Letdowns, Breakdowns, and Campgrounds

The End of Something

2009-09-03T22:04:00.000-07:00

We have come to the end of our trip. We came full circle, if you will. We're sad to be back, but glad to be home. We had experiences that will be with us forever, and we had other experiences we will soon forget. We drove through the desert, the plains, the mountains, and by the coast. We put miles under our belt. We put kilometres under our belt. We spent Dollars, Euros, Pounds, Dinaras, Kunas, Crowns, and Forints. We got rained on. We got sunned on. We met incredible people. We met total douchebags.

We did things we wanted to do, and missed out on things we wanted to do. We traveled by car, plane, train, ferry, taxi, and bus. We tried to communicate in Greek, Serbian, Hungarian, Czech, German, and Dutch, and failed at all of them. We were regularly shocked by our bank account balance. We got great deals. We got ripped off.

We went places that we'll surely return, and other places we'll actively avoid. We heard the wind through the trees, the crash of the surf, the sound of laughter, the sounds of traffic, and the sounds of crickets. We had great times in the van. We read books. We listened to books on tape. We made fun of Tom. We squeezed every ounce of fun out of every situation.

This will be the last post. We are glad you checked in on us.

We will do this again...

Mayonaise, Rednecks, and Booze; AKA North Idaho

2009-09-03T21:33:00.000-07:00

Taylor used to live in a small town called Sandpoint, Idaho, so we stopped by on the way home to see her old crew. We stayed with these sucka fools:

Aaron, the shorter one, works at a bar in town, and we hung out there and drank some booze, even though it was closed. Just us listening to music, playing pool, and talking shit. The other fellow, who some call Josh, is a musician and all around good dude.

Aaron drives/lives in this vehicle. He has a thing for Mayo. He told us that he gave his van a paint job, and when we asked what color (before we saw it), Josh interjected with "I don't know...is embarrassing a color?" haha...witty, that one is.

We went on a cruise of Lake Pend Orielle with Aaron's dad Harv at the helm. Harv is one of Taylor's all time favorite people, just behind Rick Astley, Jeff Goldblum, and me. He's a cool dude with a bunch of cool stories, and totally lives the chill-out life. Think retirement, fishing, sailing, watching baseball, and skiing in the winter. Livin' the North Idaho dream.

Here's a good little chunk of Idaho. This "tervan" has had a misspelled sign for dozens of years. It fell into local folklore, and they decided to just keep it.

Tim and Taylor become one with nature

2009-09-03T21:29:00.001-07:00

So Taylor and I, being the city slickers that we are, decided to make a short jaunt to Glacier National Park is Western Montana to see if we could see some cool shit. We totally did. Here is photographic evidence of our finds:

A totally radical deer hanging out right behind our camp spot!

A piss-taking mountain goat!

A big horn sheep, who, for the record, had huge balls!

Taylor "what's with this goat" St. Clair!

We also took a 6-mile hike to get to this glacial lake.

Taylor dared me to jump in, and if I did, she would follow. So I stripped down to my skivvies, and jumped into to a barely above freezing lake. I've never experienced anything so cold in my life. It was only about 75 degrees out, too. Like Lucy pulling the football from beneath Charlie Brown's outstretched leg, Taylor totally punked me. She pussed out and didn't get in. I had to sit there and drip dry. If I catch pneumonia, I'm blaming her. Here's me being really cold. Those white spots in the background are small glaciers that drip ice cold water into the lake. Awesome.

Paul Bunyan wore giant underwear

2009-09-03T21:24:00.000-07:00

Every now and then on this trip I get one of those "time of my life" moments. I got a few of those today while driving through the middle of nowhere. It occurred once while Taylor and I were singing terrible songs from the radio at the tops of our lungs while America slowly rolled by, and once while when we pulled off the main road to eat lunch in the dead center of nothing at all.

The latter looked liked this:

Another feeling I get, perhaps more regularly, is one of extreme stuntery. How's about this one? A wicked stunt done at the exact geographical center of North America! It's definitely never been done before. I have proof.

Here's some more roadside junk. Rte. 2 is full of it. This here is Paul Bunyan and Babe the Big Blue Ox, which is located in Bemidji, Minnesota. Apparently the legend originated there, and they take it pretty seriously, what, with their Paul Bunyan Ave. and their Babe the Ox book store. There was also a visitor's center with some Bunyan crap, like his undershorts, a giant rifle, and a wallet the size of a movie poster. Bemidji...keepin' it semi-real since 1836.

Even though I knew we'd be driving straight west for days, I didn't take into account having to stare directly into the sun while it was setting. It was so bad in Montana that I had to stick my head out the window to avoid glare, Ace Ventura style

We couldn't find any campgrounds, but we found a public park in the middle of this little town that allowed camping for free. Score! It was super weird, though, because we were the only people there and it was in the middle of a neighborhood. The place had more flying insects then I'd ever seen, so we had to cinch up pretty tight, as witnessed here:

Totally fun day in the middle of the plain states.

Geez...sure are glad ya stayed wid us in Minnesoda

2009-09-03T21:20:00.000-07:00

Taylor and I decided to take US Rte. 2 all the way from its origin in St. Ignace, MI to its terminus in Sandpoint, ID. That's about 2,000 miles of uninterrupted, mostly 2 lane, completely desolate blacktop. It's an incredible way to see and experience real salt-of-the-earth Americana. It's a road filled with "blink and you'll miss 'em" towns, ma and pa restaurants, and hundred-mile stretches of nothing at all.

Here's the only thing we saw all day...Lake Superior. It was lurking to our right for hours, like a sleeping giant of the abyss.

It was too rainy to camp that night, so we stayed at at Super 8 motel, watched a CSI marathon, ate KFC right from the bucket, and drank some Millers. If that's not a midwest night, I don't know what is.

Another border, another problem

2009-08-27T19:27:00.000-07:00

So, if you've been reading this blog at all, you know that border guards hate me. As it turns out, it is quite the disadvantage to be "alternative looking" at borders, up to and including my own country's border. More on that later...

Today was way more productive. We got some serious miles under our belt, listened to several discs worth of book on tape, and saw some pretty countryside. Oh yeah, and ate poutine! Poutine is a yummy eastern Canadian specialty. It is actually documented in The Book of Records that poutine is the only thing Canada is good for besides fishing. Who knew?

After hours of Canadian countryside, we got to the US border at Sault. Ste. Marie, in the Upper Peninsula of Michigan. As usual, we were "selected for secondary screening," rather than just waved through like 98% the cars. This means that they make you wait inside while they rip apart your car looking for contraband. They found a few old license plates from when the mini had a different registration, and were convinced that I was up to no good. They were being complete cocks, and it made me pretty upset. After a 45 minute delay, they decided I wasn't going to blow anything up, and sent us on our way.

After that hogwashery, we actual found a pretty radical campground run my some nice Yupers (slang for Upper Peninsula folks.) Taylor and I had a golf contest, which I'm pretty sure she won. Her game is really coming around.

Here is our camp spot:

The place was super quite. We watched the sunset alone, had dinner by the campfire, then listened to some audio book in the van. We've been sleeping in the van because it's easier to get going in the morning, not to mention it's been freezing outside at night. Also, the van is inherently better than a tent. No explanation needed.

