Traveling (backpacking) with Steph is eye-opening, and not entirely smooth, mostly due to my own shortcomings regarding the ‘ideal’ relationship. Ideally, I’ve always believed that two people in a relationship should share all responsibilities equally, regardless of who is the man and who is the woman. And, when traveling with backpacks by train, and sometimes covering large distances in a short time, experience is of the essence. Stephanie? She loves the thrill of me doing it all, or at least that’s what I think she’s thinking.
A key ingredient to successful international travel (I believe any seasoned veteran of international experience would agree) is effective and efficient communication with the locals. Knowing when to ask questions, like when you’re lost, is of course helpful. Having knowledge of a second language? Extremely helpful. And, it’s just as important to have confidence not to be afraid to approach someone on the spot. A smile and a greeting in their native language always goes a long way, even if those are the only words you know.
In Steph’s defense, it’s no easy task simply ‘gaining’ experience quickly in areas where you originally had none or very little. If one hasn’t traveled the world, for example, it’s tough to know what to do ‘naturally’ to make the trip go more smoothly. That’s all experience really gives you when traveling.
Seems simple enough, right? I’m thinking Steph may not agree with me.
Of course, after all, I’m only a man, so who really knows what these ladies are thinking. I know I sure don’t most of the time.
Keep the faith.
Saturday, August 27, 2011
Thursday, August 25, 2011
Castiglione Olona
A single month in Europe is hardly enough time to draw any real concrete conclusions about anything. But alas, in the end we have our experience, and our personal observations to ‘draw’ conclusions, so to speak.
So after Barcelona we headed straight for Milan. This was not our final destination, however, of this particular leg of the journey. We were heading to Castiglione Olona, a small town in the north of Italy near the Swiss border. I have an old artist friend who goes by the single name of ‘Trury’ who lives there, and she has graciously invited us to visit and film her life.
Trury is quite unique. She may very well be the is the first person I’ve come into close contact with who, in my own personal description of what I consider an artist to be, is a true artist in every sense of the word.
The first time I met Trury was in Berlin in 2002. We were both there on holiday, and it was the weekend of the famed ‘Love Parade’. We were both staying with a mutual friend, and therefore attended the Love Parade together. Long story short: we danced and drank a lot that day. At the end of the night I found myself back at Federico’s apartment with Trury, and she had taken the scissors to her long brown. When the dust had finally settled, she looked more like ‘The Legend of Billy Jean’ with long locks of hair covering the floor.
For some reason, I never forgot that night.
Keep the faith.
So after Barcelona we headed straight for Milan. This was not our final destination, however, of this particular leg of the journey. We were heading to Castiglione Olona, a small town in the north of Italy near the Swiss border. I have an old artist friend who goes by the single name of ‘Trury’ who lives there, and she has graciously invited us to visit and film her life.
Trury is quite unique. She may very well be the is the first person I’ve come into close contact with who, in my own personal description of what I consider an artist to be, is a true artist in every sense of the word.
The first time I met Trury was in Berlin in 2002. We were both there on holiday, and it was the weekend of the famed ‘Love Parade’. We were both staying with a mutual friend, and therefore attended the Love Parade together. Long story short: we danced and drank a lot that day. At the end of the night I found myself back at Federico’s apartment with Trury, and she had taken the scissors to her long brown. When the dust had finally settled, she looked more like ‘The Legend of Billy Jean’ with long locks of hair covering the floor.
For some reason, I never forgot that night.
Keep the faith.
Tuesday, August 23, 2011
Knowing the World
Call it the spirit of adventure, but in my earlier days I can remember how exhilarating it was to travel to distant lands. Maybe it was the different faces or skin colors, the distinct smell in the air, the architecture, or the (mostly) delicious and often unique food. Possibly it was funny looking cars, the more delicious coffee, or the barely understandable language. Maybe, it was all of it at the same time.
Or, for me, maybe it was the feeling of shedding my own culture and finally feeling free.
My first trip abroad (not counting Canada) was to Spain in 1992. I was 16 years old, and we were there for less than two weeks. I went as a group with about nine other students from my high school, and two teachers. I was (almost) completely surrounded by ‘America’ there in that group, and yet I still felt like my life had changed, even as it was happening. We had amazing experiences speaking with locals in their own language, and meeting & hanging out with people our own age in parks.
