Home

Rejoining life at home has been a slow process the past couple of days.

I have become accustomed to a life where the day's to do list might be to mail a letter or take a pleasant walk. It is very noticeable to me how much slower I move now than I did when I left. I can still imagine the week right before I took off for Thailand, moving a mile a minute to get all my affairs in order. It's different now.

Many of my friends who have seen me recently have remarked how much more relaxed I seem. I think that has been a big benefit of the past few months. Now, though, I wonder how to keep it going. Life at home will require more from me in terms of showing up to work promptly, keeping chores done, and keeping scheduled commitments to folks. My calendar has become quite dusty lately (if that's possible for a Google calendar).

The first few days, I attacked a foot high pile of unopened mail. Not too many threatening letters thank goodness. I also bought and unpacked a few things you need when you have a home.. shower soap, a clock for my nightstand.... my electric rotary toothbrush! woo woo!

Funny thing though. Mostly, I have just left everything packed in boxes. The clothes don't really feel like mine anymore for some reason. Pants don't fit so well. I've lost some weight. Every day I find myself putting on the same clothes I have had in my backpack for all these months. They feel like mine.. and all I really need. For some reason though, it felt urgent for me to get the backpack itself stored and out of my sight. Although it's been a good companion, I really began to resent packing and unpacking it all the time. Time to put it away.

I have some theories on why I lost weight. Probably a few reasons. First, no kitchen of my own. Since I didn't have places to put much food, I could only really eat when it was time to go find a meal. So I found myself hungry a fair amount, but got used to it. Second, budget. I have been in such a mode of saving that rarely, if ever, did I have a large sit down meal with multiple courses, baskets of bread, desserts, etc. Third, no gym. Muscle is heavy, and I have lost a fair amount of that. It's funny how what used to seem like a bit of a chore (going to workout) now seems like a privilege, one I have very much looked forward to returning to. I miss it. Fourth, walking. It seems like at least half the time on my trip, my ankles were sore due to the amount of walking I was doing. Whether it's traveling to and from cities, running errands, or just being a tourist and seeing sights, I was always walking. Rarely was there a day when I sat on my bum all day long. Well maybe a few times.

Now, unfortunately, it's time to think about working again. I still consider myself on vacation from work until after I return from Burning Man. But that will be the biggest adjustment for sure.

My plan is to not get a full time job, but gigs instead - three to six month projects. My goal, and it is a lofty one, is to work six months and have two off in between projects. Whether for traveling or just to have time off at home, it seems possible if I budget for it. It may not work out that way, but that is the goal I am setting for myself. I have decided that time for working on personal projects, visiting friends, traveling, or just plain relaxing is an important part of having a full life, and not enough people demand that time.

Wish me luck. I hope I can stay on track.

Return

The sad day finally arrived. I had run out of time and money to continue my fantasy life of new friends, new experiences, and no work. I had promised to be home by Saturday night to meet some German friends who are staying at my flat, so that became my final deadline. My return flight was rescheduled to stretch out the inevitable. The new flight would leave London at 8:30 Saturday morning, which would get me home about four hours ahead of my guests.

Rob gathered some friends for a big last Friday night out on the town in Soho, and Toria was nice enough to come down to London to see me off as well. To really maximize the last night, the plan was to play through. Stay up all night, move the party back to Rob's loft, and see me off to the airport. It's a stretch for a geezer like me, but the idea is to be tired enough to sleep on the flight back and begin the process of getting back onto California time.

The night was a blast. After going out dancing at a club party billed as "the best funk night in the world" (later certified by Toria), we all returned to Rob's and played music reminicent of our times together and drinking gallons of Red Bull to stay awake. We danced all the way up until a painfully sad round of hugs and kisses and me taking my last backpack trudge toward the nearest airport, hoping for a seamless journey.

Ha.

With a total of twenty pounds in my pocket and filled with sadness to leave, I got in a cab with a driver, who after arriving to the subway station, let me know he had no change at all. Jerk. I made him find me some change and return me to the tube station PDQ.

Groggy and jittery from caffeine, I wandered into a mostly empty Kings Cross tube station at 5:30 to catch the Picadilly line to Heathrow airport.

Murphy's Law of subways dictated that the Picadilly line was, of course, shut down. I grabbed the nearest employee I could find (a janitor perhaps?) to tell me what I should do and he gave me another route to take to find another rail train to get there.

I started to really worry that I would miss my flight. Mostly I was concerned for my guests arriving in San Francisco that evening. I imagined them getting to my door near midnight with no one there to greet them.

While doing my best to follow the instructions, I ran into a guy with the same problem, only he had directions given to him that took him in the opposite direction. Great. He managed to convince me that his directions were right and mine were wrong, and I followed him. We made it to the Heathrow Express train and I made it to the airport within about twenty minutes of my intended arrival time. Not too bad.

Once I was on the plane, I was mostly assured of getting home eventually. How late could I be?

Murphy's Law of weather dictated that Houston, my only stop along the way, was shrouded in thunderstorms. This gummed up things there quite a bit. My flight out to San Francisco was a solid two and a half hours late, getting me home only an hour or so before my guests arrived. How is that for cutting things close?

Groggy, and unshowered, we managed to just beat last call at Molotov Cocktails down the street and get one good beer down the hatch before crashing out big time.

Now I'm home to a completely empty room and no particularly solid plan for my next few days. They call this part of the travel experience "re-entry".

Deep breath.

Country

Pondering what to do my last week of my trip, I had a few considerations. I knew I wanted to return to visit my friends in Brighton. I felt I had seen most of what I wanted of London except for the never ending stream of great club music that plays there.. however that is mostly Thursday through Saturday. Rob has been so great in opening up his home to me, and nothing but welcoming, but I wanted to make sure he had his place to himself sometimes and that I wasn't always there, so some time away from London was certainly in order.

Fortunately, I got an invitation from some new friends I made at the Big Chill Festival to come up to Northern England for a couple days. (Vic)toria Jocasta Varley and Saffron Mina Katrina Glew (I love their names) hail from Halifax, a small ruralish town in the north of England near Leeds. I met them at one of those late night parties after all of the main music stages had closed down and all of us dance addicts all buzzed toward the nearest beat within ear shot. Those tend to be the best parties with the funnest people. This party was the best of all, tucked in a cider tent, DJ decks in the corner, and a gaggle of avid dancers, throwing down with five mile smiles on their faces.

Toria told me there was a burlesque show up in Huddersfield that would be fun. I knew if they said it would be fun, it would be. And what a great opportunity to get out of the more touristy areas and see some down home English living. So I took a train up there to meet them for the show. Folks tend to dress up for these things, and I am a mere shaggy backpacker, so I borrowed a couple of things from Rob, since we're about the same size, and did my best.

Huddersfield turned out to be a cute town with a surprising array of pubs and night life for such a small place. It is a college town though, and that always helps keep a town active. The ladies, in a concerted effort to throw their full support into the new burlesque club, dressed up to the nines with sequins, feathers... the works.

The show was great. Along with the traditional elements of burlesque (a cheeky MC, feather dances, strip teases, and great jazz/pop singers), they also threw in some creative, more modern takes on the art form, playing rock music and more up to date skits, like a crime scene investigator strip tease, for example. World class entertainment in a small town. Gotta love it.

