Athens, Greece

I spent the day in Athens and it is a vibrant city. The Greeks are super warm and alive. I arrived last night and was able to rent a cheap room in the city center complete with ceiling fan and balcony. I mention this room, because the hotel seems to double as a prostitute quarters as people seem to be at it at all hours. The room is nice though and it is on a quiet street. Last night I was walking around and this little boy came walking towards me. He couldn't have been more than 3, and he was by himself. No one else was around. I started to ask him in English where he was going. A Greek couple approached and I beckoned them for help as I didn't know what to do with the child. They saw I was speaking to him in English and asked him "Do you speak English?", they then proceeded to speak to him in Greek and he told them that his mother left. We all looked at eachother in amazement, that a 3 year old child would just be left to wander the streets by himself. The child seemed quite content, and was more than prepared to continue his journey and began to march away. A moment later, his father appeared, who looked like he had been drinking, and shrugged like "he does this all the time".

I've been thinking about that boy and his sense of purpose, blindly marching into the unknown, not really knowing where he was going and being quite happy about it. He was a true traveller (or rather, attempting a complex escape from an abusive household...who knows?). I admired the little guy.

I spent the day wandering the Acropolis, reading endless materials on Classical history, and stood, it appeared, at the beginning of :Western Civilization". I went to the Theater of Dionyseous, where Aeschylus, Euripedes and other Greek guys wrote those early tragedies (and comedies) where people gouge their eyes out. I visited the Pnyx, the first real government assembly site of democracy, where people were booed off stage when they sounded stupid while attempting the arts of oratory (Bush wouldn't have made it as a politician at that time). I also went to the hill of the muses, and tried to soak up some inspiration. It was beautiful, covered in olive trees, and it was inspiring, until I read in a book that it is the Hill where artillary was based when it fired on the Parthenon (it is also a notorious location at night for rapes and muggings). I went to the Parthenon, which is being dismantled because over the last few hundred years, they have taken it apart and put it back together in the wrong manner. So the Parthenon is covered in scaffolding. It's interesting how in modern times, we seem to screw up everything, even our own history, so we attempt to fix it and fix it, like a Michael Jackson makeover. They are now installing new marble slabs in the Parthenon to bring it back to its original glory.

I could walk around Athens for another day easily. Every corner has some kind of spectacle. Stray dogs lie in the street, soaking up the sun, old women in black dresses hold their rosaries while on their way to church, young couples, obviously on holiday grotesqely make out while a dozen Greek guys look on, Roma kids hang out in the tourist park waiting for a tourist to sit on a bench and turn away from their bag. All this while the sun shines gloriously in October.

I get the sense that Athens is still recovering from the Olympics, which from all appearances has left this city with a spanking brand new makeover (Michael Jacksonesque?) and a McDonalds that has a permanent showcase of "Athens 2004" on its balcony. Evidently the Olympics has virtually bankrupted this tiny nation, leaving each citizen of Greece 50,000 Euros in debt. This was due to the added costs of security measures thanks to George Bush's Oil war which sent costs skyrocketing 5 times that of the Sydney games in 2000. It's amazing how a small group of people (the far right in America) can devestate the lives of so many people on so many levels. It will be interesting to see how Greece will recover. I'm confident it will. The people seem pretty damn resliiant and full of a beautiful spirit.

Tomorrow, I think I will head to one of the island, not sure which one. I think I'll hop on the first ferry to come along and see where it takes me.

Miss you all.

Budapest, Hungary

I've come to the conclusion that people in the Eastern Block of Europe are somewhat emotionally depressed on a societal level. People in Hungary were definately more friendly than those in The Czech Republic. Czechs seem to be introverts, somewhat scared of outsiders, where Hungarians are more open...but still not super warm.

The warmths comes from two things (and it may sound quite material and I'm sure simply untrue but this is my tourist perspective): food and baths.

The food, well, I should say, the desserts are awesome. Almost all of them contain some kind of rich cream, rum and a delicate sponge cake and chocolate. I've developed a serious eating problem being in Hungary for a week because these over the top deserts were CHEAP...I'm talking a buck fifty. The Turkish baths are amazing. I met up with Carolyne, my pal from CESTA, and we went to the Kiraly baths(traditional Turkish, sulpher baths) and Gellert baths (Also Turkish, non sulphur, but super ritzy in a posh hotel). I got a massage at both and realized this is what would make living in a cold, gothic/dismal place, quite enjoyable, though, I didn't get the sense that the average working class Hungarian did this kind of thing regularly. In fact, the woman massaging me had obviously been doing it for probably going on 5 hours and she talked to the other therapists full voice while listening to a loud Hungarian cover song of American Disco (I think it was Gloria Gaynor). I was quite happy to get slapped with baby powder for fifteen bucks. It was great.

I spent about 4 days in Budapest, mostly walking around, exploring with Carolyne the Gothic architecture, cave churches, lion bridge, communist statues etc. Hungarians, like the Czech's seem to be deeply wounded from the 20th century's totalitarian regimes. The day I arrived, they were celebrating the anniversary of the 1956 uprising against the communists, where ultimately 20,000 people perished. The parliament had a monument to a massacre that occurred there during the uprising which was quite beautiful. It was covered in candles with the Hungarian flag bearing a hole in it (in the center, the hammer an sickel was placed, and as a result, was symbolically removed).

