Erimus

I've had a bit of fascination with Middlesbrough for about 8 years now. It's a random story - my introduction to soccer was when I spent the summer of 2002 in Spain, while the World Cup was happening. My first game I watched saw Gaizka Mendieta hit the winning penalty against Ireland. The combination of that and his super-cool name (Basque), saw him become my favorite player, and when he joined Middlesbrough a couple years later, I started following their soccer team. I was pretty excited when, after meeting a fellow explorer here in New York, I learned she was from nearby Hartlepool (a lovely town in its own right). On a recent trip across the pond, I jumped at the chance to head up to the Northeast and finally pay the town a proper visit. And by "proper visit" I of course mean "climbing stuff in the middle of the night."

 

"Erimus" translates out to "We will be" in Latin. It's an interesting motto for a town whose best days are generally considered behind it - the Boro, as it's known, is one of the old, mid-sized industrial towns of the Northeast that, while not facing quite the same sort of decline as some its counterparts in the rust belt of the United States, has yet to really reinvent itself. Think somewhere like Milwaukee. In short, it's not exactly the kind of place overseas visitors generally make a destination out of.

I only had about 36 hours in the Northeast, but it was enough to confirm my love. I mean, when you waking up to rainbows over picturesque British towns, it's kind of an omen (not to mention crazy Australians in their underwear). 8 hours later we were climbing bridges.

Our appetizer was the Teas-Newport Bridge, the first major lift bridge built in England, and - rumor has it - the host of a recent addition to the (obviously NSFW) sex on bridges club. I hadn't climbed a bridge superstructure in a while and was pretty excited to do so, but started having second thoughts about 2/3 of the way up when I realized that what was flaking off in my hands wasn't just paint, but rusted metal. When I felt a couple crunches beneath my feet, I decided I'd best monkey my way over to the ladder to finish the climb.

Top of the Tees-Newport. Photo by Lucinda Grange 

After this, it was time for the main course - the Middlesbrough Transporter Bridge (don't be fooled - it's still the middle of the night. I shot this photo the following day).

You might look at this picture and remark "wait - how is that a bridge?" And the answer is, "it isn't." That elaborate structure was designed and built solely as a truss mechanism. Wires hang down from a cart that runs in a track under the transverse, and connext with a platform floating on the water. A big cable is attached to this cart from the small building with the chimney that you can see in the foreground on the right. Every 15 minutes or so they take in or let out this cable, which moves the cart, which then guides the platform (which holds up to 9 cars and about 200 people) across the river. In essence, it's several thousand tons of metal put together in order to haul a ferry slightly larger than a boxing ring. Why they don't just have the ferry is beyond me.

Dozens of these had actually been created in the early part of the 20th century, with only a few still working and a few more (like this one I had seen in Buenos Aires) standing but long abandoned. Having failed to climb the one in Buenos Aires, I was pretty excited to get up this one. In true British fashion, they even had a sign politely reminding us of the rules. We followed rules #1 and #4 to a T.

While there's a catwalk for maintenance (and bungee jumping) that runs the length of the bridge, only one side of the bridge has stairs. As such, there's actually no way to cross the river on the structure (which I'd consider a baseline for something being called a "bridge") - unless, of course, you want to do this for a couple hundred feet. 

Snaps getting loose - photo by forsaken

I took the stairs - most of the way. Once we got to the catwalk the stairs ended, but there was still about 50 feet of structure above us. And, as always, you don't stop until you get to the top. Even if your camera sucks.

The next day I wanted to head back to the bridge - to ride it, see it in action. I can't really understand the people who only want the trespassing-adventure part of visiting cities, who travel solely for the purpose of checking various tough-to-get-to places off their list. It's fun, but without any context, it's flying across an ocean just to play around on a big jungle gym. What's the point of exploring, of interacting with this great structure up close, if you don't even bother to experience how it actually works? 

We drove over and paid our 70 pence to take the ride, accompanied by a few cars and what appeared to be a fifth grade field trip.

The ride begins

On the ride back, we asked the ticket-taker if we could see a bit more of the mechanics of the contraption. We were rewarded with a visit inside the machine room where Alan Murray, the Bridgemaster, spent a good half-hour with us explaining how the bridge works. That big spool on the left is used to wind up and let out the cable that moves the transporter mechanism back and forth across the river.

