Va Bene, Italia!

Right then, well I'm sure you're all wondering if I've dropped off the face of the earth by now. If you haven't been wondering, well, then poo on you!

But in all seriousness, I've just been real busy travelling around and all that jazz. I haven't had as much access to computers as I may have liked, but at least now I can try and update as much as I can while I'm in Australia. But of course, tat's another story, for a later date. Right now, It's time to go back a few weeks to Italy.

Venice, to be precice.

Arriving at the airport outside of Venice is a rather interesting experience. It reminds me of Deer Lake back home. It's quite a small airport, but fairly modern, with little to no security on entering the airport. I know I'm coming from one of the European Union countries, but still, I figured at least there'd be passport or customs control. Instead it was simply walk off the plane, pick up your bags, and walk out the front door. Even Cuba had more thorough procedures, and that airport was even smaller again. Unfortunately for me, my arrival in Venice was during the dark hours of night, and finding my Bed and Breakfast was rather...daunting, to say the least.

Do you all remember the story in greek mythology of the Minotaur, of how it was trapped in a Labyrinth in Crete and slain by Theseus. Well, ignore the part about Teseus and the big-ass bull, and just focus on the labyrinth. Right, got the picture in your head? Good, now whatever you've imagined, make the walls come closer and tighter around you, and make then two or three stories high, and then take away the light, and add freezing cold temperatures to boot. To go one step further, add hundreds of bridges to the mix. Ok, once you've done that, you'll have some idea of what navigating Venice in the middle of the night was like.

I kid you not! This place was quite the literal labyrinth to behold even at the best of times. Even during the day it was difficult to get my bearings, even with a good map. Yes, the night before was far more difficult than it should have been due to the fact that I had a crap map showing only about two percent of the roads in Venice, but still, crazy. After a good two hours wandering around in the cold, stopping in at shops along the way to get directioins (and have one of the best sandwiches I've ever had at some mariner-themed cafe) I did find my way...

...only to think it was the wrong spot and have to ask for more directions until someone called for me and physically walked me to the location I needed. It wasn't my fault that the sign for 'Happy Venice Hostel' was on a tiny brass plate next to a series of door bells. Heh heh, though I am rather impressed with myself that I found the place on my own with a few minor directions. Even the gentleman who eventually called and navigated me there said that it would be impossible to find do to the numbers on the streets and houses not following any order whatsoever. He was right, but he never counted on me being from Newfoundland where we have some pretty confusing streets and numbering systems as well sometimes.

I was greeted by this wonderful older lady by the name of Gina. Of course, Gina spoke not a word of English, so my entire tour of her home and my room for the night was done completely in Italian and accompanied by a lot of hand gestures. Yeah, I looked like quite the fool I guess, but it is rather incredible what can be accomplished with a few hand gestures and lots of smiles and laughter. When left to take a look around my room, it was really a culture experience that I've not had for quite some time. The whole room was done up in an Italian style, and I hope unique to Venice itself. Stone floors, long blinds (Venitian, or course, but since I'm in venice then they're just blinds, right?), and of course a single hot water heater in the corner next to the bed. You can see in my pictures that even the pictures on the walls are or Italian scenes. And to top it off I even had slippers and a housecoat. There are hotels that don't do such things unless you pay for the presidential suite. A very warm and inviting atmosphere, to be sure.

Over the next few days I explored Venice to the best of my abilities, this time with a far more detailed map that Gina was able to provide for me. Bless her! In any case, I did come across some rather interesting instances. Now for the grocery store lovers reading this (Dad) this first bit will apply directly to you. When picking up some fresh fruit at one of the local shops, I not only had issues with the self-weighing and tagging system, but I was awestruck with the number of styles of Olive oil there was available to buy. Sure, I expected there to be some, bring in Italy and all, but not this many, In such a small shop, I counted 41 different types of olive oil. 41! That's unheard of in any North American shop. Of course, it all made sernce once I started eating some traditional Italian food, Pizza and Pasta. Olive oil adds such a nice flavor to the sauces used. Mmmmm mmmm mmmmmm! I will be attempting to replicate such sauces once I settle in one spot.

Aside from the delicious food, the fairly friendly people, and the convoluted roadways, (Aiden was accurate with the whole spaggeti imagery) the most incredible experience I had was walking around the San Marco Basillica. Now that is a truly collosal structure, and so artful. Every surface has a carving, and every carving is different. Paintings adorn the walls, while spires jut from the domed rooftops. And the square was just as open as I had imagined it. Now Joel, this one's for you, buddy! When you go play assassins creed, pay attention in Venice when you get to the square of San Marco and have to infiltrate the basillica. The reason being, is that ist appears to be completely accurate right down to the bridges leading away from the square. It is really unbelievable how accurate those game designers were. If only I could get up on the roof to look around, I'd really have an idea then as to the accuracy. But of course, I'd probably be arrested as well.

When you go to Venice to eat, I have one piece of advice for you...

...Be patient!

The reason I bring this up is due to a tip I was given on one of my tourist documents. It advised that Italians make an event out of eating, so eveything is drawn out and a host who presents you the bill right away will be considered rude. And frankly, it was right! After each meal I had the bill did not arrive until I requested it, and even then it usually took a good few minutes regardless of whether the restaurant was empty or full. It was refreshing, not to be pushed out the door as quickly as possible by the wait staff. Having said this, I now have some new ideas for foods when I get home, particularly in the bread department. I won't talk about the Spaghetti Bolognese, or even the Pizza I had. No, those are best saved for a question and answer period in person. What i will talk about is the unique way they did Bruchette. It was one slice of bread, very thinly sliced, but nearly the size of the dinner plate it was presented on. Toasted, topped with fresh tomatoes, spices, huge pieces of garlic, and of course copious amounts of olive oil. To be honest, I've never had anything like it. Not quite filling, but tastier than most appetizers I've ever had the chance to consume in my lifetime.

