Lake Tahoe

When passing Carson City we spotted the sign to Lake Tahoe and since a friend of mine highly recommended that I should go there, we swiftly turned the car around and did.
Now here we are in a affordable and good room, best yet even. My brother is happy when he gets to see real houses and buy a pair of good ski-gloves. (Yes there is going to be snow here in a day or so but by then we will be long gone according to the plan.
It is a very nice looking place, no doubt about it. Yesterday we saw some things to take note on:
A bar that is both an after-beach and after-ski. I bet you will not find those at to many places.
While driving in the city I spotted a woman walking badly and falling over in the street. We stopped the car and checked on her. Soon her likewise intoxicated man came to the scene and the booz-couple could move on home. Later at the Laundry a whole gang of alcoholics had gathered and we found the amount of them quite high for such a community. Driving back over the Nevada border which goes right through town we also saw several casinos which to some extent might explain the situation.
The Applebee's restaurant has hired a woman on speed. Completely over the top, and in your face and HAPPY HAPPY HAPPY. Hilarious in a bad way. Unfortunately she had left when we came back to eat there and we did not have a video cam to capture her ways, so I guess you would never believe it if I tried to tell you. It was indescribable.

Keep your time

We spent the night at the cinema in Lake Tahoe. We saw "In Time" directed by Unknown and starring a lot of young actors. And this is part of the problem with the film. But just part.
The concept is interesting but the makers of the film has not been able to explain  or solve several everyday events. Maybe they where to obsessed with trying to make their own Matrix? Instead they use speed to just avoid all the questions raised and mystically alluding to a "father" and painting a very sketchy messiah.
The bearing idea is not really bearing even though it is interesting. But it just leaves you with to many questions such as how did it all start and how was it implemented? It needs more work, just as the acting, that is substandard. I credit this to all the young actors. Not much to say about it except it seems like it was all done in a rush.
The sets look like they have been borrowed either from the Batman TV-series or any of the 10 different Matrix copies we have seen through the last decade.
So what was good with the movie? The idea is interesting and it also provokes some thoughts about families in the future. But still with the old view of the nucleus family. And the old boring roles: the father as the provider and the females as spenders, the mother as the caring and so on… strangely crazy-christian actually.
The film also seemed to critique Darwinism in a blunt and stupid way. I do not know where that came from but maybe some weed-head at the film studio took money from some ID-fairy-tale-lobbyist, what do I know?
All in all the film was not very well made: lacking in acting, story, sets and props. But more so it lacked a good script and some visions for the future. The ending was just such a cop-out. We had a good time though discussing how to fill all the holes… but we did not manage; there where just to many of them and to few of us.
I recommend the film to anyone who is a Sci-Fi scholar specializing in dystopias with to much time on their hands, not because you will like it but because you need to see it.

Coledale, US Highway 6, abandoned dwelling

On our way west along US Highway 6 we came upon some ruins and abandoned houses. We did a shallow exploration of them. It seemed to have been a gas station, a bar a motel or some kind of lodging with several long houses as well as some other buildings and homes. Part had been burnt to the ground. Scattered in the area was naturally black rock. And further away on the plain we could see something white, possibly a dried out lake of salt. The mountain in the background is Boundary Peak, Nevadas highest point at 13143 ft where we are headed.

Tonopah, NV

We spent the night in the somewhat scary "Clown Motel" in Tonopah with a "life-size" pre-Ronald McDonald Clown and a "without a doubt haunted" cemetery from 1911 right next to it . At least that was the information given to us by the woman who gave us the key.
My brother decided to defrost the fridge in the hotel room. During the small hours. He is funny that way. You never know what is going to happen. I might also mention the scary ghost finger that opened the shower curtain when I was in there… "haunted, proven beyond doubt" exactly how this is measured I did not have the energy to ask.

As the sun came up we looked around the main street, fittingly called "Erie Street" about four times looking for the place where the breakfast was served: the Sidewinders.
We got ourselves some bacon and eggs and what not but we got something else that we had not bargained for: the kitchen girl came out to tell me that she never made eggs sunny side up before. I then shortly explained what to look for in one sentence and then she said: "I will not be able to remember that."
Perfect.

We ate and decided to climb a mountain so when we were about to pay the kitchen girl came back and asked about the eggs again!? And then she asked us a few more questions and could not care less for the answer. A fantastic way to signal: I DO NOT GIVE A SHIT ABOUT YOU (but I do mind the tip).

The Cowboy V

Back at the bar, still have not eaten and two hours of my life passed in what felt like 20 minutes we are very hungry. Again I try to order from Marc the man behind the counter. Again I am denied service and as my brother disappears for a moment some more time passes on. The Cowboy on the other hand has another whiskey on the rocks in his glass before he even seats himself at the bar.
Now we are ready to order some food and try to do so, but the Cowboy is having none of it: he has food at his place and now we are taking both our Pick-Up trucks and drive in a cloud of dust to the Ranch.

The trailer is hot, unclean and just what you would expect from a Cowboy crib. While I go to the toilet the Cowboy downs a few mouthfuls of Canadian Whiskey. He then goes on rambling about all sorts of things and starts making us food. He asks us what we want and picks out some fine beef from the fridge. But before he had the time to start cooking this banquet he slips into sever drunkenness. He admits some more appalling details about his life before he just leaves the bacon frying on the stove tells me he needs to do some stuff and drives off in his car.

While I take over the cooking he returns, now more drunk than ever. He demands that I stop cooking since he will be doing that, as a good host. He almost falls over a couple of times before serving us refried beans and bacon. He takes no more than three bites of his own food before he states that he will now leave. He walks over to his trailer and disappears.

Now my brother is not at all relaxed in the situation so I make the dishes and turn off the stove. We write a letter to the good Cowboy and we leave the ranch. Hoping to return.