The spool in action

There is no way this would be done in New York or London. We would have asked, they would have said no, and that would have been that. I don't really blame the cities - in large, popular, heavily travelled places many interesting things have a general "lockdown by default" policy. The excuse given (if any) will be usually security or liability, but that's not the real reason - it's to avoid the hassle of eventually being overwhelmed with curiosity seekers. I appreciated the fact that we were in a different paradigm, a different culture, one where the pride that people have in the machines they build, maintain, and operate is manifested by gladly showing them off, not by keeping them smugly hidden away. In fact, for a scant 4 pounds they'll even let you up to the catwalk, weather permitting. You have to follow all four rules though. And I doubt they'll be thrilled if you try to get pictures like the ones above.

Grammatically, and also in the historical context of coming up with the motto, "Erimus" means "we will be" as opposed to "we are" or "we have been." But I started thinking about it in a different way after my 36 hours- "we will be" as opposed to "we will say" or "we will do" or we will (insert verb here)." Thinking about the motto as the motto of a town that goes about it business the way it always has - the kind of town that neither lets this crazy contraption fall into disrepair and abandonment, nor tears it down for a fancy new replacement, but just lets it be.

The bridge turns 100 on October 17th.  If you happen to be in England, head on up for some celebrations -they're going on all month. I wish I could be there for the event  itself though - I do love helping bridges celebrate their centenials. There's also a great book out by Dave Allen about the history of the transporter bridge. You can pick it up in person or online through the Middlesbrough soccer team's store. Go Teesiders!

How to visit the Catacombs - FAQ

First off, I should say that this assumes a certain level of both knowledge and motivation. Motivation I can do nothing about either way, but if you're currently either wondering "what are Catacombs?" or thinking "isn't that somewhere under Rome or something?" you have some rudimentary reading to do. If you're thinking "does he mean how to visit that weird museum in Paris?" you're closer, but still not quite there. Anyway, go read this, or this, or this, or heck, even this. Then come back here.

OK, so you want to go visit the catas but you don’t quite know what you’re doing. Here's a helpful FAQ. If you do know what you’re doing, you’ll find most of this unnecessary, but there might be a helpful tidbit or two in here.

Do I need a guide?

You do not need a guide. Stop asking around for one right now. You don't need even need to speak French. If you possess the ability to read a map and some common sense you'll be fine. In fact, you probably don't even want a guide. Not only is it kind of lame, but a local is not going to want to hoof it around for hours visiting all the places they’ve seen a million times. Locals generally go to the catas to party, or just to relax and hang out with their friends. If they’re doing something else it’s probably making art or working on opening something up, both of which are going to entail staying in one place for hours while you're chomping at the bit to go take off down the next tunnel.

If, for some reason, you are still insisting on asking around for a guide, you should probably be offering to pay. Why do you think someone would want to schlep around in the dark with a stranger for free? Actually, come to think of it, hire me. I'll do it for plane fare, accommodation, and a $500 day rate.

What are the hazards?

Well, you will probably bump your head a couple times. You might twist an ankle if you aren't careful. I've heard that there is a small but real danger of structural collapse, although the Parisians have spent the last 234 years stabilizing the network.

You'll also get your feet wet. If you don't want to get your feet wet, you're going to need either hip waders or chest waders, depending on your height. I have yet to see someone go in with calf-high rubber boots and come out with dry feet. With careful navigation you can pretty much avoid the thigh-level water, but not the knee-level water. While most of the tunnels aren't flooded, this is a pretty commonplace scene:

Personally, as I find waders a huge pain in the neck (not to mention taking up a lot of room in your bag flying over) I just go in a pair of sneakers with a dry pair of socks and shoes to change into, although I usually end up getting those wet also. Another option is to bring flip-flops and shorts for the wet parts, but some of the footing is a bit treacherous and the water can be muddy, so I’d wear something with more traction and ankle support.

You'll probably also get dirty, although that might just be me. Somehow, the French have this amazing ability to spend hours in a dank, dirty tunnel network and still emerge looking like they just stepped out of a Yves St. Laurent catalog. I come out looking like this.

 
But isn't this dangerous?

Well, no, not really. I'd say it's marginally more dangerous than getting out of bed in the morning and going about your day, but not by a whole lot. The biggest thing is this - a lot can go wrong just going about your day. You could accidentally step in a hole and break your ankle, or run into some mean people and get mugged, or get too drunk and not be able to find your way home. But you're not too worried about this - you call an ambulance, or the police, or a cab. And anyway, how often does this really happen?

