Advogato blog for quad

STP 2008

Sat, 19 Jul 2008 07:04:56 GMT

STP! No, no wait! I meant STP!

noisybastard and I planned finishing in a single day. We then woke up two and a half hours late.

It was the world’s most relaxing back to back centuries. (riding 100 miles) And, this time not on a cruiser bike.

Highlights?

Cross-dressers on cross bikes.
Running into friends like Katie J., Aden, and Elise.
Camping under the stars at Centralia College.
20 mph “sprints” for 50 miles.

And, I even rode to work the next day.

I can see the future.

Sat, 19 Jul 2008 07:04:56 GMT

I’m increasingly becoming addicted to flickr.

David, one of my best friends in high school, would take me out on evening photo trips. I would borrow my Father’s Topcon and try my hardest to not be terrible. It’s better for mankind that none of those exposures made it past the negatives.

Since the Topcon went away, I’ve gone from borrowed camera to borrowed camera. And, I’ve built up a modest set of galleries. But, next week, things will never be the same!

The following items have been shipped to you by Amazon.com: --------------------------------------------------------------------- Qty Item Price Shipped Subtotal --------------------------------------------------------------------- Amazon.com items (Sold by Amazon.com, LLC): 1 Transcend 4GB SDHC CARD (S... $15.65 1 $15.65 1 Canon PowerShot SD770IS 10... $241.24 1 $241.24 1 Canon PSC-1000 Deluxe Blue... $14.10 1 $14.10 Shipped via DHL (Delivered by USPS) Tracking number: 23653128586

It’s a good little point and shoot. When I want to go full manual, there will still be two film bodies and Sam’s A410.

¡Sí, se puede!

Sat, 19 Jul 2008 07:04:56 GMT

I’m back from Cuba. This has been the case for two weeks now.

I don’t have anything to add to my letters. The visit gave me a different appreciation on my life at home. I think that’s a good return on my investment.

And, isn’t that what travel is about?

noisybastard brought a digital camera and took some vibrant pictures. Meanwhile, Sam and I took two film cameras: an EOS, and FTb. Most of these developed shots, in my opinion, are more true to how I felt life was there...

Gritty.

The end.

Sat, 19 Jul 2008 07:04:56 GMT

Dear Sarah, It's the last day. We're so far ahead in our budget, Sam has made the well regarded decision to "live like Kings." This means taking taxis to visit the last of the sights in Habana: the Monument of Jose Marti and the Fortaleza de San Carlos de la Cabana. The monument is located in the center of Revolution Plaza. Jose Marti is a national hero to a degree that may be hard to appreciate. Sam disagrees; but, I don't feel we have any equivalently worshiped personalities. Regardless, the monument is a towering structure of concrete. It makes an imposing image in the skyline - vultures actually circle its heights. When Castro makes his appeals to "direct democracy," it is at the steps off the monument. We paid 6 CUC$ a piece to get entry. There's a museum in the base, dedicated to not just Marti, but the pantheon of Cuban heroes. (the most recent is Che Guevara.) In the center is an elevator - express to the top! Or, almost the top. The observation deck is small, with windows providing a view of all of Habana. On the floors are misaimed compasses, with distances in kilometers to the great cities of the world. The fort was far more interesting. It sprawled several acres. And, it was literally littered with cannon. Cannonballs could be found stacked in piles at every turn. The walls were tall and study, and the inside well protected. Funnily, the massive fortress was one of the most expensive of its time. (Spanish colonial) But, it was also never used. Too fearsome, perhaps? Standing on the highest of its parapets was an odd experience. I thought about how the defense of this harbor was apparently vital so many hundreds of years ago. Countries don't war over the bay now; because, despite so much potential here, there is so much to be had elsewhere. We're ready to leave. Chris had stomach sickness last night. My appetite and strength have long since returned. But, my bowels are still unsteady. Sam is the only one of us to not have been nauseous but, his tacit admission of finally being sick of mango is damning. This nation of constant revolution and politics, a place with police on every corner, and informants on every floor... it drives you to develop your own political thought. I intentionally avoid this mindset normally. But it's so hard to escape now. I find myself reflecting on how to describe the freedom of choice. Sabado,

This letter was never completed.

