Growth and Goodbye

This letter was written and sent to the students I had the pleasure of sharing a semester in Lyon with.

“We hardly know ourselves when we know nobody else”

It's not often that one receives greater clarification about themselves. I say receive because it cannot happen by yourself. It is a process that occurs with the help from others. They must push or pull you in a direction you wouldn't normally go in order to help you see what you have become. I have long had a problem with showing compassion. It is not that I am a horrible person, hopefully, but it is that I am not perfect. My first reaction to people can be harsh and usually unfair. I talk and influence people in ways they don't deserve. I stick to my reasoning with little reason. These are all issues that have affected my personal life, and that take a great deal of time to change. However, I have noticed my faults, and I apologize for the pain any of them may have caused. I love you all, and I hope that I can make that as clear to you as it is to me.

One reading this may have assumed that there was some huge falling out or perhaps a heated argument. This wasn't the case at all. I think some may have seen that around the corner, I may have even thought about what I would say, but it never went there. We saw it together, and I think we are moving towards fixing it together. I may never see some of you again, our contact may be brief, but the lessons I have learned here will last me a lifetime. What follows is quite personal, but not in the way you are used to from me. I have written before, often for effect, in a negative manner. I have slighted nearly all of you in one way or another. I am an asshole, but hopefully with potential for change. I think this week past week has marked a lot of change for me and this message is now appropriate. This is my love of your friendships, written... and shouted from the mountain top.

I think it most appropriate to start with the girls that I most readily and unfairly judged. I dubbed you the girls, but how inappropriate as you are each completely different in your own crazy way. I haven't gotten as close to you as I have with others, but that is my fault and my regret.

Katie, I don't think there has been a conversation with you over the last month in which you didn't make me laugh. Your ability to absorb everything around you, good or bad, and make light of it amazes me. When people are stressed you calm them down, and when they are heated you cool them off. You take it for what it is and leave it at that. I don't want to start talking as if its over, but I wish I was able to share more laughs with you along the way. If everyone had your attitude towards life I think this world would be a damn good place to live.

Sam, you may be short and quiet but you are one of the biggest sweethearts I've ever met. I don't think you have a bad bone in your body and like your companions you see the world in a good light. It is a remarkable trait that I don't even come close to having. I have many bad bones, that seems to be quite obvious. At first I thought I was better than you. This was a mistake that I have made before and will unfortunately make again with others, but I'm not better. When we got here we students studying abroad, trying to have a good time. So, up until that point we were equal. Since then, you have lived your life and enjoyed the ride. You should be proud as I am envious.

Lindsey, you have proved to me that perception and reaction is everything. At first I looked down on you for everything you dropped and the occasional silly question that you asked, and now I absolutely love you for it. Although your most memorable image of me might be bringing FA over to talk to you, (haha sorry) there are quite a few instances that I can look back on and laugh at with you. You are a joy to be around and have changed most of my views on Long Island Women. You won't have to find happiness because I am absolutely sure it will find you. In fact, you will probably drop something on it and get its attention.

Devin, it took quite a long time to get to this point in our friendship. You are a completely unique individual, and I don't think any of us can disagree with that fact. But, it took me an awful long time to love you for it. At first, I couldn't understand you, then I didn't want to be around you, and then, most regrettably, I allowed my feelings to affect others. I spread and exaggerated my feelings, but there was a reason that it never really took hold with anyone else. The reason I disliked you is probably because I saw in you what I knew I couldn't be. I will never be able to say everything that is on my mind and be perfectly okay with everyone hearing it. It is not at all in my outward nature, but we would all be lucky to have such honesty in our lives. I wish you the absolute best and hope you never change!

Jackie, you have been gone for just a few days and I already miss holding down your doorbell until you answer the door. I may have done it once or seven times over the weekend... I didn't reach out to you at all until our time was close to gone. I thought you were snappy and abrasive, but then I waited for the punch line and absolutely loved you. I'm fairly sure you could make me die in two different ways; physically kicking my ass and causing internal bleeding, or making me laugh so hard that I rupture my spleen. Yes, I would literally shit myself with laughter and die. I hope to make Philly a stop-over in my journeys from Boston to D.C. from now on.

Ken, I think you may be the only one of the group that I don't owe some sort of an apology. But, if you want to I'd be happy to hop in your suitcase and come to Japan with you (provided there is a bottle of Moet packed away with me). You are a genuinely nice guy and I will be happy to see you around campus.

Shephali, you may be thinking “hey, I don't think he owes me an apology”... but then you can think to that morning. It was you, me, and Cory laying in the bed. You were being sandwiched and occasionally dry humped. It was all fun and games until I left you a little treat. Unfortunately, it was the gift that kept on giving. I am sorry for making you room smell for two hours.... but you know I love you and I hope that you still love me. Better visit Montreal!
Aaron, you are an honest and good person. You can talk up a storm with anyone and your genuine appreciation for good deeds has not gone unnoticed. I have not always had the most level headed attitude towards you, and I can recall several instances in which I barked back with more than please and thank you. If you had been able to influence me earlier in life I would probably have turned out to be a more honest person. Regardless, I am glad that I have gotten to talk with you more as of late and apologize for allowing you to go excluded in the past.

Dylan, I never gave you enough credit for who you are. I heard up-state and mountains and formed an opinion. It didn't strike me to go too far beyond that until we got close to the end here. You keep things pretty simple and shoot as straight as an arrow. You always seem to have good intentions and that's more than I can say for myself. Hell of a wingman, too. I enjoy your friendship and appreciate the kind of person you always are. Keep in touch, big guy.
Cory, you bitch ass mother fucker! You have put up with an awful lot of shit coming from me. Your endurance for my attitude is greatly appreciated, because I would be dead on a sailboat if it wasn't for you. We have had one hell of a time and an even greater adventure. There are some memories that I will never forget, especially after I get around to writing about them. You are more of a saint than Dorothy Mantooth, and I thank you for the laughs. Keep on keepin on, and I'd be happy to wander and go buy some snacks.

