What is next?

What is next? I'm done traveling (well at least for a while) so what will happen to this blog?

Well I plan to continue posting. I've really learned to enjoy blogging and I seem to have a pretty steady base of readers.

I think I will shift the focus away from traveling (I guess I have to rename it then). Instead I will write about a few different things. I imagine that some of you know that next year I will be the managing editor of the North Idaho College student newspaper, The Sentinel (click here). It's a big job and basically my sole focus for the next 10 months. I'm sure it will provide me with plenty of blogging opportunities.

But that won't be all. I also imagine that some of you know that I love to bike. I've been continually inspired by my Uncle Pat's blog (click here, it's worth it). So, I think I will start blogging about bikes as well.

Personally, I think it's the best combination in world, bikes and journalism.

So bear with me. The next few months the posting might be a bit irregular (I will be working at a summer camp and will only have access to computers once a week). But I will post whenever I have the chance.

Thank you all so much for your support. This blog about traveling was incredibly successful. I never would have thought that I would have so many readers. Knowing that people are reading what I'm writing is very satisfying and keeps me motivated.

Again, thank you all.

Eli Francovich

And I'm back

Well I’m back. There is nothing too dramatic to tell about my return. Although my trip did change my life it isn’t a dramatic life change. It’s more of a subtle life change. I would say I’m a different person because of my new experiences, but it isn’t anything dramatic (like I don’t have pink hair). I don’t think it’s possible to experience so many different things and not be changed, at least a bit.

But despite all of this, or perhaps because of all of this, transition back into my life in Coeur d’Alene hasn’t been too hard. For the first week or so it didn’t really feel like my life. It felt familiar, but it just didn’t fit right.

That is passing, although at times I still see things from the traveling eyes. Anyways, I will catch you up on what has happened since my return and try to explain some of the things that I’ve noticed and felt.

I landed in the USA on May 18th. I took the flight to Minneapolis (after the airport debacle).

Minneapolis was quite a shock to me. Because I had just come from a foreign country (Holland) I had to go through customs. So, I got off the plane and came out into a type of holding area. It was separated from the rest of the airport and was highly secure. There were dozens of armed guards patrolling the whole area.

The customs officer who asked me questions managed to be both highly suspicious and completely uninterested. He was a big strong guy with angry looking eyes. He asked me a series of fairly innocent questions, however the tone in which he asked them made me feel like I was trying to sneak cocaine or weapons into the country.

He asked me how long I had been in Amsterdam. I corrected him saying that I had actually been in Holland, not Amsterdam. I don’t think he appreciated that.

Anyways he cleared me for entry and as I was leaving said in a machine like voice “Welcome to the USA”.

I sure didn’t feel welcomed.

After making it through that ordeal I had to go through a security check. Although I always found foreign security checks pretty comprehensive, the one in the USA definitely took the cake. They made me take of my shoes (I had forgotten about that). They made me partially unpack my bags (so the X-ray machine could get a better view). It was a new level of security. It was American style security.

And then I was through. There I was back in my home country. It felt great. Even though it was a bland corporate looking airport lobby, it was still the USA.

I immediately headed toward my next gate (I really didn’t want to miss this plane). While I was walking there I began to notice something kind of startling. I began to notice how many obese people there were.

Yes, there are plenty of fat people in Holland. But not the kind of fat I began to see walking through Minneapolis. Americans are a different kind of fat.

It was really startling. I didn’t think that it would be such a difference between Holland and the USA, but it was.

I got to my gate, sat down and began to soak it all in. I could understand everything being said around me. For a minute or two it was awesome. I eavesdropped on people’s conversations (something I hadn’t been able to do in Holland). I listened to T.V.

And then I was overwhelmed. People’s conversations were mostly uninteresting (that is the price you pay for eavesdropping) and the TV was down right annoying. It was FOX News (not my favorite new source by any means) and they were pretending to report on the Swine Flu. I wouldn’t call it reporting. No, they were actively trying to make people scared. At one point the talking head said, “It seems like people are beginning to forget about the swine flu. But they shouldn’t! It is one of the most deadly flu’s of all time.”

I felt like puking. It’s not that the Dutch media is any better. I just couldn’t understand them. So I turned on my I-Pod and drowned out the chaos.

Well, I got on the plane without a problem and took off for Seattle, Washington. I was squeezed between a very obese woman, and her very small baby, and a fairly large man. The woman was very nice and we talked a bit. The man didn’t say a word the whole flight.

