stands one of the greatest archeological sites in the world. The exact origin of the area is up for debate. I'm not about to show my ignorance by siding with one side or the other. What seems to be agreed on is that the area, which covers some 83 km2, reached it's peak of around 200,000 inhabitants around 400 AD. But success was fleeting, as the empire ended a couple hundred years later. The city, of largely potters, jewellers and obsidian craftsmen, has no written texts. Hence the debate about so much about the area.
The street, lined with ceremonial-type architecture and the odd mural is not the main attraction though. The Pyramid of the Moon is one of the biggest pyramids in the New World. I first visited the site 17 years ago, when i first lived in Mexico. I seem to remember being able to climb all the way to the top. Alas, only the halfway point is accessible now. It's all for the best if you ask me. It's already like a million damn steps. While it is entirely possible many step count is a little off, I have a good excuse. Some dumbfounding concoction of heat-stroke, altitude sickness and more cardio-vascular activity than i care to partake in an any one event may have contributed to my wavering between various states of consciousness. If that weren't enough, the Pyramid of the Sun, located within staggering distance of the Pyramid of the Moon, is even bigger. Being the second largest pyramid in the Americas. All i could think of was "Great! More steps."
The vendors and touts possibly outnumber the substantial numbers of tourists who make the jaunt from the capital. Busiest between the hours of 10 and 2, it's a challenge to walk more than 10 metres without someone trying to sell you something. It's also important to note that any one of the 2 trees on the site surprising don't offer a tonnes of shade. And it gets crazy hot. Be prepared (or at the very least have your will up to date). But if looking for a tacky plastic arrow-head, this may just be heaven.Public buses leave from Mexico City's Northern Bus terminal around every 30 minutes (33 Pesos). Turn left when entering the terminal and the ticket stand is second from the last. Be sure to clarify you're going to the Pyramids and not the city. Admission is around $5.
It's tough to capture magic the second time around. When i visited Teotihuacan in the early '90's, i was bewildered by the magnitude of the whole thing. This time, after traversing the world several times over, I was less awestruck. Even so, Teitihuacan is one of the single greatest sites anywhere in the world and should most definitely be included on any visit to Mexico.
blessed with easy building blocks for a tourist Mecca. 50 years ago it was the place to be. Folks like John Wayne and Gary Cooper would use the area as their stomping ground. But city planning became focused more on the port, which is Mexico's largest. In the '80s, the Old Town of Mazatlan became somehow unfashionable as the far glitzier Zona Dorado (Gold Zone) sprang up out of the sands. The once beautiful, historic centre fell into disrepair. Many of the stately homes left to crumble.
But the trend is thankfully reversing. The homes, buildings and business in the
Old Town are being restored to the quasi-psychedelic, pastely glory. Restaurants and cafes overflow into the streets as tourists and locals alike begin to discover that "old" is the new "new". The seaside promenade is full of pre-coital couples eating each others faces and tourists taking pictures of the pre-coital couples eating each others faces. Odd statues of mermaids and half naked couples herding leaping dolphins litter the coast, making for interesting back lit photos. There is even a viewing platform which has been transformed into a "cliff" diving springboard. As crowds congregate in the area, locals perch themselves high above the breaking waves, waiting... waiting... SPLASH! While the "show" cannot compare to the infinitely more famous ones in Acapulco, it's still impressive. A couple Pesos are greatly accepted for the diver risking his neck.
copious amounts of silica particles located in close proximity to massive expanses of dihydrogen oxide (aka beach next to the Ocean). I'm not much of a beach bunny (although i saw my first bikinis in 4 years.) Instead i headed to a hill sporting a light house. The start of the walk is a little nauseating, it's next to the city's waste treatment plant after all. But the views from the top are lovely. There are hardly ever any people up there, although the lighthouse keeper is more than happy to try to sell very overpriced bottles of water. 
While I am hardly a card carrying fan of border crossings, I am never really concerned about them. Until recently. You see, my recent crossing from 
across the border without even seeing an immigration official. Apparently, any hooligan can enter unscathed, myself being exhibit #1. So, tragedy averted i headed to the bus station in Tijuana to find a way to La Paz. A beach resort on the south tip of Baja California (in the province of Baja California Sur). Luckily for me there was a bus leaving in only 25 minutes. Which gave me enough time to visit the immigration office in the bus station (that's right, in the bus station), before boarding the marathon 24 hour, US$110 bus ride south. While the trip was long, it could have been worse. I had my seat to my self for the greater majority of the ride. The scenery was pretty, at least during the day. Oddly enough the scenery was slight less impressive as night fell. 