Kelly, with you I will draw this note to an end. We all have our demons, but I unfortunately let mine get the best of me. We started to get close and I pushed you away with my pen. It wasn't intentional or conscious at the time, but when I looked back on it I knew what I had done. There are reasons behind it that I haven't even figured out myself, but when I do I'd be happy to share it with you like you have shared so much with me. You have been a good friend to me and I will always have a spare hand for you. I can see your light (dear god, why does my imagination always make me into an asshole? I don't want to start telling jokes during a serious letter but I think we could all use a smile to end this)... I could even see it with a half smile. Your spirit will guide you to what makes you happy, so set it free and let it do the work. I will see you at the top, and back in Boston. =)

Apologies for what has been done are useless without a genuine shift towards the correct behavior. I'm not perfect, and I am still going to steal so I am not even trying to be, but I am going to try to be a better person with all of you. We have all gone through shit while in Lyon, and I'm sorry for the pieces that I threw.

Love you all,
Scott

A Weekend Full on Beauning!

Beaune!

I am now on a train headed north to Beaune. It is a relatively small town south of Dijon, known for its wine, of course. Last night Kelly presented the idea of a day trip and I agreed quite readily seeing as the ticket only cost 11 euros each way. There was also the opportunity to get a discounted, maybe free, wine tasting from a friend of Kelly's old boss, so that added to the desire. We thought about an overnight stay that would have us leaving last night and spending a night in a cute little bed and breakfast, but for many reasons, the most obvious being cost, we opted for the morning train. So, here I am, feeling refreshed and rejuvenated thanks to a few downloads last night. Bring it on Beaune! I'll check in on the train home.

Disclaimer. This one makes fun of Kelly an awful lot. I would spread it out to others, but I was with her alone all day. I do love the girl to death, though, and all jokes should be taken with a light heart and grain of salt. That being said, I think this is my funniest piece as of late...



"I get this dizzy high after every time I eat red meat." That's what Kelly said... after eating Beef Burgundy, of course.. hahaha.

Arriving I was excited, but my expectations remained moderate and nowhere close to what we actually achieved. We started the day by wandering from the station into town. There was a little rain, but spirits were still high After getting lost and failing to recognize a few key street signs, we found the desired location of Alex Gambal's winery/cave/office. Kelly had been referred there by a colleague, and it turns out that Mr. Gambal is actually from Boston. He and his wife are quite possibly the nicest people living in France (north of Lyon?), and agreed to work in a tasting at 5:00 that night before they went home. His wife also printed a map of the town and pointed out some must-see locations. Now on our way, we knew the end point and only needed to find ways to enjoy the journey. Perfect.

Beaune is actually a really interesting town. The center of town, and the only place really worth going, is completely walled in as it used to be a fortress. There are more wine shops inside this small fortress than you could shake a stick at. We managed to walk around the entire city three times and continued to find new wine shops in the basements of old buildings. Speaking of hidden finds, there seem to be quite a lot not-so-public courtyards in the city and surrounding area created by groupings of 17th century masions. We saw an open gate and unique possibilities, so naturally we entered. The amber autumn leaves falling heavy with rain drew contrast against the weathered stone walls that surrounded us. Ha, talk about imagery! Anyways, we were minding our business scavenging pears off of the ground when we noticed that these old buildings around us were actually private homes, and that a family was trying to enjoy a lunch in one of these homes. Needless to say we attempted to make a smooth getaway with as little fuss and aggravation as possible. Unfortunately, the headphones that linked both of our noggins to my jacket pocket caused a little hiccup in this plan. A tangle ensued and grace definitely did not. At least we got pears...

Continuing the exploration, we stumbled upon a moutarderie, or a place that makes mustard. At the palace o' mustard, we found their posted hours to jive, or not jive I'm not really 100% sure on the definition of the word jive, with our schedule. We entered none the less. Despite my desire to make off with a pallet of shrink wrapped mustard jars, the forklift operator made it pretty clear that they were not open and that we shouldn't be inside their "warehouse". It was outside, so it can't be a damn warehouse, but mustard was all over the place, so I will accept the term storage area. Regardless, we left without mustard and I made the decision to buy only wine during my stay to this place. Dad, do you prefer mustard or wine? Wine? Good.

Ramparts! Kelly asks what are ramparts. I obviously answer as if I fully understand the words in my own National Anthem. We venture up the so called ramparts, which are just the fortress walls for those who are curious, and found some scenic avenues with overhanging trees and quaint houses with rose dotted ivy and contrasting shudders. Took some pictures, check facebook. We also found out something else, well... two things. First, despite being enclosed in a single circle, it is incredibly easy to get lost in the streets of Beaune. Second, when a woman has the map, you will get lost anywhere (Now, my mother may contest this point, and I may be asked to apologize. As I like to be proactive, please reference Bern, Switzerland and shut the hell up). It was around this time that the map moved from Kelly's hands and into my pocket. We were better off navigating by the stars during a daytime thunderstorm.

There any food in this place? Well, yes good sir, there is! I got a little mixed on the order, so all the food will come at once. American style? Our first stop-in was at... some little swanky cafe that began with a B, right next to Hotel Dieu. There, we each had coffee and shared a platter of escargot. Absolutely delicious and got us warmed up and out of the rain. One point that really should not be mentioned... this is your warning... is that my companion took an unusually lengthy amount of time in the bathroom. My sole conclusion is that she was taking a deuce. I think about these things, I'm sorry. My school asked me to record my thoughts and feelings about everything I did, I have no choice.

The most memorable meal was thankfully the only full meal. We ate at Piqu' Boeuf, and I am not incredibly clear on the full translation of that one. We went because their fixed menu option was cheap and we could save a little money. Well, we didn't get the fixed menu and ended up splurging, at least slightly. Was it worth it? Stay tuned next week to find out! … (consider this a week of anticipation)... It was worth it! The first item on the menu was a salad as unique as Kelly's half paralyzed face. It had great lettuce (not so unique), warm escargot sans shell, and something similar to thiny bacon bits... but more French. The dressing was a little garlicky (was about to type "shut up spell check", but I guess it is a real word when you have a 'k' in there), a little spicy dijon, and a little kick ass. The lady (who I love!) and I shared that joyfully. Her joy did not go quite as far as mine as I was even winking with joy. Okay, enough picking on her. Excluding the stupid pieces of uncooked spaghetti sticking up from the center of the salad for decoration, it was absolutely perfect. Kelly, as mentioned before, got her fill of red meat (from above the table, not under... you sick minds) in the form of Boeuf Bugundade. The meat carried a strong flavor and was complimented with a creamy baked potato. I had more than a small sample and agreed with her praise.

