flagrant disregard

[somewhere out there - in the western sahara]
high in the atlas mountains, i haggled and subsequently bought an enormous rug- a moroccan carpet. old men, who were dressed from head to toe in a traditional silk wardrobe, acted out a grand presentation in the art of selling their beautiful camel wool carpets. they also reminded all of the interested eyes that a rug is easily packed for travel and can fit into the smallest of suitcases. the salesmen then folded and squashed large rugs into tight squares and secured the handiwork inside paper and twine.


mosaics of colored wool, carpet souk-- marrakesh, morocco

oh, bet me! guess who is suddenly stuck carrying around an embroidered and tightly folded luxurious craft, which is several square feet larger than any one of those original packaged examples?

i have a meter long roll of unbearable weight strapped to my backpack, and now, a terrific habit of comparing its cost (under $50) to my phenomenal turkish carpet from a previous trip to urgrup (in cappadocia, in turkey, over $1000) though there really is no similarity between the two.

one interesting aspect of bartering was how the berber shop owner was up to swapping most woven camel wool for my superstitious (beat up, piece of crap) timex expedition watch. gladly, any other instance in time and i would have offered it to him without an exchange. unfortunately, the atrocity remains a trip necessity for a few more days. there is a schedule to attend. buses to catch. aircraft to board.

in trying to convince me to purchase, one of the storekeepers took a huge knife and stabbed the rug many times. he dragged the blade across the ornate surface with each hit, but there was no visible damage to the wool. he claimed the piece virtually indestructible -- i even took his lighter and tried lighting it on fire -- but the rug refused to hold the flame.

customs is going to demand duty on it and i took no receipt- it was such a spontaneous and informal transaction that it was completely forgotten to document the sale. i am dead. are there additional fees associated with the importation of textiles? this rug is gorgeous. it took over six months of hand work to complete- no one will believe its negligible cost.

leather tannery and concrete dye tanks/vats-- fez, morocco

[somewhere out there - in the western sahara]
yesterday while waiting for a bus to arrive and send me six hours away but turned out to be ten, a saffron silk-wrapped man thought it would be a good idea for me to buy a bag of raw brown eggs for the trip. no thank you. i didn't buy any last year in cambodia, i won't be needing any this trip either. it snowballed from there as the journey was spent with a clenched jaw and slightly puffed out cheeks from holding air while considering if the guy in a near seat has existed on a strict diet of hay, never wipes, and bathes in diesel fuel...?

could be and probably but i won't be revisiting the situation.


main bus stop-- casablanca, morocco

today the big plan was to waste time waiting for a flight back to england by locating internet access to pay bills, transfer funds, reserve a car in minneapolis, and answer e-mail- except the old browsers installed on these machines are not secure. nothing is happening and i cannot even log on to any accounts except for paypal. just great. damn... so now, maybe i strap baggage to my back, throw this room-sized but well packaged camel and silk moroccan carpet over my shoulder and try to spend the rest of my change on pottery, handmade ceramic plates, or a colorful tajine cone.

another kasbah, another child selling flowers-
walled fortress, draa valley, morocco

[somewhere out there - in the western sahara][photo]
...driving amid endless nothing except for the opportunity to photograph vastness and rocks while lakbir abraham el wahabi mazi labe mohammed (or whatever his name is) tosses lunch or looks to me with eyes begging for our group not return to the car.

several hours of sleep is all mohammed needs, and for someone else to take over the driving, but in all of the towns we have stopped in, no registered taxi driver is willing to finish the drive (at our agreed and prepaid price). i would drive, but mohammed was too freaked out to have a female sit in the passenger's seat, let alone one commanding our vehicle.

i had altitude sickness, but now am just dandy, and would be game to take on the overland drive from morocco all of the worthless way to timbuktu. everyone else has traveller's stomach and a financial attitude which could rival obsessive compulsive disorder on its worst week. these silly people expected to get sick anyhow, so they all try each moroccan dish set in front of them. lamb shank, couscous, harissa... but not me as i've got one week down in the arid desert with those icky pigeon pastilla pastries (not kidding) thrown to a dog, one half of an infested date (unfortunately kept down), and a securely wrapped [- 180 calorie food porn deleted -] dissected behind the locked door of a riad. mm-hmm, we all hear the call- it's pizza hut international phoning from london. i swore it was somewhere else but we will be there wednesday probably waiting for the doors to open and, yay me, they insist i order first. how do i get out of this?


rocks and snow covered atlas mountains- western sahara

driving
endless
warm but not hot:


rear window view, high atlas mountains, morocco

leigh yawned then leaned up from the back seat and snapped on the air conditioner full speed- immediately the car was filled with blasting and blinding dust. while our driver tried to come to a complete stop, we nearly drove off of the road. the six of us stood in the middle of the lanes amid nothing but rocky nothing and virtually coughed to our deaths. leigh looked at our aggravation and said, "i thought i was doing everyone a favor." it was very funny but nobody said anything for a long time which seemed longer given the repetitive scenery. later he tried to break the tension with what turned out to be the best moment of the trip by tentatively saying, "but didn't anyone think that just for a split second... i mean just for a split-split second... that all of that dust was frost?"


