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Tag Archives: St Petersburg
Snoozers and Losers: A Rant on Snoring
Posted on July 18, 2013 by Tiny Tino
At this point in my journey, I feel it's appropriate to take a break from the linear narrative and focus on some of the smaller details. Actually, one detail in particular – something that not even the thickest of guide books can adequately prepare you for, yet something that almost every traveller will encounter at some point in their journey. This detail is the dreaded and infamous act of snoring.
I have a long and troubled history with this bizarre bodily function, with the cruel twist being that I don't snore, and never have. I've shared rooms and beds with enough people to know this. I've also shared beds with boyfriends who have snored. I don't mean heavy breathing, or that kind of muffled wheezing that people make when they have a blocked nose. Real snoring is loud and consistent, and doesn't just show up some nights and disappear on others. For me it can be a deal breaker in relationships – how am I supposed to sleep with you if I'm unlikely to ever have a good nights sleep again? To be sure, there are varying degrees of severity. Sometimes it's a solution as simple as a pair of ear plugs. Other times its a little more dire and requires moving to another room – generally not an option in the middle of the night when you're in a hostel. But there are some people who snore so badly that no amount of soft foam wedged into your ears is going to help, and in some cases even a dividing wall can't cut out the vibrations rattling from their distorted windpipes.
During my time in South-East Asia, I miraculously avoided this problem. Either I was extremely lucky that I never shared a dorm room with someone who snored, or I drank so many 50c beers every single night that I passed out too hard to notice – which is the only real foolproof way I've discovered to overcome a snoring roommate. Though that was all about to change once I reached China and began the Trans-Siberian tour. In Beijing I'd had the luck of being placed in my own room, so I'd asked Tim what the situation had been like with the rest of the group. "I'm in a room with Don," he'd told me. "Which is fine, except he snores pretty bad."
"Really? Ah man, that really sucks."
"Yeah. Like, last night I'd already gone to bed, and he came back late from some sightseeing or something… When he went to bed, his snoring actually woke me up." There's a common tactic of trying to fall asleep before the snorer in order to not be kept awake – the fact that Don's snoring was loud enough to rouse people from their own slumber filled me with grave concern.
The following nights had been on the train to Ulaanbaatar, and the night in the hotel in which I'd shared a room with Tim. He'd also shared a cabin with Don on the train, so I quickly suggested that we should share one of the double rooms, and I'm sure Tim was grateful for a solid nights rest. It wasn't until the ger camp when I became due to experience it for myself, when the three guys who weren't one half of a couple were all put into one ger together – that's Don, Tim and myself. And boy, Tim had not been exaggerating – Don snored. It was almost funny, like some kind of awful joke, but that sentiment faded extremely quickly when I realised we were actually supposed to sleep with the racket going on in the next bed. Luckily I had been prescribed some sleeping pills before I left Sydney, for a blocked ear that may have caused discomfort during my flights. Yet even washed down with vodka and wine on the night we had a party in the gers, sleep still didn't come so easily.
It was a similar story at Lake Baikal as well. I would never have expected my best nights sleep to be had on the Trans-Siberian trains, while having to drink and medicate myself to sleep at each of our stops. Tim had been sharing a room with him ever since the ger camp, including all of the trains – I felt so bad for him, though not bad enough to offer to trade places, since I'd had my own share of restless nights with Don's snoring. When we got to Moscow, however, there was a rush and a scurry as our group was divided into two rooms – a larger dorm for nine of our people, and a smaller room for the other four. I'd secured a bed in the larger room, but when I looked back out into the lobby I saw Tim standing amongst the chaos, a lost, slightly dejected look on his face. And I instantly knew why – the larger room was full, and Don had claimed a bed in the other one.
So I stepped out and offered Tim my bed. He seemed genuinely shocked, but I didn't have to offer twice. He was extremely grateful as he moved his stuff in, while I dropped my bag off into the smaller room. After four nights on from Irkutsk to Moscow, I was concerned Tim might not make it through the next day without a decent night of sleep. If you can cast your thoughts back to my blogs about Moscow, you'll remember I lamented about having a terrible nights sleep. This is the reason why. Between the room that became ridiculously humid during the nights and the snoring that rattled the bunk beneath me, I think I managed maybe a couple of hours sleep each night, at the very most.
Come St Petersburg, I was once again in a dorm with Don. Now it may be a little more clear as to why I did my best to keep with the Russians when it came to our evenings of drinking – a solid sleep with a resulting hangover, in my experience, is infinitely better than a frustrated and sleepless night of tossing and turning. But on my last evening in St Petersburg, I had decided it would be better to have a decent nights sleep and a clear head in the morning, to make sure I didn't miss my train to Finland. I went to bed at a decent hour – unfortunately, Don had beaten me there. He was in one of the bunks underneath me, and I swear sometimes I felt the vibrations through the bed frame. That's how bad it was. It was a noise that almost didn't sound like snoring – every so often it mutated to a strangled gurgling that actually made me feel a little bit sick. I never thought I'd ever use the word 'disgusting' to describe the sound of a snore, but it honestly made me feel ill. I laid in my bed, desperate to fall asleep, but it was literally impossible with such a commotion going on below me. Sometimes it would stop, and the partial relief came with the simultaneous concern that maybe he'd actually stopped breathing. But it wasn't long before there was a huge, sucking snort and the horrendous snoring would continue. Some people get woken up by their own snoring, and then they roll over or move into a position with better airflow into their nose or oesophagus or whatever – not Don, he just powered on through. I wondered if there was actually anyone else asleep in the dorm. No one seemed to be tossing and turning as furiously as I was – maybe they were all drunk and passed out.
I managed to doze off a few times, into a very light sleep, but I was always wrenched back into the unfortunate reality of Don and his snoring. It was a shame, because Don was a nice enough guy, but I think I really came to resent him by the end of the trip, purely because he had, however unintentionally, robbed me of far too many nights of sleep while he had been happily snoring away in his own slumber.
It happened again in Stockholm. There was someone – and I never figured out who it was – who snored and made the most vile gargling noises that a decent sleep was next to impossible. I didn't have much energy to do a lot of sightseeing when I was in Stockholm, and it was partly, if not mostly, the fault of whoever kept me awake with that racket they called breathing. And I don't think it's something mild that people should just deal with – I honestly think that that persons snoring was a serious negative impact on my time in Stockholm, because the lack of sleep just really threw me out for the entire day.
I'm not the first person to suggest that people who snore shouldn't be allowed to sleep in dorms, or they should be allocated special 'snoring rooms'. Even though I say I develop strong negative feelings towards snorers, there's nothing personal in the request. But I think for a snorer to sleep in a shared dorm is incredibly unfair on everyone else. It's almost selfish – you get to enjoy a nice long sleep while simultaneously robbing everyone else around you of the same luxury. Why should you get to sleep when you're the reason the rest of us suffer from lack of sleep the following day? There's no way you can come so far in life without having to share a room with someone – someone is bound to have told you about it, especially if your snoring is that bad. In that case, I really think you should either search for a medical solution to what is actually a very real problem, or do not stay in dorms where you're going to be a serious nuisance to others. I don't mean to sound like a bitch, but it's the honest truth, and I dare you to find me a traveller who hasn't had similar thoughts about a snorer they've encountered in a dorm on their travels.
And it may sound harsh, or like an overreaction, but unless you were there and experienced the Hell that I slept through, or rather didn't sleep through, then maybe you'll just never understand.
Posted in Europe, Mongolia, Moscow, Reflective, Russia, St Petersburg, Stockholm, Sweden, Terelj National Park, Trans-Siberian | Tagged adventure, complaining, dorm, ear plugs, ill, lack of sleep, medical problem, mishaps, Moscow, problems, rant, sick, sleep, snoring, snoring rooms, St Petersburg, tired, Trans-Siberian, Travel, travelling, Ulaanbaatar, writing | Leave a reply
The Kindness of Strangers
Posted on June 28, 2013 by Tiny Tino
The first day of the rest of my adventure started with a hangover, of course. After dinner our tour group had hung around in the common room for a little while, exchanging emails and contact details and saying some final goodbyes, but most people had early transport booked for the morning and wanted to get a good night sleep. I, on the other hand, had absolutely no plans. So while the rest of my companions trailed off to bed, I found myself in the kitchen, where some of the other hostel guests – and few of the staff – were all drinking champagne and vodka, and celebrating the city's birthday. I was welcomed into the fold with drunken, open arms, and while I don't really recall any of their names, they were a lovely bunch of people. Then again, anyone who is handing out free champagne and vodka is a lovely person in my book.
So after everyone had left in the morning, I found myself sitting on my bed wondering what to do with the rest of my time in St Petersburg. The only person left was Don, who was also staying here for a few more days, but he had risen early to head to the Hermitage. I wandered out into the kitchen and bumped into Maria. She had ended up staying longer after having an accident on her first night here – her and Don had gone to see the a Russian ballet, and afterwards she had slipped on one of the wet steps outside the theatre and hit her head, giving her a concussion. She'd gone to the hospital and in the end everything was alright, but she had decided to stay stick around for a little longer and take some time to fully recover.
Over breakfast, I had a chat with her and another Australian girl named Beck, who was staying at the hostel too. Maria was meeting up with one of her friends that afternoon, and was going to be driving out to a place called Peterhof. I'd never heard of the place, let alone what was out there, so Maria explained that it was the site of an old Russian palace, and was actually in the next town over from St Petersburg near the Baltic Sea, and the grounds were full of beautiful fountains. When I confessed I had no plans for the day, Maria said that her friend would have room in her car if I wanted to join them. I'd grown to really like Maria – she came off as a little quirky, probably because she had more of a sense of humour than most Russians I'd met, but I kind of enjoyed that. She also loved to travel, so I always found we had a few common interests to chat about. Vlad had seemed like a nice guy, and had been a huge help in getting everyone to their transport out of St Petersburg, but despite all his efficiency I never really got to talk to him very much or get to know him like I had with Kostya, Oko or Snow.
