What should I be doing?

Let me share with you something that's given me a bit of anxiety while I've been travelling (and it's something that gives me a bit of anxiety in daily life as well; it is magnified by the fact that I'm travelling). It's a thought, that can be phrased as a question, that can be repeated over and over, in the background of what you're doing: How can I best be spending my time right now?
As I mentioned in my "to-do" list, I'm hung up about the fact that I'm not able to write anything. I feel like I'm getting too old to keep saying that it's something I can do a little later. If I wanna have some artistic masterpieces to my name (and I do), I'm going to have to be productive. I'm going to have to write. I don't know from where stems the source of this absolutely paralyzing anxiety on the matter, but it's there, and it's been there for a long, long time now.
So anyway, that thought keeps coming up: How can I best be spending my time? I sometimes feel wasteful if I spend too long in a museum, wake up too late in the morning, turn in too early for the evening, wander too aimlessly in a new city. I just get the feeling that whatever I'm doing, I should be doing something else.
Now, this is, of course, not a rational thought; it's an anxiety. Rationally, I understand that this is a self-defeating anxiety, since I'd be enjoying my time if I could just let it go, but since I can't let it go, I'm not enjoying my time as much. And of course there are times when it goes away. These are typically times that I'm spending with other people; people I like. So what I'm then asking myself is, do I need other people to enjoy myself? Is this why I'm so miserable in those places and times where I feel like I can't find anyone, or when I see people I want to talk to, and just don't?
I relate this to a deeper insecurity I have about needing the approval of other people to feel validated myself.

Man, I just spilled something heavy on you there. Sorry about that. Just thinking and typing...

Also

Who likes my Ghostbusters-style logo?
Check how the red cross-out line, like, pierces through the plane wing, creating the illusion of depth. And the drop shadow beneath the title text, creating the illusion of depth. And the dark red surrounding the light red in the logo, creating the illusion of depth.

To do

I know that when people travel, or undergo any kind of dramatic event, they like to talk about all the things that are going to change in their life from then on. And of course, few of the changes ever actually happen. I think people can change, but usually only very slowly and modestly.
Nonetheless, I too have been thinking about things I wanna do when I get home, and things I wanna start doing, and simply writing them off would likely not be wise, so instead, I'll write them here, so I have a record of them. Here are some:

• Take French language course
• Learn to dance
• Start being creatively productive (damn it!)
• Host more gatherings
• Volunteer to tutor children in science and math

I've got a good start on #3, since I've been drawing more lately, and I got a sweet new music-making tool on my computer. When making music is convenient, I do it more. I still can't seem to write (I mean, this blog, for instance, is one thing; but I'm talking about expressive and creative writing), which is really bothering me, because it's something I yearn to do, and something I've always told myself I was good at.

The Day is Cold and Damp

- Paris: Dec 8 - 16 -

Phase 1: Dec 8 and 9

I want to make these entries a little more detailed, for a few reasons, all of which I will eventually get to. The first obvious reason, as seen in the header, is that I’ve spent more time in Paris than any of the other stops I’ve made in the last month and a half. I will proceed.

I had a plan for getting to Paris.

First stop: Shakespeare and Company, the English-language bookstore that also houses young writers for their stay in Paris. I was going to check if they had any room, and what the requirements for staying were. The backup plan was to go to a hostel, the address of which I had taken down in Lyon. I knew there would also be a CS event in Paris that evening, so I made that my order of operations: Shakespeare and Co., hostel (if no S&C), quiz night (the CS event). This was thrown off a little when there was no room on any trains to Paris before 6 in the evening. This would mean I’d arrive there at 8, and not have time to do my full plan. Being the sensible young lad I am, I chose to go to the hostel that night, and check out Shakespeare and Co. the next day.

And the modified plan worked well. I checked into the hostel, paying for two nights, and went to the quiz.

Okay, so everyone I’ve met through CouchSurfing so far have been pretty cool people. My hosts, certainly. But before I arrived in Paris, I received a message from someone here who said my profile was interesting, and she’d like to host me. After exchanging a few messages, working out the details, I got a strange vibe – I found it a little odd, though not outright inappropriate, that she asked me to help her buy her groceries and carry them upstairs with her. Just seemed strange. Then at the last minute she said she would only host me for one night, which is fair enough, but it did leave me with no place for the rest of my stay there, and very short time to find one. So with all that, I just said I’d stay in a hostel, since I didn’t want to be going to a new host every day with my heavy bag. And that was that.

Well, this person was at the quiz as well, and the weirdness continued. I don’t think she’s a bad person or anything, but she just really had the ability to push my buttons. I ordered food – a plate of nachos and fries – when I arrived at the pub, and I hadn’t eaten all day, so I was quite looking forward to them. “Maybe we can share them,” Vibes said. “I’m really hungry, so I think I’ll probably want to have it for myself. Sorry.” I diplomatically concluded. “Well, it’s a big plate. We should share.” Call my judgment into question, will you? “I haven’t eaten all day, and I really do eat a lot, so I’d rather just have it for myself.” I say again. “If you’d like, you can have a couple; that’s no problem, but I really am hungry.” See, I bargained. “Well, the cheese on the nachos is very heavy. You will probably be full very fast.” Damn it! I hate having to repeatedly make the same argument. I know I can eat these nachos. There’s no issue there. This was starting to annoy me. “Okay, I’ll tell you what. I’m telling you now, I’ll most likely eat it all myself, so don’t count on sharing, but I will happily share if I can’t eat it.” Quite reasonable of me, I thought. That was basically the end of that little struggle. She pulled up a seat beside me for the quiz, so she would be on the same team (teams were made based on the table you were sitting at). She ordered a platter of food that was on special. She offered everyone bit of her food, which included chicken wings and calamari, but everyone else at the table was vegetarian. One of us said, “Thanks, but we’re all vegetarian.” “Oh, so am I ,” said Vibes. “But you’re eating calamari,” said another person at the table. “Yeah, I eat seafood.” Okay, fine. I know people who do this – say they’re vegetarian and eat seafood and—chicken now too. She’s eating the chicken. Okay, she’s allowed to define vegetarian as she sees fit, no problem.

