Finis

Back home. And boy, is it crappy outside!

That said, it feels great to be back, sitting in Brooklyn. My DVR is full of stuff to watch. I can function again without having to point. I know what the coffee will taste like. I've got tons of emails I can finally write. I know the tap water is fine. I know exactly where I'll be sleeping for the next several weeks. I've got the public transport system down pat.

The beer is $5 again, though.

And I know throughout the next few weeks, the little differences between here and there will bother me again. Why don't the trains run on time? Why don't we have beautiful pubs in cellars? Why is our money so monotone? Why can't I get garlic beer snacks? Why doesn't someone come to my room everyday and give me clean towels and make my bed? Why aren't I hearing "Don't Cha?" every 5 minutes?

(OK, that last one may not be a problem....)

It was definitely eye opening. Here is what I've learned:

• Poland: Who needs it?
• Czech university towns: God's gift to mankind.
• Albert Maysles is very smart man.
• I look like a famous Finnish F-1 racecar driver.
• Warsaw baggage handlers: you are not my friends.
• "I don't go to those bars anymore...too many middle school kids."
• Tallinn = Cold, Vana Tallin = Warm
• UNESCO gives away World Heritage status the way I give parentheticals.
• If your culture can make a good beer and a good mojito, you can do anything.
• Marko Ramius looked nothing like anyone I saw in Vilnius.
• Communism - 98% Bad Architecture!
• I regret having not seen the film.

and finally...

• I like traveling alone only about 23% of the time.

So next time, each and every one of you are coming along for the ride. Seriously.

That's all folks. Thanks for reading, and thanks for all your comments and emails on the road. They really made my day every time I heard from you.

'Til next time,

gg

It is an insult...

...to the Earl of Sandwich's name and legacy when BA gives you two pieces of grainy bread and a slice of cheddar and calls it a "Sandwich".

No! It's "uncooked cheese bread". Or it's "untoasted toast". Or it's "bread with cheese instead of jam". It is NOT a Sandwich.

Limey Excitement

So, back to London.

I rode the Stansted Express back to Liverpool Street Station. I sat on the same side of the train as I did going to Stansted 2 weeks ago, facing backwards...so it seemed like life was going in reverse pulling me back to English speaking civilization.

And, why don't we have train sheds in the US? Once you're in a train shed, you know you're in Europe. Maybe that's why we don't have them in the States -- to keep us grounded.

I decided to do something I'd wanted to do my first night in London -- go see a show in the West End. So I went to the TKTS booth and got a 25£ ticket to Death of a Salesman with Brian Dennehey. (I thought it odd that the half price ticket booth was called TKTS, just like in New York. Is this some sort of worldwide code? Spell tickets with no vowels and it means they're half price? In France, is there a BLLTS booth in Paris?)

Then I went to get some money -- 1500 EEK actually turns into a piddling little pile of Pounds Sterling when given to the money changers -- so I needed a bit more. Luckily, there was a Citibank branch right across from my hotel. Go in...and realize...I think...I've left my ATM card somewhere in Estonia (probably in the machine I took out all those EEKs to buy my pimp coat).

I don't think I've ever been so lucky. Where is a better possible place in the world to realize you've lost your Citibank card than in a Citibank office (in Queen's English speaking London)? So what could have turned into trauma was rather a low key affair. Within 3 minutes, I was in the phone with the US lost card office, found out there was no debit purchases made, and began the process of getting a new card.

The show was pretty good. I've read Salesman and I think I watched the movie in Dr. Bunting's class. (Right, guys?) But I'd never seen it performed...it was pretty brutal. Dennehey was good, but whoever played Mrs. Lomen was excellent. She stole every scene she was in. (They wanted 3£ for the Playbill, so I have no idea who the other actors were.) Some of the staging was a little shmaltzy, but I remember it being written in a such a way that it's hard no to block it that way. Of course, if I was directing, and I had a double-platformed, counter-rotating stage, I'd probably go off the deep end, too.

Afterwards, I was psyched up for this conveyor-belt sushi place I'd passed, but it was closed. So, I finally caved, and had Pizza Hut by the slice in Liecaster Square -- my first pseudo American food in 14 days...and that's OK by me.

A mere 14 days ago...

Back in the beginning, I said that one of my missions was to "test the Eastern European internet infrastructure."