those aren't rocks- camel, merzouga, morocco

so far this trip is great (even though i received the retarded and perpetually lopsided short legged camel for the return trek back to civilization from the dunes... even though i have been lugging a heavy moroccan carpet around with me everywhere since bargaining with the berbers...) and it is all just fine.


camel trekking shadow- erg chebbi dunes, morocco

camel with berber tuareg--
erg chebbi dunes, merzouga, morocco

[north africa, where computer browsers do not support gmail.]
[camel trekking photo]
i cannot wait to touch down in london as it will be a great morning. since sleeping out in the sahara desert for a few days with nothing but two blankets [and a rude awakening in the form of a face full of sand] i am sicker than a dog with altitude sickness. chills, fever, aches- not fun. last night i finally got to sleep in a warm pension bed. even though the accommodation wasn't any more comfortable than out on the dunes (where i counted satellites all night) my sanity appreciated the locked door.


sleeping under a rug on the sand-- sahara desert, morocco

i spent a restless 18 hours in a haze and then when the city went silent around midnight, fell into a better depth of sleep. men began knocking at the door an hour later- you could guess what they wanted. instead of answering i just remained in bed huddled against my daypack under the itchy wool blanket. the door was locked and no one started safe cracking, so i did fall back asleep. [the daypack changes from a casual bag to a form of a locker at night. all important trip documents, passport pages, money, and cameras are secured in it when having to sleep alone in uncertain situations. essentially the daypack is bound to me at night- no one will successfully steal it without my knowledge.]

in marrakesh i joined up with other travelers from new zealand and england. collectively, we bargained for a shared taxi and then hired a driver to navigate our journey. no problem. does something always go wrong? no, but i act like it will. halfway through the trip the driver started dozing while driving. he would pull our vehicle off of the road every half hour in order to pitch an enormous amount of vomit out onto all of the beautiful red poppies... add to this the fact that three out of the other four travelers had sudden bouts of bathroom issues related to tajine vegetables.

[this internet connection is problematic-- i have to log off but it's all good. traveling in the mountains and then by camel for a few days has secured my celibacy yet is testing all ability to endure this chair.]

moroccan vendor working at a mobile snack stall

mule-- ksar ait benhaddou kasbah (walled fortress)
unesco world heritage site, morocco


ksar ait benhaddou kasbah (fortified village)
near ouarzazate, southern morocco

[marrakesh, morocco][photo]
a city known for its notorious touts and faux guides, i cannot find anyone to give me grief. while wandering around the famous medina quarter, a ten year old raised his eyebrows and called me a "chica" but that is about it.

the process with the touts is the same as other cities- they find then harass tourists (or foreigners) until one gives in and accepts a tour. the guide will not only expect a tip at the end of the sightseeing walk, but his appearance in any of the souks (shops) will keep prices higher as he takes a commission on all goods purchased. these touts are unlicensed, therefore illegal, and also think of western women as walking wallets or breathing visas to help them build a new life outside of north africa.

even in the djemaa el fna square (central meeting and market place) i have yet to be approached by a guide. really, alone in marrakesh without plans to purchase tajine cooking cones or a carpet, i might welcome knowledgeable english speaking accompaniment whether it is legal or not.


henna dyed leather: backpacks, sconce, and lanterns
marrakesh, morocco [photo]

consider: buying gifts for other people... but what?
consider: rugs? furniture? leather goods? tiled mirror frames?

i lacked any intention to purchase a camel skin lamp shaped like a lizard, leather ottoman pouf, or ceramics crafted in colors to attract traveler's attention, but i am continually drawn back to look at the lizard lamps. for me? to complement my younger brother's limited 'beer and traffic sign' decorating skills? if this is not the most perfect non-traditional souvenir which is compatible with my personality and worthy of attention, then what is? i never expected that i should have brought more money for the sake of shopping.

bargaining hard for good prices is expected but overwhelming if compared to south east asia- a few male shopkeepers clearly reveal their embarrassment and anger after noticing the lack of interest in their wares. a visit to a fixed price government shop is advised for foreigners looking for price ranges but like i said, this isn't a shopping trip. my only intention was to sleep under the stars on the sahara after a camel caravan trip. i would like to know the percentage difference between the true prices and the level of markup in the medina, but other travelers spoken with are unfamiliar, too.


