The Strangest Thing...

Being a second year law student brings with it a series of interesting quirks that had not presented themselves throughout my education until now. For example, for the first time in my life a good portion of my fellow students are wearing suits on a regular basis. It's not that the feeling of young people in suits is foreign to me, I have been to too many mock trial tournaments for that, what is strange is that while they are dressed to the nines I am wearing flip-flops and shorts. Another strange thing is that I am finally starting to look at people with "real jobs" as peers rather than as symbols of dreaded adulthood. These parts about the second year are strange but not the weirdest things I've noticed in the few short weeks since becoming a 2L.

The strangest thing about being a second year law student is that, for the first time ever a significant number of people in the grade below me are older than me. There are some first years who are well into their 50's or 60's struggling with the concepts of contract law the same way I did as a brash young newcomer straight out of college. While it is somewhat strange to see someone filling out their AARP application in torts what is even stranger is the people in the grades below me that I know from life before law school.

For example, I have one friend who was 2 years ahead of me graduating from the same high school who has now just started his first year as a law student here. This was a little strange but I got kind of a kick out of it. Trying to show him the ins and outs before he even started class was fun and I felt good about myself. That situation was one thing, the one I encountered this afternoon was completely different.

I had just gotten done swimming at the YMCA and I was walking into the library when I saw a face that was familiar. After closer inspection I found out that I wasn't merely hallucinating from the fatigue of swimming, I did know this person from a prior life. This guy, Andrew B. had gone to both my high school and grade school, riding my bus in grade school. When I was in third grade, relegated to the front of the bus with all the other uncool kids he was a suave and debonair 8th grader. Now that I am the older kid, my head is reeling from the role reversal.

I wonder who else I will meet in the 1L class...

Quiz Show

It has been a while since I posted here in large part because school has started back up and once again my life is consumed in various legal doctrine. Although school keeps me busy with work most of the time I still try to find time for a little bit of fun. While most would take a break from intense thought and focus on school by doing something that takes as little mental energy as possible I figured it would be best to find a way to keep my brain active. Thus I am now a regular at a quiz night.

My friend Phelps introduced me to his regular gig, Thursday nights at the TGI Fridays in St. Louis Park (a Minneapolis suburb.) Don't let the location fool you the competition I am up against are far from a group of slack jawed yockals. The trivia, split up into 4 rounds of 12 questions each tests my pop culture knowledge like it has never been tested before. Usually if you miss 4 questions you are out of the running for the top 3. This is where my misspent youth in front of a television becomes beneficial. I am pretty good, but unfortunately not good enough to get our team over the hump and into the winners circle (the best we have ever done is third.)

Here are a few examples of the questions they ask:

1) In the TV show Smallville Clark Kent's father is played by the actor Jonathan Schneider, name the character Schneider played on the TV show The Dukes of Hazard.

2) Name the star of Valley of the Dolls who was murdered by Charles Manson and his followers

3) What was the last name of the principal in Ferris Bueller's Day Off?

if you know the answers to all of these questions you might be a good addition to the 1.21 Giggawatts (our team name.) Please fill out an application and have it on my desk first thing in the morning.

The Swimming Post

This summer I have been doing a lot of swimming. My life almost feels like this Loudon Wainright III song (which I love by the way).

I was swimming in the ocean on the other side of it for the first time. I have swam a lot in the pool on the roof of my parent's building. I went swimming in a river at Brewdog's cabin. Today, however was different than all of those. For the first time in my life today I swam only for exercise.

I went to target before my swim to buy goggles. Much to my dismay the selection of adult goggles was limited to 1 pair of ugly bright pink contraptions made of rubber and plastic. I bought them anyway because honestly if I gave a crap about what people thought of me I wouldn't be swimming at the YMCA in the first place.

So I went and I did 10 laps (or 20 laps depending on if you consider a lap from one side of the pool to the other or require a return trip for an official lap.) I thought it was a lot of fun doing cardio this way. You feel so much more peaceful than when biking or running on a treadmill. it is so nice I don't even really mind that I can't listen to music while working out. That being said, I am going to keep at it because right now I am an embarrassment. I will just tell you I hope I never get stranded in the middle of the ocean because I would be fucked.

Superman Returns

Tonight on my fathers recommendation I decided to re-watch the movie Superman Returns. This was a big mistake.

When I originally saw this movie I remember the excitement that coursed through the very fiber of my being. Because I had not seen the movie yet I did not know all the plot holes and horrible writing that awaited me. At that point all I had seen was the amazing trailer and the production stills which both showcased the only good part of the movie, the unbelievable visual sense that Bryan Singer uses.

* seriously, how fucking beautiful is this?

Unfortunately the visual aspects are where the good stuff ends and the horrible begin. Re-watching this movie is an exercise in frustration for me because all I can think about is how awesome this series could have been.

For those of you who do not know, Superman Returns chronological place is after Superman 1 and 2 and before Superman 3 and 4. Certainly I can't blame Bryan Singer for his attempts to scrub 3 and 4 from history. 3 was essentially Richard Pryor's opus on how to kill a superhero franchise while 4 is best remembered as the movie where Superman is pressured by a 12 year old to throw all nuclear weapons into the sun. The problems with these movies are many and too extensive to get into here, this is just about the latest installment.

The problems with Superman Returns, interestingly enough, arise primarily from Bryan Singer's deep rooted respect for the Superman franchise. Singer has such a hard on for Richard Donner's movies that he refuses to deviate from their themes, even in places where the themes are horrible. The best example of this is that the whole plot of the movie revolves around Lex Luthor's crazy real estate ploy, just like in the first two movies. Another big problem with the movie is the screen play. There are so many holes in logic and overly simplistic lines that come up in this movie I am embarrassed to call myself a comic book fan. I won't do justice to exactly how bad they are by writing it here so I won't even try.

In short, this movie had so much potential it makes me cry to see it so wasted. If Bryan Singer had given Superman the style of reboot that we saw with Batman Begins I would guess we would be on our second Superman movie if not third. Now I fear the franchise will be dead forever.

The Death of an Icon.

For those of you not in the know, I used to run my own business in high school. I sold bagels to my classmates for about a year and a half and made some pretty serious bank doing it. What is funny is that more revenue was generated from the T-Shirts associated with my business than from selling bagels themselves.

