Fresh Meat

I spent the month of April in Tunisia for work. Our family had actually already visited 7 years before, taking advantage of being stationed in Egypt and having our friend Claire doing advanced Arabic language training in Tunis (as the State Department  used to do).  Tunis was the pearl of the Near East bureau for the foreign affairs agencies.  It’s definitely Arab, but with a wonderfully European feel. You get the best of all worlds in Tunisia, a fascinating culture, food with Arab, Berber and French flair, beautiful Mediterranean beaches, unbelievable Roman ruins, the list goes on.  Oh, and then there is Star Wars.  Many desert scenes in the Star Wars series were filmed here. Tatouine exists!

photo 1 (1)But then, chaos erupted in the streets of Northern Africa.  Tunisia is the birthplace of the Arab Spring.  In December 2010, Mohamed Bouazizi set himself on fire after the police confiscated his vegetable cart.  Since that day, thanks to 24 hour cable news, we’ve all been witness to the events in the middle east.  Tunisia has had some rough times since its revolution, which included an attack on the U.S. Embassy and American school in September 2012.  After successful elections in January 2015, things were looking up in Tunisia until a small group of extremists attacked the Bardo.  The Bardo is easily one of humankind’s most amazing museums, housing unbelievable mosiacs from the Roman era. Ornate mosaics used to line the floors of Roman villas throughout what is now Tunisia, and the finest works were brought to the Bardo. On March 18, 2015, militants took aim at Tunisia’s fragile economy, and killed 20 tourists who were visiting the Bardo that day. My heart sank. Tunisia is the hope for the Arab Spring.  Hope for democracy, hope for transparency, hope for economic success that reaches to the poorest citizens.  Tourism is a very large part of their economy, and the Bardo attack will hurt Tunisia.  Some tour operators say that bookings are down 60% from last year’s dismal numbers.

This blog post is about food, yes, but also about travel.  So I want to emphasize that Tunisia is a wonderful place to visit. Although it is plagued by violence on its borders with Algeria and Libya, as well as a tendency for her young men to leave Tunisia and join ISIS, the people that I encountered are incredibly warm and friendly, and they have a great optimism for the future of their country. Tunisia deserves better, and I hope they can overcome the security situation and return to being an amazing tourist destination.  Because, you will find great food here!

Because of the security situation, photo 4 (1)the U.S. Embassy has been what we in the diplomatic service call “unaccompanied” meaning that officers cannot bring their spouses and children with them.  We have more and more unaccompanied posts, not just Iraq and Afghanistan, which is a sad reflection of the state of affairs these days. The Embassy also has a good number of “TDYers”, or people on temporary duty, like me in this instance.  A group of us TDYers decided to venture down to El Djem, 2 1/2 hours south of Tunis, to visit a beautiful Roman colosseum.  I had heard of El Djem before, and it’s been on my to-do list for a while.  It did not disappoint.  While it’s smaller than the colosseum in Rome, the underground caverns are wonderfully well preserved, as is a good part of the seating area on one side.  Before we got to the colosseum, though, we went to the museum in El Djem, which is a mini version of the Bardo. When you venture out behind the museum, you can actually walk into the ruins of the Roman town and see some of the less detailed mosaics in situ.  They have even reconstructed one Roman villa to give you an idea of the layout.  It’s really amazing.

Roadside GrillAfter wandering around and touching 1800 years of history, our tour guide asked us if we would like lamb for lunch on our way home.  Why not? About 15 minutes just on the outskirts of town we stop at an intersection.  I had seen this intersection on the way in. It was disturbing.  They were killing the sheep, basically on the side of the road.  Guess what?  This was lunch.  We walked up to the restaurant as they were letting the blood of a sheep.  I got to watch them skin the sheep while we waited for lunch.  They had 3 or 4 carcuses hanging from the wooden structure providing shade to the butcher and the man working the grill.  The only decision we had to Mechouiamake was how much to order.  The tour guide decided on 2 kilos. We also got some typical Tunisian bread which is a thick and dense disk and can have cumin seeds – it’s pretty darn tasty.  We also ordered some mechouia – a kind of Middle Eastern mezze, made from a green pepper that has been grilled and peeled, then made into a paste with other spices.  Find the recipes below. The mechouia I’ve had in Tunisia doesn’t have tuna on it, but I have learned that the Tunisians love their tuna, and it frequently makes it on to a lot of dishes.