What a joke. It's 1 AM and I just watched the iPod/iTunes special event streamed from Cupertino, California with less dropped frames than had I watched it in Brooklyn.

Viva La Estonia! Viva La Internet!

A Brief Remark

Vana Tallinn, the official liqueur of Tallinn is very good, especially when mixed with coffee and two sugar cubes.

Watching England kick Poland's ass in futbol is very good, too, since I now hate Poland with a passion.

Having a Scotsman explain the offsides rule using my beer snacks as defenders is really the icing on the cake.

A note about this blog's bias

I never claimed to be impartial. I've made a great deal of fun of those who, during a certain period of the 20th Century, believed in a certain system of government. Especially those who, during the course of their rule, built certain "architectural monstrosities." My scorn has been constant and unrelenting.

Let me say, however, I am not unswayable.



Those Commies can build a damn nice movie theater.

(Note: Supersize Me is playing, but I've managed to cover Morgan Spurlock's face with a lamppost.)

Tallinn En Vivo

Climbed the tower to (what I think is) the highest point in town. These two pictures are in opposite direction. NB - I made a taxi driver very mad by refering to that large body of water as "the ocean".

No! "It is The Gulf of Finland".

I would understand (a little) his anger if it was called the Gulf of Estonia...but as far as I'm concerned, it's salt water...it's the ocean.

(One of those rooflines in the lower picture is actually my hotel.)



Beautiful Russian Orthodox church. Tallinn is much less about churches than Vilnius. Tallinn has a rather large old town, with an "upper town" on a hill surrounded by walls, with a "lower town" beneath it, also surrounded by walls. It has many of those winding, narrow cobble stoned streets I love so much....but I didn't shoot any really good street scenes, so you just get another pretty church.



My one complaint was that Tallinn didn't have a good astrological clock....then I found this one. The book says it's face is from the 1600's, so I guess it can stay.

It's as cold as a witch's teet here. (If you look at a map, I'm practically in Helsinki.)



So I bought this pimp coat from a thrift store. It's polyester and warm!

I just realized...

...in my Tallin hotel room, the towel rack (which is very attractive, I might add) actually has the hot water pipe running through it, so my towels are warmed! Hott!

One day, I will ask of you a favor...

Matty was kind enough to mention this little experiment in his new blog.

So, I implore you, check his out too.

Vilnius Pixelated

The very nice, very stark cathedral.



Vistas like this are what I love about the old towns.



"I miss the peace of fishing...."



Out.



The New York Gals. Allana and Julia.

Flight to Tallinn, Part 1 & 2

Check out the name of that cheese.



From the airBaltic in-flight magazine.

What $1.40 Gets You in Lithuania

Damn that inflation!

Graffiti of Vilnius

Much more stencil than you find in NYC. The words say "Respect our lives and us, and we'll respect you and your walls."

My Bag is Here!

The Lost Baggage Man lead me to the carousel for today's Warsaw/ Vilnius flight and I got to have the same butterflies in the stomach waiting for it to come....and it came!

Here are the happiest words of the day from Lonely Planet: "Generally, Tallinn tap water is safe to drink." Finally!!!!!

They call him Vilnius Nastavnic, the "Vilnius Schoolmaster"

Thank goodness I'm in eastern Europe! Where else could I wear the same smelly clothes for a couple of days and still fit right in?

So, my bag basically missed the connecting flight in Warsaw, so it's coming today to Vilnius at around 3:00. The fun is...I'm flying out to Tallin at 3:45. Yet another time where it could dovetail perfectly....or I could end up wearing this shirt (and just my hoodie for warmth) for another couple of days.

Maybe it was the light. Maybe it was the weather. Maybe it was the general lack of other tourists, but IMHO, Vilnius is kicking Krakow's ass. It's a very beautiful city, with an Old Town the way they're supposed to be -- with little meandering streets to nowhere, and actual commerse going on besides satiating touristic desires. Plenty of churchs, and (strangely) most of them are pink. Inside the main cathedral, though, such a nice contrast after Poland -- it was all stark white.

Had dinner in a cellar again (always a treat). Stuffed myself silly -- I had wild boar with a berry sause (good), "cold ears" (blueberry filled peirogis, can't really mess that up), and a plate of traditional beer snacks...which we need to get in the states ASAP. There were sausages and cheese puffy things, but the real one worth noting is strips of that brown eastern european bread, fried in some sort of garlic oil. Think the wonderfulness of Italian breadsticks, but with the form factor and texture of a french fry. If only Lithuanians made beer as good as thier beer snacks.