T-shirts started being tied to my business when, one spring break I loaned my brother my car so that he could make a cross country trip. As a thank you he and his girlfriend (now his wife) made me a T-shirt that I could wear while I sold my bagels. The shirt, made with iron on letters on a beautiful royal blue shirt has held up amazingly over the last 7 years. Even in heavy rotation it never showed any real signs of wear and tear. Then I took my trip abroad.

I chose that shirt as one of the 6 I was able to bring with me for my 2 months of trekking around the world. As a result the letters have worn off and my shirt now looks like a dilapidated movie theater marquee. I think that it is finally time to retire the shirt. RIP Originator. You will be missed.

The Flight Back

So I am sitting here in Chicago O'Hare airport and have dropped the $7.99 that was required of me to feed my Internet addiction for the next hour until my flight back to Minneapolis. For those of you wondering, my flight back was much more pleasant than my flight to Egypt (discussed a few posts ago.) I sat next to a lovely German woman who is currently a citizen of Italy. The only problem came from the in flight entertainment.

I haven't taken all that many long flights in my life, as a result I have fairly limited experience with American Airlines most bitter sweet feature: the In-Flight Movie. It is bitter sweet because while it is very nice to have something to watch to keep your mind off the fact you are rocketing through the air in a metal tube at 800Mph the movies are inevitably gonna be crappy.

This flight in particular became an acting clinic by Brendan Frasier (read: a shitty acting clinic.) First came Inkheart, the story of a father who is able to bring literary characters to life when he reads books out loud. His daughter has inherited this rare ability and things go awry when the team is attacked by the cast of a medieval adventure book called Inkheart. This movie is every bit as trite and horrid as it sounds. Please never watch it.

The next movie on tap was Journey to the Center of the Earth. Also starring Brendan Frasier. Also involving an in depth knowledge of literature from the Encino man. Also a piece of shit wrapped in tin foil molded into the shape of a swan and then reheated 3 weeks later. What do I have to do to get a half way decent movie in flight?

Last Day in Rome

So my program had it's last exam on Thursday which means my little international adventure is coming to an end. Today is my last in the eternal city. Last night everyone from our program went out and the alcohol was flowing freely. Most dangerous event of the night: my buddy BigEsmalls passed out on top of a retaining wall. This ledge was about 3 feet wide, had he rolled over I do not think he would be with us today. No one was around to tell him that that area was not a good place to nap. As he tells it he woke up at 5 AM with a woman screaming at him and pulling him off the ledge. As one might imagine I woke up with the hangover of the century today.

Unfortunatly I did not budget my time in Rome as well as I shouls have and with a splitting headache still had a fair amount of Roman sites to see. I fit in the Colleseum, The Spanish Steps and the Trevi Fountain into one afternoon, this process required about 7 hours of walking, but at least now I can leave Rome satisfied that I have done everything I needed to. I am so tired now, but very excited to get back home to take a vacation from this vacation.

Capri, Not Just a Style of Pant

This past weekend I visited Capri, Italy. It was amazing. In terms of breathtaking natural beauty it surpasses almost everywhere I have ever seen. The only place that comes close is the Irish countryside, I will post photos of both to let you judge for yourself which is more amazing. 

Capri

The Irish Countryside

Capri is apparently the go to destination of the European rich and famous. I have never in my life seen a high concentration of unbelievably beautiful (although very fake looking) women in my life. Along with gawking at the gorgeous women we also had a celebrity sighting. No less than Dolph Lundgren was seated at a table a few feet away from us. I wanted to go up and ask him to take a picture with me but I was afraid his response would be: “you have interrupted my lunch… Now I must break you.”

Dolph himself, he is still very impressive and Aryan looking.

Forced Spontaneity

 How often have you posed for a picture trying to make yourself seem carefree and lost in the moment? It is pretty likely that you have done this at least once. Why do we try to force ourselves to look unbelievably excited whenever a camera is on hand? Well we think that the only thing captured (and thus the only thing remembered) will be the single moment of excitement and not the awkward part of making ourselves look that way long enough to have a photo taken of it. This was probably the thought process going through Mach1’s head when he took this video. It is thus far may favorite video of the trip.

Do you see the look of exasperation in his eyes as he tries to hold a pose designed to be fun and carefree? I have watched this video several times and each time I find new levels of comedy. For example: when he took this video he was alone in the bathroom (after stealing my camera) so who is he talking to when he says: "wait... I think it is on video"?

in short: Enjoy

The Worst Flight of My Life

Most of my trip to Egypt was awesome. That being said things certainly did not start off on the right foot.

I walked on to the flight, ticket in hand, ready to sit in seat 24H (an aisle seat) for the 4+ hours of air time between Rome and Cairo. When I got to my seat I was surprised to see someone already sitting in it. “ummm sir, I think that’s my seat” I said to him, already anticipating conflict. His response, made in broken English, was a request that he be allowed to sit in that seat so he could be next to a woman I assumed to be his wife. He then pointed to his assigned seat, 23 J. Because I am a pushover, I reluctantly agreed to the seat-swap. Thank you, the man said as he smiled at me. Then just as quickly as I had bent my will to a stranger the feigned gratitude slipped away from his face. Little did he know the debt he would soon owe me.

The seat I had taken, 23 J, was a middle seat. Middle seats are traditionally the worst thing possible. They lack the extra leg room that comes with an aisle seat and the benefit of a hard surface to lean up against for sleeping characteristic of the window. The only scenario in which it is appropriate to be happy about taking a middle seat is if you happen to be between two playboy playmates who happen to love anyone that comes between them. I was not so lucky. Instead I was greeted by 2 very large Egyptian men.

Each of these men, if I had sat next to them at any other time would have been easily the worst smelling passenger I had ever been obligated to sit next to. Together they created a stereo of impressive stench. Literally the only thing I could do to avoid vomiting was to turn the air conditioning on full blast pointed directly at my nose (which created problems of it’s own because I got quite chilly.

There were many subtle aspects about that ride that caused my hatred of the then occupant of seat 24 H to grow but none of them had quite the same impact of the experience that occurred barely half-way through the voyage. Answer me this question readers: if you are sitting on the aisle seat and the person in the window seat wants to get up to go to the bathroom, what do you do? If you said “get up and allow them to pass” the congratulations, your sensibilities are in line with what most civilized people would do. This practice, however, is apparently not standard procedure in Cairo.

