EPILOGUE

If any of you guys is reading this entry before reading the entire blog, two things can be said:

1) You should check the meaning of the word “Epilogue” :-)))

2) It is the first time you read a blog, something you don’t have to worry about, because it is my first time writing a blog too.

So here are some tips:

A blog is read from the bottom to the top; just like you read a paper or a magazine when you start reading from the last page. So you scroll all the way down until you find the first entry, called “Prologue”. Once you read an entry you have to scroll up until you find the next entry. Piece of cake!

There are a total of 20 entries. If you don't see them all it is probably because the blogspot website is fucked up. It happens sometimes. So you will have to try some other time.

One last tip! If you can’t see some of the pictures it’s because too many people are connected to the blog at the same time, so you should wait about 30 to 45 minutes and try again. Don’t try to read the blog without the pictures or you will miss a lot!

AUGUST 10th: The anonymous Mac Donald’s guy

I have always said that eating at Mac Donald’s is like having sex without love. Before you eat you can hardly think of any other thing. You crave it so badly that you could do anything to get it. You know it is bad for you, but you don’t care. Then you devour it in a very few time, and right after you eat the last bite you start feeling bad. So bad that you just want to flee from Mac Donald’s and completely forget about it. You even promise yourself that you will never do it again and you actually buy it. But after some days without junk food you start to feel like it again and the whole process starts over. This statement is also applicable to other restaurants like Panda Express, the Mac Donald’s of the Chinese food. All this reminds me that I haven’t been to MacDonald’s in a long time, hahaha!

So Kim dropped me off at Ljubljana railway station and we said goodbye for the third time in the last four days :-) I started walking around the station trying to find an open door to get in and buy my train tickets but every door I tried was locked so I kept walking around the station. Some other travelers were trying to get in as well, and since I was walking a little bit faster I guess that they thought that I knew what I was doing, so they started following me. After ten minutes and two laps around the freakin’ train station I decided to go ask in the only place that was still open; Mac Donald’s. So I and the 10-15 people who were following me from a certain distance got in MacDonald’s. It was pretty empty of people but so full of a junk food fragrance that for me is like Channel no 5. It took me less than a second to find the right excuse to buy a burger; because of course junk food is the cornerstone of travelers’ diet. The cashier was pretty lonely and bored so we talked for a while. He informed me, and at the same time all the people behind me, that after 10 pm train tickets must be bought once you are on the train. When my smoky tasty “Lettuce-less Royale With Cheese” was ready on the tray right in front of me and I put my hand inside my Tollar pocket I realized that most of my Tollars were gone. The poor cashier would probably get that same shit everyday. He shook his head and then I went all out and I emptied the rest of my foreign currency pockets on the counter. The guy shook his head again but at the same time gave me a smile and pushed the tray a little bit towards me. I exhaled a “Hvola” (Thank you) from the top of my lungs. It was a small favor, but at that moment it meant so much to me. I Hvola’d the guy so many times and told him that as a way to pay him back, I would tell this story on my blog, if I ever wrote it.

I sat down at a corner of the station on top of my mat while enjoying every bite of my free meal. At that point I realized that I was alone for the first time in the whole week and that unfortunately the trip had come to an end. Just like when you hook up with the nicest girl of a party, once the party is over you are just looking forward to share it with your friends. And that is how I felt. I pictured myself with Samar and Anjuli; “Pack Anjuli” as Miguel baptized us because whenever I went to hang out with the Spanish guys in Miami they would always come with me. I pictured us three in Miami, having rice and chicken at Anjuli’s old flooded apartment, laughing out loud non stop as usually with the best vibes ever and sharing all our fresh stories of the summer including every single detail. Saying our famous “Mira Anjuli…”, “pero listen Samar…”. Samar would be telling us about Portillo, her trip to Lebanon, Spain and Puerto Rico. Anjuli would be telling us (while talking on the phone at the same time) about her VISA problems in the Trashcanistans and how her mom tried to bribe some immigration officer in order to leave some country. Then Abi would arrive in her trunk-less car and would tell us we are late, while I would be telling them all about Klagenfurt, Pag, Ljubljana and the Amon Empire and the blast I had with you guys. And I am putting all my efforts from the bottom of my heart, to make this dream come true and be in Miami as soon as possible to keep doing what I like the most: Having fun with my friends. Because just like Carla Bruni says at the beginning of her “Quelqu’un m’a dit”,

“On me dit que nos vies ne valent pas grand chose
Elles passent en un instant comme fanent les roses”

“Someone said that our lives are not worth much
They pass in a minute just like roses fade.”

