I've been to the entrance to Bone Club Hotel three times now.
The first time, I told myself that the security guy was tired; He simply didn't let me get close to reception no matter what I did. It took me half an hour to convince him that I HAD to get to reception to ask one question.
The second time was today. I met the day shift (different people, some of the smiling) and I managed to leave a hand-written message for whenever Si arrived (yes, they confirmed she checked in).
Now, I've simply been thrown out, in a polite fashion-of course. WTF is this?!? Guys, I had a pre-payed reservation there. Here's a hint: if you throw out your paying customers, they'll stop comming to you. More than that, they'll put stories on the internet about you; true stories, about how you throw customers out, for no reason at all.
Maybe it was a matter of communication. Maybe they didn't like my look? But WTF?!? I was supposed to sleep there tonight, and instead wasn't even offered a place to wait for Si.
My friends (and casual readers, and people who reached this post by mistake, and all the internet): don't go to bone club hotel! You can't get in unless you speak Russian (I've checked with English, German, Italian and Romanian). Once you do get in*, you'll be ... err ... politely asked to go away - yes, even when you have a reservation (Es tut mir leid, aber jetzt mussen leider Gehen!).
* - To get in, simply stop people as they pass in front of the hotel, ask them if they speak German, English or Italian, then ask them to translate to the Turkish-Russian Security guy that you must (as in any normal hotel) speak to reception.
Saturday, September 29
Thursday, September 27
priorities
So ... yeah ... it's a quarter to twelve AM (almost Friday), and I just got to Alanya.
I need to find some place to sleep, need to find Si (stil not sure if she was coming over today or tomorrow) and I desperately need a shower or three, and what do I do?
Enter the first internet cafe, to check if any new comments appeared on my pictures on flickr, of course!
Damn priorities!
I need to find some place to sleep, need to find Si (stil not sure if she was coming over today or tomorrow) and I desperately need a shower or three, and what do I do?
Enter the first internet cafe, to check if any new comments appeared on my pictures on flickr, of course!
Damn priorities!
Monday, September 24
hidden beauty
Camera: NIKON D50
Timestamp: Fri Sep 21 19:18:15 2007
Shutter: 1/160 s
Aperture: F1.8
ISO speed: 400
Focal length: 50.0 mm
Focal length in 35mm equivalent: 75.0 mm
Lens: 50mm F1.8
EXIF data read by exiv2 0.15
Postprocessing done with the GIMP
J&S
Camera: NIKON D50
Timestamp: Fri Sep 21 17:08:28 2007
Shutter: 1/30 s
Aperture: F5.6
ISO speed: 400
Focal length: 55.0 mm
Focal length in 35mm equivalent: 82.0 mm
Lens: 18-55mm F3.5-5.6
EXIF data read by exiv2 0.15
Postprocessing done with the GIMP
on being creative, the smart way
Here is an excellent piece on being creative, the smart way. From the article:
No further comments necessary :)
Companies that squelch creativity can no longer compete with companies that champion creativity.
Nor can you bully a subordinate into becoming a genius.
Since the modern, scientifically-conceived corporation was invented in the early half of the Twentieth Century, creativity has been sacrificed in favor of forwarding the interests of the "Team Player".
Fair enough. There was more money in doing it that way; that's why they did it.
There's only one problem. Team Players are not very good at creating value on their own. They are not autonomous; they need a team in order to exist.
So now corporations are awash with non-autonomous thinkers.
"I don't know. What do you think?"
"I don't know. What do you think?"
"I don't know. What do you think?"
"I don't know. What do you think?"
"I don't know. What do you think?"
"I don't know. What do you think?"
And so on.
Creating an economically viable entity where lack of original thought is handsomely rewarded creates a rich, fertile environment for parasites to breed. And that's exactly what's been happening. So now we have millions upon millions of human tapeworms thriving in the Western World, making love to their Powerpoint presentations, feasting on the creativity of others.
What happens to an ecology, when the parasite level reaches critical mass?
The ecology dies.
If you're creative, if you can think independantly, if you can articulate passion, if you can override the fear of being wrong, then your company needs you now more than it ever did. And now your company can no longer afford to pretend that isn't the case.
So dust off your horn and start tooting it. Exactly.