Tunisian LambThe grilled meat came, hacked into many boney pieces. We were eating Berber style (Berbers are the bedouins of North Africa). There are no utensils, you just need to dig into everything with your hands.  They threw some onions and parsley on the meat, along with a squeeze of lemon.  It was the freshest meat I will probably ever eat. I also couldn’t eat a whole lot because I’ve never actually watched my food being slaughtered, and it’s disturbing. I have to say though, the experience did’t turn me into a vegetarian. We did ask, and apparently they go through about 8 sheep a day.  It’s a popular place.


Breakfast Tacos!

photo 3 OMG.  That’s just the the best way to describe the phenomenon of breakfast tacos.  I took my very first trip to Austin to accompany a Bavarian delegation to SXSW Interactive. Yeah, I know, that’s ridiculously awesome.  And going to Austin during SXSW isn’t exactly like seeing the real Austin, but it was an opportunity to be a part of an amazing scene, connect with the entrepreneur vibe at SXSW, and spend some quality time with my BFF Kerry and her partner Anand.  I was really looking forward to barbecue and good beer, but what I didn’t even know that I needed was a breakfast taco.

My first few attempts to procure this mythical food were thwarted by the very nature of SXSW.  Lines were 20 people long at the few places I stopped, or the corner store had basically run out of ingredients.  Thanks to the fact that Kerry leant me her bike one day, I made it to downtown Austin early, hit up the Royal Blue Grocery, and had some of the best drip coffee I’ve ever had, along with a few pre-made tacos.  While these were good, they were pre-made, so I didn’t feel like I really had the authentic experience.

photo 4On my last day in Austin, Kerry had some free time (she’s the Chief Innovation Officer of the City of Austin, and it was SXSW, poor girl barely knows what free time is).  She took me to the current parking spot for the food truck Boca – “Texas Flair- Spanish Fare”  Its run by Patrick and Vanessa, an American and Spanish couple. Anand had found this gem, and thanks to his frequent eater status and general awesomeness, has made friends with them.  I was told by Kerry and Anand that they had a mantra – go for the places with the hand-written signs, they have the best food.  These places aren’t pretentious, and they don’t spend money on marketing, fancy signage, expensive real estate, or luxurious decor.  The way they make it in this world is to just make really incredible food.  And you find them by zoning in on the hand written 2

Needless to say, Boca’s breakfast tacos rocked my world.  I had the Spanish chorizo, onion and egg; as well as the potato, onion and egg.  Amazing.  I regret that I didn’t try the garbanzo bean taco, Kerry loved it, but I just couldn’t pass up the chorizo.

In the end, I learned that I really love breakfast tacos. And I need to pay attention to hand written signs.

A friend recently alerted me to this post by Jessica Festa on We Blog the World. I do not want to get in the habit of re-posting other writers’ work, but this topic struck at cord with me. Bikes and beer are two of my favorite subjects.

To travel authentically, one must get to know locals. What better way to get to know locals than in the pubs where they drink and by drinking the brews they make. And, traveling by bike lets you experience a street level view of a place.

The Cheerful Cemetery

“The life of the dead is placed in the memory of the living,” exclaimed Greek politician Marcus Tullius Cicero. Perhaps no where else in the world is this notion more dead true than in a curious cemetery in northwest Romania.

The people of Săpânța, a small town just south of the Ukrainian border,  lead   simple rural lives. As they have for centuries, they work the fields and tend flocks. They spin wool, carve wood and drink tuica (Romanian brandy). They worship in tall wooden churches typical of the region. 

And when these people of salt and earth move on to their afterlife, their temporal lives are immortalized on colorful oak grave markers. Images and verse carved on these tombstones, vivid and almost
comical in design, tells the legacy of the people interned below. Most often, the carvings depict the dead performing the routines that filled their lives. Occasionally, the an image portrays the circumstances of a villager’s death. Epitaphs that accompany the carved image are satirical, sometimes funny, but always shed light on to the vices of Săpânța’s citizens. Regardless of the tone, the cheerful cemetary provides a sense of authentic life, not just to the good people in Săpânța, but to all of us who visit and reflect on our own deeds. 

The Dacians, ancestors of modern day Romanians, believed in immortality. And in some small measure, in Săpânța at least, they live forever.

