Posts tagged journal

My travels are still underway. After returning to Canada, I was promptly whisked away to a family reunion and other gatherings. After later spending several weeks in Regina, de-hillbillying myself and hanging out with my sophisticated and contemporary sisters, I continued my trek to explore and look for a place to live. Two days on a bus to Montreal was more pleasant than one would expect. There’s plenty of scenery, lots of changing leaves, it’s less stressful than a typical day of travel, etc. I’d never seen Ontario before–it looked just like I’d expected with roads full of orange and yellow leaves. To describe further impressions, I will use the longest run-on sentence I may have ever concocted:

If the countries of the world were having a party and Canada was sitting at the bar lonely and forlorn, drowning its sorrows over some margaritas and Malibu-type concoctions, and Europe (a single entity) stumbled over to strike up a conversation–each finding some sort of solace in the other’s company, eventually throwing in some small-talk about how much more wonderful things are when measured metrically–before slurring something unintelligible but seemingly charming, then giving way to some messy display of drunken passion, ending with the two of them waking on the coatroom floor, hungover and embarrassed, only to find, several weeks later, that Canada is pregnant and Europe said its name was Eureka and gave a bad phone number……Montreal would be that bastard child.

Montreal is a very cool city. It has a very unique blend of North American and European styles, new and old and French and English architecture. It really doesn’t feel at all like Canada. Furthermore, I suspect Quebec to be a province superior in transportation and yogurt technologies. There’s something strange about Quebec, though. Apparently, there is an accent so thick it almost sounds like they’re speaking another language. Half the time I couldn’t understand what anyone was saying. Someone approached me once and said what sounded like “Bonjour, comment appelle tu?” I assumed he was trying to say “Bozo! Come on, I’ll pelt you!” So having no other choice, I sprung into action, blinding him with my camera flash and tackling him to the ground before flailing down the street, nearly tripping over his jettisoned crutches in the process. I was lucky to escape unscathed. In my panic I came upon a nice woman with broad shoulders and a five o’clock shadow who took me to a safe place full of ladies in fancy, glittery dress with exotic hairdos and glamorous names. And let me tell you…karaoke like nobody’s business!

The city is nice for wandering. I toured the Concordia University campuses, rode a moped up to Mount Royal, ate gourmet poutine with complimentary angioplasty and so on. The “Underground City,” expanding over 32km seemed to transcend space and time (more so space), but is more impressive in theory than anything. The city also holds my favourite hostel, run by a wonderful cast of characters.

After about a week I headed back west, spending a night in Ottawa (courtesy of my kind cousinish fellow, Stephen). Most of the wandering was done in the dark hours of the evening, thankfully. Even the most mundane buildings become magical when lit up. It’s a strange place with its cold, government-town feel, but still nice.

Toronto is surprisingly comfortable. It has a big, busy, North American metropolitan look to it, but is friendlier than one might expect. Hanging out in the downtown entertainment district, it can be hard to see much more than scrambling consumerism and hollow glamour atop a foundation of corporations and big business, but the city is enticing all the same.

I must now prepare for a night bus to New York. I hope you’re enjoying your goings-on. This writing may be the product of delirium due to lack of sleep.

That’s right, poisoned! No, there was no partying involved — this was a strictly a food poisoning. Poisoned by food! The betrayal! The unfortunate expunging of toxins! I will forever curse the name of that restaurant. After a couple of days, when I was able to venture back out, the town was very bizarre but interesting. The downtown area was all lit up and the people seemed very friendly — ladies from all over the neighbourhood came to wave hello from their glowing little apartments. I figured they must be used to a colder climate because they weren’t wearing very much. They seemed happy, regardless. Later, I decided to grab some coffee. You will not believe what I found. From what I can tell…they put oregano in everything! They even sell it by the gram for sky high prices! It seemed strange because they’re really not big on pasta. I’ve heard rumours about some kind of “red light district” and special “coffee shops.” I can safely say there’s certainly none of that going on there. Just some friendly folks who like their spices.

Further south, the city is much less touristy and has a lot more substance to it. It was nice wandering around though my trip was cut short, first by my extended stay in Berlin and then my surprise illness. All in all, I found the city did not quite agree with me and I found myself relieved to return to London. I decided to spend my last remaining days wandering around the streets of Camden. It boasts a lovely mix of alternative fashions and an incredibly active music scene. Now I have a flight to prepare for and I do not foresee any sleep in the coming couple of days.

It was night when I arrived in Berlin. It was cool and dreary and wonderful. I immediately had the feeling the massive city was every bit the mecca center it’s made out to be. The history of the city is tangible and real. The concentration of artists and creativity is refreshing and spectacular. I once described to someone the sort of ideal aesthetic and atmosphere I would look for in a city. She suggested Berlin. Turns out she was correct.