When the man next to me got up to go to the bathroom I turned to the person on the aisle expecting that we would both get up. The guy on the aisle took the maintenance of his seated position to be more important than the comfort and ease of egress for other passengers. This meant I now had a very smelly Egyptian climbing over me. His legs straddling mine, his ass in my face as he tried to get out to release contents from it. Not that I am against ass-to-mouth but I thought it was a little forward of him to expect it on the first date.

Getting off the plain I felt more free than I ever have in my life, yet still felt dirtier than ever from the experience. I imagine it was how Tim Robbins character felt at the end of the Shawshank Redemption. I was finally free of my wretched prison  but I had to crawl through a pipe of shit to get there.

it was like this... except I didn't have the cathartic effect of the rain

Of course my friends would not let me forget the torture I had just endured. Instead, I was laughed at repeatedly and subjected to stories that made me extremely jealous. Many of them has wonderful seat mates and luxurious accomodations.

 

Italian Cooking... sort of.

When I first got to school I was excited to learn that the school we are at offers students the chance to sign up for a variety of cultural experiences organized by the school. A couple of my friends and I took advantage of this by signing up for the cooking class. Out thought process was that we could learn to cook authentic Italian food and thus, impress the ladies when we got back. At least, we figured, the class would mostly be made up of girls and we could flirt with them. We were wrong on both counts.

 Instead of really learning how to cook we were treated as menial labor. I spent 40 minutes doing nothing but kneading dough under the pretext that I was learning all the intricacies involved in cooking a top-notch gnocchi. I do not know anything about how to cook the meal that was taught in class, which is frustrating. 

Also for some reason our class was primarily guys. Our instructor informed us, much to our chagrin that this was the first time the balance had shifted that way. 11 males, 4 females (and most of the females pretty unattractive.)

Ah well, back to watching the food network and basking in the beauty of Giada De Laurentiis

See it Before it Sinks!

This past weekend I took a day trip with some friends to Venice. I had never been there before and really knew nothing about it except the Gondala rides were supposed to be excellent. When we first got there it was a little strange. No cars are allowed which leads to some pretty interesting effects. First of all, The cities buildings and traffic are dictated by canals; bodies of water that bend their will to no man. Also, Because there are no cars the space between buildings is only wide enough for a sidewalk, though from time to time the space will open up into a small courtyard. These two factors lead to Venice being an extremely confusing city.  It is like Labyrinth, I was expecting David Bowie to jump out at me and say "you can't have your baby."

We decided to bite the bullet and enjoy one of Venice's primary attractions despite a high cost. It was very much worth it. I could not imagine a more peaceful experience. Just enjoy: 

I mean for real... would you not pay 16 Euro for a half hour of that? If not you are a fool. 

The only bad part of the trip was the train ride home. We were all so exhausted and stuck in a tiny little train compartment. None of us (save the 4'11" Italian firecracker) could get to sleep because our knees were continually bumping each other and the seats. Trains are just not condusive to quality sleep no matter how you slice it. This being said, I am very glad for my visit, though I probably would not spend any longer there. It is a very expensive city with relatively little to do. 

Pantheon or Parthanon

because I have been traveling through Europe I have heard the names of these two epic historical buildings quite a bit. The problem is that because they sound so similar and I am ignorant I always get them confused. This problem continued until I went to the Pantheon this morning. now I am going to take the time to educate myself and you.

Pantheon- Located in Rome this was originally built as a temple to the gods of ancient Rome. Now, the term pantheon has become a general term for any monument in which the illustrious dead are burried. The Pantheon in Rome is the burrial site of Renessiance darling Rafeal (the name sake of the 2nd worst ninja turtle, his attitude did not sit well with me.) Although quite beautiful it is a bit boring.

Parthenon- located in Athens, Greece this is a temple to the Greek god Athena (whom the Greeks believed to be their protector.) This monument has the added bonus of being ruins which are alway fun to walk through because you feel like you have just survived an Apocolypse. That being said The Parthenon takes a hit in the awesomeness department because it is Greek rather than Italian (sorry Kostandinos.)

I Megaphone

Most tourist cities like Rome are infested with street merchants. Each trying to sell you "designer clothes" at discount prices or sunglasses that light up in blue neon for no reason. I was talking about these merchants with one of my classmates, BradyBunch, when he told me about his interactions with a street merchant the previous night. Apparently the street merchant had tried to sell him a knock off watch but BradyBunch proved to worldly a traveler and too frugal a business man for him. 

BradyBunch: "What? You want 5 Euro for this? They sell this for 1 Euro in China... I'll give you 1 Euro for it.

Confused Merchant: "Screw you! I paid 2.50 Euro for this?"

BradyBunch: "What? This took maybe 60 eurocents to produce... maybe. If you really paid that you should start getting a better deal for yourself, you are getting screwed"

Confused Merchant: "Fuck you."

BradyBunch told me that in general, you shouldn't buy anything from these street merchants, however there is one very important exception. "Not all of them have it, but if you find a merchant with a megaphone you have to buy it." I asked him what I would need to do with a megaphone. "Oh man, everything in life can be better with a megaphone." I took his word as gospel and when I was out later that night I found a street merchant with a megaphone. I haggled him down from 20 euro to only 7. Yes, I am now the proud owner of a megaphone. Get ready for everything I say to be louder.

BullSh*t

While in Madrid we decided to take in an event that has become one of the hallmarks of Spanish culture: The Bullfight. All of us were pretty excited, even though we didn't know exactly what to expect. I was hoping to see daring escapes from death by men in brightly colored costumes; following each one with a shout of "OLE!"

We did not get what we were hoping for. If you have ever been to a bullfight you will know it is really quite a depressing affair. First, six bullfighters team up on one animal confusing it and tiring it out. This stage is topped off when an armored, blindfolded horse his put in the bulls path of rage while it's rider jabs at the bulls neck with a large pointed spear.  Then bullfighters get the bull to come at them, stepping out of the way at the last second and stabbing them in the neck with what are essentially huge darts. After this the bull is disoriented and groggy. Then the main event happens, 1 bullfighter gets the bull to go around him for a while before finally stabbing him in the neck with a long sword. If he is precise he can kill the bull in one shot, if not it can take 3-4. Then the dead bull is dragged off from the arena by horses and the whole process starts anew.

