On the Move

Kingston, Jamaica

2011-11-09T10:03:00.001-05:00

Kingston, Jamaica, a photo by Barrybar on Flickr.

The art of George Rodney, one of Jamaica's best known artists. Taken in his studio in Kingston four years ago.

Queens, NYC

2011-11-04T22:46:00.001-04:00

Queens, NYC, a photo by Barrybar on Flickr.

At 5POINTZ in Queens, NYC

Callao, Peru

2011-11-02T22:11:00.001-04:00

Callao, Peru, a photo by Barrybar on Flickr.

Done by Boner and Emes at Meeting of Styles 2011.

Callao, Peru

2011-11-02T22:03:00.001-04:00

Callao, Peru, a photo by Barrybar on Flickr.

This is the work of Faber, at the Meeting of Styles 2011.

Guatemala City, Guatemala

2011-04-10T15:49:00.001-04:00

Guatemala City, Guatemala, a photo by Barrybar on Flickr.

Beauty and the Beast. Guess who is who?

I was about 45 minutes early for the post office and she was sitting there repairing a cloth object that fell off her purse. We chatted about many things, including God. I was afraid that when I told her I wasn't a Christian that I had missed my chance for a picture. But she agreed.

Such a beautiful disposition, a bottomless supply of wide smiles, and far better at taking self-portraits of two people than I will ever be.

[25 May 2009]

Botafogo, Rio de Janeiro, Brasil

2011-04-10T15:13:00.000-04:00

Botafogo, Rio de Janeiro, Brasil, a photo by Barrybar on Flickr.

Let's agree to not call this a stitch. But still, I wanted to share this with you. I shot this by poking my camera through a fence, from quite a distance. But I am not telling you this as an excuse for having done a shoddy job. If you could see this the way I saw it, we'd agree that the concept and execution are without parallel in the class of the macabre. I cannot tell if it is all blood, but I know it is not all wine.

[10 August 2010]

Matanzas, Cuba

2011-04-10T14:47:00.001-04:00

Matanzas, Cuba, a photo by Barrybar on Flickr.

This city was a big challenge for me. First, I couldn't find the hostel for which I was searching, but a generous woman took me to her place, consulted her husband, and I spent the next four days with them. He gave me his bed, because I think the floor was better for his back.

Then I ran out of money. You don't want to run out of money in Cuba because your credit card is worth nothing, and, thanks to a US 50-year-old embargo against the island, you cannot call home either because no agency will send the money. Running out of money in my travels is something that has happened too often: in Sao Paulo, in Beijing, in Cuba about 4 times. As a matter of fact, returning home from the carnival in Salvador, Brasil, I was allowed to leave the airport without paying the airport tax. And I am sure there were many other countries but they escape my memory at the moment.

[28 June 2007]

Guatemala City, Guatemala

2011-04-10T14:06:00.001-04:00

Guatemala City, Guatemala, a photo by Barrybar on Flickr.

She saw me outside in the street shooting graffiti. Turns out there were some fine graffiti in her building. She invited me in, and offered others and myself some wonderful coffee.

[26 May 2009]

São Paulo, Brasil

2011-04-10T13:58:00.001-04:00

São Paulo, Brasil, a photo by Barrybar on Flickr.

My guardian angels and I at the Osasco station, São Paulo. The one at left never left my side from Palmeiras, insisted that I sit, while she stood, and tried our best to communicate. She has a beautiful name, which I promptly forgot.

[16 August 2010]

Livingstone, Zambia

2011-04-05T11:43:00.001-04:00

Livingstone, Zambia, a photo by Barrybar on Flickr.

A woman offered to take my picture and here I am, the spray from the Victoria Falls providing background. I have learned to accept just about all offers to take my picture. In Manaus, Brasil, last year, I declined to have my photo taken. And for no damn good reason.

Here, after I visited the falls and returned totally soaked, even my prized $2 pair of shorts which I had purchased in town.

At least, in this eastern cataract, the Victoria Falls swoop down in a narrow space. Consequently, it sends sprays up which, in some sections, fall as rain.

Today (24 Feb), I leave for the town of Victoria Falls in Zimbabwe to check out the view from their side. Then head to Bulawayo by train, which I hear is quite harrowing. Not as genteel as the good, old days. I already have a contact in Bulawayo, a Jamaican. Then I head east to Masvingo where I will visit the ruins known as Great Zimbabwe, which are so incredible that historians have proclaimed that black folks could never have made them. Must have been beings from outer space.

Plan is to then head to the capital, Harare, to fly to Durban, South Africa, on my way to Cape Town.

Matopos, Zimbabwe

2011-04-05T11:26:00.002-04:00

Matopos, Zimbabwe, a photo by Barrybar on Flickr.

Victoria Falls, Zimbabwe

2011-04-05T11:14:00.001-04:00

Victoria Falls, Zimbabwe, a photo by Barrybar on Flickr.

Jamaica is huge in Zimbabwe and Bob Marley's song Zimbabwe is a big part of that fact. Every time he saw me he would greet me with the ultimate Jamaican greeting: "Wa'a gwan?" I liked him a lot. He was trying to sell me something but never, ever pushed, never the hard sell that you find in Maputo, Mozambique. Finally, it was I who hunted him down to get the two pieces of sculpture. The day I left for Bulawayo, a major city south of Victoria Falls. If memory serves, a 12-hour train ride, arriving around 8 AM.

Cape Town, South Africa

2011-04-05T11:13:00.001-04:00

Cape Town, South Africa, a photo by Barrybar on Flickr.

A Falko - in a laundromat at the corner of Green and Keerom Streets.

I was walking and saw a Falko on a van. I struggled to get my camera out of the case around my waist. It took me a while to extricate as I saw the light change and the van head off. You simply cannot get them all.

Cape Town, South Africa

2011-04-05T11:12:00.001-04:00

Cape Town, South Africa, a photo by Barrybar on Flickr.

Cape Town, South Africa

2011-04-05T11:11:00.001-04:00

Cape Town, South Africa, a photo by Barrybar on Flickr.

A very tall building which dwarfs the light pole. The tallest work I have ever seen.

Manaus, Brasil

2011-04-05T11:10:00.001-04:00

Manaus, Brasil, a photo by Barrybar on Flickr.

On the river between Brasil (Solimões River) and Peru (Negro River).

Company's Garden, Cape Town

2011-04-05T10:16:00.002-04:00

Company's Garden, Cape Town, a photo by Barrybar on Flickr.

She caught me on my third "stolen" moment. It was too obvious that I was pointing at her and not the plants. She laughed and I walked over and told her she was so beautiful I couldn't help it. I think she said it was freaky, but she was fine with it. Since I had "stolen" three, I had planned to ask her permission to take three more, but, minutes later, she walked the other way. It would've been too freaky to pursue her for that portrait that I had wanted. So I simply watched her as she walked away with her girlfriend.

Company's Garden, Cape Town

2011-04-05T10:13:00.001-04:00

Company's Garden, Cape Town, a photo by Barrybar on Flickr.

I like how their tattoos complement each other.

Cape Town

2011-04-05T10:12:00.001-04:00

Cape Town, a photo by Barrybar on Flickr.

About five days ago (20 March 2011), I accompanied two friends on a brief tour of some graffiti sites during which I took quick shots because I know they had planned to paint as well. Kyle cautioned me about going down an alley.

Way out of the city, we got to a sort of playground with graffiti on it walls. Kyle went to a house but they declined to have him use their wall. A second resident gave him the OK. We returned to the car and lugged about 30 paint cans, white paint, some fruit and one mask. I helped to prepare the wall by painting about 20 square feet. Then, for the next three hours I photographed their progress.

When Kyle finished his, I noticed him writing: Yo: Patric Barry Barr

It was funny and amazing that, after relentlessly photographing graffiti since 2001, here I was being accorded some recognition.

During the work, which took three hours, two policemen approached us and asked about the work. The head cop said they had received at least 20 calls from residents complaining about vandals defacing the wall. (At last, the vandal side of me has been recognized!) My main man told him he had permission from the owner and the cop and himself took a walk. The woman concurred.

When the cops were returning, I asked them what they thought of the work. They approved and stopped to decifer the letters in the art, which is not always an easy task.