A question comes up on the quiz: “What does the word [and I’m paraspelling here] ‘hippomonstrosequippmentphobia’ mean?” Ah, we can crack this, I think, using our knowledge of Latin. “A fear of big noses,” says Vibes, “Big noses like on a hippo.”

I try to diplomatically dissuade her from this suggestion: “Fear names are usually in Latin, and ‘rhino’ means ‘nose’ in Latin, so I don’t think that’s it.”

“Put it anyway.”

Okay, the illogical approach. Here’s where my tyranny in game-playing turns me into somewhat of a monster (but a monster of the most reasonable kind): “But there’s no reason to think it’s about big noses.”

“Hippos have big noses. Maybe it’s a fear of big noses like a hippo.” She makes a gesture with her hands to indicate big noses. She starts with her hand somewhat open, close to her face, then pulls it away and closes her fingers slowly, forming an imaginary cone extending from her nose. Okay, she’s confused hippos and rhinos.

“But hippos aren’t really known for their noses.” I try an alternate strategy: “Does anyone know what ‘hippo’ means in Latin? What’s a hippodrome again – that might help.” We deduce that hippo means horse, so I cleverly think we’ve broken through the first part of the riddle. While this is going on, several other questions have come, and we’ve answered them, but I keep coming back to this one when there’s time. We had written, tentatively, “fear of being trampled by horses” as our answer. When the quiz is over, and we’re to hand in our form, Vibes takes the sheet to write in an answer she says she knows. When she hands it back, she had written in that answer, but also had crossed off our horse answer in place of her “big noses” answer. “Did you put ‘big noses’ on the sheet?” I ask, as if I don’t know.

“Yeah, I think it’s good.”

“I’m telling you,” I say, “I don’t think that’s right. There’s no reason to think it is.” I look around at this point, and see that a few people at the table are watching this. Not wanting to look like I’m taking this too seriously, I concede and hand in the form as is.

The answer, by the way, was “a fear of big words.” Stupid.

Vibes then tells me about a restaurant she’s going to the next day, and that I should come to. Another girl, who I did enjoy talking to, also expresses interest in going, so I say sure, I’ll come. Vibes scribbles something on a paper and hands it to me. “I don’t know the name or address of the place, but here is a map.” I look at the paper. It’s scribbles. I can’t make out anything. I don’t know what information I’m supposed to take from this.

“I can’t promise I’ll be there based on this,” I say, “but I’ll try my best.”

“What’s the problem? That map is good.”

I look at the map again. Nope, not good. “I don’t know if I can find it based on this.”

She goes and talks to a few friends and comes back with the address. Fine, I can work with that. I agree to meet at 6:30 the next evening. “If anything changes, I have your number, so I’ll call you,” Vibes adds.

Whatever. I’ll do this, then that’ll be that. It’s one night, it’ll pass, no biggie.

Upon leaving the bar, I start walking to the metro station I came from.

“There’s one closer this way,” Vibes says, encouraging me to come with her. At this point, even if it were better for me to go that way, I would probably opt for the other metro, just to avoid her company. I don’t like having thoughts like this, but I really wasn’t enjoying our conversations, if they can be called that. I wondered if she was having the same experience, but she didn’t seem to be, based on the fact that she was continually setting us up to keep talking. Anyway, the fact is, I’m going to the other, slightly further metro station because it’s in the same direction as I’m going.

“I’m going to the other one, because it’s in the same direction I’m going.”

She looks at me with sympathetic confusion, and there’s a touch of scorn and mockery in there too. “Okay, but this one’s closer. It’ll be faster.”

Stop questioning my judgment! I’m a 24-year-old human being! I’ve obviously made it this far! Obviously things seem to work when I do them this way! I’m not going to agree with you!

“I think I’ll just go this way. I think it’s faster for me.”

“Okay.” Again, she doesn’t seem to agree, but she leaves. Phew.

I go back to my hostel and sleep.

I meet my hostel-mates the next morning. A young Australian couple, very friendly; I’m happy for them. I checked out some of Paris, and when 6:30 rolled around, I made my way to the restaurant to meet. Oh, I also couldn’t help myself, and I bought Rivers Cuomo’s Alone 2 album to upload to my iPod. Nice.

