Blame the Europeans

It’s been around since the beginning of time. It’s in the media. We all have one, but some peoples’ are different. Some people follow others and some don’t. Even stupid idiot emo-jerk kids (whose I don’t like) have one…who am I?
This week’s riddler is Kai – and this week’s cultural topic is:

STYLE

Critics and connoisseurs claim that Europeans basically set the stage for the world when it comes to fashion and fashion trends. The hottest designers are Italian and exhibit their masterpieces in Milan, the street with the highest concentration of shoe stores per stretch of road is in London, and among the expensive shopping districts in the world is in Paris. So they must know what they’re doing.

Style is obviously a personal choice. People dress the way they want to dress and chances are if you are in a certain demographic you are more likely to dress one way than another. There are styles you can find at the mall. And since malls are often looked down upon by many-a-shopper, there are styles that you can’t. There are styles you will find on a fashion runway, and there are styles you will find only on the street. Some people like to dress athletically and prefer comfort, and some dress up no matter the occasion. Everyone has to choose their own style If you’re at a loss, of course, you can always visit the GAP to find out what’s new and exciting in the fashionable world of “average”.

Common trends: Lawyers and accountants can most often be found in a suit and tie. Engineers and geologist love their khakis and black leather jackets. Construction workers find themselves in jeans and a t-shirt, maybe sporting a hard hat…but personal protective equipment aside – they will also wear work boots. But that’s at work. It’s outside of work which really shows who’s who… I actually don’t know anyone in the world who doesn’t like jeans and a t-shirt for a lazy day around the house.

The style I have most easily fallen into is one I like to call “farmer”. I never grew up on a farm (or even in the country), I’ve never driven a big truck or hearded cattle. I’ve never owned a really nice cowboy hat (though I do have six or seven). On account of genetic defects known as allergies, I’ve never even properly ridden a horse. But I dress like a farmer/lumberjack/redneck because so do lots of people. Plaid is pretty universally known as a blue-collar design. I don’t have any REAL facts on it, so I won’t pretend anything beyond what I’ve already written, but it’s amazing how many people wear, how many stores supply and how many people accept this style as a reasonable thing to wear around in the streets, in the bar, in your car, on the ski hill…

Personally, I am pretty willing to accept most styles on most people. HOWEVER, one style I just hate is that of the emo. Stupid tight pant. Stupid long bangs that cover only one eye. Stupid hair dyed black. Stupid not working out. Stupid studded belts. Stupid glasses. Stupid impractical converse running shoes. Stupid pretending not to care what others think which is obviously wrong otherwise they wouldn’t dress like total idiot retards… But don’t get me wrong, there is nothing wrong with following others in the way you dress. Emo-style, however, came from California so we can’t blame this one on the Europeans.

But where’s the proof you ask? Well, I now have empirical evidence that proves that styles in Europe are ahead of those in North America. I, Kai Hochhausen, purchased, over one year ago, a pair of sunglasses from a magical clothing chain known only as H&M in London. That pair of sunglasses broke, as a result of wearing them on my shirt neck and on the assumption that they were cheaply made from the beginning, when I was in Spain in the summer. I was devastated. I desperately shopped in every H&M I could find for the rest of my European vacation. But alas, they were nowhere to be found. Two weeks ago, in Calgary, I found that exact pair…one year later, to the month. How does that prove anything?

It doesn’t. Let’s go shopping.

Oxy-Moron

“Hey, what’s happening?”
“Good…dammit. I mean, not much.”

This week, my newest series Things That Don’t Make Sense continues. It’s been already a couple of weeks since I last posted and to be honest, get off my back about it. There’s obviously no pleasing everyone. Some people suggest I write more often, some asking for more detailed posts, some commenting that they are consistently too long. This week’s cultural topic is:

COUNTERACTIONS

I know I’ve talked about healthy eating before, but a couple of weeks ago I ordered a taxi. When the driver arrived at my house, the passenger seat was literally COVERED in bottles of water. Naturally, (to avoid taxi driver turrets – ask if you have no idea what this is) I said “Hey man, that’s a lot of water.” This taxi driver (obviously an immigrant) explained, after a long-winded story, that he was ‘saving his kidneys’. “What does that even mean?” I asked. Apparently you need to save your kidneys for when you’re old and if you drink cola, coffee, alcohol, etc, your kidneys will be weak for when you are older, which is why he only ever drank water. I believe that without practice, your kidneys will not be reactive once you DO actually need them. So even though I don’t have any scientific evidence to back this claim, but I don’t think that makes sense.

FACT: I originally had the title of this post being “Checks and Counter-Balances”, and there’s actually no real reason for me to divulge this piece of information. In fact, that fact is in and of itself something that doesn’t make sense.

I’m not going to lie and say I’m perfect – no matter how well I pretend. I do some of these counteracting things day in and day out and those who know me can vouch while you read on. But here is a short list of counteractions that make absolutely no sense and require virtually no further explanation:

- Going for a nice long run, then going for all-you-can-eat (sushi, tacos, fish & chips, etc…) to the point of not being able to walk straight.
- Smoking…but especially if lighting up while walking out of the gym.
- Ordering junk/fast food combo meal with large fries, an extra sandwich, and chicken nuggets…with a diet drink.
- Ramping up for a cleansing diet by eating fried chicken and potato chips.
- De-tox diets. Ever. Period.

Of course, I would like to elaborate on a few things, but I just don’t think it would really add to anything. For the record, “Jumbo Shrimp” is not a real oxymoron.

In an attempt to satisfy all potential readers, I tried not to stray too far on this one. BUT, if you think I missed something, PLEASE post a comment. That’s simple. If you can’t handle that I don’t manage to write every single week, you may want to consider some new hobbies. Moreover, if you find that the posts are too long, I guess you can just stop reading when you’ve had enough, but I just don’t think that would make much sense.

Don’t Carry a Cold in Your Pocket

Over the last few posts, I will admit, I’ve been pretty angry sounding, maybe not so fun, and perhaps pretty annoying. It’s just – sometimes – things really frustrate me…for no reason. So anyway, for the next little bit I’ll just pure rant, if that’s alright with you folks. This week's cultural topic is PART ONE of a new series featuring Things That Don’t Make Sense:

HANDERCHIEFS

Normally when I’m trying to think of something to write about (and I’ll admit that sometimes I don’t write that well) I just try to write everything down in point form and then just fill in the blanks, kind of like mad-libs only less funny, less “reader directed” and more writer-controlled.

I don’t understand handkerchiefs. I mean, obviously I understand why they EXIST (historically, anyway) but I don’t understand why people still USE them. They invented Kleenex (facial tissue) with the exact goal of outlawing handkerchiefs, but for some reason they were only so successful.

FACT: Kleenex was trademarked in 1924 and by the 1930s the company was basically leading the single-use, paper-based facial tissue and has continued to maintain itself as an industry leader. Better than ever, Kleenex provided a non-reusable alternative to the handkerchief. But that’s not all there is to know about blowing your nose.

I know guys always look after they’ve blown their nose, and it’s not just me – ALL guys do it. I’ve always wondered if girls look. Guys know what boogers look like. You name it: phlegm boogers, allergy boogers, running nose, bloody nose, post bloody nose, straight up snot. But

Boogers aside, it’s not that fact that you carry around a snot covered cloth all day and use it over and over and will likely end up redistributing and recycling mucus back onto your nose or face that bothers me. What bothers me is the fact that you then take that same cloth and mix it in with all of your laundry. You know when do laundry and it smells so nice afterwards and then you caress it on your cheek and snuggle up to it like you would if you saw that little laundry teddy bear thing from the ads in real life? Well if you have a handkerchief, you can kiss that dream goodbye. Not even the greatest combination of fabric softeners in the world (liquid, gels, dryer balls, sheets, reusable dryer cloths…you name it) could make your clothes comfortable again. Stone washed jeans of comfortable, but they ain’t got nothin’ on snot. Washing your clothes in snot is like upgrading your thumbtack covered chair to one that is made out of thorns – it just doesn’t make sense.