The biggest thing in the catas is that there's no "Esc" key. If you break your ankle, you're going to have to figure out how to wind your way back through the tunnels for a couple miles to the entrance in horrific pain before you can call a doctor. It's not that much different from going backcountry camping in this regard, although you certainly can't call for a Medivac or anything.

But isn’t this illegal?

Sure. Being illegal it what makes the place so great. With legality comes security guards, "don't touch" signs, 8 Euro hot dogs, and all that garbage. And anyway, it’s not THAT illegal. Even if you do run into cops (which does happen) you won’t go to jail or get deported or anything. You'll just get a fine. I've heard different amounts for this fine, with the highest being 120 Euros, which is probably what you'd pay just going sightseeing for a couple days anyway. Plus, you know, this is France. Actually making sure you pay the fine is probably considered more trouble than it’s worth. Police presence goes in cycles. If you know any locals, ask if the cops have been around lately. Police presence is also heavier on the weekends and almost always concentrated in the most frequented parts of the catacombs.

Will I run into people?

Most likely. There's a lot of folks in the catas, especially on weekends. And people come from all over the world. I've spent a total of about 70-80 hours down there, and have met (in addition to countless French), Japanese, Swedes, Koreans, Germans, British, Australians, Canadians, Americans, and a hound dog.

I’ve also recognized tags or art from people from four different continents.

You're most likely to run into people around La Plage, which is kind of the Times Square of the catacombs and about a 20-minute walk from the main entrance. These will probably be groups of mostly-young, mostly-male French folks hanging out. People are generally nice enough, but the vibe is pretty much "we're all here to do our own thing." A simple "Bonsouir" is usually sufficient communication, although I've had conversations with people. If you speak French you'll obviously have an easier time, but plenty of people speak English. You might also run into some foreigners, who will probably be taking pictures.

If you get deeper into the catas, you're more likely to run across more hardcore cataphiles. These folks will probably be a bit older (30s or even 40s) and dressed more for a caving expedition than a party. This is what a cataphile generally looks like (on the left):

The older cataphiles will know a lot more about stuff not on the map or usually closed things that happen to be open at the moment. With both groups, offering booze is always a good way to make friends.

So what should I bring?

Light - this is the most important thing. Bring three light source (same as for caving), with extra batteries and whatnot. If you run out of light, especially in a part of the catas that isn’t frequented very much, you’re somewhat fucked.

The Map - regular cataphiles don't need one, but you sure do. Think a fairly complex Dungeons and Dragons module. That's what you're in. If, for some reason, you lose the map you probably won’t die. Your best bet is to wander around until you find somewhere that looks interesting or has a lot of art and wait there. People will be along sometime.

There's a few different maps, but they're all more or less the same. When I went for the first time in January 2006 I got a .pdf version from some cataphile friends that I printed out at printing shop (It measured about two feet by three feet), and have used that version ever since, mostly just because it's what I'm used to. But you, full denizen of the digital age, don't even have to worry about having a hookup anymore. You can now download a copy (in English no less!) here.

The site's a little hard navigate, but hey: if you can't make your way around a website, you don't really have any business trying to make your way around the catacombs. Whatever map you end up using will probably have an inaccuracy or two, and won't cover the entire network (they generally omit a lot of the southern part), but are incredibly comprehensive overall and will be more than sufficient for getting you around.

Water - if you're planning a trip of any length, this will probably be your limiting factor as water is pretty heavy. But again, if you run out of water you won’t die – there’s a bunch of flooded tunnels where you can get a drink (flooded tunnels are even indicated on the map). Now, I should mention I have no idea how potable this water is but as it’s just groundwater I’m guessing it’s OK. It probably won’t even be that gross as long as someone hasn't walked through it lately and kicked up a bunch of dirt.

Food - think camping provisions if you're going for any length of time. If you're just ducking in for the night, by all means prepare a 7-course continental dinner or whatever else you can haul through the tunnels for a half-mile or so, which is about how long it'll take before you get somewhere you can sit.

Sleeping Gear - I highly recommend sleeping in the catacombs, but you've got to do it right. I've spent two nights down there - one of the best, and one of the most miserable sleeps of my life.

This is how not to sleep - at least not for more than a short nap. The first time I brought only a sleeping bag and laid it out on the floor. If you sleep on the floor, or especially on the stone, after about 10 minutes it's going to start feeling like you're Harry Potter having your soul sucked out by a Dementor. I had to sleep wrapped up in a sleeping bag with my jacket, gloves, and hat on, and still shivered all night. A sleeping pad would probably help, but I don't know how much.

