Back In Action,
Paris. I have only been back for a few hours and yet I feel somewhat at home. But I am alone out here. Though I am sitting in his apartment, my friend David is in the south of France. So it is just I now, and this big city to explore…and I’m loving it.
I didn’t have David’s front door keys, so I had to explain to this little French lady downstairs that I was his friend and had my stuff in his apartment. After a few questions and suspicious looks, she let me in.
Germany was a wonderful country and Munich, like Vienna, had lots of good beer. Both in Vienna and in Germany, I loved how my aunt would stop at an intersection and say, “I need a beer. That sounds great. How does that sound to you guys?” My cousin, who is convinced beer is nothing more than soapy water, would respond in her most common response of the trip, “I don’t care.” But the thought of a cold beer on a hot day during a long walk instigated my excited response, “Yes, beer, goood, beer!” Ohhhhhh and was it good! No matter where we were, I didn’t need to worry about having a bad beer, it was excellence across the board. I could choose a specific beer, or just say, “Eine beir bitter” and they would know exactly what I wanted. Eine beir bitter (bit-tah) means “a beer please.”
Danke (dan-ke) means thank you. That’s all you really need to know in Germany.
I was surpirsed by the large amount of Arab women walking around Munich. They were in full custom gear, covered from head to toe in Armani and Versace robes and Gucci sunglasses shopping for clothes they could only where under their robes. Compared to the apocalyptic like state that some of their home countries are in, watching these women shop was surreal and a clear definition of their social class.
On BBC news, they showed some of the UN tanks in Lebanon and talked about France’s decision to send 200 more troops in. It wasn’t that we don’t get footage of that stuff in the US, but the degree of censorship out here is less. You see bloody wounds and people carrying their dead. You see the faces of the soldiers and their expressions of fear and disdain for the situation. You see that these wars aren’t a good thing. You see more of a world in conflict with itself. It’s hard to explain, you just have to see it. And yet, like everywhere, the rich get richer and the poor get poorer. And I assume that most countries in war, men and women still buy Versace robes from head to toe. It is just an odd observation.
Europeans seem to have a better understanding of this because the conflict in on their front porch and right across the street.
But they make efforts for the environment, like bikes and energy conservation. These actions might be small, but in the long run, it could do a lot of good. They have been around a lot longer than we have and it seems they want what is best for everyone and everything living. But of course, corruption and what Kurt Vonnegut, the famous American author of Breakfast of Champions, calls “bad chemicals in the brain” make people do the wrong things.
Back to basics:
After Germany, I flew to London. At Munich airport, they had 3 out of 4 of our bags…who knows how long they had really been there. So I got my backpack back, but not my clothes. My camera was with my clothes, so still no pics. But here are some you haven’t seen from before:




It has been hard not having any of my stuff. I depend on my material possessions so much. What I do have is a lot more than many other people have. It has been an important lesson in sacrifice and I’ve learned how to survive with only what I need. If you can survive with only what you need, you find it easier to let go of what you had.
London was cool though, despite the expensive conversion rate. From the airport, my sister, cousin, and I headed to the wrong neighborhood looking for the wrong hotel. Lost on Lambeth street in London, we searched for Hotel 87. But we needed to be on South Lambeth street, which was no where near Lambeth St. So we took a cab, the driver said he couldn’t understand our American accents and kept asking why we voted for Bush. “I didn’t vote for Bush,” I said. “Ok, but why you vote for Bush?” He was from Nigeria. “That man, he’s crazy!” then he would let out a little giggle and shake his head.
The room we had was 1092374102834120 degrees. So we switched rooms. Our second room was a lot nicer than our first and much more habitable.
In London, we saw the crown jewels at the Tower of London. Learned about all the beheadings there. Henry the 8th…what a nut. One of his first wives, Anne Bolyn I think, refused to have her head chopped off on the block. With boldness, she said, “If you are to behead me, do it where I stand, or do not do it all.” So he had her head chopped off right there.
We admired all the weapons that had been used throughout the ages; everything from lances to swords, armor to cannons (those were really cool, especially the one that shot 9 cannon balls at once). Monday night we went swing dancing, a favorite past time of my cousins, so we danced the night away to the sounds of the Jive Aces, at the 100 Club at Oxford Circus. I asked this girl to show me how to dance the Charleston. She had a hard time doing it and I looked pretty foolish. But it was fun, and one of the first times my sister cousin and I had ever gone out.
We took a Jack the Ripper tour which covered the raunchy Eastern side of London. We visited all the places he killed, and places where his victims were last scene. All the while the tour guide was giving us clues, challenging us to figure out who Jack was out of a short list given at the begging. The man leading the tour was one of her Majesties bodyguards at the Towers of London. He knew his Jack, and was really into it. After the tour, he explained to a small group of us that there was things he couldn’t tell us because kids were around, disgusting details about the bodies and situations. He said that after all the studying he’s done and with all the access he has, he thinks it was a multiple man job, in a conjunction with the free masons to cover up the an affair Edward the 2nd had with an Irish prostitute. By getting her pregnant, he had to have her and all her buddies killed. So they thought, hey lets have a little fun and remove their organs and leave clues on walls.
Baffled for sometime, the police went as far to think it was a chimpanzee who had committed the crimes. This was not the case. So who was he? Do some digging for yourself, beware of what you might find.
Now back in Paris, I guess it is time I get a little life going. I must say, I’m looking forward to it. The beginning of my trip has already been full of adventure. I expect that the seas will not simply calm at this point.
Cheers Mates.