AUGUST 9th: Barbara

If you check Barbara’s relationship status on facebook, apart from the time when she was married to Juliane, it says “It’s complicated”. I would say that it is much more than that, but that it is actually how all Slovenians I know are, and some other people from the rest of the world, including myself. Sometimes it is hard and painful to have a complicated heart, but if you ask me, I rather live some dramas and suffer from time to time and feel myself alive than having a tedious, routinely and flat line love life.

On the road again, Amanda, Sohaila and I drove from the Amon Empire to Ljubljana. It was my third time in Ljubljana in the last week and every time I was there I though it was going to be the last one. Even though we were stuffed with Amon’s glorious food, we met with Barbara, Kim and Kim’s boyfriend at a Mexican Restaurant in Ljubljana. Once again another Miami flashback came to my mind when I saw all those Miami people sitting around a table ordering Mojitos and Nachos.

After dinner we tried to get in Ljubljana’s fanciest club. While we were staying in the long line I kept having those Miami flashbacks of all of us staying in the line to get into Hooligan's. I even tried to go to the front to see if I knew someone so I could cut the line. In Spain we say “El mundo es un pañuelo” what literally means “World is a handkerchief” and its interpretation is “World is so small”. When I was walking back with Kim from the front of the line, she suddenly stopped to talk to someone she knew. This friend of Kim had another friend with him. His name Luis, Luis from Granada. We had a nostalgic conversation about Granada while we enjoyed that completely unexpected coincidence.


That night, we crashed at Barbara’s mom's comfortable house. Barbara’s mom was such a nice lady and she even had breakfast ready for us by the time we woke up.

And we hit the road again to reunite for the last time in Bled, a magic place by a lake with an old church in the middle of an island and a middle-age castle soaring on the background. Such a beautiful and impressive landscape that my camera broke.

That evening, back in Ljubljana, Kim and her boyfriend took care of me. I finally walked around downtown with them and saw the famous statue of the Slovenian poet who as a proper Slovenian also had a fucked up love life. He is together with his wife in the statue but he is looking somewhere else, where her muse used to be, or something like that.


This said, written on the Mexican Restaurant in Ljubljana summarizes and condenses all my feelings during the trip and still today.

AUGUST 8th: EVA

I want to dedicate this blog entry to my male readers ;-)

Eva was how Sohaila baptized Amanda’s GPS. Eva took us everywhere we needed to go. Graz Airport, Graz downtown, Maribor and of course back to the Amon Empire. While I was on the back seat of Amanda’s 4x4 car, about to fall asleep, and I heard Eva’s sexy voice talking indistinguishable words in Slovenian, I pictured Eva as the girl on the billboard that was covering some scaffolds in Graz downtown.


Considering that you could turn Eva off anytime you wanted and with that body… Eva was truly the perfect woman!

AUGUST 8th: Sohaila

It was our third day in Miami. We were a bunch of fresh international students overwhelmed with new emotions and at the same time so naive as to try to go to South Beach on the Metro Rail. "Fortunately" there was a self-elected shepherd for our flock of sheep. His name was Ali and thanks to the intense light coming from his distinctive fluorescent yellow tiny Speedo matching his yellow hat, there was no way he could have been missed.

By the time the twenty of us arrived to South Beach (took us almost 2 hours) it was so hot that even Mexican Mariano got sun sick. Most of the sheep decided to lay down next to the Baywatch hut, far from the shore. I took our shepherd's baton for a second to suggest that we should move as close as possible to the shore where it was probably breezier. The darkest German I have ever met after Chocolate German stretched her never ending legs and moved up a little bit while saying: "We are fine here, but you guys can go wherever you want". That kind of crisp answer was probably the only sentence that Sohaila and I exchanged in Miami.

Almost a year after we moved closer to the shore without Sohaila and her friends, Amanda and I were crossing the Slovenian-Austrian border to go pick up Sohalia at Graz tiny airport. Life puts me all the time in these situations. I love life.

By the time we arrived to Graz Airport and checked the Arrival Screens, we read that Sohaila's Ryan Air flight was delayed. Guess how late. TWO MINUTES! In Spain, in order to consider a flight delayed it has to be at least 30 minutes late. Quoting John Travolta's character in Pulp Fiction, "I love little (cultural) differences".

So Sohaila's electrifying hair showed up at the gate followed closely by the rest of her body. When Amanda warned Sohaila on the phone the day before that I would be around for a couple of days, Sohalia could not remember who I was. After a long and "jumpful" hug with Amanda she looked at me and said "Of course I remember José! Now I know who he is!". I resorted to one of my favorite Kevin Spacey's sentences in American Beauty: "Don't worry. I wouldn't remember me either."