I was also pleased by the quality of the music playing in the clubs and bars around town afterwords. The experience will, along with others in my travels, help me not to be so arrogant about what cities have really good entertainment.

The next day, the three of us headed to Halifax. We stopped off to meet Toria's family and wiener dog, Eric and then headed up to stay with Saffron's family, her cute little two year old, Molly, and Molly's chilled out, VW bus enthusiast dad, Jules. They live in a cute house at the top of a hill surrounded on every side by rolling greenery and nothing but stone masonry buildings. Again, nothing but great hospitality from them. We stayed up late, drinking wine and playing old school hip hop vinyl albums most of the night. How can you beat that.

The next morning I returned to London just in time to repack and head down to Brighton. Pete and Adeline were there to welcome me, of course, and I immediately remembered why I wanted to return. The feel of the place re-enveloped me immediately. Brighton is a big tourist destination which does affect the feel, but it nevertheless seems like a pleasant place to live as well.

This time, however, I did manage to find my friend Roussos, the hippyish Greek guy I spent time with in a couple of Thailand cities. I knew he was living in Brighton and had a little stand selling clothes and trinkets, but never found him during my last visit. This time, thanks to the magic of Facebook, I managed to contact him and he gave me more exact coordinates.

Roussos leads a pretty charmed life. He is always positive, always has a big smile on his face, and is one of the friendliest people ever. I think this has helped him to manage exactly the life he wants. He is a life long traveler. But while most other travel enthusiasts return home to get a real job to fund the next trip, Roussos designed his own job. This year he went to Thailand and Morocco to develop some relationships with suppliers of his products. Then he managed to fall into the opportunity to setup a table and racks outside of a store on a quiet, sunny, tourist shopping street. The shop owner liked Roussos so much, he discounted the rent he normally charges for the spot just so he could get on his feet. He told me one day, he got tired of looking at the restaurant across from his table and wished he could have the palms and coconut trees of Thailand to look at. Soon after, the restaurant changed hands, became a Thai restaurant, and they painted pictures of palm trees and sunny skies in front of his face. Ahhh.

Roussos says his main problem now is keeping items in stock. Business is good.

Way to go, man.

Chill

I came back to London to spend a day preparing to head to The Big Chill festival held on the grounds of Eastnor Castle near Ledbury, England. Rob and friends rented a van and we were off early in the morning for the several hour drive up north.

The grounds at the festival are set among rolling green hills with plenty of lakes, trees, and nice views to put one in the mood to relax, listen to great music, eat great food, and meet some great folks. The crowd at the festival is, on average, older than many other popular festivals around Europe. There are a healthy number of families and older folks which helps to bring down the rowdy factor somewhat. There is something for everyone there including carnival rides, crafts, and shows for the kids, organic, veggie, and vegan food plus yoga for the heath conscious, and an evening-only nature art walk for those able to pull themselves away from all the music and dancing. I wasn't so able.

I'm one of those people who, as long as there is some good, fun dancing somewhere, I have to find it and jump right in. The grounds were just littered with fun parties, including scheduled stage shows and impromptu, guerrilla style parties in bar tents and food stalls. Just bring your decks, DJs, and the party will find you. I was unable to escape the fun for a couple of evenings and didn't make it back to camp until well after sunrise.

Here were some of my favorite artists:

A. Skills - This guy is a twenty four year old master of the turntables and remixer of funk, hip hop, and breaks. Somehow I had never heard of him until the day before the festival. I had decided to listen to as many of the festival artists as I could so that I could decide which shows to try and make. I never got past "A" in the alphabetical list of artists. Once I found A. Skills, I just couldn't stop downloading and listening to the tracks. Who needs B through Z I guess.

The Bays & The Heritage Orchestra - I have been impressed with the innovation that has been happening in music during the past few years. Bedroom music production with inexpensive equipment, the introduction of live video performance to music shows (see Coldcut), live digital sampling on stage to create one's own accompaniment (see Jamie Lidell, Loop!Station). But this performance was one of the most ambitious projects I have ever personally witnessed. The Bays are already known for being an improvisational electronic music act. They don't rehearse or make albums. It is one thing to have a jam session with a basic rhythm section and some electronics, but now they have decided to do it with a full string and wind orchestra. What?! To accomplish this, they assembled an impressive set of technology and talent. Along with The Bays live performance, an orchestral composer was on stage with music software that allowed him to send "sheet" music in real time to the conductor and musicians on stage, each of whom was outfitted with his or her own flat screen music stand which would display the arrangement as it was being composed. The large stage video screens alternated between showing the music score being assembled, the artists themselves, and ambient images that fit with the largely Drum & Bass songs. It was a mind blower, I have to say.

Roisin Murphy - I had seen her before at the Melt festival in Germany. I dragged my friends straight up to the front of the stage to see her and created some new fans in the process.

Thievery Corporation - Sometimes at a festival, you lose your friends and find yourself on your own. This happened the first night after an entire day of soaking up the entertainment, sunshine, and local scrumpy. Sometimes it's fun to be lost though because you get to wander about free and aimlessly. Late at night, I wandered to a stage playing great music. I just walked straight to the front and danced with the folks having the best time. I don't know how long it was before I finally asked someone, "Who is this?". "Thievery Corporation!" "Of course it is." (Continued dancing)

The Real Meat Sausage Company - This was not a music artist, so much as an entertaining display. Near closing time on the last evening of the festival, several kids working in a sausage stand were having the time of their lives singing soul music and dancing while occasionally stopping to serve the last bits of food they had remaining. It was extremely endearing.

Thanks once again to my friends, new and old, who made this trip so smooth and fun for me.

London

I have been very much looking forward to getting to London. I planned to spend a couple of weeks there, a welcome change from the past few weeks of constant movement.

As I was arriving on the airplane to Stansted Airport, I realized that, although my friend Rob had given me good instructions for getting to his home in downtown London, I was out of cell phone credit, and even if I had credit, his phone number was in my email. I didn't have it written down. My plane was about an hour late, so I wouldn't make it to his door until about 2 am. Wow, I sure hope he answers.

I made the last train from the airport by about five minutes, and arrived at Liverpool Street Station to a deserted financial district. I hoofed it about fifteen minutes or so to his door and buzzed.

Nothing. Buzzed again. And again. Then I sat down wondering what I would do next. I had a ton of gear strapped to me and no phone or clue where I was really. Silly rabbit. I guess my luck had to run out some time.. and look at how unprepared I am for this. No idea what to do. He is either asleep or still out somewhere. I buzzed again.

Success! He awoke and saved my sorry unprepared behind. He gave me a quick and dirty tour of his really cool top floor loft, and pointed to where I should sleep.

So pleased.

The next few days I spent being a tourist. Walking along the Thames river, snapping pictures of fuzzy-hatted guards, figuring out the subway system, etc.

In the evenings after folks got off work, I got a little taste of life as a local in London. I got introduced to Rob and Anita's inevitably delightful local circle of friends. We went to see the Dandy Warhols at a local rock club, went to a fun art museum happy hour, and went to see a friend of a friend DJ at a little dive bar in the Angel district. Later in the week, Rob hosted a sunday barbeque at his loft where we gorged on grilled veggies and meats and sipped cider and bloody maries.