I get the restaurant early by about 10 minutes and wait, while listening to the album. It’s cold and wet, but I wait, because that’s what I do – that’s what I’m good at: waiting. I go through the album maybe twice. It’s now 7:30. No text messages, nothing. If I get sick because of her... I search for a wireless hotspot so I can check my email and see if she ever sent me her phone number. I find one, do the search, and eventually find the number. I send her a message: “I’m waiting at the restaurant. Are you coming?” The reply: “In car. You?” Me: “I’ve been waiting here since 6:30”. No answer. The other girl, by the way, didn’t show up, but she never committed, so no biggie. Anyway, it’s me, Vibes and a friend of hers, who – nothing against him- didn’t speak English. So it was quite unfortunate that I was either talking to Vibes, which I’ve already established I don’t enjoy, or waiting as they spoke French. I tried to make a little joke in French to ease the silence when Vibes would get up for any time, but it wasn’t well-received. My French must be worse than I thought. Then the buffet: I skip the items that look like they have meat in them and eat. Round two, everything has meat, so I return empty-plated. Then: “Try this, I don’t think there’s meat.” She’s talking about a pizza which really looks like it has chicken on it.

“That looks like chicken.” I say.

“No, I don’t think so.”

God damn it. I’m the one who sets my criteria for whether or not I eat something!

“Yeah, look, it’s chicken,” I say, poking at the stringy flesh with my fork to show its texture.

“Well, it’s not a lot.”

“I don’t eat any.” I say, perhaps now a little visibly annoyed, adding for good measure, “Go ahead, you can have it.”

She makes a similar argument about one of the pasta dishes, which clearly also has little bits of chicken in it. Again, I turn it down and make the case that I am the kind of vegetarian who doesn’t eat meat.

On the topic of vegetarianism, she goes into how hard it is for her not to eat meat. “When you go to business meetings, you just have to eat meat. So it’s hard.”

I make the argument that, yes, there can be all kinds of pressures, and that it’s ultimately the individual’s choice. She doesn’t seem convinced. No matter. The rest of the evening goes relatively smoothly, without much more unpleasantness, and I exit after paying. Phew.

I go back to the hostel and vent about this story to the Australian couple, pretty much the same as I vent about it here. I don’t like speaking ill of people, so for the record, this entry is more about capturing my thoughts and feelings during these events than it is about me wanting to talk about a terrible person; I don’t think this was a terrible person, just the kind of person who knew exactly what to say to annoy me in conversation. Perhaps this entry says more about me than it does about her. I acknowledge this, but still don’t wish to spend any additional time with her.

And that was the second night in Paris.

Oh! Also somewhere in there, I visited Shakespeare and Co. to see if they had room. Spoke with Sylvia Whitman, the daughter of George Whitman (I won’t nickname them, since they’re notable and researchable figures; Nicknaming would be an empty gesture), who told me that they would have room the following night. Success! I planned the next week at the bookstore, which would unfortunately cut into Barcelona time, but, man, would it be worth it!

Fete des Lumieres

- Lyon: Dec 5 to 8 -

Some stories are better seen than told.

Fete des Lumieres

Cool stuff at the weekend-long Fete des Lumieres. Much like a bigger version of Toronto's Nuit Blanche.

Bear Pits

- Bern: Dec 2 - 5 -
This'll be a short entry for a few reasons. One, I'm falling behind and need to catch up by writing quickly; two, I was only in Bern a short time; and three, not much happened in Bern.
I really enjoyed the train rides around Switzerland. The scenery was just marvellous - mountains and lakes - beautiful. I stayed with a CS host in Bern who had an injured foot, and so couldn't show me around or anything, but we got along well, had some good conversation.
I wandered Bern, which is probably the smallest city I've visited in a while. Bigger than Aalborg and Kristiansand, from the beginning of my trip, but still a small-sized city. Oh, everything is expensive in Switzerland - comparable to the prices in Denmark, for sure.
Bought some chocolate, made some curry. Went to see the film Religulous at a local movie theatre. I'd wanted to see it for a while. It's not exactly an Earth-shattering film by any means - more like a comedy version of Dawkins' documentaries, confronting religious people and asking them to explain their beliefs in a rational way.
I took a few more train rides while in Switzerland - making use of my rail pass for the free travel. Went as far as Interlaken. Walking the city didn't do too much for me, but the train rides, man, they were something. In general, I was growing bored with all the wandering - didn't really feel the drive to see much in the city itself. I still haven't really answered a lot of the questions I've had about travelling - whether it's really worth it. I mean, some things are nice, and it's always a good exercise to meet new people and explore new landscapes, but I don't know what I was getting from the experience beyond this basic mental exercise. If all I want is a change in routine, I can simulate that at home quite easily. But I don't though. Maybe that's the point. Maybe Europe ain't the best place to really find a different worldview from that of North America.

Anyway, that's Switzerland.