For my main course, I decided to go against the eat local philosophy and ordered a scallop risotto in the middle of France. Luckily, the French leprechaun population came out in full force and blessed this dish. It was beyond delicious. I can't tell you how to cook scallops perfectly, because I really have no idea what this chef did. I could get you in touch with any of my family members if you are interested in an imperfect method, though. The texture, the seasonings, all just came together and made me smile. The risotto was a feat within itself. So creamy, so tasty, simply desirable on every level. The meal was worth every euro, and psychologically made better as Kelly paid, already owing me for the morning.

After eating we made our way to the Hospice Museum, which is supposedly one of the most visited historical sights in France, outside of Paris of course. If you want my opinion, and even if you are being required to read this, it's crap. Unfortunately, it is also the only thing to do in Beaune if you are Mormon, because everything else deals with wine, and the consumption of. I did climb a roped off tower because I was so infuriated with the place as a whole. Trespassing some more, we left to explore gardens and quiet streets. Turning a corner, we see this tall, seemingly abandoned, house with a massive fence surrounding it. The mailbox said it was some sort of theater, so we walked in. Kelly was instantly spooked out, and it didn't get any easier for her. The windows on the front door were dusty with age, but had letters fingered out from the inside. Ghosts? I asked the question to get her thinking. We then moved around the side where the theater was and noticed a ritualistic cross with misplaced items of tattered clothing wrapped around it. Kelly started for the exit. I convinced her to keep walking towards the back. The separate structure on the side shows signs of more recent use. I take pictures of broken windows and weird occurrences. Now almost behind the house, we see a light and a work bench. Behind the bench...(cue the music)... IS A MAN! Kelly books it, quickly, straight for the exit. While the house is a little creepy (but if restored would be an amazing place to live), the theater actually seems to still be in use and the man was probably building a set or something. Regardless, the humor behind the movie I made of Kelly's reactions will bring laughs and memories to me in my old age. Women... can't live with them, can't laugh without making fun of them.

As our wine tasting is now close but not fast approaching, we decide to wet the palate and prepare the liver at the local watering hole. Coffee? Why not put an Irish twist on that babe? My skittish companion went with wine. For the price, which was cheap, her Pinot Noir was incredibly good. The Irish Coffee was borderline superb. Not that I've had many, but other than the Jamison Distillery in Dublin, this was the best Irish Coffee I have ever had. Nearly six euros, yes a little much maybe, but when compared to a cappuccino for four euros, a steal. French people were talking to us during our drink, didn't really catch anything until it was goodbyes. American ladies, southerners, came in asking for an English menu that didn't exit, but I thought twice about offering my translation skills. We headed out, stopped at a store to buy some local wines, and then headed for the Gambal Winery. Is that the right term? Winery? Not like I call my room a fuckery, so it seems off. (Haha... oh lord... don't worry Dad, that truly was a joke)

We were greeted almost like family, possibly due to Alex's roots in Boston, and given a full tour and personal history of the facility by the owner and founder himself. My favorite part was in the cellar amongst all the wooden barrels of wine waiting to be bottled. I asked a few questions and stumbled upon a discussion about a special type of fermentation involving the acids in the wine. It was truly interesting to learn from a man who is so obviously passionate about what he does. White wine doesn't have tannin? Tannin and acid are completely different? Elmo was gay? Who knew. Moving upstairs, we began the tasting. Now, the odds were stacked against me as five of the seven wines presented were white. Those odds were overcome when the only bottle I bought turned out to be a white wine. I usually hate the overly sweet stuff, and I usually find red wine to be much more enjoyable and refined (like I can really tell the difference). Anyways, I will admit that the bottle I bought comes with a story and cool name, which motivated me towards its gift giving potential. Les Murgors des Dents de Chien, roughly translates to Rocks that look like Dog's Teeth. The name comes from where the grapes are grown... apparently the rocks look like dog teeth. The taste is nice, though, and the wine is strong enough to keep for a few years too. Anyways, Merry Christmas unnamed family member.

So, that was the end of the night, almost. We had just missed the train, so there was just under an hour to kill. Solution? Desserts! We got a little tasting menu including black currant ice cream, apple tart, some cream puff pastry thing, and a mystery chocolate cream shortbread concoction. I consumed the accompanying coffee and we were off to the station. Home once again, it was a day to be remembered, and a blog post to publish!

Peace and Love from France,
Scott Stephen Smith

Eurocation: Frankfurt is Famous for… Orange Beer??

Just to dispel rumors that may arise from this title, no I did not. We did however, stay in the red light district and were therefore exposed to quite a variety of people.

Arriving in Frankfurt, we were actually not in Frankfurt… not even close. The so called “Frankfurt-Hahn Airport was in Hahn, two hours away from Frankfurt. That is A, total bullshit, and B, a pain in the ass. The discount ticket didn’t seem like too much of a discount when you consider the fact that we had to take a two hour bus ride to get anywhere near the city. This did not help my opinion of the city, which had already been brought towards my feet by everyone back in France. When we booked the tickets, we were just looking for cheap flights, and we went wherever the airfares took us. But, once we booked the tickets and started telling people where we were going, the first question was always “so, why do you want to go to Frankfurt? There is nothing there.” Shit… Well, it turns out there is something there. The best red light district in all of Germany. HA! I suppose the build up of the banking industry has produced some time restricted lonely workers with a lot of extra money. Sounds like a match made in heaven, eh?

 

So, arriving into the city, we make our way towards the hostel with the help of a young couple sporting an iPhone and google maps application. For the first time, we don’t have trouble getting to our hostel… yay! Being late already, it was peak hour for activity in the neighborhood surrounding our hostel. Side note, I found it interesting how the red light district is located next to the central train station. Do you think this a result of, or cause of, travelers having time to kill while waiting for the next train? Is the layover by booty call a big industry? Just a thought… Anyways, we get to our hostel expecting the worst, but it turns out to be the second nicest hostel I have ever stayed in. The only better quality place was Buccaneer's Backpackers in Cintsa Bay, South Africa. But, that was practically a resort community over looking the most beautiful view in the world, so it is not really a fair fight. Where was I? Oh, yes, the hostel. The beds were remarkably comfortable, the pillows and comforter was stuffed with pillows, and everything in sight was clean. They had a big breakfast platter buffet each morning and loaned out laptops for use for free. If you ever go to Frankfurt, stay in the… the… Five Corners Hostel? I think that’s the name.

