One more thing about smoking...

One more thing about smoking. Yeah, I know I have covered this subject before, but the smoking regulations in California keep pissing me off. Of course, you feel sorta like a loser when you have to walk away from a nice dinner with a group of friends to go outside. Of course it's annoying that you can't smoke in bars or clubs. But a non-smoking beach? Out in the fresh air?

Yes. At least in Santa Monica. Apart from the fact that the anti-smoking rules/laws are hitting the point of going beyond being reasonable, there is some hypocrisy involved as well. The city government not wanting any butts on the beach is perfectly understandable, the same goes for any other form of rubbish.

On Sunday I was out surfing at Venice, and was literally paddling through sewage. However, there isn't a single cigarette butt to be found on the beach. The nasty greenish-yellowish foam can make you sick, give you all kinds of rashes and what not. Cigarette butts on the beach are just nasty, but not more than that.

So where exactly are the priorities? Rats.

Holiday in the Axis of Evil

On the western Caspian Sea coast lies the Republic of Azerbaijan. This former Soviet Republic emerged out of post-Soviet wars and chaos roughly along the lines of it's borders within the Soviet Union. It's rich in oil, which means Western corporations were eager to jump into this newly-opened market as soon as the worst turmoils calmed down.

Heydar Aliyev billboard right in front of my hotel

Major oil companies have their interests there. However, the for example BP regional HQ for the Southern Caucasus is in Tbilisi. Which points out the main point of interest of Azerbaijan: it is a fairly nasty place.

Father & Son

Run since independence by Heydar Aliyev, it's a joke of a democracy. Media is restricted, officials are corrupt, effort put into keeping people ignorant and the wealth is shared with about 10 families surrounding the President. When Heydar Aliyev died in 2003, he was succeeded by nobody less than his own son.

Puzzle: find the Heydar Aliyev advertising

With no intention of moving anywhere beyond an oil-fueled olicharchy he sits firmly in the saddle. The fact that this happens right under the noses of all NGO's in the region and the EU makes no difference.

The newly built "Presidential Palace of the Republic"

As long as they keep supplying oil to the West (with obviously the US at the head of the parade) nobody will point a finger at their comfortable almost feudal positions of wealth and power and their second-rank dictatorship. And Aliyev knows that damn well.

N.B. Pictures courtesy of my good friend Vincent "Vinnie" Boot. Primary objective: get imagery safely out of the country in order to reach Tbilisi-based laptop. Status: phone lost, FAILED. ;-)

The Skies over Holland

The skies over Holland are an ancient favourite of painters, photographers and cloud-staring hippies. And, with reason. I have to admit that, even though I hate the place to my guts, there isn't a single place in the world with more beautiful skies than Holland. The Dutch (or 'Hollandish' would be the adjective here) skies seem higher, larger and with more depth.

Some nice examples:

Kenaustraat


Raaks construction site (former Vestestraat pictured)


Sunset from my window


Sunset over Raaks terrain


Kleverlaan, rainy afternoon


KPN Tower from KPN Lake


Sunset over the former Ripperda cavalry barracks


Another sunset from my window, somewhere in '06


Sunrise from my window


Early evening 7/8 from my window

God Save the Queen

Somewhere in a far-out corner of Europe is a shitty little country below sea level. This patch of mud is headed by the house of Van Oranje-Nassau. Their name inspired the national colour: orange.

Queensday in Amsterdam

Twice on even years and once on odd years*, this entire place turns orange. Orange flags, decorative crap, random things painted orange, orage hair spray-paint, orange outfits, orange everything with the occasional red-white-blue thing to break the Orange Ocean. The national dress-up occasions are usually accompanied by vast amounts of beer, dope, puke and random drunken chants.

Queensday in Amsterdam, boatin' around

So yea, that's how that swamp folk entertains themselves on the few occasions there are. But, let's not confuse the orange-mania with actual patriotism. That's still a dirty word in the Low Countries, and of course only practiced by facsists and reactionary Christian-fundamentalists like Andre Rouvoet (Holland's minister for Youth and Family affairs - yeah, that's actually a ministry).

Queensday in Amsterdam, the "Golden Corner" of the Herengracht

That's why orange is widely accepted as our national colour, relating to the House of Orange and the monarchy. However, the use of the red-white-blue is considered nationalistic and henceforth "not done". Put a Dutch flag on the sleeve of your jacket and you're sure to get a beating by some of the rogue-Xth-generation-immigrants because you're a nazi, neo-fascist, "NSB'er"*, or something else dirty.

Queensday in Amsterdam. This is more of an 'art for art's sake' picture, but it's some rave in a parking garage opposite the Stadhouderskade.

