Catching Up

here's the deal: Plan all you want, or blow it off completely, but no matter what when you travel the bread-and-butter of everyday life is adaptation and improvistation.

Take for example one of my last meals in Tallinn. I was stranded by a broken down trolleybus several km from the city centre, hungry, and near a grocery store. Not such a bad thing. But what do you do when the best looking food is a container of pre-cooked rice pilaf? Do you go for it, and just hope you can find a plastic fork somewhere? sure you do. and when you realize there are no forks to be found, well, time to dig in and let your modern sensibilities float out of mind. Yum.

In similiar fashion, this blog is not going as planned at the moment. I keep having experiences, thinking about them, even planning out an entry - then I just don't take time to write it. The more time passes, the harder it gets, but I'm committed to sharing it all with you, so just hang tough.

I know this is all sillyness, but I need some responsibilities out here, so in trying to keep you all "satisfied" I am also keeping myself sane with the regular duties and imagined obligations.

I've spent a good bit of time today updating my Picasa album, so it's all the way up to present (even a few Polish photos already), and my Google maps actually exceed present reality.

I'm stepping off the computer for a bit to actually experience Poland, but I will pop back on soon, and there really are several novellas heading your way.

Thanks for the patience and the (gratis) patronage.

Weber (on the lamb)

Swing Tallinn

Ok, what am I doing in Estonia? Am I here because I have a lifelong desire to help children, to work with the (formerly oppressive) Russian minority, to see the beauty and splendor of the Baltics?

No, not really.

I took a work camp to save money, and I came to Estonia for exactly three reasons, listed by priority.
1. The camp was in a big city, not the wilderness like most others.
2. I've never been to Estonia.
3. Mike and Laura mentioned something about Swing dancers in Tallinn.

Now, with full respect to all my swing buddies, I have always felt that while I am very passionate about my dancing, it has not yet had much if any impact on my larger life choices, such as where I will live, what job I will take, etc. So this is kind of special, and while the Tallinn swing scene may not be party-central, after a month of no dancing whatsoever and very little direct contact with anyone, Tallinn became a Lindy oasis. In fact, I danced more in Tallinn in one week than I had danced in Texas in my last month. seriously.

So here's the low-down. Laura hooked me up with some contact information for a local Swing head honcho, who then gave me the details of their final dance of the season (they take summers off), and I said that I would try to make it. I then began inviting some of my fellow volunteers, and was quite surprised that virtually all of them were not only curious, but rather excited about going. This of course made me nervous, because I had no idea what to expect, much less promise them in advance.

So last Tuesday we set off in search of a small dance studio south of Old Town and after a few turns and an inconveniently cancelled bus route, we timidly stepped into a dance studio-turned-Sauna. We were greeted by a room full of dancers and expectations, or maybe just expectant dancers. Apparently, just using Mike and Laura as a reference was enough to elevate me to guest teacher status, and I was very shortly put in charge of organizing lessons for the evening. Now this may seem uncomfortable and awkward, especially since I speak only English and had 6 brand new follows in tow, but hey, I love teaching, and after all the talk-up I gave my friends about how great Lindy was as a dance, and how open lindy hoppers were as people, I sure as hell wasn't going to let this evening fizzle.

So lessons went well (I did the 'ole pop-turn with variations lesson), and the dancers were both very satisfied, and quite competent. We broke into social dance, and all was well from there. The Estonians were very curious about how their dancing might differ from the states, but let me say for the record: it doesn't. They're dealing with a small scene in a frankly very small city, with limited if any outside exposure. It's actually very impressive. As for differences, sure, it doesn't look like Austin, but compared with San Antonio, Tulsa, or any of the other "satellite scenes" Tallinn would be right at home. And the Music! It had been far too long since I had some decent swing music, I didn't have time to properly prep my mp3 player, and that made me feel right at home.

The other volunteers were also wonderful sports about it. Because all the Estonians already knew the basics, I had to thrust my friends directly into a semi-intermediate class, but the other dancers were very helpful, friendly, and patient. It didn't hurt that my buddies took it all with very good charm.

So the Estonians got a lesson from an American, my friends had a good time doing something they certainly wouldn't have found on their own, and I got very sweaty (as usual).

In fact, it went so well, one of my friends got an invitation for us to go dancing again later in the week. A couple dancers setup their own "peer lessons/workshop" at a small studio every Friday. Pretty cool idea in lieu of a larger dance structure. So I got to go play teacher again, which I loved, and even more of the volunteers came for that odd experience as well. We even did the Shim Sham (Shimmy).

Lindy Hop certainly isn't universal, or some kind of unique language that transcends all boundaries, but for me it was a welcome refresher, and a very good ice breaker and bond-builder for me and my team. Apparently my fervor for dance (and moves, apparently) convinced them all that I must be homosexual, but I'm trying to take that as a compliment.

Such is life, when you're (Weber) on the Lamb.

Tallinn School vol.2: the Team

originally i was very excited to tell you all about the other volunteers i'm working with, but it has since occurred to me that despite how well get along with them, how awesome they all are as individuals, and how valuable my conversations and interaction with them has been, in all likelihood, you won't care.

but now that i'm in the last few days of the camp and have gotten to know them all about as well as i'll get the chance, i just can't help myself. i've been fortunate enough to share these 2 weks with 7 other volunteers from a truly international background and their various traits, experiences, strengths and weaknesses have been perhaps my most imporant activity of these past two weeks. no offense to the kids, but ok, 12 year olds are hard to deal with, gotcha.

First up is our group leader, Feli ("Fay-Lee"), a year-long volunteer with the EVS program who's been working with our particular school for some time, but who has not yet seen, much less run, a summer camp. she's certainly a bright girl, and is a very fun mixture of expectation and exception all packed into a very petite 20 year old southern German frame. And as a self-proclaimed trekkie, it's hard not to get along.



next is our most senior member, and in my estimation most effective, Marieke (Ma-Ree-Ka). Despite a bizarre similiarity to Gramma Dar (she's even an amateur clown for pete's sake!), this 35-yaer old lass of Holland is a wonderful snapshot of a life in progress. she has a successful career as a financial consultant that she's leaving in search of an unknown and more fulfilling pursuit, with this camp her first of three in exploring youth education. she knows what it takes to self-motivate, and she has a balloon hat (or three) ready for every occasion.

And then there's Marta. I'm not sure what i expected from a 29 year old Polish woman, but it can't possibly be any mold she fits into. Certainly an enigmatic figure, it took the better part of a week before she finally divulged any personal information, she is a master of omission and deflection, but also a ridiculously astute observer and concise questionairre. she'll sit quietly in the group, jovial rather than detached, but just when you think all is bubbly and light, she'll drop a question that jolts you back to substantial self-contemplation. don't answer too fast, she's already one step ahead of you.

The school may be in Estonia,but Russian is the default language when the students English vocabulary comes up wanting, which makes the next two team members even more valuable. Maria is a 19 year old Russian from nearby St. Petersburg who is already in her fourth year of university with a focus in psychology and some earlier work with autism feeding her experience. more than anything she's wonderful about translating when needed, and conveniently "forgetting" russian the rest of the time. Also, watch out, this Ruskie is one hell of a dancer on the Latin beat.

Sojin ("Soo-Gin") is perhaps the most unlikely story in our posse. This 20 year old Korean (ok, actually 21 years by the Korean method) comes to Tallinn from a surprisingly short train ride out of moscow, where she's studying Russian at university befor ereturning to her native Korea. The language helps, but i think her ever-ready and super-expressive smiles are probably the biggest weapon she brings to the camp leader arsenal.