The Cowboy IV

We return the horse to its stabling and we get to ride it. Unfortunately the Cowboy is a huge man so the stir-ups are way to long so it is not my best ride. But it is a frisky animal I can tell. According to our host it also cost $20.000.
By now the Cowboy has invited us to stay at his place about a dozen times. He also asked us where we were going ten times and told us the same facts about farming at least eight times. His memory is not serving him all that good, that has come very apparent the first hour or two of our friendship. Another thing that is apparent is the man's candidness: he tells us about his jobs and his views of the world and to sum it up: he could have lived in the old west.
Being who I am I have the time of my life as the Cowboy is deciding things for my reserved brother. I love every minute of this and look forward to what will happen next. We return to the bar and on the way over there our host repeats him self a few more times.

The Cowboy III

We find the herd we are looking for, the Cowboy has about 1300 cattle in this valley which is his grazing land. It is an immense area and we both stand dumbfounded at the huge workload that the Cowboy has, although he has one friend to help him. In this herd I estimate there are about one hundred animals.
We leave the dirt road and the Cowboy steers his 4 wheel-drive into the terrain. We stop among some animals that seem quite slow and calm not in any hurry to get out of the way for a gigantic pick-up truck bearing down on them.
The Cowboy sets his dogs to work to round up the cattle but unfortunately we do not find the injured cow. So we do not get to do any roping which I was both fearing and looking forward to. We get back in the truck and set of again. This time we have some minor problem getting back on the road, mind you we have a horse on a horse cart as well. But the Cowboy is not appalled; he just shifts gear and drive right up through the ditch. On our way back he almost go off road on the left side of the road hitting a road marker while he is explaining something to us about cow-rearing. Now I start thinking that he might be drunk and as we get out of the car I understand that my brother is sure of it.

The Cowboy II

And the story continues. We drive out into the mostly flat prairie and then we get a thorough but fast and repetitive lesson of the plants that grow on the lands. There are 7 different bushes and 3 different grasses. There are four of them that ranks highest when it comes to grazing the animals, and one is poisonous. There is also one grass that was imported from Europe with the coming of the white man and it is more or less useless. But there is white rice and another one that contains about 18 percent protein, so it is money in the bank for a beef-farmer. I find the whole thing quite interesting but confusing.
After walking around the brushes with their thorns for about 15 minutes we get in the car again and I try to get as many thorns that I can out of my feet and out of my shoes. We head out to rope us a cow...

This one is for the stoybooks...

So in the aforementioned bar a big man comes in before I have managed to attract the attention of the proprietor. We start talking, mostly about Vegas. Then he asks me what I am looking for and I say lunch as truthfully as a starving man. He then says that he just cooked up beans and pork in his home and I am more than welcome to it. He does not even seem to be thinking of going there him self. I get a bit surprised but keep my calm and ask if he is serious. Which he assures me he is. Knowing my brother being quite particular about his food I think we better eat in the bar anyway. But before I know it the Cowboy has told me and my brother about this cow that he needs to catch today because her foot is bad and now we are leaving the bar carrying a soda in our hands while he has a glass of whiskey with ice. We get into thebig Pick-Up truck that also has a horse trailer w/ horse and two dogs on the back. I actually ask if I should change to real shoes instead of the flip-flops that I wear but he just says that it will be all-right. And off we go. There is an automatic pistol, .32-caliber on the wind-shield together with the Cowboys whiskey glass. Before I know what is about to happen the Cowboy cocks the gun while driving to the sound of the ice rocking about in his whiskey glass on top of the cars dashboard. He aims out of the window and fires a round to my ears complete amazement. Then he asks if we want to try and shoot it. We both respectfully decline. And this is just the beginning...

Cowboys and Aliens

So we left Las Vegas this morning in search of the Extraterrestrial Highway and Area 51.
Driving through Alamo I thought that it might be the historical site. So we turned into the little community. Turned out to be the wrong Alamo. But that did not matter, we got to see a kids rodeo. There was some seriously impressing riding by young girls and boys. The lariat throwing was not as good. we saw a 4 year old riding a fully grown horse and that was to cute and with Swedish standards we think that a hat is not as good as a helmet.
After this little detour we went on to Rachel which is a tiny group of houses just on the border to Nellis Air-force base a.k.a Area 51. They have a bar/saloon there which is just next to a station measuring radiation from the test site. The bar is called Little A'Le'Inn and has all kinds of Alien and UFO paraphernalia. I can not say that it was particularly friendly or with good service since I did not manage to order anything there even though I tried several times during several hours. The locals took care of that and I be happy to tell you all about it in the next posting...

White Trash

I walked through a couple of casinos just to get the feel for Las Vegas. I saw several signs dreamingly remembering how the Rat Pack used to "own" this place in the 60ies. And maybe that was what I was looking for as well: style and well dressed people shaking the dice. But that did not happen readily. The Strathospere has been invaded by snuggies, the casuals and the leisure lot. No lime light and no high life.
I went on. At Encore it looked a little better, but there is a big difference from the movies. I heavy weight difference. It does not look like in "Casino".
Further more: style has no credit here, only credit does. I bet you can sit naked at the gaming table if you just play for a million.