That night we decided to explore the neighborhood a little bit. What we found were, of course, hookers. We also ran into a Pakistani man who owned a small little shop serving little snacks and beer. We decided to grab some brew, and I had one of the best beers I ever tasted, shame I can’t remember the name of it. During out conversation with the man, we learned of his decent and it was revealed that Shephali was Indian… uh oh? No, actually. They got along splendidly while Shephali secretly looked around for a stone to throw at him… KIDDING! We ended up getting some baked snacks and meeting some drunk German kids before we parted ways. I assumed drinking on the street was kosher in a place where doggy style on the sidewalk was smiled upon. After my refreshment, the comfy bed was calling my name like a Siren and we left the rest of the city until tomorrow. Before hitting the hay we met our only roommate in the dorm room. He was a young Japanese kid traveling on his own for six months. He didn’t speak much English and didn’t know Ken Kato (damn!) so the conversation pretty much ended there.

The next morning we had breakfast, showered (I smelled like poop), and tried to talk to our roommate once again. During breakfast I talked to an old retired couple who were staying at the same hostel, oddly enough. They were from the states, Midwest I believe, and talked with envy of our current adventure. Thankfully, there was no boat or orgy proposition this time. Once taking care of that, we ventured out to discover the city.

We went to the tourist office in the train station and asked what there is to do. She showed us a map with all the different museums and nightlife spots, and then asked us to pay for said map. If memory serves me correctly this is almost exactly what I said… “Ah hell no girl, I ain’t bout to pay for no map mmm! You ever hear of a street sign honey? You point, I walk. I’ll be happy as can be with no map in MY hand, you crazy girl!” … Yup, pretty much exactly how it went. Anyways, we left without the map.

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So we start cruising along, looking at the different buildings here and there. Frankfurt is a somewhat interesting story because before the war, and I mean the war in which Frankfurt got the shit bombed out of it, it was a center for factory production but also had many historic sites likes castles and churches and all that good stuff. After the war, it was pretty much a plot of land waiting to be developed. Well, that is exactly what they did. The city is extremely modern and filled with glass paneled sky scrapers. I heard the city was ugly, but I actually found it to be relatively attractive at night. Lots of shimmer! We stopped to try some apple wine, the apparent must do for the region, and wasn’t too impressed. It was a mix between shitty wine and shitty apple juice. Surprisingly, the two flavors didn’t come together to create a masterpiece as you may expect.

Continuing on, we made a few aquisitions. There was a small sign only secured with tape that tempted me too much to bear. Well, I now have a souveigner from Frankfurt! (Please see the German “no dogs allowed” sign above). Funny enough, it was outside a museum of film which had no security cameras. You want to know what I was thinking? Well, in the fight for PITA, I wanted to restore equal rights to dogs so that they could go wherever they please in this great world. Signs in general seemed to catch my interest. The word “Ausfahrt” is just too funny to pass up every time you see it… haha… ass fart… I believe my favorite find on the first part of this walk was indeed the yellow phone booth. Rave? Well of course! It’s Rave o’clock! We all crammed in and started dancing as if we had techno music in our ears. I made a short video to commemorate this occasion…

Raving in a Phone Booth!

Alrighty… now that we got that out of the way, what happens next? Starting to develop a bit of a hunger but not yet ready for a meal, we decide to go in the direction of pastries. Now, not completely familiar with German baking skills, especially when compared to France, we took a leap of faith. Cory purchased… I think nothing, maybe water which doesn’t exactly tell us anything. Shephali got an almond meringue which was chewy and delicious and wonderful. I got a cookie that ultimately confused me. I had trouble understanding the rice paper and/or Styrofoam that gave the cookie support from underneath. It wasn’t very easily pulled away, so I assumed it was edible, but then again it didn’t exactly taste that great… to enjoy these treats, we went to a park and found a bench. We saw a bunch of adorable little kids playing on a playground, but more importantly a bunch of hot nannies looking after them… nice.

Also, it was at this time that i began my pigeon punting quest. Not exactly in line with my previous defense of animal rights, but pigeons are a danger to society. Fact. Ever see the movie birds? Yeah, it will happen and I take it upon myself to initiate a preemptive strike. More video ensues…

Take 3, Frakfurt Germany

 

Moving from the bench, we now were actually hungry and desired some warmth. Soup is what the doctor orded, and soup is what we got. Cory again got himself a first by trying Pumpkin soup. Not only had he never had it but he had never even heard of it… crazy! It was a great pumpkin soup, too! We sat in an old style German restaurant with bench seating and a shit ton of beer on tap. Once again, some cute German girls were present. Lovin’ it! Our next stop was a bookstore, looking for a mini translation dictionary. No dice, but the owner of the store was a funny old German man. What? Check that off on my Where’s Waldo List of the world. Next to the bookstore we found a grocery store. They sell beer at grocery stores! I didn’t really care what I got, but i found a grapefruit beer. What? Lets try it. I did, and it actually tasted pretty good. Although relatively low in alcohol content and high in sugar, it was a pretty good experience overall. Do you want a picture? You do! Oh yes you do! You’ve been such a good reader today! Here you go!

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Now it was dark, and mischief was in the air once again. We knew our north star was the tallest building in the sky with yellow light accents. So we made our way towards it, orange beer in hand. On the way we passed a road filled with bars that we were looking for all afternoon… damnit! It was right around the corner! When we crossed we stopped for a photo shoot of us, the skyline, and the colorful sky just after sunset. A bit cliché, but a good memory once I took the camera from Shephali and showed her how to press the button on the top right hand corner that magically captures an image. Her skills are limited in regards to the  MySpace style extended arm photo shoot.

Continuing on our quest for a short nap prior to the full night we passed a couple interesting spots. When I say interesting, I mean funny. When I say funny, I mean a dark reminder of Germany’s past that is still capable producing a laugh. What am I talking about? You guessed it… Nazi Gnomes. Two golden garden gnomes sitting in a shop window, doing the traditional march used during the Nazi regime… they even had little swastikas… Don’t believe me? I wouldn’t lie to you! Would I? Nope. The answer is no, I never lie, especially about Nazi Gnomes. The other interesting thing we saw was a hookah bar. Now, this is another thing that Cory has never done, and prior to entering he said he never would. Once he entered, however, he was all about that shit. I am an amateur smoke ring blower, so I did my best to teach the other two how its done, but I wasn’t even doing it completely right so that didn't go far. That damn coal lasted forever, though.  I eventually could smoke no more of the flavored tobacco and made like trees, getting the fuck out of there.