In my travels, i've already met a few Swedes, but all of them were life-long travelers, usually many years removed from the frigid winters and universal healthcare of the homeland. not so with Kajsa ("Kai-Ee-Sa"), a 21 year old who joined up with our program in order to get out of Stockholm for a change. she'll admit to confirming the stereotype about swedes being a touch xenophobic, but she's also quick to point out examples of Swedish culture/influence on the "outside" world, especially in the arena of indie rock. I didn't know the Caesars were Swedish, for example, but now i do.

Sunshine (believe it) shares the distinction of being our youngest member, but is perhaps among the most travelled of the crew and certainly wins the prize for being the most mature relative to age (in which category i probably finish last). she's also my teaching partner, and i must say the pint-sized french teenager has been a pleasure to work with throughout the camp. i don't think she quite has the world on a string as she very nonchalantly seems to, but it's hard to believe there's much this future tourism major can't figure out.

so there's the team, a gaggle of wonderful, fascinating, and very different girls with which i have been honored to live, work, laugh, curse and drink with for these two weeks. as our camp draws to an end, i find myself rather indifferent to the upcoming absence of the students (and all the work they entail), but i am going to miss my team mates, and it will be very difficult transitioning from a 1 bathroom flat with 8 occupants sharing food, schedules and goals back to the standard and much less personable hostel or even hotel environment.

this is the closest i've felt to the sense of community and comaraderie that i enjoyed so much as an undergraduate, and while that chapter of my life is over, i am very thankful for this chance to revisit the experence, and grateful to whatever fates or circumstances that landed me with a group such as this. i may not be well travelled, or even especially bright, but at least i'm not ungrateful for simple things.

The weber has spoken (while on the lamb)

Tallinn School vol.1: The Premise

In order to understand what i'm doing in Estonia, you must first know a few things about Estonia, and a few more about the realities of the emergent global marketplace.

so, a quick guide to Estonia from someone who knows practically nothing about it. Estonia, like the other balkan countries as well as Poland and Finland,is a low-lying country with very cold winters, but decent farmland and several good harbors. As a result, it's been relatively desirable, but largely indefensible. the population has watched wave after wave of outside power wash over its borders and claim its allegiance. In a process i don't understand, this somehow lead to the development of the three baltic regions as distinct cultural and linguistic zones. yeah, that baffles me.

In modern history, the area has been banded about between major european powers like a chunk of the African coast, leading one travel writer to jest, "it seems the British always confused the baltics with the balkans, and treated them in accordance." Estonia enjoyed a brief (and first) independence following WWI, but that ended within the opening salvo of WWII. The subsequent occupation by Russia and forced enrollment in the USSR never settled well in Estonia, and the baltics continued to be an odd ideological thorn for the soviets. none of the violence of Chechnya, but always very sympathetic toward the west and suspicious of Soviet "solutions."

Following the soviet collapse all three countries rocketed to adopt western priorities and economies with ridiculous success. Look at your cell phone, odds are it's Baltic or Finnish in origin. Nokia, Ericson, apparently not Japanese afterall.

so there's Estonia. An incredibly small country with an old, small, and wonderfully metropolitan capital, Tallinn. How small? This city of 400,000 still has most of its citty-centrer enclosed by medieval walls, but with ample bus and even tram service throughout its nearby suburbs. Even a long tram ride is technically walkable if need be, and taxis are plentiful as well.


so here we have a super tech-savvy city with cobbled streets and free wi-fi everywhere. I don't think it even qualifies as "post-soviet" because it was never very soviet to begin with. the controversial removal (still referenced with pride) of "the russian statue" is a good illustration.

now to be an international player, especially in the world of high tech gizmodgetry, the one prerequisite is not a devoted WoW population, but a thorough English fluency starting at an early age.

And that's where I come in.

The school is called "In Down Town" and it is well-titled. This thing is not only within the thick stone medieval walls, it shares a corner with some of the hippest late night pubs and other establishments of lesser repute. So by day it's 40 kids (age 9-13) being marshalled about by 8 untrained volunteers, and by night (though not by dark- there is no sunset in the Estonian summer) it's the abode of dozens of zombie-like drunkards being nudged along by their slightly less-inebriated girlfriends.

the school is a language camp, so rather wealthy children come to practice their already incredible language skills and to get more "international exposure and understanding." ok, that last part is hard to swallow, but what it means is that we aren't teaching them grammer, we're just making them converse in English and get some practice and listening opportunities while we otherwise keep them busy and out of their parent's way.

still with me?

ok, let's call that good for today.. now you know a little something new about estonia (which may or may not be accurate), and quite a bit more about my camp than you could possibly have cared to know.

stay tuned, more of this riveting novella to come.

Weber (on the lamb)

Tallinn (prep) School

or more appropriately titled, "Tallinn School Prep."

if this was a proper blog, i would have been updating it daily, or at least regularly as to my whereabouts, activities and challenges.  however i am only one man, and not necessarily a blogger-man at that.  so instead whilst being burried in work for which  i am neither especially adept or professionally trained, i have used what little energies remained each night for quick e-mails to a few select friends, and of course to Euro cup football - Did you see the Turkey-Czech game?  seriously!

ok, well it's time for me to get back into this Lamb business, so rather than trying to give you a daily chronology, i'm going to write about my camp experiences in volumes of related  topics and update as inspiration comes.
 
hopefully with a good start and some catch-up on my one and only day off (today).

I'll load photos as the opportunity and subjects allow.


and as i'm able to make time between football matches.  Russia-Holland is sure to be a wild one on the pitch as well as in our flat, see following posts for more info.

Weber (on the Lamb)

Yosef, Tallinn ?

Ah Tallinn, majestic capital of Estonia, the equally majestic capitol of frigid nowhere.

But don't let that mislead you to assume I'm not fond of the place, in fact it's quite to the contrary. After the whirl-wind trip from Selcuk to Istanbul on an overnight bus (not recommended) to a long flight from Istanbul to Riga, a quick overnight, and then a very short flight (on a very small plane) and suddenly I'm in Tallinn, the smallest big city in the known world.

It's a surging metropolis of 400,00 people with sky-scraper hotels and mostly cobbled-stone streets. That's hardly the end of the contridictions that criss-cross this Baltic country and former Soviet nation, but it's a good indication of how things work here. They speak Estonian, in Estonia, for example, and are quite proud of the fact that they aren't Russian. at all. But they all speak Russian, of course, and most of them have Russian family members. Oh, and they've all been to Russia, a lot, even the children.

Tallinn is my first destination that is more than pure recreation, and man is it proving to be a LOT more. I'km working as a volunteer in a small English language camp for 9-13 year olds in central "Old Town" or Down Town Tallinn. And I mean it, I'm in the thick of things in every possible way:

The camp is located 2 blocks from the central (tourist) square, within the largely-existant ancient town walls, and a mere 4 blocks from the city's largest (only?) mall. For a city of only 400,000 it is ridiculously metro - cafes, trams, buses, trolley busses, taxis, fast food nation, and everything else.

The only thing I don't have in Tallinn is time. We work every day from 9 am to 6 pm (lunch with the kiddos) and then we spend our evenings planning the next day. On the plus side, this latter step can be done while watching Euro Championship football (and occasionally visiting a pub). On the downside, we work 13 out of 14 days straight, and we have almost zero free time for simple things like laundry, blogging, etc.