Back in the USA...again.

Canadians keep stealing our shit!

2009-08-27T19:24:00.000-07:00

So only a 45 minutes into our driving day, which started VERY late (2 p.m.), we hit our first snafu. My parents' neighbor in Rhode Island gave me a bunch of firewood, and apparently bringing wood into Canada is a worse offense that murder. So the Canadians made me turn around, go back through the US border, dump the wood on the US side (apparently those pesky bugs are afraid to walk across the border), then come back. It's understandable (invasive species, and all), but it was a hassle that took over an hour. After another 45 minutes of driving, we got stuck in Montreal traffic for over an hour. We only drove another few hours before we decided to call the day a loss, and set up camp somewhere outside of Ottawa.

All was well until a damned Canadian raccoon stole all our our bread products. I hate you, Canada.

The only thing we accomplished all day...finding a camp spot.

Better luck next time.

Every time I go to Vermont, I wake up with the worst hangover ever. Every time. Without fail.

2009-08-27T19:19:00.001-07:00

I lived in Vermont for the better part of 7 years, and enjoyed every single one of them. I made some lifelong friends, had some unforgettable experiences, and really learned a lot about myself in those years. Going back is always a good time, and I'm real glad I was able to show Taylor my old stomping grounds. I wanted to stop by my former employer in Waterbury, but time ran short and we were passing there past business hours. Sorry fellas...next time!

Our first stop was in East Calais, VT, where two of my former roommates (now married with children) live. They are in the process of building a farm on some beautiful property after their former house unfortunately burned down. Jaime, who is the Hebrew version of Superman, saved his entire family, and the losses were minor (in perspective, anyhow). You're the man, Weendog.

Check out this Motley Crew:

After playing with chickens, goats, children, pigs, and dogs, we headed north to Burlington to see the old gang. We were invited to attend Vermont Family Dinner, which Portland Family Dinner was actually modeled after. Excellent times.

More Vermonters!

Chip is a radical dude. We got to hang out a bit during my brief visit to Burlington. He is one of those dudes who you don't have to talk to every week (or month, or quarter year) but when you see each other again, it's like nothing has really changed.

Will is another one of those dudes. Interesting facts about Will. 1.) He has had the same haircut forever. 2.) He was wearing the same shirt as when I met him 9 years ago. Now that's timeless style.

Awesome times with awesome people. I drank too much the night before, and woke up feeling like a bag of pretzels. Luckily, I recovered quickly. After attending to some business, Taylor and I were headed deep into enemy territory...CANADA!

Little Rhody, Big Fun

2009-08-27T19:07:00.000-07:00

While it was a huge bummer to say goodbye to Europe, it was nice to get back to the US of A to see friends and family and prepare for The Great American Road Trip, V2: The Great White North. As it turns out though, Taylor and I don't really prepare for anything, so we just threw a bunch of crap in the mini and we were good to go. Let me take this opportunity to say how awesome my mini van is. I bought it for 3,800 bucks more than 3 years ago, and is now preparing for it's 4th cross country trip. Every time I meet someone, they ask me why I drive a mini van. My answer in short: Because it is better than anything your drive. Boosh!

Ok...back to Rhode Island based content. Ma Breault picked us up from the train station after a hellish trip from NYC. We flew there because it was cheaper, but after all the Metros, buses, and trains to Providence, it didn't quite work out that way. Oh well, next time. After sharing hugs, telling stories, and drinking a few beers, we had our first sleep in a familiar bed in six weeks. It felt very nice. After resting up, the following commenced:

Let's start these photos off on the right foot. Check out this gem: A double Breault, double stunt! Unprecedented! That there is my brother Justin, and he's not afraid of a super-sized dose of Vitamin Extreme, either. For the record, my Mom gets just as mad when we do this at age 28 and 30 as she did when we were 9 and 11.

We also ate all sorts of Rhode Island food, up to and including:

This cigarette smoking lobster

Chowder and Clam cakes

Wieners!

(Photo lost in archives)

...and good ol' fashioned Rhode Island cookout food

Another distinctly Rhode Island treat...Waterfire! They make suspended fires above the Blackstone River all throughout Downtown. It's a real nice free evening. Lots of people still come out, which was cool to see.

Taylor got to play with some kittens, too!

I also got to see some friends (Tom included), play some golf, and spend some quality time with the family. Until next time, Rhode Island! It's time to get our road trip on!

Things I saw Germans open beer bottles with:

2009-08-27T18:47:00.000-07:00

1. Spatula
2. Human Mouth
3. Lighter
4. Spoon
5. Cell Phone
6. AAA Battery
7. Another Beer Bottle (empty and full)
8. Paper Plate
9. Beer Mat
10. Wall
11. Fork
12. Beer Bottle Cap

People from the west of Germany know how to pound beers. Biiiiig time. They also like to eat sausage, watch football, and talk about eating sausage and watching football. We stayed at my friend Christoph's apartment in Aachen, even though he had already moved out. It was a pretty good deal. It was great to see some friends I haven't seen in a while...like these guys here!

...and make some new ones, like this giant specimen yonder:

Christoph's family is awesome. His dad and I can have long conversations even though he doesn't speak a word of English. He may have kicked my ass at arm wrestling.

How many people have you known that have done this? My body is in Germany and my gut is in Belgium. I just had a full load of Belgian Fries (the French lie!) and I was a bit full. Wicked awesome.

We took a day trip to Amsterdam, and we were absolutely blown away by the bike culture. We were expecting a ton of bikes, but it was ridiculous! Check out the picture...there are at least 5,000 bicycles in the background. Every single structure has at least 2 dozen bikes locked to it. They have multi-level parking garages for bikes. You get the idea. I thought Portland was bike-friendly...but we've got a loooooooooooooooooooooooooong way to go. (ed. note: Amsterdam is completely flat, so that helps.)

Ok...more stuff:

We hung out at a football hooligan clubhouse!

Did ballet inspired stunts!

...and had a blast during the last few days of our trip. Thanks so much Stout and family. We had a great time. We're bummed out to be leaving Europe, but our time has come.

Next Stop, U S of A!

Ich Bein Ein Jelly Donut

2009-08-18T11:11:00.000-07:00

...so the story goes that Kennedy's famous Berlin speech which he stated "Ich bein ein Berliner" actually translates to "I am a jelly donut." Oops. Still a historical speech, nonetheless.

Moving on. As it turns out, Berlin is completely radical, and very, very similar to Portland. Think bicycles, tattoos, bars, and lots of alternative culture. We have come to the conclusion that we would totally live in Berlin. Small language barrier, but I have been considering taking German classes at PCC, so one day, who knows?

Before I get into the details of our brief Berlin stay, I'd like to take this opportunity to endorse my new favorite bar in the entire planet, which is called Halford's Rock Cafe. It is a bar completely dedicated to Judas Priest, and to a lesser extent, all 80's metal. My favorite part about it is the complete lack of irony. The people who hang out here actually love metal, wear leather, and are complete and total dudes. In fact, in stark contrast to Portland, many things in Berlin lacked the pretension and irony that they would in PDX. For example, EVERYBODY rides bicycles, but they are completely practical and not at all nice or cool (hypocrite alert: I ride a fixed gear). As long as they have two wheels that more or less roll, it's game on. This is also true for messengers, who mostly rode mountain bikes. I talked to a bike shop employee who said track bikes are becoming a bit more popular in Berlin, but he expects it to be a fad.

