Internville

This was going to be for Crosstoberfest (remember that?) last year, combining the Hollow Tooth Diaries and Workshop Tomorrow. I was going to wait until next month to publish it in Crosstoberfest Redux. Today, Friend Kris threw down the gauntlet, challenging me to write a one-page RPG, done by tonight. I'd been musing on this one for almost a year, so I figured I may as well put it down on e-paper.

With that, I present to you, Internville.

Crosstoberfest - HTD/5 Interesting - Liepaja!

1) Basically the coolest place in Latvia.

2) One district, Karosta, is the site of a ruined Tsarist naval fortress falling into the sea, the most haunted building in Latvia (a prison), and a gargantuan Orthodox cathedral entirely ringed in ugly, decaying Soviet apartments. It's basically the coolest place in the coolest place in Latvia.

3) I walked barefoot over a couple of kilometers of broken concrete. Twice. While incredibly painful and incredibly stupid, it did provide an incredibly mystifying Facebook status update.

4) The beach at Karosta is fantastic. The fortress isn't falling into the sea. It has fallen into the sea. All that's left is a jumble of broken concrete across the beach. Exploring the main site of the fortress, you can see identifiable bits of stairs and parts of building among the rubble like the remains of a giant's Lego house after the giant's mom tripped over it and bits went all over the giant family's living room and she didn't care even though the giant spent, like, all day working on that house and he was going to show it to his best giant friend when he came over on Thursday after giant school.

5) Liepaja is the rock and roll capital of Latvia. The 'official' rock cafe wasn't really happenin', so we spent the evening listening to a sloppy-yet-energetic Latvian ska band at the 'other' nightspot. Yeah, not a big town.

Crosstoberfest - HTD/5 Interesting - Vilnius!

1) Hope you like churches.

2) The Soviets turned this giant Orthodox cathedral into their Museum of Atheism. There's being a repressive, intolerant, genocidal occupying foreign power, and then there's being a dick about it.

3) More places should be able to pull off having something called the Gates of Dawn with a straight face.

4) Of the places I visited, I was most excited about eating lunch at a cafe called the Graf Zeppelin, surprising exactly no one.

5) The Lithuanians put their Museum of Occupation in the former KGB building in Vilnius. There's throwing off the shackles of a repressive, intolerant, genocidal occupying foreign power, and then there's being respectful about it.

Introducing Crosstoberfest

October! The month of change! Closely following September, the month of never updating your blog.

In less than a month, the Hollow Tooth Diaries will necessarily come to a close, barring a backblog (like there is now, and boy is it hefty). For this last month of them, I'll be trying to unify its unique brand of overwritten, self-indulgent travel writing with the other regular features of this site - you know, the overwritten self-indulgent RPG writing.

But, as I mentioned, I am pretty behind. So to start with, I'll merge HTD and 5 Interesting, in order to clear some of that. Watch this space!

The Hollow Tooth Diaries: Escape From Zachodni Station

(Last time. The Time Before)

ZACHODNI HOSTEL
You are awake. A shrill sine wave is drilling into your ears, but it doesn't bother you so much if you stop paying attention to it. There are some SHIFTLESS BACKPACKERS here. There is a SECURITY GUARD here. He guards the exit to the east. He is shouting in POLISH. Exits are north, south, east.

==>inventory
You were not robbed during the night. You have:
-BAGS (2)
-stupid useless deadweight OVERCOAT (currently equipped to inventory slot: blanket)
-GLASSES (currently equipped to inventory slot: face, slightly bent from sleeping on them)
-HAT (currently equipped to inventory slot: face)
-WALLET (currently equipped to inventory slot: pockets)
-PASSPORT (currently equipped to inventory slot: pockets)

==>inventory, emotional
You are HELLA TIRED. The station is opening, leaving you GUARDEDLY OPTIMISTIC. Deep inside, you are still SOMEWHAT CONCERNED THAT YOU'LL NEVER SEE YOUR FRIENDS AGAIN, though you also have GRIM DETERMINATION.

The SECURITY GUARD is becoming most insistent.
==>n

You go NORTH.

ZACHODNI STATION
You are in the area of the station that was open last night. Through the east is a BAR promising INTERNET for only 5 ZLOTY. The exit west has been unbarred since last night. An exit south leads to ZACHODNI HOSTEL.
==>w

You go WEST.