Consider the following tales told by some of the grave markers.  maramures (10 of 23)

  • Under this heavy cross
  • my poor mother-in-law lies
  • Three more days she would have lived
  • I would lay, and she would read
  • You, who here are passing by
  • Pleas try not to wake her up
  • For if she comes home
  • She’ll bite off my head

This is where I rest
Pop Ion Osu is my name
Even though I am old I go up the hill to gather hay
And when I get there I eat cheese and stew
And after that I take my mower and start working
Because this is what peasants do.

romania maramures (4 of 8)“I am Dioca Tahului and I stay now in the shadow of aplum tree. So when you will stay near me you will find out about me that I was the pillar of my house. And I leave it with sorry and tears. From my childhood I liked to work and to take care of the house. I also liked to deal with horses and sheep. Nobody in the village had horses and sheep like I. I loved horses terribly and for them I even died. When sitting on a mound of grass on a wagon pulled by a horse, I fell and was killed.”

romania maramures (2 of 8)“Here I rest. Pop Grigore is my name. From mychildhood I liked very much the violin. So too, I was playing the violin at each wedding as I danced. At each wedding and during each dance, I made there my happiness. And I knew how to make all things. I made everything I could. Because in this the way lives a man who loves life. He is also fighting for his fortune, living with happiness, and not thinking too much about life, because tomorrow life goes and is leaving you.”

  • May the flames torch you, taxi

  • That came from Sibiu
  • As wide as the Romanian Country is
  • You couldn’t stop anywhere else
  • But near our house
  • Hitting me
  • Grieving my parents
  • For nothing they will grieve more
  • Than their dead boy
  • Nor is there anger greater
  • Than a dead daughter
  • As long as my parents live
  • They’ll mourn me.

  • “As I lived in this world,
  • I took the skin of many sheep
  • Good meat I prepared
  • So you can eat freely
  • I offer you good fat meat
  • and to have a good desire for food.”

Tuica is pure venom
She brings tears and torment
And this it brought to me too
Death put me under her foot.
He who likes tuica a lot
Will have at the end my lot
As I have loved tuica a lot
And with it in hand I died.
Here rests Dumitru Holdis
Lived 45 years
Sudden death
In 1958.

Stefan is my name. 

As long as I lived, I liked to drink.
When my wife left me,
I drank because I was sad.
Then I drank more
to make me happy.
So, it wasn’t so bad
that my wife left me,
Because I got to drink
with my friends.
I drank a lot,
and now, I’m still thirsty.
So you who come
to my resting place,
Leave a little wine here.”

maramures (12 of 23)
Grave marker of Stan Ion Patras, folk hero, carver, poet and creator of the Merry Cemetery

The Cheerful Cemetery, better know as the Merry Cemetery, was the creation of woodcarver and poet Stan Ion Patras. Upon Mr. Patras’ death in 1977, his apprentice, Dumitru Pop Tincu took over the chisels and poetry.  

In Mr. Patras’ own words:

  • I was called Stan Ion Patras
  • Good people hear what I have to say

  • And I will tell you no word of a lie.
  • For as long as I lived
  • I never wished anyone harm,
  • Only good, as much as I could
  • No matter for whom
  • Oh this poor old world of mine
  • It was hard to live through it.

The Dacians, ancestors of modern day Romanians, believed in immortality. And in some small measure, in Săpânța at least, they live forever.

For information on other curious cemeteries around the world, click over to National Geographic Top 10 Cemeteries to Visit.

More images of Săpânța and the Maramures region can be seen at Heath Cox Photography.

Location: The Merry Cemetery is located in the village of Săpânța in the county of Maramureş, Romania. It takes about an hour and a half to drive from Baia Mare, the largest nearby town, to Săpânța. Cluj-Napoca (Kolozsvár in Hungarian) is 230 kms away, three and a half hours by car. Nyíregyháza, Hungary is less than three hours away.

Bangkok Tree House

A natural oasis in a hectic, noisy, polluted city

The taxi dropped the four of us off at a ramshackle dock on the bank of the Chao Phraya River. There was a foul odor in the air. It was difficult to determine if the smell came from one of the backed up sewer drains or from the nearby mound of trash that a pack of stray dogs had made their home. Regardless it was not the welcoming scent of incense or familiar aroma of fried street food that I expected.

