on microwave popcorn, there’s no giant lettering announcing that the bag’s hot.

typical? maybe not. but had I not been exactly where I was exactly when I was I would have missed it all - I’m definitely taking it to mean I’m doing something right ; )

saturday, not only do I get an eyeful of machine heaven as the dakar series budapest-romania warms up at the end of my street, I’m treated to twenty minutes of overhead stunt flying - barrell rolls right on the deck, vertical stalls swept seamlessly into laws-of-physics-defying acrobatics… in a turboprop!

sunday morning, start of the dakar series budapest-romania central europe rally. didn’t see any ‘71 vw beetles, but felt a six year old at christmas all the same ; ) (really want to know why the toyotas had exhaust vents pointed directly into the navigator’s window…). must have picked the right spot, cause the bikes and quads all chose the corner I perched on to pull celebration wheelies

sunday afternoon. heading home, waiting for a bus on damjanich, 16 men and women on horseback randomly pass by

out the bus window towards the north end of city park I spot tents and crowds and hop off to see what’s up. thinking it must be critical mass (bicycle event) related, as that starts somewhere at 4, but the sudden sound of machine guns shoves that idea right out my head. an unmistakeable roar fills the air and I look up to spot 4 guys standing on the outside rails of a police helicopter. it circles directly above me once then veers left to drop them right into the middle of the crowd.

some days, life is just perfect.

I can understand that people feel the need to express their views. I cannot understand how they can’t see the irony of dousing a flame of international cooperation and hope to further the cause of freedom. Of using violence to restore a culture committed to the core to the peaceful path.

What mystifies me even more is this. It’s not working. It’s having exactly the opposite effect. Nationalism in China has hit record highs, fueling the previously lagging power of the CCP. Yet still people attack.

I wish I understood why Tibet has become such a token cause. It’s no more to do with freedom than anywhere else in China. Mind, I have no idea what the Dalai Lama would do if he were miraculously returned, to power or otherwise. All I know for sure is that until 60 years ago the only education, at all, in the entire country, was bestowed upon monks. Women were, and still are, forced into arranged marriages. Maybe that’s what Tibetans want, but it doesn’t sound particularly fun to me. But I suppose ‘Dump Education, Marry Young’ doesn’t look as good on a posterboards.

When I travelled the Amdo regions I had the chance to talk with people, ask them what they wanted for their own futures, what the solution could be. Overall the answer was that they simply didn’t know. It was from them I learned of the problems under religious rule. I certainly didn’t get that part from mainstream media. Why would I, it’s not what people want to hear. Sure, they want freedom. But so does anyone in China who’s managed to unbrainwash themselves enough to realize they don’t have any now. Why on earth do people think Tibetans deserve it any more than anyone else?

For the past few years the CCP had been digging their own graves. They do this well. What started as open elections in a few problematic villages will spread. The only thing really keeping them in power was people’s beliefs in them, their hope for change within the system. 1.1 billion people taking issue with the smaller problems of their government, like corruption and rigged elections, is potentially a good thing for change. But instead of taking cues from the people tirelessly, dangerously working to change things from within we once more rush into the fire with idealistic cries and muck everything up. In response to our global protests, nationalism is rampant. Ordinary people are in defense mode as they watch their countrymen and woman attacked by foreigners while carrying a symbol of hope. Meanwhile the government, free to allow the news focus to remain on Tibet related pr stunts, quietly arrests more and more mainland activists to keep them quiet during the games.

I’ve been struggling with a similar problem in regards to Kosovo. People keep talking about freedom without noticing the concurrent headlines about the trial of Ramush Haradinaj, former prime minister of the region, for war crimes and genocide. He was recently aquitted of war crimes charges, not for innocence perhaps so much as what the NYT reports as probable witness intimidation. Everything I read leads me to believe that for the years the Albanian rebels operated in the area they hounded Serbians without reservation. And we’ve just handed them their own country.

Why? Probably because an oil pipeline runs smack through the middle.

I’m sure that’s not the complete picture either. I need to learn more. And I’m likely currently biased by the Serbian first hand accounts I heard on my visit. Or the simple fact that the whole thing is being run by Albanians, only they didn’t secede from Albania. But when I’m asked what I think, my answer isn’t to blindly raise my fist in the air for freedom, even though I’m personally rather fond of the concept, but to ask if the questioner has any information I don’t yet. And whether he does or not, to break out the google when I find myself with a spare moment or two.

I read eswn for translations, to hear what actual Chinese people are saying. What effect our actions have on the world stage. I don’t think people truly realize the extended effects even small actions have. How can they when the western media, lacking access to real information, publishes only partial stories. Yet we in the west have a luxury China doesn’t have, we can read all these lovely bits without bypassing the net nanny.

