World Tour: The Bengali Express

Captains Log, Wednesday December 23 2009

I'm on a train, hey ma look at me I'm on a train. Never thought that I would be on a train. No, seriously I've always wanted to travel a long distance in South Asia in a hot and uncomfortable sleeper on the Chittag-Dhaka Mail train. Wait, now that I say that out-loud, this is amazing, I have always wanted to do something like this. Your probably wondering how I was able to post to the website while on a train in Bangladesh.  Well, back in my old life I knew this guy in the shipbuilding industry up in Labrador, I stole his daughter and his boat to go on a "World Tour." The woman I kidnapped was an ex-political operative secretly bringing about the demise of Sara Palin and her truth squad, and not Lotuk's daughter (turns out Lotuk didn't have a daughter). This woman, Kate, has been traveling with me in my new life on my world tour and has no idea that I stole her new "BeanSprout" out of her purse while she wasn't looking and am now in the bathroom posting to the website. 


So far we have been lucky, Kate is wanted by the RNC and IRS for fraud. After three pirates died on our cruse ship, I am wanted by Regent Cruse Line and Interpol for Hijacking and accused of killing three "crew members." Here is what happened, Kate and I purchased a large trunk in Dara es Salaam, stole away on the cruse ship. When the captain asked for his trunk to be taken to his quarters, the crew members took us there. To make a long story short, (I know that these things are hard to read through, hell I have a tough enough time just writing them) the latch snapped and killed two crew members. At that point some one yelled out, "Pirates!", so I took control of the vessel, by force, and piloted us to Chittag. The third death was totally bogus, Kate had pulled out her "BeanSprout" to pull up "BoatMap" someone thought it was a gun and fell down the stairs. By the way, Google's new "BoatMap" is astounding, since I can't read any of the dials or knob-thingies, "BoatMap" was the best way to keep out of "Internationally Protected Waters" and still avoid more pirates. 


Got to go, Kate came back and is looking for her


End of Transmission


Matt

World Tour: The Nile is a River in Egypt

Down the Nile  

I remember some time ago Matt decided to feed my phone to a goat. No wait, he did that last week, it turns out that the Backbean that he got me was a laptop. So I can go on-line, but I can’t make phone calls. Seeing as how I have no one to call, not having a phone is fine. The money situation is fine, Madoff is in jail, and Deuche Welle broadcasted the whole story all over the world. Seeing as how no one watches DW I thought that telling Awkward Haiku would be the best bet. No, no I didn’t, I was just employing sarcasm.  For some reason I have heard nothing from the Palin Truth Squad in sometime.

 

Matt has been anxious, he says he has this weird feeling and instead of chalking it up to indigestion he says it’s a curse. I told him that you don’t kiss a mummy for good luck, but he said that every time you are in Luxor you have to kiss the Mummy Stone. Then I said that was Blarney Stone and he said it was pronounced Barney Rubble and this had nothing to do with cartoons.

Now we are on the river. We have given up trying to find technology, with which we can connect to the internet, and have begun sending my posts to a courier who then hacks into Matt's account and posts for me. Matt refused to give up the 'combination' to his account. 

So until next time...Good bye. 

Matt wanted to say 'That will do pig' (He thinks that is funny) 

Our other travelers got lost in Cairo and we didn’t bother looking for them. 


Read the entire story after the Jump

World Tour: Egyptian Escape

My, what a month, well a few months. After crossing over into PPK controlled Turkey Matt decided that we should try to get to Saudi Arabia, which sounded fine (I've always wanted to visit Riyadh) until Matt told us* that one of his old floor hockey buddies from the fifth grade was being held in a prison for telling a joke that was so bad that it, "Upset Allah."

In Arabic it's:

وكم عدد المسلمين أنه لا يأخذ من التغيير على ضوء المصباح?

فقط ويعلم الله فاذا كانت خفيفة تتوهج من انها سوف المصباح من الله, الا انه سيقرر اذا كان لدى كثير من الناس, وكيف يحل محل ضوء المصباح.