I wanted so desperately to think that these experiences were special. At the time, and even later on into my twenties, I thought I was special for having visited these far away lands. Instead what I’m learning all these years later is that I wasn’t doing anything different than anyone else who had also traveled across oceans to see what other countries were like. And, after all this time, I get this eerie feeling that I just wasn’t educated about the world the way I should have been.
Now when I travel, I see the world much more the way it is, the way is always was. I’m not tremendously exhilarated by different people like I used to be, and new cities don’t excite me as much, even though they’re (mostly) still really cool. New currencies? Once exchanged they still need to be spent. Wine in Italy, well that's a different story.
The world around us really isn’t that different after all, except for those who haven’t seen it.
Keep the faith.
Or, for me, maybe it was the feeling of shedding my own culture and finally feeling free.
My first trip abroad (not counting Canada) was to Spain in 1992. I was 16 years old, and we were there for less than two weeks. I went as a group with about nine other students from my high school, and two teachers. I was (almost) completely surrounded by ‘America’ there in that group, and yet I still felt like my life had changed, even as it was happening. We had amazing experiences speaking with locals in their own language, and meeting & hanging out with people our own age in parks.
I wanted so desperately to think that these experiences were special. At the time, and even later on into my twenties, I thought I was special for having visited these far away lands. Instead what I’m learning all these years later is that I wasn’t doing anything different than anyone else who had also traveled across oceans to see what other countries were like. And, after all this time, I get this eerie feeling that I just wasn’t educated about the world the way I should have been.
Now when I travel, I see the world much more the way it is, the way is always was. I’m not tremendously exhilarated by different people like I used to be, and new cities don’t excite me as much, even though they’re (mostly) still really cool. New currencies? Once exchanged they still need to be spent. Wine in Italy, well that's a different story.
The world around us really isn’t that different after all, except for those who haven’t seen it.
Keep the faith.
Sunday, August 21, 2011
Coffee shops: a humming economy
According to recent statistics, the rate of unemployment in Italy is at 9%. In Spain, the official numbers may be as high as 20%. As far as I’ve heard, the latest regarding Greece is that they are now paying 30% interest rates on the country’s debt. Even the middle class in America is feeling the pinch.
These are humbling figures, and the last I knew, no one I know wants to be poor.
According to unscientific observations I made recently when visiting Amsterdam, there is one sector of their economy that seems to be doing really well: The coffee shop industry. This is a lesson Americans should adhere to carefully.
Interested in starting a business that’s almost foolproof to fail? I know I’d be all ears at such a proposal. Seven days a week, from 10am until 1am, the coffee shop closest to our guesthouse always had customers. These customers range from those that actually wanted to sit and enjoy themselves there, to others who just wanted to purchase goods and move along. There was almost always a line to make a purchase.
The environment is quite safe. One won’t often run across drunk and obnoxious youth, and other drugs hardly seem to provoke malicious behavior. I didn’t observe a single serious problem during our stay in Holland.
This was not the only coffee shop successfully conducting business either. Most of the coffee shops we’d pass were packed with patrons seated, and enjoying their goods and coffee, as well as those standing in line to make a purchase.
The recent ‘no’ vote in California to regulate and make legal the sale and purchase of marijuana just goes to show: in 2011, Americans are either too stoned, or still like their drugs illegal.
After experiencing such success in business during my stay inn Holland, I’d say Americans (in general) have it wrong.
Keep the faith.
These are humbling figures, and the last I knew, no one I know wants to be poor.
According to unscientific observations I made recently when visiting Amsterdam, there is one sector of their economy that seems to be doing really well: The coffee shop industry. This is a lesson Americans should adhere to carefully.
Interested in starting a business that’s almost foolproof to fail? I know I’d be all ears at such a proposal. Seven days a week, from 10am until 1am, the coffee shop closest to our guesthouse always had customers. These customers range from those that actually wanted to sit and enjoy themselves there, to others who just wanted to purchase goods and move along. There was almost always a line to make a purchase.
The environment is quite safe. One won’t often run across drunk and obnoxious youth, and other drugs hardly seem to provoke malicious behavior. I didn’t observe a single serious problem during our stay in Holland.