Loathing in Las Vegas

I meet a man in the street, I think it might have been just a block off Main street, not entirely sure, I had just managed to sneak out through the Stratospheres garage.
He was kind of old, did not look to clean and walked with one of those high tech aluminum canes with red coating.
He wanted my help. His teeth disgusted me, but I decided to hear him out and he repeatedly shook my hand as a sign of reassurance and I take it some kind of submission.
I knew he was going to lie me right to the face and I wanted to see how that looked. I wanted to know if I could detect a liar so I just waited for him to finnish his ramp up. So he began: "I am trying to get home…"
He said he was from Wyoming, described the neighboring states. His storytelling was far from to the point but maybe I just was not susceptible to it.
He had just recently gone with his wife to California to bury some family member and their car had broken down. Even though he was well over 60 he claimed he had a new job waiting back home operating heavy machinery. Oh, yes I was well set up, he would take my address and any money I could give him now his wife would send back double the amount with a Christmas greeting to me.
Right there a gamble for me: and no risk, here a man in need of money who surly will repay me as soon as he can, right?
Now I watched the man during his whole speech and there was nothing that should me he was lying in his appearance. He seemed completely truthful.
I than said no to this most profitable proposal and we talked for a minute more when he warned me of the hazard for getting robbed on this very street. And to underscore this very point he related a story of something he had seen: two guys robbing two other just over there and he pointed down the street. And I asked him if this was tonight. No no it was 5 or 6 weeks ago. And then he hurriedly added that he had heard this, since he had not been here THAT long…

LA Odyssey

We take route 14 north. We have stocked up with a new map that leads us out of the city and towards Death Valley.

This is the desert. And the worst roads. And garbage. $1000 fine for littering. Yeah good idea, but how many are actually caught?

"Strange that we do not see any windmills says my brother."
"I can not believe that they have these many monster trucks on the road. I say, not speaking out loud that I have a hard time understanding how we ended up riding in one ourselves... Then I see them. A forest of them, almost as many as the monster trucks trafficking the free-way around us. Wind mills. There must be at least a hundred of them. It is my Sky valley.
We turn of the free-way. We go on to an asphalt strip with double yellow lines in the middle and then we leave that as well; we go onto a dirt road in to the wilderness between Joshua trees and old TV-sets. TV-sets from the seventies, the type that used to have wooden box around the tube, now destroyed and dusty in the sand. The sand that we drive through. Up and over, sometimes the road dips into an old dried out wadi or ditch.
My brother says that this is why we rented a monster truck. We watch the windmills, and I take some bad photos that never will make this experience justice and I swear over not being able to play "Welcome to Sky valley" while we are amongst the tall white structures reaching towards the sky. A sky where the sun is setting and paints the perfect sunset with a blend of yellow and pink. The mills turn slowly in the calm breeze as we drive away.

Route 66

We stop at the cross section of Florence and Normandy. I get out, try to get some pictures. But it is probably only I who knows the historical significance of this place and the name Reginald Denny. I do not manage to get any good pictures. I am sure of this although I have not seen any of it because I use a disposable camera. The whole scene sucks. We leave by Normandy Avenue and cross Korea Town...
We are rolling down Santa Monica Boulevard in our oversized Ford, the historical Route 66... and it looks like everything else. Nothing special here. We see the Hollywood sign between the houses flash by and that is all that we need from that old sign.
We drive of the edge of the map and get lost in Burbank. Find a 99 cent store and buy 5 gallons of water. After all we are headed into the desert. What we are going to do with all the candy? Well eat it, or throw it away when we realize that it has a tint of perfume to the otherwise blend taste. Disgusting.

Tiping

Maybe just maybe I gave the cab-driver to little tip... now it might be him outside the hotel honking the horn at 1 in the night. And maybe this is the cab-drivers unions approved method of complaining about bad tips: to go the address once per hour during the night and give a loud horn. It remains to be seen. If this is not the case then there is some real social torture-master out there in a car...

Brother where art thou?

I met the small-fry at LAX. He was tiered of course, being in transit for 16 hours. I got my bag and then we tried to walk out of the airport since I had booked an hotel next to the airport. This was not as easy as it sounds. To leave LAX by foot you need to find the secret passage.

The hotel I booked was not as close to the airport as advertised so on our way there we had 7 sorrows and ended up eating about the worst meal I have had in the USofA in a stinking roadside club called the Melody Club. Except from the odour of the place the live music they had was way to loud and not to my liking at all. Since I neither wear multicoloured shirts, dance in geometrical shapes or push cows.
Finally at the Hotel my booking exists but has transmuted into a smoking allowed room and it reeks. Thankfully we get to change to a habitat suitable for humans and finally my little brother can rest his drowsy head. Nighty night.

Goodbye Portland

Today I had brunch with my hosts before I left Portland. It was at a place called Bear Dinner and was a true American Dinner where we managed to get an American parking, only five steps from the entrance.
The brunch consisted of 2 sausages, 2 bacon strips a oversized piece of ham, 3 eggs and hash-browns and 2 pancakes. We got stuffed, not a problem for me but someone else was going to teach jiujitsu 40 minutes later. Tough shit.

Flight was on time and on my way to LA I went to Phoenix, AZ. That was warm although I only stayed for an hour. I had some great company: I met the CEO of a start-up bike company. They seem to have an interesting product in a fold-able bike with an electric engine for commuters. It can be viewed here.

In retrospect Portland was lush, flat and very nice but lacked character. Everyone (almost) was friendly and nice, but except from my friends I do not know what I will remember of the city?

American beverages

They are really pushing it when it comes to reinventing established beverages in this country:
Iced Coffey, Hot Cider, Bubble The. As well as all the extra flavours the like to add, the most important one right now being Pumpkin.
What is next? Boiling Shakes, Hot Coke or carbonated Mer?

Milburn's Haunted Manor

So after our disappointment with the Haunted Woods we went to a more established Haunted Manor that had three different attractions for $20 or $9 each. The three where:
1. the Woods
2. the Darkness
3. the Manor

The Woods was the best one and we laughed and jumped and almost shit our pants all four. They used wires and suspension in a good way as well as the broken room of the trees mixed with small boxed houses that often were pitched dark.

