Tag: city

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A Place in the Clouds

Breaking the cycle. An interruption to the new normal. Pressing pause on the quarantine routine. A short escape. 

After months of laying extremely low in our Mexican apartment, Michelle and I finally left the nest. I honestly hadn’t realized how much of the past 4 months I’d lived indoors. I mean, we would take weekly trips to the market to stock up on produce and then there was the occasional trip to Walmart for other groceries. But those outings are less than 10 minutes away and strictly there and back. The feeling of exploration, or even a simple Vitamin D soak up, has been lamentably absent in recent times.

So, that brings us to the decision. We had a flight credit from March when we were forced to cancel our temporary move to the Riviera Maya after Covid-19 exploded. Therefore, we figured it was a good moment to cash in on a short trip to another magic town.

For this excursion, we traveled to the state of Chiapas. It has an expansive coastline along the Pacific and shares a border with Ecuador to the south. Our principal destination was San Cristóbal de las Casas, which is more or less central. By simply walking from the bus terminal to our accommodation, I could sense a newfound energy within us.

We used part of the first evening to gather information about the various day tours available. Sadly, Palenque, an archeological site of Mayan ruins, was closed even though the government said it was set to reopen a week before our arrival. It was the location we were most excited about discovering. Avoiding other obstacles, we made arrangements for two different tours and took a promenade around the main avenues, familiarizing ourselves with the Spanish colonial layout.

A brief stroll through the tarp-pitched artisanal stalls taught us a few quick things. For one, the natives of every community, no matter how small, primarily speak their own language — an indigenous tongue stemming from the Mayans. Apparently there are enough similarities among the dialects for people of neighboring municipalities to understand each other. Of course, when they’re not gossiping about the tourists, they also speak Spanish to conduct business. The other evident surprise was that few (if any) inhabitants were wearing masks. We later learned that because of their ancient background, they believe that sicknesses can be cured with herbal or holistic medicine. Hence, our masks were as much for them as they were for us. Lastly, without fail, it rains in the afternoon/early evening. In the native vernacular, the name of the city is “Jovel,” which means “a place in the clouds,” so I guess that makes sense.

Our first day trip involved a visit to the Sumidero Canyon. That area of Chiapas is beautifully mountainous, which provided us with some spectacular views along the drive. When we arrived, we hopped in a small motor boat and hit the water. Half of the canyon was still off-limits for some reason. I understand heavily-trafficked tourist areas being shutdown, but it’s a little harder to swallow when in the middle of nature. Violating social distancing when inside a watercraft is rather difficult, but I digress.

To start, we cruised around some islands to get a glimpse of the colonies of pelicans and egrets enjoying the foliage. Next, we were taken relatively close to a few waterfalls cascading off the large cliffs, even getting soaked by one. That was a bonus of the recent rain, however the negative was that we missed seeing crocodiles, monkeys, and some other wildlife that had taken shelter. Though we couldn’t venture farther into the canyon, the contrast of the river weaving down the middle of two towering pieces of rock was an impressive sight.

On the ride back, our group become more comfortable socializing with one another. We met a couple from Texas who were vacationing. The guy spoke impressive Spanish (without much of a gringo accent) after having lived in northern Mexico for 2 full years. He said he started to really grasp the language after 18 months; simultaneously disheartening and understandable. Almost the entire group got together in the evening to hangout at a bar with entertaining live music. That type of setting, the whole people at tables chatting and drinking thing, felt unknown after such a long absence. A decent night on the town nonetheless.

The second tour was a jaunt to two different indigenous communities, a tour of just 3 people —evidence the tourism industry was still suffering. When we arrived in Zinacantán, I was expecting something deserted and simple. Instead, I realized that by “community” they meant “town.” Either way, it was a good day to go because there was a celebration happening. Due to that, there was a parade of all the important men in the town, dressed in their customary attire. We went to a traditional house, which was more of a modest market store. However, it did have a no-frills brick and dirt kitchen where they offered us wood fired tortillas with bean paste and salsa. Unassuming yet delicious.

We were given about 30 minutes of free time to get acquainted with the rest of the place. As with the majority of these localities, the main square is centered around the church. Without question, it is the building that the residents take the most pride in. A fun fact about this particular church was that only the men in the community (those we had seen in the parade) have the responsibility of cleaning, decorating, and caring for the building. The women aren’t permitted to touch anything inside, even the flowers. That is actually notable too, because the entire wall behind the alter was filled with an ornate design of blooming bouquets. Photography wasn’t allowed inside, so you’ll have to imagine it with your internal lens.

Before entering the other community, our guide pulled the van aside to explain a few important things to us. The story of Chamula is fascinating and…a bit scary. For starters, the Mexican government doesn’t have jurisdiction there anymore, supposedly as a result of the Zapatista movement — a far-left libertarian-socialist group that organized in 1994 to combat economic globalization and oppression against indigenous peoples. While the fight may have been positive in the early years, nowadays, the leaders have become corrupt and the area is purportedly a prominent piece for narco trafficking. We were advised to keep an eye out for the elaborate houses, sat next to humble shacks, that were a clear sign of the owner’s involvement in the game (even though they “only sold pollo”). Another scintillating tidbit is that they actively practice polygamy. It’s such a misogynistic community that if a woman is seen talking to a man, it means she is then obligated to marry him. Yikes. I kindly asked Michelle to avoid making eye contact when possible.

Again, the main attraction was the church. Continuing the tasty goss, it also has an exotic background. On its face, it is a Catholic church. However, the religion is actually a mixture of Spanish Catholic traditions, pre-conquest Mayan customs, and recent creations. There are statues of Catholic saints on tables throughout the building, but they represent Mayan Gods. In addition, the floor is covered with green pine needles to separate the worlds of the living and the dead. Also — the most impactful practice — is that on top of the common offerings such as candles, flowers, and cigarettes, they make live animal sacrifices in dire circumstances. We saw one happen. I heard the sound of a chicken struggling and then saw a woman with a firm grip on flapping wings. Moments later, there it lied, lifeless on the floor.

It’s interesting. Michelle’s mom is religious. She believes in a lot of different things. After she found out we were there, she told us that we needed to cleanse ourselves of the toxic vibes. Michelle didn’t heed the advice while I disregarded it because of my non-belief/denial in such ideas. Fast forward to the next day and Michelle felt consistently awful, sidelined with an illness for the entire evening. I attribute it to the shrimp she ate for lunch, but who knows for sure?

Thankfully, we squeezed several things in before the attack of the spirits took effect. Instead of going on another field trip into nature, we elected to explore the culture of the San Cristóbal more in depth. We took a free walking tour with 3 participants once more. Even though it was completely in Spanish, I think I understood about 60-70% of what our guide said. He recanted the relevant history and introduced us to the underground art scene. We literally showed up at a random house and went inside to find an art studio of various projects. For me, this is the kind of experience that adds dimension and personality to a city. Next, we visited a collective of various small businesses that shared a picturesque courtyard. We had a free tasting of Pox, a local alcoholic beverage similar to mezcal (but made primarily of corn). It was the perfect way to conclude the tour.

In general, uncovering the modern, artistic side reinvigorated my desire to delve into similar places. The combination of current perspectives mixed with a traditional, quaint environment really does add an element of magic to these towns. I’m sure it helps that I was long overdue for a change of pace. I had forgotten the freshness of these feelings. Right now, I think it’s especially important for us to make an effort to inject this into our lives. In our normal routines, complacency sets in within a few months and it’s certainly much quicker when we’re stuck inside without the capacity to follow our lust for adventure.

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In Summary: Europe

If you ask me to pick my favorite memory from my adventure through Europe, I would stare at you as if defective. I was there for almost 6 months. That period of time exists in my mind as a blurred frenzy of history, Flixbus, walking tours, water, Oktoberfest, and, strangely (but deliciously) kebabs. Add them all together and I think I had a relatively well-balanced tour of customs and shenanigans.

The amount of Europe I traversed would maybe cover approximately one third of the US. But within that space, each country basically has their own distinct language and culture. I spent the majority of my days between The Netherlands, Germany, and Poland — I’ll expand a bit on those.