Although the bullfighters are undeniably talented in what the do the whole event seems a bit unfair overall. It amounts to 7-8 people with weapons ganging up on 1 confused bull. I am glad I can now say I have been to a bullfight but I probably will never go to one again. 

Study time

Unfortunately I won't have as much time for writing as I have had over the last few weeks because classes have started. That being said, you all might actually be lucky because I haven't had too much to write about. Really it has just been studying (so unless you are rivetted by the fast moving worlds of professional responsibility and entertainment law my stories from right now might be a little dry.)

That being said I will do my best to keep you all entertained and distracted from your jobs as soon as I get something good to write about.

When in Rome

So I finally made it to Rome, the place I will be studying for the next six weeks. I am proud to have survived my first (and probably only) real globetrotting experiance. It was nuts but now I am exhausted. Classes start tomorrow. The worst.

Degrassi: The Canadian show no Canadians watch

When I was a junior in college the guys in my house started watching more than our fair share of Degrassi. For those of you who don’t know, Degrassi is a Canadian high school drama currently in it’s 9^th season. It is kind of like Saved by the Bell,  except they deal with all the most messed up issues that most American shows don’t touch. For example, they have episodes in which one main character is revealed as a cutter, another main character gets gonorrhea and there is Columbine style shooting that leaves a main character paralyzed (there is also an episode about how that character has a problem of erectile dysfunction after being paralyzed.)

 

So I know a fair amount of people that watch Degrassi in the US and since it is a Canadian export which has run for 9 seasons I figured it must be huge over there. In our hostel we have met tons of Canadians and I have asked them all if they watch this show (as a really nerdy icebreaker.) To my dismay none of them watch it. At all. What the hell?

What a Snore

Living in close quarters with others often gives you little tidbits about yourself that you would miss otherwise. For example, I now know that I snore very loudly but only after a night of heavy drinking. I used to snore a lot but I thought the problem went away after I had my tonsils removed a few years ago.

 

Snoring was  a fixture of my house growing up. For years my father snored very loudly, so loudly in fact that my other had to wear earplugs to bed. For decades my mother wore wax earplugs every night, then every once in a while would get some gadget to try and solve the problem in a different way. For example I remember she once bought a device that he would wear on his wrist and anytime a loud enough sound occurred it would vibrate. Apparently he just slept through the vibration and my mother’s woes continued.

 

Mind you this was not light snoring. It could be heard throughout pretty much the entire house. To give you all a sense of scale I will tell you one of the definitive field trip stories of my life. When I was in 5^th grade my class had a sleepover at the Minnesota zoo. The boys slept in the aquarium area while the girls slept in the dolphin area, my father volunteered to be one of the chaperones. At night 5 of the boys in my class woke up very scared because they mistook his snoring for an animal on the loose. That was the last school field trip my father chaperoned.

Is it still a Rubber?

In the airport on the way from Barcelona to Madrid I spotted these in the gift shop. For just 2.5 Euro (or around $4) you too can own a condom that has “I love BCA” written on the wrapper. Who buys these kinds of things?

Crazy House Pt. 2

I really like this hostel. At night is gets a little nuts but to me that is a good thing. Everyone is super friendly and they play great music (for example right now I am sitting here and they are playing live versions of all the greatest hits of the Cure.) Last night I started talking to the kid who had tripped balls on ecstasy mixed with acid my first night here. He was telling me how fucked up he was. I guess he secluded himself to his room and crawled under his bed to sleep because he thought the top bunk was growing fangs and trying to attack him. When he wasn’t in an irrational fit of fear from the mattress above him he imagined that David Bowie was talking to him but for some reason his mouth was on his forehead. I was, understandably, a bit confused with his description but he cleared that up by whipping out his Iphone and showing me an image he had photoshopped to explain his trip to people. I can’t reproduce it but believe me when I tell you it was pretty messed up*. This recounting of his evening was enough to convince me never to do acid.**

 

**I know my parents read this blog so I would be dumb to admit to doing acid in the first place in this forum, but honestly that hard stuff scares me more than you would believe.

 

I got to talking to the guy more and he was actually a pretty cool guy. He is an Australian graphic designer who owns his own business. This allowed him to just shut down shop for 2 months and travel around Europe. We talked for a bit about Helvetica which I mentioned in my post about my favorite documentaries (Hotwheels makes fun of me all the time for my obsession with that movie.) When he told me he was in logo design I tried to offer him 2 Euro to make me a logo. He laughed because he usually charges between 1,000 and 5,000 Euro. Although a little too rich for my blood I will continue working on him to see if I can get my own personal insignia before leaving Barcelona.

* after being facebook friends with the graphic designer he posted a photo of what he saw so he could explain it to everybody... this is it. Pretty messed up right?

For the Birds Pt. 2

This photo was taken in Barcelona at a fountain in a crowded square. Apparently this guy was very upset with the bird so he was trying to drown it. It was surreal. There were people sitting all around the edge of the fountain enjoying the beautiful weather when all of a sudden a crazy guy rushes in and starts drowning this bird. The bird, fighting for its life, starts trying to bite him so he will let go. As you can see in the picture one guy sitting on the edge of the fountain stopped him, but then a conflict erupted. All of a sudden the would be bird executioner is yelling at him (in Spanish mind you, but Bolt translated) “DON’T YOU TOUCH ME! DON’T YOU DARE TOUCH ME!

 

I showed this photo to a couple of people in our hostel and they were shocked. What was more surprising however was the fact that a couple of British girls in our room had seen this guy about an hour earlier on his bike chasing the bird around. In their words “it looked bizarre but I figured that he and the bird were mates, and he had trained it to run from him.” If they were friends apparently they had a falling out. 

Crazy House

When we arrived in Barcelona it was around 11 P.M and we hadn’t yet eaten. We tried to check into the hotel but there was a sign up explaining that they were “closing a shift” and would be back soon. Soon apparently meant within the next 45 minutes. While the girls were getting a bit upset because they were so hungry, I took in the crazy bar room antics going on behind us. About 5 minutes after we got there we saw a young Australian man get naked and do 2 laps around the bar, apparently the rules of his game. I was surprised to learn that of all the people playing with him, not many of them knew each other at all. This kind of welcoming environment is something I could get used to.