Ph-ph-ph-photo time!

Check out how fucking cool this bar is! My impression of the internal monologue of the bar owner:

"hmmm...I'm running out of money for decorating my bar, but I really think we could use a 10 foot tall bust of Rob Halford out front. What to do, what to do...aww fuck it. It's only $7,000 more."

The public transit in Berlin was a bit expensive, and since the city has a remarkably good bicycle infrastructure, Taylor and I rented some bikes and rode all around the city. Here are our whips:

This bike was lacking a skid-o-meter, but I'm pretty sure I logged about 17 km of skids that day (stolen joke alert!)

We headed to some historical sites, including the Jewish Holocaust Victims' Monument. The top has over 2,000 concrete blocks of various different sizes (side note: Apparently the number of arrangement of the blocks has no symbolic significance.) Below ground is a free museum that occupies the space of Joseph Goebels' former WWII bunker. I would call that irony.

They had what they called "The Room of Letters," which was a room filled with original letters sent from doomed prisoners to their families. Most of them where thrown out of train windows or found around their person after they were killed. Amazingly, most of the ones found in this room were actually delivered to whom they were addressed. Read this:

The Brandenburger Tor was right by the memorial. This was the main gate that separated East Berlin from West Berlin when Germany was divided.

This is the last remaining portion of the Berlin Wall which was preserved for historical purposes. It is used as an art gallery now. Seeing one of the world's most recognizable symbols of oppression used as a showcase for art was a very poignant moment for Taylor and I.

Our stay in Berlin was far too short, but we had friends waiting for us on the other side of Germany. We will be back! Next stop, Aachen!

I met interesting and stimulating people of an ancient culture...and punched them in the face!

2009-08-11T04:05:00.000-07:00

...but we'll get to that in a minute. First, the Prague rundown. We got into town around midnight, and checked into our hostel. Like an idiot, I booked us in for the wrong days, and all that was left was a private room. It was a little beyond our budget, but better than knocking door-to-door on various hostels trying to find a room at that hour. Nice hostel, nice folks, good location. Most excellent.

Now how about something extremely radical! I've known about the Kosnice Ossuary outside of Prague since I was in high school. It is a church whose inside is decorated with human bones. The remains of 40,000 plague victims, to be exact. Taylor and I hopped on a train to the little town of Kutna Hora, and hoofed it up to the church. I was fully prepared to be underwhelmed, but boy was I wrong. Check this shit out!

This is going to be on the cover of our death metal record:

This, too:

Skulls and bones:

This chandelier includes every bone in the human body at least once:

So cool...totally worth the day trip from Prague:

On our second day in Prague, we were riding the metro towards the center of town when some sucka-fool pick pocketed my camera out of my day bag. Luckily, I thought something was up and saw some dude walking away with it under his hat. I stiff-armed him in the face, grabbed my camera back, and then gave him a good right jab in the nose. Ha! I win this time, Prague!

Here is a dramatic reenactment of the event:

The Prague metro system installed new signs on all trains:

No big deal. Prague was fun times. Met some nice folks, drank some wine, and ate some good food (as well as some McDonalds.) Next stop, Berlin.

Back in the West:

Budapest...yeah, more like BudaBEST!

2009-08-09T02:21:00.000-07:00

As it turns out, Budapest is a completely radical city. Even though Taylor and I spent the majority of our time there lost on various forms of transit, spent 3 nights in three different hostels, ate American fast food a bunch, and almost couldn't find an affordable way out of town, we both really liked it. It is completely livable, has a really strong history of social/political rebellion, and has beautiful architecture. Our first day in town was Taylor's birthday, but we took an overnight train from Belgrade which we didn't get much sleep on, and she was asleep by 11. I checked us into a private room in a college dorm that was completely deserted, so at least we had that going for us. Happy Birthday, Taylor!

OOOOk...on our second day in town we took a bus to the outskirts of Budapest to a outdoor museum called Memento Park. Hungary is one of the few countries to publicly recognize and educate outsiders about their communist past, and this park was a pretty powerful reminder of that. The museum gathered many of the giant statues that celebrated communist brotherhood (huge statues of Stalin, a giant communist soldier, statues of happy workers, cubist statues of Marx and Engels) and put them all in one place. The park itself could have used a little landscaping, I suppose, but the statues themselves were really enjoyable for the both of us. They also showed a film (thankfully subtitled in English) that was a collection of dozens of secret communist police videos instructing agents how to spy on the people. Some really interesting Big Brother stuff. None of the films had credits, so nobody knows who made them, who starred in them, etc. They just know that they were shown at a Secret Police College. Incredibly interesting.

Go Lenin, it's ya birthday, we're gonna party like it's ya birthday...

Oh...and since it's your birthday Lenin, check out my fucking stunt!

Incredibly huge statue...honestly not sure what this one is about, but it's radical nonetheless:

We also went to a Turkish bathhouse right on the shores of the Danube River. Budapest is located above a bunch of hot and cold springs, and they channel them all into these spots. The one we went to was a bit pricey, but it was a real nice way to spend an afternoon, just lazing about, going swimming, sitting in hot tubs, having swim races, reading and falling asleep face down in the grass:

Oh, what? Two stunts in the same post? Yes, ma'am:

Other tidbits of interest;

Look kids, Parliament!

A bridge!

Taylor and I both agree that on a future Europe trip, we will start in Spain, fly to Budapest, and travel further east in Europe or Russia. Totally great city. As I write this, we're on a bus just outside of Bratislava, Slovakia en route to Prague, Czech Republic. Get into it!

Tim and Taylor get adopted by Serbians

2009-08-06T04:27:00.000-07:00

Every now and then you meet people that are so completely selfless and kind that their presence in your life completely restores your faith in humanity. Taylor and I were lucky enough to have such an experience on the way to, and in, Belgrade, Serbia.

When you spend a long time on a train, it has been our experience that you get to talking to the folks that you share a cabin with. Lucky for us, we were teamed up with Leijla and Miljana Milivojevic, an incredibly friendly and talkative mother and daughter duo heading from Montregro back to their home in Belgrade, which is roughly an 8 hour train ride. Miljana, only 11, spoke excellent English, and translated for her mother. After about 20 minutes of conversation, it was decided that we would be spending the night at the family home in Belgrade with Lielja, her husband Zaran, her husband's mother (known as Babu), and their three kids, Bozo (not a famous clown in Serbia, as it turns out), Krsto, and Miljana, who we already know. These were not people of means, and they definitely didn't have enough room for the 5 of them, nevermind two guests, but that was not a problem for them. They fed us, entertained us, gave us a ride from the bus station, and were overall incredibly gracious hosts. When it came time to leave, the whole family gave us gifts including a DVD, various stuffed animals, some crackers, and other presents. Taylor and I could barely keep the tears back as we left their house.

We didn't want to offend them by saying no to their gifts, but the children were talking excitedly about how they just bought the "Night at the Museum" DVD in Montenegro. We told them that we had not yet watched the movie, and finding it in our gift bag was a heart-warming experience.