On the plane over, I'd met some girls from New York who were accompanying thier grandmother on an <i>Everything is Illuminated</i> type mission to find out once and for all if she was really Polish or Lithuanian, something <i>her</i> mother apparently wouldn't speak about. So we went out and hit the town that night. We ended up at this place with a bunch of bleary eyed Lithuanians pouring liquor on the table and setting it on fire. They seemed so bored, you'd think we were in Siberia.

The girls were sweet. Julia was a waitress on Fire Island, and her cousin Allana is a student in Greenwich Village. Julia's moving to Manhattan when she gets back, but Allana is a rough and tumble city girl. Both seem to think thier grandmother's quest is a little crazy. Allana I found more interesting and in sync with, but alas....she was 16. (But she looks like she's in college....no, really!)

So that was my night. Stumbled home and am now getting ready to go to the old town for some breakfast, then off the airport. Hopefully later today I'll get both my laptop and some WiFi and I can do pictures.

Goodbye Poland!

So, yes. Goodbye to all that. Already from the airport to the hotel, I like Vilnius better.

Of course, here's the thing -- I check into this particular hotel (eGuesthouse...cute, right?) because it offers internet in every hotel room. No more stupid internet cafes, no more sitting in the hotel bar.


Except Lot lost my suitcase with my computer in it.

Goodbye Poland, indeed.

Creepiest Doll Ever.

Squeezing through

Are you ready? The biggest bell in Poland!



To go see it, you have to pay 4 złoty and climb some neverending stairs. A few times you have to squeeze through something like this.



Which means another part of the dour Polish man at the bottom's job is to inform folks they might not fit through.

Updata

So. No salt mines. I did go see the cathedral in the old town square, which was very nice, so I take back a little of what I said before about Polish design taste.

Here's just some photos.


Arriving in sooty, sooty Poland.


First approach to Wawel Castle the next AM.


I am the king of all I see. Krakow from a tower in Wawel.



Last thing I saw at Wawel was the "Dragon Den" where the "Dragon of Krakow" used to live. As you can see, I am terrified.

Photographic Evidence...

...must wait a bit. I'm on a crappy PC in the hotel lobby, not on WiFi.

Now I'm off to see about getting to Lithuania.

Ugggggh....

This is the part where I'm supposed to tell you about the beauty of the castle and town square in Krackow, but really, today, I just want to stay in my room. Something (finally) in eastern Europe caught up with my digestive system (ice in the mojitos? brushing my teeth in Krackow? that wierd cottage cheese in the continental breakfast that comes like sliced bread? that other thing in the continental breakfast that looked like pate wrapped in fat, which I knew while I was eating that I shouldn't be?) Who knows? It's 1:30 now, hopefully I'l decent enough later to get something in -- there are these famous salt mines outside of Krackow that sound definately worth a visit. (An entire Roman Cathloic church, below ground and made of salt!). We shall see.

OK -- so here's what happened before the nastiness set in. Krackow is very lovely -- they did a very smart thing that has had a bad side effect. The Old Town (with the cobblestone streets, the 500 year old buildings, everything absolutely streaming "Europe!") is seperated from the rest of Krackow by a block-wide park that rings the whole thing. Luckily, this keeps nasty modern architecture from encroaching and keeps the sitelines within the old town pretty. However, it also corrals in the tourists. The tourists know where to stay and the pizza joints, Chez McDo's, and endless exchange places know where they'll be...so it becomes like a tourist Disneyland.

I hate that.

That being said, the castle, the Wawel was very nice...it gives Prague castle a run for it's money. (Quick pronouncation note -- W's are prounced like V's, so the castle is Vah-vel. Vodka, for instance, is written wodka, but prounced the same. Beer is piwo, which keeps things easy.) Set up on a hill, the castle includes the residence and a cathedral. The cathedral is pretty ostentatious -- very little Jesus and Mary, lots of huge statues of archbishops and popes. And gaudy -- you can see the orgins 300 years ago of the bad eastern european clothing, hair and makeup styles of today.

In the crypt, I saw the tomb of Leelee Sobieski's great great great great grandfather, and the tomb of Thadeus Coskusiko...who did something for the US, because there's that awful bridge on the BQE named after him.

