In My Mother's Name [part 2]

Split
The bus ride would have been completely uneventful if it weren't for the soldier.

When we stepped on the bus, with me leading the way, he said to the guy next to him, "Zey speaky English" and so I said "Yes, ve speaky ze English" with a smile. *sigh* What did I do that for? Dude looked like a murderer and was fiegning for me for the rest of the bus ride. BUT when he saw me eating spicy cheese by itself (a feast for a starving student), he gave me a pack of vanilla wafers with a grunt. Then he really couldn't stop trying to catch my eye. He wasn't even trying to pretend like he wasn't talking about me with his friend. Thank God he got off on a stop before us. Little did we know, there would be weirder dudes to meet yet...

We then made the mistake of taking a taxi from the bus stop to the hostel instead of asking for directions. A two minute drive cost us 50 kuna (about US$10) and the taxi driver just told us that it was our fault for not trying to find it by ourselves. Thanks for the consolation, buddy! Here's my hard earned dinero! Have fun!

The hostel was great, though. Free internet, 1500 free movies to choose from on the TV and computer in the room, hot showers, clean beds - all for about 75 kuna a night. I was so excited to be connected to the world again! Thought I was going to lose my mind without the dear CrackBerry.

On our 2nd day there, we waltzed through the alleys and had coffee in one of the fifty in the vicinity. Paid a 5 kuna admission fee to walk around in Jupiter's temple and take pictures of John the Baptist. Then we walked along the coast and I saw my favourite thing for the entire trip; my baby blue yacht. It was such a beautiful shock! Here I was thinking that I'd have to tone down my personality when I buy a yacht and paint it white, or white and navy blue at most, because I had never seen any other colour, and then I saw her. I am in love.

We then made our way up to a park that could easily have been the one I dreamed of having as a backyard. Then I found out it used to be a Jewish cemetary during WWII. Not quite what I had in mind... but beautiful all the same! We had a great view of the adriatic from there and it was so peaceful and serene. I could have slept under the trees with ease. A hummingbird even flew by for a visit as we rested on the walls of the park, our feet dangling about 20feet above the water.

This was the spot that convinced me to name this blog 'In My Mother's Name' because I feel as though I travel on her behalf. I go through the hassle of dodging raindrops, putting up with the stares of intimidating soldiers and the uncomfort of chilly nights to take pictures and write blogs of my experiences for her. So that I may convince her to see what I've seen and love what I have lived....

And my camera died 5mins after that. Therefore, I didn't take any pictures of that evening's sunset, that tried hard to test those beauties I've witnessed at home. On our way there to get it on camera, Kyle had his chance to leave an impression on a Croatian. A 12/13yr old girl saw him walk by and began to chase after him! Almost got away from her friend's grip, too. She looked like she wanted to devour him. Kyle was oblivious to the whole thing because he had on his "city walk" but it was an impressive display of jungle fever, I'd say...

I also didn't get to take any pictures at the wild party we went to that evening with Yasmin's 2nd year, Andrija. It was an interesting night, to say the least. We didn't get back to the hostel til 5am and we had to wake up at 9am to get everything packed for check-out at 10am.

We were off to the island of Vela Luka later on that afternoon so we went out to the long line of cafes near the coast again. While we sipped espressos and waited, we told stories of juju (obeah), duppies and hauntings (it was daylight, you see, so we weren't scared...) and we met two of the other Champions of Weird for the trip.

This dude with a shiny balding head, round belly and intense blue eyes saw us - the only three (kinda) black people in Croatia - and came over to say to me, "I'm from Zambia. I love Bob Marley! Irie! I just met someone from Jamaica over there and I told him I love Bob Marley! Ital! I have reggae in my soul! Yes!" Did I mention this guy was white? So I laughed and said, "Aite brudda, Jah Bless."

Only a few minutes later an old man walked up to me again and began speaking to me in Croatian. He realised I didn't understand him so he proceeded to ruffle through his bag and hand me a small bottle with a clear liquid inside and a heavy familiar scent and said, "10 kuna". Of course he knew his numbers in English. I said no and placed it on the table as he continued to search his bag and then flip through what seemed to be envelopes with different languages written on them. Finally he handed me a piece of paper with a description of lavender and I guess that's what was in this little bottle. But I wasn't buying anything I couldn't drink so I told the poor old fella no thanks... and he went on his merry way to sell his drops.

