My money was really running low and I needed to get all the way to Southern Spain for the Summer camp. I was stopped in Valencia and learning from the locals, decided I would try my luck at selling beer on the beach. I also used it as a social experiment, can a poor man make enough money to get on his feet.
Day 1: 1 Euro
I wanted to start out from scratch so I literally begged for 1 Euro. I took this Euro to the nearest store and bought 3 cold beers. I took these beer to the beach and walked up and down the beach methodically chanting, cercezaaaa. Within 15 minutes I had sold the three beer for 3 Euro. I took the money back to the shop and bought 9 beer. I returned to the beach and sold the beer within an hour. I bought 27 beer (storing half of them in a trash can away from the beach. At the end of the day I had sold all of them, and went back to friends house. That night I took 7 euros and bought a big backpack to store the beer in.
Day 2: 20 Euros
I used 3Euros to buy Ice and 17 Euros to buy beer. I started early and realized my mistake, no one wants beer at 11:30, they want water, and coke! I learned from this though and although it took me 3 hours to sell 50 beer I had a new idea, diversify. I took some of the 50 euros and bought 20 beer, 15 water, and 15 cokes. By sunset I had sold everything and treated myself to some groceieries
Day 3: 70 Euros
I now had food for breakfest, lunch, and dinner for the next couple days. I started day 3 confident. My first sale was 15 beer to a drunk Mexican which cleaned me right out. By afternoon I had sold all of my products and was over 120 Euros, but I wasnt the only one realizing my sucesse.
The Spanish beaches are, some say, plauged with foreigners trying to sell them things. I had stumbled upon a beach that had already been taken over by 3 groups, the Pakistanis, The Nigerians, and the Beach Hut owners. None of them were happy to see me. On the third day a Pakistani inquired to how much I had sold. Later that day two Nigerians were giving me some nasty looks. I wouldnt let it deter me however, I still didnt have enough.
Day 4: 100 Euros
I went out on day 3 and spent some of my earnings but day 4 was a weekend and the beach was busy! The work had started to take its toll on me however. It was over 30 degrees and I had spent the last 3 days walking up and down the beach with a backpack full of beer. My skin was burnt, my back was sore, and after one Russian threw money at me my morale was low. I kept strong however, and as it was so busy the other sellers didnt mind me. I made a lot of money that day.
Day 5 200 Euros
Sunday was another busy day, but I realised how dangerous this job could be. I watched as two sellers beers were confiscated by the police and one was taken away to who knows where. I met a lot of funny people that day, a lot of beautiful women, and attracted the attention of a couple of unwanted people as well
Day 6: 300 Euros
My Spanish had improved a lot over the first couple months in Spain, it wasnt perfect however, and in high stress situations I forgot almost everything. On Monday, the beach was almost deserted, I would walk for minutes before seeing anybody. The beach was about 2KM long and after my 3rd pass a huge body builder ran out from out of his Beach Hut. They were licesend sellers and he was pissed. He shouted at me for a few minutes and grabbed me by the arm and started to drag me towards the promigade. His arm muscle was about the size of my head and I guessed he wasnt bringning me for a friendly chat. I struggled to get free of his grip and took off. I guess Monday was going to be a day off.
Day 7: 300 Euros
There was a festival in the city, one of many, and I tried my luck walking the streets, and whatyaknow, people love cold beer on the streets as well. I made over 125 euro but I was finished.
One week: 425 Euros
I actually made more than that. I was able to get grociers, by a backpack for beer, and even get myself a nice shirt for the first day at work. The work was hard, seasonal, and possibly dangerous, but the point being that it was there and anyone who can walk could do it.
I took the money and left Valencia, the city had treated me well.
Saturday, May 7, 2011
Viva France!
My friend arrived and we took off to France, the land of beauty. We were picked up fast and before I knew it I was at a beach drinking wine and enjoying cheese. My destination was Tolouse but before I could even get my job search started I was called back to Spain to work at a Summer Camp. France would have to wait.
Wild Pigs and Sleeping in the hills of Barcelona!
I had no home and no cash to waste. I arrived in Barcelona really early, my friend and I were going to meet and head to France but he wouldn't be there for days. Instead of paying for an expensive hostel I opted to stay in the woods. I figured it wouldn't be so bad.
