New Trip

Alright, so the last trip was flawed, in that I disregarded the innate superiority of American Bus Products over the European Counterpart. So this time I'll try Greyhound. High fives all around.

In backpack: Three books, four shirts, notebook, pen, underwear.

Anthropology

Just an update for my one reader out there who is me; I'm doing my Cultural Anthropology research report on Greyhound buses, specifically on the fact that people on Greyhound buses are nicer than people not on Greyhound buses. I did my research on the bus from San Diego to LA and from LA to Oakland, which isn't quite an accurate survey, since people in LA are naturally unfriendly no matter how many times they've taken the bus. The report was due yesterday, so I'm pretty well on track.

Also, I'm going to China on the 15th.

Greyhound--Oakland to Arcata

Greyhound is much better than any European bus. First, they're not bitter and they believe in good old American customer service. The drivers are a lot more fun, and everyone is open to conversation and is in general much nicer. A good example of the difference between American and European hospitality is the European tendency to casually sell batteries by the battery and not by the pack. You'll see a four-pack of batteries for a Euro and think, "Hey, that's not that bad, especially in such a fine establishment as this!" and you'll pluck it off the rack and slap it down on the counter, thinking of all the CDs you can play with your brand new batteries, and then the lady will ask you how many batteries you want, and you'll say "what? I want the whole pack..." and she'll say "okay..." and then ring up the batteries and say "Four Euros." You'll realize what just went down and then look at the floor and glumly pull out four Euros and exchange them for the batteries, and at that point you don't even really want the batteries anymore, but you put them in your bag and go on with your life, sad and disillusioned.

So I was on the Greyhound, and it helps to come from Oakland, but I'm sure this goes for any major City/Ghetto, but everyone was very talkative, and the driver was upbeat. Here's a parable of his upbeatness: We had just taken the exit to San Rafael, and we were in rush hour traffic right at an intersection, when a sedan calmly slammed into the bus and wedged itself underneath. The bus stopped as we heard the crunch, and the bus driver got out of his seat and said "alright so here's what we're gonna do. I'm gonna need you all to write on these slips whatever it was you saw happen..." blablabla the moral is that without skipping a beat, he dealt with all the formalities, and the police, and all that, even though they might have fired him on a less sunny day.

We sat on the bus talking for an hour or so, and then had to get off so that the tow truck could pull the sedan out and we could continue on our way. The great thing was that nobody complained. Nobody even said "damn, i'm gonna be late." The most negative thing anybody said was "Good thing I don't have a court date." As the mexicans all watched on their bikes, we filed back onto the bus, knowing we'd get to Arcata at around midnight, and departed again, hoping the bus was still structurally sound. We started, and the cars that had been stuck on the road behind us were finally able to go by.

We got to San Rafael and the guy next to me got a call from his friend who would be able to give him a ride to his destination. "Fuck this bus," he said, and left. This, of course, was good, because everyone else had gotten on, meaning that I had two seats to myself on which to luxuriate. I didn't get much sleep, but I finished a book I'd been meaning to read, and I ate a taco and a burger. The burger was better. Next time I want a taco I'll go to a taco truck.

After a few hours of driving, we started to smell burning. Soon after, the bus began bouncing up and down violently, like turbulence except it hurt the spine. We felt a strong vibration and then someone told the bus driver, who stopped, looked under the bus, said "looks like the axle's loose. Hopefully it'll fall back in place." Sufficiently comforted, we sat back down. The burning and vibrating stopped, but for the rest of the ride we rattled up and down like kids on a dad's overactive lap, while the two guys behind me discussed the finer points of growing marijuana. Apparently if you water the plant with kool-aid, you can make it change colors.

I arrived in Arcata and was alone at the station for an hour with an old burnt out hippie who was smoking weed, and for that whole hour, tried to make conversation with me. ("Hey man do you smoke weed?" ; "No." ; "Why'd you quit? Did you burn out or something?") It's hard to communicate with these people.

The difference between Greyhound and European buses is that Greyhound gets you there two hours late because it got in an accident or something like that, whereas in Europe, you get there seven hours late for no plausible reason.

Moral: Eurolines=It's better to hitchhike --- Greyhound=Better than Eurolines

Staigašana

-We don't need the cola.
-Yes we do.
-It's poison.
-Okay I'm pouring it out.
-On the count of three we start running.... One, two, three
-Careful.
-Don't worry--whoop
-Told you.
-Okay let's run again.

-I think it's only maybe seven kilometers left.
-Perfect.
-I have something to say.
-Well?
-This was one of my stupidest ideas.
-I didn't want to say anything. Running to Kaucis' house at three in the morning isn't very smart.
-Fuck it.
-Fuckin a right, fuck it.
-...

-The moon keeps staring at us. Fuck you, moon!
-In Latvia we have myth, that if you show your ass to the moon, it will take you with it.
-...
-Well?
-I'm still here.
-Fuck it.