Madness.

In My Mother's Name [part 1]

I have been typing this up for the last 4 days and have yet to finish it but here's a taste: Guess what?

I saw a baby blue yacht at the Croatia Boat Show! You have no idea how hard it was for me not to cry when I got close enough to touch it - which I did ever so gently. It was the definition of straight pimpin'. The owner pulled up to fill the tank and an hour later the pump flashed 25,000 kuna (about CI$3800) and it still wasn't full...

Before you ask - yes, I still want one. A gold one named Fiend. I'll come back for the boat show and win whatever's up to be won. Watch me.

That's all I really want to report from Split... but there's been loads of memorable moments.

Zadar
We were serenaded by three Croatian men playing local music and intimidated by border control. They held Kyle up because he uses a Bahamian passport, the silly boy. I guess it's not his fault his forefathers decided to part with the Queen and are now suffering the consequences of independence. BUT because I was with him and we were the only two (kinda) black people on the flight, they asked to see my passport twice before they made me wait to one side for him. Yasmin and Andrew arrived about a half an hour later and then it was three of us (kinda) black kids in Croatia.

We only spent one night in Zadar and thus I only recall ordering fish soup that was salt enough to kill me and wondering if someone had died in the shower above our room because the water was running ALL night. It was good soup, though. Went well with the local beer Karlovačko.

Plitviče
We took a bus to Grabovac the following morning. The view from the bus was a masterpiece of trees and fog intertwined like the hands of lovers, thick like jealousy. However, the magic was shortlived because once we arrived, we had a little difficulty communicating with our hostel owner who kept repeating, "Sprechen Sie Deutsch?" After about 15mins of waiting in the cold under the bus stop in great-for-sleeping, horrible-for-travelling weather he showed up in his beat up, kinda-stinky VW. The rooms were very neat and quaint and had hot water, though.

Kyle, whose life revolves around his hungry belly, suggested we venture out into the cold rain to get some food in "town" - we were in the middle of nowhere, by the way. The whole walk I was freezing and kept thinking to myself, "I'm black! I don't do this shit!" and then an 18-wheeler sped through a puddle and I narrowly avoided being splashed in the face. Still got my jeans wet, though. No need to guess what ran through my mind - or what came out of my mouth - at that moment. All of that stress for some no-tasted food at a hotel down the road. I had "spaghetti napoletano", which was just some Chef Boyardee... It served it's purpose, though. The ethnic fatigue took over and I slept like a log that night.

We went to the lakes in the morning and it was just magical! More waterfalls than Quaker has oats and each was just as impressive as the last. I took at least 100 pictures that day alone! But some parts of the path around the lakes were flooded because of the rain and of course I was not game on getting wet. Yasmin stood there looking dumbfounded at my refusal and suggested a brilliant idea, "Maybe you could take your shoes off and run through the water to the next side?"

How about "NO?" I mean, I could barely feel my feet then, imagine if they were wet! Catch the cold of my death and never get around to writing another blog. Sheesh.

So we had to climb 78m of steps next to Croatia's tallest waterfall and take the long route around. I much preferred that. Plus, the view was mesmerising! We made our way around, caught a ferry across the most placid lake I've ever seen. I took artistic pictures without even trying! Even caught a ducky in mid-flight =).

OK, that's it for now. I'll have the rest of the trip typed up before bed, I promise.

Lo siento

I know I've been M.I.A. but this is just as hard as I thought it would be. I have a one-track mind, people. It's difficult for me to divide my attention amongst the millions of things I assign myself to everyday.

Alas, don't fret. I will give you what you've been missing soon enough.

My flight to Croatia is at 17.10 but I've been up since 08.30. I had to clear out my naps, re-pack my shiznit and make sure that I didn't pay 10 quid for an online check-in for no reason. Stansted airport is not as close to Guildford as I had hoped but the route there doesn't seem overly complicated - and will hopefully cost less than the 100 quid they told me a cab would cost. I'm just worried about doing it all with a 25lb backpack, sleeping bag and carry-on.

Once I get to Zadar, I will take the time to flood your mind with images of Hong Kong and give you better insight into my homesickness. Yes, it's true. I miss my Sea.Blue.Green. But I've been good at not counting down the days to my return! I tell the lonely voices in my head to "Shhh!" and blaze a tune from the Caribbean for old times sake. Simple solution to a complicated problem.