That night, I had Ukrianian food. I ordered the Borscht with egg, which was a nice touch, but I miss my Vesekla.

First Inning

OK.

Everything up to now has been batting practice. As that master of sports metaphors Bobby Flay likes to say, "The game is on!"

Up til now, I've been in countries I've been before, able to speak the langauge enough to get around, with people I could call to bail me out of jail.

Stay tuned.

Very First Impressions of Poland

Man - people like to set stuff on fire here....alot. On the train to Krockow, the smell of smoke was consistant. At the beginning, I thought the train was on fire...then I realized that everyone just does home after work and makes a huge bonfire in their backyard.

Good times.

The End of the Festival as We Know It

Sitting in the hotel restuarant, eating the Czech National Dish (pork, saurkraut and dumpings). My train to Krockow leaves in 2 hours....so maybe after this, I'll ride the tram to the end of the line to see what the really nasty part of Olomouc looks like.

So, yesterday. The screening of Adolph was very early. Most of my festival friends trickled in during the first couple of minutes - the mojito-laden birthday party was just the night before. I had gone to Albert Maysles' hotel and retrieved him, so it was great to be able to talk with him about it afterward. There were maybe two dozen people, which for the size of the space was a pretty good crowd. People seemed to appreciate the subtitles, too, which I'm very happy about. What I didn't realize....and I may not have done the subtitles at all if I'd know, is that during all the screenings, there's someone in a sound booth in the back with the scripts of the movie, translating into Czech. Then the Czech audience members wear radio headsets and listen to the translation. But, Jana said it was much preferable to hear the interview subjects talk and read the subtitles than listen to the college student in back stumble through the translation.

After the screening, I sat out in a rooftop cafe was some of the other directors. NYC, Montreal, Sao Paulo, Jerusalem and Vienna were all represented-- and we all equally leched on how amazingly hot the Olomouc girls were. (Really - it's like Prague -without the ugly ones!) That being said, I think Czechs are sick to death of thier country being well known for only beer and pretty girls. I guess they need to kick Skoda production up a couple of notches.

That night was the awards ceremony. Jana later told me that almost every film that won had been in another doc festival in the Czech Republic last year and won there...so nothing new under the sun. Afterwards, there was a party at the Old Town Hall. And the mojito cart was back! It was really great, being in this beautiful 500 year old building (see Town Hall picture below), standing out on the balcony, a light fog settling in, a fountain going in the town square. I told Jana that when she comes to NYC I'll buy her a mojito, but the scenary won't be as nice.

After that, we decamped to a cellar bar. While there, Etienne, the very pretty director from Montreal, tried to pick up his handler. Me? After a couple of beers, I took a taxi back to the hotel with a German guy from ZDF. We sat in the hotel bar and discussed the German Palimentary elections. Yup! Let me loose in the Czech Republic and you'd better lock up your daughters!

Geoffie's Last Night in Town

Yum!





What $.80 can buy you in the Czech Republic.

(The beer, not the girls. L to R - Jana, Ettiene's handler)

The Lads from Olomouc

I don't how I forgot to mention this -- the awards ceremony was puncuated with performances by The Backwards, four 20somethings from Olomouc who do an amazing Beatles impression. Not just singing and playing, but even speaking between the songs, one guy sounded just like John.

It was out of this world. Clearly, I need to practice more, as my "British" accent apparently sounds like an Asian Australian.

ABC News: Police Investigate Threat to NYC to Subway

Wow. Have fun, guys!

Maysles: "I liked it. It was good."

'Nuff said.

More later. I've got to spend my precious internet time figuring out how I'm going to get to Poland.

As Promised: The Commie Clock

Don't say I never gave you anything.

Sweet Valhala! Pt. 2

Behold. The Shmengy Syr Bagette Extra (phonetically spelled)



Two fried patties of cheese, fermented cole slaw and heck of a lot of mayonaise. Česky Sen, indeed!

AFO Birthday Party

So.

First off. It was a pseudo black tie affair. I certianly didn't pack anything approximating a black tie. I ended up wearing a black shirt (some of you will know it well) that has some weird sweat stains I spent all night trying to hide. Such is my luxurious life.