On the river’s bend, several hundred meters away, stands a power plant that feeds the northern half of Bangkok. Grey exhaust puffed from its smoke stacks. Looking at my twisted expression, my wife knew that I had reservations about our reservations. Before I could complain that this did not seem to be the eco-friendly hotel that she promised, Christina smiled and pointed across the river.  On the opposite bank stood the Bangkok Tree House and Organic Restaurant, our accommodation for the following few days. Unreachable by car, it is situated on the water’s edge half hidden among the coconut palms and papaya groves in an area of Bangkok known as Bang Krachao.

With my mind only slightly more at ease, the kids, Christina, and I boarded a ferry along with a dozen motorbikes and enough other people to capsize the vessel. As I watched our luggage getting loaded onto a narrow motor boat moored nearby, I wondered to myself if we’d see our bags again. Although I trusted the good intentions of our, uh, bellhop, I had a lot less confidence that his tired looking boat would make it across the river.

treehouse -23

ARRIVAL: Minutes later the ferry dropped us off at the a dock on the other side of the river. The bustle and dust of the noisy city faded into the background. Even the grime of the ferry’s diesel exhaust seemed to free itself quickly from our clothes. The stench that greeted us on the eastern bank was replaced by the sweet smell of fruit and flowers.

treehouse -18
Bangkok Tree House Proprietor Joey Tulyanond

Much of the surrounding area is a marsh. In order to get from the dock to the Tree House we walked three hundred meters along one of the elevated walkways that wind through much of Bang Krachao. After a few minutes we arrive at our destination where Joey, the owner, greets us with refreshing drinks. Our son and daughter are excited to be shown the unlimited ice cream cooler.

GREEN: As Joey and the staff showed us to our room, I asked about the environmental features of the Tree House. Joey said that they strive to reduce their carbon footprint in many ways. Much of the building material is highly renewable, sturdy bamboo.” They use discarded material where possible. For example, the pier was made with reclaimed wood and used plastic drums. Lights in the public space, our host tells me, are powered only by wind and solar.

NESTSUpon entering our room, it is quickly apparent that the concern for Mother Earth extends to the lodgings. The guest rooms, referred to as “nests” are elegant in their simplicity and supplied locally with natural linens and organic soaps. Our son was fascinated by the glass floor on the bathroom that gave an unexpected view of the marsh below. The beds are clean and comfortable and there is even an option to sleep on the roof (at the time of our visit, unfortunately, the roof sleeping sections were not yet finished).

treehouse -24

TASTES:  After a short rest and getting familiar with our nest, we wandered over to the restaurant for lunch. Continuing the environmentally friendly nature the Tree House, the food is organic and seasonal. Lunch is prepared using solar cookers. A choice between three prix fixe menus minimizes food waste. Although carbon and waste is minimized, taste is not. Meals that we had were bursting with local flavor and color.

treehouse -8
The Bang Namphueng Floating Market

LOCATION: Commonly called the “green lung of Bangkok,” Bang Krachao’s abundant fauna and wildlife is a welcome contrast to the gritty, choking, concrete city that most people know. The sounds of song birds and cicadas mute the roar of the city. As we discovered during a morning walk, you are more likely to come across a monitor lizard than a exhaust spewing tuk-tuk. The Bang Namphueng Floating Market is a short walk or bike ride from the Tree House. There we found great food stands and activities for the kids. Izzie liked painting local flowers. Ian had fun on the hand pushed carnival rides.

Visitors to Bangkok will likely want to visit some of the attractions that the city is better known for. A journey from the Tree House door to central Bangkok via BTS Skytrain takes about an hour.

The heart of Bangkok is an exciting, whimsical place full of monumental sights and savory smells. The familiar bustle, majestic temples and well known nightlife is often what visitors to Thailand’s capital are seeking. The Bangkok Tree House, in the lung of the city, however, gives visitors a chance to breathe.

The Bangkok Tree House is not for everyone. If you’re squeamish about a few bugs or open air showers, then you might want to think twice. I, for one, am very much looking forward to staying there again.treehouse -15

CultureShox Destination Rating (a seven star system)

Sleep = 5 stars: Cozy, comfortable and unique. Lack of a sitting area in the room and awkward stairs detracted from this characteristic.

Eats = 6 stars: fresh, organic, tasty. We couldn’t wait to see what the cooks would prepare for us.