So goodbye for now my minions! Know that me love you long time.

Big City Love

As the plane descended I saw them. Lights. Millions of them. They spotted the ground like little fireflies swarming in the darkness.

My heartbeat began to gallop and I knew immediately that I would return to Los Angeles many times. In my mind, I was already planning a trip back in the summer with Prissy. I knew she would love the lights even more than me because she her inner child adores shiny things. We'll come back and scope out where she could get an apartment and I will drop off my second demo and we. will. SHOP (my favourite verb). I couldn't wait for the plane's wheels to connect with the tarmac so that I could see the nine miles to my hostel a little closer to the ground, in a taxi.

Santa Monica. I had not read/heard/watched anything about you but I was enthralled. There was no major difference between this city and many others, with the graffiti and highways, but I shall risk sounding cliché and say there was a magic, a particular vibration, in the wind that resonated well with me. Ladies and Gentlemen, I could live there. I told my father the same the following morning.

When I finally arrived at my hostel I was unsure what to expect. I was made to wait about ten minutes while the Nigerian took over his shift. I took a minute to observe the premises and it more than met my approval. It seemed clean and popular as people young and old wandered through the doors. I made my way to my dorm on the fourth floor and fumbled in the darkness to get ready for bed. Two of my unidentified roommates had horrible coughs and took turns spreading the germs all night but they failed to keep me awake; I slept like a log. It's strange sleeping in a room full of strangers. I really had no idea who these women were - I hadn't even seen their faces. It didn't seem to matter much at the time, though. I slept like a log, I said.

In the morning, I shuffled to the communal bathrooms and met one of my mysterious roomies. Actually, I was introduced to her breasts before I knew her name. (In places like these you can't be shy of your body. It's a temperate version of a nudist camp so love thy naked self!) At breakfast, I sat next to her, learned her name and that she was from New Zealand. She was a calm and soft spoken woman in her late forties, I guessed. She blinked her big blue eyes slowly as she listened to me ramble on about my island in the *sun*.

The other roommate, who won the coughing contest the night before, was not quite as quiet. She was Canadian and in our first meeting she explained to me that the reason Greyhound Bus drivers were such "son-of-a-bitches" was because "they're angry at life and have to take it out on women because they don't have enough gumption to take it out on each other." She had gotten on the wrong bus (one headed to Salt Lake City instead) and the driver cussed her out before he dropped her off at the previous station. They still had her luggage. She told me she was angry at men. I told her she wasn't alone. Then she realised how young I was and commented that guys must line up around the corner to date me, "such a beautiful girl". I didn't deny that ;-). The deep wrinkles in her face, which almost seemed like tribal carvings, tightened when she smiled at me. "Boy do I wanna talk to you! Cayman Islands? You should charge people to talk to you!" I considered that for a while afterward...

Then I met my Belgian roomie. She was the other half of the coughing duo and a "music interviewer". I told her about my demo and plans to drop them off at Ellen Degeneres' studio. She suggested I put a label with my contact info on it and encouraged me to send another one this summer. I was tempted to give her one of my demos but I wished to keep it for my trip to Hong Kong. After all, I had told everyone I was bringing a copy.

I decided not to take the bus by myself in search of Warner Bros. Studios without knowing for certain I would be successful in leaving my demo with someone from Ellen's show. The plan seemed nice at 2am but I fear being lost so the following day, I FedEx-ed them to Flavor Unit instead. I'm still waiting to hear from them but I'm good at keeping my hopes reasonable.

From FedEx, I strolled down the shopping promenade that was just a block away from my (extremely comfortable, friendly, clean and well-recommended) hostel. I was more tempted to shop than I imagine Tom Cruise must have been to jump on Oprah's sofa a dozen more times. I did well, though. Just kept my thoughts in 'Future' mode. Repeated over and over how much I would spend in the summer when I returned.

On my second and last night, I met an Italian, a Briton and two Aussies at the dinner table. I agreed to go out for a Guiness with them afterward without giving a second thought to my age. They were all above 21 and here was little old me, stuck in legal-age limbo. But 'almost' doesn't count, right Prissy?

