Given the choice to take Bus 12 directly from Ancona Centrale train station to the Blue Line ferry point of embarkation and to meander on foot through the grimy industrioport district of Ancona towards the ferry station, which would you choose? Which would your thirst for adventure choose?
Exactly. Its insatiable.
And after a picturesque stroll through said industrioport district, I stumbled upon the intended walkway for adventurous pedestrians journeying for the ferry. But to be completely fair, my original path was more “as the crow flies” and would have saved me at least a good kilometer of walking had I completed it and not been crushed by port machinery or carried off by giant mutant seagulls. Instead it cost me what can only be described as uncountable distance and immeasurable physical and emotional distress.
Totally worth it.
Upon reaching my destination and navigating the labyrinthine complex only to arrive at a ticket counter that will not be open until 3:30 instead of the convenient hour of now (2:48), I have decided to sit down and peck out a blog entry. This seems appropriate for several reasons, the primary of which I believe is to stave off the insanity that comes with boredom during what Ill politely call my 7-hour layover in the Ancona ferry station.
As for the hike itself, it was not all that unpleasant considering this is my new uniform for the next 21 days:
Although heavy (and poorly photographed), its not quite the heftiness of a full grown human, but feels rather like a large child or one of those elderly people that shrink in their old age but manage to maintain an irrationally caloric diet. The shrinkage does not make them lighter, just more dense (as the law of the conservation of mass clearly states).
But that’s my outfit for a while. Ive got a couple things that will inevitably run out and be left behind and I will, if my predictions are correct, acquire things to take home that I pray are light and small.
Here is one of those excerpts I was talking about:
“Gahhh. With the end of the semester careening towards me (regardless of how stubbornly I dig in my heels), everything speeds up. Time and space collapse. The number of beers I consume in a single hour approaches infinity. So, in an effort to forestall the future, I will relive the past. And you’ll relive it with me. Well. Live it with me I guess. Since you havent lived it yet and all. As far as the current sentiment goes, I feel like Becca said it best. I dont really know where to start. My heads all topsy turvy.”
I cant decide if I was particularly busy or just lazy, but that’s as far as I got. But I think that Past Me had a pretty good idea. I said another round of goodbyes this morning, which being beyond difficult, is now something I don’t have to do again. Am I lonely? Mildly. But Im not lonely for people as much as Im oh so lonely for those people (being the ones I bid farewell to this morning). Anywho, I agree with Past Me. Present Me will relive the past.
So, after perusing the annals of my blog I have come to the realization that the daunting task at hand is to convey everything that has happened since Istanbul. ISTANBUL!? Man, Past Me sucked at making blog entries. Luckily, Im not that man anymore. Or is he not me? Either way, Ive grown wiser (something that you will learn over the course of this blog entry). Or maybe I haven’t grown wiser.
Fine. Not wiser. But Ive definitely grown.
Where to start? Im a big fan of photo-montage/flashback things because its honestly less work for me and (heres the kicker) less of an opportunity for you to get stone cold bored with my prose.
Ill try that. But to be fair. This 7 hour (now 4 and a half hour! Arent I good at killing time?) layover will turn into an 11 hour ferry ride. Yup. 11 hours crossing the strip of H2O between Italy and Croatia. Is that annoying? Yes. Is it awesome because boats are awesome and it saves me a night in a hostel? Double yes.
So there goes my excuses.
Here we go. Buckle down, its going to be wild.
Domination in Monopoly at The Globe by friendly real estate agent, Walt (not to be confused with friendly neighborhood banker, Mr Lengel):
Wow. One in and I already feel the need to make a point that interrupts the photo-tour of my semi-important life. Thinking back, there is a lot of mundane crap that goes on in my life that for some reason I feel is valid enough to be compelled to tell you about. Seriously. Really useless, boring things happen in my life. Like Monopoly. Who cares?
I do. I dont know why besides that the company and circumstances of that specific experience bring me such copious amounts of overflowing joy that I want, I need to tell you about it and things like it.
Rollerblading (because its still cool):
Masarykova Open Mic (organized by yours truly):
Red Room Gig (compliments of Jake Nevrla’s sultry voice):
Witch Burning (the Czechs like to do it, so we do too):
WWII Parade in Plzen (and more interesting cotton candy creations):
The Album Cover of Me and Jakes Hip Hop Production (Live Truf):
Berlin (one of my favorite cities this side of the equator):
Street Art (self produced, with inspiration from Berlin’s kick ass grafitti, in order: Walt, Jake, Allie):
Cinque Terre (as a teaser, theres so much more to this lovely land):
(the girl on the right is Casey Byron. Shes pretty cool, I guess)
Jesus Lord Almighty this is long. And I havent even done my Adopted Parents entries yet.
