Monkey See, Monkey Do

Coming up with an informed opinion about a city after only a few days' visit is not only futile, it's mostly an exercise in idiocy. Similar to the blind men and the elephant parable, exploring a few city blocks and then declaring, "Amsterdam is like this" or "Spainards are all this" not only proves your ability to draw ill-formed conclusions but also your lack of worldliness.

I would be offended if someone came to San Diego and said, after a long weekend, that they had gotten a good grasp of the city. "Really? You got the place all figured out in four days?"

Then again, San Diego is widely described as picturesque, relaxing, and a good place to settle down in your middle to old age. Aren't all of these things true? They certainly are but then why visit if only to confirm the obvious and colloquial?

In this way, I often feel disappointed when visiting other cities where preconceived notions rest heavily. The first five to ten generalizations of most any area are true and I'm gone before I can dig further.

Somehow, despite being fully aware of this ignorance, I still feel equipped to have opinions after just the barest of touches. I could say with conviction that the Red Light District is a disappointing place, that taking the elevator to the top of Sagrada Familia isn't worth the hype, or that the food in London pubs is all the same, but I'd just be reinforcing my shallow experiences while unduly influencing yours.

A few weeks ago I was speaking with an acquaintance at dinner. It was revealed that she was originally from Toronto. After asking a few perfunctory questions, it dawned on me that I actually knew very little about Canada and had absolutely run out of Canadian conversation topics. Anything that came out of my mouth would have sounded banal or broadly ridiculous.

Here are the things I know about Canada: A few celebrities and comedians. Kristin Kreuk. They suffer a hefty income tax. They have universal healthcare. The drinking age is lower. The capital is Ottawa and not Toronto. Ketchup flavored potato chips are popular up there. I can rattle off most of the sports teams. I can't spell "Saskatchewan" but I can place "Yukon."

Afterwards, when I shared the "she's from Canada" fact with another friend, her reply was, "Oh that makes sense." And somehow, without any explanation, we understood what she was referring to. A particular Canadian-ese applied to the acquaintance. We both retro-assumed it without being able to explain it. So a broad generlization about a people and a country that may not objectively be true, but due to our common perceptions of a space, are now true.

"He's from _____."
"Oh, that explains it."

Never Never Lands

We're back, alive and well from our European vacation. The good news is that my gold star travel buddy reputation has been burnished and I'm awaiting a Yelp-ish review about the whole bit. "Safe to take overseas! I'd do it with Jon again in a heartbeat! Don't hesitate to make a reservation!"

The bad news is that I was chided for being too agreeable. "Don't you have a damn opinion? I know you do! Say something!" My advance strategy to be the quiet voice of optimism failed because my travel mates have known me for too many years, and too well, to think that a lack of verbal negativity meant I wasn't stewing up judgements on the inside. They called my bluff and didn't want anything to do with my false enthusiasm. "Just tell us what you want to do, you're being annoying." Like I said, a four star review is forthcoming.

I think I owe the world, and my future self, a thorough documentation of our two week long exploits. Luckily I won't actually subject anyone to the details since there's nothing worse than an "I did this, I saw this, I loved this" post. Still, the afterglow of the vacation is settling in and I can't help but share my joy with you that I was on vacation while you likely were not. Take that, take that.

That last statement was brought to you by one of my travel friends, who didn't want to aggressively update her online life out of fear that her co-workers would get slightly jealous. For reasons I don't fully understand, people hate on other people for traveling far and wide while they're stuck in an office. I say more power to the people who can get away, more power to the ones who can skip outta town.

A condensed version of our trip exists in photo and video form. I'd recommend the video version because the slideshow track is Miike Snow's "A Song for No One," which is wildly appropriate because despite pre-buying tickets to their show in London, we missed the entire thing.

Friday night, as we exited the Tube and headed toward the theater, a crowd of edgy and fashion forward London kids went streaming by. This wouldn't have worried us except they were all coming toward us, as we were the only people wading upstream. Not a good sign. The tickets said doors open at seven so we figured it would be safe to arrive around ten. Running just a little late, we got to Camden Town and found the concert doors wide open and the event concluded. Miike Snow had appeared on-stage at nine. Bands never start when they're supposed to Stateside, especially on a weekend. We used our American brains to assume British conventions.

To add injury to the whole experience, a web show was using Flip cameras to interview concert goers. "Hello, how was the show? Would you mind telling us about your experience?" she said in a beautiful accent.

My companions and I looked at each other. I was willing to just pepper the air with platitudes, anything for a chance at air time. Before I could answer, Ameer admitted, "We missed the concert." Camera off, look of sadness from the previously beaming hostess.

