tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-34017041549508178592024-03-11T08:05:34.866-04:00~ The Further Adventures Of Robert Sean Friedman ~Politely Running Wild in EuropeBobbyhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/08039862435778990158noreply@blogger.comBlogger193125tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-3401704154950817859.post-21092278999659087952024-03-11T06:04:00.001-04:002024-03-11T08:05:01.364-04:00Random Clearing House (France, Albania, USA, Colombia) These lines represent 2 years of driving around EuropeRed = Year 1 / Purple = Year 2“And you may find yourself in another part of the worldAnd you may find yourself behind the wheel of a large automobile.....”~The Talking Heads~Indeed! I had found myself in Europe driving a large motorhome. Well…How did I get here?And Without Further Delay – The Unrequested Random Clearing HouseNot every Bobbyhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/08039862435778990158noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-3401704154950817859.post-37805886134192520972023-11-21T11:53:00.003-05:002024-03-09T09:17:08.689-05:00Italy Part 2As far to one side as my brother’s request for “nothing touristic” was, our itinerary for Nathalia was: “Everything touristic!” I think we honored them both. If you tilt the camera up just a tad you can hide the hundreds of people just in front of youRomeRome is a ghetto built on the foundations of the most noble of all cities. There are some gorgeous sections but it’s their adjacency to Bobbyhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/08039862435778990158noreply@blogger.com2tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-3401704154950817859.post-29877633498238402662023-11-11T09:30:00.014-05:002024-03-08T05:51:28.328-05:00Italy Part 1Our First Morning in Italy We awoke beneath the granite megalith of the Alps. Early August and it’s 44 degrees (7 Celsius). We had packed the camper with French delicacies for my brother, whom I was picking up in Milan the next day. We had less than 200 KM to drive but lots of cleaning to do. With hot coffee in hand, we embraced a new country and a new adventure. Ah Italy – the staccatoBobbyhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/08039862435778990158noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-3401704154950817859.post-63175463400802286282023-09-30T12:18:00.004-04:002023-10-10T11:31:23.781-04:00Spain Part 2I'm the legacy of immigrants. I'm one of a couple hundred descendants of a strong resilient man and woman who could only imagine the risks and hardships they embarked upon. They crossed an ocean and dug earth to feed the brood. Aleja doesn't know her lineage, but to some degree, our stories began here on this continent; Europe. We are from the new world returning to the old world. In Bobbyhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/08039862435778990158noreply@blogger.com1tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-3401704154950817859.post-52307450515590606382023-07-08T04:36:00.000-04:002023-07-08T04:36:52.894-04:00Morocco Part 2 The Delights!There is a fleeting moment in which the perfect temperature wind caresses your skin. You smell the pine and hear the birds, and you know that you got here by your own volition. It’s a sense of joy that creeps up around your shoulders and grips you like an old friend around the neck. We made good choices and here we are. Morocco held many “Delight!” moments. The Atlas Bobbyhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/08039862435778990158noreply@blogger.com1tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-3401704154950817859.post-36622691227196161942023-06-24T12:29:00.000-04:002023-06-24T12:29:38.516-04:00Morocco Part 1It’s the land of the Barbary Pirates, the Atlas Mountains, the clay pot tagines, and bottomless mint tea. We were there for 3 months and a week. From my diary: “It’s my 80th country! We left from Algeciras Spain and crossed the Strait of Gibraltar in 1.5 hours. Driving south from Tangiers, the gentle green rolling hills look like France with mild poverty.” Morocco started with a whimperBobbyhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/08039862435778990158noreply@blogger.com2tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-3401704154950817859.post-83388245989497741152023-06-03T08:19:00.001-04:002023-06-03T08:47:03.445-04:00PortugalWe charted a heading of 270 degrees and followed the sun due west from Seville to the heart of the Algarve. Diesel smells like freedom. Barraveigh, Elsie and now Encore; all my freedom machines drink it down. Climate RefugeesNormally it's the “whooshbang” of the van doors, and the engines starting that wake us up. Not here. This is a campground populated by retirees escaping the frost of Bobbyhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/08039862435778990158noreply@blogger.com1tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-3401704154950817859.post-84124054780057467362023-04-25T12:06:00.001-04:002023-04-25T12:25:18.555-04:00Spain Part 1We crossed from France to Spain without even knowing it. This is the joy of The Schengen Zone. The misery is that the clock won’t stop on our 90 days until we enter Morocco. Doesn’t matter. The cold of the north is melting away, and like the little flower that could, we are about to bloom in the sunshine of the south.Let the Culinary Delights Begin!The pastis de xocolata was probably the Bobbyhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/08039862435778990158noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-3401704154950817859.post-46924134196297078412023-02-02T02:23:00.001-05:002023-02-02T02:56:28.982-05:00The Random European Clearing HouseReturning to FranceOne must remember that our vehicle is French, and our license plate is French, so that “F” denotes to the world that we are French. We are constantly confused for being French. We open the car door in Serbia and someone says, “Bonjour!”