SCHOOLGIRLS

Speaking of decifering the letters, yesterday (25 March 2011), I was on my way, walking through Company's Garden*, to see a play, Broken Glass, by the late playwright and late husband of the late Marilyn Monroe, Arthur Miller. At the museum, I went to re-check the four pieces of graffiti that I had observed and photographed about nine days ago. I was re-checking because when I returned two days after the four pieces went up, I saw that one had already been replaced, and two, which I thought were finished when I left, were actually now completely finished and three schoolgirls, in their green uniforms and about 13-14 I would guess, were trying to figure out the letters in one.

I helped them figure it out and told them it was done by a woman who signs as LARD. We discussed the other that was replaced and I showed them what the original looked like.

We probably talked for about 45 minutes and the conversation ranged widely, even including religion. They were all very pleasant and one, who was one year in school ahead of her two friends, was particularly precocious. I never took pictures because am usually wary of doing so with young girls. The precocious one says she is into art and took my Flickr address when I told her I was into graffiti in a big way.

I said my goodbyes and left to find The Fugard Theater. I stopped to enqure as I walked along and with half an hour to go, decided to take a cab, otherwise I could have arrived late and sweaty.

At the intermission, I was leaving to stretch my legs, when a woman in the back row called to me and reminded me that we had met the night before when I went to see an African play called Burnt. As I have written elsewhere, during our conversation the night before, she suddenly introduced me to three young women. I had thought she did so because a special person, a man, had arrived and she thought better of us being together. But she told me yesterday that she did so because she had some work to do. I totally understand.

*I haven't researched nor enquired, but I am of the opinion that "Company" is short for East India Company, Great Britain's colonial arm that ruled much of the world. Do the research.

Edit: I also need to do the research because I believe there were two "Companys" -- The Dutch and the British East India Company.

Cape Town, South Africa

2011-04-05T10:10:00.001-04:00

Cape Town, South Africa, a photo by Barrybar on Flickr.

SERENDIPITY

Had I gone to Table Mountain as I had planned, I would never have met her.

Invariably, when I travel, I never plan. So I am often totally uninformed. About Table Mountain, all I knew was that wherever I went in Cape Town, I could see it. So, when I announced yesterday afternoon, that I was going to walk to the cable car, two staff members at the hostel were shocked. It is far, they told me. You need to get a cab. It will cost about 40 Rands. This time, I had the money but I wasn't in the mood to spend that money ($6).

Instead, I took a walk to a park on Queen Victoria Street. As I arrived at the On Orange Hotel (on Orange Street, that is), I saw about eight costumed women and one man, enter the terrace of the hotel, with a photographer and his assistant. On cue, I started taking shots, even before they were assembled.

The woman in the photo asked me if I would like a photo. Of course, but that was what I was already doing. So I shot for about ten minutes or so, from the background of course, being sure to not get in the way.

After the shoot, I stood at street level, at the bottom of the steps. She spoke to the photographer's assistant and I believe he didn't agree with her. However, she came to me, took my camera and handed it to him.

For the first shot, I posed, looking at her, as if paying a compliment. She instructed him to take another shot and that shot was for us.

I thanked her and left.

Soweto (Orlando West), South Africa

2011-04-05T10:07:00.002-04:00

Soweto (Orlando West), South Africa, a photo by Barrybar on Flickr.

Athough I told her that my duffel bag was heavy, that's the one she took. She took me to the room and waited until I selected a bed. I can tell that she has a wry sense of humour even though she expresses it in another language. She does treat me as if she were a loving daughter. When I head to the kitchen to wash my plates or cups, she will intercept me and no matter what I say, I have to give in because she stands her ground. She's my other "daughter."

Soweto

2011-04-05T10:02:00.002-04:00

Soweto, a set on Flickr.

Some memories from Soweto.

Happy Anniversary

2011-04-05T08:12:00.003-04:00

In Praha

I just picked up a book with the front cover missing. Graham Greene's A Gun for Sale, which once belonged to Ruth Shepherd and H. Eruns. There is no way of knowing who owned it first. I bought it in Prague on 4/11/2001. It was published by Heinemann in 1936, by Penguin in 1963 and reprinted in 1965. I have yet to read it.

On second inspection, however, since I write day/month/year, it has to be 4 November 2001 rather than April 11, 2001.

I also just found the cover neatly snuggled between pages 182 and 183.

It's now on my reading list!

Lima, Peru

2010-10-01T13:16:00.001-04:00

Lima, Peru
Originally uploaded by Barrybar

A few months ago. It may have been the day that Peru celebrated its birthday and there was this big procession along Avenida Brasil.

Lima, Peru - Luís, mi salva vida

2010-06-24T23:34:00.001-04:00

Lima, Peru - Luís, mi salva vida
Originally uploaded by Barrybar

The designer, Luís, pays tribute to Jamaicans, and Africans alike. And since life began in Africa, which makes us all Africans, Luís found a way to pay tribute to all of us. For that one person in Flickr who doesn't know, that is the Jamaican flag. Jamaica became independent in August 1962.

Lima, Peru

2010-05-18T19:35:00.002-04:00

Lima, Peru
Originally uploaded by Barrybar

One of my "models" in class.

Miami, Florida

2010-04-04T17:17:00.001-04:00

Miami, Florida
Originally uploaded by Barrybar

Portion of a wall by Os Gemeos

Orlando, Florida

2009-11-19T16:33:00.001-05:00

Orlando, Florida
Originally uploaded by Barrybar

On Lake Apopka

New York City

2009-10-17T20:14:00.001-04:00

New York City
Originally uploaded by Barrybar

The famous Flatiron building, bisecting Broadway and Fifth Avenue, around 23rd Street or so.

Manhattan, NYC

2009-07-17T21:31:00.001-04:00

Manhattan, NYC
Originally uploaded by Barrybar

Panorama of three shots.

Coney Island, Brooklyn, NY

2009-07-17T15:28:00.001-04:00

Coney Island, Brooklyn, NY
Originally uploaded by Barrybar

A panorama of eight shots, maneuvering between parked cars for each shot.

New York City

2009-07-17T15:21:00.001-04:00

New York City
Originally uploaded by Barrybar

My son, my granddaughter and I met the brothers yesterday as they were leaving, one day after completing the graffiti/mural on East Houston at Bowery. This replaced a Keith Haring work of which I was totally unaware.

You may wish to take a look at the original size.

La Antigua Guatemala

2009-04-05T22:12:00.001-04:00

La Antigua Guatemala
Originally uploaded by Barrybar

Vsiting from Mexico

La Antigua Guatemala

2009-04-05T22:10:00.001-04:00

La Antigua Guatemala
Originally uploaded by Barrybar

Sitting outside the home in which he was born 70 years ago.

La Antigua Guatemala

2009-04-05T22:09:00.001-04:00

La Antigua Guatemala
Originally uploaded by Barrybar

She stopped to chat with Carlos and Don Julio (I am sure I have his name wrong, but will correct it later). She stayed a few more minutes so that I could photograph her.

La Antigua Guatemala

2009-04-05T22:08:00.001-04:00

La Antigua Guatemala
Originally uploaded by Barrybar

La Antigua Guatemala

2009-04-05T22:06:00.001-04:00

La Antigua Guatemala
Originally uploaded by Barrybar

We met in a bookstore named Dyslexia. We spoke of literature, travel and work.

La Antigua Guatemala

2009-04-05T22:04:00.001-04:00

La Antigua Guatemala
Originally uploaded by Barrybar

The eyes of Guatemala

La Antigua Guatemala

2009-04-05T22:03:00.001-04:00

La Antigua Guatemala
Originally uploaded by Barrybar

Would you believe! I pulled him away from his work to make calls to the Lago de Atitlán area so that I may find an inexpensive and fun hostel. Of course, I have no time for fun, so busy posting photos so you may know where I happen to be at the moment. Duty calls.

He is owner of a most interesting restaurant-club called "Casa No Sé.

La Antigua Guatemala

2009-04-05T22:01:00.001-04:00

La Antigua Guatemala
Originally uploaded by Barrybar

Carlos, middle, runs the bookstore, Dyslexia. He's taking a break with us but ready to head to the bookstore across the street when necessary.

La Antigua Guatemala

2009-04-05T21:50:00.001-04:00

La Antigua Guatemala
Originally uploaded by Barrybar

Last night, went to the Café No Sé on First Avenue, between Calles 5 nd 6. Was disussing this painting with the bartender and asked if I could photograph it. I stretched across the bar to take the photo and she took the camera and probably did a better job than I would have.

