...is the connecting flights area for international arrivals in JFK. After a 7 1/2 hour uneventful flight from Heathrow, I found myself in a small, sweaty, crowded room that had everything but the padded white walls. It was a zoo, simply put. This was the place where the "problem" people go. I gathered from my recon that it specialized in missed flights and families of unusual size. There were at least three or four huge Arab families who had missed their connecting and now threatened to make everyone else miss theirs. 20 pieces of luggage, plus 6 children or more, plus [View Full Entry]

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I live in the dog shit capital of the world. The French call it "le crottin de chien," but a rose by any other name, so to speak. The owners give their pooches carte blanche, and for the rest of us, it's like a game of minesweeper out there. You can always pick out the ones who are going to leave it. They have a preemptive look of guilt about them, and their eyes dart back and forth to keep a look out for potential witnesses to their little transgression. Then, when the deed is done, they abscond with alacrity, secure [View Full Entry]

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My goodness how the time flies when all you do is eat cheese and drink wine. I am approaching the end of month one in Chambéry, fat as a Christmas goose. I have joined a gym to counteract the effects, but the food here is just so damn GOOD. Suspiciously good, even. I'm going to be spoiled rotten--my lean cuisines may not cut it when I get back. My French is....improving? I'm asking you, because I really don't know. I suppose it can't be UNimproved, but there is a first for everything. The more I learn, the more I realize I [View Full Entry]

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I feel...strange. I'm not...moving. I'm not in a different town every day living out of my larva shaped backpack. I'm not stealing individually portioned jams to eat with my baguette later on. I'm...still. I arrived in Chambery on Sunday night, after another disasterous EZ Jet flight. And after telling the man who manages the student apartments that I am more comfortable with English for important information, he proceeds to speak to me in French the whole time. Thanks bub. If I blow up your building because I don't know how to properly operate the oven, blame it on yourself. I've ha [View Full Entry]

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Oh dear. So much hilarious stuff to record, so little time. Yesterday I arrived in Lisbon after taking a night bus from Seville. It was a routine drill--the bus was late, packed with people, and Laurn and I were forced to listen to the sounds of an amorous couple in the row behind us. Par for the course. Around 2 am the bus stops in a town called "Davida" or something like that, so that one lonely passenger can disembark. When the driver gets up and comes to the back to call out a "Meester James," I assume that this fellow [View Full Entry]

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Back in Spain. Seville, to be exact. From my last entry, you may think that I hated my trip to Morocco. Not so. The country is beautiful, the people are very hospitable (once you get to know them), and I still drool at the mention of Berber whiskey. I ate more tangines than I care to count, and I got to see snake charmers for chrissake. I loved Morocco. I hated the harrassment. And towards the end, I was getting pretty militant about it. After Fez, we took a 4 hour bus ride through some of the curviest mountain terrain I [View Full Entry]

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Day Tour: Fez on a Friday Getting there and away: Take a petit taxi to the Medina. You don't speak French or Arabic well enough, nor do you know the area, so don't even bother trying to ask for a specific entrance--just let him drop you off wherever he feels like, and pretend that's what you wanted the whole time. Spend a half hour or so trying to find your way in through a back alley. Activities: BE SURE TO CHECK OUT THE TANNERIES. You will have at least 100 + people remind you of this during your day in the [View Full Entry]

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Signs of culture shock may include: dizziness, claustrophobia, displacement, and a slightly glazed over appearance as you realize there ARE no streetsigns. I write again from Marrakesh in something called the "cyber park" where I am mostly surrounded by other tourists with equally bad french and dressed eerily like myself. I figure I'd take the opportunity to write an entry as internet here is not always reliable, judging from the dank upstairs hole with one working computer we used yesterday in Tangier. We set foot on African soil yesterday after taking the ferry from Tarifa, Spain t [View Full Entry]

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Apparently, hats are where it's at in Granada. We arrive early this morning, fresh off the night bus. After checking into our hostel and getting a quick breakfast and some internet time, we walk around, getting a feel for the city. We notice a lot of dressed up people heading in one direction. It's not Sunday, so our interest is peaked. "Fashion show?!" I secretly think. Suddenly, we stumble across what can only be described as a gift from the heavens: dozens of women dressed in the tackiest, frilliest, most color-tastic ensembles EVER. It was weird. Really weird. Made more hilarious [View Full Entry]

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In the hills of Quieros, near Bárzana, there lives a cow. Something is wrong with this cow. Kait, who sleeps across the street from this cow, was, at first, concerned for its well-being. But after two whole days of listening to its incessant, demonic cow-calls, now all she wants to do is bludgeon it to death with a blunt object. And so, leaving Bárzana was bittersweet. Fortunately we happened to be in town for a ¨festival¨which felt more like a Lord of the Rings convention to me. Everyone looked like a demented leprechaun. I loved it. Copious amounts of bread, cheese, [View Full Entry]

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