Day 9: Dublin to Philadelphia and Philadelphia to Chicago
Back in Indiana, suburban Chicago, with the family. There is a new shower here. You all should come over and try it out. I'm just about to try it out for the first time myself and break the cycle of only showering once every two or three weeks. I also can't wait to buy a deodorant gel stick, which apparently does not exist in Europe. I'm not just going to spray terrible scents on me and hope that covers up my stench. I want the comfort of gel adhering to the hair of my armpits. Nothing beats that kind of fresh feeling. Nothing.
A brief retrospective look back on my trip and I realize that I didn't accomplish anything that I had sent out to do like write a second draft to the novel, figure out what I want to do with the rest of my life, figure out where I want to live for at least the next few months of my life, maybe finally make a decision about grad school, and try to once and for all not live in an existential panic. But I did none of that. I did a whole lot more. I went to Slovenia. You probably can't say that, can you? (And if you can, don't tell me, don't slash my sails, not right now, let them stay puffed up and full and happy. Thank you.)
I've returned to a familiar routine. A pot of coffee. On my dual-monitored desktop blasting Distorted Pony, downloading the (finally!) new Duchess Says. Writing e-mails, researching literary magazines, making music on Fruity Loops, tuning my tele, and shopping online for used books. It's a lot of the same, but I feel different doing it. I can't quite explain the change. It could just be the jet lag, but I don't jet lag. There probably isn't a change. Watch me sit on my ass until tonight's Hawks game. Watch!
I wanted to spend several blog posts posting several pictures from my journey. But now that my camera is gone and likely gone forever before I could upload those hundreds of pictures, I have to decide the fate of this blog. Like all the others, it is destined to die. I'm sorry. It's what happens when Kyle Brown makes a blog. It dies.
So do I start another? Change the name of this one? What will I talk about. It's easy to be perceived as exciting and interesting when you're across an ocean traveling new lands where your friends can read about your experiences and spend those five to ten minutes living vicariously. But back in suburbia. No one wants to live vicariously through my suburban experience. Hell, I want one of you to go do some travel and blog about it so I can sit here and read about it and live vicariously. And if I really put my mind to it, I can use the word vicariously more in this paragraph than in any other paragraph ever.
So how about some goals. Some futureplans. How about another trip next September? This time with more friends. Then there won't be any need for any of us to live vicariously through the other because we'll all be drunk in hostels together, meeting new people, making new friends, and learning about how people live in other places, which really isn't too much different than here, where people just want good, cheap booze and some laughs, some entertainment. How does that sound? Sign up now!
Thursday, October 13, 2011
Tuesday, October 11, 2011
Stealing Memories
Day 7: Klagenfurt to Cologne/Bonn and Cologne/Bonn to Berlin
It was a long day of waiting with a little bit of flying. Berlin was drizzly and windy and overall rather Dublin/Ireland-like. I didn't get to my hostel until almost 10pm. I wanted to relax and have a beer or three and get a good night of rest. But I forgot that Berlin is a city that never sleeps.
"Hey! Hey! Kyle! Kyle!"
"?"
"I can't believe it, man."
"Gino? Holy shit!"
I had met Gino at the hostel in London. Gino is a small, kind, generous forty year old Dutchman. We both knew that we were going to be in Berlin at the same time, but neither of us had any idea where the other was going to stay. Turns out we both picked Comebackpackers.
Gino had Tequila. We drank with a couple other Americans and a small group of rabid Australians (you know I <3 you guys). You can imagine how little sleep I got and just how terrible I felt when I woke up.
Day 8: Berlin to Dublin
I closed my throbbing eyes for the duration of the two hour flight. When we landed, most of my headache had gone away. I checked back into Isaacs, my favorite hostel. I ate a burrito. I drank a lot of coffee. I am now drinking a beer and helping Regina remove an annoying virus from her laptop.
At this point I stopped writing the blog post because my backpack went missing. It's still missing. It was sitting right next to me at a table that was filled with people I had been talking to for hours. A surreal, sad moment. We looked everywhere. It was/is nowhere. I've talked to the Garda (Police), and they're filing a report that I'll pick up tomorrow morning before I head off to the airport (if the bag is not found before then).
Things could be worse. It could have been my laptop. It could have been my wallet or passport. I've only lost some books (Catch-22, Ulysses, The Black Book). All the maps of the cities I've visited on my trip. My purple notebook with all the notes for the novel. And my camera was in there filled with all the photos from my five weeks here that I have been unable to upload because I left my cable at home. All sentimental, irreplaceable things. I even lost my picture of me and James Joyce. Losing these photos makes me feel like I have no evidence of my journeys. Like none of this has even happened. Like the last five weeks has been merely a dream. And maybe it was.