. I got a parking ticket in England and some nice man walked up to me to apologize in French. Since everyone treats us like the French, even Bobbyhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/08039862435778990158noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-3401704154950817859.post-57031035041572373012023-01-21T11:34:00.001-05:002023-02-04T04:27:09.344-05:00The British Isles Part 3 FinaleThe Republic Of IrelandIreland. What a place. So much optimism and wit but always a sad ending. These people know they've suffered, and they’ve smile thru it. Their humor carries them. Ireland is fueled on dreams, tragedy and peat fired hearths (peat smells like a cross between an electrical fire and how every fishing trip begins: digging for worms). They’ve spent lifetimes clawing at the soil Bobbyhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/08039862435778990158noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-3401704154950817859.post-35451649072716557972023-01-17T19:34:00.008-05:002023-01-21T21:43:37.900-05:00The British Isles Part 2 IrelandWe took the first ferry of the new day from Cairnryan Scotland, to Larne Ireland. We pulled over next to the Olderfleet castle ruins, and finished breakfast. I listened to The Pogues sing Dirty Old Town... Twice, and then we drove south and into Belfast.Carrickfergus Castle that guarded the approach to Belfast. Originally built by a Norman adventurer in 1177 AD. You can see Bobbyhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/08039862435778990158noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-3401704154950817859.post-50166262313525544472023-01-15T19:04:00.001-05:002023-01-16T08:45:59.888-05:00The British Isles Part 1Jess Davies crewed for me from Bali to Sorong Indonesia. Great lady!Like the escapees from Dunkirk decades before, we fled France, crossed the channel and headed for Ramsgate. We had a friendly soft-landing waiting for us. I was eager to speak English with the originators. It had been a while. Our first impressions were the atrocious roads and the friendliness of the people. These folks are Bobbyhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/08039862435778990158noreply@blogger.com1tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-3401704154950817859.post-24278405893335944082022-10-25T13:04:00.000-04:002022-10-25T13:04:25.511-04:00NorwayEntering Norway2 lanes. "Nothing to Declare" & "Something to Declare". I stop and declare. No one comes out. It's pouring rain. I can’t back up and just change lanes now that I’ve pulled into the “Something to Declare” line. There are cameras. I run in. They look at me with dismay. "Damn. Some golden heart is actually going to tell the truth?" They get the forms out. It took ten minutes and Bobbyhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/08039862435778990158noreply@blogger.com1tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-3401704154950817859.post-59296515855710040342022-10-02T13:18:00.001-04:002022-10-03T07:02:19.861-04:00SwedenNikvilleI have a bit of a social head start when it comes to Sweden. Back in the USA of the 90’s I met the enigma named Niklas Gunnarsson at the rock-climbing gym. He’s literally good at everything, smart, patient, and a hell of an athlete. In my faulty memory I recall that once we met, we immediately became fast friends and spent every weekend together camping and climbing. But that’s hero Bobbyhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/08039862435778990158noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-3401704154950817859.post-39239946007298478712022-09-18T10:14:00.000-04:002022-09-18T10:14:07.711-04:00The Balkans Part 2 AlbaniaThis guy's been smoking since his ninth birthday and he’s 36. He looks 50. He drives a stolen German Mercedes 200d that's 40% bondo. He's got way too much hair on his arms and the best tan you've ever seen and he's never owned a pair of sunglasses. His squint would make Clint Eastwood blush. I’m not describing an individual. This accounts for 70% of the male population of Albania, Bobbyhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/08039862435778990158noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-3401704154950817859.post-5247754535734627032022-08-31T12:14:00.003-04:002022-09-18T10:34:54.409-04:00The Balkans Part 1 Captain Bobby – Amateur Anthropologist“Hi, I'm new in town. I'm gonna want a thick steak, a glass of mature red, a SIM card, and the nearest ATM. Oh.... and I'm gonna need to see all your castles, and anything else that might fall under the realm of archeology. I’ll begin my historical interrogation after the cocktails arrive. Take your time, I'll be here awhile"… I might be a douchebag – Bobbyhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/08039862435778990158noreply@blogger.com1tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-3401704154950817859.post-52246053319926832822022-08-02T07:18:00.000-04:002022-08-02T07:18:38.183-04:00CroatiaOur track within and from FranceOn the MoveWe awoke in Venice Italy, crossed thru Slovenia, got our passports stamped and parked outside a closed camp ground. At 9pm the security guard told us “Go! Now you must go.” That was our first