Actually, screw it, I'll get to the masks later. For now, I'll do a little more writing on the food portion. As I mentioned before, I also partook in the ritual consuming of a Spicy Sausage Pizza, as well as Spaghetti Bolognese. The Pizza, I might add, was again, probably the best pizza I've had in a long time, perhaps ever. Pizza Delight, Louis Gee's, Domino's, eat your heart out because this is true Pizza. The sauce was olive oil based, but very simple; Tasty as all hell though despite or perhaps because of the simplicity. Then it was just mozzarella cheese and italian sausage. That's it, aside from the fact that the crust was thin and crispy. It wwas one of the more simply pizzas I've had the pleasure of eating, but surprisingly the most tasty. I guess nothing beats fresh ingredients, a fire-kissed crust, and piping hot serving temperatures to increase the flavor of a food. Oh, this was at Mamo restaurant. It's close to the Basillica I mentioned earlier, so go there if you can. You may have troubles finding it though, as its off in a small series of back alleys away from the main tourist path.

The other item of nourishment I had was the Spaghetti Bolognese. It, again, had less ingredients, less meat, and even less sauce than I would normally have on a pasta back home. But of course, fresh ingredients have won out yet again. The small amounts of meat in the dish tasted like sheep, or some other type of gamey meat. I'm sure it wasn't moose, but it was tougher like what ground moose sometimes is. Maybe they have weird cattle ther, I don't know. In any case, it was done in the tradition of Aldo, who stayed with my mom and dad for a time, and tossed in the sauce before served. I think I'll do this with all of my dishes from now on. It limits the overuse of sauce, while enhancing the taste to the highest extreme. Well done, Italia! This was also where I had the Bruchette, as well as a unique experience with drinking glasses. Normally, water glasses are tall, large glasses filled to the brim. Strangely, the glass served to me here, and come to think of it, at most of the restaurants, was rather small. Almost the side of an expresso coffee cup back home. Strangely, this filling and filling and filling some more caused me to drink more fluids than if I had one glass filled to the brim. Hmmmmmm, maybe they're on to something here. Perhaps this is a method of prolonging the meal, as they are noted to do. Bah, whatever, though I am slowly but surely outlining my dream kitchen as I go to these different places. Heh, heh, heh. It's gonna be weird that's for sure. Global house and kitchen, here I come!

Now, I just need to make a whole heap of money and I'm set. Riiiigggghhhhtttttt! Talk to me again in another few years.

Asie from the food, the Italian carnival masks are noteworthy. Made of either cheap plastic, paper mache (the most common and popular), or leather (used for theatre, apparently), the carnival masks are each unique pieces of art. Unfortuately, it's kinda like the kilt shops in Scotland, there's just so many of them! Seriously, on certain strips, almost every shop sold masks of some sort or another. And the ranger in price, holy crap. Barring the really cheap, mass produced, plastic ones, the prices went from 20 euro, all the way up past 300 euro for really fancy ones. Surprisingly, some of the most expensive ones were of paper mache, not leather. But of course, the decorations on them were absolutely amazing. Real crystals, hand-painted designs, and glitter coming out the wah-zoo! Really, it was one of those things you just have to own. It reminded me or the Renaissance era, full of balls, costume parties, all completed in regal fashion. To be honest, I think I would fit in better with the era of chivalry and calligraphy, rather than the current era. Maybe one day I'll hold a ball of my own, as formal as they come with tails and dresses fit for royalty. Or, maybe I'll just find some rich dude to work for and end up serving at one! Heh, heh, that sounds more believable.

Alright, that's another posting done. Next time, it's on to Germany, and then Down to my first days in Perth.

Later days,

Neal Oram

Aside from the food

Updates Finally

Hey Bloggers,

While I am not caught up in terms of my actual postings, I have now updated several hundred pictures to my facebook page. Check it out sportsfans, and i will catch you later on.

Neal Oram

Are you seated comfortably?


Have you used the washroom?


Do you have a cold drink in hand? Possibly even a snack?


Excellent! Then you´re ready to start in on this blog posting. It´s sure to be a lengthy one so bear with me, and be prepared for marathon levels of text, pictures, and the like.


Now then, let´s get a start on the next installment of the Wandering Newfie´s blog. So I will be covering Toronto when I get my pictures in order. Honestly, I can´t recall what I did there, as I didn´t have access to a computer at the time so my notes are a little off. I´ll be sure to update when I get to the pictures. So then, I must move on to the land of reasonable rum, great cigars, skinny people, the Royal Palm tree, and of course, Che Guevara himself. If you haven´t figured it out by now, I was visiting the Spanish-speaking island of Cuba. Now, I´ve got about five pages of scratch notes to get through courtesy of Mike Walsh´s amazing moleskin notebooks he gave me, so sit tight and enjoy the ride.

Arriving in Cuba is not what you would expect from any other major port. You would think, based on the levels of tourists and the like that travel to Cuba each year that the airport would be rather large to accommodate such an influx. Unfortunately for travelers, especially those leaving the country, this is not the case at all. To give you an idea, I will compare both when I arrived and when I left. The arrival was the usual, get off the plane, go through security, pick up the bags, and walk out to get your bus. Well, when I say usual, I mean that all of this was within 100m of each other, so it was rather cramped. On the plus side, there was definitely less walking to be done between gates and security and the like, so there´s a positive to everything. Now, on the exit, there was a similar experience. Everything was closely packed together, including the people to be found in the waiting area for the gates. Now, I will remind you that there are only two gates, and the people are packed in like cattle, both standing and sitting. Probably the worst part was the smoking, as it´s legal there, but I won´t dwell on that much. Most of you know already about my disdain for smoking and the like. Needless to say, it was quite an uncomfortable spot to be stationed in either waiting for a flight or coming in from a flight. But, of course, those details are minor when you consider the reasons for coming to Cuba in the first place.

