travel hurt

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“Travel isn’t always pretty. It isn’t always comfortable. Sometimes it hurts, it even breaks your heart. But that’s okay. The journey changes you; it should change you. It leaves marks on your memory, on your consciousness, on your heart, and on your body. You take something with you. Hopefully, you leave something good behind.” – Anthony Bourdain




The Questions

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Cartoon 0026

It’s possible to go through Amsterdam airport and not notice the extra security, it’s possible for Schiphol to appear like any other airport… unless you are flying Al El (Israeli Airlines).

A quick rewind: I left New Orleans early in the morning, flew to New York then straight out to Helsinki. Arrived in Helsinki at 9am, hung out in the city all day then caught a flight to Amsterdam, crashed in a Airport hotel overnight… and now we’re current.

After walking past 20+ other international check-ins, you come to Al El, but before you notice them you notice the 6 men in blue, full tactical, rocking MP5’s all kitted out (even their scopes have scopes). I’m still in the process of geeking out over their hardware when it’s my turn to be asked some questions before check-in, “Are you traveling alone?”, Yes, “stand over there please”. Now I get to answer questions for someone else.

I’ll refer to these as “The Questions”, they would soon become routine as I’d have to answer them 3-4 times with different people every time I traveled in & out of Israel.

Why are you traveling alone, why do you want to go (insert country I’m trying to get to), who do you know there, where do they live, what are their names, who is funding your trip, what is your job, why did you visit the Emirates, who do you know there, who are you still in contact with there, why did you fly here from (insert where I’ve come from), do you have weapons, do you have explosives, have you been given items to deliver to other people, how much do you get paid, do you have work ID with you…

So after answering these for the 3rd time, a guy introduces himself as the head of security & asks me the questions again, has a quick conversation with one of the others and leaves. I wouldn’t talk to him again but he’d observe every part of the process I’d go through.

All my bags go somewhere, I get my boarding pass & am told to go to Gate 10… on the way I pass another gate with my flight number, there are armed Amsterdam tactical police at both entrances to the gate, you have to show them your boarding pass to be let into the gate area.

Sidenote: A couple of things which jump out at me about this, there are no other airlines nearby, Amsterdam is clearly taking the security of Al El seriously (no one else has the extra attention), and all the security screening is carried out by Israeli airport & security personal… does this even happen for other countries? With all my flights into the US it always surprised me how relaxed their security screening is… sometimes there is none, you grab your bag, show your passport & go, it always surprised me how reliant they were on the security of the country you left. Not Israel, they have there peeps overseas.


I walk past this gate and head to G10… which is down some stairs… and not a gate at all.

I sit and I wait. I’m a little concerned I’m going to miss my flight, it’s taken an hour so far.

I’m assured I haven’t been forgotten & I won’t miss my flight.

As I wait other passengers come and go, they have a brief check of their bags & are sent on their way. I meet a family (brother, sister and dad) from Germany, we chat for a bit until we get asked if we know each other, “no”, “then why are you talking”… umm because I’m a generally-friendly-non paranoid-humanbeing.

I get to do the questions again.

And then I have to take every single item out of my bag & have it scanned & swabbed.

And then I get asked a bunch of questions about every electrical item I have, I have to turn it on, show that the camera is functioning & prove that it is mine by showing pics of myself… at this stage I’ve been asked the “who am I visiting” question at least 5 times, they can’t seem to comprehend that I’m traveling by myself to a country I’ve never been to or know anyone. So while I’m searching for pictures the guy tries super casually to slip in, “maybe you could show me some pictures of the friends you’re visiting”… ohh super smooth.

How does he expect that to play out? Sure here’s a pic of me and my new friends at terrorist training camp 7, here’s me at my hijacking graduation.

My shaver has no pictures of me in it. Along with a few other items it doesn’t get to travel with me, instead it’s stored in a box in Amsterdam airport until my return.

And then we get to my clothes. The ones I’m wearing.

I have to get changed into these blue track pants and everything I’m wearing gets scanned & tested & I get the special pat down & scan treatment… at this stage I’m just thankful the rubber glove hasn’t come out.

