Some Pictures from Istanbul

Backgammon and tea

How cool am I?

fishermen

Kathlen at the Blue Mosque

Istanbul!

Turkey ıs so awesome. I have blog posts ready for Poland and Budapest but I can`t get wıreless ınternet anywhere so they have to waıt. But back to Turkey. We have been ın Istanbul for two days now and have loved every mınute of ıt. Yesterday we went to the Aya Sofya and the famous Blue Masque. Both buıldıngs were cool and unıque. The Aya Sofya ıs a 1500 year old buıldıng that was fırst buılt as a Catholıc church and later transformed ın to a masque. The two eras are ınterestıngly blended together to make a unıque experıence. Just besıde beautıful mosaıcs of Jesus and Mary above where the alter used to be are gıant Islamıc scrıpt quotıng the quaran. There ıs an Islamıc pulpıt but there are also tombs of fallen European warrıors from the crusades. Brıght colors reflect beautıfully off of the peelıng paınt ın the brıght lıght. For a thousand years ıt had the larget dome ın the world and the whole place ıs spacıous and brıght unlıke so many European churches. I had never seen a Moorısh ınfluenced Catholıc church before thıs one. Most ınterestıngly though, the place has not been fully restored lıke so many churchews ın Europe so vısıtors get a great sense of how tıme erodes away a buıldıng. It ıs somehow gıves ıt a more romantıc and undıscovered feel to ıt all.
The Blue Masque ıs equally as cool. As the fırst practısıng masque I have ever been ın, I was not sure what to expect when Kathleen was requıred to wear a full length skırt, myself slacks, and the oblıgatıon for everyone to take theır shoes off upon entry. The masque fıts ıts name well. The massıve walls and ceılıngs are covered ın decoratıve blue and whıte tıles and the floor ıs covered ın beautıful red carpet. Huge ornate black chandelıers hang just feet above your head whıch gıves vıewers a great opportunıty to examıne the complex desıgns they have. Tourısts are seperated from the faıthfull but people on both sıdes were relaxed and enjoyıng the break from the heat outsıde. Yeah, near the front facıng east people were on theır knees prayıng, but other than that lıttle kıds were runnıng around and people everywere quıetly chatted to the people next to them. I dont know ıf thıs was a typıcal masque experıence but I enjoyed my tıme there.
Last nıght we wandered through town and watched as hundreds of fısherman stood along the water and on brıdges catchıng what I thınk ıs baıt for the next day. They have huge poles wıth about ten hooks baıted on each lıne ın the water and they constantly pull out these fıve ınch long fısh and throwıng them unceramonously ın a bucket. Sometımes the mans wıfe or chıldren are wıth them eıther cuttıng up baıt or just keepıng them company. Food vendors sell all sorts of ınterestıng and tasty food along the way and we werent ablew to resıst tryng some even though we were headed to dınner. We ate at one restaurant among a strıng of seafood restaurants under the brıdge where we had great food, a few beers, and a beautıful vıew. Afterwards we went to a bar a few places down and smoked water pıpes (or hooka as ıt ıs known as back home) and learned how to play backgammon from Garrett, Kathleens bf. More about that later.
Other than that our tıme has been spent gettıng lost ın the streets and tryıng local products. We took a walk along the water where Turks were swımmıng, relaxıng, fıshıng, and shootıng BB guns at balloons and cans set up on rocks as targets. Today we went to the palace Sultans lıved at for hundreds of years and wandered through a spıce bızzar where stalls sold teas, beautıful lamps, carpets, and water pıpes.
We devoted a few hours thıs afternoon to the tea shops though. Thıs has been the most fun. These thıngs are everywhere and for good reason. These Turks sure do know how to relax. Sıttıng on comfortable cushıons and couches, we spent the afternoon smokıng peach flavored water pıpes and drınkıng tea as we watched crowds pass by the open wındow. We played many games of backgammon and delıghtfully chatted wıth the cafe employees at a slow and relaxıng pace. After a long day ın the hot sun ıt proved to be just the tıcket to refuel our batterıes and put us ın a relaxıng state. Nothıng beats watchıng smoke ın the company of good people and a comfortable atmosphere. I expect to have many experıences lıke the one we had over the next two weeks. So there ıt ıs. Lıfe ıs good. Turkey ıs a great change of pace for me after beıng ın Europe for the last fıve months and I am excıted to see what kınd of wonders lıe outsıde of Istanbul. Im sure ıt wıll be amazıng.

