September, 2006:

I ended the visit to Salerno on a good note, wish I can say that the whole visit was positive. While it was really good to see many of my relatives again (didn’t get to see all of them, at no fault of my own), there were some strange politics afoot.

Apparently, the relationship among my aunts and my uncle have been a bit less than harmonious lately. Stemming from a tiff over the family home and land, among other issues, relations have been strained. I found myself hearing different sides of a story and how things are broken in the family, only to find myself wishing I didn’t inquire so much about things. After all, the reason I was there in the first place was to deliver my mom’s ashes to the family, and that was plenty enough to deal with.

Needless to say, there were many fragile feelings and other emotions at work. I think my mom would have been sad to see all that had transpired among the siblings, although I know that she’s been known to be the cause of a strain or two among them in her lifetime. I more or less diplomatically asked my aunts and uncles to park any issues they had toward each other by the wayside so we can accomplish the matter of getting my mom buried with their parents as she wished. They all more or less went along, thankfully.

The plan was to have my mom buried at the local cemetery in her hometown of Vatolla, where my grandfather, grandmother, and umpteen other relatives are stored (they’re all in graves that are above ground). My Uncle Donato handled the particulars about getting the grave opened. Apparently, the cemetery told him that it was easier to get my grandfather’s grave opened, rather than my grandmother’s due to logistical issues. My grandmother’s grave was in the bottom of the crypt, and therefore more difficult to open for some reason. I told them that I didn’t think it mattered all that much which grave her ashes were in, and they should just go for whatever was less difficult and costly. My Aunt Nunziatina (the eldest of the brood), put her foot down and insisted that they open their mother’s grave.

Unfortunately, when they opened the grave, they found that she was in a sealed coffin. By Italian law, you cannot open a grave with a coffin in it, nor can you open the coffin. So, the cemetery had to immediately reseal that grave with mortar. The marble facestone had been broken in order to open the grave, and needed to be replaced. I didn’t know any of this until the morning that we were to put my mom’s ashes into the grave. So, when we were all there, the guy from the cemetery was kinda hot, my aunts and my uncle were too.

Everybody was upset and sort of pointing fingers at each other. It was rather comedic, in an insane kinda way. To add another level of bizarre to this whole thing, there was a local COP on the scene. Who, for some reason, had to check the grave when it was opened. He was to make sure that everything was in compliance. I was in complete disbelief. Doesn’t this cop have anything better to do than deal with a delicate issue like a family burial in such a way? He was rather adamant that we have the documentation for my mom. Which I had, just not with me. That set off another firestorm of fingerpointing, mostly at me.

After all was said and done, my mom’s ashes were placed into a metal case, and slipped into the grave that held my grandfather. He was not in a coffin. So, in a macabre fashion, his bones were swept up and placed in a matching metal case before we got there. Some of my aunts and cousins who were nice enough to attend this affair brought flowers, which they placed in the opening of the grave. The grave was to be sealed up later that day.

I found myself exhausted and relieved that this had finally come to pass. It was a bit of a journey for me, but not the kind I’m used to. My mom was in her final resting place, and somehow all her siblings came together (mostly) to make it happen. So all was good. Mom got what she wanted. I’m glad that I was able to play a small part in it.

My last night in Salerno was the best night, my Aunt Nunziatina planned a dinner at her son Franco’s waterfront restaurant. A good cross-section of my dozens of cousins showed up for that. All the sisters and my uncle were there, in respect for my mom. That was rather nice to see, and apparently it hasn’t happened in a great many years. I got to see a few cousins that I hadn’t had a chance to see while I was there for whatever reason. It was a great dinner, good food, wine, lots of laughs reminiscing about my mom and our many visits to Italy when I was young, picture-taking, and just general catching up and I was glad to be there representing our little branch of “la famiglia”.

The next morning I was on a train back to Rome, where I was to catch a flight to Prague later that day. A couple of my Prague friends talked me into coming to Prague and meeting up with them, and it wasn’t a difficult offer to resist. I had to reschedule a couple of flights, but it worked out pretty painlessly, so I went for it. But it did mean I had to leave Italy a day earlier than originally, so I wasn’t going to spend another day with Luigi and Luisa up in Rome before flying out. But I talked with them, and it’s all good, because they’ll be back in Guatemala in a few weeks anyway.

So now I’m in Prague, taking in a few days of hanging out in a city I fell in love with last year. One of my Prague friends, Tom, has me going on a train to Ostrava, a place I was supposed to go to with him last year. Hope I make it this time.