And then I was in Seattle. I met my brother Leo Francovich (see picture) there. It was so wonderful to see him. We then went to Seattle University and spent the night with two friends of mine from high school.

The next day Leo and I jumped on a Greyhound bus and headed home. The bus ride was great. Leo and I talked nearly the whole time. It was interesting seeing the type of people on the bus. In Holland and India everyone uses public transportation. Businessmen use it, students use it and poor people use it.

It’s different in America. Almost everyone on the bus looked like they were poor. Judging by the their conversations (that I eavesdropped on) they were uneducated and fairly ignorant of things happening outside of their direct sphere of experience.

One woman described very loudly what a loser her ex-husband is. She also decided to tell us that he would probably show up to the bus station drunk (and she was going to get a ride home with him, in his car, great choice).

And then I was back in Spokane. My father Chris Francovich (see picture) met Leo and I there.

We went to dinner at a place called Noodle Express (not the classiest restaurant, but very good). There were two more shocks awaiting me there. The serving of food was huge! Things are smaller in Holland. I had gotten used to it I guess and didn’t even notice, but seeing that huge plate of Noodles brought it all back. I guess now I know why there are so many fat people in the USA.

And then there was the alcohol issue. The waitress asked us if we wanted anything to drink. My dad ordered a beer, and I remembered I wasn’t 21. That means I can’t drink alcohol. That was very strange (the drinking age in Holland is 16).

Then we drove home. I saw my mom later that night and I slowly began to weave myself back into my life.

It’s great to be home. I miss traveling, but while I was traveling I missed home. So it’s a trade off I can handle. This area of the USA is so beautiful. I absolutely love being here.

It’s good to be home.

Family

Chris Francovich.

On the bus.

Leo Francovich.

Another airport related debaucle

Well, today was the big day. My world traveling was coming to an end. I was headed home. Ready to see my brother, my family and my American friends. I was excited, but sad. It's always hard leaving a place, especially a place as great as Holland. But still I was excited.

And then things got insane.

Let me start from the beginning.

Last night I went out with Freek, Lincy, Daan and Florian. We went to a place called Crazy Pianos. It was a club featuring two pianos, a drummer and a singer. It was really, really awesome. We stayed there until 3 am and didn't get home (we had to drive) until 4 am. Then we watched Friends until 5:30 am. Then Freek took Lincy and Florian to the train station and I went to bed.

Some hours later I awoke. The plan was to get up, have breakfast and then head off to the airport. My flight didn't leave until 1:10 pm, so I had plenty of time. I planned on being there at least two hours before, maybe even three. Again, I was seriously determined not to repeat the whole Poland incident.

Freek was making me breakfast (he is a great dude). On a whim I decided to check my e-ticket, just to make sure nothing crazy and impossible had happened.

La la la. I wasn't really paying attention. I was thinking about my toast, which I could smell in the kitchen.

And then I saw it.

It was a small little phrase. Innocent enough normally. But suddenly it was full of dark intent.

It read: “Flight rescheduled: departs 10:50 am.”

Fuccccccdge. Shit. Dang. Golly Gee. Holy Hell.

At that point it was 9:30 am.

That meant we had not nearly enough time to get to Schipol airport. Much less navigate the insanity of security, bag check etc.

But we tried. Freek drove admirably. Hurling his little Dutch car between much larger vehicles. Tailgating slow vehicles like non-other. Cursing in Dutch, English and sometimes Spanish. Honking his horn, flipping the bird.

It was almost enough. Or so we thought.

Freek screeched up to the front of the airport, I jumped out, grabbed my stuff and raced inside. Freek was going to park the car and come and see how I was doing.

I ran into the airport and dashed to the Northwest Airlines desk. I had three minutes until cheek in-time, I could do it.

And, of course, predictably even, there was a huge line.

And then lady luck reached out her blessed hand, and threw me a bone. Desperate, I approached the first check in person I saw. He was a guy, about my age, nice enough looking. I explained my situation , hoping beyond hope that he could speed things up for me.

And he did. But as he helped me he hit on me, constantly. At first I didn't notice it, he just seemed like a nice guy, and I was in a huge hurry. But then I began to realize that he was looking for a lot of eye-contact. Then he asked me if I had ever been to a certain club. I said no, but that I thought I had heard of it. Then he laughed and told me it was a gay club. I told him that I wasn't really into that kind of stuff.

