Howdy folks. You may have heard about this guy is a fellow living in Iraq keeping a weblog - the thing you are reading - about life inside the coalition attack. He's gotten some press recently, and seems to be the real thing. Check it out for views from the other side. Or is it?

Howdy folks. Right now I am looking at David. In fact, I have been looking at David all day today, staring out past me in shop windows, on postcards, on aprons, lighters and notepads. I have seen David`s privates on boxer shorts, and cigarette rolling papers. His face stares at me from the screen saver on this computer. Yes, my friends, we are in Florence, Italy, home of MICHAELANGELO`S DAVID FOR CHRISSAKES. We arrived last night *Tuesday* from Venice, and have spent the day wandering among the massive tributes to humanity and hubris so eloquently devised by Cosimo de Medici and others during the sixteenth century's Renaissance. We bypassed the Duomo, one of the largest churches in the world, in order to catch the Palazzio Veccio, or the old palace, where the Medici muscled into being the incredible dynasty of culture and learning now recognized as the culmination of the Italian Renaissance. And it is indeed incredible. The Palazzio Vecchio was the seat of Florentine power, which Cosimo decided to make his residence in the 1530s. And because he would brook no ambiguity as to who was in fact the head honcho around Florence, he expanded the palace and filled it to the gills with the most beautiful sculpture, woodwork and painting of the day. Michaelangelo, Titian, de Rossi, Ghiberti, etc were de rigeur. Every room is astounding.

After wandering among the labyrinthine palace wings and taking a really cool tour of all the secret passages various family members had built into the place, Debbie and I headed next door to the Ulfuzzi museum, where Botticelli's famous Birth of Venus can be found surrounded by hundreds of chattering Japanese students. The piece is really amazing, once you fighht your way close enough to it and sidle your way into a group that has paid for a guided tour in English. You learn that the painting, which is huge, is not famous just because you see it in art books. No, it has history and meaning! (I really heard one tour guide say this) The picture's importance, I learned eventually, comes from the fact that it was one of the first major pieces painted around this period that was, well, not a depiction of the Vigin Mary and the Child. I'm exaggerating only slightly; nearly all major art produced up to this time was religious, which both Debbie and I can attest to, having seen more Virgin and Child paintings in Venice and Florence to last several lifetimes. The painting heralded, in sumptuous beauty, the embracing of ancient Greek and Roman culture, which was to pave the road for the big bright caravan called Humanism, which we're still riding in.

This is good stuff! There it was right before me, one of the most famous images in the world. And it made sense.

So now the sun is setting over Florence, setting the orange-tiled roofs afire with light, and the city creeps slowly another day into history. As she has for nearly three thousand years. Debbie is off doing some laundry (bless her beautiful soul), and later we'll go check out some markets and have some rigotello and chianti. I'll try and post some pictures but I'm not making any guarantees. Hope all's well with everybody. Ciao.

David was really cool, by the way.

Just want everyone to know that we know about the war and are safe and don´t anticipate running into any difficulties in Italy because of it. The Indian fellow who told us ground troops had entered Iraq was amazed we were out traveling about, but others we have talked to say the protests have been few and harmless. We did witness one protest/parade in town (Innsbruk) last night, but it was mainly students singing ´´All vee are saying, iz give peece a chance...`` We are all right and will update again once we get to Venice. We have agreed that if we feel threatened as American tourists anywhere, we will leave; however, I don´t anticipate that happening.

Deb here. Hi to all! I was a bit scared when word of the war got to me however, I do feel safe and have asked several people that live here about the situation. The reply has been that we are safe, so no worries. Alison - if you read this, hope Scout and the homestead is good. Thanks again for all your help while away. Back to Europe! Ciao baby!

This will have to be short, because internet access in Austria is expensive (.50 euro a minüte), also the keyboards over here are whack. Anyway, after leaving Cuenca, in Spain, a lovely town set on top a set of cliffs formed by the convergence of two rivers in the Mancha, we headed into Switzerland. We found Interlaken to our liking, ringed by towering mountains and filled with things to do, although we passed on the chance to either kayak, heli ski or skydive the Alps. We did manage to get up in the hills below the famous Eiger, and took a delightful hike in the snow and ice to the little village of Murren. Set on the edge of a cliff below the peak of Schilthorn, Murren stares boldly at the permanently snow-covered peaks of Eiger and Jungfrau, both over 4000 meters. Huge, in other words. Massive. Sublime.