McDonald's, my heart kind of sank. I guess that after nearly 2 decades of living off the beaten track have given me an unrealistic expectation of the exotic. This had nothing to do with the tourist nature of the place, after all La Paz is one of the most popular destination in Baja. I was instead the way of life of locals. To top things off, the town was completely underwhelming. There was a bit of a party atmosphere, and it was kind of fun. But Baja was not laid out for someone who does not have a car. The beaches in town where small and dirty (although empty this time of year and i have seen worse) The "good" beaches were outside the centre, but i had no car. The cool desert surrounding were far from the centre, but i had no car. Even trying to get to the airport or ferry terminal weren't possible on foot or public transport, again I had no car.
around, but nothing to write home about. And this time of year was special for whale calving. But at nearly $125 a tour, it was well outside my budget. Most disappointing was the lack of Mexican cantinas anywhere near the centre. Everything was overpriced and generally even lacking in Mexican food (although T.G.I. Fridays and Burger King seem to part of the new culture). I'm sure I'm just jaded. But my reintroduction to Mexico after a 17 year absence was not a good one. 
the downtown Greyhound station was not promising. Unless, you happen to be in featureless urban development. But the downtown core has been in the midst of an urban renewal project, which locals tell me has been super successful. The monumental improvements were quite apparent by the fact there had to be more tattoo parlours per capita than anywhere else I could think of. But i was off to the 'burbs. I had arranged to stay with some 
to the centre ("are you really going to walk?") and set off through some park in the middle of the city I had never heard of. The zoo was there, as well as a bunch of other small attractions. Unbeknownst to me, Balboa Park was actually quite famous, even being declared a National Historic Site in 1977. Keeping in mind that 160 year is old in North America (just like 160 kms is far in Europe). The whole place is in a sort of Colonial Spanish flashback-type style. The first place i came upon was even called the Spanish Village Art Centre, a psychedelic place where artisans (none of which seemed Spanish) toil away with their chosen medium, glass, clay, wood, tourist skin and whatever. Free to wander around, most of the artists were quite chatty, if not a little desperate, understandably, to make a sale.
other museums and institutes and the like. Natural history, railroad, air & space, photographic and a handful of art museums await the culturally starved. While many of the places require an entrance fee, sometimes as high as $20, there are several places to be visited for free. The aforementioned Spanish art village is one. The botanical building is a giant wicker basket of all kinds of flora. The Timken Museum is a small but action pack little art gallery for free. And Tuesdays seems to be some sort of magical day in San Diego as local residents (not tourist) get entry for free to many others on the first Tuesday of the month. But the best part about the park is simply strolling around the myriad of fountains, statues and reflecting pools. With plenty of grass for picnics, and with only 10 inches of rain a year, it's not a bad place to hang out in.
There are some beaches nearby, but I with the misfortune of being there in the off-season (actually my plan) combined will a thorough disinterest in beaches, i didn't bother going. The Gaslamp quarter is just a tourist trap. All this coupled with the fact the public buses, while comfortable and fairly frequent, do not provide transfers. Meaning you either need to buy a whole day pass or shell out every time you step on a different bus. Not very conducive to exploring a city (and country for that matter) built for drivers. Overall, the city doesn't seem like such a bad place to live. But in terms of tourism, without the zoo or SeaWorld they might be screwed. I liked San Diego. I'd certainly didn't love it. While it's not worth a special trip, if in the area, it's worth a day or two of exploration. 
, heading up mobs and gangs, flourished during a time of prohibition. The attempt to make alcohol illegal in the US only meant that a demand for bootleg moonshine was guaranteed to fund the likes of Al Capone and others. Bonnie and Clyde tore up the American country-side in a string of bank robberies. Kidnappings were a near daily occurrence. Something had to be done. J. Edgar Hoover was chosen to head up the newly established FBI. He made a personal mission to create a super-prison. 
American history. Dating back as far as 1861, the tiny island in the middle of the San Francisco bay had long been used as a military prison. But it wasn't until 1933 when the facility was acquired from the US Department of Justice, by the Federal Bureau of Prisons, was it's notoriety truly ensured. That's when Hoover made his super prison. Deemed inescapable, starting January 1st 1934 America's most hardened prisoners were shipped out to the facility. A new era in "corrections" had begun.
where inmate frolic hand-in-hand through fields of daisies. But Alcatraz was famous for it's cold, damp isolation. "You are entitled food, clothing, shelter and medical attention. Anything else is a privilege." is a quote directly from rule #5 of the Inmate regulation handbook. Solitary confinement cell locked prisoners away from sunlight for days, or even weeks. Riots inevitably ensued, guards were shot down in cold blood. 14 escape attempts, involving 36 prisoners, ended with 23 caught, 6 shot and killed, 2 drowned, 2 caught and executed and 3 more assumed drowned (aka unconfirmed escape?) Some accounts say Alcatraz was one of the best places to be sent to. The cells, though cramped, were all private, with their own toilet. If you played by the rules it could have been worse. If you didn't it was worse. Much worse! But after 30 years of operation the prison faced increasing public scrutiny. This coupled with rising costs ($10/prisoner instead of the usual $3) forced attorney general Robert F. Kennedy to declare the prison closed in 1963.
