Fondue For One Please

I'm on the train right now from Amsterdam to Cologne, Germany. It says Koln on my ticket, but says Koeln on the display screen in the train. How many different ways could you possibly spell a city, and how is that at all efficient for people traveling, when a central city in a large country has so many different aliases? Anyways, that's enough rambling about the nomenclature of German cities. On to the actual substance of my blog, whatever that means.

I guess I should try to recap my trip in Amsterdam, but that's all a blur, like the rest of my trip, but I'll try my best. 

Unlike London and Paris, there's nothing you could really complain about in Amsterdam. As a whole were very friendly, down to earth, and actually talked to you and treated you with respect. Their style of living was very laid back and everyone I met seemed to be stress free. I could make some kind of weed joke here and imply that I think that's the reason for the Dutch's overall happiness, but I can't really attribute that credit to any drug without detracting from the people themselves. It just brings a smile to your face to walk up to a shopping center and see a parking lot FULL of bicycles as opposed to cars. I'm not at all a green advocate, and I'm 100% sure global warming is actually a hoax (this can be another blog entry in the future I suppose); but I do try to be environmental for my own sake whether or not CFCs are destroying the ozone layer and the world is going to ASPLODE

My time in Amsterdam was spent doing a bunch of nothing. I've tried to decide if I spent more time sleeping or in coffeeshops. It'd probably be the fairest 1:1 bet you could make, because it's such a close call. You meet all types of people in coffeeshops. I befriended some guys from Ghana, a musician from Germany, an Israeli extremist, met some girls from Alaska, met tons of Dutch/German guys, and briefly exchanged words, looks, and general understanding with people from countries I didn't even bother to ask from. 

I had a talk about hate with a guy I met at the bus stop a few nights ago. I had been hanging out with Marcel and missed the last train home. So I had to grab the night bus. When I walked up there was just a black guy standing there with a guitar case. I asked if the bus went to Marnixstraat and he told me he had no idea, and that he had just gotten off a train from Frankfurt. He came into Amsterdam to do a jam session with some of his friends from university. He was probably in his 40s, so I was impressed he could stay in touch with his friends for that long. The bus didn't come for 10 minutes, so we went and asked another bus when ours was coming, and I guess it was like a bus that came once an hour. So with nothing else to do at 2am we went and grabbed some junk food together at a burger king or whatever the Dutch name was. We sat in there since it was warm and talked for awhile. He told me he was surprised I talked to him, he said white people don't normally go out of their way to talk to him. He didn't say it in that "oh woe is me, i'm black" kind of way. he said discrimination is bad everywhere in the world, and it's different for different people everywhere. he told me if I went to where he was from in Africa I'd be killed, and that he doesn't understand what the root of all hatred is within every cultural group. He said there's nowhere you can go in the world to escape the prejudice of the common man, which is why he plays music because he thinks it's a universal bond. Which after my short stints in the USA and a few other countries I can definitely see, the hatred part anyways. Music is debatable but probably true as well.

We walked back to the bus stop and I was still eating some fries and he had his drink. After a few minutes the bus came and I walked on, paid my 3.50, got my ticket, sat down, and continued eating my fries. When my new friend tried to get on, the bus driver snapped at him and told him "NO FOOD OR DRINKS ALLOWED ON THE BUS". So the driver made him get off and throw off his drink. When he got off the driver shut the doors and started to drive off, leaving the black guy behind. It was absolutely disgusting looking out the window seeing what was going on. The ONLY reason he wasn't allowed on the bus was because he was black and had a drink. I was let on with greasy hands and fries, and could've carried a 64oz big gulp onto the bus without a problem. The inside of the bus was kind of quiet, with people sort of looking at each other uncomfortably, all of us knowing what had just happened. It reminded me of the book Night by Elie Wiesel for some reason and the quote he has about "those who remain silent about injustice are just as guilty as the persecutors" or something along those lines. How could I just have a talk with this guy, about hatred, and not try to stick up for him? And why should it even matter that I had talked to him? So I listened to myself and did what I thought was right and yelled "STOP" and a few other people chimed in and said stop. Then three Dutch teenagers yelled at the driver and got him to pullover. We waited like a minute for the guy to catch up and get on the bus. 

He got on the bus without saying a single word to the driver, or even looking angry. He sat down next to me and simply said "See what I mean". Which made me really sad.

He invited me to his jam session, and I ended up going for a little while. I stayed and had some cocoa and listened to the music. It was very good and all of the people were very nice and welcomed me. That's how it should be. Maybe music isn't the universal bond, and perhaps it's just kindness? who knows

It seems ironic I meet an extremist Israelite after meeting the Anti-Semetic Lebanese guy in Paris. Or maybe it's not irony, I tend to overuse that word. Damn you Alanis Morisette! Anyways, I guess you could say it was fateful. I was in Bulldog's coffeeshop, which fames itself as the first coffeeshop in Amsterdam (though many dispute this claim), and wanted to chill for a little while before I went to the Van Gogh museum. I went down into the smoking room and saw this shaggy looking guy with blond Jesus hair ripping a bong the size of a 7 year old child. It was literally the biggest bong I've ever seen. Anyways, I guess his lighter died so he asked me to borrow one (notice the symmetry, that's how it all started with the gay, homeless, Lebanese guy as well. I'm starting to think people just ask for lighters as a conduit to have a conversation. I've done the same thing one time with this girl at a bar, I asked her if I could have a cigarette and I don't even smoke because I had no better ideas to talk to her. ok these random tangents are starting to get lengthy, but I have a 3 hour train ride so what else am I supposed to do?). 