Hostel Environment

- Rome: Nov 28 to Dec 2 –

Goddamn dogs. Okay, so my Couch Surfing luck so far has been flawless. I’ve spoken with other people who have been amazed that I’m able to find hosts after sending out only two or three requests per city. Apparently people are used to sending up to 20 requests before finding a host. Well, friends, I employ some fancy selection tactics, and I craft every request with care, which apparently greatly improves my success. Plus, I have a killer profile. I’m a superstar at writing web profiles that people like. It’s a wonder I haven’t done better with online dating (yes, I’ve tried). But anyway, I was unable to find a host in Rome. No biggie. I’d budgeted for hostels from the beginning of the trip, so I don’t depend on finding hosts; but I also know that with my social habits, it’s possible that I could hole up unless I have someone to force me to interact. Maybe. I don’t know. Sometimes I’m under the impression that I’m socially quite normal, and that it’s everybody who are afraid to talk to people. Cowards, all of us.
So I book into a hostel. It seems like a sweet deal: 15 Euros a night, which includes blankets, pillow, breakfast and a pasta dinner with a glass of wine every night. So I book it. I go to my room and see two other backpacks already there; one has a Canadian flag on it. Okay, something to talk about there. Two girls enter the room – the owners of the backpack. They actually are from not-too-far from Toronto, so we form an immediate comradery, I feel. They explain that the final (fourth) bed in our room is to be occupied by an Australian backpacker they had met in… Somewhere else; I forget. He arrives quite shortly. I learn that one joke they have with him is that they give him a hard time about his age. I can’t tell how old he is, but I’m placing him in the high 20’s. I’m terrible at this game though. I’ll learn his age later.
We go do laundry, which is something we all had to do, then go to the free pasta dinner (small, and crap wine, but FREE!) and out for a short night walk in Rome. Okay, the social problem is resolved. I’ll simply cling like a flea to these people for my time in Rome. It’s an unspoken agreement that is made. They seem cool and friendly, and I’m immediately able to joke with them, so I revert into comfort. I also notice that the girls are generally a little more worrisome about some things than I am, which I think causes me to take the “hey, relax; don’t worry” role. I’m pretty cool anyway, so it’s a role I adapt well to. We wander until some time, I don’t know, then find our way back to the hostel.
Rome is the first of my cities that I’m visiting for the second time (well, in memorable history). It’s an interesting experience, since I’m trying to place things against their image in my memory, but it certainly looks like a different city. I don’t think I was paying attention before, or perhaps all this travelling and mental-map building has caused me to look at cities a little differently – a little more functionally (when last I visited Rome, I took the role of passenger; not really paying attention to the map, just following my sister).
Day 2 we get up and head for the Colloseum. Spell-check is calling me out on that one, but I’m sticking with it. It’s all right, I guess. I remember it being kind of but not really impressive, and it’s exactly as I remember it. Certainly not worth the 11 Euro regular price, but we bought Roma passes, which work out to be a decent deal, so it’s no biggie.

From Italy

After the Colloseum (relax, spell-check) we wander the nearby ruins. I can’t recall their name, but this is a much more satisfying experience than the Colloseum was. I try to use my imagination to recreate the bustling streets, the politicians, the Forum, the togas. We also come upon some orange trees, and me and the Old Man try to retrieve some of the higher-up and juicy-looking oranges using a long stick. Minimal success, but a fun diversion. There’s a ridiculously long line for seeing Augustus’ house for what it is. Just a few frescos in two rooms. The best part is the Forum. There used to be a city here, but now there is a hole. I can’t help but be a little reflective about the whole thing. Always thinking about mortality; anitcha.
We see more stuff, probably, then go back for the free dinner. There are a few flakes of meat in my vegetarian pasta, so I bring it to the attention of the hostel guy, but I do it in a very awkward way.
“I think there’s meat in this.”
“It could be, yeah.”
“Was it prepared with the meat sauce?”
“Maybe, yeah.”
“So you agree that this looks like meat?”
“Yeah.”
Long pause.
Me: “Okay.”
Hostel guy leaves. When he comes back a few minutes later, I managed to turn it into an actual complaint, instead of a series of questions:
“Sorry about that awkward interaction, I know it’s not your fault, but I’m a little upset that there’s meat in this. Can you tell the kitchen?”
“Yeah, sorry about that.”
I’m making him out to be heartless and ignorant here, I think, but he wasn’t. I just think he knew what I was getting at, and didn’t know how to react, so he was waiting for me to make a specific request he might be able to fulfill.
Anyway, me, the Girls and the Old Man (oh, by now I had found out he was in his early 30s) go to a gelato place that I was told about by a wonderful girl in Berlin. It’s a little outside the main city, but a relatively close walk nonetheless. Man, oh, man, was the wonderful Berlin girl right. 3 Euros gets you FOUR scoops (each of a different flavour) in a big waffle cone. And this is in-house-made gelato. Top-quality stuff. Great flavours. We all agree this is the best thing, and that we’ll return the next night.
Next morning, Vatican. More idiocy with prohibited photo-taking. Again, I don’t care; I don’t take pictures of junky chapel ceilings; that’s for chumps. But it’s ridiculous that they even pretend to enforce a no-photo policy in the Sistine Chapel. People are snapping photos everywhere – the place is packed – and two “guards” walk around covering random cameras, saying, “no photo.” Then they walk away, and the person is free to continue taking pictures. What a joke. Who hasn’t seen the Sistine Chapel? It’s everywhere. There’s no way the extra money they make on postcards can justify what they pay these guards. Whatever; not my museum. Then into St. Peter’s Basilica. Nice. Oh, in between those, we allow ourselves to be a little ripped off on a meal. But that’s to be expected. And it wasn’t a huge rip-off. Anyway, we go back for the free dinner (doesn’t seem like we did much, but the line into the Vatican museum was a monster – took ages), then pretty much call it a night. After gelato.
Next day. Goddamn dogs. We want to get the most from our Roma passes, so we head towards other sights listed in the pass guide. It’s a little outside town – we take a bus to get there. We then walk a good distance away from civilization, passing several busy and narrow streets before getting to the site, and it’s closed, but a friendly little white dog greets us. There’s two old men sitting on the nearby curb. Ah, the dog must be theirs. It runs up to us, and we pet it (well, my companions do, but I wisely resist). Well, time to go; good-bye, dog! We walk back toward where the bus dropped us off, and the dog is still following us, occasionally running ahead and falling behind, but always in our general vicinity. Okay, these guys don’t seem to mind their dog going far, but surely the dog will realize soon how far we’ve gone and will want to turn back. Several minutes later, closer to those busy roads, and no such thing has happened. The dog is distracted occasionally by other people and animals, but does not leave our side. What a stupid dog. We get to the busy road and don’t know what to do – this dog is jumping on and off the road, oblivious to the amount of momentum being carried by these roaring metal beasts. My mind goes back to the day last Halloween when me and Nemo stumbled upon a dog running around the streets of Toronto. It didn’t end well.
We wait for traffic to calm down a little, then call it towards us on the side of the road to make sure it doesn’t just step out. We had passed a large parkland area a short while ago, so we make our way towards there, hoping that the dog will grow distracted long enough for us to leave it in the safety of the park. We lure it in, and indeed it does get distracted by some people sitting at a booth for something, so we take the opportunity to jet back to the bus stop. Phew, problem solved. As we wait, we can peer down the narrow street (narrow because it’s surrounded by walls) at the entrance to the park. I dread seeing that dog’s head poke round the entrance, and we all joke about it, as if it couldn’t happen. Ten minutes later, no bus and no dog. The bus makes its approach, and we’re almost in the clear, when the dog pokes its head out, followed by a person who appears to be calling it back. Ah, this poor soul is now where we once were – the accidental guardians of the dog that is clearly not meant to live in such a world. But what can we do? We board the bus and leave, the dog and its guardians behind us. I don’t think there’s any chance that dog made it through the night; it was just too stupid.
Rest of Rome passed without incident as far as I can remember. More gelato, exploration, human bonding, and finally, a departure. I took the day train to Bern, because I was told by a nice girl in the hostel that the view from the trains in Switzerland is spectacular – a fact I was soon to verify.

