Copen & Hangin

that's a really bad title for an email, but I thought it was clever at first. I'm in Copenhagen (get it?). Its been a while since I last wrote.... I've been to asia since then and come back to europe. Lets see....

So Athens was great. There were lots of old things, as you might imagine. Lots of french frys with oregano, which are truly the food of the gods.... Ellen bought some sandals from a guy who (together with his father) have been making sandals for 50 years, and made them for the beatles and Lily Thomlin, and the Duke of somewhere or other.... I bought his play (he's also a playwright). We saw lots of old things and I got in for free almost everywhere because I am university student in the EU. Pretty nice, eh?

On the 21st, Ellen flew to Dublin (after a pilots strike was narrowly averted), and I took the train to Thessaloniki. It was a night train which meant you have to buy a couchette, which, especially on a greek train, is a cross between a bed and a piece of wood (much more like the wood than the bed). But I arrived in the morning and threw my bag into storage at the train station, and proceeded to wonder around the town for 12 hours. It was really really hot. But Thessaloniki seems like an interesting place. Less touristy than anywhere I had been in Greece (except for Ikaria, but this was real Greece, and not just a little remote island). I went to the museum of Macedonian struggle (not to be confused with the country - which, according to the museum - stole their name and reinvented history), and I also saw the Jewish Museum. They had great air conditioning.

That night, back to the train station and got on the 12 hour night train to Istanbul. It was actually a really nice train. I don't know where it started but I think it was going all the way to Tehran. The rooms only had 2 beds in them and they were actual beds, and I had my room to myself. Besides the 3am boarder crossing where I was pulled off the train with a guy from Cyprus. I was the only american on the train and Americans (excuse me, United Statesians) need to pay a 15 Euro visa fee at the border. Same with folks from Cyprus for obvious reasons.

I arrived at the station and asked the tourist information desk how to get to Sultanamet. The woman appeared to be sizing me up, as I stood there sweating in her office. "You.... you walk. You're young and strong. I tell young strong people to walk. And fat people too. They walk because they need to. You walk because you can."
I followed the tram tracks for about 10 minutes and found my neighborhood, and shortly thereafter found the hostel my friend Michael had booked onnline.
I was meeting my friends Michael and Laura in Istanbul for a week, but they weren't arriving until that night. The room was pretty crappy, but I was too tired to notice. I did however notice the lack of Air Conditioning, that I thought we had specifically requested online.
That night M & L arrived and we suffered through one night without AC. In the morning, after double checking the web page and confirming that we were supposed to have AC, we decided to move out.
Well, to make a long story short (ummmm, shorter?) we got in a huge argument with the guy because he wouldn't apply our deposit for 6 nights to the 1 night, and he called the police (so he said, we watched him make a call in turkish, and he said the police were on their way, but they never came). Eventually we paid him and decided to take up the difference with Visa instead of him.
But in the end, it all worked out because we moved to fabulous place 1 minute away, that had a rooftop terrace with lots of blankets and pillows, where we slept for nearly the rest of the week. It was a fraction of the cost, and being outdoors on a rooftop in istanbul was better than air conditioning anyway. Waking up with the early morning sun wasn't even that big a deal, since the "call to prayer" was blasted from competing mosques at 5:30am anyway.

Istanbul was full of amazing landmarks and history, the Aya Sofia, an ancient Byzantine church later converted to a mosque later converted to a museum.... The blue mosque, the bridges and fish markets with overpriced water.... the bazaars, markets and spices, its all kind of a blur now.
One of the highlights from Istanbul would have to be my shave and a haircut... After months of traveling, it was time for a proper haircut, and I figured I should do it turkish style with the full shave since it had been about a week since I'd shaved anyway. My only concern was coming out looking like an old man since that's the majority of their clientele... But we found a hip looking waiter who spoke some english and asked him where to go, so he brought us across the street to an old man and a barber shop. Not being able to communicate at all with the barber proved to be a bit difficult, but manageable. Until he pulled out a large wand, covered in some sort of lighter fluid and set it on fire.... what the hell was he going to do with this? Silly me... he was going to burn the hair off my ears. He would throw the flame at my ear and then pad it out quickly, over and over again. To be honest, it did kind of hurt, but I was amused. He then took out some sort of dental floss looking stuff, and I thought he was going to floss my teeth, but he put it in his mouth instead, and wrapped it around both hands, making a kind of sling shot, that he would release with his mouth, to slap the thread against my face. He proceeded to do this for about 2 or 3 minutes to each side of my face.