When we were kids everyone used to just rub their nose on their sweater sleeve or something and if it was summer, maybe you could just use your hand and it would dry off because it was hot or because you were a kid you were probably about to go running through the sprinkler in the yard and you never really actually needed a shower or bath because you just did fun things that cleaned you off and you didn’t understand why pooping in the pool was bad – but it was just funny…as long as it wasn’t you who actually did it. But then you grow up. And when you grow up you more or less understand science. So when you aren’t actually clean, you will at least you should be.

I realise that it’s mostly older people using handkerchiefs, maybe middle aged at the youngest. I understand the convenience of constantly having a nose-wipe at your ready disposal, perhaps in your breast pocket, maybe simply in your trouser pocket. But I think the revolution has begun - actually, it began nearly one hundred years ago. I just don’t understand why or how you can. You want to be healthy? You want to be clean? Environmentalists can complain about unnecessary waste all they like…but even they use Kleenex. After all, why would you want to carry around your cold when you could just throw it away?

Unbelievable - or Not.

“I feel for you, but that feeling is nausea.”
- Charlie, to Allan - from a show I used to hate but now find myself watching fairly often

So if you had asked me on the weekend what I was going to write about, I would have told you with an extremely high level of confidence that this week’s post would be about the Alberta election, or could have broadened the topic and discussed how stupid provincial politics can be and voter apathy and Alberta PC dominance for the last 37 years…but that would be boring. This week’s cultural topic is:

STRESS

As poised, calm, confident and well-spoken as Ed Stelmach normally is, you’d better believe he was biting his nails when the polls closed at 8:00pm on Monday.

Of course, if you know Alberta politics, you’ll understand that, of course, I’m being a little facetious. BUT, low and behold, once again, Alberta opted BLUE and the Progressive Conservative Party of Alberta won another overwhelming number of seats to secure another term as majority leaders, beating the next closest adversary by 26% of the Popular Vote, or a margin of 63 seats. 72-9-2-0-0. That was the final score. If you think any politician any how involved anywhere in Alberta was NOT even SLIGHTLY stressed out on election day, you might be right; I don’t know ever politician. But they probably were.

Now, I’m no psychologist (hell, I never even took a single psychology class in university), but I can read. Stress is medically understood as a discrepancy in perception of person-environment interaction. So whether there is actually a different level of outside pressure or not, it is personal perception that actually makes the difference between a person who is stressed out or a person who is not.

Too lazy to write an entire paragraph explaining.
So, RESULTS OF STRESS AND THEIR NICKNAMES:
Stress-case. Whack-job. Mental. Couk. Crazy. Hysterical. Irrational. [Insert other synonym for person who is stressed out].

Yeah, but I think most people are pretty familiar with what stress is. We all get stressed. (I’m worried (but not stressed) about how lame this filler paragraph is probably going to be.) I get stressed by really stupid useless things but don’t typically let normally stressful things get to me. I think it’s because I’m a procrastinator by nature. And you all know what stresses me out; I’ve talked about them over the last month and a half: traffic, stupid people, stupid people in traffic, etc. And now that I actually think about, traffic actually just pisses the hell out of me more than it does stress me out, and I guess since there are no real long term effects of stress from sitting in traffic, (unless maybe you are in traffic at a really inopportune time like having to get to a super important meeting that if you miss you will also lose your job and you really like your job so the last thing you want is to lose it over the fact that people don’t know how to drive or merge or be smart)…so I don’t really get stressed about traffic itself. What stresses me is the fact that I have no control over the fact that other people just-don’t-get it. But I shouldn’t worry about that, because it’s impossible to control everyone. Hell, even Stelmach’s Conservatives only control 52% of the voters.
Zen is the opposite of stress. I used to think I was pretty zen, but I was wrong and that just pissed me off, which for obvious reasons is why I am clearly NOT zen, though I’d like a zen fountain for my house.

Most people hate getting mail, most often because its bills, or notices, or due date this or due date that. Lately it’s been tax forms: T4 this, T5 that, notice of assessment this, or RRSPs that. You still have almost two months to file. It’s nice writing these blog posts kind of whenever I want instead of how I used to have a set day I would normally post…not that I was ever REALLY stressed when I missed it. If you owe tax, that sucks. If you’re about to get some back, that’s great. But don’t worry. After all, even though it came in the mail, the last thing we want is someone going all postal.

And the Winner IS...

Oscars tonight! Unfortunately, the winner is no one. There are so many things to write about the last couple of weeks and I’ve been pretty slack – and unfortunately for me, I picked up that slack today and so did everyone else. With the weather being so nice lately, everyone feeling summer and can’t wait for it to finally arrive. There is no winner this week because of this week’s cultural topic:

HURRY UP AND WAIT

The other day, I threw on the shades, cranked the tunes and drove all the way home with the car window down. Yup, just an average week in subtropical Calgary, AB. WHAT?! Thanks to Chinooks, Calgary gets the intermittent taste of springtime all winter long. A good thing? You’d better believe it. But I’ll complain about it anyway.

Q: But wait, Kai, what the hell does nice weather have anything to do with waiting?

A: Why do you think people get fat in the winter? Why don’t you see as many people walking around outside when it’s really cold out? Why don’t people go to the mountains when the weather is forecast cloudy, miserable and unpleasant? Simple: They all stay inside.

To avoid going outside, people must stay INSIDE. Thus when they are inside, they are NOT OUTSIDE. What this means is that when it’s nice, people DO go outside. When people leave their houses (or their rented houses/apartments/igloos) the OUTSIDE is BUSIER. And busier is bad for business…unless you’re talking about a non-figurative business in which case more business generally means more bottom line profits. Okay, that was a stupid thing to write, but I hate having to wait in line.

The biggest problem for me is that no matter how far ahead you plan there will always be someone else further ahead than you. Even if you get to the ski hill nice and early, there’s no guarantee you will be the first on the lift. If you get to the store, there’s no guarantee you will have the best parking stall. And in real life, just because you’ve been at a company the longest, doesn’t mean you’ll have the highest (or highest paying) position…though they all help. HOWEVER, if you get to the ski hill late, you will NOT be the first on the hill. If you get to the store an hour before closing you will NOT have a full selection of inventory to choose from. And if you arrive early at work and work diligently at your job…you may still be overlooked. Operations Managers all over the world are constantly figuring out ways to “alleviate the bottleneck”. Hey, Operations Managers - Bottleneck this! Get rid of people who get in my way of doing things efficiently.

There are some things, obvioulsy, that you can control in the little realm we'll call "waiting around" and, equally, some you cannot. And of course, as I do for most things that trouble me, I blame THIS epidemic on stupid people.

CAN CONTROL:
You can control what time you wake up in the morning.
You can control when you drive like a stupid moron.
You can control if you are lazy and just take the stairs two flights instead.
You can control how much time you do doing unproductive activities.
You can control how you react to stupid people.

CANNOT CONTROL:
You cannot control that sometimes the gondola will break down.
You cannot control that sometimes there will be an accident on the way to work.
You cannot control when the elevator will break down.
You cannot control the weather.
You cannot control stupid people around you.