The Milivojevic family as seen on the train:

The Milovojevic family as seen in their home...significantly larger:

Taylor and I have been playing a ridiculous amount of "Yaniv," an Israeli card game that Taylor learned in Mexico. We taught the family how to play, and Bozo (pronounced Boy-zcho) won by a pretty large margin.

After we left the family, we spent the afternoon walking around Belgrade, and after we got too hot, we saw "Harry Potter and the Half-Blood Prince" at a local theater. Luckily, it was in English with Serbian sub-titles. We've been wanting to see a movie since about Texas, so it was nice to finally sit back and enjoy one.

After the movie, we meandered back to the train station to catch our overnight train to Budapest, Hungary. Right in the middle of downtown, we saw a few bombed out buildings, which were grisly reminders of how awesome American/UN foreign policy is. This was a civilian target looks like, folks. Don't hear much about that on the news. As it turns out, most countries can't afford to demolish and rebuild, so reminders like this just sit around like headstones in an urban cemetery.

Literally, full circle. Sorry Bosnia! Next time, for sure.

Next Stop: Budapest, Hungary.

I climbed Mt. Doom, and all I got was this stinking goat cheese

2009-08-06T04:17:00.000-07:00

Did I mention that bus drivers around here are nuts, and usually half of the riders get car sick? No? Well, it's true. The drive from Budva to Koloshin was by far the worst, though. Crazy mountain roads that go up forever, hairpin turns on the way down, inches between you and the bus coming towards you, and not enough seats for all the passengers. Sounds like a good time to me. Aaaaand, after 4 hours of that, we wound up here:

We were the only people to get out at Koloshin station, and the building was a bombed out (literally) old building with one information officer who didn't speak a lick of English. We were heading to Biogradska Gora National Park, but had no idea how to get there from the station. Luckily we pieced together some info from a girl in the station store, and were on our way. After a 1 Euro bus, a 1km hike, and a 10 minute hitch-hike, we wound up at our destination.

By the looks of it, it was worth it:

Almost immediately, we ran into a backpacking American husband and wife team. There names were Jeff and Alisha, and they had spent the summer in Budapest doing an internship. They were real nice folks from Indiana, and were looking to get their hike on in the park. We joined them and headed up the mountain. Here's the gang about a quarter-way into the 4-hour hike:

When we finally reached the top of the mountain, we were greeted by this little scene here:

A woman and her son lived in this tiny little shack and sold juice and homemade goat cheese to hikers (mind you, this was a 3 hour walk from the nearest road, and over 2 hours from the base camp. What an amazing family. They washed their dishes and got their drinking water from a spring (whose water was perfectly drinkable and delicious, and came out of the spring almost freezing), shit in an outhouse, and basically lived off the land. The woman didn't even recognize the language we were speaking as English. She asked if we were speaking German or Hungarian (We were able to translate this after a lot of trouble and repetition). I'm pretty sure that is the only time this will happen in my life. Unbelievable. Despite our communication barrier, we drank coffee, talked a lot, and had a real nice time at the top of the most beautiful mountain I've ever been on. She gave us the coffee and cheese for free, even though we insisted on paying her.

Hail, hail, the gang's all here:

She let me chop some wood. This will be considered my stunt for Biogradska Gora, because this thing was basically a slightly modified battle axe. I took a few mighty swings, which yielded exactly no wood. She, on the other hand, took a few meek whacks, and broke off all sorts of chunks. Takes a little experience, I suppose:

Buying spring water is for suckers...go to the source, son!

Other awesome things from Kolashin/Biogradska Gora:

I caught a huge toad!

We walked down a 3km hill a few times!

Met a totally radical Montenegrin train station controller named Jovan!

Hung in the amazingly beautiful Kolashin Train Station!

Biogradska Gora was amazing. It is the type of place that you'd have to book 2 years in advance in the US, and yet we were able to walk up on a Saturday and get a radical little cabin for 23 Euros a night. Highly, highly recommended. You know, if you're ever in the area...

Inching along:

Next up, Belgrade...again!

Budva, AKA "The Montenegrin Miami"

In retrospect, Budva is the type of place that you're glad you went, but probably wouldn't recommend to anyone else. It's crowded, the beaches are pretty dirty, and it's utterly impossible to escape the cacophonous sounds of competing techno beats. Every girls has fake boobs and lips and weighs 14 pounds, and every dude is 6'5 and all rippled-like. According to the locals, a vast majority of the tourists here are either Serbian or Russian. It's all the same to us, but I figured I'd mention it for posterity.

Anyhow, we got a cheap room, we were close to the beach, and we got to hang out with a Scottish Terrier named Benny. We are now deep into "No English Country," which has been pretty entertaining. I'm not sure if I mentioned it yet, but being tattooed Americans in the Balkans has been an interesting experience. We've been met with outright rudeness, and in some cases, unwillingness to serve us, on an almost daily basis. Every now and then we meet radical folks, but it's becoming kind of few and far between. But, getting tattooed is a personal choice that, by now, we're quite aware that some folks will never understand. Not a problem.

Side note: We haven't met a fluent, or even passable English speaker in a while. We're getting very good at home-made sign language.

Okey Dokey...here we have a totally lame beach. Much of Budva was like this:

This is what passes for a footbridge in Montenegro. I'm not sure what this pit underneath is was, but it didn't smell to good. You do the math...

We did end up finding a great swim spot, a little bit off the beaten path. I think Taylor liked it:

And at said beach, I pulled one of these!

Disclaimer re: the above photo: While it may look extremely extreme (which is basically was), this is photographic evidence of me being out-stunted. While this is more rare than seeing a leprechaun on your birthday, it does happen from time to time. A pair of burly Russians climbed a cliff WAAAAAAAAAY above where I jumped from and did some radical stunts. Whatever...at least my parents weren't commies.

While Budva wasn't the most radical place on earth, we did have a pretty good time. We made a hasty decision to head inland, and had to say "bye-bye" to the beach. Thanks for the good swims, snorkels, and stunts. Till next time!

Nonsensical Route Planning!

"I'm loving Hollywood!"

2009-08-06T04:12:00.000-07:00

We took a two hour bus to Kotor, Montenegro, which was an amazingly beautiful city with a Lord of the Rings-esque fortress on the top of a mountain. You had to climb stairs for a half hour to get to the top, and seeing how it was 106 degrees outside, we opted out. The downside of Kotor was that the infrastructure of this newly independent, formerly communist nation is lacking. The city, while staggeringly beautiful, smelled pretty bad and the water looked kinda gross. The food and beer was delicious and cheap, and we got a killer room for very, very cheap. The hosts didn't speak a word of English, except for saying "Mr. Bush" with a big thumbs down. Haha. Smart folks.

Here is the view from our room:

Our house from the front. The open window was our room.

Here is the Stari Grad at night. This is the most impressive fortress we've seen yet, and we've seen dozens.

We decided to only stay one night in search of greener pastures. Here are some highlights though:

We went to a restaurant where nobody spoke English, and there was no pictures or English words on the menu. Amazingly, this is the first time we've run into this. The server basically knew how to say "hamburger" and pointed at a word in the menu. Needless to say, we had two of those.