And let me warn you: if someone ever offers to treat you to "Estonian Cuisine," get busy with something else, fast! As the international volunteers we've been showered with home cooked meals twice a day for the past 5 days, and I've now had more bland boiled potatoes, over-cooked cabbage and a variety of sizes of meat-ball mash to last a lifetime. Even the standard drink - "Siirup water" is hard to get excited about. Does the name tip you off?

Otherwise, the people of Tallinn are great, and the weather is cool, but nice, when it's sunny. And because we're so far north, it's always sunny. Always. The sun sets sometime between 1-2 AM and then promptly rises again between 3 and 4. It's cool, it's weird, and day-to-day I can't tell if I'm getting used to it, or just not getting enough sleep to tell.

I want to tell you more, about my arrival in Tallinn, the (not-so) exhaustive training they provided, and the (exceptionally) exhausting work I've been doing for the past 3 days especially. In Soccer (sic - football) they have a "group of death" where all the hardest teams wind up. Well, my group of 10 little angels is the camp's equivalent, so I now have a few battle stories to share, but that will have to be another time.

The only thing in Tallinn that isn't cheap is Internet time, so after spending almost $10 US, my 1 hour is practically over.

I'll try to share more about my camp, my experiences, my volunteer teammates, and much more as opportunities arise.

For now, please be satisfied with what little I can offer. More news (and a few deep thoughts) I'll try to scribble down while I'm away from the keyboard, and relate them as honestly (and quickly) as I can.

Thanks for hanging with me, after this I should have a quiet week of much travel, but also much, much more internet time, and I'll be able to catch up and reflect for hours on end.

Yay!

Best wishes (from the lamb)

Picasa, I choose You!

ok, I caved.

In addition to this blog, I have now created a supplemental Google Picasa account to house all the extra photos I want to share, but don't have time to write about.

you can find it (on your own initiative and at your own peril) here:

http://picasaweb.google.co.uk/richardrweber/TheBlogPlus

happy hunting.

Weber (on the lamb)

Lessons from the Lamb

Again, no major deep thoughts or life-changing self-depriciation, but here are some interesting nuggets of wisdom I've bumped into recently:


XO / One Laptop Per Child - as you may know, I'm hauling one of these modern marvels around with me all summer thanks to the generosity (and curiosity) of my uncle Marc. It's a handy tool, very compact, and very capable given its limitations. However, despite my uncle's insistance that it's a "total chick magnet" I can assure you that my experiences with it to date have not been so productive. As Marc will tell you,Location Location Location. So here's the wisdom: being different, unique, and creative is great, but not necessarily when going through airport security. a few times the XO has been met by jovial luggage searches who fall for it's adorable demeanor, but more often than not suspicion and doubt are my primary returns when people ask me, "what is it?" Even more odd, I understand what they have to be afraid of, maybe more so than they do. The fear is that someone could pack a real bomb into a fake laptop cover and thereby get through security because computer casings/batteries are x-ray proof (or whatever0. Due to its size,the XO is no threat, but imagine taking theminiaturized XO components and putting them into a standard laptop casing. It would create a laptop that would function when queried by security, but also have loads of extra (shielded) space for munitions, sharp objects, etc. I'm no Tom Clancy, but surely someone else thought of this already. Anyway, being polite has gotten me through so far, but it's a good reminder than cuteness and novelty aren't the panacea all the time.

2. Overnight travel (with total apologies to Dmitri Martin)
Overnight plane - awesome.
Overnight bus - crazy
Overnight train - crazy awesome.
Overnight boat - ??? Let' find out!

3. Checked luggage, even at a premium, is a darn nice luxury. Likewise,planning overnight stop-overs mid-flight is a rather good way to get a glimpse of another major Euro city you wouldn't otherwise have time for. But here's the nugget - don't combine these two treats, or at least if you must, prepare yourself by transferring all your necessary daily goodies to your daypack.

4. Every country is the best country according to the people who live there, or at least according to the English speakers who are willing to waste time conversing with tourists. Expect this, and avoid the obvious follow-up questions about why or how. you won't get interesting soundbytes or even a rational conclusion.

5. Exchange rates aren't that hard to figure out, but once you have 5+ currencies rolling around in your pocket, it's time to consolidate. To you, a .20 Estonian Krooner might look a lot like a .20 Yeni Turkish Lira or a .20 Lat, but to the vedor across the counter you just became their gateway to the third circle of international business hell, and they are not going to let you off easy. Interestingly,they're always willing to do the exchange anyway, and keep whichever .20 they want.

6. Eurocup football is pretty darn awesome, and all the more so when you can watch it with local fans. So far I've been able to do this inGreece (hometeam lost to Sweden), and Turkey (home team lost to... Romania?). I'm watching now in Estonia, and luckily they don't have a team in the running. Still, it's a good year for non-western teams, so we're hopeful. If I realy get on the ball,maybe I'll incorporate a link to Eurocup on the page.

7. Even a mundane life can and should be lived like an adventure. more to come on that one after some further pondering.

the weber has spoken (from the lamb)

Soundtrack to "the Lamb"

more likely than not, you don't care what I'm listening to whilst I trapse about the Continent. You have your own busy life, and perhaps you don't have time to concern yourself with such ridiculously detailed things. Or perhaps you'd rather be inEurope yourself right now, and you know that if you were, you'd have a better soundtrack too.

Well OK, perhaps you would, but as someone who is always so affected by the music I choose to inundate myself with, I feel like giving you a blog without musical reference or context is only part of the story.

So here's the quick list of what's bouncing in my ears (over and over again) while deeper thoughts pervade the grand space between my headphones.

sorry, no downloads. I don't fear the CIA in Estonia, but the RIAA can still find me.

Jason Segel - Dracula's Lament
LCD Sound System - All my Friends
Sufjan Stevens - Decatur, Steel man of metropolis
Cake - Short Skirt,Long Jacket
Sleater Kinney - Roller Coaster
Tullycraft - Every Little Thing
Zea - We burried Indie Rock Years Ago
Delta 5 - mind Your Own business
Za Panther - Casket Breakdown
Mountain Goats - Sax Rohmer, Lovecraft in Brooklyn, San Bernadino, No Children
Mates of State- For the Actor,Hoarding it for Home
Aqueduct -- The Tulsa Trap
Ike Reilly Assassination - Whatever Happened to the Girl in Me?
The Henchmen - Theif on bicycle
The Caesars - It's not the fall that hurts
Heroes Severum- I can
William Shatner/ben Folds - Common People
various swing(Basie. Louie, Duke)


And then there's the music I really wish I had with me, and may be downloading soon...

Thelonious monk - anything! Esp. Genius of modern music sessions
Dave Holland - Prime Directive
more Jason Segel "Dracula" music
modest mouse - florida (and others)
new pornographers - twin cinema, sing me spanish techno
Billy Bang - At Play in the Fields of the Lord
Charles mingus - anything "ah um"

"Reeg-ya? I Hardly Got to Know Ya."

atrocious puns (and the requisite mis-spelling of major European capitols) aside, my bried stay in Riga was quite delightful, especially after the week of less familiar traveling in Turkey and the whirlwind route that brought me to Latvia.

Here's on the deal: this city is totally crazy. and cool. It has very old building (by Euro standards - props to the ancients in Greece/Turkey),but these aren't monuments,they are actively in use alongside soviet apartment blocks and ridiculously opulent churches and basilicas. in fact, you practically can't find a street corned near my converted hostel that doesn't have at least one beautiful clock tower, steeple, or gargoyle adorning one of it's corner buildings.And I stayed in "New Town."

I'm also blown away on my first day in a former Soviet republic. I know a touch of russian history, but obviously I haven't learned the nuances. Like for example, how did the glorious St. Peters basilica remain intact during decades of supposedly athiest rule? what was it, the Peoples Bingo Hall of Uniform Magnificence?