London is clearly one of those places that takes awhile to get your mind around. There is plenty to do and it is scattered all over town. I have to say though that I expected the city to feel far more oppressive. I was pleased to see that the city planners limit the height of most buildings, so without having giant skyscrapers, plenty of sun light gets through to the not-so-hectic sidewalks. Clearly a large and busy city. But not stressful or intimidating at all.

So as not to darken Rob's door too long at one time, I contacted some friends Adeline and Peter who I had met in Thailand. They live in Brighton, along the south coast of England, and invited me down for a visit. I will be attending the Big Chill festival with Rob, Anita, and friends the following weekend, so I headed down to Brighton for a few days to enjoy the unusually pleasant warm and sunny weather.

After hearing lots of good things about Brighton, I was not surprised to see that it is a perfectly charming and comfortable town situated directly on the English Channel. England isn't known for its beaches, but Brighton enjoys a healthy number of visitors to its beaches due to its as-good-as-England-gets weather and its convenient one hour train ride from London.

The town feels to me like what San Francisco would be like if the Russian Hill neighborhood was pushed directly on to the sand of Ocean Beach. The 1920's architecture matches closely with light colored three-ish story bay windowed buildings. The streets are lined with bustling mom and pop businesses, from cute sushi joints and lively dive pubs, to organic grocery stores and purist record shops.

Pete is a great juggler and brought me to Odd Balls, a great shop in town where they sell all things circus. I bought myself a new colorful light-up poi set that I can spin instead of fire when it's dark at night. They will look great on the playa this year. Safer and still cool.

Pete and Adeline have taken great care of me and woven me into their lives here for a couple of days. It's a beach lovers life where working is fine, but relaxation and sun time are paramount. It's no wonder that I have enjoyed everyone I have met along the way that hails from here. The vibe is top notch.

I decided that London and Brighton are to occupy the remainder of my trip and so I changed my flight home to leave from England rather than Germany a few days later than planned. It's a little pricey for the change, but worth it for the extra time, and relieves me of a lot of travel and other expenses to leave from Frankfurt.

I will head to the festival this weekend which promises to be a great time, but I will return here for the last few days of my trip.

Melt

I knew before I left for Europe that there is a lot to see here. I knew that there was really no way I would see everything I wanted to and so I envisioned a trip where I would pick four to five cities, and sink into them for a couple of weeks each, much as I have during the rest of my journey. I didn't want to "box check", which is what I call it when folks bounce quickly from city to city, sight to sight, taking pictures, packing up and leaving for the next stop. It doesn't seem fun or relaxing to me. I wanted to spend my time getting the feel of cities, working on hobbies, work skills, etc.

But that wasn't my only consideration. From my experience in Buenos Aires, I knew that big cities could be difficult to meet people, and I had a number of friends, both old and new, living and traveling in Europe, so I wanted to meet up or stay with them as often as possible. Also, I am on a pretty tight budget. Couch surfing with friends or sharing accommodations is an important way to keep costs down. I haven't found even a dormitory bed in Europe for much below $30 per night, even in Eastern Europe, which I thought would be much cheaper. I guess I would have to go further east toward Romania or Bulgaria to find better deals.

So, as a result, I have found myself moving around much more than I expected, trying to coordinate with friends' schedules. It occurred to me along the way, that I haven't spent more than two nights in one bed since I stayed at Heather's for a few days in Ghent, Belgium. This is partly due to the fact that, during the busy summer season, it is advisable to reserve a room or bed before arriving in town. Without seeing the place though, it's risky to pay to reserve for more than two nights, so one must immediately start looking for a new place upon arrival if the first place doesn't work for whatever reason. It is exhausting, always looking for my next home just about every day. Also, the truth is, that the past few towns have not been places I would care to stay for two weeks, especially in a dorm bed, so I am motivated to keep moving.

Back in Krakow, I was faced with another decision of where to go next. I had to fly out of Prague to London in a few days, so I couldn't go anywhere too far away. I considered going to Wraclow, Poland. It sounded like another cute Polish town and appeared on a map to be closer to Prague than Krakow. But the map was deceiving. Train tracks don't run between those cities, so it would be a long, complex journey back to Prague.

I learned that a group of folks I had met through Sarah back in Berlin were headed to the Melt! music festival near Dessau, Germany. The ticket was a bit pricey, but given that I would camp with borrowed gear, and not pay for any accommodations for a few days, it was close to a wash. Also, getting back to Prague was quicker from there. And, hey, check out another cute-yet-bleak Polish town, or jump up an down to some great music for a few days.

Sold.

I hopped a train west and soon was in camp with a really nice group of folks who were quite welcoming, considering I was such a last minute stranger addition (who is that guy again?).

The festival is held at the site of an old coal mine, with a number of colossal pieces of mining machinery used as a back drop for the event. There were five stages of music running non stop for three days from early evening until well after sunrise. There was a long list of artists, most of whom I had not heard of. This is becoming more and more common in the new world of obscure yet popular Myspace hipster bands and a bottomless supply of electronic music artists. Or maybe I am just not hip to the European music scene. Maybe that's it. But I fully expected to come away with some new favorite artists, and I did.

One group I was excited to see was Stereo MCs. They have been around since the early 90's and were my first exposure to electronic music back in the day. I was hoping they would put on a good show, and they put on a great one instead. One of the highlights for sure. I love seeing older musicians blow away the youngsters.

One artist, I hadn't heard of before, and now feel quite embarrassed about it, is Roisin Murphy. I don't know much about her or how long she has been around, but she put on one of the best all around shows I have seen in a long time. The music seemed to have many influences, but it felt like it was trying to bridge the gap between electronic music and soul music. My first impression was that she is a nouveau Annie Lennox with a house music accompaniment. Over the course of the show, she showed a style all her own. But mostly I was impressed by the overall show. Her band and her backup singers were outstanding. Her own vocal performance and stage presence was really impressive. She is obviously in to fashion. She had many costume changes with some pretty wild getups. Riveting. Some of her music feels more at home in a dance club than in my living room, but it certainly has its place.

Unfortunately, the event was plagued by some pretty hard rain at times. Any surface not made of concrete became a slippery muddy mess. But on the bright side, dancing in the rain and mud to a Drum & Bass group with a live MC called Commix was the other great highlight of my time there. It wasn't really so much that I wanted to get wet and muddy. It's just that the music was so good, that I couldn't stand to hide from the rain under the bar tent any longer when the music was shouting at me to dance. Good times.

Krakow

I had a choice to make.

In order to ensure I would be in London on schedule later this month, I had to book the airline ticket well in advance. As you can see from some of my travel, I tend to be more of the wandering type than the scheduling and planning type. This meant that I had to know where I would be flying to London from. I didn't really know several weeks ago which direction I would want to travel from Prague. I heard good things about Krakow, Poland to the north. Kristen and Mary were traveling south toward Hungary. My friends Ashley and Crystal would be in Prague a while longer. So where would I be on the 22nd? I knew I probably wouldn't be in Prague for two weeks, but I also figured I wouldn't get too far. So I booked the flight from Prague, knowing I would have to back track to make my flight.