The Darkness was more of an indoor experience where we walked from room to room. It had some disgusting children and a clown but it was clear that this one was not where the focus had been put.

The Manor was the tour that probably had most planning and resources gone in to it. It was of course an indoor experience although it actually lacked a manor and was housed in some kind of tent. It started out with a kind of story when we met an old crone in the hallway. She was creepy enough and then we walked through a number of rooms and corridors with some fancy designs making use of furniture and different levels, although we remained on the same ground level all the time. There where plenty of actors in all three tours as well. In one room a huge Hern-like man took our picture that was sold outside later on.

All in all it was a interesting and fun experience, the woods was the best of the three. I could definitely recommend it if you are looking for a cheesy Halloween experience. The Milburns home page is here.

Fooled

Today picking up a few disposable cameras I realized that I paid about triple the price for the one I bought in NY. Hmmm.
Later having lunch I ordered a good burrito for $ 4.99. Then I realized that the price for two burritos was ALSO $4.99 and for three burritos you would pay a measly $5.25.
The overhead on that one burrito... oh they got me again.

Five rings jui-jitsu

Yesterday night we went to a Japanese restaurant and met with some people from Five Rings Jui-Jitsu club. And I was asked to come roll with them today so that I did.
It is a clean and very friendly club and I was able to try some different techniques. My frail designer skin did not take kindly to the treatment of rubbing the matt though. And I even had the slight misfortune of a momentary dislocation of my knee. But it popped right back again so now it is just a bit swollen. I had a good time and would be happy to roll again on a more permanent basis. Good guys down there.

Strip poles and bookcases

I have now on more than one occasion had pleasure of walking the inner city of Portland and while there are a large number of homeless, bums and beggars the city is nice although square and corporate looking. It is not a tall city, no skyscrapers just some tall buildings. The architecture ranges from American box to Ecclectical Roman independence. Not the largest ranged but there is a time-difference.
The city is clean which I appreciate and the people mostly calm and friendly. There are two tent camps set up in the city but I did not see any of them. One is brought to Portland by the 99% of the Occupy movement and the other is a tent camp for paired homeless people since apparently most shelters are for only one gender or the other. Ethnically the city is mixed but there are so many Hispanic that the tram has announcements also in Spanish.
There are several book-stores and one of them is very famous for it's size. It is called Powell's and can be found here.
Portland is also known for it's many strip-joints. It is actually the city in the USofA with the most strip-joints per capita which is said to go hand in hand with another thing they lead: most churches per capita. I saw several strip-clubs and I also laughed when I saw the sign advertising 24h lap dance. Not that I thought that you would get one for 24 hours straight which would have been kind of tortureesq but rather knowing that you can not get useful things like food 24 hours a day in most places but here you will never be denied a lap dance.

Voodoo Doughnuts

When walking in central Portland today I came across a que of people lining up to buy from a shop called Voodoo Doughnuts.
I asked them what it was all about and apparently the people I asked had never been there but got fooled by the already long line and decided to add to it.
When I came back a few hours later the que was gone and I could easily stroll in and by one for my self. I had to know what was so special. They told me that a signature doughnut from "VD" as they called them self would be double sized one with bacon on top. I felt that I had not done anything bad today so punishment was not on the menu. I got a pretty standard raspberry filled and glacéed one. It was good, but not waiting in line good. Maybe next time I try the bacon-version.

The Haunted Woods

I got invited to go to a Haunted Wood/House thing/event.
Some people who have a house outside of the urbanized area and probably likes Halloween very much had put together a ghost-walk of sorts.
It consisted of a lady selling tickets in a barn where there where big cages with big bones in them and a small sized dog in one. Then you walked out into the darkness, hearing very horror like and over the top sounds from another barn we where lead to a scene where a car seemed to have crashed down into some marshland and a man in what to me looked like a orange prison jumpsuit stood very still further away. I started thinking that that man was just a scarecrow but I am not sure. When we got closer someone came out of the bushes and started following us. That had a scary effect, but then it all just broke down because all of a sudden there was so many different person lining the path we where on that it felt like a market place or something like that. Then one of the guys who where with us broke it completely by talking loudly about how he would smack anyone who came close to him. That took away much of the fun and he seemed to be having issues. Then a clown showed up with a chainsaw and that was a bit scary, clowns often are, but again to much in to little space. Finally we came to the loud barn where they had built a walk with black plastic bags and where playing loud music: Living dead girl with White Zombie actually, which gave us a bit of a Rave feeling: going out in the dark woods with glow sticks seeing people in strange attire. So we danced the last part of the walk and then we where at the cars again. Not that scary, unfortunately. What was more scary was when we drove to get to the place we went wrong and passed some "no trespassing" signs. Then it felt like that could actually be the tour. Later we where even informed that the neighbour was crazy and had been threatening people.

Halloween

Halloween is truly important here. I thought it was just a fun time when you dress up and go trick or treating at other peoples doors much like what we do at easter in Sweden plus the tricking then. But was I wrong: the month of October will according to my predictions be renamed Halloween in the near future since October, the whole month is taken up by Halloween celebrations.
Any good American should:

- Decorate their house with pumpkin paraphernalia.
- Decorate their house with ghost.
- Decorate their house with witches.
- Decorate their house with tombstones.
- Decorate their house with cobweb.

- Decorate their lawn with pumpkins, skulls, tombstones and small lanterns.

- Make cookies out of cookies. See explanations further down.

- Throw a Halloween party, not necessarily on the night of Halloween, but sometime during the month of Halloween (known to others as October)

- Go visit a Haunted House (or set one up and have people come visit. I write about it here.)

- Buy a shitty costume in a shitty store located in a shitty strip mall. The shitty costume should be of such a low quality that it falls to pieces already before you leave said shitty store in afore mentioned shitty strip mall.

