine of 4 giros a day: one at lunch, 2 for dinner, and one after the bars at 5:30am. Mmmm… ewwww.

I did my monkey business… washed my hands and face, when suddenly, I turn to leave, and I see a woman behind a booth, near the exit. She was looking down, probably tying her shoe or picking up half of a sandwich she had dropped. That is when I noticed a sign that wanted .60 in Bulgarian currency (which of course I didn’t have). You have to pay to use the bathroom?!? Really? I ran out of the door and around to the back of the building… my heart was pounding… I had just dropped the big dirty and ran. It’s yours now… you deal with it.

I had to strategize my next move, as things like these could not have been expected… I wasn’t at all  prepared to be a bathroom criminal. I thought… I will run into the train station and blend in with the crowd by walking slowly in the direction of movement.

I ran quickly across the street, looked both ways, and for a split second I took a glance back; half expecting to see some armed guards chasing me. The train station was just ahead… I busted into a café that was attached to the station, and slowed down instantly by pretending to read a menu… disguising the fact that I was actually seeing if I was being followed. Thank the Gods… I got away. Have you ever shat and ran? I can now say I have. Disgusting, yet mildly exciting.

Santorini (Bark!)

This island is definitely not what I expected… I thought I was going to be traipsing around some lush foliage, similar to what I have seen on the islands of Oahu and Nassau. Instead I got what looks like dry grassland that has been plagued by drought. On the other hand, guess it doesn’t really matter, because when the land touches sand, and the sand touches water, that’s the moment you realize that you have left wherever it is you’re from. The beaches in Santorini are made up of gravel type rock… in some areas red and others black… go ahead try walking barefoot in it.. I did. I also let out a lions roar every time. It’s like walking on hot coals. Found it easier to keep my sandals on, till I reached the edge of the water. Boo.

The city is classic Santorini, blue shutters with some blue capped domes and white paint covering everything else.

People were super friendly… met tons of happy travelers (see pics on facebook for our island time) this seems to be the island of relaxation and exploration. Tours to the non-active volcano included a “hands-in-pit,” (to feel the steam come out) experience, as well as a swim into the hot (luke warmish) springs.

Thanks to my new friends, Chris and Moa (moe-uh), for sharing the info on the wine that you can buy out of a barrel… you fill up your water bottle and the price tag is only €2.45. Amazing, I know! So I bought six in order to be ready for Mykonos… as drinks there can cost anywhere from €12-€20 ($20.28 – $27.80) each. The wine was actually great tasting… when chilled.

Overall great relaxing time… I regret not having rented an ATV on this island for a greater submersion of culture.

Bars were filled with locals and travelers… the music was fantastic… the kind of stuff I expected to hear in London.

Doggie’s. What is the BARK about?… we were walking outside  late one night, and I spotted a dirt covered car and quickly suggested having the 3 of us write obscenities on the filthy car’s rear windsheild. And so we did, and it was fun. Suddenly a dog walks over to our trio and plops right in the middle and begins to bite at Moa’s feet in a playful manner. I held his head down with my sandal, being playful as he thought my foot was also a chew toy. The dog just wanted a little love. A love starved dog – I can relate. This is one of many that we saw all over the island. Another pooch,  also shown here, walked right into the open beach bar while we were dancing and laid down and began biting feet as well… haha…I asked the group why there were so many dogs that are abandoned or stray…The answer: shrugs all around.

I noticed that the only people that were feeding the K9’s were the tourists. They all looked sadly malnourished. I’m more of a cat lover myself… but I felt bad for all the dogs I was seeing in Greece.
Map it out: View Larger Map

Mykonos (Meow)

Mykonos is party central… much like the Island of Eos (so I hear), only far more expensive. The club scene is fun and bursting with wickedly handsome people, no matter what you are looking for. Found the locals to be rude at times, but I think naturally they are accustomed to communicating by asking questions and yelling. What is rude to me, may not be rude to the Greeks.

Landscape: The beaches are white and yellow sand… I visited the beaches of Paraga, Paradise, Super Paradise, and Elia – which was the most beautiful of them all… located 45min away by our, sometimes failing up a steep hill, get off and push, ATV… although the renter misplaced my driver’s license… so that is a tiny setback. A unique and wonderful experience, thanks to Natalie and Gohar… You were my amazing fruit flies of Mykonos! LMAO! Definitely won’t ever forget about that part of this trip… you all saw life through my crazy eyes for a minute.