Then, when the owner arrived, we had a long disussion about the painting and he told me about the artist. I had seen three men, but he pointed out four. Could they be the Four Horsemen of the Apocalypse?

Fix it with love

2008-10-01T13:37:00.001-04:00

Originally uploaded by Barrybar

"I am in end-stage liver failure," says Kathy. But neither she, her family or her friends are comfortable with the verdict. And we are all donating what we can so that she can obtain a transplant. We love her and want her to be around for many more years.

Please read the rest of her appeal for help here

Medellín, Colombia

2008-09-07T11:08:00.001-04:00

Medellín, Colombia
Originally uploaded by Barrybar

This is not the picture that belongs to this story; but this is the story that will explain what happened to the picture that didn’t make it here.

My flight from Medellín to Bogotá, Bogotá to Lima, required that, around 7 AM, at least, on 4 September, I take a taxi from Casa Kiwi in the El Poblado district to the metro; the metro to Universidad; a 3-block walk to the back of a hotel whose name will probably pop into my head in a few months, to get the bus for the little more than one-hour ride to the airport.

Now, why would I leave that early for an 11:40 AM flight? I absolutely detest the city’s shiny, new, pleasant-riding metro system, which has three cars when it should have five, and six when it should have eight. The people in that city are among the politest I have ever encountered anywhere … except when the metro pulls into the station. They never leave you any room to exit onto the platform, everyone seeming intent on getting a seat. So you stand a pretty good chance of being pushed from behind, suddenly, whether you are entering or departing a metro car. And, although I left Lima with only a back pack, I was returning with the backpack and a mini duffel bag when I bought there.

And it was the right decision because when the metro pulled into the station at around 7 o’clock, there was ample space for me in the front car.

But the story is not about 4 September. It is about my last full day in Colombia – Wednesday, 3 September.

I had returned the 2nd from Manizales and was unsure how to spend my last day. In Salento, I had heard about this huge rock, with steps that took you to the top, from which you had a wonderful view of the countryside. Or, I could go to the Jardin Botanico. In the end, having taken a 5-hour trip the day before, I wasn’t eager to take a 4-hour round trip to a rock So I decided to go to the botanical garden.

When I got to the Universidad metro station, I set out to find a bank. A woman, who I had just paid 500 Pesos to make a phone call to Avianca airlines, pointed me to Bancolombia, which seemed quite nearby, and off to another direction, which she indicated was much further. I had a bad experience with Bancolombia, which is another story, and decided I wanted nothing to do with them. So, I headed off to the other direction, the garden on my left.

The first man I asked, pointed me in the direction I had been walking and told me about four blocks. Because Colombia is mountainous country, four blocks is not as simple as it sounds, with paved roads, yes, but mountain climbing nonetheless. Let me make an already too-long story, short. I walked, and sweated profusely, for about 14 blocks.

I now had a choice of two banks and the first happened to be, you know which. I left for the other and got some money. Then, having sweated so profusely, I decided to enter a restaurant for a fruit drink but ended up having lunch.

Now, every single word I have told you so far is prologue. Here’s the story of that missing picture.

After I left the restaurant, shortly after 1 o’clock, I took a different, as I am won’t to do, to see if I encounter graffiti. I photographed a wall dedicated to the famous Argentinian singer Carlos Gardel - The King of Tango, then turned left down a street. It seemed as if ten or 11 blocks would take me to the botanical garden.

At the second block, I saw a piece of art, along with words, on a wall. It was a red heart with some words that appeared to be a call for peace among factions in the community. As I snapped a picture of this quite pleasant design, three guys who had been sitting nearby, approached me and demanded that I take no pictures in that neighbourhood. And they weren’t smiling either.

I explained that I liked the design, thought it was well executed, loved taking photos of graffiti and murals, and that I like the idea of the heart, which meant love. They still weren’t smiling. I became concerned when one of the guys, who appeared as if it were his visiting day out of the crazy house, asked me a question about the camera. I waved my goodbyes, touched my chest to show that it was all about love.

I had walked about six blocks when I saw a guy on a bike riding down the street, and something about him seemed familiar. At the next block, I decided to make a left and walk one block before making a right. About one or two blocks before the garden, the guy on the bike appeared before me. And I stopped.

He proceeded to ask me about why I took the picture. Who was I? Where was I from? How long had I been in Colombia? Where was I staying? (I told him the district, El Poblado, not the hostel. Had he pressed me for the hostel, I would have told him the Blacksheep, even though I was staying at Casa Kiwi.) With the engine running all the time, he continued the probe.

It was not a comfortable situation, and it didn’t take me long to decide to delete the photo, which, I assumed would put an end to the inquiry. So, I proposed doing just so. I found the picture easily enough, it being the last picture I had taken. I held the camera so that he could see the picture. I hit the three buttons that did the deed, and announced that, yes, the picture no longer existed.

He asked me to hand him the camera so that he could look and I declined to do so. I hit buttons that showed before and after, to convince him that the picture had really been deleted. Again, with the engine running, he requested to hold my camera, and again I declined.

Twice, he asked me if I wished to return to retake the picture, and twice I thankfully declined. After about an additional five minutes (I guess about 12 in all), we shook hands. And I walked to the garden, made a left and walked to La Esquina de las Mujeres (Women’s Corner).

And I took the picture above.

And I got the hell out of there. Got the metro and returned to the hostel.

Medellín, Colombia

2008-09-06T21:25:00.001-04:00

Medellín, Colombia
Originally uploaded by Barrybar

I've seen 1,000s of graffiti, but this is the first time I have ever seen an actual canvas with art pasted on a wall, along with graffiti.

Medelin,Colombia

2008-08-25T09:53:00.002-04:00

21 August 2008

I had wanted to visit Cartagena,on Colombia's coast, but the fare from Lima was more than I had bargained for, around $747. Which made me start thinking about taking a national flight south, to Tacna, and going by road to Chile. I just didn't care for the idea of going to Chile for a fourth time.

But Eugeene emailed me with a price of $425 to Medellín.

So, I left Lima at around 5:35 PM today and,after a stopover in Bogotá, arrived in Medellín at 10:40 PM.

I had heard that a cab would cost about $25, so was extremely pleased to find a small bus parked outside the terminal that cost 6,000 pesos (about $4). It was quite far to the city and I kept thinking, if I had taken a cab for that long ride, which seemed to be about 25 miles, that after paying, I would have had enough left to turn around and take the cab back to the airport.

When the bus arrived in town, I was pointed to a cab, and I gave the guy who ushered me to the cab, $1. We had a difficult time finding my hostel, partly because I wrote Casa Wiki, instead of Casa Kiwi. But something may have been amiss with the address, even though I wrote it down as I saw it on the internet. We finally got directions when I asked a guard to call the hostel, and we were about the drive past, after midnight, when I just spotted the name.

Not having one peso, I borrowed 5,000 pesos from the hostel, and paid the driver, along with $1 tip.

And I went to bed.

Surco, Lima, Peru

2008-08-01T20:54:00.001-04:00

Surco, Lima, Peru
Originally uploaded by Barrybar

I'm being served a salad in a restaurant at the corners of Avenidas Aviación and Valles del Sur.

Flickr

2008-03-16T21:41:00.001-04:00

This is a test post from , a fancy photo sharing thing.

Back in Lima, Peru

2008-03-14T12:52:00.001-04:00

I return to Lima

I got out of bed in Boulder, Colorado about 5 AM on 27 February and Geneva drove me to the bus station on Walnut Street. I caught the 9:19, and the driver questioned my age when I confirmed through him that seniors paid $5.50. He accepted when I told him that Hitler was raising hell the year I was born.

Got to the airport at about 7:40, a full half an hour before the arrival of the $25 ride, which would've picked me up at home.

Caught the plane to Atlanta and left there more than an hour late. Turns out that several people hadn't shown up and they had to find their luggage and take it off the plane. Consequently, we arrived in Lima one hour late, at 1 AM.

I was lucky on several counts. I was among the first dozen passengers who passed through Immigration; then stood for about 12 minutes a the wrong baggage station but got a cart and went to the correct one, where I waited for about half an our for my two duffel bags.