That night while back at the hostel I met a guy from Ireland who was doing the same sort of thing that we were, sort of... He was taking a whole year off of school, hitchhiking from city to city and couch surfing wherever he could. I thought it was quite interesting and then he sparked an idea. Couch Surfing! That morning we were trying to figure out where the hell we were going to sleep when we got to Oslo. You see, Oslo is a damn expensive city and all the hostels that were affordable were booked full. Our thinking prior to leaving Lyon was that we would figure it out when we got there and just wait for someone to cancel their booking. Well… they didn’t cancel, and we couldn’t really afford to get a hotel room. So, at the advice of the Irish guy we went online to the couch surfing website and placed an emergency post. For those of you who don’t know, couch surfing is based on an online community of people that allow each other to sleep on their couch, floor, or extra bed while traveling. There are hosts and surfers and the hope is that everyone who takes a little will eventually give a little back. Cool stuff, relatively safe if you give yourself time to plan (which we didn’t). Anyways, we placed an emergency post and hoped for the best. All we could do from there was go drink and have a good time.

Feeling like a Guinness and having a native in our presence, we decided to go to an Irish bar we saw earlier. I bought the guy a beer simply because he gave us our only hope for not sleeping on a park bench. Shephali was slightly smitten by him, though she won’t admit it, simply because there isn’t an Irishman that she doesn’t love… haha sorry babe! We had a beer, watched some soccer, and made our way back to the red light district. Slot machines? Sure! Damnit, no more coins… What about a strip club? What? Nobody is dancing, nobody is here… Damnit, no more dignity.

We paid another visit to our Pakistani friend and had a snack prior to bed. It was another successful day in my mind and I ended up having one of the best times in Frankfurt despite what everybody said. Just goes to show that life is what you make of it, not what it makes of you. Write that down… or just bookmark this.

Peace and Love from the Red Light District,

Scott Stephen Smith

 

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Eurocation: Palma de Mallorca, Short and Sweet

Arriving from Ibiza, we remained tropical and Spanish at the same time. We also hung on to the habit of being on the wrong side of an Island. The problem this time was that Ibiza was a hell of a lot smaller than Palma de Mallorca. So… functional door hinges.

We get off the boat and find the bus that Shephali tells us we need to take. I had no idea where the hostel was, but she said we just had to take the bus to the end and we would be right there. Simple, right? Yes, except when you go to the wrong end and get off as the bus service is ending for the night… ummm…. yeah. Not happy. It turns out that Shafoofoo had actually taken the wrong bus from the airport, gotten lost, swept off her feet by another pirate, and eventually found her way in the right direction and to the hostel. The problem was that the love of her life ended up distracting her enough so that the only thing that she did remember was taking the bus to one end and being at the hostel. She left out the part of the memory involving getting off, changing busses, and traveling for 45 minutes. So, we get off the bus, still thinking she is right around the corner, and start walking. I talk to her on the phone, she asks us to go to the beach and we do. No Shephali, and mostly just water, no beach. Seems odd. I comment on how I see a lot of boats. She comments on how there is not a boat in the water. I comment on how this doesn’t sound good. She comments on the return of her memory. I comment on how I want to kill her.  We are now on the side of a major road, nowhere near where we started or where we want to be. Both would have been better than the current.

“Where the hell are we? Umm.. yeah, not there”

 

So, we’re walking, and walking, and we really have no idea how far away this place might be. Eventually I say fuck it and hailed the only taxi on the road. I was no longer willing to walk. I hadn’t slept the night before. I was grouchy, real grouchy. So we get in the car, tell her the bus stop we are looking for, and start driving. Then, I become surprised. We are on a highway, driving fast and for at least 10 minutes. I get worried and repeat the name of the stop fearing that my Spanish was not clear. Nope, it was. We eventually arrive in the next town over, what would have been a two hour walk easily, and find Shephali. My anger is in the open, but I find forgiveness after seeing those beautiful brown puppy dog eyes, aww. The thought of a bed kept me going for the remaining 5 minutes. I took my clothes off (which had been on for roughly 50 hours) and fell onto my surprisingly not bed-like bed. Whatever, I’m out.

 

“I could really for some shacoffee and shamuffins. Oh, and what I wouldn’t give for a Shaphilly Cheesesteak!”

 

We wake up to a complimentary breakfast, crucial part of my happiness. We get a tad bit of internet time and then I head to the beach for some alone time as the sun takes its place in the sky. I had been wound up a little bit and worn down a lot. I needed that time to set myself into neutral, let the batteries recharge as I soak up the sun, and prepare for the rest of the journey. Couldn’t let myself burn out after just 3 nights! Shall we begin the day?

 

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Well, what do you guys wanna do? There’s a bar right there, frozen drinks with little umbrellas? That would be wonderful! After picking up a pair of sunglasses so cheap that they didn’t last the first day, we found an open air bar and decided to pull back the throttle and kick into chill mode. After the drinks arrived, we passed around the table and I concluded that mine was the best, as usual… Moving on we decided to walk down the boardwalk and look out onto the beach. Good decision? Well, there were no police officers this time, but there was something even more threatening to my well being: saggy old German tourists taking advantage of the nude beach policy. Christ… Quickly crossing back over the street and away from the hairy jiggles, we hopped on a bus and headed towards downtown. Bus ride with the homeless!

 

I’m starving! Let’s get some coffee and then get some Tapas! We take the bus to midtown and start walking towards the main square, had a Spanish name I don’t remember. Had a great little coffee, listened to music that sounded more French than Spanish, and then made another move. What we found as a back alley tapas restaurant with relatively easy going prices. Explaining the concept of Tapas to Cory earlier in the day, he was absolutely amazed by the idea and had it in his mind that he would absolutely settle for nothing else. Once enjoying the meal, he changed from asking if we could get snacks to asking if we could find a tapas restaurant. Haha… he was a little kid and just found a new candy store.

 

So, we are leaving tonight… what can we do? Video journal… BEGIN!

 

As you can see, we had an interesting and relatively relaxing day while still seeing some pretty cool stuff. Obviously we did not pay to enter the church, or palace, or whatever it was, but instead enjoyed the breeze and the music perched up on a wall. Upon leaving, I left my bottle of vodka to the guitarist knowing that it would not be allowed on the plane I was running to catch. I had regained my sanity with the arrival of Shephali and was now ready to conquer the rest of (frozen) Europe.