My Life

Two days ago I was camping on a small uninhabited island I could walk around in five minutes. I was with two kids from Colorado who are major outdoor enthusiasts. Dan is a boisterous groovster who is kind to everyone and always greets people with a smile. Mark is a Dead Head hippie who hasn’t cut his hair in years or shaved in six months. After years of heavy drug use and acid trips he has quit drugs and has never been the drinking type. His favorite hobby is contact juggling and poi, a kind of fireball twirling seen at Hawaiian luaus. He entertained us all week with his tricks and a million jokes. They love nature and going off the grid. They don’t understand city living and passionately told stories of their home.
We rented a small boat and puttered around the island of Solta stopping along the way to climb sea side walls and dive off cliffs. We also swam, ran out of gas, ate ice cream and basked in the sun. We drank with locals and cooked our meals over beachside fires. It was a surreal beauty. We lived in a paradise of crystal water and without people. Imagine those Corona commercials but better. They both have tattoos but unlike bimbos with tramp stamps and deuchebags with unknown Japanese symbols on their biceps, they deeply believe the symbolism behind the ink they got.
Eventually we came back to the mainland and separated the next day but not beforeI ran in to Cameron, an Aussie I had a brilliant time partying with in Frankfurt, Germany. Cameron and I met up yesterday at the beach and were accompanied by his friend Charlie and another kid, Jack. Cameron is a grinning good guy who is quick to make friends and has a smart wit about him. Charlie is his lifelong friend and neighbor who was born in Korea and treats relaxation as the most natural thing in the world. They met Jack in their hostel who is English but was raised in Singapore. He has been all over the world and has an enviable number of stories to tell about fantastic places.
After a few hours on the beach we realized it was beer-o-clock and spent the afternoon wandering from one café bar to the next drinking half liters of cheap Croatian beer. Our conversations were all over the place, smart, and hilarious about topics such as the social impact facebook has on dating (are any of you facebook official?) We stared in disbelief at both the sun drenched beauties and the mustache-clad Croatian men who are
exceedingly fat but still opt for a tiny speedo revealing more than I care to elaborate about. Their skin is leather and they all look like seasoned mechanics coming home from work. When the comfortable shade got too hot or whenever bladders became full we would simply stand up, walk ten steps and dive off the promenade in to the cool water and float around for a few minutes before joining back in the festivities. We lived the pampered life. We took the road more often travelled and loved it. Taking it easy was implied. We were in heaven.
That night we swapped our trunks for a pair of jeans and partied at clubs along the beach. Their was an inebriated bliss in the air that’s unique to a summer day. We didn’t have to buy many drinks because the job was done and we were able to concentrate on the assumed competition of picking up the hottest girl there.
This morning I woke up in their hostel two hours after check out in a bed I neither reserved nor paid for. The guys were getting up also and we talked about the escapades and our future plans. Not wanting to draw the attention to the hostel staff of my intrusion however, I packed my shit quickly and confirmed the plans of my friends. Realizing our paths were headed in different directions, I clasped hands with my friends and wished them happy travels and I would hope to run in to them again, at the very least on facebook. Goodbyes on the road are never too emotional. There’s no need. Nobody ever remembers goodbyes, they just remember the awesome times shared together.
So this is my life. I wander from place to place and find unique, fun people who are doing the same thing as me. We have a kind of bond not everyone is lucky to have. I’ve heard people discredit what I’m doing by sarcastically giving speeches about finding themselves like this is a pilgrimage I expect to leave from as a more complete person but never actually reach, but that’s not true at all. Yeah, a lot of travelers are at the crossroads of their lives but most of us just want to have a ton of fun and delay the inevitable of figuring out what comes next. I don’t have expectations and I’m not trying to change but if it does happen at least I can say it happened naturally and truly brought on by the places I’ve seen and the people I’ve met. Asking for anything more would just make me look like a dick.
On Monday I meet up with Kathleen and her boy toy so that means this incredible freedom of being alone is coming to an end. It will be great to see her after six months though and I know she is as adventurous as I am and supposedly her bf isn’t that shabby either. All my experiences here have been awesome because I have had great company. Thank god there are so man cool people in the world.

I stopped in Prague

The Prague staple.

Prague is a cool place. I have been here for the last few days and have enjoyed getting to know the place a little. To be honest, I didn’t know much about the country before I showed up. Prague is special because the Czechs rolled over quickly in WWII so the Nazis didn’t have to destroy the place and it escaped Allied bombings as well making it pretty much the only undisturbed major city from that period. It is a charming and romantic town that people always look for in a European city. That being said, tourists flock here. In the summertime, tourists outnumber locals by 9 to 1. I have always felt that an economy that relies on tourism this heavily is not as rewarding as places that stand on its own feet. I don’t want to see what the locals think I want, I want to see what they want and to not give a shit about me. Towns seem to be watered down this way. It turns out to be not that bad though. Yeah, the tourists were overwhelming in a few spots but it is unbelievable how little the stray from the main areas which left a big portion of town for the things I wanted to see. I got to experience the architecture hidden down allies, panoramic views of the town, lazy pubs with only a few regulars drinking their paychecks away, and the seedier parts of town where few tourists go.

an overview of the city.

This story is getting a little redundant for me. I have seen quaint towns and cobbled streets and overhyped tourist attractions and places that claim to have the best beer in the world before. It starts to blur together after a bit. Prague was different though. For the first time I am in a distinctively Eastern European town. Things are a little less developed and lax. People openly smoke weed on the streets and I was looked at like a crazy person when I asked what time they stopped selling beer for the night. The rules that have enveloped the States and Western Europe don’t apply here. The Czech Republic hasn’t been accepted in to the European Union yet so their currency is the Koruna, not the Euro. One U.S. dollar is 19 koruna and one Euro is 26 koruna. It was actually a pain in the ass doing conversions in m head all day but things were cheaper. People have a chance to live a little without scrutiny to every detail of life. There of course are pluses and minuses to this, but it was nice to experience something different.

the town center that didn't get rocked in WWII

Prague was up to date with their fashions and cars and such, but the same can’t be said for the rest of the country. Outside of Prague towns are made up of tall concrete communist buildings that are in serious need of repair and rusted out industrial areas lay abandoned. Maybe one in ten cars has been made in the last fifteen years but they are shitty hatchbacks that come with the bare minimum. The rest of the cars are the old paper mache communist block cars seen in the movies. Still, the towns look nice nestled between the side of heavily forested hills and grassy plains. In a way it reminded me of old Appalachian mining towns that long ago worked but has dwindled away over the years. Things have obviously been hard here for the last 50 years but it is getting better. I’m glad I got a glimpse of how others lived.

Do you know where Croatia is?

Yeah since that last post I have been to Berlin and to Prague and have posts written out for both places but haven't had the time to post them. I am now actually in Croatia. Do you know where Croatia is? I had a vague idea before coming here but that's about it. It is on the Adriatic Sea and has thousands of islands along the Dalmatian Coast. The water is the clearest in the Mediteranean and because of the recent war with Bosnia, people dont realize how great of a vacation spot it is but every ruling group in the history of Europe has used this place as their getaway.
I met two guys from Colorado who said they were going to camp most nights they were here and I went along with them despite having no camping equipment. The nights have been so warm all I have needed was my jacket draped over me to be comfortable and the views are worth it. We just lay down a tarp and crash on that comfortably.Two nights ago we slept on top of a mountain and looked down on a huge deserted lake on one side and the sound of waterfalls on the other. I am now on a small island called Solta and slept in the hills near a bay where people partied on expensive yachts. Today I am going sea kayaking to find a deserted beach to camp at. So, as you can see, finding time to update this blog is kind of not on my mind!

Germany

One of the many huge beer gardens in Munich.