Alas, the trip is coming to an end pretty soon, and I’m looking forward to being back on Andiamo again a little more than a week from now.

So after a good few days of fun and frolic in London, I was off to Copenhagen for the first time ever! In fact, it would be my first time ever in any Scandinavian country. Exciting stuff! I met up with Stef for her lunch hour over by Aldgate station to have a quick lunch and chat before running off to catch my plane.

Strangely enough, on the way back to the tube station, we ran into Laura! Laura is the fellow south african who I met with Stef back in Isla Mujeres 2 years ago. She also lives in London after globetrotting another year or so after we’d met. So here we were running into her on the street. Love it when that happens.

Though we didn’t have much time, we did manage to have a chat, and agree to try to meet up when I was in town on my way back to the states in the first week of October. I was scheduled for a 2 day layover in London, so it should work out. I had already said bye to Berina, who was on her way to Venice that same day for a fun long weekend with her beau. We’ll definitely meet up when I’m back in London as well.

So in order to catch this plane, I had to get to Stansted airport. Which while claiming to be a London airport, is actually quite a ways out of the city limits. I took the “Stansted Express” train, which got me to the airport in about 50 minutes, for fifteen pounds (about 28 bucks, expensive, like everything else in London).

Check-in was a HUGE fiasco. Air travel in Europe has been taken over by discount airlines that advertise EXTREMELY cheap fares to destinations all over Europe. Of course, I took advantage of these fare for my trips. But the downside of this is that these airports are absolutely mobbed by people in ways that you can’t imagine. The lines at the check-in counters are staggering. There’s a check-in display that apparently is supposed to tell you which counter you’re supposed to go to for your respective flight. I suppose this is supposed to streamline the check-in process somewhat. I saw my Easyjet flight show up on the board, but for the counter number it kept saying “waiting”. I was supposed to be there by 4:00 pm for my 6:00 pm flight, and I waited in front of this board until about 4:30. No change. By that time, I decided I should find out what the hell is going on, and I found an Easyjet employee walking around with a clipboard. She answered me that I can check in at ANY counter. Nevermind that it didn’t say that on the board. Oy…

Anyway, let’s cut to the chase. Even with the flight delayed, I BARELY made it onboard for the flight. Since the flight was delayed about 40 minutes, I knew we’d get to Copenhagen late. I had given Sjelle the flight info, as she told me she would meet me at Kastrup airport for my arrival. Unfortunately, she didn’t check that the flight had left late, and got there a little early, so she ended up waiting a long while. It was still very nice to see her again at the terminal.We caught the train and headed into town. Her friend Bergljott (who had visited Andiamo) was going to put me up for a couple of nights. We went straight from the central station to where she lived, about a ten minute walk away. After getting me settled at Bergljott’s, Sjelle headed home because she had to work the next morning. I crashed out on Bergljott’s VERY comfortable L-couch (hey after what I slept on in London, ANYTHING had to be better), and got a great night’s sleep.

The next morning, the weather was great, I had a light breakfast and headed out into the town. Lucky for me, Copenhagen is a VERY easy city to get around in. First, it’s quite small for a major city. Second, all the streets are in a pretty nice grid fashion (like L.A.) so it’s really easy to know where you are. And third, Bergljott lived right on a main thoroughfare, so it was impossible for me not to find her apartment on my way back. After stopping at a 7-11 (oh thank heaven), for a Denmark SIM card for my phone, I was on the grand tour. I headed down Vesterbrogade (the main street Bergljott lives on), and walked to the center. I passed the Tivoli, Copenhagen’s famous classic amusement park that is in the heart of the city. Then walked through the Radhusplatsen, which is the main plaza that has the city hall on one end of it. Then I went through the very busy shopping district, into the Nyhavn. This is the canal-laden old harbor of the city. It’s still home to many of Copenhagen’s fishing boats. on the sunny side of the Nyhavn, there are shops, cafes and restaurants everywhere. The weather was absolutely glorious, so it was a great time to be outside.

I decided I liked hanging out by the harbor the most, so I stopped at a few places, had a drink and perused their menus, trying to figure what to do for lunch. Most of the places, though quite nice, were a bit touristy (read: expensive) for my taste. I did walk by one place, though, that was serving these massive seafood salads. I was absolutely enthralled by the amount of seafood you got on these salads, and everything spectacular. So, it was to be, I sat a table on the patio, and when the waitress came, I pointed to the guy at the table next to me and said, “I’ll have one o’those”. I’m sure she gets that alot.