ZACHODNI STATION
You are in the waiting area of the station. There are CHAIRS here. There is a SHIFTLESS BACKPACKER here, asleep on a CHAIR. There is a KIOSK here. There are PAYPHONES here. Exits are west and east.
==> examine kiosk

This KIOSK is about 5 feet from where you were last night, goddamn it. It contains INTERNET. Its SCREENS are-
==> use kiosk use kiosk use kiosk!!!

I'm sorry, I don't understand. And you didn't let me finish. Its SCREE-
==> use kiosk

The KIOSK does not function. Its SCREENS are blue. They display ERROR MESSAGES.
==> turn off kiosk, turn on kiosk

The KIOSK has no visible power controls, which I would have told you if you'd have let me finish earlier.
==> sorry

It's okay, you're under a lot of stress.
==>unplug kiosk

Nuh-uh.
==>examine PAYPHONES

There sure are a lot of 'em. They feature detailed SIGNS explaining COUNTRY DIALING CODES.
==> call Friend Marco

And how will you be paying today, sir?
==>use credit card

Use what?
==> you're going to make me do this, aren't you?
==>open wallet

Your WALLET contains 50 LATS, 20 EUROS, and 0 ZLOTY. It contains several identity and payment CARDS.
==>take credit card

Taken.
==>use credit card with payphone

Nuh-uh
==>what!?

I'm sorry. I don't understand. You may enter "==> help" at any time to view the TUTORIAL and list of available commands.
==>no seriously, what the hell?

I'm sorry. I don't -
==>fine, fine.
==>use credit card with different payphone

Nuh-uh.
==>use credit card with every goddamn payphone

Nope.
==>use debit card with payphone

You mean the debit card that doesn't work anywhere on this continent?
==>yeah

No way.
==>you don't want my money, you stupid machines?

Guess not.
==>w

You go WEST.

ZACHODNI STATION

During that business with the PAYPHONES, this place has opened up some. A few CONVENIENCE STORES have begun operating. There is a TELECOMMUNICATIONS COMPANY OUTLET here. You can see BUSSES departing and arriving through the exit north. You can see a PARKING LOT through an exit south. You can see A BUNCH OF STUPID PAYPHONES THAT DON'T WORK through an exit east.
==>examine outlet

The TELECOMMUNICATIONS COMPANY OUTLET is a tiny, cluttered booth lined with ADVERTISING for CHEAP CONSUMER ELECTRONICS and DATA ACCESS. It is CLOSED.
==>wait

Still closed. Everything else is open though.

==>s

You go SOUTH

OUTSIDE ZACHODNI STATION

You are now outside. There is a PARKING LOT here. There are many TRAVELLERS here, though some may be SHIFTLESS BACKPACKERS. South, you can see a 24-HOUR VIETNAMESE RESTAURANT. West, you can see a FREEWAY. East, you can see the entrance to ZACHODNI HOSTEL. There is a FAST-FOOD SHACK here. There is an ATM here.
==> use atm

You use your DEBIT CARD with the ATM. You receive 50 ZLOTY, which go into your WALLET.
==>n

You go NORTH.

ZACHODNI STATION
==>examine convenience store

A small booth staffed by a short, toadlike old lady. It seems to sell DELICIOUS PASTRIES and PHONE CARDS.
==>buy phone card

You can't! You are too scared of looking like a stupid tourist!
==>no I'm not

Are too.
==>learn how to say phone card from sign

Done.
==>buy phone card.

How big a phone card? And what kind?
==>uhhh...

...Yes?
==>hold up five fingers

Perfect. You lose 5 ZLOTY. You gain one PHONE CARD.
==>use phone card with payphone

That doesn't work.
==>examine phone card

Looks like you got the wrong kind of phone card! This is credit for a cell phone!
==>yeah, I kinda thought so
==>formulate cunning plan

You gain one CUNNING PLAN.
==>examine plan

Well, it turns out that back home in CANADA, it's only 9pm. Folks might still be awake there. And something tugs at your memory. You've seen reference to CANADA another time today...
==>examine country dialing codes

Wow, every country in Europe gets its own! But you can only collect call Canada and the US, for whatever reason.
==>collect call mom!

Seriously? This is your plan?
==>damn straight

Okay. After some menacing clicking noises, your MOM answers the phone.
==>ask mom for phone number

How the heck would she know it?
==>give mom facebook login info

Success! Your MOM gives you FRIEND KRZYSZTOF'S PHONE NUMBER.
==>chat with mom

That's really expensive.
==>chat with mom

You learn many exciting things about the health of your family and the state of renovations at home. Your EMOTIONAL STABILITY improves slightly.
==>use number with payphone

And how will you be paying, sir?
==>free local calling?