Sat, 19 Jul 2008 07:04:56 GMT

Dear Sarah, It's impossible to shop for souvenirs in this country. Everywhere we go, no matter if we enter a storefront or stroll through an open air market, we see the same things. Sam made the poignant statement, "the problem is they don't make anything in this country." Chris thinks everything is made in China. They do have art. A lot of it. But not much outside of the "deco" that here is a characterization of kitschiness.

"I miss your laughs."

Sat, 19 Jul 2008 07:04:56 GMT

Dear Sarah, I'm drunk. It's early Friday morning and Chris and I have been wandering Centro y Vedado Habana looking for booze and trouble. We certainly found the former. I just finished reading Sam's travelogue up to this point and realized that I haven't been saying anything of import. I'm sure what we're doing is far more interesting than my thoughts combined with the occasional anecdote. I think I have forgotten how to write events. Chris wanted to drink, and not dance, tonight. So, after stopping by the first casa to get suggestions, we set out toward La Torree and the Jazz Club in Western (Vedado) Habana. The former was closed. And, it's adjacent bar was too fancy and too boring. We moved on, and arrived at the Jazz Bar just in time for the end of a Sol band and the beginning of the top 40 rotation. (1980 - 2000) A group of Japanese travelers sat nearby us and I made enough rudimentary conversation for them to share drinks, dances and finally when the bar closed, goodbyes with us. Who knew Spanish was taught in Japan? (the letter devolves into a drunken experiment that I'll show you when I get home.)

Happier now. Still sick.

Sat, 19 Jul 2008 07:04:56 GMT

Dear Sarah, The water was refreshing. The taste of it in my mouth was saltier than the Pacific ever was. After mentioning this to Sam, we proceeded to argue in the water for twenty minutes about my "dubious claims." While we tossed logical fallacies between us, ("If I can taste the difference between fresh and salt water, why can't I taste the difference in levels of salinity?" "That is the worst strawman I have ever heard. I would have stuck with my heated water retains more salt argument." "You know what else holds more when I get it hot?") I watched a couple make love in the surf. They soon discovered a seemingly under-broadcasted truth. Sex in water sucks. Thursday, and thinking of you.

The beach. I'm still sick.

Sat, 19 Jul 2008 07:04:56 GMT

Dear Sarah, Thursday morning, I woke up at 5am. We went to sleep very early on Wednesday evening. But I didn't start so early because I had slept enough. Just nightmares. I dreamed about everyone I love. It was a set of monologues with short scenery changes acting as some semblance of a story. Each person would talk about their goals and hard work. No one explicity said it, but the common subtext was clear. My existence and constant laziness was an impediment to them. The last one, and the one I woke up from, was you. I remember it becuase the character was you - but the body wasn't. Your hair was cut. Your physique was tougher, and your posture aggressive. I tried to say how it wasn't my intention to stand in your life's path. But, I had no voice and "your" words cut enough to end my slumber. Or, maybe it was the heat. The humidity and temperature here are both hihg. There are two seasons: sunny and rainy. The only difference is that in one, it rains. For our visit, the rain has mostly confined itself to the afternoon. Those showers are harkened by the familiar smell and last for hours. Being caught in them means never drying off. Our casa is inland, in the "uninterested" central district of Habana. The morning heat starts early, as we miss the costal breeze. As does the noise and bustle, since the reason our district is considered "uninteresting" is because people live here. As foreigners aren't allowed to talk to locals, goes the thinking, what could possibly be the reason for visiting? My mood is still somber. I feel it comes across in my writing. Since my ability to communicate is one-way, I find myself imagining what's happened with you at home. Did you finish the move? How is your feasibility study starting up? Have you thought about local Native-American traditional diets? I presume by the time I return, you will have purchased tickets for Los Angeles. While I want to be with you for your birthday, I hope you didn't book your ticket to return Thursday. You're closer to your family than I am to mine; and, I feel it's important to be with the people who have and continue to stand by you. We're going to the beach today. Actually, I'm at the beach right now. (I write these letters over the course of hours.) The thought in our minds is that a day of laziness will do our moods an improvement. The first beach we tried to visit, Terará, used to be the happening location. It since has been barred to tourists without proper documentation. Our taxi driver tried warning us against it; but, we were determined. Unfortunately, there was little success to be found arguing at the police checkpoint. Instead, we moved on to Playa de Este. Which is actually a collection of beaches. We arrived at the first, de Mégano, arranged return transport by 5pm, and set off. The beaches is mixed with few tourists and more Cubans. It's also well patrolled. Minutes after finding a palm to base from, a guard warned us of theives. "mas ojos!" Keep our eyes on our belongings. These are teh first real idyllic beaches I've been on. The wind and sea keeps the air humid but cool. The sand doesn't blow because it's coarse. The water is warm and green to blue. The sun isn't oppressive today so a lone and ragged palm is more than enough shade to provide comfort. I write and watch, feeling better. Sam walks and is a happier jerk. Chris reads my literal copy of the Motorcycle Diaries, and is a smiling annoyance. I love my companions. And, I love and miss you, Thursday.