The concept of hurry up and wait was initially formally introduced to me in a customs line up to reenter England at London Gatwick airport approximately one year ago as I was flying back Carnavale in Venice with some friends. This was also the same weekend that a group of girls said “We don’t have an accent!” – but they were stupid…and in front of me in line – but that’s neither here nor there. Bottom line is: if the cold weather could just continue long enough for me to finish all my chores, shopping and make it so that people are unmotivated enough to NOT make me wait in line, I would be able to make more time to write my blog…which would be great. So HURRY and STOP BEING SO STUPID SOMETIMES! Or take your time – you’ll probably have to wait anyway.

The Power of non-Sense

It has recently come to my attention that I actually have readers again. In the year I was away, I would have been lucky to claim I had 5 regular readers. Nowadays, it’s impossible to know how many I have; educated guesses suggest we’re up to around 8. which, turns out, is more than can be said about most TV shows these days. This week’s cultural topic is:

FANATICISM

When you think of fanactics, what is the first thing that pops into mind? I’ve thought up a few but in the interest of keeping this thing interactive, if you think of any others, leave your mark in the comments section.


Sports

With the conclusion of this weekend’s NFL Pro-Bowl, American football is officially over for the season. Of course, no one actually cares about the pro-bowl, but with the devastating conclusion to last week’s historical Superbowl, it leaves us with nothing to watch on Sundays. So why do people care so much about sports? Professional sports bring communities together. Of course, there are always a few who decided to piss us all off and cheer for the bad-guys, like as if you can live in Calgary, where you also grew up, and end up truly liking the unsuccessful Edmonton Oilers. 1980s dynasty-schmynasty. But that’s exactly my point. That last sentence (now two sentences ago) was an outburst of trash-talking, which periodically will erupt between to passionate sports fans. You’ll probably never hear people yelling at the top of their lungs about a golfer missing a putt, or a tennis player not returning a volley, but even the biathlon amateurs have fans out there somewhere. International sporting becomes the most passionate, because fans are now not only supporting their favorite team, are also united in supporting their country.

People get superstitious about sporting events, dress up in funny clothing, put their life savings into games they have no control over, etc. The thing people have to realise however is that sports entertainment is just that; it’s entertainment. So you may get together with your friends three days a week to watch your team hoping they win, and in a way the game schedule will also dictate your social schedule, but if everyone could finally realise that when your team loses it is not the end of the world; that would be great. Thanks. Remember: There’s no shame in second place…unless the Oilers are ahead of you.


Music

Obviously, like in any other aspect in life, people have preferences, and whether they were acquired or whether they are ingrained genetically, different types of music appeal to different types of people. For the most part, people stick to their bases and enjoy similar artists or genres and may have offshoots, but the fact of the matter is anyone who tells you they like every kind of music is lying. Tolerance is a different story. But as they have historically, social movements and social trends are associated with music, be it protest music, psychedelic hippy music, or the current emo-punk movement. No one is going to be able to participate, as much as they might want to, in every single movement associated with every single music genre. Traditionally a rock-boy, I didn’t used to be a fan of country music, but then turned 18 and ended up a few nights at the late, great Cowboys Nightclub for some drinking and the twang became something I couldn’t be without. Then again, once in a while a specific band that you really dislike for whatever reason, say because they are the epitome of emo-rock – which I hate, comes along and comes out with a song that is universally appealing, and rather than immediately changing the radio station you have a lapse of good judgment and momentarily let your guard down just long enough for the tolerable musical stylings to enter into your world and during downtimes at work you find yourself clicking to youtube to listen to the song on your command, ie. MCR – Teenagers. Blech.


Television

This Film Writers Guild strike is becoming huge pain in my ass. Nothing new to talk about and no new quotable material on TV, I’m running on empty. Of course, I have no control over this, and don’t honestly know a lot about it, but the bottom line is this: Without new television, fans who week by week anxiously await their favorite network television programming are slowing finding interests in other activities and in the meantime are becoming more and more disconnected from pop-culture. People have to keep up with other things, like politics, or sports, or reality TV, or worse of all, reruns. Certain talk shows, namely late night talk shows, have convinced their staff to cross the picket lines and are actually paying out of their own pockets, (pockets most likely being a network-subsidized pocket), just so that they can give their fans fresh material. And who’s to blame? Well if you’re counting, you can definitely put this one on the union. These days you rarely hear “Hey, did you watch that new [insert show name] last night?”. And I miss it. Networks have resorted to an emergence of pilot shows – shows which have never otherwise been aired because they are lame and honestly, if there are no sports on, I’d sooner read a book than veg on the couch. Of course, video games are also played on the TV and are actually becoming really neat and sophisticated. Along with that comes online gaming and the whole idea of playing with people around the world is pretty dang cool. But even on the nerdiest of all gaming sites, you won’t be able to hear anyone talking about last week’s episode new Heroes… Basically, if video killed the radio star, unions killed the video. Unions also killed freewill, and capitalism, but that’s a subject probably better left for a different day.

Overall, whether examining all types of fanatics, be they emo-goths or union workers, everybody just wants to feel like they are a part of something. That something could be it as huge as a social revolution or as minute as two people in a friendship. People want to know that there are other like-minded people around them, whether that’s a preference for a certain television show, a sports team, or just sharing a taste in music. It’s amazing to think about millions of people all watching the same sporting event like the FIFA World Cup, or how a legendary recording artist like Paul McCartney can get 300 000 people together for a free show in Rome with one day’s notice.

But that’s the power of fanaticism. Good marketing helps too.

Curing Stupid

Fact is, I would like to write about something happy, and nice, and be all bubbly about it, but something has come over me and straight up, I'm just frustrated with the overall situation. Snapshot: I wish I actually liked getting out of bed when the forecast high is -50C in the wind, but truth be told, I don't. So sue me. This long-time-coming-post's cultural topic is:



WINTER

In southern Alberta, we are blessed with a weather phenomenon known as "Chinook". These pacific winds travel over the Rocky Mountains depositing heaps of luscious and skiable snow in the beautiful, majestic Rocky Mountains. This week, however, the Chinook had it out for us. As a Northerly weather system came down into our fair prairies, the Chinook failed to make its necessary appearance. With great power comes great responsibility and unfortunately for anyone having to endure it, which great cold comes great pain in the ass factor. This week's post will be broken down (as are most peoples' cars) into subsections that will be condensed rants and will just get a lot of my chest.

DISCLAIMER: MAY BE FAIRLY INSULTING TO SOME, WEAK HEARTED READERS MAY CHOOSE NOT TO READ THE FOLLOWING SECTION.

Starting your car

Everybody knows that when it's cold you're supposed to plug in your car...if you want it to start. Maybe it's a subconscious thing, but people who need to, never do and the ones you plan properly end up being the ones who don't get stranded when the temperatures drop. It's called common sense (topic for a different day) and it shouldn't be taken lightly. Background info: Canadian cars are designed with what they call a "block heater" which heats the antifreeze/coolant in your engine "block". When the antifreeze is heated to above outside temperatures, the starter is able to turn over the engine more easily and thus, "start" the car. In order to engage the block heater, an electrical unit, the car must be connected to an electrical source, namely an electrical outlet, usually in the wall of your house or garage. So, connect the wall outlet to your car using an extension cord or if it is easier, plug the car's electrical cord directly into the wall. This will facilitate the starting of your car and prevent you having to call in sick or late to your job and will also ensure the prolonged life of your car and it's engine. The Number One Biggest Tip for making sure your car starts when you need it to: don't be a dumb-ass moron.