I gave him the lighter and he asked where I was from. I told him the states so we have the normal "yeah im just here for a few days, backpacking europe, etc etc" chat. He then tells me that the United States is the worst country in the world and we are going to start a nuclear holocaust. He asked me if I wake up every morning ashamed of where I'm from. Then it started to get really weird. He asked me if I was religious at all, I told him I'm familiar with most religions, but don't actively practice one. He asked if I knew what the Kaballah (sp?), and I told him sort of. I know it's some sort of Jewish holy book. The only reason I was even familiar with the Kaballah is because I've seen Pi like 48757584 times, which makes the next part even funnier.

He asked me if I believed in prophecies, and I gave him some open ended answer. He then went on to explain the prophecies contained within the Kaballah and how all signs point that the world is coming to an end because of the United States. He said there are numerical codes between the scripts in the writing that line up with the Mayan calendar. He said life is like a spiral, and that somehow because of technology the gaps between the spiral are getting smaller and smaller. Eventually we will get to the point where there is virtually no gap between the spaces of the spiral, and thats when everything will compound and bust out like a spring and go BOINK (yes boink, not boom. lol), and the world will start again from the stone age. Apparently the US is the one driving the spiral inwards. Go figure. 

The guy ended up following me to the Van Gogh Museum. He spent his last 8 euros there too. the admission was 12.50, but he was able to beg for 5 euros outside the door to get in. It was kind of impressive to be honest. He turned out to be a somewhat nice guy, to me at least, but it's just really sick how much hate there is in the world. He hated Americans, Palestinians, anyone Islamic and the entire African continent. It just blows my mind people can have so much hate instilled in their blood. I ended up ditching him in the museum because he was going way too slow, or maybe he ditched me, who knows. I was glad when he was gone though.

That's kind of the paradox I'm facing though. I always seem to be glad when everyone's gone and I'm on my own. It always creates weird social dynamics though. I get these looks from everyone like "what is this guy doing on his own?" or "where are his friends?" or "maybe he's mentally retarded". Is it really that unacceptable to go out and do things on your own? I had a weird experience 2 nights ago that really makes me wonder. I had gone out for the day, rented a bike, rode it around the city, so I had a big appetite. I went by a restaurant that had fondue and thought to myself "wow fondue would be totally fucking awesome right now". So I go in, it was a semi-classy place and sit down, they ask if anyone is meeting me, and I tell them no. I'm eating my fondue and drinking my water when another couple comes in. All the tables are full, and I'm sitting at a table with 4 seats. So as opposed to making the people wait, they sit them down at my table, and the staff lights a candle. Talk about awkward.

It was an older man probably in his 50s, who definitely wasn't Dutch. If I had to guess I'd say he was from Baltic country. He was wearing a nice watch and dressed well. The girl he was with was much younger than him, I just assumed it was his daughter. There was no indication of anything otherwise. It's the 3 of us at the table. I'm at the far right, with the old dude to my left and the girl across the table diagonal from me. At this point I'm trying to eat as fast as possibly without being disgusting. Though in hindsight, I don't know why I should have even bothered with etiquette.

At some point in the meal the girl got up to use the bathroom. And the guy turned to me and gave me a smile and a thumbs up. Then he asked me in English why I was alone. "you are 20, plenty good girls here." i told him i was just visiting. he said he was as well "but no excuse for going to eat alone. get escort like me" then he gives me another big cheesy smile and a thumbs up.

I instantly got up and asked for my check and left. I still had some fondue as well!

Is my life really to the point where I'm sleeping outside, going to museums with homeless people, and having random guys in a restaurant telling me to buy a whore because I look lonely? REALLY? 

I went on this trip to try to figure some things out, but each day it feels like I just fall asleep with more unanswered questions. The standard 20 year old who goes to Europe makes a journey of self-discovery, they "find themselves". 

I guess I'm doing it wrong, but at least I'm having some fun

A "Sheltered" Update

It's pretty weird that I update my blog regularly, so I guess this is X-Files surreal when I update more than one time in the same day. I feel more wordy than usual, which is a good thing given my environment has changed completely.

Today, I had one of the most fulfilling experiences of my life. I don't think fulfilling even sums it up, it was more an experience of self-confirmation. A lot of people might think something like this is stupid, but it's high on my list of most unique things I've done in my life so far. Anyways, I should probably stop talking around it and get to the point already.