---
On Cookies

It is a normal behaviour for any American to buy cookies from the store and then re-bake them in another cookie dough to make bigger cookies. There is nothing to even lift your eyebrow on here... just accept it. (Oh, yes they are often good tasting and way to large but that is beside the point!)

Transport Nutcases IV

Today riding the MAX light rail from Portland city centre a man approached me and wanted to sit next to me although there was plenty of space for him to sit not beside me but I indulged him. He then wanted to talk about the book I was reading, or actually he did not look like he wanted to talk at all, but he did talk to me asking about what I was reading and then with a glance he dismissed the Lovecraft book I am currently reading as "science fiction" wrinkling his nose if I was not mistaken.
He was already acting somewhat antisocial looking the other way while talking and in the pretty typical way here not listening. He claimed to know about the today largely forgotten and somewhat obscure writer Lord Dunsany, then asked me if I read the bible. So that was what he wanted to talk about. He exposed himself as the jesus-freak he was. From that point onward I knew that nothing good was coming out of this encounter.
I said yes I have read enough parts of the story book he was referring to and I am ashamed that the culture I come from have the scripture with the worst prose.
He did not really have anything to add to that so instead he looked away and started murmur something un-discernible. Save by the bell we reached the station and I went the opposite way from the jesus-freak. I think that he might have been out on a mission to convert someone. He did not seem to happy about it. I held my distance as well as you can in a confined space since there are to many weapons around here wielded by to many crazy fiends.

Almond milk?!

I was told that Almond milk is better than normal milk. Less bad, more good - simple right? Then the very old truth must come in: good for you - bad for your tongue, right?
...

I just had a mouthful of Almond milk. Uuuharg. No. Don't do it, it is not worth it.

Portland, Oregon

Today I landed in Portland, Oregon. After some initial scouting of the airport I decided that it is not a big city. Riding the MAX light train seemed to agree with my assessment. Checking my observations with Wikipedia has Portland as an area at more than 2 million inhabitants, and the city as USofAs 29th biggest. Well it is big enough but people around the nation has their picture clear about Portland and Oregon: it is considered a back water, but a nice one. They say that this is the place for young people to retire in. The weather is supposed to be like that of Seattle and we have had some rain today so that seem to be correct, just out of observation.
The houses of down town Portland are shorter than skyscrapers and the whole town has a bit of a laid back mood this far. Tomorrow will give me more input. Time to sleep.

Seattle - last words

So I have left the capital of Grunge. It was a very artsy city with many crazy people in all con-notations of the word. I was invited to a party starting the Art in the City week yesterday. It was nice, free food and drinks and some music. Mostly shitty music though. There was one guy wailing about like a struck child and dressed like some kind of clown. Hated that part of it. Finished my night at Bimbos Cantina with some spicy food. I rate Seattle as a pretty good city.

Seattle - first impressions

The surroundings and the air is marvelous even with Swedish standards. There are vast open spaces and high mountains and green trees. It is a modern city in the green embrace of nature. Or so it seems. Getting closer to the streets you notice, coming from NY that garbage does not litter the streets and that you need to sometimes jump to avoid it and dog shit l laying around. Bet the number of homeless people sleeping on the pavement, or in parks or
where ever, and asking you for money or just hanging around looking miserable. There are scores of people who look to be in dire need of help. As I mentioned this to the hosting couple for me stay they said that it gets even worse down along the coast. If so, are there any normal people in San Diego?

I want to write more but I am simply to tiered. I will have to break here and sleep.

Medieval Times, revisited

From a conversation I had yesterday it seems that I never wrote the following down, so now I will do it for sure. It might also have been a slight oversight in tagging, but if so I have unravelled some new evidence that is astonishing and will be given in the end of this posting.

It has everything to do with that Air Wolf entertainment that goes by the name of Medieval Times. And also with the American School system.

This started several weeks ago when I meet one of the participants in the splendid entertainment that was the victory for the red knight that I wrote about here. For lazy people: When we went to Medieval Times.
She is American and told me that she had last been to MT when she was 14 years old and that she had gone there with here class in school, a normal school, no tinfoil religious institution, but a regular American school. They went to MT since they at that time where studying Knights and the middle ages in history class! This I took as a joke until she assured me that it was all true. I laughed of course. But on the inside I was screaming in horror. What else could you expect from the schools? Maybe when studying math and economics they could use the terrible SMS-loans as examples of a "normal" and quite acceptable way of finance or when studying the Neolithic age there are so many films to choose from to look at as absolute prof of how life looked "when man and dinosaur walked the earth together". Flintstones -  the documentary.

Anyway I was relating this story to my friend who actually was the reason for me to go to Medieval Times in the first place. And then he confirmed that he had also been to 'the Times' with his school, but this time it was the minimally more acceptable History Club, an after school activity for those interested in history. Which tells us that this is not a unique event perpetrated by a single deranged teacher.

Leaving NY

To catch my 7:25 flight out of Newark in NJ I had to get up before 4. I set my alarm to 3:45. My body, this old machine woke me up at 3:42. Wide awake. Thank you body, you are the best sometimes. Tiered as you might be at this hour especially since I did not go to sleep before midnight I thought, let me rest these last 3 minutes until my alarm goes of. I closed my eyes for what felt like a little to long and 10 minutes passed. No alarm. I checked it and it turns out it was set to repeat on certain days, not today.
Up I went a little late and got dressed, picked up my bags and said by to my flate-mate. Out the door and down the street. According to Google Transit the F-train would pass my station at 4:10. I ran about 50 meters of the street since I felt a bit late and came down in the deserted subway.
At 4:06 the train came in at 4:07 it left. Lucky to be early I started to wonder about the other times and information that Google had provided me with.
At Penn-station they where on the money and I did not have any problem getting to the airport, except buying the wrong ticket as several other passengers. I would like to look at the UI of that machine again. It seems that if three persons make the same mistake at roughly the same time there is a problem with the information flow.
Writing this I am sitting on the airplane about one hour away from Seattle and it is about the most boring flight I ever flew. Looking forward to landing. Someone said that I could look forward to splendid weather these days, and that is most unusual in this city. It remains to be seen.