The roads throughout the island have guard rails that are made up of rocks that climb to four feet tall. This makes it scary to drive on the tiny, hilly, and windy roads with other cars present. Buses and taxis race down the streets transforming these dangerous roads into mini autobahns.

Meow … for as many dogs that are on the Island of Santorini, that figure explodes with the stray cat population in Mykonos. Tiny little things. Here a cat can be seen approaching a store keepers hat selection… I didn’t expect the store owner to jump out of his chair, and start yelling, while clapping his hands loudly. He succeeded in scaring the shit out of me and the cat. We both ran away like we stole something and gave each other a high five. Animals here get no love either.

When I returned to Athens, the first thing that I saw, after exiting the ship, was a pair of dogs, similar in stature and color… probably related, coming down the stairs of this massive over highway bridge crossing… one following the other. I thought to myself, where are they going? How are they connected? Where would I go if I was a dog? Who would be my partner in crime? Rather be together, than alone. Suddenly, the person behind me yells, “GO!” Under my breath I mumble “asshole”… I let him pass as I imagine blowing out his needs ala Tonya Harding style… I moved my lips slowly to create the words… *uckin biotch. I laugh and look for the dogs…ah… they’ve disappeared and I have a train to catch for Thessaloniki, located in Northern Greece.

A few subway rides and I board my first ever sleeper train. My cabin has an attractive, physically fit male, and an older woman. The guy helps the woman with her bag, then walks out of my new love pad, and is never to be seen again. Was it something I said? Cause I can’t speak the Greek. I set the bed, sheets and pillow, and arrange my bags. The woman stares out of the window having a late night meal, with the entire world’s weight on her shoulders.

Meet Helena… visiting Athens to stay with her son, who’s married, and has a little 7 month old son, that she has only been able to see 3 times since his birth, because money is really nonexistent. When I began conversation, I asked her if that man that was helping her, had missed the train, being that he didn’t return. I thought that was what was making her so unhappy.

She spoke in very broken English, said that she used to speak the language (English) a long time ago, and requested that I speak very slowly.  For the next hour or so, we would be conversing by filling in the blanks and finding the words. I’ll spare you all that.

Helena is in her late fifties and works at a municipal building as a cleaning lady. She doesn’t really enjoy the job but she needs the money to survive. She asks me about Texas, ways of transport, and why I am traveling alone… I hate being asked that question. I tell her, I don’t know.

Proudly Helena tells me that she lives in a single story dwelling that is unattached. I asked if she lived alone. She said it was her and her four dogs and 40 cats. Uh-oh… that is the point that I should have just kept my mouth shut… but you know me… never.

I said “40 cats!?! That’s why you don’t have any money to travel… you don’t need all those animals. Why not give them away to nice homes and just keep two?”

Helena got quiet for a minute… I remained confused. She started going to a place in her mind… I observed and thought…. “Hooooolllllly Shit.”

In a more loud and rapid than normal pace, she began… the tone of her voice made me want to throw my face into the pillow and start crying: “They are not MY cats, they do not stay inside with me. I feed them, I feed them every day. If I don’t feed them, they won’t eat. I’m sick… I’m sick… I know I’m sick… even my son tells me… he tells me to leave them alone and to stop giving them food. I don’t have enough money for myself because of this… the only time that other people feed them, is when they mix the food with poison.”

I said, “Wow… Has this always happened? When you were a little girl, did you see people doing this to the animals… feeding them poison?”

She said, “Yes… My father used to do it. The Greeks do not like animals.”

I couldn’t talk anymore after this… I regret not paying more attention to every animal that I saw. If you are thinking of adopting a cat or dog… you should make a trip out of it, and just walk around, till you find the one that you love, either in Greece or on the Greek Islands. You’d love it more than any other you have ever had and you would have a fascinating story to tell.

Map it out:
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From the moment you step onboard the plane, you know that the Greeks are very loud and have no sense of personal space. Line cutting is common in their culture I believe (it’s not seen as rude, I hear Italians are the same way), as it’s first come first served, a friggin free for all. I enjoyed watching from my seat as people would line up for the bathroom, at one point -nine in line… and standing basically on top of one another. Even the stewardess was very close to the last person in line… I’m sorry… But back off!!! If I can feel you or smell your private parts while standing in line…. You are too close to me!! I’m adjusting in my seat right now.