Venice is a 4-Dimensional Hypercity

- Venice / Florence : Nov 25 to 28 –

Overnight train from Vienna to Venice. Another snorer, and my irregular sleeping patterns in Vienna made it such that I had a late start to my sleep; but sleep did come, and this was a longer-than-usual night train, so I got a good 7 hours or so.

I arrived in Venice in the morning – close to 9 am. I had heard mixed reviews about the city, and it seemed quite small and touristy, so I decided to make a day trip of it, and catch a train into Florence before nightfall, where I would spend the next few nights with a host. Given that I had chosen to spend just one day in Venice, I knew I was taking a weather risk; the one day could be good or bad, but I’d only have the one. Well, turns out it was bad. Luckily I had downloaded two new albums for my MP3 player – Hawksley’s Los Manlicious and Jenny Lewis’ Acid Tongue. Those albums got me through the day.

I felt brave stepping out of the train station, and decided that I wouldn’t get a map, I would just wander and trust myself to find the way back. Was this a good move? Perhaps not, but in another way, perhaps so. But probably not. First direction: 90 degrees counterclockwise to the train station exit. I wandered into a residential-looking part of town; no tourists, loads of dead-ends, and nothing particularly fun. I wandered back to station following the exact route I had taken out, since any shortcut I tried to make lead me to a dead-end. A dead-end in Venice is basically a sudden disappearance of sidewalk, followed by water. Back to the station. Now I went straight out from the station, 90 degrees clockwise to my original direction. More touristy now – it’s an interesting city, but I didn’t see anything to really catch my eye. I ended up at the Architecture College, which appeared to be the very tip of one of the islands, so I turned back. Chose another direction from the train station, and again ended up at the Architecture College. Weird. Turned back, chose a new direction. I knew there was a second island that I felt I had not yet seen. Ended up at the Architecture College again. This is stupid. It was impossible to get away from the college. It was also raining and getting quite cold, so I found a restaurant and grabbed a meal – half decent but pretty expensive. By the end of the day, I kept finding new routes to the Architecture College – even though I felt that I was going in the exact opposite direction. It’s like Venice kept folding that way. So whatever, I hate Venice. Took the train to Florence and that was that.

Got to my host’s place in Florence – Tusk, we’ll call him. He was a really happy and jovial kind of guy. The next morning, I was to explore Florence. Now, Florence was a city I had not at all looked into beforehand. I didn’t know what it was famous for, or what a traveler was supposed to see – besides the David, of course, which I had only quite recently learned was in this city. But I was certainly quite impressed with it all. I found a vegetarian restaurant, had lunch, then wandered into the city centre – the old city. Much like other old cities I’d visited, it was quite beautiful, and I was caught by surprise at the sight of the bridge spanning the Arno River with all the shops on it – it looks like it’s tremendously unstable. I guess that’s part of its charm. I spent the day quite happy with seeing things from the outside, then I drew a statue until my hand was useless from the cold (it was still a beautiful day), and called it a night. Me and Tusk went out for a drink, had a conversation that was more open in some ways than any I’ve had in a long time, and walked home. We passed a pigeon with a broken wing. It clearly wanted to fly away from us but couldn’t. As we walked past it, so did a pair of girls, one of whom kicked it. I know there’s a general annoyance people have toward pigeons, and she couldn’t have known this was an injured one, but I reacted by shouting what I hope was a universal “hey, hey, hey!” Tusk said something in Italian; I assume he told her about the wing. We walked our separate ways, these girls and us, and kept looking back. The girls were looking back too, at the pigeon, as if to suggest they would go and kick it again as soon as we weren’t looking.