The Dutch lead a very free spirit existence, obviously, but it’s not just because they’re high everyday. They like to go about life in an uncomplicated way. Plus, they’re fit because of all the biking they do. In additional to the ample cycle paths, the canals also create a beautiful layout to the city. Each street seems to have a unique character based on either the length, width, or bridges that surround the water.

There’s more nature to enjoy in the many parks scattered throughout. Lying in a green space soaking up the sun is a super chill way to spend an afternoon. Obligatory mention of weed again. If art is more your speed, you’ll be spoiled for choice in terms of museums; you can visit Rijks, Van Gogh, and Rembrandt. I was in a period of adjusting to the Euro so I didn’t partake myself, which is an unfortunate fact of life. It just means there’s a plethora of fresh activities waiting for me when I return. Amsterdam tops my list of cities I would most like to live if I ever move to Europe.

With all of that being said, I found the German culture the easiest to acclimate to. Even though you can find more structure and efficiency in the mundane — the checkout line in the grocery store for example — the charms of the cities and neighborhoods reminded me more of home. I settled into a routine there quite quickly. It was comfortable to hang out in the “alternative” areas of St. Paul in Hamburg or Kreuzberg in Berlin. The street murals and dive bars were a welcome reflection of the artistic vibe I’m used to.

Maybe my affinity for beer is to blame, but to me, one of the best features is the ability to drink publicly in open spaces while enjoying the company of friends. The beer prices are pretty absurd too. I mean, you can get a .5L can for around €.30 and recycle it for a €.25 refund. So…you’re just about breaking even. It was a different story at Oktoberfest, however, where a stein was almost €13. For more on that drunken carnival, you can read this post.

Onto Polska, the land of gołąbki and pierogi. The history of this place is a vicious rollercoaster of invasion, brief independence, and occupation once again. Thus, resilience is a common characteristic of the people. I’ll add resourcefulness and tenacity to the mix as well. I’m pretty sure every Polish grandmother has a hardy exterior with a compassionate interior. One thing is for sure: they want you to be well-fed. I volunteered at a language camp in the countryside for a week and the 3 ladies in the kitchen were constantly plopping an extra portion on my plate. I tried to convince them I was a little fat with a complete absence of muscle but, you know, the language barrier and such.

On top of teaching English to the intelligent and charismatic youth of the country, I also worked at a hostel for a month in Krakow.

What a city.

I have trouble expressing the feeling of walking among the cobbled streets and stone walls of the old town. Suffice to say I was excited to just meander. It was like wandering through history with the amenities of the future. I don’t think you can find that combination anywhere in the U.S. Krakow might seem like kind of a hipster pick of European cities to visit, but it’s starting to make some lists. I can’t help but recommend it as well.

Another very on-the-grid tourist hot spot I visited was Prague. It has been widely discussed as a popular destination for good reason. Besides the architecture and vibe, which parallel Krakow somewhat, there are various unique attractions. I found the bridges and Prague castle mesmerizing. Six hours of exploring and taking pictures evaporated in a flash there.

The same can be said for Zadar and Split, a pair of Croatian coastal towns on the Adriatic Sea. The old forums and slender network of streets in the historic centers boasted a Romanic feel. And romantic. I’ll say it. Unfortunately, I was a little late for sailing season, but sunsets from shore were still absolute perfection.

Even though the sun has now set (for now) on my expedition through the Old Continent, I think my favorite memory is that I have so many to reminisce on: the weight of my backpack changing as I took out my camera; the way a group of fellow hostel-stayers assembled to enjoy a night out; the realization that I was standing atop historical significance; the subtle burn on my forehead as the sun reflected off the water; the atmosphere of a specific location that swept me away. This period of my life will always be marked by the liberation and influence of these experiences. That is the essence of travel.

By the Numbers

Days in Europe: 169
Countries Visited: 7
Cities Visited: 15
Days at Workaways: 58
Days Housesitting: 17
Social Network Meetups: 9
Euros Spent: ~€4476.02
USD Spent: ~$5016.70

Here’s the map of things I did in Germany, as it was the most extensive:
(click the top left button of the map to expand the list view)


Favorite Cities:
1. Amsterdam
2. Krakow
3. Prague
4. Ghent
5. Berlin
6. Split
7. Hamburg
8. Brussels
9. Zagreb
10. Sarajevo

Favorite Attractions:
1. Oktoberfest, Munich
2. Brown Bars of Brussels
3. Main Square, Krakow
4. Prague Castle, Prague
5. Vondelpark, Amsterdam
6. The Metronome, Prague
7. Old Town, Mostar
8. Plitvice Lakes, Croatia
9. East Side Gallery, Berlin
10. Elbphilharmonie, Hamburg

Favorite Walking Tours:
1. Mostar, Bosnia & Herzegovina
2. Amsterdam, Netherlands
3. Alternative Tour, Berlin, Germany
4. Hamburg, Germany
5. Zadar, Croatia
 Favorite Museums:
1. Oskar Schindler Enamel Factory
2. Ghent Museum of Design
3. Auschwitz + Auschwitz II Birkenau
4. Museum of Broken Relationships
5. SMAK

Lastly, below is an album of what I deemed to be the best photos taken during this leg of the journey.

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Rock the Kasbah

It’s a 1980s song where the lyrics are often mistaken. It’s a 2010s film I’ve never seen. In 2019, I did my own rocking in Morocco. The first time I’d set foot on African soil. Will it be the last? Keep reading.

My friend Jud and I decided that we wanted to link up and explore the wonders of this North African country. I’d heard friends rave about it. Contrarily, while in Europe, I’d heard incredibly poor reviews. Still, it seemed like it was worth taking the chance.

I landed in Marrakech about 3 days ahead of Jud, so I had a chance to familiarize myself with the customs and surroundings. As with many, if not all, of the poorer countries in the world, cash is king. When I arrived, I planned to get some in the airport. I retrieved my bag and noticed just about everyone exchanging money at a single, very central currency counter. I searched for an ATM without any luck and decided to follow suit with the rest of the crowd. FYI – brutal conversion and service fees. There are plenty of cash machines in the city, which I’m sure charge far less per withdrawal. Since my goal was to take a local bus into downtown, I needed it right away, unfortunately.

That plan was a somewhat wild ordeal. No surprise, even in early November, Morocco is hot. I walked about 15 minutes in the baking sun to the bus stop. I was trusting Google Maps even though it had a warning about uncertain schedules. The warning was accurate. I waited there for what seemed like over an hour. Many, many other buses came and went. Just when I was going to surrender for a taxi, the L20 arrived. I was without question the only white person on board. I ignored and/or smiled politely to the onslaught of stares.

A mere 30 minutes later, I was dropped off outside the southern wall of the medina. That’s what a “kasbah” (“casbah” in English) is by the way — an old city or fortress.

I walked among the cramped, often dead-end streets before I found my hostel for the next few nights. The check-in process was interesting as there was no formal reception and no one to greet me for several minutes. That being said, there was a cool vibe with 3 floors surrounding an open-air courtyard with rooftop hangout areas as well. The 2 proprietors took time to sit down and chat with me about life as well as some pointers about the main attractions.

After a shower to wash the 20+ hours of travel off, I did a cursory walk around the main square. It was a blistering cacophony of…just about everything.

  • Motorbikes weaving around cars that barely had enough space to traverse the streets.
  • Mosques.
  • Walls within walls.
  • Snake charmers.
  • Juice vendors.
  • Handcraft stalls and pushy shirt-sellers.
  • Plenty of barber shops.
  • And let’s not forget shawarma.

I was mainly prepared for orange facades and the mix of French and Arabic culture. It was a lot more than that. I grabbed some food from a small eatery and headed back to the hostel to digest this first impression.

There wasn’t enough time to take a 2-3 day excursion out into the Sahara, so I booked a day trip to the Ourika Valley instead. The itinerary was super appealing on paper, so I had decent expectations. It promised a visit to a Berber village, a look at how Argan oil and handcrafts are made, as well as a trek to a waterfall and a camel ride.

It was mostly a let down. Everything was a crowded tourist trap, nature walk included. The camel ride especially was disappointing. The boys were lasso’d to one another, and it was just a 10-15 minute walk next to a main road. The village built into the mountain was sweet to gaze at from afar, but I’m not sure it was enough to save the day. Still, it was $45 USD (including tip for the guide) so at least it was affordable.