Anyways. It was held in Regional Center Olomouc (RCO, since everything in the Czech Republic, like the military, needs a three letter acronym.) I show up with my handler Jana (differant Jana, since in the Czech Republic, every girl under the age of 28 is named Jana, like Jennifer in the US). The RCO looks like a glorified cabaret theater. Eastern European fat cats sitting at little tables sipping wine, while dancing girls (DANCING GIRLS!) perform something that looks like the Fitch Drama club...except they're dressed like dirty devils in stockings.

This is when I realize I am not just in a differant country -- I am in a totally differant world.

The host of the evening, Jana tells me, is a Czech child actor now in his 20's. There are many tributes to Czech film professors whom I certainly haven't met. I could tell, it would be boring in English -- it's even more boring in Czech. Then the dancing girls come back...and do (I'm not making this up) a dance set to music from Mask of Zorro, with some Czech guy dressed like Antonio Banderas dancing between them.

Bob Redford eat your heart out! Match that at your pidddly little festival!

The showed a little film, though, that celebrated the 40 years of the film festival. It was pretty neat seeing archival footage of the festial in the 60's. Otherwise, I just hung out with Jana, who was very sweet and told me all about her studies at the university. She volunteered for the festival because her boyfriend (grrrrr!) is a film student at the AFO. Ate the buffet. Had surprizing delicious mojitos (Yes! The Czechs make great rum drinks! Who knew?!?) And asked Maysles to come tomorrow.


Oh....


One more thing. Apparently, when I sent the movie here, I said on one of the forms something to the affect of "I am anxious for this film to be screened in the Czech Republic." Which they've translated as "Geoff is scared to show this film to Czechs." (Totally not true....except that I'm worried that the transation will be missing too many haceks.) So that's the rumor going around Olomouc. I can only hope this translates into huge numbers at the screening, hoping to see me cry or something.

Another thing.

I sent my bio to them in English, naturally. In the program, it sounds like they transalted my bio into Czech...and then back into English, instead of just copying and pasting.

Big day tomorrow. We'll see.

Albert Maysles Will Come to My Film!

...if I go to his hotel room and wake him up, he said.

Good times.

Sweet Valhala!

It was closed. What a cruel world!

Temporal Disturbane

I seemed to have managed to post things out of order. I'll try to be more vigilant about this in the future. Just realize "AFO Day 1" comes before "Welcome to Olomouc Pt. 2". Sigh.


Like any of you incredibly intelligent people were confused.

Last Night / This Afternoon

So, we're sitting in the cafe talking to Maysles. Maysles is old and sweet and keep imploring us all to make "documentary poems". But one Czech guy is there and clearly drunk, literally knocking down chairs on his way to the WC.

We are all embarrassed for the old man who has to pretend to ignore the muttering, long haired, (yes!) smelly filmmaker.

Eventually Maysles retreats to his hotel, the rest of us head out for drinks and crazy drunken Peter is along for the ride. Cesky Sen (Czech Dream), a documentary I had wanted to see at Tribeca is discussed. I feel silly for not seeing the movie. Peter doesn't care. Photographic proof:



I end up hanging out with this cool director from Brazil, Coi, whose documentary about life in Sao Paulo plays later in the day after Adolph. He worked for and is friends with the City of God guy. I feel silly for not seeing the movie. We stay out til 3 at the only open bar we can find - Herna Non Stop. (I realize only 3 of you will understand the greatness of Herna Non Stop, and that's OK.)

Today, I got a call from another handler I didn't know I had and was told I could take a tour of a grand old castle outside town. I say sure. I go with Jana, our psuedo tour guide, an two members of the jury. Apparently, they've already made up thier minds and there's no charming them to be done.

It takes an hour by minibus, with numerous near death experiences along the way on these tiny two laned Moravian farm lanes that have somehow evolved into major trucking routes. After an hour, we arrive at the castle. We tour. It's a UNESCO site, so I guess it's really important, but it looks like every other castle to me. It was once the seat of the Austrian throne, back when that was a really big deal. The penultimate stop on the tour is this room:



Which was featured prominently in Amadeus. I feel silly for not seeing the movie.

Tonight is a "birthday" party for the Academy Film Olomouc, which is turning 40. Full report tomorrow.

Welcome to Olomouc! Pt. 2

Did I mention the students give the town a lot of energy? Yeah, I did. I really need to get some pictures of that.


Olomouc Town Hall. What can one say about such greatness?



Steeple thing in the middle of the old town. Has something to do with the Plague. Must investigate more.