Second stroke of luck. When I pushed the button it turned green, which is my cue to leave Customs.

Then, third stroke of luck, when I turned the corner I heard and saw Felix and Rosi. Felix it was who shouted my name, even though we were yet to meet.

Third stroke of luck. Now you don't need to leave the cart inside the terminal, but can push it outside with all your luggage. That is a big improvement.

So, here I am, at the second week after my arrival, still adjusting to being at sea level and the heat. I make it a point never to complain about the heat, because I complain mightily against the cold.

So far, I have gone three times to see my friend Alejandra compete in a program on TV called Desafio & Fama. She is a dancer and has been doing quite well so far.

Here are a few photos that I took of her.

Chemainus, Vancouver Island, B.C.

2007-12-27T12:03:00.001-05:00

Chemainus, Vancouver Island, B.C.
Originally uploaded by Barrybar

I took a train from Victoria and headed north to Chemainus, for the second time on my two trips to Vancouver Island. The first thing that one sees, leaving the train is the first of more than three dozen murals. That was what marked the town the first time I visited, and it still does today.

Boulder, Colorado

2007-04-22T21:22:00.001-04:00

Boulder, Colorado
Originally uploaded by Barrybar.

In the restaurant/bar, El Centro, on Pearl Street at 10th Street

Boulder, Colorado

2006-08-17T19:42:00.000-04:00

Boulder, Colorado
Originally uploaded by Barrybar.

Gallup, New Mexico

2006-08-15T11:27:00.000-04:00

Gallup, New Mexico
Originally uploaded by Barrybar.

Early one morning in August, taken from South 1st Street.

Santa Fe, New Mexico

2006-07-30T21:03:00.000-04:00

Santa Fe, New Mexico
Originally uploaded by Barrybar.

A hotel on Alameda Street, downtown Santa Fe. Three shots, stitched using DoubleTake.

Gallup, New Mexico

2006-07-30T20:58:00.000-04:00

Gallup, New Mexico
Originally uploaded by Barrybar.

Red Rock State Park, about 5 miles east of downtown Gallup. A panorama of three shots.

Gallup, New Mexico

2006-06-19T21:22:00.000-04:00

Gallup, New Mexico
Originally uploaded by Barrybar.

Long Walk Home
Richard K. Yazzie, murallist, 2005

In 1864, during a period of destabilization among U.S. settlers, Spanish inhabitants and Native Americans, the Navajo and some Apachee were singled out by the U.S. government as responsible for raiding. Thousands of Navajo people were forcibly marched from Canoon de Chelly by Colonel Kit Carson, on orders of Brigadier Geeneral James H. Carleton, to Fort Sumner, 400 miles away. Eventually, 7,000 Navajo were imprisoned there.

The captives suffered four years of deplorable conditions of drought, hunger and cold until it no longer became feasible to hold them. The Peace Treaty of 1868 was signed and the Navajo were released. At Fort Wingate, livestock and other supplies were distributed. From there the Navajo dispersed allong the Rio Puerco, where Gallup was later founded in 1881, to their ancestral homeland, now a defined reservation.

Note: This is the kind of rainbow that I saw for the first time in my life, both ends in plain sight, as I entered Santa Fe about a week ago.

Gallup, New Mexico

2006-06-18T00:16:00.000-04:00

Gallup, New Mexico
Originally uploaded by Barrybar.

Women's Mullti-cultural Mural
Erica Rae Sykes, muralist, 2005

Centuries before Gallup's founding in 1881, this was a region of interweaving native cultures -- Navajo, Hopi and Zuni. Resources of coal, timber, railroads and trading attracted settlers and created a city of increasing cultural diversity.

We offer a tribute to the women who have carried on the traditions of daily life of their own cultures, raising children, making gardens and neighborhoods. Women who have perpetuated special holidays. Women who have had a major role in forming our cultural organizations, churches, schools and libraries.

The large symbolic storyteller at the left of the mural pays homage to the women who have kept multi-cultural memories alive by telling stories of the past.

[From the plaque by the mural]

Portland, Oregon

2006-05-01T20:46:00.000-04:00

Portland, Oregon
Originally uploaded by Barrybar.

I was on my way the post office when I came upon this May Day, pro-immigration demonstration going south on 12th Avenue. I don't know at what point I saw them, but it was several blocks long.

Bad buses, bad drivers kill hundreds annually on Andean roads

2006-04-02T21:15:00.000-04:00

I've been explaining to my friends, for years now, why, after nine years, I don't know Peru. It is because the roads are terrible, each week I read about another bus going over another precipice, and I'm simply partial to dying in bed.

Here's an article that supports my thinking: Bad buses, bad drivers kill hundreds annually on Andean roads

A Higher Plane...Bar None

2006-03-20T23:53:00.000-05:00

A Higher Plane...Bar None
Originally uploaded by Robin Thom.

My Flickr friend, Robin, took this shot, during a stop on a tour of Vancouver. He's a hell of a driver and a wonderful person.

Cojímar, Cuba

2006-01-26T12:43:00.000-05:00

Cojímar, Cuba
Originally uploaded by Barrybar.

Friends of mine

Return from hibernation

2006-01-10T12:20:00.000-05:00

I cannot believe that I have been in hibernation since 24 August 2005, when I visited Ecuador.

Since then, I've travelled to Kingston, to another place, to Orlando, and am planning to leave for Vancouver, Canada by the end of this month. Of course, I did find some difficulty getting to computers while I was in the Caribbean, but I certain had access to a computer in Orlando. I just didn't have the desire to catch up, to bring my blog up to date.

Let's see how much energy will be generated to keep my blog current.

How many miles to Mall del Sol?

2005-08-24T13:07:00.000-04:00

Tuesday, 23 August 2005

Today, I set out on foot, to find the graffiti that I saw from the tour bus the day before. It was just about the only decent graffiti I've seen in this city, on the wall of the University of Guayaquil.

So I left the hostel and headed on, I think, Francisco Roca R. toward the other malecon down Blvd. 9 de Octubre. After several blocks, I ask a man at a corner where the malecon is. He pointed left, but then I spot what looks like graffiti in the opposite direction. So I head in pursuit and find some political graffiti. And realize that I am on the right track, have taken the right direction, and that the graffiti which I seek is about 150 meters down the road.

I took about eight shots of the graffiti, but it was risky having my butt out into heavy traffic. Afterwards, I asked a newspaper guy which direction to the Mall del Sol. I follow his direction. Finally, it seems like five miles in all, I arrive at the mall, in pursuit of a biography of Fidel Castro. The name of the book and the author, I left in my notebook in Lima and have totally forgotten.

In the second bookstore, I see a book which appears to be the one I am looking for, a hardcover which cost $34. I am thinking about the weight, as well as the cost. Later, I find a really big bookstore at the other end of the mall, upstairs.

But before I enter the bookstore, I set to take a photo of an ad outside a store and heard a young woman call out to me to tell me that it is now allowed. However, I already have the photo. Shoot first, ask later.

This bookstore has the book, paperback, for $9. Great.

I leave the bookstore and talk to some heavily armed policeman about how to get to the cemetery. They call a cab. The driver warns me against visiting the cemetery by making a slashing motion at his throat.

I then shift the discussion to the Botannical Garden. I don't seem to be getting much encouragement here either, but I insist. So, we're off, and it will only cost $4. We arrive, and I he rejects a $1 tip. The guy at the gate assures me that there are lots of flowers. But my tour of the place makes him out to be a lying motherfucker.

It is a grand excuse for a botannical garden. Nobody has spent any time making the place live up to its name. And the bathrooms have no toilet paper, not soap either.

But I do get a few pictures of orchids, about seven varieties. Got close to a few butterflies, and very close to hundreds of dead ones used to spell out Botannico de Guayaquil, or something close.

The driver, as promised, returned at 1:30 PM, and I stopped him for a minute to take photos of graffiti on a wall nearby, and alighted on Blvd. 9 de Octubre, near Escobedo. I tipped him about $5 and this time he accepted it.

I wandered around quite a bit, got about five of my smartmedia cards with photos transferred to CD, then the one CD copied. I am learning my lesson quite late, having lost 17,000 photographs, many of them irreplaceable.

Then I sat at a juice bar, drank too much juice and felt quite uncomfortable. Walked slowly back to the hostel, read a bit, and then went to bed.