This was not the only coffee shop successfully conducting business either. Most of the coffee shops we’d pass were packed with patrons seated, and enjoying their goods and coffee, as well as those standing in line to make a purchase.
The recent ‘no’ vote in California to regulate and make legal the sale and purchase of marijuana just goes to show: in 2011, Americans are either too stoned, or still like their drugs illegal.
After experiencing such success in business during my stay inn Holland, I’d say Americans (in general) have it wrong.
Keep the faith.
Friday, August 19, 2011
Zarautz
This place needs a proper introduction onto the world stage. It’s like a magic land, a perfect place. I never thought such a place existed on Earth. It's a family town, with a flare for fun if you will. Trust me, I hung out here in the summer of 1996 and partied. Trust me on that one.
In reality, it's a lovely place. There doesn't seem to be any problem with anyone, or anything here, except of course to mind the amount of time your car is parked on the street, because they will issue you a ticket if the amount of time you've already paid for expires. This was something I didn't take into consideration before coming here, because why should I?
I, of course, don't even own a car on this continent. We are, however, extremely fortunate to have a friend lend us one who had an extra. A Volkswagon Golf. A quick turn down the road, a the ‘Autovía del Cantábrico’ was there to wisk us in any direction. We visited Santander, a city I would have never otherwise visited if we didn't have a vehicle at our disposal. Since we did have one, we decided it was the perfect place.
But Zarautz, a place of barely 60,000 in the peak summer months, is a gem amongst the endless places one can visit in this lifetime. The beach is clean, and the sand feels nice between your toes. The whole place feels like a beach town, without the annoying Cancun style partying. You have no choice but to surrender yourself to the easy life of going to the beach, refreshing yourself with a dip in the Bay os Biscay, and catching up with old friends.
Zarautz is legendary indeed.
Keep the faith.
PS- We did end up receiving a ticket for expired parking fees. It was the nicest little piece of paper folded and tucked neatly into a clear plastic envelope that you ever saw. I barely recognized what it was when we were about to pull out.
In reality, it's a lovely place. There doesn't seem to be any problem with anyone, or anything here, except of course to mind the amount of time your car is parked on the street, because they will issue you a ticket if the amount of time you've already paid for expires. This was something I didn't take into consideration before coming here, because why should I?
I, of course, don't even own a car on this continent. We are, however, extremely fortunate to have a friend lend us one who had an extra. A Volkswagon Golf. A quick turn down the road, a the ‘Autovía del Cantábrico’ was there to wisk us in any direction. We visited Santander, a city I would have never otherwise visited if we didn't have a vehicle at our disposal. Since we did have one, we decided it was the perfect place.
But Zarautz, a place of barely 60,000 in the peak summer months, is a gem amongst the endless places one can visit in this lifetime. The beach is clean, and the sand feels nice between your toes. The whole place feels like a beach town, without the annoying Cancun style partying. You have no choice but to surrender yourself to the easy life of going to the beach, refreshing yourself with a dip in the Bay os Biscay, and catching up with old friends.
Zarautz is legendary indeed.
Keep the faith.
PS- We did end up receiving a ticket for expired parking fees. It was the nicest little piece of paper folded and tucked neatly into a clear plastic envelope that you ever saw. I barely recognized what it was when we were about to pull out.
Wednesday, August 17, 2011
European Women
Call me completely off base, but the women of the world could do themselves a favor by taking a lesson from Europeans. Hands down Europe has the hottest, sexiest women. By Americans standards they are definitely healthier, and not just because of the food they eat. Generally speaking, they have built their cities and towns in a livable way, and walk many places that most Americans would normally drive to, like the supermarket or the mall.
All things with humans considered equal, the ladies of the Eurozone are far more elegant and confident than women in most other parts of the world. Forget about history, and the reasons why this is. By just simply observing while visiting here, I’d rather set my eyes on a European lady than one from any other place. Talk about making a man feel their culture from pure body language!
I have occasionally been known to brag about how good looking the women in Korea are. But if good looking has anything to do with confidence, only about 10% of the entire previous group of attractive Korean women would I still consider ‘attractive’. This happens mainly because I live in Korea, and am susceptible to becoming a product of my own environment, conveniently forgetting how attractive confidence is in a woman.