It’s fashion week in Berlin and there was a big fashion/high-society event earlier in and around the Russian embassy, which I hung around to see a bit of. Didn’t you know I’m among the fashion industry’s foremost elite? Of course, I spent most of my time there past the armed guard and behind the barrier, so as to not take the spotlight away from the lesser celebrities who probably need the attention more than I do. I loathe these things, yet find the insincerity of mingling personalities mildly fascinating.

After wandering the city with a friend I’d met in Prague, we ended up being invited to a sort of bohemian dinner.. a kind of art-community hipster gathering. I would like to describe it as a sort of Warholian mix, though that might be an exaggeration and there was no Velvet Underground (the latin jazz was nice though). The food was quite excellent. I seem to be a magnet for former New Yorkers.

Cycling around Berlin is, well, a joy. It’s very much designed for bike travel (I haven’t actually ridden a bike in…10 years?) Last night I ended up heading with a couple of roommates to a sort of giant, art-squat-turned-trendy hangout area. The energy of the city is amazing. I’m actually cutting my Amsterdam/London time short so I can spend more time here. It was cool and nice the first couple of days; now it is scorchingly hot, but I will forgive the climate because Berlin is wonderful.

I spent a day out at the concentration camp earlier. A great deal of my time here has been spent studying World War II and the Cold War. I’ve also embarked on several historical walking tours in the last few days regarding these eras (five if you include the one I did twice).

It turns out I’m not going to be able to change my flight, so I’ll be flying back at the end of the month, being taken to a family reunion, then off through Alberta, then a couple of places in Saskatchewan, then taking a very long bus ride to Montreal and probably Toronto to check out the cities and maybe talk to the University faculties about what they can offer me (I figure I’m SO important, they should have to woo me for my enrollment), THEN off to Vancouver/Victoria for similar city-seeing and University investigating. And then back to my former residence. Eventually. Travelling is very good for getting yourself excited about things and realizing how stifled you were in a small town….for instance.

The thought of leaving Europe is very strange and I have mixed feelings. (There will be a bizarre bout of culture shock, I’m sure.) It occurred to me the other day that I am currently without a home and will not return to the Okanagan for any length of time until October. This pleases me and I enjoy the nomadic quality. Tomorrow I’m off to the Netherlands and then to London to prepare for my flight at the end of the month.

Did you know that the cost of housing in Berlin is almost comparable to that of Canada? Bizarre but true. I will return to Berlin–perhaps indefinitely.

It has been requested that I send a long, boring message detailing my recent travels. So I hereby present you with a long, boring message. Please don’t hate me.

On Julie’s recommendation, I headed to San Sebastian after Barcelona. It was a wonderful town and it felt nice to have a break from the hectic frenzy of the major cities. One thing about Spain…it’s open late. It sleeps late. It goes out late. A lot of the dining establishments don’t even open until 9pm or so. Then everyone is out wandering the streets, casually going for tapas, dinner, etc. until very, very late. It’s very lively. I think there should be one in Canada. I had a good hostel (run by someone resembling a Spanish Bruce Willis with a penchant for practical jokes). It’s sort of a beach town and I’d considered surfing, but it was far too expensive, so I spent a couple of hours doing a sort of bodysurfing instead, getting tossed around by great big waves. This was done very close to the shore, resulting in a sort of sand/rock equivalent of road rash, being repeatedly driven into the ground, but fun all the same. If you ever have the opportunity to listen to Julie, I highly recommend it.

After flailing about for a couple of days, trying to figure out how to reach Florence from my new, northern location, I settled on taking a bus to a nearby town and from there taking a last-minute flight to Rome. That’s right, Rome. So I got up at the crack of dawn to catch a bus (which I missed, having not realized the vast amount of land I would need to cover from my hostel all the way to the bus station), and caught the next.

Rome is hot. Very hot. I would go so far as to say unnecessarily hot. I would go into the Good Morning Vietnam monologue, but I’m sure you’ve heard it before. I spent only a couple of days in Rome, which were less positive than they could have been. This was due in large part, of course, by the resurgence of my arch nemesis: the sun. For some time, the sun and I had reached an agreement; it would shine during the day and I would operate mainly at night. This worked quite well until I started travelling and have since been met with a feeling akin to that of an ant under a magnifying glass. My hostel was unpleasantly night-clubesque, though an interesting experience all the same. My stay essentially consisted of me wandering downtown, getting very sick from the sun/heat and finally spending several hours lugging an increasingly hefty backpack around a train station, during a rail-strike, while trying to find someone who knew what train would actually be able to take me to Florence. What I did see was quite amazing, and the history dates so far back it’s incredible to see these places still there. Unfortunately, I became bedridden before I had a chance to explore the Vatican. Rome will need to be revisited. Perhaps in the winter. With a companion.

