From Europe to AFRICA!

After 16 hours of travel (14 flying and 2 transferring) I am now at the bottom of Africa.  It is easy to quantify the travel time by hours but I like to use real measurements, so to me the trip took four movies, a long conversation with a nice guy from London, five meals (four of which contained way to much curry), three attempts at napping, five babies crying, and 732 jabs in my ribs from my seat neighbor.  Oh, yes, and a nice tour of the Dubai International Airport.  So here I am in Cape Town, South Africa.

At the advice of a bloke I met who lives in Cape Town I rented a car.  This sounded like a great idea at the time.  I would have freedom to move about, the ability to cover vast amounts of space, and I would not be reliant on Cape Town's not so great public transport system.  This was before I realized that South Africa drives on the wrong side of the road.  South African's would say the "left" side of the road, but it just feels so wrong.  I picked up my Hyundai at the airport and off I went.  I told the guy who walked me to my car that I was from the States and he just laughed, said "good luck", laughed some more (it was an ominous "you're in deep shit" laugh), then waved goodbye as I shifted into second gear with my left hand.

I am fairly confident in my driving ability, hell I have driven a race car, a motorcycle, and a mini-van, so I have a little experience, but it is all useless since all of my experience is from driving on the left side of the car while on the right side of the road.  The whole 15 minute drive from the airport to the hostel I didn't blink once.  I was hyper-freaking-vigilant and freaking out.  The highway isn't bad, it's the streets that I have to tell myself "ok, inch out, ok, remember now, go to the left side of the center divider, SHIT! Ok, you're ok, turn the wheel, and we're there, oh shit roundabout, shit!  Looks like we'll have to make a few circles until I figure out where I'm going and how to get out…"  You get the point.

Besides me trying to re-learn 10 years of driving experience, having a car is an unbelievable way to see Cape Town.  I took a drive today around the coast of the Cape and it is absolutely beautiful.  At times it reminded of the Pacific Coast Highway, but then along the side of the road there are families of baboons, trees that look like they're out of the Lion King, and other glaringly African features.  Plus, as far as I know, there are no turn-offs in California where you can see penguins or road signs that say "Watch for Baboons."

I will post pictures when I find a free internet spot, but my accommodations while here charge by the megabyte for internet usage and it is not cheap.  I can't wait to put the pictures up because the scenery here is just ridiculous.

Nothing Attracts a Crowd Like a Crowd

There are an immeasurable amount of street performers in London. The range of stupid human tricks that one can witness in London's populous markets is just as astounding as some of the acts. As I walked through London I saw everything from a man swallowing knives to a guy riding a unicycle in his underwear while singing and juggling. Of course you have your garden variety musicians, some original artists, but most are instrumentalists playing terrible renditions of songs that have no business being played on that particular instrument. I don't think that Bobby McFerrin ever intended "Don't Worry, Be Happy" to be performed by a guy with a kazoo and a cymbal, but I'll be damned if I saw just that arrangement. Really, who decides that a kazoo and a cymbal are what people want to hear?

London embraces their street performers, which is something that I have not seen to often. Right now the City of London has a program where to perform in certain Underground stations artists have to submit sample tracks and are then approved before they can play a note. Street performers in some of the larger markets also need a permit before they can blow fire, lay on a bed of nails, or do gymnastics. One of the better markets for street performers is Covent Gardens. Here I saw one of my favorite performers. This guy's show is mostly comedy, with a little bit of crappy magic thrown in. The performance started off with the guy building a crowd, then jumping over two kids laying down side by side. He made the jump safely, as anyone who is not a paraplegic could, and threw his hands out into the "ta-da" stance and everyone

immediately booed him. So what does he do? What any respectable performer would do, that's right, he takes off his shirt and tells the crowd to "Go F#@! OFF!"

I am not an expert, but I don't think the best way to get people to throw money in your hat is to do an absolutely terrible trick then strip, then curse at everyone. The crowd started to disperse so the guy said that he had

another trick that would not disappoint. It did. He started to ride a unicycle and juggle but he kept dropping his juggling balls. Every time he would make a mistake he would take off an article of clothing and curse. It was a most peculiar show, and, as with most people, I could not turn away from the train wreck.

I would look around at the crowd, because a good amount of people stuck around, thinking the show would get better, and I wanted to see other people's reactions. Most people sat staring expressionless, some laughed, others left in disgust. I was so amazed that the crowd did not completely disperse after the first or second terrible bits. Like the title of this entry says, though, nothing draws a crowd like a crowd. People wanted to see what other people were looking at, so they stayed to watch. I was just fascinated with the whole situation of people watching a terrible show and a guy who presumably makes his living putting on terrible shows. It was all quite thought provoking.