 

Life is grand, my man.

 

Peace in Love from Palma,

Scotty

Eurocation: Ibiza Serves Sledgehammers for Breakfast

Waking up already trespassing in a sailboat with dried contacts and rotten breath wasn't exactly my idea of paradise. My ringtone pounded my ears as I worked around an uncomfortable morning wood. It was the tropics, but I was still cold after a night exposed to the stars. Where the hell am I?


I answered my cell simply to make it stop. It was Cory, asking where the hell I was. What? I'm still sleeping, the sun is barely up... what is going on? I glanced off of the boat and onto the dock to see Cory was no longer there. He apparently went looking for me not knowing that I found shelter overnight, and then found it necessary to wake me up before sunrise in order to avoid detection by police or boat residents. For a kid who is constantly tired I am utterly amazed at how quickly he got up and running. Oh, wait... mystery solved he's back to sleep.

We made our way to the ferry office, the one we were supposed to be at in the first place and found a bench outside. It was in that moment that we sat down that Cory was once again asleep. Fantastic.


So there we were, once again, on a bench in Ibiza. We had a hell of a lot more to lose this time though (excluding our lives and... I can't even say it) seeing as how if we missed this ferry to Palma, we would end up missing our flight out of Palma... not good. Plus, our poor little Indian friend would be in the beautiful Palma de Mallorca all by herself! I couldn't sleep thinking about how many guys she would make out with us if we weren't there to cock block her... it scares me to tears!
Where were we? Oh yes, on the bench. So, I am sitting there watching the damn sun rise, which actually made quite a beautiful picture, but only increased my despair. I wanted a bed more in that moment than any other in Europe. The night before had given me the benefit of alcohol, which made the situation much more bearable. But now, I was on a bench, exhausted from a short and shitty night of sleep, sitting next to a corpse with no idea on how the hell I was getting off the island. The police strolled by, the cleaning crew, the cook from next door, and eventually office staff. Finally, I can sort out the damn tickets and get off this island. Here goes the Spanish... A que hora la proxima barc de partir? What? Pardon? Shit. At least the Spanish cutie behind the counter gave me kind eyes and a smile for my linguistic efforts.

Cory, guess what. Nope, not even close. Want to guess again? Maybe open your eyes? We have another 12 hours in Ibiza. Now, usually the morning hunger is moderate. You eat a decently sized dinner, stay up for a little and then sleep. You don't build hunger when you sleep because you are not burning all those calories. The morning famish comes on strong along when you don't sleep, though. When you spend the entire night not eating dinner, drinking, worrying about getting raped, and breaking onto sailboats, you tend to build up a need to feast. There was no reasoning, no searching prices from place to place, no. I am eating. There. Now. Coffee? Keep that shit strong and coming by the pint.

After the sit down and regroup, we began to explore. This is term we use for walk around when we have no place to go and know knowledge of where we are. We saw a castle, so why not work our way towards that. The city of Elvissa turned out to be really cool, believe it or not, and I began to wish we stayed on that side of the island the entire time, slightly. So, we made our way up rocky streets and spiraling walkways. It actually reminded me a lot of Greece with the white walls and colorful accents. Side note, I've never been to Greece. Ignoring that, I found some roses and took a picture that I became quite proud of.

Oh boy, how much coffee did I drink? Cuz I have to piss, now. UGH! We made it to the castle a lot sooner than anticipated because of the before mentioned urge. Not that we wanted to piss on a castle, which we did, but we walked faster and faster trying to find a bathroom. We did stop and get distracted by a friendly cat who seemed quite fond of the coat hanger I had picked up and brought along from our previous room. She looked like a skinnier, shorter haired Fireball (my cat growing up) and decided to play around our feet. This made me smile, but back to the need to piss. Unfortunately, the Spanish assholes running this town started signs for the bathroom at the bottom of the hill sending us up to the very top where you had to pay to get in. Well, this is what you get. A stained castle wall. You are lucky that is all I had to do. Following the reduction in stress, we cracked open Cory's bag of peanuts and perched on a ledge overlooking the water. Finally sitting down again, I needed a nap. Cory was going to stay up and work on his memoirs, so now it was my turn to rest my damn head in peace. Ipod on, hat over the face, and it didn't matter that I was laying on an uneven rock wall... out like Ali (who if you don't know got credit for being the best even after Frazier kicked his pompous ass).

Photo Montage? Oh I can’t resist!

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Alright, enough messing around. What happens next? Sick of writing about the day, we found cannons, another napping spot, some really interesting graphiti (posted after the sign off), and some more coffee. We eventually got ourselves to the pier once again and waited for a departure. We did in fact make the boat this time and were officially off of one paradise and onto the next. Yippee! Give me a seat and let me pass out on this boat. What? Motion sickness? Shit it’s a night trip… no sleep, wonderful. At least we will have a place to crash once we get to Palma… right? (wrong! see tomorrow)

Peace and Love from the Mediterranean,
Scott Stephen Smith

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Eurocation: Ibiza Didn't Kill Me

But it sure as hell left some scars...

"Wait... are we going to be able to wear shorts? Yes, but when you are trapped on a boat with 65 year old British swingers it may be to your advantage to have thick pants and a sturdy belt..."


Leaving the relatively cold Geneva we headed for the Spanish island paradise of Ibiza. Granted, it was now in the off season and it promised to be much more low key than it would have been otherwise, but it would be fun to get out of the cold and onto a warm beach with sun that could promise more than just a sunburn for myself, but joy for my eyes. Anyways, hopping on the empty plane Cory and I grab exit row seats across from each other. Lucky for my accomplice, some old fat guy thinks that he wants in on the action and decides to sit right next to Cory. As confused as he was pissed off, I assumed a defensive position to insure that my comfort would be maximized (selfishness can come with rewards). We also managed to meet an extremely interesting couple who sat behind us. They were young, maybe in the approach to 30 years old, and were living the sort of life that people write books about. Roughly three years ago they sold everything they owned except for a bag's worth of clothes. They live season to season, traveling and working wherever possible. The one guy was a tattoo artist and usually came to Ibiza during the busy summer months. He earned just enough to live off of and got to wake up on a beach every day. I think she wrote children's books or taught or something like that. Maybe she was a waitress... regardless it was interesting as hell, and tempting.