 

After finally checking in and finding something to eat I was lugging my suitcase up the stairs when I ran into a Canadian gal. “Hola” I told her, thus exhausting my entire retained vocabulary from 3 years of high school Spanish. “Hola”  she said while giving me a come hither stare. “Where are you from?” With this I felt like a bit of a fraud. I had spoken such excellent Spanish that I made this girl believe I was a true Spaniard, I considered going along with this little fantasy I had concocted in my head but instead I decided to come clean:

 

“I’m from the states, Minnesota actually. How about you?”

“I’m from Toronto, what’s your name?”

“I’m [TheHamborgler], how about you?

“I’m Ashley, when you get done putting that bag away you should come down and hang out at our table, we are the loudest ones we should be easy to find”

“I really hope so”

 

After putting my bag upstairs all the girls decided to go to sleep while I went down and drank with an array of foreigners. Although I found Ashley she seemed to be engaged in flirtation with another beau at the time and although every once in a while she would break from that conversation to make kissy faces at me I knew that our grand love affair would never be. Instead I found some other people to talk to. One guy from Australia was pretty messed up, but he informed me he was about to get much more so because he had just taken a fist full of pills. After briefly considering the cost benefit of seeing a stranger completely messed up I decided to move along. So I started talking to a girl who claimed to be Polish. I guess I don’t know what a Polish accent sounds like but this was not what I imagined. I also didn’t imagine a Polish gal to be so cool and breathtakingly gorgeous. Apparently she had broken her jaw a few years ago playing Rugby (bonus) so perhaps that realigned her face in the shape of beauty, either that or I was drunk and she was really cool.

 

This place is nuts and I am very much looking forward to seeing just how crazy it gets. 

Chill Out

While in London we went to an Ice bar. Many of you know I have wonderful natural body temperature regulation so I wasn’t too worried about spending 40 minutes in a bar constructed completely of ice. For 14 pounds we got some time in the ice bar and a free vodka drink. The cups and all the furniture were made of ice which they claimed to import from some far away location because it was the “purest ice in the world. The drinks were all very fancy and had names like “the destructor” or “the mixinator.” Basically the drinks sounded like the names of the American  Gladiators that came onto the show in season 7, after all the good names were taken (I mean… not everyone can be Nitro or Gemini, and only 1 can be Malibu.)

 

In any case, it was cool (literally) for the period of time we were there. We took our pictures and did all the requisite fun things one can do with 40 minutes in a room with ice furniture. Luckily they provided us with parkas and gloves (though my gloves were wet from people spilling drinks on them) so we didn’t get too cold. It was a fun experience and something to check off my list of life accomplishments but I probably wouldn’t go back. It got boring after I ran out of ice based pictures to take and Arnonld-Schwarzenagger-as-Mr.-Freeze based quotes. 

Paris

Paris was unbelievable. It was by far my favorite of the cities we have visited thus far. The food was unbelievable, the town has great character and the people (contrary to stereotype) are extremely nice.

 

Day 1 we spent getting acquainted with the Louvre. Although it is impossible to see everything that museum has to offer in a day we hit all the big pieces (the mona lisa, the Venus de Millo etc.)  The sheer scale of that museum was jaw dropping. One room there put the entirety of the Reijks to shame. After the Louvre we went to the Eiffel tower. Because it is one of the most renown and famouse structures in the world my expectations were pretty high. Although it is certainly breathtaking at first glance it is really not all that beautiful. It is kind of a muddy brown color with green netting all around it. This effect is definitely covered up, however, at night when all the lights are shining out from it and the color of the metal in the structure is obscured.

 

The second day we happened upon a square which offered us amazing views of the city along with fantastic street performers. We must have spent at least a couple of hours watching strangers break dance, put on concerts and do things with a soccer ball I didn’t know were possible. It was amazing and free entertainment with an unbelievable cityscape as the backdrop.

 

The last day I spent at the Picasso Museum. The girls all decided not to go in because the Louvre had exhausted their desire to view art. My thirst for culture however is not so easily satiated. I looked into the museum and wandered around for a little bit. Hoping I would find and fall in love with a little Parisian art lover. Unfortunately things did not unfold that way… I guess I will just have to go back and try again some time. 

Hen Night

While taking the walking tour of London something in particular caught my eye. There was a group of 20 women of varying ages walking down the street together in disheveled and skanky school girl outfits. I could not believe that those ladies actually attended any classes in those cloths nor would any institution tight laced enough to force their students to wear uniforms let that fly. When I asked our tour guide about it she informed me that it was probably a group of women going out for their “hen night.” The british equivilant of the bachelorette party, apparently hen nights usually include a larger group of women (20 was actually a bit low) all dressing up in some form of slutty uniform commonly nurses or schoolgirls. When our tour guide told me this she was surprised that the American bachelorette party did not usually include skanky costumes. I had to tell her “no, in America that is called Halloween.”

Friendly Hostel

Over the course of our journeys we have stayed in some pretty nice hostels. Usually we are accommodated with comfortable beds, clean facilities, good atmospheres and clean rooms. That being said, every hostel is different. Right now we are staying in a hostel called St. Christopher's. It is connected to a bar, this gives us discounts. It also has a cool roof patio that I enjoyed last night after going out. This hostel is great, but it has it's little quirks. First of all, each compartment of the hostel on the way to our room as a distinctly different smell. These smells range from disgusting to quite nice. Also this hostel is nutty because it is massive yet very unorganized. It makes me feel like I am in an M.C. Escher painting.

Van Gogh House V. Rijks Museum

While in Amsterdam I visited both of these museums. Honestly I wish I knew more about the art world. I have always really enjoyed going to art museums but I don’t know enough about the subject to really keep up. I figure while I am over in Europe I can get more educated and see some of the best museums in the world.

 

Amsterdam is the home of two museums dedicated to artists widely considered to be in the top 20 of all time. Rembrandt and Van Gogh. The two Museums were very different though. The Rijks had a great sculpture garden out front where pictures were allowed (bonus) but inside it was extremely small. Also I am not a big fan of the art of Rembrandt. Rembrandt’s paintings look like photographs. While I can certainly appreaciate the amount of skill this takes it doesn’t provide for anything that is very visually interesting. I am sure that if I saw this art before the invention of the photograph I would be singing a very different toon, but as it stands now I can’t look at Rembrandt’s art for very long.