And then it occurs to me that Communism (in a gross and unfair oversimplification) was an ideology created by intellectuals for the supposed benefit of the masses, but without really considering or asking what the masses really valued or wanted. Further (perhaps finally) it was a system which tried very hard to keep these same intellectuals rightly out of power, but unfortunately it turns out that it left the power positions opened, and this was largely exploited by non-intellectual elites that worked for neither the benefit of the masses nor the intellectual (even altruistic) goals. In short - I didn't realize how much lingering religion and other non-Soviet ideologies survived not only behind the Iron Curtain,but often under its condonement.

I'm not saying this is a huge revelation, or that it's a total surprise, I just didn't think about it. I was always taught about the Soviet as a very black-white (or to be honest, good vs evil) state. The concept of its realistically necessary heterogeny didn't occur to me.

I've already gone further than I should after only 16 hours in the place, but it was beautiful, cozy, friendly, and none-too-hot.

and The Sun Sets at Midnight. How's that for a better blog title!

It`s Only a Holiday in my Head

Istanbul ıs a fascınatıng cıty, but wıth over 11 mıllıon people and no less than three major land masses (not to mentıon 2 contınents) dıvıdıng the cıty, ıt ıs otherwıse dıffıcult to dıscuss ın todo.

A few quıck thıngs to know: The Eastern bank (asıan sıde) ıs largely ındustrıal along the sea of Marmarıs, but stretches back ınto dıstant suburbs for mıles. The more populated Western (European) bank ıs further dıvıded ınto a Southern and Northern penınsula by the Golden Horn, or Halıç, whıch ıs an equally ımpressıve rıver joınıng the Bosphorus at the Sea of Marmara.

lost yet? Ok, Ill waıt whıle you check the Google Map.

Basıcally, the South Euro penınsula ıs called Sultanhamet, and ıs both the oldest, wealthıest, and most tourısty part of the cıty. The North euro penınsula ıs a real modern megatropolıs wıth touches of hıstory modern and ancıent. I know nothıng about the asıan sıde except that ıt has the major loadıng docks.

Travelıng now wıth my frıend Jordan Forbes, we spent our fırst two days very busy and entırely contaıned wıthın the Sultanhamet. When I say thıs place ıs tourısty, I don`t mean ıt`s as obvıous as havıng everythıng ın Englısh, etc. There`s some of that, but you don`t have to go far before you start to thınk you`re seeıng the "real" ıstanbul. Döner stands sell kebabs and gyros on every corner, and whıle sure, there are well-kept pıcturesque buıldıngs on every corner, ıt`s easy to just assume that yes, Istanbul really ıs an old and beautıful cıty.

Now I`m not sayıng thıs opınıon changes once you cross the Golden Horn ınto Boğylus (Northern Euro - here mısspelled), ıt ıs stıll a mysterıous, old and beautıful cıty. But ıt sure as hell ıs not what you thınk ıt ıs from Sultanhamet.

A good example of the splıt was our fınal day ın Istanbul, when Jordan and I decıded we wanted to see the northern penınsula. We walked over the brıdge, and sure, thıngs got a lıttle dıfferent, but no bıg deal,- just more modern. We hıked up to the tallest hıll on thıs penınsula to see the Galata Tower, one of the oldest towers ın teh world, whıch provıdes a decent look at all of the sourthern penınsula.

The fırst thıng to strıke me up there was 1) Istanbul goes a lot further North, East and West than ıt does South. 2) the South ıs the only part wıth room to spare for trees.

Sımultaneous wıth these thoughts, I was tryıng to drınk ın the full panorama of the majesty of varıous Mosques (yes the Blue one and ıts several ımpressıve bretheren), the Hagıa Sophıa and the Topakapı palace. I took a nıce deep breath of fresh aır and trıed to contemplate what I was wıtnessıng.

Then I heard the screachıng crash of tın and steel. Below me, about 70 feet or more, there was a constructıon crew loadıng sheets of tın roofıng ınto the back of a pıckup, and not necessarıly doıng so gently. It was a Saturday afternoon, but they had work to do and they were goıng about ıt wıth equal parts effıcıency and frustratıon.

It stopped me mıd-breath, and ıt remınded me that no matter how beautıful the landscape or movıng my expeıence of the moment may be, ıt`s all a constructıon I`m puttıng together for myself. The sıghts may be beautıful, as many of them have been every moment of every day for the past 1500 years. It ıs ımpressıve and movıng and all of that, but thıs ısn`t an art gallery, and whıle I go about my lıttle exploratıons and revelatıons, other people are grındıng through a work day full of much more concrete concerns and applıcable ıdeas.

I`m thankful for the remınder, but I`ll keep lıvıng on my tourıst cloud 9 for a lıttle longer. I hope when thıs trıp ıs all fınıshed I`ll remember the ımportance of keepıng our own self-awareness amıdst our surroundıngs, but I can`t rıghtly have a European Adventure ıf I`m constantly remındıng myself what a lazy sod I am for enjoyıng the abılıty to do nothıng but marvel, wonder and spend lots of money.

I`m not lıkely to forget that metalıc sound anytıme soon anyway.

Weber (on the lamb=

Lımıtatıons of a Western Educatıon

where to we get off? I mean really, where do we get the gall? In school, we learn unequıvocably about the march of human progress.


Egyptıans - Greeks - Romans - nothıngness - Renaıssance - Amerıca.


Turns out, thıngs were a bıt more complex. That was no revelatıon to me, and hopefully none of my readers wıll be shocked to know that whole and ımportant cıvılızatıons exısted ın between and concurrent wıth those lısted, and that we owe a large slıce of our modern world to the ınnumerable cultures and advances made outsıde of the above false progressıon.


Stıll, the enormıty of the ınaccurate world-vıew thıs creates contınues to astound me. I was a classıcs major, wıth a load of tıme spent ın Hıstory as well. I knew about the Hellenıstıc age, the Byzantıne empıre, the Islamıc scıences, even the Hıttıtes weren`t entırely foreıgn to me. But a few days ımmersed ın the slendor of so many cıvılızatıons come and past ıs transfıgurıng my approach to the development of modern socıety and our future.


Cıvılızatıon as we know ıt ıs not the product of a regular and progressıve "ımprovement." and tıme, geography, and all the other constants aren`t the ımpartıal players I once assumed them to be. Ok, yes, your cıvılızatıon ıs based ın a very arıd place (negatıve) but on the plus sıde you get to ınvent wrıtıng (posıtıve). But ıt`s not a balance, and not all cıvılızatıons were created equally. They weren`t (aren`t) equally developed, equally advanced, or even equally ınterestıng.

Now I`m not suggestıng that any person or group of people has any less claım to a good and full lıfe, but when you take a lınear and statıc progressıon of mankınd as your basıs for understandıng our cultural hıstory, and shatter ıt ınto the more accurate dısplay of thousands of competıng cıvılızatıons developıng sımultaneously along a non-lınear and constantly dynamıc set, well that`s a lot to take ın.




We aren`t a Lego world, where every advancement by anyone ıs stacked upon the foundatıon of all that came before. We are a world of anthılls, and they all get knocked over eventually only to be rebuılt. Some become better, others don`t. Even the process of human development, our abılıty to become smarter, ısn`t constant across cıvılızatıons or tıme. A cıvılızatıon that rıses rapıdly to the Bronze age and ınto Iron may stall and dwındle, whıle another that takes twıce as long to begın smeltıng anythıng may suddenly flourısh to a hıgh watermark of global human progress.


