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Tag: Travel

A Journey to the End of the Earth

I was halfway through a 3-month backpacking tour of Europe, and had taken an unplanned detour to Scandinavia, after a crazy couple of days in Stockholm and a long train trip up the entire length. of Sweden (more on that another time). I had made a quick stop in the sleepy city of Narvick before making my way out to my main reason to coming to this part of the world in the first place, the Lofoten Islands. This archipelago sits over 200 kilometers above the Arctic Circle, when I was there in August it was light out for 20 hours a day. The chain of islands juts out from the mainland into the Norwegian sea, and my target was the last village on the chain, a little fishing hamlet called Å. After adventures in the Greek islands, staying with friends in Macedonia, and a tour of Italy and France, what made me want to go out there, to a remote desolate island that hardly anyone has ever heard of? I was looking for peace and solitude, maybe physically, after the bustling cities of Southern Europe, but maybe more spiritually, looking for peace within myself that I hadn’t found partying or visiting ancient sites. I was just kicking off my adult life and knew that I wouldn’t be back home for over a year, but I wasn’t as happy with myself as I thought I should be. Somehow, even while traveling through unknown places, sleeping in hostels, trains, and even a park bench, I was still restless. And so my wandering feet took me to the far North, to what seemed like the end of the earth.

The slow coach ride from Narvick was comfortable, with high-backed chairs, temperature control, and a smooth ride. As we snaked our way along the fjords huge cliffs jutted into the sky, in sharp contrast with the rolling waves of the sea below. We made many stops, this bus was not used by many tourists, mainly it was locals from the small towns and villages who had gone into the bigger city for shopping or some other necessity that you couldn’t get on a small island. At the beginning of the journey, the water was peaceful, since we were passing deep inlets that weren’t exposed to open water, but the further we went, the emptier the bus got, the smaller the villages became, and the rougher the waves rolled. I had set off first thing in the morning, leaving Narvick at around 10 am, on the only bus of the day, but the 5+ hour/350km journey stretched out into the long afternoon and the sun started to dip behind the tallest of the peaks as we pushed on towards the end of the island chain.

It was so peaceful I fell into a kind of trance as my eyes were glued to the scenery passing by outside the window. And so I was startled when I looked up and realized I was the last passenger on the bus. As we rolled to a stop for the last time, I saw a few outbuildings, a small dock extending over a bay on just a small strip of land. On the other side was a beautiful little lake with some old wooden canoes, before the mountain shot up directly behind into the mist. After I unloaded my gear and approached what appeared to be the main building, there wasn’t another soul in sight. I climbed the worn wooden stairs to a deck in front of the low converted fishing shack, the red paint was flaking off in places and I heard the lapping of water underneath me and realized the structure was built to stick out over the water. The door was creaky as I pushed it open to see a dark interior with the walls lined with old tools and memorabilia. I heard some rummaging around from another room, and soon the owner came out to greet me in his knitted cap and heavy sweater. I had booked a bunk in a shared room, but I was the only guest, so he said I would have the place to myself. Breakfast and dinner could be purchased in the main kitchen, and a small convenience store that he kept open in the morning had essentials for lunch.

I lugged my bags across the deck to the small building the proprietor had indicated to me, my hair blowing across my face into my eyes, as I pushed open the door a gust of wind slammed it open, rattling the faded wooden walls. I quickly got everything inside and shut the door firmly, I was greeted by a low-ceilinged room with two bunk beds on one side, the door to what looked to be the toilet in the middle, and a low bed directly against the window facing the sea on the far side. I was pulled towards the far bed, and let out a sigh as I sunk deep into the thick comforter when I sat down. That night I only had time for a quick walk before the dining hall closed, so I set off to explore the nearby areas. The jetty stretched out into the dark water, crossing sharp rocks with barnacle growth, seaweed, and bird droppings before placing you firmly above the swirling water. I then walked back towards the hamlet, which had more buildings than it first appeared to. The highlight was the small lake just inland from the sea, I don’t know if it was salt or fresh water, but I thought it would make a perfect postcard. After a quick dinner of fish stew and crusty bread, I headed back to my cabin, and was very grateful to have it all to myself after spending so many nights surrounded by bunkmates in hostels around the rest of Europe.

I got another wonderful surprise as I laid down in the bed with my book, the sides of the frame were raised, so after I settled in, I felt like I was in a warm cocoon of soft downy comfort. I could look out at the open sky, even at 9 pm, the light wasn’t so much fading, but more like softly teasing the sky behind lace curtains. I could still read from the sunlight and eventually fell into the deepest sleep I’d had in many nights. I woke up feeling more refreshed than I could remember and took a slightly steaming shower before eating the bread I’d packed and heading out for my big adventure for these islands; a hike to the top of the nearby hill. Well somewhere between a hill and a mountain. The climb took me around three leisurely hours, but it was steep and I could have used something sturdier than the tennis shoes I was traveling in.