Carolyne and I also made it to the surreal and creepy "museum of terror". This museum is a house on Andrassy Utca which was rented by the communist regime after the 1956 rebellion, to torture and kill people in. When you enter, there is a foreboding black monument with intense Stephen Spielberg "the sadness of pain" kind of music which continued throughout much of the exhibit. It was somewhat of a sensational experience, (with beautiful creepy installations) though I have to say, the basement where the torture and death chambers remained in tact, left my entire body feeling sick. It was deeply ironic how us tourists are drawn to the history of pain and death. It's kind of like those tourists who head to Iraq or Palestine just to kind of check out the scene (maybe to help, but really to be close to some kind of sensational violence), not realising till you are there what it really entails. I couldn't help but feel like I didn't belong there and I wanted to leave. It felt like the spirits in that building were trapped, and we were walking through them, thousands of tourists at a time, disturbing them with our steps and gaze.

That said, I do believe that museum really reflects the psyche of those Eastern Block countries who lived under totalitarianism for much of the 20th century. It has become so much a part of their identity. On my last day I had the pleasure of visiting "statue park". This was by far the most surreal thing I've ever experienced in my life. The "park" is a large piece of land, beside a freeway, in the suburbs, outside of Budapest that contain dozens of giant Communist statues. Basically, a bus drives you in, drops you off for 45 minutes, leaves you to wander around with a tour guide who gives no real context to the statues outside of giving a collective emotional history of how the people felt about them, like "this statue, many people thought looked silly" or "this statue, got graffitti on it", or "this statue, the soldiers in it look fat so people laughed at it". I'd be curious to see a communist give the same tour. I've come to learn that many of these "communist" tour sites (like the communist museum in Prague and the museum of Terror in Budapest) are fairly right wing, and rewrite history themselves. It's interesting to see how one political persuasion portrays "propaganda" through its own "propaganda". I almost wish several histories, varying politicized tour guides and pamphlets were readily available, so that we could perhaps read between the lines.

I am now in Athens, just arrived, and walked around the Acropolis and sat on a marble mountain overlooking the city at night. The Greeks are warm and friendly, quite a relief to the coldness of Eastern Europe. I kind of want to go sit on an island for a while and watch sheep (or goats..either will do). The baclavas are huge, goeey and cheap. Ohhhhhh, here we go again!!!!!

That's all for now.

CESTA, Czech Republic

I'm still in Tabor. I've really been enjoying staying at CESTA. Enjoy isn't the word. It's more of a creative recharging, soaking up of all that is important in life. CESTA has had in the past couple of weeks a high concentration of wonderfully talented artists and because it is the fall (the summer is evidently super busy) I have had the pleasure of getting to know them. I've been documenting their work, installations and performances as well as interviewing Chris and Hillary about CESTA. It really feels like a creative tribe/family and CESTA feels like a home. Last night The three artists in residence (Candice Lin, Carolyne "Ryder" Cooley, and Bea Whittle) did an installation and performance which started in the town square. Local children brought drawings and we processed down to a candle lit Gazebo in a forested nearby park. Carolyne was dressed in a gothic feather dress she made, with a black veil/hood while and lead the procession while playin her accordian. We then made our way to CESTA where the installation of art was presented. Carolyne played the saw in a room where she draw/engraved buildings from Tabor's square. It was a piece about history, and the history of the room itself was revealed as the layers of paint, plaster and wallpaper were revealed. CESTA was originally a grain mill, built in the early 1900's, it then became low income housing during the Communist era for poor romani (gypsy) families. Cesta's current neighbors (a retired Communist boxer and wife who names her chickens before she eats them), who live next door, lived in that room for many years. We sat in that room, with local artists/musicians, surrounded by art, eating apple pie that I made, drinking sosnice (plum vodka) and I couldn't help but feel this connectedness, this sense of belonging, and having a place in the history of those walls and beyond. I know it sounds sentimental, but it was a wonderful feeling and made me realize what home is. It's finding your place and being connected to its roots, to history, wherever or however that may be.

I'm scheduled to leave CESTA on Monday to go to Budapest Hungary. From there I will probably go down south to Greece (and poissibly Romania and Turkey). I want to return here and make more of a contribution, either as an artist or help turn their theater (which is freezing cold) into a livable workspace by installing some form of insullation and dry wall. I'm hoping I can follow through on this as I would love to see this theatre become a reality. If anyone would be interested in joining me on the project, let me know. I'm hoping to come back in a year or so.

I also want to say it's been really wonderful hearing from all my dear friends and getting such wonderful words of encouragement. Things are good right now and this trip is proving to be exactly what I was needing. I'm looking forward to what the next 5 months will bring. I'm learning an important lesson about travel. It is what Rachel, my friend in Edinburgh, told me. She said that "When you travel, people are important...you can see lots of beautiful places, but people really make the travelling possible." That is indeed true.