So that afternoon Maria and I met with her friend Natalia, and we set off to the palace at Peterhof. The two women hadn't seen each other in years since they'd met while holidaying in Thailand, so I let them catch up and chatter away in Russian while I sat in the back, alternating between catching up on my blog and sleeping off more of my hangover. It took about two hours to get there, so when we arrived I was actually feeling quite refreshed. We spent the afternoon walking around the garden and admiring the fountains. Natalia didn't speak very much English, so Maria played translator as she explained some of the fountains and the buildings in the grounds. It was a nice and relaxing afternoon, and for the first time there wasn't a real itinerary we had to follow, or a group to consult.
In front of the main fountain in the Peterhof Palace grounds.
The impressive and slightly homoerotic fountain – the Russians sure love their gold.
Standing next to the Baltic Sea – of the Gulf of Finland, depending on who you ask, apparently.
Another of the fountains in the grounds.
More fountains – I didn't take note of any of their names, but they were all very beautiful.
It was a beautiful afternoon in an even more beautiful place.
After we left the gardens, Maria said that Natalia had invited us to her home for dinner. I didn't have plans of my own, so I accepted the offer and headed back to St Petersburg with them. At Natalia's flat I was introduced to her son, a boy of fifteen named Arseny, who looked deceptively older than he was, much like the boys from Blue Oyster. He was learning English at school, and after chatting for a little while Maria suggested that maybe Arseny could show me around St Petersburg the next day. It was an opportunity for him to practice his English by hanging out with me, and I was always keen to be shown around cities by the locals who lived there. So we had dinner together – I chuckled to myself and thought of Marti when I noticed lots of dill in the meal – and made plans for Arseny to meet me at my hostel in the city the following day.
But before I left, Natalia had enquired as to how old I was. When I told her I was twenty one, there was a look of excitement in her eyes, and she went over to the fridge to pull out a bottle of clear liquid. Maria translated and explained that it was some kind of local, homemade alcoholic spirit, and poured me a shot of it. I downed it in a gulp – it tasted like vodka except much stronger. My face must have given me away, because Natalia gave a small giggle and said "Forty-five."
"She means this alcohol is forty-five percent," Maria explained with a smile. "Very strong."
Indeed it was – I was beginning to learn that the Russians give us Australians a hard run for our money when it comes to drinking.
So I spent the next day sightseeing in St Petersburg, under the guidance of Arseny. We planned to start late – I had (correctly) preempted another boozy night and a consequential painful vodka hangover – but it was a gorgeous and sunny afternoon as we set off up Nevsky Prospekt. We walked along the street, and Arseny explained bits and pieces of history about the area and the city, to an extent that I found quite impressive for a fifteen-year-old boy. I don't think that, at his age, I would have been able to take a tourist around Sydney and take them to all the popular tourist spots and explain the history behind them, as well as the city in general. We passed the four horsemen on the Anichkov Bridge that crosses over one of the canals, and walked through the city to St Isaacs Cathedral. There was a viewing platform around the domed roof of the church, providing a 360 degree panoramic views of the city, so Arseny and I climbed up the 200 odds steps in the stone spiral staircase to reach the top. From there he pointed out some of the other recognisable features in the city, but then he blurted out, "The view of St Petersburg from the air is not really as nice. I think maybe it is better seen from the street, or by boat." I was a little taken aback by the brutal honesty – and wondered why he'd waited until after we'd climbed to the top to tell me this – but looking around, I could really see what he meant. There was no iconic cityscape like you might find in London or Paris, and there wasn't the concrete jungle of skyscrapers that made places like Bangkok slightly enchanting in their own futuristic way when seen from above. From the top of the cathedral, St Petersburg looked like a jumble of buildings with the occasional landmark emerging from the seeming monotony. It really takes a stroll through the streets to truly admire the magical beauty of St Petersburg, and a few times I found myself wandering through the alleys during the perpetual dusk, admiring the older buildings and classic architecture in the smaller streets.
St Isaacs Cathedral.
View from St Isaacs Cathedral.
The very stop of the stairs in the cathedral.
One of the four horsemen on the bridge.
The park Arseny and I walked through on our way home.
Arseny suggested going on a boat tour, but I had to confess that I'd already passed up the chance to do it once, and that I was so hungover I'd probably fall asleep if I sat on a boat for an hour. Instead we just decided to wander back to the hostel and stop at a small café for some lunch along the way, as well as passing the Church on the Blood of the Spilled Saviour so that I could get a picture. It was a beautiful sunny day, unlike the day that we had first arrived in St Petersburg, but ever since then we had been enjoying this glorious sunshine. There's something about summer here in the northern hemisphere that just gets people very excited. Their winters are longer and colder, so when the warm weather hits they come out of some kind of hibernation and start to actually enjoy life again. We passed through a park on our way home, where I saw an efficient procession of workers all fixing up a stone and metal fence. "It happens every summer," Arseny told me me. "Everything gets old and worn in the winter, so every summer things are restored, and improved." Australian's really do love their summers, with the beaches and the barbecues and the sun-tanned skin, but for the first time I began to think that while we love them, we don't really appreciate them for what they are. And I could feel that from just seeing the European summer – stay for the winter, and I don't think I would ever take the Australian sunshine for granted again.
I was glad that I'd decided to stay a few extra days in St Petersburg before heading off for the rest of my Eurotrip. I saw some nice sights, but it was also good for me to ease back into solo travelling while still having people like Maria around to give me some ideas and create a bit of direction. Moreover, I was also a little surprised at, but definitely grateful for, how nice some people can be to other people they've never even met, particularly travellers. It would be easy to write myself off as a jaded cynic after everything that happened with Charlie in Beijing, but my days in St Petersburg had restored a little bit of my faith in the kindness of strangers. Maria invited me along to Peterhof so I could see a part of Russia I otherwise never would have, Natalia invited me into her home and even cooked me a meal, and Arseny took almost an entire day out of his schedule to show me around the city and play personal tour guide. With the exception of a little practice speaking English with Arseny, each of them expected nothing in return. They were just a genuine bunch of lovely people who wanted me to feel welcome in Russia.
And they did. I boarded my train to Finland the following afternoon satisfied that I had seen some beautiful parts of Russia, pleased that I'd met and befriended some lovely people, and with a little more confidence in my abilities to continue this journey on my own. Though truth be told, I don't think I'll ever be alone. The world is full of these kind strangers, and sometimes a stranger is just a friend you haven't met yet.
Posted in Europe, Peterhof, Russia, St Petersburg | Tagged adventure, alcohol, Baltic Sea, boat, champagne, dill, drive, Europe, European, fountains, friends, horsemen, kindness, Nevsky Prospekt, northern hemisphere, Peterhof, Russia, solo, St Isaacs Cathedral, St Petersburg, strangers, summer, Travel, vodka, writing | 4 Replies
Reflections on the Trans-Siberian Railway
The end was drawing near for the the Vodkatrain tour, and our time as a group was almost over. So I have to admit, I felt a little bad about not getting out of bed the following morning to join the others on the boat tour through the canals and rivers of St Petersburg, but I was far too tired from our night out at Blue Oyster. Though the price of the tour sort of deterred me a little bit as well – it wasn't ridiculously expensive, but I was aware of the money I'd spent last night. Moving into Europe, I had to face the reality that things weren't going to be as cheap as they had been in previous places. I wasn't to fussed either way about the boat tour, and I still managed to see a lot of the city by foot. It was a moment of realisation for me, I suppose, that I wouldn't be able to do everything, so I had to prioritise and do the things I really wanted to do. I had an epic night out at the Blue Oyster, so I stand by my choice.
I had a slow and steady rise late in the morning, and met Kaylah at Nevsky Prospekt at around lunchtime to go and visit the Peter and Paul Cathedral. We didn't bother looking in any of the museums – neither of us were entirely in the mood – so we just took some pictures of the buildings and sat down in the sun, admiring the architecture while recapping the frivolous events of the previous evening. "It wasn't my first time at a gay bar," Kaylah would later tell me, "but it was definitely the most fun I've had in one." It wasn't the famed party haven of Moscow, a scene I'm still yet to experience, but St Petersburg definitely had our seal of approval.
The Peter and Paul Cathedral inside the main fortress.
The Peter and Paul Fortress, view from the outside moat.
We'd walked across the bridges to get to the cathedral, but we took the subway back, so I could practice catching the metro when I would have to do it by myself in a few days to get to the major train station. The peculiar thing about the stations is that they are so far underground due to all the water and rivers in St Petersburg that they need to burrow under. They're about two, maybe three, times longer than the "long" escalators in the stations back in Sydney, and since the trains are so fast and efficient I made a joke about half the journey time just being the trip down from the street to the platform. Afterwards, we spent a little while just wandering around the streets, browsing along Nevsky Prospekt, and just getting lost amongst the beautiful city. Literally.
"Err… Kaylah, where are we?" Both of us had grown extremely weary, and had decided to head back to the hostel to nap before dinner.
"Umm, we're… we're… umm."
"Yeah, none of this looks familiar." We looked up Nevsky Prospekt, and back down the way we came, but for all the times we'd traversed it in the last two days, it was still such a foreign world. It was interesting that I'd come so far to Europe, yet English was so much more scarce then pretty much the entirely of South East Asia, which is a reflection of just how prevalent tourism is down there, and now… not prevalent it is in Russia. That's not to say there were no tourists – the Hermitage was full of guided tours – but Russia as an economy doesn't seem to be so dependant on holidaymakers, otherwise the visa application process might not be such a gigantic hassle. Anyway, eventually we just backtracked to discover that we had both blindly walked past the street we were meant to turn off – probably in indication of just how badly we needed that nap.
That evening was the last time we would spend together as a group. We had one last final dinner together, and then afterwards we went to a nearby bar for a last round of drinks. We shared our high points and low points of the trip, reflecting on memories and laughing at all the running jokes that had kept us amused for the whole trip. It was crazy to think that we'd only been together for three weeks, yet we'd grown so close and come so far that it felt liken it had been a lot longer. I found myself feeling a little sad that we were all going our separate ways now – I'd grown used to having travel companions, and the sense of security that a familiar group can bring. In the morning everyone took their leave at various times – Dan and Claire being the first at 5am – and I said a few emotional goodbyes to the people I'd grown quite close with. The numbers dwindled, until finally I was on my own again, and the next part of my journey was about to begin.