Brooklyn residency

Since becoming a homeless I was fortunate to have a friend to put me up in central Brooklyn for my remaining days in NY. So now I can say that I have lived in Brooklyn as well. It is something else. I can not put my finger on it exactly. Part of it is location of course and some part may be me missing my bike, my dear old bike. I hope that guy rides you as good as you deserve and that he parks you with a gentle hand.
Butt Brooklyn is different in looks, sounds and smells. The number of yellow cars compared to Manhattan is meager. The noise screen is at least where I stayed is much less invading, sometimes it is almost quite.
The apartment where I had the opportunity to rest my tiered homeless body and mind was also much more of a home than the room I rented these last months. It was quite large and very nice in comparison. I had a some good days before elevating NY and walking down a street in SoHo just yesterday with the yellowing leafs flickering by in a gust of wind over the side walk with two of my friends in a somber mood I felt how I will miss NY. The streets, the looks, the pace. Riding my bike through Midtown in full traffic, taking some zesty thing which name I can obviously not pronounce from a restaurant or street vendor for about half the price it would cost in Sweden, go a block in i different direction and explore something new, have another adventure. That I think I will miss.
Out of experience I also think that I will miss the people I have come to know here even if it was very short and even if we did not yet develop that deep relationship. But I am sure I will feel at loss for those faces and laughs and words and conversations.

Bike is gone

"He will buy it for a hundred dollars" she says. And she also says that he does not speak English. She tells me  many things on an unusually good phone line. She asks what brand the bike is but does not listen to the answer I never give. That was just a lead up to trying to lower the price. Haggling. Over the phone. Over a product that the buyer has not seen, in a language that the buyer does not command. Haggling through an interpreter. I momentarily hate Craigs list and emotionally do not want to sell. But I know that I have no leverage and no reason not to sell. I say yes.
Sure we can meet tomorrow in Washington Square park. Yes yes, I make all the faults and give away everything, even stated that I was relocating in the classified. I have not sold the bike yet but I have sold everything else just to sell it. I am in the lowest and worst position for a salesman leaving tomorrow.

Today, sunshine, in the park, just took the bike for my last ride, walking through the park looking for my buyer. There he is. He speaks English, although broken; we can communicate easily. The only thing in our way is my insecurity.

Then it comes, the question: "What is the lowest price". Today I am strong, I am not backing any further, then I could as well just give it away to my friend. I say a hundred dollars, and explain that I thought 150 was a fair price. He has tried looking on the bike and testing the brakes but all that charade is not meaningful any more. I have decided it is a hundred or nothing.

I walk away, he bikes the same direction, I shout to him: is it working well? He smiles and says yes. It is a sunny afternoon in the village, my last day in NY.

Bike sales

I have been trying to sell my bike through Craigslist and it is now looking up. We will see tomorrow. But it seems to be a full time occupation. You really need to be on it if you are to make the sales or buys going by on Craigslist. The pace is high.

Football overdose

Today we went to a bar in Downtown and watched about four games simultaneously while greasing our faces with piles of wings.
Our teams won their matches and new games started. It finally got to be a bit to much football for me, could not decide where to look and when I found something I wanted to see they went to commercials. But it was a real American Sunday in a bar getting drunk, no not me watching football and shooting shit.

Moving on...

The other night I decided to book some tickets out of here. After some searching I found a flight to Portland for $190. A little more than I found earlier but OK. I was going to book it when I realized that that flight would have me change planes in Seattle. And that Seattle is only one hour away from Portland. So then I decided to take a few days in Seattle before I continue. So it will be Grunge-museums and maybe the famous tunnels under the city. Reports will come, I promise. So my first stop is Seattle and from there I will work down the coast.

ComiCon and Good bye

Yesterday I brought my goodbye party to the Super Formal Friday party that had crashed the ComiCon bar hang. It was nice when I finally got there: my last day at work this Friday looked like a joke with the amount of job that rained down on me the last 5 hours. It was just after the Pizza-goodbye lunch that Sony held for me that, all of a sudden jobs started coming to me in an alarming speed. And I had counted on not getting any more jobs since I wanted to finish my paperwork and make backups of the last weeks projects. But that was not what happened and because of that I came an hour late to my going away party. I know some friends had been there and left before I got there and that was really to bad. And other friends got there and decided to be haters and leave. But with all the funny costumes and the talks I had with people that unfortunately never happened during work I still think the party was pretty good.

I am really ready to leave NY now. I have very mixed feelings though as it feels like it just was starting and that I had to rush through everything.

Best dressed homelessman in NY

Today I became homeless. It was a planned action, but never the less energy consuming. I moved out of my room in Harlem. Took all my belongings somewhere around 50 kilos of clothes, computers and crap and left the apartment. My plan was to leave the bike and walk but I could not carry my stuff so I made use of my bike to roll the biggest of my three bags. First stop was the laundry.
After that I went to Brooklyn, Parkslope to be precise felt that I wanted to say good bye to a friend I have come to know here in NY. Stopped by a phone store to revive my phone. Still hating T-mobile so much, but Verizon will not take your money if they can't have all of it: they demand to sell you a phone as well. By the time I had gotten to Parkslope, by riding the subway with about 50 kilogram of luggage in three bags and a bike I was a bit tiered. With a working phone I managed to set up for myself a place to sleep according to a previous arrangement with another new friend here in NY: a truly nice guy, actually the nicest guy in NY.
After that I hung out in the Parkslope club for about 8 hours playing Robo Rally and Call of Duty - miniatures. It was really just what I needed.
Now I found my way to bed and I feel less homeless and more excited about the rest of my trip. But having to much luggage and no direct plan is a very stressful situation. It will be interesting to see what else this trip will bring.