Which isn't such a bad deal as it includes a really good handheld, audio tour of the main cell blocks. One of the park rangers (it is a national park after all). Even gives a kick ass "escape attempts" summery. I think the trick is to go early. The first boat leaves at 9:00 and it's definitely worth being one of the first there, as the cell block fill up quickly. Personally, i was quite surprised at the advanced state of decay of most of the support buildings on the site. I mean with 1,000s of people paying $26 a day, that's more than enough money for a new coat of paint. But overall, I definitely liked the place and had no problem shelling out for the ticket. It really shouldn't be missed on any 
budget, it was the longest suspension bridge in the world. It is a fundamental character trait of mankind to exceed what previous generations have accomplished. The Olympic motto "citius, altius, fortius" (that means "swifter, higher, stronger" to us regular people) sums up this drive perfectly. I do applaud this ambition to my full clapping capabilities. Without the desire to achieve we'd still be banging rocks together for some pretty sparks in some cave instead of downloading new apps for our I-phones in our office cubicles. So the completion of this bridge is certainly something to be proud of. But it's just a freakin' bridge.
it's impressive dimensions of 2.7 kms long, 27 m wide and 227 m tall. A height certainly considered important to the nearly 40 successful suicide attempts (plus 70 talked down) on an average year. That makes it the single most popular suicide location in the world (if you don't count a Jerry Lewis movie marathon). But all being said and done, it does have a pretty setting, stretching across the turbulent San Francisco Bay. With park land at either end, it gives an impression of something of a bridge of wilderness as opposed to just some urban span. And it is, after all, a very photogenic bridge.
Even with the big ass signs stating the fact, this normally astute traveller totally missed it. At 6:30 pm or evening (whichever comes first), a large metal gates clamps shut, stranding any traveller (including me) on the far side of the bridge with seemingly no way to get back across. Nearly reduced to tears, i stood staring at the dooming sign leaving me no one to plead my case with. Suddenly a voice, as if from God himself, echoed (with a fair degree of static and feedback) "USE THE CALL BOX". The yellow suicide help line box next to the gate was my only hope. The man on the other side was initially all like, "Dude, you like totally shoulda' thought ahead, man!" but he eventually gave in and sent a Bridge Patrol car to escort me back to civilization. After a rather invasive body cavity search, I was back in the city.
It seems like a lifetime that I had been living and working so far off the beaten track that I had lost sight of it. No, not a loss of sight due to an ever advancing age. But i had seriously forgotten what it was like to go to place so unimaginably overrun with tourists that the sound of unfolding maps was actually deafening. After choosing the destination of "south" for my current multi-year exploration, it was pretty much inevitable that i would end up passing through San Francisco.
There are some cities which are blessed with a famous landmark or two. A few places are lucky enough to have a cool atmosphere which is instantaneously accessible to even the most novice traveller the second they step off the plane. Some places are good for families, others for solo travellers. But... there are hardly any locations in this world that have it all. San Francisco is one of the few places I know (and I've been a place or two) that I would have to say has it all. 
landmarks that grace the city, it's already head and shoulder above the competition. I cannot really think of another place where something as simple as public transportation has become such a unmistakable trademark of a city. Growing up seeing Rice-a-Roni commercials, I wasn't even sure where San Francisco was. But the image of those cable cars chugging up the ridiculously steep hills (I grew to hate those steep hills) was forever blazoned into my memory. Since 1873 those little trolleys have brought the chronically lazy home. Nowadays, they aren't exactly serving the car-owning public. Playing the hardcore game of "spot the local" will generally go unrewarded. But the brakemen (and newly anointed brake-women) put their backs on the line day after day for the camera wielding tourists. At least the tourist are a little bit lighter after shelling out the $5 single ride ticket cost.
Assuming all the squealing from the cable cars has left the intrepid vacationer with hankering for some grub, 
there's no better place to quench the aforementioned hankering (I've taken a shining to the word hankering) than The Fisherman's Wharf. To be honest, Fisherman's Wharf is not my cup of tea. Incredibly overcrowded (and i was there in the off season), more touts for boats trip than you can shake a stick at and that's not to mention what are quite possibly the most scarily aggressive freaking sea birds you'll ever have the misfortune of tangling with. But it is here, especially around Pier 39, that you can get some surprisingly cheap seafood not long ripped from their watery homes. Then after downing fish and chips or crab or whatever, check out the free entertainment provided by the sea lions who have taken over one of the piers. 