smoky djemaa el-fna square at night-- marrakesh, morocco

today i meandered around marrakesh and took in the exotic scents and noise. there were donkeys pulling wooden carts of broken concrete and smoky food courts with vendors selling various mystery meats on skewers. restaurants sold cous cous and collective eateries thrived, while stall after stall hawked freshly squeezed orange juices. nothing was shocking except for the 'reformed for tourists' carnival aspect- the spectacle of old marrakesh persists, albeit repainted. jugglers, acrobats, and apothecary stands remain. fire-eaters, sword eaters, and fortune tellers, all surrounded by the ochre walls of the media, are set amid expectant barrels of mixed nuts, water sellers, pickpockets, and stacks of cut mint.

after a necessary hour of research at an internet cafe, i bought some supplies for the camel expedition. oh, like i am apt to have a clue on what to bring until after arrival: ten liters of water, ten liters of coke light, two french pastries from a patisserie, and one pack of trident sugar free gum. the berber people (touaregs) who are leading the trek supposedly cook tajine dishes nightly and there is a small town at the edge of the camp from where we depart, so there is neither eating disorder anxiety nor a health concern yet. i did have a jessica simpson moment in a souk where my purchase included either a handful of dates or figs- still not quite sure. they look like bloated beatles and unfortunately a few had little bugs inside. dates, probably.


snake charmer-- marrakesh, morocco

on the return to the not-a-brothel hotel (hotel foucauld, standard accommodations) but still looking for an inexpensive riad, snake charmers noted people in the square who were trying to capture the performance in a photograph. they accosted tourists and demanded 100 moroccan dirhams (MAD) per picture all of the while trying to coil the docile reptiles around unwilling necks. 100 MAD equals approximately 11 USD, which is an enormous amount of money to pay a street performer.

holding my camera and tentatively trying to discern how to circumnavigate the trap, the enchanters swarmed and i got my close up. i have never seen a snake charmer in person before today, and could not recall a documentary on the subject, but on inspection noticed specific places where the mouths of the snakes had been sewn shut. this allowed room for tongues to flicker, and alluded to a dangerous threat, but left no freedom for the vipers to bite or feed. i asked the snake charmers if they could eat and the answer was no- the reptiles are quite lethargic and will die. not surprisingly, this is were the moroccan's english skills ended.

[the subject of starvation relating to anything other than the self-inflicted restriction of anorexia nervosa is a very upsetting issue for me. no matter how much i detest snakes, it was a sickening situation on a much larger scale. i remained ill for the afternoon with my mind racing over other nation's stringent wildlife protection laws. it wasn't until late and sunk in the hotel bathtub that i stopped obsessing about death. all subsequent visits through the medina, i tried avoiding those dexterous contortionists and 'mystical men' in the djemaa el fna square area.]

how does one get out of a situation where performers demand several dollars to be dropped into their open-topped collection drums, but you, as a compassionate human being, insist on not furthering snake charming performances?

though they kept insisting it was for good luck, several of the not-so-charming men caressed my arms with water snakes, but even worse was being required to donate coins in order to eliminate the threat. i may have donated around a dollar in total to get out of there, which is nothing, but simultaneously everything. (would i perhaps have been robbed or harmed by the men? the snakes were weak but that does not mean their venom was any less dangerous, thus the threat did work.) never would i have paused had i known snake charmers harm or drug their reptiles. it's maddening now because OF COURSE the snakes mouths are sewn closed. why didn't i know they basically kill the snakes?

[marrakesh, morocco]
- people in california are loose and free, why aren't you?
- here you can buy the pipe for your hashish. you like?
- when i see you, my heart said go to her and then i knew god sent me to you and you to me.
- mountains don't move (yes they do) but people move and come together.
- when i think los angeles, i think that is where all of the angels are created.
- at this restaurant they feed you good leg of cow. you like cow legs?


one of my moroccan husbands-- dades valley, morocco

my new moroccan husband to be says he cannot go to europe because in america when a woman falls out of love or catches her husband cheating on her, she does not talk it through and come to understand or even yell and scream- she just shoots him! he knows it is similar in europe. if he leaves morocco with me my moroccan husband has to get a gun first... then he mentioned his current wife lives in spain. the poor guy thinks someone named flagrant is going to meet him at the raggedy tangier bus station on the 30th and then do some 'close dancing' before meeting his family for dinner.

hotel le vieux chateaux du dades-- dades gorge, morocco

[marrakesh, morocco]
i must now be fully immersed in my own element. considering the flippant choices i have made and subsequent risks involved, a scant amount of nervousness should be expected or tolerated but only one episode of panic has directed this trip. note that by choosing to act on the panic was the best choice.

a ctm bus delivered me to marrakesh at 300AM. i stood on the sidewalk with one reluctant reservation for hotel ali, but without an adequate map. ordinarily, tourists fly into marrakesh, or if coming from tangiers, take the train.

