Tag Archives: Travel

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

wanderlust

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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

Ireland Part 1: The Lost Passport

19 Nov

I lost my passport almost immediately upon arrival.  Remarkable really.  We had taken a bus from the airport in Shannon to Limerick, and from Limerick we were to take a train to Dublin and somewhere along the line my passport wiggled its way out of my pocket and into a seat cushion of the bus.  I did not realize it was missing until we were in Limerick preparing to board the train to Dublin. I was sweating profusely as I dug through my backpack, knowing full well that it was a fruitless endeavor.  I tore every article of clothing out of my pack and made a glorious spectacle of myself, flinging boxer-briefs and an assortment gear across the train station floor.  Sweat was gathering on my brow, prepping for the plunge down my face.  Finally, accepting defeat I meandered over to the help desk to see if I could get the number of the bus company, and possibly head back to Shannon.  The sense of absolute dread overwhelmed me.  It was college all over again; where I dismissed my father’s warnings only to do every possible action he had suggested I avoid.  What was it that my father had made such a point of about this little endeavor? Yes, keep track of your fucking passport. He had even told a long, painful story of his plight after having his travel-pack stolen while hitchhiking in Israel.  I dismiss these things as too unfortunate to happen to me.  Most people use this mentality towards such things as death, rape or mugging but not I.  I expect everything to work out perfectly and things should go astray, surely it will result only in hilarious and life-affirming stories of adaptation and cool-headedness.  It’s a beautiful sunshine and lollipop attitude to bring into a trip but it is also reckless and dumb as shit. Continue reading

Love and Croatian Cheeseburgers: Just more from the same trip

19 Nov

Never in my life have I experienced such beauty as Croatia. Upon arrival I took quick notice that there was not a cloud in the blue sky, and that the temperature and humidity were in perfect proportions to induce sweat and evaporate it away before it is even noticed.  Ideal conditions for a man as reptilian as myself.  I wandered the streets of Pula with my Wal-mart backpack and my Sexy-Action-Extreme-Sandals, which were designed to handle all conditions of walking with an air of sexiness, extremitude and actionocity.  Had the architects of the English language anticipated their existence, I would not have to make up such words.  The sandals had straps for days and enough Velcro to provide an abrasive playing surface in Three football stadiums.  My attention was diverted–temporarily–from my sandals by a piece of graffiti on an innocuous side building.  In simply painted, red letters the words “Chuck Norris” had been placed dead center on the buildings exterior wall.   The internet has done amazing things. Continue reading

An American Epiphany in Croatia

19 Nov

The effects, of booze, asses, sun and patriotism on the young American’s mind… Also a brief statement on the old sitcom Step by Step. Continue reading

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