I start my long journey back home tomorrow under even more mixed emotions than I would have imagined. I had been looking forward to uploading all of those pictures, all those little pieces of evidence that I really saw what I saw, but now I will have to look forward to other things--like my eventual return to Europe, my inevitable return to traveling.
It was a long day of waiting with a little bit of flying. Berlin was drizzly and windy and overall rather Dublin/Ireland-like. I didn't get to my hostel until almost 10pm. I wanted to relax and have a beer or three and get a good night of rest. But I forgot that Berlin is a city that never sleeps.
"Hey! Hey! Kyle! Kyle!"
"?"
"I can't believe it, man."
"Gino? Holy shit!"
I had met Gino at the hostel in London. Gino is a small, kind, generous forty year old Dutchman. We both knew that we were going to be in Berlin at the same time, but neither of us had any idea where the other was going to stay. Turns out we both picked Comebackpackers.
Gino had Tequila. We drank with a couple other Americans and a small group of rabid Australians (you know I <3 you guys). You can imagine how little sleep I got and just how terrible I felt when I woke up.
Day 8: Berlin to Dublin
I closed my throbbing eyes for the duration of the two hour flight. When we landed, most of my headache had gone away. I checked back into Isaacs, my favorite hostel. I ate a burrito. I drank a lot of coffee. I am now drinking a beer and helping Regina remove an annoying virus from her laptop.
At this point I stopped writing the blog post because my backpack went missing. It's still missing. It was sitting right next to me at a table that was filled with people I had been talking to for hours. A surreal, sad moment. We looked everywhere. It was/is nowhere. I've talked to the Garda (Police), and they're filing a report that I'll pick up tomorrow morning before I head off to the airport (if the bag is not found before then).
Things could be worse. It could have been my laptop. It could have been my wallet or passport. I've only lost some books (Catch-22, Ulysses, The Black Book). All the maps of the cities I've visited on my trip. My purple notebook with all the notes for the novel. And my camera was in there filled with all the photos from my five weeks here that I have been unable to upload because I left my cable at home. All sentimental, irreplaceable things. I even lost my picture of me and James Joyce. Losing these photos makes me feel like I have no evidence of my journeys. Like none of this has even happened. Like the last five weeks has been merely a dream. And maybe it was.
I start my long journey back home tomorrow under even more mixed emotions than I would have imagined. I had been looking forward to uploading all of those pictures, all those little pieces of evidence that I really saw what I saw, but now I will have to look forward to other things--like my eventual return to Europe, my inevitable return to traveling.
Sunday, October 9, 2011
Day 6: Day Trip to Ljubljana
I've been sharing this six bed dorm with a Ukrainian doctor. He's on a work holiday here in Austria for about a month. The Ukrainian doctor has two cute little daughters. He told me he can only have daughters and a friend of his can only have sons. He said the secret is that his friend keeps a pistol and a knife under his bed, and the doctor said he could never do that so he is doomed to forever have daughters. I told the doctor that I had some great-great grandparents from Ukraine. He told me they must have come from western Ukraine before WW2. I think he assumed I was at least part Jewish.
Yesterday he was going to take a train to Venice, and I was going to take a train to Ljubljana, and we shared a cab at 5am to the train station in Klagenfurt. We split the cost and parted ways.
I, too, was planning to take a trip to Venice for the day, but I just could not get the timing to work out. The earliest busses and trains were already full. The cheapest place to stay in Venice was about 300 Euro a night (everything else was booked). The travel agent suggested Ljubljana instead. They had a sale going on for a 20 Euro round trip train ticket. She also said that you ride through the Alps and that it's beautiful. Alps? Mountains? I'm in!
I fell asleep on the train ride there, but I woke up and the first light of morning was lighting up snowcapped mountains. Holy crap. Unfortunately, though, for most of the ride, there was too much fog and clouds to see most of the mountains. You could get a peek here and there, but I just closed my eyes again until we reached Ljubljana.
So I know some German, and that helps with signs and menus, but I don't know any Slovenian. Few signs were in English. The Chicago Classic burger at the Ljubljana McDonald's is called the New York Classic. (I end up in McDonald's a lot because of the free wi-fi.) But, surprisingly to me, people spoke better English in the Slovenian capital than here in this college town in southern Austria. Thank goodness. I'm sure if I had been in a rural area, I would have had a more challenging experience.