This is how to do it. The second time I brought a hammock. This was awesome. I still slept in my sweater, pants, and sleeping bag but didn't need a hat or anything. There's a bunch of places where people have put hammock hooks. We slept in the Cabinet Minerologic, which has the disadvantage of being somewhat heavily trafficked, but was the only place we knew of with hammock hooks (although I'm pretty sure there's some in the Salle Rouge also). You can get a travel hammock that's really light and packs down to the size of a softball for about 50 bucks.

I suppose you should probably bring a first aid kit and such also. I can't say I’ve ever brought one myself, but it seems like a good policy.

So what should I see?

Generally speaking, it's funnest just to wander around and find awesome stuff (and there's a bunch of awesome stuff). There's lots marked on the map - go find it and see if it's cool. If you really want a destination guide, some of the most popular follow. Consider this a spoiler alert. I should also note that this only refers to the "Great Southern Network," or the largest quarry network that runs mainly underneath most of XIV arrondissement and parts of the neighboring arrondissements. There's also other, smaller networks throughout Paris and the suburbs.

If you're into art - go check out La Plage, Le Cellier, Gallarie des Promos and the Castle Room

If you're into history - go check out the German Bunker, and try to get to the Val de Grace although it's kind of a pain. Also make sure to read up on the inscriptions (it's on the English map), and pay attention to those. If the Free French bunker is open get to that also, but it's usually closed.

If you're into bones and creepy stuff - go check out the Ossuaries and the Tombe Philibert. Also go on the official tour.

If you're into cool spaces and architecture - go check out the Salle Z, the Abri Laval, and definitely try to get to the Aqueduct too, but that's almost always closed. Also the Cube Room I think is kind of cool.

If you have a limited amount of time - you should probably enter and head straight to La Plage, Le Cellier, the Salle Marie Rose, and the Castle room. They’re all reasonably near the main entrance and pretty close together. You can be visit them all and still be in-and-out in a few hours.

(Cata pros - feel free to chime in on any of the above. I'm sure there's a lot of stuff I'm forgetting or haven't been to).

What other random stuff should I know?

Time - for some reason, time seems to go really quickly in the catas. You'll check your watch thinking you've been in there for a few hours and it's already the next day.

Weather - one of the wonderful things is that the weather is completely consistent year-round. About 55 degrees (Fahrenheit) and very, very humid. This has the practical effect of making you kind of hot when you're walking around, but quickly cooling you down when you stop to rest. As such, layers that you can easily put on and take off are a good idea.

Taking care of business - you can pretty much pee anywhere reasonably out-of-the-way, it won't be too long before it gets filtered into the groundwater. For a #2, you should probably go to a dead-end tunnel and bury it, although as it's not going to decompose anytime soon try to abstain if you can (it's also just plain nasty to take a poo down there). It's also obviously good form to pack out all your garbage. The cataphiles are actually on a bit of an anti-littering kick right now, and have started organizing cleanups.

So how do I get there?

Fly to Paris. There’s one entrance in an abandoned rail tunnel in the southern part of the XIV arrondissement that’s always open. I can’t quite bring myself to give A-Z directions on the Internet but trust me, it’s not a secret or anything. Someone will tell you if you ask. Heck, I’ll probably tell you if you ask. If you know a local or two you might have a lead on other entrances, which tend to kind of come and go. The main benefit of the other entrances is avoiding the flooded tunnels in the southern part of the catas, but it's also just kind of fun to get in and out other ways.

So that's about it. The catas are loads of fun and, at least for me, the coolest place in the world (and I've been a lot of places). I highly recommend checking them out.

10 things to know about Cairo

1. Cairo is amazingly polluted. Not just dirty (which it undeniably is) – polluted. It makes LA in 1972 look like Alaska in 1654. Smog blankets the city constantly, and it feels like you’ve been smoking a half a pack a day.

2. People stash coins in their ears. For real. I have no idea if these are makeshift earplugs, or just somewhere for people to keep their spare change.

3. The shoe shine guys don’t shine your shoes while you’re wearing them, instead they give you a piece of cardboard to put your feet on while they do it off to the side. There are a lot of shoeshine guys, and a lot of people who take shoeshines. I’ve noticed there’s something about having busted kicks that doesn’t sit right with people in many, many different places.