when the bus stopped next to an entrance to a maze of medina, i started to panic but the sensation wouldn't fully develop. for under a minute, i stood there in the dark and neither knew how to function nor had the capacity to want to hike around the unfamiliar city. that minute seemed to last forever. the bus driver had been unloading other passengers luggage but interrupted his work to point and wave me down the dark path i did not want to walk. i wonder if hotel ali was nearer rather than far? common sense convinced me that this notoriously tatty tourist hotel was actually the last choice and the reservation was held only in case of emergency. why make myself work (and endure the small terror involved in mentally gearing up to stumble upon my hotel) when i could instead take any room in the city?

i had initially hoped to find riad accommodation, but ended up just accepting the first available hotel (all of the while convinced it was a corrupt brothel where i would end up beaten and robbed- i actually slept with my daypack under my head.) the next morning, hotel foucauld looked a whole lot better. this situation was my only 'mistake.' other than wussing out and opting for the safer choice concerning this initial marrakesh hotel, i have made myself follow through with all other uncomfortable situations which can make social phobia and anxiety disorder break open.

today i venture out to secure drinking water-- fear of bottled water in third world countries is necessary as it always makes me sick. if i find coke light it's mine. tomorrow i get to make a fool of myself "dune boarding" or sandboarding down the dunes near merzouga then will spend the next several days driving along the atlantic coast [operating on remote pistes (tracks) from previous vehicles tires plus gps navigation] hopefully arriving right in time (because there is no room for error) to catch a flight back to london next monday. the specific directions i have for driving to one town state to just follow the telephone poles and you'll do fine. no problem yet, except how to explain to my director that i am missing work in ireland one weekend just to drive across the sahara because i needed to get out. i also seem to be avoiding issues related to the love of my life (he said).

ferry life preserver-- algeciras, spain

[currently at the hotel continental in tangiers, morocco]
- left hatters hostel auschwitz in manchester, england
- walked to train station
- took a train to the manchester airport [photo]
- flew to malaga, spain via bmi baby airlines
- took a public bus to the central bus station in malaga [photo]
- took air conditioned coach service to algeciras, spain
- caught the ferry across the strait to tangiers, morocco
- hour long passport hassles while trying to depart the ferry

note: get your passport stamped before leaving the ferry!
note: no one will tell you that needs to be done on board!

...and here i am, obviously not in kansas, rather, nervous and in a cybercafe in north africa where it is a pain in the ass to type anything out on this wacked foreign keyboard. i could, but it would take forever.

this is a make or break day- go out, see and do, or implode.


daypack, on the ferry crossing to morocco-- algeciras, spain

[manchester, england]
- the nine people sharing this hatter's hostel dorm room all turned out to be male.
- was posed and photographed with two of them before the concert for the newspaper.
- smashed up on the front rail, i was... with a perfect view of the show.
- am i to mention the part about feeling dizzy and passing out or not?
- no, but this is integral to my history.
- afterward we tried to dodge two television crews and only succeeded once.


concert ticket stub-- morrissey at men arena, manchester

[manchester, england]
i think i need to go home.

[manchester, england]
i just beat someone up... right outside... on the sidewalk... no contest.
the plan was to return to this hostel and claim the end of the worst day of my life, all of the while trying to consider a worse time, but then someone's face hit the concrete and this is a serious improvement to my day.
rule: people are not allowed to mess with me.
note: surprise!

[manchester, england]
I HATE IT HERE and it doesn't help that i am currently registered for the night at [what the other guests have been calling] hostel auschwitz. ordinarily i would never allow a joke about such things [because there is only one oven and no standing cell to speak of here at the dilapidated hatters hostel] but i somehow lucked into a metal top bunk in the middle of unheated Block 11 and ANXIETY is not happy. rejected by priceline, horrified by travelocity- this is it. 900,000 people are milling about watching the manchester united match outside on the enormous sony jumbotron screen in the city square and you know, ordinarily i care, but not today. really, who cares about ruud and their stupid team? for four hours i walked around the most crowded streets on earth and had people continually bumping into me- forcing myself to stay out under THE BRIGHTLIGHTS until comfort was established and elbows in my ribs no longer hurt but i still felt very spot on... even now.

grassy lawn, guest house-- edinburgh, scotland

[edinburgh, scotland]
my guest house accommodations are found an old weathered and grey building which is set back from the firth on a steep grassy lawn. when the tenant down the hall isn't vacillating between blur's 'parklife' and elton john's overplayed 'greatest hits' the chirping birds and occasional structural groan from the house is all that is heard.

elton john + graham coxon = like throwing up spaghetti and chocolate


guest house sunrise-- firth of forth, edinburgh, scotland

scotland lacks any possible way to throttle my enthusiasm. what might help? perhaps condense the hordes of visitors to merely two hundred tourists for every resident.

so far this trip has been too easy and i find myself vacillating between head thunking boredom or stabbing anxiety definitive of disorder. i am now suddenly nervous about attending the morrissey show in manchester-- worried about queues of scarypeople and other seriously inane issues like 'these ugly converse shoes' and 'should i show up after dark to calm my swirling head?'