Our server at dinner asked us if we were Australian. We said American, and his face lit up. He said "I'm loving Hollywood. Sharon Stone, Tom Cruise, Micheal Douglas. Very good!" Haha...awesome.

Oh...and our little neighbor here...total dude:

Next stop, a short trip down the road to Budva, Montenegro.

"Mr. Drago is internationale"

2009-08-06T04:06:00.000-07:00

After a 7 hour ferry ride, we reached out destination of Dubrovnik, Croatia, which is located right in-between the boarders of Bosnia and Montenegro. We've been finding accommodation by haggling with the inn-keepers who line up at the ferry port and the bus and train stations. This has been by far easier and cheaper than trying to find a spot online. There was some aggressive folks who were charging far too much for rooms, and we were getting a bit discouraged until we met Mr. Drago. Drago was a class-act dude that was a very nice host. He gave us espresso and water, and even cooked us dinner that night. He knew very little English, and everything he said to us was in a mix of Croatian, Italian, and English. Everything he said had "Mr." in it, such as "Hello, Mr. Morning," and "Mr. Gentleman, 1! (long story)"

Long story short, Mr. Drago was a complete dude. Also in his favor: He is a possibly stunt double for Robert Englund, the dude who plays Freddy Krueger.

There was two Swedish dudes staying with Drago as well, and they turned out to be pretty cool. There names were Martin and Richard. Mr. Drago called them "Mr. Ricky Martin," but we're pretty sure he didn't know who the real Ricky Martin was. Here's the gang in front of the giant pot of meat that Drago cooked.

After dinner we went to the Dubrovnik Stari Grad, which is the original walled city. Very impressive fortified city that is still very active, even though all the structures within are from the 15th century. Here's Taylor checking stuff out.

We were only in Dubrovnik for one night, because we decided to head south the Montenegro, the world's newest nation. Hopefully it's as good as Croatia.

Next stop, Kotor, Montenegro.

Au Revoir, Mr. Tom

2009-08-06T04:00:00.000-07:00

Thankfully, our destination was worth the effort. Hvar is a pretty radical place, albeit pretty touristy. Just like most touristy places, though, if you go far enough off the main drag, you can find a place all of your own. On one such occasion, this happened!

A little background info before we get back to the photos: Hvar is an island off the coast of Split, Croatia that is kind of like a haven for elite European tourists (yachts, 5-star hotels, etc), but it also has a lot to offer the poor backpacker crowd (although there weren't a ton of our kind around). Tom booked us a room in a nice place close to the beach. Here's ol Tom:

I did a whole lot o' snorkeling. I saw a bunch of fish, a sting ray looking thing, billions of sea urchins, and lots of hermit crabs. I wrangeled a bunch of hermit crabs together and Taylor made a fort for them. Yeah...we're 12 years old.

Major Bum-out Alert: Tom's time with us on our trip came to and end, and he had to head back to the US of A. Apparently he has responsibilities and stuff like that. Here he is on his way out. We'll miss you, Tom.

Tom caught a ferry back to Split, where he was flying to London to Boston, via Dublin, I believe. Taylor and I, on the other hand, took a 15 minute water taxi to a spot called Robinson's, that looked like this:

We read, snorkeled, and got sunburned. Taylor spent most of her time like this. Rough day.

Next stop, Dubrovnik.

"What Happened to our train?"

2009-07-25T13:11:00.001-07:00

- "Only God knows"

That was a translated conversation that we had with our train conductor mid-way into a 60-hour trek from Athens, Greece to Hvar, Croatia. We were in a train station in the middle of nowhere Serbia, and all of a sudden the caboose of the train took off without the rest of the cars. A Serbian woman asked what happened, and that was the conductor's response. Priceless. Other interesting things that happened:

- I was the only person on the whole train to be pulled into a Macedonian border police office. They made me pay 6 Euros for traveler's insurance for Taylor and I. I paid a woman in a small windowless office and she gave me change from her purse. It was by far the most terrified I've ever been in my life. As the border guard was walking me to the office, he kept yelling "American! American!" to nobody at all. Phew. I finally got my passport stamped, and we were back on our way.

- Met a bunch of friendly Danish people. One kid started every one of his stories with "This one time, when I was really, really drunk..." We also learned that Danish people called Danishes "Vienna Bread." If we go to Vienna, I will get to the bottom of that...

- Played cards for hours and hours. I beat Tom at Texas Hold 'Em and several rounds of Cut the Deck. Both beat me senseless at Speed.

Here is our sleeper car from Athens to Thessaloniki, Greece. Six of us slept in here. Woah.

Bored already and only six hours in:

I bought this here soda called "Cockta" in Skopje, Macedonia. It tasted exactly how it sounds:

We did a lot of this:

and this:

This was our buggy from Northern Greece to Belgrade, Serbia. It NEVER went above 40 MPH, and quite commonly stopped in the middle of nowhere for a while. They checked our tickets no less than 15 times, and the staff switched at almost every stop. Not surprisingly, we arrived in Belgrade 5 hours late:

When we arrived in Zagreb, Croatia, our bus to Split, Croatia was oversold and we had to sit on the floor. Taylor sat in the jump seat up front with an old Croatian dude who taught here a few words in Croatian:

We finally arrived in Hvar, and had to walk a mile or so uphill with all our gear. No big deal.

Waaaaaay out of the way:

Naxos: Taylor proves that she is the best scooterist of her generation; Tom places near the bottom

2009-07-22T08:23:00.000-07:00

So after an overnight 7 hour ferry ride, we arrived on Naxos, which is an awesome island in the Aegean Sea in a chain of islands called the Cyclades. I was expecting a frat-boy party scene, but this place is far off the tourist map. There is a section of town that is very touristy, but the rest of the island is as it has been forever. We rented scooters and found dozens of beaches with only a few people on them, like this guy here:

Check this out! I'm basically the leader of a scooter gang now. Taylor went fast as Hades, but Tom crashed his less than 5 minutes in. He fared OK, but scraped his knee a bit. I guess they don't teach basic motor skills in grad school. Zing!

In case you were wondering if I got a little extreme on the scooter, here's your answer. Stunt time!

Not sure which way to turn here:

Taylor skipping rocks out into the Aegean:

Taylor and Tom in front of my favorite beach on the island, called Aliko.

What was my favorite part of Naxos, you ask? How's about this. I bought cheese whilst completely nude from this fellow here:

He had to walk down from his farm, climb down a cliff to get to the beach, and then climb back up. We couldn't communicate very well, so he wrote down how much the cheese was in the sand. He didn't seem to mind that I was naked, because he hung around and had a smoke.

Here he is making his exit:

Naxos was radical. We did some aggressive scooting, got some snorkel time in, and had fantastic weather. I don't think we ever saw a cloud. Now the hard part...getting from Naxos, Greece to Hvar, Croatia. It will take at least 2 days, 2 ferries, 3 trains, and a few buses. Damn. Will update when we get there.

Beach Time!

It's all Greek to me

2009-07-22T08:05:00.000-07:00

So we left Alan's house in our rented buggy and made our way to London's Gatwick airport. The driving conditions couldn't have been worse for someone who isn't used to backwards driving. It was the middle of the night, foggy as hell, and rainy. To make matters worse, the motorway was under construction so only one lane was open. However, I triumphed over all these perils and arrived safely in foggy London town. We all hadn't slept, so as soon as we were seated on the plane, we fell fast asleep.