So at the airport, we were picked up by our driver which Mr. Chaffey had arranged. While our driver never spoke much, our short-term tour guide was quite the talker and actually had some pretty good jokes. One concerned two lighted oil rigs which looked surprisingly like the Eiffel Tower in France. He basically said, "This is why we´re a better destination than France, we have two and they only have one!" He kept us well informed and entertained while we rode the bus to our Five Star Hotel on Tryp Peninsula.

I pose a question to the readers now. What comes to mind when you hear the term Five Star Hotel?

Personally, I think of Boca Raton in Florida, a resort for millionaires build by millionares. Or perhaps even a nice Hilton series of hotels. Marble floors, candlelight dinners, bell hops at your beck and call, nothing requested is unavailable.

Well, Tryp Peninsula Hotel did give us some of that. There were some candlelight dinners, and well-dressed servers and staff. The rooms and facilities were immaculately clean all the time, which is definitely a plus. Even the lobby floors were marble, though they do get rather slick when it comes time to actually walk on them. The humidity made it so we Canadians could have a virtual hockey rink in the middle of the lobby from time to time. Just take two steps, slide, and you´ll end up over the stairs and into the dining hall if yuo have enough momentum. Quite fun for those of us with some balance in our toes, but flightfully challenging for the poor lady who fell when we first got there. Even the beach was raked every morning.

Raked, for Pete´s sake! A tractor, with a rake not unlike the ones used for packing snow on the ski hills back home, would tour our section of the beach every morning. I think either they had multiple tractors, or the gentleman had one long night because most of the resorts were done the same way. This made for some beautful soft sand until you hit the firmer, water-swept portion of the beach. Crystal blue water, hammocks underneath the Royal Palm trees, huge conch shells being sold on the beach every morning, and plenty of activities to partake in.

So what, praytell, am I nattering on with about the "Five Star" comment I made earlier. The point I make, is that not everything you see advertised is considered true, or even on a comparible basis. While the facilities were definitely among the four and five star hotels, the rooms among threes and fours, the service, for the majority of services requested, was maybe a three star at best. Unfortunately, the food was also of an attempted five star quality, but was brought up short at about three and a half. But of course, you don´t go to Cuba for the food, or so I now know. Bland would be one way of putting most of the food. I believe I gorged myself on pancakes every day to ensure I wouldn´t be too hungry by the time lunch came to call. And as for desserts, they definitely need to learn how to use more sugar and butter. Oh, of course I wouldn´t have any, due to my incessant and ever present allergies, but my travelling entourage certainly commented on them. And getting back to the service aspect, there were definitely instances where the service was lacking. For my parents in particular, they had a rough time acquiring towels, linens, and some other items I will not go into detail on. It also did not help that one or two of the staff would try and sell you cigars and even Rum on the side. The lifeguard tried to get me on the cigars.

But, while I state that the service was not quite as expected, it certainly wasn´t bad in all aspects. The entertainment commitee, as they shall now be known, were very upbeat and cheery all the time. They organized everything from dance lessons and kids events, all the way to organizing cabaret style dance shows every night with a different theme each time. They even had a Miss Try Peninsula contest later on. Guys, calm down, it wasn´t what you´re thinking. If you wanted to see that kind of scantily clad scenes, you need only to go to one of two places; the beach or the stage. The beach is self-explanatory, and the stage deals with the shows that were put off every night regarless of weather. I should note, that they did an excellent job having the shows inside the lobby when the weather did not cooperate.

Personally, I had no problems at all with the service during my stay. Unfortunately, it was my travelling companions who took the brunt of that blow.

I must mention two individuals in-particular who made the visit to Cuba completely worthwhile. One is Jose, and the other Carlos. I will touch on Carlos first, as he was directly associated with the hotel experience. Two or three nights we had reservations at one of the more fancy restaurants on the resort. The first of which, was rather dissapointing in both service and food content for all. We´ll not dwell on this, as it was the black sheep of my experiences with the fancy restaurants. Dining reservation number two proved far more enjoyable. The food was indeed more palatable, even going so far as being delicious. I believe it was here I had my first dessert at a restaurant in who know how long. The chocolate mousse I was given was certainly the tastiest part of my meal, and finished off a great dinner with a flare of simple style. The atmosphere also helped the dinner along.

In each culture there are various talented individuals and of which Cuba has no shortage. I won´t mention the dancers just yet, as you just need to take in the pictures I have in order to truly appreciate their...ahem...expertise. I´ll actually write about them later, as they do deserve a blog posting all to their own. In fact, I´ll mentin the rest of the shows I took in during my time in Cuba at that point. For now, I´ll metion that both of my dinners were accompanied by live music. The first was a trio, two violins and one guitar. Any piece you could have named, Pachelbel´s Canon, Midnight Sonata, even some showtunes from movies anda the like, and they could play it. One of our party wanted to see if they could play Flight of the Bumblebee, even though we said that it was not appropriate for dinner music. The trio graciously waived it off stating they did not have the sheet music. It was a rather polite way of saying, Screw off, or so we joked later. The second group was a singer and two other musicians of a discipline I cannot recall at the moment, but they wer also quite good. In fact, while the dining hall we were seated in was not overly large, this singer did not need a microphone had the place been twice the size, her vioce was just so powerful. For those of you who know me, you´ll be wondering if I picked up any of their music. Well, yes...yes I did. Both, to be exact. I´ll try playing them when I get home, as the CD players in the room, in my room, did not work as well as I would have liked.