I had one recurring thought as I scaled the narrow trail, that while cliche for my quest for inner peace, was inescapable. This place was biblical, or at least spiritual. The clouds blanketed the sides of the cliffs and rose through steep fissures in the terrain and sheep bedded down in the few flat plateaus that they could find. The very few trees were scraggly and short, barely taller than the long grass that soaked my jeans when I walked off the trail for a better view. After the long trek, I finally reached the peak and had a 360-degree view of the area. The hamlet below looked like a model set on one side, and on the other side the sea stretched into the distance. Just below I watched the Hurtigruten Ferry, which I was due to take the next day, slowly inch its way down the coast and disappear into the mist. I was struck by how some of the shallow waters at the base of the cliff were turquoise and seemed like they could have been at an island paradise somewhere in the South Pacific.

As I breathed in the damp cool air, I realized that this had been what I was looking for. A solitary hike up a misty mountain, further away from the rest of humanity than I had ever been before. Maybe it was nature I was missing, or perhaps just the full night’s sleep in a cozy bed. But I’ll remember that hike for the rest of my life, and it reset the rest of my trip for me to have a blast cruising through Eastern Europe and then flying off to Asia.

September 5, 2023
A Foodie Weekend In Seville

I have been fascinated with Spain ever since I read Michener’s epic The Drifters as a teenager, about a group of young hippies who spend time in Spain including going to the famous Running of the Bulls. That interest only deepened later when I found Hemingway and watched Anthony Bourdain’s episodes in Andalucia and other parts of Spain. The country seemed amazing to me, less pretentious than France, less chaotic than Italy. With amazing food, relaxed and happy people, and amazing traditions and culture that have spread across the world. All of this juxtaposed with their atrocious campaign of colonization, basically wiping whole peoples off the face of the earth, and yet leaving a legacy today across 3 continents where the people are still speaking the language and carrying Spanish genes. Leaving that aspect of history behind, I most of all wanted to experience the food, smell the air, and see the architecture that spans through Roman and Moorish rule. I finally got my chance to visit last year where my company kickoff was planned at a small resort town outside of Seville. I got to extend my trip through the weekend and had a whirlwind couple of days exploring the city.

Santa Maria Cathedral – Photo by Nicholas Braman

My first impression of Seville was that it was small and relaxed. Many streets were open to pedestrians only and there weren’t any skyscrapers, most of the buildings were older. Walking through the old-town cobbled streets to my hotel, I had to push past many tourists and found it hard to navigate the small sidewalks with my luggage. After checking into my spartan AirBnB, I went back out to do some exploring. The centerpiece of the area where I was staying was the Santa Maria Cathedral, a big and beautiful church with fantastic spires that stood out sharply against the clear blue sky. I walked down the main pedestrian street filled with cafes and boutique shops to the riverside, which was extremely peaceful and had beautiful views of the old buildings on the other side. I also wandered through the Plaza Nueva with a monument of San Fernando. I found it interesting they had signs up supporting Ukraine.

After a week of mediocre buffet food at the resort, my main goal for the weekend was to sample all of the culinary delights I could find. I was happy to spend my time mainly exploring by myself as we had a packed schedule and I was a bit overstimulated from being around all my colleagues for meetings during the day and social activities every night. I made my way over to Bar El Viruta for a late lunch, sitting at a table outside under the afternoon sun in a quiet neighborhood was amazing as I enjoyed my first authentic tapas meal. I was very overzealous in ordering and ended up with Jamon, croquettes, chicken, a tortilla, a chorizo sandwich, and an espresso. Everything was wonderful, but the jamon and tortilla really stood out. The Jamon had that wonderful funky taste of aged meat and just the right amount of fat-to-meat ratio, and the tortilla was tall and browned drizzled with an amazing olive oil covering the egg and potatoes.