4. Cairo is a truly 24 hour city. The secondhand clothes market ($6 for a purple pleather snakeskin jacket!) is rocking at midnight. People - kids, adults, whoever, are out on the street at all hours of the night. It makes New York look like Jacksonville.

5. As such, Cairo is a pretty safe place to just wander around – wherever, whenever. My general rule of thumb is that if there are kids and old people out, a place is probably safe, and there are always kids out.

6. This does not, however, mean that you will be left alone. Quite to the contrary. If you stand out as a foreigner, people will start talking to you every 10 feet. The problem is it is not the kind of approach you can just tune out and let bounce off of you, like street preacher or panhandler in New York. It’s a heavily interactive approach and as such requires a heavily interactive rejection. The only thing in New York I can compare it to are the Chabad (“excuse me, you are Jewish?”) guys, or maybe a real, real aggressive solicitor for Children's International. Or, if you can remember, about 10 years ago there were these Chinese massage guys who would grab you on the street and start rubbing your shoulder going “free sample, free sample.” Now, these approaches are not threatening or malicious, but they are constant and extremely, extremely, extremely annoying and make it completely impossible to just wander the streets in peace.

7. Out of all the people who talk to you, the kids are the best and pretty fun. With them you’ll end up playing soccer or taking pictures (I can’t tell you the amount of times we got approached by kids wanting their picture taken with us). Everyone else is trying to sell you something or rip you off. It gets to the point where people will flag down your cab, jump in, and redirect it to their shop. Seriously. And then be pissed when you don't buy anything.

8. And people are constantly, constantly trying to rip you off. Now given, this is a country where foreigners are simply expected to pay more than locals because they can afford more than locals. Everything remotely touristy has an Egyptian price and a (much, much higher) foreigner price. But there is the honest way to do this, and the dishonest way to do it. My first day the guy at the museum (the museum!) tried to shortchange me 100 pounds. The fastfood schwarma place charged me 3x what they should have. You have to argue over the price of a cup of coffee if you don't want to just pay whatever they happen to make up. It's this, not the "Entrance, 1 pound. Children, 1/2 pound. Non-Egyptian, 20 pounds" signs that makes me never want to spend a dime in that town again.

9. Even beyond this, Cairo is the most cynical city toward tourists that I have ever visited. Worse than New York, worse even than Rome. I've often written about how cities that no longer have to try and sell themselves to visitors degenerate into shameless rackets designed to simply milk every last dollar they can out of tourists. This is Cairo, and it's compounded further by the fact that, unlike New York or Rome, tourists have vastly more money than locals. In the Cairo mentality the purpose of visitors is to have them depart with their pockets as light as possible, and that is just the way of the world.

10. A big part of this is the culture of "Baksheesh," which is basically means "bribe/tip" (there's no real hard and fast line). "Baksheesh" is so prevalent they put it in the official guidebook they give you on the airplane. I initially thought "great, I can just bribe my way wherever I want to go." But as a smart person once told me you bribe someone to do their job, not to not do their job. Bribing cultures exist not so that you can pay to do cool stuff you wouldn't otherwise be able to do, they exist to get your money. Successful uses of Baksheesh including bribing some squatters to let us check out the abandoned mansion they were living in (right next to the Dutch Embassy!), and bribing someone who may or may not have worked there to let us up to the top of a minaret after-hours. Unsuccessful uses of Baksheesh include trying to bribe the construction workers to let us up to the top of an under-renovation skyscraper, and trying to bribe the guards at the pyramids to let us stay overnight and climb them. Perhaps the best "Baksheesh" anecdote is this: there is a rope a few feet away from something - the edge of an observation platform, the pyramids, whatever. The guard will then motion for you that it's perfectly OK to cross the rope and take pictures. Then you're supposed to give the guard (or whoever it might have been) money. They could, of course, just not put the rope there, but then there would be no Baksheesh. This is how bribing cultures work.

More Tunisia Quick & Dirty

I'm currently waiting for it to be time to take a cab to the airport, and killing said time in the Internet cafe looking at a big sign over the computer which reads "Il Est Strictement Interdit de Consulter Les Sites Prohibes." So far I've discovered Flickr, YouTube, and (for some reason) The Atlantic don't make the cut. Facebook is OK. This and the huge pictures of the president everywhere make this otherwise fairly friendly and relaxed country feel a bit like 1984. On with the observations - I hope I don't offend whatever Tunisian intelligence agent is monitoring this.