But, back to the matter at hand, Mr. Carlos. He was, honestly, one of the most delightful servers I´ve ever had the chance to have attend me during a meal. Brent, who is normally unmatched in terms of quick wit in our group or travellers, had found an equal, and dare I say, even a better. Carlos could think up retorts and jibes to any of our comments, and of course, Brent certainly had a few of his own to try and stump the gentleman. We were definitely the noisiest table throughout the evening, but by far the most satisfifed. I belive Carlos left with a smile on his face too, after he recieved our gratuities for the evening. If I could, honestly, I would remove him from the country and hire him as head waiter in any restaurant I could think of. He was certainly a high point of my trip to Cuba.

As for our second individual, Jose took on a different role. Half of our party had previous dealings with Jose, as they have been to Cuba before. He graciously acted as our official tour guide on any outings we had, and even cleared up some problems at the hotel when we needed a local tongue to add some color and urgency to our requests. He explained many of the local sights in Havana (or Habana, for those of you reading from the mother country) as well as every spot along the way. He even helped organize a deep see fishing exhibition some of our party went on. I´m not quite sure if Jose organized the Jet-ski outing, but I´ll leave that story for another time. My most memorable experience with Jose was when we were invited to his house for dinner with his family. I cannot express my deepest gratitude to Jose and his family for allowing us to come into their home and partake in a meal with them. While grandpa and grandma were quieter, not having much exposure to English, if any, the rest of the family were certainly animated enough for all of us. You know, if I were to compare it to anywhere in the world, it would have to be both Ireland and Newfoundland. Jose´s family were just, well, inviting and happy. There´s no other way to put it. They were honestly just a great and joyous group of individuals. The family unit that day consisted of:

Jose
Alina (Jose´s Wife)
Harold (Son)
Lisbey (Girlfriend of Harold)
Harley(Son)
Liliana (Girlfriend of harley)
Lucila (The cheery Grandmother)
Jose Ramon (The quiet Grandfather)
Richard (Jose´s Brother)

and

Enya (The fuzzy black dog)

With the six of our party also in the abode, it made for some rather unique seating arrangements, but we were graciously given the seats of honor at the dinner table. And the food! Oh, I´ve not eaten such food in quite some time! There were craquelins (fried pork fat and skin until crispy), white rice, black beans (beautifully salted I might add), fresh squeezed orange and papaya juices (I would have taken it all with me if I could), pineapple slices (ripened to perfection), grated carrots, cabbage, lettuce, cristal beer, tropicola (local coke), water, chocolate cake, flan (blast my new milk intolerance), and of course, the roast pork. Aside from the beer, water, and cola, everything was home made. It really brought me back to Nan´s home cooking from back home. Even my mind was screaming at me to "Eat more", while my stomach was blatantly crying out "We can´t handle any more, back off you goof!" It´s times like those, that I wish I could either take some food with me, or have multiple stomachs like certain bovine critters. If I had to give the meal, experience, and the dinner company a rating out of ten, it would most certainly ber a resounding eleven! The mean was fit for any king, queen, or discerning conniseur, and the company was very inviting in all areas. Even the home felt like a home, properly lived in and surrounded by loving individuals. Jose and Family, if any of you get a chance to come visit in Canada, I will definitely have you at my home, wherever I may be, and I know I speak for the rest of our travelling party. This includes those who could not be with us due to illness, unfortunately. I promise nothing on the cooking scene, however. I will, perhaps, need to get some lesson from Alina on that matter.

Well, aside from a few other odds and ends, this was my experience in Cuba. I will touch on the shows and sights to be seen in a later posting, as I´m sure that this blog has gone on long enough for most readers. I hope it did not feel too rushed or with a lack of flow, but I´ll try to up the standard next posting, as I should have more time and the memories will be clearer when the pictures are available for vewing.

Catch you all later,

Neal Oram

Title Shot, Round Two, Fight!

...and in the orange corner...weighing in at 156lbs...standing 5 foot 7 and one-half inches...the goof from Newf...the rook of Corner Brook...doctor 'NO' himself...NEAL ORAM!

Yes folks I'm back, large and in charge! This is officially the first post of the second round of the Wandering Newfie saga. Pretty cool, eh? And I'm starting things off right. First off, I'm in the most remote and exotic place anyone could hope to be. There are wildlife around me you wouldn't even get to see in the Amazon Rain forest. The sounds are all odd and foreign, where multiple languages seem to blossom on every street corner. They even have tunnels which allow them to traverse hills and obstacles from one part of the village to another. Yep, you guessed it, I'm in...

...Toronto!

Not quite what you were expecting, if I were to hazard a guess. But you knew I wasn't completely sane to begin with. Ha ha ha ha. Bring it on world, this is the first stop. But in all seriousness, this is not where I'll be making my first foray into the world unknown. Varadero, Cuba, will be my first choice in stomping grounds. Beaches, babes, and booze. Well, subtract the booze, and you're got my interests down pat. :P Seriously, this whole not drinking thing has its advantages sometimes, especially with a backpacker's budget. I've been eating rather well here in Toronto, during day 1.5. I had breakfast at Sora's, Lunch at A&W, and supper at a lovely Greek restaurant by the name of Penelope.

Okay, so the second one doesn't exactly go with the good food theme, but dammit I was hungry and that was the only one around that wasn't some oriental fare that I didn't know what was in it. In any case, let me describe the dining fare of Penelope for you, my dear readers, who, if hungry, will all be shaking their collective appendages at their computer screens in rather rude gestures, once they have read this next bit.

Ahem...the pre-appetizer was a delightful fresh roll of whole wheat bread with pats of butter on the side. Warmed, and moist, this went over rather well while awaiting for Dimitri, my Italian speaking 6'4 waiter, to attend on me with my next course. Fortunately, I was not to be kept waiting long. While a cold dish, the roasted red peppers, olive oil, tomatoes, cucumber, and spicy olives created a rather intriguing palate when topped with feta cheese. I swear, this dish could have been hot and it still would have gone over well. Tasty, yet not overly filling, and without a hint of lactose.