The time I spent travelling the Trans-Siberian Railway with Vodkatrain was nothing short of incredible, because it was more than just a holiday – it was an experience. As I've said before, it was particularly challenging at times, to the point where when I've told people about it, they're not so sold on the fact that I even enjoyed the trip. Perhaps I exaggerate a little, but I honestly think the challenging experiences are often the best. I complained about how the train didn't have any showers, but in the end it's really a learning curve about some of the luxuries we take for granted, and I proved to myself that I'm not such a princess when it comes to personal hygiene after all – or at the very least, I can cope when my hot showers are taken away from me. But the challenges weren't just in the train ride – I was so sure I was going to tip over that quad-bike at Lake Baikal, but in the end I feel accomplished in being able to say I'm slowly regaining my confidence behind the wheel of a motor vehicle.
Then there were the real highlights. I'll never forget the breathtaking views of the Mongolian wilderness, or the beauty of a fresh, crisp morning at Lake Baikal. All the challenges aside, it was really something to travel overland across such a huge distance and observe the changes in scenery, climate and culture. It was a long way, but the fact that we did it reminds me that it really is a small world after all.
Though the thing that I reflect on most about this part of my journey is my companions. I set out travelling by myself because in previous travels, I'd found some clashes in the way people like to organise their holidays. I'm pretty laid back, and usually not the kind of person who is out the door at nine in the morning to cram as much sightseeing into a day as possible. I enjoyed the leisurely pace through which I traversed South East Asia, and though I wasn't really concerned as to what my fellow travellers would be like this time, I was just curious to see the types of people who would choose to do this kind of trip, and how they would plan their days.
Everyone on the tour was quite a seasoned traveller. I was glad that I at least had the six weeks of South East Asia under my belt by the time I arrived, but after discovering that I was the 'baby' – the youngest – in the group, I didn't feel quite so bad, and I took it as an opportunity to talk to all these people and learn more about travelling. Rach and Marti were great for that. They'd been travelling the world together for almost 5 years, and Marti always had some tips or advice or recommendations, whether it was where to go or where to stay, what to do and things to be wary of. Kaylah and Alyson had been on a trip to Nepal and Tibet the previous year, so they opened my eyes to some destinations I wouldn't have ever really considered before now, and Tracy knew a lot from her working as a tour guide in both South America and the Middle East. Most of the group probably thought I was really shy – which I suppose I can be when I first meet people – but most of the time I was just too busy listening.
Because whether it was travel, politics, or the difference in our respective countries health care systems, I found myself surrounded by a passionate group of intelligent individuals, with the perfect combinations in sense of humour, food for thought, and thirst for adventure. I could trek it through those seven time zones again and again, drowning in the Beijing smog, marvelling at the Mongolian wilderness, getting lost on the Russian metro lines and even getting cabin fever in the middle of Siberia, but I think I was incredibly lucky to meet the people that I did, because I feel like they all played a major part in making the trip what it was. I know some of them will be reading this, so thanks for being so amazing guys! Hopefully some of you will feature in some future posts on this blog.
Posted in Beijing, China, Ger camp, Lake Baikal, Mongolia, Moscow, Reflective, Russia, Siberia, St Petersburg, Terelj National Park, Trans-Mongolian, Trans-Siberian, Trans-Siberian Railway, Ulaanbaatar | Tagged adventure, Beijing, challenge, China, city, companions, experience, friends, group, Irkutsk, journey, Lake Baikal, learning, listening, Mongolia, Moscow, Russia, solo, St Petersburg, tour, Travel, travellers, Ulaanbaatar, Vodkatrain, wilderness, writing | 4 Replies
Something In The Water
Our first night in St Petersburg was a Sunday night. However, given that the city's birthday was technically on the Monday, we figured out that it was a kind of long weekend holiday, which meant that not as many people would have to work the next day, which meant that we finally might be able to have the night of partying that I'd had a hankering for since the moment we arrived in Moscow. After we'd arrived back from the Hermitage and taken our well needed showers, I did a little bit of research into the gay scene in St Petersburg. From what I could gather, there were two major nightclubs: Central Station and Blue Oyster. They were in close proximity with each other, and both of them were a reasonable walking distance from the hostel. I put the idea to Tim to see if he was keen, and he assured me he was on board. So after we'd had a few drinks with the whole group at one of the pubs in the street adjacent to our hostel, Tim and I set off for the gay bars, arms linked with a tipsy Kaylah who was to play our token fag hag for the evening.
I hadn't been to a gay bar since I'd watched amateur drag queens over a margarita in a cocktail bar in Siem Reap, so I was pretty excited, but also a little nervous. You'd have to be living under a rock to not know the gay rights movement in Russia had taken multiple, crippling blows over the last year. I'm not even entirely sure if being gay is technically illegal or not, but there are now anti-propaganda laws that prohibit the promotion of a 'homosexual lifestyle', and there is supposedly a general hostility and climate of hate towards gay people. Tim had said that he'd heard it was a lot less conservative in the major cities like Moscow and St Petersburg, so I wasn't too scared. But at the same time, we were advised to keep our wits about us and try to not get into too much trouble.
We had been aiming to go to Central Station – apparently the bigger of the two clubs – but I'd only had one day to get to know the layout of the city, and I experienced a few navigational issues that took us a block or two too far in the wrong direction.
"Well," I'd said as I studied the GPS map on my iPhone, "if we turn down here and double back then we should arrive at the other one, Blue Oyster."
"Do you know which ones better?" asked Kaylah.
"Um… No, not really?" I'd focused on locations and dates and times in my research, but had only skimmed through a handful of reviews, none of which seemed to distinguish one club from the other.
"Well it's only a quarter to eleven… Why don't we just start off going to… ah, Blue Oyster?"
"Yeah, Blue Oyster is the one that's closer," I said, pulling out my phone again to consult the map.
"Yeah, I know. Its right here." I looked up, and Tim was pointing to a small neon sign that read the name of the club, but would have been pretty easy to miss. Especially for someone who walks around with their eyes glued to their phone.
"Oh! Okay then, well… In we go, I guess?" We walked up to the security guard who was standing in front of the door, and made a motion that we were interested in going inside. The guard looked confused.
"Gay bar," he said very shortly, almost under his breath. I wasn't sure I'd heard correctly.
"Uh, sorry?"
"Gay bar. This is gay bar." It was mine and Tim's turn to exchange confused looks – I mean, I was wearing a pretty homoerotic Tom of Finland t-shirt. We weren't exactly subtle, by any stretch of the imagination.
"Err, yeah? That's the point?" I'd replied, not sure if he was taking the piss out of us – unlikely, from what I'd experienced with most Russians senses of humour – or if it was just a precautionary warning that he gave everyone. As he shrugged and stepped aside, I felt as though we were actually doing something slightly risky or dangerous. As far as I knew, it wasn't unheard of for police to raid gay bars, but the risk added an element of thrill unlike any other gay bar I'd been too – and I've been to quite a few gay bars. We stepped through the small doorway and into the darkness within.
The bar wasn't completely empty, but it was very far from full. There was a bar in front of us, and a dance floor dimly lit with hues of deep red stretched to our right, occupied by only a few people. I shrugged, and assured Kaylah that it would probably get busier as it got later. Exactly how much busier, none of us could say, but that was part of the beauty of exploring the unknown bars of a new city. We started at the bar, where there was a two-for-one special on all drinks before midnight. All drinks, including cocktails. Soon we were standing at a high table and I had two Long Island Ice Teas in front of me, and part of me already thought that even if nothing else happened that night, it would still be a success. The three of us stood around talking, or more accurately shouting, due to the loud music, but the scene around us inevitably led to some curious questions by Kaylah, and all of us talking about our views and experiences of homosexuality. I like to think that I'm a complex and interesting person, and that being gay is only a mere facet of my personality, but in a lot of ways I still feel like my sexuality is a quite a large and undeniable part of who I am. So it always feels great to talk about it with new friends, allowing me to share more about myself and the way I perceive myself. And of course, for better or for worse, alcohol always makes conversations a lot more heartfelt and meaningful, and the three of us had quite a deep and personal discussion.
While that was going on, the club had slowly started to fill up with people, mostly guys but with a few women here and there. It wasn't packed, but the club itself wasn't too big – half the dance floor was comprised of wide, podium-like steps that gave the illusion of more space with the different elevations, but it was tiny in comparison to the bars in Sydney or Bangkok. But I liked it – it was a little more personal, and there were also a few upper balcony levels, although they were always full with what seemed to be packs of regulars, smoking their cigarettes and gazing down on the crowd below. At some point after our deep conversations had reached a closure, there was a dramatic change in the atmosphere. The rather nondescript house music that had been pumping away was replaced with instantly recognisable pop hits – the kind the fills a gay dance floor in ten seconds flat. The Long Islands were kicking in, and before long we were bopping away on the dance floor with the locals as though they were our new best friends.
There were also a few drag numbers – some hilariously performed in Russian, during which Tim, Kaylah and myself were the only ones not singing along – but the inspiration for most of the costumes and dance routines undeniably came from Lady Gaga. Almost every single one of her chart topping hits were played at some point during the night – Alejandro made two appearances, and there even a well-rehearsed drag performance to Telephone – and each and every time the crowd went wild. Having somewhat of an affinity myself with Mother Monster, I thought it was amazing. I have a crystal clear memory of ripping my t-shirt off to join a couple of other shirtless dancers on the podium steps, while Tim just sighed and rolled his eyes and Kaylah watched on in hysterics.
The Lady Gaga inspired drag number.
The air was thick with cigarette smoke, but I was still having such an awesome time, and there was even a handful of decent looking guys in the room. I was approached by a tall handsome guy named Nikolay, although I freaked out a little bit when he spoke to me and I discovered he had braces.
"Oh my God! Tim, all these Russian boys are so young!" I remember saying at one point as we passed each other in club.
"I know! How do you think I feel?" Tim was 26, and while most of the Russians looked like big, strong men, I couldn't find a single one over the age of 22. It was kind of creepy how they obliterated my average accuracy when it came to age guessing. Nikolay turned out to be 19, I had found out when I'd decided to give him a second chance and have a chat with him. We ended up spending quite a bit of time together that evening, though we used our mouths for things other than talking. It turns out that braces, despite their visibility, can be surprisingly inconspicuous to the touch.