"I'm sorry. It was really amazing. They were amazing. And such a great venue too. You guys should really come back." Thanks lady, we're here for another thirty hours, of course we'll be back. But that was the worst thing that happened on the entire trip. Everything went swimmingly, we encountered gorgeous weather everywhere we went, and we each took two to three showers a day, depending on the activities lined up. I had never been so clean and yet so dirty at the same time.

Brief notes on the cities we hit up.

[London]

Most of the major "take a picture here" attractions can be hit up in an afternoon of walking, mainly around the Square Mile. The Tower of London, London Bridge, Millenium Bridge, St. Paul's Cathedral can all be easily accessed. To my infinite disappointment, Westminster Abbey was closed when we visited. Big Ben is good for a quick snap or two but otherwise it just hangs out in the background. I'd only go on the London Eye at gun point, or blackmailed. Of the musuems, the Tate Modern stuck out for having gads of famous pieces. The British Museum houses all of England's stolen cultural treasures, but the main lobby is architecturally kind of cool.

Avoid Piccadilly Square at all costs as it's overrun by tourists and looks trash infested. Trafalgar Square is far nicer. Nothing gets the hip hop club bouncing like La Bamba followed up by Mambo No. 5. Express trams to local airports not named Heathrow are easy and convenient. Delicious digestive biscuits and Magnum ice cream bars are my dream diet. If I had a Top Shop near me I'd be so much better dressed. This is a paparazzi photo of me emerging from a fish and chip shop, run by a Cantonese proprieter and thus overwhelmingly authentic. England, I speak the language and that's always a bonus.

[Amsterdam]

Everyone speaks English here too, which they start learning at a young age. If you don't know the difference between Netherlands, Dutch, Danish, Denmark, Holland, you should probably watch the World Cup. The Red Light District and cannabis clubs are for noobs. To rent a display box, not even a high traffic one, costs about 200 euro a day. A generic suck and fuck (or was it the other way around?) costs fifty euro. You do the math. The Asian food is excellent here, and Indonesian food is the adopted cuisine of the Dutch. The Anne Frank Museum actually sells VHS video tours alongside DVDs. The VHS copies are two euros more. I'd pay quadruple quadrople that much to have that hour of my life back. I hear the Dutch Resistance Museum is far better. Take a bike tour through Amsterdam, it's not only beautiful, but slightly dangerous dodging in and out of traffic, and childishly thrilling. The canal ride, by contrast, is comparable to the Disneyland tram for excitement.

The progressive attitude and laid back atmosphere of Amsterdam won me over. It's the literal whore with a heart of gold city. And they have quite the interesting history and politics and policies, which is lovingly explained to you on Mike's Bike Tours, which we highly recommend. While there are few minorities to be found, I felt comfortable even when faced with the occasional "ching chong ching" commentary. Hey, when in the Netherlands right?

[Barcelona]

My beloved city. I've been saying I would move here above any other city for a good decade now. After another few days there I've shelved that dream. My problem? The language barrier. I don't speak Spanish, few people speak English. I could learn Spanish but I have only so few brain cells left to go around. There is almost nothing I don't like about Barcelona, barring its lack of Asian food. I love the Gaudi, the art, the open space, the old town corridors, the beach, the lifestyle and the siesta. Oh how I love the siesta and arriving at a club at two in the morning knowing nothing will close.

Our big night out in Barcelona involved getting dropped off where all the touristy folk go clubbing. Instead we found a strip of raucous techno and salsa bars that basically reeked of Tijuana. Every club tried to rope you in with free shots. Most of them were worth five minutes of your time. The clientele was lower to lowest class. We about gave up after an hour until we happened to walk two blocks over and found the mega dance clubs. Never have I been so relieved to see douchebags lined up to go inside. Whew. After nearly being kept out due to my cartilage piercing (the guy ahead of us was rejected because of his hair style), we danced the night away at some one syllable name. The girls met some Italian rugby players and were picked up and thrown around, perhaps to the beat. That ended when George was faced with the wife of one the players. "That's my husband," she informed, probably jabbing a well manicured finger at my poor defenseless sister.

I was nowhere to be found; I was dancing remember?

One note about dancing/clubbing in other countries: It's all the same old shit. Same songs, same stereotypes, same everything. If you've been to one over/under crowded club you've been to them all. What is different is McDonald's, I make it a point to hit up at least one in every city.

Over-enthusiasm over, back to regularly schedule griping now that I'm back in the US. Aren't you excited?