That basically brings us to Jud’s arrival. Our Moroccan adventure was essentially split into four parts based on where we spent our time.

MARRAKECH (PT. II)

Jud was more or less my sugar daddy on this trip — covering the AirBnBs and some other transportation costs.

We met up at the first accommodation in the north medina, which was somewhat difficult to find even with a map and specific instructions. Thank the lord for their very specific blue front door.

Even though he had been traveling for 20+ hrs with no sleep, we decided to go for a wander. I was familiar with some of the souks and the main square but that’s about it.

After some time weaving through the maze, we were approached by a “friend” who “just wanted to practice his English.” Many of the vendors and street goers are aggressive in getting your attention. It wasn’t a surprise. But this guy implanted himself into our walk, since “his house was the same way we were going.” Once he brought up taking us to a tannery, I knew it was a scam. An elaborate one.

The thing is, a tannery at its peak definitely looks worth a visit. I’ve seen some enticing photos, this dude even showed us one. The reality was not the same.

I tried explaining what would happen to Jud since I was almost wrapped up in the same scam a few days before. I thought we would arrive and be able to leave at the entrance. Our guy was in the midst of handing us off to his pal, the friendly tannery tour guide, when I asked how much it would cost. “Don’t worry about price,” he said (as if it was a dumb question). Jud and the guide continued ahead as I walked dejected, 30ft behind. It was a very uncomfortable feeling.

The place was in absolute shambles. It was apparently the last day of its operation for the next while. But we “had to see it” because “the Berber people are down from the mountains” and “only for today.”

The shallow pools used to color animal hides, normally filled with a beautiful array of bright tones, were completely brown and smelly. The dredges of mud and pigeon shit used to seal the stain. It was abysmal.

A 5 minute spiel ended and we were shepherded to a shop that sold the completed goods. Yet another handoff, this time to a salesperson. After we clearly weren’t interested in buying anything they let us leave. The first two guys magically appeared a few steps away from the shop and asked us to pay them for their services. An argument ensued from my end since I was never told the price. It wasn’t a good look, but I was careful not to be taken advantage of. Since Jud is a stand up guy, he paid them something to leave us alone.

Be warned: if you’re ever in Marrakech, don’t accept a tannery tour from anyone other than an agency or your accommodation.

On our walk back to the AirBnB we had to fend off another guy pining for money for trying to show us the way even though we didn’t need him and he didn’t know where he was going. That left me with a sour impression of Marrakech. I mean, I guess you can’t blame them for trying to make money, but honesty when prompted is kind of the decent thing to do.

The next day we made our own tour of some main attractions. First we visited a very disappointing tomb. It was a 40 minute line to see an intricately tiled room for a handful of seconds. Then, we went to a place called Bahia Palace which was built in the 19th century by the head of government. I didn’t realize it at the time, but the main courtyard was surrounded by 12 rooms, used by his 24 concubines. An incredibly detailed place, with carved molding and ceramic designs aplenty. Afterward, we checked out the highly regarded Secret Garden. It was nicely manicured, though I couldn’t help but think that it was only championed because it was a refuge of greenery in the middle of the desert.

So 1 success out of 3 made for an unimpressive day out. However, we finished it off with a rooftop sunset, a liter of beer and some shawarma.

A mistake was made somewhere along the way in terms of street meats eaten because that night was the beginning of a few rough days for the butthole. Another lesson learned.

Personally, I was happy to bid farewell to the hectic ambush of Marrakech for something more relaxed. The following day, Jud and I boarded a bus bound for “the blue city.”

ESSOUIRA

We enjoyed a pleasant yet windy walk along the coast to reach the medina. There was significantly less people and a lot more open space. Our AirBnB host walked us up a few flights of narrow stairs to reach his flat. He showed us our room and the excellent rooftop eating area where we would later watch the sunset.

It was early evening, so we got a restaurant recommendation and took a casual stroll. The wind was bitter after the sun was too low to pierce the slender streets. Jud and I made a wildly unnecessary, in-person reservation considering we were the only people in the place for the first 20 minutes of our meal. A pair of girls (Dutch and American) were eventually seated with us and we chatted for over an hour. I was continually distracted by what was going on with my insides that I didn’t eat or contribute much.

We parted company somewhere in the chilly avenues of the old city and returned to our a accommodation. That night, I nearly oozed the bed, which I’m assuming is a brand new sentence. I roughed it through until morning and turned to a medicinal solution.

It was a low-key start to the day. Breakfast overlooking the sea, no big deal. Afterward we strolled around the port which was bustling with vendors and gulls hoping for fish scraps. We were walking along the top of the sea wall when a rogue wave crashed over the rocks, completely soaking Jud. It was possibly the most direct hit the ocean has ever made. Somehow, I was lucky and only got a little salt water mist on my camera.

Once Jud changed into dryer clothes, we explored more of the city streets and gates. We saw the 18th century cannons and people making handcrafts.

We roamed the beachside path outside the medina for quite a while. There were kitesurfers, ATVs, and camel rides happening even though it was largely deserted. I wondered how different the vibe would be if it was more lively. Perhaps the wind was a deterrent. Strong gales whipped us back from time to time, took my hat for a ride once, and created an invisible sheet of sand that peppered our faces. We took refuge on a tree-lined cafe patio to have lunch.

That evening, after soaking in the sunset, we tried a traditional Moroccan restaurant. It looked upscale based on the fancy table dressings and golden wall decor. However, the entrance was awkward considering basically everyone looked up from their dishes to stare at us. We had the good fortune of sitting side by side facing them, so that was fun. The food was solid though, so we left happy despite having spectators for every bite.

The remainder of the evening was uneventful. We woke up for another rooftop breakfast and then caught a bus back to Marrakech to snag a train to Casablanca.

CASABLANCA

It seemed like nobody had anything good to say about Casablanca. “It’s a very industrial place.” “There’s nothing interesting to do there.” “Meh.”

I guess we should have listened.

The AirBnB was super nice, with lovely hosts, but the city left something to be desired. It was the most sprawling, but the least interesting in terms of visuals. There were some newer buildings under construction, but no consistent theme.

Apologies for this unimaginative section. The absence of descriptive writing reflects the blandness of the location.

We made our own walking tour to look at the purported interesting architecture. An old post office and bank, several hotels, and then some more banks. It didn’t offer enough to get my camera out of the backpack. “Meh.”

Even the medina was dull. Maybe it was the path we took, but there seemed to be very few remnants of history and alluring sights. We followed a boring street for a while until we got to Rick’s Cafe. Again, my expectations were different from reality. It was sandwiched between two other buildings and had a security guard out front. It appeared rather new and lacked any sort of unique 1940s vibe. I mean, the design was inspired by the movie, but that was difficult to ascertain from the exterior. The interior probably did a better job but since we didn’t want to get gouged by steep beer prices we passed.

Instead, we made our way along the water to check out the world’s third biggest mosque — Hassan II — an ominous sight, with a low layer of fog hugging the building. The minaret is the second largest in the world, so that had no problem sticking out of the translucent white blanket. Unfortunately, we were there at a weird time so we missed out on taking a tour of the inside. It was still by far the most interesting attraction we saw on our journey around the city.

(As a caveat, we didn’t visit La Corniche, which is apparently the beachy area where “the golden youth” hangs out. The nightlife was supposed to be decent there, but I’ll have to give that a shot on another trip.)

RABAT

Since we were unimpressed with Casablanca, we spontaneously decided to take a day trip to Rabat, which was a short train ride up the coast. It turned into a very worthwhile audible because it was easily the coolest place we encountered across our entire Moroccan adventure.

The main city had a slightly modern European vibe in terms of the layout and architecture. We made our way through the medina quickly until we reached the kasbah nestled on the mouth of an inlet. Inside, there were beautiful alleys of white and blue houses from around the 12th century. It would have been an awesome place to get lost in for a few hours. However, some guy took us on an unwanted 20 minute tour, whisking us through the place before requesting a ridiculous amount of money. A 2 hour walking tour in any major European city has more information and costs a quarter of what this guy was trying to charge. It was the only downside to the entire excursion.