the joke is that the most dangerous aspect of this trip will appear when i present the floor ticket to that m.e.n. arena show. i did not fly on a non-upgradable ticket to stand in the back of the venue-- man, i'm going to get killed. this is pretty much the only instance of when anorexia can go to hell-- when i am unsheltered and standing in a pack of normal-sized people at a rock concert. perhaps if i am to live without breasts i could invest in chest protection. oh god, here it comes. what if i am punctured by a concert goer's spastic elbow? or from people's arm waving excitement? come to think of it, i didn't obsessively pack my eyeglass prescription and yes, i am anal enough to have it memorized. no optometrist will dispense new eyeglasses should they break in a crowded morrissey frenzy without a copy of an optical prescription.

consider: writing about fears and anxiety makes it worse.
note: never saw a morrissey fanatic who wasn't butt ugly, calm down.
note: calm down.
note: calm down!!
note: this very second another backpacker is trying to talk to me.
note: eager would be an understatement.
consider: what's his problem?
note: calm down.

even though i was sitting here in the midst of a silent panic attack, i managed to have a somewhat normal conversation with the backpacker. he was strongly hinting how he needed a companion for a tour of edinburgh castle. had i entertained the idea, i would have found myself also enduring a 'malt and whisky' pub crawl and the traditional edinburgh 'ghost walk' tour.

i thought that i caught his name to be michael, but didn't ask for enunciation mainly because i never know what my name should be. whatever do i call myself? was it i suddenly felt put on the spot? perhaps. i never press people to continue a conversation and live life with assorted nicknames, a stage name, an abandoned real name, and the declared name used on legal documents.

[i cannot calm down.] in cases of flippant and forgettable conversation do i just say 'tristan' and go through the predictable roundabout of clarifying 'christian', 'kristin', 'trisha', 'krista', and sometimes 'katharine?' i stacked additional panic on the pile of nerves. what to do? what to say? i still don't want to be known.

... and where is it that am i from?
[he asked]
suddenly, southern california sucked worse than ever.

... and what is it that i do?
[he prodded]
i don't know. what position of employment eliminates rank?

what do i do? everything, constantly, and better than most, not as good as some, but only at both ends of the spectrum. did i really say nothing? did i really admit to this meaningless stranger in the night that i had been seriously ill for a substantial part of my life, decided it can influence but determine who i will be, and have spent the last two years traveling the world for no particular reason other than to investigate all choices?

brain says: "that is not what we rehearsed."

flagrant says: "i have at least nine excuses for defaulting towards worthlessness. first of all, the train was late getting back into waverley station and i was stressed about potentially missing the last shuttle bus to the guest house. also, it was raining so there was the fear of running up wet cobblestone streets. my shoes are too big, so there is the nerve wracking part about making a scene in public should i fall down while trying to hurry... and what if i cried... and bleeding, a scraped knee, and pain... the stress was jerking me around about the potential expense of having to hail a foreign cab in this two bags of money city... especially when the guest house shuttle was free to begin with... and everything was starting to come down from the sky when i saw that the shuttle schedule ran well into the night... and that backpacker guy just starts talking to me out of nowhere about world travel when i had blogger open on in the internet cafe. my whole strange and private day was looking at us both. then suddenly blogger's redesign looks like it is meant for tweens... also, it's dim in this cybercafe... knowing my looks can only disappoint in the light, plus in some countries couldn't i technically be a grandmother? no. never mind... but this guy looked about 19 years old so he could think i was wasting his time. there's more. i was also trying not to lie because it would have been too easy seeing that he was from rodeoville, or calgary, canada or somewhere dusty but then i noticed too late that the truth about my life was much greater than i remembered or could ever make up... almost ostentatious."

brain says: "you should have left out the part about flying to singapore twice last year just to rack up frequent flyer miles. you say you currently own two successful businesses and then you SHUT UP."

flagrant thinks: that is not going to work.

consider how that presentation could never turn people away.

the train is pulling into kirkcaldy station. a woman leans over to me and mentions how she wishes she could have talked to me during the ride down from inverness, but she was too introverted and now her stop was next.

