Surfs Up Dudes and Dudettes!

Alright, now we're getting somewhere!

Yes, yes, I know I haven't caught up on some of the blogs yet, but you can all kiss my pasty white bottom! I'll get to it over the next few days, as I've laid out to do. Frankly, I think I might only have the energy for that for the next few days anyhow.

The reason? Why do I need a reason? I don't need a reason to be tired. Heck, it's not like I'm extremely energetic all the time and put most ADHD sufferers to shame...

...Ok, so I guess a reason might allay your fear the world as you know it is going to end in a blaze of glory. Actually, the reason is quite simple, but extremely exciting.

I went Surfing! And of course, I couldn't leave it at just surfing, so I signed up for a camp over two days! 5 hours a day in the water for two days, BBQ, and crazy amounts of sun and trying to scrub salt out of my non-existent hair.

Right then, to business. Day one started off as any other day really, except for a few tiny facts:

1. The bus left at 6:40AM.
2. This meant I had to get the train at 5:40AM.
3. This meant I had to walk 25 minutes to get to the train station.
4. This meant I had to leave the house at about 5:00AM.
5. This resulted in me having to be awake at 4:30AM...on a SATURDAY MORNING!

Good grief, to be completely honest, it feels like I've been away for 4 or five days, not just the two I've been gone. Actually, considering the time, its really only been about 36 hours from departure to arrival back in Perth. Strange, the whole time frame thing, isn't it?

I mean, haven't you had days or weeks like that where time just goes by either faster or slower than what you originally deemed possible? One of those rare Saturdays or Sundays where you just have nothing to, lying back on a bean bag chair, naked, eating Cheetos. No? Then you just haven't lived! Kudos to Ron White for that joke. Or how about long school days where time just oozes on excruciatingly slow no matter what you do to try and amuse yourself. So I pose the question again, what is it that makes these types of days appear to move so much slower or faster? And I know its just not me, more people experience days similar to ourselves. I've asked friends on those slow days,

"Does this day feel slow to you?"

And the answer is very often yes! So what can we establish here due to these conditions? Well, we already know that time moves at a uniform rate, or maybe not, depending on what experts in the field would tell you, but for now we'll keep it simple. And we also know that...ummmmmm...that I've lost my train of thought and will be abandoning this temporal subject with all due haste. See how logical that was?

A-heh heh!

Ahem!

How about something that makes a little more sense, a description of what went on during the two days of sun, sand, and surf. The group I went with was called simply Surf School. They're based out of Perth, and if you can believe it, their website is www.surfschool.com. Fascinating, eh? In any case, showing up a the bus stop was relatively easy enough, jsut had to wake up earlier than I would have liked for any amount of money or other incentives. After that, it was the waiting game until our coach and transporter, Raphael, arrived in the big 'ol van we would be riding in. There were five of us total, excluding Raph, and so off we went, watching a great surfing video all the while. I think it was a bit dated, but still a great video showing off not only some great surfers but also some great surf spots across the world.

After a good hour and a half or so, we all arrived at the beach in Lancelin. Now, it should be noted that, while the surf is definitely good, with while sandy beaches, no rocks, no creepy critters around, and of course, plenty of sun, Lancelin beach is known for something slightly different than surfing. Apparently, according to our instructor/driver/chef, Raphael, Lancelin beach is know the world over for wind surfing; and I would hazard a guess that it's known for kite boarding as well, given we saw a good few of them out on the water both days we were learning. The wind was reminicient of something you would get back home in Newfoundland, always blowing and always strong enough to screw with whatever else you were trying to do at the time, like hanging out laundry, or painting, or trying to run your surf board out to the deeper parts of the waves. I'll be damned if I didn't look like a complete fool sometimes trying to flip the board around without having it flip over or flip me around in the process. That is, until I got the swing of things. Then it just came naturally, as naturally as flipping an eight foot piece of foam around in the wind and waves can be.

Skipping all the boring instruction stuff, it was amazing though how relatively easy the concept was, and yet how entirely copmlex it is. I can really only liken it to running. On the surface, running is not all that complex. Put one foot in front of the other, repeat as necessary, then pick up the pace until your start leaving the ground with both feet at one time. Congratulations, you're running. But to run well, now that is definitely a different matter, and so is surfing well. To get up and stand on the board, almost anyone can do that, and even ride a decent wave into shore, that can be accomplished in two of three days. Turning slightly can even be accomplished if you've got the pre-requisite balance and concentration. But to really surf well, to read the waves, take your chances with one of your choosing, and ride the wave so you're parallel to the surf and beach, now that really takes some skills.