Once we left his company, we found a free art museum inside a gorgeous palace courtyard. Then, we took a jaunt by the water and had lunch on a nice cafe patio.

From there, we made a gigantic loop around the freshly constructed part of the city until we wound up back at the train station.

Rabat had the potential to be a great 2-3 day destination, if only we had known beforehand.

On our last day, we took a train back to Marrakech and then a taxi to the airport. Jud disappeared through security in the early afternoon but my flight didn’t depart until around 7am the next morning. I made a quick trip back into the city to spend the rest of my dirham on some decent Christmas gifts. I rearranged my luggage for another 20+ hours of travel and stayed up chatting with friends until I was able to go to my gate.

Due to the lack of sleep and new destination excitement, I left my laptop smushed between bins at the security checkpoint. Surprisingly, I didn’t panic when I noticed hours later.

Thanks to a random travel mate connection, I was able to get it recovered. It was a painful and expensive process receiving it in Mexico, but now it’s back in my possession. Hooray! I’m going to blame that ordeal for the tiny abyss between posts.

Next I’ll have a summary of Morocco as well as a big look at my European leg. Hopefully sooner than later. Stay tuned!

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Ongoing Conflict Resolution

Everybody said that once you’d seen the bridge, you’d seen Mostar. But were they considering all the different angles you could find? Unsure.

It’s true that you can walk through the old town in around 15 minutes. However, there are a myriad of terraces and miscellaneous paths you can wander down. Like 7.

By the way, I’m talking about Bosnia & Herzegovina.

Ok. So, you can see Mostar in pretty much a day. If that’s the plan, you have to make Sheva’s walking tour a mandatory activity at some point on that day. It’s the only one that exists, presumably because it’s such a small town, but it’s also amazing. My group consisted of 4 people in total (low season). That was the perfect size to get in-depth on certain topics and make it more of a discourse. It seemed like every resident knew him, and in turn he knew everything about Mostar.

We started in the center of the old town and learned about the ancient history. The Muslim influence of the Ottoman Empire explained the plethora of minarets among the skyline. The name ‘Mostar’ means bridge-keeper, so…it makes sense that the thing is such a staple there.

Apparently it’s a rite of passage for every man to jump off the bridge into the river below. It’s a distance of 22 meters aka about 70 feet. They have their own method and everything. In the summer, there’s an entire diving competition. Even being in the middle of autumn, with the water temperature at 9º Celsius, there were still daily jumps. I witnessed one. Sheva told us that anybody could jump if they wanted, they just had to pass a test run of 16m. My interested was piqued.

That’s where it remained. Should I have done it? Perhaps. But I also enjoy being conscious and having my faculties, as dim as they may seem sometimes.

Once the foundational history was established, Sheva began to describe the more recent and difficult past surrounding the Bosnian war that spanned 1992-1995.

As Bosnia & Herzegovina is home to 3 different cultures of people (Bosnians, Croatians, and Serbians), it was complicated when Yugoslavia began to disband in 1991. Once the conflict really broke out, Mostar was divided into two halves: Croatians to the west and Bosnians to the east — the line of demarcation being the main road. We stood on a spot that was in the middle of two buildings that were still devastated.

From that point, he showed us an old bank building on the Croatian side of town that was used as a sniper tower. To this day, some 20 years later, it still sits there abandoned and a symbol of the death and destruction that occurred. A day later, I went and “snuck in” to take a closer look. Nowadays, it’s just a few stories of graffitied concrete and errant weeds. But if those walls could talk.

From Mostar, I took a bus to the capital of Sarajevo. Much more sprawling. The city center had clear influences of the two ruling powers. In fact, there was an actual line separating the Ottoman Empire section from the Austro-Hungarian side. The former featured short stone buildings, fountains and, of course, an important mosque; the latter had square, colored architecture with intricate detail. A relic of that era that I completely spaced on was the assassination site of Arch Duke Franz Ferdinand and his wife. I stood where Gavrilo Princip pulled the trigger and ignited World War I. Pretty wild to think about.

My favorite spot was an alley full of shops that offered hand-chiseled copper goods — an array of coffee sets, jewelry, and ornamental plates. Taking a stroll down this tiny avenue came with a soundtrack of ticking and tacking. It’s a shame I don’t enjoy coffee. Blasphemous in this region.

During my other exploring, I took a cable car up to the top of the nearby mountain and walked down. This gave me the opportunity to become an honorary olympian, albeit sledless. As Sarajevo hosted the 1984 Winter Olympic Games, there was an entire bobsled track up there…also abandoned and graffitied. It was a unique attraction, but I think it actually sounds cooler than it was.

The last major thing I did was tour the City Hall. It was originally the National and University Library of Bosnia. During the war, it was shelled so bad that almost all of the 1.5+ million books and rare manuscripts were damaged/burned beyond saving. The building was renovated over the course of almost 20 years and reopened in 2014 as a national monument. The interior molding, paintings, and sculptures are quite stunning.

As a special exhibit, they were screening a film called “Scream For Me Sarajevo” that documented a concert Iron Maiden played in the city while it was under siege in 1994. It was a well-crafted narrative from members of the band and citizens that attended the show. They gave their accounts of what life was like during the war and how they were willing to risk their lives to see Bruce Dickinson sing. The amount of influence and inspiration that one band and one gig had over the morale of a city’s population is astounding. I’m not sure it gets any better than that from a musician’s standpoint. The most meaningful show they’ll ever play I’m sure.

https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=gYuNEF7Snok

Ending on a high note, I departed Sarajevo just as the consistent rain was rolling in. It was one more European bus journey before flying to Morocco to meet up with ole pal Judson. Onto a new continent, climate, and culture.

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Fjaka

It’s the Croatian coastal term for “the art of doing nothing.” I got into it. I got used it to. I enjoyed the hell out of it.

Croatia was runner-up at the most recent World Cup, as all the football/soccer fans out there would know. For those unaware, maybe you’re familiar with Yacht Week and all the glorious sailing? Still no? How about the birth place of the cravat? Ok, surely you knew that many Games of Thrones scenes were filmed in Dubrovnik then? I knew about 3 of the 4. As a frequent cravat wearer, I had no clue about Games of Thrones, obviously. What even is that?

While I didn’t make it down to Dubrovnik to experience the majesty of the King’s Landing set, I visited 3 other major cities throughout the country.

ZAGREB

I started in the capital city of Zagreb, not far from the Slovenian border. As I was recovering from Oktoberfest, I laid low for a few days. I literally only left the hostel to find food. I was also catching up on some freelance work and overall life admin.

Eventually, I decided to go on the free walking tour to learn about my surroundings. This revealed two legends: one about the checkerboard design used on the flag (a chess victory over the Italian King) and the origin of the city’s name (a love story of a girl grabbing water for a military general). Let’s not forget the gem about the cravat either.

We entered through the stone gate, visited St. Mark’s church, and watched the traditional firing of the canon at noon. While there was no canon ball projectile, there was a legit sound of the blast. Incredibly loud and unexpected.

Another notable thing I did was visit The Museum if Broken Relationships, which was started by a former Croatian couple. It is what it sounds like: a collection of items and first-hand accounts that tell the story of breakups from all over the world. Some were humorous, some were tragic, and some were unquestioningly odd. Like the 27 year old scab that someone’s partner saved. Love really knows no bounds.

ZADAR

My next stop was a few hours due south to the coastal settlement of Zadar. While the old town was very compact, it can best be described by one of my favorite adjectives — cozy.

It was a collection of narrow pathways and alleys that created a maze. Think Venice without the canals. That’s actually an accurate example since it was under Venetian rule several times throughout history.

There was an ancient forum in the center of town, circa 48 BC, that was mostly in ruins. Still, there were plenty of churches and old stone buildings to be amazed by. In addition to the historical landmarks, there were also two modern installations by the water. One was a series of tubes and steps built out into the Adriatic Sea that made music based on the waves.

Just a few feet away was a big digital sun set into the ground. It played a light show to keep everyone entertained after the incredible sunset had finished. On that subject, Alfred Hitchcock is on record saying that Zadar has the most beautiful sunsets in the world. Thanks for the tip, man. I did partake in viewing my fair share. No complaints.

