Palestine

As-salamu alaykum from Al-Khalil (Hebron)! A few days ago I took a bus from Tel Aviv, Israel to Ramallah, Palestine. And today I arrived to Al-Khalil from Ramallah.

As-salāmu ʿalaykum
Arabic: Peace be upon you

Shortly after I arrived to Ramallah (after escaping the taxi cabs’ persistent attempts to get me to go somewhere, anywhere with them), I sat down in the sun to eat before meeting a friend. As a white man with dreadlocks and a tiny pink bicycle, I’m always something of a spectacle, but I was immediately amazed at how friendly & hospitable people were to me–more so than in Israel.


Mikey, smiling, holds a small puppy wrapped in a blanket.
Al-Khalil Puppy

As I was eating my lunch, a man young came up to me. He only knew a handful of english words. I offered him some food, but he refused. Instead, he just sat next to me, smiling. Ramallah is in the mountains, and it can get quite cold on an overcast day in Winter. The man took off his gloves and tried to give them to me. My hands were visibly cold, but I had to profusely refuse as I already had a pair of gloves buried in my backpack. He continued to sit by me for 20 minutes, offering me wifi or whatever he could. Eventually he said “money, money, money” over-and-over. My first thought was that he was begging for money, but–after another friendly Palestinian said hello to me, he informed me that the man was asking if I needed money. What kindness of strangers!

We passed Palestinian homes…the soldiers had welded shut the front doors and settler’s graffiti tagged them with stars of David–ironically & ashamedly reminiscent of swastikas.

Today I took a long, windy road from Ramallah to Al-Khalil. I was very motion sick, and the cab was full of the driver’s tobacco smoke. We wandered through the old city passing heavily-armed military and riot police. Many people told me that, if I wanted to understand life under the Occupation, Al-Khalil was the place to see it.

Mikey squats on a dirt road, smiling. Next to him is a young girl, not smiling. Behind them is a small caravan. In the distance, a huge shred of a factory farm can be seen.
Umm al-Khair

We saw a procession of settlers on a tour through the old city–an area that’s designated as H1, controlled by the Palestinian Authority (PA) and where settlers & Israeli military shouldn’t be–but that’s life under Occupation..

The markets in the old city have the now-commonplace wire mesh protection above–placed there to protect the shops from the trash thrown by the Israeli settlers living above. Still, the settlers throw bleach & urine down on the Palestinians below.

A street is lined with entrances to homes & shops. The doors to the homes are copper-green and rusted. The doors have been welded shut, and tagged with spray-painted stars of David--ironically & ashamedly reminiscent of swastikas.
Shuhada Street, Al-Khalil (Hebron)

As we walked around, we passed Palestinian homes juxtaposed to Israeli ones. Many of the Palestinian homes were vandalized. On the infamous Shuhada street, the soldiers had welded shut the front doors of their shops & homes. And settler’s graffiti tagged them with stars of David–ironically & ashamedly reminiscent of swastikas.


Arrival to the Middle East

Shalom from Tel Aviv! It’s hard to believe that–just last month–I was driving across the US. I sold my car in Wisconson, hopped a greyhound back to NYC, flew to Israel (layover in Germany), took a 10-day tour from the Golan Heights (along the Syrian boarder) to the Dead Sea (along the Jordan boarder), and now I find myself in a backpackers hostel just a short walk from Jaffa in Florientine, Tel Aviv.


When I’m not washing sheets…I’m contributing to open source projects and wandering the streets of Jaffa or schmoozing with Germans, Aussies, and Dutch 20-something-ers at the cheapest hostel in Tel Aviv.

While my previous international travels as a hobo were well-funded by my salary as an software engineer, my new vagrant lifestyle lacks any source of income. As such, I’m subsidizing my travel by worktrading my time for free lodging. In exchange for 27.5 hours of “volunteering” each week, I’m staying at this hostel for free.

D & Mikey stand in front of a hedge on a hill overlooking a garden with a golden-topped dome. Behind that is a city and then a sea stretching to the horizon.
Shrine of the Báb, Haifa

When I’m not washing sheets or feeding ~100 backpackers vegan dishes (from 2 shitty hot plates!) with a 70 shekel/night (<$20 USD) budget, I’m still contributing to open source projects and wandering the streets of Jaffa or schmoozing with Germans, Aussies, and Dutch 20-something-ers at the cheapest hostel in Tel Aviv.

D & Mikey stand against a railing in the old city of Jerusalem. Behind them, the Al-Aqsa mosque and Dome of the Rock can be seen atop the Temple Mount.
Al-Aqsa

Though Tel Aviv does have the highest concentration of vegans per capita than any city in the world, it’s a very hedonistic city, and I’m looking forward to cycling the open road. But it’s been nice to get travel tips from fellow travelers in this hostel. Indeed, the logistics of traveling between at-war countries (ie: Israel & Lebanon) is a non-trivial act. Their knowledge & tips have proven invaluable in my planning.

After my 1-month commitment to volunteering at this hostel has finished, I’ll have 2 months left on my Israel/Palestine visa. After that, my plan is to cross into Jordan and then fly from Amman to Berut, Lebanon.