No further comments necessary :)
Saturday, September 22
update
Well ... the Kami of the Ethernetz hasn't smiled down on me in a while: I wasn't able to post anything lately (no L., I didn't die - sorry about that!).
I've reached halfway on my journey (so to speak): I'm in BistriĊ£a. I've met my friends and today evening we're having a small party (my official reason for the trip), and in two days I'll be on the road again, back to Cyprus.
I can't wait :D
I've reached halfway on my journey (so to speak): I'm in BistriĊ£a. I've met my friends and today evening we're having a small party (my official reason for the trip), and in two days I'll be on the road again, back to Cyprus.
I can't wait :D
Friday, September 14
By the Sea
We just came back from the sea (2 Mai). It was a few days filled with beer, good food, a deserted sea-side and some cold weather (I'm underdressed for this weather :().
Ether way, here are some pictures (some of them are family pictures though):
Ether way, here are some pictures (some of them are family pictures though):
Tuesday, September 11
at home
Well ... after 1900+ km and four days on the road, I'm in Bucharest, safe and (not mentally) sound. R and D picked me from the border at Giurgiu and lead me through Bucharest.
On the road I kept a logbook of random impressions. I will try to post some of them in the following days, but (again) I'm not sure when that will be: tomorrow we're going through the country for a few days.
On the road I kept a logbook of random impressions. I will try to post some of them in the following days, but (again) I'm not sure when that will be: tomorrow we're going through the country for a few days.
Sunday, September 9
random impressions
Well ... I don't have time to stay ... I still have two hours of light to travel through ... or something like that ...
I will post some more soon, but for now, here are some random impressions:
First, there was a definite lack of burning bushes in both dirrections, so I chose for myself: I picked the trucks road (the other one was mountain road, full of holes and curves).
The Customs in Tasucu is full of frogs. I mean, the grass in front of the cutoms office is, and they all come out after dark.
There's something that the Turkish people beat the Cypriot people at, hands-down: putting garlic into food; I mean ... the Turks do, the Cypriots, don't. Cypriots should learn!
The Turks answer the phone by saying
Turkish hospitality rules. Especially since they don't do it to sell you stuff. I was invited for tea at a gas-station in the middle of nowhere, just to take a break ... well ... a tea and sign-language conversation :)
The worst decision for this trip was getting the saddlebags I got. They were held by crappy zippers (Zippers for Pete's sake!). On a bump (or another) last night, I lost the right-hand-side saddlebag as the zipper died peacefully and so went all my tools to tool heaven (I don't even have a key).
As a result, I moved all the spares in the other saddlebag into my backpack and ditched the bag: it was just breaking my balance.
Crappy saddlebags!
I will post some more soon, but for now, here are some random impressions:
First, there was a definite lack of burning bushes in both dirrections, so I chose for myself: I picked the trucks road (the other one was mountain road, full of holes and curves).
The Customs in Tasucu is full of frogs. I mean, the grass in front of the cutoms office is, and they all come out after dark.
There's something that the Turkish people beat the Cypriot people at, hands-down: putting garlic into food; I mean ... the Turks do, the Cypriots, don't. Cypriots should learn!
What would you like as a main course, sir?(I had picked four kinds of salad, bread, butter and watermellon).
I'ma vegetarian - this is my main course
The Turks answer the phone by saying
Efendi?
Turkish hospitality rules. Especially since they don't do it to sell you stuff. I was invited for tea at a gas-station in the middle of nowhere, just to take a break ... well ... a tea and sign-language conversation :)
The worst decision for this trip was getting the saddlebags I got. They were held by crappy zippers (Zippers for Pete's sake!). On a bump (or another) last night, I lost the right-hand-side saddlebag as the zipper died peacefully and so went all my tools to tool heaven (I don't even have a key).
As a result, I moved all the spares in the other saddlebag into my backpack and ditched the bag: it was just breaking my balance.
Crappy saddlebags!
Saturday, September 8
In customs
I'm Äħn Customs. Some people are carpenters, some are singers, or computer programmers, or insurance agents; I'm in customs.
This is what I do, and I'm happy with it.
I've been in customs, for three hours and ten minutes (and 55...56...57 seconds), but who's counting, right?
I mean ... not me!
We arrived in Tasucu around six, then my whole life changed: we arrived in customs.