Shoveling the walk

If you own/rent/lease/squat/live somewhere with a sidewalk, as a citizen of earth, shoveling your walk is something you will have to do. If YOU don’t want to do it you can pay some kid down the street, or your roommate/partner/spouse/child, or maybe a “snow angel” aka. neighbour can do it, but it’s an inevitable fact of living where it snows. Number one reason old people have heart-attacks in the winter? Shoveling snow. So why do old people try to do it? Maybe it has to do with trying to feel young, or feel active, or maybe they’re just good people and that’s what good people do…they shovel their sidewalk. Afterall, people have to WALK on the sidewalk, otherwise they might just be called side-cement, or side-road if only small non-motorized vehicles were allowed on it, or sidecrawl or siderun if you were allowed to go on it but you weren’t allowed to walk so you either had to stay motionless or be on all-fours or be running or probably at least jogging (might be pronounced yogging…soft J). If you want to buy a snowblower that’s fine too…just get it done before it turns to ice. Ice is dangerous for old ladies. But old ladies won’t walk outside when it’s blowing wind and the day’s high is -50C. So yeah, you should do it, but don’t do it if frostbite is imminent and you will otherwise not make it to work on time. Tip: create a happy medium between inconsiderate jerk and good Samaritan. Save the old ladies.

Idiot drivers

“Honey, it’s cold out today – make sure you drive like a bigger retard than you normally do!” Hey, idiot drivers: This section is for you! And if you learn anything in this paragraph take it with you for the rest of the year as well. DON’T DRIVE LIKE A TOTAL MORON AND YOU WON’T CRASH YOUR CAR! Makes sense, doesn’t it? I don’t understand why people turn stupid when snow falls on the ground. Drive a little slower if you have to, but nothing in the world pisses me off more than when my commute into work is 3 times as long as normal just because I’ve been in traffic because some chromosomal defective person decides not to merge properly and suddenly the 80km/h flow has to slow to STOPPED. I am really passionate about this topic and my dangerous road rage potential goes up a notch pretty much every rush hour I drive in. People often joke about testing bad parents before they are able to conceive children. Well, I’m not joking when I talk about testing people for bloody common sense before they are allowed out of the house. The worst part about driving is that it can reduce IQ scores of perfectly normal, smart people by (guestimation) more than 60 points, putting even the brightest of geniuses into the mentally handicapped zones…which, sorry to say, doesn’t mean they are allowed to park in handicapped, or even worse, take up two large stalls at the same time. But unfortunately for many, bad driving can’t be blamed solely on the weather; I blame stupid.


I’d like to excuse most of my written deficiencies on typos, but some are just because you have a stupid lapse. I spelled the word “extension” wrong a few paragraphs ago and the No. 2 suggestion was “extent ion”. When anyone would need to write about ion extents, I don’t know. Maybe the writers of MS Word can discuss it with scientists who are currently looking for a cure for stupid. I suspect they’ll eventually find one…when hell freezes over.

Word up

I’ve been on a roll lately hearing from people I used to hear from all the time. I guess it helps being on or around a computer 8 hours a day at work and then having the option to have another 4 hours in the evening. I came to realise quite early on in the history of this blog that I don’t and probably won’t ever have a really big fan base, which I suppose is fine and I guess since I’ve been not - not in Canada I’ve been pretty lazy in the whole blog posting thing. I’ve mostly concentrated on getting caught up with people I haven’t yet seen and as each week goes by I’ve gradually knocked a few off. This week’s cultural topic is:


RANTING

I can’t actually find a real definition for ranting, and that’s fine too, because I think the biggest thing there is to understand about ranting is that ranting comes form the heart, and when you’re heart’s not it in, there’s nothing to rant about.

I've been inspired a couple of times in the last little while about something to write but when I actually sit down to write something I just can't think about what it was I was inspired by. Do I have some sort of dementia? I don't think so. But I just can’t put my finger on it. I find myself sometimes mixing up simple English words with French ones, even though my native language is English. And even right now as I’m writing this, I’m kind of wondering where it might actually take me. Ranting turns into rambling and rambling just may not make sense.

I have to admit it, lately I haven’t been very good with the blog but that goes without saying. Hockey’s been on, football has taken over my Sundays and any rants I do come in the form of email or Facebook. I really like personal rants, but at the same time, there’s something gratifying about knowing that no one will read what you have to say but anyone could if they wanted to.

I never used to understand people who worked in offices all day and complained about always being on the computer blah blah blah and because of that didn’t want to work on computers on their own time at home. This is bunk. Sure, you sit at a desk all day, maybe you get up to get a coffee or hang out at the water cooler and of course you’ll have your time at lunch, but there is a HUGE difference between home computer and work computer. Like what? How about the liberty to do whatever you want whenever you want at home. Yeah, that’s a stupid thing to say, but that’s the point. Rants don’t have to make sense.

Blogging gives people like me the chance to put our ideas public. I think I have a pretty good format and if I weren’t me and I knew me or didn’t know me, I might think I might stop and take some time to read it. While I was away, I treated my blog like some sort of channel to entertain myself, maybe my friends, and I wrote as though I was writing an actual article and I created strict yet fake deadlines for myself to meet.

The thing is, you look at semi-celebrities, like Andy Rooney who has made a living ranting about stupid things. A couple of weeks ago I watched his rant which comes at the end of CBS’s 60 Minutes where he went on for 2 minutes about people carrying bags. Now, having said that, he IS really good at talking about something that doesn’t matter. Somehow, in that segment, he was able to incorporate street interviews with people who take books to work with them and somehow managed to accuse them all of reading on the job and wasting company time and money. That’s incredible.

Of course, most stand up comics talk about things that don’t really matter, observations if you will. Jerry Seinfeld pretty much dominated the observation realm in the 1990s, but it’s a comical fad that seems to be spreading. Most recently comics have put a spin on producing t-shirts or women drivers or being a man who doesn’t like working out. And they can all be funny. Of course, humour is a topic that can be discussed some other day, but the thing that I really hate hearing about from comics is them complaining about their wives or their kids or household pains. I don’t like it mostly because I can’t relate to it so for that reason it’s not funny. Seinfeld has now actually morphed into this type of show now and that’s fine too, because everyone grows up eventually, even adults.

As I’m writing this I’m contemplating not publishing it at all, because there’s no real reason for anyone to actually read it…that’s how much continuity it has in it. But that’s the point of ranting about ranting. Ranting doesn’t actually need make sense and if it DID make sense then it wouldn’t be ranting, it would be a well-planned writing. But that’s a rant for a different day…

Could have talked about it

Well, over the past few weeks, a few major things have happened that greatly influence the way I conduct my day to day life. First off, I got back to Canada, which put an end to my international wandering. Second, I searched for and shortly after got a job. Third, I reinstalled non-free television in the place where I live. This week's cultural topic is:

NORMALCY

Now, things are seemingly pretty normal in my life these days. But what is normal? I'm not really sure. Could be mobility; could be stationary. I could probably go on for a while about how great it is to be re-situated, get back to the things I grew up with, how glad I am to be back in Calgary with all of my friends and parents and how I love to drive my gas-guzzling sport utility vehicle with optional four wheel drive...just in case.

I could talk about routine and or earning money, or dressing nice for work every day, or how much I've already learned in just a short period of time, or how great my new workmates seem to be after hanging out with them for a week, or how my job is going to take me off-site soon and which I won't necessarily be hanging out with them all day in a few weeks, or how even though I thought I did really really poorly, I scored "Proficient" in most of the tests I took after I was hired even though normal people would have had to take them before they were even considered.

I could talk about my plans for the weekend or maybe how nice the weather has been, even though it really hasn't been that nice and even though I love snow, how I'm glad it's not dumping snow because it already gets dark early enough in the evening and we don't need anymore winter darkness, or how I hate the fact that we had to put the clocks back one week later this year which didn't give me an extra hour or sleep on the halloween-night-out night that I would have been, under normal circumstances/in any other year past, the most beneficial extra hour of sleep one could possibly ask for, but you can't change the past and you can't really blame anyone for that - except the Bush administration, who were the ones who changed it.