It roughly translates to:

Q: How many followers of Muhammad does it take to replace the light of the lamp.

A: Only God knows if the glowing light will end and he will decide whether many people or few will replace the light of the lamp and how to replace the light of the lamp.

Berk figured if we ride in produce trucks through Iran to Bushar we can take a ship to Qatar, from there Matt's contacts with in Saudi Arabia would be able to get us to the prison outside of Tabuk, we would have to get Robert the rest of the way. Instead, I bribed an official at the Van airport in Turkey to put us on a cargo plane outside of Medina. In Medina, Berk, in Matt's words, "Kicked some major ass and found a killer Malibu," to rent at the Avis at the airport.

During the five hour trip Matt and Berk bought so many firearms that they had to start selling them out of our trunk. For my pains, I was allowed to drive all the way to the prison. When we were about an hour outside of the jail, Matt yelled, "Hey Robert." It turned out not to be Robert, however, twenty minutes latter we found Robert hitchhiking.

Robert didn't tell us how he got out. Berk says that Saudi guards have short attention spans and become annoyed quickly when a prisoner, "just sits there like a lump on a log." Matt replied, "Knowing Rob, he purposely got too into the spirit of the whole thing and ruined all the fun." To which Rob stoically smirked and continued driving.

After crossing the Egyptian/Saudi border we arrived at the Suez Canal shortly after midnight the next day, which was yesterday. so, today we had a picnic in Al-Azhar park and are currently lounging poolside at the Havana Hotel.

*Remember that farmer that helped us get through Turkey? Well his deranged son, Berk, who speaks English, Farsi and Arabic, decided to tag along. Let me rephrase that, I can't seem to shake him and Matt keeps going back to camp at night to get him.

World Tour: The Turkish Crazy Dasiy Sprinkler.

We made our journey down the Black Sea in a two person sail car. It was a horrible way to travel, but when I saw that look on Matt's face I just couldn't say, 'hey Matt how about we just take a plane or a bus?' The last time I saw that face,  I took an underprivileged woman and her family to Saks Fifth. When Sarah tried on that pant suit, I just couldn't say no.  

The sail broke down, (Matt was perfecting his boomerang skills) so we hitched the boat-car to a simple farmer's mule. He was more than happy to give us a lift back to his farm, only if we could help him figure out why he wasn't growing any crops. 

Back at the dirt farm, we knew instantly why nothing was growing (well I did at least). It turns out that at bastardized form of the Green Revolution migrated into western Turkey. The amount of fertilizer and herbicides were minuscule and the only irrigation that he used (to grow 

soy beans) was a "Crazy Daisy Sprinkler." It also didn't help mixing up herbicide and fertilizer nor did using salt water help. Matt for some inexplicable reason was able to talk to the guy (I guess he can speak idiot in any language) He reported that the farmer was actually a carpenter. The 'carpenter' had heard about big government subsidies for farmers that didn't even have to do anything, like Charles Barkley, and decided to take easy street. 

 Matt and I will be staying at the farm until Matt does something stupid. 

World Tour: Abkhazian Shake.

Skipped Europe and have been hanging out in the Assumption Cathedral (Sabor as they call it in Russia) in Moscow. The most stupid thing happened, stupid as in good. I was surfing the internet on my new Ifoam when I came across a malt shop three Puntinkas away. One Puntinka is the time it takes to drink three glasses of Puntinka vodka (the Russians are trying out a new measuring system and I have to say that I approve!) . At the malt shop Kate the Great and I ran into a Abkhazian talent agent and put into a van. That van was on it's way to Abkhazia. If your not familiar with Abkhazia, it is a very small country that Georgia unconsidered apart of it's own territory. Well anyway we were put into this music video. I'm the guy herding the sheep and Kate is the girl playing the little guitar:



Chorus:
"All the world is right again.
The sheep are in the meadow
Medvedev does not know we have a Camera
Saakashvili doesn't like our small guitar
But it is apart of our national heritage.