I woke up early this morning, well I didn't wake up on my own, the Argentinian/Uruguayan (I'm not sure where he's from exactly, he's told me a different country every time I've asked) and the Russian girl did a good job of waking me up. That's one of the downsides to a hostel, the lack of privacy, and your schedule in waking up and falling asleep is pretty centric on everyone around you. It's good for meeting people though. Anyways, I got up and went down for the free breakfast they provided. Some guy asked if I minded if he sat down at my table, and I happily obliged. He was a recent graduate from San Francisco State that started working a month ago, then decided to take 2.5 months off to backpack Europe. Kind of heroic in my books. Anyways we had a nice talk and I invited him to Versailles, but he already had plans to go to Monet's Garden. God damn it, Monet has a garden around Paris? I wish I had known that sooner. Monet is my favorite "old-school" painter. I guess I got into him because of Vanilla Sky, but basically fell in love with all of his work. Rumor has it he just sat around in rural France, smoked pot, and stared at nature all day. Sounds like a nice life.

Anyways, I finished my breakfast and embarked on my journey to Versailles. I had heard it was like 45 minutes away and it cost 20euros. Whatever, as far as I'm concerned Versailles has a monopoly on the royal palace sight-seeing, so I was probably going to pay whatever. I get on my first train fine, and get a little lost finding the next connecting one, but after using my anglacized french, someone was able to point me in the right direction. I sit down and take a short nap before someone taps me on the shoulder.

That tap on my shoulder turned out to be a group of 5 older women. They did not know French, and together they were using what little English they could scrounge up to ask me how to get to Versailles. Listening to their conversation I could tell they were speaking Portugese, but I was put off since one of the ladies was wearing a Chile hat. I went with my gut and simply responded to their inquiry with a "Vamos juntos?" (which I think means go together?). Anyways, they all look at each other with bedazzlement and say meu dieus (my god). They were amazed I spoke Portugese, and from then on we carried on a very basic conversation in Portugese. They asked me all about my travels to Brazil, the rest of the world, what my plans were, and a bunch of other stuff. I'd say they were some of the nicest people I've ever met, but in all honesty, every Brazilian I've met is the same way, which in no way is to detract from their kindness, but just gives a general commentary on how awesome brazilians are. 

Anyways, they want to take several pictures with me, so they can show me off to their grand daughters. They tell me I have to come and visit them in Sao Paolo and give me an email address. Then one of the ladies ask me if I would mind showing them around Versailles since they didn't know French, let alone English. I don't like going slow with anything, and kind of rush everything, and get annoyed if I'm in one place for too long, so tours aren't exactly my thing, but there was no way I could tell these people no. So I agreed.

We got off the train and walked up to Versailles. The ticket office was closed, and not only that, but I guess Versailles itself was closed; the inside at least. Saved 20euros I suppose. So all we had was the outside, but that's the the understatement of the century. Versailles is so huge and majestic. You could spend a week there looking around easily. I would've paid a large amount of money to have a fat joint there. Oh well that's what Amsterdam is for, without all the gold, gardens, and everything else cool.

Anyways, the cool experience today was walking around with the Brazilian ladies and they would ask me to explain like a certain statue, or sign, or anything really. I had to read everything in French, and tell it back to them in Portugese. I was using 2 languages at once, with neither of them being my primary language. I am nowhere near schooled enough to read French at an advanced level, and I sure as hell don't know museum  terminology in Portugese. But between deciphering and guessing what certain things made in French, and talking around the words I didn't know in Portugese, I was able to communicate everything clearly with the Brazilian ladies. I was really impressed with myself, as egotistical as that sounds. But I feel as if that's the only thing I've done right in the last few years. It was one of those moments of accomplishment that made all of those hours in French/Portugese class worth it. It felt better than any quiz I ever aced, or even the time I won a scholarship to study French because I gave a good scholarship interview to 3 important Quebecois men. It was pure language solely for the sake of communication, which is what language is meant for. I've always loved language, and today definitely reinforced that admiration that had kind of been fading slowly along with the rest of the passions I used to hold.

Anyways, the ladies were getting cold and wanted to leave. So we parted ways. As they walked back to the metro, I sat down at some random restaurant in the middle of the Versailles garden. I'm sure it's not quite what Louis XIV has envisioned, but regardless it was quite tasty. I got 2 glasses of wine, one red and one white, along with an assortment of cheese with bread (sounds kind of baller but in my eyes I was freerolling the 20euros I saved on admission). Altogether it came out to be 15 euros which amazed me it could be that cheap at a cafe in the middle of Versailles, but I certainly wasn't going to argue. I still can't decide if I like red or white wine more, and the more I drink of both to try to pinpoint my preference, the more they start to blend together. I should've tried to arrange a blind taste test, but it slipped my mind to ask the waiter if he had a blindfold. 

Before I forget, it struck me as awkward what a douche the waiter was. The entire time he spoke to me in French, as did I to him. We even had a side conversation not in regards to the menu. I know enough French to the point I can carry myself in a restaurant situation. English was never used once during the entirety of our conversation. Except when it came to paying. I took out my debit card and he says to me "you not pay here. me lead you inside. follow"

Uhh ok. Thanks for the degradation. I'm 100% sure my French is better than whatever bastardized form of English you're trying to speak. I wish tipping was a standard here, just so I could leave him like a .01 euro piece. Actually, i'm not even sure if .01 euro pieces exists. The smallest I have is a .10. Anyways, he would've gotten whatever the smallest denomination is.