Or, I could just cut to the case and bring it all back around. This post has really only one point to make, and by point I mean rhetorical question to ask anyone who locks their laptops in one spot and never moves it feel stupid, which isn't to say that you can't have a normal/regular spot to put it on, like a desk or a table or something and if you don't, you might as well just get a desktop, but seriously:

What the hell good is a laptop if you never put it on your lap?

Idiots.

Missing Out

“…His nails a' clicking on the floor…” – The Remy Song

I’ve finally decided, after just over two weeks being back, that it’s nice to be home. For the past couple of weeks I was hesitant to admit it, but it’s occurred to me that being a nomad, causes you to miss out on many simple pleasures and some very important events. This post’s cultural topic is:

LOSING A PET
I was often asked in my travels what I missed most about home. The answer was simple: my dogs. This is why, when I got back to London only to find out that my mom’s little dog, Remy, was very sick with adrenal and lung cancer, it was an easy choice to come home earlier than planned. I made it back with just days left in his life. I’ve been trying for the past week to think about how I can properly word this post and though this is my first actual attempt at actually writing something down, I’ve come to realise that it’s just not going to be possible.

Two weeks ago, Canadian Thanksgiving Day, we drove down to a previously unvisited veterinary clinic in the south of the city with our smallest little boy in the family (just over 10 years old and just less than 20 lbs). Everyone in the car was crying and for one of the first times ever, Remy was calm as the car slowed down and pulled into the parking lot. His breathing was laboured, as it had been in the preceding weeks, and though he hadn’t eaten anything all day, he happily got out of the car and peed on some pillars and a small tree. That morning he wouldn’t even eat fresh meat, but in his last minutes, despite his sickness, he did not hesitate to munch on a Milkbone, his favorite treat. Even until his last breath, he saw us with an everlasting and reciprocated love.

Studies show that dogs have a really good understanding of their surroundings and some suggest that dogs have an equivalent comprehension level of a 5-7 year old child. But being animals, dogs also rely heavily on instinct and because of this, seem to be able to foresee certain events. Because dogs cannot talk, however, it is impossible to know for sure what they think about, how they feel, or whether they are in pain due to illness.

For most people, losing a pet is as tragic as losing a human member of the family. I’ve now lost three pets, but I think Remy was the one that hit me the hardest and think it’s because I have the best memories with him.

We adopted Joey when he was already 9 years old and he had a hard life, but he was epileptic and just one year after we got him his disease got the best of him. He, too, was very loyal and craved attention. Golden retrievers are known for having great demeanors and Joey was no exception. The second was my step-mom’s Yorkshire terrier, Bijou, who at less than 4 lbs had the attitude of a big dog, but the non-threatening bite of a little one. She only liked a handful of people in the world (myself, luckily, being one of them) and I’ll always remember the way she would do a cartoon-like shuffle on the terrifying hardwood floors as she mustered the courage to scurry from room-to-room.

But Remy was my little guy. I knew him right from the start and was there from the first time he learned to shake-a-paw to the time he became the supreme ruler of his house. Remy’s personality was one that is unrivaled by any other dog I have met. He was like a little boy who just walked around on four feet, was covered in mountain-goat hair and liked to sniff dog’s butts when they came around to the house. I can’t do him justice in explaining how great of a little friend he could be when you were sick, tired or just lazing around. He was always there (except for when he was eating Kleenex from the garbage) and he though he was mostly obedient, he, just like a real boy, could be stubborn when he wanted to be. My mom always joked that she wouldn’t be surprised if he just one day just got up and started talking. And that’s because Remy wasn’t just a dog, he was real member of the family.

In the past two weeks it’s been a much different welcome party at my mom’s house. The people still say hello, but no little thing comes crashing to the door only to roll onto his back and make you pat his little pink belly. It’s strange to think that only a month ago we didn’t know anything was wrong and now two weeks after he’s been gone, so many things have changed. One thing, though, will never change: the love and great memories we will always have and hold because of the silly little dog-boy who has been one of the most important things in our lives for the past ten and half years.

Thanks to everyone who has supported us, especially my mom, over the past weeks. Thank you also for all the notes, cards, and emails. But more than all, thanks to everyone who has helped us give Remy a great doggy-life.

See you later, little-guy.

Who says you can’t go home?

For the past 5 months, I’ve been woken up by the sweet sounds of Lynyrd Skynyrd, and though it’s a really good song, it got a little repetitive. I’m lucky, though, that Sweet Home Alabama was the tireless longevity that it does, otherwise as the clock struck whatever time I set it to go off, I could find myself wanting to beat myself in the face with my tent poles. This week’s cultural topic is:

COMING HOME

When you take a long trip you come home for a only a few reasons. Maybe it’s been a year and your ticket is up. Maybe you’re broke and your credit cards are maxed out. Maybe you just didn’t bring enough warm clothing with you and because you’re too lazy you’d rather go home than buy new ones. Or maybe you’re just tired. But no matter the reason for returning home, one thing always stays the same. Relief.


I’ve taken a number of long trips (that number is 3), of course none as long as my latest of 5 months, but whenever I’ve gotten home it seems like I’ve grown up or experienced something so special. This time I was gone for nearly a year, which in the grand scheme of my life is a pretty significant chunk of time. The thing you have to realise coming home is that though you may have changed, things you were used to before you left probably aren’t that much different than they were. Most people have the same jobs, the same problems, the same girl/boyfriends, same cars, etc. But what you have to understand is that they probably won’t be as excited about your trip as you are. Sure, they’ll be happy you’re back, especially your good friends, but don’t be offended if they don’t want to hear every gritty detail of your last year.

I say this now, but it seems as though another chapter in my life is coming to an end. I’m not a kid anymore. I’ve met people in the past trips who have been on the road for years and years in search of something they probably won’t ever find. That’s because they don’t know what they’re even looking for. I had no idea what I was looking for either, and that’s what makes the “soul-searching” more interesting. It think I’ve decided where my heart is, and I guess what that means is that from here on in, I just have to make sure potential employers understand it the way I do.

In 2006, Bon Jovi ft. Sugarland released a single talking about running away from home, but ultimately finding what you were looking for right where you left it. It bothers me so much when I hear about people being ashamed of where they are from and it bugs me even more when foreigners disrespect a person based on where they’re from. I proudly call Canada my home and after being away I’ve been able to reinforce my appreciation for having grown up in such a nice country. Now, I’m not an idealist or an activist on the matter, but it would be great if we could all just get along and welcome each other home…wherever that may be.

Sorry for the delay

"At least try" - Markus

Well, first off, I'd like to apologize for the delay in posting. Stating that I've been one the road the past couple of weeks would be a drastic understatement, sleeping in hostels, friends houses, cars, campsites, there are many stories to be told. I'm back in London, but now I'm headed home. A couple of posts ago, I talked about how much I hated pigeons, and just so you know, I successfully kicked one. This monumental event took place in Stuttgart, Germany last week. This week's cultural topic is:

PLAYING IT BY EAR

Now, obviously this could be a post about music and how great music is and improvisation and how much I and many others would love to be part of something great like a world famous rock and roll band and rise to the peak of stardom...but it's not. This is the kind of improvisation you use in life, more specifically, in traveling.

I've been gone from home for nearly a year now and with my return this afternoon, this Europe chapter in my life is coming to an end. Have I matured? Probably a little, which is for the best, since I just recently acquired "mid-twenties" status.

I don't know if i can really do this topic justice in this short amount of time I have before I have to run around London sorting out many last minute things before I havce to catch my flight, and I suppose maturity is a topic on it's own. I also wonder if I'll continue to post once I'm back, since I'm not so not in canada anymore. But I'll try.