Catch Me if You Can

hello all,
i have made it to munich after a crazy time at london airport. we missed our flight to munich because the flight from paris to london was late. so we came back the next day, after night at an inn in england. i was with my cousin christina. but london airport was like a refugee camp. there were tents set up put side to hold passangers who´s flights had been cancelled. they sent many people home. after a day of searching for flights and ways to get our bags back, i was able to get my teary eyed cousin on a flight. i still had no where to go. i took 3 trains to didcot, a little town west of london and spent a night drinking in a pub called the broadway. my sister works there. i kicked back a few pints and shooters with a guy named lee and a guy named leah (also pronounced lee). they were quiet, and hard to understand even when they did speak. lee had been in the millitary, leah was older, had a wife in Bangkok and smiled at everything you said. the pub turned into a night club after 11. but i kicked it with the regulars and watched all the kids dance away. it was also a kick to watch my sister serve beers. She’s a pro.

finally, 4 am hit, and i took a cab back to the airport. the price of said cab i will not discuss. it was a lot, but the cab driver and i talked about fake tits the whole way. he was a cool dude. we agreed that fake tits are nice to look at, but real is the way to go.

i caught a flight for 3pm after sleeping off my hangover on a piece of foam on a side walk outside the terminal. no one was aloud in until your flight was called, but i found ways to sneak in and complain about my bags. it is the 17th of august, 6 days later, and still dont have them. the airport says they are in transit.

bloody bastards.

i went to vienna. cool town. if you´ve got a lot of cash to blow, take your girl there. let her go crazy at Versace, and pick yourself up something at Rolex. a real cool night life too. everything gets going at midnight, and if there is no work the next day, it will go till midnight the next day.

if your in to sick and twisted things like me, check out the gothic crypts beneath the gothic cathedral. i saw skulls from the 1800´s and older. pretty cool.

there was a painting in a museum called the belvedere. it is called the kiss, and painted by klimt. It is a wonderful painting in gold of a man embracing a woman on a hill side of flowers. Even for the toughest of men, if they’ve felt any sort of romantic connection with anyone in there life, you can’t help but feel warm inside.
it has been a long day and i am having a hard time with this german key board. the letters are moved around. plus the screen is all in german, which is a great language and too much like english. its just hard to get the hang of.

would you know it, there are a shit load of japanese in vienna, and japanese restauranst all over. and the weinerschitchl is great.

now im in munich, it is beautiful here too, but different. its more metropolitan. we are staying somewhere very similar to the civic center area in san francisco. but the city is cool and i like the food. ill see more and do more in the next couple days.

i have no pictures because i have no computer, nor a camera, nor baggage. i have been using a disposable, so pics will be soon.

take care all, and one thing before i go. americans, sell your car, buy a bike and a metro pass, and ride to work. its one things the europeans got right. they are working in collaboration with mother earth, not against it. small and big toilet flushes. automatic escaladers. and lights that turn off when your not in the room. small cars, and bikes. bikes are fun, so dont puss out. make the effort and go the distance. another thing. there is war brewing. the US dosent see what the europeans see. here they show much more. there is no end in sight. but a lot fo babies everywhere. a new generation is being born. it is important that we, and im speaking to all you myspace heads out there, communicate...(right tomas, communicate!) and work together. start by helping yourself. start by getting a bike.

love, alexander

Hey Hey Hey,
2 days down in Paris and already I've seen and learned so much. I arrived at Charles de Gaulle airport weds. morning after a suprisling quick 9 hour flight. On my flight I watched Harry Potter, V for Vendetta, and A Bugs Life, and played chess and tetris with this cool guy sitting next to me. At the airport, my bags were the last to come, and I mean, last. I was the only one standing there. There was some actor on the plane too, I forgot where he was from, I wanna say the OC or something like that.

Im staying with my pal David. Paris is divided into sections, arrondissements. He lives in the 20th. He's a funny dude, knows a lot about Paris, and has been taking us everywhere. After dropping off my bags, we went to a little cafe for lunch.
NOW- I thought that since the Euro was stronger than the dollar, smaller coinage would hold more, but no, prices are about the same as they would be even if it was dollars, so a sandwich in the US may be $7. Here is would be 7 Euros, which is about $9. Injustice. The difference is, you don't eat as much, and usually you just have a little bread with cheese or ham.
After lunch, and some walking around, I had to crash. My legs were barely under me and I had no idea what time it was.