Anyway, I did get finally get to Florence. Florence was wonderful–perhaps one of my favourite cities. It’s a gorgeous place and there’s so much art and beauty everywhere. Due to accommodation shortages, I ended up staying in a camping area near the edge of town which overlooked the center of the city. One night, I observed what is undoubtedly the most spectacular display of fireworks I’ve seen, illuminating the Florence skyline.

In Venice, I stayed in a camping area again. I did not explore any galleries, etc, save for one cathedral in the center of town. There are over 400 bridges there. I have no idea how people find their way around–the streets are very labyrinthine. The city was quite touristy, but pretty all the same. One day, it began raining very hard and I stood and watched as the water surrounding the buildings crashed and waved as though it might wash us all away.

Despite the massiveness of the city and large population, Vienna was regarded as very quiet and safe. In fact, it seemed perplexingly well-behaved. I had hoped to see an opera while visiting Vienna as standing tickets are quite cheap; however, it had just recently shut down for the summer. I did spend some time traipsing through Freud’s old study, saw where Bram Stoker wrote a fair bit of Dracula, even caught some live Rocky Horror numbers. I went out to the giant ferris wheel (I’ve completely forgotten the name) one night with a couple of people from my hostel. The wheel itself was not entirely breathtaking, but the surrounding amusement park–both active and almost deserted–was a wonderful sight. There’s something very surreal and eerie about an abandoned amusement park. Driverless bumper cars, empty rollercoasters, ticket-takers resembling mannequins insides their neon booths. Frozen in time and full of ghosts.

By the time I reached the Old Town area of Prague and saw hordes of tourists flooding through rows of chain stores, souvenir shops and Czech hot dog stands, I realized I was very tired. After seeing so many worldclass galleries, etc in such a short space of time, one needs a break to process and digest. I have made a point of not seeing the National Gallery. I did, however, stumble upon a photo gallery by Jan Saudek which was quite superb and enjoyable and a nice surprise. Had I more time in the Czech Republic, I would make an excursion to one of the nearby towns which are less visited and likely more authentic, though I need to move on due to my recently developed deadline. Still, I enjoy Prague. My hostel is located outside of the city center, away from the high-traffic areas and it’s nice to wander around in. The restaurants are nice and inexpensive and the trams run quite regularly. The beautiful architecture lives up to its reputation as some of the most untouched in Europe.

I came upon the most amazing club in Prague. It’s designed as a sort of Mad Maxian, post-apocalyptic, industrial place. Words cannot do it justice. While I was there, I saw a band with a funk/psychedelic electric sitar rigged through a wah-wah and a rack mount, backed by an incredibly solid drum/bass duo. This was followed by a DJ/African percussion duo which was also quite good. On the lower level, another performance area saw another group playing. The average quality of music at public performances here is very high. Anyway, if you happen to find yourself in Prague, it’s called the Cross Club. Bring clean clothes because you may soil yourself upon arriving. I’m serious. Bring clean clothes.

That’s all I’m going to bother writing about. You’ve read this far; go have a rest or something. I hope you’ve been somewhat entertained. Just be glad I’m not going to make you sit through pictures.

My Parisian adventures have come to an end and the ones since have been entertaining and not entirely without incident. Recently, I’ve ended up being unintentionally shuttled off to a random town in the French country-side, spending a night on a sidewalk and I can no longer walk without limping (all unrelated)… and, yes, I am still enjoying myself.

My last few days in Paris, I spent a decent amount of time around the Luxembourg Gardens. At one point of longing for familiarities, I opted to see a film: “La Faille” (Subtitled, not dubbed) I’m not sure what it’s called in English, but it’s starring Anthony Hopkins and Ryan Gosling. It was enjoyable and seemed strangely surreal. You also learn a lot of new French words this way. I went up the Eiffel Tower one night (actually my birthday–mildly bizarre) and stayed there for a few hours until dark when the city lit up. I began to enjoy attempting to speak French.

After a 24-hour trek through France and Spain (NEVER get on the wrong car–this is very important) I arrived in Madrid. It’s difficult not to compare cities; having no expectations for Spain, I was quite pleasantly surprised. Madrid was much warmer (figuratively as well as literally) than Paris or London and the atmosphere was much more lively. I wouldn’t have been entirely surprised if a party had broken out at any given moment. Speaking Spanish is an interesting challenge–French is at least familiar even when not entirely understood. The Reina Sofia is, of course, wonderful (and Dali’s work is much more satisfying than that in the Dali Espace Montmartre in Paris).

Barcelona is, as one might imagine, seemingly consumed by nightlife. The architecture is awe-inspiring–it’s definitely a gorgeous city. I’ve spent most of my time wandering through Old Town, but even the newer areas are very well designed. La Ramblas at night is very interesting. Catalan is the official language in Barcelona, but Spanish seems to be sufficient.