For the past four days I have been travelling through Germany getting to know a land I have always been interested in. Growing up, there was a certain taboo connotation of Germany in my mind. I learned about WWI, WWII, and communism and it all signaled to me that Germany was the antithesis of American ideals. A formidable and exceedingly capable power we should keep an eye on. They had a leading role in the show that was 20th century America, and they were the bad guys. This is obviously a childish viewpoint, but hey, I was a child. I have of course come to realize this conception of Germany is not legitimate and has no connection to what the place is today (and I knew this long before ever getting here.) Today’s generation, my generation, is not part of the 20th century. It is a different world. Still though, I keep hold of an undeniable awe and distant respect for its history. Germany has always done spectacular things, both unfathomably horrible and exceedingly great spectacular things. I’ve come here to sort this all out for myself. And hey, one side of my family holds dear their Irish roots, and the other holds dear their Polish roots, but I am just as much German and I want connect a little with that other part of my distant fam.

Heidelburg Castle high in the hills.

Germany is great so far. I have been travelling for a week now and have been to Frankfurt, Cologne, Munich, Heidelberg, Nuremburg, and now Berlin. Each town has been beautiful. There is an undeniable vibrancy here that I love. Everything is rich and alive. The buildings have dark browns clashing with all other colors and the roofs are made of rust colored tiles and run high and steep. The churches have been rebuilt after most were destroyed in WWII to the exact specifications they were before so every town still has their huge and dramatic Gothic Cathedrals. From out of train windows I have seen countless rolling fields of still-green wheat that is just tall enough to blow in the wind and dense forests of evergreens that have red trunks and no limbs until the very top. The trees stand incredibly close together and grow perfectly straight and tall. This had to be where the Barbarians came from. It looks just like the forests you see in movies about them- they are pretty spooky looking. On a particularly stunning stretch from Cologne to Frankfurt, the train cruised between mountains along the Rhine River where I saw more castles than anywhere else in my life high in the hills. Some were in ruins but many were preserved and I could tell they were still in use. It was a fantasy world I didn’t know actually existed. I must have seen 20 romantic castles.

I lounged extremely hung over overlooking the Frankfurt skyline.

The impressive Dom Cathedral in Cologne.

The people too are as rich and exciting as the land. I always thought German was the harsh and brutish language we imagine the Nazis speaking but today I was lounging in a beer garden listening to families and friends laugh and talk and my mind changed. Their words are so expressional and unique. It’s intimidating to an outsider but still fun to listen too. And finally, the girls-man are they gorgeous. I have been to many places in my life but have never seen better proportioned bodies. Their boobs are big, their booties round, and their legs long. Put that together with the first beautiful days of summer and some revealing clothes and we guys have a whole lot of eye candy to admire. (I hear that is how it is throughout all of Eastern Europe though.)Yes, after many liter steins of beer, beautiful summer days, and unforgettable sights, I can say I have a very good first week.

Bratwurst central.

Kiss me, I'm Irish

The 2009 Volvo Ocean Race.

Well, I’m leaving Ireland for the last time in a couple of hours. I am very sad about it. Anyone who has read this blog knows how much fun I have had here. My expectations coming here were incredibly high but every moment here has lived up to what I wanted. The friends I have made, the things I have done, and the countless pints I have drunk are all very dear to me. I’m not going home though. I still have about seven weeks ahead of me if I don’t go crazy from travelling so much before going home. Tonight I fly to Germany where I will be for a week or two.

All the nice yachts have come to Galway.

I leave Galway at a bad time though. Currently, the Volvo Ocean Race, a nine-month yacht race around the world is stopped in Galway for two weeks. They got in late Saturday night after the pubs closed to a roaring audience around the bay just outside my balcony. People were everywhere and they had music and fireworks to greet the first boat. Also, thanks to my rugged good looks and inescapable charm, I got a couple of hot girls without a place to stay to come to my place to continue the party. The few remaining American students also came as well as some of our Irish friends. It was a great party that lasted until the sun came up. It was a memorable last party.

The racing boats out of the water.

The Irish competitor, the Green Dragon.

Anyways, for the past few days Galway has been buzzing with visitors and there has been live music and people walking around just outside my window admiring the yachts that are being repaired. In two days though they will all start racing around Galway Bay which is supposed to be so cool. I wish I could see it but I have more to do here in Europe. I meet my sister in Poland on June 22 but until then I am on my own. I consider myself to be an independent person but three weeks completely on my own will be testing. I guess my writing will have to keep me company.
Well, this is goodbye to Ireland. I love it here and consider it a second home. I’m sure I will be back again and I will be very glad when I do, but I’m sure it could never be as electric and fun as it is now for me. This has been a once in a lifetime gift that I will never forget. What an experience.

Golfer's Paradise

Sorry for not writing in a while, but for the past week I have been living a dream. My dad and grandpa delighted me by coming to Ireland with the sole purpose of playing golf at Ireland’s finest courses and to drink a ton of Guinness. If you know nothing about golf, there are only two important things you need to know. The first thing is that I freaking love golf. The second thing is that Ireland has some of the world’s finest courses designed in and around sand dunes right on the ocean called links courses. They are truly unique and incredibly beautiful and I got to play the best of them. Over six days we played seven rounds while also experiencing the culture, the people, and the pubs. It very well could be the highlight of my whole trip when I think about it in the future. That is how much fun I had.
The first championship course we played was called Portmarnock which is outside of Dublin. The course was highly rated and we enjoyed our time there but honestly, it didn’t come close to what came later. We spent a night in Dublin drinking and eating great food, something that continued throughout the whole trip.
My dad contemplating a shot at Portmarnock.

On Friday we raced around the beautiful Ring of Kerry to get to Waterville Golf Club in time for our tee time. Waterville is my dad’s and grandpa’s favorite course we played and it definitely was memorable. Upon arrival we were hit with 30 mph winds and an empty course. Surrounded by the ocean on three sides, the wind constantly affected the way we hit the ball around the giant sand dunes that have been transformed into the course. It was incredibly beautiful, challenging, and fun. I haven’t played many spectacular courses in my life, but I can’t imagine them getting much better than that. After nine we warmed our bones by stopping in the club house for a pint and a sandwich before heading out again. Later in the round I was having such a good time I couldn’t get a smile off my face. I was wind beaten and numb but felt a certain kind of peace that can only be found while playing golf- call it my place of zen.
As if the course couldn’t get any better, it did. We decided the next morning we needed to go back to get souvenirs because our experience was so enjoyable. After telling the people working there how much we loved the place despite the insane conditions they decided it wasn’t enough. They let us play the course again. For free. The place is heaven on earth.


"Hi, my name is Ken. I'm from Chicago, and this is my son Ken, and this is my grandson, Ken. Three Kens. Can you believe that!"