The art musuem where the festival is being held. The nice composition with the flowers is totally negated by the walking guy looking at me like I'm a tourist.



All streets should be cobblestone.

AFO Day 1

Olomouc is actually a very nice city. Later I'll quote what the guidebook said, which made it sound like the Bridgeport, Connecticut of eastern Europe. It's like a smaller version of Prague -- smaller cathedral, smaller old town square, smaller celestial clock (but this one was made by Communists, so instead of dancing saints, it has dancing chemists and volleyball players - pics TK). And no tourists. But all that old world charm. Seriously. And it's a University town, so it has a lot of energy since it seems that 75% of the people I pass are under 30.

So, yesterday was the first day I went to the festival. Very loosely organized, but nice. There are three venues going simultaneously in this museum building near the middle of town. Almost every film has English subtitles, thank goodness. Saw a couple of German documentaries, a couple of Czech student films (which are pretty much everything you would imagine) and three of Albert Maysles' films.

Mr. Maysles is getting a lifetime achievement award from the festival on the closing night and they are playing a couple of his films here (which is good, because I actually hadn't seen any of them). In the 50's and 60's he pretty much helped invent this notion of "verite" documentary filmmaking which I am into. (For you non-film geeks, that means just shooting "true life" without having interviews or narration and letting the edited images speak for themselves). I missed his most famous film, Gimme Shelter, about the Rolling Stones, on Monday during Transit Hell Day. But yesterday, they showed three of his shorts, a hilarious portrait of Marlon Brando being a badass at a press junket long before sabotaging your own press junket was cool, one about Christo and Jean-Claude looking spry and young wrapping something in 1978, and one about Muhammad Ali and Larry Holmes. Anyways, afterwards, Maysles did a little question and answer. He's a sweet and charming old man. Myself and some of the other directors had drinks with him later and he kept saying we just needed to film everything (what else would have to say?). I'll see if I can convince him to get up and come to Adolph on Thursday.

Let again, my internet is about up. More later. Supposedly someone is going to interview me later, and I'm going to tour some quaint town this afternoon. Miss you all.

Welcome to Olomouc!

pronounced {as best I can tell} "OLEM-oats"

Really, from the 8th floor of Hotel Sigma, it looks no differant than Prague (right, Matt?)

More later. This hour of internet cost 184 Kč...and I have to figure out if I'm being ripped off before my hour is up.

Back in the CCCR

Stands for Certainly ain't Charmin in the Czech Republic. I realize the photos don't do justice to the newsprint / 80% post consumer recycled waste texture but believe me, it's a tactile experience.

Get your digital spray paint cans a shakin'

Comments should now be open to anybody and everybody. Guess I had the wrong thing clicked. Thanks for KK and MM for pointing out this oversight.

Transit Hell Day

If only I'd taken a ferry, too. London Hotel -> Underground -> Stanstead Express train -> Ryanair Flight -> Bus to Brno train station.

So, Brno train station. Feeling good -- I have 45 minutes until my train leaves. Not too long, not too short. I don't even freak out when I see that there are only 3 tickets windows open and about 30 people in line for each of them.

I'm not even freaking out about my first real time I'm going to need to interact to actually get something. (On the bus from the airport, one could merely grunt and hand the driver 100 Kč and get change.) I put on my iPod and listen over and over and over again to my "Airplane Czech" book on tape (Note to iTunes users: not worth $8.99!) to the section on saying "I don't speak Czech, do you speak English?" I'll say it in my head a few times, think I remember it, switch to music, realize I've forgotten it, and go back and listen again. This must have happened at least 5 times.

Needless to say, the line was slow. Very slow. At about 5 minutes before the train left, I was quite sure I wasn't going to make it. Then, at the head of one of the lines I hadn't chosen, the ticket salesgirl swept a curtain closed and ended that line. The roughly 30 people took it with a kind of ci la vie attitude. I was shocked. I bet several decades of Communism would probably help Americans with thier patience, too. (Of course, several decades of Communism would make going to the post office something you tried to do only once a year.)

Anyways, time clicks down and it's pretty obvious that even if I get my ticket, I won't make the train because I know they run like clockwork and I don't even know where the track is. (Which word with lotsa accents and no vowels means "track"? Beats me.) So, I get there, and the girl informs me that there is no next train to Olomouc -- if I want to do three transfers, I can get there in twice the time. I say fine and she prints me a ticket.