The first day the heat was stifling. My pack weighed over 30 pounds and the hike up the hill was strenuous. I finally found a place that leveled out with an amazing view of the city. I stored my bags in a bush, took out my yoga mat, and sat down with my back against a small shrub. It was here that I watched the sun melt over the city into the ocean. The buildings glowed a ruby red and lights slowly started flickering on across the city.
The next day I headed to the beach for a shower, read a book, fell asleep in a park, walked around the old buildings, and headed back to hill. That night the sky was darker and as I tried to sleep the wind started. The sky started to growl and I could see large strikes of lightning in the distant hills. That night I slept terribly with occasional spurts of rain and loud thunder.
The following day I was told I couldn't use the showers at the beach, I was really becoming a bum. I took some crackers and salami back up to the hill and attempted to build a tarp in case in rained, at the time I didn't know what would awake me in the morning and I assumed Id stay a little longer.
I woke the next morning to a crash. Not 30 meters away something tromped through the low brush. It came out within 20 meters of me, at first I thought it was a rhino! It was huge, grey, and moving quick! We saw each other at the same time, man vs pig, we both dashed at the same time. I was sure he was coming after me and jumped into the nearest tree. Minutes later it was all quiet again. I cautiously packed my bags and headed for a hostel, screw sleeping outside.
The first day the heat was stifling. My pack weighed over 30 pounds and the hike up the hill was strenuous. I finally found a place that leveled out with an amazing view of the city. I stored my bags in a bush, took out my yoga mat, and sat down with my back against a small shrub. It was here that I watched the sun melt over the city into the ocean. The buildings glowed a ruby red and lights slowly started flickering on across the city.
The next day I headed to the beach for a shower, read a book, fell asleep in a park, walked around the old buildings, and headed back to hill. That night the sky was darker and as I tried to sleep the wind started. The sky started to growl and I could see large strikes of lightning in the distant hills. That night I slept terribly with occasional spurts of rain and loud thunder.
The following day I was told I couldn't use the showers at the beach, I was really becoming a bum. I took some crackers and salami back up to the hill and attempted to build a tarp in case in rained, at the time I didn't know what would awake me in the morning and I assumed Id stay a little longer.
I woke the next morning to a crash. Not 30 meters away something tromped through the low brush. It came out within 20 meters of me, at first I thought it was a rhino! It was huge, grey, and moving quick! We saw each other at the same time, man vs pig, we both dashed at the same time. I was sure he was coming after me and jumped into the nearest tree. Minutes later it was all quiet again. I cautiously packed my bags and headed for a hostel, screw sleeping outside.
Back at the Blog
It has been years, but I am back to the Blog!
There is so much to talk about and last year so much happened I regret not publishing more. Although most of this will be for my own account, I will work hard to prefect spelling, conjuntion, and sentance structure. Anyways, wish me luck!
I want to give a 5 minute sum-up of the past two years so those of you going through my past posts have a better understanding of what happened. My blog slowed down a lot once I arrived in Iran, there were little chances to access the internet. Once I arrived in Turkey everything moved very fast and I had no time to slow down.
I travelled around Europe for 7 months.
I started in Spain, set to teach English and go to University. Instead I found myself without a job and struggling to readjust to Western Society. I unleashed all the emotions at the Gym and studied Spanish at the pool. I struggled to find that person that I needed to be in the West. The Asian Kyle that I spent so long developing was lost in a world foreign to me. My orignial idea to Study in Spain was smashed when I realised that it would take me years to learn enough of the language to do well in University. Unable to find work and the little money I had left dwindling, I packed my bags and hitched to Barcelona!
There is so much to talk about and last year so much happened I regret not publishing more. Although most of this will be for my own account, I will work hard to prefect spelling, conjuntion, and sentance structure. Anyways, wish me luck!
I want to give a 5 minute sum-up of the past two years so those of you going through my past posts have a better understanding of what happened. My blog slowed down a lot once I arrived in Iran, there were little chances to access the internet. Once I arrived in Turkey everything moved very fast and I had no time to slow down.
I travelled around Europe for 7 months.