I had plans to go train jiujitsu that evening at the Roger Gracie Seville Academy, so after going back to my hotel to pick up my gear, I strolled through another part of the city on the way to the gym. It was around 6 o’clock, and the streets were buzzing with people just finishing work and starting their evenings. I walked past the famous Setas de Sevilla, an iconic wooden structure in the middle of a square with plenty of places for people to gather and relax around it. The jiujitsu training was super fun, the instruction was in Spanish, but with a few pointers in English from the coach, and having seen the moves before I was able to follow along fine. I always enjoy training when I travel because it is a great way to meet locals and experience something other than tourist attractions. I rolled with some blue and white belts, as well as the coach. I’m always extra nice when I am a guest at the gym and roll very relaxed so I don’t offend anyone or make them feel like I’m coming in to challenge them. But my defense held up well, so I felt pretty good after the session. After going back to shower and change I headed out for a very Spanish-time dinner at around 11 pm. This time I went to one of the more famous tapas bars that is recommended in many guides, Casa Morales. The interior was gorgeous with bottles of wine lining the walls and huge legs of Jamon hanging from the ceiling. I absolutely loved the atmosphere and could picture Hemingway or Michener dining there 60 years ago without much having changed at all. The local beer was light and accompanied the richness of the food perfectly, the highlights for this meal were the chicharrones and foie gras, which were both excellent. Together with more Jamon and croquettes, the whole bill was only 13.70 euros. What a steal!

The next morning I woke up late and had a simple breakfast of Jamon sandwich with tomato and an espresso. Before wandering through more of the city. The small streets with cafes, mom-and-pop stores, and little fruit stands were a delight to walk through, and the sun was shining brightly, without it being too hot since it was the beginning of May. I ended up at Casa Molina for lunch (I warned you that food was my main goal of this trip), where I had more delicious Jamon, and kind of spinach casserole, and fries covered in a white gravy. The only disappointment of the meal, and maybe the whole weekend, was the grilled squid, which was flavorless and rubbery. In the early evening, I walked through the area of the Basilica de la Macarena and was lucky to encounter the beginning of the processions for Easter. Statues of Jesus on the cross and the Virgin Mary are paraded through the streets carried by people on their shoulders, and again it looks like something that hasn’t changed much over the last 500 years.

For dinner, I met a colleague and we went to the famous Espacio Eslava, which is known as one of the best tapas bars in town. We enjoyed a fine bottle of Rioja wine and splurged on a variety of dishes. Some of the highlights were the sticky pork ribs, grilled octopus, clams, and fried sardines. As it was Saturday night, the bars and restaurants were still packed when we made our way over to the Bodega La Aurora around midnight. This place had tables outside on the sidewalk that looked like they would be great to stand around and eat and chat, but as they were full, we ended up sitting at the bar. While not quite as picturesque as Casa Morales, the interior was also memorable, with huge casks of wine and Sangria filling the area behind the bar. We finally called it a night at around 1 am, and as I walked through the now slightly damp streets it was mostly quiet, except for a few discos I passed, lit up in neon, with thumping techno music pouring out of the interior and bouncing off the walls of the neighboring old buildings.

My final day, Sunday, started early and I had plans to hit the most tourist sites of my trip with a couple of colleagues before heading to the airport that afternoon. Our first stop was the Alcazar, a royal palace built for the king of Castille. The palace has gone through many iterations and additions since starting off originally as a Visigothic basilica prior to the year 712. The Islamic era rulers built out the gardens and residences of the complexes in the 1100s before the Christians took back over and made more additions in the 1300s. The striking layers of decoration and architecture blend beautifully, and the gardens are fantastic, especially with majestic peacocks wandering the grounds. After exploring the palace we stopped for a small breakfast where we had another tortilla (I need eggs for breakfast), and espresso. We then headed over to the Plaza de Espana, where government buildings sit in front of a huge open area with fountains and waterways. Tiled murals representing different parts of the region line the walls, and flamenco dancers perform for the tourists walking by. It was a beautifully sunny day with clear skies, but still cool enough to need a light sweater, so a perfect temperature to walk around.

Gardens at the Alcazar – Photo by Nicholas Braman

The Plaza de Espana – Photo by Nicholas Braman

We had just enough time for lunch before heading to the airport, so we went over to Restaurante Alcoy, another highly recommended tapas place. Spanish service is known to be slow, but this restaurant really took it to another level, and it took us almost two hours after sitting down to finish our meal. The wait was worth it though, as I finally got to try the tinned sardines that Anthony Bourdain raved so much about. They were nothing like canned fish in the US and went amazingly with the cheesy garlic bread we ordered. We were all stuffed from 3 days of eating, so we didn’t order a lot, just the sardines, a charcuterie board, and a big portion of Jamon to nibble on. We sat outside under the sun, which was very peaceful and made me feel like a local, but when we went in to use the toilet, I loved the interior of this restaurant as well. It seemed like someone’s house, with a maze of narrow hallways that opened up into small rooms with 2 or 3 tables in each, and of course, the ubiquitous wine bottles and Jamon hanging from the shelves.

Overall I loved Seville, I’m pleased with the attitude I went in with of a relaxed weekend mainly eating and wandering the city, and only hitting a few of the biggest attractions. It is a peaceful city that should be savored over slow meals, cups of espresso, and bottles of wine. I also personally loved the culture of eating late dinners well after 8 or 9 pm, with so much amazing food, you need more time to experience it all!