So we nestled in to Murren, staying at the cheapest place which we coud find, our room looking directly up the majestic valley. Skiing season is in its final throes, so we rented old-fashioned wooden sledges and headed down the Schilthorn slopes, stopping for a beer and soup halfway down. We managed to make it to the bottom with a minimum of injuries, though I did get into a snowball fight with two little Swiss kids, which I think I lost. A delightful two days. We even woke up at midnight on the second night and walked out onto the hotel´s snow-covered tennis courts (!) to view the Alps by the light of the full moon. A truly amazing spectacle.

But as I mentioned, Switz is so overpriced that staying long is painful and foolish. So now we´re in Innsbruk, Austria, about to take a train to the top of the local peak for a grand view of Tyrolian beautv, the snow-coverd peaks surrounding this quaint, friendly town. We´re on to Venice tonight!

Howdy folks, we´re now in Austria, having skipped out of Switzerland early because I had to take out a mortgage on my right arm in order to afford anything. The Alps were AMAZING. We´ll write more soon...

Three words: I love Cuenca. More to come.

Well, I realize I told everyone I would be posting a lot and uploading all sorts of sublime images of our travels so far through Ireland and Spain, but the truth is ... We´re too busy seeing Europe. A typical day, when we´re not traveling, involves getting up way early and catching some building or tour we missed the afternoon before, then walking around the city or town seeing beautiful and strange things for the rest of the day and on into the evening. By the time we get to bed each night, we are usually dusty and exhausted, our pockets filled with maps and brochures. The absolute last thing I feel like doing, when a world of culture and art awaits outside, is sitting in front of this computer. Comprende? However, we are having a blast and I could sit here and write for days about it.

We left Ireland early on Saturday and flew to Barcelona, a noneventful flight until we passed close to the Pyrennes, huge piles of snowpacked mountains towering above the clouds. Barcelona lay against the shore at the foothills of the mountains, a sprawling maze of a city filled with glorious old architecture at every turn. Let me just say, I love Barcelona. This city is incredibly alive, vibrant, ecstatic and crazy. We arrived on Saturday afternoon, and Las Ramblas, the central thoroughfare near the university and the heart of the city´s financial district, was packed with thousands of people, all of them enjoying themselves. It was like we had walked with our huge packs into a massive celebration. In fact, it was just the weekend. We got checked in to a hostel and joined the throng, desperately seeking by this time some food to warm our gullets, looking for a good place to settle down with some celebrated tapas, the everpresent Spanish fare.

And let me say, there is much to celebrate. Tapas are a series of small dishes that you choose like a buffet; squid in clam sauce, spicy potatoes, fried calamari, shrimp in melted butter and garlic.. The tapas differ from place to place, but they are all good, and reasonably priced too. We ordered way too much and sent our bill higher than we anticipated, but to have a chance to suck on such delicious food, enjoy cups of sangria and watch the madness outside, was worth every silver euro.

The next day we spent basically kneeling at the temple of Antonio Gaudi, the Spanish artist responsible for the incredible edifice here known at La Sagrada Familia. Words simply fail in describing how magnificant, complex, beautiful and arresting this building will be when it is finished. It is already Spain´s greatest testament to the glory of its architectural tradition. Awed, we wandered among the forest of columns inside this massive church, watching the construction artists building the temple on beatiful brick by another. A climb up one of the towers took us a hundred meters above the city in a small spiral staircase which left us dizzy and exhilerated. Gaudi was in every sense of the word one of the masters, the crazy geniuses, a seriously BIG CHEESE. After experiencing the Familia, we abandoned our other plans and went to see Park Guell, designed by Gaudi in the 30s for one of Barceona´s swankiest entrepreneurs at the time. Architects will forever be striving for what this man did.