For a one day excursion, I took a trip out to Plitvice National Park to see some nature. I didn’t even consider that the autumn colors would be in full effect. It was a gorgeous day to soak in the vibrant array of greens and oranges. Walking next to calm, reflective lakes and intricately shaped waterfalls was a pleasant way to spend a few hours walking.

SPLIT

I kept the coastal vibes flowing by continuing my tour down to Split. This was a more popular destination for tourist as it’s bigger and more of a hub for cruise ships and various island hopping.

The old town here was larger and impressive, the main palace dating back to the 4th century before the Christians came and gave it an update in the 1300s.

There were still tight winding avenues to get lost in, but also bigger promenades to accommodate the influx of people during peak season.

Split was established on a peninsula that has a modest hill you can quickly hike to enjoy a panoramic view of the landscape. I was too late to catch the literal sun setting thanks to daylight savings throwing me off, but that didn’t take away from the spectacle. I saw orange bouncing off the inland mountain range that hugs the city. A soft gradient of yellow outlined the peaks and gradually transitioned to blue. Opposite that, layers of pink and purple hovered above the water and blanketed the islands. Noice.

This is where I embraced fjaka. I went to the beach and just existed for a while. The beaches here are beds of small stones. At first I was skeptical, but I must say it gets my vote above sand. I wasn’t toting 10,000 grains with me for days after I left. Sure, it was a bit less comfortable to lay on, but with a proper towel or blanket it’s all good. I thought I’d missed out on swimming since it was deep into fall. On the contrary. Plenty of locals were taking refreshing dips so I did as well. While the water was by no means warm, it was totally manageable in the Mediterranean sun. Clear and salty. The fish were curious but seemed fine sharing.

After the much appreciated relaxation and vitamin D top up, I made arrangements to travel to Bosnia & Herzegovina. I wasn’t really aware of it as an option months ago, but fellow backpackers had good things to say. Might as well.

A mind is like a parachute.
It doesn’t work if it’s not open.

Frank Zappa

That was randomly pulled from the internet. Sounds good though.

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Stare Miasto Maestro

Meat and potatoes. Pierogi. Sometimes cabbage when it’s wrapped around meat.

Ok, there’s a little more to the Polish cuisine than that, but it’s still very hearty, which is also a pretty good description of the people. Direct, organized and hard working. Over the month+ I spent in the country, I met a decent amount of natives. They all seemed highly motivated with busy schedules. Unless they were a żul — a homeless person that drinks in the park. I got called that one night, so that’s a nice look at the current trajectory of my life.

My introduction to Poland came via a moderate-sized city called Szczecin, two hours east of Berlin. Yes, it’s just as difficult to pronounce as it is to spell (a general rule of thumb you can apply to the entire language). In Szczecin, I joined up with the people involved in my week-long Workaway at an English language camp. Sascha, the coordinator, was from the US but living in Poland for the past 7 years and my fellow volunteers were from Australia, New Zealand, India, Hong Kong, and various parts of the UK. We were given an informal tour of the city, which gave us a chance to get to know each other a bit. The next day, we left for camp.

NativesWorld 2019 took place at a “palace” near a lake in a small village. There were a little over 30 kids, ranging from 10-17 years old. Our days consisted of one-on-one conversations, group meals, games/activities, and differing night entertainment. It was actually a lot more exhausting than it sounds. If the English-speaking volunteers were tired at the end of each day, I can’t imagine how the Polish kids felt. For the most part, they all had a solid grasp on the language and were excited to communicate about any random topic. It was fun getting to connect with the youngsters and the staff throughout the week. At the end of each day, the volunteers went down to the dock and chatted while the sun finished setting. That gave me an opportunity to “stitch up” one of my roommates, Tim, who was from New Zealand and taught me that term. I still don’t think I’m using it correctly. Anyway, once the week was over, the group of mentors had a very aggressive night out back in Szczecin, as if the 7 days of not drinking at camp was the longest drought we could endure. Good times.

In addition to the teaching responsibilities, I was also shooting photos and video as a freelance gig for Sascha. Freelance has been creeping up recently, which is a minor, but incredibly helpful income stream that replenishes my coffers to keep me traveling.

My next endeavor was a month-long Workaway at a very well-located hostel in Kraków. It was a 32-bed accommodation with a small but social kitchen and common room. The shifts were in super manageable 3-hour increments; either putting out breakfast, mid-day cleaning, or night watch. While I was there, there was at least 4 other Workawayers at a time. Since our work was low-key, we had plenty of time to hang around and chat about random topics. I got into a few one-sided, yet hilarious conversations with an intelligent mid-20s Scotsman named Jack. His smarts also helped us to 2 pub quiz victories, a valuable pathway to free beer and food.

Other than that, I kept a relatively chill profile over the month. There was a 24-hour convenient store directly under the hostel which made things a little too easy. I was based in the Old Town (Stare Miasto in Polish) so everything was in walking distance. Hence, most of my outings involved walking around and enjoying the city. And what a city. Kraków is the second biggest in Poland, but notably amazing because the medieval center has remained largely intact. There’s an impressive city gate, a castle on a river, a cloth trading hall and several cathedrals. On top of the old buildings, there’s also a ton of history in the Jewish quarter and areas surrounding the city, mainly because of the German takeover at the beginning of WWII. The Oskar Schindler Factory Museum (one of the best museums I’ve ever been to), gives a comprehensive account of the German occupation. As you move through the exhibits, it really takes you on a journey from 1939-1945.

The Auschwitz camps are also an hour’s drive away. The museum site tells the story of how the concentration and extermination camps were formed. You can walk into several buildings to see the confiscated belongings, cells of the first gassed prisoners, and most disturbingly, something like one ton of leftover human hair. If that doesn’t make you shudder, there is an abyss occupying the space where your heart should be. Next, you can go to Auschwitz II-Birkenau and be in awe of the sheer scale of the place. The expansive camp was home to 174 barracks and 4 crematoria. Trains brought people straight to the “death platform,” where approximately 80% were immediately sent to the gas chamber. I was there on a hot day where there is no cover of shade. I can only imagine how awful it was for the prisoners to have to work in those conditions, with such little water and food rations, and then have to sleep 4 to a tiny bed in a building of over 700. Not to mention the winter months, having to strip naked and wait outside the shower building for up to 5 hours. It’s astounding to imagine the level of evil required to put other humans through that.

On a lighter subject, there’s also a salt mine within a short public transit ride. Jack and I went one day to see the underground, unexpected amazement. We went on a 2 hour tour and only saw 1% of the mine. The thing must be absolutely massive. At our deepest point, we were over 400m (~1300ft) below the surface. There was a full blown cathedral in there as well. I didn’t lick the walls, but I did taste some random liquid runoff. In retrospect, that was probably the more risky maneuver.

Another memorable event was attending an experimental music festival in Katowice. I went with my friend Magda, who I’d been messaging for months before getting to Kraków. We didn’t know what “experimental” meant, so it was a toss up. Up until a few days before, I thought it was a day time thing in a field. Come to find out it started at 9pm and was mostly inside at a former industrial space. We had 3:15am bus tickets back, but were hoping it was going to be good enough to revise those arrangements. Indeed it was. On the whole, the music was electronic, sometimes a bit too house/trance, but that didn’t stop us from dancing for 5 hours straight. We eventually got back to Kraków at 8am.

One short week later and I was on another bus leaving the city. My time there was simultaneously fast and slow. I sort of got lulled into the idea that I didn’t have to rush through doing things because I had a whole month. Of course now that I look back on it, I could have accomplished more. How often is that my refrain? Just about always. Granted, I did a decent amount of freelance work during my down time at the hostel. The good news is, I tackled the top 3 things that were on my list. Everything after that can be considered a bonus.

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So This is Nightlife

Three nights in a row. Or should I say three mornings in a row?

Berlin is well known for its incredible club scene. I’ve heard from many people across my travels that Berlin’s nightlife is the best in Europe. There’s one particular spot, Berghain, that has a party from Friday night until Monday morning — yes, non stop — with a 3 hour long queue and a notorious bouncer named Sven who refuses entry to people that he doesn’t “see potential in.” It’s like that. Even with this insight, I could never be fully prepared for what I was about to experience.

