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Huevas de Pescado: Part 1 of 2 (possibly 3)

21 Apr

What did I like the most about Ecuador?  This is a question that, really, no one has asked me.  And for good reason.  I am not a man who naturally keeps close attention to detail; a man who can therefore transport a reader to any destination using only a keypad and his keen memory.  In fact, I forget most of the physical details of any trip rather rapidly. The wallpaper in hostels , the color of the bus I took through the Andes mountains, even epic views I told myself would be life-changing, these things, in terms of appearance and scale are almost entirely lost to me now.  Instead, I remember feelings.  Contentment, confusion and curiosity being the most common and most alliterative, regret and suspicion occasionally jabbing into my consciousness.  I remember my trip to Ecuador mostly in emotions tied loosely to activities and locations, sometimes even smells. I do, honestly, wish I were better at typing out a scene in splendid detail, but I’m not good at it and I do not enjoy trying.   So, sit back, get stressed, and listen to my wicked emotional week in South America.

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All Aboard the Oscar Wilde.

7 Jun
Here she is, looking snappy.

Here he is, looking dapper.

Oscar Wilde wrote many things that many people enjoyed.  He is also a large ferry.  Few people know that Oscar Wilde was, and currently is, a ferry.  Okie dokie, enough lighthearted but possibly offensive wordplay  The  Oscar Wilde was the name of the ship that would carry us from Cherbourg, France to Rosslare, Ireland.   While on board this ship, shenanigans abound.  This is a recap of said shenanigans. Continue reading

This is a rant, this is only a rant

5 Apr


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16 Dec


We were at the Canadian Memorial because the two girls who had saved our excursion to the coast were, in fact, Canadian.  They had approached us at the bus terminal in some nondescript town a few miles from the coast.  We had been under the impression that the train would basically drop us off at the beach, only to find out later that we were stuck miles away from our destination with not so much as a bus departing for Courseulles-sur-Mer (the name we dragged out of a disinterested local) anytime soon. We cornered a taxi driver and negotiated him down to a billion dollars for the trip before we decided we’d be better off just purchasing a helicopter and flying there ourselves. We loitered outside the building looking defeated when two attractive girls came jogging over to us asking if we wanted to rent a car with them.  It was the perfect plan.  The car was cheap when split four ways, we had tremendous freedom to explore and we had the company of two lively and humorous girls from Halifax.  Good things happen when you’re the fucking worst at planning outings.  Continue reading

Give me baby let’s go

15 Dec


This was taken from my journal, more or less word for word.  The scene is a bus stop in Liznjan about a mile from my hostel.  The bus stop and I are well acquainted as I could not decipher the bus schedule and the vehicle never seemed to arrive at the same time two days in a row.  At some points it sounds cocky, then dips into self-deprecation…either way don’t judge me too harshly based off my bored ramblings. Continue reading

Paris: Ehhhhh

20 Nov

Ah, Paris, The City of Lights, or Love…it’s a city in France, that much I know.  I’ve been there too.  Not for very long and not for any meaningful purpose but I was there.  I can look people in their eye’s and tell them, “I have been to Paris.”  How many people can do that?  Millions you say? Well then…allow me to differentiate myself from these hoards of part-time Parisians. Continue reading

A Long Ride on a Train Part 2: Ljubljana to Pula

19 Nov

I never said I was a photographer…and I never will.

The second part of the 20+ hour train ride from Amsterdam to Pula.  I did not take many notes on it in my journal but I fell in love with Slovenia on this train ride.  From staring out the window to talking to the people in the train station at Ljubljana,  I loved ever aspect of the country and wish to spend a solid month exploring this little known gem. Continue reading

A Long Ride on a Train Part 1: Amsterdam to Ljubljana

19 Nov

After dicking around in Amsterdam for awhile, I became restless and decided I needed a break from my two travel companions.  On a drug-fueled whim, I purchased a ticket to Pula, Croatia from the station in Amsterdam.  It was to be, just about, a 20 hour train-ride all said and done.  As I will explain later, I was too big a pussy to bring any weed with me, so instead I ate a massive THC saturated “space cake” before I entered Germany and hoped I would be high until Slovenia, where I would board a sleeper car and lose consciousness until Croatia.  The plan was as well-thought out as it was responsible. Continue reading

My First Legal High: Amsterdam

19 Nov

I had been excited for Amsterdam since the plane took off at JFK.  I had no trouble finding weed back home but for whatever reason, having the blessing of The Man made the idea’s appeal indomitable.  After pretending to be nonchalant about this part of the trip through Ireland and Paris, our exhilaration broke forth with biblical force. Continue reading

Ireland Part 3: Bath Salts, Heartbreak and Hipsters

19 Nov

Gin Rummie can suck my dick as it has proven to be a cheaters game and a cruel, sadistic tool of evil.  My fellow travelers are ruthless sadists hell-bent on laughing as each deal digs me deeper into a pit of insanity.  I lead the youngest in our group by sixty points, which would be great, if he hadn’t missed the first three games.  I am a disgrace, but I would rather be a loser in Ireland than the Pharaoh of Clifton Park—which I’m working on also.  We started the card game the first night and will continue keeping a running score until the group split up later on in the trip.  I will never be in the lead, and the game will never cease to be a source of heartache and regret.  Just a miserable fucking card game.  This was taken word for word from my journal.  Just raw emotion. Continue reading


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