The next course we played was the fabled Old Course at Ballybunion, one of the finest rated courses in the world. I have never seen a more unique or expertly designed course in my life. Like Waterville, it is surrounded by the ocean on three sides but has nothing but tall grass and sand bunkers. It was the hardest course I have ever played. If we hit the ball in the rough, it was a stroke because we weren’t be able to find it even if we saw exactly where it went in. The fairways were incredibly narrow in parts and there were many blind shots where a straight shot and a prayer were the only things that could save you. Despite this, I played my best round of the trip here. The same day we played the second course at Ballybunion, the Cashen Course. As soon as we started the rain came and never left. The course was miserable. It seemed every shot was a blind shot and we never picked the right spot. After nine holes in the pouring rain, my dad looked at me earnestly and said, “Kenny, what the fuck are we doing here?” It was a good question. We left after nine.

One of the beautiful par 3s at Waterville.

Waterville again.

The last round we played was at another famous course called Lahinch. Like the courses before it, it was incredibly beautiful with so many picturesque moments and beautiful holes. It was a beautiful day and the course was much more forgiving than the ones we had played the previous few days. It was the perfect way to wrap up the trip. Walking down the 12th fairway drenched in sun with green hills to one side and the ocean on the other in the background, I watched my dad and grandpa hit from afar. It could have been an updated picture of paintings of the original men of golf who found the game on shores just like the one we were on. It was the stereotypical image of golf and I was glad I was a part of it.
The trip was a lot more than golf though. Throughout the trip we shared stories, pints, laughs and memories that we might never have had if it wasn’t for golf. That is what is so awesome about the game. It gives me a few hours to worry about nothing and enjoy the time I have with the people I love in a beautiful place, and if I’m lucky- kick their ass in the process. I know I am incredibly lucky. Not lucky (or talented) enough for that though… yet. It was an incredible trip and something I will never forget. I hope to come back to Ireland a few times more in my life just to re-live these moments with both the people I was with and future generations of golfers.

What a trip.

Ireland Update

I now know why Irish people are so damn pasty. It’s never nice out! Back in January I laughed at all of you people in Chicago for suffer through -20 degree weather and two feet of snow while I had, if not good weather, bearable weather of cloudy, rainy days around 50 degrees. Well, its now beautiful back home, but exactly the same here, if not worse. I haven’t seen the sun in a week. As I walked to campus this morning, I noticed everyone still wore long pants and had jackets on. Some people still had hats on. It is crazy!
The weather here is like an overly-emotional drunk girl. Things will be beautiful outside and everyone will be having a great time until suddenly, for no apparent reason, the water works start flowing and the moment is ruined. All of this is topped by a constant wind that makes it feel ten degrees cooler. It is relentless. I can’t imagine what it will be like to play golf right on the ocean when my pops comes here next week. I am just praying for a little mercy from the golf gods.
In other news, Irish guys are relentless when it comes to getting girls. By studying in an English speaking country I have had the opportunity to make friends with locals, which I have done. It is laughable to see these guys in action. They truly have the gift of gab. No matter how ugly or how old they are, an Irish guy will go up to a girl they find attractive and talk to them until the cows come home. Even if the girl is obviously not having it, they keep going (that may be because they’re usually too drunk to pick up on social cues.) It reminds me of a filibuster in congress. They just keep going and going until the girl either runs away or in to their arms. In fact, the only reason why we have Irish friends is because we met them through the girls we know. I’m not kidding when I say every American girl I know either has or has had an Irish boyfriend while here. They love American chicks, even the not-so-good-looking ones. Unfortunately, the Irish girls aren’t as enthusiastic about chasing down American guys but I give it my best try to act Irish.

Sunday at the Bull Fights

Last Sunday I spent my last day I Barcelona at a bull fight. I have never been to one before and I wanted to see what it was like. It seems to be a dying tradition and I don’t know if I will ever have a chance to see one again. Barcelona is in Catalonia, a region in the northwest corner of Spain not known for bull fights. In fact, most citizens are against the fights citing animal cruelty as the reason why but there is still a large enough group of supporters to keep the fights going.
I didn’t go to watch animals die. I went to experience the culture and to feel the atmosphere I have read about in books like Fiesta which talks about the tradition and skill that is involved with bull fighting. I don’t know much about bull fighting, but I know I didn’t see what I came for. It was a cloudy day and threatening to rain so not many people showed up. The stadium was a large ring but only about a fifth was occupied split between Spaniards and tourists.


The Stadium

The fights are split by three matadors and they each get two bulls, so six overall. They don’t just come out straight away to face the bulls however; there is a process. First they tire the bulls out. The bull comes storming into the ring with all the energy you expect and runs around the ring trying to gorge a series of matadors who call them over before jumping behind a barrier just before the bull can get them. Then the bull rushes across the ring, only to be thwarted again. Next two horses come out covered in armor and blinds with men on top with long spears. The bull charges the horses constantly trying to throw the horse over while the man on top drives the spear in to the bulls back. Next three men come out with two swords each and when the bull comes at them, the men jump aside and stick the bulls with the swords in the back. After all of this, the main matadors come out and lead the bulls around with their capes, trying to get the bulls as close to them as possible. This is where the glamour of the sport is supposed to be. When the bull is worn down enough and the crowd is ready for the kill, the matador drives a sword into the bulls back above the neck, thus killing it, or at least that is what’s supposed to happen. A good matador kills the bull in one try but none of the matadors I saw did this. I don’t think they were very good matadors. In fact, I was kind of rooting for the bulls.

OLE!

Soon after the show started it started pouring. Everyone moved up under cover to watch so the place looked empty. There weren’t enough people there to create the buzz of energy I came to see and I was surrounded by Americans who had no clue what was going on. The bulls never won and it always ended the same way. My friends had been to a fight in Madrid and loved it. They had it all. The place was packed, the crowd went wild and the bull gorged the shit out of some dude. That is what I kind of wanted to see but didn’t.
When the bull dies two donkeys come out to drag the dead animal away. After one of the bulls I went downstairs to see what they did with it. I found the garage they bring them to by following the blood and soon a lifeless cow was dragged past me by its hind leg. The butchers brought it in to a garage where there were the three previous bulls hanging now without heads or skin. At least they use the animals for something useful afterwards. One of the butchers tried selling us a horn for ten Euro but I didn’t think it would pass through security in my carry-on bag so I didn’t buy it.
The fight didn’t live up to my expectations but I am glad I saw it. I actually thought it would be more gruesome then it actually was. I had heard stories of blood everywhere and final death screams by the animal but I didn’t see any of that. We stayed for five of the six bulls because the people I was with were bored. I didn’t really mind leaving. A couple hours later after 19 days on the road I boarded a plane bound for Ireland and now I am back. Time for finals.

