What we got in the works for all ya'l.

So we got a few things brewing up right now. Here's a quick run down some of the things we have coming your way.

First up we have some stuff from the vault or Germany. We have "Lost in the Walled City" a tour of Rothenberg and a bunch more on Berlin. This is one European capital that I think deserves far more coverage than we have given it so far. It really is rare that a capital can so rapidly reinvent its own center.

Second up we have thrift shopping in Vienna and its emerging independent fashion scene. Afterwords we will jump continet and give you the skinny on Orlando, FL.

And of course more tales from the Eternal City from our man in Rome, Andy Jackson.

Finally we are working UrbanBackpacker TV. Our first installment featuring Boston will air on our site within a few weeks. So keep your eyes on us or you may just miss out

Comment issues

We have had a bit of a problem with our comments as of late. I should have the problem smothed out so comment away. If you have posted a comment in tle past week or so I should have it up. If not I apologize.

'06 Olympics Can't Capture Fans' Interest

The time is upon us again folks. Time to gather 'round the warmth of NBC's scattered, time-delayed coverage. Time to pretend like we know who the best long track skaters are. Time do be inendated by sponsor after sponsor, parading their products around the flag and the young atheletes du jour. That's right folks, the Olympics are happening. Don't blink though, or they'll be gone quicker than Bode Miller's medal chances.

Much like a dormant cold sore you got on a college spring break trip to Mexico, the 20th winter Olympics has returned from its four year (did anyone notice?) slumber. This time the 15-day athletic extravaganza has landed in the Northern Italian city of Torino. The problem is, no one here cares. Now, I shouldn't say no one, that may be too big of a generalization. There are always going to be the die-hard figure skating fans, bobsled groupies ("Cool Runnings" was a good movie, and you know it), and snowboarders who like seeing their sport on such a big stage. As for the common spectator though, they're harder to find in Rome than good Chinese food.

The irony of all of this is that Romans tune into what's happening in Torino almost religiously, not for the Olympics but for Juventus, the fabled Italian soccer team. In fact, the bars here were packed to capacity for Roma v. Juventus, and Lazio v. Juventus. Both games within the same week of the opening ceremonies. Juve is real to Romans. They're the second most hated/loved team in the country, behind AC Milan. Their games mean something, especially when playing one of Rome's two squads.

The Olympics here have a somewhat gimmicky quality to them. All of the Coca-Cola bottles are covered in an illustrated snowy plastic cover, with their trademark bear on the front. MacDonald's employees all have Torino 2006 work shirts, bright orange with the rings by the breast pocket. There's also the occasional cardboard life-size cutout of some skier or figure skater. Usually, these can be found in front of cell- phone stores or supermarkets.

It could be the geographical separation, or even the cultural separation between Torino and Rome. Traditionally Italians are regional elitists and the cultural differeces, despite the distance, are drastic. In Rome it rarely snows. I've yet to see an ice skating rink. Oh, and did I mention how popular soccer is here. Soccer is year-round, practiced, played, and talked about, ad nausium. People here talk about politics, sex, love, food, and music; not curling or snowboardcross.

In the States I'm sure it's the same way. According to espn.com, this year's Olympic television ratings have fallen much shorter than expected, partly due to the failures of the most heavily marketed athletes (Michelle Kwan, Bode Miller, and Apollo Anton Ohno). Honestly, I think people just don't care for sports that are practically invisible outside of the four-year event. We try to get into it to muster up some national pride, but we live in a world where our borders are getting blurrier by the day. Hell, most of the NHL is playing for Canada, Sweden, Russia, and the Czech Republic. Does that mean we can't root for their countries when they play?

I'm being harsh, I know this. The Olympics are a great diversion and they're fun to watch on a cold Wednesday night in February. Primarily, they're a huge economic boost for the host city and region. Believe me, Italy could use all the economic boosts it can get. My contention is that they've lost some of their past luster and glory. Maybe I've just lost my interest in them. Regardless of how you slice it though, they'll be out of Italy as quickly as the came in. Then you'll have to wait until May to see Italy on your television. This time for the election, and believe me, everyone here from Parma to Palermo will be paying attention.