I’m then left to change & re-pack before being escorted onto the plane. We depart 30 mins late, I’m happy they held the flight.

My carry-on bag has to get checked, I’m not allowed to take my tablet, phone, travel pillow, wallet, or anything onto the plane except my boarding pass & passport… oh, and my seat has been changed from the extra-leg-room emergency exit to a regular seat.

As I’m leaving the plane in Tel Aviv a steward brings me a bottle of wine & apologizes for my treatment. I smile, things are looking up.

And then I reach passport control, and we do ‘The Questions’ for 30 mins, and the people lined up behind me have to be hating me, as my guy spends considerable time consulting with another. The German family pass me on the right, we share a few jokes & smiles about our experience.

“Do you know them?!”

F#@% off!

Welcome to Israel








Bourbon faced on sh!t street

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After four days in Springfield I arrive in New Orleans for 2 nights & 1 day, much like Vegas… Bourbon Street is also much like Vegas, just on a much smaller scale.

And while you have the same guys standing outside strip clubs encouraging you to “take a break for boobies” there seems to be a lot more culture to Nola. I’m crashing at India House hostel (a very cool hip funky hostile, neat space).



The Blur that is Bourbon street

After a decent walk to Bourbon St – I’d later figure out the tram system – I found a sweet sports bar called Bayou Burger, they do these amazing Kettle chips covered in blue cheese sauce, and I had an Alligator burger (because I could), tasted a little bit like minced pork/rabbit.

After that I ended up in a tiny jazz bar listening to some 50-60 old musicians make magic happen, met a couple of girls who’d just moved to New Orleans, we hung out at a very cool, yet crazy karaoke bar (that’s a sentence you’ll never hear me repeat) called The Cat’s Meow.

Wandered a little.

Caught the sunrise. Caught some Zzzzz’s.

The next day was pretty chilled. I wandered around a few areas that still had abandoned housing, much like some of Christchurch’s post-earthquake east-side, except the greenery was doing it’s best to envelope a few places.

Later in the evening I was walking through an area where the windows all had cages on the outside, storm proofing I thought, until I noticed that they were only on the ground floor windows… umm does this mean I’m no longer in a “safe” neighborhood?

I talk to some houseless people who’ve taken up residence at night under an overpass, they get chased off during the day. It seems a few have also taken to using abandoned houses when they can, but it’s hard for their presence to go unnoticed. They’re aware this can’t go on forever as housing is rebuilt or pulled down, the constant battle with the greenery a summer fire risk. I see none around Bourbon Street, they’re not welcome there.

On my way back I stop in for another Bayou burger before heading down Bourbon St one last time, then home, still Zzz’s to catch up on & an early flight in the morning.

Moment that best describes Bourbon Street

I exit a bar, a few tourist are stumbling down the road with fluorescent green grenades (that they’re drinking out of),  to the right a trumpet band are putting on a show, across the road is a place for live sex shows, a family pushes a stroller along an evening walk…

to the left a man with a bull-horn is yelling something, behind him are a couple of old laddies & another guy holding a big white cross, it has a red LED display scrolling words along the centre, I make out “hell” and something about “eternal damnation”. Behind them is another guy with a bull-horn facing and yelling in the opposite direction, some guys are doing the “party-boy” dance with him,. He yells louder.

I wonder if their message is heard, I’m left guessing as to what it might be.
I ask to take a photo, they say ok along as I’m not putting a video on Youtube (grandma is clearly with it).

WP_001597_editedShe wants to say a prayer for me.

side note. I have no problem with anyone from any form of spirituality wanting to pray for me, it’s led to some pretty special conversations, such as the first night I arrived in San Fransisco & a woman wanted to read my palm, initially I declined, then it ended up raining & we shared the same souvenir-shop-canopy for shelter.

Bourbon Street: I’m standing in the middle of the street with an old lady praying for me, with bullhorns, cross, strollers, sex show, trumpets…. and nothing seems out of place or odd to anyone.

Welcome to Bourbon street. Definitely crazier than Vegas.

bourbon st


Where Dreams Come True

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Springfield, Missouri??!