It's a beautiful song in the Abkhazian language even if it isn't very creative. Well now that I don't have to steal Kate's Blackbean. I purchased it in Romania, a Goat had eaten her Blackberry. I figure a goat will want to eat her phone less if it didn't sound as tasty as a blackberry. Well it's off to Africa after we take a nice soak in the Black Sea.

Until I remember to post again.

World Tour: Floor Ball Game

Kate met up with some guy who gave her a thing at the game. She hasn't been speaking to me lately. I think that it's because she knows how to speak Finnish and is still mad at me for purchasing the third season of 'Newhart' on her credit card. She had just given me Blackberry privileges again, but instead of posting I was using it to follow celebrities on Gawker.com.

 I am currently experiencing one of the strangest experiences of the past week. It is hour 41 of my I can’t seep-a-thon (due to some herbal tea that a local construction worker gave me). After a strange setback and subsequent rebound I feel confident to tell you that I am able to present the following article of writing. 

Make sure that you keep an open mind and a hand poised with a fork, cause it will get steamy, so steamy that you can cook vegetables.  Yeah this will be interesting, because even though I don’t know how I will feel in the morning, I will have to wait and see. Just have to wait and see. It is probably the morning right now for you and you are tired let the coffee do its magic that’s why the English hate it.  

A poem I wrote in commemoration of the game: 

The Calculator General 

With an invasive nonclemature

Sorted today’s schedule 

Omitting the threat heeded by his forerunner

And with pleasure 

Remitted his remaining warmth 

He mitigated a modicum of 

Matriarchal slaughterhouses 

Its aromatic scenescapes presented 

Him with tidy appendages 

Streak-free torsos 

Macrame butcher blocks 

Scrap-booking breaks 

And quaint, but naturally outdated

Holding pens. 

He then pored over a plethora of

Patriarchal health spas 

hermeneutically assessing each

Luxury efficient cell

By measuring the 

intensive tissue relaxation 

and dividing by

The room color

In wave length 

To reach the “Snuggle” quotient. 

Watching

The peeling eyed papers 

Dripping from his hands 

He let out a 

Boorish yelp 

Spat thither at 

Moon baked remorse

As he remembered what

Warmth meant. 

World Tour: Tennis Braclets and Southern Preachers

I though it was about time that I posed again. Matt will be angry with me for going behind his back and elaborately rigging a game of wonder smash, but I wanted my Blackberry back and Matt was being a jerk about it. 

Good news on the fraud front. I turns out that the RNC was laundering money for some southern preacher through, guess who, that's right our old friend Bob Madoff! The same guy who laundered my money! 

When Bob heard that I was on a 'world tour', he sent me a cryptic email telling me to get to Gunnarford, Greenland to receive a package. When we arrived last night I opened the envelope and found a bracelet, it was made out of diamonds! 

There was also this letter: 

Dear Kathrine, 

I hope that this parcel finds you. Customs is not allowing me to to ship anything, so I have to apologize for ti being from my son-in-law's brother's friend, Jim. 

As I suspect you have found, I have enclosed a Cartier tennis bracelet that I purchased for my first wife and acquired in the divorce. I have also included a pre-paid Visa card for $50,000 dollars. This money is a donation for your 'World Tour Fund' (incidentally, you are now the CFO of the Awkward Haiku Foundation) from the reverend Franklin Graham. This money was first laundered to me from the the RNC deputy communications director Danny Diaz and I haven't gotten around to doing anything with it until now. If the Fed's found this money on me I wouldn't be able to use it as leverage against the Republican leadership. Now that you have the money, you can lean on the party for more "donations" than I ever could.  