Go get him!

St. George's Day

Late Wednesday night I left Italy and got in to Barcelona, one of the coolest cities I have been to. I visited Spain five years ago with my family and absolutely loved it. This time I am here for a shorter period and will be staying within Barcelona, but I am excited to be back. Things are just different in Spain. For instance, I didn't get to my friends apartment until midnight but that didn't mean we weren't going out. In Spain it is unusual to go out partying for the night before 1:00 or 2:00 a.m. I'm a bit of a night hawk and love to stay up until the early hours of the morning so am excited to be here. We left the club at 5:00 a.m. and the party was still bumping when we left. This is a crazy town.
Yesterday was St. George's Day, the Spanish version of Valentines Day. St. George's Day is unlike the commercialized American version of the holiday though, and in my opinion, is way cooler. Instead of lavish gifts and chocolates and cards and such, guys only get the girls a rose or two, and it is only for their true sweetheart. In return, the girls buy their man a book. Maybe I'm just biased because I love books, but this version of the holiday seems much more manageable on the wallet and more personable to a significant other.
As I strolled down the La Rambla, the main vein of the city that runs down to the Mediterranean with vendors and markets of all kinds along the way, there were countless rose vendors, many of which are organizations raising money for a cause, as well as huge temporary outdoor book stands. All books are 10% off as well so everyone in the city had something to be excited about. I was looking for a place with English books but came up short.
The weather is beautiful so I am going to go enjoy the day. Nothing like 80 degree weather.

Whirwind around Italy

This trip I am on is so freaking cool. Let me just explain my last few days to you. Three days ago I wandered through the Vatican and stared at the Sistine Chapel, two days ago I strolled through the streets of Venice and drank beers on the steps of a canal watching Gondolas pass by, yesterday I lay on the beach of a sleepy mountain side beach town and swam in the Tyranian Sea, today I am hiking the Cinque Terre, and tomorrow I will be snowboarding in the ALpes. I cant imagine a cooler more diverse trip. I have had awesome experiences with friends and have met so many cool, inviting people along the way. I have to pinch myself daily just to know that this is all real. How did I get so lucky to stumble upon this life I am living?
I will elaborate on my trip to Rome and Venice later because it is impossible to reflect on it when I have so much beauty in front of me right now, but let me just say, the Sistine Chapel was one of the coolest things I have seen in my life. I stood directly under Michelangelo's painting of God touching Adams finger and slowly spun in a circle, completely humbled by its beauty. It truly is a masterpiece. This whole trip I have been humbled in the same way and inspired by the excellence of it all. More about that later though.
By the way, the Cinque Terre is a series of five cliff side beach towns only accessible on foot or by train. It is labeled as a world landmark because of it's beauty and uniqueness and I am excited to see it.
On another note, my trusty Doc Martens, my favorite shoes in the world are starting to wear down! I have a hole in the heel and now my feet get wet when it rains. So sad.
I cant run spell check on this because it is Italy and the computers don't understand English so forgive me for the numerous spelling errors and messed up words. When I get back in a few days I will clean it up. Ciao!

Firenze

Last night my friends and I got into Rome but before that we spent a couple days in Florence. Florence is a beautiful town. Situated on the River Arno, it was the heart of the Italian Renaissance so everywhere you go there is beautiful artwork to admire. My time abroad has sparked an interest in art and Florence has an abundance of pieces in every corner of town. Maybe my favorite place was a garden the Medici family built called the Biblio gardens. It is a huge area with tall shady trees, dust paths, numerous grand fountains and statues all over the place. The statues had a neglected beauty about them I liked. Although hundreds of years old and now covered in moss with chips and cracks, it is still easy to appreciate the skill and effort required to create such a beautiful thing.
The only negative I can think of about Florence was the timing of my trip. Call me stupid, but I totally forgot I was visiting t he week of Easter which meant the town was overrun with tourists. Catholics in Italy during Easter, who would have thunk it. THe lines for ev erything were unbearable and finding a hotel room was impossible. For what I got in return, the amount I payed each night should be illegal. Still, it was awesome.
On Easter morning we woke up and watched a parade go through the town and then got on a train to Pisa to see the famous tower. I grew up hearing and seeing pictures of the Leaning Tower of Pisa but to see it was something special. That tower leans a lot! It was so cool to see with my own eyes. There isnt much to do in Pisa but we enjoyed our day immensley. We lounged in the grass soaking up the sun and laughed at people making ridiculous poses making it look like they were holding the tower up. It was a perfect way to spend Easter. My internet time is about to be up. Got to run!

Milano

Italy is beautiful! I got to Milan last night and have spent the day walking around this beautiful city. The sun is shining bright and it is a beautiful 70 degree day. This morning I went to Del Duomo Di Milano which is one of the most beautiful cathedrals I have ever seen. Only St. Peters is bigger in the whole world and I was able to climb over 200 stairs to the roof to get a great panoramic view of the city. The streets are packed with people shopping, eating, and aimlessly strolling while enjoying the day.
Last night after many hours traveling I finally found my hotel and needed a break. I wandered the streets and found a tiny cafe where Italian kids were hanging out at. I ordered a Pizza margarita and a huge beer and sat outside watching beautiful Italian girls ride by on Vespas and taking in the architecture. There are leaves on the all the trees and flowers in most windows. It was a beautiful night and I was in heaven. It was so nice I had another beer.
As awesome as it is here, I was told it is nothing compared to other spots in Italy so in an hour I am taking a train to Florence to visit a friend and get to know the city that was the epicenter of the Reniscance. It is going to be awesome.
It is my spring break and I have the whole month of April off. I am in Italy until the 23 and then I will be in Madrid until the 27. I have a lot of time to see things so if anyone who reads this have suggestions on must see places please do not be afraid to let me know. Caoi! (I think that is how it is spelled...)

My Momma Came to Ireland

Me and a lamb... kind of stupid.