I decided to go for Krakow, Poland. It was a cheap train ride from Prague and my friend Sarah from Berlin even said she would hop a train to check it out too since it was close by. I checked in to a delightful hostel called Nathan's Villa. It is one of those backpacker's paradise places. A great place to meet people, it has a bar in the basement open until people stop ordering, a movie theater room showing the DVD of your collective choice, free laundry if you don't mind mixing your clothes with others', and a nightly barbecue out on the ping pong deck. Sometimes a hostel can make or break a town in your memory. Although not five star accommodations, Nathan's is there to make it a good stay.

Like every town, Krakow has a big old castle, and lively and touristy town square. Nothing really new there, but right away I enjoyed the Polish folks' disposition. In Prague, we would observe this general feeling of a place we called the "smell of communism", kind of a bleakness. That grey film was still present in some places here in Poland, but the people here were friendly and sunnier than those I had left behind in Czech.

Off the beaten tourist track, there is a nearby neighborhood called Kasimierz which has a ton of nice restaurants and bars. Historically, it is the old Jewish quarter of town with many old synagogues. It has been run down in recent years, but is enjoying a come back now with cute places to eat and drink popping up mainly around its central plaza. It's popular with young locals and travelers alike.

The most historically significant sight to see in Krakow is about an hour out of town by bus: Auschwitz.

I had visited some Holocaust museums and memorials in Berlin where I had seen some pictures and learned about history. It is never an uplifting experience, but I felt pulled to go to the place. The main place. The scene of the crime.

Before now, I had a general understanding of what went on here. But a couple of things struck me as I walked around.

There are a couple of sections to the site. The original complex was a Polish military base the Germans took over. The Nazis converted it into a death camp, but there was a problem. Not enough capacity. They couldn't kill enough people fast enough. So, besides the other camps around Europe, they built two more enormous sections here, complete with higher capacity gas chambers and ovens to dispose of remains. Although the new camp could house 100,000 people, the vast majority of people brought by train to the camp were never housed. They were marched directly to the gas chambers. It was a factory bent on efficiency... a horrible type of efficiency.

Also, the Nazis saved and warehoused everything they thought was of any material value, including hair, medical prostheses, luggage, and clothing. For some reason, the display that had the greatest effect on me was the barracks building that houses a mountain of shoes. The shoes, to me, were a reminder of the individuality of the victims. Some of them were fashionable shoes. Some of them were work shoes. But, for me, it underscored that each of those pairs of shoes also went with a pair of feet, attached to a person with an education, with a hobby, with friends, with a future. Until they got here.

I wondered how a nation of people could allow this. I wondered how many every day people knew what was happening. I wondered who could work at a place like this. I wondered how citizens could vote for a platform of hate. How was this possible? I think that is the point of these museums. It seems so unthinkable. But it occurred only fifty years ago in a highly cultured and educated country.

I met a young Polish girl while traveling. When I mentioned Krakow was on my route, she immediately brought up Auschwitz. Even though she was only 25 or so, the subject brought deep emotion to her immediately. The war, the atrocities, have still left great scars here, even for those were not alive to see them.

Charming

I had originally planned to stay in Prague at least a week. But after a few days of sight seeing, I was ready to see something else. Kristen and Mary were heading south toward Hungary to volunteer on their Habitat for Humanity project. They planned to stop in Cesky Krumlov a couple hours south of Prague. It sounded nice, so I went along for a couple of days.

I'm glad I went. The town is so cute and charming. It's tucked between some green hills and surrounded by the curve of a passing river which winds through part of the town. There are still tourists here, but they seem like more of the "Czechs getting away for the weekend" variety.... kind of like Tahoe City in California. It was quiet, but with plenty to do, and enough night life to keep us busy for a couple of evenings.

Traveling different continents this year, I have observed that there are those things in every town along the way that guide books point you toward for a day of sight seeing. In Asia, we used to joke that every town had a waterfall only a day hike away that was a must see. In Europe, the equivalent is castles. Every town has some ancient castle with a few centuries of history, and you simply must go. Krumlov was no exception.

We enjoyed walking the castle grounds in town, partly because the building, although grand, was fairly laid back, had mostly free admission, and provided a great view of the small town. They even had a couple of cute brown bears on the grounds.

It seemed like at every turn during our walking tour around town, Mary and Kristen in their best exaggerated East Coast accents would exclaim "Oh stop it!" or "Would you look at that" or "They have got some nerve", observing some new adorable view or building.

We met three jovial Irish lads who we spent both evenings with drinking Czech beer and generally disturbing the relative peace of Eastern Europe. If there is anything louder than an American, it's an Irishman with a few pints under his belt. Good fun.

Prague

After a much too brief stay in Amsterdam, I hopped a Sky Europe flight to Prague, Czech Republic. Sky Europe is one of the much talked about European super discount airlines. The advertised fare for the flight was 7 Euro (about $10 US). Unfortunately, these airlines advertise their fares sans a laundry list of taxes and nickel and dime fees that end up adding about fifty Euro to any ticket, so you can never get too excited. The flight, no frills as it was, was still operated efficiently and professionally. The big old airlines have a thing or twelve to learn from these guys.

I was excited to meet two separate sets of friends from the Bay Area who coincidentally happened to be scheduled to be in Prague the same week. I was disappointed, however, that I wasn't able to book the same hostel and had to find one of my own.

My arrival was tricky. Even though Czech Republic is a burgeoning, independent EU country, it is still recovering from being a communist, Eastern Block country and is still rough around the edges in areas like efficiency and customer service. The shiny new airport looks great, but getting into the city center was an IQ test I barely passed.

You must take a bus from the airport to a train station or take a private shuttle or taxi. The normal buses and shuttles don't run late in the evening though, and since my flight arrived late, I had to brush up on the late night transit system which is completely separate.

To my surprise, the day bus was still running since I made it to the curb before 11pm, however I wasn't sure if the train station it brought me to would be. Let's hope. I also needed some local currency and to buy a ticket for the bus, but all of the normal human help for this was shut down.

I had a couple of nuggets of wisdom under my belt. One: The money you get from the ATM is rarely in a denomination small enough to take public transportation. Two: You can sometimes get smaller bills from the ATM by requesting an odd amount (1900 CZK rather than 2000 CZK). Three: You might actually need coins, so try to find a way to get some change.

I confirmed that the sole bus ticket machine only took coins, no bills. Since there were no stores open, I looked for a change machine. I only found a machine that took foreign currency (not local) and changed it into Czech Crown. I gave it a couple of US dollars and it spit out a 20 crown coin.

Nearing 11pm, what could have been the last frequent day bus pulled up, and a horde of confused tourists rushed the driver with their naive wads of Euros and huge denomination bills. It seemed like some folks were getting tickets and some were getting turned away. I asked the driver in Tarzan sign language if I could buy a ticket waving a 100 crown note. He waved me away and pointed to the ticket machine on the sidewalk. I ran to the machine but it seemed to be made as a movie prop rather than something for real humans to use. No one could figure out how to operate it, including me.

I thought maybe he just objected to my 100 bill because he couldn't make change. I produced my 20 crown coin for him and he nodded his head and gave me a ticket and a couple of coins back. Success! I got on the bus, the driver closed the door leaving a substantial portion of the horde behind, and drove to the nearest train station. Poor horde. They are probably taxi bound now.

