🇬🇧🇦🇮🇵🇷🇺🇸🇨🇦 A Vibrant Blur

Hello Adventurers, 

This week I made the sequel to the 1987 film Planes, Trains and Automobiles.  And by 'made', I mean lived. But unlike John Hughes, I added a ferry...as well as marathons in Anguilla, Puerto Rico, and Canada...and a layover in Sint Maarten.

I was solo — so it wasn't a buddy comedy — but buddy, it was comedy...and just typing out the plot twists makes it sound so fantastical like a fantasy flick. Anyway, I hope the words and flicks herein elevate the fantasy genre in your mind: where 'make believe' is made believable...if we dare to believe in ourselves, our dreams, and our abilities.

Anyway, after nearly ten mind-blowing — and often cinematic — weeks on the road, I'm back in mind-numbing Toronto. In film speak, this 'unaffordable, goofy-ass city' is my nemesis.

Thankfully, I'm just here for an extended layover in-between a double header. And there's a silver lining to my pause on the silver screen: I get to spend time with my missus, see friends and family, re-up my gear and supplies, and finalize the next leg of my Marathon Earth Challenge...the route of which you'll be able to influence in the coming weeks.

Lastly, loads of new people subscribed to this newsletter over the past week. Hello there...I don't know what I'm doing! But you've joined at an ideal intermission...because you'll get a behind-the-scenes view of things before my self-funded indie production fires back up in April when I bounce to Europe, Africa, the Middle East, and wherever else. That said, you did just miss me marathon through a goverment-declared state of emergency, get robbed by cops, and get hit by an earthquake! I don't know if I'll top that ahead...and even if I could...I don't know if I want to.

For the newcomers, I don't know what this free weekly newsletter is...I guess it's like a 'director's commentary' as I marathon the world block-by-block in 2023? Anyway, you'll ultimately decide if the content is a blockbuster or a flop. But first, let's review the past week..as always, it was whacky and unscripted.

 - Ben Pobjoy

GET READY FOR A RUDE AWAKENING

'Cause this made-for-radio-face will be on Breakfast Television

Folks, the time has come for Benny P to stink up the airwaves! I'll be on Breakfast Television on Monday, March 13th talking 'bout my Marathon Earth Challenge.

Thank you to Stacey and Deborah aka my deadly 'comms' duo for making it happen, thank you to my wife for scheduling me a dental appointment yesterday (so my British teeth look less British-y on-air), thank you again to my wife for her intervention in Mexico City the other week...where she told me I looked like a scraggly castaway...and should Dizzee Rascal before I go on TV, thank you to Hambone for getting me in the barber chair before I go on TV, and thank you to Mike for sending me some new threads so I don't look like a noob on the tube...and because my wife was mortified by the disgusting state of my marathon kit. Obvs, it takes a team to make this turd gleam!

2023 TREK TRACKER

Where in the world...record am I?

• Countries visited: 16

• Flights taken: 25

• Kilometres flown: 37,227...plus two ferries across the Anguilla Channel

• Marathons completed: 45

• Kilometres trekked by foot: 2,146

• Total kilometres trekked since 2015: 65,237

RAPID WEEKLY RECAP

A speedy synopsis for time-crunched readers

• The Wildest Thing: Cars designed for North American right-hand traffic...driving on the opposite side of the road in Anguilla ala British empire...driven by people actively drinking booze behind the wheel🙄

• The Biggest Obstacle: The bed slats in my Anguilla Airbnb were mostly missing...so the mattress dipped to the floor, and I had a restless few nights folded in on myself like a pretzel🥱

• The Lesson Learned: These last three months have taught me that doing cool shit brings cool AF strangers into your orbit. Whether you've sent me messages of support or quietly followed along or had me on your podcast or sent me free gear to aid my marathons...thank you😘

FIELD NOTES: ANGUILLA

Sometimes one encounter is enough to know you're not a match

Despite our shared Britishness, I wasn't Anguilla's cup of tea. And that's okay...because it was reciprocal.

This place prefers tourists that lounge on the beach by day and/or take guided tours by car or boat to the sights, and then put on their best Tommy Bahama outfits to go eat a seafood dinner on some beach-facing restaurant as some local crooner serenades them with Jimmy Buffet standards. And there's nothing wrong with that.