Once again my first impression of someone was totally wrong. This Moroccan-German ended up being a lovely girl with a witty sense of humor. Amanda, Sohaila and I had two awesome days together and Amanda showed us around Graz(Austria), Maribor(Slovenia), a SPA nearby (SPA in Slovenian=SPeedo feAst) and of course the Amon Empire where we played golf and enjoyed the best food and delicatessens.

Even while we were waiting for almost one hour to get our food at that horrible Greek Restaurant in Graz (probably with Spanish employees), we had fun. Not to mention that it would have been way more fun if Amanda and Sohaila had wanted to follow my advice about DINE-AND-DASH at the restaurant.

Three days later, when I had to say goodbye to those two crazy girls I felt pretty sad. Amanda was an angel lending me her jacket that literally saved my life during my trip back home. In my last sentence with Sohaila I used another Spacey's quote later on the same movie, and I told her:"I think this time you are going to remember me".

AUGUST 7th: Frank Amon

The Amons would not stop surprising me. Amanda’s brother, Frank, and his rock band were playing that night. They have built a wood music room on top of the barn and they happened to be really good. Frank played guitar and two of his friends played base and drums. That night they were missing their singer so Amanda took care of the microphone and before we realized it was 4 in the morning!

And Yes! Believe it or not, Amanda made me sing! A Red Hot Chili Pepper’s song. Californication. And I know that for those of you, who have seen the famous Key Largo video of me embarrassing myself while trying to sing “Otherside”, will be hard, very hard to believe, but strange as it sounds, I didn't do it so bad!

Important note: If you haven’t seen yet the video where I embarrass myself, you should definitely click here: (See a video of Jose embarrassing himself)

Less important note: And if you want to know how I heard myself while Juliane was filming me, click here: (See a video of Jose thinking he sings good)

AUGUST 7th: Amanda
The day after hurricane Wilma hit Miami, twenty of the craziest internationals rented the last few cars available in Miami and started the so called “Amazing trip to Orlando”. During this trip I had the chance to get to know better some of my travel partners and some acquaintances became real friends. One of these people was Amanda. When you first meet Amanda you tend to think that she is the typical shallow explosive party girl. Nevertheless, once you spend some time with her, she happens to be completely the opposite. We were in Busch Gardens. Both of us, tired of roller coasters, went for a ride on the harmless merry-go-round. I was so sick and dizzy that I was about to fall off the stir-up less purple horse I was riding and Amanda was laughing at me so hard that she was about to fall too. I was having as much fun as if I was with one of my buddies, and it was then when I realized that my first impression of her was completely wrong.

I spent a very nice evening at Ljubljana's castle with Kim, Lina and Matja. Then Kim, who arranged my visit to Amada’s, gave me a ride to the railway station and according to Amanda’s directions that Kim wrote down on a tiny post-it, after two trains I would arrive to a tiny village in Eastern Slovenia called Grobelno where Amanda would come to pick me up.

The train was about to arrive to Grobelno when the conductor who checked my ticket some minutes before came to my seat looking for me with the best of his smiles to let me know that the next station was my stop. His English sounded kind of Russian-style to me :”HERRRRE JOU OUTTTT” he said, while pointing with his index finger to the incoming station.

The train stopped completely. I looked for a second through the train window and there she was. Amanda was standing at the main platform. The same blackoholic explosive South Beach party girl addicted to high-heels and organic food with the sexiest cowboy gait ever. A rainbow drawn on the sky was welcoming me while I was hopping off the train. Amanda hadn’t seen me yet. The train, about to leave the station, was between us. Then the train left, I crossed the railways and we hugged and laughed again as if we were still on that merry-go-round in Busch Gardens.

We drove in her 4x4 while I listened for the first time to that awesome Dirty Diana remix that became the soundtrack of our next days in Eastern Slovenia and Austria. After some minutes we arrived to the most amazing leisure-food complex I have ever been. And I have been to many places (Click here if you wanna check my catamaran ibiza travel web page). A family business that offers a 9-hole golf court, live music, orgasmic/organic food and breathtaking wine from their own winery. As an example I will say that what I loved the most what one of the specialties of the house, the mushroom soup, and the ironic thing is that I hate mushrooms. Amanda was the princess at what I called the “Amon Empire” and I felt treated like a king. I had my own sloping ceiling suite with bathroom, cable TV etc, as much food as I wanted and what I loved the most: I could sleep until noon everyday!