We are now in Granada, after taking an 11-hour train ride last night stuffed into a hot, smelly 2nd-class coach, during which we slept very little. However, Grenada is a charming city situated among the hills surrounding the Alhambra, a ninth-century Moorish palace that is imposing, at tleast from the outside. We go to see it in the morning. Today we dragged ourselves around the beautiful Plaza Nuevo and among the intricate nearby streets, enjoying the more relaxed atmosphere of semi-rural Spain. Tomorrow night we´re off to Cuenca, a city built on a plateau carved out by a river just west of Madrid. Wish us luck!

Till next post, adios amigos.

Howdy everyone. I'm writing from Galway, on the western coast of Ireland. We arrived by bus yesterday after talking with a gentleman in a pub the other night who suggested we come here as a contrast to Dublin. Dublin was fascinating, hectic, dirty, ancient. Our flight over exhausted us, so after a long night's sleep Monday we hit the city, wandering through the cobblestone maze of shops and pubs of Temple Bar, the cultural center near Trinity University. Fascinating was Christ Church, built in the twelfth century, where Handel's Messiah was first performed. Trinity University was alive with students among the ancient buildings, where we saw the Book of Kells, an ancient manuscript of the Bible hand-painted by scribes a millenium ago. Though we missed the James Joyce house, every street mentioned in his bookUlysses has a plaque commemorating its presence, and statues of the author abound. There is a distinctly literary feel about parts of the city, the language and life so rich. I could spend days wandering the city.

However, it is a very busy place, and not so hospitable at times. Tourists seem to be somewhat reluctantly welcomed in places, but we were lucky to find a nice hostel right on the Liffey, the central river bisecting the city. Other than the guys at the counter at the hostel, we really hadn't really talked to anyone. Finally, on Tuesday night we wandered toward the port and found a nice pub where we met Neil, an engineer from Galway who we had a nice chat with. He immediately suggested we skip town and head for Galway, a small town on the western coast. After hearing his description of the beautiful surroundings and atmosphere of the town, we decided we'd head out in the morning. And here we are.

After the busy, dizzying maze of Dublin, it feels wonderful to be in a small Irish town. The cobblestone streets are small and lined with scores of small shops, and while there are cars, it seems most people walk everywhere. There are pubs on virtually every corner in the city center, and many more tucked in between the shops. The bus ride yesterday was a three-hour journey through the heart of the country, miles of deep green fields dotted with white sheep, rainbows pouring out from the ever-present grey clouds. Ruined churches surrounded by lichen-covered gravestones wreathed in gaelic designs. Galway is a university town; the vast majority of the people here are young, which gives the town a very lively atmosphere. Every pub has groups seated before pint glasses, engaged in animated conversations. It's easy to talk with people, though the main topic seems to be Bush's warmongering.

Wednesday was fantastic: we arrived in town and found a bed and breakfast tucked away on a small side street, the proprietor a nice, rather hectic Irish woman who fixed us a pot of warm tea and cookies. After we settled in we headed out to the coast and wandered on the beach, marveling at the distant hills covered in a patchwork of fields. Multicolored wooden boats reminiscent of viking ships lay on the docks, the quay populated by a flock of fifty or sixty white swans who paddled around us primping and fending off the seagulls and ducks who thought we might have some bread.

As evening approached we walked over the bridge into town and headed into The Bunch of Grapes for a pint or two (I fancy the darker beers, Guinness, Kilkenny and Beamish stout; Debbie is partial to the lighter ones, Carlsberg and Smithwicks). We ended up heading to Taffe's Pub for an evening of traditional Irish music and singing, where we met a nice couple from Minnesota, the husband a writer, his wife a judge, who showed us their films of Connemara and the wild Irish coast north of here. One fellow asked if he could play a tune, and the bar was soon singing 'Piano Man' loudly and clicking pint glasses together. It was a blast. We finished off the evening in The Kings Head talking about God and the Catholic church with some fine local chaps, one of them a Greek scholar who is studying variations in translations of the Bible. A night of heady revelry.

Unfortunately this internet cafe won't let me upload my photos, so I'm hoping we find one in Dublin tonight, where we are heading in order to catch a flight to Spain in the morning. So far everything has gone well and we anticipate much wonderment down south. Postcards should reach everyone soon. Sliante!