Sustain = 6 stars: It is clear that the Bangkok Tree House’s environmental practices stand far and above most other hotels. Their policy of hiring locals and sourcing locally gives them bonus points here. Although farther along the road to sustainability than similar establishments, the Tree House is not yet 100% carbon neutral.

Children = 4 stars: Our children were treated exceptionally well by the staff and management. Furthermore, we found sufficient activities and adventures in the area to hold their attention. Other families with young children, however, may find getting to and from the hotel more trying than they wish to handle. A conservative use of railings along the elevated paths, decks and in the guest rooms meant that we had to keep a protective eye on our kids.

Environs = 5 stars: The amount of time that it takes to get into the city detracts from the Bangkok Tree House’s location. However, Bang Krachao is a fantastic escape full of unusual adventure and local color or for those who seek a more rest than restlessness.

Just Moving In

Welcome to Elsewhere. Don’t mind the mess. We are just moving in. While we get things organized, you are invited to have a look around. As the boxes get unpacked and items placed on the shelves you’ll find articles about many of the places that we have enjoyed or that captivated our imagination.

We are, admittedly, one of the hundreds of travelogue sites that fill the internet. It may take a little time for the writers at Elsewhere to find their own voice. But, in the months before us we hope that our perspectives on the places where we have visited entertain you. We hope that our decades of travel experience and the advice that we provide will make your own travels easier and more engaging.

As we continue tc&h-1o explore unfamiliar places and revisit some favorite corners of the world, we will share those experiences as unassumingly as we can in order to provide readers with an authentic sen
se of place. It is our aim, not just to entice more people to adventure afar but also to discover the less familiar parts of their own neighborhoods and regions.

Welcome aboard. The Writers at Elsewhere



Hops Plucking Like Grandma Used to Do

I cup the blossom and raise it to my nose. A sweet smell of wet grass and pSummer 2014 A (6 of 1)ine can be
easily detected. Then I return my gaze to the motherly apron clad women sitting by the barn merrily plucking hops from the vines. My lovely wife is now among them laughing as she helps toss hops buds into a nearby basket. One of the women begins singing a Bavarian tune. I imagine that is a hymn to hops that has been sung in these rolling hills of the Hallertau for centuries.

Hops are no longer harvested by hand. But on this fest day in August, an hour’s drive north from Munich, the practice has been revived. Today, they honor the flower that is entwined itself into the culture and economy of these hills. IfSummer 2014 A (16 of 1) I were to climb to the top of the hill behind the barn and look out in any direction I would see fields of tall hops vines waving back at me. But that climb would take me away from all of the action of the fest. I would miss the small parade and the dance of the coopers. The fest music and laughter from the beer garden would barely be audible. I would be to far away to smell the roast chickens or to squeeze the fresh baked pretzels. So, instead, I explore the temporary hops market on the way back to our table.

Nearly twenty market stalls have been set up selling a wide variety traditional Bavarian goods. Leder-hosen and dirndls, of course, are spread around a couple stalls. Baskets, local cheese and baked goods are also available. Fittingly, many of the stands offer of items made the celebrated star of the day. Hops infused soap or hops and berry jams, for example, are on display. With mild apprehension, I choose to sample the hops infused sparkling wine. To my delight, it was crisp and refreshing. The subtle flavor of the hops complemented the earthy light oak aromas of the wine. It was unique and deliciouSummer 2014 A (8 of 1)s.

Nevertheless, hops in wine is only a novelty. The best way, in my opinion, to celebrate this noble flower, this cousin of cannabis, is to raise a glass of beer. So, I find my way back to he table where my friends and my wife have also returned. And, in the time honored method, we bring our glasses together saying “Prost” to the hops.

The Hop Plucking Festival (Hopfenzupfen Fest) is an annual event held in early August at the Ratzenhofen Schlossgarten. Ratenhofen Schloss is located at Dorfstrasse 32 near the town of Elsendorf. Visitors to the fest may also want to check out the nearby Hopfenhimmel (Hops Heaven), an observation deck that offers a unique perspective of the surrounding hops fields.  