I don't think so.
==>borrow phone from backpackers

You approach some SHIFTLESS BACKPACKERS. They speak English! They are successfully reassured that this is a local call! They lend you their phone.
==>call krzysztof

No answer. The backpackers are leaving!
==>return phone
==>borrow different phone

These SHIFTLESS BACKPACKERS also speak English! But they're not locals. So they're not using their phone. You suspect that might be a common problem in a bus station.
==>look for business

A business wouldn't mind making some local calls for you! You see a 24-HOUR VIETNAMESE RESTAURANT to the south.
==>s

You go SOUTH.

OUTSIDE ZACHODNI STATION
==>s, s, s!

You go SOUTH.

24-HOUR VIETNAMESE RESTAURANT

An unspectacular but pleasant little place with blue wallpaper. There are no PATRONS here. There is THE NICEST POLISH-VIETNAMESE MAN YOU'VE EVER MET here.
==>ask waiter for phone

He doesn't speak English!
==>mime

He produces a PHONE. Not a landline, his very own cellular PHONE. What a nice guy.
==>give number to waiter

You give FRIEND KRZYSZTOF'S PHONE NUMBER to the WAITER. He uses it with his PHONE.
==> take phone

You take the PHONE.
==>listen

It makes some WEIRD NOISES then disconnects.
==>try again!

Success! Friend Krzysztof answers! He sounds almost as relieved as you are.
==>get directions

Friend Krzysztof gives you DIRECTIONS TO HIS PLACE.
==>thank waiter

You suspect the smile on your face communicates how important this was to you. You lose the PHONE.
==>use directions with bus stop

Success! As the BUS rolls down the freeway, you exult with joy after finally having- wait a sec.
==>what?

I don't know, shouldn't you have won?
==>examine transit map

That explains it. Your bus is going the wrong way!
==>get off, use directions with bus stop on other side of the street

Success! As the BUS rolls down the freeway, you exult with joy after finally having ESCAPED FROM ZACHODNI STATION!
Total playtime: 5 hours 13 minutes
Final score: 172

The Sad Superheroes of Riga

Hello, friends. As you may know, I'm currently on an internship in Riga, Latvia (which is, itself, only a slight verbal hesitation away from being directly comics-related). I saw these ages ago, and knew I had to share them. I sprung into action! Given how many months I've been here, you can tell how inspired I was. Nevertheless, you, dear reader don't want to hear my excuses, you demand results! So, I bring you, the Sad Superheroes of Riga.


Hobo Supes - A dejected Superman grilling a hot dog over a campfire he's starting with his heat vision.



Roadkill - A blue-tighted red-caped hero (presumably Superman) crumpled beneath the front bumper of a mid-sized sedan (presumably kryptonite was involved. Although, the sky in the background is tinged slightly red). Batman and some urban youth in baggy sportswear look on in dismay. (I note with equal dismay that subsequent grafitti and a goddamn car have obscured Supes's body. Trust me, he's there UPDATE: in fact, look at this detail!)




Sadcap - Captain America, but, like, 70 years old, but he looks 70 years old, wearing a respirator and looking crestfallen.



Sundered Robocop - Again, sorry for the shitty picture, but here we have Robocop missing both his legs, one arm, and various other bits.


Saddest Hulk - This one is a few blocks from the others, which makes me hopeful that there are more around town. Pretty self-explanatory: a bawling Hulk with gamma-irradiated tears running down his face.

On the corner between Batman and Cap, there used to be one of Robin with an arm in a sling and an IV stand, but the plank he was on was replaced before I got my hands on a camera. It's always the children who suffer the most.

The Hollow Tooth Diaries: Beyond Riga: Zachodni Station

LAST TIME, ON THE HOLLOW TOOTH DIARIES

If you're going to write about minor travelling inconveniences in a former Eastern Bloc country in an overly-melodramatic manner, you could do worse than have them occur at a place called Zachodni Station.

I mean, just look at that name. You've got the fairly-menacing "z" and "dn", you've got a letter at the end that pretty much never ends English words, and you have the inherent feelings of terrified uncertainty that accompanies the letter combination "ch" in any language from east of the Rhine. And then you to all that the officious blank signifier of "Station". Anything can happen at a station! What kind of station?

