MKNonline Blog

So I was supposed to be up, ready, and waiting by 6:30AM to get picked up for my Kakadu tour. Unfortunately, that was when I woke up. My stupid phone alarm never went off. You can imagine the sheer and frantic panic as I tried to simultaneously gather all my belongings and not wake up Matt, Pinky, and David (Matt later admitted he awoke to me whisper-screaming “Where are the fucking room keys. FUCK!!”). Turns out the truck was late in picking everyone up anyways…

So let’s talk about my tour group first, or as I call them, my “keys to survival.” I found the people I met fascinating, so bear with me.

Dillon, our tour guide. A young, terribly enthusiastic, and laid back Aussie. While I considered the flies spawns of Satan, he described them as “just very friendly”. Definitely looked the part of an avid bushman, you could tell this dude could be content without showering for days and it seemed like he actually enjoyed being out in the outback (a totally insane concept to me). Had great taste in music** (Jack Johnson, CCR, Foo Fighters) and loved talking about the crazy weeklong, nonstop Australian music festivals where you don’t shower for days.

The rest of the group consisted of a variety of European couples, two British solo travelers, and myself. All very nice and interesting people with much longer stays in Australia than I could ever fathom as a member of the US workforce. It took a few days into the trip, but I eventually came to terms that Europeans view the United States as New York City, Hawaii, and Los Angeles. Connecticut is too much of a foreign concept. Fun trick though, if you tell them that you’re only given two weeks vacation, they will flip their shit.

Lastly, the 4WD tank, the new love of my life. This thing was a monster, and is truly the only vehicle one should drive through Kakadu (or anywhere). It was large, loud, and had little concept of suspension. My favorite joys as a kid was rolling down the windows as my dad hydroplaned across a puddle of water after a recent rainstorm. Bumping around in the 4WD as it crossed rivers, boulders, trees, and dunes brought me back to my youth. My goal is to own one of these tanks before I die.

Sweet ride, huh?

So Day 1 in Kakadu:
- First, I should say that Kakadu National Park is about the size of Israel and covers about a dozen or so totally different environments. Driving anywhere, including to/from Kakadu involved at least an hour drive (often 2-3 hours) of bumping around dirt roads listening to Jack Johnson or CCR.

- Australians are very proud of the fact that they think about or are drinking the minute the sun goes up. Stop one was to a roadside stop to purchase beer…at 9 in the morning. There were emu’s in the parking lot. Definitely not in the States anymore.

- Our first stop was the Mamukala Wetlands. It had an assortment of birds and ducks around a waterhole that really was an oversized puddle at this point in the dry season. I don’t know, I found it fascinating, but then again, Australian dirt gets me excited. I wasn’t as weathered of a traveler as the rest of my group, I guess. On our way over to the viewing area, a monitor lizard had crawled from the edge of the watering hole into the bushes. Missed photo opportunity, unfortunately.

There's a monitor lizard in this photo. Can you find it?

Kakadu more or less runs on two seasons: wet season and dry season. The park is an entirely different environment in wet season in every shape and form. However, the dry season allowed us access to fun watering holes to swim in, relatively free of croc danger. “Relatively free” being the key term.

Lots of birds

- Our next stop inside the park (not counting the entrance) was a middle-of-nowhere picnic area on the bank of a small river/swamp. It was my first introduction to what would be a common theme during this trip: being out in the middle of nowhere after hours of endless driving in a potentially dangerous environment with no one around for miles except your group who could just as easily desert you. As we prepared and ate lunch amongst the flies and made introductions, it became very clear that everyone in the group only came to see crocodiles. Poor Dillon had to assure them that crocodiles would be seen…on Day 3. We were not pleased by this turn of events.

Croc infested watering hole, a perfect place for lunch

- We stopped at an aboriginal center as well today while Dillon filled up the tank with gas. I didn’t take too many notes on it, because amongst all the natural scenery, aboriginal culture was the least of my interests. However, months later, the aboriginal culture is what continues to fascinate me about this country. Not that I wasn’t interested in what I was seeing, I just wish I had paid more attention.

- Maguk/Barramundi Gorge was one of those watering holes. After getting changed in an outhouse with a giant cricket-spider-cockroach amalgamation, we hiked through a recently burned stretch of forest and grassland. Some of the trees were still smoking, and the whole place seemed to be one thrown cigarette butt away from another wildfire, but like the true outback bushman he is, Dillon was unconcerned. He instead showed us the debris that sat atop on the treeline above our heads as proof of water levels during wet season. To me, that debris just seemed extremely flammable.

The hike to Maguk

The water is thhiiisss high during wet season

- Well, if you know me, I don’t really swim. So plunging into a beautiful soul-cleansing gorge underneath a perfect waterfall did me wonders…until I realized I couldn’t swim and flopped around with the fishes. While my group admired the waterfall up close from a rock perch in the middle of the lagoon, I clung to the edge of the rocks 50 feet away and bobbed my head in and out of the water, examining my lack of buoyancy.

Maguk...my little piece of Eden

When it was time to move on, one of the German siblings, Alex, stopped me as we climbed out of the water.