Finger Hackeln – Bavarian Finger Pulling

I was apprehensive when I first heard about the finger pulling fest. Like most children who grow up in America, I have been duped by a father’s odor releasing ploy (I may have even carried on the tradition with my own kids). Envisioning a fest tent bursting with leder hosen clad, sauerkraut and beer fueled Bavarian farmers releasing nauseating fumes by pulling each other’s fingers is, undoubtedly, cause for some alarm. Still, it is billed as a fest. So, when in Bavaria, go to where to beer flows.

Upon arriving at the Finger Wrestling Fest in Garmisch-Partenkirchen, my fears of a foul smelling fest tent were quickly laid to rest. Not only was the tent well ventilated, the only thing wafting in the air was laughter and competitive tension.  Staged in Bavaria and parts of Austria, Finger Wrestling is a sport whose closets cousin is probably arm wrestling. It is not entirely clear how this sport started, but most origin stories claim that finger wrestling was used as a means of dispute settlement. Now it has been organized into a regulated sport where the size of the table, leather strap and even the stools have been standardized.
A test of strength, individual competitors square off from each other across a solid wooden table. Using only one finger, each competitor holds tightly to a ten centimeter long leather ring. A referee stands behind the table to make sure that each bout starts fairly and to declare a winner. Behind each opponent sits a catcher. The importance of the catchers should not be underestimated because competitors frequently fall backwards off of their stools.
55th Annual German Finger Wrestling Championship
55th Annual German Finger Wrestling Championship
At the beginning of each bout, competitors sit on their stool and steady themselves. Most wrestlers place one shin against the side of the table for a bit of leverage. With their free hand, they place their fingers in a vice grip on the edge of the table top. After locking themselves in with their leg and free hand, some competitors will try to gain a bit more leverage by almost laying sideways on their stool. When the referee is satisfied the each wrestler is in a legal position and has a good grip on the ring, he allows the bout to begin. A bout ends when the hand of one wrestler is pulled across the opposite side of the table. Most bouts are over within seconds, but some fierce duels can last almost a minute.  Frequently, the force of the winning wrestler is so strong that his opponent is pulled up onto the table.
The competition lasts most of the day as the wrestlers tug their way to the finals of their weight class. Injuries are not uncommon and the tugging can be warlike, but the brotherhood and sportsmanship displayed between competitors run deep.
Meanwhile, the rest of the tent is full of revelry, feasting and, of course, beer. Like all other folks fests, a local band plays and dirndl wearing women snarkily heft liters of beer to the party goers. It is a great way to spend an afternoon among friends.


For more photos of the Finger Hackeln, visit the gallery at HeathCox Photography

deak bill
Deak Bill Live at Old Man’s Pub

The curtain of smoke parted as the large one-legged man ambled up onto the stage. Scratching his scraggly beard, he turned to face the crowd, leaned over onto his crutch and, well, blew the foam out of everyone’s beer with deep soulful rocking blues. Slightly raspy, his tones were filled with emotion, inviting visions of Bluesmen from a bygone era. His voice, at times, was sweet like a lover’s kiss. At other times, it was like a freight train racing down hill, powerful, unstoppable. And, no one at the solid wood tables, no one behind the heavy long wood bar, no one standing on the beer stained floor, no one in the room wanted Deak “Bill” Gyula and his Blues Band to stop. Bill and his band obliged the crowd’s wishes and played long into the night, diving head first from one number to the next. The crowd, which sat and stood close enough to see the beads of sweat building on Bill’s forehead, called for draft after draft of Amstel and Soproni beer as they followed every note, heads nodding in rhythmic appreciation.

At least that is the way that I remember it the first time that I saw Deak Bill, many years ago. Deak Bill the last I heard still didn’t speak a word of English. That doesn’t stop him from mixing in powerful renditions of American blues tunes into his set with his brand of hardy Hungarian blues. Deak Bill and his Blues Band take the microphones frequently at Old Man’s Music Pub in Budapest, Hungary. Many other Hungarian talents such as Takacs Tamas, Torok Adam and Ladanybene 27 also pound out consistently memorable crowd rousing performances on the Old Man’s intimate stage. In fact, live music can be heard running up Old Man’s entry staircase every night of the week. The twelve beers on tap, a cozy pub atmosphere and a large selection of hardy pub grub put Old Man’s Music Pub on my regular pub and grub route. It is the music, however, that places Old Man’s at the top of the list when I am asked to recommend things to do in Budapest.

Create a free website or blog at

Up ↑