"Hey, where's Tim?" I'd found found Kaylah by herself at one of the tables, after returning from a semi-scandalous rendezvous with Nikolay.
"There you are!" It wasn't easy to lose someone in a club this small, but I must have managed somehow. "Tim is over there," she said as she pointed across the dance floor, where Tim was locking lips with his own Russian boy.
"Ah, I see," I said with a grin. "Who is he?"
"I have no idea. He just said to me, 'I'm going to go make out with someone," and he did it." We both laughed, and I made a mental note to applaud Tim later.
"Well, I don't mean to burst anyone's bubble, but it is after 4." I'd noticed the crowd on the dance floor starting to wear a little thin, and I myself was starting to get a little tired. We let Tim enjoy his spoils of war for a little longer, and I said one last goodbye to Nikolay before we stumbled out of the club.
"Oh my God!" I exclaimed when we stepped outside. "It's alright light!" It wasn't exactly daylight, but the darkness of night had very much been replaced by twilight of dawn. In fact, it was so similar to the dusk from which we'd entered the Blue Oyster that it would have been easy to believe that the sun had never set at all while we had been inside the club.
"The White Nights, they're called," Tim had said as we'd staggered through the streets. We stopped on one of St Petersburg's numerous bridges to take some photos of the picturesque scenery, and then headed home – swinging past a McDonalds that had closed only 15 minutes before we'd got there, much to the disappointment of Kaylah and Tim. Instead, we went to the 24 convenience store on our hostels street.
Dawn rising over St Petersburg.
The St Petersburg canals in the twilight as we made our way home from the Blue Oyster.
"Don't forget to get some water if you need some," Tim had reminded us.
"Oh yeah, you can't drink the tap water here!" said Kaylah. Earlier that day, Vladimir had told us that the pipes that carry the cities water supply were so old and contaminated that they contained traces of bacteria that make you quite sick, essentially rendering the tap water toxic. After having drinkable tap water for the first time in months in Moscow, it almost seemed like a cruel joke that we'd come even further west to find out it was once again undrinkable.
"Yep," I said with a smile, as I picked up the biggest bottle I could find, chuckling to myself as I remembered the nights events. "There really is something in the water in St Petersburg."
Posted in Russia, St Petersburg, Trans-Siberian Railway | Tagged alcohol, Blue Oyster, Central Station, clubs, dancing, dawn, drag queen, drinkable, drinking, gay, gay bar, homosexuality, Lady Gaga, Long Island Ice Tea, men, River, Russia, smoking in clubs, St Petersburg, water | 4 Replies
Getting Cultured: St Petersburg and the Hermitage
After what had been a surprisingly good sleep, on what was without a doubt the best train we had been on throughout our entire journey, we woke up to a miserable-looking overcast day in St Petersburg. I was still excited though – partly because St Petersburg was supposed to be a beautiful city, but also because our tour was coming to an end. While I had made a handful of new friends who I had absolutely loved travelling with, I was itching to break out on my own again and enjoy the free and spontaneous style of travelling that I had done in South-East Asia. It was a little funny to reflect on the fact that two weeks ago, I had been yearning for the exact opposite – a little bit of structure, and someone to tell me where I was going and what I was doing. I guess it's all about mixing it up and trying to find a balance, as well as learning the style of travelling that suits me as an individual. I think I've already learnt a lot about myself in that regard, though I do have quite a while to keep discovering.
We met Vladimir, our St Petersburg guide, at the train station, and there was a conversation between Maria and Vladimir that seemed slightly awkward but was entertaining to watch, though none of us could understand what they were saying. Within the first half hour, after dropping our bags at the hostel – actual check-in to our rooms wasn't until 3pm – and meeting at a nearby coffee shop for breakfast, it was already clear that Vladimir was a very orderly and structured person. He knew the facts about his city: the main sights to see, how to get there, and when they were open – a welcome change from the Kremlin fiasco. It would have been interesting to know what Vladimir had made of Maria's impromptu excursion to St Petersburg, but he wasn't one for a great deal of chit-chat, so we never really got a chance to ask him. Another thing we weren't quite expecting was for Maria to tag along with the group – she'd said she had a friend to visit, but we would later find out that that friend was busy on the day we arrived, and Maria ended up booking a night into the hostel with us. Her spontaneous holiday just kept growing and growing, and while some of the others in the group thought it was a little weird that she had come along for the ride, I just found it simultaneously awesome and hilarious.
We had arrived in St Petersburg on Sunday, and our Trans-Siberian tour officially finished on Tuesday. A lot of people were scheduled to leave on that morning, but Vladimir had advised us that the the Hermitage, the famous art museum of St Petersburg, was closed on Monday.
"Well then, looks like I know what I'm doing today," Tim had said in the coffee shop where we'd had our briefing. "I won't have another chance to do it, and it's of the things that I really want to see here." Alyson had shared similar sentiments, and while there were other ideas among the rest of our party, the familiar grouping of Alyson, Tim, Kaylah and myself all decided to hit the Hermitage that afternoon. While I was actually staying in St Petersburg for two extra days after the tour was over, I could see myself getting particularly lax after the others were gone, so I decided to do the typical tourist things while I was still with my companions, and save the city exploring for when I was flying solo again.
But first we set out as a group to have a tour of the main streets of St Petersburg. Vladimir showed us the way through some smaller streets around our hostel, taking us past a cathedral called the Church of the Saviour on Spilled Blood. It takes the morbid name from the location on which it was built – the site of the assassination of Alexander II in 1881 – but the style is an obvious homage to St Basil's cathedral in Moscow. The Church of the Saviour on Spilled Blood seemed slightly bigger though, and while I did return on a later, sunnier day to take a picture of the building, as a group we never actually went inside. We continued walking along the streets – stopping at a small souvenir market were I bought a small Russian style pocket watch – until we hit the famed Nevsky Prospekt, a street that in itself was considered an essential St Petersburg experience. A wide and bustling street, it stretches through the southern bank of the city and is home to a number of landmarks, such as the Kazan Cathedral.
Outside the Church on the Spilled Blood of the Saviour, on a less overcast day.
The Kazan Cathedral – I struggled to get a shot of the building in its entirety, it was so wide.
However, we had arrived in St Petersburg in a supposedly exciting time. It was the city's 310th birthday, and a major section of Nevsky Prospekt had been closed for some kind of parade. The streets were lined with people jumping up and down to get a glimpse, climbing up staircases and buildings to peer over the amassing throng. I myself climbed up onto a concrete ledge to get a better view, but at the time there was nothing more than a group of cheerleaders doing what appeared to be a poorly rehearsed and actually quite boring routine. I could hear marching bands in the distance, so I figured the entertainment was going to pick up a little, but Vladimir had told us that the lines to get into the Hermitage could be painfully long if you wait too long into the afternoon, so those of us who intended to visit set off up the street, making plans to meet up with the rest of the group for a late lunch.
My grandmother had been constantly reminding me to visit the Hermitage, wishing she could have been there herself, so this one is for you, Nana! The main façade of the building, which had originally been used as a Winter Palace, was covered in scaffolding and construction materials, which seemed like a bit of a shame – especially since almost every major attraction I'd visited on this tour was undergoing some kind of reconstruction – but I wasn't too worried, as it was what was inside the State Hermitage that interested me the most.
Outside the Hermitage.
It did not disappoint. From the moment you enter the building, you feel as though you haven't just visited a museum to view the works of art, but rather you've actually stepped into one yourself. The walls and ceilings were decorated with the most lavish and extravagant gold trimmings, and the images of gods and men were carved out of marble and extending their limbs into the cavernous rooms. I spent the first five or ten minutes with my eyes pointed upwards and my mouth agape with wonder, so much that stumbled up a few of the stairs. Alyson had wanted to go off and see the museum at her own pace, and I would have been happy to do the same, though I found myself sticking with Kaylah and Tim for most of the time.
There are several floors in the museum, and it was easy to get lost. A couple of times we found ourselves wandering into dead end rooms, or trying to get into rooms that were unfortunately closed for renovations or refurbishing. We moved through room after room of paintings and sculptures, seeing everything from early European art of classical portraits and flawless scene depictions, to the ambiguous and abstract work of Picasso, to the ancient sculptures of characters and gods from Greek and Roman mythology. I'd like to think I have a little bit of culture in me, but I'll be the first to admit I'm no art critic, and I certainly know I couldn't do any better. I liked some of them more than others, but I discovered that I had a particular love for the sculptures. I'd always been quite interested in the mythology of those cultures, and there was just something more interesting about a 3D piece of art that you can literally consider from a number of angles.
There was a statue of a man with an eagle perched upon his shoulder, to which Kaylah had said, "Look Robert, it's you in Mongolia!" After that, I think we may have been a little delirious, because wandered through the rooms laughing at the simple, unoriginal names – such as Portrait of a Young Man – and generally just making humorous observations about the artworks. We also looked at some interesting Asian art, and I recognised many representations of Buddha that I had seen throughout South-East Asia, and together we also recognised quite a number a traditional Chinese and Mongolian styles of artwork. That made me a feel a little cultured, to know that I had come halfway around the world, and recognising the different styles of artwork and culture that I had seen along the way.
Posing with the statue Kaylah considered my likeness, due to the eagle perched on its shoulder.
We spent a few hours at the Hermitage, getting lost in its beautiful and dazzling halls, but in the end my feet grew so sore I could barely stand up. I hadn't had a shower since our last morning in Moscow, so after the copious amounts of sweating I'd done on that afternoon combined with the overnight train, I could tell I was starting to get a little foul again, and I was ready to head to lunch and then onwards to showering at the hostel. It had been a good day at the Hermitage, but I think the greatest feat of our day was that there had been absolutely no lines to buy tickets or get inside. Despite Vladimir's warning of waits that can be up to several hours, we walked straight in with such an ease that it almost felt suspicious. We put it down to the fact that the parade had taken up most of the city's attention, and were thankful that we had decided to visit the museum when we did.
Posted in Russia, St Petersburg, Trans-Siberian Railway | Tagged adventure, art, beautiful, birthday, Church of the Saviour on Spilled Blood, famous, Hermitage, journey, Kazan Cathedral, market, Moscow, museum, Nevsky Prospekt, overnight train, painting, parade, Russia, sculpture, St Petersburg, train, Travel, Winter Palace, writing | 7 Replies