I decided to try my luck at getting into a pub anyway. I was met by a punk-ass door whore who had a bad attitude because I didn't bring my ID. Alas, I still got to drink... at a real Irish pub at that! I threw back two Guiness that my lovely Italiano bought for me. He wasn't very easy on the eyes but he loved life and had rhythm so we danced the night away. The DJ fell in love with me (not the other way around) and played about 10 Michael Jackson songs in a row and my favourite Bob Marley tunez. I met a few other characters that night. Honorable mentions; the drunk New Zealander, who seemed to drift rather than dance, and the young fella with a crush on the chick with a big boyfriend. He asked me why white girls always went for the ugly, old guy. "I dunno, buddy. I'm not a white girl."

And so LA was a great success! Grew on me faster than body hair after a testosterone shot. (Ew!) In the morning, the airport shuttle driver, like everyone else I met in LA, was friendly and asked me if I was Ethiopian like him as he carried my backpack out for me. I introduced myself and island once more and he told me about him playing calypso music in Martinique, and then vowed to move to Cayman to find a wife. Then he turned up the music because the only good song that would play on the ride to the airport had just started. We talked for the rest of the way.

I should have charged him to talk to me.

The Beginning

"Can I have a Coke and a coffee?" I nervously asked the steward on my Continental flight from Houston to LA. 

I was hesitant to ask because (like most of you probably have) I've had a few encounters with miserable people who thought it was a good idea to work in customer service despite the fact that they despise other human beings. I had never had a mean flight attendant but this looked like it was my lucky day.

His right arm made a harsh triangle when he placed his hand on his hip and peered at me over his purple glasses and hissed, "Whaddya think this is?" Just as I was about to spit an attitude-filled "Excuse me?!" at him, he smiled coyly and interrupted, "Continental?" and poured both black brews for me. "Enjoy your flight, ma'am." I love friendly people. I especially love friendly people that do jobs which require them to be friendly =).

I was on the first leg of my journey and I was still in disbelief. It was hard to pull away from my island's clutches, strengthened by sun and sea. I grew so accustomed to doing nothing that when I decided to do something, it changed everything. I was scared but I had to go. Had to learn/see/experience something - anything! - new. But what was it that I feared? Change? No. The World? A little. People? Sometimes.

I think I feared - and still do at times - being alone because that's when someone turns up the volume on the (negative, punk-ass) voices in my head by a hundred decibels. Other than that, camping out in India has me shaking a little, too, because I haven't really camped before. Well, except for that time we spent the night in the HK mountains for African camp... I remember us huddling around a floundering flame in hopes of protecting it from the cold rain for about ten minutes before we retired to our tents sopping wet. But to our easily-attainable amazement, the fire was still burning when the rain stopped so we roasted our chicken wings, paired it with cold pasta and washed it down with copious amounts of cheap red wine and Amarula straight from South Africa. It was fun - but it was just one night. I don't know how easy several nights in a row will be and if I'll have such fine feasts in India...

But my first stop was *LA* and my only fear for there was that I would fall in love with the city and decide to stay. My only hope? To be discovered...

So I sat back and allowed my thoughts to be lulled by the puff pastries in the sky and dreamed of a young soul's transformation.    

Message \1\

I haven't quite justified this venture in my mind as yet. Why do I need a blog? What could I have to say that would interest other people? Well, besides the fact that I am half of the coolest duo in the Universe [[Arie&Prissy]], I am a Leo, and thus, I often need to be at the center of boiling hot attention. I get good tans there =).

My real name is Arikka Ebanks and I reside in the Republic of West Bay, Grand Cayman. If you haven't been here yet; visit. If we like you, you may qualify for a passport. But hurry! Offer ends soon! For those of you - and I know there are many - who don't know where the Cayman Islands are, get up off your asses and look in the Atlas! Or Google, dude! Don't be a loser, use your computer!

Aite, enough of the chat chit. Let me give you the details on why I decided to post my soul on the World Wide Web...

I want Oprah Winfrey to adopt me.

You read it right, kids. Aclektic will soon be asked to be a guest on the Oprah Winfrey Show and she'll realise shortly afterward that life just doesn't seem right without a daughter. I'll WOW! her with my personality and wisdom and she'll sign the dotted line with a Mont Blanc pen in that royal, "I-run-this-shit" handwriting that she has. Badda-bing-badda-boom! I'm on the cover with her... and ELLEN DEGENERES!

So now you know my scheme. Stay on the scene and experience the pull, people.

PEACE & WEST