7-2, 17:00 (Cuba)

Sat, 19 Jul 2008 07:04:56 GMT

Dear Sarah, There is a lot I want you to know about. But, since I rambled in my previous letter, instead I'll try to stay on a topic of mutual interest. "What were the three greatest defeats in the Revolution?" "Breakfast, lunch, and dinner." It isn't that Cuban's can't or don't cook. Instead, it's difficult to obtain stocks or ingredients of any sort when everything is regulated. It has been only recently that community farms and coops became legal. There's a farmer's market in Habana, but it's more tourist trap than local gathering. There are four classes of establishments where we can eat: (all regulated) 1. Restaurants - these can be inside hotels, or on streets. But they're all expensive ripoffs. 2. Street vendors - these can vary from ice cream vendors to refrescos, pizzas to the very common bread and ham sandwich. 3. Paladares - these are people's homes that are open to foreigners. Heavily taxed and often cracked down upon, the government doesn't like them because they smack of private enterprise. 4. Casa particulars - it's required they serve us one meal a day. The best options are the paladares and the casa's. It's tragic, but for 10 CUC$ a piece, we get to eat incredible meals these families wish for every day. On Monday, when we couldn't finish up, we hoped they ate our leftovers. The national food of Cuba is rice and beans. Which, before certain times in college, I would have thought depressing and bland. But, every meal we've had has been delicious! The rice varies - it's usually short grained and bleached. The beans are black and spiced. We mix the two with the rest of our meal to great result. Beef is illegal to everyone except Cuban Jews. The meats of Cuba are pork and chicken. Fried chicken, baked chicken, and cooked pork. And everything is left in their natural juices up to their serving. Breakfast, lunch and dinner comes with mango. It's first skinned and then sliced off. And, it's juicy and delicious without fail. Sam devours all he can - his hunger for citrus has been unsated even by the Caribbean. But, it I can find it so good in the States, I definitely have found a new fruit to love. Oddly, it's always served with a dash of sugar. "Ensalada" is the term used for sliced tomatoes, onions and avocado. Then, sprinkle some salt on top. Sam and I leave the avocados to Chris, and Sam leaves the tomatoes to Chris and me. I feast and mix it with everything. I like Cuban salads. Rice, beans, meat, mango and "salad." That's a typical Cuban meal. Of course, there are drinks. In the morning, it's a cup of coffee to get you going. And, orange juice with sugar added during breakfast. In the evening, it's "tuKola" made with "sugar and/or corn syrup." If you want water, you have to ask. Humorously, I'm eating the most sustainably I have ever - possibly in my life. You've talked about urban farms, there is one right outside my building! Gardens are community plots and produce is sold as such. Livestock is less common. We've seen chickens. But, cows and larger animals are all on the outskirts of town. As are the larger impact fields like rice, beans and sugar. Supposedly, the best Cuban cuisine is in Miami. But, they're strongly proud about one local culinary variation: ice cream. Coppella is a dedicated park to it. Yeras ago, there was even a competition to have more flavors than Baskin-Robbins. But, it's less fancy now. Regardless, we all enjoyed a glass of strawberry ice cream in the shade. It was, and I'm sure is becoming monotonous, delicious. Every house receives a crockpot and rice cooker. But, given what I've seen, I think people would kill for a blender like your Annihilatrix. I miss it, with it came nice things. Miercoles,