I ran into the train station to catch the last day trains along with everyone else. I asked a local who I heard speaking English where to go and she happily explained the metro signs and how they worked, and also told me which station I should transfer at.

After some aimless midnight wandering in the city center, I found my hostel (my friends Kristen and Mary's too) and all was well.

The next few days we toured the city, checking out its sights. Here are a few observations:

• The city center is as picturesque as everyone had told me. However it may be a bit too picturesque. We kept commenting that (especially tourist areas) looked more like a movie set than a place where people live and work. We were constantly joking as we would walk down a less travelled road and saw no people, that the town forgot to cast extras for the street. The buildings, as old and beautiful as they are, all seem to have a less than authentic finish of stucco and pastelish paint. It just plain looks like Disneyland. This isn't really a complaint. We had just never seen anything like this before.
• Everything here costs extra. There are some sights you can see for free, but even some cathedrals charged an entrance fee. Public restrooms all cost money, even at MacDonald's. Sitting at an outside table at a cafe might cost extra and those pretzels the bar puts on your table may seem free, but think again.
• Many of the local folks we had contact with were not the friendliest sorts. I am not sure what attributes to this, but even at our hostel, simple requests for common things were met with the body language equivalent of an eye roll or a heavy sigh. Come on, now.
• One understandable reason for this is that the place is just crawling with tourists. This can't be too fun for the locals, and honestly wasn't super fun for me either. I am beginning to develop a distaste for hordes of people. I sort of miss the days of mostly deserted beach towns.
• There are plenty of bars and restaurants. Prague is definitely into beer. It is the home of the original, authentic Budweiser beer. Each bar tends to be loyal to one beer in particular, so that makes ordering one simple enough. As prevalent as the establishments are, though, we had trouble finding too many places open after 10 pm. It's a pretty quiet place at night. I imagine if we knew some locals, we could have done better. I actually had the name and number of a local who is a friend of a friend, but I dropped the ball and never called.

Within four days, we all felt that we had seen all there was to see. The general atmosphere of the place was not holding us there, so we moved on sooner than I had originally intended.

Vices

Besides bikes, Amsterdam is known for its permissiveness. Coffee shops don't look or smell like Starbucks, and red lights aren't meant as traffic signals everywhere, especially in dark allies.

I arrived on an historic week, however, as it pertains to permissiveness. The European Union demanded that, starting July 1, Holland stop allowing smoking inside places of business. I was a little confused when I read that the ban only includes tobacco smoke. The famous coffee shops still allow smoking of pure marijuana indoors. I was aware, however, that the vast majority of Europeans that smoke pot, mix it with a fair amount of tobacco - partially because it makes a joint burn better and partially because it dilutes the extremely potent local varieties. So those wishing to smoke weed in a coffee shop had two choices: Smoke outside, or smoke it pure.

The ban did not just affect coffee shops though. As I walked or rode my bike around town in the evening, I would see a familiar sight to someone from California... a crowd of people outside each bar smoking their cigarettes. Although this was familiar to me, I suspected this was a totally new sight to see in Holland. I confirmed this with a bartender at a nice jazz club I stopped in. Before getting in though, I had to push my way through a couple of people smoking directly in the doorway - a practice that hasn't sunk in as rude yet here. Most of the Dutch people I spoke to about hadn't seem to have given much thought to the consequences of such a ban. I wondered if anyone thought this might hurt tourism or business at the coffee shops. I wondered how anyone would know if there was tobacco in your joint. I wondered if the ban would cause people to start smoking pure joints thus becoming far more incapacitated. Maybe they would stop rolling joints, and use bongs and pipes with smaller amounts. Maybe folks all over Holland would smoke less altogether. In any case, I knew it would affect the feel of the town and I was a little disappointed I got here after the imposition of this little corner of the new world order.

Some Dutch folks I discussed this with were delighted with a tip I handed down to them, which is that, with such a ban in effect, you can gauge the crowd in bars before you go inside by the number and makeup of the folks out on the street smoking. It beats walking in and out of places.

Another signature aspect of Amsterdam is the red light district. Prostitution is legal here, but mainly confined to this one neighborhood in town. I took a field trip down to the town center in the daytime to take a gander. I found the spot on the tourist map that indicated the general area and parked my bike. The neighborhood looked more or less like the rest of the city. The street was bustling with locals and tourists and I wondered if I was in the right place. I took a quick right turn down an alley to check another street and immediately had my whereabouts confirmed.

Before I arrived here, I had a vision in my mind of what the red light district would look like. Maybe dark and seedy with women doing some kind of slinky pole dance or maybe just sitting on stools filing their nails or something.. all in a room lit so that passers by could see them and then maybe ring a little bell if they wanted to get inside.

It wasn't exactly like that, but I wasn't far off. The most jarring thing for me was that, while walking down the extremely narrow allies, I found myself eye to eye with the ladies with just a pane of glass between us. Also I could hardly see the ladies until it was just them and me directly in front of one another. They are not passive either. They are salespeople and they wink and wave folks in, and will even open the door and come out to throw a verbal sales pitch occasionally if they think it will work. Oh and some of the ladies aren't really ladies at all, which they were not shy about demonstrating. I was a little bit shocked by the whole thing, but intrigued at the same time. I never once broke my stride, afraid that one might try and latch on.... but I did walk up and down a few allies. Crazy!

All in all, I have to say that, although this part of town clearly caters to human vices, it didn't seem all that seedy. However, I did note on two occasions, shady characters in darkish corners, who as I passed by actually said "Pssst". Really? Pssst? Nothing screams seedy like Pssst.

Amsterdam

At the last minute before I was to hop a train from Ghent to Amsterdam, Heather came to her senses and decided to go along at least for a day or so. After all, it was 4th of July weekend. So instead of buying a train ticket, I bought her a tank of gas, and we drove over. It's about three hours in a car or a train.

We parked the car out of town and took a free ferry into the town center. Like any good Amsterdamer, my first task and hand was to obtain a bicycle. I knew bikes were commonly used there, but I had no idea to what degree. Bikes are king. There is almost as much pavement devoted to them as to cars and trains. And they are always bustling with riders. Bike lanes are not necessarily just white lines painted on the road, but a separately engineered roadway altogether in many cases. Special street lights, street signs. In fact, Heather pointed out to me that, since Holland is a pretty flat place, you can get around the entire country by bicycle and still enjoy the same road accommodations you do in the city.

After awhile, I noticed that, for such a large metropolitan city, it was pretty quiet. There are cars driving around, but not very many. I remembered how loud Pai, Thailand was and it was a tiny little town. It was just jammed with loud motor bikes. Here people mainly bike, walk, or ride a street car.

The central part of Amsterdam is organized like a half wagon wheel, with a series of spokes (roads) and pretty canals that arc around the town as cross streets. It struck me again, as it did in Barcelona, but more so here, that EVERY building in the half wheel was charming, historic, and beautifully kept. The buildings are narrow and a few stories tall. Taller than they would have been had they not been taxed based on their footprint. This also makes for tight spaces inside, and narrow, steep staircases. Since space is so tight, most buildings have a pulley attached to the roof to hoist up residents' belongings when they move in and out.