I take the train to Aux Champs Elysees from Versailles, and just walk up and down sight seeing. At the beginning there's like a nature trail with a bunch of stands that sell refreshments. I bought a Heineken at the first one and kept walking. By the time I got to the 2nd stand I had just finished my Heineken. The french are geniuses, they spaced these little stands according to how fast I, Marty Mathis, drinks his beer. Though by the 7th stand, I was probably walking a little bit slower in a vain effort to not disprove my own theory.

Moving on, I can't do justice to how sweet Champs Elysees was, I guess its reputation speaks for itself. I dropped into the Aviation Club just to look around and pretended I wanted to become a member. when they asked for my 100euros I left. Pretty sure they called me a bum, but I can't say for sure. At the end of Champs Elysees next to the metro station there were a bunch of street performers doing break dancing, etc. They worked as a team, jumping off of each other, balancing, flipping. It was very impressive. Obviously they asked for donations at the end and I handed them a 2euro piece since that was the only coin I had. The girl next to me told the guy she didn't have any money, and he hands her his phone and says "I dont want your money, I want your number". It was probably the most baller thing I've seen in my entire life. To further his legacy, they ended up leaving together. I guess that's ALL it takes with french girls.

I took the Metro towards my hostel and had to make a change at some random stop. Anyways I ran into the random gypsie girl from yesterday. She walked up to me and asked me if I spoke english. How dumb do you think I am? Jesus christ, you and the patronizing waiter should have fucking babies together. anyways I told her "yes I know english, no I dont care" and walked away. she still had that dumbfounded HUH look on her face. I was I would've taken a picture of her so it could become a new jpeg for EPICFAIL

I got back to my hostel and found out Sacre Coeur is a 5 minute walk away. I take the walk up the stairs with my blistered feet, but the view of the city was worth it. You can see everything from up there. There were several vendors selling Heinekens out of the box up there for 2euro each which is a whole euro cheaper than I paid on Champs Elysees so I had to have a few. I walked around the montmartre area and paid a street artist 5 euros to draw a picture of me. he had pastels, paper, and even an easel. as soon as i handed him 5 euros, he snap ran away. oh well, no self portrait for me. i bought some pistachio/mango gelato and headed back to the hostel where I sit writing now

Amsterdam tomorrow. Hopefully my next few blog entries will be in someway coherent. 

Trip Report: Homeless

Ok here is a long awaited trip report on the night I spent homeless in Paris, and by long awaited, I mean like 36 hours ago.

I did not get an advanced booking for a hostel, and by the time I booked my train ticket to Paris, all of the hostels in the entire city were full. I figured it wouldn't be a big deal, and that I could just find a cheap hotel when I got here. Wrong. The cheapest hotel I could find on that short of notice was $210, and it was probably half a star.

Anyways, the entire paris experience has been crazy and wild. I'll try to save the touristy stuff for another post and focus on the homelessness for now, since that's all some of you seem to be concerned with.

Paris is an intricate city, or at least I think intricate is the word I want to use. There are scams, thieves, and trouble around every corner. 

First example. I get off the train from London, as I walk down the Eurostar platform some gypsie looking girl walks up to me and asks me if I speak English. I tell her "yea" just assuming she wanted some kind of directions. Nope, big mistake on my part. She pulled a placard out of her pocket that said verbatim "Hi, my mother died of leukemia, give me money". No lie, how could I make that up. Then she just sat there and stared at me, giving me this pouty look. I didn't have any Euros at the time since I had just gotten off the train from London, and even if I did these beggars would never see a .10euro piece from me. She keeps staring and doesn't walk away. so I tell her in french, that my whole family died of leukemia. she says/does nothing, so I figure I'll try in english since she asked me if I spoke it. again she gives me a blank stare. clearly asking me if I knew english was the only phrase she knew. I walked away and she started following me. oh great I've been here 3 minutes and I already have gypsies on my ass. I turn a corner and another one approaches me and asks me if i know english, I just ignore her and keep walking until I get out of the station. I walk into the first restaurant I see, and the 2 gypsies are just staring at me through the window. they leave after a few minutes.

Luckily the restaurant I went to had wifi, so I went ahead and booked my tickets and hostel for Amsterdam while I still had $$. After that I headed back to the metro station to put everything valuable I had into a locker, so if I got robbed sleeping outside I wouldn't be totally fucked.

I kept my camera, passport, and debit card on me. Nothing else besides some American change that I regretted not giving to the gypsies

I decide that since it was like 7ish, I might as well kill some time and do some tourist stuff. So I bought a 3day unlimited metro pass and hopped on a train to the Louvre. I hung around outside and snapped a lot of pictures. I saw the Eiffel Tower in the background and decided to follow its annoying spotlight. I wish I had known how far away it was, it's easily more than a mile away. It took me like 45min to get there, but time really wasn't an issue since I knew I'd be outside the entire time anyways, it just sucked because it blistered my feet. So I spent some time at the Eiffel Tower before starting to walk back towards the Louvre. I got too tired to walk and hopped on the metro. I rode the train back and forth a few times to kill some time before heading towards the Tuilery Gardens. 