Booyah for Greek fare, I say. Booyah!

Then came the main course, a beef souvlaki kebab with tzatziki yogurt sauce. This was seared to a medium rare, served with seasoned potatoes, what appeared to be rice pilaf, and garden vegetables consisting of green and yellow beans, and a few baby carrots. The vegetables were of course tossed in olive oil, adding to their natural flavors. For those of you who have had the chance to try the Totally Greek version of souvlaki, then I must insist you do not use this as your benchmark for all greek fare. The beef was flavorful, the vegetables crisp, the rice filling, and the potatoes seasoned to perfection. And to top it all off, the dish came out piping hot! A refreshing experience to have the meals come out as they were advertised on the menu. Truly a work of a set of professionals who I simply must take my hat off too...

...and I would have if it wasn't so damn cold up here and I had more hair. Pbbbbbt!

Well then, how to recap my first two days. I've been to the Eaton Center, quite the mall if I must say so myself, and also to the CN Tower. Not a bad spot, but only a one time deal. Once you've seen it, you're seen it, if that makes any sense at all. The glass floor was nice, but they could use to replace it I figure, just to get all the scratches off it so you can really get that "Oh crap I'm over 300ft in the air and there's nothing below me" feeling. As for the rest of my times, well I spent that as most travelers of any merit do...

...wandering listlessly taking in the sights and sounds of the area, and of course gathering bearings for potential future times out. Oh, I did find out there's a movie theater nearby, and they have an iMax, and they have Avatar still playing, and its in 3D, and I'm definitely, definitely, definitely, definitely gotta go, go , go, GO , GO, GO!

This bloody spell check is driving me crazy, with its americanized spelling of er versus the re of Canada. Foolishness. And the keyboard I'm working with seems to be some international version that like to throw in accents and such ever time I try to use the quotation mark key. Hmmm, intriguing. But, moving on!

Honestly, that movie even in our dingy theaters back home in Corner Brook was amazing beyond all expectations. The realism, the story, and even the characters was just great. I can't wait to see what the spin off of this will be with regards to 3D television and 3D computer monitors and gaming. Look out Xbox and gaming fans, there might be some new systems out real soon, much to our chagrin. Frankly though, I think they'll wait a while, if they're smart, at least to get the technology to the level where they can safely replicate the effects of Avatar on a personal interactive level. The processing power would have to be monstrous. Maybe the new next-gen computers with their chaos-theory processors or organic thought processes will be able to handle the demands. Who know, I certainly don't, but at least its worth dreaming about. I'd pay $200 for a game with that kind of 3D interactivity and graphics level, no problem, It'd be a ridiculous sensations beyond anything in the last ten years.

Whew, well, then, looks like I'm back in action again. It's been a long road on the mend and getting all kinds of testing done back home, but the feeling of being back on the road is worth it. I'm actually looking at some more flights right now, for after Cuba. Perth, Australia is looking really tempting at the moment, and there's Elise to go see there and stay with, and all the creepy crawlies to flick off and shake out of my boots...

Yeah...let's think about that one a bit more.

Anyhow folks, I'm off. Catcha on the flipside, and I'll be back soon with another adventure.

Neal Oram

Sucking Air Filled With Purple Haze

Well, that would be a nice reprieve at the moment, but alas, that is not the case. Sorry 'E', no purple cloud of smoke sharing going on for you buddy. Ha ha ha.

In any case, I figured it was about time to update my blog once again, this way everyone knows that I'm not dead, incapacitated, or otherwise moved from my current hold that is Corner Brook, NL. I'll tell ya folks, the desire to just say 'To hell and back with this upcoming testing with the "butt-doctor"' and 'hello sunny skies of Barcelona', is nearing its breaking point. Luckily, I'm trying to keep myself occupied in other ways.

The fiddle is coming along. I'm about two-thirds of the way through it, but it is getting progressively more difficult as I go along. At least now I'm not killing small animals out of the air with notes coming from the 'E' string. I tell ya, getting consistent notes from that string on a cheap fiddle is an art unto itself. At least I'm re-visiting my childhood through this new instrument. Twinkle Twinkle Little Star, Old MacDonald, and Mary Had A Little Lamb are bringing back gobs of memories from days gone past. Star, Old Mac, and Mary Jane and I have been sitting down to some long remembrance sessions lately...of course Mary Jane is kept out of the loop for toxicity reasons.

Ya know, that's another thing. Here I am spouting all of these credos and battle-cry's stating I'm willing to try anything, and yet MJ and I have not been acquainted as of yet. Huh, I guess I'm a bit of a contradictory specimen then, aren't I? I guess me and 'Mister-e' may have to sit down one of these days and contemplate the meanings of the human psyche and how I have deviated from the path of supreme 'experientialism'. I think that last word doesn't exist, but, I don't really care now do I. It accurately describes my current state of being and probably will for some time now. I'm hoping I'll be staying in that state for the next upcoming trip I have planned.

January Baby!

That's the date I'll be getting prepped to kick up my heels and take the long trans-Atlantic flight to other borders and peoples...And you know what, I can't wait for the life of me. But here's a challange for those of you who are currently saying 'Man, I wish I could go do something like that.' I'm currently opening spots for people to join me on my journeys. That's right, for only $9,999.99 you too can join me in the riches of the world.

Ha ha ha, I kid about the $10k thing. That just brought back good memories of Bugs Bunny and Tweety cartoons. "You too can own this for only ninety-nine, ninety-nine, ninety-ninnneeeeeee!' Ah the fun it was on Saturday mornings. Did you know they have all that set up on Sunday Mornings now? I was shocked and appalled at the matter. How dare they effect sacrilege on the holy day that was Saturday Morning cartoons! The audacity! The horror of it all!