Over the past couple of days I have been traveling across Ireland with my mom, and two family friends. My brother Dan was supposed to come with but he ran in to some troubles with that. Ask Sheila Javor what happened with that one… Not only was it awesome to see my mom around the half way point of this trip I am on, having them around was also beneficial because I had access to a car which made travelling much faster than on a bus or by hitchhiking. Besides a few scary situations while adjusting to driving on the opposite side of the road, the ladies did a great job driving.

Me in 2009

Sheila in 1987

We saw a ton of things. I was keeping track, and we visited or stayed in at least 15 different towns. Thinking back on it, I can hardly remember what we did just a week ago but the coolest thing I saw was Blarney Castle. Although it is Mecca for tourists visiting Ireland, it was delightfully cheesy and very beautiful. From the top of the medieval castle there are awesome views of the land around and the building itself is everything you think of when going to such a place. I was surprised at how far I actually had to lean over the wall to kiss the Blarney Stone. It was a long way down. I was told by some Irish friends that the locals like to get drunk and sneak into the castle at night to pee on the stone. I think they were joking but I still had it in the back of my mind when kissing it. Regardless of this nasty fact, people have been visiting the stone for over 200 years and it supposedly gives you “the gift of gab.” That is a whole lot of lips in one spot and it has turned the spot black.

One of the people to kiss the stone before me was my mom in 1987. Although she has an intense fear of heights, back in the day she got over her fears and kissed the stone. That was during her trip to Europe when she was my age. She has great memories of that time in her life and it was fun to hear her relive some of the memories. Hopefully in 21 years I will have equally great feelings about my time here. I’m pretty sure I will. If anyone else wants to come visit be my guest- just don’t forget to bring my golf clubs.

My mom and I at Blarney Castle.

A Night at The Crane Bar

Last night I was at a pub called The Crane with some friends and their guests from other universities around Europe. The Crane is the most Irish pub I have been to in Galway and there is live traditional music played every night. The performers are not paid or asked to come, they just show up to have a few free pints of the black stuff, display their talents, and enjoy the company of the other patrons. No trip is Galway is complete without a visit to this amazing pub and it never fails to disappoint.
I have been there on nights where the whole music section is packed with amateur performers playing a wide variety of instruments, gleefully bringing the house down. Last night was more subdued however and there were only a handful of performers. There was a fiddler, two behran drummers, a man who switched of between the guitar and the Irish version of a banjo, and a final guitar player. They were all talented musicians and were fun to listen to. Our guests enjoyed it immensely but to be truthful, I have been there during more vibrant nights.


One noticeable absence was that of a traditional Sean Nos singer, or old style singer. When there is a Sean Nos singer the whole bar will become silent every so often to listen to him give a chilling performance. Sean Nos is traditionally sung by men and emphasizes story telling so there is no melody present- it is not music you snap your fingers to. Unlike singing we are used to, Sean Nos is sung from the throat and jowls instead of from the diaphragm which gives it a nasally quality to the sound and there is often dramatic shifts in volume. Listening to it is eerie but rewarding and I really wanted my new friends to experience it.
After a few pints no Sean Nos singer had yet come forward to perform. As I looked around though, I saw a group of older, white bearded Irishmen enjoying some good crack in the corner. One of them looked familiar but I could not figure out how I would know the man. Then it dawned on me that I think I saw him sing Sean Nos while in the small town of Doolin in County Clare. I was not positive but the more I stared the more confident I became. I wanted to hear the songs so I took a chance and when he was free for a moment, I approached him and asked him if he in fact was the singer I had seen. His face lit up in a smile and he replied that he was. I think he was pretty shocked and flattered that some punk American kid would recognize him. I think it is a testament to the music that after almost two months and plenty of travel I was able to recognize this guy though. We talked about his performance back in Doolin and I told him how much I enjoyed it and asked if he would perform tonight. He told me he would love to but it was up to the musicians and I should ask them if he could. I felt weird interrupting the musicians during a song break asking them if my “friend” could sing a song but of course they agreed and from his bar stool the man sang a song. It was dead silent and everyone’s attention was on him. When he finished he got a huge round of applause signalling that everyone enjoyed it. I gave him a pleasant nod of thanks and a raise of my beer and continued on with my night. Deep down though, I did feel a little proud that I was able to contribute to the music of the night, even if only in a very small way.

My Apetite in Belgium

Brussel's main square.

Many things impressed me about Belgium this past weekend. The people were nice, the architecture was imposing and beautiful, and the speed of life was even slower than many of the places around Europe I have so far visited. All of this was second to the food though. Belgium was a culinary delight. I ate and drank like a king and I enjoyed every bite.
I got into Brussels Friday afternoon and met up with my friend from high school. The weather was beautiful and it seemed like the whole town was in the sunlight strolling the cobbled streets, drinking in the many outdoor cafes, or lying in the many city parks (over 15% of the city is dedicated to parkland, the most of any major city in Europe.) Everyone was enjoying life and nobody was in a rush. Usually I like to be full of enthusiasm and get after a city with all the energy I have, but the citizen’s style was infectious and I decided to step back and let the city come to me. We split the day between taking in the baroque architecture and parks and admiring the notoriously strong beer in the cafes. It is a funny feeling to feel a buzz after just two beers. That night we continued sampling beers and both got as many different kinds under our belt without ever trying the same beer twice. Trying every beer in town would have been impossible however because it is said that there are over 400 different Belgium beers in Brussels and we were drinking at a bar called Delirium with 2000 beers available. We ate French fries served in paper cones for dinner, although we topped ours in catsup whereas locals use mayonnaise. French fries were invented in Belgium and are called “French fries” because the potatoes are cut in the “French style,” not because they are French.

My friend Saars and I in Brussels.

The next morning we took a train from French-speaking Brussels an hour north to the quaint Flemish-speaking town of Bruges. Bruges was gorgeous and everything you think of when imagining a small Dutch town. It was another beautiful day and we watched boats and kayakers motor down the canals, saw old windmills on the outskirts of town and tried to stay out of the way of the many horse drawn carriages clopping down the cobbled streets. We sat at outdoor cafes and ate fresh Belgium waffles with ice cream and powdered sugar on top. It really was one of the best things I have tasted. I spread the ice cream into each square of the waffle so that with each bite of the warm fluffy waffle you also tasted the sweet, quickly melting but still cold ice cream. It was way better than the frozen Eggo waffles I am used to at home.