"kirkcaldy! it's the town which makes linoleum. robert louis stevenson even wrote a poem about it," she said.

consider: verse referring to kirkcaldy or linoleum poetry?

dirty vinyl floor
with a crack by the door...
pergo? pergo? pergo?


urquhart castle-- loch ness, scotland

out of the three people i have had somewhat intelligible conversations, the first resulted in being asked out by another traveler on a city tour with dinner. the second involved the omnipresent marriage proposal. the third encounter was an offer from a man to fly to ireland and back tonight to meet his friends at his local pub- after that, we would decide how our lives would unfold. wow! at least this guy had the presence of mind to show me off and collect opinions before the proposal. the man who offered the first marriage proposal was completely serious and even said he would accept an immediate divorce just so i could get the coveted british passport... anything i wanted. he would do anything to have me attached to his life.


art museum-- inverness, scotland

note: even if trying to kill time, find an alternative before spending eight hours in transit over the countryside from edinburgh to inverness and back. the route north of glasgow is much more scenic.

it's raining raining raining. good, i love the rain.

harbor-- mallaig fishing village, scotland

[isle of skye, scotland]
it is unbelievably cold for me up here. of course, outfitted in capri pants and travel sandals like everyone else, this is all my fault. i have been walking on the white sands of morar and around the windy fishing village of mallaig this morning. honestly certain parts of my body have never been this hard- not even back in prague when it was below zero and the custodians at sir toby's hostel kept opening all of the windows to air the place out.

flagrant = tsk, what a california wuss!
definitely! dare any of these travelers who are in a comfortable temperature zone appear cool and collected in our 115'F desert heat.

now what? i don't know but coffee sounds good even though it's probably $10 a cup. you don't need a bag of money to travel here, you need two and that is after you pay for your accommodations.

while practicing candid street photography, i captured a man and his basset hounds by using a waist level viewfinder. unfortunately, the man caught me, and in the process i may have made a friend for life [perhaps not, his scottish accent is so thick and distracting that i can't understand his english.]

there is nothing happening except for some relaxing, which is easy without a computer in my room. insomnia and jet lag try to keep me on their leash, so i walked around in the early 4:00am sunshine, fed the rabbits and scared off the sheep. you know this sounds like something i would write to motherfigure.

perhaps tomorrow i will venture north toward inverness by train. how appropriate! the only soul who knows me in inverness now works as a psychiatric nurse. the lack of anxiety right now is a little numb. i brought food units with me to (try) to facilitate some health, am probably not clinically depressed... just flat and looking forward to a chaotic time in north africa next week.


photo from the train-- ft willian, western highlands, scotland

... twenty minutes later it started to rain and i find myself back here in the same traveler's information booth, crammed into a corner with almost every other foreigner in town who is trying to get warm. when i walked back in, two different people piped up with "are you going to send another e-mail out?" a man just poked me and asked if i could send e-mail to his dog. these conversations have got me wondering if this internet connection is prohibitively expensive? is the cost the actual marvel and not the technology, or is it both? so, i have an hour to kill before i catch the ferry and train but have nothing to write. all of these travelers in this room, i bet, are going to crowd into one short train coach. which winds through the 'spectacular' scenery of the west coast between mallaig and fort william before heading south to glasgow. the landscape is striking, even lovely, but certainly not spectacular. the scottish highlands isn't comparable to scenic new zealand or nepal. the countryside is all green and lush, with bubbling white waterfalls, and sparkling granite punctuating the hillsides. black faced sheep graze or sleep in the sun.

the most unfortunate part of visiting scotland is about to unfold. "no wait, it already did!," she said sarcastically. "the immigration authority at glasgow international airport stamped my passport directly over my departure stamp from fiji! now all one can see of the fijian visa is the word nadi. this leads me to complain about my extra passport pages, most of which are still blank, that i had to PAY to have sewn into this passport just a few months ago. what was the point of adding to the document if the 'hat and date stamper' is tired or blind and then doubles up the souvenir?"

nah, the worst part of today is how i have one hour and seven minutes left up here on the isle of skye, and though i did get a glimpse of a bottle-nosed dolphin, i am unfortunately leaving without seeing any puffins.

sir walter scott monument-- edinburgh, scotland

[edinburgh, scotland]
it's fine, it's all fine. i walked up and down the hills around glasgow through the wind and the rain before boarding and then arriving here by effortless train. what remains after stopping at the superdrug to pick up lip balm and then determining whether or not to sign for a rental car?

i was warned of this- that i would soon not be easily entertained.

it costs over USD$90 to fill up a standard automobile fuel tank in scotland but only around USD$20 to top off the gas tank in my car at home. the uk fuel tax is exceptional at 50 pence per litre on conventional unleaded plus a 17.5% vat added to that.

who knows what i might like to do in africa, so i will eliminate budgeted rental car costs for this week to save for unexpected expenses, and then just use subsidized public transportation here. the train is also good for my introversion, and luckily, i packed an unused britrail pass.