Ahem, back to the matters at hand.

As I said, I am opening up slots to join me for my journey upcoming in January of 2010. I currently have one maybe from miss Jillian Philpott. And the best part is, it's flexible. You can go for a week, a month, or even a year. The choice is yours. Just pick a time, find out where I am, and get your butt on a plane. In fact, just let me know where you'll be within a month prior to your departure and I'll even meet you there! how's that for a deal. Travel Buddy For Hire! Actually, it's be more accurate to say 'For Rent', as I'm basically free. But there are conditions! Oh yes, conditions there are many, hmmmmmmmm. (Put on your best Yoda voice and read that last sentence again.)

Number One, though shalt have an amazing time! No ifs, ands, or butts. Well, butts there will be a-plenty, but we'll deal with that when we get there. Spanish butts, French butts, Swedish butts...gah! Ok, no more daydreaming for me!

Number Two, though shalt not bring any more than you have two. As outlined in the backpackers code, and it is written: 'Thou shalt take half as many clothes as thy might think thy needs and twice as much money.' So states the code, so shall it be!

Number Three, bring no preconcieved notions. Notice how I didn't say plans there. You can have plans, but no notions. Be open to the experience, and you'll have an amazing time. This being said, it also leads to some less than desirable situations so that brings us to...

Number Four, be flexible! Change with the days, the availability of transportation, and even events that are going on. Roll with the punches, baby, and we'll get along famously!

Right, that's about it for my rules, well, at least the top four. I really do wish though that anyone reading this blog would get in touch, plan a trip, and meet me somewhere. Imagine the stories you could tell later! What would your NL or Canada bound friends and family look like when they found out what you had gone and done? I'm pretty sure they'd look like a really big goldfish out of water...with very human features of course. :P So come on, join the fun!

Alright, now back to how I've been keeping myself sane. I've bought an XBOX 360 Elite. Yep, I did, I went and got it. Am I regretting it...sometimes the money is hard to deal without. But on the plus side, my sanity is more intact than it would have been at this time without it. Oh how I missed gaming. Ah, it is nice. Kind of a weird combination though, eh? I run for 12k and then come back and hit the games. Hah! Who says gamers can't be fit! Pbbbbbbbttttttttt! I've also bought a few great CD's.The new CD's by Three Days Grace, Billy Talent, Nickelback, and one by Jeff Healey. Well, if you know your blind guitar players, Jeff Healey is long gone by now, but his music is still amazing. The rest of the albums are currently getting lots of play time on the computer, XBOX, car, stereo, etc.

On that note, I washed, waked, and detailed my car today! I'm so proud, but if it wasn't for Mom's nagging I wouldn't have done it. Thank you Mommy! ;)

Also, I'm churning through the third book in the Shadows of the Apt series by Adrian Tchaichovsky. Amazing series, amazing writer, amazing concepts. Go get it! If you're a fantasy lover at all, you have to own these books. I think it's set up for another book after this one, and I'm hoping for another TEN THOUSAND!...but I digress, cough, excuse me. Ha ha ha. If you do get to read the series, you'll know what I mean when I say Mantis Kinden Rock my Cotton Socks! Kudos goes out to Dot Gardner for the Cotton Socks. Loves ya Dot!

My final piece of business goes to something only one week old. I am taking a course from i-to-i learning (http://www.onlinetefl.com/) for TEFL, or Teaching English as a Foreign Language. Once I'm done, I should be able to teach the bastard language that is English anywhere in the world. I'll tell ya, I could spend an entire blog just talking about how messed up our language is. I mean, I thought French was hard, at least they have forms and ways of writing and speaking. We've got nothing, or so it seems. I really do take for granted being an English speaking native. For all of those I have met that took up English as a second language later in life and have mastered it, my hat comes off to you! You deserve all the praise in the world. A week I've been at it, and I'm still not through the grammar section. Gah!. What the hell! Shouldn't a native speaker and writer be able to understand all of this (or so I thought)? NO! Of course not!. If I pass this, I promise to be ever so patient with anyone I have the honor to teach. I'll make the Dalai Lama look like one of the jacked up angry soldiers from Gears of War. Did you know he has a website, the Dalai Lama? I didn't know that either until I checked the spelling just now. Huh, fancy that. (http://www.dalailama.com/) Who says spiritual leaders can't be up on the technology. Way to go DL! Yes, he gets a nickname now, since he's cool!

Later days blog fans, I'm outta here for now. Keep me posted on what's on the go.

Neal

Homeward bound...by bugs and such.

Ladies and gentlemen, I apologize for the long delay in my blog posting. I do, however, now have some more news for you.

I am back home in Corner Brook, Newfoundland, for the time being. Why? Well, the reason is in the title...

Bugs!

Well, at least we think it's a bug. While I was travelling I spent six weeks with constant movements of the bowels. Quite the opposite of constipation, and rather frequent as well. So, luckily, my medical insurance provider saw fit to send me home to get it all checked out before I continue my journeys. I'm now glad I bought that insurance. Whew, saved me a lot of fuss in the end. But there is a downside to all of this wonderful doctoring I'm about to recieve. The reason is also in the title...

Home!

As much as I love my home in Newfoundland, well, let me put it this way. Have you ever come off the highway at 110 kmph into a sudden city zone where you're forced to go 50kmph or less? Right, well that feeling of impatience, lethargy, and utter disinterest, is exactly what I'm feeling. I've even gone so far as to buy a fiddle and sign up for boxing lessons, just to keep me occupied. I think tomorrow I will have to be checking with the golks down at Colemans to maybe get some work. No time like the present to top up the coffers.