It was pretty cool when we got there. There was actually an under 18 surf competition going on during our first day of surinfg. Not only was it really impressive to see these kids a lot younger than us surfing really well, but it was cool to see that it could be done, and surf even of such relatively small sizes could be surfed properly. I'm not sure who won each category, but it looked like they were having a blast. Running out into the surf, trying to catch the best waves in the time limit, and then racing back out of the water to see who won each round, and of course repeating as necessary. I think they even had a bit of a barbeque area set up for the surfers. God, about half way through the day when we were given some sandwiches to munch on, what I wouldn't have given to have had access to a barbeque. I did find out two things though, during that point. One, is that salt water takes more fluids out of you than I ever thought possible. I must have went through well over three litres of water that first 4 hours on the beach. Of course, you're supposed to drink more than that normally, but I never do so that was really a record for me. And to top it all off, I still wanted more! Fancy that, eh? The second bit, is that I don't like beets in sandwiches. For our first meal on the beach, Raphael had picked us up some random sandwiches made at one of the local gas stations. Unfortunately for me, they were all the same, and all had beets in them. The first bite made me realize that some vegetables just aren't meant to go together. I hope the gulls could eat them when covered in sand.

But I gotta say, as much as the next day was full of progress and great times and sleep on the way back on the bus (and much better sandwiches), the point that sticks out was our party/barbeque the night before. Raphael brought us down to some little bar or community building in Lancelin whiere we played a few games of darts (which I have found out I such at), and mini pool (also much suckiness by me). But the real noteworthy piece to this evening had to be the meal at the end. Raphael cooked up a vertible feast of sausages, steak, salad, breads, drinks, and of course some condiments. A lot of the cutlery and sauces were proveided by the bar we were at, so that was cool. I tell ya though, for such a small group of pretty small people, we put away some serious grub that night. I think I must have gone through two and a half steaks, and abobut 6 sausages int he meat department. Then there was probably four or five slives of bread, probably a liter of water to drink, and of course some of the salad. My good gracious was that ever good after basically starving that day. I swear, next time I go surfing, I'm bringing a lot more food and a hell of a lot more water, and zinc cream, definitely zinc cream. Although I got burned, the zinc cream helped loads in saving my ass from eternal peely-ness.

Whew, alright then, that's the surf adventure. Not much else to it. As a side note though, everyone who reads this is hereby decreed by order of Neal Oram then First to go see How to Train Your Dragon in 3D this very instant! Great movie, lots of fun, and definitely one you can just turn your mind off during.

Alright, I'm off again, later days.

Neal

Backtracking Just A Little

So it looks like I forgot to put in my blog posting for Barcelona, Spain. A pity that! I was doing so well so far with keeping the chronological order of my blogs. I guess screwing up once or twice is alright. God it's hot in Australia this time of year. Maybe I should ship off to the South East coast where they actually get snow? Ha ha ha, but then I wouldn't be able to catch up with Elise, so I think I'll be staying here for a while. Oh, and I must remind myself to print off some resume's in the next little while. I think I'll wait till at least monday to take care of all that jazz, so I can be better shaved, dressed, and all that before I start dropping in on people.

Right then, well, as I said, Barcelona! Great city! Cold as all heck! Didn't try the food. End of story!

Would you guys really let me get away with that?

I didn't think so either. So, let's get down to business then, shall we?

Observations are usually a good place to start off, so I think traffic laws should be a logical place to begin. Have you ever noticed that the bigger the city, the less traffic laws there appear to be? Yeah, I noticed that too. It was especially prevalent in barcelona. While cars and vehicles of all shapes and sizes did go t he correct directions on the roads, that's about the extent of order in Barcelona. There are cars, bikes, scooters, and all sorts of motorized vehicular creations basically going where they want, when they want. There's just no order to it. In a couple of cases, it seemed to me that four or five people just cruised on through the red lights, no problem there. And of course, where are the police at these times? Of course, they're reigning in the drunks at night and are invisible during the day. Maybe they're night cops only? Hmmmm, go figure.