After that, I head West to Africa or East to India. I’m still undecided..


Leaving NYC

I temporarily gave up my vagrancy for an opportunity to work with some of the best journalists in NYC.

Now that my job is finished and the ground here is covered in snow, the long road to Sunny South Florida is calling. This time, I’ll be the vagrant picking up hitchhikers.

6 months ago, I signed a short-term contract and saved up enough to buy a micro-home-with-an-engine (a Prius) and a folding bicycle. Now that my job is finished and the ground here is covered in snow, the long road to Sunny South Florida is calling. This time, I’ll be the vagrant picking up hitchhikers.


My short-term plan is to find long-term parking for my car in Atlanta, then hop on a one-way bus to Key West, FL with my new Brompton folding bicycle and a 50L backpack This ~1,500 km trip will be a gentle test of bicycle touring with the Brompton.

If all goes well, my long-term plan is to use this setup for a bike-packing trip from the southern tip of India up to China, then down to Vietnam. Or Ethiopia to Botswana. Or zig-zagging Europe. But probably Asia.



New York City Vagrant

After 6 days, I finished hitch hiking 1,500 km from Ft Lauderdale, Florida to Asheville, North Carolina. It took me another 10 days to go the last 1,000 km to Philidelphia, where I paid $10 for the Chinatown bus into Manhattan.

The sad reality of my hitch hiking experience on the East US is that it was slower than riding a bicycle.

Most of this trip was spent in the blistering sunshine, ~8 hours per day sitting on an on-ramp, smiling & holding a cardboard sign inscribed with my next relative destination. It would have been more productive had my headphones been working, as I had a tall stack of audiobooks & podcasts awaiting my ears.

A backpack is sitting in the shoulder of an on-ramp with a cardboard sign reading "NYC". A sign indicates that the on-ramp is Interstate 95.
Thumbing my way back to NYC

The sad reality of my hitch hiking experience on the East US is that it was slower than riding a bicycle.

Of the time I spent in cars, everyone I met was quite benevolent. It was a mix of the coolest truck drivers imaginable, old hippies that have done lots of hitching themselves, religious folk living by the word of Jesus trying to help someone out, and friends who just wanted someone to talk to on their arduous, long-distance drive.

Contrary to what I’ve read, the only offers I got from the uniformed gangsters that patrol the streets was threats to take me to jail–specifically from the dumbest Men in Blue who couldn’t differentiate a pan handler from a hitch hiker..

A suspension bridge with many lanes of cars. A sign hangs that reads "Welcome to NEW YORK. THE EMPIRE STATE."
Back to NYC

My last ride dropped me off in Philadelphia by the airport. I walked from there to Chinatown (gorging on a crate of mangoes scored from a wholesale produce market I passed en-route), and met a Chinese-American woman by a plastic sign tied to a post that said “NYC one-way $10”. I boarded the bus, and found myself emerging from the Tunnel connecting New Jersey (one of 5 States where hitch hiking is illegal) to Manhattan a couple hours later. I bought a subway pass, and headed to Brooklyn to meet an old friend.

Finally, I arrived to NYC.


Hitchhiking Florida to New York

Tomorrow I’m going to the I-75 on-ramp, sticking out my thumb, and hitchhitching 2,500 km from Florida to New York City. I’ve never hitchhiked more than a few hundred km, so this multi-day adventure is a long-awaited trip. Tomorrow I’m picking up a cardboard box, ripping it to size, and painting “I 75 N” with my magnum permanent marker–the hitchiking essential.

A backpack is sitting in the shoulder of an on-ramp with a cardboard sign reading "NYC". A sign indicates that the on-ramp is Interstate 95.
Thumbing my way back to NYC

It’s my second week living unemployed, and I’m wasting no time jumping head-first into my first adventure as an American Vagrant. I have some paperwork to file in the Big City, then I plan to stick out my thumb again–hitching WB from New York to San Francisco. My hope is to make it in a week, but yahoo answers says 4 days to 1 year 😉


A Hobo Becomes Vagrant

For the second time: I arrived to Peru, began planning my trip to Cusco, and–suddenly–had to make an emergency trip back to the States. This time, it’s not for a work trip to India–it’s because my employment has abruptly come to an end.

A document is shown that reads "Spirit Boarding Pass. From Lima. To Fort Lauderdale, FL. Boarding Time 10:15 AM. Depart 11:00 AM. Arrive 05:54 PM."
Unexpected flight back home

ho·​bo  / ˈhō-(ˌ)bō /
(n.) a migratory worker

After my weekend trip to Foz do Iguaçu, I arrived to Lima to discover that my department’s Director, myself, and many of my colleagues had been laid off. While it was a total surprise, I’m thinking positive. Though I can’t call myself a hobo anymore, I can now be free to wander as a proper vagrant.

va·​grant  / ˈvā-grnt /
(n.) one who has no established residence and wanders from place to place without visible means of support

I’ve had many projects (including this blog) that I’ve wanted to dedicate more time to, and now I should have ample time to complete. I’ve had to scrap my plans for Cusco once again, but I’ll be back to Peru. And–next time–likely with a bicycle. I haven’t been on a proper (>1 month) bicycle tour since I started working full-time, and I think such an adventure (and new blog!) are due in the coming months 🙂


Back to Chile

In 2 months, I took the train from Ottawa, Ontario to Halifax, Nova Scotia. I stopped in Ottawa, Montreal, and Moncton between. After I crossed the border into the US on a bus from Montreal, I arrived back in New York City’s Penn Station at 04:00 AM. I assembled my bike, and I rode through Manhattan to Brooklyn–crossing the East River over the Manhattan Bridge.