Still, after being on the road, sdoing my own thing, and finally getting my life back in check, it's a shame to stuck again. But this will not be settling me for very long. As soon as the doctors give me the go-ahead, I'll be on the next plane to...well...wherever I want actually! Ha ha ha.

Well, at least now I have some time to re-group, re-pack, and actually do some writing for enjoyment. And maybe even go through my pictures and videos and label them...as much as it pains me to do so. Ugh!

I leave you for now, but when I have some more news, especially news of my returning to the travel scene, I will let you all know, right here.

Later days,

Ultimatum Made

Alright, you know you've got a fan, albeit your mother, when SHE makes an ultimatum regarding your blog. And when your mother speaks, you listen...or at least pretend to listen and...ah he he he, shutting up now Mom. I'm sure I'm getting her to glare at the screen now. :P Whew. Well, mom, here ya go. Oh, and by the time this is up there should be some pictures, and maybe videos up as well. Enjoy!

Well then, where to begin. I've seen a lot, experienced much, and now I get to use my (heavily practiced these days) liguistics skills pertaining to the written word. I have even found the time to do some writing for myself, fiction, as it were. If you haven't heard of it, it's called fanfiction. In essence it involved using an existing universe of characters and places in order to write your own story, thereby allowing the writer to focus on the story and play with their creativity. If you have the talent and wherewithal, try looking for my stories. If you can find them, you get $50 of my own hard-earned money. If you like them, I'll buy you a beer too. If you hate them, well, who asked you anyway! Oh, I did, well then...bugger off you! Here's a start for finding them, FanFiction.net.

Down to the task at hand, the dirty business, the reason why I'm spending £2 an hour to stare at a screen and listen to awesome music. Speaking of which, if you get the chance to come over here and you have access to a computer, get online with Spotify. It's gotta be the latest and greatest thing I've ever seen. It's basically like itunes, except completely free and great quality for streaming music. Amazing! Unfortunately it's not yet legal in Canada, but I'm told there are ways around that. I won't be trying it, as I'm in the legal zone now. Ha ha ha ha ha. Bogger on you all. I hear natterings that they're trying to move to Canada now, but we'll see how that goes. As well, it might be available for the google version of the iphone soon, as itunes rejected it. He he he, wonder why? Thousand Foot Krutch is the band of the minute for me on Spotify. Their new Album and Single, absolutely awesome! In any case, time to consult the almighty journal and picture albums and see what I've missed.

Okay, so we've gone past Wild and Sexy Scotland tours and Hairy Coo's, what next. Well, I did spend some more time in Edinburgh, then it was off to Glasgow for a few days. Glasgow, Glasgow, Glasgow. Backing up for a moment, Tony, the tour guide from Haggis Tours and Wild and Sexy Scotland is from Glasgow, so he may not want to read this. Unfortunately, I don't have much good to say about Glasgow, other than its people are friendly, just like the majority of Scotland I experiencd. The city was, definitely a city. Dirty, smelly, and generally crowded is the definite word. I won't dwell on that though, and I will spin some tales of my 2 or 3 days in the city center. The first tale is that of a set of buskers. Now, these lads were probably close to my age, not much more, and definitely not much less. They were dressed very smartly in Kilts, traditional white shirts, and some skate sneakers. Okay, so they weren't comletely traditional, but you get the idea. In any case, they were kitted out to play some good marching music. Sanre, bass, and a set of pipes. In their credit, they were excellent. I actually gave them a half pound piece I had in my pcket at the time, one of the few times I actually had some coin on me. So, the first time I saw them was earlier in the morning when they were first getting set up and moving along. So I trolled along through the day, touring the dirrrrrty (roll your r's like Sean Connery) city and generally getting a feel for what Glasgow is all about. Ooh, as another aside, I got some new shoes. North face, bright toxic yellow and green. Awesome! They're wicket trail runners, and a bit slick on polished wet surfaces, but then again, what shoe isn't. Back to the story. I made my way back to that street full of buskers later in the day, and I heard the lads at it in full force. The bass drummer was swinging away, doing those little acrobatics with the sticks you see in marching bands. His sticks were covered in huge fuzzy puffs, I'm guessing to dull the noise. The snare was doing his thing too, a kevlar top creating that distinct marching snare sound. It's one of those sounds that can penetrate anything, anywhere, at any time, 'nuff said. Then there was the middleman, the highland piper. This lad was not slowing down for nothin' and no one. His fingers were a blur as he made his way through several pieces of music, though finishing rather abruptly as I sat down on a step from where the crowd had gathered in order to fix my pack and maybe do some journal writing. Strangely, I heard a commotion coming from within the crowd, so I scooped up my bag and headed for a look. Well, i must have gotten there late, because all I saw was two blokes walking off, jeering to each other, and the drummer (snare) and piper putting down their stuff saying stuff like "Real funny there guys." I have no idea what the two guys in their track suits did to piss these Scottish buskers off, but they certainly made a mistake by picking these three, well, two in particular, but that will be explained in due time. So, the antagonist chaps walked off around a corner, still jeering, and the two that had put down their instruments walked back and forth between looking around the corner and gestulating at the two and back to where their mate and teh crowd was. Eventually, they must have come to a decision and they went off after the two guys. I was then treated to a Scotland brawl. Long story short, the guys in Kilts beat the hell out of the two buggers causing the trouble. They definitely lived up to their name of the Ladies from Hell (I'll touch on this after). Though I didn't see the whole fight, you may wonder why I can safely say the two in Kilts beat the piss out of the two in track suits. The reason is two fold. One, the guys in track suits fled after about 30 seconds into the scrum. Two, the guys in Kilts came back with minimal bruising, and no blood. Now there's a lesson to be learned from this, ladies and gentlemen. The fact is, don't mess with the Ladies from Hell.