Tabor, Bohemia, Czech Republic

I spent two days in Prague absorbing its beauty. It is an affordable Paris, and with that comes droves of tourists. Food is cheap, buildings are beautiful. I spent a couple of evenings exploring the local gay scene which is thriving, but my ignorance of the Czech language left me struggling to connect with locals. The women here are all absolutely gorgeous and when I went to the local lesbian bar Mahler, I had flashbacks of being at Girl Bar in Los Angeles. Super femme women with lots of "style". Folks were friendly and tried to strike up conversation. I spent much of the rest of my time there writing in Cafes and reading "Ignorance" by Milan Kundera, a fabulous Cyech-French author who wrote "The Unbearable Lightness of Being". Sometimes you read a book that is absolutelz spot on about everything in your life at that moment, and that was such a book. Read it if you can.

Dogs are everywhere, cafe's, bars etc. There is a laid back attitude about the Czech people which is totally refreshing. They are not big consumers, not super ambitious, humble and seem to rather enjoy the pleasures of time and simplicity.

I am now in Tabor, one hour south of Prague and am Staying at Cesta (www.cesta.cz), a community arts center opened by two San Franciscans 10 years ago, Chris and Hillary. Both make up the alternative band "SABOT" which has quite a following in the area. CESTA is an old mill, which has a theater and basically is a fairly open communal space where artists from all over the world come to do residencies etc. A one week festival of Japanese culture just finished here in Tabor which Cesta hosted. It included workshops on Tofu making, performance art by visiting Japanese artists, Butoh dance, and Noh like children's theatre by Czech kids from the Northern end of the country. Right now, there are several artists staying at CESTA including a friend of mine from San Francisco, Carolyne "Ryder" Cooley. I didn't know she was going to be here until right before I arrived and noticed her name on the website. Funnily enough she's having the same existential crisis I am having about living in the US at the moment. It feels good to meet someone here who is in the same place.

Hillary and Chris are extraordinary people, true artists with tireless vision. There is no other place like CESTA in the country and for anyone who comes here, it becomes apparent what a truly unique experiment it is and how completely dependent it is on the passion and love of the people who run it. Chris is a professional chef and all the communal meals at CESTA are absolutely amazing. The entire place is about living creatively, learning and experimenting from one another and sharing that with the community of TABOR. It is heaven being around such an environment. There is constant art making, intellectual discussion and for me learning. Nourishment of the soul indeed and I can not help but think how this place is taking away the grey hairs on my head. I think I will be here awhile. Tabor is beautiful, a small town in the center of the beautiful Bohemian countryside and CESTA is located next to one of the most gorgeous rivers I have ever seen, with old abandoned mills draped with vines and flowers. I can see now why this region was the birth place of the great artistic rennaissance of the last century that gave birth to the arts in 20's Paris.

Tonight I will be making folks vegan chocolate cream pie from the tofu made during the tofu workshop, then maybe a screening of some of the videos I have brought along.

That's all for now.

Prague, Czech Republic

Just arrived in this city and I dig it. I left the UK this morning and it was just too damn cold there. I don't know, I guess in my old age I can't take cold windy weather like I used to.

While in Scotland I made it to Fasland Peace camp for a day. The camp was a DIY community of caravans and huts. A sweet guy named Jamie made me a cup of tea from the wood stove and then promptly went outside to chop more wood. Lego, a wild punk scotsman sweetly showed me all the solar powered lights and gadgets they'd hooked up. Part punk rock part physicist, Lego gleefully showed me the generator that would someday create electricity from the creek next to the camp. The camp was also equiped with a series of complex tunnels underneath to fend off authorities coming in for eviction. Faslane is still a hot bed of nuclear munitions off the coast of Scotland and these activists continue to bear witness to the nuclear subs that sit in its harbor. The camp seemed small, only a handful of activists remain, but they are dedicated and keep the community alive. I sat up in the tree sit platform that overlooked the camp and it was a magical thing.

I didn't make it to Findhorn as the UK is just too darn expensive. I really needed to get out and travelling north would have been at least another week's budget consumed. Two dollars to one pound made it an unaffordable luxury. Hence, I have headed east. I'll write about Prague in the coming days as things unfold, but the sense I get is it reminds me of a city in transition, not quite comfortable with capitalism and steeped in a long arduous history of culture and conflict. Folks are incredibly friendly even though there is a big language barrier. I enjoy looking at people's faces here, there are so many stories.

I got a chance to see the "Motorcycle Diaries" in Edinburgh at my favorite cinema "the Filmhouse". It's the story of Che Guevara's motorcycle ride around South America and his ultimate political awakening. The movie got me thinking a lot about travel, how it shifts consciousness, and when things go wrong, you learn the most. Right now, I've been feeling a bit lost, not knowing how to structure my day and thinking about going back to college. But fear has a funny way of creaping in and reprogramming your thoughts for the future. It's easy to make decisions based on fear. Travel is the present devouring the future. It's like being in love for a day and I'm trying to sit with that fear and see what kind of magic ensues.

I don't know if anyone is reading this, but if you are, post a comment (under the post) or email me. I'd love to hear from folks.