Camden Town

When you step out of an Underground station in London it can easily feel as if you stepped into another dimension. I got on the tube at St. Paul's Cathedral today and got off at Camden Town. The world that I started my tube ride on could not have been different from the world that I arrived at. As I walked to the tube at St. Paul's there were about a dozen workers cleaning the grounds of the cathedral as families clambered around to get a picture in front of the spectacular example of English Baroque architecture. When I reached the top of the underground escalator in Camden the first thing that made me realize that I was in a new place was the ever present aroma of marijuana and incense.

Camden is London's bohemian neighborhood and it is one of the coolest places in London. As you walk down Camden High Street (which is appropriately named) you make your way through the throngs of people wearing homemade clothes, sporting tattoos, and multiple piercings. The town is buzzing with a different vibe than most of London. Everywhere else in London it seems people have a place to go but in Camden it seems everyone is already at their destination. Camden is home to a zillion little shops that all connect in a huge spider's web of market places. It is easy to get lost as I was captivated by every little unique feature. The homemade t-shirts have great messages on them. One of my favorites was, "Fuck Google, ask me." There was an endless array of lude comment laden garments. Obviously grandma wouldn't shop here.

The common folk here have dreadlocks and nose piercings, so I didn't exactly feel like a local, but everyone was really nice and there are some of the best international eateries in London there. The food shops are small and close together, like a food court at the mall only all the workers in Camden are yelling at you and shoving free samples in your face then saying "ok, now you buy meal!" All of the food is fresh made in front of you and fairly cheap. Camden is my favorite nook of London. London has an awful lot of character, but Camden just has a crazy way about it that is just crazy enough to be alluring and not overwhelming. If you can get over the pot smell and kids who looked like their mothers didn't hug them enough and see the friendly area for what it is, it can be very charming. Of course I didn't take my hand off of my wallet the whole time I was there. As nice as a kid with a chain hanging from his nose to his ear can be, I still have my paranoid tourist game on.

On Time

I noticed today that things are more interesting when you are face to face with them. I am very much a hands on learner. Instructions get thrown out in favor of trial and error with a great bit of error being had before success. At the suggestion of a friend I made the ten minute train ride from London to Greenwich. Greenwich houses a world renowned observatory. You have heard of it, in fact every time you look to see what time it is you have the Greenwich Royal Observatory to thank. The Royal Observatory is set on the Prime Meridian, or 0 degrees longitude and every time zone is set using Greenwich as the zero point. Before I went into the observatory I jumped from one side of the meridian to the other about a hundred times saying "I'm in the Eastern Hemisphere, I'm in the Western Hemisphere, I'm in the Eastern Hemisphere, I'm in the..." I just had to.

I have never thought much of time. Hell I don't even wear a watch, but Greenwich shed some light on time for me. The unguided walking tour takes you through the history of clocks and chronometers as well as a history of the importance of lines of longitude. For centuries sailors sailed nearly oblivious to where they were in regards to being east or west of a given point. They knew their bearings, whether they were heading in one direction or another, but sailors like Columbus had severely inaccurate methods of triangulating their position. This is where time comes in. By knowing the time at a dedicated position, like Greenwich, and the time at your own position, you can tell at what line of longitude you are at.

Finding out longitude is simple if you know these two variables. The one variable that was hard to figure was the time at a given location. The chronometer, which is basically a pocket watch that is more precise and has markings for 24 hours instead of 12, did not come into existence until the late 1700s. This simple formula for knowing ones position is still used by GPS today. All global positioning satellites are equipped with atomic clocks and by sending signals to at least four other satellites and then to you it tells where you are based on the exact time, to the second, at your location. Pretty cool stuff.

The observatory also had an unbelievable view of London and a rock that claims to be the "Oldest thing that you will ever touch." I touched it, I don't feel any different. Greenwich is a cool little town as well. In fact all of London is pretty neat. The streets an housing here have a lot of character. Once you get out of the modern areas and into the older housing districts that haven't changed in hundreds of years it looks straight out of a Dicken's novel. Plus the accent that everyone talks with is just brilliant. Even when people are pissed off it sounds so proper. Today I heard a bus driver yelling at a lady that cut him off and he was saying all sorts of curse words, but it sounded so respectable and prim. If I get cursed out I would want it to sound like that.

I never would have cared about clocks, chronometers, time, longitude, had I not gone to Greenwich, and I am glad that I did. It was eye opening to say the least. Oh, yeah, and earlier in the day I was over near Buckingham Palace and they were having a changing of the guard ceremony. I hardly saw a thing, being as there were at least ten thousand people trying to get a glimpse as well, but I threw in a picture of all the people that were there. I swear it felt like London shut down and came out to watch. Apparently the ceremony happens every other day in August so this was a normal thing.