September 2, 2023
I Spent a Week Living on the Most Polite Street in the World

In 2019 I spent a week on the politest street in the world. No, it isn’t some small-town culdesac, it is called Soi Ta-iad, a street in Thailand that is home to some of the biggest fight gyms in the world. While calling it the safest street in the world may be a little bit of hyperbole, I don’t think it is that much of a stretch considering how nice and respectful everyone was to each other. You might ask, how can it be so safe if everyone there knows how to fight? Well, that’s exactly why, alongside the tourists and hobbyists like myself, there are professional fighters from all over the world who have wins in the UFC, ONE Fighting Championship, and a host of other fighting organizations. If you’ve ever watched any combat sports, you know that the biggest, baddest-looking people aren’t necessarily the best, and so does everyone on the street, and that’s why everyone is so polite.

This post isn’t going to be an in-depth review of all the gyms I visited or a guide of exactly how to prepare for a trip there, but more of a memoir of what it was like visiting there from my personal experience, and why it was one of the best training experiences I’ve had. Of course, there are plenty of places to train Muay Thai across Thailand, and many of the best gyms are in other parts of the country. But what makes Soi Ta-iad so unique is the concentration of gyms in one small area, and the whole economy and services that have grown up around it. For some background, I have been training Brazilian JiuJitsu consistently for over 5 years, and kickboxing off and on since I was 18, but with a total training time of only about 3 years. I’m not that good at either, but I love visiting gyms when I travel, and this was my first trip solely dedicated to training.

Soi Ta-iad is about 20 minutes from the main tourist spots in Phuket, it is inland, away from the beaches, and has all the amenities you need for a great training experience. The entire street is only about two kilometers long, but as you walk down the dusty road, you’ll find all kinds of shops you won’t find anywhere else in Thailand. There are supplement stores selling big tubs of protein powder, sports massages, salad bars, keto restaurants, and even cryotherapy. There are only one or two bars, and you definitely feel you are in a healthy paradise that is another world compared to most other places in Thailand where foreigners gather. Not only are there fight gyms, but there are also CrossFit gyms, regular gyms with lifting and cardio equipment, and even fitness camps with everything from spin to yoga. The restaurants in the area are of full of options like grilled chicken salads, poke bowls, protein pancakes, egg-white omelettes, and acai bowls; completely different than the standard tourist grub. I even tried my first cauliflower crust keto pizza there!

I arrived at Soi Ta-iad in the late afternoon and just had time to check into my hotel before taking my first walk down the street to a BJJ session at Phuket Top Team. As I took in my surroundings I was amazed that every shop I passed was fitness or health related. Not only that, but virtually every person I saw, eating in restaurants, riding by on scooters, or walking along the road like me, was obviously fit and there to participate in some form of training. As I neared Phuket Top Team I started hearing the unmistakable thwack of hard shins hitting heavy bags and grunts of exertion as the fighters put every ounce of effort they could into their strikes. The check-in process was easy, as all the gyms there are used to drop-ins, and soon I was stretching on the mats of a padded room waiting for the session to start. It was a pretty big space, with tall ceilings and the flags of Brazil and Thailand hanging on the walls, the stink of old sweat was heavy, as is the case in most good gyms. Soon the room started filling up with people of all sizes and nationalities, with many walking around and shaking everyone’s hands before they started their own stretching routine.

The class was great, and I was feeling exhilarated and looking forward to the week of hard training as I started heading back to my hotel. It was a Friday night, and as I walked back there were groups of people at various restaurants along the street. I decided to grab a kebab, and when I went inside to order I first noticed this environment of utmost politeness. There were a few groups of big guys sitting around the tables, talking loudly and eating their dinners. While I waited for my food I noticed there was none of the posturing or sizing up that happens in many places, especially with large groups of guys on a Friday night. Instead, when new people walked through the door, most guys ignored it, or casually looked up and then went back to their conversations. I realized that everyone knew that any one of these guys, no matter what they looked like, could be a professional fighter. And in addition to that, all the aggression and competitiveness was used up on the mats or in the ring, so there was no reason for anyone to be anything but polite outside of the gym.

I ended up training at 4 gyms during my week there, and it was the same story at each one, everyone was polite and friendly to a fault. Whenever I happened to meet someone’s eye in a restaurant or walking down the street, there was nothing but a slight smile or respectful nod. It really showed me that not only were most of the people confident in their abilities, they were also in control of their ego and understood that there is always someone better, and you never know who that could be. Maybe if more people in the world trained martial arts, everyone would be more polite wherever they went instead of just this special street in Thailand.

August 26, 2023