Me? I like sights...but I also like exploring what's in-between them to get a deeper sense of place. But Anguilla is small; 15,000 people sprinkled over an island that's a little more than 100 square kilometres in size...with just eight ATMs and no public transit.

I did three marathons all over Anguilla; cranking out 149 kilometres by foot. And my take? Well, it's an island where the outer edges — being those that kiss the sea —  are fit for a King...whereas the island's sparse innards leave you wishing there was more to see and do. And maybe that's unfair...but everything's really expensive in Anguilla...so I expected more...but I also found $59 USD a night Airbnb accommodations right on the beach, so how can I be that critical?

On the ferry ride over from Sint Maarten, the Anguillian crew proudly told me I was about to see paradise. Such is arguable, but what isn't, is how much the locals love this place, and how much they enjoy one another...as well as anyone who comes to visit.

And I think that's exceptionally nice and often rare...feeling really passionate about where you're from, and warmly welcoming others who wash-up on your shores. And I'm one to know: dozens and dozens of people pulled over in their cars to offer me rides as I marathoned Anguilla, everyone on every stoop and in every shop wanted to chat, and everyone acknowledges everyone else in passing...something I've only ever experienced marathoning Newfoundland.

Anyway, I hit what they tell you to hit here: Windward Point Lighthouse on the east side of the island, and the Anguilla Arch and Blolly Ham Bay on the west side of the island... and trust me when I say that I hit everything else in-between. And yes, I even saw the one pink flamingo in the salt pond that everyone raves about. And if I were to grasp, these are the things I'd subtly rave about in Anguilla:

In the last issue of the newsletter, I wrote about how Hurricane Irma battered Sint Maarten and Saint Martin a few years ago. Well, Anguilla is only a few clicks north, and it got spanked too.

And what I found most fascinating in Anguilla, was exploring the high-end resorts that were damaged and then abandoned after the storm; specifically Covecastles on Shoal Bay West. It's a place where celebrities like Jay-Z and Denzel Washington vacationed in massive beach-front mansions...which you can now just trespass into and explore.

And after poking around them, I can tell you that you can squat in them. Like, if you had a solar-powered charger, a sleeping bag, some food, a broom for the glass, and potable water. You'd just need to fetch water from the sea with a pail, and manually pour it into the toilets...the mechanisms of which I tested, and can confirm still work. There's even a few dusty Stairmasters kicking around in the villas if you want to get a workout in...and what's best is that you can boast you stayed beside Chuck Norris' old place.

Anguilla is a floating rock of coral and limestone...with 0% arable land. You can see it with your eyes, and you definitely feel it under your feet; especially on remote trails.

While the terrain is flat, it's way less friendly than the people here. And should you hike it, know that it is pockmarked with shin-snapping mini-craters as well as serrated earthen edges that would fillet your flesh with ease. I enjoyed the focus, technique, light-footedness and surefootedness the terrain demands. But it is not for everybody...it could really fuck you up. And in the remote places, there's no cell service...so to break a leg would be most unlucky...unless you have a SatCom device (which I do...and luckily didn't need to use for anything other than navigating).

The paths that weave around Windward Point Lighthouse are a labyrinth obscured by desert shrubbery so leave markers along the way (I did this digitally) or focus hard on retracing your footsteps along the dirt and sand that got you out there. And definitely don't get caught in the area at night...you'd be screwed.

Even through I have a history degree, I don't have the confidence to attempt to recount Anguilla's history...because it is as complex as it is nuanced (but you can get a primer here). Broadly speaking, there were waves of settlers, colonizers, slaves, and all the associated crops that were forcibly farmed on plantations powered by human suffering.

And the vestiges are still here if you look hard enough for them...like the non-native, flowering cotton plants which were first planted on the island in the 17th century. I only saw two bushes on the island...but they beautifully contrasted the tough terrain and the even harsher history. And all of it is something to take in and ponder.

Also, should you find yourself on the eastern edge of Anguilla in Scilly Cay, keep an eye out for a diptych of monuments near the pier: it says so much about Anguilla's history with so few words. On the left is a plaque that commemorates the Queen's diamond jubilee and on the right is a monument to the 'Revolutionary heroes of 1967' who wanted independence...from Saint Kitts and Nevis...then requested United States administration...but ultimately returned to being a British colony within the span of two years.