I arrived on a Monday evening with a reservation for a few nights. I didn’t have to be in Poland for a week so I wanted to see what the vibe was before booking a ton of days.

The first night was quiet. Settling in.

I met two Kiwi girls in my hostel dorm and went on a walking tour with them on Tuesday morning. This was me essentially knocking out the tourist attractions quickly: the Brandenburg Gate, the Memorial to the Murdered Jews of Europe, Hitler’s Bunker (which is now fittingly a parking lot and place for dogs to shit), Checkpoint Charlie and a few other squares with either cathedrals or historical buildings. I went to the Museum Island without entering any of the museums, then I went to Alexanderplatz to find the rest of the tourists.

I got back to the hostel in the early evening. That’s when the party train started pulling away from the station.

The two Kiwis and I played some drinking games with a group of 3 Canadians. The night got away from us a bit as we took a field trip to a weird park that’s well known for people buying drugs. It was kind of a strange night, but I could tell there was fun to be had so I extended my room to make it a full week.

The following day was spent doing life admin I’m pretty sure. Then in the afternoon, things got going again. Several 2 for 1 Carlsbergs were involved. Eventually it came time to decide on a next move. The general consensus was going to a park to continue drinking beers. The two Kiwis had an alternate plan. They wanted to go to some “sex club” with a “creative” dress code. I had no idea what any of this meant. Though I was hesitant at first, I found myself throwing on my elephant pants from Thailand and an inside out tank top. I figured it would be a spectacle if nothing else.

As we were assembling outside, 3 new people spontaneously joined us. Kal (Singapore) had just arrived at the hostel and basically only had time to drop his bag off. Felipe (Brzil) and Jie (China) also gladly accepted the invitation for a night out.

The thing is, we had no idea what Kit Kat was about. I don’t think any of us took time to interpret what a “sex club” was. When we got to the location, we saw a small line of people waiting to get in. Most of them were dressed in leather. It was only a short wait before we were standing in front of an imposing female bouncer in a fetish-like get up. We were nearly turned away as the others looked a little too normal for the erotic/creative entry requirement. I went in not knowing if they would be following after me. As I finished paying the door fee and “coat-checking” my shirt and cell phone, I noticed them come through the door. Sweet.

And then…wow. It was indeed a spectacle. “Erotic” is an accurate word. I guess. But I think it short changes the situation. Throughout the various rooms of this club, you could easily find nudity, a toy station (with active whipping and mild electrocution), drugs being blatantly sold in the bathroom, a pool for skinny dipping, and various dark corners where people were unabashedly having sex. My entire group was blown away.

Not physically.

We met a girl from Korea named Robin who hung out with us the entire night. Felipe and Jie left after about two hours of dancing. The whole thing was a bit of a blur. What I do know is that I got back to my room at 8am in time to see off the two Kiwi girls who inspired the entire excursion. Apparently they left at 3:30am and went to a different club.

I’m curious if I’ll ever have an experience that shocking and entertaining ever again in my life. Insane.

Since I didn’t really go to bed until around 10:30am and it was completely light out and hot as hell on the 4th floor of this hostel, I only really slept for a couple of hours.

I went downstairs and wandered around the grocery store where nothing looked appetizing. I returned to the hostel and posted up on the patio beanbag chairs. Gradually, the group reconvened, with a few additions here and there. For hours, we did nothing but sit there and chat.

As was becoming tradition, there was a clarion call for evening plans. Even though we were mostly sober, it was time to hit the town again. The familiar 4 of myself, Kal, Felipe and Jie were joined by Robin and Hassan (India). Matrix was the first stop of the night as that was probably the most popular option by word of mouth. It was also the cheapest to get into.

And, there was probably a reason for that. I thought it pretty much sucked. There were 3 different rooms with different music but it was all such a generic and uninteresting vibe. Of course we were coming off a gnarly first foray into Berlin clubs, but this wouldn’t have even been good for Richmond. Hyperbolically harsh, maybe, but I’m going with it.

Somehow we managed to remain for a few hours. Our crew thinned out to just me, Kat and Robin. We decided to bounce over to another spot. We’d been told great things about another nearby place called Suicide Circus. At this point, I think it was 4am. We went and stood in a 30 minute queue before entering.

Once we got in, we realized it was a pride event, possibly to kick off the festivities for the weekend. The music situation was much better, which meant we trance-ally techno’d out for another couple of hours.

After we snapped out of it and/or were too tired to continue moving our feet, we stepped out into the daylight like vampires into the sun. Another 8am outing. Seemed like I always had 30,000 steps from all of the dancing. Hilarious.

Essentially repeat the new night routine that was now happening in the morning.
Sleep for 2 hours. Zombie through the grocery store. Slump into a beanbag chair.

The Carlsbergs came out at some point in the afternoon, which was now rebranded “morning.” Brendan and Jayden (New Zealand) entered the fray. There ended up being a group of about 9 that joined forces to rule some Friday night activities. Where the energy was coming from, I have no idea.

Watergate was our primary destination — another club with a reputation for being selective. We received what I would characterize as a mild, but fair talking to before being allowed in by the bouncer. I think he let us in mostly because the real party hadn’t kicked off yet. Either way, we were in.

The set up was a medium-sized room on the main floor and a cozy dance floor on the ground level. The unique factor was that there was one wall of all glass behind the DJ so you could look out and see the illuminated city on the river. There was also a deck outside whenever it was time for a breather.

There were two particular DJs that crushed their sets and showered the crowd with silky vibes. While this was happening, around 5am, you could see the orange of the sunrise starting to crest over the buildings. It put.a smile in my heart and on my face. Euphoria. The ecstasy probably helped too.

A new DJ started at 7am and by that time, the group was fading. As we started to head out, people were filtering in to begin their after parties. Dear God, this is real life somewhere in the world, and it’s called Berlin.

Thus concludes the tale of clubbing three consecutive nights until 8am.

Surprisingly, I wasn’t feeling miserable. At least in my mind. Realistically, my physical state was probably something akin to a wet rag that’d been tossed into some dank corner to dry all wrinkled and crusty. Description bonus.

If you had to guess, what do you think I did the next day?

The correct answer would be beanbag main stay for like 10 hours. The most unfortunate thing was that Kal had forgotten to extend his room and didn’t have a bed. When we got back, he had to pack his stuff and check out. He didn’t get to sleep at all, which is devastating. I couldn’t even imagine. Berlin took it out of him so much that he ended up buying a plane ticket back to Singapore for the next morning.

Suddenly, it was just me and Felipe. He left early the following morning and then I was solo again. They days evaporated in a flash.

I felt it then and I feel it now — that lifestyle is not sustainable. Obviously. For all the incredible cultural movements and openness Berlin has, I couldn’t move there due to the fact that the nightlife would be an unrelenting siren. I think I know myself pretty well and my current assessment is that I wouldn’t be able to harness the proper amount of self-control needed to manage the weekends out. It’s just too enticing and captivating. Even writing this now is making me want to go back and explore all of the other clubs we didn’t get to. Dangerous.

By the way, that’s not all I did in Berlin. I managed to somehow fit in a walking tour about the Third Reich and another one about street art and counter culture. I learned a lot of facts about the SS and David Bowie that I’ve subsequently forgotten. Oops.

I spent my last day admiring the East Side Gallery and casually strolling around listening to music. I was in a totally content state, replaying the tornado of unbelievable moments while the tram lines and green domes of the city dotted my environment.

Toward the end of the day, a huge rain storm rolled in. A classic literary trope that washed everything away and presented me a clean slate for a new adventure. That week in Berlin won’t be so easily erased, though.

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Düsseldorf & Hamburg

A big ole bag of dirty laundry. That’s basically what I was for the 3 weeks I spent in Düsseldorf. I mean, I took showers. Mostly. But I did next to nothing apart from feed a pseudo-annoying cat that had more of a weird jungle growl than a meow.

It was my first experience using Trusted Housesitters as a travel tool. It’s definitely handy to find free accommodation, sometimes for weeks or months at a time. For those of you interested in using it yourselves for upcoming trips or petsitting needs, here’s a referral link.