During my first night at the Amon empire, after a 3 dish dinner, we had such a nice Miami-Pag catch up for a long time. I felt so welcomed and conformable as if I was in my own house so we kept talking and talking while I was thinking how incredibly humble Amanda and her family was. Most people would have probably shown off if they had had anything close to what Amanda’s family has. And humility is not such a common virtue nowadays.

AUGUST 6th: Dalmatian Sunset



Unfortunately we had to leave Pag, so Kim, Matja, Lina and me took Kim’s car, got the ferry and then drove all the way to Ljubljana. I was so dead that I sat on the back seat planning to take a siesta for the whole trip. I don’t wanna be cheesy or corny but the sunset was so breathtaking that kept me awake for most of the trip. People who know me are aware of what a siesta worshipper I am. These pictures are far from being as awesome as the real view was, but at least you guys can get an idea of what I am talking about.

AUGUST 5th: Friendship


Simone – Klemen – Kim – Luna - the old man
Matja – Lav – Lina
(Just missing Anne Chocolate German who probably already left to blow her hair and Ziga who was probably killing some shots)

This is the picture that summarizes our days in Pag. A bunch of happy people having fun.

AUGUST 4th-6th: Juliane (our Godmother and secretary)

Even though Juliane was not physically in Pag, her Godmother spirit was with us all the time. I cracked up when Lav told me how he made her so drunk the week before that when Juliane stood up she staggered and almost fell down.

Whenever we were at the table ready to have dinner and Lav was counting the number of travarica shots we wanted (or not) before even ordering the food (jedan, dva, tri, četiri, pet, šest, sedam, osam…), we missed Juliane taking notes.

Whenever we needed to do each one's share of the bill, we missed Juliane.

Whenever we needed someone to be “ham and cheese” to dance with and bend her over “Iñigo-Tony Style”, we missed Juliane. (see fig 1)

In short, we missed you, Juliane.

And did you think I was going to forget to post my favorite picture of you? Hahahaha!!!

Check the guy’s orgasmic face! PRICELESS!!!

Quoting Iñigo "¡Una tía de puta madre!" = "This girl is the fucking shit!"

AUGUST 4th: Simone

It has happened to me before that I saw a movie at the theater and I loved it so much that I couldn’t wait until it was released on DVD to see it and enjoy it again (Now I just download them from the internet). Most of the times, when you see the movie again, you like it as much as you liked it the first time you saw it. Unfortunately, there are some movies that are not the same when you see them for a second time and you spoil the good memories.

Let’s say that Simone was a movie whose memories I really didn’t want to spoil and there were lots of Miami good memories at stake.

It was my favorite time of the day, siesta time, and we were all lying down on the beach. I was dealing with a horrible hangover. The Dalmatian rocks already drew a Roman mosaic on my back so I tossed and turned a couple times trying to find a better position. I was struggling to fall into Morpheus’ arms but the uncomfortable feeling of rocks sinking in my flesh and drawing a new tattoo on my stomach and my chest and even my face was making Morpheus’ work harder than usual. Then I saw out of the corner of my eye someone coming to sit next to me. That "jamona" disctint silhoutte was very familiar. It was Simone. We chatted for about an hour and it was such a nice catch up. It was really cool that she came to talk to me because that conversation completely dissolved the little bit of pent-up tension existing between us after by the Vienna situation. So, all the good memories from the good times in Miami were safe and MSL and me were ready again to add new ones.

AUGUST 3rd: Luna

During our last days in Miami, when any of us was leaving for good, the rest of the remaining friends did whatever the leaving one wanted as a farewell gift. It was kind of the last wish of a prisoner sentenced to death. Simone was not an exception and the night before her departure back to Austria we all went for dinner to a great teppanyaki restaurant somewhere in Kendall. On top of the great food, my secretary Juliane paid my bill (I’ll give her a raise soon if she keeps treating me like that). After such a food orgy we were ready to add some alcohol on top of that food, as usual. We couldn’t find any bars open around so we made an alcohol stop at CVS to get some supplies and we headed for Lav’s place. After some “long-cuts” we arrived a little bit later than expected and we took over the Bernfests’ living room. We were drinking beers and watching basketball on TV when Luna and her friend came in the apartment. Lav introduced the group at once from his seat. While Luna said “Hi” to us with a shy voice, she smiled with one those little embarrassment smiles and I think that she even blushed slightly. It was less than a second, but enough to tell. I love people whose feelings betray traditional social manners.

When Luna first saw me at our camp she introduced herself and I said “Yes, I know who you are. We met briefly at your place” and she answered “but you guys were so many that I don’t remember anyone”. Even before she finished her sentence, the same kind of shy smile appeared on her face, again for less than a second. Ever since that moment I felt a special connection between us that grew through time, reaching the point where her mere presence made me feel happy.