I've walked to and fro, to get a stamp on the passport, then to get a visa (I thought they were the same thing, but you learn something new every day), then to pay an 18YTL tax on the motorbike (it might have been a road-tax, or a processing tax, or a "your bike is orange" tax - I'm not sure, I don't speak the language).
Now, I'm waiting for the guy who ran away with my passport and motorbike registration to come back, hopefully with a new insurance.
I can't blame them (they're solving my insurance problem and I don't see anything wrong with that).
One more thing: on the ferry, I had a nice conversation with a 30-years-of-experience truck driver.
The conversation was interesting, in that he didn't speak English (nor Romanian, Italian or German for that matter), and I didn't speak Turkish.
Also, it was interesting as it was translated by Tarik, 19, who for some reason or another got it in his head that he would convert me to Islam, but I digress.
As a result of this conversation, I have a (theoretical for now) new route, that's supposed to be shorter by a couple of hundred kilometers, and have a better road.
I'm in no position to decide though, not until I get a local map, a good night's sleep, something to eat and a divine sign.
A burning bush will do :)
This is what I do, and I'm happy with it.
I've been in customs, for three hours and ten minutes (and 55...56...57 seconds), but who's counting, right?
I mean ... not me!
We arrived in Tasucu around six, then my whole life changed: we arrived in customs.
I've walked to and fro, to get a stamp on the passport, then to get a visa (I thought they were the same thing, but you learn something new every day), then to pay an 18YTL tax on the motorbike (it might have been a road-tax, or a processing tax, or a "your bike is orange" tax - I'm not sure, I don't speak the language).
Now, I'm waiting for the guy who ran away with my passport and motorbike registration to come back, hopefully with a new insurance.
I can't blame them (they're solving my insurance problem and I don't see anything wrong with that).
One more thing: on the ferry, I had a nice conversation with a 30-years-of-experience truck driver.
The conversation was interesting, in that he didn't speak English (nor Romanian, Italian or German for that matter), and I didn't speak Turkish.
Also, it was interesting as it was translated by Tarik, 19, who for some reason or another got it in his head that he would convert me to Islam, but I digress.
As a result of this conversation, I have a (theoretical for now) new route, that's supposed to be shorter by a couple of hundred kilometers, and have a better road.
I'm in no position to decide though, not until I get a local map, a good night's sleep, something to eat and a divine sign.
A burning bush will do :)
Friday, September 7
ferry
"Excuse me sir, is the ferry circulating today?"fifteen minutes later ...
We're stilll waiting for the weather report
"Hi, is the ferry circulating today?"twenty minutes later ...
Please wait ten more minutes sir
"Is the ferry circulating today?"The people are bored here and I get the feeling I made a sensation when I appeared: the only one wearing a jacket, hair standing in all directions, wet T-shirt and all and running from place to place, asking questions.
Please wait ten minutes more
Around fourty minutes later, they stopped paying attention to me; the way I figure, they either got bored, either got discrete, or I didn't to anything interesting enough to keep entertaining.
Either way ...
After I settled down (nothing was happening anywhere around, so I got bord also) there was some agitation and some guy held a long discourse (in Turkish :(), then they all started buying tickets like crazy, so I figured I feel lucky today!
Then, I was pulled aside by the guy I tortured with all my questions, and explained that the boat they're taking, the Express, is a small catamaran, not able to take motorbikes along, but there will be a ferry leavign around 12:30, for Anamur (93Km, according to Google Earth).
I'm set :)
On a side note, I'm in Girne, Northern Cyprus, in a net caffee, leaving in ten minutes, for the port.
On another side note, all of you guys sitting in the office right now, I'm thinking of you while I'm enjoying myself :P
Wednesday, September 5
an Article About Radical Honesty
The article talks about it, by example. It tells about telling people in the face you're attracted to them, about telling a little kid their pet bug is dead, and saying you don't like received gifts to people's faces (for just a few examples).
Even so, something about it calls to me (In truth, I want to be honest but I'm too afraid for it and lying comes automatically to me).
I tell myself it's not compulsory lying - it's giving diplomatic answers, not answering my messenger when people look for me and I simply don't feel like speaking to them and not telling the truth when people ask things of me I don't want to give.
OK, maybe it is compulsory lying and I don't really want to stop doing it: if I wanted to, I'd probably do it.