1. There is Tuna Fish everywhere. They put it on everything - a big handful with your fries or on salad. There's huge industrial cans of it sold at corner kiosks. One time they used the oil from a Tuna can as dip for the bread instead of Olive Oil.

2. Bread is everywhere and is basically free. It's subsidized and price-controlled, and I they can't give you enough of it. You get free bread with basically anything you order anywhere.

3. Food, in general, is not that good, and there is absolutely no correlation between price and quality. With the possible exception of couscous dishes, the Tunisian standards would be pretty par for the course in America. However it is incredibly cheap - a huge meal at a restaurant never runs more than 5 dollars, and can easily be had for more like 3. Toothpaste, on the other hand, costs about 12 bucks.

4. Desserts and pastries, though are great, and generally involve some wonderful combination of Pistaccio and Honey.

5. I cannot tell if I've eaten Camel. We tried once and failed, but may have done so a few other times without trying.

6. There are stray cats everywhere. People generally like them. It's sometimes acceptable to feed them scraps at a restaurant. There are no stray dogs.

7. One of the country's best experiences is getting twisted into various WWF-esque holds by a burly Tunisian man in a sauna. This is called a "massage" and you get it along with a vigorous scrubbing with a scouring pad. For you wrestling fans, holds including a sitting full nelson and a surfboard. It is actually wonderful and worth the 10 dinars we probably overpaid.

8. Running your hand through the Sahara sand is one of life's more wonderful tactile experiences. It's like dipping your hand into a mound of cool silk. You want to bathe in it until you realize what the aftermath would be.

9. There is a strange, almost hypnotic desire to walk straight into the desert and just keep walking. I have no idea if this is just me, but my hunch is it's not.

10. There is cell phone reception in the Sahara, or at least there is up to about 10 kilometers outside of town.

11. It might just be that I've never been in a large Middle-Eastern city before, but the Tunis Medina is an amazing place. Without context, if you were dropped there at night you would probably think it was one of the spookiest, most dangerous places on earth. The incredibly dark and narrow twisting streets are made darker by the fact that many of them are covered over. Farthi, a perfume store owner who grew up in the Medina, explained that he and his friends used to race over the rooftops from one side to another, but never completed a race because someone always got hurt.

12. Speaking of Farthi, drop by his perfume shop right by the Great Mosque if you're ever in Tunis. An impromptu tour of rooftops, the inside of the Koranic school, craft shops, and other nooks and crannies was well worth the 30 dinar I ended up dropping at his perfume store without complaint.

13. Don't try to tour the rooftops by yourself at night. The shops in the Tunis Medina mostly sell crap now, but there's still high, high quality jewelry in some of the souks. They have guard dogs patrolling the roofs after the shops close.

14. For some reason, Tunisians seem to have a thing about how they're better than the Algerians. "Not like in Algeria" was a common phrase when extolling the virtues of Tunisia.

15. If you are into ancient Rome visit Tunisia, not Italy. There are incredibly well-preserved ruins, including a giant Colloseum (used in the movie Gladiator) in El Jem, as well as entire hilltop cities often interspersed with older Punic ruins. And unlike Rome, entrance will generally cost about 3 dollars, without a fence, guard or "keep off" sign in site. Now, you can't exactly take the subway to these places like you can in Rome - our journey involved three van trips and quite a fight with an unscrupulous driver - but at least in the off-season there will also generally be about 3 other tourists there - the Star Wars sets get way more tourist traffic. The only exception is Carthage, which is much more of your standard European tourist experience. Even though there's not a whole lot to see in terms of ruins, getting a sense of the geography of the ancient city and port was really cool.

Tunisia - Quick & Dirty

I am way behind on my travel writing: Bolivia, Peru, Mexico, US Road Trip, Stockholm, Moscow, Kiev, Istanbul, Odessa, and more stories from the usual suspects (London, Paris, Rome, Naples) have been woefully neglected. But today, I find myself in Tataouine (Tunisia, not Galactic Empire) with not much to do but hang out at the internet cafe, and thought I should get down some tips and observations above and beyond the standard guidebook fare while they're still fresh in my mind. So here goes:

1. All travel here takes place in the morning. If you want to go anywhere, it's probably happening before noon, and definitely before 3. There's no "sleep where you want to wake up" going on, unless you want to pay an arm and a leg to buy out the whole van.