Luna is probably the only non muslim person in the world that observes Ramadan, a very particular one, since she allows herself to drink alcohol and water, but instead of eating after dusk, she just does not eat whatsoever. Not even one bite she had during the days we spent in Pag and she was planning to keep it for 10 days in a row.

I remember how during the real Ramadan most of my muslin friends in Spain look so pale, almost yellowish. They have enormous eye rings and they just lay down for the whole day until dusk when they eat like crazy. Nevertheless, Luna had so much energy the whole time, especially by night, like if she got it from the Moonlight (luz de luna). She could drink and dance like a hurricane for hours. This ascetic girl had more energy herself than most of her eating partners and such a will power that she joined us for dinner every night, she saw us eating right next to her, but she wouldn’t eat anything.

The second night in Pag, after having dinner in Novalja (everyone except for her) we were on our way to get the cars to drive back to the camping. We stopped in front of a seesaw and everyone jumped on except for Luna and me who were walking a little bit behind. There was a tiny space by the seesaw fulcrum and Lav exclaimed “Come on guys, join us!”, “Come On! The oldest and the youngest!” Lav’s sentence made me think how until that moment I hadn’t felt any age gap between Luna and me and I didn’t feel any for the rest of the trip. On the contrary, when she was teaching me the golden rule of a camper “zip it before you fold it” or when she was buying me some ice cream, I felt that she was the mature one.

Luna was the cherry on top of my Pag cake. We had a tent connection, a travarica connection, a pillow connection and even a FKK beach morning walk connection and the only thing I regret is not having had more time in Pag.

AUGUST 3rd: Kim

It was my first day of class in Miami and I was late as usual. Finding a place called “Dooley Memorial” while dealing with a Coconut Grove hangover together with 3 hours of sleep seemed to me like an unachievable goal. Ten minutes after the French 101 class started I opened the door of the classroom while trying to be as silent as possible in order to remain anonymous. I sat on the closest desk to the door. A few seconds later someone who was even later than me noisily burst onto the classroom and sat right behind me. She was a tall cute Slovenian girl with a smiley face, but let’s be honest, it was not her face but something else what immediately drew my attention to her ;-) Since I took some French at high school (in the fifties or so) the Moorish looking professor named “Amol” made me move to French 102 and it is so ironic how I though that I would probably never see this Kim girl again. Almost exactly a year after that day I was crashing at her parents’ in Ljubljana and we were making plans to go on a ski trip in 2007.

When I hopped off Klemen’s grandma’s tiny Mercedes class A, Courtney-Love Kim jumped on me, squeezed me and kissed me all over. It was like when we used to meet at Hooligan’s or the Grove back in Miami. Actually that is exactly how I felt. I felt back in Miami (except for pack Anjuli). A dream come true. The same good vibes. My Miami friends ready to get drunk and party non stop for the next 3 nights and 3 days. I experienced the same excitement and euphoria that I used to have right after getting into Hooligan’s and finding my friends around a table with a couple of pitchers bursting with beer. The only difference was that instead of having 25 cents cheap transparent beer, we had evil Travarica, 2 bottles of Absinthe and some Bacardi. 3 shots of Travarica would have been more than enough to knock us out for the whole night, but we took care of the entire bottle plus 5-6 rounds of Heinekens at the club in Zrce.


I wish I could write more about this exciting first night in Pag, but I blacked out right after Klemen’s sister, Lina, played bumper cars with Kim’s two week old Peugeot 207 while trying to move her grandma’s car closer to our table so we could listen to some music. My next reliable memories were waking up Klemen in order to get my isolating map from his car so I could extend it inside the Bernfests’ tent and finally go to sleep after being awake for almost 24 hours.


This is why Kim is Courtney Love.
I love you Kim!

AUGUST 3rd: Klemen (Clemente)

When I was in Miami I would have said that Klemen was one my friends but he was probably not the closest one. We shared some of our best friends and that gave us the chance to hang out more time than we would have probably done by ourselves.


However, when we hugged on the docks, I felt that I was hugging one of my real close friends and that is how it has been ever since that moment. And even after he left Pag and went to Vienna, he was concerned about who could I crash with while I was in Slovenia. That was very nice of him, especially considering that I am not a girl and I don’t speak German. Although as Humphrey Bogart said to Ingrid Bergman in Casablanca "We will always have Brokeback Mountain" hahaha!

But it was not just Lav & Klemen waiting for me. They brought a bottle of an evil Croatian Brandy made of herbs called Travarica. Tequila was like water compared to this Croatian concoction that roughly reminded me to some Grappa I drank once in my first trip to the Greek islands.