Near to the monument is a sand-floored restaurant on a sandbar of sorts. It's out in the sea, but could be cool to boat to...in one's best Tommy Bahama threads.

FIELD NOTES: SAN JUAN, PUERTO RICO

Better late than never

Here's a weird flex...from a man who doesn't have any muscles (i.e. me): the last time I was in the Spanish-speaking Greater Antilles was in high school...when I saved up money from my part-time gas station job to attend a month-long revolutionary bootcamp in Cuba...and met Daniel Ortega (before he took a hard right turn)...rubbed shoulders with FARC guerrillas...and saw Fidel Castro speak for almost three hours at the Teatro Karl Marx (where I had to wear a clunky ear-piece to receive real-time translations). Incidentally, this was around the same time my little brother went to Chiapas in like grade nine to chill with the EZLN. I dunno how we convinced our parents to let us do these things. Anyway...

Puerto Rico...it's been on my hit-list for eons...but I was noncommittal before this project, and just always deferred to going to other places further abroad. And that was my loss...until now!

I knew Puerto Rico had a rich history, but the lure — for me — was just this curiosity about how such a physically small island (9,104 square kilometres) with such a small population (a little over 3 million as of 2021) could be such a powerful shaper of world culture: with some of my fave exports being Benicio del Torro, Bad Bunny (and how this place was instrumental in thrusting Reggeaton and Latin Trap to the tops of the music charts everywhere), and just the insane amount of top-notch boxers it has produced (from Héctor Camacho to Félix Trinidad to beyond). And that brief run-down excludes the diaspora...with Rosie Perez and J-Lo and a zillion others...and all the baseball greats (from Roberto Clemente onwards).

I only had one full day to do a single marathon in San Juan (going as west as the 16th century Spanish fortification Castillo San Felipe del Morro to as east as Playa Ocean Park). And it blew my socks off: the golden sunlight at sunrise and sunset, the wavy waters and beautiful beaches, the colourful architecture, and the vibrant street art as well as the impressive public art sculptures. Oh, and all the chickens and roosters in the streets as well as all the feral cats.

I should've planned to spend more time here...but I always maintain that the best places leave you wanting more versus wanting less. And yo, east coast North American readers...beach-y San Juan is a short flight to sooo much variety in such a small vicinity; making it an ideal long-weekend destination. Anyway, this is what I sequentially hit on my marathon there:

I randomly stayed in the Santurce neighbourhood of San Juan because I found a cheap Airbnb there. The accommodation was perfect for a solo traveller comfortable staying in a dorm-like room, and was on an unbelievable third floor rooftop full of plants and flowers...which was a pleasant surprise. Anyway, I started my marathon in the dark and went north to marathon along the coast towards Old San Juan as the sun rose. Along the way, I came across the Puerto Rican Sports Hall of Fame which has a track you can run on in an aging stadium as well as a boxing gym under the stands. From there, I followed the ciclovia west...and then had my mind blown by this tiled mosaic mural / sidewalk.

You might be one of the 8.1 billion people that have been to La Perla...without ever having stepped foot in Puerto Rico. That's because it's the little community — which only stretches 650 yards along the rocky ocean coast — where the music video for Despacito was filmed. You may dislike that song (by now), but I'd encourage you to re-watch the music video...because it's true to place, and the place is spectacular...in the morning at least (it's allegedly rough at night). La Perla sits right on the wavy waters, and the ocean spray catches the golden hour light like nothing I've seen before. This place is special and it's a shame that Jake Paul is fucking it up with gentrification. 

Due to having to keep my newsletter under 100 kilobytes in size (to prevent my email from being routed to your spam folder), I can never include as many photographs as I'd like to. And this feels criminal when trying to summarize Old San Juan... especially as my newsletter service provider is badgering me with 'email size warnings' as I type this...so I gotta be concise: visit this colourful and historical area. Specifically: the seaside Cementerio Santa María Magdalena de Pazzi, the Game of Thrones-y Castillo San Felipe del Morro, the red Puerta de San Juan, and the panopticon-like courtyard of the Museo de las Américas.