I had originally considered heading out to the Cote d’Azur, but had decided against it. Julie has, however, convinced me to make an excursion out to San Sebastian for a couple of days before heading to Italy. Travelling through major cities is very enjoyable, but I find myself getting worn down, constantly on the go. I will look forward to a couple of days of good beach-times.

I swam in the sea today. It was so cold I was the only one in (it wasn’t that bad by Canadian standards–you’d just hear a whole chorus of “Well, it’s warm once you get in there!”) The beaches are quite lovely and I enjoy the vacant horizon (and are apparently at war with my ravaged feet who are not accustomed to the jagged terrain on which they must plant themselves).

Salt water is really gross. If someone were to offer you a glass of freshly-scooped salt water, it would be best to decline.

It’s getting more into tourist season and it’s starting to get harder to find places to stay (so much for spontaneity) so I may end up camping in Rome. Food is always good. Sangria, banana juice, tapas, and yet more bread. When I was in Paris, I discovered Nutella (it had somehow eluded me all these years). Hazelnut chocolate in the form of a sandwich spread is a dangerous thing.

That concludes my incoherent update. I hope it was informative, thought provoking and catalytic in creating stricter environmental protocols. I must now go to bed.

It’s raining in Paris. Actually, it’s been quite dreary since I arrived. I’m not really complaining since I’d much rather have cool rain than scorching heat, though I haven’t done quite as much exploring on foot as I would otherwise. The city is very beautiful and a kind of interesting comparison to London as they’re both very unique cities. There’s a bit more style here, a bit more attitude. It has a slightly grungier aesthetic in regard to the buildings and streets, but nothing overly notable. I enjoy the lack of giant grocery stores and the availability of bakeries/butcher shops/cafés/etc every few feet. The food is definitely very fresh and much less prepackaged. I’ve been living mainly on bread, cheese, wine and fruit for the past couple of days.

I think I learned more French in the first couple days here than I did in several years of school. The city is fairly walkable and the Metro is easy to get around in, perhaps only slightly less so than London’s. The Louvre was a definite highlight. Trés magnifique! I’m heading back there today to see a bit more. I’ll be heading to Spain in a few days (either Madrid or Barcelona, I can’t remember which one first–I’ve been too busy with Paris). I’ll see if I can muddle through some Spanish. It’s my birthday soon and I kind of feel like I should do something though I’m really not sure what. I’ll probably end up wandering through the streets until I decide to head in.

Hostelling is interesting; the hostels vary considerably and it’s strange having neither privacy nor companionship, though you still meet nice people now and then.

I’ll have to keep this short, partly due to the bane of my existence: french keyboards. That anyone would employ the use of a different style of keyboard than the one I happen to be familiar with is unconscionable! Well, maybe not….but it takes forever to type anything and my internet access is limited.

It’s 3am. I’m staying up all night to catch a train to Paris (Not quite as romantic as it sounds, but it’s still pretty cool in principle) as I didn’t want to disturb this evening’s roommates. The tube shuts down at midnight, so I’ll need to wander through buses to get to the station. I still don’t know how to use Paris public transit, but I’m sure it will be easy enough once I’m there. After a week of running around frantically through London, I’m hoping to be able to have more of a laid-back experience for the next few days. I will look forward to sleep…and also Paris. Let me know if there are any recommendations for getting around, etc. Also let me know if there is any wackiness happening.

The trek to my London hostel seemed a bit of a marathon, but all went well. Due to lack of internet access, you’ll have to settle for messages scrawled frantically on a public computer. London is quite absosmurfly amazing. Amazing…and very very expensive. I’ve spent the last couple of days walking just about non-stop. I went around and took in a great deal of the obligatory landmarks and so on. Westminster Abbey is particularly wonderful. Earlier today, I went up in the London Eye, ate lunch in park and headed to a performance of Blood Brothers. I must say, my version was put to shame. I’m thinking about heading out to the Camden markets tomorrow. It’s very interesting seeing the city transform, somewhat dramatically, throughout the day: mid-afternoon comings-and-goings, the mayhem that ensues when everyone gets off work, and the late evening energy. Much of the city is very refreshing–the diversity and history and existence of culture. It gives the appearance of being very organized and orderly. I’m always being watched and being reminded of being watched. There are always voices telling me to do things (no, not those voices–other people hear them too). I’m not certain yet whether the order is merely an illusion. Getting around can be a bit difficult — the tube is very easy to use, but I find the streets confusing. I enjoy the politeness of the city officials, though I find the general London attitude to be a bit peculiar — something I can’t quite put my finger on yet. I hope you’re doing well in your various endeavours and such. I may need new feet when I return.