I arrive in Guayaquil, Ecuador

2005-08-24T12:17:00.000-04:00

Friday, 19 August 2005

It's 12:44 PM and I am standing in a long line, one of about six, at immigration in Guayaquil. Taca 026 from Lima had landed about 15 minutes earlier. I want to pee but there is nothing to be done about it until we pass through immigration, and they are being interminably slow because, apparently, the machines are down or something of the sort.

The line hasn't moved in 10 minutes.

Eventually, I pass through immigration and exit the terminal building. A man approaches me with a hard sell. I am asking for tourist information, but he says he has all the information I need. Finally, I find information, not tourist information per se but get booklets and a hotel and a hostel. I figure the hostel because it costs $12/night.

I return to the hard sell guy and he tells me a taxi will cost $5, and that I have to give him a tip. I give him a dollar and he hands me a map of central Guayaquil. Free.

At 1:48 PM, I'm in a room with two beds, in Pacifico Hostelling Int., at Escobedo 811 between Junin & L. Uerdaneta. I am only three blocks from Blvd. 9 de Octubre, the main drag, and about 5 or so blocks from the malecon, the best looking malecon that I have ever seen. Makes the malecon in Buenos Aires look sort of ordinary.

I visit the malecon and take a bunch of pictures.

RUMINATIONS & PICTURES

2005-02-11T12:56:00.000-05:00

To read my daily blog, I invite you to click on

RUMINATIONS & PICTURES

Look forward to seeing you there.

Patrick Barry Barr

A Welcome Message

2005-02-11T12:53:00.000-05:00

Ruminations & Pictures

2005-02-03T16:02:00.000-05:00

Hello,

Welcome to On the Move, where I blog when I am travelling.

If this is the last post, please go to Ruminations & Pictures where I blog when I am not travelling. When I am sitting around at home, or just returned from a movie, or planning to go to one.

Peace and love.

Patrick Barry Barr

2005-01-31T20:51:00.000-05:00

2005-01-31T18:42:00.000-05:00

Technorati Profile

2004-11-07T12:43:00.000-05:00

NEW YORK, USA

I returned to the US from Venice, by way of Amsterdam, on Tuesday, 25 October.

So, I take a break from blogging for now.

So long.

Patrick Barry Barr

2004-10-19T19:39:00.000-04:00

ASSISI, ITALY

I visited Assisi today and saw the tomb of St. Francis himself. More later. Maybe.

PBB

2004-10-18T19:37:00.000-04:00

PISA, ITALY

Visited Pisa today. More later. Maybe.

PBB

2004-10-16T19:20:00.000-04:00

FLORENCE, ITALY

A MUGGING POSTPONED

Yesterday, I was rushing headlong toward my own mugging, until I got my bearings and parted company with my "benefactor".

It was about 5 o'clock and I was leaning against a wall on Via Faenza, studying the map. I didn't have much of a clue where I was when this slender, tall guy asked me if he could help. I said I was looking for Ponte Vecchio, and he said "follow me!"

He started on a brisk pace, so brisk that sometimes, when separated, I had to run to catch up with him. So fast, that even his friend was left behind.

After about six minutes, we emerged at the train station, the first place I recognized. That told me that he was taking me north, into his territory, when Ponte Vecchio lay south.

I said my goodbyes and we parted company.

USEFUL INFORMATION, UNREAD

In Milan, I went to the museum to The Last Supper and was asked if I had a reservation. First time in my life I had ever faced that situation. Of course, I had none. And I had gone to such trouble, walking and getting lost how many times to get there.

I had the foresight, when I flew Lufthansa on 24 August to Moscow, to rip out a page from the inflight magazine that talked about Milan. At that time, I wasn't sure I would visit Milan. But just in case. Well, that was 24 August.

Last night, 15 October, I pulled out the sheet of paper and read it for the first time. The relevant part said:

"The church of Santa Maria delle Grazie is home to one of the world's most famous painting, Leonardo da Vinci's Last Supper. Admission is limited, so call ahead."

OK, so I blew Milan. So when I arrived in Florence, I called and got an appointment to see David at 11 o'clock this morning and a 1:15 tomorrow for Galleria Degli Uffizi where I expect to meet Venus Rising.

LOST IN FLORENCE

A few things can happen when you are lost and studying a map on the street. Usually, you are completely ignored. Also, unfortunately, you could be approached by someone who really wants you to part with your money.

Or, you could get help from some wonderful people. As I have in Paris, a couple times. And that's how I met Vera at the corner of Via Panicale and Via Dell' Ariento.

She left her store to enquire if I needed help and found out that we have somethings in common. Vera, a German, has lived in Jamaica, had a Jamaican in her life, and discovered Jamaican food.

For about half an hour, we chatted non-stop about the ways of people. We talked about reggae, about Rastafari, about the good things and the bad things about places. It blew her mind when I told her that in Jamaica, we used to pay to go see a movie, but before it hit the screen, we had to stand to the British national anthem. Imagine how screwed up minds must be. Without a gun in sight. Without a whip. We, exploited Jamaicans, stand obediently to God Save the King, or God Save the Queen!!! And, when the empire had sucked us dry, they gave us independence. But only after they were sure we were ready!

I know my country so little that I had to ask Vera where Treasure Beach was. It is on the south coast and I believe I have been there with former friends Sydney and Georgia White.

Of course, it was good to see David, but I had met him before. I met Vera for the first time and she made my day.

Patrick Barry Barr

2004-10-12T17:44:00.000-04:00

MILAN, ITALY

If you had written three items in your blog, then, at the point of sending hit the wrong button and lost everything, would you start from scratch all over again? Just to get it off my chest, a brief synopsis:

I left Barcelona on the 10:05 this morning and arrived in Milan about an hour and fifteen minutes later. Could have probably saved 40€ (euros) had I gone online as the owner of the ABBA hostel suggested. I paid $114 for the ticket and 40€ was her commission.

I had also said that my friends may say I am fairly intelligent but would have to be sent to Abu Ghraib to get them to whisper that I was sharp as a tack, a quick thinker on my feet, astute. I am none of those things. I usually figure things out hours, days, weeks later. Remember that story I told you about the guy who made me erase all those photos of the mystery Italian train parked for God knows how many years at a railroad station in Spain? All I had to do was to show him a couple and then hit the button that makes the photos skip by tens. He wouldn't have known the difference!

Finally, am I the only Black guy who is always suspicious when they put me all the way in the back of the restaurant, right by the toilet? When I got to the hotel in Milan today, I had to trek a-a-l-ll the way to the penultimate room, like taking a tour of the goddam hotel. I plan to get the hell out of there tomorrow. If I had cash, I could have gotten something for 40€ tomorrow. I am going to take a look at a few places tomorrow. Like the La Scala, for example. Then take a train to Florence.

Now, let me see which button do I hit?

Patrick Barry Barr

2004-10-11T21:08:00.000-04:00

THE BODY CAN TAKE SO MUCH

Late August to early September, I could be seen taking stairs two steps at a time; walking up escalators that take more than two minutes to get to the top.

Now, it is October and you will find me just like the other folks: just standing there, waiting for the escalator to take me where we are all going: up!

Occasionally, the old me reappears and I will take a step or two up or down, but that energy has to be recouped by a long vacation, when I return to the USA and then to Lima.

I arrived in Barcelona yesterday evening and took a very long walk to the train station to see if there were trains to Nice, France. It appears that I would need to make two connections. I don't really need to be in Nice that badly.

So, today I bought a ticket to Milan. Cost 114 euros or dollars, I forget. Maybe I could have gotten a better deal had I searched the Internet, but just goes to show you that I am sapped. Of course, I did book a hotel in Milan.

I didn't really do the things I would normally do on a visit to Barcelona. I just didn't feel up to it. And you wouldn't believe the crowds in The Rambla area and about the Catalunya square! I need to spend two or three months in Barcelona to slowly take it all in. It really is an incredible city!

Patrick Barry Barr

2004-10-11T21:02:00.000-04:00

BILBAO TO BARCELONA

Prohibited

About three hours into the train ride, through no fault of the conductor, he was closing the door as we were about to leave a train station, when I was taking a photo. I got the back of his head and a small piece of the object which I was photographing. He didn't have to be, but he seemed apologetic.