The entire past year I have basically just been playing it by ear, rolling with the punches, going with the flow, whatever you want to call it. It's been an easy-going existence with many different types of payouts. The main ones being friendships, experiences, and obviously memories, which will hopefully be long lasting and will lead to further payouts. But it doesn't feel like it's been a year, and because I'm just been playing it by ear, I've never really had to plan ahead too far, never really bothered to stress out about anything, and certainly never worried about shit I couldn't control.

Traveling the way I did/do leaves so many opportunities to experience things in way you never would have otherwise. I think it's good that the countries of Europe have designed types of "experience Europe" programs like Eurail or Interrail, but I also find that it's unfortunate people use them. When you lay out months of travel and they are all prebooked, there is no room for interpretation. If you like a place, you can't stay. If you don't like a place, you can't really leave. It's nice to have an idea of what you're doing before you take a trip, but I find it very unstimulating to be on the road after only one night in a place. So in a way, I'm happy for the people for getting out and a getting a taste for what other countries are like, but at the same time, it's too bad they don't really ever get to really know what it's like to BE there.

Am I grateful I have been so fortunate to have had the opportunity to do something like take a year off? You better bet your boots I am. I am also grateful to have had the opportunity to do it in a way that most people I know would never even consider, and I am even more grateful for this. Remember, if you put your mind to it, you can accomplish nearly anything. So at least try.

Always on the Run

I'm sure everyone by now, of the few regular readers I have, are sick and tired of me complaining about the random, different, always changing keyboards they have in all different countries. Well, let me tell you, if you thought Germany was going to be any better, you have another thing coming. Ä, Ö, µ, and ß are just a few of the keys that we don't have, mostly because we don't have those letters in English, and though they get in the way of what is normal typing for me, they make sense in their respective languages. The one thing I HAVE noticed, though, is the common switching of Y and Z, and that only just proves that I've tried keyboards in many countries, this week's cultural topic is:

MEETING DEADLINES

With Canadian Universities gone back last week and Europeans about to go back over the next couple, deadlines seem to be popping up out of nowhere these days. I realise, yes, that I failed to meet my latest deadline of posting at least every Monday, so for those who check in regularly, my apologies. I've been making my way around the Czech Republic this past week, with an obvious stop in Prague and a second one in the home of Pilsner Urquell (the oldest Pilsner in the world), Plzen, where I stayed with a friend and didn't have internet...or even running water. It was fun.

There are two main types of deadlines, really: the kind that are for fun, which don't really matter and the kind that actually matter. The kind that matter, for example are ones where money is at stake, or pride, or something of substance. This might be like submitting a multi-billion dollar proposal to a client, or showing up for an exam, or making a flight on time, or whatever else that can actually affect the rest of your life of somebody else's in a huge way. Fun deadlines are like the ones that I make to make sure I write a little bit every week. In fact, this blog has had more action in the last month than my journal, which goes to show, I suppose, that I've been too busy making friends and surviving the travelers life.

This whole trip for me has been virutally unplanned up until now. I've been working my way along a general route, but when I find somewhere I really like, I stay for a while. A few months ago, I had all the time in the world, and the only real deadline I had to meet was a figurative one, which said that I couldn't run out of money. When the money's out, the deadline is therefore past. So aside from the bank balance, there has only really been one other deadline that I've been working towards. That is Oktoberfest. I've met so many folks in the past weeks and they all, like me, seem to be working towards the same goal. Survive, drink a lot, go home.

This time, though, I've managed to round up a friend from Calgary to come join the debauchery. So, my deadline is meet him. The hostel I check into tomorrow is the first that I've had booked ahead in the entirety of my trip, so I'm really looking forward to facing the real world once again.

That being said, beer is a diuretic. What this means is that it dehydrates your body, sending more water to your muscles, and as you drink more beer this is why you feel bloated. The problem, however, is that since your blatter is a muscle, it contracts the more a diuretic substance is intaken. Since beer is primarily water (average strength = 95% water, 5% alcohol), the average blatter has only a 600ml capacity (less when in frequent use) and at Oktoberfest the average size of a beer 1l, the deadline we will most often be faced with over the next couple of weeks? Not peeing our pants.

The Clay kind are better

"It´s not that I want to kill her, I just wish she wasn´t alive...anymore." - Stewie Griffin

It´s funny for me to think that only one week ago I was in Croatia soaking up the sun, desperately getting as dark as the sun would let me before I headed north into the mountains, but in one week you can do a lot and cover a lot of ground. This past week I ticked north-western Slovenia off the list and now I´m on my second day in Salzburg. As you walk down the streets of Mozart´s hometown (until age 24), streets are littered with everything Mozart. But he´s not Salzburg´s only claim to fame. The Sound of Music, of course, where, in 1965 Julie Andrews taught us all a song to help us remember our doe-rei-mi´s, which brings us to the cultural topic of the week:

PIGEONS

I hate them. I really just don´t understand why anyone could have any reason to like them either. They´re dirty; they´re ugly; they don´ßt sound nice when they caw; they scavenge; and they are inefficient flyers. In some areas, pigeons are considered vermin. People are strongly encouraged not to feed them and they are often compared to the likes of rats...with wings. I would have liked to have a picture of one of them for this post, but I can´t be bothered to waste a photo on one of them.

I WILL say it IS good to be back in the mountains, since there aren´t quite as many pigeons around. They tend to hang out in bigger cities where there are more stupid tourists to feed them. I guess that´s kind of the thing. If someone feed a pigeon or two here or there it doesn´t really matter to them, because they aren´t actually directly affected by it unless they do it in their own home. I saw some people doing it today and it really pissed me off. I suppose, however, I used to feed seagulls and sparrows and other little birds (Trivia bit: Sparrows are not native to North America. They were brought over by the explorers as pets and since they had no natural preditors, were able to flourish...I imagine it´s the same with whatever kind of devil bird pigeons come from), but they are at least big birds and raptor-like, respectively.

In London, they say that you are never at any time more than 10m away from a rat. I never actually saw any while I was there, but a habit I DID pick up was attempting to kick pigeons as I walked by. Now, this may sound mean, but it´s absolutely necessary, kind of like having to eat a horseburger in eastern Europe...you just do what you gotta do. For the animal activists out there, though, I have never successfully hit one. I´d feel bad if I seriously injured it or whatever, so I like to give them a bit of a chance to not get hit. It´s not that I was them dead, I just don´t want them to be around me. Ever.

Remember that scene from Mary Poppins when they go to the bank and there´s that pigeon lady and it´s all emotional and the kids sing a song? Well, Julie Andrews was in Mary Poppins, just as she was in the Sound of Music (different character, of course)and she was one hell of singer in both, so much so that she even brought the hills life here in Austria. Having said that, though, I would sing praise to anyone who does the opposite to all the pigeons.

Setting Sails

Q: Why are pirates pirates?
A: Because they ARRRRRR.

For the past week or so, I've been in Croatia. This is the second time I've been on the internet since I arrived, and it's the first time I've found the apostrophe key on the keyboard. It's not that I'm not smart, it's just that every country has their own different keyboard that better suits the way their own writing goes and uncommon letters are placed in the less reachable areas. I told you that story to tell you this one, which is the cultural topic of the week:

PIRATES

Being on the coast and seeing millions of dollars worth of boats, yachts and massive ships makes you want one. I don't know how to sail, I don't know anything about boats, I don't normally live on the ocean, I get seasick easily, and I don't know what the conversion is from nautical miles to normal ground speed. So why a prairie boy like me would want to be a pirate is questionable. But when it comes down to it, I think it's really everyone's dream to sail the world in their own private yacht.