I stayed in Brooklyn for a week, then caught the Greyhound to Miami–stopping for a week each in Asheville, Atlanta, and Orlando to visit friends & family.

Next week, I board a plane back to Chile. This winter holiday, I take my long-awaited journey to the south of Chile in Patagonia!


Vancouver -> BANFF -> Toronto -> Ottawa

After a month in Vancouver, I rode the train to Edmonton, bussed to Calgary, hitch-hiked to BANFF, and then hit the rails again to Toronto & Ottawa. I’ll be here in Ottawa for a week, then I take the rails up to Montreal, Qubec, and Halifax.

A procession moves down a street full of people. A truck drives down the road with a truck-long sized joint that's emitting smoking from the front. In the back of the truck, a canadian flag with the maple leaf replaced by a cannabis leaf is flying. Behind them, a giant rainbow pride flag serves as a shade cover for the following vehicle.
Vancouver Pride

Vancouver & BANFF have been the highlight of my Canadian journey so-far.

If you can manage to find free rent in Vancouver (it’s legal to erect an overnight tent on public property in all of British Colombia, per BC Supreme Court), you will find it to be a very cheap place to travel. The city’s cycling, beaches, people, discount fruit, free events, and near-by hiking are great. For a $30 bus, you can take touring bike & all your gear up to Whistler, and ride the 120km Sea-to-Summit highway in reverse, descending the 600m from mountains to the sea, which is a beautiful & easy 2-day ride–but don’t forget the bear spray.


A mirror-like lake reflects a tall mountain behind it. Around the lake are lush green trees.
Egypt Lake, BANFF

Continue reading Vancouver -> BANFF -> Toronto -> Ottawa

Portland to Seattle

I’ve been in Seattle for nearly 3 weeks. On Saturday, I’ll pack my bicycle in a box and fly the furthest north I’ve ever been–to Alaska.

Mikey sits on a hill at Gas Works Park overlooking the PUget Sound and the Seattle Skyline
Gas Works Park, Seattle

After I left Dexter, I took a 4 hour train north to it’s big sister city: Portland. From San Francisco to Eugene, Portland to Seattle, and–soon–Vancouver, there’s pretty much one dominating theme: homelessness & gentrification.

In Portland there’s a joke that you don’t meet anyone actually from Portland anymore. And it’s true. I met folks born in Portland only in Eugene & Seattle, and they had a wealth of knowledge to share.

From the half-dozen cranes stacking gross luxury apartment complexes in Portland’s Pearl District to a new-age/city-integrated sprawl of Amazon’s office towers that blight Capitol Hill in Seattle, big tech companies have drastically changed these cities. And if you pack a bowl at the ever-growing tent cities that form in clusters under nearly every bridge in these Pacific Northwest cities, you’ll learn how these “developments” aren’t helping its people.

I never saw someone sitting in a public space tied-off, needle-in-arm, searching for their vein on the metro in Santiago (as I did in San Franciso’s Civic Center BART station).

Continue reading Portland to Seattle

Sacramento, CA to Portland, OR

I just spent 2 weeks living in an intentional community in the forest ~20 miles outside Eugene, OR. This is my first time in Oregon. My-oh-my, is it beautiful! Just a bit cold & wet for my tastes (welcome to the Pacific Northwest!). I give massive cred to the crusties living on the streets here. How do they ever dry their clothes?

Mikey's fully-loaded bicycle is leaned against a well. Itc arrys 4 panniers, 1 backpack, and a huge cardboard box
Bootstrapped moar leik bikestrapped
A ceder-sided building sits in the middle of a dense forest. The side of the building is painted with a picture from the Giving Tree--a tree drops an apple to a boy.
Giving Tree

I spent a wonderful week with a new friend in Sacramento. I was surprised how much I enjoyed Sacramento. The weather was great, the dumpsters were full of gifts (two unopened 4-packs of Pilsner Urquell?!?), and the streets were easy to navigate by bicycle. Coworking offices were pretty ridiculous ($192/day are you mad?!?), but fortunately I was able to work from home.

I was just finishing dinner, planning to see a friend play a folk punk show in Sac when my friend in Eugene asked what time I’d arrive tomorrow. Looks like my calendar was off-by-one day; my train leaves in a few hours. Whoops! I made a call to a friend, packed my stuff, rode-off to amtrak, and quickly boxed my bicycle. When I awoke on the train the next morning, I was crossing a gorgeous lake via causeway with snow-capped mountains in the distance. Everything was green, and–as we climbed in elevation through the cascades–there was snow on the ground.

Continue reading Sacramento, CA to Portland, OR