 

This is the only painting in the Rembrandt Museum that really struck me... it is his first attempt at a self portrait done when he was in his early 20's

The Van Gogh museum was awesome on the inside. All of his paintings are visually stimulating, if not realistic looking. His use of color is immaculate. Also the museum itself is much larger and more extensive. I really wanted to take pictures of many of his works but wasn’t allowed (not that that stopped a lot of people.)

 

This was one of my 4-5 favorite Van Gogh pieces at the Museum and the ones the girls were the most into. It was painted for his god daughter. 

Winner: Van Gogh Museum. 

Amster-don't

So far Amsterdam has been by far my least favorite of all the cities we have been to. I am not hip enough to really enjoy the city living and not enough of a tool to get so into Marijuana culture to enjoy the city the way most douche bags do.

 

What is so upsetting is that the city has so much potential. It has great historical sights like the Anne Frank house, great art museums with the Rijks and the Van Gogh Museum blocks from each other. It has great parks and monuments. The problem is that it also has weed. In a place where Marijuana is legalized I expected people to be a bit more high-minded (forgive the pun) about it. I expected people to be able to smoke a joint in a coffee shop but still be able to carry on a good conversation. I underestimated the power of 19-year old American and Canadian potheads. Because of them this wonderful little city is full of shitty souvenir shops which sell t-shirts specifically made for people who are WAY to into smoking weed.

Exhibit A

I guess I can’t blame it on the city. It is a matter of supply and demand. Shops can make a lot of money by selling douches pot based products so why not? I just wish that city had a little more self-respect. 

For the Birds

Chalk up another thing that annoys me about Europe. The birds here are too fearless. They travel in packs and are not afraid of humans at all. They would routinely eat at your feet and then fly right up in your face without any warning. This picture was taken INSIDE of the Amsterdam airport… a bird was just hanging out and eating.

 

PS. I wonder where his flight was too. 

Security Threat

While flying from Amsterdam to Berlin I had to get some new headphones because mine broke during the train ride from Bruges to Amsterdam. I stopped into one electronic shop before the security checkpoint to look for a suitable replacement. I know airports are overpriced but the cheapest sets of headphones here were earbuds, which I find unbearably uncomfortable, for 30 euro. I decided to try my luck on the other side of the security checkpoint.

 

On the other side I saw another electronic store which had a pair of simple headphones for 11.99 euros (or 17 dollars and change American) and I decided to get them so I could listen to my ipod on the plain. This is where the story gets a little interesting. As I walked up to pay the woman at the cashier counter asked for my boarding pass and my passport. After paying she wrote my passport number on the receipt. Why was this necessary? I had already passed through airport security, ostensibly much more detailed and important for national security than buying headphones from an electronic store. Are there a lot of international art thieves buying headphones inside the airport and they want to keep tabs on us? Maybe they were just messing with me because I am American. 

Best/Worst things about Europe

So far Europe has been good but everyplace has its positives and negatives. These are my top three positives and negatives of Europe (or at least the places I have been so far)

Positives:

1) Beauty- every building is amazing. The architecture is nothing like most American cities. its like ever building has its own story. Just walking around sometimes makes me say "wow" out loud.

2) Culture- Everything here has so much more history to it than anything in the US. You feel like you are walking somewhere that has been a turning point in human civilizaton at all times.

3) Walkability- Overhere everyone walks and bikes EVERYwhere... it is really pretty amazing. The way we have explored every city is essentially just to walk around the city aimlessly. It has always been easy. This is not only fun to do but also leaves a smaller carbon footprint... well done Europe.

Negatives:

1) Beverage cost- Most of you know I drink a lot of beverage. When I am at a restaurant I often require a whole pitcher of water over the course of a meal. For this reason it upsets me greatly that water is not free over here. I guess I can understand charging something but here all drinks are unbelievably priced. Yesterday I had to pay 2 Euro for a can of sprite... what the shit?

2) not so public bathrooms- Bathrooms cost money too!  They charge 40 Eurocents per use which is a small enough cost I guess, but the system as a whole doesn't make any sense to me. Sure they generate some revenue, but then they have to pay someone to sit there and collect money from people going in which I think probably results in minimal gain for the owners of the bathroom. Just let me pee for free!

3) Confusing streets- The streets here (especially in Amsterdam) are not constructed in a logical way. Cars are going everywhere, there are no clearly defined places for pedestrians to walk. Bikes and Vespas run rough-shod over the streets. It all results in me being fearful of being hit by everything at all times. As a note... this does not affect it's walkability. You can easily get from everywhere in these cities to everywhere by foot.... you just might get hit walking first.

Aspirin

(note that this was written about four days before it was posted)

After a series of headaches and missteps in the attempt to go to Bruges we finally worked something out. By simply going to the train station we were able to acquire the right tickets to get us to Bruges and then to Amsterdam to check in at night. We had several near disasters but everything seemed to be smiling on us in the end. For example, on the way to Bruges we almost got onto the wrong train but a wonderful Romanian couple stopped us before the train took off. In a fortunate twist this couple was awesome and knew their way around. As a result we spent most of the rest of the day with them.

 From left to right: Squishy, Bolt, Our new Romanian Friends, Me)

Bruges is very similar to Brussels but with a few differences. The canals running through the city make for an amazing tour and 6 Euro is a steal for the value. The other big difference is that, while the chocolatieres are just as delicious they are much more risqué. Now we are in Amsterdam and I am wondering how I am going to make it out of the red light district alive. If I haven’t posted anything in a few weeks I have, indeed, died. 

Headaches on the road

With any trip like the one Bolt, Squishy and I have embarked on there are bound to be headaches, but I wasn’t expecting anything quite this soon.

 

While we were still in Ireland we encountered a Canadian girl at our hostel. She had been traveling around Europe for a few months and was full of tips for us. When we told her that we were stopping in Brussels she told us “then you have to go to Bruges.” She claimed the chocolate was just as good as Brussels but the atmosphere a hundred times better. After she showed me pictures I was convinced. If you imagine Brussels to be the city of the 17^th century nobility than Bruges looked to be the city of the proletariat.