I didn't find out why, but many of the buildings tilt. Since they are all jammed together, their tilts in relation to one another are obvious to the eye. I thought maybe they tilted forward so that when you hoist stuff up, it doesnt smash through your downstairs neighbor's window, but they tilt sideways too, or don't tilt. I don't get it really, but the effect makes them look like kooky Tim Robbins cartoon houses. It's very cute.

I also noticed quickly that much of the town, as charming and beautiful as it is, looks the same everywhere! I kept getting lost because one street and canal looks more or less like all the others. Good landmarks are few and far between, and for me, the Dutch street names were hard to remember.

I got lost more than once. But no worry. Just keep riding around until you run into something you recognize. You can't get far in a wagon wheel.

Unfortunately, as soon as I arrived on Friday afternoon, I felt a virus taking hold of me quickly. I tried my best to fight it off, but I couldn't do it. I knew I was going to be spending a lot of time in bed, and not having any big nights for a couple of days.

Sick on my only weekend in Amsterdam.

Damn.

Brussels

For kicks, Heather and I took a train trip down to Brussels, the Belgian capitol, to visit with Daisy, Heather's long time friend and Brussels native. Daisy's family has operated a dry cleaning business in the center for a number of years.

We all met up at Daisy's favorite bar downtown for some Belgian beer (of course). After arriving in town, I immediately noticed something was different. Even though Brussels is only about an hour from Ghent, the language spoken by folks here is French, not the Dutch I was used to in Ghent. Huh?

Another history lesson for Miles. There are two main regions of Belgium: The northern area of Flanders which is Dutch speaking, and Wallonia in the South which is home to the French speaking Flemish people. Somewhere along the line in history they both ended up part of Belgium, along with a small piece in the East that speaks German. (Note! Heather has informed me this is all wrong... I will repair it. sorry Flemish folk!)

At first I was confused at why the street names on street signs were so darned long. Then Daisy informed me that they are written in both French and Dutch since Brussels is officially a bilingual city. This is confusing since that means all streets really have two different names. Depending on whether it is a proper name or a common word (like Oak Street) the translation might be completely different when written in Dutch or French. Fun.

We had fun that night, and crashed at Daisy's until the next day when she gave me a personal guided tour of the city while Heather headed back to work in Ghent. We walked up and down the city to each neighborhood, stopping in her favorite spots for food and drinks. I especially enjoyed the street cartoons that are all around the city, many in the style of Herge. She is clearly quite proud of her home and also an amazing and hospitable hostess.

Thanks Daisy... and I love your French accent.

Belgium

Waffles and chocolates and beer... Oh my!

My lovely friend Heather Rae lives in Ghent, Belgium with her boyfriend, Jurgin. They were kind enough to invite me up to their home for a few days for a taste of some Ghent life and tasty BBQ. I took them up on it.

I had planned to check out Amsterdam while in Europe, and Ghent is only a couple of hours away by train.

The night before I left Barcelona was the much anticipated European soccer final between Germany and Spain. I was a bit torn who to root for since earlier in my trip I had spent a couple of weeks watching the games in Berlin and pulling for Germany with the rest of the crowd. Now I was in Spain feeling a bit sheepish about waving a white, red and yellow flag around, but I was (not so) secretly hoping Germany would win since I know more people there.. .and besides.. who likes a flip flopper, anyway? I watched the game at The London Bar in the El Raval neighborhood of Barcelona. I chose the bar because I read that Pablo Picasso and Ernest Hemingway used to get drunk there.

When I rolled in, there was one seat left at a table of six or so folks who I soon learned were all from San Francisco. What are the chances? Pretty high I suppose. Barcelona is full of tourists, and the two guys I met at the Turkish food place right before I headed for the bar were also from SF.

Spain ended up winning and I celebrated along the Rambla with the rest of the Spanish for a little while before heading to bed for my early flight. Some folks reminded me that the celebration in Barcelona was not nearly as large or as passionate as the party in Madrid. You see, folks from Barcelona are Catalan, and barely consider themselves Spanish at all. In fact, many of them support seceding from Spain altogether. But they were still excited anyway.

The next morning, I flew from Barcelona to Brussels and hopped on a train to Ghent, St. Pieters station. Heather had given me some instructions and I managed to navigate the trains and crazy street numbering system in Ghent, and arrived at her door without a hand-holding cell phone call. Woo!

She fed me and then sent me out to check the nearby town center. Hey... this place is, like, medieval! Barcelona had some buildings from that era, but Ghent has a whole town center that conforms to a period spanning a time between the 14th and 16th centuries. Very charming old buildings filled with shops, outdoor restaurants, and cozy pubs. The town center also has a system of stone canals running through the town, so many of the buildings are right on the water. There is even a town castle. Neeto.

After realizing that Belgians are known for their chocolates, I made a bee line directly for the tastiest looking hand made truffle shop. For only about 7 Euros, I got a quarter kilo of fresh hand picked scrumptious chocolates which I intended to bring home to Heather as a gift... Unfortunately, it was mostly gone by the time I made it back to her house. Probably the best chocolates I have ever had. I probably bought a full kilo by the time I left.

Later, after a big big BBQ dinner, Heather took me out to sample one of the other Belgian delights. Beer.

My friends know that I am not a big beer drinker. I generally stick to vodka and wine. But when in Belgium...

I especially liked the Rodenbach and Orval beers she pointed me toward. Orval and other beers are brewed by Belgian monks. They take their brewing very seriously, and since some brew only in small quantities, their beers can be as sought after as fine wines. I'll be looking for those brands at Toronado, a bar in my neighborhood at home that specializes in exotic beers.

I found the people of Ghent quite pleasant. It is a university town, so it was tough to tell how the outskirts might look. But I found the folks quite stylish, attractive, and friendly. I was surprised at how great their music scene is as well. They have a fantastic radio station, UrGent.fm and I did some listening to their local DJ's. Awesome.

I was disappointed that my travel schedule didn't allow me to stay for their jazz festival nor for their ten-day town party, Gentse Feesten. Heather told me they set up music stages on the canals. It sounds great.

I could certainly hang out there for awhile. It has an easy, mellow feel to it.

News Flash: I posted new pictures to my Flickr site.

Old

So everything I said about Barcelona buildings being just like Buenos Aires.... Well, I'm going to back off that statement a bit.

I took a walking tour of part of the city yesterday. I chose the Barri Gòtic, the oldest part of town. It would probably take a solid week to walk around all of the different historic parts.

It is sad to say, but this is the first time I have every been around anything nearly this old. I was in Bangkok for a couple of days, but didn't take any historic tours and most of the city is on the modern side, so I won't count that.

Often I walk around as a tourist in a new place looking for things that would make interesting pictures, and then snap a few for the day. I am frustrated by the fact that there is rarely a building or a view down an alley that I don't want a picture of. I could snap pictures constantly all day long at every home, every church, every park. And the pictures barely come close to capturing the charm, the warmth, the colors of the beautiful old city.