So it was different. But I came out looking well groomed and at least 5 years younger, despite the pain.

On the second to last night, we moved inside from the roof, because my portland sixth sense (and yahoo weather) told me it was going to rain. We were right, and we avoided getting drenched in a thunderstorm.

Then on the last day, Michael and I (Laura had to catch her flight, but she was with us in spirit), went to meet with a trade union federation we had emailed. DISK, which I chose pretty randomly after doing a quick google search of turkish trade unions, turns out to be the most left wing radical union federation in turkey. It was amazing. The first thing they said to us as we arrived at the lobby of the building was "I hate America, and I hate Americans." Then they smiled. We said, "We do too, don't worry." At least we broke the ice a bit.
Nearly everyone we met had spent years in prison. Some had been tortured, and they all exhibited an amazing commitment to workers and the struggle. This next part may sound like I'm talking about something else for a minute, but just bear with me....

I remember being in Mexico in 2003, and watching the MTV latin music awards (I don't actually remember why). There was a scene when Kelly Osbourne was presenting an award with 2 members of the band Molotov. She would say something like "I have no idea what the fuck anyone is saying". Then one of the guys from Molotov would say (in spanish to the camera) "She says she loves latin music."

Our conversations through the translation of a young 25 year old trade unionist (the only person who spoke english at the union) were a bit like Molotov and Kelly Osbourne. Each time they would say something, they'd speak, in a really animated tone, for a few minutes, and every once in a while we could make out words like, "America", or "Capitalism", or "Iraq", or "Imperialism", but when he translated he would say something like, "We are happy to meet you".

All in all, it was an amazing experience, and we came away with a pile of posters and newsletter in english and turkish. That night, I took the mini-bus to Asia (literally, when you pass over the bridge, there is a sign that says "Welcome to Asia"), and headed to the airport, where I almost missed my flight, but that whole 2 hour rule for international travel, its been reduced to 25 minutes in Turkey, and I got on my flight fine.

Since then I've been relaxing in cold Copenhagen, as a guest at the wonderful Hotel Stine (that's my friend's apt.) I probably won't send out any more group emails, as I am leaving for Germany in about a week, to start the Masters program. So if you want to stay in touch, email me!

Hasta la victoria siempre,
Esteban

Κόκκινο νησί

hmmm.... so we were in pireus or however you spell that...and we walked around for a day and a half waiting for our ferry. Everything was closed, and while the area near the port was shit, the rest of the town was actually quite nice. Then at 9 o'clock the next day, we finally boarded our ferry. This process in Greece, as opposed to Spain, and Italia, was complete chaos. maybe because its the peak of the tourist season going to the greek isles, but in any case, we went to paros that night. Found our campground, and went to sleep. In the morning we awoke to find ourselves on this beautiful little island, with great beaches, whitewashed buildings with blue windows, and a few too many tourists. After 1 more night there (and a little more chaos figuring out how to get back to the port for our 7am ferry) we left for the island of Ikaria.

This little island, filled with fascinating history, in particular the fact that Greece exiled about 15,000 commies to it in the 50s, and now the island votes whole heartedly for the communist party, is about 8 hours from the mainland, close to Turkey, and was just what we were looking for. Despite the fact that the island is much less developed than any of the other touristy islands, it was booked to capacity, and we ended up sleeping on the roof of this pension we found. The town we stayed in was called Kampos, it has a population of about 94, but down the road to the coast about 4 km, there is another town called Evdilos, that has around 500 people (the big city on our end of the island). We spent our days eating figs and grapes from trees, baaing (is that a word?) at goats we'd pass on the road, and tearing down communist posters on walls for souvenirs. Oh, and we swam for hours in the different beaches nearly every day. We also rented a scooter, that didn't really have the best brakes, and 50cc wasn't quite enough to fly through the corners with our knees down. But it was a lot of fun.