 

Bruges is green and lush, but not in the same way that Ireland is. It looked plant life looks to be a combination of lush green and golden yellow. That combined with the simple yet beautiful architecture made for very impressive viewing. We decided immediately to try and get a train to Bruges.

 

Booking the train to Bruges was not an issue. What was an issue was booking a train from Bruges to Amsterdam (the next leg on our trip.) After trying to book the train for an hour we still had not achieved our goal. We tried several credit cards but every time we tried to pay our fare the card was denied.  Eventually and to our despair we decided to take the hit by eating the 13 Euro fare we paid on the ticket from Brussels to Bruges.

 

Although we were certainly in a frustrating situation it was heartening in a way. None of us erupted in anger at the others (although I for one could feel the frustration mounting inside me.) We all stayed calm and worked our way out of the situation as best we could. So although I think each of us probably could use a few advil, none of us are in search of new traveling companions. 

Found: Willy Wonka’s chocolate factory

Location: Brussels, Belgium

 

When we first arrived in Brussels I was not impressed. On the bus ride in everything looked bleak and sad; like a post-industrial depiction of “big city life.” But after a brief walk from our hostel to the main city square I became absolutely enchanted with this city. When we got to the main commercial area the first thing we did was partake in Belgium’s most famous breakfast food: The waffle. The restaurant we went to was obviously a tourist trap but we didn’t care. Our waffles soaked in Belgian “hot chocolate,” caramel sauce, strawberry’s and ice cream left a very good impression on us (a good taste in our mouths if you will.)

 

After this exquisite meal we walked through some of the most amazing architecture I have ever seen. Honestly, we were surrounded by huge castles, epic statues and memorials and (in my mind Brussels’ best feature) chocolatieres. 

 

Now, I have had Belgian chocolates before but nothing that could prepare me for the next few hours. We walked through literally dozens of chocolate shops each giving away free samples of some of the most delicious stuff you could ever subject your taste buds to. Many of you know I have a sweet tooth the size of Mt. Everest but after about 2 hours of walking around through different stores even I had had enough chocolate. I think Squishy summed it up the best when she said “it’s like Disney land but with chocolate.” Truly we felt like we were in a magic kingdom. After Ireland and Brussels Europe is looking like a mighty nice place to spend my retirement. 

The new IPA

So some of you may know my affinity for pale ales... particularly the IPA (India Pale Ale.) I find these beers to be the most flavorful and the most delicious. I am proud to report a new kind of IPA: the Irish Pale Ale.

Recommended to me by a waitress in Dublin this beer isn't quite as bitter as it's counterpart from India. It still has a full body but a more crisp and clean taste. 

I am in love. Again. 

Profile: Martin

While staying in our hostel in Dublin we ran into Martin, essentially our concierge. Martin was awesome, he was quick witted, friendly and he had the cool Irish accent which makes everything a little bit better. His desk had a sign on it which announced that he was the "director of first impressions." We were playing cards behind his desk during a slow time and he came up and talked to us to pass the time. This is when things started to get a little awkward. 

During our 20 minute conversation he must have made about 5 jokes about how his parents were dead. He said "you know a great man once said  'it's a shame to lose 1 parent... but if you lose 2 that is just irresponsible.' I suppose I need to get some responsibility." and "You know some people tell me I need to go get my mother, but I haven't got the guts" (at this one he held his hands around his stomach to drive the point home that he was joking about her death... it was weird. ) We laughed along awkwardly because we didn't really know what else to do. Overall, Martin is a really good guy but I think he is covering up being really sad about his parents by joking about it with Americans he has only known for like 15 minutes.  Either that or Irish people have a weird sense of humor.

P.S. Yes I know it is weird I took a picture with him... but I took the awkward bullet for the sake of this blog. You're welcome. 

Cast of Characters

My European adventures are officially underway. Here is the relevant cast of characters:

o   The Hamborgler: Debonair charmer on several continents. Although an inexperienced traveler his gusto and excitement more than makes up for anything he lacks.

o   Bolt:  a woman whose passport has been stamped everywhere in the world twice, she is easily the most experienced traveler of the group. She will hopefully lead our expedition to unprecedented heights.

o   Squishy: A traveling companion I will never leave home without. Squishy planned our entire trip’s logistics. Truly, it was amazing… she would just send me a link and say “book this flight” and that was all I had to think about. She was thrifty and resourceful. Amazing.

My Goodness, my Guiness

Stop one in my European adventure: Dublin, Ireland.

The trip to Dublin was uneventful. Nothing bizarre or interesting happened on our flight. Once we got off we could not get into our hostel for a couple of hours. This led us to stop into a pub right kitty-corner from our hostel where I could get a Guinness. This may sound like blasphemy, but I am not a huge fan of Guinness. Although I love dark beers I don’t like them to have the consistency of cough syrup. Despite this fact I still wanted to try a Guinness in Ireland… after all I hear it is much better. My analysis: it is marginally better, but still not good enough to make it the beer I will reach for throughout the rest of my trip.

Taking Care of Business (with Rednecks)

Most of you know that I am a big fan of the website Craigslist.org. I find a lot of very useful things there and have also been able to make some good sales through it. Since my current lease ends tomorrow, the last week has been very active between the personals website and I. One of the item I was trying to move was my parents old leather couch. 

Bought for around $2,000 in 1989 this couch has put in many years of good service to my family. It is also one of the things my friends remember most about my old house. several of my friends, my brothers friends and my sisters friends have spent hours on that couch watching movies and sleeping (as a fun fact: even Hollywood movie star Josh Hartnett had slept on that couch... A fact I chose not to advertise because I thought it would be tacky. Now I am wishing I had spread that to the world.)  It is amazingly comfortable if not a little worn at this point. Although most of the 5 sections were in good shape one of the sections was completely shredded. I figured this and it's age put it's value right around $150. I was wrong.

After about a week of receiving e-mails about the couch and replying with pictures of the couch and it's damage with no buyers I was running out of time. I told Chewy and Frenchie that I was selling the couch, news which was not taken well. Frenchie even told her parents to buy it so it could stay "in the family." Unfortunately that did not come to pass and I had to re-post the couch to Craigslist for $75. At this price I finally had a buyer.