Coming from a city that has a fair amount of charm of its own, I am used to seeing pockets of excessively well kept historic sights spread around the city, like the Painted Ladies of Alamo Square or the gardens and homes on the one notable block of Lombard Street. But here, it seems like every building is at least charming if not exquisite. I find it difficult to believe that every building owner in the city has this much class, taste, and money to take of their properties this well. I have to believe the city government must somehow be forcing beauty down owners' collective throats. Is that cynical? I did read that, in fact, the city recently spent on the order of two and a half billion Euros to beautify and redevelop one coastal area of the town.

Besides beauty and charm, I am struck by the sheer age of some of these sites.. Buildings that are not just museum pieces. They are everyday life. Last night I saw a local Asian family pushing a stroller into the door of a 15th century building that was across the alley from Count Wilfred the Hairy's old house, which stood there some time in the 800's.

But that's not old. That neighborhood is all sitting on top of the ruins of a Roman city that bustled here around the 4th century.

This is all a lot for me to take in, considering the oldest building in San Francisco, The Mission Dolores, was built in the 1770's. To me, that's about as old as it gets in the Western U.S., and that building is practically a museum.

I suppose that if, when I was a kid, I was able to walk up and touch historical places and things this old, I may have been more interested in history in general. It is much more fun than books.

And with all that going on, the city also has a fantastic coast line with first rate beaches. I will feel quite guilty sitting around on the beach with all of these great sights still left to see.

But I will get over it.

Barcelona

When I made my plans to come to Spain, I decided when to come based on weather (it can get very hot in late July and August), and to be here when my friends Crystal and Ashley from San Francisco would be here. Chalk it up to general ignorance, but I had no idea that I was arriving on Barcelona's biggest holiday of the year, Saint John's Day.

The day before the holiday, which is tied to the summer solstice, businesses start shutting down pretty early, and virtually everyone in the town turns out to set off fireworks and party in the streets and on the beach all night long. The following day is the actual holiday and the whole town is shut down.

So I was lucky to arrive at such a festive time. The beach party was fantastic. However, today I will need to find something to do and eat that doesn't require a business to be open.

It looks like a walking tour day!

From the relatively small amount of Barcelona I have seen so far, my main observation is how similar much of the architecture is to that of Buenos Aires. The little "don't cry for me" terraces, wooden window shutters, the ceramic sidewalks. This shouldn't come as a surprise considering Argentina was settled by the Spanish, but it's cool to see those influences first hand.

Danke

Sinking into life in Berlin has been nothing but pleasant. The only thing that would have made it better for me would have been if I had known more German when I arrived. I planned to try and cram a couple quick weeks of German lessons (on my Mac perhaps), but alas... there has really been no need. Many Germans speak English. But shame on me anyway.

My friends Crisi and Sarah, both of whom I met in Thailand, have been great hosts and guides, especially Sarah who has put me up in her place the past week or so. Her flatmate, Timo, has been quite hospitable as well.

Sarah and Timo live in Kreuzberg, a geographically large neighborhood south of downtown with a large Turkish immigrant population. There are many Turkish bakeries, restaurants grocery stores, and other businesses in the area.

The past weeks here in Germany (and Europe for that matter) have seen daily UEFA soccer playoffs. I knew football was a big deal in Europe, but I did not expect to see the utter preoccupation with the daily games. In the U.S. we have sports fans, and sports bars where they tend to go to watch their big games. During this playoff time, however, every game is a big game to everyone. And if it is your country playing today, it's really really big. Face painting, dressing in national colors, etc. Each evening after work on any block in any neighborhood, there are tables, chairs, and big screens set out on the sidewalks, for neighbors to gather together and watch the games and enjoy the mild summer weather over a beer or two.

So besides the German game days carrying a special excitement, the Turkish game days do as well, especially in Kreuzberg. Also exciting is that both teams have done nothing but win. When the Turks advanced to the next round last week, thousands of Turkish immigrants flooded the streets of Berlin and partied all night.... and this isn't even the quarter finals.

The German locals have been equally delighted about their team's success, but have been somewhat less raucous in the aftermath.

I have noticed examples here and there of Berliners' extra civilized behavior. For example, at a beer garden showing the Germany vs. Poland game, enough fans had turned out so that all of the benches set out in the yard to watch the big screen were filled. So the bar denied entry to other folks so that the bench sitters could see the screen. I don't think I have ever seen that before.

Also, riding my borrowed bike around town has been a relatively low stress affair, considering this is a bustling major metropolis. Drivers and pedestrians alike show a tremendous amount of courtesy and consideration out on the road. The extensive presence of bike lanes is helpful as well.

As always, it is so difficult to see everything there is to see here. I am trying not to stress about it. I am alternating tourist days with relaxation and recreation time. If I don't see all of the must sees here, it's OK.

The next couple of months of travel has begun to take shape as well. I bought tickets to visit Barcelona, Spain next week and Ghent, Belgium near Brussels to visit friends there the week after. From Ghent I will likely hop up to Amsterdam for a few days before visiting friends again in Prague, Czech Republic. In early August I will attend The Big Chill festival in England, which was recommended by a good friend in London whose tastes I hold in high esteem. It's pricey, but you only live once, right?

I am feeling especially lucky to have these friends in such great places. I did not expect so much company and support when I originally planned my trip to Europe. But after a relatively solitary time in Argentina, I have a new appreciation for time spent, not only someplace new, but someplace with good friends.

Danke amigos.

Berlin

I knew I would like Berlin. I have met some super cool people from Germany while traveling, and I have especially enjoyed the folks I have met from Berlin. I fully expected to like it here.. and I already do.

Germans have traveling in their blood. It is a part of their culture. I think it may be for this reason that I have found them to be quite hospitable to people like me traveling to their country. Upon arrival I had already been offered three different apartments to stay in, a bike to ride around town, and a cell phone to use.

Everyone here is especially impressed by my choice of season to visit. It is quite warm and sunny here now.. a departure apparently from the past several months. It was not rocket science though. As I recall, I just looked on lonelyplanet.com to see "when to go", and then fine tuned that with some friends' suggestions.

After two days here, I have been invited to a party on a rooftop of an abandoned war torn building, headed out for a day at a nearby lake, attended a lively beer garden to watch the German national football team play (and win) a playoff match against Poland, and practiced my poi spinning at a beautiful river side park. The busy, fun lifestyle here seems to rival that of my dear home. The folks in this neighborhood seem young, bright, creative, and laid back.

Like I said, I knew I would like it here.

Layover

After a delightful week on the beach with good friends, I headed back to San Francisco for two days before heading to Europe. Two days is not very much time to do much of anything except a long list of errands. However, staying any longer would have meant either a later return home in August or a shorter stay in Europe, and a more expensive plane ticket. So two days it is.

I realize now just how spoiled I am with what I consider necessities. Not that I am carrying very much with me, but certain things like having my brand of toothpaste and deodorant (Tom´s of Maine), certain vitamin supplements, a new pair of jeans, flip flops, etc. These are all items that, for some reason, I thought I could find in any decent sized city. I couldn't find any of them in Argentina and now I am not so sure about Europe either. So now is my chance to shop till I drop, and load up on goodies.

My most prized item to pick up is my Macbook. Since I chose not to bring it along to any beaches or developing countries, I have been relegated to Internet cafes for quite some time. I plan to try and be productive over the next two months, getting myself geared up again for work, diving back into some hobby projects, and finally having access to some new music again.

