Cats

Let's talk about it. I think it's time.

Cats.

I bet if you did one of those analysis things to find out the most frequent topics discussed at Stranger, the list would look something like this:

1. The Queen of Colors and her unspeakable evil

2. Poop (other people's, obviously)

3. All of my cats

A person who only occasionally wanders through here (and then probably spends the rest of the day confused) might feel that my discussion of the subject is a bit schizophrenic. And the question everyone would like to know the answer to, how many cats does Eli have, is one that perhaps not even I can answer.

Plane Crash

I wrote this on the last few pages of a book I was reading while on the plane from Istanbul to New York yesterday. Spoiler alert: I made it home without dying.

So we hopped onto a plane to head home and that's when we all practically died.

Now I know what you're all thinking.  "Eli, do you mean to tell me that you spent 5 days in Istanbul and all you have to say about it is that a naked fat man ripped your skin off of you for pay? Also, your muscles on your arms seriously look huge!"

First of all, thank you for noticing. I haven't even been working out; just eating a lot.

And second, maybe you didn't hear the part where I said that we all practically died on the plane!

Turkish Hamam

I am soakıng wet from a raın storm and trying to write an update for you to the sounds of a very loud call to prayer outside, the loud ramblings of a smoking computer attendant, and a totally strange keyboard with letters in other places than I am used to. Plus it has a lot of keys that I've never seen before. Like this ç and ü.

What this means, fırst of all, is that we have escaped Bulgaria.

We got out of Plovdiv on perhaps the dirtiest train that has ever roamed the planet. At one point Krishelle asked us whether we would rather drink a shot of someone's vomit or drınk a shot of juıce squeezed out of the seats on that train. Without hesitation I chose the former.

But we made it to Plovdiv Bulgarıa, whıch we had been promısed would be the land of dreams compared to Sofıa. And I guess, compared to Sofıa, ıt was. But admıttedly every place you've ever been ın your entıre lıfe ıs the land of dreams compared to Sofıa.

Food Massacre in Krakow

Dear Strangers,

There's a pigeon feather on my foot right now. I just noticed it. It's from the squawking pigeon we just saw get squashed by a car driving past us. That squashed pigeon is sort of like a metaphor for our experience in Bulgaria so far.

But first, since I last left you, we finished out our time in L'viv. After another great day there, we gathered our excessive amount of travel belongings and hiked the entire length of the now dark and probably exceedingly dangerous midieval town. Nothing too terrifying happened along the way but during the expedition down the non-lit streets, the warnings of Bob and Cathie screamed inside my head. Bob and Cathie are non-to-keen about any of their children traveling anywhere more dangerous than Jackson Hole Wyoming (unless there's a bear problem there--then pick some other safe place and replace it for purposes of this example). And in fact, Bob sent me an email this morning, mostly in all caps, warning us about the terrorists that I would have thought were probably in my hotel room after reading the message if I didn't know any better.

But seriously B and C, thank you for worrying about me. I feel totally safe over here and we are all keeping our eyes open. Love you.

Not Sleeping in Ukraine

Hi Strangers,

It's been an exhausting few days in the land of bobushkas. I have not slept in days. I currently look like an old man. But I'm pretty happy.

I tried to get a head start on what I knew would be a questionable sleeping schedule by drugging myself on a long international flight last Tuesday, taking a pair of Ambien. I don't remember much after that except that when I finally came to several hours later, all passengers within 14 rows of me were staring in my direction like someone had just tried to do the limbo naked while yelling "bomb" on the plane. Also, my shirt was on backwards. But that may have been the case before I took the Ambien. I really don't remember.

Wrapping Up SLC

Well strangers, I'm out of my apartment for good. Sorry if you were trying to stalk me and you just found out where I was living. I promise to give you enough information in future blog posts to piece together my whereabouts again so you can come and murder me with an ax. Honestly though, I would prefer if you did it in a less gruesome way. Also, if you're going to take Paul Cyclemon, he'll need a new chain soon. And I swear Larry smelled that way when I bought him.

Daniel, Krishelle, and I will embark on a couchsurfing survival quest through parts of eastern Europe tomorrow as a final adventure before the next great one in Palau. Stay tuned for some dramatic and strange stories over the next few weeks. And if you could all call 911 on about Thursday and let them know I'm in lots of trouble and need an ambulance and a fire truck, there's a pretty good chance it will be true and I'll be happy you cared enough to send help.