I had not had any food ever since the last bite I gave to that tasty Pulp Fiction-ish “Royale with Cheese” burger that I had devoured at Ljubljana railway station several hours ago. So the shots of Travarica together with the euphoria of meeting my friends had an immediate “I love the world” effect on me and by the time we arrived to the camping we three were considerably tipsy.

AUGUST 3rd: Lav

Back in Miami, I once asked Anjuli what the meaning of the word “obnoxious” was. She answered with one word: “LAV”. I acknowledge that this is usually the first impression that some people might get when they first meet this Croatian-American guy with New Zealand passport. However, when you really get to know him, you find out that there is much more behind that façade of immature soccer addict hyperactive smiley guy. He is the example of a positive Karma. He only has fun when everybody else around him is having fun. He is always ready to give you a ride or to do you a favor without expecting anything else in return. Unfortunately, nowadays that is kind of rare. He is the type of guy that when you are blind drunk is standing right in front of you, with a smile on his face and putting a fresh new beer in your hand. And apart from me, he is the only person I know, that not only listens to Led Zeppelin on a regular bases, but also knows by hard the lyrics of Stairway to Heaven and even knows how the album cover looks. When Simone told me once that she didn’t like me when I was with Lav because of how we acted together, I actually took it as a compliment. And for the record, Simone loves Lav and she will always remember how Lav’s eyes were watery at her farewell, her last night in Miami.

Both the rain falling from that dammed cloud that I couldn’t put out of the scent ever since I woke up in Austria that morning, and the fifteen minute ferry ride came to an end. After a total of 12 hours I was finally in Pag. Apart from the crew, I was the only pedestrian on board. Eager to meet my friends, I walked sideways along the deck that was bursting with just started noisy cars. Once on dry land and leading the car parade coming out from the ferry, in the distance I could make out two figures that looked like Lav and Klemen. Since I was against the dock lights I recognized them before and I started giggling and shouting “CHAVALES!” Then I saw Lav running towards me. It was just like in an 80’s Sunday afternoon HBO romantic comedy movie with a happy ending. I dropped my bag and my isolating mat and started running towards Lav. We both jumped and hugged in the air. After landing he threw me up a couple of extra times while he was speaking 5000 words per second. Later on that night I heard through the grapevine that he was rehearsing the way he was going to welcome me.

AUGUST 3rd: Candy Man

When I hopped off the bus in Senj I was completely delighted by the Dalmatian coast country side I had the chance to admire from my window seat on the last row of the bus. The sun already set and there was a twilight that united in one the silver Dalmatian sea and the sky.

The only place that looked open besides “Karmen fast food” was a Candy shop that had a handwritten sign saying something kind of “tourist information”. The mouthwatering smell of candy reminded me that my stomach was as empty as my chances of finding any public transportation to Pag at that time. I walked to the end of the shop and I tried to talk to the grey haired early 50 year old guy behind the counter. He No English – Me No Croatian. Stuck again with idiomatic problems I skewed at some magazine in Italian on top of the table and from the top of my lungs I shouted “ITALIANO!” Candy man gave me a hint of a smile and said “Sí, ma solamente un po’” (“yes but only a little”). Enough to make ourselves understood. This situation made me resort to my rusty Italian and for what I understood I was pretty much fucked up. The last bus to Pag left 30 minutes before and there was no more public transportation to anywhere included in Lav’s list (Zrce, Novaoja, Pag, Zadar) until next morning.

I called Lav who overwhelmed me with 1000 words per second on the phone as usual. I hardly understood that it was such a “mission” to come to Senj to get me because all the cars were on the island and they would have to use the ferry plus drive almost one hour just to get me, but that anyways Klemen and him were offering to do it.

While I was struggling to kind of understand some words from Lav’s verbal diarrhea I was able to hear a huge bustle on the background. People having fun. My UM friends. That made my heart beat even faster than Lav’s speech and I knew that I had to make it to Pag that night at all costs. It was a priceless night of party and debauchery with my friends what was at stake!

I stared at Candy man experienced eyes and I said to him one of the most international words “TAXI!” “Ho bisogno di un TAXI”, “I need a cab”. Candy man said in his poor Italian “For 400 kuna I’ll be your taxi driver and anything you want me to be”. I plunged my hand in my “kuna pocket” and I got my 300 remaining kuna (about 40 Euro) and I said “Dude, that’s all I have”. The guy took all the kuna monopoly-like bills and even the coins and exclaimed “ANDIAMO!” while he was speeding up to lock his Candy store.