A woman from somewhere up in the boonies told me she would indeed pick the couch up and give me $75 for it. She said she would pick it up on Friday at about 8 P.M. Although this was a little late in the day for me I agreed because I had to be completely moved out of the house on Sunday at noon. So time passes and on Friday at 7:30 PM I give her a call to see if she is still coming. She tells me she is running a bit late and asks if it is ok if I meet her at my house at 10 P.M. I find this 2 hour time difference ridiculous and refuse, telling her to pick the couch up sometime Saturday (part of me was thinking they were just trying to meet me as late as possible so that they could murder me and steal my things.)

On Saturday morning she calls me and tells me she will meet me at my house around 6 PM. I was already going to be there to clean so I don't have a problem with this, but I do ask her just to make sure "Now when you say 6 you do mean six don't you?" She assures me she won't be late. At 5:45 she has yet to call me so I call her. She says she is running behind (not a big surprise I guess) and she will be there in about an hour. At this point I am very irked. Because my house is completely cleaned out I have nothing to do for the extra hour... I sit on my phone and play tetris. An hour later I call again... and again they are an hour out... very upsetting. 

Eventually they do show up and it is like redneck Christmas. The woman I had been talking to looked like she may have been hot in 1982. Now she had leathery orange skin, hair so fried from bleaching I could have used it as a Brillo pad and huge growths on her face. Her boyfriend (brought along to be the muscle) had a pretty hard core mullet and a shirt that read "Harley Davidson: Lone Wolf" and had a picture of a wolf on it.* Long story short, you could tell these people had lived hard. 

*As a side note: I find and clothing with photography of animals on it to be completely ridiculous. It is one of those things that is kinda funny if someone is wearing it ironically but unbelievably sad in every other scenario. Wolves are the animal I see on clothes the most... making them the most sad. Dragons are a close second.

I helped them move all the stuff out but did not help them put it in their truck. Their trailer was rickety and looked like it would fall apart. I was also doubtful it could even fit the whole couch. I did not want to struggle with the headache of how to get it all in, nor did I want to incur legal liability for it falling off the back of the trailer so I left it to my new redneck friends to figure out. After giving them the couch the woman pulls out $67... hands the crumpled wad of bills to me and asks "is this ok?" 

Although the agreed upon price was $75, at this point I was just so sick of these people I would have let them take the couch for free just to be done. I did however say "well I would like the $75 if you have it..." At this the redneck woman pulls out another 37 cents and puts them in my hand. Her boyfriend pulls out a shit load of quarters and gives them to me "that could be around 5 bucks in quarters right there, man... enjoy'em brother." This is why I hate doing business with rednecks.

Wanderlust

It's coming... I leave on Tuesday for my European adventure. Here is the itinerary (I think.) 

Dublin

Brussels

Amsterdam

London

Paris

Berlin

Madrid

Barcelona

Rome

Prague

Greece

hopefully I will be able to update for every city to keep you all aware of the goings on.

Buckle up your seat belts

Frosting...

It is strange to think about the memories that stick with you. Everyday thousands of things happen to us that we forget or never even notice but sometimes the most trivial of events can stay with us for years. For example, I can still vividly remember an argument i had in 5th grade with a classmate about whether Minnesota or Maine was the northernmost state. 

The memory has been around for years: When I was about 16 I remember helping my mother put away the groceries. My mother was not the type to bake cupcakes pies or cakes... so it was irregular to have those supplies around. On this particular trip to the store however my mother had purchased some chocolate icing. Because it was a foreign item in our kitchen I turned to ask my mother where to put it.

I turned around and asked "hey mom, whe---"

"DON'T EAT IT!" she screamed at me. 

There are a couple of funny things about this scenario. First of all, although I am a bit overweight I certainly would not resort to eating just chocolate frosting out of the jar without anything on it. Secondly, she yelled it with such a sense of urgency I think she suspected I would rip to top off the jar and shove the entire contents into my mouth at once. It was a bizarre feeling. 

The Better School: Maryland or Northwood? You be the judge.

For those of you who follow collegiate mock trial you know that every year after the championship round the school that wins get the traveling trophy. It is their responsibility to inscribe not only their own name... but also the name of the school they beat to win the championship. For the last 2 years The George Washington University has finished runner up; first to Maryland and then to Northwood. this picture was taken of the trophy before the championship round next year: 

In case you can't see it the inscription says "Runner-Up: The Georgia Washington University"

You can  say whatever you want to about the school rankings by various sources... in my mind the only thing Northwood has to do to prove itself Maryland's scholastic superior is learn to spell George.

Pizza

Over the last few decades I feel like Americans have stolen this great food from the Italians so that now pizza is more a part of our national identity than theirs. Yesterday while studying for finals I actually had 2 meals of pizza and it got me thinking about my favorite slices in the city. Here are my top five (in no particular order.)

Andrea Pizza

- This parlor is located in the skyway on my way between my parents house and school. Although the most recent discovery of all the pies on my list this one is quickly rising in terms of most consumed. They sell you pizza by the slice, but they don't pre-slice it. Instead when you order they take a whole pizza and cut one big floppy slice off. It is wonderful

Cheetah Pizza

-Another relatively recent addition to the list, this was introduced to me first semester by one of my friends from school. Although it is kind of a hike it is certainly worth the trip. Their Chicken Bacon Ranch pizza is responsible for turning me on to pizzas with sauces other than tomato. 

Davanni's

-This is the largest chain of all the places on my list. Yesterday I had a few slices of their Chicago style deep dish and instantly remembered what I loved so much about it as a teenager. Although I am not a big fan of any of their other crust style, the Chicago is enough to keep me coming back.

Paradise Pizza

- located in my old neighborhood I am not even sure this pizzeria still exists. I used to get it all the time as a pre-teen because a huge pizza only cost $7 (remember that roaring late 90's economy?) I should go back and check it out.

Green Mill

-When I was growing up whenever my parents ordered pizza they would always get a deep dish green mill pizza with artichoke hearts and goat cheese. This completely disgusted me. One time I convinced them to also get a normal style pepperoni. That first bite was glorious. Although the flavor on this pizza is good it loses some points because it is difficult to eat. The Cheese likes to stay completely together as a single layer so on the first bite all the cheese on the pizza has a tendency to slide off. This drawback is still not enough to keep it from my top 5 though.