I haven't even mentioned the biggies of the 
city's population exploded by doubling in less than a year. At the same time, the city was made capital of California and has remained so ever since. I arrived at something ridiculous like 6 o'clock in the morning. I was only half awake as i stumbled out of the centrally located bus station to see what I could see. Not only was I still asleep, but apparently, so was Sacramento. The streets were all but empty. The cafes had yet to open. Even the bird had hit snooze on their alarm clocks an extra time. I wasn't hard to find the city centre, after all, i was standing in the middle of it. The first thing i managed to stubble upon was the Roman Catholic Cathedral of the Blessed Sacrament. Unbeknownst to me, priests like to sleep in too as the place was unfortunately closed. Just down the pedestrianized street was the California State Capitol building (title picture). Any respectable capital should have one. It was all big and grand and stuff, but Schwarzenegger doesn't even live in the city. He still lives in L.A.
here that the gold rush began, it would have been down right irresponsible for me to have missed it. It turned out to be a collection of moving water. Big shock! Wouldn't have expected that from a "river". But it was peaceful. And it's always fun to walk in the footsteps of history. But with my bus about to depart for San Francisco, i had to head back to the bus station. Was i able to form a real opinion of Sacramento? Not really. Did i stretch my legs after suffering through 14 hours on a Greyhound? Oh God, YES! So i guess I'd have to say that the trip was an overall success.
each one of the 20,000 coffee shops, you'll find vintage clothing shops, "Free Tibet" shops, craft shops and other alternative lifestyle type shops. Many of which are housed in the bottom floor of what might be mistaken for 2-storey colonial homes. It gives the whole place a very bohemian feel. Even with major corporations like Nike and Intel being the major employers, there is a sense of "screw the man" as you meander through the, albeit, grid-patterned streets. I stayed with a happy home of CouchSurfers. The house was a bit of Grand Central station with cornucopia of folks popping in and out. The interesting things was, all but one were from out of town, even out of state. Portland, being the biggest city between 
still feeling like a town. The transit systems is relatively cheap and efficient. The city is wired (not just on StumpTown coffee), with WIFI hotspots all over town. It has a sense of multi-ethnicity despite the 
a disproportionate number of cities with a major interstate running through the downtown core are doomed to (relative) failure. Poor city planning has really hurt Seattle. A ridiculous attempt at a subway system ran into serious budget problems. And while the backup plan to make it a “bus tunnel” made the commute into downtown easier, it's a crazy expensive bus lane. The monorail is a dumbfounding $2 in a usual fare free downtown. But more than anything else, it is the homelessness and poverty that smacks you in the face. It's everywhere. Coming from Vancouver, I'm used to that scene on East Hastings street. But in Seattle it's everywhere. It's difficult to walk 10 feet without being asked for money.
is mediocre at best. The clubbing scene is mostly centred around underground raves which most visitors aren't privy to. The main tourist attraction, Gas Town, boasts a partially working steam powered clock, whoopee! But as opposed to having a couple of stand out attractions to wow the onlookers, Vancouver is instead a sum of it's intangible parts. It is this that equal something great. Vancouver is a city of unique lifestyle. A wonderful blend of fleece wearing, unshaven mountain people and ultra-trendy city slickers. A wonderfully slow pace of life is supplemented by a extensive transit system. So the only question about Vancouver's ability to host an event as big as the Olympics was, “Why didn't they host it sooner?”
athlete. In the opening ceremonies there was the malfunctioning mechanic arm. The weather could not have been any more uncooperative (But the lack of snow was seen as a challenge and not an obstacle). Sure the ice resurfacing machine (aka Zamboni) broke down at the state of the art skating arena. And like every Olympics before it, many standing room tickets had to be cancelled. But for the vast majority of visitors none of it mattered. Even with a little more flag waving than i care to see, there is no way Canadians could have been disappointed with the event. The anticipated protests never really materialized. Instead the record gold medal haul was accompanied by random choruses of “Oh Canada” in venues, ceremonies and street corners. It was one of the first times i had seen Canadians identify as Canadians as opposed to simply “not American”.
activities entertained the masses as the hopeful gathered around the big screens to cheer on athletes in events many didn't even understand (what the hell is with the short track speed skating relay?) The single largest television audience in Canadian history watched as an epic goal was scored in what will surely be remembered as one of the greatest hockey moments in history (at least for the Canadians). Figure skater Joannie Rochette overcame the personal tragedy of expectantly losing her mother days before her event, only to persevere a win bronze. By doing so, not only inspiring a nation, but the whole world. The games, like all those before them, were filled with great stories triumph over adversity. Many in B.C. question the decision to pour so much money into what is essentially a 2-week investment. Only time will tell of the financial return, but the memories of the fans and athletes will last a lifetime.