Two minutes later I was shotgun at Candy man’s 80’s Fiat with rosaries hanging from the rear view mirror and the framed photo booth pictures of Candy woman and Candy kids attached to the dash. While I was trying to get use to the rancid smell that flooded Candy man’s car I called Lav again who gave my chauffeur instructions on the phone about where to go. However Candy man had his own pre-thought strategy. He explained to me that he was friends with the bus driver that left for Pag 30 minutes before us and that he was planning to catch that bus on the way and make him pull over so I could jump in. In order to accomplish this mission Candy Man was driving like it was the end of the world, English style, always on the left lane! I was giggling most of the time and Candy man while trying to calm me down. He confessed that when he was young he always wanted to be a F1 racer and that he knew that road like the back of his hand. Very reassuring.

The road, curvier than Shakira’s body, was getting twister and twister. The hanging rosaries were swinging violently from one side to the other indicating the direction of the curve and as a pendulum counting down the time to get to Pag. Up to three times we passed between an oncoming car and the car we were passing. Candy “suicide driver” man, not pleased with honking at the poor oncoming drivers who were probably shitting their pants while trying to pull over, also insulted and yelled at them in Italian “BASTARDI!” The only thing I could come up with every time we went between cars was “BRAVO!” However most of my “bravos” were entombed by the screeching of the poor Fiat’s brakes and the noise of the engine working on the red arch of the revolution counter that could only breathe when rarely Candy man shifted one gear up.

Surprisingly Candy man couldn’t hunt his bus driver friend and even more surprisingly, against all odds, we made it safely to the docks. After all, those 300 kuna were so much worth it because I hadn’t had an adrenaline shot so strong since I ran with the bulls in Pamplona last month and this time I didn't have to wake up at painful 6 in the morning. (Click here to See pictures from Pamplona and the bulls)


While I was on the ferry I realized that in the last 48 hours I had used all kind of means of transportation: 2 planes, 2 cars, 3 trains, 1 bus and 1 boat.







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AUGUST 3rd: Ziga and the corrupted Croatian bus driver

After last summer in San Francisco I couldn’t agree more with Mark Twain when he said that “The coldest winter I have ever spent was a summer in San Francisco”. However I would bet anything that Mark Twain never spent a summer in Austria. It was so freaking cold the morning I left that I felt stupid for not having any long sleeves sweater or a rain coat. Besides all this, I still think that University of Miami Cosford Cinema is the coldest place on Earth followed closely by the Wellness Center.

After 3 trains and 2 countries (Austria and Slovenia) I arrived to Rijeka, a city by the Croatian coast. At last it was a little bit warmer but the rain was still my annoying and continuous travel partner. Celebrating my arrival a huge thunderstorm took place in downtown Rijeka. It was kind of Miami type. Even traffic stopped for some minutes and I found shelter together with other backpackers inside a tiny market that reminded me those existing in Spain 20 years ago.

Until Rijeka my trip was absolutely planned, but let’s say that once in Rijeka I was in hands of fate. So I walked the kilometer between the railway station and the bus station and I exchanged some Kunas, the Croatian currency.

At that moment I had Euros and US Dollars in my front pockets (I always carry some green money when I travel cuz sometimes comes handy). In my back pockets I had thousands of Slovenian Tollars and the 350 Kunas that I got for 50 Euro (it was probably a rip off).

I have experienced that in Europe the more South you get, the less language skills people have. Croatia was not an exception (not to mention Spain). I was trying to ask someone at Rijeka’s bus station how to get to Pag, and apparently they were trying to tell me that there were no more buses until next morning. Somehow it was not a surprise. I need to keep reminding myself that once I leave Spain people have earlier schedules. Even though I still think that 6:00 pm is way too early for not having more buses to anywhere except for SENJ.

Senj, a beautiful tiny coastal village encrusted in the rocky Croatian coast, was only half way to Pag, my final destination.

At that point I decided to call my friends, but Lav didn’t answer and Klemen’s phone was answered by this guy called Ziga. I asked him which was my best option to get to Pag that night and stammering he said that he had no idea and that he was actually pretty drunk and in his own words “he was not reliable at all to give me any helping information”.

Ziga was Klemen’s friend and the guy with the highest alcohol tolerance I have ever met. The guy was so cool and I almost ended up staying a couple of extra days with him in Pag.