Athens… I land at 11pm or 23:00 as everything is on the 24hr scale… I look around and all I see are letters that look like pictures and mean nothing to me. Ahhh… the English brochure, good… bus transit… filled with names that I have no idea how to pronounce… I realize quickly that in order to find my way 30 miles to my lodging, before the bus system stops (midnight), that I am going to have to be quick on my heals. I match destinations names to the map… point and ask… point and ask… point and ask… finally… someone that speaks a little Italian… I speak Spanish… but I’ll take what I can at this point. Bought ticket, board bus… saw IKEA on the way… smiled at something familiar… missed my stop… lucky for me the next stop could not have been worse.

I was thinking… are you fucking kidding me? People that are half-alive from drugs… leaning, laying, swaying, like zombies…. Not kidding… two young girls run up to board the bus… I think (maybe even out loud) if they are okay… I’ll be fine. I jump out. If only I could have taken pictures of this real moment, my face became hot. I paused for a second to see something like 50 people in despair and completely high. Prostitutes to no end. I began to panic in my mind… if these people swarm me, I’ll have nothing, I can’t take them all. Instead of staying on this side of the street, maybe I’ll cross. I look across where some of the same characters were looking back at me… now, I know I’m fresh meat… but this is ridiculous.

Me, my large bag, and wonderful electronics. I ran into the street and onto the median and began backtracking very quickly… thinking… with plenty of cars driving fast at this hour (city was thriving)… they won’t have a chance of stealing my shit and surviving – they’ll be run over. A few blocks later I see three cops conversing -smoking… I ask for directions… they were all attractive (as I would find out the next day… all of the police force that I would see, women and men, are very fit and very attractive… *grin*) something was a bit off though on my night one… the main police officer I spoke to seemed like he was peering through me, as if thinking, how can I benefit from this situation. You get the feeling in your gut and you run with it… so I did… “I think it is over here, thank you gentleman.” I didn’t look back… but I did here laughter. Laughter is better than what was going through my mind. “Hurry.”

I don’t think we are in Kansas anymore.

I arrive with other arrivals and the staff is welcoming… what an evening.

Welcome to Athens… the scene… I decided to get up early, 7am to get an early start for sightseeing… the ruins. Ummm which ruins… the city itself or the ancient 3000 year old columns? I had no idea what Athens was like. I thought initially that perhaps I was in a bad neighborhood… no… it’s all the same after you get to the inner city…. around the ruins… everywhere. Imagine the border of Mexico and any state in the US… it’s very similar… only I don’t share the same family style bond with the people, due to having no knowledge of the language.

After spending time traveling miles on foot, buses, and trains… I realized that this city is kept warm by a giant blanket of graffiti…. Everywhere you can imagine, subway doors, cars, marble pylons that support buildings, houses, and even on some of the ancient ruins. I wandered into a bonanza/bazaar style setting and found that there were paint shops and skateboard shops that dedicated massive amounts of merchandise to spray paint. This form of self expression really gives the city the sense, that you can do whatever you want, with no repercussions. I described the surface of the city to myself, as having the same cleanliness, texture, and warmth as the bottom of my shoe. Just my fair observation.

The People… would look at me as I walk down the street and quiet down as I approach… could be my silly haircut, my self confidence or dashing good looks. Yeah the latter I think. Bah. They were nice for the most part… I was often asked in broken English when I approached people for directions, “Italian? Or Italy?”… I’d say “America,” and our connection of energies would disconnect. I don’t think the fondness of American culture is embraced here… at all. The older men seem the most grounded and calm when approached, the woman tend to have that questioning look in their eye, and the 20 something’s just look like they are about to get into some trouble.

I asked Eddie, my incredibly, helpful, hardworking, happy, and overall great guy, if I had to have something to eat that cannot be missed, what would it be? He told me to have a “giro” (not gyro, as Eddie pointed out) with pork and chicken… filled with a cucumber sauce, red onions, lettuce and french-fries on toasted pita bread.

A little mental note to self…I found out that it is impossible to grab a haircut on Sundays, as I was told multiple times that the Greeks don’t work on Sundays, I wasn’t happy with that answer… obviously.

Eddie mentioned that the “paki’s” or Pakistanians, would have shops open and that if I cover a great area… I might find a barber open. I wander around streets North of Omonia Square… I discover women of all ages standing on different streets, sometimes in/under doorway ledges, or plainly out in the street corner, never ceasing their opportunity to find work – day or night…. Ahhh yes… The women of easy virtue.

As I politely deny them of their services, my mind begins to wonder on what exactly it is that I smell… I see a woman using a powered tool to cut the massive meat on a rotating device for a hungry customer. This must be the giro… only 2 euro ($2.58). She asks what I want… I say “a giro.”