It’s the inevitable response I receive when I’m listing off where I’ve been and where I’m going. Springfield, Missouri?!?!

But what they don’t know is Springfield is where dreams come true, I know, I’ve got the t-shirt.


Back when Y2k was on everyone’s mind, The Matrix was released, people lined up for days to see The Phantom Menace… shortly followed by people moaning for days about The Phantom Menace, Helen Clark was elected Prime Minister, Clinton was screwing around, a couple of kids shot up their Colorado school, and a little-punk version of myself attended Kickapoo High School in Springfield, Missouri as a foreign exchange student.

106_6898620773_8600_nFast forward 4 years and a slightly bigger-less-little-punk version of myself was watching Michael Jordan’s last All-Star game when it dawns on him that, this is it, this is MJ’s last year… this the last time he will play… this is the last opportunity to see him play…

Within the space of a few weeks a planned pilgrimage to witness the games greatest play for the first, and last time had ballooned from 3 weeks to 3 months (haha history repeats itself).



And as much as seeing MJ play live (Duncan, T-Mac, KG as well) will be forever imprinted in my mind, another highlight for me was meeting with a group of guys and doing life & faith with them… it would prove to be a profound and significant few months for me.

10 years. It’s been 10 years since I was here last.

I was greeted by snow & more arrived while I was here, which unfortunately meant a couple of people I’d hoped to catch up with were unable to make the drive, but I was blessed to be able to catch up with four of them, we even gathered in the same house.

10yrs since we’d gathered together.

It’s made a nice bookend of time. Given me two firm benchmarks to reflect on life in-between, to ponder the journey been & what lies ahead.  It was certainly a highlight of my time here, seeing how lifes change, challenges & journey has played out amongst their lives.




The last 4 days I’ve spent catching up on sleep, sanity & friendships. Sharing dreams, lessons & heartache, meals, late night stories & coffees with coconut creamer.

It’s been bliss. It’s been beautiful.


I’ve been blessed with fellowship, friendship & the generosity of others.

I’m super excited with the journey some of my friends are on & look forward to what the future brings them.


And to think I almost didn’t make this part of the trip due to money & time. Next time will have to be sooner than 10 years.

Springfield, Missouri – Where Dreams Come True 🙂



Breathless & Bang

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After 2 hrs sleep I throw myself into the shower, grab a coffee & head to the airport. Today I’m off to the Grand Canyon (something I’ve wanted to see in my previous 2 visits to the States, but it never worked out).
I choose flying because of time restraints… in hindsight I’d chose flying every time. Flying over the Grand Canyon was simply amazing, beyond what I could’ve expected and certainly different to standing next to it.

Hoover Dam
Hoover Dam
The scope & beauty is breathtaking
The scope & beauty is breathtaking

We land, jump on a bus & head out to a few spots. I’m on a bus full of Korean tourists, it’s a bit bizarre, we have an hour or so of free time at every stop, the majority of the bus heads out for a few quick snaps then hops back on & waits… I could spend days soaking in the beauty.

Fortunately the bus driver recognises this & offers me a few tips at each place, head 30-mins left, or 45 right.

As I’m walking (& sliding) around snow & ice encrusted paths – peering down hundreds of meters – all I can think is, better have the GoPro ready because if I slip it’s going to look awesome!




Heading back I pick up some lollipops (suckers for my American friends) that have scorpions inside them, I think they’ll make good gifts… ok, ok I’m not brave enough to eat them myself.


Because of my delay in arriving in Vegas I’ve missed the opportunity to shoot the .50 cal Barrett


Fortunately the good folks at MGV are able to accommodate me on short notice & provide transport.

I put two clips through a Glock & one through a SCAR, MP5, M4 & AK47.

Unfortunately I’m still coming to grips with the intricacies of the GoPro & the picture quality deteriorates.

I have minimal experience with firearms, so this is a newbs observations. The Glock is too small for me, bounces around in my hands.

The SCAR is surprisingly nice to shoot, single shot, I’m pretty accurate with it.