Anyway, the salad was absolutely fantastic, and I was in seafood heaven, almost in tears. I was in awe of this thing. Mine was loaded with crab, mussels, shrimp, tiny lobster, and god knows what else. Not cheap, but worth every kroner I paid for it. Very, very nice…

About the time I was done, I sent Sjelle a text msg to let her know that I was at the harbor, and asked her if should just wait for her there. She had the idea to meet up in the afternoon after she got off work, and go on the canalboat tour. While I’m not a fan of these touristy things, the canal tour did sound like a good way to see the harbor. Also, to check out the different parts of Copenhagen. She replied that that was a good idea, and told me to meet her at the big anchor monument at the end of canal about 4:30. So, knowing I had to be back around Nyhavn by that time, I ventured off and walked some more of Copenhagen’s streets.

I met up with Sjelle and we took the canalboat tour. They actually had a boat leaving by the time we got to the dock. No waiting, gotta love it. The weather was still really amazing, and the canalboat actually took us by some interesting sights: The Queen of Denmark’s Royal yacht, a really classic-looking ship with all the royal adornments (which she was actually still living aboard at the time); Christiania, Denmark’s world-renowned hippie community; the new Danish Opera House that sits right on the harbor; the city’s winding canals, courtesy of the Dutch architects that the Danes imported from Amsterdam to design (it’s no accident that this city’s canals look alot like Amsterdam’s); and much more. It was a nice trip, and Sjelle was good company, considering she’d done it a few times already. After changing for the evening, we headed out to a sushi restaurant not far from Bergljott’s that was really excellent. Afterwards, we walked down to a bar that had live music, and had a couple of drinks there. Sjelle had to leave early though because of work in the morning, so we called it a night pretty early.

We were set to head to Malmo, Sweden the next afternoon for the weekend after she got off work. When I was looking for places to stay back in London, I found it absolutely impossible to find anything decent in Copenhagen for the weekend. Bergljott had some family coming in for the weekend, so that meant I couldn’t stay there then. During my mad hotel search back in London, Sjelle suggested I check Malmo. I ended up finding a nice hotel in Malmo for friday and saturday. I had a room already booked for my last two nights in Copenhagen, so this worked out nicely.

We met up at Radhusplatsen, and hopped a bus that took us straight to Malmo. What was even better, the bus went right by the Ibis Hotel we were booked at. We were able to hop off the bus and walk a block to the hotel. After getting settled in the very nice room, we ventured out into the center of town, about a 10 minute walk away. Malmo is a thriving city in Sweden. It’s Sweden’s third largest, and it’s apparently booming. There is new construction everywhere, and I mean, everywhere. Sjelle says that this is because many Danes who live in Copenhagen are now moving to Malmo because it’s much cheaper to live there while working in Copenhagen (the swedish Kroner is worth about 20% less than the Danish Kroner). Since Copenhagen is only a short bus or train ride across the Baltic Sound, about 30 minutes, for many Danes, it’s a no-brainer.

Malmo also has a very cosmopolitan mix of immigrant residents. You see everything from Chinese, Korean, to African immigrants living and assimilating here in a very fascinating way. This also means that there is a very eclectic array of cuisine in this town that you would expect from a place like London. I was really impressed. Once we got into the center, it seemed like there was no end to the choices we had for dining. We ended up picking an Indian place. Good call.

That night, we hung out at a laid back bar, and had a couple of drinks. Things were a bit slow in Malmo that time of night, and it looked like things wouldn’t really take off until much later at night. Sjelle was a bit tired from work, so we grabbed a bus back to the hotel about midnight.

The weather was great again the next day as well. Off we went on another jaunt around town. We had missed breakfast at the hotel because we slept in. So we headed back into town to try to find a good breakfast or brunch spot. We did just that a couple streets past the city hall, and had a very nice funky Swedish breakfast on the sidewalk patio. Then, we walked along the central shopping district and checked out some places. Sjelle appears to always be on the lookout for shoes. She did the same thing when we were in La Ceiba too, as she does everywhere. What is it with women and shoes?

Not finding anything she really liked, we ventured on. We saw that Malmo had a canalboat tour as well, so we checked on it. It was all booked up for that day, but wide open the next day. We figured we can do it then. We walked around some more, and saw some really cool sights. There is a particular 54 story residential building designed by a popular architect named Santiago Calatrava. It’s called the “Turning Torso”. The building “twists” 90 degrees from the bottom to the top. Really unique. I should have pictures of it up on the gallery soon.