I also got a recharge on face time with loved ones back home. It wasn't much time, but it did mean a lot to me to see some of my favorite faces and to remember what makes home so special.

Tomorrow I will begin my twenty nine hour door to door journey to Berlin starting at 5 am and culminating at the main Berlin train station at 6 pm the next day.

Deep breath.

Conned

I had a very strange experience back in Guatemala that I refrained from writing about until I had a better idea of what actually happened.

One day back in April, I had been trying to make a number of airplane reservations online. After two successful payments, my Visa company got spooked and put a hold on my card, so I was unable to finish the rest of them. I sent an email to my issuing bank and gave up for the day.

I went to a local bar to return my friend's laptop that I had borrowed. She and some other friends were there and were talking to a fellow I hadn't met. I gave the folks at the table my sob story about the airline flights and credit card problems.

Coincidentally, the new fellow, named Darius, had an airline story to tell as well. He said that he flies around the world a lot for work and has accumulated over two million frequent flier miles that will soon be expiring. He said he couldn't possibly use them all before they expire, so his intention was to give them away to anyone that wants to fly somewhere. He said he didn't want anything in return. He just didn't want to see them go to waste especially if they could benefit others.

The something-for-nothing red flag went up in my head. I am quite a skeptical sort, so although I wanted to believe he was for real, I was definitely crinkling my nose about it. I had plans that night so I couldn't stay and chat about it, but he suggested we meet up the next day and he could hook me up.

That night, some of us discussed what could be up with this guy. We smelled a scam, but the guy didn't seem to want anything. He said that he would purchase the tickets for us, so I thought maybe he is collecting private info like passport numbers. Who knows. But at the same time, someone was offering me a free flight, so I planned to follow along with it until he requested something I wasn't comfortable with. Then I would drop out.

The next day, I opened a One World frequent flier account through American Airlines since he mentioned his miles were with that group. I figured I would ask him to transfer some miles to me online rather than buying a ticket and see what he says. I also happened to have a friend who was out of money and desperately needed to return to the States, so I let her know when I was meeting him so she could potentially benefit.

I met him at Zoola, a pleasant restaurant and hangout spot, operated and frequented by Israelis. He said that he had just finished arranging for a ticket for another friend of ours and to just let him know where and when I wanted to go and he would arrange it. His manner made it seem just so easy and plausible. I still wasn't sure about the guy. But I felt more comfortable about the situation. He said he didn't want any personal information. Only a first and last name to list as the passenger name. He seemed concerned that somehow having personal information would be a bad idea for him and the people he was helping.

I asked about transferring miles and he said it was a big hassle to do because the miles were all tied up with his company, a big New York investment company. He said that he was very good with math and that's why he had this important seeming job. His story made a lot of sense. He said that he didn't know his flier miles belonged to him and had been accruing them for years. He had just become aware of this huge balance of points when someone from the company contacted him to let him know many of them would expire soon. He said he was having trouble giving them away because people were creeped out by the idea of taking something so valuable from him. There must be a catch. I decided to keep playing along.

The friend I brought along, however, seemed to get spooked and decided not to go with us to the Internet Cafe to purchase the ticket. He seemed really confused about it and annoyed that he had to try so hard to give stuff away.

Before we left Zoola, a group of Israeli travelers began to give Darius a hard time. He wore a star of David as a necklace. And I suppose when he didn't speak any Hebrew, they naturally asked him where he was from. He said he was from Beiruit, born to an Arab father and a Jewish mother. The Israelis would not let this claim stand. They could not fathom this and continued to pummel him with questions about his upbringing. After awhile it became somewhat heated and he got frustrated so we left.

When we got to the Internet place, he brought up some airline screens where he listed out ticket possibilities for me to get from San Francisco to Frankfurt and back. He said the points he had were only good for first class, so like it or not, I would have to fly first class. Shame.

We picked a set of flights which totaled about $7800 retail. He said he was sending the info to the company travel agent and that I should get a confirmation. He said it sometimes takes a few minutes and sometimes takes a couple of days. I gave him my email address although he didn't seem to want it, so that this person could forward the confirmation directly to me.

That was that.

At this point, I still wasn't convinced. I also didn't feel super comfortable with the idea of this guy having any type of change or cancellation control over my trip to Europe. But at this point, he still has not asked me for a thing. He is seeming more and more legit all the time. So I am pretty happy now, hoping to soon get a confirmation for a free first class flight to Germany.

He hung out with my group of friends that night and continued to offer these tickets. He also made some other strange claims though. He said he could count cards. No doubt part of his math genius tool set. He claimed he could keep track of six decks of cards during black jack and would play folks at the bar. It is a tough claim to verify since counting cards only gives you a slight advantage. You still lose sometimes. But ok. He can count cards. Great.

He didn't play for money. He didn't ask anyone for anything. In fact, he bought a couple rounds of drinks as I remember.

One observation my Israeli friend made was that, for a man with such a well paid job, his star of David necklace was obviously cheap. She thought that was strange.

So, as you might imagine, I was eager to check my email to see about a confirmation of the flight. He had said he spoke with the travel agent and everything was a go. But each time I checked, no confirmation.

A couple of days passed. I hadn't seen him around town. Neither had others.

He had arranged for three different people in town. After all the offering he was doing, only three of us followed through with him. One of the others actually had a phone number for him and called him up. He answered and said his travel agent had called and was concerned with all of the different names he was buying tickets for, but that he explained and everything was fine again. Just be patient.

The other person was a girl who by now was pretty creeped out by the guy. He had been hitting on her pretty relentlessly even though she told him she had a boyfriend in the next town. A true fact. But he continued to pester her with phone calls and visits. Nothing too outrageous though.

After three days or so, I was pretty well convinced that I would never receive a confirmation. We could not for the life of us, however, figure out why he did this. We had some theories: For attention, compulsive liar, maybe a gift that might be cashed in later for some kind of favor, or just enjoys messing with people's heads.

He did borrow money from one person that probably was never returned. But it was not very much. Not enough to warrant all of the energy required to put so many people on.

My main problem at this point was: I need a ticket to Europe. If I buy a ticket now and the confirmation actually shows up, I will have wasted my money. But the longer I wait, the more expensive the ticket may get. After about five or six days, I was satisfied and purchased my ticket.

We all talked about it for days, just boggled at who this guy was and why he did this. I resigned myself to the fact that I would never find out any more about the guy.

But then I did.

Last week, a couple of folks from San Pedro emailed me to announce that at least some of the mystery was solved.

Darius was not his real name. His real name is Simon Gann and he is a true blue con man. He also has an identical twin brother named Jordan who was just sentenced to prison for his cons. Simon is wanted in Massachusetts and several other authorities are investigating him.

As to what his motives or intentions were with this frequent flier deal.... I still don't really know. The "con" in con man is short for confidence. Con men build confidence and trust in their victims before abusing that trust later on somehow, usually leaving the victim lighter in the wallet. It is possible the behaviour is just compulsive. He can't stop lying and making up stories. Or maybe there really was more in store for us. I would like to think that I would have been smart enough to pull away from him if his story started to change. But who knows? These guys are pros... and I am just trusting, albeit skeptical, soul.