As I'm walking away, resigned to waiting around an hour for the slow train, the big board clicks on my original Olomouc train - "5:00 late". Could this be? A train that doesn't leave precisely on the second? I should be so lucky. I rush down and make it on with seconds to spare. Yippie.

I really shoulda gotten a picture of this...

On Ryanair ("the pride of Scotland"), they save incalculable amounts of money by having no seat pocket on the seat. So, you're just looking at the shiny bright yellow plastic of the seat in front of you (think bus seating asethetics). So where do you put the safety information card? On a sticker, on the seat back, right at eye level. So the entire flight, you are staring into the little stick figures escaping a burning plane. Wunderbar!

No Room at the Inn for Baby Jesus

Stansted Airport. About to fly to Brno, Czech Republic. Although, it's really beginning to look like a "bad idea". I bought this plane ticket before I made a room reservation...except I've now found out that every hotel, penzion and hostel is sold out. Something big is going in Brno. I just don't know what. So, It's going to be another straight day of transit, as I attempt to get from the Brno airport to the Brno train station to the Olomouc train station, where (hopefully) my handler from the film festival will find someplace for me to stay. (Expedia, etc. have no idea where Olomouc is. They know Brno, but no Olomouc.)

So. Excitment.

Last night I wandered around London, hitting Liecaster Sqaure, Picadilly Circus and Oxford Circus. I had napped in the room after checking in, and missed the window for getting half priced theater tickets, so I'll give that a whirl on the way back. Had dinner at a pub just down for the hotels -- sausage and mash with a Stella. Very yummy. Then I slept like a log.

London was very comforting -- it's a nice way to ease yourself into Europe. Things are more or less as you expect them, but just enough wierd to throw you off. Later today, I'll have the langauge culture shock, but at least people will drive on the right side of the road.

Photographic Evidence.

See? This wasn't created in on a Hollywood soundstage?


I heart timeshifting. Just not to me.

Zzzzzzzzzzzzz

I'm still laggy from my flight. Yeah. Ummmm. Words aren't forming at this point. Have had about 90 minutes of sleep on the flight. (Quick note: British Airways gave me more doo-dads for my 6 flight {toothpaste!} than United gave me for my 13 flight to Tokyo)

Flight landed at 7:30 am, finally got into Paddington at around 10:00 and have been wandering around ever since. Really wandering. Like, the only thing that I knew was Trafaglar Square was by the hotel. So, let's see what's behind Trafalgar Sqaure....oh...it's Buckingham Palace. Oh, it's about to be the changing the of guard! Let's wait for it. And wait for it. And wait for it. And then watch it happen, and then realize, it's really not particularly exciting. Unless bagpipes is your idea of excitement.

Wandered over past the London Eye, past the Saatchi Gallery (no Damain Hirst animals in formaldyhyde means no Geoff go), and over to the Tate Modern. Which was good, except of course, that I felt like if I sat down in any gallery, I'd fall asleep on the bench.

Guess I'll forage for some food now. Picts to come.

Anthropomorphize this!

In a stunning move of intellectual curiosity, I passed over both Fantastic Four and Sahara to watch March of the Penguins on the plane.

Emily had played me an NPR podcast with (my pseudo-personal-folk-hero) Kurt Andersen commenting on fundamentalist proponents of intelligent design citing the movie as proof of their way of looking at the world. As such, I was ready for a movie that showed such an amazingly well oiled system of survival and species propogation that I would doubt it could have "evolved".

Well, lemme tell you, if that's "intelligent" design, then I should be doing my post doc in Species Conjuring. Anything involving 4 (count 'em!) FOUR seperate death-tempting, 70 mile walks across the icey tundra, just so you can breed in the same God foresaken place every year because you, as a species, are too stupid to get the heck out on Antarctica and go live in Rio de Janerio (WHERE YOU'D BE JUST FINE!), is not particularly intelligent by anyone's estimation. Cute? Yes. Touching? Yes. Intelligent? Not so much.

That's all of that. Next post will be pictures of Big Ben...I promise. Otherwise, I watched the map channel for 5 hours.

Qmaster

Lining up for the 747 at JFK was like Thanksgiving at Penn Station. All the Brits in the throng were muttering, "Damn people can't queue." I tend to agree.