Long Island Shoting Centre

Last week when my brother visited me we went to the middle of Long Island to a small place called Islip where there is a indoor shooting range where you might also rent guns. The trip with the LIRR, Long Island Rail Road takes somewhere around 1.15 to 1.30 depending on time of day and so on. It is also not the most busy stretch of rail-road with about one departure per hour. We just missed a train on our way there and one going back. In Islip we then had the opportunity to hang out at the local Path Mark super store. An educating time. Did you know that you are not allaowed by law to redeem more than 240 bottles and cans for a maximum amount of $12? Did not think so. Well it was not the only thing we learned about the law this day.
When we got to the range we enquired about renting pistols or revolvers to shoot with. But since we did not hold permits for that in the states we could not. But we could rent an AK-47, 12 gauge shotguns and other carbines. So the law forced us to go power strong, and I did not object. My AK was loud, gave a big muzzle flash and was castrated to only semi-automatic fire. But fun to shoot never the less.
My brothers toy-like .40 calibre carbine only held 10 in the magazine, had a sharp kick, was badly under aimed and had yellow tape on the plastic body to hold it together. A strange weapon that I don't really see the use of.
The range was a bit short, only 20 yards and the ammunition quite expensive. We had a good time, but the trip was a bit long for the short shooting.

Transvestite Bingo at Bowery Poetry Club

Monday was Columbus day and some people where free since it is a National Holiday celebrating when a guy pretended to discover a continent where there were already people and which had been "discovered" by others in this way before which lead to genocide and the forming of this great nation and the hegemony of McD... OK I am rambling but am I lying?
Back to my Monday: after leaving my brother at JFK I went to Jamaica where apparently all the DVD stores are located. It was not very interesting so I went on back to Manhattan and attended a Monday night Bingo with Transvestites. IT was a fairly comedial a affair with a short man-like host who wore a fake moustache and a tall woman like hostess who wore glittery attire. They also had a black servant in police-inspired small clothes. Very colonial. Or not so much.
It was several rounds of bingo with strange prices to win. I actually won the best one: a Bruce Lee poster that is cut in the wrong place. The coolest thing was a drumstick made of papier mache. Who made it and why we where never told, but I could sense there was an untold story there.
We started out as a company of 8, but soon lost all our 4 Norwegians for dinner. Then when the remaining three had a fall out I was suddenly alone with 17 bingo cards. I gave them away like crazy trying to get percentage on the final cash prize but alas the wrong two persons got to split the $ 200. I had to go home with Bruce and without cash. But I had a good time. 

Time is running out...

This is my last week in NY even though I have not bought my tickets out yet. Soon I will be leaving for the West Coast. Should I then change the name of my blog since I will neither be in the city or at the company?
Probably no.

Time here has gone by to fast even though at times I do feel like the German lady: "NY is so lame". But eventually I understand that it is mainly my friends who are lame and work to much. There are things to do here if you can just muster the energy. With me that usually means find some good people to do it with and that might be the shortage in this city: Good people. I am leaving, mind you good reader.

Taco Jesus -finally!

Yesterday I was finally able to get some Mexican flavour, and no I am talking about food here nothing else. It feels like aeons of repeatedly trying: I went past there two times during the last 2 month with the intention of paying for food without getting any.
But yesterday I was finally admitted into the lime-green space of complete Air Wolf that is the Messiah of all foods Mexican: Taco Jesus.
Yes it was good. Sure beats the truck and the goat tacos.

Enchilada!

The Accomplice

We went to experience "the Accomplice" a tour, a game, a show but foremost an experience according to their homepage.
In reality it was an old-school live action role-play. And I mean really old with the exception of no present game-master. But they had everything else: a linear plot, some locations to visit to get clues and meet cast-members who would point you further and give you things.
I will not divulge any parts of the story since I do not want to ruin it for you. But I will tell you some of my experiences and observations.
We bought the 3 last tickets for the tour according to the website. Even so we would have been the only three if 4 Florida girls had not been drinking so hard the night before. But they did and one of them was sick and missed their slot 30 minutes prior so they joined us. This was strange because I would have invited one more friend if we had thought that there was any tickets left which there should have been. Made me think that the tickets left was just a marketing stunt, and a bad one.

Anyway the tour started a few minutes late and it all seamed very out of place, so much so that I thought for a moment that the Florida girls where even part of the story. Everything just went strange very fast. The only people I could trust where my 2 friends. As time progressed we could develop our interactions somewhat but still we parted as strangers. The whole thing was jolly fun and I recommend it. It is not tiresome or hard but the experience is dependent on what you put in. So if you look for something different to do for a couple of hours in NY, LA or London and can pay for it then this is it.

According to the people who makes it there are two more in NY and one each in LA and London.

As far as storytelling goes there where glitches and clichés to go around and I think that it was written under the influence of weed, when to the authors the connections might have made sense. I understood it all, but only in the greater context not as a free standing story because of the faults and holes in the story. Having said that I still think it was great fun and I also think several of the actors did a great job with handling the situation.

Interaction wise you got your fair share. Comparing to most other theatrical activities I would even say that I got a 1000 times as much. Even compared to "Sleep no More" which I wrote about here, this experience is much more interactive. Still for someone with extensive interactive experience this was a bit under-developedand it is easy to understand that more freedom would break their production budget and time frame.