To make up for it, he promised me a very interesting site at the next station. When we pulled into the next station, he pointed to the prize: a sleek, old, Italian train. It had that modern design for speed, seemed to have been in an accident and was permanently placed at the station, on the adjoining track that ends there.

I didn't get to find out what was so interesting about this train, but I proceeded to take about nine or so photos from different angles. I liked them a lot. As I angled to take a head-on shot, an official approached me and said : "No, no. Es prohibido."

He said he was told to tell me that it was prohibited to take photos of the train but wouldn't explain why a train in plain view for how many years now was not to be photographed. As if the Italians didn't know it was there. It is not as if it was the Elgin Marbles, safely esconced in the British Museum, stolen from Greece how many years now.

He stood there as I went back, back, back, back and saw that I deleted them all. One, of another train, I said was graffiti and he said I could keep that.

So I will not be able to share this top secret of the Spanish government with you. Sorry!

Patrick Barry Barr

2004-10-11T15:51:00.000-04:00

BARCELONA, ESPAÑA

Left Bilbao on the 10:05 AM train and arrived at Estaçao Sants at about 7:10 PM yesterday. Took the No. 3 metro five stops to Drassanes, found the Columbus monument two blocks away, made a left and walked about 200 yards on Passeig de Colom to the ABBA hostel at number 9.

My room has six two-bunk beds to house twelve people. I am alone in the No. 2 bottom bunk. Being wary of spending my cash, I did not rent a sheet, nor a pillow. Used my clothes bag, the one in which I take my clothes to the laundry. This morning, I didn't rent a towel for 2 euros, either.

But I had a wonderful discussion with the Iranian owner. We agreed on everything.

Went wild taking wall art and graffiti.

I am as drained as the rag that I left to dry this morning. I just don't feel like looking at Barcelona and will fly out tomorrow morning to Milan.

Talk with you later.

Patrick Barry Barr

2004-10-06T20:20:00.000-04:00

BILBAO

Horace Andy

It may have been love, infatuation, or pure lust. I don't know. I didn't stay around to find out.

It was a few moments after I had entered Kafe Antzoka that I saw him looking at me. A middle-aged, white man in a dark suit. For crissake, it was a Reggae concert with one of Jamaica's pioneers, Horace Andy.

It was about 9:20 and the place was noisy. He came over to make conversation and I couldn't hear a damn thing. I managed to hear the offer for a drink and said no; water, no. That didn't stop him from returning a few minutes later with a small bottle of water and his phone number on a pink flyer, for chrissakes. The flyer showed a clown and the name Kurrusku. He said that was him. The number was written at the top and again, near the bottom 653749942.

Half an hour later, during the concert, he introduced this guy as his friend. A few minutes later, another bottle of water. Twenty minutes later, another, which I refused. I showed the friend the two that I had in my bag.

Then this clown returns with a beer which I absolutely refused.

Andy had the place filled with young, dreadlocked youngsters, a guy offered me ganja which I refused. The place was hopping and I could breathe a little by keeping the door ajar.

Before the intermission, I left, making sure the clown didn't see me going.

Patrick Barry Barr

2004-10-05T17:55:00.000-04:00

BILBAO

EMERGENCY

If you ever need to go to the emergency of any hospital during your vacation, make it The Hospital Civil de Basurto, in Bilbao.

I had thought of seeing a doctor in Vilnius for my throat; then I thought of seeing one in Paris. But I didn't. I have had to sleep sitting up several nights because of my throat and was extremely conscious of my coughing, during the night, in the Peace and Love hostel.

Anyway, I took a street car to the last stop, Basuro, and walked to the hospital. I thought it funny that Emergency was so far from the front gate for a person on foot. After about 15 minutes, a pleasant woman took my information and asked me to wait for my name to be called; which took about 20 minutes. A pleasant woman took my temperature and blood pressure, both of which I forgot to ask for. Finally, another took me to a room where I met Dr. Anat, if I recall (you know me and names). He was very pleasant and had two students. He said it was fine; nothing out of the ordinary, and gave me three things to take.

I asked him where I should pay and he told me that it did not cost anything. I told him that one day I would send a donation.

I wished them hasta luego, then corrected myself: Adios. Nice as they are, you don't want to be seeing them again.

Patrick Barry Barr

2004-10-05T17:47:00.000-04:00

BILBAO, SPAIN

Basque Region

This is Basque country. They want to separate from Spain.

At hostel, Roquefer, the first time I heard the church bell, we're neighbours, the church and the hostel, the sound just about felt as if it had come from within my head. But I have become quite accustomed to it ringing from about 7AM, I believe, until when I don't know. But, thank God, it doesn't ring during the night. It rings so loudly, and unexpectedly, that it always breaks your thoughts, whatever those thoughts may have been.

The sounds from the street were enormous yesterday, sounds of construction, sounds of voices, just about as loud as you ever heard outside a quarrel. But I loved it all. I love the sounds of the streets. I remember the sounds of Havana, where people will shout from the street to the third floor for friends. Also, in and outside Havana, the sounds of the street sellers. Always reminds me of Kingston in my youth: the coal man, the milk man, the bread man, the man or woman selling mangos or any number of edibles.

I don't want a funeral when I die, I just want a town crier walking around shouting at the top of his lungs: "The nigger's dead!"

Patrick Barry Barr

2004-10-05T17:40:00.000-04:00

BILBAO, SPAIN

It was on that train from Paris's Gare d'Austerlitz, the 11:14 PM to Irun, Spain that I suffered much. Don't forget (how could you, I haven't yet told you) that I was still (am still) nursing a sore throat.

I got this sore throat in Vilnius, during some opera or ballet, when, during intermission, I went outside to get some fresh air. I noted then that I was not wearing my tam, having removed it inside because it was hot. Now, I know my system. I knew I was threading on dangerous ground here. And, of course, next day by throat became some.

We arrived in Irun about 7:30 AM and I spoke twice with a very irritated woman at the information desk. I believe she had a headache.

As she said, I went to NO. 1 platform, ascertained there were no trains either to San Sebastian nor Bilbao. I went to the bus to Bilbao and asked the driver if the bus had a toilet. He said yes, and it left in about5 minutes. I ran and bought a ticket. I've never had better service on a bus. The guy gave us earphones. Even gave us a small book, which, if I were on the ball, I would be able to tell you the title, but I am not myself yet.

On arrival, I got some hotel and hostel info at the bus station. I took a spanking new metro to the old town, Casco Viejo. Got help finding the first hostel but they didn't seem to have what I needed so the lady sent me to Hostel Roquefer where I got a room for 30 euros.

Patrick Barry Barr

2004-10-05T17:30:00.000-04:00

PARIS, FRANCE

THREE GUYS IN A ROOM

I posted the first part, fearful that I may lose it all. Which would have made me quite pissed.

After all this talk about how to remember names. I looked straight at Jamie later and asked him where Jamie went. He corrected me. Hardy.

I offered to treat them to a beer.

So we met downstairs in the bar and I bought three beers. After which, Jamie bought three beers. And I declined a third. Good thing, because beer makes me want to pee a lot, often.

So it was a good thing that I went by train because I really had a big problem with peeing. Were I on a bus, I could have solved it easily by opening the front door, while in motion, and throwing myself under the back wheels.

It is a long story, which I may recount to a medical team. You would find it quite boring.

Patrick Barry Barr

2004-10-05T17:25:00.000-04:00

PARIS, FRANCE

ADIEU

Left Paris after three days and three photos from my hostel window, Peace and Love, at 245 Rue LaFayette. The ad says it is ten minutes' walk from Gare du Nord. Don't believe it. Unless the ad is directed to Olympic walkers.

My trip to Paris would have been a total disaster had I stayed in a hotel.

First of all, Paris had been my hope to get a copy of the LP La vie de Boheme, published in 1969 by BYG Actuel in Paris itself. I had some luck the first day when a very pleasant and helpful guy in a record store gave me two addresses. They were touted as just about the most knowledgeable folks in the jazz field.

I walked several miles finding these guys. The one I hoped would help me most, gave me about two minutes before dismissing me. The other, whose door is closed, wouldn't even pay me any attention, until I pressed the information to the door window and he came, looked, and said no.

Every building of note that I saw, I saw merely by chance. For example, the Sorbonne, just happened to show up on my left while looking for record stores, with Montaigne seated across the street. Admirers hands' have polished his shoes to quite a shine.