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How is it that I can write a book, rewrite it and make it 30% longer and more in-depth, yet I can't come to grips with my cover art. I want it to capture the essence of my book. I do not want it to look like a dog and pony story. I want it to look like what it is. A romantic comedy that happens to share the love of dogs and working with horses.
After three months of thinking, pondering, searching through pictures, I am no closer to deciding on my cover. Is it always so hard? Was I just blessed with the concept for my first book so easily? It came to my mind and I knew exactly what I wanted to show on the cover. This time, not so much.
Oh! This struggle is real. It is almost painful. My brain hurts and it is making me unable to focus on the other two books I have in progress.
Any helpful tips from others that have faced a similar dilemma?
I need a gif of a person pulling out their hair right here. Instead, I will simply post this along with a picture of my pups that might be on the cover if it didn't make it look like it is just a dog story, when in my mind, it is so much more.
My goodness, aren't they pretty!
Now, I'll bet, everyone can see why I ended up with such a bland cover on my first book before I reissued it. Help a girl out in the comments below, please?
Today is the day to face the question I have been weighing in my mind. Did I want to make myself stop feeling sorry about losing my muse and get back to writing. I think she would have wanted me to. My little muse always liked to stand with her front feet on my right arm as I type away at the computer waiting for time to tell me to get to bed. So this is my first NaNoWriMo with a broken heart, a missing muse and no timekeeper.
But I did it. I got up as soon as I realized it was officially July 1, 2016 and I opened the Camp NaNoWriMo page and wrote a message to my cabin mates about my expectations and plans. Then I progressed to my writing app and started writing. My mind free to write anything it wanted. No pressure to have a certain genre in mind or a set character in place.
I admit I am a pantser. I write for the moment and let it build around me. Sometimes I like where it goes, sometimes it is tripe. When it is tripe, I try to figure what made it such and plow on. That's the fun part of Camp NaNoWriMo, you focus on your word count. You keep the bad and edit it, or trash it in August.
Beau is sleeping next to me. He only goes to bed when I do, so he is probably going to be droopy and red eyed this month. I am sure he will be silently wondering why I, "the grown up in the group" have to be told when to go to bed. He may have already been wondering that for a couple of weeks now. I am going to see if he steps up to the plate and becomes the timekeeper around here or if we just get to run amok with constant insomnia and not a sleeping pill in sight.
So today, I am off to the races with a little bit of a mean spirited story that allows me to say snarky things through my characters mouth. It is just four pages long at this point. I will decide later if it is tripe or if it is worth finishing. right now it is just fun.
For now, I just need to focus on those extra 221 words I need before I can call it a day, and only 18 more hours left of the Camp NaNoWriMo word count day in which to do it.
Beau is confused. He has been waiting for his sister, Arrow, to come home from wherever it was that we went last Tuesday. He looks at me with distrusting eyes every time I lead him outside. He did witness me take her out of the house last week and return alone and sad. He watches me unblinking as he performs his potty ritual outside then runs back to my leg and stands directly under my hand. He raises his head so that I can touch him with my fingertips. Only then does he relax and re-enter the house.
This has been a sad week for Beau and I . We have been graced with the presence of one of the cats that typically sleeps outside and alone. The large yellow cat, Mufasa, has taken to sleeping in the bed with me in the exact spot that Arrow always slept. Mufasa purrs until I fall asleep while Beau snuggles on the other side of me in his usual spot. The only change at night is that Beau who is not a snuggler, has decided that we must sleep back to back as long as possible. Not the usual quick nap on the bed before removing himself to the cooler floor and crate.
When I look into those deep brown eyes so deep that it is difficult to differentiate the pupil from the cornea. His gaze is unwavering and he stays right beside me. That is until I pour out his cup of food. Not the usual two cups that he always shared with Arrow, but half of the usual amount. Yet, Beau only eats half. He saves the other half for his missing sister.
He sits down and waits. He waits there on the little rug giving her a chance to come eat her fill. He has been doing this for a month while she was unable to eat solid food. He eventually goes back and finishes the food. He is logical after all.
The best information I can find online says that a dog usually only grieves for about two weeks. I hope that is true. I can not stand the thought of my Beau being broken hearted for a long time.
There are three children that live here with Beau and I. They have taken to playing with him more than usual. They are aware that he is missing the lively girl that even when sick would still play with her duck and with her much loved brother.
Arrow was the Alpha in this pack of ours. She made up all the game rules in the silly games she and Beau played. She made the rules in her fetch game which meant that she did not drop the duck, if you wanted her to fetch it, then you had to wrestle it away from her. Arrow announced when it was time to go outside and when it was time to come back inside. She set the 10:00 bedtime for us all. Arrow was the one that came into the computer room later in the night to remind me that I was off schedule. Yes, Arrow was the Alpha and now we are pack leaderless. It is truly a time for adjustment.
Her duck the most prized possession, sits untouched beside the crate. Beau will not even look at it. It is like a monument to our girl. All that we have left of her are the pictures and her duck. It has almost been a week, I am hoping for a happier less depressed Beau in the near future. Not that we will stop missing her, she was too unique and important to be forgotten. All I can hope for is for it to be less painful to think and remember her, for both Beau and I in the near future. I thought I would share Beau's progress and perhaps it would ease this emptiness that still exists in my heart.
Beau and Arrow as babies. Always together. Always best friends.