This is the first place I tried to sleep. The hedges were setup like a labyrinth which I figured would shield me from the wind, and the vision of other people, so I could sleep in peace. Wrong. I manage to fall asleep, and less than 20minutes later some drunk guy runs right into me. Then lots of other drunk people showed up. I think they were playing some weird French version of hide and seek.

I figured a place that public probably wasn't the best idea and move on. I decide I might have better luck along the Seine. Homeless people love water since they can bathe in it, so I assumed it'd be a well-fit area to get my sleep on. Wrong. I first tried to sleep on a small hedge near the water. A jogger walked up to me and pointed out to me in English that there were 2 homosexual men touching themselves and looking at me, and that I probably wasn't in the safest place. Ok, thanks for the warning buddy. I'll chalk that one up to variance and move farther down along the Seine.

Next, I saw a great spot, but there were 2 fisherman were in front of it. I kinda sat around and watched their interaction for awhile. They were really funny. It was clear they'd never catch anything, but they were so aggressive about everything. Whenever a boat came by, they would fit over the space that wasn't affected by the wake of the boat. At one point I seriously thought I'd witness a fisherman brawl.

As I was sitting there, a middle age man approached me and asked if I had a lighter (speaking in french). I told him no. He asked if I minded that he sat down, I told him sure. Another one of my many mistakes. To make a long story short, he was a 32 year old homosexual Algerian man. He ended up talking to me and trying to get me to come back to his house for more than 2 hours. I had no idea how to get away from him without being rude or being afraid he'd stab me. We talked about a lot of things, it was mostly him talking and me listening, but these are some of the gems from the conversation:

-Jews are the demise of society. He hates Jews, they are the worst. The 70 year anniversary of concentration camps was coming up and he's very excited to celebrate and hopes he can make it to Germany. Jews are badbadbad. It was literally an entire social commentary focusing on how Jews are an inferior race and Islam is the only answer to the world's problems. He vowed that if he ever met a Jew in person that he would kill them himself. Immediately after he says this, he asks me if I'm Jewish. Lucky for me I'm not...

-He asks me what my name is. I tell him it's Marty. He looks at me and winks. He says that in Lebanese Marty means "my wife". He then goes on to tell me that he once had a wife, until one day he decided he liked men more than women.

-He told me his current boyfriend is Egyptian. He poops without clothes on which he thought was weird. He asked me if I ever pooped without clothes on. I told him I thought it was pretty weird as well. Apparently his boyfriend's daughter from a former marriage is Jewish, he said he doesn't kill her though because she's like family to him and he loves her. Okkkk

-He tells me I need to watch out, because there are very aggressive homosexuals lurking the streets of Paris that aren't as nice as him. This as probably the one valuable piece of advice he gave me.

-He asks me if I want to go dancing with him and sleep in his apartment. He says it's alright if I tell him no, but he still asks me every 5min. Apparently his boyfriend that he loves so much was out of town and he felt lonely. He even gave me his #

-He was drinking some weird smelling alcohol out of a soda bottle and he swears he just started drinking last month and that he never did before in his life. Then he pulls out a joint, except it wasn't weed, idk what it was, some kind of other drug you smoke. Anyways, he swears to me he just started smoking last week, and he does it to forget the influence of the Jews.

It was unreal and uncomfortable how anti-Semetic this guy was. I mean I've made jewish jokes before that were probably in poor taste, but this guy was so over the top that it made me sick. It's hard to believe people like him exist in the world, yet at the same time it really explains why there are so many problems. Because i know for a fact there are others more extremist/fucked up than he was.

He went around the corner to take a "peepee", and for the first time in 2 hours I had my only out. It took me less than .0001 seconds to decide to run as fast as I could and get the hell out of there. I ran up the stairs and crossed the nearest bridge I could find. I ended up going to the other side of the Seine and found a makeshift slant to sleep in. It was totally obstructed so that no one could see me, I thought it'd be perfect. WRONG AGAIN MARTY, WHEN THE FUCK WILL YOU LEARN

Before I can even fall asleep, I feel something across my leg. I look down and see it's a rat. A fucking rat. I had never actually seen a rat before then in real life. It was disgusting. Before I could get up, like 3 more were on me. One of them tried to bite me but only got a mouthful of jean. I ran out of there, feeling like I had just looked the Bubonic Plague in the eyes.

I head back toards the Louvre thinking I can get back into the Metro Station and just sleep there until the first train starts running. Nope.

On my walk I pass the Jardin tuilery again, except now there are literally like 6 gay guys in there, in plain site, with 4 of them engaging in anal sex. It was quite possibly the most disgusting thing I've ever seen in my life. I try to sneak by unnoticed and the other 2 not assfucking each other start yelling stuff in French to me that I dont understand. So I make a run for it. I run until I'm out of breath, and keep running some more. You know that burn you get in your chest and lungs when you get exhausted from exercising too much, and you feel like you're going to vomit blood? That's what I had.

I get back to the metro station outside the louvre, and they had a gate around it locked. Fail. So at this point it was like 3.30 and I had 2 hours to kill before the first train ran. I see to my left a bunch of hot girls dressed up hanging around outside. I guess there was a nightclub right next to the Louvre. I go and try talking to some cute french girls, but instantly get rejected, hich I normally would just bounce back and talk to the next person, but I was so shook I just decided not to bother and walked on.