A shot of Bruges.

On Sunday we spent the morning in Bruges and took an early afternoon train back to Brussels so my friend could catch a train back to Italy. I spent the rest of the day walking around and enjoying life. I was scheduled to leave early on Monday morning so I opted to stay up all night instead of getting a bed. Around midnight I walked through a street called Rue des Bouchers, which is a tightly lined street with consecutive, brightly lit seafood restaurants which stretch for a few blocks. During the day each restaurant’s product is displayed on ice in the street and waiters try shuffling you into little tables on the side of the road. Everything is colorful and smells delicious and I envied the people eating each time I passed.

Rue des Bouchers during the day.

By midnight only a few restaurants were still open and I decided to spend money I didn’t have to get an awesome meal. I sat down and ordered what Brussels is known for; a pot of moules, frites, and a strong Belgium beer. That is, a big pot of mussels, a plate of French fries, and obviously, a beer. All around me were large parties drinking, eating mussels, and laughing, and for the first time in a while I missed my family. The food was amazing. When it came I took a moment to sit back and admire the brightly lit meal in front of me and knew I was in for a treat. The mussels were soaked in a wine sauce and as I sucked the juices out of the shell I could still taste the salt from the sea. The meal was large enough for two but I ate the whole thing myself and savored every bite. When I finished paying the bill I walked around the corner to the bar with 2000 beers and had two cold ones to wash the meal down. Around two in the morning I slowly walked through the deserted streets to the station perfectly content with life. Good food is something to cherish.

My awesome late night meal.

Amsterdam

One of the many canals.

Amsterdam has a stereotype in America of being a city of drugs, prostitution and loose morals. It is the fabled land some kids only dream about and I got to visit. Little kids have Disney World and adults have Vegas. College kids have Amsterdam. If anyone reading this thinks I am above the temptation of indulging in these activities which are illegal at home and considered as sinful by some, they are wrong. I celebrated my time in Amsterdam to the fullest and remember some of it.
Amsterdam is a unique city. It isn’t particularly beautiful and the streets are dirty. There isn’t a long list of attractions to see and most of them are overrated anyways. The weather isn’t great and it rains all the time. What’s cool about Amsterdam is its people and their attitude towards things. It has always been a city of trade and the monarchy has never been allowed to stand in the way of making money. Right or wrong, the Dutch love their money and are willing to put up with a lot to get it. They go by what was explained to me as plausible deniability. Plausible deniability is how people can get away with anything as long as it doesn’t involve hurting anyone, they are discreet about it, and most importantly, that they are spending money. Pretty much anything goes if these guidelines are adhered to.

Some of the guys I was traveling with to the left.

I went with a friend from high school and ten of his favorite fraternity buddies from back home. They are all nice enough guys individually but in a group they are a little too much to handle and stood out like the group of stupid stoned Americans they were. They didn’t quite understand the three rules of plausible deniability either. They weren’t ever discreet, didn’t spend much money when loitering in the cafes and although they didn’t physically hurt anyone, nobody around them enjoyed their presence. This being said, I spent a lot of the time on my own wandering around the canal belt and visiting sights. It is sometimes called the Venice of the north and for good reason. Houseboats line the banks and there are many quaint outdoor restaurants and cafes. This paired with the unique, tall, narrow houses provides for great strolls but getting turned around is easy. As mentioned previously, I visited the Anne Frank House and also the Heineken Experience. It turns out the Heineken Experience is equally boring and pointless as the Guinness tour and yet I’m sure I will be persuaded to go on another painful brewery tour before I leave this continent.

They pull 20,000 bikes out of the canal a year.

I had to get one in here of myself.

I am also happy I visited Amsterdam now for another reason. The Netherlands aren’t happy with the city’s reputation and feel it is an embarrassment to their name so they are taking steps to close the red light district. They have been closing coffee shops, have made psychedelic mushrooms illegal, and they have closed a third of the prostitute windows all in the last year. By July 1st half of the remaining prostitutes will have been shut down and more changes are expected. The city as I got to know it will not be there in a couple years so if you have any long felt desire to go there and experience the madness for yourself you’d better hurry. I wouldn’t want to live there but visiting it was awesome. Right or wrong, people enjoy more freedoms to do as they like more than any other place I have visited. They are extremely friendly people, even towards inexperienced American tourists, and nobody judges others based on the choices they have made. I’m sure there are many people in Oak Park that would applaud their free spirit lifestyle and their acceptance of other people, cultures, and art. The place is insane. I’m glad I can go back to school and tell my friends I made it to the fabled land.

The ugliest grand palace I have ever seen.

An update from Amsterdam

So I have been in Amsterdam for two days now and have finally had time to get myself out of the cafes and spend some time alone exploring this unique city. Amsterdam's central city is focused around a ring of canals and getting around takes time to get used to. It is easy to get turned around and not have a clue as to where you went wrong. City trams and bicycles are also trying to kill you on the streets so paying attention is important which isn't always easy. Everyone rides a bike and they are everywhere.
Today I visited to the Anne Frank Home where she hid from the Nazis and wrote in her now famous journal. Even in the rain the line to get in was long and it took a half hour to get in. The inside of her hideout doesn't take long to walk through but it was a sobering experience. She was a very insightful girl from what I could tell.
I also walked around the famous red light district. It is something else. Prostitutes of every kind stand in little rooms and flirt with passing people to get them to come in. It is weird seeing bars, peep shows, and coffee shops all there next to each other on this beautiful canal with swans and houseboats. The Dutch really celebrate their free sprit. I got to go get back on the streets.

The Aran Islands

Action shot on my bike.

On Saturday I travelled to the Aran Islands with a group of kids from Marquette to see what the place is like. They are a set of three islands off the coast in Galway Bay. The Aran Islands have an interesting history. I will give a two second recap about why they are worth visiting.
Until the 1930’s, the islands were completely untouched by the rest of the world and life existed like it had for hundreds of years before without any technological advances. People lived short lives fishing and farming wherever they could to survive. Then around the 1920’s, Ireland revolted against the English and got their own country. They still hated the English though and wanted to separate themselves as much as possible. This was hard to do however because there are no obvious differences between the two people. They are both pasty white people who predominantly speak English. So, in order to distinguish themselves as Irish, they did everything they could to encourage people to value the opposite things the English valued. Everything from language, literature, clothing, music and sport were evaluated and changed to counteract English influences. This is called culture nationalism and is just about the only new thing I have learned about in school.