“Mike, do you not know how to swim?”

“Umm…not really.”

“Do you want to see the waterfall? I can help you swim over.”

Humilated, “…No…it’s okay…thank you…* heavysigh*” …dignity gone…fml.

- Nearly getting eaten by flies…no (additional) comment.

Near Death Experience: Nearly drowning in Maguk. Although, I thought I got the hang of the swimming business right as we were leaving. Honest…

Then it was off to a primitive camp-site in the middle…of…nowhere. It looked like this was a campsite that could accommodate a few groups, but I’m fairly positive our group was alone out there. Some highlights of the evening:
- Rediscovering my faith in humanity when the Dutch guy in my group saw me struggling with my tent setup and helped me out.
- Getting my own tent! Everyone else was coupled, except for the two British guys, who shared a tent. This made me very pleased.
- Rediscovering my faith in mother nature when the flies disappeared the minute the sun went down.
- The amusement of Dillon trying to educate a group of Europeans on the mechanics and rules of cricket. I think I had the advantage of having at least known baseball, but this seemed entirely foreign to everyone else except one of the Brits.
- The Czech couple sharing homemade apricot gin to the group. Strongest shot of alcohol I’ve ever had. It could knock out a moose, but it was delicious.
- Brushing my teeth in the dark and spitting it into the ground. Hey, I’m not outdoorsy, this felt badass.

Setting up camp

My room. Equipped with swag and see through tent for stargazing

And with that, a very eventful first day in Kakadu was over. As I laid in my tent looking at the beautiful Southern skies at night, I was amazed I lasted this long doing what I had done.

**I dwell on the musical tastes of my guides because of its importance to the morale of the group. Every activity during the day is split between hours of endless driving of desert, bush, or some combination thereof. Trust me. Good music really passes the time.

I’m hungry. There’s no reason why I should be this hungry. I’ve eaten half my fridge and it’s barely 2PM. Sundays make me hungry.

Here’s a fun fact on hunger pangs (I always thought it was hunger pains. It would be definitely more fitting.)

“When hunger contractions start to occur in the stomach, these are commonly referred to as hunger pangs. Hunger pangs usually do not begin until 12 to 24 hours after the last ingestion of food. A single hunger contraction lasts about 30 seconds, and pangs continue for around 30–45 minutes, then hunger subsides for around 30-150 minutes.[2] Individual contractions are separated at first, but are almost continuous after a certain amount of time.[2] Emotional states (anger, joy etc.) may inhibit hunger contractions.[2] Levels of hunger are increased by lower blood sugar levels, and are higher in diabetics.[2] They reach their greatest intensity in 3 to 4 days and may weaken in the succeeding days, though hunger never disappears.[3] Hunger contractions are most intense in young, healthy people who have high degrees of gastrointestinal tonus. Periods between contractions increase with old age.[2]” – Wikipedia

I guess it’s because today is another Sunday where I should be finishing up my classwork. Actually, it’s my last module of schoolwork for a while. I’m taking the fall semester off in order to work on my thesis proposal and go to Australia. The joy of travel…

My parents disappeared for most of the evening yesterday, and I made some tortellini, a staple of when I lived alone. It brought me back to a happy place. It’s the first meal I’ve made for myself in a long while. I miss cooking.

I watch a lot of Food Network. I know I’m probably not the right demographic for the channel, but I’m hooked. I find chefs to be total rock stars. Maybe I should consider a career change. BTDubs, I think Melissa will win Next Food Network Star, if it matters. Calling it.

Someone that SHOULD be on Food Network is Sam the Cooking Guy. I love his show on FitTV (yes, I watch FitTV, deal with it) and wish I lived in the San Diego area to see his regular local show. His recipes are simple but delicious, and he’s a fun guy to watch.

Also, Julia Childs is right. French cuisine is the best there is.

If you are what you eat, then maybe what I want to eat is a good indicator of what I want to be? Below are some of the recipes I’m dying to follow when I finally move out and get my own kitchen again.

• Lobster Mac and Cheese
• Fried Chicken, like the KFC/Popeyes shit. Yes, I would kill to know the Colonel’s secret recipe
• Spaghetti Carbonara I don’t get enough pasta in my life. I’m craving olive oil. Is that weird?
• Bacon Wrapped Sea ScallopsSam has convinced me scallops are simple and tasty enough to try. Never really had it before.

Well, this helped my hunger a little bit. Off to either do homework or further raid the fridge.

It’s Sunday. I feel like procrastinating. This should be my new blogging goal, to blog on Sundays. It’s especially relaxing to blog on Sundays for some reason.

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Instant Gratification of the Week

So I got a Palm Pre on Thursday. I know it’s only been out a week but…FINALLY. I was hoping to get it opening day last Saturday, but I was in Baltimore and the Best Buy I went to sold out on the phone within 30 minutes. I was so distraught, I bought the Sims 3. This made me feel good (and reclusive) for about four days, and then I finally got the Palm Pre. Now, it’s like having a plate of fish-n-chips a plate of steak-and-fries in front of me. I can’t handle eating both, but I don’t want to choose between the two.