Commentors, feel free to encourage me to tone down the melodrama.

As you'll recall, I stepped into this land of linguistic menace at about 2 or 3am (I had no watch, and no clocks were forthcoming) after a 16-hour bus ride. The station was closed, save for a few outlying fast-food shacks. Friend Krzysztof was nowhere to be found, but I expected that. I had no money, no proficiency at Polish, and no idea what to do.

I staggered around the outskirts of the station for a bit (probably around an hour - this part's a little hazy) thinking that maybe Friend Krzysztof had just decided to pop out for a snack and would be right back, or was hiding behind the homeless guys sleeping on benches. Failing that, I'd settle for one of those pay-for-Internet kiosks they have at airports. No luck.

Part of the station was a little more open. The lobby for Zachodni Hostel (which doesn't sound any nicer) was open, and several backpackers were trying to sleep sitting in uncomfortable chairs while an invisible TV blared nearby. Just through the hostel was a bar that promised WiFi for a few zloty, but a) I didn't have any zloty; b) The bartender spoke no English, and I was too exhausted and/or proud to do Touristspeak; and c) I didn't have a computer anyway.

I did another round of the station, thinking maybe at 3:30 my buddy would decide to swing back and check to see if I'd arrived yet. After an indeterminate length of time standing completetly still and staring incoherently at the parking lot, I decided to head back to the hostel lobby and get some shuteye, figuring everything would be clearer in the morning.

I draped myself with my heavy raincoat that I'd been cursing as dead weight since I left the house, left my bags over my shoulders and my hat on, and drifted off to...

Nope.

First off, I guess whoever was watching the TV in the adjacent heavily-secured room wanted to make sure all the backpacker bums could hear, so he turned it up about as far as it would go. Second, have you ever tried to sleep sitting up without a headrest in a hard, bus-station chair in your sweaty travelling clothes while wearing a couple of bags, and you're right next to the door that springs open with a menacing whir every couple of minutes, and you have no idea if your present situation will get any better in the light of day, and what if you never find Friend Krzysztof? What then? Do you randomly take public transit around the town trying to find the interesting bits, dragging all this junk with you until finally you collapse from dehydration because there are no ATMs in this scenario and even if there were, you're too afraid to talk to anyone because they'll all know you're a stupid tourist and/or cultural imperialist, despite that thing you heard where Poles like Americans even though you're not American, you could probably pass off as one, but we all know that you'd just freeze up, who are you kidding, remember Brussels?

The other thought going through my mind was how great a blog post this was going to be.

During this time, I made a brief inventory of the different approaches to sleeping in bus stations that I observed. The lucky bastards that got there first stretched out across several seats, though they weren't long enough, so they either elevated their knees, tried to balance on the narrow benches in the fetal position, or twisted their bodies and left their feet on the floor. The lucky ones used altruistic significant others as pillows; the rest used bags or nothing at all. Most tried to sleep sitting up, bags around one leg or, among the more trusting, nearby. The chairs were too far from the wall for them to have much success, as they had to basically lift themselves out of the chair to get any head support. As a result they tried just lolling them back, or to the side, or forward (my first failed technique).

After a few interruptions, I did another fruitless tour of the bus station, and strode back to the hostel lobby, determined to snooze. I packed my comfiest suitcase (not very comfy) under my head and stretched out across the seats. My particular resolution to the Legs Question was to elevate one knee and wedge the other leg in horizontally between the raised leg and the armrest. It is exactly as comfortable as it sounds.

There were a few more obstacles to a good hour's rest. First, let's return to that TV. I was too tired to care at this point, but I did manage to determine that the Polish dubbing industry favours the technique of "letting the original soundtrack run in the background while one stern-sounding man does every character's part" (a movie on the bus ride back did this in Russian, so this might have been Russian too). Anyway, it was an interesting diversion and I grinned beneath the hat on my face. And I was certainly glad when the movie ended and the TV switched off. I was less glad when it started up again playing the test-pattern sine wave frequency. My immediate thoughts were I'll never get to sleep like this. Well, actually I'll probably forget it's there soon enough.

Aside from that, and the police barging in a couple of times and opening alarmed doors to the sudden shock of everyone in the room, there were no more obstacles to a nice, peaceful sleep.