Also, we walked through the main square of Malmo, and noticed alot of rather organized activity. Lots of different groups of people wearing different colored t-shirts, handing out pamphlets, talking through bullhorns, crowds forming everywhere. Sjelle then remembered that Sweden was holding their national elections that weekend. All the people in the different t-shirts were from the different political parties. They have a multi-party system, which means that there are many different parties vying for the same seats in their congress, as well as the executive offices. So all around us were the Social Democrats, the Christian Democrats, the Moderates, the Green Party, the Socialists, the Conservatives, and so on. They hold their elections on a sunday to make it accessible to everyone. It was an interesting thing to watch, actually.

We walked along the harbor of the city, which while wasn’t nearly as bustling as Copenhagen’s, was still interesting. There were a couple of classic Swedish sailing ships that had been restored to their original state in the harbor. Sjelle got the idea of going to a supermarket and getting some food that we can bring back to the room for snacks, as well as some beverages. So we found a better supermarket and raided it. We got some munchies, as well as some juice beverages in tetra-paks to take back to the room. I also got to check out the caviar that Swedes apparently love to eat out of a tube. You know, like a toothpaste tube?? Apparently, they squeeze it on to bread or this flat, cracker-like bread called knackebracken, and slather it around. Yum…

We headed back to the room, and ate the cheese and knackebracken (no caviar!), along with the prosciutto I bought. And watched some TV, mostly CNN. Then we ended up falling dead asleep for several hours. When we came to, it was well after 10pm, and we had not eaten dinner. I went down to the lobby to find out what our dinner options were since we were both a bit too lazy to head into to town just to eat. Apparently, as modern and booming as Malmo is, there is still no late-night Pizza Hut or Domino’s delivery, nor any other food delivery for that matter. So since I was the hungrier one, I resorted to having a few more knackebrackens and cheese to tide me over until breakfast the next morning, which I swore to Sjelle we would NOT miss this time.

And we didn’t, the next morning, we made it with ample time to enjoy the very nice spread that they had out for breakfast. It made me sorry we missed it the morning before. After we were happy, we headed back up to the room to pack and check-out. Instead we became engrossed with the “Swedish Idol” tv show, which is just as funny and cheesy as the “American Idol” back in the states and its “Pop Idol/X-factor” counterpart in the UK. It was the open auditions part of the competition, so you can imagine all the bad singing going on. I have to say we were quite engrossed and entertained, because the room maid had to literally throw us out of the room at noon.

After checking out, we stashed our bags at the lobby and headed to town to catch the canalboat tour. We made it this time. Unfortunately, it was not nearly as interesting as the Copenhagen ride. The tour guide, a young swede no more than 30, was quite bizarre though. He spoke in a multi-language monotone that was so droning, that you can only imagine him saying to himself that he loathes his job and he just wishes he could die rather than say another single sentence. It was really disturbing and amusing at the same time.

Once we got back to the dock, we headed back towards the hotel, but not before stopping and having a cup of coffee and some snacks. Then we got the idea to hang out at a park for a little while, and enjoy the sun. It was really nice. Afterward, we took a detour back towards the hotel through this park that had a huge lake with loads of geese. Apparently it was still warm enough for them stick around the north a little while longer. Global warming, anyone?

We got back to the hotel, picked up our bags and headed to the train station to catch the next train back to Copenhagen. It had been a great, relaxing weekend in Malmo, which was very welcome and needed by both Sjelle and me. We got back to Copenhagen central station, and walked the two or so blocks to the hotel I had booked for my last two nights in Copenhagen. Once I got settled in, I took a nap, and waited on Sjelle to call and decide where we were going to eat that night.

My hotel was in Vesterbro, the same part of the city as where Bergljott’s place was. However, my hotel was much closer to the err… sleazy… part of Vesterbro. Along the street my hotel was on, there were dive bars, sex shops, strip clubs, junkies and working girls on the streets. It was… colorful… to say the least. Anyway, Sjelle decided that Thai would be good that night, so we walked a couple blocks down the street past this illustrious streetside strip club (that was closed… damn!), and went to a Thai restaurant that was on the corner. While the restaurant was quite nice, the food was just ok, and a bit expensive for what we got, according to Sjelle. After that, it was time to more or less call it a night.

The next day, while Sjelle was at work, I did some more walking around. This would be my last full day in Copenhagen before having to head off to Italy the next morning, so I figured I’d see some more of the city. I actually wanted to look into renting a bike, but called off that idea after finding out how much it cost. Sjelle’s dad had offered to let me borrow his bike, but I would have to go to their house to get it, and since I had never been there, I deemed that impractical. So I was to hoof it once again.