When I compare it to my life in the year 2009, I essentially worked for six months and used the savings from that time to travel for the next six months. Granted, there was some help in the way of tuition, but if I were to simply travel and not take any classes I think I could have come close to doing it all on my own. With the current economic conditions, even though I believe they are improving, companies are more keen on hiring short time employees and limiting their long term responsibility and benefit payouts. This could work to my advantage, and to the advantage of my desired lifestyle. Enough rambling, back to the island.

Anyways, so we land and share a cab with the couple to San Antonio Bay. By this time it was late at night and I really just wanted to take a shower and get a drink at the bar next door. Hi lady at the front desk, can I please have my room key? No? What? Confirmation slip? Ummm... So a quick jog down to an internet cafe with a printer and a cursing walk back, I had what the lady needed in the form of a saved e-mail (thank god...) and got into the room. For 20 some euros a night, it was pretty damn sweet. The bed was more of a couch than anything else, but there was a kitchen and a freezer for the liquor. We found a pleasant bar next door and grabbed a small bite to eat. Sangria? Yup! The next day is when things started to get weird...

Waking up we figure we have the energy to walk around the bay to the more happening spot in town. While there were bars on our side, the slow season had forced their doors shut so the points of interest became elsewhere. We started to walk along the beach which turned into rocks which turned into a turn back onto the road. Lucky for us, there was a kick ass breakfast for 4 euros! What? Eggs, Bacon, Ham, Beans, Toast, Sausage, and possibly even a pancake! Seeing as we were on vacation, and in honor of my father, I added a Bloody Mary. Not my favorite of all time but it set the tone for hydration during the day.

The next stop was the pier. We were planning on meeting Shephali in Palma the next day, which was the island north of Ibiza. The easiest way to get there is a ferry which we believed to depart from San Antonia bay. Why wouldn't it? The ferry operator office was there, there is a loading area, seems perfect and fairly close. The office was closed though, but I figured this was just because it was Sunday. Woo... all this walking makes me thirsty... Pina Collada, please. By the beach, we were content to drink our frozen creations and enjoy the growing crowd of females. We ventured down a side street curious of a tattoo parlor, but ended up passing by without going in. Dad, your face on my right cheek may have to wait... Making our way back to the boardwalk, we stroll home before I start to feel the burning of the sun and seek out shade. Cory had already felt it but his non-albino skin can actually make use of these rays in the form of a tan, so his shirt was already off. In the shade, I drank some water and rested on a bench. Dreaming of making the walk shorter, I smiled with envy at the cop riding down the boardwalk on a scooter. Mistake! I didn't think this to be a crime, and I honestly was not trying to incite trouble in any way (definitely not always the case). But, after passing 20 feet beyond our bench, the cop continued to stare at me through his side view mirror... then he stopped... then he turned around. Since we were obviously tourists with my pale skin and red hair (grungy hair, beard, and removed shirt didn't help remove suspicion) we were apparently probable drug dealers. The cop came by, started speaking Spanish, I tried a response, he continued in broken English, and then I was asked to empty my pockets. What? Fine, asshole. I took out my wallet, camera, and phone and put them on the bench. He started going through my wallet and I watched the asshole with an eagle eye. Drogas? Drogas? No, I don't have fucking drugs. This continued for a little while before he decided I was actually just resting on the bench and not trying to sell coke to British tourists.

After the fiasco it is lecture time. Communication was tough, but he managed to tell me not to ever smile at a police officer again. Fed up with this bullshit harassment, I moved to more diplomatic communication. Lo siento pero...I always have a smile on my face! Estados Unidos! He got on his fake little motorcycle and scooted away. Nick, as I know you are going to ask this... no, I didn't have a C in my P. Cory had some laughs and some concerns. We made our way back to the apartment via a shop selling overpriced sunscreen... way overpriced, but it was needed. Cory was exhausted and dragging ass, I was a bit fatigued from the travel... nap time!

haha... funny picture on the bidet...

When we woke up, it was time for a mission. We had two bottles which we had not even touched yet, and a ferry departing at 3:00 AM. Naturally, we checked out early and started at 8:00. Having no place to stay that night shouldn't have been an issue because we were going to be on a boat for 4 hours, granting us enough rest to stay awake until we could get to our place in Palma de Mallorca. Well... it was a problem, and we had a damn interesting night because of it.

We started at the first bar with a pitcher. Usually the first instinct would be to imagine a pitcher of beer. But, this is Ibiza, and their pitchers come filled with Long Island Iced Tea... halleluiah. It didn't take us much time to get through the sweet toxin before we kept walking. The bar was playing The X Factor on a big screen and was hence filled with every British tourist within a mile. Also, worst kebab of my life. I have literally never had anything so bland passed off as middle eastern food.

The next bar was not a bar at all but rather a bench. Remembering the bottles (still at least half full) that we had purchased in Geneva, we broke out the diet coke (thanks to Cory and Diabetes) and started doing a swig swig pass scenario. We were still sitting outside of a bar taking advantage of the live music but there was no point in spending any more money. Remember the cigars? We had them this time and it was time to enjoy. We broke out the Cubans, the good stuff to compliment our absolutely horrible vodka. Anyways, sitting on the boardwalk, drinking from the bottle and smoking cigars, we attracted a little attention. Not from the police, but rather from an old couple and their friend coming out of the bar. The stopped to chat for a little and I could tell they became reminiscent and somewhat jealous of our age. While we were at least 35 years younger than them, they were still living it up in their own respect sailing around the Mediterranean in a damn yacht. Well, after a little talking and joking around, they insisted that we join them for a drink and continued conversation. They suggested their boat and we were right next to the dock so I figured why not.

Walking up to the dock, we found ourselves climbing into a dingy. For those of you who don't know, this is a small rubber vessel made to carry three people from shore to an anchored vessel. There were a few signals going off in my head for sure, but my desire to act upon them was for the most part removed from me. After a little seven minute dingy ride (enough to ensure there was no way in hell I was going to be able to swim ashore in the case of emergency), we hopped on board and looked at each other in disbelief. Well, we figured that if we made it this far, we might as well go below deck and have a cocktail. There, we learned all sorts of interesting little facts.