Stand-outs in the area — for me — were coffee from Spiga (best coffee I've had on the Q1 leg of my Marathon Earth Challenge...as well as exceptional coffee in general), and the 5'3" wide Casa Estrecha built in a former alley. And watch this short video about the latter because the architect owner drops a zinger about the yellow house's narrowness in relation to its view.

BEST LOCAL THING-Y

Anguilla isn't a great place for vegans...so thank god for Violet and her Roti Hut! She's the owner, the greeter, the cook, the server, the cashier, and a super duper lovely human being.

I just happened to pass her business on my second marathon and took note...and proceeded to eat there near daily thereafter. And I mostly ate the vegetable roti but the stand-out were the 'doubles'...which are only served on Fridays.

By doubles day, Violet knew me well, and prophetically was like, "I bring you what you need." Now, you need to now that when I'm in Toronto, I eat no more than two doubles because they're so filling...and then Violent brought me a plate of five, ha ha.

Anyway, for the uninitiated, doubles are delicious...and sorta exist on the outer spectrum of the sandwich species. Basically, imagine two palm-sized, circular pieces of fried, spongey, turmeric-infused dough that are about as thick as a greek pita. And between those delectable warm pieces of dough are hot, whole-bean channa that's been stewed in a thick curry sauce. For me, it's the definition of comfort food because it just conks you out afterwards.

Violet's doubles had a nice twist; including a bit of potato, finely chopped raw onion, and either Bajan pepper sauce or minced scotch bonnet pepper (I couldn't tell which of the latter it was...all I could detect was some red exocarp). And all five were only $12 USD...which in Anguilla is the cheapest restaurant food you're gonna find in terms of a tastiness-to-weight-to-calories ratio. And like a glutton, I happily ate all five. Oh, and there wasn't any point photographing them 'cause they have that universal golden-browny fritter type of look. 

Also, Violet has one permanently gold-capped front tooth...which I think is one of the best lewks ever. I always wanted one...but something makes me think my wife's fam of dental hygienists would veto it. I asked Violet about it and she told me she got it in her twenties in her native Guayana for five bucks from a dentist. I then asked if she still likes it decades later, and — sucking air in through her teeth...as her stare playfully hardened — she replied, "Boy, look at it! What's not to love?" Then there was a big smile, a flick of the wrist so as to say 'silly rabbit', and her abruptly getting back into the kitchen...because she had way more important things to do than field my dumb inquiries.

Oh, and I saw Violet butchering chicken meat on the ground out back of the hut in the sun on a slimy chopping board. And that ain't a diss-y exposé, it's just how much of the world cooks. Don't like it? Don't travel...or maybe consider that Anguilla is in fact a great place to eat vegan.

POBJOY'S GLOBAL PRICE INDEX

This is an on-going documentation of how much things cost in different places around the world. Here are some of the things I bought across Anguilla (all prices converted to USD)

• 500 millilitre bottle of Ribena (the drink, not the syrup concentrate) from a grocery store in Anguilla (to honour my brother who was addicted to the stuff as a child): $2.50

• Two 1.5 litre bottles of water, 3 pears, and two boxes of Nature Valley granola bars from a grocery store in Anguilla: $19.62

• An emergency can of Coke Zero as take-out from a restaurant in Anguilla: $4.50

MARATHON MUSINGS

Initial reflections on the road and its reverberations

Anguilla is so quiet that you can hear your thoughts speak to you. Not everywhere, but here and there; like on the remote trails with the sound-dampening shrubs or when you're circling the valley-sunken salt ponds or just very late at night on the beach when the sea is still and the heavens are out in full force...and the musical musings of your mind ricochet around your cranium like sonic shooting stars.

And after ten weeks of marathons through often noisy places like Bogóta, Medellín, Cardas, Cartagena, Quito, Guayaquil, the Galápagos, Lima, La Paz, Buenos Aires, Santiago, Asunción, Montevideo, Florianópolis, Brasilia, Mexico City, Panama City, Sint Maarten, and Saint Martin...I was glad to be in Anguilla. Not because I liked it as a place, but because it offered some very quiet corners — within the musical conservatory of the Caribbean — that enabled me to begin listening to what the places on my 'by-foot travels' have sung to me...by way of what they have uploaded to the hard drive in my head.