Next day, I met with a CS’er who goes to art school in Florence. I say “art school” to simplify the actual name of the program he’s in – some very technical realist painting program. He only had very little time, so we grabbed lunch at a nearby restaurant with some good authentic Tuscan food (I gathered), and a brief conversation about art and other things. Pleasant. Then I went to the museums. Saw the David, and was actually kind of impressed. It’s pretty massive. They had a guard making sure no one took pictures of it. What a stupid and useless rule. I mean, do they really pretend that there aren’t a million photos of the statue easily accessible on the Internet? Do they really think it’s gonna hurt the sales of their lame-ass postcards? (Okay, maybe it actually will, but they should still shut up about it). I just don’t think they have a case. I didn’t even wanna take any crappy pictures of their dorky statue.

Then I went to the Uffizi Museum. There was a pretty girl there who had a very slow pace, stopping to see everything. I recognized the urge to do the same, matching her pace, but that’s usually the kind of thing I talk myself out of. So I said, “I’ll go at my own pace.” Well, despite trying hard to do that, and even getting intentionally far ahead of her, our paces ended up being about the same. This was a mild source of anxiety, you see, because if she’s out of sight, then there’s nothing I can do, and I can feel okay knowing that. But when she’s around, well, there’s this voice saying, “attract, attract, attract,” or something to that effect. Well, anyway, in the very end, we shared a moment where we were both peering into the semi-translucent covering of a statue under retouching (I started, then she did it, so if anything, she copied me this time), then we met at a corner, bumped into each other and smiled. Then went our separate ways. That little interaction was enough to ease my anxious mind.

I caught a view of the city from Piazza dei Michelangelo, which is a nice high point in the city. Tried to make it there for sunset, but just didn’t. Me, Tusk and a friend of his went to an “original-language” film festival at a local theatre, which basically meant English movies. Saw a doc on an American photographer – little boring – and one on the creation of the Bird’s Nest Olympic stadium in Beijing – pretty interesting. Made me want to look into the artist Ai Weiwei. I haven’t done this yet.

The next day, I was to catch my train to Rome. And I did. I’m getting better at being on time for my trains. My train, on the other hand, was an hour late. Better it than me, I suppose.

Oh, I also had some coffee-flavoured gelato in there somewhere.

Savy Enemy

- Vienna: Nov 20 to 24 -

Late starts. It's hard to wake up when you don't have anywhere to be, and you don't know what you're going to do. Every morning is a struggle with this feeling of aimlessness; If I wake up now or in another hour, what difference will it make? No goal, no drive. I can deal with cold, I can deal with hunger - but the two basic sensations that bring me down the most are tiredness and having to use the bathroom. So I've been getting up late. I think there's a deeper lesson here about choosing to get up every day without the need for a goal. I think goals are a little delusional; there's nothing that's so important that it must be done before I die. I want to be creative though - I want to be at least a little productive. As I walk the streets, I try and write songs in my head. I plan to take a cafe day in Venice tomorrow and maybe write some stuff down. I fear that if I don't at least produce a little bit of creative product, I'll feel that I've traveled for nothing.

Point: If you get home from traveling and have nothing to show for it, why did you even leave in the first place?

Counter-point: No, no, no. The lesson to be learned is that life is to be enjoyed, and creativity comes as a natural by-product of enjoyment and experience.

Okay, counter-point, I'll try to enjoy myself.

Vienna's great. I love the alleys of the old town. I attended the Critical Mass bike event, had some dinners, lunch and brunch with more Couch Surfers. I'm slacking a little on my host-finding - I used to do it at least two weeks in advance, but now I don't know where I'll be in a week. In a way I'm okay with this, because I'll get to see both sides of the planning coin: the nicely planned side, and the not very well planned side. I feel like there's something to the idea of just going somewhere, and not knowing anything about it, and just finding a place to stay. If I can't find a host, I can always stay at a hostel too.

So Vienna. Okay, nice host, though I feel guilty about getting my late starts. I'm sitting here typing away in the afternoons when there's a city out there. I feel like it's shameful behaviour. I am ashamed. But I have seen a fair amount.

We went out to several small Christmas markets here, which is good fun. I'm really quite fond of the smells and lights at night, especially with the snow falling. And gluvine is something else I've grown quite fond of. Perhaps a christmas tradition I'd like to bring home.

I checked out the museums here - there was a Van Gogh exhibit that was not to be missed. I don't know - I got to draw on my host's wall as a parting gift, and I pretty much called it a night on my last night here before catching the night train to Venice. Oh, I also had sushi for the first time in months. Mm-boy!

A Story I Forgot About from my Last Night in Sweden

When I was heading to meet up with the two Couch Surfers in Sweden for a vegetarian meal, I had to pass through an alley, a wide alley. Ahead of me were four young kids, maybe ranging in ages from 10 to 16. They had their hands on a movable gate - like the kind that goes up around an open manhole or something. I imagine they just found it, and considered themselves very lucky, imagining the possibilities that their new possession presented. So I walk through the alley, and they block my path with the gate. One says something in Swedish. "Sorry, I only speak English." He repeats, "You can't pass here. This half of the alley is blocked. You have to pass over there." He points to his left, to the other half of the alley. I start to walk around, but they carry the gate and block me again. "Now this half is closed." I laugh, and walk some more - every where I go, they block me, naturally. To my left, I see a fence - beyond it a slight drop, then a staircase that leads up into the alley beyond the children. So I make a quick move to hop over it, then run up the stairs, and I'm past them, but they keep chasing me with the gate, so I keep running. Finally they give up.