I almost totally forgot that I took a super quick 2-day trip to Munich to PA on an Audi shoot with my friend Nick and our old company. I honestly can’t believe it worked out even though it more resembled whiplash than a chance for buddies to catch up. But, I’ll absolutely take what I can get. Amazing to see a familiar face. 

Transition back to Düsseldorf and me punishing some Netflix. I’m simultaneously embarrassed and impressed at my sustained stamina for those marathons.

The Dorf was a semi small city but I’m sure I still skipped a decent amount. I did develop a nice rhythm of grocery shopping in Aldi every 3rd day. After one trip, I was able to get out of there without anyone knowing I wasn’t German, largely thanks to Apple Pay.

In terms of productive activities, I did take a walking tour of the downtown area. I visited a museum that was all about life in Düsseldorf during the Nazi regime. I also spent one night out drinking in the Altstadt which has a street that’s been coined “the longest bar in the world.” There a few breweries known for their alt bier — you guessed it, a specialty of the region. Customarily, it’s served in a small cylindrical glass and they just automatically bring large trays around to replenish the empties unless they’re asked to stop. A local told me that 16-20 glasses was a proper night out. I didn’t get near that number but I also never properly tried.

Could it have been done? Possibly.
Should it have been done? No.
It wasn’t my favorite style of beer, so the cost-benefit analysis wasn’t lining up.

Aside from wandering around a few neighborhoods, I got invited to the Trivago Summer Party. It was an all-inclusive bash for employees but I lucked into a ticket through my Altstadt drinking buddy, Kamila. Free food and bev. What’s up?? They even had a cheese course. They also waited until 8pm to roll out the liquor, a smart scheduling method to ensure people didn’t get housed too early in the evening.

That basically sums up Düsseldorf. I’d be happy to go back, but I think other places might have more to pique the interest.

On my way out of town, while standing on the platform, my train got canceled 5 minutes after it was scheduled to depart. It didn’t take much to sort out a fix, but it was a bit complex without cell phone minutes or an internet connection.

Either way, I eventually boarded a 4 hour train bound for Hamburg – the biggest city in northern Germany and the 3rd biggest city in the world for musicals. Who knew?

On my first full day, I took another free walking tour. I will forever do this as an easy way to learn the layout, history and current recommendations for whatever city.

In addition to musicals, Hamburg is known for its port (so a lot of water and ships), the Reeperbahn (a street with bars and adult night life where The Beatles notably got their start), and maybe the anti-establishment philosophy of St. Pauli.

I primarily stayed outside of the city center, so I got very familiar with a particular walking loop. I passed the town hall square, the warehouse district and the harbor promenade on several occasions. I also went inside the newly renovated concert hall which cost almost a billion Euros but was free to enter. It had an insanely long escalator but a really nice wrap-around viewing deck of the water.

Another unique attraction was the old tile pedestrian tunnel that runs under the river. It’s something like 60 ft deep and 1,200 ft long. It seems like there’s always someone in there too.

One day, I stumbled onto the FC St. Pauli stadium. This is a team in the soccer world that’s had a very progressive reputation since they formed in 1910. I was really excited to get a tour and gobble up some more of that sweet foundation. Unfortunately, the entire thing was in German. I got a few seldom tidbits of private translation. Millerntor, the stadium, was named after a gate that separated that area of Germany from Denmark’s territory. Also, it’s fan owned, anti-fascist, and LGBTQ friendly. A slogan for the team translates to “No Man is Illegal,” which I love. Lastly, the teams walk out to “Hells Bells” by AC/DC (I’m pretty sure).

For an obligatory night out, I met up with a girl named Anne who took me around the Reeperbahn but to the more local dive bar spots. Miraculously, I avoided being harassed by a lady of the night or strip club promoter the whole time I was in Hamburg. Aces.

Overall, I got a very comfortable feeling from the HH. Once again, it’s a city with the right balance of nature, nightlife and artsy neighborhoods that could be a great spot to live. At some point, I’m going to have to put together a list of how all of these places are ranked.

It’s been almost a full year since I left Richmond. It’s safe to say I’m losing my sense of “home.” Maybe it’s been gone for a while or it’s adapted to a feeling of transience. The lack of consistent routine is an understatement. Not knowing what I’m doing from day to day is one thing — a lot of room for unlimited possibilities in there — but it’s also gotten a bit daunting to try and snatch plans out of thin air. Researching, exploration, decisiveness. I know it’s one of those privileged complaints. I’m not saying I’m over the journey because I still love it. However, I’ve definitely recognized that my momentum has come to a halt and the motivation to push the boulder back up the hill is a work in progress. It’ll be nice to either find a renewed purpose or erase the concept from my head all together.

After I spend a week in Berlin, I’ve got almost 2 months of Workaways lined up. I’m stoked about the prospects. It should be a solid kickstart.

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Beer, with a Side of Music and Culture

When did we first get to Brussels? The end of May. Wow. Can’t believe it’s been that long already.

Andrew and I got off our bus and met up with a few people at the AirBnB where our group of 15 would call home for the weekend. It was a very eccentric place. There were a lot of mannequins and old time knickknacks everywhere. Interesting decor choices for sure.

Jud and his band mates arrived a few hours later. After a few beers at the apartment, we went out to find some food at Hip Square, a semi-central hangout place with a bunch of restaurants and bars surrounding Saint Catherine’s cathedral. It was a popular spot, with tables and people spilling out into the cobblestone area. As it was still light out until almost 11pm, we stayed there for a while before heading back.

A few of us hung out in the sketchy street catching up when the final group of festival goers arrived. Time went on and we eventually got chastised for making too much noise so we turned in.

The band were first to leave in the morning and then our clan of 9 got breakfast and caught the train out to Zottegam. We disembarked, and had a 30 minute trek through the small town. As we were walking, Erin and I ran into an older gentlemen who was curious where we were from. He was a resident who was sometimes a guest professor at UVA. It really is a small world. We continued down some neighborhood streets and dissected a few wheat fields before finally ending up at Dunk!Festival.

We had about 6 hours to spend between the main stage and the forest stage until Gifts From Enola played. It was a small festival but a pretty cosy setup. The band did an interview for the local radio station and then had fans coming up to them saying very complimentary things. One guy from Spain said they changed his life and got him into the entire post rock  genre of music. A loyal follower since the MySpace days. Incredible on all accounts.

When it came time for them to play, it was epic. The sound was solid, the performance was great and the light show was ridiculously on point. Really good crowd turnout and support as well. I felt proud to know them. Unfortunately we had to hurry out to catch the last train back to Brussels without being able to congratulate the band. They were able to stay overnight and enjoy themselves.

The next day our group of misfits started with a Belgian waffle and had an impromptu tour of a few notable city sights — Grand Place and Manneken Pis to be specific. The little boy peeing is really little. He was dressed up for us though, which is something.

We hung out in a park until we were joined by Gifts. After a few hours chilling, we wandered back to Hip Square and split our time between a few different seafood restaurants and beer joints. Brown bars are a Belgian staple — kind of a dive bar, but known for their old wooden construction, dim light and smelly toilets. This wording comes from a city map, but I can verify. The insane thing is each beer was served in a specialized, branded glass for that particular beverage. At every bar. That’s dedication. And an 8.5% tripel was €3.80, which would’ve easily been $8 in the US. Sauce.

The following morning, the group separated into smaller factions and departed for different destinations. Andrew and I hung out with the band until the afternoon as they were the last to leave.

Once we said our goodbyes, we caught the metro down to the southwest part of the city and did a self-guided tour of Cantillon, a 100+ year old brewery using open air fermentation to make lambics. Read: more Belgian beer. Then we returned to the city center and walked around for a bit. We had some insane sandwich called a mitraillette for dinner (hamburger + fries on a baguette), a sweet waffle for dessert, and ended with a flaming absinthe shot at Delirium Village.

Andrew’s flight back to Richmond was the following afternoon — a sad departure. We had an awesome time clowning around. It would’ve been awesome to keep it rolling for another week. Or indefinitely. Whichever.

I spent the subsequent days catching up on some things and trying to arrange my future plans.

I was lucky to meet two generous girls, Amanda (a Canadian working in Belgium) and Aline (a Belgian, well, living in Belgium). Look at you helping me out, Tinder.