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There are generally two ascent routes on Leaning Peak 1138m.
Long Leaning ridge links up with Short Leaning ridge before the final summit push.
Long Leaning ridge continues down north westward (left) to meet Barney Ck near to the outlet from Barney Gorge.


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	<title> Gibran Garcia | Programmer | Web Developer | Student </title>

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They call me Gerbil

 About

 Projects

 Contact

 Hello, my name is Gibran Garcia.

 I'm a second year Computer Engineering student at Rutgers University and have always been passionate about programming.
I'm always trying to mix art with programming and web development.

 I'm also passionate about:

 - Literature

 - Photography

 - 3D Graphics

 In order to make all of my projects I use a variety of mediums, including languages like C++, Javascript, and Ruby, APIs like WebGL, and graphical software, mainly Blender and Photoshop.

 Here's my resume, but feel free to look at my projects to get a better idea at what I like to do.

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The item Love me or leave me, Claudia Carroll represents a specific, individual, material embodiment of a distinct intellectual or artistic creation found in City Libraries, City of Gold Coast.
A captivating romantic comedy that will tug on your heart-strings. The characters feel like friends and you won't want it to end! 'Welcome to the Hope Street Hotel - where you check in married, and check out single.' Two years ago Chloe Townsend was dumped at the altar and had to leave behind everything that mattered to her. Even now she's finding it hard to move forward. That is until she lands an incredible job, running a brand new boutique hotel. Suddenly she's starting to put her life back together, and, apart from the fact that her hard-to-please new boss is breathing down her neck, things are looking good. But what goes on in the Hope Street Hotel is a far cry from anything she's ever dealt with before. This is a pioneering 'divorce hotel' designed to make every aspect of breaking up efficient and pain-free. In one single weekend, Chloe's team promises to take care of everything - legal, technical, emotional - and guests check out carefree and single. No one is better qualified than Chloe to understand what couples need when their relationship is at breaking point, but she soon finds herself having to tackle the heartbreak she's tried to bury. In particular three couples need her help - Jo and Dave, Lucy and Andrew, and Kirk and Dawn - and the opening weekend is full of revelation, trouble, memories happy and sad, facts that need facing, and some very big surprises. It's time to move on. And it soon becomes clear that some endings are, in fact, very exciting new beginnings ..