Thıs post ıs long, and I`m barely makıng sense, but consıder what ıt means that for almost one mıllenıum (of the 5 ın recorded hıstory) the "Western" world revolved around Constantınople and the people of Greece, Syrıa, and non-ancıent Egypt. Now realıze that ın a standard elementary text book tracıng mankınd from Ancıent Egypt (3000 BC) to the modern day, they basıcally just skıp 1\5 of the story as ıf ıt never happened. That`s lıke teach readıng wıthout a couple tenses, or Math wıthout 2`s and 7`s.


It`s complex, and I get that ıt ısn`t necessarıly approprıate for 3rd graders, but at what poınt do we fıx all the convenıent ommıssıons we ınstıll ın our chıldren?


stıll proıcessıng all of thıs, but blown away at come very, very complıcated our world and our place ın ıt was to come by.

Weber (on the lamb)

Fashion a la Greque

No real revelatıons here, just a few quıck observatıons and an especıally fun pıc. Europeans aren`t necessarıly more fashıonable than Amerıcans, they`re just more eclectıc (and eccentrıc). I`ve really enjoyed the ıncredıble dıversıty of outfıts I`ve wıtnessed both among the natıve Greeks and at all the tourıst hotspots. people where thıngs on cruıse shıps they wouldn`t be caught dead ın whıle at home, but even ın theır everyday lıves I`ve seen the kınds of odd combınatıons that are both rıdıculous, and yet somehow "work" through sheer force of wıll and confıdence. Bıkını top wıth a cardıgan on your shoulders? sure, why not!

But the most amazıng thıng has been the shoes. Fırstly, because ıt seems every thırd shop ın Greece ıs a shoe shop, mostly sellıng ornate and elaborate heels. Secondly, because despıte the gut of fancy shoe stores, about 70% of all the greeks I saw were wearıng sandles of one of two varıetıes: 1) classıc Greek sandal, possıbly even wıth lacıng up to the knee or 2) basıc flıp-flop wıth one to fıve rıdıculous pıeces of flash-flaıre pınned, glued, or just stuck to ıt somehow. Lıke theır two optıons for footwear are stereotypıcal whıte-column classıcs, or thrıft-store ultra*chıc.

the above pıcture summed ıt up for me ın thıs way: "you may have to suffer for fashıon, but the sufferıng ıs ıtself fashıonable, so wear ıt wıth prıde and get on wıth your lıfe."

Pretty rough read from a dısınclıned fashıonısta lıke myself (I`m tyıng thıs ıs camo-shorts and black button down), but when you`re on the lamb you call ıt lıke you see ıt.

Weber

Mu Siu in Thessaloniki

My third major destination in europe is my first "small town" the city of Thessaloniki (also known as Thesssalonica or Salonica). I knew it was the "second city" of Greece, but i didn't realize what a distant second it was. to put things in perpective, Athens is a city of 5 million, in a country of almost 11 million. Thessaloniki is a city of 1.5 million, and gets to be not only the second city, but essentially the only other major one whatsoever. I heard that Thess. was a young, hipster place, but i discovered it was in fact a place of very confusing cohabitations. mostly, it's an industrial port city, serving the shipping needs of the northern Aegean, but it also has a major university and a large national forest just bordering the city limits. When i arrived, I made my way to my "budget" hotel, which turns out to be a code word for super-skeezy. this place wass a dive, and it wasnt in the part of town i planned to frequent very often, so i set off to find a bite of diner. You wouldn't know it by day, but as the sun set, the city started living upto its hip reputation. Every store converted into a bar/cafe, with frappe's and various cocktails bouncing on every flat surface a vailable. I was looking for a place less raukus, and i finally found it at Sasadu, a chinese restaurant on a little sidestreet just thinking about shutting down for the night. it was quiet and clean, and while the owner didn't speak english, i was able to be seated and look over the menu. i went with the Mu Siu pork, spring rolls, and a local beer called Mythos.

To be honest, there`s nothıng more strage about Mu Sıu ın Thessalonıca than there ıs Mu Sıu ın San Antonıo, New York, Omaha or Madrıd. Truth ıs, Mu Sıu outsıde of Chına (or at least Asıa) should be equally odd, even when common. But not to me. In my head, Mu Sıu exısted ın two places: Chına, and Chınese Restaurants ın Amerıca.

Ok, so I`m culturally naıve, we get ıt. Once I`d overcome that mınor hurdle of understandıng, though, I started watchıng more carefully the ınteractıons among thıs small staff. The restaurant owner (or at least manager) was Greek, as was her one waıter\ delıvery boy. The cook on the other hand was Chınese. None of them spoke Englısh, and surprısıngly the cook dıdn`t even speak Greek, but the owner somehow knew enough Chınese to make for round conversatıons whıle the chef prepared my pork.

So how\why does a greek restauranteur learn Mandarın? Why would a non-Greek speakıng chınese chef move to Thessalonıka? How do all these dısparate pıeces even get near eachother, much less learn to ıntegrate ın such a seamless fashıon?

And ıt`s about here that I realızed just how ınsulated the US ıs when ıt comes to ınternatıonalısm. Sure, we get ınvolved ın everyone else`s busıness, and our populatıon ıs very dıverse as well, but we always look at ınternatıonalısm as a one-way street from "over there" to the better lıfe ın the US, or maybe as adventures had by amerıcans "over there" for benefıts (often fınancıal) that they brıng home.

How broad to thınk of a world where any ındıvıdual can move to anywhere else and contınue along theır marry way, makıng ıt or not, ınterspersed wıth a foreıgn culture whıch they can choose to adopt or ıgnore at theır own ınconvenıence. the true sıze and dıversıty of thıs world ıs just startıng to settle upon my shoulders, now to wıtness the freedom wıth whıch such vast dıstances and dıfferences could be permanently brıdged ıf one sımply had the wıll to do so, ıt`s stıll a bıt much for me to grasp. I`m only here on holıday, afterall.

I`ll keep rollıng ıt around, but consıder ıf you wıll that the cost of ınternatıonal travel ın the non-summer months ıs only slıghtly more so than domestıc vacatıons wıth US hotels, etc. And ask yourself, why haven`t I gone to a dıfferent country every New Years? or when was the last tıme I met two people who spoke multıple foreıgn languages and Englısh wasn`t one of them?

ıt`s askıng a lot, but I`m a case study on how no amount of "book learnıng" can adequately compensate for the blunt realıty of certaın truths.

And that`s my deep thought from Thessalonıkı, as I endured pleasant weather and an ınfestatıon of bed-chıggers. Oh the joy.

Weber (on the Lamb)

Turkısh Keys

My apologıes for droppıng out of the blogosphere for the past week. I have been joined ın my travels by my frıend Jordan, and whıle ıt has been excellent to have a travel buddy, the resultıng antı-socıal overtone of spendıng 1-3 hours on a computer every day has been enough to keep me vırtually unplugged.

However thıs has not stopped me from observıng, takıng photos, and occasıonally havıng a thought or two that I would lıke to share wıth the rest of you. Take for example thıs (and the next few proceedıng) entry. Notıce anythıng odd? How about the fact that most of my "i" letters don`t have a dot above them. thıs ıs because on a Turkısh keyboard, there are 2 dıfferent "i" letters each representıng a dıfferent sound. what ıs odd, and frustratıng, ıs that the more regular englısh "i" sound ıs represented by the letter wıth the dot ( i İ) whıle the un-dotted (ı I) makes more of a "uh" sound.