I thought that was just a fun thing.

I'm so into...

• Free wifi
• Thermal long-johns
• Couch Surfing meet-ups
• Sleep, sleep, sleep
  

Free wifi, Paid toilets

- Copenhagen: Nov 10 to 12 -

And now I come to one of those points in the career of a blogger where I must decide how much information from other people's lives I divulge. Not that I have anything huge to divulge, and I'm using nicknames, but anyone with the slightest wits about them could simply go to my Couch Surfing profile and match up a date and place to the person in question. Anyway, no matter. I'll just say a bunch of stuff, and hopefully none of it will upset anybody.

I spent the morning with Burning Man, after getting off of the night train. This night train was much more peaceful - my bunkmates were non-snorers. Me and Burning Man walked around Copenhagen, having a look at the basic sights of a new city: the waterfront, the old town, the statues. We saw the Little Mermaid statue, built as a monument to Copenhagen's hero, Hans Christian Anderson. Crap statue, if you ask me.
I headed towards my host's place, and Burning Man went to check into a hostel. My host, the Guru, took the two of us (my host and myself) to a spa, since he got a bit of a discount. It wasn't exactly what I had expected - it was a very self-guided experience, with no real theme or goal. I guess I pictured spas as places where there were set activities. We had a decent conversation in the 100% humidity sauna room about - I don't know - meditation and happiness and stuff. Turns out his girlfriend had just broken up with him the day before. His friend at the spa had also just ended a relationship the day before. This gave the two of them something to click on. I felt a little weird, since I didn't really know either of them, and couldn't offer any specific condolences, or say anything of much significance, for that matter. And naturally, it was something they wanted to talk about. We all went to her house after closing up the spa (she, the friend of the Guru who worked there). Again, I felt a bit strange, for all the aforementioned reasons. I was also really tired by this point, and was getting up early to meet the Burning Man for a bus tour of Copenhagen. I cycled away by myself, leaving the Guru and his friend to chat, which I felt was appropriate.

Bus tours are crap. Everything in Copenhagen is expensive, sure, but this bus tour was $40. Yeesh. The unfortunate coincidental part was that the tour roughly followed our walking path from the day before. Sure, it was coloured up a little by the bizarre woman who was our tour guide giving us the history, but it wasn't anything more than we could have gotten from a free pamphlet or something. I'm not bitter about spending that money; I just won't do it again. Burning Man then went to catch his ferry into Oslo, from where he would go to Bergen. Lucky guy. That was the last time I've seen him thus far, but we may cross paths again.

I then went to get a lunch at a place that I had noticed on the way to the bus tour, where they offered free wifi. I'm so into free wifi. I think a business giving out free wifi is making a very good decision. On the contrary, a business charging to use the toilets is making a criminal decision. This is a rant that will come later. I'm so into free wifi. I'm so against paid toilets. Anyway, I spent about $17 at this place for a sandwich and a coffee - that's to give you an idea of how comparitively expensive Denmark is.
Was it a good coffee?
Yes.
Was it a good sandwich?
Yes.
Then stop complaining.
Okay.

I wandered to the Tycho Brahe planetarium, which ended up just being a crappy general-purpose educational movie theatre, and had not much scientific merit whatsoever. Then wandered back to the Guru's place to make dinner. Shepherd's pie. Worked out pretty well.

From Nov9-11

Next morning, up and on my way to Berlin. Running late, as always.

- Berlin: Nov 12 to 16 -

It's always a strange experience leaving one city and going to another; leaving behind people who you've only just grown comfortable with in order to have to introduce yourself all over again to new people in a new place. Maybe if I didn't have a generally long phase of shyness after each introduction, I'd be more comfortable with this, but I know my patterns, and I tend to follow them every time. I'm quiet, polite, and a little on-edge when I first arrive at someone's place; I'm so afraid of committing a faux-pas that would put me immediately in their bad books.

Anyway, so I go to Berlin. I pass through Hamburg Central Station, which was quite familiar to me now - I reflected on this fact briefly, with a bit of pride. I was reminded of Shigeru Miyamoto's thoughts on developing the Legend of Zelda games. Something to the effect of: When you first start, you're a frightened child in a world that's strange to you, and you have no weapons. But after you play for a while, places become familiar, and you become a little braver because of your growing familiarity. There's something to this.

Berlin was great. My host there I shall call Bio. She had a wicked flatemate and a tiny kitten, who I shall nickname Prestige. Super-cute little thing.

From Berlin_Prague

Bio took me in as a last-minute guest - me having sent an email to her just the day before. That was the closest I had yet come to surrendering to a youth hostel, which I actually kind of want to try at least once. Maybe Rome.
I checked out some Berlin stuff by walking around the city aimlessly, as I am wont to do. I always seem to find my way toward the major shopping street in every city I visit; maybe I am subconsciously drawn into the light and sound.