“How would you like it?” she said. I tell her I’ve never had one and that I like everything. She smiles and takes her time… go figure… here too. Woman, I’m going to jump over this counter and lock my jaws on all that meat, and spin around on the thing till I’m full. Hurry! *Finger snap*

She asks me if it’s take away… “For here please.” Outdoor seating. I admire the people on the street as I take my first bite… you ever have that taste in your mouth that you cannot get enough of? I was thinking I don’t want this meal to ever end… it was that good… I’m eating and watching a boy in a yellow shirt across the street, looks pretty put together, attractive… another dude runs across the street to him holding a motorcycle helmet… they shake hands and instantly go in opposite directions… yellow shirt puts his hands in his pocket, takes a look back, 5 seconds later – hand back in pocket… then begins to count money. I think…huh.

Meat lady comes out with cold fresh water… I perk up. I clear my table and the one next to me, she says, “your mother raised you right,” and asks where I’m from. I respond and she nods pretending to understand. I ask her if she knows where I can get my hair cut (by using my fingers as clipping sissors and motioning to my hair)… she says, “yes, but it’s not very good.” I say “it’s easy,” motion to the fading Mohawk, she says, “let me take you.” We walk across the street hand-in-hand (in another direction from where yellow shirt was dealing) where people are drinking and smoking outside (10:30am). She talks to them, only five Euros… They open up the shop, turn lights on… I get the best cut of my life… the dude was cutting, massaging my scalp, and making me so relaxed… now THIS is customer service. And NO… I don’t think he was a gay… from what I can tell anyway, although my back does hurt a bit, as if I was being poked by a stick. Kidding. I am completely kidding.

The Ruins: Well what can I say? From far away they look huge… when you get closer they seem to grow. Breathtaking. I don’t know all that much of the gods and the creators of the dwellings, but just being there was definitely amazing. Tours were going on about in multiple languages, I bobbed in and out and decided that I wanted to leave the city after coming to see the ruins scattered at multiple sites (lots of walking to the various locations)… then I had a quick tour of the museum, and off I was on a thirty minute train ride to inquire at the docks for the Greek Islands. I bought two tickets… one for the vessel that I am currently on (This is not the Uber Yacht that I imagined for my trip, but my fortunes do have a way of coming true, so I remain convinced, you create your reality.), and one for Wednesday to Mykonos. I am about 30 min at this point away from docking, after a 5 hour journey, and very little sleep, thanks to this world cup business… people are eyes locked and voices loud, I sit with the volume raised on my iTouch to the album I’ve been listening to the entire day. Lady Gaga. Oh… guess someone just scored a goal. Yeah for your team, as my friend Aaron would say it, “a single finger clap.”

I think its funny how I have said throughout this planning of this trip that I wanted to lounge in Santorini… this big boat is about to arrive (it’s midnight now)… does anyone have a pen so that I can draw a little tiny checkmark?

Stay tuned for more on the Greek Isle… Santorini and Mykonos. Click here for Google maps to see my location!

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Okay… So what should have taken less then 20 min, turned into a late night stroll from er the bars tonight (lei cester square area/ picadilly circus), I finally made it to the flat in just over an hour. Someone needs gps (sat nav) for u Brits. Fun conversions I’ve learned: elevator (lift), exit (way out), entrance (way in), road closed ahead (road ahead closed), To-go/doggy bag/box (Take away), Coat check (Cloak room), vest (waist coat), just a second (it won’t be a minute), six thirty (half of six) 24hr clocks, kilometers, pounds, pence, oh and the larger insects that look like Texas red fire ants, all over the sidewalks, are like elongated beetle looking things, gross.

Cars- Saudi Arabians vacation here big time because their scortching desert land is like a bag of fresh popcorn straight from the micro… They have their cars flown over or they just buy new ones once they are here, just for the summer. The Rolls Royce Phantom is the Honda here ($450k), maserattis ($100k), bentleys ($250k), Mercedes ($$$) are the Toyotas. It’s the sickest thing I’ve ever seen. This place is wildly expensive the pound is £1 to $1.52.

It’s also the most beautiful, cleanest, heaviest on the police force, I have ever experienced. I could very easily live here… All the men here are so well mannered, polished, and soft spoken, they even make ME look straight … I know!!