I head back towards the Louvre to look for a discrete place I can piss. I head like 10min away and walk down a shady side street and take a pee. It was one of those pisses that since you held it for awhile it came out uncontrollably. I actually pissed all over someone's windshield. Oh well, all you can drink France!!

I walked back towards the Louvre and actually ended up sleeping on a bench outside of there for almost an hour. I saw other homeless people doing it, so I thought it was a safe bet. I was right for once. I guess I can brag that I slept at the Louvre and you didn't.

I woke up the coldest I had ever been in my life, and it wasn't even that cold outside. I headed toward the metro shivering from head to toe to catch the first train to anywhere. The sun still wasn't up, so I assumed nothing was open yet. I told myself I would take the train back and forth and sleep there until the sun came up, that way it'd at least be warmer outside.

Waiting for the train a middle eastern guy asked me if I spoke english, I thought oh great, another beggar. I really didn't respond, and he asked me when the train was due. Oh ok, cool. We ended up talking for 20minutes waiting for the train. He was an engineering student from Saudi Arabia, I guess he partied hard at the nightclub I walked by and said it was one of the best he had been to. He had all sorts of cool stories. He told me about a friend of his that used to throw parties every weekend at like 50k a pop until he went busto. It made me feel that much more insignificant for not even paying $200 for a hotel room. He told me after I'm done traveling Eruope, I need to go to dubai. He said my dollar would go far there, and it's the best city in the world. I figure it'll be worth a try. We get on the train together and keep talking, but I struggle to stay awake and by the time I wake up he's gone. I feel really bad for judging him and labeling in my head as a beggar. Part of my trip is to see the world and all its people to erase these preconceived prejudices I have. I could discount it to the fact that I was tired, frustrated, and a combination of other things. But truth be told, at the end of the day I was just as bad as the Jew hating Algerian man and that made me sick.

I fell back into a light sleep and rode the train cycle like 4 times until they caught on and kicked me off. Luckily, they kicked me off at L'Arc Defense, which I wanted to see anyways. I took a few pictures (albeit terrible since I was so tired) then headed into a Mcdonalds and grabbed some orange juice, coffee, and pain au chocolat. The McDonalds here are so much nicer than what we have in the states. They're very modern, with art work, and nice furniture. It was actually a pleasure dining there.

I took the next train back the the Louvre, grabbed 2 espresso shots, another coffee, and spent my day looking at artwork, and celebrating the fact  survived my night on the streets.

A Prolonged Update

I am sitting in an internet cafe right now in the North zone of paris, essentially killing time since I have nowhere to sleep tonight, but thats a whole other story; for another blog, which ill probably write about tomorrow


For now, I want to dedicate this blog to my time in london.

I got into london and stayed with my friend joe who I have known since I was about 14. we go way back to before we started playing poker, and more or less came up together. hes been a better friend to me over the years than nearly anyone ive known, so i was naturally excited about meeting him for the first time

a lot of people think its weird that you can put so much blind faith into a person that youve never met that you can fly several thousand miles and expect to meet them and have them be as nice in person as they are online, and with Joe and every other person I met this trip, that internet pact of blind trust held true.

I met so many people I talk to on a daily basis, and then other randoms, who showed me nothing but the most warming hospitality. London turned out to be a lot more than just the first stop on my trip around the world. In fact, I probqbly did a lot less in London tourist wise than I will in any other city, but I have no doubt that come December, when I am flying home reflecting on my trip, the time spent in London with my "online friends" will probably be the most significqnt days of my trip.

I want to give a personal thank you to all these people who made my time in London such a memorable experience. I'm sorry if I forgot you, we all met so many people during the course of EPT London that at times it's hard to keep a perfect record:

Joe
Marcel
Max
TT
Mickey
Bunner
Fabiano
Jacob
Ben
Jon
Alan
Tim
Tom

Plus many, many others. Whether we were meal flipping, playing credit cqrd roulette, getting black out drunk, degenning with poker/bowling/air hockey/slots/anything, or just there supporting and helping each other out it was a great experience that I hope to repeat again in the future.

However, with that being said, there is obviously a direct antithesis to everything great about a poker oriented vacation. I literally did nothing even related to sight seeing in London. I didn't go to Buckingham Palace, I didn't see Big Ben, I didn't cross London Bridge, and I sure as hell didn't visit Parliament. So when someone asks me what I did in london, I can't tell them I did anything different here than I do at home on a daily basis: I got drunk, gambled, qnd had fun with friends (except it's probably 3x more expensive in London as it is in Tallahassee. I couldn't go out qnd see an Orchestra, because I was either grinding nightly tournqments, watching someone play nightlys, or playing a cashgame somewhere. Even when I wasnt playing much poker, all of my days were still structured around poker. I'd go to bed every night after the sun was up (well I guess that qualifies as morning) and wake up well into the afternoon. I feel as if you miss out on the tourist experience when you're playing poker, which thankfully I won't be doing much of for the rest of my trip. I suppose it also helps being on my own now as well

Though I didn't get much of the "tourist" London experience, I still feel like I got a decent taste of the city's substance, and as much as i love their accents (and Keira Knightley), I'm going to go out on a limb here and say London wasn't my type of city, and I was glad to leave when I did, and might go as far to say I stayed a few days too long. I guess I'd feel that way about any place though when I have another 17 potential countries to visit

Outside of the haze of drunken gambling, where every night was another story to tell at the bar with my friend's back home, one London experience in particular made was memorable in a different respect.