At 5am, the guard office burst open (with the sine wave still playing) and we were told in no uncertain terms to get lost, you goddamn bums (Amazing! I learned Polish in my sleep!), as the station was opening. We could sleep on their benches. The two tough-looking young men that had tried to sleep sitting up had ended up with their heads on each other's shoulders. How cute. I blinked at the grey almost-dawn and staggered over to the awakening bus station.

NEXT TIME: Escape From Zachodni Station!

The Hollow Tooth Diaries - Beyond Riga: Warsaw Day Zero

Europe! Tiniest of Continents! The distance between things is less here than it is elsewhere! Hell, I was in Vilnius last week. Warsaw's only one country away! And Friend Krzysztof has graciously offered to let me mooch off him for the weekend. Let's do this!

The bus from Riga to Warsaw takes 12-13 hours on a good day.

I set off with my bags and my seasonally-inappropriate overcoat. I had checked the weather before I left. It was about all the preparation I did do. I didn't, for instance, write down Friend Krzysztof's phone number or even consider the slightest chance that the merest possibility might somewhat exist that Central European discount bus lines might be the teensiest bit unreliable.

More fool I.

The bus broke down in Lithuania. At Marijampole, a town notable for its convenience stores that close some time before 6pm on a Friday, they herded us off the bus to effect repairs. You know, after letting us stew in the AC-less heat for about 20 minutes, packed like sardines in a fuzzy, scratchy, synthetic fibre-upholstered can. The passengers disembarked and serious men with rolled-up shirtsleeves sagely applied power tools to the bus's engine. To my ignorant eyes, it looked like a brutal assault on an innocent piece of machinery with hammer and electric drill. The worksite invariably attracted a cluster of (almost entirely male) passengers who looked on sagely. Beneath their stoic exteriors, one could see them struggling with that primal instinct if you just let ME look at it... And hold the drill... I too fell prey to these (entirely baseless) thoughts, which no doubt originate from deep in the evolutionary history of our species, where women tended children and gathered berries, while men repaired savannah tractors.

Two and a half hours later, they managed to excise the offending metal widget, drive somewhere to get a new and better widget, and replace the widget. We were off again! By this point, Phoneless Me knew that there would be trouble down the line.

The sun went down as we trundled through northern Poland. I read my book and watched the far-off lightning, sure that, while it might be difficult to connect with Friend Krzysztof when I arrived it would certainly happen. Hell, when the freeway into town was washed out by waist-deep floodwaters, delaying my arrival even futher, I barely batted an eye. It was probably 2 or 3 in the morning when I trudged off the bus into my new home, Zachodni Station.

NEXT TIME: Danger! Exhaustion! Broken machinery! Annoying noises!
HOW WILL THE EARTH SURVIVE?

The Old Witch of Riga, Part II

From the Riga Municipality website:

It is prohibited in the territory of public property:
to engage in fortune telling and magic;

This is first on the list, before the interdictions against open alcohol on the streets or driving a vehicle on the ice of the canals.

I guess the old girl gave them some trouble in the past.

The Hollow Tooth Diaries: Employment and Un

Latvia was one of the countries hit hardest by the economic crisis. A severe real estate bubble and the failure (and eventual nationalization) of a large Latvian bank did a lot of damage over here. Unemployment shot to (I think) the highest in Europe (I've seen several conflicting statistics).

You can see that here, not by unemployed people hanging around (though they exist), but in the people that are working.

Basically every low-paying job that you might see once in a while in North America is filled. Ice cream vendors (in city centre, more than one per street corner, and they work even in the rain) and security guards (everywhere, even in grocery stores - also deemed important in high unemployment to prevent theft) are very prevalent.

There's also a plethora of jobs in the 'unofficial entrepreneurship' sphere, like bicycle taxis, flower sellers, and minibussses. Also, extensive use of carpooling.

When people are desperate for work, employers who can afford it can fill a lot of otherwise extraneous jobs.

EDIT: I forgot performers! There are lots. Buskers are plentiful, and the outdoor beer garden affairs seem to engage live acts every night. I also saw one of those places that had hired a magician to circulate through the tables, doing card tricks.

The Old Witch of Riga

A few weeks back, I saw her. Waiting for the tram outside the grocery store. Wrapped in many coats and scarves despite the summer heat, eighty if she was a day, and sporting a genuine hunchback. Furthermore - and what initially caught my eye - she was clutching a pair of gardening shears - a perfect folkloric witch prop.