And here, even if they are not fully confident, one generally can’t tell the difference. Compared with Korean women (and men) for example, they way some Europeans walk the streets gives them an air of confidence that doesn’t exist in Asia. Korean women, for example, don’t often look where they are going, and walking in high heels doesn’t make up for lack of direction, or confidence. Grace and style in this area of the world are enough to make any American man do a double-take.
You have to give it up to the Europeans. Well, you don’t have to, because with their confidence, they are most likely not going to care what you think anyway.
Keep the faith.
All things with humans considered equal, the ladies of the Eurozone are far more elegant and confident than women in most other parts of the world. Forget about history, and the reasons why this is. By just simply observing while visiting here, I’d rather set my eyes on a European lady than one from any other place. Talk about making a man feel their culture from pure body language!
I have occasionally been known to brag about how good looking the women in Korea are. But if good looking has anything to do with confidence, only about 10% of the entire previous group of attractive Korean women would I still consider ‘attractive’. This happens mainly because I live in Korea, and am susceptible to becoming a product of my own environment, conveniently forgetting how attractive confidence is in a woman.
And here, even if they are not fully confident, one generally can’t tell the difference. Compared with Korean women (and men) for example, they way some Europeans walk the streets gives them an air of confidence that doesn’t exist in Asia. Korean women, for example, don’t often look where they are going, and walking in high heels doesn’t make up for lack of direction, or confidence. Grace and style in this area of the world are enough to make any American man do a double-take.
You have to give it up to the Europeans. Well, you don’t have to, because with their confidence, they are most likely not going to care what you think anyway.
Keep the faith.
Monday, August 15, 2011
Returning to Italy
My first trip to Italy I remember thinking that I saw Robert DeNiro’s identical twin. I also thought I had seen the spitting image of my aunt. Not sure why that happened as I am, by blood, only 25% Italian-American. After that first visit, I was fascinated by the place.
That was long ago. Now I go there, and I have an idea what the people are going to look like. They have dark hair for the most, are slender, like their mopeds, and talk with their hands. And, without fail, I see Robert DeNiro’s twin every time I’m there.
The coffee? The most dee-lish of anywhere I’ve been, and possibly the least expensive.
So after many moons, I find myself (w/ Steph) heading back to Italy. This time, however, I’m certain it will be different. I have several filming projects planned, and we’ll be spending a week with my parents in a Tuscan villa. It’s their first time overseas. Ever. Kind of like a homecoming for the family, the Italian side anyways.
I chatted with both my parents yesterday over Skype from Barcelona, and it was like I was the parent. There are so many things they're unsure about. It's cute, really it is. I asked my mother what she planned to do if her ATM card didn’t work after her small supply of cash that she’s bringing ran out. Her answer: I don’t know. I advised her to stop by the bank on the way to the airport and make another cash withdraw. It made sense to her.
For them, it’s like Italy is located on another planet. I have no problem with that really. What does concern me, ever so slightly however, is that others from the same country they’re from might think the exact same thing.
Can’t be true... can it?
Keep the faith.
That was long ago. Now I go there, and I have an idea what the people are going to look like. They have dark hair for the most, are slender, like their mopeds, and talk with their hands. And, without fail, I see Robert DeNiro’s twin every time I’m there.
The coffee? The most dee-lish of anywhere I’ve been, and possibly the least expensive.
So after many moons, I find myself (w/ Steph) heading back to Italy. This time, however, I’m certain it will be different. I have several filming projects planned, and we’ll be spending a week with my parents in a Tuscan villa. It’s their first time overseas. Ever. Kind of like a homecoming for the family, the Italian side anyways.
I chatted with both my parents yesterday over Skype from Barcelona, and it was like I was the parent. There are so many things they're unsure about. It's cute, really it is. I asked my mother what she planned to do if her ATM card didn’t work after her small supply of cash that she’s bringing ran out. Her answer: I don’t know. I advised her to stop by the bank on the way to the airport and make another cash withdraw. It made sense to her.
For them, it’s like Italy is located on another planet. I have no problem with that really. What does concern me, ever so slightly however, is that others from the same country they’re from might think the exact same thing.
Can’t be true... can it?
Keep the faith.
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