-We're probably the only people here for miles.
-Probably.
-Did you hear that whistling?
-Yeah, I think so. Stop for a second.
-...
-...
-There it is again, louder. Sounds like hunters or something.
-Hey what the fuck do you want!!
-They just keep whistling.
-Let's go over there.
-Davaij.
-It's people.
-There's too much fog.
-Oh good, it's Kaucis and Janis and Berziņš.
-We made it.
-What time is it?
-Probably about five or six.
-Let's just go to the sauna. Fuck you all, we made it here without a car.
-Yeah, fuck you all.
-Fuck you all.
-Fuck you all.
-Fuck you all.

The Ed-Dog

It's like a hot dog, but it's warm and it's got a bunch of other stuff on it too. And it can all be made in the microwave.

One of the many ways to know you are in Latvia

Midnight

My bag all packed up

This is what it would look like if I were to take a picture of a surveillance camera watching me

Word of the Week

Chimney fire -- when your chimney catches on fire

To Build A Fire

Our first try was deep in the snow and we didn't have any paper except for my library card. The experience left me with frozen feet and no library card.


The second try was in Ansis' house. We had plenty of paper but we couldn't get it going. The trick is to wrap little pieces of wood up with pages out of the phonebook. This will leave you with a fire warm enough to thaw your feet and allow you to play poker.

The third try was more harrowing. We had a little bit more paper than the first try, but we were running out of matches, and the stakes were higher. Kristaps and Pēteris and Pika and I had been walking through the forest for an hour or so and we had no way of getting out in the near future, when Kristaps said "We stop here." When I asked why, he said "We will build fire..."

Kristaps' method involved lighting a coke bottle on fire. It didn't work and then me and Pēteris started up a little twig fire. After a few tries it all caught. I don't know why we had firewood but anyways we laid it on and then broke branches off trees and used those. We warmed our feet again (and Kristaps burned his coke bottle) and we split our separate ways.



Pēteris: If we go that way with Kristaps, there will be road, but that way is river and forest. We will go that way.

Five hours later I'm home and my butt has a big bump on it.

santa klaus

Nu ziemassvetki nu...

A Christamassy image from my Christmas night:

Vairis: (Is forty or fifty years old) This is my brothers!

Me: (I shake hands with them. I shake hands with Vairis' younger brother. He has a mustache. At first I think he has peculiarly small fingers, but then I realize that all the fingers on his right hand except for his pinky have been chopped off at the middle knuckle. It feels strange) Hello, it's nice to meet all of you.

Pēteris: If Romans don't go to woods hunting tomorrow, he will cut your hairs in factory where my father work.

Me: Fabulous.

(We pop open the champagne and start drinking brandy, and then vodka. You get in the mood for beans on Christmas)

Pēteris: Merry Christmas!

Armands: To you as well!

(We eat beans)

(We are watching Shrek 3 in Latvian)

Vairis: Fuck it... (He switches on the VHS)

(The TV starts up and it's a Latvian porno film. The man is wearing a condom in the woods and the woman is wearing nothing)

Armands: Merry Christmas!

(We drink)

This is the car now

Apparently we pulled the car down by the river and it's been there for about two or three days now. I saw some Russians taking pictures of it. It'll be there a long time.

Blee kurā dienā bus ziemassvetki?

I think the sentiment towards Christmas in Latvia can be just about summed up by a conversation we had last night while playing poker in Pēteris' basement:

Pēteris: (looking at the clock; it's midnight) Hey look it's Christmas!

Everone: Yay it's Christmas! Let's all kiss.

Pēteris: Wait, is Christmas the 24th or the 25th?

Ansis: It's the 25th.

Pēteris: Well then it doesn't count, it's just Christmas eve.

Ansis: So?

(Everyone continues the poker game for a while. A few people lose and are out of the game, and a few people go home)

Martiņš: (leaving) So, we're drinking tomorrow?

Built Ford Tough

This is what you see after your car fishtails off the road and hits a tree.

After we pulled the car out, Gatis tried to drive, but the fender was wedged into the wheel.

This is what the car looks like now.

When the tractor finally came we had to break the trees in order to pull the car out

This is what it looked like afterwards

It's a very simple equation I learned: when the road is more ice than asphalt, don't try going faster than the speed limit, and when the car crashes and you try to figure out what happened, don't yell "Ow my nose!" because it won't help anything. Oh, and don't let the guy (his name is Armands) who's only driven a car once in his life before drive. And wear warm socks, because it's gonna be snowing and you're gonna be out there for a good five or six hours and your feet are gonna be wet. And if you need to, don't be afraid to sit down in the sideways car for warmth.




I sat down in the car with Edijs and smoked a spanish cigar as he lamented the loss of his car. He told me it was a Ford and this pained me for some reason or another.

This means "Push"

The other one means pull. This is important information.

In Red Light District of Frankfurt

This reminds me of the entrance to the Church of Scientology in Berkeley