Dig how people kinda half smile and nod when I talk… Then say… “America right?” I look back at them as if they have just pulled off the covers and have revealed my naked body. It’s fantastic, isn’t it?… Hmph. Oh yeah, and I got a phone today… Super cheap, as long as u don’t use it for anything other than texting w/in Europe.

London… Funny how the city seems like it gets a colossal douche every night… this place is spotless… the cleaning crew that can be seen at any moment as permanent fixtures throughout the streets go by two different names, the sidewalk sweeper and the rubbish collector – or something to that effect. Nonetheless I feel happy walking on white pristine sidewalks, although I still don’t understand how a massive amount of city money is spent in other ways, less beneficial to its occupants… ie… Policemen drive 5 series BMW’s –because your police man must be stylish in London… or the public urinals for men (exposed on street corners – see pics on FB for proof) that cost an estimated 8 Million Quid ($12,112,000)… so why is it that the subway system doesn’t have climate control… London rains and gets muggy and warm… no?. Every day I spent there was sunny and delightful. Subways were sweaty, sticky, and salty

London people… Once you get used to the accent (I never did) you can enjoy conversation filled with new words and expressions… I had to keep telling the wonderful people I met… What is that? What does that mean? What do I know, I’m just a Mexican, as those friends I’m squinting my eyes to right now would say.

Service at any restaurant or bar is slower than slow… their interest in the customer does not exist… they don’t rely on tips, so why should they have a fire lit under their ass? Argh… patience works here big time. Found that bars are regulated to NOT “free poor” their booze… so drinking before is essential, otherwise you’ll be full well before you get a buzz… drink before… or buy weak doubles… around $9 for a single. Also, after the meal the handheld credit card swiping machine is brought to the table. I’ve never seen that before.

I went to a club where there were metal detectors, I walked through and instantly the security guard patted me down and dug his finger into my small fifth pocket… Lucky or unlucky for me rather…. that is the exact location that I stored a piece of gum and mints. Yeah…. I didn’t understand what he was doing until I saw him pull out what I guess could be interpreted as drugs… I said right away… “They’re mints.”

He started laughing… I smiled back in a confused way… I repeated, “They’re mints and gum.”

“Its mints?” he said.

“Yes” I replied.

Laughing, “Are you sure?”

“Yes, they are three of them.”

“Thanks for the honesty… go ahead,” all of them were thrown away.

Turns out “mints” means something completely different in the UK… described later to me as a situation that is overly gay (as in homosexual). Imagine a man walking extra feminine, or over exaggerating hand gestures, he’s so mints.

So stop being mints and read on and come away with me 4 hours from London, away to the city of Athens, Greece.

New York

Empire state of mind… a new perspective to the hectic over populated city when you ride a BIKE! No longer do the taxis seem annoying, unless you’re me and a woman opens a taxi door while you’re riding comfortably full force. Thanks R&A to an amazing pre-European trip, relaxing, boat riding, thinking I’m about to fly outta the yatch and die, Hamptons holiday.

New Yorkers… sure some are aggressive and rude… that’s because they walk everywhere and use the public transit… they are hungry and don’t have to be bothered by people that are going very slow and have no idea where they are going. I found everyone that I talked to to be welcoming and helpful. Not 100%, but this could be a city that I may want to explore in the future.

I visited central park for the first time, beautiful, clean air, relaxing; my desire for a picnic in the park was great, yet unfulfilled, this time anyway.

The night life is popping… the scene stays awake way past my bedtime… I can appreciate a good dance club till 3am… but 4am and on… nuh uh… I need to be awake at some point the next day.

Rooftops…. If you have a chance to see New York from a bird’s eye view, do it! Like my friend Megan described, It’s neat that you can see all the little sectors and compartments about the city. I agreed by adding that you can only see what is directly in front of you when you are walking on the street. I prefer being on top, way up high. Better for tanning too.

Members only private clubs. Why not? The food is good, the drinks are strong, and everybody knows your name. They’d f***ing better. Yes… another cocktail please, you already know what I drink.

The Hamptons

A place of leisure and relaxation. Wave to other people in their super yachts, they enthusiastically wave back, a moment of energies touching.

This was a first time for me during the summer months. Mmmm the weather could not have been better, mild like Cali. Although with the new hair dew, I burned my scalp… guess I should have thought of SPF for the hair and head… next time.

Good food, good company. Didn’t make it out to meet the locals… although the rest of the group had plenty of stories by the late afternoon the next day, when they awoke from the crypt. Haha. Lots of laughs, and a plethora of booze and food. Nothing like grilling good meat in the Hamptons by the pool.