The University of Ljubljana, home to Zizek, is only one (old, majestic) building. I made it a point to go there and try to sneak in and have a look around. I had no such luck, though I considered taking a picture with this one homeless man who bore a strong resemblance to the philosopher.
Ljubljana is small, only about 250,000 people, and everything that I wanted to see was well within walking distance. I checked out the remains of some ancient Roman walls (actually walked on top of it). I found the Museum of Modern Slovenian Art where I felt like a student, lingering near a group of young adults taking notes on each piece. A late lunch introduced me to a Slovenian beer called Union. It's a lager. It's like almost any other lager. And then, a bit light and fluffy, I took a little mountain-climbing train to Ljubljana Castle. The Castle (Grad) sits on a cliff right over downtown. I had never quite seen a city with such a forested cliff right in its center.
I climbed to the very top where the flag is flying. You get a spectacular 360 degree view of Ljubljana and the mountains all around, in particular the snowcapped Alpls to the north and northwest. The clouds broke, and I took many pictures like this one:
It was a long, long day, and about 5pm I got back on the train to head home. Who did I see when I first popped my head in the train? The Ukrainian doctor. It turned out that he thought he could buy his Venice ticket at the last moment, but he met the same fate I did when I tried to go to Venice. He, too, was also pleasantly surprised by Ljubljana's charm and beauty. As for the train we were on, not so much.
"You can tell this is Slovenian train. So dirty, old, ride not steady. It feels like Soviet Union. Austrian train so nice. Clean. Smooth."
We chatted the rest of the way to Klagenfurt and marveled at the sun setting over the snowcapped peaks of the Alps as we neared the Austrian border.
"So beautiful. Look at this. I surprised. Wow, Slovenia beautiful country."
I could not agree more.
I've been sharing this six bed dorm with a Ukrainian doctor. He's on a work holiday here in Austria for about a month. The Ukrainian doctor has two cute little daughters. He told me he can only have daughters and a friend of his can only have sons. He said the secret is that his friend keeps a pistol and a knife under his bed, and the doctor said he could never do that so he is doomed to forever have daughters. I told the doctor that I had some great-great grandparents from Ukraine. He told me they must have come from western Ukraine before WW2. I think he assumed I was at least part Jewish.
Yesterday he was going to take a train to Venice, and I was going to take a train to Ljubljana, and we shared a cab at 5am to the train station in Klagenfurt. We split the cost and parted ways.
I, too, was planning to take a trip to Venice for the day, but I just could not get the timing to work out. The earliest busses and trains were already full. The cheapest place to stay in Venice was about 300 Euro a night (everything else was booked). The travel agent suggested Ljubljana instead. They had a sale going on for a 20 Euro round trip train ticket. She also said that you ride through the Alps and that it's beautiful. Alps? Mountains? I'm in!
I fell asleep on the train ride there, but I woke up and the first light of morning was lighting up snowcapped mountains. Holy crap. Unfortunately, though, for most of the ride, there was too much fog and clouds to see most of the mountains. You could get a peek here and there, but I just closed my eyes again until we reached Ljubljana.
So I know some German, and that helps with signs and menus, but I don't know any Slovenian. Few signs were in English. The Chicago Classic burger at the Ljubljana McDonald's is called the New York Classic. (I end up in McDonald's a lot because of the free wi-fi.) But, surprisingly to me, people spoke better English in the Slovenian capital than here in this college town in southern Austria. Thank goodness. I'm sure if I had been in a rural area, I would have had a more challenging experience.
The University of Ljubljana, home to Zizek, is only one (old, majestic) building. I made it a point to go there and try to sneak in and have a look around. I had no such luck, though I considered taking a picture with this one homeless man who bore a strong resemblance to the philosopher.
Ljubljana is small, only about 250,000 people, and everything that I wanted to see was well within walking distance. I checked out the remains of some ancient Roman walls (actually walked on top of it). I found the Museum of Modern Slovenian Art where I felt like a student, lingering near a group of young adults taking notes on each piece. A late lunch introduced me to a Slovenian beer called Union. It's a lager. It's like almost any other lager. And then, a bit light and fluffy, I took a little mountain-climbing train to Ljubljana Castle. The Castle (Grad) sits on a cliff right over downtown. I had never quite seen a city with such a forested cliff right in its center.
It was a long, long day, and about 5pm I got back on the train to head home. Who did I see when I first popped my head in the train? The Ukrainian doctor. It turned out that he thought he could buy his Venice ticket at the last moment, but he met the same fate I did when I tried to go to Venice. He, too, was also pleasantly surprised by Ljubljana's charm and beauty. As for the train we were on, not so much.