OK, who cares, rıght? Well here`s the amazıng part - they put the non-Englısh "ı" ın the space on the keyboard where the usual englısh "i" lıves, and moved the "i" to where the comma should be.

It`s pretty frustratıng, but not really debılıtatıng, and I thınk there`s a lesson burrıed ın there somewhere. Unfortunately, I`m so dıstracted by thıs, and several other ırregularıtıes of the keys, that the best I can do ıs just get down my thoughts ın a way that ıs semı-coherent.

So best of luck wıth the readıng, and please be forgıvıng of my grammar. I wıll now try to catch you up on a week`s worth of blog thoughts ın as concıse a fashıon as possıble.

Weber (ön the lamb)

even quicker update

i've now spent 4 nights inIstanbul and zero minutes in internet cafes,the result is that i have a lot to say, several pictures to share, no time to do it in. tonight i'm stuck in a hotel mid-transit from Istanbul to Selcuk, but once i actually get to a place i want to be at, more blogging, i promise. and laundry. doesn't matter to my on-line faithful, but those closer at hand will appreciate the laundry as much or more.

thanks for checking in.

Weber (on the Lamb)

Quick Update

woah.

Last night, I finally finished the monumental blog below and headed out for some chow and maybe to go watch Indiana Jones to kill time.

Instead, I ran into an American that I'd seen earlier in the day at a museum. He introduced himself as a professor at Holy Cross Greek Orthodox Seminary in Boston. I was playing it pretty casual, trying to figure out what this guy wanted, but as we walked and talked we progressively wound our way into deeper and more interesting conversations. The heavy stuff. Not just god and fate, but the whole purpose of life, what it means to be human, the practical realities of living on earth, as well as more mundane (but fun) topics like the upcoming election, how we choose what to do with our lives, etc.

Anyway, 3 hours later and after a cup of Frappe (they love this stuff here) he asked if I would be interested in joining his group as a guest on a special tour they were doing the next day. I was leery, but since I had nothing better to do but kill 10 hours before my train (and Thessaloniki didn't have much left to show me - plus my hotel room was a doom-pit), I figured I push some boundaries and go for.

It was amazing. Not only did I get to meet 7 fascinating smart young people, I had a wealth of great conversations, some real commaraderie (all too rare on the lamb), and I got to visit a very special site and get access to the kind of areas that most non-believers (and even most practicing greeks) don't. Only downside - no photos allowed.

It was a long day of respectful observation of a culture, religion, and artforms of which I know practically nothing. Talk about an education.

I'm still processing most of it, and in fact what I learned today directly contradicts a post I was planning to write about the question of religion in our modern age, so I'm not sure where that would put me. My mother would say I've seen my share of angels today; I don't know if I'll go that far, but the kind of opportunities and happy coincidences I've experienced today have left me flabbergasted and mentally exhausted.

Then someone stole my wallet.

So a couple ups, a couple downs. Some real hard questions presented without the pretense of a pre-formed answer, and some reaffirmations as well.

I'll think about it more, and hopefully post some of what I come up with.

My apologies for the lack of photos. The church at Armelia is just stunning, and I so wish I could share it with you. Every inch is covered in icons and... well, I can't explain it. I did throw up a Google Map so you could zoom in and see what the compound looks like, but that hardly does it justice. I will say this - Greece is a sparsely populated country. 5 million in Athens, 1.5 million in Thessaloniki, and the remaining 6 million people scattered throughout Attica, Ionia, Macedonia, Thrace and the islands. The peninsula we were on (one of three in greece) doesn't even have roads on Google Map yet. The third peninsula (which is huge) is the home of Mount Atmos, and incredibly sacred place in Greek Orthodoxy. How sacred? Well, the ENTIRE PENINSULA is considered holy ground, there are 25 monesteries there, women aren't allowed anywhere on the peninsula, and they closed off the roads to keep out all unwanted secular influences. Even Greeks need a permit to set foot on the peninsula, and must get there by boat (to control incoming people). Crazy.

These Greeks are very casual, fun-loving people, but they don't joke around about religion. It's part of their every-day life and they approach even the pre-meal prayer with a deliberate focus I am not accustomed to.

Anyway, gotta catch a train.

Things are always moving "On the Lamb"

Weber

A Treatise on Pissing in Public

No photos - you're welcome.

This should be sub-titled "How to Avoid it, How to Do it, and a Survivor's Guide to the Worst Case Scenario."

We're all human. We breath, we eat, we sleep, we piss, and we die. We do a lot of other stuff in the meantime, but essentially those 5 things we all have in common on a regular basis.

Why then, would you build a city in which one of them was difficult to do? In Athens, for example, you can breathe freely, eat at any street corner, sleep on basically any bench, and die at a variety of pleasant hospitals or (again) street corners. But you can't take a whiz anywhere, and I'll bet it's not the worst city for this problem either.

Not in the metro (subway), not in most parks, not in most restaurants, and not even guaranteed with admission to every museum.

I don't know how, but my first two days in Athens I managed to stumble on toilets just when I needed them, rare though it was. Apparently i used up all my luck and found the only 3 public WC's in the place, because after that it was a drought the likes of which were known only by enemies of the Israelites.

So here's the guide:

Part 1: How to Avoid Pissing in Public.
This is actually quite easy. My favorite saying (now) is "Go-Before-You-Go," and I hope is self-explanatory. If I've lost you already, just skip to the next post.
Much progress and safety can also be made through pacing. No matter how thirsty you are, never, ever, ever chug any fluid for any reason. Not spicy food, not taking medicine, nothing. And finally, plan ahead. When you find a toilet, write it on your map, and plan trips by leap frogging from one WC to the next. This sounds extreme, but since most of the ones you do find will be on your way to something else, it works out pretty well. Paranoid? You bet it is, keep reading.

Part 2: How to Do it Properly.
When pissing in public becomes a necessity, and you'll know when it does, my biggest point of advice is to put as much distance between your pride and your pants as possible. In our civilized world we have a lot of restrictions. Some of them are legal, and most of them are social. Be wary of the legal ones, but remember, most minor offenses are only illegal if you get caught, and there's no CSI: Urinary (yet - I'm looking at you Miami).
So yeah, when push comes to bladder comes to shove, just find an isolated spot and do it already. I strongly recommend parks, or at least grassy places. People may not think it's cool, but the reaction will always be better than in an urban area. A tree is just a tree, but a building, a sidewalk, or a motorcycle belongs to someone, and they'll prefer it remain pee-free.
Of course, a weather eye is a benefit, and the lower the witness count the better. The next big trick is speed. Now I would apologize to the women here, but I know a few of you ladies who can do your thing with lightning speed, so I know it's anatomically possible.
And here's the final trick: when you're done, act like nothing happened and casually continue your tour. In fact, if you can make it look like you're reading a map, or admiring some nature (another new favorite euphemism of mine) while you do it, all the better.

Part 3: A Survivor's Guide to the Worst Case Scenario
preface - yes, this IS going to be embarrassing. But if I'm writing a blog about my experiences, good and bad, then what use would I be if I censored something just because it was one of the worst experiences of my life? Also, and I'll get to this, I had a very peculiar Nirvana insight along the way without which this blog would not be complete.

SO here's the deal: ALWAYS follow steps 1 and 2 (above) religiously. That you already know. No one ever sets out to put themselves in a worst-case scenario, but sometimes it happens, and then what are you going to do if you can't get advice from someone, preferably someone who's already been there and lived through it.