[pre-trip anxiety: departing for nyc, the uk, and north africa]

why do i have to force myself to go out there alone? i only see other people wallowing out there in the world... can i wallow? guilty since mid december, but a little more of it certainly should be fine. who will notice except me?

i must remember that all of my problems can be turned around by manipulating the perspective. there are merely a few seconds of sporadic discomfort standing between me and whatever it is i decide to go out and do. i can endure me, myself, and just water for two weeks so experiencing these three seconds of stress now and then should be easy.

a day long panic attack.
"it's just me out there this time."
typical, but as real as ever.

where am i going?
why am i doing this?
i am so scared.
is traveling independently curing anything?

okay, ready?
*breathe*
and we're off...

the last leap: life will change.
in the end: it is going to be worse.
it's never better.
[go + do = see what you can't have]

i am supposed to go to england on friday just for the weekend but instead will be flying to new york this tuesday en route to glasgow where the plan is to drive into the northern highlands of scotland to relax. from there i need to worry all the way down to manchester by train in time for the weekend for a morrissey concert. i should hope it gets cancelled thus eliminating the fear of enduring all of those scarypeople, but it is apt to be a future therapeutic advantage and i only have beneficial luck. that should be enough for me to handle by myself while lugging around all of this fear and anxiety, but no.

this is were it gets loopy:

instead of returning to los angeles on sunday as originally planned, i purchased an airline ticket and will fly from manchester to southern spain. from the andalusian region there are many port cities with scheduled ferry departures to north africa.

after managing my way across the strait of gibraltar to morocco and then having joined a camel caravan for a few days, i will hire a car with driver and spend the rest of the week crossing the western sahara through mauritania, ending up at cape verde in senegal. this may be interesting as the only road to follow may well be the tracks from previous vehicles and very long isolated stretches of the journey are made right along the atlantic coast. driving on the beach, where endless sand dunes are to one side, and there is nothing but the vast ocean and the fear of the tide in the other direction.

[i am trying to impress myself but it is failing. it won't happen until i return home, and a month later after having planted myself back into a state of dying depression, i will wonder how on earth i was ever able to go and do.]

from the city of dakar down in senegal, if i have not yet been robbed blind, a flight takes me back to london where trying to waste one day in the city is enough before i board another flight to norway and continue on to bergen. [this side-trip to norway might get scratched.]

from oslo back to london, fly to houston to rack up more elite qualifying frequent flyer miles, fly to minneapolis and rent a car, drive north to international falls and canada even though i was just in canada this morning and all of this for no reason other than because i am alive and life catalyzes life. do i need a reason? yes, i really do otherwise it seems like excessiveness in spending and feels illegal even though staying sick and scared does not. what about supplemental travel insurance? from canada i drive south to my parent's home in nowheresville for a day... head back to the airport in minneapolis, fly to memphis to add more miles to my account, change planes, fly to los angeles, and then fail at taking the city buses home. that is my weekend in manchester.

observation binoculars--
north shore of lake superior, two harbors, minnesota [photos]

partially spent in a functional lighthouse which has been renovated to contain bed and breakfast accommodations, it was a very disconnected northwoods weekend.

zuma beach volleyball net-- malibu, california [webcam]

depression is beginning to melt the days together again.
it's best to go.
somewhere, out there.

why can't i just simply book a frequent flyer award ticket for my trip to manchester next week..? why am i stalling while furiously searching for a way to include side trips to scotland, spain, and morocco? why am i thinking of trashing the entire vacation to manchester just because the final almost perfect itinerary includes one unwanted and horrible overnight in london?

have you ever stood in your kitchen and as you were getting a glass of water noticed that the live hum in your house was missing and rather than checking to see that your electricity was enabled, instead went directly to your bed and pulled back the lump of blankets to ensure you were not actually dead?
- really, had i been, what would i have done?

random: the habit of eating corn starch resulted in exceptional depression, horrific facial breakouts, a distended stomach, and oozing skin rashes. combine that greasy skin and oily pus with ritual starving and purging, and then wonder if there has ever been an uglier time? yes, back when eating nothing except baking soda and water.

consider: compulsion? desperation?
consider: body seeking to compensate for a lack of omega 3's in the diet?
consider: amylophagia?

nine blog titles now stare me down whenever i sign on to rant. since blogger's relaunch, one blog of mine, with its daft oval title and dictionary domain, now loads a fairly innocuous assortment of political views written by... a news junkie named chris. i refuse to scroll through the noisy layout and bother to appropriately define him. it is my blogspot location, or was, but now someone else's blog resides at my address. hmm... now what? dare i choose to click on the publish link and potentially wipe out democratic commentary- replacing it's bold lines with pastel hypernoia?

nothing else.

another one of those chance in a lifetime weeks of mine just ended except: do i even care? it's the third wonderful week in a row and unfortunately foreign excessiveness is commonplace. next week, or is it this week, i have a bed and breakfast vacation in an operational lighthouse located on the north shore of lake superior.

the north shore, how kitschy, but possibly perfect... we will get to tend to and secure the lighthouse grounds, feed the deer, kill a few million mosquitoes, and relax without an internet connection. that could be alright, though maybe not. last year on secluded tropical tioman island beach paradise in malaysia, i thought it would be beneficial to escape and think about life, but little did i know without media or constant computering, and after the day's snorkeling i would be on my chalet patio without anything to do aside from practicing sitting perfectly in a bikini and basically examining my feet every afternoon. i paid for that? what a good way to go insane.

brilliant friend, my travel companion, has thrown me a rare dunceball and now our bed and breakfast weekend is uncertain.