Coming home from a late night in London, Joe and I were fortunate enough to catch the last train back into Watford. In the station we met a drunk middle aged woman who needed someone to talk to. She was very chatty, very open about her thoughts, and very opinionated. To give you a better picture, she had severql tattoos on her arms, and taught music to elementqry aged kids. You know the type I'm referring to. Fast forward to the time we board the train, I'm silent at this point as Joe qnd her are arguing the morality of online poker. I don't even admit to her I play, I simply respond that I'm a student and that Joe is the pro. She gives the same old arguments you hear from everyone else that we qre leaching off society, and not doing anything to help promote the greater good. She was of course very self righteous, since she was following her dream and teaching music. She was pounding Joe non-stop, but I didn't bother to intrude since there's no way an argument with someone so emotional can be won, or so I thought...

As the train is about to depart another man sits down, he taught English to highschoolers. He joined in attacking Joe, but in a more polite way, kind of genuinely interested in what he had to say. He asked what Joe believed, stated his own beliefs qnd asked where we were headed with our lives. He spent much time making social commentary that the woman didn't seem to agree with. Her rebuttal to his idealism was that "the world is how the world is, so live with it". He asked her how she could possibly teach youth with such a defeatist attitude and she started to explode. She said she has her own beliefs, so the man asked politely if she could say what they were, she claimed it was impossible, but I reminded her that Joe and the man had just done so 5 minutes ago. She asked while we were all ganging up on her, and started screaming that all she really wants to do is go home and fall asleep in a bed full of gold and live a selfish life. Then she started crying and shouted "none of you ever talk to me again". She got up and walked away, but the train was so full she got about 4 feet from us, everyone was staring. Made for an interesting night

But it made me wonder how someone so previously strong in their convictions could just snap like that. Or maybe she just didn't know what she believed in at all? I think that's the scariest thing, not knowing what your core beliefs are.

That's all I have to say for now. I'm about to brave the streets, and hopefully tqke pictures so mickey is happy. Will probably make for a good blog post as well


Also, the A and M keys are in different spots on these keyboards, so if you see Qs where As are supposed to be I'm sorry. I I may have missed a few

Late Nights and Idle Time

I spent the day out today at a bar across the street. I had a few beers with my roommate, and our friend Richie, while I watched them hapless bets on college football in an attempt to get even. I think they ended up doing so, but that's kind of irrelevant. The day was relaxing, and a much needed get away from the grind of poker. Even if two old men grabbed me by the arm and bruised my wrist for yelling "fuck you joe smith" when FSU scored off a BYU turnover.

I could've gone out and celebrated our big win tonight, even if we lost, Saturday nights in Tallahassee are usually not nights I stay inside my room, unless I'm deep in some kind of MTT, but I told myself today I would come home, go to bed early, wake up, eat a good meal, and focus hard on the 5k tomorrow.

That's not exactly how it went. If it was, I wouldn't be updating my blog for the first time in months. I came home tonight before 9.30, I was asleep by 10, but awake again before 2; I can't sleep. 

At first I tried to chalk it up to the buzzing murmur of my desktop and monitors being left on. Then I thought maybe it'd be best to turn the TV on half mute (since I normally fall asleep with the TV on). Next, I turned the AC down 10 degrees because I felt hot, but 30 minutes later I needed a sheet because I was cold. Maybe I couldn't sleep because I slept in late today, or maybe I couldn't sleep because I ate too many garlic parmesagn wings and I'm bloated with beer farts. 

None of those reasons are it though, truth of the matter is, for the first time in over 2 years I'm scared, and after dodging that feeling, and running around it for 2 weeks now, making several excuses to myself, I can finally admit to myself just how afraid I am.

I never come off as the fearful type, I'm free spirited, easy going, open for pretty much anything. But I think my total lack of boundaries has gone too far, or is at least getting close to that proverbial edge people like to say they live on.

The worst part is, I've brought all of this upon myself. Every last inkling of regret/fear/concern/nauseousness/unease/empty anticipation/worried curiosity/plus a lot of other jumbled feelings I'm not wordy enough to translate onto paper for others to understand, are direct results of my actions. 

I messed up, more than once, and I feel like I keep compounding it.

It would take me a fortnight to even begin to describe all of the ways I've screwed up, but it would be silly and downright dishonest of me to try to talk around it all, I've made enough excuses to myself. 

In no particular order of consequence:

-I can't say one negative thing about my trip to Brazil, but the experience itself changed me in several ways. I think the biggest thing Brazil made me realize, was the disparity between reality and where I wanted to be with my life. I formed this ideal Utopia in my head, that would just be waiting for me as soon as I got back to America. It wasn't, I got frustrated, and made a bunch of rash decisions.