day in Croatia. In France, everywhere is a campground. In Croatia it is heavily regulated and the laws are enforced with lofty fines so as to corral you into the Bobbyhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/08039862435778990158noreply@blogger.com1tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-3401704154950817859.post-62577839751448137222022-04-29T05:04:00.002-04:002022-04-29T05:04:45.191-04:00France: D Day + 78 Years Recently on “The Bobby & Aleja Show” ….We had lived in a vehicle together for years in South America. I’m fond of saying “We were given 2.5 years off for good behavior and allowed out of the vehicle”. We ended up in Bali and lived in a lush villa with servants in a tropical paradise. There was scant little to complain about and things were deliriously good. But eventually, the yearning Bobbyhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/08039862435778990158noreply@blogger.com1tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-3401704154950817859.post-77487232494977626412022-04-08T02:38:00.004-04:002022-04-28T04:53:12.920-04:00France and the European Mission If you had asked the 13-year-old me what I wanted to be I would have demanded: "multi-lingual international gun runner... Obviously". So, by comparison, my current life is a flat boring failure. But that kid was crazy. And in this fragmented shadow of my former vision, I've still managed to eke out some minor escapades in spite of myself. The Next Adventure Begins!I had heard the Bobbyhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/08039862435778990158noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-3401704154950817859.post-69123960884814470942022-03-22T11:20:00.000-04:002022-03-22T11:20:10.082-04:00Random Clearing House and South East Asian Wrap Up Bobby’s Random Clearing HouseWe spent 2.5 years in South East Asia and not every idea I had fit cleanly into a topic thesis, or supported a through line of thought. Here are those left-over orphaned ideas and half-baked musings. They are the underdeveloped notions that refused to sit down and wouldn’t play nice with others. Let’s just acknowledge that not everything can be an anecdote, but,Bobbyhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/08039862435778990158noreply@blogger.com2tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-3401704154950817859.post-59699136701145870102022-03-11T06:52:00.002-05:002022-03-11T12:49:09.630-05:00Bali Part 2And So Began Our Retreat Into Hedonism. When the rim of the wine glass is smeared with your buttery lip impressions, the prawns were probably delicious. And they were. We ate at least 2 meals per day in restaurants. We rented a scooter by the month and a car whenever our bottoms got sore or the wet season arrived. We never missed a wine tasting or an archeological hike and our rice paddy Bobbyhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/08039862435778990158noreply@blogger.com1tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-3401704154950817859.post-53664999912243485612021-12-05T22:14:00.003-05:002021-12-05T22:14:50.680-05:00Bali Part 1 Bali Is Crawling With Aussies“How many minutes left in the match?” “Aideen”There are places in the world that are so dominated by one group of foreigners that you don’t even need to go to the mother country. You can skip the States and just go to Cabo San Lucas. You can skip India and just go to Fiji. You can skip Australia and just go to Bali. Bali is crawling with Aussies, and they Bobbyhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/08039862435778990158noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-3401704154950817859.post-24872730266848944462021-10-08T04:24:00.000-04:002021-10-08T04:24:26.146-04:00Thailand Part 3 with Diego & Ana The World ChangesIt was Jan 2020 and I was lounging in the yacht early one morning reading the news of the world on my phone when the Covid headlines finally became too loud to ignore. There can be no safer place than a seaworthy boat during a viral pandemic. But alas, we were restless and willing to roll the dice. We bought airfare to Chang Mai and set our sights on Northern Thailand. Bobbyhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/08039862435778990158noreply@blogger.com2tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-3401704154950817859.post-5689797819146302042021-09-21T04:00:00.000-04:002021-09-21T04:00:25.843-04:00Thailand & Malaysia Part 2MalaysiaWe hopped a short flight from Penang back to Langkawi (a large island off the mainland of Malaysia). We rented a scooter and explored the island. The sweating never ends. Ice cubes and aircon are humanities revenge against the elements and we took more than our share of both. The yacht and her purring aircon got us thru the midday kiln heat in that breathless marina. Evenings were spent Bobbyhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/08039862435778990158noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-3401704154950817859.post-13280313964214819832021-09-03T20:41:00.001-04:002021-09-20T22:44:27.858-04:00Thailand & Malaysia Part 1Our check in routine begins with peeling back the sheets and scrutinizing the mattress for nasties with our flashlights. We had just arrived in Phuket Thailand from Rangoon Burma and the place we had booked online came with bedbugs at no extra charge. We showed the madam, she nodded, we strapped our backpacks on and relocated to a nicer place up the block. Bedbugs will move into your belongings, Bobbyhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/08039862435778990158noreply@blogger.com1