[sidebar: that goddamn bastard. i told him to call me the second his schedule was secured for the week because the ridiculously low airfare needed for our trip could be pulled at any moment. but no! he waited three hours, for no reason other than he forgot, and during that time the airfare jumped back up from $113 to $880 round trip. each! well, screw him, like i am going to actually PAY two thousand dollars after taxes on airfare for the two of us to get consumed by enormous black flies and have whatever remains of our bug-bitten asses frozen off. no, i don't think so.]

did i just decide to stay home?
rule: never stop.

almost immediately after my return from the bed and breakfast jaunt, should it even happen now, i will board a flight to manchester, england for lighthearted entertainment- so do i truly NEED this escape? no. no. yes. no. yes.
---

note: flagrant is fickle, inflexible, has eliminated the original travel companion from the itinerary, and decided to buy lower priced tickets to a faraway alternate airport. this trip now involves renting an itsy-bitsy car.

flagrant says: "hey chuck, what are you doing this next weekend?"
invalid friend says: "ummm... why?"

note: chuck assumes the answer and activity involves strenuous home improvement.

flagrant says: "let's go do something dumb like fly to canada, stay in a lighthouse, ride bikes, and swat mosquitoes."
chuck says: "the coldest winter i ever spent was a summer i spent in duluth."
note: that means yes.
note: i'm not going to duluth.

scroll back: i needed to want and have.
well this has turned into wanting to have and i recently caught myself having a conversation about how buying a particularly sexy new car would make me happy. note to self: i am not striving towards happiness, rather, to be content. no elation, no flatness. a different reliable car would definitely make me content as the roadster has broken my trust three times too many, but lately i cannot help searching out of bounds for new emotions through pharmaceuticals and overpriced electronics... this is an uncomfortable and difficult phase.

eye could potentially eliminate myflagrant weepiness or possibly preserve the roller coaster depression for tragic affairs if eye admitted the fluctuating timezones are ruining myflagrant health and just decided to let one of myflagrant projects go.
obviously.
note: this is difficult.
consider: one shouldn't have to look at their passport to figure out what day it is.
note: eye know either hyperdrive or speechless lethargy.
consider: then what?

cell phone, surfer- leo carillo beach, malibu

while still mourning the loss of my wetsuit and mumbling about worthless broad beach rent-a-cops, i walked down the path and watched the kiteboarders shred the pacific. it was a stressful walk with impending suffocation apt to define the enormity of the vastness. the sand snidely conspired with agoraphobia and then both told me to sit down or just stop being so tall. since it was impossible to remain invisible out in the open, someone might see me and i should stop being outdoors and hurry home. better yet, run and huddle next to a large rock for the rest of the afternoon. after sunset when the beach was deserted, perhaps i could try to sneak out in the dark.

it is so dumb but exactly what i hear. how is it chuck can go out and bumble around like a fool on the beach -- a balloon wearing ridiculously comfortable cargo shorts -- even going so far as to snap grainy cell phone photos of nothing too important. he knows other people are looking at him. why doesn't he care?

the time last week was spent jet-lagged in unfamiliar surroundings. i managed a project, juggled around a budget, and directed several scarypeople. yet, given the nervous situation, i did not deal with any self-consciousness or similar fears as today. in fact, most of last week was spent with an attitude which wanted to counter all episodes of shyness. i am a person who doesn't take breaks and would bust my ass until dawn just to eliminate two working days from a schedule, but noooooo... stupid employees and their penchant for sleep. why care about earning extra money and resume-caliber responsibility when they can have recess?!

it has been common for me to enjoy the freedom of being unleashed in a foreign city. perhaps, looking at today, it is not true at all and it was just overruled by disgust. things change and though DAILY LIFE and social phobia is nowhere as bad as once upon a time, i still can never sway the initial thought that i am too ugly to be allowed to leave the house.

i much prefer the disrupted blogs.

do you think two years is long enough to now write hey, i tried, goodbye.
is that fine? so i didn't like it is all i need to say.
why not as i don't have to answer to anybody.
how much money must i save to stay home permanently? is it time?
it's all NOTHING out here so what is the difference?

i refuse to live like this anymore.
turn the car into the wall on the freeway, it said.
but that is just more work for other people, i thought
and i will not be in the way.

click: i lost 99% of my online life thanks to the sasser worm. clean and now appropriately empty but strong- my computer lost weight by swallowing a worm!

lost: e-mail, contact info, photographs, bookmarks.
gained: depression, aggravation.

consider: a case of missing history?
- i can no longer prove i ever bothered.