WAIT! Did someone say Adopted Parents? HOORAYYYYYYYYYY!
Adopted Parents 7
Link: Kacy Lebby(‘s father)
A;lkasdjfal;dsjfas;dlkjf (if you’re “with it” you will understand that this is simply me smashing the keyboard because I cant control my excitement and my neurons fire in catastrophic quantities, causing the muscles in my fingers to spasm. Now you know). Fahri is easily one of the grandest people Ive ever met. Partly because of his socioeconomic status of being one of Turkey’s premier camp directors (directing some of the largest, international-est, most prestigious camps this side of the Nile. Time out. Geography check. Turkey is east of the Nile, right? Whatever, this dude is the bomb. This is also his link to Kacy’s father, as an avid participant of world camping conferences, and thus a link to Kacy.) and the other partly because of his ability to stuff me full of Turkeys most amazing food. Half of that food from The Food post was a result of meals with Fahri. The guy gets things done. From informing me that “he’ll choose this bottle of wine” at dinner on Algeria street to successfully connecting with Turkish Airlines (after my countless failed attempts at pay phones) on the first try AND booking us a new flight with help from his friend who is just the regional executive of Delta Airlines. Gah. Anyways, he took us out to various (excellent) meals and showed us around the Asia side of Turkey as well as being the guy who bailed us out when Mount Eyjlkjfaijdfl;dsakjfkjasd.flxkc;klsadfj8929304;fjk erupted in Iceland and dominated our flights. So above all of Fahri’s coolness, I just want to say (hopefully you will all say it with me so that the very foundations of the Aya Sofya shake with the force of our gratitude) thank you to him.
Adopted Parents 8
Family: The Peisers
Link: Becca Peiser
Hooray! Finally I got to meet the wonderful parents of one of the most wonderful people Ive known. Only a stones throw away (if you have a kick ass major league arm) from Austin, Becca and her folks hail from sunny Dallas, TX. Or Plano. Because she knows Alex. It doesnt matter. Up there. It was a sweet sweet joy to meet the respective ingredients that created the noisy Jewish-mama-bear that is Becca Peiser. We went to (surprise) the restaurant in the Dejvicka circle, which I dont know if Ive mentioned, we cleverly call the Circle Restaurant, and had a grand old time. The above picture features Alex because for whatever reason, the picture I have of Alex’s parents features Becca. It seems like a fair trade as they basically grew up together. Altogether, amazing people.
Adopted Parents 9 (Gah, what movie series goes to 9!?!)
Family: The Oxenfords (Oxensmashes)
Link: Chris Oxenford (Oxensmash)
(no picture, womp womp. Ill put one up if I find it)
What to say about the Oxensmashes? They are interesting people just as Chris of the Oxensmashes (who I just realized has never been formally introduced to you on this blog and his picture will follow now):
is interesting. Mama Oxensmash is a psychology professor and Papa Oxensmash, a lawyer. Dining with them at the ever excellent Maitrea was a treat. I really enjoyed eating with these folks and just learning about where yet another of the people in my life has come from. Its like if you could reverse engineer red and blue Playdoh out of purple Playdoh. Before, I had a child’s mind, thinking only “Where the F did this purple Playdoh come from?” and now thinking “Ah, I hereby deduce that the ingredients to the genesis of this violet-lavender Playdoh are the primary colors of red and blue.” (see, wiser. Or at least more intelligent sounding).
Im in a cabin that looks like this:
on a boat that looks like a picture that was too big for my camera, so its smokestack is sort of like this:
sitting with a million different loud, middle aged Italians. I both love and hate my environment at this juncture.
So now, after my Xth number Italian 2.70 euro Peroni beer (just kidding. Ive only had two. Sigh, only two), I am done. And tipsy. But thats because Ive only had an unheated slice of mediocre sausage pizza in the past 7 hours. Damn you euro! Also, for those of you keeping track (and who also hate conversion rates) thats a 2.70 euro beer. Thats like 3.37 dollars. Thats like 68 Czech crowns. There would have been riots in the streets if beer had cost 68 crowns in Prague.
This boat pivo’s for you, Alex.
Lord I miss that program.