Rewind City
Dear Backpackers, travelers, and other lost boys or girls back in the drudgery of home not so sweet home and dull 9to5 jobs, what if we could live those best moments again? Have a look at this ad by Orange TV and enjoy (why resist?) that invisible little teardrop of recognition.
Hey, face it, I am a sentimental guy so I like it.
Biggest Drawing In The World
A Map For Saturday
End of January, another drab wednesday. Life should be a bit more like on this video, not?
A MAP FOR SATURDAY is the product of a year’s travel through 26 countries on four continents. Emmy winning producer Brook Silva-Braga left his cushy gig with American TV network HBO to travel the world with five pounds of clothes and 30 pounds of video equipment.
On The Beach Of Time
More comfy with the silence? Snotty leaves on the pavement and no (barely enough) sun. Mood set. S.A.D. Nothing new. So yeah this is the third winter in a row I didn't (but planned to, my wishbook doodled with little suns, palmtress and smiley 30+ Celsius marks) retreat in warmer climates. Same old story, uhu. No luck in finding sufficient means and no brilliant thoughts to start - once again - climbing the ladder of easy escape, I am stuck to this sillyness, surviving the wrong climate with the least adapted personality. Gosh, poor me. Teleport me to Darfur or some other godforsaken ( just politely worried souls to ease our western mindsets) place.
I know, I know...
Anyway, winter time is killing time. Reading books (or rather the sweet attempt; What is the what by Dave Eggers is eagerly waiting to get finished for more over then, this is pathetic, 3 weeks already) or with penguin movies, Happy Feet, or Disney's latest one, Surf's Up. And no, don't bother to point at the pointlessness of it, I don't get it too, that latest animated Antartic animal craze, tap-dancing artic birds or surfing frosty dudes. To think of it, the only frame I can remember watching is what looks like a pristine (80's?) version of Raileh Beach (see pic) but I guess that's to no ones surprise....
Again.
Cup Noodles Revisited
"The noodle isn't just a meal. It's a steaming hot celebration of texture and flavor. We understand the noodle better than anyone. With Top Ramen and Cup Noodles, we taught an entire generation that quality ramen noodle soup is never more than three minutes away." (Nissin Food Products Co).
Hear hear, as I slurp away another spoonful of chicken ramen.
Funny, I was never a fan of instant noodles. My college years poverty-food was always a endless row of stale cheese sandwiches or occasionally, when craving for decent dinner stuff, a frozen 'saté' I heated in the watercooker (Do Not Cook!). And later when traveling, and still on a budget, I always went for at least something freshly cooked, cut or chopped by street stall ladies, that without exception had that warm but tired smile of a grandma managing the grandkids to empty there plate full of veggies.
I guess it was the instant in the noodle always that ticked me of, putting it high in the order of crappy mystery food, just under tv-dinners and Jell-O pudding. Also, it was, hey still is, convenient food. And at a certain age you just don't want to be associated with anything remotely convenient. Nah, you want the raw thing, to kick ass, so shove that future astronaut food your parents presented as the killer invention. I know for todays teenage kids that may sound a bit crazy ("duuuuh?), but really there was a whole generation that spat on anything plasticy like corporate fast food. McDonalds, same thing, a big no no; better starve then to be seen there. Amazing eh?
But nowadays, I can't seem to get enough of it.
Why? I like to think it has something to do with the death early this year of Mr Noodle himself, Mr Momofuku Ando (安藤百福). And as things go, global fame peaks when a fresh corpse is involved. So reading his obituary and the numerous web articles that followed, a unique personal story got unfolded and in my subconscious I likely realized eating another cup makes me part of history; that this is not just some snack, no, this is post war heroism melting in my mouth.
Ah well, perhaps the reason is more down to earth, lesser psycho history deep. That this munching just triggers memories of gone airplane-rides. Yeah, that midnight cup you collect in a bumpy Chinese Airlines 747, sent back to your chair with the biggest of stewardess smiles: "You're welcome sir." Nowhere does a cup noodles taste better then in the dark at 10 k height.