I started out with the route I knew, and made a couple of turns on to some perpendicular streets. The only “sight” I really wanted to check out was this tower called the “Rundertarn”. It’s a 17th century tower that instead of stairs has one continuous spiral ramp going up the inside of it, all the way to to the top. It was adjacent to the old cathedral, and despite the fact that I had a map, I simply could not find the place. I started getting hungry, so the desire for food took over. I walked around some more, heading back towards Vesterbro from the center. There were several places, but I couldn’t decide on any of them. I got to a Doner Kebab joint down the street from my hotel, and decided that was where I would eat. I had a durum chicken. I then continued my walking tour, and saw some more of the city.

I went back to the room to get a nap after all that walking, and got a msg from Sjelle that she had to do some stuff after work, so she’d be there a little later than 4 as we had planned. It was fine with me, because I was pretty relaxed, and not really ready to get out and about again. She showed up a little after 5, and we tried to figure out where we’d have dinner that night. She came up with the idea for Mongolian BBQ. This is the kind of place where you walk along a “buffet” bar, and you fill your plate with the meat, veggies and other stuff you want. Then, you choose the sauces and oils you want from a large selection. Then you give the plate to one of the bbq cooks, and they cook it on a grill right in front of you. These places are usually “all you can eat”, but not in the cafeteria-buffet, “slop on your plate” way. There was a nice mongolian place by the center close to the Tivoli park. So, after I changed, we headed over there. It was a good call, except for the lamb soup, which Sjelle detested.

After dinner, we went to a gelato place for dessert. Then we found a bar and had a drink there. It was a bit of a “dive”, so we didn’t stay long. We had to make it a short night anyway, since I had to get up early the next morning to catch a train to the airport, so I can catch my flight to London. Then I’d have to go from Stansted airport over to Gatwick to catch my flight to Rome. My friend Luigi (the sailmaker from Guatemala) was set to pick me up in Ciampino airport. So after saying goodbye to Sjelle at the train station, I was off again. It seems like much of this trip has been spent on trains, planes and airports.

My flight left on time, but unfortunately, there was bad weather over Ciampino, so our flight got diverted to Rome’s other airport, Fiumicino. I was concerned that Luigi didn’t get the word that my flight had been diverted, so I would try to call him when I got there. My cel was not working when I landed, which is no surprise, btw. I then looked for an internet kiosk to see if I can dig up Luigi’s italy number, which wasn’t on my phone. No luck there either. Luckily though, Luigi had gotten the word and was waiting at the gate when I got out after claiming my bag. So all was good.

And so, was to begin the Italy chapter of the trip, which let’s not forget is why I’m in Europe in the first place. This trip was destined to become just a bit more interesting…

After a great stay in Copenhagen and Malmo, Sweden with Sjelle, I got a flight through London to Rome. After a great stay with Luigi, I’m in Salerno. This is where my Mom’s family lives, and her ashes will be buried in Vatolla, not far from here.

I’ll be updating the blog with the activities in Copenhagen and Malmo shortly. Also pics will be going up soon.

And also, I’ve gotten some new in-depth info about Mom which I will incorporate into her story shortly as well.

So look out for the updates, if you want to…

Ci vediamo…

The last few days in London were utterly fantastic. It was so nice to catch up with my very good friend Stef. As always, she gave me a place to crash the first 2 nights I was there. We met up at the Oval tube station Saturday afternoon, after flying into Gatwick airport. She did warn me that the weather was pretty awesome, and man she wasn’t kidding. It was well in the high 70’s, low 80’s when I got to Stef’s.

She lives in a different flat now than last year. It’s a bit smaller than the one she had before. So I was only able to crash in her roommate’s room for the weekend, since her roommate was out of town. Not a problem for me, of course. Stef needed to run out that afternoon and visit a friend, so I took advantage of the downtime to catch up on some catch-up sleep. I also wanted to get in touch with Berina, a London pal who I actually met last summer in Budapest. We had kept touch via email sporadically over the past year, and she was in town this summer, so we agreed to meet up.

Stef and I had dinner at an Ethiopian restaurant just around the corner from her house. Then, we headed over to Covent Garden. Berina met up with us at a pub not too much later. It was really nice seeing her again, and she and Stef got on well too. Lots of fun drinking and talking about travel, and other stuff. Berina, her friend Sheila, and I all had a great time last summer in Budapest. When I got back to London on my way back to the states that time, Sheila was there, but Berina was not. So it was just Sheila and me. This time, it’s the other way around, since Sheila’s in Singapore.