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Soldier Bee
Jodie Baxter is a Captain returned home from Afghanistan after being injured in a rigged booby trap that has left her scarred both physically and on a deep psychological level. She struggles to reconnect with her husband on a sexual and emotional accord and begins to realise the distance between herself and her child as her daughter hides pivotal moments of puberty that a mother should be there to support. In the middle of moving out of their Service Family Accommodation, Jodie escapes to her one place of solace, a hotel where she resides to be free and remember the past. It is there she notices and becomes obsessed with a couple, an abusive older man and a young prostitute who he humiliates and debases. Following them back to their room, Jodie enters into the situation and it is through an extreme act of violence, lust and in her eyes 'protection' she has a revelation concerning what she has experienced and what has been haunting her deep within her cognisance.
Director: Alex Hardy
Actors: Amy Roxburgh, George Newton, Jamie Laird, Katrina Ann Foster, Shauna Macdonald
Keywords:Soldier Bee
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Mark of the Vampire
Sir Karell Borotyn appears to have been killed by Count Mora, a vampire who prowled around his castle. One year later, Irena, Karell's daughter, is haunted by the vampire and…
The mysterious death of an enigmatic young man newly arrived in the suburb of Wetherby releases the long-repressed, dark passions of some of its residents.
In 1818, high-spirited young Fanny Brawne finds herself increasingly intrigued by the handsome but aloof poet John Keats, who lives next door to her family friends the Dilkes. After reading…
The Marquise of O
A German Marquise has to deal with a pregnancy she cannot explain and an infatuated Russian Count.
Brian Cohen is an average young Jewish man, but through a series of ridiculous events, he gains a reputation as the Messiah. When he's not dodging his followers or being…
A documentary about the sport of boxing, as seen through the eyes of champions Mike Tyson, Evander Holyfield and Bernard Hopkins.
Genre: Biography, Documentary, Sport
3 Ninjas: High Noon at Mega Mountain
Three young boys, Rocky, Colt and Tum Tum together with their neighbor girl, computer whiz Amanda are visiting Mega Mountain amusement park when it is invaded by an army of…
Genre: Action, Adventure, Comedy, Family
Two hapless youths lead their burger joint in a fight against the giant fast-food chain across the street.
East Side Story takes place in Harlem where there's a mix of ball players, hustlers, street rappers and even those who dream of making a difference. But deep in the…
Genre: Action, Adventure, Crime, Musical
Reincarnated
Evolution as an artist is often times what separates legends from the more mundane. After being heavily influenced by his experience in Jamaica – and his subsequent name change from…
Genre: Drama, Short
Adam, a lonely man with Asperger's Syndrome, develops a relationship with his upstairs neighbor, Beth.
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Polio Champions
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Home Polio Stories Hull: Celebrating the city's response to the 1961 outbreak
Hull: Celebrating the city's response to the 1961 outbreak
In 1961, the collective efforts of Hull's people helped deliver Western Europe's first mass oral vaccination campaign. We held a series of events in Hull during World Immunisation Week to celebrate the city's achievement.
Hull achieved something extraordinary
In 1961, the collective efforts of Hull's people, including volunteers, health workers, pilots, businesspeople, reporters, school teachers and council officers, helped deliver Western Europe's first mass oral vaccination campaign. One Last Push hosted a series of events in Hull during World Immunisation Week 2018 to celebrate the city's achievement of vaccinating more than 350,000 people against polio in the space of a week.
We loaded two phone boxes with 300,000 sugar cubes
To mark the beginning of World Immunisation Week, volunteers from Hull City of Culture, the British Red Cross and the League of Jewish Women helped load two iconic cream phone boxes each with 150,000 sugar cubes, symbolic of the same number that were donated to the campaign by Tate & Lyle in 1961.
A week of activity
Hull City of Culture volunteers joined the campaign and primary schools showed their support by displaying 'We stopped polio here in 1961' signs.
The week culminated on Saturday 28 April, at Jubilee Church Hall, a former pop-up clinic, to celebrate the volunteering efforts of 1961. Polio survivor Paul Robinson, Pakistani photographer Khaula Jamil, Director of Health for Hull Julia Weldon and City of Culture volunteer Leanne Ayre were among those who spoke on the subject, and about the need to eradicate polio today.
Extraordinary campaigns are also happening today
Polio has no place in the 21st Century – which is why campaigns like this are still happening today in Pakistan, Afghanistan and Nigeria.
But we need to give One Last Push to eradicate polio globally, forever.
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Faces of Polio
World Immunisation Week 2019: Birmingham
Belfast: Remembering the 1957 outbreak
We're on Facebook, YouTube and more - find us on your favourite networks to hear about our latest campaigning actions and polio news. You can help us by showing support on your networks for our campaign.
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something having ornamental grooves, as a Greek column.
a groove, furrow, or flute, or a series of these.
The columns have Attic bases, but the grooves of the fluting are cut in a style which is neither Doric nor Ionic.
The golden thrush was fluting his strain—nearly always the very same, but yet a little different.
Her attendants were small satyr-like spirits of the wilds, piping and fluting, in place of the reclining maiden.
Two of them, shortened and with the fluting planed down, now adorn the gate of Pavia towards Milan.
Her voice was at its most musical pitch, rather low for her, fluting, infinitely disarming and seductive.


Thomas Palkon was fresh out of college when he took a temporary job as a lab technician testing water treatment equipment in the fall of 1997. It was stopgap work to earn money while he studied for the Medical College Admission Test. He planned to be a physician and he did very well on that admission test. But by then, Palkon found he was enjoying his job in an industry he previously knew nothing about. He stayed… and stayed.
You could say Palkon became a water doctor. He started as a temp with Water Quality Association under Joseph Harrison. "My primary responsibility was to test water softeners to WQA's S-100 performance standards." He learned the business from the ground up. "I still get Christmas cards from people whose water problems I solved," he said.
Nineteen years later, he is Senior Vice President of Water Systems at International Association of Plumbing and Mechanical Officials (IAPMO) Research & Testing in Chicago, IL. IAPMO is recognized the world over for its uniform codes and is a leading authority on industry code development and product certification. The non-profit organization has a total of 13 international offices, with thousands of members worldwide.
"While we continue to focus on the US and Canadian markets, we are increasing involved internationally," Palkon said. "Access to potable water and functioning sanitation are keys to the health of a nation's citizens. We work with the governments of India, Indonesia, Philippines, Middle East countries and other developing nations to establish enforceable codes with the necessary personnel training that can make a difference on a global scale." He's currently working with affiliates on code standards and certification projects in India, China, Australia and Europe.
Consumers are now paying more attention to water quality, he said. This is evidenced by the exponential increase in bottled water sales, which bodes well for in-home water treatment. "Consumers are slow to comprehend that it is possible to make the equivalent of bottled water at home for probably a tenth of the cost. Many do not yet realize that for a reasonable cost you can make very nice quality water in the home and have a much better experience for the family. As an industry, we need to enhance the consumer's understanding of the importance of water treatment." One promising sign is that more homes are being built with plumbed-in options for filtration systems.
Consumers are also becoming more aware of issues like lead, arsenic and other contaminants in the water supply. The ongoing Flint, MI water crisis is driving this message home. Water treatment plants can produce high-quality water at the source yet it can become contaminated as it travels through the delivery system. "Flint changed its source water but did not address the chemistry in the pipes," Palkon said. An RO or carbon filter designed for lead reduction in the home could have benefited these water users.
He noted that even though US EPA has set the acceptable amount of lead in drinking water at 15 parts per billion, its desired goal is zero ppb. "If I had little kids I wouldn't want to take that risk. A filter can get you to that goal now. It's an eye-opener for consumers." That's what Palkon and the industry call the 'final-barrier' treatment. Selecting an appropriate water system also protects households from changes in water quality that may go undetected for days, weeks or even months.
As regulators aim to further reduce levels of contaminants (arsenic is a good example) municipalities cannot afford to invest millions to build or modify their treatment plants to meet the lower contaminant requirement. The industry continues to struggle with centralized versus decentralized treatment options, Palkon said. Today, however, more regulators are beginning to understand that decentralized treatment options can be a solution.
IAPMO R&T recognizes the growing importance of water conservation and green building and provides certification to US EPA's WaterSense and ENERGY STAR programs. The company also offers education, certification and sustainability initiatives. It certifies and lists plumbing, water treatment and mechanical products according to established US, Canadian and Mexican codes and standards to ensure their continuous compliance. Offering flexible, local resources, IAPMO R&T works with 35 ANSI-accredited laboratories globally and has reduced completion time of third-party listing NSF/ANSI 61 certification reports to less than three weeks. An ISO accreditation and training program also is available.
IAPMO began in 1926 in California when 39 plumbing inspectors gathered to write a model code to protect the health of the people they served from inept plumbing practices. Over the next nine decades, the organization grew steadily to attain a national, then international, presence working with other organizations to bring efficient and affordable plumbing systems to developing nations.


Your tires play a vital role in giving you a safe and smooth ride, helping you stop quickly and letting you steer accurately. Visually checking your tires for uneven tire wear on a regular basis will alert you to problems that could result in an accident-causing blowout.
Irregular tire wear, either across the tire tread or around the circumference of the tire, is an indication that there may a problem that needs to be fixed.
What causes uneven tire wear?
The wheels are independently attached to your car by a complex suspension system with multiple interconnected links and many adjustment points. Each adjustment must be set to the manufacturer's specifications to ensure that your tires are properly aligned. A bad alignment adjustment may result in many different patterns of irregular tire wear.
Under-inflated or over-inflated tires can cause irregular tire wear across the width of the tire tread. If your tire shows more wear in the center of the tread than at the two sides, it has been over inflated. If the two sides of the tread are worn more than the center, the tire was under inflated.
Proper inflation according to the manufacturer recommendations will prevent the irregular wear from continuing. You can find the tire pressure recommendations in the owner's manual or on the label on the driver's side door jamb. The best way to avoid uneven wear is to check your tire pressure once a month and adjust it accordingly. As an added bonus, properly inflated tires will help maximize your gas mileage.
Uneven tire wear also happens when your wheel and tire assembly is not balanced. Any unbalance can cause vibration; the wheel and tire don't rotate smoothly about the axle and may hop up and down or wobble from side-to-side as it rotates. The solution is to have a technician statically and dynamically balance your wheel and tire assemblies.
Normal driving hazards, like potholes, may bend a steel wheel rim or in the case of alloy wheels, may cause a crack to form in a portion of the wheel. Either instance may cause a vibration in the tire as it rotates, resulting in irregular tire tread wear. A wheel inspection by a technician can tell you if this is the cause of your irregular tire wear.
The best way to prevent uneven tire wear is to check the pressure in your tires monthly, periodically have your wheels aligned and visually inspect your tires regularly.
Learn more about quality steering and suspension parts, find your car part, or find where to buy your auto part today.