From mystery food to memory food, gosh, my life has took a strange turn.
Flip-Flops Flipflop
courtesy of havaianas
Summer in Europe, floods and heatwaves, have your pick. Next winter memories are setting in, and so in the end the sound of summer 2007 may as well be the tick of endless raindrops on a tent, the fast swoosh of that same tent instantly consumed by a blazing bushfire. Or perhaps you are blessed and it will just be one of the evergreens, the thump of a dropped icecream in the sand, the shriek then laughter of a (too)pretty girl in a swimmingpool you've been watching all day, or likely that crappy euro-disco tune, nested in your brain since that worst hangover on local drinks. Ah well, whatever it will be for you, to me it is the streets or beaches filled with feet sounding like chewing gum, a blue skied world of flip-flops flipflopping.
Comfortable, airy and with built-in sounds effects... it says it all, in summer nothing can top the anti-footwear, flip flops, or whatever you name them. Some insist on calling them thongs, jandals, beach slippers, but pardon my semantic choice, I just stick to flip-flops, as I stick to ping-pong when a normal person would probably say table-tennis, or tuk tuk for a motorcycled taxi, even outside Thailand. See, I am a sucker for objects named after the sound they make, and strongly believe that getting along lies in this simpler lingua franca.
Remarkable thing is however, yes a confession, I never wear them. I tried, really, true backpackers can't do without. I remember my last pair of rubbery blacks bought on KSR, all up to the buckets law of footwear, the cheaper the better. And gosh it felt good, sounded good, looked good, totally holiday bliss. Even without braided hair I blended in so perfectly. But as always, after a couple of days of walking and strolling, I have to admit defeat to an unwillingly body, to a stubborn set of toes stuck in a permanent toe jam. Topped with a grin of pain and relief on my face I had to let them go. Yip, sad but true, flip-flops and me, another unrequited love...
Still, boys and girls, do me a pleasure, don't give into Birkenstock's (or whatever comfy high dollar brand), definitely forget about Crocs, but most of all to that latest fashion craze, topless sandals ("Dare you to go topless this summer? No more suntan lines" - really?). I saw a pretty girl walking with a pair of those new acclaimed 'nude sandals', she dressed in a breezy top and flower skirt, skin and smile radiating in sync with a perfect summer, and it just didn't seem right. Like some beautiful people can be suddenly so bland when they start to speak, this girl disappeared into seasonal nothingness when she started to walk, inaudible. It's a shame.
Besides that, they all look silly.
Make my summer, flip flop.
Chemical Brothers
So far the latest single "Do it again" from the Chemical Bothers. Before you start bashing me for a bad musical taste, let me point out it's not exactly my fav kinda music, though the Chemical Brothers did make some good songs in the old days. I am thinking about classics like "Hey Boy, Hey Girl" to which I once danced, late at night on the rooftop of a pension in downtown Istanbul, plugged into my discman, sorta happy and drunk on raki. But this is not one of them.
Anyway, thing is, as you smart globetrotters all must have noticed, the clip is set in Morocco, examining the footage, somewhere on the roads and mountains south of Marrakech . And hey, it's been awhile I have been there, but seeing the images, the landscapes, the people, the goats, I think it's about time I go back there and break that silly (but oh so meant, so tired of that country, pretty much on the rebound after a true love at first sight) promise not to go the Maghreb for a long long time. Also, jeez, I have been 6 times in Morocco and never ever visited Marrakech (or area), kinda stupid not? I can do better, sure.
*ps. Also it's good to see Allah/God loves music. I remember a movie where he once did send a bottle of coke. He is improving.
Rebound
© CZ 2007
The epic ending of a short trip. So yeah disappearance is all about returning, the table set for another empty stomach. Being a habitual man, lacking imagination, my pulse an old tune, Thailand it was, and telling such, this solo venture ended. So to all that were aware of the gap, hello; to all else that weren't, a nice little shrug; too all a timid smile in a tanned face.
Firefox
Safari