We hung out at a couple of pubs, and then walked over to a couple of late night clubs. Stef got pretty tired, and headed out a little early. Berina and I then hit a place called O’Neill’s and closed it down dancing to everything. I’d almost forgotten how much fun London nightlife is. Well, not really…

After getting thrown out of O’Neill’s, we hit a chinese place that was still open. We had some excellent late-night chinese grub, with a really interesting crowd of people around us. By the time we got out of there, it was well past 4:30 AM and it was time to go home!

We had all made a plan to meet up the next afternoon for a curry festival going on not far from where Berina lives. It took me a little time to get up that day, since I’d gotten in pretty much by daybreak! After a slow session waking up, Stef and I made it to where we were supposed to meet Berina. Berina had met up with her sister’s fiance’, a big Scottish guy named Mark at the airport that morning. He had just gotten back from traveling in Asia for 6 months, and was spending one night in London before heading back on up to Scotland. So he joined us for the afternoon.

It was a VERY crowded festival. The weather definitely drew out droves of people. There was music, beer, food, beer, food, and more music. It was a really nice afternoon. Although we were supposed to eat curry there. Stef and I opted instead for a booth that had some very delicious looking polish sausages. After having a few beers and stuff, we moved over to a pub just off the festival. We spent the rest of the afternoon having beers on the curb outside the pub, basking in the fantastic afternoon sun. Nice…

That night, Stef and I went down to a small jazz club in Brixton where her boyfriend, Spesh, was playing. They had already started playing when we got there. The club was not packed, but there was a nice, lively crowd. Spesh and his band played some fun improv jazz through the night. Cool stuff. I left Stef and Spesh at the bar, after they wrapped their last set, and headed back to Stef’s flat. I was still tired from the previous night’s antics. Because of a Red Bull I took earlier that night though, I was wired and didn’t get any sleep whatsoever. So I just jumped online and finished my mom’s story and did some other stuff, until I fell asleep about 5 am.

The next day, I had the whole place to myself until Stef’s roommate came home. I still had to book a room for Copenhagen, my next stop, and had some rotten luck finding anything. Sjelle had arranged with her friend Bergljott to let me crash at her place for the first couple of nights. So that helped. After a couple of hours of searching for something nice AND affordable, I managed to eek out a room for 2 nights in Malmo, Sweden, which is just across the bay from Copenhagen, and then my last 2 nights back in Copenhagen. So that worked out. After doing this stuff, I packed, and headed over to Earls Court, where my cheap hotel room awaited.

Now, I wasn’t expecting anything nice. Because in London, you really do get what you pay for. But this was ridiculous. The hotel itself was basically ok, considering that I paid just 25 pounds (about 50 bucks, which is CHEAP for London) a night. But the bed in the room I got was absolutely HORRIFIC. First of all, it was a very old, NASTY mattress, that was nothing but metal springs, NO padding. Worse, a few of the springs were just sticking through the mattress cover, in a totally hazardous way. I ended up having to lay out the pillows under my back in order to get a decent sleep. Like I said, horrible, and I was stuck here for 2 nights.

Needless to say, I wanted to stay out of the room as much as possible. Stef skyped me earlier that day and told me she can meet me at 7:30 at the hotel, then we’d go get some dinner or something with Berina after she got off work, about an hour later. Stef showed up, but said she can only hang out for a drink or so, because she had to go and be with Spesh that night since he had taken it off. So we had a drink outside a pub just down the street from the hotel until she had to run.

Berina showed up about an hour later, and off we went to dinner. She knew a good Belgian restaurant not far from Earls Court, so we went there. It was a good call. The restaurant was really nice, and we had a great dinner of salmon and mussels. Just what I needed, that’s for sure. Berina and I had a good chance to catch up some more, and I gotta say I really enjoyed dinner with her. Listening to her tell me about her life growing up in Singapore in a Punjabi-Indian family was fascinating stuff.

We laughed alot during that dinner over some really funny anecdotes. After a real Belgian dessert, we headed down the road to a cool-looking bar and had a couple of drinks. Berina had to make it an early night though, because she was leaving for a trip to Venice the next day. So after seeing her off at the tube station, I headed back to the hotel. And just in time I guess, because it started pouring rain!

The next day, I woke up a bit late again, but not too bad. I had to jump online to chat with Sjelle a bit about meeting up at the airport the next day, and some other logistical stuff. Also talked with Stef about meeting up later that evening after she was done with some function for work. I told her it wasn’t a problem, and for her to just send me a text message when she was free and where to meet.