She looked fully capable of dicing up naughty children and trapping their screaming faces in the old tree behind her cottage, only her cottage got bulldozed by the Soviets, and independence did nothing to restore her to her ancestral home over the ley lines, and the tree got cut down and chopped into firewood that drove the family that burned it mad, and now she has to take the tram into town to shop for gingerbread and prunes.

The Hollow Tooth Diaries: Beyond Riga - Sigulda

Sigulda - the Switzerland of Latvia. Friend Geoff says that whenever anything is described as "The ______ of Latvia," one should prepare for disappointment. In Sigulda's case, this is a little unfair. It's pretty nice. Sigulda gets the name from its not-uniformly-flat terrain and its castles. Of course, what the tourism bureau wants you to know about is its various 'adventure' attractions - bungee jumping, bobsledding, an arboreal obstacle course called 'Tarzans'.

The castles are quite an eclectic mix. The run the gamut from tumbledown Dark Ages ruin to baroque summer home converted to a swanky restaurant. I spent the most time at Turaida, a castle that was steadily expanded from its foundation in the 13th century until its destruction in the 18th. It has been reconstructed as a park and museum, though its shiny new bricks (bricks!) do lessen the sense of verisimilitude. The park includes traditional Latvian statuary, lovely gardens, and a memorial to the Rose of Turaida, a legendary woman who died to preserve her honour. The memorial is now a destination for newlyweds to pledge their love. All good castles should have local lore like that.

Sigulda also hosts a charming river valley hike, occasionally broken up by the need to follow a main road for a time. Along the walk is Gutmanis Cave, the largest cave in the Baltic states (about 20 feet deep), which is much more interesting for its engravings from visitors - going back centuries. The cave is also the site of the death of the Rose of Turaida.

Recommendations: a nice spot for hiking and sightseeing. Well worth the hour train ride out of Riga (though do check the schedules or you'll end up waiting at the train station forever like I did). Don't go bobsledding.

The Hollow Tooth Diaries: Beyond Riga - Jurmala

Gorgeous natural seaside overdeveloped and overexploited by tourists and wealthy Russians. But in a good way.

The Hollow Tooth Diaries: Beyond Riga - Rundāle Palace

So, despite spending over a month here, I've let these posts slide. I'll try and recap in future entries, but here I'll do a quick piece on places around Latvia outside Riga that I've visited.

Rundāle Palace is really neat - a bargain-basement Versailles an hour or so outside the city. The exterior courtyard is a particularly striking tableau. When we arrived, the courtyard was entirely empty, the clock was chiming 5:00, and swarms of small songbirds were flitting about between perches on the baroque moulding and windowsills. An interesting juxtaposition of opulence and desolation that you wouldn't get at a more tourist-y palace - enhanced by the fact that past the French gardens are nothing but rundown farmhouses and Soviet-era, decaying brick buildings.

The interior was characterized by a few nice arcades and stairwells, rococo decorations on almost every available surface, and a few truly atrocious paintings. Well, they might have been very good paintings of a large number of women sporting five o'clock shadow.

Much of the palace was undergoing restoration, but the rooms that are open more than adequately get the point across. A few hints around the edges also speak to an interesting recent history for the palace as well. Restoration began in the Eighties and halted in 1992 or so - following the newfound independence of Latvia. It picked up again in recent years, thanks to the generous donations of Boris something, whose name is all over the informational placards. I don't know anything about this man (like his last name), but it seems like it would be an interesting subject to pursue.

Recommendations: If you make it to Latvia, Rundāle is well worth a look. The museum charges for the short tour, the long tour and a walk of the garden, as well as extra for photos or video cameras. I'd recommend only the short tour - the extra rooms are basically more of the same - silk wallpaper, bad paintings, naked babies carved out of stucco. All the really impressive rooms are in the short tour. The gardens are nice, but we got there too late in the day to really explore them.

The Hollow Tooth Diaries: First Impressions

Airport: serviceable and small.
Oh, God, I'm not going to be able to get any cash ever.
Fixed-rate taxis=civilization.
The outskirts at least are pretty North American: Malls, freeways, etc.
Alright, there are some church spires.
This isn't my apartment. This is the rustic shack of a humble woodcarver.
This IS my apartment, I just can't get inside.
I'm a man in need of some free WiFi.
Look! Free WiFi!
Zannis is online! I'm saved!
On my way to a new home.
Wait, if Zannis was online, that means my new home ALSO has free WiFi!
Palatial much?
Wait, EVERY building has statuary?
Oh. I got cash. That was easy.
Dinner with new friends in a new home.
Man, I gotta get off this free WiFi and do something.