O' Turtle Where art Thou?

Dear Fellow backpackers,

I'm not sure how many of you know how you got here, or why you're reading our posts. I know how I do. The person who started this site and had the creativity to put some time into making it look good is Edward S. Popko. I know him as my friend "Turtle". Regardless of who reads this site, how many people, age, sex, orientation, or naionality, you should understand what kind of effort Turtle has made to make this possible.

Now I'm not trying to brag or trump this up in a cocky way. On the contrary, I want to give someone credit to someone who probably wants no credit back. He's doing this for no money, and no accolades (if there are some accolades though, let a brother know....wink wink). He's doing this out of his own desire to expand the curiosity and boundries of normal people living, traveling, and experiencing things in life that take you away from the ordinary. These posts are just a moment in the life of a few writers, but can be a minute, an hour, or a day in our own worlds.

I just want to tell Turtle how greatful I am to help him "make a mark" so to speak, in the realm of free internet information. Mostly, I want to tell him how good of a friend he's always been and always will be. No matter who you are, how you feel, or who you're with, I'll always be there as a friend. I promise.

PS: NOW READ MY DAMN POSTS PEOPLE, I PROMISE THEY'LL GET JUICIER ;)

Nothing is Ever as it Seems

At a hot dog stand at six in the morning I find peace. After being here for almost two months there are very few certainties that I can rely on. One is that disappointment runs rampant when you are far from what is familiar. The other is that I always find contentment at a little hot dog stand just steps away from the madness that is the Roman late-night bar scene.

If your religion is after-hours hijinx and parody, then your Mecca is "Dog-Out" on Corso Vittorio Emmanuelle II. It's always an eclectic mix of the hungry, drunk, and restless. You see, in this country hot dogs are rare. And in the eternal city the flame never dims on "Dog-Out". The place itself is no bigger than 10 feet wide in diameter, and it sticks out lengthwise into the street. There are two stools and the standing area often overflows if there are more than 4 customers. For all purposes, it's a glorified hot dog stand, not a restaurant.

To be honest I have a big crush on Ada, one of the workers there. They're all unique people, but Ada is something different. She's Italian but not Roman, and if you've ever been here you know the difference. Ada is from the south, I think Calabria. She's a dancer who when given the chance will jump around spritely, eyes lit, talking loudly with her hands, as if she's oblivious to the time and the place she's in. Her eyes are wide and curious, and she has an attitude like a New Yorker. She mocks American accents frequently and well.

We exchange words, her co-worker sings a John Legend song on the stereo. We have a cultural exchang over hot dogs and slightly warm Becks beer. It's the only thing that will keep me up at this point. Not just Ada and her co-worker, but the other customers. Usually in Rome, there's a resentment towards Americans. There's a kind of disdain for how we behave as tourists, students. Not at "Dog-Out". We're all in the same boat. It's scary how pig intestine, parts of beef, and chemicals can really bring many cultures together. European, African, American or not, we all love hot dogs after a night of drinking.

At this point we talk about America, Italy, music, then girls (unless they're girls, then we smile and compliment), and eventually George Bush. I've never had a bad conversation there. Ada is always curious. We trade language phrases like baseball cards. The harder the word, the greater the value. She makes faces when she speaks English. I throw my hands up when I speak Italian, to look authentic. Subliminally I'm trying to talk like a charicature of a Jersey mobster. She talks like an MTV VJ.

Politics aside we're all the same. I don't give a fuck about what you call yourself. Even the greatest proponents are admirors. We all concede to a greater commonality. At "Dog-Out" our commonality is barely legal pork biproducts. I think it can be a model for life. Find common ground in the shittiest and most obscure places, and you can build from there. Even if you don't, nothing beats a dog and a cold brew before you call it a night in Roma....NOTHING.