Of course, I kid. But in all seriousness, check that out next time you go toa big city center. The larger it is, chances are the more offenders you'll get. I can't even imagine what the drinving is like in Thailand or even India for that matter. And I just thought of something else as well? Maybe it's the two extremes that cause this phenomena; the very large and the very small. In smaller towns, and being from Newfoundland I've seen my share, the same condition applys. Of course, at least in the small towns there are lower speeds and so the chances of serious accidents are lower as well. But what is really safer? In Stephenville, or almost any small town in Newfoundland, if you even stand on the side of the road, someone will stop for you. End of story, no questions asked. Now go with that, and flip it 180 degrees to a large city where no one stops for you unless you're at the cross walk and have pressed the button. On the one hand, you have courteous people driving so slowly that they'll probably not get into an accident anyways. On the other, you have the crazy speeds most large city drivers attempt to keep up with, but it forces pedestrians to follow the road laws. So I pose this question again, which is the better option?

I'm probably a bit biased, but I personally like the way the big cities operate. The reason? That's because it's predictable. If you think about it logically, you can see my reasoning. In a small city, you never know what cars are going to do. They might stop for you, they might not, and there might be Joe Redneck hurtling along and crash into the car that stopped. Frankly, ending up as another statistic is not on my list of things to do. But in a larger city, you can rely on a bunch of things. First, you will be run over if you step out into the road away from a crosswalk. End of story, well, unless you cross when the road is completely empty. Everyone is moving at such a pace to keep up with the fast pace-setters and speed demons, that most of the time they wouldn't be able to stop anyways. As well, the roadways, traffic lights, and stopping areas are well marked. In smaller cities, the roads are not as well maintained and cross-walks and stop signs sometimes don't exist. At the wrong time, you could get a non-local who doesn't know the signs or even a local who just forgets. Trust me, I've done it sometimes myself. Finally, there are just so many people that most drivers are going to stop anyhow. Unless, of course, they're going for the high score in the driving game. Then, you're pretty much screwed and you all end up on the evening national news. Fun times!

So there, that's my thoughts on the subject. Take it, leave it, or reply to it, pick one!

Right then, what I saw in Barcelona. I guess that's probably what you'd be looking for now in a travel blog. I know I would. Okay, so I guess I'll start with one of the more interesting areas, and of course touristy, of La Ramblas (LR). LR is the main shopping/market street in Barcelona. At any given time you can take in street performers, living statues, trinket shopping, as well as live animal purchases. Yeah, I said it. Live animals. Basically, they have stalls, out on the sidewalk, and sell everything from chickens, to hamsters, and right on back up to parakeets and rabbits. It's quite the show, actually. If you go out earlier in the morning, you can watch them all set up. I think I heard a goat at one point, but I could be wrong. At least they're not butchering them on the spot and all that jazz. That would just be, well, not wrong, I guess. Just different I suppose. Maybe when I go to China I'll see that in some of the outskirt areas. But, not so much in Barcelona. In any case, bottom line is, the LR strip is a real cool place to start off with.

Cut. Paste. Moving on!

Oh, I did get to see the FC Barcelona Football Stadium. The outside of it anyways. It cost money to get the tour, and I figured, I've already seen the Manchester United stadium so there can't be that much difference. Um, yeah, that's really about all I have to say on that topic.

The Magic Fountain!

Sound like a good name for a book doesn't it? And no, I didn't discover the fountain of youth or anything like that. It's actually just a big fountain with motorized jets that get set to music almost every night of the week. I think it might even happen every night. In any case, it's definitely something everyone needs to see once...and only once. Frankly, there's a lot more hype to it as a tourist attraction than there should be, but at least then it gets people in to see it. It's free, and set right below a really cool looking museum on top of a hill. I never went in though. Brent, you're probably cursing on me now for not visiting all the museums and such stuff. But come on man, those things take ages to get through, and of course, money I don't have! Maybe I'll get to the one here in Perth. I think it's free, so I'll take a day sometimes int he next week or so and get there. But back to the point at hand, the fountain is really quite a piece of engineering and colors, even if the music is all crap and not syncronized at all. The hues they manage to get from the jets of water and mist are fantastic when mised with the lighting. On a warm night, I can see why so many people pack ther area. Actually, as cold as it was, the place was still packed. I guess it's a must-see for tourists.