(Further Hollow Tooth Diaries will provide a retrospective of the Tour and more on Riga as I get out into it. As always, the Diaries are cross-posted to the EUSTblog)

The Hollow Tooth Diaries: EUST Day Zero

Hollow Tooth Diaries will be cross-posted (that's the lingo, right?) to EUSTblog: http://eustblog.blogspot.com/

Air travel, as we all know from standup comedy, is terrible. In economy class, they don't give you much food, or legroom, or comfort, or respect. I think I heard someone tell me once about some self-aware comedian who responded to the cliche of comedians hating on air travel by expressing in vehement terms "Yes, let's complain about the food in the metal tube they put you in to fling you at high speeds through the air!" It's a reminder about the age of miracles in which we live. It's a reminder to have some perspective.

The anti-air travel perspective has always mystified me as well. I'd never even thought about complaining about it. It's something that happens to you for a while; you sit still and you read a book or sleep or watch a movie and then you're somewhere else. Even on long flights, I had never had the slightest discomfort

Until this time.

Now, I'd flown to Europe before. That time and this, I neglected to sleep on the plane, as I was landing in the early evening and I could then crash immediately and thereby adapt to the time zone. No more of a challenge than staying up till 5AM with friends, right? Well, something was different. Maybe the frantic packing and final errands the morning before. Maybe the uncomfortable plane ride. (Who puts the seat far enough from the window that you can't rest your head on it?) Maybe panic at leaving my home continent and living out of a suitcase for six months in a post-Soviet republic wracked with unemployment, poverty and political turmoil. Who knows, but I was deposited in Frankfurt with over three hours to wait in a hunger and exhaustion-induced haze.

My departure gate was about as far from my arrival gate as it was possible to be, so I had to stagger through what seemed like the entire Frankfurt airport hauling my probably-oversized carry-on bags. The trip involved creeping around in disused corridors trying to avoid passport controls as long as possible (long story - I was advised that it might have been travelling illegally), and schlepping through a surreal blend of antiseptic corridors, security checkpoints and garish high-end shopping. I finally collapsed at my gate (found only by asking a security guard who was privy to secret knowlege) so early that the flight attendants thought I was running late for the previous plane.

Due to exhaustion, general malaise, and shame over my poor German, I didn't get anything to eat in Frankfurt. It didn't help that the food places were far from my gate, overpriced, and didn't have anything I wanted. Also, once past the mall and through security, the Frankfurt airport is about the bleakest building imaginable. One could likely make a crack about German philosophers, given how great the place is for contemplating the futility of joy.

When the flight from Brussels departed, I basically passed out immediately and woke up just in time to miss the drink cart. My water had been confiscated at Frankfurt security.

The Brussels airport was Frankfurt in miniature. Boring bits, mall, arbitrarily long walks. When I managed to make it into daylight my first Belgian experience was a shouting match between my busdriver and a gentleman who'd decided the best place to park his van was in the only exit to the parking lot.

Research plus transit maps plus (decent French skills X helpful transit guy) got me to the hotel, where I met up with other people on the tour. Plan at this stage was to head out and get something to eat. Street food doesn't really exist much in Brussels and the restaurants nearby were all too expensive for my blood, despite having not eaten in, like, a day. Also, then we ran smack into a pride festival, which took some time to navigate. We also got hopelessly lost three or four times. My friends decided to go boozin' and I decided to head back to the hotel, as my hour of airborne unconsciousness hadn't done much to alleviate my fatigue. Of course I got hopelessly, mercilessly, entirely lost again on the way back. I only found my way home by ducking into a Metro station and finding how absurdly not-going-the-right-way I was. Never did find anything to eat.

Unknown Armies has those little magic urban legends in the margins. One of them holds that food is actually a drug and if you can survive the withdrawal, you can do without it forever. A little insensitive to people who have starved to death but still kinda cool. Anyway, that's basically what happened. The next day (The Hollow Tooth Diaries: EUST Day One!), I went out for breakfast not because I was hungry, but because I knew I should be. I didn't need to eat at all! I was free! This was convenient, because nothing is open in Brussels on a Sunday before 10. After getting lost a couple more times, I found an open cafe, just to test myself.

That was the most delicious croissant I have ever tasted.