I hung out with Amanda a few times, mostly just working and chatting. We went out for a meal of signature Belgian dishes once. I had the Flemish stew, which was ballin. It also happened to be a place that served this beer where the recipe had been lost for 200 some years, so that was a bonus. She charged the entire dinner to her company as well. Extra bonus.

Aline and I met for a few beers one night and got late night frites. She very kindly welcomed me to couchsurf at her place for a few days, a helpful break for my travel finances. Very lucky situation. We watched some movies and the Women’s World Cup and snacked. One night, we went to watch a band at a microbrewery. Beer again. She was fun and open to hosting me longer, but her twin sister was returning from a year and a half abroad, so I thought they should have a chance to spend some time together.

This inspired me to take a 3 day trip to Ghent. It was a short train ride away. A very medieval, historical city that was active from the university there. I went on an evening walking tour my first night to get a bit of the backstory and significance of some landmarks. I learned that Ghent, through Charles V, was basically in control of almost all of Western Europe in the 1500s. Though a lot of the buildings were from that era, most of their facades had been refurbished sometime during the 20th century. Still, there was a castle, several cathedrals and an infamous bell tower which all looked outstanding.

The weather ended up being miserable for my last two days there, but I got a 48-hour city pass to grant me access to the cultural places. I visited two of the art museums, the design museum, the industry museum where they showcase the history of their textile and graphic design processes. I got a bird’s eye view of the city from the top of the Belfort and was able to scope The Mystic Lamb in St. Bavo Cathedral, which is the most stolen piece of art in the world.  Unfortunately, I was a few minutes too late to enter the castle, and I missed out on the boat ride due to rain. I crammed a good amount of activities into the two days though. Definitely made the pass worth it.

Overall, my Belgian experience was largely a tour of beer, with a bit of music and culture sprinkled in. Bruges and Antwerp will have to wait until next time.

After Ghent, I went back to Amsterdam to stay with Joyce, who I met in Bali. I wasn’t exactly sure how long it was going to be but I was hoping to stretch it until the 25th of June. I ended up falling into another lucky situation. Through her amazing group of friends, I was hooked up with an apartment and a bike of my own for an entire week.

So, over the course of the 11 days, there was a lot of cycling, an after party with perfect vibes, a free canal cruise, a basketball tournament, a Couchsurfing meet up, and more general exploration. If this is the way my travels go for the next few months, I might have to quit while I’m ahead. Way ahead.

I’m trying to pinpoint what the universe is balancing out with this run of good fortune. There was that one scam in Bali. But I’m not sure if that was horrific enough to warrant this amount of positive action. Or, maybe it’s house money and I’m due for some bad luck in the future. I’m not going to be that pessimistic. I’ll just accept that things are working out for me right now and continue to ride the wave.

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High, I’m in Amsterdam

It’s an interesting travel tactic to land at one airport (Brussels) and immediately get on a bus to another airport (Amsterdam). But that’s where I was meeting up with Andrew so that’s what happened.

I wasn’t anticipating it being a massive transit hub and shopping facility. There was a brief game of messaging on spotty WiFi mixed with hide and seek. We reunited underneath the orange stock car and all was well.

We quickly found out how easy public transportation was in Amsterdam. We rode the train one stop before we were at Centraal Station. From there we caught a short, free ferry across the river to Noord where we were staying.

We settled in and took it easy for a bit since we were both shrugging off long journeys. It was around 4pm when we hopped back on the ferry and started our exploration of the city center.

A bike shop owner advised us which direction to walk to see the pretty parts of Amsterdam (avoiding the touristy spots), and also threw in a coffee shop recommendation.

Soon, we learned that most joints are actually spliffs aka gross. Lesson #1.

Andrew and I continued our stroll through the western part of the city. It was a sunny day and as with most sunny days, the feeling was good. Based on a very brief exposure to the city, I was getting that familiar feeling — I could see myself living here. Beautiful old buildings lining picturesque canals. Water and greenery. People happily walking their dogs and riding past on bikes. These are no doubt attributes I value in a place to live. But I’ve felt that about several places on this journey. I wonder if that’s my brain sending signals it’s ready to settle back down or just the excitement of a new location. Either way, I could recognize a community fixed on a foundation of openness and nature. Trust me, this was before any herbal effects kicked in.

Anyhow, we found a street where people were eating outside and we decided to grab a bite. FYI – an Amsterdam pancake is about the size of a medium pizza. Intense.

Eventually our wandering led us into the tourist section, which was interesting in its own right. We located another coffee shop where we split a space cake. Trying to be cautious. Lesson #2: they are quite tasty. And a whole one will be ok for one person.

We unintentionally stumbled upon the Red Light District. It was still turning on but what we did see wasn’t what I envisioned it to be. There was a lot more variety in age and size of the women in the windows. Many of them were yawning or just looking at their phones. It was uncomfortable how they were objects behind glass for everyone to stare at. Moreover, it was sad how bored they were with it all. Later on, there were women more active in wooing Johns off the street. I’m not even sure if I should call guys that. I don’t know what the “menu” of services offered is or anything.

There were official porno shows as well. I think they were more or less the same as a Thailand ping pong show. You watch the novelty skills and then live sex for €50 or something. We passed on that, but we did take a few puffs of a pure j and go into a €2 peep show. It was an octagon of small rooms where everyone watched a striptease. Not all that interesting.

It was still light out at 10pm which was really throwing off the circadian rhythm. We snaked our way around several more streets before heading back to the ferry. We got some late night snacks and shared some giggles before bed.

The next morning was a bit of a slow start after shedding some jet lag.

There was a public transportation strike which meant none of the ferries were running. And there was no pedestrian bridge across. We walked farther into north Amsterdam to rent bikes. It was a very industrial warehouse district that was being reclaimed by artists, .

It was necessary to cycle at some point while here because the city was made for it. There’s around 1.1 million people in the metropolitan area and over 800,000 bikes. Other people have told me it’s a 3:1 ratio of bikes to people. We were also warned that cyclists were more dangerous than cars. Here’s some other fun facts about bikes in Amsterdam.

Riding amongst people that do it everyday was a reminder of what poor shape I’m in. We had to go through a long tunnel to get to the city and there were elderly women easily cruising past me without having to stand up. It was fun to build up silly speed on the downhill part though.

We made our way to a brewery at one of the 8 remaining windmills in Amsterdam. Delicious bevs. Then we walked around a park that was also a zoo…at least what we were able to access freely. I think we kind of just rode around directionless for a bit. We wound up at a restaurant for what was essentially a date.

Dinner. More riding. Back through the tunnel.

We returned our bikes at 10pm as the sun was beginning to set. So gnarly.

In the morning, we joined our hostels free walking tour. It gave us some valuable information on the architecture, the canals and a few key landmarks. I love the XXX in the crest of the city. You can find them almost everywhere if you’re looking. Contrary to the belief that it stands for the x-rated fun of the Red Light District, we were told the symbols stood for Old Amsterdam’s 3 biggest dangers: fires, floods, and The Plague. This could also just be an unconfirmed theory.

We met V, a French girl on holiday, who we went to hang out with in a park. The 3 of us walked through the Albert Cuyp Market where we tried a stroopwafel, a Dutch staple. Straight up yum.

Later that evening, Andrew and I met up with Coen, who I traveled with for a bit way back in New Zealand. We had a handful of local brews at a beer bar in a part of town devoid of other tourists. It was sweet to catch up and get some helpful tips from a native. Closed that place down too.

The following day, me and Andrew took the metro for fun. Super clean and efficient system. We walked around a floating flower market that was a bit different than anticipated. We also went to a museum with some photography exhibits. We rounded out the day by going to the Heineken Experience. It was a brewery tour on steroids, detailing the company’s history while walking through some of the old brew facility but with 2 or 3 floors of crazy digital, interactive activities. At the end we got two small Heinekens, which were Heinekens.

We toured the canals and cozy neighborhood streets a bit more before returning to the hostel to eat dinner. We met V at the bar for a few beers and that was pretty much that on Amsterdam.

Andrew and I caught an early morning bus to Brussels to meet up with some college friends to watch Jud’s band play at a music festival.