In the open ocean, if you find an abandoned boat, it's yours...sort of like squatters rights, only with boats instead of houses. International I've been hanging out with 5 other people for about the last week and I think a six person crew would be a pretty good size crew to start out our pirating with. One day we all rented a boat (funny that it was coincidentally the only day it had rained in Croatia since sometime in May) and I suggested, as a proper pirate captain would, that we just roll (or rather float) over to a yacht and just claim it as our own. Apparently, however, there are legal implications involved, so we opted to not become international criminals and left most other boats alone.

It's strange to think about movies about pirates and how the good guys are actually the bad guys and the bad guys are the ones you cheer for. In France (and perhaps other countries as well) there was an entire comic book series around Jack Sparrow, the great pirate captain of the Black Pearl. People talking about violence on television and how it affects children behaviour is one thing...but teaching them that being a pirate is cool?

When it comes down to it, pirates are criminals. I have a moral dilemma every time that I deliberately do something like having taken a pint glass from a pub (which are not particularly good investments, since they always break in about 3 weeks and the risk of being caught are fairly good. I suppose I download music from the internet which is not totally ethical, but that's different. The problem is I really want a boat, but to have any sort of boat worth having, it costs too much, so that's why being a pirate would be a logical first step. But for every action there is an equal and opposite RE-action - which means that for every boat I would steal, someone would lose one. I've had my camera stolen before and it's probably the worst feeling ever, so I can't even imagine what it would be like to have something worth about 200 000 times the value stolen, no matter how much I would want one or even needed one.

Moral of the story is, even if I DID steal...no - Pirate - a boat, it would become pretty much useless, since I'm headed inland from here anyway. Plus, I don't have a crew anymore. Plus, I don't have a little boat to tow behind. Plus, I don't have a gun to hold up boats with. All valid reasons why I shouldn't be a pirate. But I have to say, I really with the Croatians would just get with the program and switch the Z and Y keys to where they should be. Maybe I'll steal them some proper English keyboards.

Seeing things a little darker

"Ah, there they are..."
- Mike Moussa, as I put on my Oakley Spikes on a sunny afternoon on the Thames

I realise now that a beach update was probably wasn't overly fulfilling last weekend, especially because I wasn't even on the beach, nor did I have plans to go to the beach directly from there, (though I DID make it to Sorrento whose beaches were more like jetis and I found one this afternoon in Bari) but I can turn this one around. When you want to go sun on the beach, what do you need? Probably a towel, a hat, a swimming suit, an umbrella if it's really hot out...and of course, this week's cultural topic of the week:

BIG SUNGLASSES

Today is my last day in Italy, which is fitting, since no one cares more about their looks than the Italians. You can probably outfit ourself in a brand new Armani or Versace outfit and you might compete with everyone looking their coolest in their Dolce & Gabbana bandanas and swimtrunks, but then one thing they'll always have you beat on in the glasses. After all, la bella figura needs to be accessorised...


I often get flack for having 'bigger than normal' sunglasses and I'd like to think I know sunglasses pretty well. I have probably over 20 pairs (all but one are really cheap) and as such am fairly critical of people who wear sunglasses that either don't fit their faces, are too little or too big or just don't suit what they're being worn with... I go through stints of purchasing sunglasses and believe you me, it can be an expensive, yet stylish habit.

I like big sunglasses because, when push comes to shove and we're all telling the truth, I have big head and a fairly wide face. If I didn't have big sunglasses I would look like one of those idiots who wears sunglasses that SHOULD fit his face but don't, and that's one of my big fears. Big sunglasses have purpose too, not only do they block the sun, but they block MORE of the sun. Coverage is important in not burning your retinas and becoming temporarily or permanently blind.

I have one pair of blue sunglasses that are pretty small, not too small, but when I've worn them I've been accused of being 'matrix'. I used to have a pair of glasses that one of my bosses told me made me look like Rock Hudson (whether that's a good thing or not, I don't know...). I've been accused of 'Elvis-ing' before also, while I had big ones on and I was trying to grow out my sideburns. I once had a red tinted pair for snowboarding when it was too warm for goggles that turned out to be womens' biking glasses. But I didn't really care. Any women who wore those would have had to have pretty bad taste.


The thing I love most about sunglasses is that the just turn down the world one notch. It can be bright as hell and you just pop on whatever tint sunglasses you think might fit. Yellow makes the world brighter, blue slows it down. Brown or black turn it down a little and redish/purple let you know when you or your friends are burning 30 minutes before it's too late. I don't personally like polarised glasses, but they're all the rage if you're fishing or walking along a hot ashfalt road. Mirrored sunglasses are cool to an extent, but if you really need to check out how you look more often than you can just by walking by a car and taking a quick glance, you should just get a real mirror, put it in your pocket and take it out every five minutes...just like the Italians do.

On the fly

It didn't take much, but I realised the other day that I've had quite the exciting past week. Granted, I suppose I've had a pretty exciting past few months, but that's not the issue here. In just under two weeks, I've been in 6 countries, including (of course) the two smallest sovereign nations in the world, Monaco and The Vatican City and including the country of Andorra, which many people have not even ever heard of. Pretty cool, I reckon. But overall, this tour of homelessness that I've been running around on seems to have one central theme, which is this week's travel topic:

BEACH TIME

Note: Unfortunately, due to technical difficulties, this post will not include photos, though being on the beach is definitely enhanced by having a nice view, so that I could actually show you, the audience, how nice the beaches just actually are. But here's a recap of the big beach stays that I've had over the duration of my time in Europe to this point.

La Rochelle, France
This is a historical port town, boasting three main beaches, but mostly surrounded by large rocks and constructed walls. The main point of the town is the two towers that lead to the main port, where not so expensive boats are housed. This is not to say, of course, that I wouldn't want any of these boats, because I would, and we contemplated pirating many-a-vessel while we were eating canned tuna and bread near the main area of the port. The beaches in La Rochelle are small, artificial and fairly difficult to get to by foot, but since we were walking everywhere at the time in an attempt to be cool and economical, we found no problem in it.

Biarritz, France
Say Biarritz and most french people will say something along the lines of 'Oh, vous faites du surf?' and we say, 'Yeah, maybe a little'. People come from all over France and the world (including European Surf Championships which are held there every year in late summer) to hang out on the long, rugged beaches. The sand is soft, the beaches picturesque and often given the extra bonus of a few massive rocks to give you something to look at while basking in the sun. The only unfortunate part about the beach is that it doesn't actually run all the way down from the south beaches to the main casino beach in the centre of town. The other unfortunate part (which also plagues the rest of Atlantic Europe)...COLD WATER.

Random Beaches between Biarritz and San Sebastian. Nice.

San Sebastian, Spain
Probably the most picturesque city on the nothern coast of Spain (that we saw), with three huge and constantly packed beaches. Hot Spanish women, and a big hill that you can climb up to and see the whole town, with a big statue of the virgin mary that seems to float in the night as they light it up.


Bilbao, Spain.
Contrary to popular belief, there are no beaches here. Sorry, folks. They DO have a Gugenheim Museum which we didn't see though.

Finisterre, Spain
Most people don't go here, so, as you might expect, the beaches are not busy. Nearly private beaches with beautiful weather and good friends. Good times.

Porto, Portugal
There are not actually beaches IN TOWN, but take a bus for 20 minutes and you've got 6km of sweetness. We did nearly a week soaking up the sun here in Madalena Sur, but if you don't make it out of town, make sure to try some Port, right from the source.

Lisbon, Portugal
Once again, though it would seem so on the map and contrary to popular belief, there are no beaches here. Nice city, but not as appealing to me as everyone would make you believe. As you go further south, the Atlantic, though cold, gets just a little more tolerable...enough so that you can probably swim for 3-4 minutes before it was just too damn cold.