I don't think he heard.

Meanwhile we were cutting through the line like a hot knife through butter. It was one of the best feelings in the world. Flying by all these folks (the second best thing to actually flying). We went up to one of his colleges (a pretty woman, a bit older than me). Together they began to check the computer system to see if I had a chance of getting on the flight.

Meanwhile, he was laying it on hot and heavy. He told me that if I missed the flight I would “have to spend the night with him”. He talked a lot about how nice and polite I was.

I was in a strange situation. I'm not gay, and even if I were, I wouldn't go for a guy like that. But I really, really wanted to get on that flight. So I didn't actively flirt. But I didn't not flirt. I just kind of let him go.

And then the pretty lady said “Oh, your plane left at 10:10”.

Wow. So, let me see, the original flight was supposed to leave at 1:10 pm. It got rescheduled to 10:50 am and then it left at 10:10 am. Wow. That makes a lot of sense to me.

So I missed my plane. The gay guy and the pretty lady directed me to a ticket booth to see if I could get the next flight to America. As I left the gay guys said,

“You go check over there, and then you come right on back to me”. I guess I'm a gold digger of a sort because once I got wanted from him I was out of there. Now way was I going back to him (but to be fair he was a nice guy, and he did help me a lot, he was just a bit aggressive with the come-ons).

Well at this point Freek joined me and we waited in line. Again lady luck smiled upon me. There were five people dealing with reservations, four of them looked like they just swallowed a lemon. The last lady looked much nicer and I got her.

I won't lie. I was as polite as I could be. In America you call it sucking up. In Holland you call it being a slimeball(spelling is wrong). Well I was all of those. I wanted to get a flight and I didn't want to pay for it.

And I didn't have to. It turns out they changed the flight a month ago and somehow forgot to email me about the change. So the fault lay with them, therefore I was able to jump on the next flight to Seattle. Unfortunately it is not a direct flight, so I arrived much later, and I had a two hour layover in Minneapolis.

However, it all worked out and I made it safely to Seattle. As I write I'm sitting in the basement of Hannah Reid's dorm. It is a nice place and I must say I'm glad that everything worked out. Son I will write about my transition from Holland to America, but not now.

Adios.

The look

So, recently I was trying to navigate a Dutch train station. I had all my stuff clinging to my back and I looked (I imagine) like a very confused and lost American. The only true part about that is that I'm American, I knew exactly where I wanted to go and I was determined to get there. I don't mean to brag but I've gotten pretty good at navigating train stations. I was confident, to say the least.

Well, some poor guy misread the situation completely. He saw me and though “Hmm, young, obviously foreign, possibly a hippie backpacker. I bet I can convince him to buy some shit from me.”

So, he approached me.

I was distracted. I looked up and saw this guy looking at me. I didn't get a good feeling from him, he seemed like a shady type of character. He began to follow me while jabbering at me in Dutch.

I said, “Umm, dude I don't speak Dutch.”

At this point I imagine his brain was thinking something like “Oh yeah baby, jack pot, this kid is a foreigner, he is young, he is going to buy whatever I offer him. He is going to be practically eating out of my hand when I'm done with him.”

So, he began trying to sell me something. I couldn't really understand what he wanted to sell me, but judging by the way he lowered his voice and looked kind of sneaky I imagined it was something slightly less than legal.

I looked at him, shook my head, and walked off.

And he followed, at a polite distance. I think he was re-working his plan of attack, maybe he decided I was more respectable than I looked. So he came up to me again and asked if I wanted a taxi to a hotel. I said, “No, thank you though.”

And then, I gave him the 'look'. It took me a while to perfect 'the look' but I had plenty of practice in India. I don't always get it, but most times I do. The 'look' when done properly, can stop the most determined salesman (or woman) dead in their tracks. The look tells them a couple of things. First it tells them that you aren't kidding. That you aren't a confused tourist looking for something to buy. Then it tells them that you know exactly what you want and where you want to go. And finally, it shows them a glimpse of your soul. They see some one not to be trifled with. They see some one who is dangerous. Often, after seeing the 'look' they imagine that you are ex-military, or that you work for the CIA, or that you are an assassin. They don't sleep well that night, or the night after, because they keep seeing the 'look'. When they close their eyes at night they see it. When they sleep they dream about it. When they eat their cheerios in the morning each little bit of cereal is your eye, glaring up at them from out of their bowl.