I think I'll buy the guy's book and read it: if it has good enough reasons, maybe I'll convince
Even so, something about it calls to me (In truth, I want to be honest but I'm too afraid for it and lying comes automatically to me).
I tell myself it's not compulsory lying - it's giving diplomatic answers, not answering my messenger when people look for me and I simply don't feel like speaking to them and not telling the truth when people ask things of me I don't want to give.
OK, maybe it is compulsory lying and I don't really want to stop doing it: if I wanted to, I'd probably do it.
I think I'll buy the guy's book and read it: if it has good enough reasons, maybe I'll convince
my reasoningto give it a go.
search keywords for my blog
Well ... according to blogcounter, here are some of the keywords (the weird ones) that my blog is found through, on google:
- blue lagoon multitouch - I'm not even sure what to think about that.
- random relationship throughts - She's not for you, really! You really really don't fit well together! (is that random enough?)
- open letter to eurosport I don't write them any more ... Infact, I never did, sorry!
- bada bim bada bam ... ummm ... bada boom?
- what's next to the oil filter on a motorbike Well ... duh! ... The Motorbike!
- picture of something tender I refuse to draw a conclusion from this!
- againg andg againg andg againg!
- how far can you fly well ... depends on what you smoke, I guess .. I haven't tried though, so I wouldn't know.
Tuesday, September 4
a change in location
In a project's life cycle, it is said that after you finished 90% of the development cycle, you're left with the other 90%.
Over the last few days, I've discovered that the same applies when you leave a place you've spent over three years working in:
I (almost) finished the papers, formalities, interviews and everything else I could conceive of.
Well ... everything I could conceive of, until sometimes last week; then, there came the un-official tasks: cleaning my office computer (as I really didn't want to leave my un-processed pictures on the company computer, nor my email authenticated sessions, browsing history and all that), sorting and moving the junk from my office desk to my home, sending my friends some new contact information, getting some references (I didn't do that yet), contacting the bank (you see, I'm not leaving the country, please don't close my accounts) and so on, and so forth.
On top of that, I've almost fallen behind with the preparations for my bike trip. I still have to get a sleeping bag (and maybe a one-person light-tent), decide what I'll be taking along with me, actually getting through the town and getting all the crap I'll be taking along, getting hotel reservations on the way (if I don't simply decide I'll just wing it), getting local emergency contacts, getting a travel insurance (due tomorrow morning), an international motorbike insurance, another visit to the bank, making sure all my papers are in order and thinking of all the things I might be missing (I'm sure there are some).
I also have to make sure I'll have clean clothes to take with me, charged camera batteries, to make sure I'll store my way-points on the GPS unit, did a gas fill, charge my phone card for roaming access and probably a bunch of other last-minute preparations and details.
And yet on top of that still, as I'm usually a lazy (OK, very very lazy) kind of guy.
FSM (and maybe Chuck Norris), please help me!
Over the last few days, I've discovered that the same applies when you leave a place you've spent over three years working in:
I (almost) finished the papers, formalities, interviews and everything else I could conceive of.
Well ... everything I could conceive of, until sometimes last week; then, there came the un-official tasks: cleaning my office computer (as I really didn't want to leave my un-processed pictures on the company computer, nor my email authenticated sessions, browsing history and all that), sorting and moving the junk from my office desk to my home, sending my friends some new contact information, getting some references (I didn't do that yet), contacting the bank (you see, I'm not leaving the country, please don't close my accounts) and so on, and so forth.
On top of that, I've almost fallen behind with the preparations for my bike trip. I still have to get a sleeping bag (and maybe a one-person light-tent), decide what I'll be taking along with me, actually getting through the town and getting all the crap I'll be taking along, getting hotel reservations on the way (if I don't simply decide I'll just wing it), getting local emergency contacts, getting a travel insurance (due tomorrow morning), an international motorbike insurance, another visit to the bank, making sure all my papers are in order and thinking of all the things I might be missing (I'm sure there are some).
I also have to make sure I'll have clean clothes to take with me, charged camera batteries, to make sure I'll store my way-points on the GPS unit, did a gas fill, charge my phone card for roaming access and probably a bunch of other last-minute preparations and details.
And yet on top of that still, as I'm usually a lazy (OK, very very lazy) kind of guy.
FSM (and maybe Chuck Norris), please help me!
Subscribe to:
Posts (Atom)