After taking care of some stuff, I went down to a part of London that I really like. The Banks. It’s a great part of the Embankment area of London, right on the river Thames of course. On both sides of the river, there are numerous places to walk, people watch and just hang out. There’s the London Eye, the HUGE ferris wheel thing that you have to book hours if not days in advance to go on. Parliament House is down from there on the other side of the river. There are parks, museums, bridges and lots of open markets and cafes. Last summer when I was here, I really got to know it, and it’s been a fave London spot of mine from that point on.

I roved the book market looking for some good deals. But unfortunately prices really went up since last year, so I didn’t go for anything. The weather was still phenomenal, so there were lots of street players, and performers on the riverwalk. It was such a great mix of people, that you never felt out of place or even like an outsider. I had a snack over at Charing Cross, just outside the station, and after taking lots of pics, and walking a good few miles, I headed back to Earls Court via the tube. I figured I’d take a break, and wait to hear from Stef on where to meet.

Interestingly enough, after I took a bit of a nap, I got a text message from Stef asking me to meet up with her at Embankment! That’s where I just was! No problem for me though, just had to jump back on the tube and I was there. Stef showed up not long after, clearly having had a few. She went on to tell me that this function she was at was really generous on the champagne, and… well… she accepted their generosity freely. Nothing wrong with that, I told her.

She still had to meet up with her boss at this very old wine bar not far from Embankment station. So we walked, or rather, I walked, and she kinda just swaggered to the place. Her boss, Rick, a really nice guy showed up a few minutes later. Stef had gotten a bottle of white and we finished that bottle off pretty quick. Rick headed onward after the bottle was done, and Stef decided she needed one more drink. I didn’t question it…

There was a bar on the other side of the station that looked nice from the street, so we went in. But after seeing the price of the drinks we had there, both Stef and I vowed we would never set foot there again. Well, after that round, Stef did admit that she was “pissed”, which I did not disagree with. It as actually quite funny watching her go this route. Not a usual thing for me.

We bid our goodbyes, and she staggered onto the train home. I took a bit more of a walk around The Banks to see if any of the nightspots were going. Tuesdays were a bit of an off-night, so not much was happening on the river. I was quite hungry not having had dinner yet, so I headed back to Earls Court, and ended up hitting BK out of desperation since everything else was closed. When I got to the hotel, I had asked the desk clerk for one more pillow (so I can put it under me while I tried to sleep on that health hazard mattress). Lucky for me, he had one, so I managed to get a decent night’s sleep after all.

The next day, it was time to go, thank god. I checked out of the hotel, and headed down to meet up with Stef for her lunch break. We had a quick lunch at a ready-to-eat joint, and got to have a little goodbye session. These London visits with Stef had really become something I really look forward to. I hope that there will be many more to come.

As we were walking out of the place, back down the street to where she had to go back to work, we ran into Laura! Now, Laura is the South African girl that Stef was traveling with through Mexico when I first met them back in Isla Mujeres in 2004! Though I’ve kept touch with Laura via email, I’d never had a chance to see her because she was never around when I was in London.

So here we were meeting on the street. Love it when that happens. Stef had to run because she was late for work, so Laura and I chatted awhile before I had to head off to the station. She indicated she’ll be in town when I head back to London for a couple nights before my return flight to the states, so hopefully we can all meet up then, that would be nice.

After a horrific check-in process at London Stansted, and a delayed flight, I made it to Copenhagen. Sjelle was at the airport, exhausted from waiting. It was really nice to see her again. I’d really missed her, shocking but true! We got on the train back into town, and she took me over to Bergljott’s place, where I would spend the next couple of nights. Sjelle’s staying with her parents right now, and their place is quite small. So this was a better move for the first couple of nights. I’ll then have hotels from Friday on, so all should be fine after that.

Copenhagen is proving to be a wonderful city so far, but that’s for another entry…. =)

In the meantime, Mom’s ashes remain intact with no issues or incidents. Let’s hope things stay that way.

So, I’m on my rather indirect way to Italy to deliver my mom’s ashes for burial by family. I’ll be making a few stops along the way, hopefully with mom in tow, intact and undisturbed.

I knew the trip was going to off to a roaring start on this mission when I checked in my bag. First, the back story on the process I endured in actually packing “Mom”.

My brother Nick, who took care of Mom’s cremation, received her ashes packed in a small cardboard box (thus coining the title: “Mom-in-a-box”). Attached to the box were the necessary documents giving me permission to transport the said remains to its ultimate destination of Italy.