"You can tell this is Slovenian train. So dirty, old, ride not steady. It feels like Soviet Union. Austrian train so nice. Clean. Smooth."
We chatted the rest of the way to Klagenfurt and marveled at the sun setting over the snowcapped peaks of the Alps as we neared the Austrian border.
"So beautiful. Look at this. I surprised. Wow, Slovenia beautiful country."
I could not agree more.
Friday, October 7, 2011
Beer, Geography, and Art
Day 4 and 5:
I've been relaxing and enjoying my time here in Klagenfurt. Yesterday I got a little tour of the forest and lake from a kind little tour guide, and last night I helped our quiz team tie for fourth place, thanks to my skillz in the Geography round. Also, I drank a Duff beer.
On the ride home, I ate something like a hotdog or a spam sandwich (from a gas station) with cheese and confusion. But it had mustard on it so it was all good.
Today the skies have opened up on me for the first time since Ireland. I suppose my run of great weather could only last so long. I took advantage of the rain and went to the modern art museum here in town. The highlight of the museum was an artist named Inge Dick. I sat in a dark room with a projection of the color red on one of the walls. In the bottom right hand corner was a time clock counting up. I stayed in the room from 8:55:17 to 9:01:55 and while I'm pretty sure the red never changed, I couldn't be 100% sure.
The other highlight was an artist named Manuel Knapp. It was like Wolf Eyes meets low quality instructional videos and another projection, this one with black and white shifting images. I could find no pattern, but I left the room before my eyes exploded.
I've been relaxing and enjoying my time here in Klagenfurt. Yesterday I got a little tour of the forest and lake from a kind little tour guide, and last night I helped our quiz team tie for fourth place, thanks to my skillz in the Geography round. Also, I drank a Duff beer.
On the ride home, I ate something like a hotdog or a spam sandwich (from a gas station) with cheese and confusion. But it had mustard on it so it was all good.
Today the skies have opened up on me for the first time since Ireland. I suppose my run of great weather could only last so long. I took advantage of the rain and went to the modern art museum here in town. The highlight of the museum was an artist named Inge Dick. I sat in a dark room with a projection of the color red on one of the walls. In the bottom right hand corner was a time clock counting up. I stayed in the room from 8:55:17 to 9:01:55 and while I'm pretty sure the red never changed, I couldn't be 100% sure.
The other highlight was an artist named Manuel Knapp. It was like Wolf Eyes meets low quality instructional videos and another projection, this one with black and white shifting images. I could find no pattern, but I left the room before my eyes exploded.
Wednesday, October 5, 2011
MOUNTAINS
Day 3: Berlin to Bonn and Bonn to Klagenfurt, Austria
There are mountains to the south and west of this town. The Alps. Die Alpen! As it is not every day that I see mountains, this gets me excited!
I walked about ten minutes west of my hostel, and I came to a lake and beyond the lake, gently rising into to the sky were the forested foothills of the Alps. I took some pictures and in some of those pictures there are dogs faithfully retrieving tennis balls thrown into the lake by their owners. It paints a nice picture. And I'd upload those pictures if it weren't for leaving my camera cord back home. Patience readers, photos will be in sight soon enough (too soon).
On my way back, I saw a little girl with a mullet. Oh, Europe.
Apparently I bring the good weather with me as it has been gorgeous not only in London, but now in Berlin and Austria. I suppose that makes up for the first three weeks in Ireland where it only didn't rain at least a little bit for three of those days. Tomorrow I plan on doing a little hiking, a little nature-frolicking, with the assistance of a kind tour guide.
If your math is as good as mine, and it probably isn't, that's four flights in three days. What this means is that I finally get a chance to sit and relax and actually enjoy a destination. I love the adventure of traveling, of the airport grind (the airport bars), and the challenge of trying to get somewhere in a huge city on each city's own version of public transportation, but I also enjoy sitting in one place for a little while to get to know it. I have a hunch Klagenfurt will be a nice little place to do just that, a nice little place to spend the last days of my freedom before I start my whirlwind journey back to somewhere where I'd rather not be.
For now, though, I've got a little of this:
There are mountains to the south and west of this town. The Alps. Die Alpen! As it is not every day that I see mountains, this gets me excited!
I walked about ten minutes west of my hostel, and I came to a lake and beyond the lake, gently rising into to the sky were the forested foothills of the Alps. I took some pictures and in some of those pictures there are dogs faithfully retrieving tennis balls thrown into the lake by their owners. It paints a nice picture. And I'd upload those pictures if it weren't for leaving my camera cord back home. Patience readers, photos will be in sight soon enough (too soon).