Needless to say, he left.

Scenes from the Mediterranean

The cove where we swam...

...and again...

...the view from the top...

... and Emily and I.

Moving on

Well, I'm traveling again. Although I guess I never really stopped traveling, spending so much time in one place (Holland) began to feel more like home than adventure.

I'm writing from a bus. It's 7:55 am and we are currently driving through Hamburg, Germany. Like the majority of the world I've only read about Hamburg in history books, so I feel a thrill of excitement driving through it in real life.

Yesterday was my last day in Sittard (where Freek studies). Freek and I hung out and then a big group of his friends (and mine now too) came to his apartment and we all ate dinner. They bought me a few farewell gifts and then walked me to the station. It was pretty amazing being escorted out of Sittard by 10 or so people. I'm very lucky to have met them and I hope/plan to see them again.

We got to the station with plenty of time to spare (so we thought). I needed to be in Utrecht by 11:55 to get my bus and it's a 1:44 train ride to Utrecht. I was fully committed to not repeating the Poland fiasco.

Well, we said our goodbyes, doing the usual rounds of hugs etc. And then we noticed my train (which we thought wouldn't leave for two more minutes) was closing up it's doors and preparing to leave. So, my last half a minute in Holland was spent sprinting toward the one open door, yelling desperately for the conductors to have mercy and wait.

I made it and settled in for the ride. Then, I realized that the ticket Freek and bought me was a 'korting' (discount) ticket, meaning that I either had to be a student in Holland or I had to be traveling with a student. I was neither traveling with a student nor was I a student. It is possible to pretend to be traveling with a student, however, the last time I tried this I ended up getting kicked off the train, so I decided honesty was the best course of action. I found the train conductor and explained the situation. She was sympathetic and said it would not be a problem. And so I was on my way.

I arrived in Utrecht without further incident. I had an hour and five minutes until my bus was scheduled to depart. I spent almost all that time walking around trying to find where the bus was supposed to depart from. I asked four or five different people and got four or five different answers. Finally, in a rare act of brilliance, I decided to read the bus stop signs. It turned out I had walked by the EuroBus stop four or five times. A common mistake, I'm told.

Almost immediately upon arriving at the stop I struck up a conversation with a man from Somalia. He was a bit intoxicated, but very open and kind seeming. Soon we were joined by a man from Afghanistan Both men were no longer in their countries of birth.

It was pretty amazing to have a real conversation with these two men. I'm a bit embarrassed to say this but the man from Somalia was the first black person with whom I've had any real substantial conversation. They were taking the same bus as me and we ended up riding together.

Me and the man from Afghanistan talked quite a lot. He was very open and extending. At first I wasn't sure how it would be considering the whole fact that my country is occupying his country and his countrymen are killing and being killed by my countrymen. But it turned out to be no problem. As he said, “Every man has a mother”.

Still, it's hard to reconcile the fact that guys from America, my beloved country, are fighting men from Afghanistan, his beloved country. And there were sat on a bus going through Germany talking and sharing food.

Anyways, the ride was pretty amazing. It turned out there was another man from Somalia on the bus, we all shared our food and talked. At one gas station the man from Somalia bought us all drinks. He explained that the custom in Somalia is that the first one to get to the counter pays for everyone else.

I slept a few hours, however, it wasn't the best sleep I've ever had. The bus seats aren't all that comfortable and it was crowded. My friends got off in Hamburg, so for the next hour or so I'm on my own. I will be in Kiel, Germany for four days. Tonight I am staying with friends of the German couple that I met in India. I don't really know where I'm going, I have their address and their names but nothing else. So I guess there is another adventure coming up.

Anyways, I will post this as soon as I can, and I will try to keep everything up to date.

Heina!

A video of the concert at Queen's Day

So, here is a video of the concert, this is only a small fraction of the people that were actually there.

Photos from Queen's Day

So, here are photos from Queen's day...

... a crowd (notice all the orange)...

... a boat party...


... the Borlee's (left) Agnes, Leon, Freek...

... friends of Freek (Left) Riaana, Freek, Yaara...

.. a large partier.

Photos

So, here are some photos from the Batatieren run and after party...

... 1 am, right before we went to the race (left) Roos, me and Stijn...

... and here it is 9 am right after the race (left) Freek, Lincy and someone else...

... and here we are at 9 pm after missing our flight to Poland...

... and here is the tent city...

... and here is all the garbage the morning after the party.