The Baku Blog: Travelin'

by InterMat

It started rather unassuming, a beautiful late summer day, a cool breeze and a temperature teetering in the low 70’s.

This was the start of my journey. The most amazing thing about starting trip is how it started, from a train station. The only other time I’d been on a train is either a subway or at a theme park. I think it’s pretty funny that I’ve used two alternative forms of transportation in the last two weeks.

When I needed to get a new stereo for my truck, I took Red Rose Transit, the local bus service in the county. It was the most amusing 90 minutes of my life – well, not entirely, but it was amusing enough.

I didn’t know what to expect, but it’s kind of soothing realizing you can show up 10 minutes before a train departs, get on and go. I’m going to Philadelphia’s 30th Street Station and then hopping on the mass transit light rail to the airport. Instead of driving through what’s always backed up traffic heading into Philly and then dealing with outrageous long-term parking charges, I paid the $14 and headed east.

I had a plug for my cell phone, a plug for my computer and a lot of space and a footrest to prop up my soon-to-be tired feet. I’m traveling rather nondescript. No obnoxious t-shirts, no colleges adorned on any of my clothing, just a Guinness hat and a breathable polo shirt. I’m in for a long day and I’m relieved that everything has started off well. The only thing that I didn’t get that I needed was a trim, but I can deal with some loose ends – or split ends – or whatever.

I think it’s fitting that as I peruse the wrestling message boards (courtesy of Verizon Broadband Access Card); one of my friends has already called me out for a “Misadventures of Twink in Azerbaijan” thread. I guess Team TwinkieHomerHips does have the same frame of mind when trips of this nature come about. I think I’ll get to Scottsdale soon, but I’ll have few excuses – I mean, come on, I’m going to freakin’ Azerbaijan.

My passport photo looks disturbing, my visa application photos not so much.

Anything that starts with “The Road To …. ” comes off trite and cliché, so I’m still coming up with a suitable title for this jaunt. Perhaps I’ll stumble across a word in Frankfurt or Baku that will offer similarities to the word “pwnage” like in Auburn Hills in March. I really now have no clue where I am, other than the first stop is coming up shortly. It’s about 2:05 p.m. Eastern, a time-zone I’m going to be forgetting in a scant three hours.

There was some cool graffiti underneath an overpass, I was hoping to see a troll or two. There’s nothing prophetic about my ramblings, this is more or less a stream-of-consciousness rant that I’ve tended to stay away from in recent months.

The most difficult part I can foresee is cramming myself and two large bags and a laptop backpack into a SEPTA light rail without getting glared at. Then again, it’s early and rush hour isn’t near.

We’ve arrived at the Exton Station, and that was a quick stop and now on to Paoli (or is it Paola. Whatever, it’s eight minutes away and Philly is fast approaching. It’s been a leisurely trip, a short one. I think it’s cool the ticket-taker guy is actually wearing one of those train hats with the high flat crown and short bill. So far, so good.

-- JB 2:10 p.m. EDT --

Well, as typical with all air traffic these days, I was delayed leaving Philadelphia. One thing you should know about Lufthansa is that the seats are small, there’s no air vents and if you don’t understand German, you’re pretty much hearing everything twice.

Sat next to a nice Indian guy on his way back to New Delhi. Was generally uncomfortable the entire plane ride and got about two hours of sleep. I’m currently in the B Terminal in Frankfurt at a McDonalds where I found a plug, after buying one of those European adapters. Man, these things are loose out here.

I get no service on my phone, which didn’t come as a shock in the least bit, but my Skype number seems to be up and running pretty well, so I’m happy I have some form of communication with the states while I’m here, albeit a VOIP program.

I wonder how long they’re going to let me sit here; maybe I’ll get tired of drinking flat Sprite for two Euros each. That’s like a four dollar fountain drink or something. I found the Wi-Fi from T-Mobile, and that’s costing me whatever it is, but it’s better than wandering around the airport not understanding a language.

No one’s online on my buddy list. I saw a few people that had no status messages, but figured they just left the computer on and sure enough, no one has replied. It’s almost 10:30 here in Frankfurt, which is 4 a.m. back home, so let’s just say I haven’t gotten much sleep.

The flight featured some really crappy music videos, only one of which was in English, and it was like a bad version of Wilson Phillips. Roam if you want to? I say shut up and get to the movie.

The in-flight movie was Mr. Bean’s Holiday – I saw “Bean” in the theatre in 1997. You’re not missing much, but I used to love Mr. Bean on HBO. So doting, but man, this was like watching a train wreck.

I’m using this as basically one entry. Why? Because it’s still the same day for me. It’s overcast and cool here, but as much as I’d like to explore the city, the last thing I need to do is get lost.

There’s been several Americans that have come up to me and known immediately. They’ve then asked where I was headed and I reply “Baku.”

That’s met with quizzical looks when I explain to them where it is, what the country is and what I’m going over there for. “Sports writer” is my common reply and that’s usually followed up by “Not that WWE stuff.” Typical. I get that a lot, even back in the states.

I’m dying for a Gatorade, but who knows where I’ll find one. I’ll probably go exploring here in a few. I’ve already rode the tram twice just to kill some time. I might find a reclining bench and catch a power-nap, but for the time being, I’m just running on fumes.

I’ve just been doing some site updates, still making sure the news is out. Contrary to popular belief, this is technically my vacation and I’ve got some people to thank for letting this trip materialize, but I’ve still got a few hours before I can phone home and let my worrisome mother know I’ve arrived, at least halfway, alright.

Being in Germany isn’t going to be that cultural, my mother and great grandmother were born here and my grandmother (same side) was born in the Ukraine. So I’ve got some Eastern European roots, and of course, some old school roots – the Scottish coat of arms tattoo that adorns my right leg has already gotten some looks from more than one passerby.

I’ll meet up with some folks from USA Wrestling here in Frankfurt, a few I know, a few I don’t know, but one thing’s for sure, when I get to Baku, process my Visa application and get to the hotel, I’m in for a long, long bout of sleep.

-- JB 10:26 AM Frankfurt time. --