I have sent the recordings of my phone conversations with Danny in a separate package that should reach you on your second stop. Jack Lessenbarry will be your contact, he will deliver any messages to Tina Abott of the of the Michigan AFL-CIO who is currently in contract negotiations with the Amway Corporation. At the negotiation she will hand your communique to Dick Devos' personal assistant. Mr. Devos will relay your message to Mit Romney who in turn will contact Mike Duncan (Chair of the RNC). This of course would be pointless if the initial $75,000 and now an extra $50,00, $125,000 had been merely stolen. This is, however, very dirty money and I am very bored. This anklet thing is starting chafe and there is nothing good on t.v. House arrest 'bites' the big one, as my kids say.

Make sure that you milk the RNC for all you can before you give the tapes to Deutsche Welle (they haven't had any big news stories since the Obama visit). I will set up drop points along the way. Trick Matt into stopping in Aberdeen, Finland; Your going to see a floorball game! 

Good Luck 

Bob

This is going to be interesting, Osku holds grudges for a long time. 

World Tour: A Day on the Tundra

We have arrived in Nuuk, Greenland! I have to apologized for the tardiness of my post. Kate's blackberry was lost in a fair game of chance against those cheating Fins. The game is similar to dogfighting, in this case, however, you place two men across from one another at a table and a bottle of vodka and give each of them a heavy object. The first man to either succumb to the vodka or knock himself out with the car battery (it varies based on whatever is lying around) wins a koltnence of the pot (ten percent in Finnish). The on lookers place bets on who will win with what method. I having no money of my own, I wagered Kate's blackberry that Osku (see picture below) would knock himself out before passing out. Osku plays for the Aberdeen Oiler's, a floorball club in the Northern League. And he did, however the other man across the table took his battery and smashed Osku in the head, rendering him unable to compete.

So those lousy, lice ridden, ram-scrambling old Vuohenraiskaaja took Kate's blackberry and told her to not let her husband bet with her belongings. She was angry and so was I, but what can you do.

That means that all subsequent posts will be made from Internet cafes until I can arrange for Kate to purchase a new blackberry (0r she gets one herself).

Floorball :

(watch until you get how it works, then watch the next one)

Floorball Tricks:

Cabin Fever.

Hello, 

We have not yet arrived at Auyuittuq National Park and a swift journey does not qualify a safe journey. To restock and rest, we are taking a break on a floating hotel represented by the green dot on the map. The blue dot is about where I saw the vodka-oil freighter. 

While the porters and Kate unload our things, I have decided to show you some Japanese game show clips that I have found during my relentless war on boredom:

Don't Hit Me!

In the Balls

Average Joe, with binoculars. 

The Japanese have finally figured out a way to get Americans to watch soccer. 

Guy Sticking Things on His Stomach. 

I would enjoy this clip even more if a game show was not involved.

It appears that Kate has hurt herself trying to unpack the 

generator. Women, you can never quite understand them.

Salutations,

Matt

Matt's World Tour, Kate's Tale.

Dear Reader/s, 

I don't know the protocol of this blog, so I'm just going to jump right in. You might be wondering why I allowed Matt to kidnap me and then allow him to post to his blog on my blackberry and not alert the police. 

Let me explain a few things about my, as it appears, previous life. As a young woman I signed up with the Dole campaign to fight the scourge that was leaving his feted stench in the Oval Office. I did not join the Bush campaign, because his great-grandmother (Flora Sheldon) and my great-grandmother (Ida Schuckman) fought over Sam Bush. While My great grandmother went on to bear a boy who would go on to become the Governor of California. Flora ancestored a President and a score of Governors, so our fuedn' wasn't over. 

This campaign cycle, it wouldn't do me much good to switch sides, so I got on the pre-Veep team to prep the vetting team. Those good-for-nothing-ram-scrambling Hittites wanted the base, I gave them base. Submitting Sarah's name to the team was only part of my plan. I wanted to take down the Republican party for good and that included a scandal.  What the RNC didn't expect was a full-out 150K shopping spree through Manhattan. 