Passport to Adventure

The last time I swept through Europe, the summer after senior year, we did the whole backpacking and hostel thing. Let loose on the continent for a month, we flew out of New York without making many reservations or plans. We figured we'd wing it, thinking that finding lodgings would be as simple as showing up in a city, getting off the dusty road, and strolling into a nearby hotel. No such thing.

Even though we were arriving a few weeks before the peak of backpacking season, many of the popular hostels were already filled up. Seeing how difficult it might be to acquire lodging, our first two days in Paris included time spent planning out the rest of our trip in requisite detail. With a sense of urgency, we called ahead for accommodations, locked down which countries we wanted to visit, mapped out train schedules, and decided that the carefree adventure we'd envisioned wouldn't be possible.

While we had originally planned on going southwest and then back up, I convinced my companions to go northeast and then back around. The reason? I wanted to surprise my girlfriend in Vienna. She was also traveling with her friends through Europe at the exact same time, but we were originally headed in opposite circles. How romantic would it be for me to show up in Austria, call her from her hostel and say, "Come downstairs." Swayed by my grand gesture, we agreed to do it this way: from France, to Germany, to Austria, down to Italy and Spain, and then back to Paris.

I think back to how we even managed to secure everything. Internet wasn't a big part of travel yet, nobody had an international cellular, and our only resource was a few travel guides. I recall flipping through lots of foreign phone books and using up a lot of money for phone calls. Everything was settled in due time however and outside of some adventures with sub-par hostels (ie. dirty and smelly) and one night spent at the Barcelona airport, things worked out beautifully.

This time around, our trip won't be nearly as long. Just ten or so days, with only three cities on the itinerary: London, Amsterdam, and Barcelona. I was told by friends that Morocco would be an exciting destination but since this trip is being sponsored by higher powers, I didn't make much of a fuss about where we were going. Our pre-planning consisted of researching online, meeting twice for Skype conferences, and keeping a running Google Spreadsheet. Everything was quick, mostly effortless, and drop dead simple.

What else has changed in ten years? Instead of hostels we'll be staying at hotels. Instead of lugging giant backpacks, we'll be carting around suitcases. Instead of jumping from city to city every few days, we'll be planted firmly in Amsterdam and Barcelona for a decent amount of time each. I am traveling in a group of four again, and none of us have traveled together -- discounting George and I -- and we all have our idiosyncrasies and potential problem areas. But the trip is so short and we are all close friends so everything should work out fine.

What amazes me about this trip is how fast it came together. With George headed out to London for a few weeks to do work, she wanted to take a vacation and travel afterward. She tapped me because clearly I have nothing to do -- and I'm the *cough* ideal travel partner. She also sent out invites to anyone else who might be free and remotely interested. In the space of a week or so, vacation time was asked for, plans were solidified, and we were ready to go. This, after always talking about traveling together but going no further than San Francisco or Vegas (we haven't been able to lock down plans to visit New York together for years), it was a minor miracle how things came to fruition so fast. "Can you do it? I think so? Okay, let's go!"

I purchased a netbook for the occasion because I've been wanting a netbook for awhile and this was a fine excuse to get one. During my last tromp through Europe, the sole electronic device I brought was a CD player. This time around we'll have smart phones, digital cameras, iPods, computers, and a Flip. Our power strips will be our best friends. As essential as those items are, the one thing I'm most excited about bringing is a flexoline travel clothesline. I read about it on this great travel blog, Forks and Jets, and have been wanting to use one ever since. I haven't bought it yet though because Amazon shipping is too slow, but I have to get one before we board that plane on Tuesday. I have to. It would crush me to not have a clothesline with suction cups on the ends. I want to test its versatility and durability.

Another goal on this trip will be to prove that my "bitch traveler" reputation is wrongly earned. Why do I have this reputation? Well, one of my travel mates from that initial Europe trip details it out in this podcast episode. I call bullsh!t on it all and am excited to show the world what I'm made of. Although if I do step in dog crap again, the shoes are definitely still getting tossed. You gotta have standards, even when you're in another country and a foreign space.

Fly high.

Check yourself before you wreck yourself

Over at Miss Protestalot, I've been reading her series of Sunday Routine posts with special attention and vigor. I'm not much of a routine person but lately I've been thinking I should start one. After reading Emily Gould's entry, I was enlightened to the purpose of breakfast.

"This is gross and I am an ancient old person at 28, but after a long period of trial and error with breakfast that included experiments with oatmeal and kasha and eggs, I discovered that I like eating the same thing for breakfast every day and it is a bowl of Kashi GoLean cereal. It tastes like packaging materials, obviously, but the protein they put in it makes me not-hungry for several hours, and this means I can get work done without thinking about how hungry I am.