Truthfully, I have no idea where I am. This place is strange, and I am definitely feeling culture shock. I don't fell homesick, just lost and again, I keep questioning what I am doing here and why I chose this place over others. Living here will not be easy, nor will going to school or working. The French have a way of making things difficult and they take pride in that. Though this place is really clean (except for dog poop), super markets close in the middle of the day for no damn reason. They simply choose too. And nothing is open past 10, except cafes. David says August is tourist season, so only central Paris is open. All the real Parisians are gone, on vacation. I have already looking for apartments and it seems it wont be hard to find a place. I have already been speaking with people through the email. But the rooms are tini tiny for like $700, 600E.

After my nap, went to the outside of the Louvre to meet up with my cousin, Christina. She is staying with us, they we are headed to Germany to meet up with her mom. We went to the Eiffle tower and have bread with chocolate. We saw my bridge, pont de Alexandre. We saw the Eiffle tower sparkle. We saw Notre Dame and had dinner in the Latin Quarter, which is really tight. Small streets and a lot of yound people. It was the more posh area with more stores and movie theaters. I would like to live around there, but It probably costs an arm and a leg.

I am looking forward to moving in somewhere and setting up somewhat of a life here. A year is a long time, but goes fast, and here, I'm sure it will. I want to find the awesomeness of Paris that dwarfs the city's problems. But for now, I'll stay in shock and use that to explore. Boys: the girls here are cute. They're thin, and like to dress nice. They all were skirts and little heals. Even the grungy ones are cute, and they have cute butts.

Montmarter, where Amelie was filmed, is the old part of Paris. It is full of old buildings that have stood before America was born, and churches that warm the heart and chill the spine. We visited Sacre-Coeur, a huge cathedral, with access to its tower top, the highest point in Paris, and to its crypts, a dark basement with sculptures of jesus in his tomb, post crusifiction. It was pretty cool. Plenty of fake purses.



Tomorrow I go to Munich, via London. Wish me luck. Terrorism is a pretty horrible thing, and it is something that is happening to all of us, all around the world. The thoughts of bring children into a world that is bent on destryoing itself is a scary. Where is our future, in war, or peace, heaven, or hell? Is fear what we should preach, or love? According to Donny Darko, it's more complicated than that, and we have to keep that in mind. We also need to start thinking for ourselves. In all this madness, that is what I'm learning abroad, to think for myself. I only hope that I am not over come by fear.

Keep your head up ya'll.

God bless. A.

Hello. Welcome to my Blog. Hope you enjoy reading it as much as I enjoyed righting it. This is my first blog ever you know. So bare with me if it seems like an unusual blog. Anyways, let's get started.

I paced my room all day today wondering, "Why France?" "I don't even like the French." They are pretty snobby. I remember them well. But despite the cocked nosed attitude of the French, my thoughts were truly symptoms of my pre-departure fear about living in France.

For those of you who don't know, but most of you should, I'm spending next year, Fall and Spring, in Paris. It is a year abroad, going to school, teaching English to high school students (I hope there aren't too many hot 18 year old girls), and making a film, and/or acting in one. This trip is part of my, "Do it while you're young," goals in life as well as a "Figure out who you really are and what you really want in life so you don't end up in some shitty job you don't really want to do." Traveling that far away for that long a time is an adventure to me, and I love adventures. This trip should also provide me with a much broader perspective of the world, culture, society, economy, business, and film. And if it doesn't, and I end up drinking the time away, well, just so long as I am enjoying myself. Though it won't be like that.

Flash back to this time last summer, 05. I was all set to go, Paris was calling my name. But something was holding me back. My mother's emphysema and stress levels were rising, and her strength seemed void and unconcerned. She looked and felt emptier and sicker than I had ever seen her before. She had always had emphysema, for as long as I could remember, but over the recent years, her disease fed on her body, impairing her mobility to a mere walk that could only last about 5 to 10 feel before she needed to sit and rest. Emphysema is a caused for carcinogens, smoking, and is basically burnt sillia tissue found in the cavalaries of the lung. Because of there charred conditions, these sillia can no longer capture oxygen from the inhaled air. Incapacitated sillia means her blood lacks oxygen, making it harder for her muscles to work, and easier for aging to take place.

My mom is a tough woman, but nature plays a good hand and will make the game work in its favor over time. Summer of 05, my mom's chips were low. I couldn't leave her side at such a desperate time. There were other factors that played into the equation, other participants who I could and could not count on, but the point was, I had to stay close to home, until my mom got better. I hadn't planned on being home all summer, but I was. And she did get better.

I can't say it's easier leaving this year as it would of been leaving last year. My mom is still sick, but things seem to be under control. She has people around to help her and she has more energy than she's had in a while. And me living this adventure makes her happy. Some analysist would say she is living out her dreams through me. I say she's inspired me to try new things all the time, and living in another country sure will be new to me.

Why France, I don't know. I know the language somewhat. I've got some connections there. And it's sort of in the center of Europe and near north Africa, so traveling will be pretty easy and fun. I'll get to snowboard the alps, go to Spain in the fall, the south of France in the Spring, and meet cute French chicks with hot little bodies who don't speak a work of English. Yeah Baby! Why not France (other than they hate Americans). Wish me luck.

So there you have it, my first blog. How was it? Were you engaged? What ever your opinions might be, there will be more blogs to come, so stay tuned. For now, take care, and fight for peace.