Lagos, Portugal
Beautiful. Excellent. Can't say enough good things about this town. The campground is a skip away from the town, the town is confusing, and all you hear are English and Australians. But, that's the price you pay to go out and party all night, booze cruise on Saturdays and recover the next day on a beach surrounded by really really really cool grottos.

Tangier, Morocco
Weird. This was my first ever time in an Arab country and the differences compared to Spain and Portugal were vast. Coming from Spain it is uncommon to not see topless women making sure they get evenly dispursed tan across everywhere and doing everything in their power not to have nasty tan lines. In Morocco, however, you would be hardpressed to even SEE a woman on the beach, let alone in anything revealing. Soft sand though.

Tarifa, Spain
The windsurfing and kitesurfing capital of Spain. Tons of people stay here for weeks, I was there just for a day, but you better believe I liked it. With over 10km of beach just 100m from the centre of town, pretty cool place to make a stop in for.

Barcelona, Spain
I didn't, as you would call it 'hit' the beach in Barcelona, since my main goal was to not have my camera or wallet stolen, but I DID walk along it and unfortunately for the people of Barcelona, it was a stinky one. But it looked nice and the sun was hot. The water was a little rough, but most people looked as though they were having a pretty good time splashing around.

Cote D'Azur, France
I don't want to sound too cliche and say something stupid like 'Nice is nice', but I can understand why someone would. Though the beach is made completely of rocks, pebbles, I suppose, it's where most people head right away and it's where you'd better bet that I did the same. Tons of families, tons of couples and just as many singles. I made it to do some beach time in all of Monaco, Nice, Cannes and the lesser stopped in town of Antibes, all of which were sand, save for Nice. But we're not really sure if the sand was brought in, or if it's actually supposed to be like that naturally. And there's no way to know...

Rome, Italy
Yes, there are beaches here, but no, I did not go, nor will I. Crazy bus system here in this city.

Headed from here to check out some more beaches in beautiful Croatia, so we'll see if they can stand up to their reputation. Fingers crossed. But, even if they're not, one thing's for sure. They will all be warmer than the Atlantic.

Framing It Up

"You can take pictures of landscapes to show your mom everywhere you´ve been..."

Have you ever used a computer that was not your own and even though you are a pretty good typer normally the keyboard just makes you look stupid? Like maybe the backspace key is only half the size it should be, maybe the keys don´t rebound as much as normal or maybe half the keys stick, because it´s just an overall crappy keyboard...well, that´s what´s happening right now so maybe excuse any typos that might come up. Well, aside from the fact that every European country´s keyboard is slightly different (or in France´s case - VERY different) from the English/American (yes, Canadians fit in this category), this week´s topic is:

PHOTOGRAPHY

So over the past week I´ve been hopping around a great deal, and the distance I covered in Portugal over about two weeks was covered in one long over night bus from Sevilla, Spain to Barcelona and two just two days later into the mountain state/nation/principality - country of Andorra. If you´ve never heard of Andorra, don´t worry too much. It´s a country of about 450 sq km and is only home to 76 000 people. If you want more information you´d best ask wikipedia or something because this post is about taking pictures, not about small principalities that are renouned for skiing, hiking and shopping and sub-European prices because of many tax and duty exemptions they are allowed because of their small status in the EU.
Andorra

So anyway, in a big tourist city, like Barcelona (for a recent example), you see tourist snapping pictures of this and that (that is, if they didn´t get it robbed walking around), some with really nice cameras, some with little ones, some with big ones, some with disposable (which is something I just don´t get seeing as how for the price of a disposable camera and developing and then having to buy another one next week, you could have just bought yourself a loosable digital one...and that´s not disrespecting film either, because with film cameras you can still take much better pictures than you could with some crappy little disposable thing), and then the thing is that you know some are taking really nice ones and some are just taking photos of things they think you should take photos of.
I often get made fun of for "going Japanese" and taking pictures of everything I see (which is also funny because for those of you who had no idea, I´m half...I know, it probably comes as a surprise). But anyway, even in the midst of flashing the flash (inadvertant use of the word flash twice in one sentence) of my own camera (which was graciously given to me before my big trip), I realised that photographs, though many people take pictures of the same things at the same with the same thing in mind, will never be duplicated (sort of like no two snowflakes being the same). But snow was the last thing on my mind as I walked through the streets of Barcelona.

Morocco

So many people with their little cameras (and sometimes I´m guilty of this as well) try to get all artsy with their photos and take shots of close-up flowers or bugs or whatever and blur the background and are really proud of it. Unfortunately, until this trip, most of my travel pictures were all of landscapes, which were nice (not that I´m an expert photographer, but I consider blowing up many photos I take), but once I realised that just like any good party, it´s who you´re with when you´re on the road as much as it is where you were (though a good venue is always good as well), so I´ve tried to get that "human aspect" in it these days too. (That´s one thing that make action shots so fun.) A professional photographer reaffirmed those thoughts for me a couple days ago, just after he almost had his 10000€ worth of equipment stolen while he was eating lunch at a cafe in Barcelona. But, he said, the most important part is a healthy balance.
Spanish Mediterranean Beach

Anyway, seeing everyone snap at this and that always makes me wonder what their pictures end up looking like on the big screen and it´s always a pleasure to have the opportunity to see how other people have seen the world. It´s funny how you can stand right next to someone while they take a picture and though you can capture the scene, it will envoke different memories in everyone when they flip back through downd the road. Do you ever read a book, or rather a page from a book and when you get to the end realise that you were not paying attention at all, and then have to reread the entire page? Well, people take pictures so that when they go on through their lives and forget something, they won´t have to redo the entire trip over again just to see something for a second, third, etc, time...because that could become expensive.
Central Northern Spain

Anyway, this photographer guy wanted to make it clear that, in fact, `Photography is art, too.´ So there you go. By the way, everyone always talks about how beautiful the city is and so on, so going into Barcelona I was kind of skeptical, pessimistic, almost. And let me tell you. It really IS beautiful. Unfortunately for those who have not been there, my pictures did not accurately capture its entire beauty.

Shake it like a Polaroid Picture

"Where are you from?"
"How long you been here?"
"Where are you coming from?"
"How long are you staying for?"
"How long are you traveling for all together?"
"Oh, by the way, my name is Kai."

So this morning as I woke up in Morocco at 530am to make the ferry crossing, only to miss the bus that would have taken me out of the quaint Spanish coastal town of Tarifa, I realised that I have now been on the road for more than 12 weeks. Impressive, no? So as I was sitting on the beach contemplating actually making out to finding the internet cafe, my mind was overacting, while at the same time drawing a blank. Then it came to me. Traveling alone helps you meet many people, but you find yourself telling the same story day in, day out. So, this week´s topic is:

HIGHLIGHTS

It seems strange to do a highlights issue having only done just over half of the trip and having so much more to see, but since I've already cleared out a bunch of space on my memory card on my camera, added photos to Facebook, and already made three cds of photos, I guess it´s fitting to do so on my "non day-to-day" website. So where to start?


France. The highlights of this month began the first time we set up the tent. Wild camping is...well, wild. After testing out our legs in a short three day trek in the Val de Loire. The goal of the entire Europe trip for Dale and me was to do something
that most people just don´t do, while at the same time hitting all the spots normal people would as well. The first time we got the tent up was a really amazing feeling.

"Normal people have normal stories." - Luth Roose

France 2. Actually making friends for the first time. Sure, the company of one person can be rewarding and enjoyable, but at the same time, can leave you without new topics to discuss. The first time the Swedish bunch came out and said "hey, we´re going to the bar, you wanna come?" we couldn´t help but cry out with glee..."yeah, I do." BBQing is