But this newsletter, it's like a subpar streaming service...with the requisite bad bitrate and the overly compressed audio; both being the necessary evils of a distribution system principally designed for fast file transfer. And what I share each week, it's sorta like rough demos of mono field recordings made against the clock...written in airport terminals...assembled in various Airbnbs...and often completed over the course of a Friday all-nighter before published at some random hour on a Saturday morning.

And it is what it is. But what it isn't — because I make this alone and in real-time — is something that honours the deep frequencies of the places I've experienced. And their rich stereo sounds...they're more deserving of careful capture in a professional recording studio, and then enjoyed with something proper like the ill-fated Pono.

And none of this is done for the express pleasure of audiophiles per se, it's more to honour the stand-out performances — whether good or evil — of the places I've marathoned...to share it all in high fidelity, sans my time-crunched distortions.

But I'm going to try and reconcile this in future issues of the newsletter; because I'm back in Toronto now, a place where I can begin the process...because it's a place that hasn't sung anything of significance to me in ages. It's just muzak...but the upside is that it's free of interesting distractions...so I can focus here.

Anyway, all the files I've collected on the first leg of my Marathon Earth Challenge are a mess — and will require a lot of sorting and sequencing and mixing and mastering — but it was nevertheless fun to find myself in Anguilla, and randomly press 'play' on some of the WAV files in my brain tissue...which in reality are just reverberations from the outside in; of the people and places I crossed paths with.

I won't get into that yet, but it did make me think about my cultural-meets-comportment conductors...being my parents.

My Mum moved out at 14, if I remember correctly.

And at around that same age, I think my Dad began to hitchhike.

Their parents didn't give them long leashes per se. Rather, Ann and Mike just squiggled out of them...and on their own volition; outta necessity or outta curiosity. And then my parents immigrated to a different country, and we later lived in places like France and Belgium.

But back in Canada where we settled, as parents they had two simple rules for their two boys: do really well at school and don't get arrested...and if we followed their letters of the law (i.e. A+ report cards and clean rap sheets), we were basically free to do whatever the hell we wanted.

That's how I ended up in Cuba way back when with Castro.

And that's how my brother Elliot ended up with Mexican revolutionaries at like 14.

With the freedom to be me, I also went to university...courtesy of the help and support of my parents. Keep in mind, they came from another time when uni wasn't much of an option, let alone an opportunity that was readily available to either of them.

So I studied what I loved: history and politics. And got the degree, and put it in a frame, and never once hung it...or ever had to ever whip it out to prove anything (especially because I ended up earning a living in a completely different field).

But that scholastic experience was like Anguilla. It just wasn't a match. And that specific period was the only period in my life where I suffered from depression; where the music of my mind became dissonant via neurological noise. I got professional help from the 'free' services at school...but now decades later, I don't actually think it was depression, probably just noogenic neurosis...the byproduct of a bad match.

But at the time, I felt a lot of guilt: university was expensive, my Dad footed the bill for my tuition, and I was just miserable (the learning was just so far removed from reality). Anyway, I felt a lot of weight on my shoulders because my parents never got to go...but that was me just crushing me...my parents never once dumped gravitas on me, ever. Bless them.

Anyway, these last few months...I have marathoned through a good chunk of the world, and through thousands and thousands of years of history and politics.

And I was once prescribed eyeglasses due to an ocular injury from sparring in boxing. I never got them...but hindsight is 20/20, and in 2023 looking back...I wish my younger self — back in 2000 or whenever it was — sidestepped school to go step through the world as it is, not as it's depicted in textbooks or lectures.

The real, physical world is an orchestra of the extraordinary; regardless of whether the notes it plays are major or minor, happy or sad.

It's just a total symphony of sights and sounds and smells like nothing else.

And I feel immensely lucky to be in the crowd of this worldly concert hall...humming along, and just left buzzing by it all...and just doing my best to recount the show I attended...after the fact in the fanzine that is this newsletter. 

But...

Do a marathon one day. And one both faraway and far beyond a closed race course. You can go fast or you can go slow — pace doesn't matter — just do it in a manner where you're open to receiving the reverberations of the world.

And then reflect on it, and let me know if you feel the music too.

Have any questions about the content of this newsletter? Reply to it, and I'll try and answer you when it's safe to do so!