I was having insecurity issues about how I looked. I feel a little scummy sometimes, what with my facial hair all wild the way it is, and my clothing having been chosen for functional, not fashionable reasons. I have to keep reminding myself that I'm not here to attract girls. I had it in my head that I was going to buy a new jacket. Something black, so that it wouldn't look stupid with my brown quick-dry pants. (I presently have a brown jacket, which certainly does look at least a little stupid with said pants). Then I get into an endless internal debate.

Point: You are at dis-ease with your present jacket, therefore you should just buy a new one and then you will be happy.

Counter-Point: Appeasing your feeling of dis-ease will only send you into a habit pattern of trying to solve all your problems by buying something. Instead, come to peace with your appearance, then the feeling will go away naturally.

Since I'm such a practical guy, my counter-point voice won the day. But it may come up again before the end of the trip.

I went to another CS meetup in Berlin. This one was huge. I get there and start talking to the first people I see: an attractive female, and a male, who I barely see, because he is in the company of the attractive female. Again, I'm totally not here to attract girls or anything, but I was confronted with a sudden and distinct mind-freeze when I tried to talk to them (her). I noticed this quickly, and used the opportunity to use the bathroom. This is what happens; this is why I am bad with girls. I can't push my attraction out of the way in order to hold regular conversations. This would happen again a few nights later in Prague. I can say this now, because though it is in the future of the present narrative, it is in the past to myself, who is now in Vienna. More to come on that.
Anyway, beyond the initial hiccup, the night goes very well. I talk with lots of people, including another Canadian girl - who I'd meet up with the next night - and another really cool girl who basically shared every single fundamental value with me. I call it a night, and head back to Bio's place.

I spend more time wandering Berlin the next day - nothing eventful to report.

I caught my train toward Prague on the 16th. I had planned to make a day trip to Dresden, then head to Prague in the early evening, but I'm much to lazy to be ready to go first thing in the morning like that. I'm always just on time for the train I need to catch. On the one hand, phew, I always make it; but on the other hand, I hate that state of anxiety associated with never knowing if you're gonna make it this time. If I were cooler, I'd be able to handle it.

- Prague: Nov 16 to 20 -

Prague's different, man. I felt a little bad about the homogeneity of all the cities I'd been to before - and, okay, Prague still has its McDonald's's and H&M's like the rest of them - but Prague was different somehow. I got on the subway and went straight to my host's place. I contacted this host because he is quite prolific on the CS discussion boards, and clearly takes much interest in Couch Surfing - I was hoping to gain some insight on this matter by staying with him. In fact, I don't know if I would have even gone to Prague if he couldn't host me; it wasn't included in my rail pass (though it was cheap enough to get in and out).

I arrived, and we headed out to a pub. My host, Monster (an affectionate title - unrelated to behaviour or appearance), took me on a walking tour the next morning, during and after which we met up with a few of his friends in the Prague Couch Surfing community. Some cool blokes. I feel like sometimes I meet cool people, and when describing them here, I just kind of brush over them. Fact is, I found these people really interesting. No great stories here, just wanted to emphasize that.

Toured Prague alone the next day. Late start. Took photos of the nearby soviet tower decorated with babies. (That's what I mean when I say Prague is different. There are babies on the soviet ex-TV tower.)

From Berlin_Prague

Checked out the main castle in the area of Prague's first district. The castle town reminded me of Ocarina of Time. Huh, that's the second Zelda reference...

The next day, I went to do what I've been waiting to do for a long time. That's right: It's the cathedral decorated with bones! It's in a town just outside of Prague (about an hour by train), called Kutna Hora. Again, had a late start that day. Oh, but first I went to the cemetery just outside my host's place - apparently one Mr. Franz Kafka is buried there. I had a look around, but couldn't find him. Still, a really cool cemetery.

From Berlin_Prague

Anyway, on to the Ossuary of Doom! Kutna Hora. This is the town that, of all those visited so far, most reminds me of Resident Evil 4. (Okay, that's too many video-game references now.) This was a creepy place. Farmers out toiling in their run-down-looking yards, dark sky... I made my way to the Ossuary. It was easy to find - there's basically one main road into the town. It was a small place, but very cool. Totally worth the trip out. Loads of pictures. Feel free to check them out.

From Berlin_Prague

On the way back, I shared a room on the train with four Welsh travlers, roughly between the ages of 30 and 60 - two young, two older. They made for a very entertaining ride, the way they jokingly bickered back and forth. They each had their role - there was the smart-ass, the know-it-all, the silent-one and the wise-one. Their argument for most of the ride - mainly between the smart-ass and the know-it-all, since they were best-equipped to riff off each other - was about whether train wheels skid on the tracks when the brakes are pulled in an emergency situation.

Got back to Prague, went out to a meetup that night with Monster. The CS'ers I'd met the other night were there, as well as many others now. Very good meetup. Again, there was an incredibly attractive girl there, and I just felt stupefied by her presence - totally unable to say anything intelligent in front of her. This is a serious defect, y'all. Again - it's not like I have any designs on picking up women, but I'd like to be able to be myself in front of people. I don't know - whatever.
Unfortunately, when we were leaving, a few people had mistakenly skipped out on their portion of the bill, and Monster was stuck bearing the brunt of the extra cost, since he organized the whole thing. Bummer.

I had to be up early the next morning - this morning now (all caught up!) - to get into my next stop, Vienna. Woke up, got ready, and made it to the train with barely any time to spare, as usual.

SNEAK PREVIEW ABOUT VIENNA:
So far, so good.