I started in Spain, set to teach English and go to University. Instead I found myself without a job and struggling to readjust to Western Society. I unleashed all the emotions at the Gym and studied Spanish at the pool. I struggled to find that person that I needed to be in the West. The Asian Kyle that I spent so long developing was lost in a world foreign to me. My orignial idea to Study in Spain was smashed when I realised that it would take me years to learn enough of the language to do well in University. Unable to find work and the little money I had left dwindling, I packed my bags and hitched to Barcelona!
Monday, December 14, 2009
The End
Well a lot has been skipped. While in Iran Internet connections were rare and by the time I got to Turkey I was too busy trying to find a job to write. Things are still busy. But things will calm down.
Ill be back with more tales.
Ill be back with more tales.
Thursday, February 19, 2009
Shi'ite's Muslims
Muslims
Most of the world is Sunni, but in Iran and some places in Pakistan you can find the Shi'ites.
I found them in a small village 35KM outside of Lahore.
A brown man with a black beard dressed in a black robe preached Islam to a crowd of followers. They sat on a carpet and everyone was surrounded by a technicolored tent.
I arrived early and was given some tea in a small room while waiting. There a man showed me scars on his back from the last festival. Today they would be using their hands to beat themselves, six months ago they used knives.
Just before the sun began to set the procession began. Young men about twenty years old began removing their shirts. Most of them had deep pink scars etched across their backs. The lined up side by side in lines. As they stood facing each other a group of men started singing. Behind them the Shi'ite Flag was raised by two men. To the side, where I stood, was a shrine carried by four men. Inside was a babies shirt that was splattered with blood. This festival, and the pain they were about to suffer, was to commemorate their forefathers who suffered from horrible acts of martyrdom.
The singing continued and the men prepared. The beating started slow at first. They raised their hands and brought them down softly upon their chests. The singers raised their voices and the men raised their hands. The singing quickened and the thumps got louder. They beat themselves with no flinches, shouts, or cries of pain. I watched as blood began to mix with sweat and slide down their chests. Their shouts were suttle, meaningful, and deep. Some of them moved into a trance.
Over and over their bloody palms would raise up into the air and come crashing down against their chest while they chanted Islamic verses. The village was quiet. Nobody smiled. None of the children played. Everyone watched and most people silently said the words being sung.
It was a moving, disturbing, and yet somehow beautiful experience.
Most of the world is Sunni, but in Iran and some places in Pakistan you can find the Shi'ites.
I found them in a small village 35KM outside of Lahore.
A brown man with a black beard dressed in a black robe preached Islam to a crowd of followers. They sat on a carpet and everyone was surrounded by a technicolored tent.
I arrived early and was given some tea in a small room while waiting. There a man showed me scars on his back from the last festival. Today they would be using their hands to beat themselves, six months ago they used knives.
Just before the sun began to set the procession began. Young men about twenty years old began removing their shirts. Most of them had deep pink scars etched across their backs. The lined up side by side in lines. As they stood facing each other a group of men started singing. Behind them the Shi'ite Flag was raised by two men. To the side, where I stood, was a shrine carried by four men. Inside was a babies shirt that was splattered with blood. This festival, and the pain they were about to suffer, was to commemorate their forefathers who suffered from horrible acts of martyrdom.
The singing continued and the men prepared. The beating started slow at first. They raised their hands and brought them down softly upon their chests. The singers raised their voices and the men raised their hands. The singing quickened and the thumps got louder. They beat themselves with no flinches, shouts, or cries of pain. I watched as blood began to mix with sweat and slide down their chests. Their shouts were suttle, meaningful, and deep. Some of them moved into a trance.
Over and over their bloody palms would raise up into the air and come crashing down against their chest while they chanted Islamic verses. The village was quiet. Nobody smiled. None of the children played. Everyone watched and most people silently said the words being sung.
It was a moving, disturbing, and yet somehow beautiful experience.
The Regale Internet Inn with Malik
Everyone who I talked to raved about the Regale. Malik the owner was said to be full of information, planned amazing trips, and supplied the cheapest rooms in town.
Everything everyone said was true.
I heard about trip to see a Shi'ite Muslim festival where they beat themselves with their hands so I got checked in, checked myself out, and then jumped on a motorbike to see the festival.
Everything everyone said was true.
I heard about trip to see a Shi'ite Muslim festival where they beat themselves with their hands so I got checked in, checked myself out, and then jumped on a motorbike to see the festival.
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