The fort of Dun Aengus dates back to the bronze age. (about 3500 years ago)

I just thought this was a cool shot.

Well, the English valued industrialization, technology, and progress so the Irish decided to value hard work, rural living, and backwards progress. All the popular stereotypes that exist today about Ireland came from this era. Right or wrong, the creators of Irish cultural nationalism found the perfect mold for this new image on the west coast of Ireland and in particular the Aran Islands. They completely left out how horrible the islanders had it and romanticized their lives saying their way of life embodied the true nature of Ireland. Artists, tourists, and politicians visited the islands to understand how they lived. Ironically, this pilgrimage to the islands made the locals give up farming and speaking Irish until all that was left was tourism and that is where I come in.
We took a ferry across that took 40 minutes and rented bikes when we got there. Riding was slow with so many people and it rained most of the morning. Still, it was fun to dick around and watch the country role by. I decided I would never want to live there after the first few minutes. The land is incredibly barren and harsh. It is hard to imagine anything prospering there. We rode to an abandoned light house where the views were supposed to be spectacular but all we got was fog. Climbing through the ruins was entertaining though especially when we found the animals. People let their livestock wander anywhere within a series of stone walls so we found a pony and some steers living in and around the building. They eat anything they can find which isn’t much because everything is rock. There wouldn’t even be grass there if the stone walls didn’t keep the soil from blowing away. All the soil that is there was made by the islanders with sea weed. Obviously, these islands are in no way utopias.

These cows were at the lighthouse and were getting it on. Laughter ensued.

We also saw abandoned churches, ancient cliff-side forts, and ruins of one room homes which could have been occupied by 20 or more people hundreds of years ago. It was all cool to see especially after hearing so much about it from my professors. Any way you cut it, life must have been miserable there before tourists moved in and it is still pretty bland now. I’m glad I saw it first hand though if only to appreciate the hardships people faced and the complete misinterpretation the founders of the modern state of Ireland made regarding the place. Like America and every country, Ireland values an idea of its past that isn’t entirely accurate. In some sense I used to hold this against America, somehow feeling like society was blinded by our own self-admiration and glorification of the past. Through traveling frequently in the past few years I have forgiven America though and realized the rest of the world is just as full of shit. Ireland is no different but I don’t hold it against them. Well, that’s enough of my personal views and teaching lesson. Next stop, Amsterdam…

Me on a stone wall.

London, Home of Austin Powers, baby!

Big things poppin' near Big Ben

London is a great city. I was there for almost five full days and I really think that I got a good feel for the streets and the people. The first couple of days I did touristy things. I walked around the center of town where the major monuments and the things you think of when thinking of London are located. I saw Parliament and the famous Big Ben Tower (Big Ben is actually the bell, not the tower,) Buckingham Palace and the changing of the guards, Tower Bridge, the London Eye (it was grossly overpriced so I didn’t take a ride) and Westminster Abbey. I also took a free walking tour which informed me about all these places and on the city in general. It was all very cool and impressive but to be honest, there is only so much I can say about landmarks and after seeing so many famous places I am becoming a little bit jaded by it all.
The thing I found most interesting about London was that they didn’t care if I was there or not. Unlike other cities I have been to, London does not rely on tourism. It is and probably always will be a thriving premier center of business, culture, and style. Yes, there are sections of town devoted to a single focus point, but for the most part, the residents work, play, live and shit in the same area much like my beloved Chicago does. It has its own cool unique thing going on which doesn’t have to cater to me, the tourist, so as one, I was able to float around observing and taking part in everyday life as Londoners see it, and it turns out, I kind of like the way they live.

My one delicious treat at Portobello Market.

For instance, Saturday morning I woke up after a long night of drinking at some random person’s apartment on the east side of the city and walked 45 minutes west to where my friends were staying. Once we met up we got a “full English breakfast” from the small shop on the corner and I walked with them to the Underground Station so they could head to the airport. I then walked west through Hyde Park and watched joggers jog, kids play, equestrians ride, and wanderers wander all without getting a second look I often do when someone realizes I’m a tourist.
I got to the end of Hyde Park and walked into the neighbourhood of Notting Hill to wander through the weekly street market called Portobello Market. This market was filled with people going up and down the street buying antiques, clothes, fruits, vegetables, meat and anything else you can think of. It was so cool! It is not to be missed. Stands were selling food all over the place and I felt like crying because I wanted to devour it all so bad but had no money to spare. Halfway through I realized I was incredibly jealous of all these people. I was jealous that they had money to spend and I didn’t, I was jealous they were with friends and I wasn’t, and I was jealous they had cool, labeless clothes and I was decked out in North Face (my one tell tale sign of being American.) Most of all, I was jealous that they could come back next Saturday and I couldn’t. It is such a neat outlet for them to explore just for exploring sake itself.

Ya, I took a picture with a red phone booth.

Tower Bridge is actually way out of the way for most tourists.

I explored another cool area Sunday night called Leicester Square. I was looking for a place to see a movie before leaving for the airport and while walking through Chinatown I stumbled upon this square where all the major movies premier in London. The theatre is huge but it is also surrounded by other theatres, clubs, restaurants and bars. Even though it was a Sunday night the place was buzzing and locals were everywhere enjoying themselves. The coolest part about it was that nowhere in this huge attraction area was a single souvenir shop, tourist information center, or guided tour going on. They didn’t even have a Planet Hollywood Restaurant around! This area was completely devoted to catering to the people of London.

I suspect that even though I walked everywhere for five days in all directions of the city I still missed out on a lot of cool things. Don’t get me wrong, I’m totally aware that like any city there are inevitable shady areas I did not see. The many miles I did cover however were awesome and there were so many restaurants, theatres, hotels and events I missed out on. London is a great place to visit but I suspect it would be ten times cooler if my wallet was ten times thicker. I had so much fun as it was, (I took advantage of a ton of free museums) but I can imagine doing some real damage if I had some real money to blow. The city stands on its own and has a ton of fun in the process and doesn’t ask anything from me except to have a great time. That’s what I did and hopefully I will have a chance to do it again.

Trafalgar Square.