I seem to be running out of steam and will not be going into the kind of detail that you have become accustomed to. There are still stuff in my head that I don't have the energy to flush out.

But Peace and Love sort of saved the day. I checked into this tiny room on thre 4th floor and spent the night alone.

The following day I was shifted to room 1, which was occupied by two people. First, I met Jamie, a young student from British Columbia, Canada, who was venturing on his first big trip. Initially, we spoke about how to remember names and agreed that one way was to repeat it during conversation.

Jamie had seen visited some interesting cities along the way, but that brought him no satisfaction when he realized that he had brought along any pictures of his family. He was visibly sad when he explained that to me. Wow! Wanted to travel along, but just, in some way, didn't want to leave his family behind.

Then, later, I bumped into a guy downstairs who asked if I was Patrick. Turned out to be Hardy, a young man from Australia. He is hardy in more ways than one, riding around Paris on a rented bicycle, had lived in Korea for about 15 months, had been to a bunch of places, and was quite a pro at being on the road and surviving very well at it. The first thing that Hardy said was that I had the choice of the lower bunk. Jamie had a mattress on the floor. The room was so tiny that, as slender as Jamie is, he had to suck in his stomach so I could pass between him and the wash basin in the room.

(Call this part one)

Patrick Barry Barr

2004-10-01T21:03:00.000-04:00

PARIS,FRANCE

Arrived in Paris yesterday via Airpolonia at 3:3PM. Took the RER train, line B, to Gare du Nord. So far so good. Then I made a right turn onto Rue Lafayette and walked about five blocks before realizing I should have turned left. I retraced my steps, but with the heavy load, I almost died right there. Crazy.

The room at Peace and Love hostel is so small. I was alone in room 4last night but today moved to room 1 and am sharing with two guys. I met one, Jamie. The room is so small that Jamie, slender as he is, has to suck in his stomach to let me pass when he was brushng his teeth at the basin.

Did a lot of walking, as usual.

Have more to say but am tired.

Patrick Barry B

2004-09-28T14:22:00.000-04:00

EUROS TO THE RESCUE

Failing to find any money that I could use in my account (obviously, I don't believe they would allow me to withdraw the $1.32 from Savings), I went in line to change one of my 20 euro bills. After a long wait, I still counted to 200 and the line hadn't moved, so I left and went to another bank a block south.

The lady welcomed me warmly and offered me a seat.

I handed her the euro note.

She punched this key and she punched that key and the machine made all kinds of noises. I mentioned, all that noise for 20 euros? She smiled.

She was so wonderful that I told her, after getting my 84.82 zlotys, that she made me feel as if I had come in with a million euros.

Patrick Barry B.

2004-09-28T14:18:00.000-04:00

WARSAW ON FUMES

Went to Citibank this morning to check on the condition of my wealth. The news wasn't good.

I have .61 cents in Checking, and $1.32 in Savings.

So, I am off to Paris via Air Polonia on Thursday afternoon. I hear there are some very rich heiresses there.

I'll be staying at the Peace and Love Hostel, I understand about 10 minutes walk from the Gare du Nord.

Patrick Barry B.

2004-09-28T05:56:00.000-04:00

SMART MEDIA to CD

I have had a most expensive problem. When I run out of SmartMedia, those little disks that capture pictures in my Olympus camera, I usually resort to buying new ones for up to $60, sometimes more, sometimes less. When I am on the road I cannot transfer them to my laptop because my lap doesn't accompany me on trips. I travel alone, remember?

I suspected there was an answer and I found it today in Warsaw. I went to this place called Laboratorium on Place Mirowski and, with the help of a very pleasant staff member, stuck five different SmartMedia devices into a machine, loaded each one, selected every photo (I guess up to 260 or more), printed them to CD and sent them all to a computer.

I returned about two hours later, even though I could have recovered the CD earlier, to collect the CD. I paid about PLN 9.50, which is Zloty, their money. One Zloty is worth about $3.48.

I paid another PLN 9.50 to copy the CD. I will store both in separate places then clean off all five SmartMedia and be ready for the month of October in Paris, Bilbao, Milan, Florence and Venice before reuniting with my laptop on 25 October. A least, that's the plan.

PBB

2004-09-28T05:45:00.000-04:00

SLEEPING BEAUTY IN VILNIUS

Yesterday afternoon, I performed at the Lithuanian National Opera and Ballet Theater, following the curtain call for Sleeping Beauty. for the police.

I had attended Don Quixote and Rigoletto, without incident, the two previous nights. Now, as I moved toward the exit, with hundreds of other theater-goers, I was stopped by two armed policemen, an apologetic staff member, and a man in black. They invited me to a side of the lobby and, without being asked, I produced my passport and started my impromptu performance.

I said something about if "niggers" can't attend the opera, but was so pissed that I cannot really quote myself. But I didn't press the point.

The young guy, the staff translator, kept apologizing. "People" had complained, he said. Not "somebody", but "people." They were uncomfortable because I looked Muslim, or was it Arab.

They were just responding to these complaints, they explained. I grabbed my passport when the policeman returned it.

I told the translator to tell them that I was leaving Vilnius that night and wouldn't be returning. Which he did.

The bottom line is that I understand very well their concern. After all, Beslan is just a few weeks ago. Even Muslims sometimes hail me A Salaam Aleikum! And I am never usually sharp enough to respond As aleikum salaam, or something of the sort.

Also, people have thrown off plans in the great United States because passengers complained that they looked "Muslim" and that they were uncomfortable. And just this past week, the U.S. Government prevented the former Cat Stevens, who sang one of my favorite songs of the Sixties, prevented him from entering the country and sent him packing to England, I believe.

I understand this all, but my righteous indignation just kicked in without me even being at the controls.

Patrick Barry Barr

2004-09-27T08:34:00.000-04:00

WARSAW, POLAND

ARRIVAL

I arrived in Warsaw this morning at about 5:40 o'clock on the 8:59 PM from Vilnius. My cabin mate was a TV writer in Berlin. He was born in Lithuania. He appears to be in his early 70's. I don't know.

We discussed some history and politics. We agreed on a lot. State terror. Stuff like that. You know, just stuff that I cannot discuss with my friends.

Patrick Barry Barr

2004-09-25T09:29:00.000-04:00

SORE THROAT

I don't get sick often, but if my body temperature changes quickly, I get into sneezing. All was well until last night when I left the opera house during intermission to get some fresh air. I had removed my tam inside so as to cool down, so when I went outside I had not replaced it. Now I am showing signs of a slight sore throat, which I am going to get rid of sometime before tonight's performance of Rigoletto.

FUND

At this point, I have $1.32 in my savings account and about $30, give or take, in my checking account, which means that until the 1st of October I have to live exclusively on my credit cards.

Consequently, I may not be able to go online until then.

Peace and love.

Patrick Barry Barr

2004-09-24T23:54:00.000-04:00

WALL ART

I saw an incredible piece of wall art today. I haven't seen anything that has blown my mind since Athens.

At this point, I haven't been following any particular route. Just wandering.

I doubt I have ever seen so much grafitti and wall art anywhere, including New York City.

Of course, a lot of it is simply tagging, and some are expressions that are heartfelt, and then there is the art.

I love it!

PBB

2004-09-24T23:51:00.000-04:00

VILNIUS

HOTEL

I am in a wonderful hotel in Vilnius, but it is in an isolated neighbourhood. I can walk for about 200 meters without seeing anyone.

So, tomorrow I move into the Old Town.

I am overly cautious because I don't know if the skinheads care for me.

PBB

2004-09-24T23:46:00.000-04:00

THIS IS A STICKUP

This evening, on my way to the opera, I went into a store because I thought they sold airline tickets. I spoke with a most pleasant woman, who told me they didn't sell tickets. I believe they booked tours or some related stuff.

An aside. Ever since I was robbed in Tallinn, I have started keeping my wallet and my passport in the inside, zippered pockets of my jacket. Believe me, it is very inconvenient to remove and replace them.

After I left the store, it occurred to me that all the time I had been inside, my right hand was inside my jacket.

I returned to tell her that my hand had been holding my wallet, which I showed her. I simply didn't want her to think that a guy had left all the way from Jamaica to rob her.