-Hurting my knee was awful. It got me out of a routine. I was waking up early, running everyday, playing tennis, shooting hoops outside, going out a lot and socializing. After hurting my knee, not being able to walk at all for an entire week, and being extremely immobile for 2 weeks, my social life, health, and a lot of other things just took a huge nosedive. I've eaten delivery or takeout everyday for the past month, unless I've dined in, which has been a few times. But I'm eating the worst I've ever eaten, I'm not exercising at all, I've put on 20lbs, and I'd say 80% of my clothes don't fit me anymore. I have no doubt I'll lose the weight back, but for now it's just another frustration that's keeping me down.

-Expecting too much from other people. I need to carve "live life without expectation" into my wrist with a wooden ladle, or at least get a tattoo of it (even though tattoos are trashy), just so I can remember it always. People don't change, I don't, you won't, and neither will anyone you ever meet. We all seek the comforts of the past. No one is exempt or special. 

-Running away from my problems. I think 90% of my reasoning for the Euro trip is to get away from some problems and avoid confronting certain things. You know that helpless feeling, when you want to say something and can't, even when you try, and you're not sure if it's because you can't communicate, they don't listen, or maybe there is someone else in the world that hates confrontation just as much as I do. Moving on, literally. It only takes the Atlantic Ocean, a different time zone, and several thousand miles. Luckily for me I'll have crossed all 3 in a short 8 days.

-I mean, I don't really regret it at all, but dropping out, or "taking a semester off" has definitely had a lot of effects on my life. One of the biggest ones, is that it has totally estranged me from all of my friends. Since I'm never on campus anymore, I never see them. WCOOP hasn't helped any either, since that basically killed any prospect of a social life. I miss being around people, I miss dumb arguments, I miss that stupid kid in the back corner asking our Econ teacher to go over supply/demand because he doesn't get it. 

-I messed up big time with poker. I sold off my WCOOP action, and put way too much of my own money into it, and made a dumb clause for no reason. I said I wouldn't multitable SNGs when I was playing WCOOP events, so on top of running bad and losing most of my money, I haven't had a chance to make any of it back. I'd be fine if I ever won a tournament, but these last 3 weeks have been like entering the lottery everyday and just slowly bleeding away. I would've been better off grinding heavily on my own, satelliting into bigger buyins, or just degen shot taking. I've cost myself so much money with this stupid deal and I can't wait until it's over so I can grind again and get back to making money. Except I feel like I can't win at poker anymore. I really feel like this might be the one time where I actually hit bottom and bust and my life is thrown into shambles, the dream is over, the financial freedom is handcuffed. I watch my money slowly trickle away, $20 here, $30 there. Imminent busto approaching.

-Oh did I mention I'm going to Europe for 3 months? My bank account is next to empty, my stars account is the lowest it's ever been in recent memory, and I have to sustain myself for a long time in a strange place, where I'm not guaranteed any essentials of life. I won't have a certain  roof over my head, I don't know how I'm going to eat everyday. I have to rely on making money while I'm there, and after seeing what happened to Kwame in Brazil, I don't want things to go wrong. I definitely still want to go, and I'm not trying to back out, because I cant since I sunk a lot of money on transportation, but this definitely could've waited from a financial standpoint. Even if I manage to sustain myself there, I don't know what to do when I get home in December broke. Poker is so depressing I can never tell if it's viable for me for any period longer than a week. Anyways, back to the trip, I didn't even buy one of those obnoxious backpacks. I'm just using a small one and winging it. I haven't planned anything at all. I feel like if I plan I'll realize exactly how much money I don't have and convince myself that my trip is impossible. 

I guess it all comes down to timing issues. Some things have been too soon, others unplanned, some unexpected, some mapped out, some things just fizzled out, never happened, passed us by, too late. I've screwed up, but even if I had a time machine, I don't know where I'd go to change where I'm sitting tonight. I can't pinpoint my tipping point. 

There's a reason this is my favorite quote, well one of them:

"Life can only be understood backwards, but it must be lived forwards"

-Soren Keirkagard

I'll be regularly updating my blog from now on, at least while I'm traveling. So expect frequent posts if anyone still reads this. I just ordered a new camera from Amazon too, so I'll be able to make fancy updates with pictures

gah

2 deep runs last night

very close to 78k and 92k

this is getting ridiculous.

watching some videos on DC so i can beat cash for more money.

going fishing this weekend

chasing romance is more tilting than poker

i miss brazil

its been awhile

havent played poker. so i felt it was silly to update my blog

the last 2 weeks in brazil were as good as the first month...i think i know how to do the samba now

i have $2.08 in my bank account

i miss being away, because it made home seem that much more exotic and desirable. home is the same though. i forgot how static the world was

i feel like there are too many unmet expectations in my life, for as few expectations as i actually have. im just going to do away with those.

i think im moving today, then ill play poker. start tennis again. i woke up this morning and jogged. im going to try to do that every morning

i have 3 more seasons of six feet under to watch. then it's onto the sopranos. 

i also have a bunch of pimsleur learning tapes. going to finish portugese, then brush up on my french, learn spanish, then italian last. conversational in 5 languages is my goal.

i need to be productive as possible for the next month, so i can rationalize the extremes