When we woke up, we were in Greece. No big deal. It was 90 degrees and sunny, which was a welcome change to the UK's weather. We took a bus into central Athens, and when we got off, we came to the realization that none of us knew a single word of Greek. After speaking "English for dummies" to a few folks, I realized that nearly everyone spoke English. Oops. Aaaaaanyway, we made it to our hostel just fine and then took a walk around Athens.

We:

Took pictures looking the wrong way!

Took pictures in front of the Acropolis!

Ate Squid!

More Squid!

Drank Mythos!

Did incredibly massive stunts!

We were supposed to leave for the island Naxos at 8:30 the next morning, but they canceled the boat without telling us, so we had to wait until midnight. Things like this are very common in Greece. So we basically did the same exact thing as the day before, but with a little less squid.

Interesting side note: We were briefly kidnapped by a taxi driver in Periais. He wouldn't let us off unless it was the other side of the bay we were on. You really need to be on your game with cabbies over here. Unless your lucky enough to get this guy! Wham! Take a look at that gent. I think the photo is blurry because this dude emanates so much Greek coolness that it distorts images.

Hot, hot, hot!

We left the North again, and traveled South again...

2009-07-16T16:26:00.000-07:00

Much to our surprise, I managed to keep our car on the correct side of the road. We made it to Reading just fine, despite a route complete with no less than 30 roundabouts. Our route looked like this:

We stayed just south of Reading with Taylor's friend Alan and his housemates Will and Ben. Excellent hosts. They have a certified menagerie including:

and:

and Don Johnson here:

Unfortunately, when we woke up, my chicken friend had ceased to exist. Not sure what happened there...

Taylor and Alan tried to sacrifice Don Johnson, but didn't have the guts in the end:

Oh yeah...we went to Stonehenge. Massive!

Some tourists come to see big rocks, others come to see big stunts:

We also went to the Salisbury Cathedral. The original Magna Carta (circa 1215) is here. Pictures of the Magna Carta are forbidden, so you're going to have to take my word for it. Incredible medieval architecture:

Fish and Chips...again!

...with a cup of tea, proper.

Rad...thanks a lot Alan, Will, Ben, and animals. We had a blast.

Progress:

Next stop, Athens.

Backwards roadtrip

2009-07-16T15:17:00.000-07:00

Instead of taking a taxi to the Wakefield bus station, a bus to London, and a train to Reading, we decided to rent a car for our journey. One problem...Brits do everything backwards. So, I bucked up and volunteered to drive the Brit-Mobile, aka "dumb-dumb wagon." The proof is in the Yorkshire Puddin':

Boo Ya Ka Sha!

Wakey, Wakey, Eggs and Bakey

2009-07-16T14:39:00.000-07:00

The gang put Edinburgh at our 6, and headed south towards Wakefield, UK to stay with my friend Emma. We hopped on a bus in St. Andrew's Square and were on our way through the British countryside. Taylor and I played a bowling game on Tom's I phone for a while. I won...BIG TIME. No worries.

Here's Emma, Taylor and myself hangin' the F out. Common sense would say that Tom is not in the photo because he took it, but that is not the case. A passerby took the picture, but Tom's head made the rest of us look like midgets, so we opted to keep him out of it.

Emma took us into the countryside to a town called Haworth, where the Bronte sisters wrote their most famous novels (Wuthering Heights, Jane Eyre, etc). It was an awesome British country town that looked a-little something like this:

It was Emma's birthday and we had a proper fish and chips party. PJ's chippie hooked it up with 3.20 fish and chips. I got some mushy peas and some Dandelion & Burdock to wash it down. D&B is a soda-esque drink that tastes like Dr. Pepper but is made from all sorts of plant doo-doo.

PJ's!

We stopped at an awesome old cemetery in middle of nowhere where everyone was named Jonas.

Countryside stunts tend to be a bit more extreme:

We've skipped rocks in every body of water between Portland and Yorkshire.

Wicked...thanks for everything Emma. We'll see you on our side of the pond soon.

Old friends, old buildings, and completely incomprehensible conversations

2009-07-15T07:02:00.000-07:00

Scotland has been on my top 3 "must visit" list forever, and I finally got a chance to see it. Not like some dodgy tourist either, but with the expert guidance of one Mr. Scotty Todd. By far one of the most gracious host I've ever had the pleasure of staying with. Edinburgh is beautiful, and he took the time out of his busy schedule to show us around the joint.

As soon as we got there, he made us bagels with haggis. If you don't know what haggis is, don't even bother asking...just give it a try. Here's Taylor giving it a go. Don't let the face fool you...she found it lovely.

We went up to Arthur's seat which overlooks Edinburgh. It's a 10 minute hike uphill, and Scotty smoked the whole way up. Now that's a true Scotsman.

I love old cemeteries. Scotland has some incredible ones, including the fella here:

Scottish stunts! Pretty similar to American stunts, but backwards:

Kieran "K-Dog" Burchell was in full effect. Another great dude that I've known for a few years. He does stunts, too. No big deal.

We did a whole lot of relaxing in Scott's "Beer Garden of Love." Drank beers, talked shop, and enjoyed each others' company. We had to coach his son Elliot to talk slower so we could understand him. Elliot also hung up our laundry, which is seen here in the background. The last person to handle my underpants hasn't been heard from since. Good on ya' mate.

Next stop: Wakefield, UK!

Putting some miles behind us:

"You're too fat to fight Ricky Hatton" - Irish Terry

2009-07-10T10:34:00.000-07:00

Boston to Chicago. Chicago to Dublin. We collected Tom and the group was complete for the first time. I hardly slept at all on the flight, but did manage to read "Northline" by Willy Vlautin from cover to cover on the plane. Fantastic read...highly recommended. Tom was awake for a solid 14 minutes of the trip. Taylor was in and out.

Although we only had two days in Ireland, we packed a lot in. Great people, great city, and most importantly, great beer.

This is our hostel. Super centrally located, clean, and cheap. We are in a bunk room with 4 other people. The girl that sleeps below Tom sucks her thumb when she sleeps. Busted!

Anyone who knows me knows that I love fish and chips. My first order of business was to sniff out a legit chippie. This place did not disappoint.

Here's Tom caressing his purchase:

We tipped back quite a few beers on the first day. The pub where this picture was taken was perfect. We walked pretty far from the central area to try to find a "local" bar, and this place was spot on. Friendly barkeep, a few old drunks, and a cricket match on TV. To top it off, they were playing pro IRA music most of the time we were there. Woah!

The second bar of the day was closer in to the city center, but we found the deadest one we could. It was pretty mellow until pro boxer Ricky "The Hitman" Hatton walked in with his entourage, and half of Dublin followed him in. This is about when we met ol' Terry here. He asked me how much I weighed and promptly told me I was too fat to fight Ricky Hatton, or anyone else for that matter. He's been to the US once, to Miami, which he pronounce ME-ami. He wasn't too stoked on the US because the servers were rude to him and he had to tip for everything. Quite a character, Terry was.

We went sightseeing in between beers. Here is St. Patrick's Cathedral. Jonathan Swift is buried inside.