2. There really is a strange, casual resemblance to "Star Wars" that is above and beyond the tourist sites. Road signs point the way to minor Jedi. Dudes are occasionally dressed like Obi-Wan Kenobi.

3. Tunisia is basically Jamaica, or maybe the Dominican Republic, for the French. A place to go for a cheap and all-inclusive beach holiday, with the more adventurous folks taking a day trip into town, or maybe arranging a 4x4 tour.

4. As such, all even mildly touristy towns are laid out basically like Vegas: a regular city, and then a huge, guady, and insular "zone touristique" a mile or so outside of town.

5. This ends up - especially in the off-season - leading to a serious lack of interaction with other tourists if you are the dirty backpacker type. My brother and I are used to backpacking around Latin America, where you're hard pressed to avoid Australian or German 20-somethings if you tried. But here we're following the Lonely Planet faithfully, and have encountered 2 Japanese solo tourists and a middle-aged American couple who wandered into the internet cafe to watch "America's Next Top Model."

6. There really is a worldwide Jewish conspiracy. Here is how it works: roll up to the El Ghriba synagouge on Saturday. When they tell you it's closed, tell them you're Jewish. Wait for them to check your passport and let you in. Say Shalom, kick off your shoes, throw on a yamulke and tallis, and try to follow along with the guys inside. Save the 1 Dinar admission fee because it's Shabbas and you aren't supposed to have money. Feel kind of bad as you roll past the guys walking back from Synagogue in a taxi. Don't feel that bad though: they don't let the non-Muslims visit the Mosques in this country, so you figure it's only fair.

Note: sorry ladies, I am pretty sure the worldwide Jewish conspiracy only applies to men.

7. The cult of personality is weird. There have been two leaders since independence. The first guy was the leader of the independence movement. The second guy deposed the first guy in a bloodless coup when the first guy was 83. All the posters are of the second guy, but the main street in each town is named after the first guy.

8. This is the first place I've been where I can't speak the main language, the second language, or the main tourist language. 50 words of French will help you immeasurably.

9. The best marketing scheme I've seen so far: accost tourist on the street. Ask where they are from. When you get the answer, pull out tattered notebook and point to a page written in their language. Have tourist read what a great guide you are. Successfully sell 4-hour tour for 10 dinar more than what the guidebook suggest it costs despite not speaking a language in common.

10. The worst-executed tourist scam so far: try to sell 35 dinar ride from Matmata to Gabes. Make a deal to give a ride to Nouvelle Matmata, and then arrange for a van for tourist to Gabes for 20 dinar total. When arriving at Nouvelle Matmata, fail to arrange van ride that gives you sufficient profit margin, try to claim to tourists that there are no buses or vans to Gabes, and reiterate offer to drive to Gabes for 35 dinar. Don't get money in advance and end up taking the 5 dinar offered when tourists do not fall for the scam.

11. Best executed tourist scam so far: do not make deal with guy above to take tourists in your van for (I'm guessing) 10 dinar. Try to get 25 dinar from them directly. Make deal for 20 because tourists do not do "walk away" trick quick enough and are tired. As soon as money is handed over, magically fill the rest of the van with 6 other people despite initially insisting there is nobody else who wants to go to Gabes.

12. Best bargaining strategy. Show interest. Immediately get price quote. Immediately walk away. Keep walking and do not look back for at least three or four "hey, hey, HEYs." Return. Do not give a price yourself until original price has been lowered to almost appropriate amount. Haggle. When you get close to a deal, walk away again. Return after one or two "hey, hey, HEYs" or the guy will think you are actually not interested. Haggle. Overpay.

13. Remember to constantly remind yourself that finding the love of your life in a lunch counter behind the bus station in Gabes only happens in the movies. But still enjoy demure smiles and extra olives on your merguez sandwich.

14. Pay the extra 93 cents for "Confort" class on the trains. Realize this only guarantees you A seat, not the specific seat that is actually on your ticket. Still easily worth it.

15. Spellcheck on the computers is in French. Sorry for the mistakes.

Crossing the border

When it comes to landscapes, Argentina is a lot like America. The plains of the Pampas might as well be the Midwest, Tierra del Fuego could easily be the Rockies or even the Pacific Northwest, and even the small tropical corner near Iguazu is mirrored in Hawaii. I headed out from Buenos Aires to the north, around Salta and Jujuy, and felt like I might well be in New Mexico or Arizona. Painted deserts, sparse cactus-filled landscapes - the only real differences are the alpacas and llamas every once in a while.