But, as all things must end, our time on the roof of 'Rooms Dionysis' had to as well. Yesterday, we took a ferry back to Pireus, where we jumped on the metro and came into Athens around 10pm last night. Today, we saw the Acropolis, and lots of other old athenian greek ruins. Athens is nice, but a lot like any other big city, just with really old things kind of splattered throughout it.

more to come,
Esteban

boats, trains, and greek gods

okay... really briefly here....
made it to Greece, landed in Patras and found out that all the trains to Diakofto had already left, so we found a place to stay for the night. Cheap. Then we slept.... then we woke up.... then we went to Diakofto.
Our whole reason to go there was in order to take this old fashion rack and pinion railroad, that would take us up through a gorge, and we could hitch and take buses south through pelaponeses.... sp? anyway, the train hasn't run since april due to some landslides and a german couple there said they came 2 years ago and couldn't go then either.... so we stayed the night in Diakofto which was fabulous. The town is tiny tiny tiny, and we drank ouzo on the beach with white table cloths for 1 Euro.
In the morning, we changed our plans and just took a train to Pireius, where we are now. We were hoping to just board a ferry when we got here, but every boat to every island is booked until tomorrow night. So we're spending the night in this amazing port town (not amazing, actually gross, sometimes sarcasm doesn't travel the internet highway properly). And tomorrow we're off to the islands.

Hellas

aLive and weLL. 29 hoUrs on a boat Later.....In Patras, Greece.... stUpid keyboard won't Let me type an L or a U UnLess I make it Uppercase....wiLL wrtite more soon. Greece is Great!

What happened to Italy?

ummm.... Italia goes here. between the 2nd and the 7th of August.
Landed in Genoa, stayed with Giacomo, who was a wonderful host. Train to Pisa, train to Firenze, stayed there for 2 days at fantastic hostel with old man who played piano and gave us lots of his own wine that he made by stepping on the grapes. Train to Venice, lots of walking. Found hidden hotel room in the maze. Killed lots of mosquitos. Woke up really early. Despite staying up really late drinking wine at the steps of the grand canal. Too much coffee. Walked to ferry terminal with fingers crossed. got tickets. got on ferry. spent 29 hours on a boat.

oh, and there was a free hat somewhere in there....

la lucha sigue...

so, when I left off last time, I think we were about to board a bus from Marseille to Barcelona. I once swore I would never take another Eurolines bus in my life, but as life would have it.... its better not to swear.

The 7 hour bus ride wasn't too bad, and we did it at night, so we arrived in Barcelona around 6am and walked through the sleeping town. Well most of it was sleeping, as we wondered through the Gothic Quarter, some people were waking up and heading to work, while others were still stumbling back home from the night of partying. This is Spain after all.
We stayed awake on coffee and tea until we could check into our room at the Pension, which is great. Anyone coming to Barcelona, stay at ´La Calma´, Anyway, we´ve spent most of our days exploring, we went to a squat that has been occupied for years, and is an amazing example of permaculture, called Can Masdeu.

We´ve also done all the touristy things, and we spend almost every night just drinking wine in a plaza, or maybe beer if its really hot. We rented bikes and went out to an amazing beach that wasn´t too far from the city. Got sunburn. Also went to the Zapatista collective that I worked with 5 years ago when I was here. Last time, I helped paint a mural, but nobody seems to know its whereabouts now (it was painted on fabric, not a wall, so it could be mobile....).

I decided I wanted to visit the grave of Buenaventura Durruti, after reading how he was buried in Montjuic cemetery. But there are thousands of people buried there and I thought it might be a bit of a challenge to find him. Also, in Spanish cemeteries they stack people in tombs so its really confusing. The "Mont" in Montjuic stands for mountain, its also very tall (incidentally, the "juic" means jewish). So we began our research. At the zapatista collective, they referred me to Virus publishing, which is an anarchist publishing company (I actually remember sending them packages from AK Press when I was 18 years old in San Francisco). There, we looked up in a variety of books about Durruti, any info on where his tomb was, but we gave up. They suggested I try the CNT office nearby. So off I went, and they too, were very nice, happy to see me and my tattoo, but did not know where in the cemetery Durruti was buried.

Finally, today, we just decided to go. And I found a guardia near a maintenance office. I asked him if he knew, and he gave me a map that had it marked on it. Ten minutes later we were standing at the foot of his tomb. The workers at the cemetery were watering all the plants around him. I can´t help but wonder if the fascists in the cemetery get the same treatment (and for the record, it didn´t look like it. there were a lot of dead plants and brush around most tombs).

So, thats all for now. We leave tomorrow night by boat across the Mediterranean to Genova. Its an 18 hour ferry ride, but should be worth it.

Hope you´re all doing well.
hasta la pasta (hey, this time that actually makes sense),
Esteban