Hey Bloggers

Hey backpack-bloggers, it's your favorite bald white guy Andy. Just going to wet your whistle for the next piece. I promise I'm going to edit this one too. Drunken Soccer was a bit too sloppy. I'm caught between writing about the polarization of politics amongst contemporary Italian youth. Specifically, Communism v. Fascism in modern Italy.

It's funny how life works though. My other idea is to elaborate on the loose morals of foreigners on vacation, specifically Americans, specifically girls. Now this soounds a whole lot sexier (literally) than a politcal comparison, but it's more personal and more insulting (sorry if you spent a semester abroad, but don't lie to yourself, you know what goes on!!!). Either way that's my next post. Get a hold of me if you have any knowledge to share on both topics. Oh, and if your name's Lauren and you live in Rome, don't read this. You might be pissed because you're my inspiration to write about American sluts in Italy. Not my fault though, you made a damn good source.

Ciao Ciao,
Andy.

What is the Point of UrbanBackpacker

Loop: AIGA Journal of Interaction Design : Nomadic Digimarking

While browsing around I recently found this article on Nomadic Digimarking or the ability to leave a temporal digital mark of public spaces while not physically leaving any mark on public property. This allows people to transcend time and space by digital being transported to or socially networked to individuals, places, and things that may or may not be in one particular location at any given time. Socially this can allow people to make connections with others based on personal experience regardless of physical a meeting

When you think about it this concept isn't new by any means. This is what writers have been doing for centuries by describing distant places to their readers. However the concept (like everything else in the world) has only been trubocharged in our modern age.

I guess that is enough headiness for now.

Cheers,
Turtle

Administrative Notes

Administrative Notes

I have a few administrative notes about the site.  First up I have secured an AdSense account and set up advertising space on the site in order to try and raise some money based on click through traffic.  Since the ads are being generated by Google they will be content related.  For example right now there are ads related to Mozart based on the Happy Birthday Mozart posting that was posted a week or so ago.  I would greatly appreciate any comments about our ad placement.  I still don’t quite know where to place everything and would greatly appreciate layout feedback on everything.  So don’t be shy please post comments on what you think.

A few months ago I got board of the layout that I had originally created and just switched templates.  While this solved the look it unfortunately blew away all of my links and JavaScript driving things like hit counts.  I have finally taken the time to go back through it all and get back up to snuff.  Andy, I will now be able to give you some site feedback on where people are reading things from with this hit counter.  You have certainly added to our readership with peps form the Linwood checking things out, but I can tell you in a few weeks if you have driven up any of our Euro readership (Yes we do have some).

So with that all said PLEASE give us some feed back.  I am very open to moving things around and would like to keep our ad space kept as unobtrusive as possible.