Can't really disagree actually... the people wearing those Dutch flags are mostly wannabe-nazi's. And what kinda douchebag wants to walk around with a Dutch flag in the first place?

* Once a year, April 30th is Queensday, and every two years a World/European Football Championship

* NSB = Nationaal Socialistische Beweging, the Dutch nazi party in the 30's and 40's

Giant Psycho Turtle

This is some random snippit from the MSW forum, I'm posting it here because it displays what I find funny and most people don't:

- I see your point, but I'll be coming disguised as a giant turtle, until I'm convinced it's safe and there are no psychos or murderers among you.

- a good psycho always waits until everyone feels safe and are drinking in the evening then picks em off one by one as they go to bed / toilet,etc. it makes it far easier and more satisfying the other approach is as we say in the psycho trade..doing a columbine

- Sorry, I'm definitely not coming now. You hear about these things in the news. One minute an innocent surfing trip, the next I'm being gang banged by seventeen fat pagan women with swastika tattoos

Show off stuff

As you all know, whenever there's something like a World Exhibition, a Football World Championship or Olympics, countries try to go the extra mile when it comes to building their prospective cities of the so-called future.

This is the Estaçaõ do Oriente in Lisboa, Portugal. It was built for the 1998 World Exhibition. Even though I'm no fan of contemporary architecture I like this one.

Goin' Kitch in Kiev

Couple of weeks ago in Kiev I was again sorta amazed at the Slavic preferences in terms of colours and the general display of flashyness or impersonated wealth. Personally I think this tendency has its roots in the Eastern Orthodox church, as the churches are the worst of all when it comes to the excessive use of gold, bright colours and decorative thingamajigs.

Kiev is a cool place however with lots to see and a pack of cigarettes costing only 0.60 euros - even cheaper than Georgia. Hotels are very reasonably priced and mostly up to western standards. Transportation is cheap, beer is cheap, woman are cheap. What else could you possibly want.

The Lion's Den

How to escape mass tourism? Easy, look for it in the lion's den: the Canary Islands. There isn't a single European holiday destination that gets more charter flights filled with pale British, Dutch and German tourists. Three weeks later they're flown back as the typical bright-red holiday lobsters you see in the streets of Northern Europe during summer. However, it is actually possible to escape the packed discoteques of the all-inclusive holiday resorts.

Last March I went to Lanzarote, the Sodom & Gomorra of western holiday making, and spent a week in a 300-inhabitant village with no ATM, three buses a day and no hotels.

Lanzarote is the northernmost of the Canary Islands. Politically part of Spain, geologically part of Afrika. The island is basically divided in two parts: the Southern part is urbanised and filled with hotels and tourists (luckily the Russians haven't found this one yet) while the Northern part is a nature reserve. The law states that there aren't any hotels, resorts, urban developments, discos and the like allowed.

The little village of Caleta de Famara has close to nothing, but it does have the Playa the Famara with nice waves and an amazing view. The beach is a bay enclosed by a big rocky mountain on the North side, and open to the Atlantic in a NW direction. Any tourist activity going on completely centers around the playa.

This lead to the development of an illegal-but-tolerated bar, Lenny's, with Amstel on draft the only place to go at night for a beer. When the draft wouldn't pour anymore they switched to Heineken on the bottle. Just as you think you're standing on the edge of the world, you don't have any choice but to drink very ordinary Dutch beer. Damn. I would've settled for that Spanish crap.

A room with a view

If you're ever going to end up in Tbilisi, Georgia - make sure to take the walk up Narikala, a hill overlooking Dzveli Tbilisi (Zveli Tbilisi - Old Tbilisi). On top is an old fortress (or the remnants of it) as it offers a some nice views over the city. On a bright day you can see the peaks of the Greater Caucasus, which are even snow-capped in summer.

Old Tbilisi on the left, the left bank on the right with the Presidential Palace (still) under construction (the Reichstag-like structure with the dome)



The new centre in the background and Old Tbilisi up front.



The TV-tower up on Mtatsminda, through the crenels of Narikala Fortress



Below left some of the little domes of the Sulphur Baths

Banana Republic

About five weeks ago I was in Batumi, Georgia. I hadn't been there for two years, so it was nice to be back.

The semi-Carribean banana republic athmosphere was as always present in the streets of Batumi, complete with palm-trees and other (sub)tropical plants. Bright-coloured colonial houses mixed with run-down, though brightly painted Soviet tenement blocks.


Just replace the second-hand German cars with 1950's oldtimers and you would have Havana on the Black Sea.