I saw the bus to Senj out the corner of my eye. It was already moving. Playing “Hop Scotch” with the few dry spaces between rain puddles that were all over the place I finally landed in the way of the bus. The bus driver jammed on the brakes and stared at me. His “are you fucking crazy” gaze made me draw the best of my smiles on my face and my “please let me in” gestures, including hands in praying position, were immediately understood because the guy opened the bus door right away. He took that face to face opportunity to keep telling me off, verbally this time. The language barrier cushioned his Croatian swearwords while I was trying to explain to him that on top of all that, I didn’t have any bus ticket. Since the language barrier was becoming an insurmountable obstacle I decided to do what German tourists used to do in Spain before having Euros. I took my wad of fresh and just exchanged Kunas and extended it on the back of my hand while offering the bus driver to pick one, as if it was a card trick. The Queen of Hearts of my deck, the 50 kuna bill, was the chosen one. Completely expected. The guy didn’t give me any receipt and he put the money in his pocket right away, but considering that 50 kunas is not even 7 euros and given the circumstances, I think we were even.

AUGUST 1st- 2nd: DEWA

After working in Madrid for few years I had the best idea in my life – GETTING A SECOND BACHELOR’S DEGREE – Translation and Interpreting at University of Granada. In order to access straight to the 3rd year I had to pass two language exams and I chose Italian as my 2nd foreign language. In one month I had to learn one language from scratch so the last two weeks of August 2004, I moved to Florence and signed up in a language school for 6 hours of class a day. This Austrian girl with Hindu name, Dewa, was my classmate during the last two hours everyday, and those were always the best two hours of class.

I landed in Salzburg and while I was staying in the line to ask about schedules of buses for my way back, Dewa showed up right behind me apologizing for being 5 minutes late (these central European people dunno what is to be late).

Her hair was a little bit darker but besides of that, she was exactly the same organic vegetarian naturalistic smiley karma gorgeous girl that I met two years ago in Florence. And still the only girl I know that can pee quicker than me.

She had left her job in a summer camp somewhere around Innsbruck just to hang out with me for a couple of days.

We drove in her charismatic car from Salzburg to Klagenfurt catching up of the last two years and right after the first minutes it was like we were back in Florence again. She confessed that we were carrying some cows' brains in a cooler on the back seat. She was planning to use to create some leather out of some deer fur. Because of that fact, we didn’t sleep in the middle of the woods as she initially planned and we finally made it to her parents’ in Klagenfurt.

Next morning we toured around downtown under the rain and we swam to the middle of lake “Worthersee”. Considering the weather at that moment, most girls I know would have been whining about cold and not willing to swim whatsoever. Nevertheless, Dewa didn’t hesitate one second and jumped in the surprising warm water of the Worthersee.


After the nice swim, we drove through the forests where we pulled over to play to the brain-picture game, a challenge for your senses. Then we climbed to a castle were a bird show was taking place. The owl, Eulalia, was the star of the show.

Considering that Dewa is the only person I know, older than 15 and younger than 70 that has not a cell phone because she does not want to have one, and that we hadn’t seen each other in two years I think we did a pretty good job meeting again. The only thing I regret is that it was too short. I can’t wait to see her again and somehow I know it will happen sooner or later.

AUGUST 1st: JULIAN BOURNE

Two Spring semesters ago my Technical Translation professor took 0.5 points away of my final grade because in the final exam, consisting in translating the user’s manual for a toaster, I translated “dele la vuelta” as “turn it over” instead as his preferred option “put it upside down”.

I was still picking up my passport from the hand of the policeman at the passport control booth of Granada’s tiny airport when I heard someone shouting at me “Hombre!”, “Hombre!” It was him, Julian Bourne, my professor, who of course didn’t remember my name and that made him resort to such a typical Spanish standard way of calling someone.

There he was, with his casual outfit that sometimes borders on outlandish and his chaotic hair as if he had just been “upside down”. Unmistakable.

As my friend Anjuli would say, we were both “ryan-air-ing it” to London-Stansted and after some minutes of nice conversation declining to small talk about the weather I decided to put an end to it and visit the men’s room for a last leak before the flight. When I came out from the restrooms he was already mingling with the people at the line to enter the gate which actually freed my mind of new topics of conversation for the next 2 hours.

PROLOGUE

During my last weeks as a professional student in Miami, people kept asking me what was what I liked or enjoyed the most in Miami and I used to answer that it was the people I met there throughout the year, my friends, and not the place itself what made me spend definitely the best year of my life.

This is why in this blog I am describing all the places I visited through the people I shared them with, because it was these people, my friends, who made those places special. Somehow I hope that with this blog I could pay back all of them for their hospitality and generosity.

I also want to dedicate this blog to Doug-Alberto, my American friend from UM and from Granada, who inspired me with his blog Alquiler Catamaran en Ibiza you can also check the English version of boat charter Ibiza about his study-abroad life in Granada and gave me the chance to live vicariously through his blog that extraordinary experience that is studying abroad and travel.