Cheers,

Turtle

Drunken Soccer Full Story

The late night activities of Thursday, January 26, started out as most others do here in the eternal city. I worked a six hour shift at the Abbey Pub, grabbed my free "shift beer" at about 3am, and headed down to Corso Vittorio Emmanuelle II to grab a bite to eat at Dog-Out. Dog-Out is one of Rome's only hot dog vendors and due to its late closing time, 5am, caters to many local drunks, bartenders, club promoters, DJ's, and homeless wanderers. The hot dogs are phenomenal, and you can get 24oz. Beck's bottles for about 3 euros.
Before I even got the chance to order my dog I bumped into a group of guys from my other job, the Drunken Ship. Mike, Jason, and Dan (all american ex-patriots seem to hang out together, hence why none of us this evening were Italian) had also just left work and were planning on their next move for the evening, debating on how to spend the remaining hours of the early morning. We picked a place called Naklar, a private "social organization" which requires membership and masquerades itself as a "dart society". In reality, these types of places all have titles like this to get through the legal beurocracy of serving liquor all night.
Dan, the soccer player and coach of the John Cabbot University Women's Soccer Team, was easily the most inebriated of us all. Dan became a serious alcoholic after his mother passed away from cancer about a year ago, and in his own words he's been "trying to drink himself to death" ever since. What I didn't know at the time was how talented of an athlete he was, and still is. By the time we left Naklar, he'd been out drinking for about 21 hours straight, no sleep. And his drinking didn't end there.
The next stop on our bender was the MacDonald's in nearby Termini, Rome's central train station. At that moment there was nothing better than the staleness of the previous night's hamburger buns on a bland big mac, salty fries, and a fanta with no ice. This put us in a good mood. Good enough, in fact, to decide to stay up all night with Dan and accompany him to the Holocaust soccer game. There were four of us left standing who agreed. Mike, Jason, Dan, and myself were going to go to Dan's house in Trastevere to drink a few espresso's, pick up his cleats and uniform, and buy a fifth of Bacardi to mix with 20 oz. Cokes at the game. Within an hour we did just that.
It was 10am now, and we sat in Piazza Trilusa like homeless men. In our smelly clothes and wreaking of booze, we reduced ourselves to yelling cat calls at American girls and hard stares at nosey Italian men. All the while we getting drenched by a light but steady rain. At this point I had to stop drinking. The smell of Bacardi nearly made me sick. The bottle was split 50/50 between Mike and Jason. Dan switched to 16oz. cans of beer. He was the captain and coach of the soccer team, and he had 30 minutes before kick-off.
We boarded a charter bus and headed off to a nearby suburb, the name of which I don't know. The bus was full of American semester-abroad students, mostly girls, and a handful of Italian soccer players. They knew Dan was drunk and teased him about it. It didn't matter though, they also knew that drunk or not he was the best player on the team.
The stadium was small but very well maintained. The pitch was bright green and the stands were elevated about 15 feet to give the spectators a perfect view. The stands were lined with older dapper looking gentlemen dressed in long overcoats and shiney Italian leather shoes. There were also the students from the bus and a few young Italians who just wanted to see a game. It was a game between Rome's University all-stars and the Macabee's, an all Jewish team from a Hebrew cultural society. The game was televised live on Rai (Italian TV), and the camera crews were peppered in the crowd and around the field.
The only thing that actually kept me from falling asleep was Jason. His drunken ramblings broke the awkward silence in the fan section, which was surprisingly quiet. Girls just aren't good at being rowdy sports fans. They try, but it's noticeably ingenuine. A kind of forced excitement to mask their real reason for being at the game, to stare at attractive athletic men, muscles blaring, running around in front of them. Not Jason though, he could care less about the game or the girls.
Mike was passed out on a bench while I desperately tried to control my laughter. "Beat the Jews" Jason shouted, "Jews can't play sports well". After a few long stares he quickly followed with, "what, I'm Jewish, I'm allowed to make fun of my own people. Now turn around you morons". I don't think the girls around us understood that this was the bacardi talking, but I did, so I just sat there and laughed.
The game was a blow-out so it quickly became boring to watch. The Macabees were losing 5-1, and Jason turned his attention to the girls. They treated him as if he was a soap box preacher predicting the end of the world on a busy street in Manhattan. He'd yell, everyone would hear him, but no one would look at him. Then he went in for the kill. He found the hottest looking girl in the crowd, sat about two inches away from her, and came out of left field with the most random diatribe of the afternoon. "Do you like the Seinfeld Pez episode?....do you lady?...do you...um...Stephanie? (her name was Britney)....well fuck you then, I thought it was funny" he said as his words slurred together in a barely audible blur.
Within a few minutes the game was over. The all-stars won handily and the players met in the stands to recieve plaques comemorating the event. Dan played masterfully and probably performed better than anyone else on his team. We rejoined him after he got his plaque, 16oz. beer in hand. We then boarded the bus back to Piazza Trilusa. Mike was in and out of sleep and the last thing I heard out of Jason was "hey you....you're the guy...you...I'm going to piss in your mouth". Then he fell asleep too.
At Trilusa we all went our seperate ways. Jason, Mike, and I went home. Dan found a local pub and kept drinking into the late afternoon. He was scheduled to work a few hours after the game. From what I heard secondhand, he locked himself out of his apartment and fell asleep on his stairwell. He missed his shift by 4 hours. The next day Dan was fired. I haven't seen him since.