Men's reaching on the moon & moon sighting calculation!
During a war, the soldiers complained of being thirsty. The Holy Prophet Muhammed (Peace and Blessings of Allah be upon Him) sent two soldiers to look for some water. They saw a woman on a camel and brought her to the Holy Prophet (Peace and Blessings of Allah be upon Him).
After getting the old woman's permission, Muhammed (Peace and Blessings of Allah be upon Him) ordered the soldiers to pour the water into a receptacle. A little time later all the soldiers came and filled their water receptacles and skin bags with water. The woman was given some dates and her skin bag of water was filled to the top. Prophet Muhammed (Peace and Blessings of Allah be upon Him) declared: "Your water has not decreased. Allah Almighty gave us the water."
Hazrat Zaid Bin Haris (May Allah be pleased with him), one of the greatest sahabas, was going to a distant land. The mule rider whom he had hired, wanted to kill him. After getting permission, Hazrat Zaid Bin Haris (May Allah be pleased with him) performed two rakaats of salaat. Then he said, "Ya Arhamarrahimin" three times. As he said each one, a voice saying "Do not kill him!" was heard.
The mule rider went out thinking there was somebody outside, and then came back in. After the third recitation, a cavalryman with a sword in his hand appeared and killed the mule rider. Turning to Hazrat Zaid (May Allah be pleased with him) he said, "when you began to say 'Ya Arhamarrahimin', I was in the seventh heaven. When you said it for the second time, I reached the first heaven. And the moment you recited it for the third time, I was here and rescued you from the mule rider." Hazrat Zaid (May Allah be pleased with him) realised that he was an angel.
Once our sweet Holy Prophet (Peace and Blessings of Allah be upon Him) sent a letter to the king of Persia named Husret Parviz, to convert him to Islam. When the vile Husrev received and read the letter he tore it to bits and killed the envoy who brought the letter.
When the Prophet of Allah Ta'ala (Peace and Blessings of Allah be upon Him) heard about this He was deeply sorry and prayed, "Oh! My Allah! Tear up his (Husrev's) property as he tore up my letter." Husrev was stabbed by a dagger by his own son.
While Hazrat Omar was the Khalifa (ruler), the Muslims conquered the entire country of Persia, and Husrev's descendants and property disappeared.
While the Prophet of Allah Ta'ala (Peace and Blessings of Allah be upon Him) was calling people to Islam and advising people and telling people about Islam in the city, and prohibiting disbelief, the vile Hakem Bin As, the father of Mervan, come after him. Whilst walking behind our sweet Holy Prophet (Peace and Blessings of Allah be upon Him) the vile Hakem pulled faces behind his back and opened and closed his eyes and puckered his face, and thus ridiculed and made fun of our Prophet Muhammed(Peace and Blessings of Allah be upon Him).
When the Prophet (Peace and Blessings of Allah be upon Him) noticed him pulling faces behind his back, he turned around and declared "Remain in the way you show yourself!" Hakem's eyes remained moving continuously until the day he died.
One day whilst our sweet Holy Prophet(Peace and Blessings of Allah be upon Him) was performing his prayer, Satan came up to him and tried to break Prophet Muhammed's (Peace and Blessings of Allah be upon Him) prayer. Prophet Muhammed (Peace and Blessings of Allah be upon Him) caught Satan with his Holy hands. He released him after Satan had promised not to come and disturb his prayer again.
Our Prophet Muhammed (Peace and Blessings of Allah be upon Him) said, "Every Prophet's prayer is accepted. Every Prophet prayed for his followers in the world. I pray that Allah Ta'ala gives me permission to intercede for my followers on the Day of Judgement. I hope my prayers will be accepted. I will intercede for all of them except those who are disbelievers."


The more I dive into the low-waste, environmentalism, and energy conscious worlds, the more I think about alternatives to basically everything I do. I also have dreams of being a homesteader and living off the land. So, a project I did last fall was install an exterior clothesline! This isn't revolutionary, but it does make an impact, so I'm here to share!
Sunny, the neighborhood cat that famously waltzed into my house when I left a door open (go to the 1:22 in the video to see him) really likes it when I do laundry because it turns into belly rub time.
One day, I might add an outdoor rotary dryer clothesline to be able to dry more clothes, but for now I'm using the space between the corner of the house and the garage. It's perfectly out of the way so I'm not smacking my face on damp underwear when I walk outside, and I have enough height that I can walk underneath it on my way to the driveway without ducking.
Since I'm not doing laundry constantly, it's nice to tuck the line out of the way, so I got a retractable clothesline that works like a dream.
Instead of purchasing it, I asked my Buy Nothing Group and got one for free! I also asked neighbors for clothespins and got those for $0.
To operate, first attach the metal bracket permanently to a surface. I used the corner of my garage.
Can you seeing it hiding there?
Then, I mounted a hook on the side of the house that you don't even notice when the line is tucked away. I made sure to mount them both up high enough that I could walk underneath them but not so high that I couldn't reach a clothespin.
The body of the clothesline tucks in nicely into the ivy of the garage so It's super hidden. If you don't have foliage to hide the line in, it also rotates to be out of sight. This line is perfect for small spaces and interiors, too. Kim and Scott installed the same one in a laundry room makeover last year and tucked it flush against a wall. You could also paint it to blend in, better, too.
Towels, sheets, yoga mats, etc. can drape over the line without clipping them on, but clothespins are super handy for smaller items. I keep them handy in a small jar on my dresser, and in a small basket in the kitchen - both within arms reach of the two back doors for easy access.
And there you have it. This isn't a revolutionary idea, but it's a simple and inexpensive tool to make a small lifestyle change.
This line came super in handy during my January yoga challenge (30 classes in 31 days!) when I had yoga pants and tops on the line nearly 24/7. I also like to hose down my yoga mat and let it drip dry there, too. I use the line also for hanging my kitchen rug dry where I smack it with a broom to let it air out and get some sunshine. I mostly hang my towels and sheets in hopes they get sun-bleached and stay white.
I'm still using my dryer and the dryer balls so I'm not totally converted to the outdoor line. But, maybe one day. For more tips on sustainable laundry including washing, detergent, and tips, check out this blog post.


The idea of .NET Web Forms was born from an attempt to address the ever looming issue implicit in the development of classic ASP web sites. Classic ASP pages housed both the web code and the accompanying code-behind logic in one location: the ASP page. In that way, pages could very easily become long spaghetti-code filled documents that often would become unreadable and … microsoft word how to change left top 9/11/2016 · For creating MVC application you have to choose MVC option in a "Select a template" box. After click on "OK" on the screen our project is ready to use like below window. If you see the "Solution Explorer" window our all folder related to MVC are added by default.
The nice thing that I do like about this approach is that I do not need to be going all the way into my properties in another assembly .. my model classes of properties ( sure viewmodels should be used more, but it is situational depending on the application etc.. how to create a drill in terraria Watch video · I'll show you how to create a new ASP.NET Core MVC application project, secure it with authentication and authorization, save and retrieve data to and from a database, and even expose some of that data as web APIs.
What is ASP.NET MVC? ASP.NET MVC is a framework, created by Microsoft, as an alternative to ASP.NET Web Forms. Web Forms tries to encapsulate HTML and stateless HTTP protocol and provide experience for developer like in Windows Forms programming with forms, control's events, preserved application state etc.
30/06/2013 · Introduction. One of the cool features of Microsoft MVC web development framework since its inception, was its rich Html helpers library; It provided helpers to create most common html controls like text boxes, drop down lists, text areas, etc.


Home Tech Now Reading: Drew Curtis, Are Startups outside tech cities farked?
Now Reading: Drew Curtis, Are Startups outside tech cities farked?
Lexington's Drew Curtis (president/CEO Fark.com) has an excellent piece on GigaOm this weekend, Why Startups Outside Tech Cities Aren't Totally Farked.
Drew Curtis will be addressing the Web 2.0 Expo in New York this month, and he will speak at 7 pm, October 18 in the UK Student Center Ballroom, kicking off UK's Tech Week, sponsored by the College of Communications and Information Studies and its ICT Co-Lab.
Fark.com celebrated its 10th anniversary last year, and is based here in Lexington, Kentucky. Drew Curtis is a graduate of Lafayette High School.
Previous article2010 Kentucky Bourbon Festival. Cooking With Bourbon at Home.
Is Facebook getting a dislike button? Here's what Zuckerberg says.