On my way back, I saw a little girl with a mullet. Oh, Europe.
Apparently I bring the good weather with me as it has been gorgeous not only in London, but now in Berlin and Austria. I suppose that makes up for the first three weeks in Ireland where it only didn't rain at least a little bit for three of those days. Tomorrow I plan on doing a little hiking, a little nature-frolicking, with the assistance of a kind tour guide.
If your math is as good as mine, and it probably isn't, that's four flights in three days. What this means is that I finally get a chance to sit and relax and actually enjoy a destination. I love the adventure of traveling, of the airport grind (the airport bars), and the challenge of trying to get somewhere in a huge city on each city's own version of public transportation, but I also enjoy sitting in one place for a little while to get to know it. I have a hunch Klagenfurt will be a nice little place to do just that, a nice little place to spend the last days of my freedom before I start my whirlwind journey back to somewhere where I'd rather not be.
For now, though, I've got a little of this:
Tuesday, October 4, 2011
Deutschland Uber Alles
Pardon any slurred words or irritating typos because this is serious. One euro fifty for beer. Self service. On the honor system.
Day 2: Dublin to Berlin
I rised and shined before the sun did, departing Dublin for a third time (a fourth is scheduled). As the plane was taxiing, the sun peaked its head above the horizon. I closed my eyes and woke up in Deutschland.
In case you were wondering, my great-grandfather Otto Scheive was from Germany, so I am still getting in touch with my roots over here, one euro fifty at a time.
My nap sadly took up most of the afternoon. It was much needed, but it cut into my daylight sightseeing. Saw the Brandenberg Gate, das Reichstag, und Alexanderplatz where I overpaid for ein nicht so gutes bier.
Two more flights tomorrow. Where do I end up? Tune in to find out!
Day 2: Dublin to Berlin
I rised and shined before the sun did, departing Dublin for a third time (a fourth is scheduled). As the plane was taxiing, the sun peaked its head above the horizon. I closed my eyes and woke up in Deutschland.
In case you were wondering, my great-grandfather Otto Scheive was from Germany, so I am still getting in touch with my roots over here, one euro fifty at a time.
My nap sadly took up most of the afternoon. It was much needed, but it cut into my daylight sightseeing. Saw the Brandenberg Gate, das Reichstag, und Alexanderplatz where I overpaid for ein nicht so gutes bier.
Two more flights tomorrow. Where do I end up? Tune in to find out!
Monday, October 3, 2011
Nine Flights in Nine Days
or How to Be a Terrible Planner-Aheader
or How to Be a Fiscally Irresponsible Traveler (and not give two fucks about the money)
or How to Live as if You'll Never Get Another Chance to Travel to Europe Again
or Kyle Brown Wants to See Some Snowcapped Mountains Fuck Yeah Hey Hey
Day One: London to Dublin
The initial plan was to come back here to Dublin and just chill and finish the novel, but fuck that. Let's see some more Europe! Let's go where I can show how little conversational German I can understand! When will I get another chance to up my country count as easily as now since I'm so close the Continent?
Who knows.
So here it goes.
There is a crossroads of sorts in Kyle's life. Where will he end up? Which of the myriad of forks will he take? What will he do there? What will he do when he gets back? If he gets back?
I've been asked, "Are you homesick?" No, I'm the opposite of whatever that is. Sick of home. In love with not being there. In love with doing something else. So hopefully with all of my time on planes (trains and automobiles), I can live these final nine days like that sappy, sappy cliche: like there is no tomorrow.
But there is a tomorrow. And I will fly to Berlin.
or How to Be a Fiscally Irresponsible Traveler (and not give two fucks about the money)
or How to Live as if You'll Never Get Another Chance to Travel to Europe Again
or Kyle Brown Wants to See Some Snowcapped Mountains Fuck Yeah Hey Hey
Day One: London to Dublin
The initial plan was to come back here to Dublin and just chill and finish the novel, but fuck that. Let's see some more Europe! Let's go where I can show how little conversational German I can understand! When will I get another chance to up my country count as easily as now since I'm so close the Continent?
Who knows.
So here it goes.
There is a crossroads of sorts in Kyle's life. Where will he end up? Which of the myriad of forks will he take? What will he do there? What will he do when he gets back? If he gets back?
I've been asked, "Are you homesick?" No, I'm the opposite of whatever that is. Sick of home. In love with not being there. In love with doing something else. So hopefully with all of my time on planes (trains and automobiles), I can live these final nine days like that sappy, sappy cliche: like there is no tomorrow.
But there is a tomorrow. And I will fly to Berlin.
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