Now I referenced that I would touch on the Ladies from Hell comment I made, and so I will. Back in the days of Scotland when battles were still fought with broadswords and you only owned one Kilt for all your duties, there were battles upon battles, countless scrums if you will. I won't try to recall the exact story Tony gave us, but it went along these lines. A group of Spaniards, if I'm not mistaken, were moving into a territory in the Highlands. Now, the highlands of Scotland had been left to their own devices for hundreds if now thousands of years prior to missionaries and the like moving in and trying to take over, often by force. English, Spaniards, and other forces were at work in these battles of supremavy. In any case, during one of these battles, the Spaniards were at the bottom of this ravine, preparing to do battle with whoever, or perhaps they were marching. The key to remember here is that the Highlanders were one of the first in their era to use Guerilla Warfare. So the Highlanders come running down through the trees, yelling and screaming, weilding weapons of mass destruction (two-handed broadswords), ready to send anyone to meet their chosen Gods. Here's some pieces of into to make the picture more vivid. The broadswords were weilded above their heads, twirled around and around in a maelstrom of fury. They were so long that they were only good for the first incursion of troops and then were dropped for favor of shorter weapons or other tactics involving the broadswords. Also, these highlanders came through the trees, so they were not only hard to see, but hard to target until the last minute as they burst out and kicked your pasty white butt back to where you came from. just to top it all off, they were half naked from the waist up, and tattooed everywhere. So your picture now includes several hundred hairy, smelly, screaming, half-naked, kilted, tattooed men weilding weapons of mass-destruction running through the trees down over a hill towards you to cut you down. Oh, and need I mention that they were hopped up on some ancient drink they called the Elixir of Life (alchohol, home brewed) and more than likely some drugs, probably mushrooms if I remember correctly. Now that is definitely a reason to be called Ladies from Hell, and if it isn't, I don't know what is.

Here's a pause in the running commentary we call my blog. Go grab a drink, stretch out the kinks, and download or stream the song Jingle Bell Rock by Thousand Foot Krutch. This is an awesome version of the song, and definitely one I could see being used in a remake of the Muppet Family Christmas. Picture Animal and the rest of the band rocking out to this tune. Booyah! Ha ha ha ha, ahem, right, onwards we move.

Well then, next bit I suppose. While still in Glasgow, I spent my last night out touring around to see what kind of clubs I experience. I visited one area of town with some student bards, and me without my student ID, couldn't get in. But, unfazed, I moved on up and down the roads in search of the ultimate party. There were a few promising prospects, though they turned to dust when I reached them. Live bands that night sucked (at least in the areas I was haunting) and other clubs I was just, well, dissapointed with the clintele, and thus decided not to stay. But, there were two experiences that saved my night in and of themselves. The first being between myself and two lovely, long-legged ladies outside a haunt they wisely advised me not to attend. They represented a tobbacco company, of whos name I will not mention as I abhore smoking and I won't market it without some form of significant payment. Sorry guys, ha ha ha. In any case, they were standing in these form-fitted three piece suits and fancy hats, think really hot mobsters, with white umbrellas in hand. Now, that being curious enough, the umbrellas had written on them "We will keep you warm and dry." Well, at first I was thinking, this could be some rather questionable company, but there's no harm in striking up a conversation. besides, what did I have to lose? So I approached the two ladies with a smile on my face (how could you do anything but) and proceeded to ask them in very eloquent terms, 'What the hell are you two doing out here?' They were only too happy to fill me in about what they were doing and that it was some sort of marketing campaign for this tobbacco company they represented. I think they were also thankful for some more intelligent conversation, as judging by the patrons outside the bar and walking by that night, intelligence may have been somewhat lacking in large quantities. Now, they recommended me to two other bars, one of which I tried and was dissapointed with, the other didn't open until much later and had a different feel to it, so I didn't bother. So, excusing myself from their presence and bidding them a goodnight, I proceeded to see what other trouble I could get myself into in Glasgow at night. Aside from seeing a series of Police vans patrolling, and arresting some poor sould in some cases, there was not much that struck my eye. Of course, that is ignoring the fact that my head was on a swivel with most of the women around wearing not much more than most should wear to bed. Florescent colors assaulted my vision left and right, so who was I not to be drawn to the...um...colors.

So, I did say I had an amazing time that night, and thusfar I have not delivered with a satisfactory explanation. So here's the explanation, and it comes in the form of a bar by the name of Jumpin Jaks. Now, the thing to remember is that this place has got to be the wildest multi-theme bar I've yet to have been privy to attending. The open floor was enormous, a large projection screen for showing music videos as songs were played, a dedicated DJ and MC for the night, a stage for events and live performances by the bar's local girl squad, and a bar that could take any number of drink orders at any given time. Oh, and an interesting point, they had this cool little contraption rigged up, fake of course, above the bar. It was an ACME distillery, and if definitely looked like something Wile E. Coyote would have used in the Roadrunner cartoons. Definitely, a place to go if you're in glasgow. Oh, and they even had singalongs to songs, with lyrics put up on the screen. Absolutely rediculous place. I've got some videos, but I'll have to upload those another time, or maybe if I get time now I will. We'll see.

Okay, now that I have some videos and pictures uploading, I can now concentrate more on the blog. But actually, I'm done for today at the moment, so I will leave you with this piece of a Irish poem. Funny I should be doing that considering I'm in Scotland eh? I'm sure you've all heard it before, but it is really a great piece:

"May the road rise up to meet you,
May the wind be always at your back.
May the sun shine warm upon your face
and the rain fall softly on your fields.
And until we meet again,
May God hold you in the palm of his hand."

Substitute what you will for God; Buddah, Allah, or even Loki will do. :P I'll catch you all on the flipside bloggers. Later days,

Neal, the Wandering Newfie Himself

Last minute quiz, for 2,000 points: What tv show is 'Later Days' coined from. A tip, it's a cartoon.