Let's set the scene: You didn't follow Part 1 (the Golden Rule of urban exploration). You chugged down a full 1/2 litre of water just because you were thirsty and near a water fountain (free refill). Further, you decided to go exploring on a Friday night in downtown Athens, far away from any of the sites you previously visited and a good distance from all public parks. Now sure, you didn't realize that these factors were building into the perfect storm, but then if you'd seen the clouds gathering, it might have been avoided, right?

Ok, so your bladder starts telling you, "hey, we got a problem." At the first sign, you should start looking for relief. This is like when your car's Gas light comes on. Theoretically, you should have already refueled, but if not you have a small buffer of time before the problem escalates.

So you start looking - sort of. This is a BIG mistake. In fact, it is the point of no return, but you won't realize that for awhile. Do Not pass go, Do Not continue window shopping, Do Not meander aimlessly down alley markets, Do Not assume it will just go away, and Do Not, DO NOT buy a cup of coffee from an establishment in the vain hope that it has a loo. It doesn't, and now you're really screwed.

You still with me? I know, sure, you'd never do this to yourself, what with all the stomach cramping your doing, the slow creep of awkward walking, what must (in retrospect) have been a haunting pale look on your face. But let's say you do.

Restaurants, public spaces, libraries are all good options, but they all come with complications. But now you're desperate, so it's time to pull out all the stops. You know where a McDonalds is, and while it may be on the other side of downtown, it's still closer than your hostel, so you hop a subway car and start finally making progress.

But you are too late.

Here's an interesting fact to digest: Urinary control is largely mental, but there are physical and anatomical controls involved as well, and they don't always operate on a conscious level.

I mention this because let's say, in this hypothetical reconstruction, that upon emerging from the subway station (after 3 flights of stairs), you finally see those glorious golden arches, and the relief goes straight from your brain directly to your bladder, and it's go time.

What do I mean by "go-time?"

I mean you start pissing. In your pants. In public. Uncontrollably.

Let's give that a minute to soak in.

Not in the scenario, in reality that's the opposite of what you want to do, but in reading this please just take a moment to blink here, ok. I certainly need to.


wheh. better? No, I didn't think so.

It takes your brain a second to register exactly what's happening. I mean, you KNOW what's happening, but your civilized 21st century mind just can't quite process it immediately. First things first: MOVE.

It's preferable if you can find a secluded place, or at least a wall or anything. Let's say you see a dumpster, go for it. Sure, it's only a 1/4 size dumpster so everyone can still see you from several different angles, but what the heck. You've got bigger problems now.

Once you have a location, the next step is uncovering. Don't get these two steps confused. As much as you want to stop peeing in your pants, once those drawers are around your ankles, moving will become harder, and may still be necessary if you're not careful.

And here's where Nirvana comes in. If you've made it this far, don't worry, the worst is yet to come, but you get something morbidly special, like a door prize at a funeral. You get to have the simultaneous experience of sheer terror and utter bliss. Nothing feels as good as the relief you are feeling right now, and that screaming sound in your brain is every ounce of social decorum imploding as your Id and Super Ego go into full out apocalyptic civil war. There are other ways to achieve this state, but I don't know those paths. Perhaps I should found a monastic order, the Thirsty Brotherhood of the Moist Cloth or something.

Ok, you done yet?

No, of course not. You've been holding this in a long time. Let it go, you've nothing (more) to lose at this point.

While we wait, let me address a question I'm sure some of you are having: "why don't you just stop pissing?"

Oh friend, if only it were that easy. I'm no doctor, but I know when the switch stops working. You can practically scream at yourself to stop, but once you're mid-flow on a gusher like this one, there is no escape. Not even a little dutch boy could plug this one, and besides that would just make things worse.

Ok, you're done. Now listen closely, because the next 15 seconds are critical. Take that water bottle in your backpack, yes the one you stupidly guzzled down then refilled at the water fountain. I want you to pour it down your pants. all of it. Quickly. NOW.

You have a few precious seconds, so you've got to think fast. Maybe you can come up with a better solution, but at this point you're one metro stop, one bus ride, or about 5 miles walk away from home, you have piss running down both legs of your pants and, if you're lucky, not into your shoes. I recommend the water dump for several reason:
1. by rinsing out the piss-path, you decrease the risk of immediate discoloration and, crucially, odor.
2. Alibi. Don't throw away the bottle. Yes, it looks EXACTLY like you just took a huge piss in your pants. Most people won't ask, they'll just assume, but so long as you have that empty bottle of water in hand, there's the slightest possibility that they'll think you spilled it, and if asked, they might actually believe you. It's a stretch, but you're living in the 3rd circle of Hell here, so take all the lifelines you can get.

You now have your newly soaked and re-soaked pants on, time to make an exit. I recommend against taking a bow or in any other way acknowledging what just happened to the dozens of witnesses who were there. They know what happened, no fooling them, but this isn't your best moment and you'd be best to get moving. Hopefully no one will follow you laughing with their cell phone/cameras.

Getting home is tough. Maybe it looks like your pants are some kind of Camoflage, but that impression will only last for a quick second until even a dense observer realizes that it's only camo in 2 colors, and only in one very specific region. If possible, get away from everyone. Go down deserted streets, get into parks, whatever. But if you're in a downtown urban center, that may not be an option. Therefore, take the opposite approach.

Think about it, in a crowd, how many times do you actually look at someone else's pants? We are a very torso-centric people, so stay close to the people in front of you (this is where the minimilization of odor is key), and try to look as natural as possible. You will still probably have a horrible look on your face, but there's no helping that now - it's a Nirvana aftershock.

Get on the metro, and stay facing the door.

When you get out, stay in the crowd. This won't always work, but remember that most people who see you are headed in the opposite direction. The faster you move, the less time they will have to notice and/or mock you.

If at all possible, find somewhere private to dry out. If it's now 9 pm in central Athens, you may be out of luck. Shadows are a good option, they won't actually hide you, but slight color differences are harder to spot in the lower light.

Make your way to the bus stop using the tricks above, and get on the bus using the same tricks as the subway. If you aren't very good about this, expect a miserable bus ride with lots of people taking notice. Still have that water bottle? Thank god. When someone asks, just shrug and hold the bottle. If they ask in Greek, you don't speak Greek. If they ask in English, become French.

Getting off the bus is easy, less people around and generally fewer street lights. Plus, the water and is drying at least enough to stop dripping.

Only one problem. What if, upon exiting the bus, a trio of newly-arrived American college grads from your hostel spot you and come over to ask your help in finding a place to eat? I did say this was a Worst-Case Scenario, right?

Well, wouldn't want to be inhospitable, and the "No Habla Inglaes" trick is not going to work here. I'd go for the bottle story, and really ham it up. If you're lucky, it might have dried enough by this point to look like a bottle spill, rather than like you got blasted with a fire hose in your naughty bits. Act natural, in fact act super confident. Any sign of weakness and you're toast. When someone says something like, "dude, that sucks, it totally looks like you pissed your pants," just roll with it. Say something like, "I know, but at least it's keeping me cool in this heat wave." That's lame, but it will have to do - you're not out of the woods yet. Maybe we're in the 7th ring now, but the exit is guarded by your other hostel mates.

When you get back to the hostel, stay in the back of the group. They've been with you for the past 45 minutes, so they've probably forgotten about your odd appearance, and may not even mention it to the others (if you're lucky). Slip into your room, and change NOW. Doesn't matter how many people are in the dorm room right then, you should practically come in naked.

Now go take a shower, blame it on a long hot day, and only now can you start scraping your dignity back together. Make sure to wash (or at least rinse) your clothes one more time to remove any traces of your shame.