First, and I actually did smile when hearing this, was that the boat was made in Cape Town! That is good news seeing as it had to have been seaworthy enough to make it up at least one of the coasts of Africa (don't forget the Suez canal before you question me here!). They showed us their multimedia capability, which was quite cool, and their massive bar collection, even cooler. It was at this time that Liz, the older woman with the two men, proceeded to kiss her husband Steve. Everyone was fairly drunk so I had no qualms with the action. What I did have some qualms with was her making out with their friend John immediately after. There were a number of things that came together in my mind at that moment; Liz flirting with both men on our walk to the dock, the hand holding, the ass smacking. All of these suggested one thing, but none stronger than the spoken words coming from the lady's mouth. "Well, you see... Steve is my husband but John is my boyfriend."

Swingers.

There I was aboard a yacht anchored in the middle of San Antonio harbor on the island of Ibiza, drunk and dizzy from the cigars, ten minutes away from getting propositioned by 60 year old British swingers. For those of you reading in France, I believe the correct term is estrangists. Fearful of what might happen, or get asked to happen, I begin praying behind my laughter. Well, whether by miracle or curse, Cory hits a wall in the form of a sugar low. Bud, are you okay? Do I need to get you ashore? Yeah, lets take care of that right away! While ultimately harmless and continually hospitable, I was happy as all hell to get off of that boat. The group left us with chocolates (haha jesus this keeps getting worse) and cigars as parting gifts. The world is a funny place indeed.

Awake and ready for that damn boat to arrive and take us to the next island, we waited at the dock. Now, we were the only ones there and it did seem a little odd that the boat wasn't arriving early whatsoever. But, I was the only one capable of doing anything about it because Cory was seriously passed out, that of course after he blew chunks. I search and I search, nobody in sight, no boat in sight... fuck. Finally, we decide the boat is not coming and start walking back towards the bars. It was at that time we run into somebody who tells us that the port is closed for the winter and the boats all leave from the other side of the island in Elvissa (The Town of Fucking Ibiza, not the island). Well, hell. Lets grab a cab and get our asses over there so we can try to figure things out. The boat departs just as our cab gets to the other port, apparently daylight savings time had given us another hour that we had not taken advantage of. Well, good thing we are now on the other side of the island and already checked out of our hotel... this gives us so much time to... sit?

Our wonderful resting place...

Cory is a zombie looking for the first corner to fall over in, which is what he did. Not pleased with the corner of a parking lot under a lamp post, I search out more secure surroundings and force my accomplice to keep moving. The first thing I find that offers some security is a secured dock with the door ajar. Trespassing? Better than losing all my shit overnight. We head onto the dock and Cory once again passes out immediately. I try to lay on the dock but I cannot fall asleep knowing that I rock in my sleep. Now, you would think that a sailboat is the last place I would want to be that night, but it was my best choice given the situation. I looked for the one most deserted and easiest to jump on. Bingo. I didn't want much, but a little hiding and padded surface was just what I needed. I did not break anything or do more than what I needed to, but I had my place to sleep and gave myself a chuckle as I looked into the stars as I fell asleep. You know who I be thinking bout' baby girrrrl.

Waking up gave start to the rest of the trip and a new sense of invincibility that will have to wait until the next entry. Read on for more! Ooh! Ahh!

Peace and Love from a Boat,
Scotty

Eurocation: It Begins in Geneva

Europe (+ the Swiss rebels), here we come.

Setting off, there were many hopes, and even higher aspirations. I was unsure of what to expect in many ways. The underlying goal was experience, learning and living to the fullest. I had allowed a slight pre-journey pessimism set in prior to catching the train to Geneva for our flight south, but I got over the idea and it became a mere afterthought by the time we arrived in our first new city. I had never been to Geneva before, at least not at an age that I could really remember. The city was cold but fresh. The price wasn't exactly right at any dining establishments, but we made our way up to the only thing that could fulfill our desire for a mission. Without any idea of the name or importance, we climbed. Up the hill and around the winding streets we made our way to the church. Getting there, I lit a candle for my father as I did in every country I visited and began to wander. What I found from my investigation was an entrance to a tower. An entrance that you were required to pay for. What? This did not seem very Christian to me. Well, it did, but in a way that I disagree with. Anyways, I decided to jump the rotating barrier and begin my accent. After playing a tricky game of red light green light with the spiral stare case traffic control system, I got up to the top. Side note, should have left my backpack with Cory at the bottom of the damn stairs... ugh. The view was incredible. The Alps, the fountain, the city, just beautiful. I took some pictures and thought of the people I would have loved to share it with before moving on. I loved you in this moment.

Continuing on I found another tower, some inner workings of the construction, and another area I was not supposed to be in. I also found a place to stash my pack before I continued on to the next set of stairs. I played another game of red light green light before getting to this next stop in the vertical road. This, I realized, was an even better view of the world, and once again I loved you here.

Before moving on, and I believe this to be more representative of my current mind frame than that which was maintained during my travels, but I have an attachment to something other than myself. Now, this may be difficult to believe as I am indeed a selfish bastard. But, it must be said that there are those in this world that I would do anything for, even if it meant losing a piece of my future prosperity. There is wealth to be had in this world and it does not rest solely in the number on my bank account. Read into this as much as you would like or laugh at what you perceive to be lies, but I intend to move forward with this perspective in mind.

"Intentions? That's what I call some bullshit. You and I both know that you are going to get rich and screw the rest... besides, you can always buy the happiness."

Declining from the tower, I have been satisfied with the angel's view of the city and intend to move onto a more hands on approach. We take a different route down the hill, and I completely anticipate getting lost. Fortunately, we come out onto a recognizable square that happened to be exactly where we wanted to be. C'est parfait! Surrounded by food I didn't want to eat and shops I couldn't afford, I had a smile on my face. Cory and I tried out some roasted nuts of some kind... didn't really have a taste other than... shit? Whatever, it seemed like the local thing to do.

The next move was a bench by the water. We had postponed our cigar purchase earlier and were now out of reach, so we managed the view without smoke. We played creeper on some ladies and some dogs with the camera and made our way onto the airport. Innocent fun and a funny story.

My streak of innocent misbehavior continued as we made our way through the multiple duty free shops while my partner in crime looked down on my actions from a moral standpoint yet approved with the childish grin emerging from within. Deep down, I know he enjoyed it just as much as I did. The fine residents of Switzerland may not have. With the plane almost ready to board, we made the snap (possibly regrettable) decision to each buy a bottle of absolute bottom of the barrel vodka. I am once again optimistic knowing that both of these bottles must be finished by the time we leave for our next destination (carry on only) or thrown away. Lets roll.

Peace and Love du Suisse,

Scott Stephen Smith