The Aquarium in Barcelona, unfortunately, I didn't get to see. But, as it was over 20 Euro to get in, I think I have a valid point as a backpacker. Apparently it's quite the spot to see, according to some other travel and blog sites I looked at. Maybe next time. Oh, but while I was down on the waterfront area, I did see something rather remarkable regarding to water. Ships, sailing ships to be precise. Hundreds, maybe even thousands of them all lined up in rows upon rows along the marinas. There were also yahts, rowboats, replica sailing ships (the big ones), and even the occassional tourist fishing vessel type thingy. A tour boat, I guess, is the words I'm looking for. There was even a nice beach in the area. Unfortunately, being so cold, I definitely wouldn't have been able to go swimming and all that jazz. There were some surfers out though. Man, I can't figure out how cold that would've been.

Now, ther was also this really cool church. Apparently, it's been on the build for a long time, and it's not going to be completed for another 30 to 50 years of something ridiculous like that. The pictures will be able to show you what it's all about.

But there was one really random moment when I was around, I think Poble Espanyol or Sagrada Familia, I can't remember which. In any case, I was trying to find the landmark I had travelled there to go see, when lowe and behold there was an escalator, right there between two buildings. To top it all off, it was in a residential district, with no shops or major attractions nearby, and it spanned over 150 steps that ran along side it up the hill. It was really, really weird. I mean, that's like having an escalator going up from O'Connel Drive to the Arts and Culture Center back home. It's just plain weird. And there were no covers or anything. So what happend when it rains? Wouldn't the mechanics inside get all messed up? Meh, in any case, I got pictures, so check it out!

Oh, and here's something else. Down on the waterfront, there's a little mall built on a pier or small island of land or something like that. In any case, inside this little shopping strip there's actually a Native American store. Seriously! There's pictures of guys in the feather headdresses and the works. There's even 'tribal' or 'native' jewelry. Yeah, right! Maybe loosely inspired, but certainly not Native. Trust me, I've seen Native back home. But I guess, maybe this is considered foreign and exotic to Spaniards. Kinda weird, though, to see stuff from our own history being used in a retail shop like that. Maybe that's what the Japanses feel like when they go to shops in America that are supposedly Japanese Themed? Another thought.

I'll finish off with a description of the concert I went to and the lovely Helen Miller that went with me. I should introduce her first, right? Ms Helen Miller, from the Lake of Constance area in southern Germany. I met Helen at the hostel I stayed at in Barcelona, the Albareda Youth Hostel. Actually, as a side note, this spot is really great. Even the owners would come down and chill out with the guests. The old man there was really funny too. As soon as he found out some of us could play guitar he would ask for us to play and he would sit and listen. Huh, fancy that? I wish he had his instrument there with him, apparently is some kind of Spanish traditional instrument, but much like a guitar of sorts. It would have been cool to hear him play as well. In any case, back Helen. Yeah, she's a sailor, runner, hiker, climber, and basically all-round crazy chick! Awesomely cool, though. But yeah, we went off to the Spanish Guitar concert that was advertised. I foget the performer's name, but damn was he ever good. Apparently he studied at some super-prestegious music school and is now a nationally and internationally known performed. I bought his CD afterwards as well. The venue was quite cool as well, set in a tiny old church with everyone just packed in. I gotta say though, the coolest part was getting to hear what a true classical guitar player can do. he actually gave out a history lesson while he went and played songs from the different eras, baroque, rennaisance, modern, and one other. But the truly astonishing part of it was the projection of sound. There were no microphones, no amps, nothing to get in the way. And yet, he projected both the guitars sound, and the sound of his voice in one piece, through the whole church. Mind you , it was small, but the ceilings were cathedral style and the walls all stone. Truly a marvel of both the player and the makers of the different guitars he played. Check out the song Granada, if you can, as its now my new favorite piece. (Since I found out that its the name of a piece I heard before but just never knew what to look for.)

Alright, I'm done now. Enough typing for the day. Time to chill out and wait for Elise to call me o I can set up shop in her place.

Later days,

Neal

Oh, and I'm actually looking at some ideas to write a book now. It's fleshing out rather well, actually. I'll let you know when I have a test chapter written up. Adios!

Right then, that's really about it.


Guitar concert, Granada, Tango in the sky.

Helen Miller.

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