The British Museum

It has been awhile since I have been impressed by a museum. Old stuff is really cool and all, but it's just old stuff. I have been to some museums where it looked like the curator just dumped out a box of his grandparents stuff and put labels on it. These ones were obviously the ones that didn't impress me. The British Museum, however, did impress me. There is a bunch of really old stuff, big surprise, nut the thing that impressed me was an exhibit on the Enlightenment. The exhibit went through in detail what the human race was trying to achieve during the Enlightenment and why the thirst for knowledge grew so intensely during this period. It was fascinating.

I could go into a whole diatribe on the Enlightenment and how it shaped our current world, but that would involve a relapse into 8th grade history which would not be good for anyone. Besides the Enlightenment exhibit the other highlight for me was the Rosetta Stone. The Rosetta Stone is arguably the most important artifact pertaining to ancient Mesopotamian history, and there it was on display with people climbing on top of each other to get a good picture of it. I eventually elbowed my way through the mob to snap a few shots for myself.

I went to the museum by myself, which is a good way to see a good museum. If the museum is interesting enough than company should be superfluous. On the other hand, if the museum is crap from someones basement and you don't have a friend there to insult it with you, then it's miserable. It is funny watching people at museums. It is funny when you can overhear misinformation being spouted off, mostly by guys trying to impress their girlfriends. I was standing in front of a couple that was just brilliant. The display was of Cleopatra's tomb (which was clearly marked) and the guy turns to his girlfriend and says, "I'm pretty sure this is King Tut's coffin. He wrote the Rosetta Stone." Then his girlfriend said back, "oh, I was wondering who wrote that, they didn't say." I started to snicker and had to leave before I laughed out loud. I smiled because they obviously are perfect for each other.

After the British Museum I made my way over to the National Gallery which is all paintings. I like paintings, I'm not a huge fan, but they had some interesting works including a sketch by Da Vinci. Whenever I go to art museums I just walk right through. This time I stopped to stare for awhile, because that's what people do at paintings, right? I understand staring at those Magic Eye things because you have to in order to see the thing, but at regular art I just don't see it. They are beautiful paintings but they don't get more beautiful by staring at them. I guess I'm just un-cultured. Oh well.

Lost in London

I like to wander in new places. My need for efficiency leads me to despise walking for it's lack of ability to cover a decent distance in a reasonable amount of time, but walking does have it's benefits. When you get lost, for instance, you usually can't get very far away from where you started to lose your way. Today I got lost. Luckily I was not trying to catch an impossibly hard to find Polish ferry, though. No, today I got lost on purpose. I got on the plane in a terrible mood because RyanAir decided to charge me $60 for not printing out my boarding pass. I was livid, but hamstrung, so out of necessity I payed the hefty fare, but mark my words an angry, strongly worded letter is on it's way to the bastards at RyanAir. Anyway, I was sour. Luckily I was tired so I was able to sleep on the flight, but when I got off I just didn't feel like mingling so after I checked into my hostel I put on my mp3 player and walked.

Portable music is a novelty that I treasure. I am able to give my life it's own personal soundtrack. I can watch people talk and make up hippy, anti-war dialogue as Bob Dylan plays in the background. It is a great way to shut the world out just enough to watch it through an imaginary two way mirror. As I walked in my own little world I thought that I was going in the direction that I was planning to, but after an hour of traipsing around The Big Smoke, I was hopelessly and irrevocably lost. Luckily I had grabbed a map from the hostel front desk before I left and I as I opened it up I realized that it was a map for the main bus routes. Not a problem, I would just walk to the nearest bus stop. As I got to the bus stop I realized that I was off the grid, and my shitty bus map was no help. Hell, I was half way to Heathrow. I guess I put a little too much Van Halen on the mp3 player and I was power walking like crazy in the complete wrong direction.

As I started to walk back I decided to give in to public transportation and I hopped on a bus. It took me 40 minutes on the bus to get back where I started, but then I realized that I wasn't ready to go back to the hostel so I kept going on the bus. Soon after I passed my hostel, I was lost again. This dam city is too big. The biggest in the European Union, actually, and I would say they live up to that title. I did end up finding my way and I even found some touristy stuff while I was lost, like a Roman wall that was built 1900 years ago. I also found a group of drunk Londoners. I must say the Roman wall was more interesting but for entertainment value the Londoners took the cake. One of them dropped the bag he was holding and a glass bottle shattered. The guy holding the bag started to tear up, curse, and dropped to his knees next to the bag. His friend then came over to console him and put his arm around him while they sat in vigil for the broken item. Then the third guy says, "For Christ's sake, it's a bottle of shit rum, we'll just go buy another one!" I love drunk people.