I am basically always hungry, it’s just my natural state, and often I will be working and I’ll think “but I’m hungry, I’m distracted, I’m clearly not at my best,” and this gives me license to fuck off and cook and eat some baroque snack for the next hour, and then it takes me another hour (or more) to get my head back into work mode. Better to eat the protein cereal, I have come to grudgingly realize."

If we are indeed machines that output what we intake, then I've been going about my adult life all wrong. Generally I eat one meal a day and snack in-between, relying on a combination of coffee, sugar, and ice cream to carry me along. I've lived for many years with the thought that I'm some breed of robot human, immune to the effects of protein, sugar high/lows, caffeine, carbohydrates, vitamins, and whatever else is necessary for a normal human diet. I rarely get sick, I can still pull all-nighters on a whim, and I generally don't worry about what I'm putting into my body.

Then I started thinking. I nap a lot, I show all the symptoms of sugar rush and crash, and there's probably a good correlation between when I'm awake and when I ingest coffee. I mean, how is it that caffeine effects most other human beings but not me? I can't be that special.

So in effort to find out, I've been slowly playing around with my nutritional values. I haven't bought Haribo gummies in weeks. I eat just a few Skittles and very few cookies. Now I'm testing my caffeine consumption. I'm not sure any of this is doing anything but I'm trying to play a scientist here by isolating one thing and testing it out. Of course, because I have no routine, it's hard to monitor my progress. How do I know if coffee keeps me up if I sleep at between two or six in the morning (and wake up anywhere between eight to twelve hours afterward)? A lot of my friends make wise statements about themselves like, "If I eat/do this, I'll feel it tomorrow." I have no idea how I'll feel tomorrow, not a clue. It's high time to find out.

Also, I've got this theory that the key to massive productivity might be routine. So I'm starting a morning one. Well, late afternoon or whenever I get up. So lately I've been hopping off the couch/floor and pouring out a big bowl of cereal and firing up one slice of toast. I would add an egg in there but that involves cooking. I'm trying to keep it easy and simple. During my allotted breakfast time, I will read instead of watch TV, so that I don't mistakenly fall back to sleep. In theory this meal I have traditionally eschewed will fuel me to new heights.

Full of energy and pizzazz, I'd like to game plan out my next four hours. One hour for browsing, one hour for emailing, one for pre-appointed tasks, and one hour for writing. That should start my day off right and shotgun me into super productivity. The trick is to send your mind/body into auto-pilot when you wake up so you don't even know you're accomplishing something until you've done it. I've also begun this thing where I play the same three tracks before I start writing, hoping that over time I'll have a Pavlovian response to the mini-set. It's like self hypnosis, I hope. Citizens of the world, get ready for timely email responses and writings.

I'm gonna need to stock up on cereal.

Questions (and some answers) raised this weekend

• How much would you need to make to live minimally/comfortably?
• What about to fulfill your wants (but not necessarily every desire)?
• When did you feel the most rich in your life?
  
• How long would you make one million dollars last, and that was your only income?
• Is paying for premium pizza ridiculous when a $3 slice is nearly as good?
• Which netbook should I get?
• Windows XP or Windows 7?
• Why are there no minorities at Zeitgest bar?
• Should we just get a pitcher?
• How big is your actual social circle?
• Do you like mixing your friends together?
• Wanna go house dancing?
• Is a succulent basically a cactus without needles?
• Would you tell someone if they had bad hair?
  
• Does Starcraft 2 beta work on Mac?
• When're you going to Europe?
• Where should we go in Barcelona?
• Do you like hanging out with people but not actually hanging out? Ex) Laptopping together in the same room but not necessarily interacting
  
• Do you tend to talk to your gender or the opposite gender about sex (in general or specifics and how does that change)?
• Are the Celtics going to win?
  
• Wanna play pool?
• How is it May already?
  
• What do post-breakup nightmares mean? And when will they go away?
• Would you check your significant other's email? Should you?
• What exactly is a frittata?
• What's the literal translation for huevos rancheros?
• How comfortable are you in your body? Who do you think is/isn't?
• Is being an exhibitionist correlated to how comfortable you are in your body?
• Is having a "good" body correlated to how you feel about your body?
• What is the difference between Mexican, Latino, and Hispanic?
• What is the brilliance of Cormac McCarthy's "Blood Meridian?" Did you love/like/hate it?
  
• Who would you recommend this book to?
• (Fact) You can survive after being scalped
• Did you do the dishes?