It’s so easy to get drawn into supporting an ideal for the ideal’s sake. Yes, the world needs more freedom. Yes, the world needs to better define and protect human rights. But, like most things in life, a little thought on the matter first never hurts.

For the first time in a long time I became so enthralled by the experiences that I completely forgot about the 20 lbs of camera gear on my back. You want to see it, looks like you’ll have to go yourself ; )

Of Bosnia I can say little, as we spent so brief a time, really. A return trip is in order. This time, little old ladies in headscarves pushing wheelbarrows down the road, dogs chasing our car (or possibly their reflection in our car) from a stoplight for two blocks in Brcko, snow in March, beautiful back roads (Caley behind the wheel kept me from overdoing the twisties), an international border in the middle of town, tv variety shows where everyone speaks v-e-r-y- c-l-e-a-r-l-y, old men wear biker leather, and scantily dressed women dance when no music is playing… cool old men completely unphased by girl jumping out of rental car to ask for map help, crossing a border we thought was a border only to realize it wasn’t, signs that could only indicate people running away from explosions, land mines in the river (fortunately unstepped on by us. even if the signs weren’t in english they were pretty self explanatory), a border guard saying “Brcko, for tourism??”…. I can only imagine what I’ll run into given more than 24 hours

Of Serbia there is of course more.

There’s no real way to tell if the people of Serbia were so friendly because we had been expecting problems, or if they really were just some of the most amazing people on the planet. It is entirely possible that our overall reception improved via our license plate. Hungarian as it might have been, it proudly displayed as its first three letters the name of the #1 beer in Serbia : LAV.

Writing proper will be attempted next week, but for the moment I feel the need to enjoy what’s left of my vacation. Though fundage dictates a cessation of travel, budapest remains a mere train ride away, and yet is not home. Yet. ; )

For now, a few moments to last ::

All You Need is LAV, do da do da doo…
Stand up! No, just stand up!
Don’t sleep, just drink!
Ken Leeee, Tulibu dibou douchou…..
Rakija! (oof)
3 for Serbia!
The Hroners
almost hitting a buck while doing 130km/h on a road more pothole than pavement
the Italian gypsy
beers in the never-ending planted fortress
Serbia v America tennis, Serbia v America beer bags
small town disco where everyone stood talking in a circle right in the middle of the dance floor
‘Bruce Lee’’s house on wikimaps
finding our host by going to the first cafe we saw and having a random guy get in the car and take us there
finding our town by asking and praying, since our host said it was too complicated to explain
singing in fluent Serbian, with the help of a little Lav
Mr. Mafia, aka Kristijan’s Hungarian Grandfather
free hugs campaign in downtown Novi Sad, with children
t-shirts commemorating every gathering
visiting a castle where the master of the house had filled the swimming pool with milk, and kept ostriches
every one of Kristijan’s friends showing up to visit the castle, even though they’ve probably seen it a million times before
getting lost on the way out of Hungary, even when both of us knew we were going the wrong way
getting lost in Novi Sad
whispering on the street for the first hour before we realized how cool the people were and just exactly how silly we were being
and of course Backo Gradiste, because the middle of nowhere can be a beautiful place…

Ziveli to our impeccable host Kristijan, and his constant companions (and between house phone, cell, sms and messenger I really do mean constant) Szila, Bruce Lee (aka Dida, aka Vladamir), and the rest of the infamous Hroners of Backo Gradiste

while I have travelled around this country and into its neighbors, after six months I haven’t quite made it to the wednesday/saturday market 200 feet down the street.

thanks to a couchsurfer on a szentendre tour, I have remedied this situation. should I ever be in need of cheap clothing or pickled vegetables, I now know exactly where to go  ; )

I leave tonight for Budapest, so that I can be up early to pick up a rental car, to pick up Caley at a bus station in the middle of nowhere, to head… to Serbia. I’ll be surfing, thus with locals, and they don’t think there should be a problem. Even given the current frustration of Serbs over the recognition of Kosovo (Croatia, Bulgaria, and now even Hungary have just joined the chorus of voices in their favor). We won’t be in Belgrade, or Kosovo for that matter, but Novi Sad should be interesting on a number of levels. Since we’ll be properly mobile (get me, I’m driving around the Balkans!!) I’ve a feeling we’ll pop into Bosnia as well. Wish me luck  : )

Spiderman is in love with the fairies. But the fairies hate spiderman. He climbs the mount everest because that’s where the fairies live. the witches turn him into a pig. spiderman didn’t know that he was a pig. the fairies were having a picnic on a marsh. they were listening to music. spiderman went there. the fairies were scared. the fairies changed him into a homework board. the students went there and wrote on the board : stupid. the end.