Transport Nutcases III

The other day when we where heading downtown with the one train another nutcase appeared. This time a woman, again with military background according to hearsay. (Yes we heard her say that she was in the Air force in 1965. Now-days her weapon of choice was a handbag which she promised in a loud choice was an excellent damage dealer and hurt much more than what we would think. She looked like she was between 55 and 65 and had a proper look but her actions where far from proper, looking much more like a kid in the mosh-pit flinging her handbag around her and screaming threats at each and everyone.

Hope and Despair, Giants versus Seahawks

It is a big event. A lot of people, a lot of beer and a lot of dollars. It is super commercialized. And we sit closer to the field than I expected even if we are on the 300rds.

The stronger team in the first half where the Seahawks.

The advertisements are quite funny, completely unintentionally.

The Giants lines both offensive and defensive are playing weakly in the first half.

The score in half time was tied at 14, but did not reflect the dominance by Seattle that was not substantial but enough to shake Giants.
Coming back after half-time it did go worse for Giants before they actually started giving the fans some hope. We where thorn between hope and despair through out the game: everyone wants the big blue to be big but no one wants to be blue after the game. But then the New Yorkers are only happy when the wind blows the right way and are fast to critique their players.
The battle raged back and forth with Seattle at the advantage for the most times
As we where heading in to the 4th quarter the score was again tied at 22 as Seahawks nailed a field goal. New York replied with a score and we where again very hopeful, but during the last minutes of the match Seattle intercepted and scored and then during the last minute intercepted again and killed the match at 25 to 36. And yes I feel disappointment although it was an exciting game.

Dave Arneson Memorial Game-day

Yesterday I attended the Dave Arneson Memorial Game-day. For those of you who do not know who Dave Arneson was I will simply say that he was one of the founding fathers of the Dungeons and Dragons legacy. You may read more here.
The day consisted of some possibilities to play mostly D&D stuff and a very interesting panel-debate that might not have been much of a debate but a very interesting insight into what the legacy of Dave Arneson and Gary Gygax actually left behind. How their ideas in many aspects have been the foundation of a modern day multi-million industry: the computer game industry. There was much to hear and learn but two speakers made me extra interested:
The first one was Luke Crane who makes Burning Wheel. He related some interesting insights into the cultural difference of American and Scandinavian role-playing that he acquired when he was a guest of honour at Fasteval in Denmark.
He saw how it all had started with both sides of the Atlantic tried to fix Call of Cthuhu and going different ways: where the Scandinavians have always stressed the simple double rule of: 1 the game-master is always right and 2. When the game-master is wrong see no. 1. The Americans with his own company in the forefront have worked with applying rules and systems for players to co-create parts of the world and plot. It seems to me that Burning Wheel is most known for this open approach plot and story. To me this was very good to hear and helped me make sense of my experiences on thsi side of the Atlantic. There was also a teacher from Parsons named Nicholas Fortugno whos insights spoke to me and made me think that maybe I could study some more... Now he's most important tip as it seems to me was to check out "Facade" for interaction studies. Ad I can tell you that I will. Possibly I will also write about it here.

I also got to play but I will have to relate that in a post of it's own.

Link to the site.

The end has begun

This Friday we celebrated the Ladies of the Burg at the soon-not-to-be-their-place. They worked their last day Friday and are leaving NY and the states on Thursday. It was a completely adequate party, saved by Norwegian people when everyone else failed. This means that I have less than 2 weeks left in NY. Then again it also means that I will soon be going west to Oregon and California. So I do have things to look forward to. Still it is sad to end this, it is to early and I would like to come back and work some more/longer here in the future. It also means that I have to plan my goodbye somehow.

The white of Harlem

In Harlem there is predominantly black people or African-Americans as they are called here, and if not black the inhabitants will be Hispanic or Latinos as they are called here. If some one is not black or latino it will most probably be me.
Sometimes you meet a white person though, and very rarely you see an Asian.
One interesting thing I have noticed when encountering whites in Harlem is how they avoid eye-contact as best they can. Otherwise staring is not frowned upon here: there is plenty of people to both stare at and on you. Might also have to do with how I look but I am somewhat used to getting stared at. But when you meet someone white they really go out of their ways not to lock eyes with you by accident, in all cases but one gay man in the grocery store.
I have a theory why this is: I think they do not want to look at a strange white person and there by get the feeling of "us" versus them. They are afraid to be seen as racist. But this idea is a bit of a stretch, even though I have not found any other. So if anyone else has some input here I would be most interested in hearing it!

the week

Hey, if you sit there thinking, it been a while since he wrote anything, is nothing happening over there then you are wrong. It is the other way around. Even so I manage to be a bit bored at times. This week I have been doing some tricks and fooled a lot of people. Sometimes it is so easy. I really like it as well. Anyway I guess the first thing I have to write about since it happened last weekend is when I befriended the village drug-dealer, Justus.  I was just coming out of my apartment on my way to the subway for a night out. Time might have been around ten in the evening. He called me "big man" and seemed to have been attracted to me by way of my dress. This night like a rockstar of some class: black trousers and shirt, white tie, and sunburn from the boat trip.
Anyway Justus started to peddle me drugs but I wasn't really interested. He actually understood "straight edge" and immediately changed tactics asking for a dollar to buy wine instead?! I used my American vocabulary and just said later as I left for the subway.
When I returned to my house the next morning about four or so Justus was there asking for his dollar! This must be the first American that developed listening and also thinks that the words have meaning. So I gave him his dollar straight up, even though the liquor store was closed by then. Then he showed a much worse initiative: he said "give me two dollars and I go home!" I really don't care where Justus goes so I told him and went home to sleep, without anyone giving me 2 dollars.