PBB

2004-09-24T23:41:00.000-04:00

VILNIUS

MORE MISCELLANEOUS

The reason I went to the bar after the opera is because it is cheaper to call a taxi than to wave it down. If you wave it down, it costs douple.

The waitress had very black hair and a wonderful, natural smile. Her boyfriend came in and was chatting with her. I had two beers because I could use my credit card.

I am so low on cash, it is crazy. I believe I am down to about $35 in my account and I have very little Lithuanian or American money, so whenever I can use a credit card, I welcome it. I need to be very very careful until I get paid on the first of the month.

I will be in Vilnius until the 26th for three reasons: Don Quixote, Rigoletto and Sleeping Beauty.

Tomorrow, I will buy a ticket to Warsaw. I really don't feel like nine hours on the road. Of course, I have done this numerous times in Brasil.

When I get to Warsaw, I will still have a money problem. So, I will have to stay at the hostel until I get paid.

Then I take off for Paris.

Patrick Barry Barr

2004-09-24T23:33:00.000-04:00

VILNIUS, LITHUANA

MISCELLANEOUS

The children have a wonderful game. They spit, not at cars, but at the drivers.

I went to the opera tonight to see Don Quixote. They have a very interesting custom at the theater: at some point during intermission, many of the people promenade in the lobby, in a sort of oval pattern, round and round. I have never seen this before. It is a good way to have a conversation and stretch ones legs before returning to the opera.

There are no chandeleirs in the theater, but a whole bunch in the lobby.

I panicked this evening when I lost my way to the opera. In the end, got there with about 15 minutes to spare.

Tonight, after the opera, I went to a bar and had a couple beers. The waitress called a cab and when it arrived, about a block away because the bar is on a no-car street (forgot the correct name. What do you expect, I have a couple glasses of beer under my belt). When it arrived, she took me outside and showed me the taxi waiting about a block away. I don't feel comfortable on the streets late at night, not in skinhead country.

I met a brother at the bus station when I arrived. I haven't seen another one. People point at me a lot.

(I almost lost all of this, so let me post it and continue later)

Patrick Barry Barr

2004-09-22T20:40:00.000-04:00

RIGA

THE POOR SHOULD STAY HOME - PART 2

I actually got side-tracked on the first part. This is what I wanted to tell you about.

Yesterday, a few hours after arriving in Riga, I went to the cash machine and tried to withdraw $200. (On reflection, however, that was a terrible idea because I am going to be here only two days, and leave on the third).

The machine said: "You gotta be out of your mind!"

So, I tried again and came up with $100.

Later, I counted about 39 Lats in my pocket (roughly one Lat gets you about $2), I panicked. Really panicked.

Much later, I remembered that I had left some of the money in my wallet and put some in my pockets. OK, so I actually had 60 Lats more in my wallet. (Forget the $230 in my wallet.)

So, here I am with $69 in the bank, and a few Lats in my pocket. I am not getting paid until the end of the month. I need to get to Lithuania, then to Poland, leaving Poland even before I get paid, for Paris. Panic. I bought fruit, thinking that I better start saving the little I had.

Then today, I went to pay my hotel bill. The guy doesn't take credit cards. I must pay cash. My room has four beds, so it is not as if I am paying five star prices, but still. Then he tells me the bill is 18 Lats. I gave him a 20 Lat bill.

Now, I am keeping my fingers crossed that they accept credit cards in Lithuania.

Postscript: And I didn't even tell you about the panic in Tallinn, when, with 45 minutes for departure, I couldn't find a credit card and a bank card!!! Anyway, I decided to take the bus and contact Citibank and Bank of America when I arrived in Riga. I was putting my luggage ticket in my passport when the two cards almost tumbled out of my jacket pocket.

Did somebody ever say, All's well that ends well? Well, you can quote me.

Patrick Barry B.

2004-09-22T20:28:00.000-04:00

RIGA

THE POOR SHOULD STAY HOME

My friends often question my politics. Let me explain. It's very simple. My politics is driven by a desire to see the poor get a little break.

And if a leader comes along and tries to teach the people to read, I say great. And if he or she, gets medical care to the people, preferably free, I say great. And if that leader makes, or at least tries to make, life a little better for the people who cannot help themselves, I say great try.

You see, I am not one who believes that the poor are poor because they are lazy. Sometimes if one takes a cursory glance at history, one can see the roots of poverty, the reasons why some are rich and why some are poor. Granpa Kennedy bootlegged liquor so that his grandson could grow up rich and become president. Of course, you have to bootleg liquor in a big way to be able to do that.

If one goes around selling a little crack, I doubt that will help the children.

So, that's why you are tired of hearing talk about my man, Fidel, my man Hugo Chavez, Lula, Kirchner, people of that stripe.

Has nothing to do with being a Leftist ... which I am, by the way. I simply don't see George Bush as an option and just cannot figure out how a lame brain managed to mesmerize the American voter. Hitler, yes, I can understand how he could. And did.

Patrick Barry B.

2004-09-22T20:20:00.000-04:00

RIGA

I feel terrible.

Today, this little boy, maybe around 7, pleaded with me to give him something, but I found myself saying no. And the more he begged, the more I said no.

What stopped me from giving him a little something? It's like you get into a mode, a "No" mode and you cannot make the adjustment. The 50 cents I could have given wouldn't have affected me one bit, in spite of the fact that I only have $69 in the bank, and, happily, I discovered later, about $230 on my person, thanks to the fact that the robber in Tallinn went for my right pocket and not my left.

He stuck to me for about one block. I kept saying no, and he kept asking for money.

I wish I had made the adjustment, given him a little something, and we would both have left happy.

Except now, I don't know how he is doing, but I know I feel like crap.

Patrick Barry B.

2004-09-22T20:15:00.000-04:00

RIGA

HATE

Last night, at about 7:30 o'clock, I looked into the face of hate.

I was heading toward a monument, when a skin head was approaching me. While approaching, he put on his ugliest grimace, and, at about 12 feet away, made a punch to indicate how he would love to punch me in the face.

I nodded to him and kept going.

It wasn't my intention to tour the city, something I never do when I arrive in a city at night, so I went home an hour or so afterwards.

Patrick Barry B.

2004-09-22T20:12:00.000-04:00

RIGA, LATVIA

The Old Town in Tallinn doesn't come close when compared to the Old Town in Riga.

I arrived in a slight rain yesterday at about 3:30 o'clock and walked through the market to the Posh Backpackers hostel. Had long conversations with the proprietor who was in the Latvian Army and knows much of the history of the region and beyond.

There are tons of different newspapers in Riga which I consider is probably one of the highest percentage of newspaper readers on the planet.

Bought a ticket already today for 7 Lats to leave at 10 tomorrow morning for Vilnius, Lithuania.

Was walking around this morning when I was invited by Dr. Marty, a wonderful American woman who resides in Toronto, to join the group. She spotted my tam and read me to be Jamaican. She is incredibly well travelled, a psychologist, and is well plugged into people, versus the buildings and monuments. She was inclined to listen to me more than the guide. Obviously, she has fine taste.

Patrick Barry Barr

2004-09-20T23:12:00.000-04:00

TALLINN

SOLITUDE

It is lonely out here!

For the 35 years that I have been travelling, I guess I have travelled alone at least 97 percent of the time.

Consequently, I have perfected the art of conversation ... with myself.

It is a thin line between sanity and insanity, I think. Should I begin to verbalize my conversations, I will be labelled a mad man. Many Peruvians, hampered by their racism and superstition, already consider me crazy.

In fact, I do sometimes verbalize! But I am sane enough to know just when to do so. It seems to be a natural extension of those inner conversations.

More often though, what is taking place in my head is not so much conversation, as writing. I am constantly writing and rewriting. Which is why the blog is a necessary component of my sanity. A blog is more useful to me than it could be to any of my friends who may choose to read it.

For you, the blog will tell you where I happen to be and what has been happening in my life.

To me, the blog is a depository. If I dont write and post, I will continue to rewrite, and rewrite ... endlessly. Because everything that I write can be improved, amended. There is always another angle, another approach. And it is usually better than what I had before. So, what is happening in my head is this continuous activity. When I write and post, there is no point rewriting anymore. It is done. Move on. It is no longer percolating in my brain. It is a relief after I hit the Publish Post button.

So, now you know why I am the sanest person you have ever met!

Patrick Barry Barr