Here we mix sightseeing with beer tipping:

We woke up as early as the last nights beers would allow, and hopped a bus to a town called Wicklow, about an hour and a half south of Dublin. We didn't really know what goes on there, but we heard of a cheap bus, and decided to give it a go. Turns out it's a really nice little coastal town with medieval ruins and a cool little downtown district. We bought lunch and ate it in the middle of the ruins of a medieval monastery.

This photo was Tom's idea. The wheels are really turnin' in that huge cranium of his. Here we see a "new" church through the eyes of a medieval ruin.

This one here was my idea. Medieval stuntery at its best:

This is the most beautiful golf course I have ever seen. Made me want to play real bad. Hopefully I'll have a chance in Scotland.

Ruins of a medieval castle that was built on the ruins of a viking settlement. Pretty old.

Taylor tried to steal this canon. It didn't work out.

Over the pond:

Rhode Island, A retrospective

2009-07-10T10:09:00.000-07:00

Taylor and I, officially road weary, were pretty excited to spend some time at my parents' house in Rhode Island before we began the European leg of our trip. Here's a photo journal of went went down:

Celebrations!

Basset Hounds!

Golf!

Unsuccessful Fishing Derbies!

BBQ!

Fuckin' America!

We also drank a bunch of Naragansett beer, enjoyed my parents' hospitality, and hung out with good family and good friends. Not many stunts were performed, but I'm sure that's a temporary lull. Next stop, Dublin.

Road Trip, Part I

2009-07-09T17:47:00.001-07:00

So...we drove a long way. Over 5,000 miles, some would say. Don't believe me? Shazam!

...and we're just beginning.

4,600 miles with no tolls, then Maryland has to ruin everything

2009-07-07T14:36:00.000-07:00

When we woke up in the morning, I noticed something was a bit odd-looking on the undercarriage of my automobile. It looked a little something like this:

Turns out my tailpipe disconnected from my muffler sometime during the night. I kind of heard a funny rattling, but hoped it was something in the cooler. Anyway, no big deal. I just heaved the tailpipe in the back and pointed 'er due north.

We stopped in DC, and I have evidence:

We weren't so impressed with DC, so we got back in the van and headed to my friend Laura's house in Point Pleasant Beach, NJ. We also hit our first tolls. Thousands of miles of open, free road, and for some reason you have to pay a toll every 15 feet in Maryland, Delaware, New Jersey, and New York. Boo.

Beach Bike Gang!

Here's the boardwalk in Point Pleasant Beach. Cool little boardwalk, buy you have to pay $7.50 to get on the beach during the day. Crazy.

After our tour of the town, we sat around, talked about old times, and drank some beers. Good times...thanks Laura!

Almost there:

Don't let the sound of your own wheels drive you crazy

2009-07-04T12:21:00.001-07:00

After a relaxing couple of days just beachin' it, we decided to give 'er and head as far north as possible. To break up the drive, we stopped in Savannah, GA. Super nice southern town that actually has a bit of a Portland feel, likely due to a well-respected art school being located there.

The whole town definitely looks like the "Old South," what, with the mossy trees and all. Here's Taylor in front of some civil war relic or other.

I was too hot to stand still. I probably just completed a stunt of epic proportions that Taylor was too slow on the draw to capture for posterity.

A house!

When we left Savannah, we had plans to take two hour shifts. Instead, Taylor got drunk, fell asleep, and I drove until four in the morning. I listed to Steve Martin's autobiography "Born Standing Up." Not so bad.

I went to sleep here for a few hours:

There was a guy leaf blowing the parking lot all night, and it is my opinion that he spent the majority of the evening 2 feet from my door.

Two people went searching for America, and couldn't find it anywhere

2009-07-04T11:27:00.000-07:00

As far as we've encountered "Southern Hospitality" doesn't exist in rural Mississippi or Alabama. The countryside is great, and we've made a point to try to take back roads throughout this region, but it's becoming pretty obvious that we are not welcome here. I don't know if it's the tattoos, the out-of-state plates, or the northern accents, but folks don't seem to like us here. It's not outright hostility, mind you, but a very obvious indifference.

So we had a solution...Let's head to the beach!

We headed south through the winding roads of Mississippi, entered Alabama, and went straight to the Gulf Coast. I had no idea that anywhere in Alabama was this nice, but man, Gulf Shores, AL is beautiful. We got a nice little camp spot, and spent all day on the beach. We had no intention of having a beach leg of our trip, and it was a pleasant surprise to have some relief from the 100 weather.

Here is our AL camp spot. I woke up here in the AM with the worst hangover I've ever had. What do you get when you add several drinks, unbearable heat, and no way to escape from the sun? Misery...that's what. Taylor had to drive me to bathroom a hundred yards away. Good times.

Nice sunset in Alabama. Don't let the oncoming darkness fool you, because it was still blazing hot. In fact, we went swimming in the Gulf after dark, which was super refreshing. I did stunts in the water.

I think this was bullshit. I went gator huntin' and didn't find a thing.

Schneider! I totally got this one.

Part II: I like Pelicans

We decided to stick around the beach for an extra day, so we went down the road a stretch to Panama city Beach, FL. I was sticky, hung over, and smelly, so we got a cheap motel right across the street from an awesome, completely empty public beach.

Taylor is a complete beach babe. No big deal.

I, on the other hand, hate the sun. I wear more clothes on the beach than I do in the winter.

Super nice beach. I loved watching the pelicans dive for fish. Also, I am basically a body surfing world champion at this point. Taylor needs a few more lessons, for the record.

Dry Counties, Wet counties, and the Painted Man

2009-07-01T07:11:00.000-07:00

- Author's note: I'm writing this in my underpants in the pitch black in a Mississippi State Forest. If I was any hotter, my eyeballs would melt out of my skull. On a completely unrelated note, we decided to head deeper south tomorrow. Good choice, team.

A brief dialogue from last night when Taylor tried to buy beer in Canton, Tx.

Taylor - "Excuse me, do you know where I can buy beer around here?"

Store Clerk (Insert heavy twang here) - "26 miles that way, sweetie. You're in a dry county."

I honestly didn't know that those still existed. Not that cool, in my book. Canton is a rad little cowboy town, though. Taylor fulfilled her "every girl has a cowboy fantasy" by eyeing the young fella' on the side of us who was blasting a song in his giant pickup truck that went a little something like:

"Come take a ride on my big green tractor," etc, etc. Whatever. I'm gonna go find some farmer's daughter to ogle over. No big deal.

Today we drove from Canton, TX to Morton, MS. We're in a great campground right on a lake that only cost us $11. The only weird thing about Mississippi is that tattooed folk must be a rarity. People stare at us like a man of fire just got out of that van. Taylor and I have encountered a few folks who refuse to make eye contact with us, but for the most part, the people here seem pretty cool.

Here is photo documentation of the hottest person in the world. Taylor and I just played a mean game of tennis in the 100 degree heat. This faucet was a life saver. It also functioned as a shower in the morning.

Here is our $11 camp spot. You were supposed to dig a hole if you wanted to doo-doo. I opted out.

Taylor made a delicious dinner as usual. We kind of have a deal that if I drive all day, she'll cook. It works out pretty well.