I also got the chance to do my first bungee jump. It was fairly sketchy - they only had velcro bands around the ankles with no other security - but the fact that it was only about 50 feet or so over a river meant that I most probably would have been perfectly fine if the velcro around my ankles gave way. It was pretty fun - you got dunked into the river at the bottom, then bounced right back out. They also had a great zip line over the river.



After that it was time to head over to Bolivia. A short bus ride, and I encountered the most relaxed border crossing I've ever been to. I was the only gringo. There was a small bridge over a dry creek, with a passport office on the side. Despite it saying "Passport Office" in 6 languages (including Hebrew), I was the only person who actually used the passport office - everyone else just passed back and forth over the bridge, often pushing wagons covered in blankets, completely ignoring the armed border guards.

Once in the passport office a disinterested Bolivian civil servant manning a dusty typewriter stamped my passport with a 30 day visa without even looking at me. I'm not saying this from experience, but if you ever find yourself on the run from the law in Argentina, definitely consider the La Quiaca/Villazon border crossing for making your escape.

The White Whale Lives

Like captain Ahab, we all have our particular White Whales we chase. Mine is an abandoned bridge in Buenos Aires. I can’t explain it. You’re either one of the small subset of people who see this and drool at the thought of climbing it, or you’re not.

I first encountered the Puente Transbordador (also known as the Puente Avellaneda Antigua) during my first trip to Buenos Aires. It didn’t turn out so great. I don’t really know when I first got it in my head I had to climb this thing - maybe because it was the first interesting structure I ran into in Buenos Aires. As is evidenced from the link above, it’s in a not-so-great part of town, but that’s not why I didn’t want to go at night. I really wanted the views - the Bombanera (the Boca Junior soccer club's stadium), downtown, the port. It’s also definitely not so structurally sound anymore, but I wasn’t really worried about how to climb it or falling - I was worried about getting arrested. More specifically, I was worried about getting arrested in a foreign country.

Knowing the local culture is a big, and underrated, part of going interesting places. In Paris or New York, I wouldn’t have thought twice about climbing the thing. Not because I wouldn’t get caught, but because I would know what to do it I was. In Argentina, I had no clue. Local gossip had it that the police were all lazy and corrupt, but what that meant in practicality I didn’t know. That they’d just let me go? That I should try to bribe them? That they’d haul me down to the station and throw me in jail where I’d quickly be forgotten about? That I’d end up being hustled for thousands of dollars by various bureaucrats and officials to get out of the situation? I never felt comfortable enough doing it during my stay in 2005, but I had resolved that one day, I would. After rolling back into town I had 24 hours to figure it out before I left for Northern Argentina. And in addition to the bridge, I wanted some good views I hadn’t been able to find last time. Luckily, I met an adorable Swedish tourist, and we decided to spend some time seeing what rooftops we could get onto.

When in a strange city (or a familiar one for that matter) hotels are almost always your best bet for easily accessible rooftops. After a couple of false starts, we decided to hit the Sheraton near the Retiro train station north of downtown. In most non-English speaking countries, no matter how you’re dressed, no matter how fancy the hotel, if you walk in speaking English you’re almost always left alone. Here was no exception - we made out way out onto the roof with no problems at all.

Now, when you have a evening in Buenos Aires with the company of a lovely lady, you don’t spend it climbing abandoned bridges. We spent the night dancing the tango in San Telmo, and after my companion had left early the next morning, I resolved to give the bridge one last shot before I had to leave. Unfortunately, sometimes these adventures are anti-climactic. Stationed right out front were these guys: not even cops, but naval officers.

I had one small hope though, which was that maybe this town, like Paris, was sufficiently Latin enough to just let me do whatever I wanted. After all, this is a town where a cabby’s favorite move while stopped at a red light is to pull into the oncoming traffic lane, pull around the cars in front of him, and blow right through the light - cops around or no. I went right up to the naval officers and told them I was climbing up the bridge to take pictures. I wasn’t really surprised when, despite my self-assurance, I was met with a resounding “no you aren’t.”

I still kind of regret not just doing it. Forget about beautiful Swedes, angry naval officers, cultural uncertainly - there's a bridge to climb! Still, during moments like these - and they come for all of us - it’s always good to remember that the White Whale did end up killing Ahab.