The MP5 on full-auto is a fun gun & one I’ve always liked, but it does feel a little small, granted at 6’6″ish I might be too big 🙂

The M4 with it’s red dot scope is a dream, my groupings with this gun are real tight & hands-down the most accurate of the full autos.

The AK47 is a heavy monstrosity with the kick of a shotgun, at least I know if I find myself in an AK toting country I’ll have full confidence that someone firing at me from 50+ yds on full auto has little chance of hitting me.


By this stage I’m shattered, I head to an underpass I’ve heard about and chat to a houseless crew, they’ve even got a Christmas tree in the middle of their spot. I’ve done some pretty cool things today, but hanging with these guys is certainly a highlight.

I zombie back to the hotel & opt for a few hours sleep, promising myself I’ll go up the tower early before I leave. I’m up 3hrs later & head to the tower, only to find it’s closed. Come on Vegas! Nothing should ever be closed here.

I make it to the airport for an early flight, I put a couple of dollars in a slot machine while I wait… I guess I’ve become one of those people 🙂

I leave behind the craziness, the lights, the drama, the seediness, the show, the hype, the dreams & illusions that’s Vegas.

Surprise.  Loved chatting to waitresses, shuttle drivers, hotel porters about the changes they’ve seen in Vegas, from it just being a Casino town to having to diversify into shopping & entertainment… to the point were one of the biggest money earners now is clubs.

Missed: I missed the panoramic night view of Vegas & I was staying in the same building. I missed sleep. I couldn’t get to the storm drains. I missed the .50 cal & would’ve loved some more  daytime to take more photos, I missed “old Vegas” & the Fremont experience… I guess there could always be a next time.

Lows: the cold, I ordered a pizza & a mountain dew & got a pizza & a Root beer, both proved to be the foulest tasting things on earth… haha that could be the lack of sleep speaking.


Next stop Springfield, Missouri.







if you’re going to San Francisco…

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be sure to wear some flowers in your hair…

and a jacket.


San Francisco has been a refreshing change of pace, from its crisp air, hilly suburbs, funky boutique stores & bourbon coffees. Here’s a few thoughts as wait to catch the next plane.

San Francisco: I could live here, shades of Wellington.

Favorite Places: Alcatraz (without people), Mission District, Upper Haight, Haight St.

Places to avoid: Alcatraz (with people), the Wharf areas on a nice day (if you dislike tourists).

Low: snorers

High: talking life & sharing a coffee with Sheryl, a homeless lady in her 50’s.

Accommodation: Fort Mason Hostel.

If there is a scale, 1 being a funeral home & 10 being a Roman orgy, then a party hostel would be an 8-9. Waikiki hit an 8 on a few nights, a 6.5 on the best nights.

7 is a good time buzz, great crew & good stories, unlike other scales 7 is the best. Waikiki hit a 6.5 on my last night.

Fort Mason is a 5, a 3 would be sitting in a library. Sometimes Fort Mason resembles sitting in a library. When alcohol can only be served & consumed in the cafe surely that must lead to good conversation elsewhere.

Nope. It leads to a lot of people pretending they’re in a library.

It’s redeeming features are the view, hilltop view of Golden Gate Bridge & Alcatraz. Superb breakfasts, organic-fair trade-blah-blah-hippy food, amazing coffee.

A ‘5’ hostel is a nice change of pace. Calm before the storm.

Missed Moments: Gutted the ‘day in the life of the homeless’ thing never worked out. It ended up costing me quite a bit in cancelled/new flights & accommodation. On an already tight budget (any big-ticket activities have been purchased long ago) this made a few days interesting (almost tried selling my NFL ticket), but thankfully my parents helped me out a little 🙂 This also meant I’ll miss a day in Vegas & a day in Long Beach, where there is also a high homeless population, and I’d hoped to do a couple of lines for a spoken word I’m compiling here.

crystal cathedral (1)

On the flip-side there were a bunch of people, encounters & conversations that wouldn’t have happened had I stuck to the plan. Some times the long shot pays off, sometimes it doesn’t… and on that note, see you in Vegas.