We totally made our first camp friends. We met some dudes from NY that were heading to New Mexico. Kind of our trip in reverse. Frank and Jeremy where their names. Jeremy was heading to Roswell, NM to do a photography project, and Frank was just along for the ride. Good dudes. We drank beers, listened to Otis Redding, and talked around the fire. Bon Voyage, fellas.

I take back anything bad I've ever said about Texas. I'm staying here forever.

2009-06-25T22:22:00.000-07:00

One word...barbecue. I'm still afraid of Texas, and I somehow drove for 10 hours and only got from Amarillo to Canton (a little east of Dallas) via Oklahoma City (oops?), but there was a big payoff.

BBQ!

Soooo good. This whole town smells like delicious smoked goodies. My kinda town. Couldn't find anywhere to camp again, so had to stay in a motel. I'm glad about that, because it's over 100 degrees outside at night. Damn.

Wait! Check out this sweet Oklahoma stunt!

Our Progess:

(Taylor's input) Tim apparently forgot to mention three very groundbreaking moments that occurred in the beautiful state of Oklahoma.

1) The creation of Snaggle Tooth Paper Plate (STPP)

2) STPP learns how to use a mobile telephone.

3) STPP eats potato chips. (photo not available)

Is it getting hotter?

2009-06-25T22:00:00.000-07:00

Arizona bled into New Mexico with nothing new to notice except maybe a a twinge of tan burning through my 75 SPF sunscreen. We drove forever and ever through the desert. I'm pretty sure the only noticeable thing of the day was when I drove off from a NM gas station with my gas cap on my roof and then watched it get run over by a truck directly after it fell into the highway. I had to stop and by a new one. I want my $7.99 back.

How 'bout this gem? The New Mexico sign with a Schneider next to it! Just in case you were wondering who claimed this fella, that would be me. I called it a good 5 miles before we got to it. The flat terrain of the desert makes the Schneider game very competitive.

Ok...on to the scary town business. After crossing the Texas border, we realized that camping wasn't in our immediate future. There were no campgrounds anywhere, it was pitch black, and I'm afraid of Texans. So we pulled off the exit in a town called Vega. It was weird right from the start. The off-ramp spits you out on a two-lane road, so you are actually exiting into oncoming traffic. (I would later come to realize this is normal in Texas.) Every building was shuttered, there was a Texas Chainsaw Massacre style car graveyard, and even though there were two motels with flickering "Vacancy" signs, there were no signs of life anywhere. We didn't get abducted by any locals, if there are any, but it took a degree of ingenuity to figure out how to get on the on-ramp as well. Weird introduction to Texas.

We ended up sleeping in a crack motel in Amarillo, the "yellow rose of Texas." Pretty dingy joint, but we got to take a shower, so that wasn't so bad.

Consult the map:

Unwanted Adopt-A-Highways, Ghost Towns, and Red Rocks

2009-06-25T00:57:00.000-07:00

When you sleep at a truck stop, as it turns out, you'll be kept up all night by diesel engines idling and air brakes squealing. I only got a few hours of sleep, and was up before sunrise.

The upside: The Mojave sunrise:

Taylor slept for 200 miles, in 100 degree heat, in a moving van. Heavy sleeper, I'd say. She woke up just before the Arizona border, more than likely because it was 16 million degrees.

Hey look! Arizona!

We drove down into Sedona, which is a cool little town with lots of pretty scenery. The downtown region is a first-rate tourist trap. Luckily, we look like dirtbags so we don't get hassled too much by the opportunist tour guides and such. We found a cool little campground, and pitched our tent for the first time. Here's "I can do it by myself" Taylor realizing she needs some help. Unhappy Camper.

For reference's sake, here's the proverbial "Happy Camper."

We made a fire, went for a walk, drank some beers, and made friends with some dogs. Good times in the desert.

Schneider Note: Not a good scene for Taylor. Some would say my lead is insurmountable. There is still a lot of road between here and Rhode Island, though.

Gettin' there:

Day 2: Drive forever; wine with lunch; Saw the ocean, the desert, and a truck with hydraulics

2009-06-25T00:46:00.000-07:00

The Pacific Coast Highway is radical. The downside is that it is super hilly and windy and takes forever. Totally worth it, though.

We turned down Rte. 58 and into some nice wine country. We stopped at a winery, bought a bottle, and ate lunch. Beats work any day.

We took a really long, weird route, and ended up sleeping in the back of the van at a truck stop in the middle of the Mojave Desert. Kramer Junction to be exact.

Map:

Day 1 - Tim takes commanding lead in Schneider game; Taylor comes to conclusion Redwood trees are big

2009-06-24T09:37:00.000-07:00

Schneider game? Yes indeed. The Schneider game is something that my father invented on family trips to Indiana when I was a kid, if I remember correctly. Schneider is a nationwide trucking company, and their trucks are a very recognizable bright orange. When you see one, say "Schneider." That's it. As far as I know, such a long-distance game of Schneider has never been attempted. Day 1 was bad, bad, bad for Taylor.

We made it to California, I can prove it:

We did some mega stunts in front of Redwood trees. Taylor got some bangers in there, too, but my photographic timing needs fine tuning.

Redwood trees are awesome. You should go. They look like this:

We made it to Weott, Calif., in the Humboldt National Redwood Forest. About 450 miles, a good chunk of it being on super windy two-lane roads. Campground was OK. We slept in the back of the van and listed to "Duma Key," by Stephen King on CD. Good times.

Indiana Jones style route map:

The world according to two irresponsible twenty-somethings, and another guy

2009-06-21T00:06:00.001-07:00

So, after a lot of talking, a good deal of planning, and a lot of "Good lucks!" later, the S.S. Boxer is ready to set sail on the asphalt seas of the Good Ol' US of A. Here's a brief recap for those not in the know:

Participants:

Timbro, Esq - Captain and owner of exactly one (1) 1998 Dodge Caravan, champagne in color, henceforth referred to as the Starship Boxer. Named after Orwellian character for appropriate reasons. Referred to as a "total dude" on at least one (1) occasion.

Taylor St. Clair - Trusted Co-Pilot of vehicle. Self-professed karate expert and lover of cats. Total babe, by all accounts. Former child basketball star. Once killed a giant spider with mind power.

Tom K.(European leg of trip only) - Very large head.

Objective:
To see the world for all it's worth. To camp in a Wal-Mart parking lot. To leave our mark on foreign destinations as much as they leave their mark on us. To keep track of aforementioned travels via this blog, with no regard for proper spelling.

Itinerary (rough):
Drive from Portland, OR to Harrisville, RI via the long, long southern route (via SoCal, Southwest, Southeast, Eastern Seaboard.) Fly to Dublin (via Boston.) Visit UK, Greece, Italy, Croatia, Czech Republic, Germany, Denmark, et al. Fly to NYC (via Dusseldorf, or Dumbledorf as Ms. St. Clair believes). Drive back to Portland via long, long northern route (via Wisconsin, Montana, Idaho, etc)

Goals:
Hang out. See places. Meet people. Drive on the wrong side of the road. Play golf in Scotland. Play naked in Greece. Live Life. Don't Die.

What you will read here is the chronicles of three people trying to squeeze as much out of every opportunity as possible. Always take the long way home.

-TB