I had carefully planned, or so I thought, how I was going to pack and transport Mom on the trip. I had kept a large rolling backpack and daypack set that I used for my Europe trip last year back at my best friend Chris’ house in Daytona. With some luck, I could pack all my necessities into the large rolling backpack, and then pack Mom’s ashes into the daypack that attaches to it. It seemed to be a sound plan, at least in theory.

Then the problem. Turns out that the box was just a little too big to fit into the opening of the daypack. Chris and I tried several different ways to the get the box in. No go. “Maybe we should just take it out of the box”, Chris suggested. I shuddered at this thought for some reason. The idea of taking mom’s ashes out of the box, breaking the sealing tape and all, seemed so… wrong. I dismissed the idea, and kept trying to figure out how to get the box into the daypack. To no avail.

Eventually practicality kicked in, and I determined that Mom would have to come out of the box. Not being much of a religious or spiritual individual when it came to these things, I parked whatever apprehensions I once had, yanked out the scissors, and scored the tape. Both Chris and I half-stepped back a second. As if something was going to pop out of the box. No incident.

Then, I opened the box, and noticed that the plastic bag holding Mom’s remains was less than half the size of the box. I found this really odd. I was already surprised that the ashes fit in such a small box in the first place. Especially considering that Pop’s ashes were given to Judy in a rather large plastic “tub” with a lid (about the size of a “mega-size” bucket of laundry detergent). I was shocked to see that my mom’s ashes only accounted for about a fifth of Pop’s ash volume. Sure, she was a lot smaller than he was, but still, hmmmm…

Anyway, I finally pulled the bag out of the box, and Chris grabbed a gallon ziploc freezer bag. I slid the bag into the ziploc, and sealed it.

Then, I started coming up with all kinds of hypothetical situations that may cause the bag(s) to be ruptured during transport. Chris let his imagination run wild on this as well. The best scenario we conjured up was the one where another passenger on the London flight was going to be checking in his valued African spear collection. Surely, there would be no way the airline would let it be carried on, with all the uber-security going on and all.

Inevitably, there would be some turbulence, and the spears would come loose from their secure packaging. And, there would be some impact as well. One of the spears would be jerked free from the rest of them, and be hurled like a missle right at my bag, which is innocently in its trajectory. It would be all bad and horrible from there.

This risk notwithstanding, I opted to add an additional layer of bubble wrap around the bag. While this would do nothing to prevent the penetration of a well-sharpened hypothetical spearhead, it would surely help absorb some of the shock and impact that the bag would experience on a transooceanic flight.

I’m glad to say that my luggage (and Mom) made it to London without incident. The only real issue was perhaps that of the TSA agent in Orlando who hand-inspected the bag (within sight of me), and checked out the packaged ashes with extreme interest. Once she saw that name “Mom” sharpied on the bag, as well as the documentation from the crematorium, she freaked out quite visibly and audibly. She dropped the package back on to the inspection table in shock. I rather enjoyed that.

In any case, it’s a great time to be in London. The weather is as perfect as it gets in London. My pal Steffenie is as gracious as ever hooking me up with a place to crash for a couple of days while her roommate is out of town. I’ve also had a chance to meet up with Berina, whom I met back in Budapest last summer along with her friend Sheila, when we all went on a pub crawl. Stef, Berina and I all met up at a pub by Covent Garden last night, and had a really fun time. From there, we checked a couple other nightspots, closing the last place we went to. There’s something really cool about eating chinese food after hours in London.

I’ve got a couple of days left here, and hopefully the weather holds up. Then it’s off to our next stop for Mom and me.

As I was gearing up to leave Andiamo on Rio Dulce, I got the news about Steve Irwin’s very sudden and tragic death. The way it happened was in itself quite bizarre. He was stung by a stingray while shooting footage just off the Great Barrier Reef. Unfortunately, the otherwise relatively harmless sting became fatal because it penetrated his heart. Call it kismet, karma, or ironic bad luck, but Steve died because of his passion for wildlife.

No one can deny that this guy, though utterly crazy sometimes with his desire for ultimate proximity with the wildlife he so loved and respected, had an undying passion for the very animals he showcased. It was enlightening and refreshing to say the least. There are very few people in the spotlight these days who possess that level of passion in their lives for anything so worthy. Luckily, Steve was one of those people who had all the right stuff to make other people passionate about what he was driven by. I know that over the years of watching him, he did it for me.

His family can take some comfort in knowing that he has won the world’s love and respect, and for all the right reasons for a change. I don’t know one kid who hasn’t been exposed to Steve, anywhere in the world, who was not inspired or moved by his passion and infinite enthusiasm to show and teach.

The man and his rare passion will be missed.