7

Sat, 19 Jul 2008 07:04:56 GMT

Dear Sarah, There is a lot I want you to know about. But, since I rambled in my previous letter, instead I'll try to stay on a topic of mutual interest. "What were the three greatest defeats in the Revolution?" "Breakfast, lunch, and dinner." It isn't that Cuban's can't or don't cook. Instead, it's difficult to obtain stocks or ingredients of any sort when everything is regulated. It has been only recently that community farms and coops became legal. There's a farmer's market in Habana, but it's more tourist trap than local gathering. There are four classes of establishments where we can eat: (all regulated) 1. Restaurants - these can be inside hotels, or on streets. But they're all expensive ripoffs. 2. Street vendors - these can vary from ice cream vendors to refrescos, pizzas to the very common bread and ham sandwich. 3. Paladares - these are people's homes that are open to foreigners. Heavily taxed and often cracked down upon, the government doesn't like them because they smack of private enterprise. 4. Casa particulars - it's required they serve us one meal a day. The best options are the paladares and the casa's. It's tragic, but for 10 CUC$ a piece, we get to eat incredible meals these families wish for every day. On Monday, when we couldn't finish up, we hoped they ate our leftovers. The national food of Cuba is rice and beans. Which, before certain times in college, I would have thought depressing and bland. But, every meal we've had has been delicious! The rice varies - it's usually short grained and bleached. The beans are black and spiced. We mix the two with the rest of our meal to great result. Beef is illegal to everyone except Cuban Jews. The meats of Cuba are pork and chicken. Fried chicken, baked chicken, and cooked pork. And evertyhing is left in their natural juices up to their serving. Breakfast, lunch and dinner comes with mango. It's first skinned and then sliced off. And, it's juicy and delicious without fail. Sam devours all he can - his hunger for citrus has been unsated even by the Carribean. But, it I can find it so good in the States, I definitely have found a new fruit to love. Oddly, it's always served with a dash of sugar. "Ensalada" is the term used for sliced tomatoes, onions and avocado. Then, sprinkle some salt on top. Sam and I leave the avocados to Chris, and Sam leaves the tomatoes to Chris and me. I feast and mix it with everything. I like Cuban salads. Rice, beans, meat, mango and "salad." That's a typical Cuban meal. Of course, there are drinks. In the morning, it's a cup of coffee to get you going. And, orange juice with sugar added during breakfast. In the evening, it's "tuKola" made with "sugar and/or corn syrup." If you want water, you have to ask. Humorously, I'm eating the most sustainably I have ever - possibly in my life. You've talked about urban farms, there is one right outside my building! Gardens are community plots and produce is sold as such. Livestock is less common. We've seen chickens. But, cows and larger animals are all on the outskirts of town. As are the larger impact fields like rice, beans and sugar. Supposedly, the best Cuban cuisine is in Miami. But, they're strongly proud about one local culinary variation: ice cream. Coppella is a dedicated park to it. Yeras ago, there was even a competition to have more flavors than Baskin-Robbins. But, it's less fancy now. Regarldess, we all enjoyed a glass of strawberry ice cream in the shade. It was, and I'm sure is becoming monotonous, delicious. Every house receives a crockpot and rice cooker. But, given what I've seen, I think people would kill for a blender like your Annihilatrix. I miss it, with it came nice things. Miercoles,