Finally, write an incredibly long blog about it in the hopes that your friends won't ridicule you about it for the rest of your life, and try to turn this poignant learning experience into something both humorous and enlightening.

Best of luck, and welcome to the Brotherhood.

Weber (on the lamb)

It's Not the View it's the Voyage

On my final day in Athens, I decided there was one last landmark I was just a little curious about, and having nothing better to do (except relax), I decided to go for a hike up to the top of Lycebettus Hill. Here's the thing, Lycebettus Hill happens to be the highest point within the actual city of Athens, and this is no sloping green pasture. It juts up like an edifice in the dead center of the Athenian valley. It's steep, so steep in fact that in the middle of Athens, it's hillsides are almost completely undeveloped. There's a winding road, a few trails, and a vertical tram up to the top. I, of course, elected to walk.

Along the way, I had my MP3 player with me (thanks for the tip Walker, you rock). I went through the Dracula song several times (I swear, if I only learn to play 2 songs on piano, it must be one of them), and then on to some other tunes. I'm hiking, I'm sweating, and eventually I'm listening to Sufjan Stevens. Now I don't know what it is about me and music, but I have always been a sucker for emotional songs. Not lame whiney emo, but songs that sound authentic, simple, and heartbreaking. A good example is, "If you get there before I do," a country song ( I had a phase) about a recurring note left between a couple in love from the time they were children until they were both old, and one finally passed away. Give it a listen. If you cry, you're on my wavelength. If not, you may not get all that's about to come out in this blog.

So I'm doing good, LCD Sound System has my spirits up and my feet moving. Sufjan's Illinoise album is getting geared, and I'm loving it when "Casimir Pulaski Day" comes on. For those of you who don't Wiki every detail of your life, this song is dedicated to Sufjan's childhood love, who died of cancer on May 1, the day on which the state of Illinois celebrates Kazsmir Pulaski, a polish noble who helped fight with America in the War of Independence.

So anyway, it's a sad song about youth, innocence, and dealing with the permanence and inescapability of death. Now death has never been something I've dealt with well. Truth be told, it scares the crap out of me, and for me, personally, that fear is not tied to religion. When I was younger and more devout, death scared me just as much as it does now when I've fewer ties to the prospect of an afterlife.

Hiking up the mount and listening to the song a few times, I allowed myself to consider more thoroughly not just the eventuality of my death, but of my loved ones, specifically my mother. Even thinking about it now, I'm tearing up, and I was likewise on the trail. But since no one else was around, and the whole point of thinking is to get at something substantial, I kept delving into the issue as the lump in my throat traveled to my eyes.

And here's where religion enters into the picture. My mother, who has been both rewarded and tormented by her decision to raise three boys, is a truly beautiful person. She's great and i love her, but who can't say the same (or at least, who would say otherwise on a public blog that their mother was likely to read)? Mom has gone through several interesting transformations since we came around, and her religious re-awakening I have always found to be both staggeringly brave and honest, while at the same time my personal explorations have taken me in an opposite direction.

So onto the issue of death.

I'm so lucky, I've had to deal with very little death among family and friends. I've seen two great-great-grandmothers pass, a few dear pets, two friends from my youth, and recently my very wise grandfather. Most of those were at the right time to go, nothing sudden or unnatural.

But eventually, my mother (here also used as a stand-in for all the people I care about) will die. And when she does, I'm likely going to be around for it, and I have no idea how to deal with this guaranteed eventuality: she believes that she will be going on to a better place. I don't mean that she feels righteously assured of her place in heaven, she's too ridiculously humble for that, but I mean that she does believe in life after death, while I can't really find much rationale for it. In other words, in this hypothetical, I would want to comfort my mother, but I worry that just repeating what I know she believes isn't being honest with my understanding of the world, but the deathbed is hardly the place for a debate.

So how do we rectify it? If we both believe there is no afterlife, we should be sad that she'll be gone forever. If we believe there is an afterlife, we can be sad that she won't be with us anymore, but in at least some way we can celebrate her transition to the next level. But if we're split, how can we handle our own reaction while supporting the other person at the same time?

The conclusion I came to (before I decided the mountain wasn't going to climb itself, and this conversation was now substantially contributing to my dehydration), was no real epiphany at all. We all face death alone, and despite the numerous return-from-the-brink descriptions, we really don't know what happens, and we never will. This is one thing no amount of Scientific research or probes are going to solve. I like to wait in the hopes of a discovery to help me inform my opinion, but in this case humanity has been waiting for 5000 years for an answer. It's gotten several theories, but no definitive answer.

what I resolved was that the important thing is obviously to be there for each other in such a situation, and that our difference of opinion really wouldn't matter. My mom could believe whatever she wanted, and it wouldn't change or hurt anything, and while I don't think such an experience would convert me into suddenly believing in an afterlife, it might just be the first event that could make me hope that all my rationalism and logic was wrong.

And that's the thoughts going through my head with a quiet love ballad in my ears and the entire city of Athens sprawling out before my eyes.

Weber (on the lamb)

Ryan's Pro-Metis Process

So here's the deal: I'm in Thessaloniki by myself, and unlike Athens, this is not a town of English speakers, hostels, or any of the other ways to conveniently be social.

At first I took this to be a negative, but the result is that I've spent the past two days in almost total personal silence. The world is very loud around me, but I'm just not talking because I have nothing to say, nor anyone to talk with.

I've filled the time thinking, which is actually something I used to do much more frequently. Growing up I would spend hours thinking about questions of logic, morality, strategy, and probably just as much time if not more fabricating fictions to imaginary epics, etc.

What occurred to me this afternoon is that whereas formely I constructed my opinions and understanding of the world through an interior monologue, in recent years I have largely stopped such focused thinking, and instead rely on dialogues with others to help me not only state my opinions, but also consider other points and adapt my ideas.

But I think Dialogue, for all its value of exposure to other perspectives, may not be the best way to advance or improve our opinions. How many of us have walked away from a conversation convinced that the other side was right afterall? I don't think our opinions are necessarily that static, just that dialogue doesn't always serve the greater understanding because our goal is more often to present our ideas as best we can, rather than really consider all the factors presented by both sides.

Anyway, it's been good to have some thinking time, both here and in Athens. As a result, I've had a lot of thoughts that I'd like to put into this blog, most of them quite specific to an experience I've had over the past week. It's difficult to coalesce all of it in a chronological manner, and even more difficult to be brief enough to be worth reading, but I'm going to try.

The following posts should sum up my thoughts and (largely interior) adventures over the past few days. Read if you want, please skip if they get too detailed or ridiculous.

Weber (on the Lamb)

Quiet trip + Google = iWeber.

today I spent 6 hours on a train from Athens to Thessaloniki, and yestday all I did was walk around, talk with my hostelmates, and savor as much of Athens as I could before I left.

To be honest, i had some seriously deep and moving thoughts, as well as some horrifyingly embarrasing moments. But I'm keeping those for myself just at the moment. Hopefully the deep thoughts will resurface and I'll share more later (God, Death, morality, ethics - nothing that's going away anytime soon).

As for the embarrasing stuff, well, I'm weighing how important it is to be honest with you all vs. the importance your opinion of me holds. We'll just see. Maybe it will all seem funny and harmless... eventually, and if so I'll share more.

So, as penance for not reporting anything more interesting, I've started posting some extra-Blog-ular materials, like a List of the Things I'm Most Proud I've Done So Far, as well as some Google Maps of the travels I've done. Most of these also include commentary, and as my Google-Skillz improve, I'll try to add photos to the maps as well.

So there you have it. I'm getting back on that Lamb.

Weber