Now that I am in, as far as I can tell, unknown location I will release the general narrative of my deeds. Of the clothes that I had picked out for Sarah $75,000 worth were manufactured by Bernard L. Madoff in the shape of a $500 worth of  'missing' but 'returnable' hosiery, bras, socks for the kids, and what not. Upon 'return,' I gave Madoff a 4,500 honorarium, pocketed the $70,000 cash and made for the border. 

I made for the wrong border, Canada has some fierce extradition. The RNC was breathing down my neck and the Feds wanted me for fraud when Matt abducted me. I should thank Matt sometime, latter.  I hope my charge lasts. 

Until Matt Forgets to Sign Out, 

Kate 'the Great.'

Soup On a Bun, Part Two

As I look out on the ice fields that Kate tells me make up the Maritime Islands, it occurred to me that Kathrine is a Russian spy. How do I know? Last night when I was trying to order a Soup on a Bun with extra cheese (Pizza), I received a text message from what I assumed to be the oil taker hacking my signal.

The text message read, "We don't have any soup nor do we have buns, all we have is oil and vodka." So from that text I assumed that since she had a blackberry and that the oil tanker next to us had vodka, Kathrine was a spy. She couldn't come out and say it but having watched all of the Bourne movies, The Good Shepard and The Departed, I think that I know a spy when I see one.

One tell tail sign of a spy is of course that they deny being a spy. Sometimes they say not and are not spy's though. That's when I engage the suspect in a little game:
"Kathrine?"
"What?"
"Are you a spy?"
"Yes"
"OK, then you wont be able to answer this riddle; I spy with my little eye something wet."
"Having a blackberry doesn't make me a spy, it makes me a neurotic mess and I don't work for the Russians." (I got the joke but didn't laugh (I didn't say that out loud)
" But your name is Kathrine! Kathrine the Great! Kate the Great! The modernizer of Russia defeater of the barbarous French."
You can call me Kate the Great if you want, now give me my blackberry back, I have to check my messages and delete whatever it was that you did. It's you turn to row."
"OK, which way is North?"

She points to what I am guess is North and we continue on our journey.

Until Kate lets her guard down,

Matt

Salty Leg

Sea Date-December 10, 2008

After moving to Newfoundland on an island in the maritime I became an apprentice for a shipbuilder. The plan was to stay for six years and learn to build a ship that I could navigate from Mt. Pearl to Auyuittuq National Park, from there I would cross over into Greenland.

It was too early for the puffins to be out when I stole Lotuk's vessel. The last thing that I needed were the puffins swarming, shouting, "Hey Lotuk! Matt's stealing your ship! you had better get out here." I didn't think that Lotuk could talk to the puffins, you can never be to careful.

The memories that you have of your childhood never completely leave you. None of them helped me now as I steered ol' Bernard and Lotuk's daughter away from the harbor. She looked at me and said,

"Who are you?"
"Matt, Lotuk's apprentice remember?"
"Who is Lotuk?"

That was when I remembered that Lotuk's seed never bore fruit. It wasn't because he was sterile, he showed me the tests, he was considered the town "pervert"(I use this term just because it is the closest English translation that we have of the word that they called him).

Now I'm on the high seas, its really cold and wet, there is this young woman, who obviously doesn't love me anymore and I'm wanted for boat theft. I'm not sure if they they are going to chase me or if Lotuk is going to notice that I'm gone, but that's the report so far, take it or leave it.

Salutations

Matt

My World Tour.

For the next few weeks I will be traveling the world. I will be taking off from Kalamazoo and arriving Kanderlussuaq Greenland. From there I will be flying down Edinburgh, traveling to Bristol, and then Cork. I'll ferry over Whales and tram to Bristol. London is too expensive, so is Paris, Berlin, Prague, Lisbon and Istanbul. From there I hope to stop at all the major points before getting to Lisbon and hitting up parts of North Africa then over to my home town of Luxor and then Dubai.

That all I have planned, for the money I have.

Since I don't have any means of caring out this trip, I will be imagining what these places are like and then relaying my experience.

I hope you will travel with me on this improvisational expedition.