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What I Should Be Doing Right Now

Due to my new phone, I’ve been trying to organize my Gmail and contacts. Getting a Palm phone inspired me to get organized for the upcoming semester and my own sanity. I spent yesterday transferring over my phone numbers, and realized how many people I’ve lost contact with. Sad.

I’m still not done archiving and filtering all my emails. I have 400 emails just sitting in my inbox waiting to be sorted. I get bored and nostalgic after cleaning out 10 or so emails, so it’s back to play with my phone or The Sims.

Also, I failed miserably at revising my thesis proposal. This is going to bite me in the ass almost immediately.

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And Two More Things

I don’t know why The Sims 3 is getting horrible reviews on Amazon. It’s amazingly fun, but I think people are having issues that it isn’t full blown Sims 2 + 10,000 expansion packs yet. The object selection does kind of suck at the moment, and EA is nickel-and-diming users for additional content, but what else is new. The game is still incredibly fun.

Also, I’m not going to even advocate for the Palm Pre. Everyone can get that new iPhone 3GS on AT&T, because nothing I say will dissuade their misconceptions of Sprint or a Palm phone. I like going against the grain anyways. This phone is amazing, and it has potential to be even greater even on its first iteration. I hope it takes off and I can look like the innovator. If I were to say one thing, Multi-tasking applications is worth every penny. Suck it, Apple fanboys.

I had to answer these questions to figure out myself, in hopes that it will ground or inspire me to think up some ideas for my eventual thesis topic.

Who am I?

I joined this university and am pursuing this degree as a left-brained individual who is trying to re-invigorate his right-brain.

In general, I’m an independent Gen Y’er who tries to pursue his passions and interests as he finds them. I don’t feel that I’m horribly creative, but I desperately want to be. I’m a logical guy working a logical job (IT) and following a sensible career and life path. But, I dream of bigger things, and being greater than I currently am. A stronger sense of creativity will get me there.

What do I want to say?

Before I can say anything, I very much need to find my voice first. For now, I take inspiration and words from others that I admire or respect. In time, I hope some life experiences give me the story or message that I feel I’m meant to tell. If I have one already, I haven’t realized it yet.

What do I want to learn?

I want to learn everything. There isn’t much that doesn’t interest me enough to at least look up on wikipedia. I live each day to take in new experiences and new information. I aspire to be a Renaissance Man and a jack-of-all-trades.

What am I realistically capable of?

My strengths are in my technical skills. I can pick up new technology and new programming languages. I’m a big dreamer and relentless researcher.

My weaknesses are in execution. I procrastinate and don’t manage my time as wisely as I should. For this project, I need to limit my ideas to something that is doable within the confines of my full-time job and busy schedule without compromising quality, content, and learning opportunities.

What do I love?

I love new technologies. I love being in the know. I may tell you otherwise, but I love keeping busy. I love to travel and experience new things. I love mixing things up and not following the same routine all the time. I love animals, music, and reality television.

Where do I want to be in 10 years?

This is always such a difficult question to answer. My mind would say to just be lounging in a big, modern house by the beach, with the sounds of the waves always within earshot and warm, temperate climate year round. But I could find that now, and in my heart, I know I wouldn’t be content with that lifestyle for a long period of time. In 10 years, I want to stop helping myself as much and start helping others more. I’m a fortunate individual even today, but I don’t do enough (even today) to help those in less fortunate situations. I want to be successful in my career by being valuable and a leader in whatever I’m doing. I don’t ever want to stop working hard and learning. I want to have traveled the world and seen every continent by then. Maybe I’ll end up relocating to another continent. I miss city life horribly and would love to at least be in the city.

We made plenty of bad decisions throughout the trip, but today’s itinerary might have taken the cake. It was our last day in Paris, and none of us had gotten anything for the people back home yet (Confession, in Barcelona, we got all our souvenirs at the Girona airport as we were waiting to board for France). Since we pretty much checked off our must-see list and then some in the past week, all we had left to do was shop. Ezeibe was still recovering, so I decided to go with Alan to Galeries Lafayette, which was a few bus stops from our apartment.

This was a horrible idea, to go to the biggest, most luxurious shopping complex in Paris only a few days after Christmas. We should have learned our lesson at the Champs l’Elysee a few days ago, where the sidewalk was overflowing with shoppers. The sidewalks were twice as small, and the crowds were ten times bigger. It was a mess.

Somewhat undeterred, we ducked into Galeries Lafayette to find the food section. There was some type of butter my family wanted that I never did find, but the food part of this mega-store was out of control. Imagine a Whole Foods in a department store, but the selection is fancier. It’s true, there’s a fancier grocery store out there than Whole Foods, and it’s in Paris. This place had an aisle devoted to gourmet jams, multiple chocolate and dessert kiosks, and a spice aisle that was neverending. Aisles devoted to just olive oil. It was crazy. It seemed to have every type of butter made in France EXCEPT the one I was looking for. I won’t hold it against them, the food section was amazing. I got lost multiple times trying to find Alan amongst all the food and ingredients. There were multiple mini-restaurants where you can sit down and just eat the food from the kiosks around you: sushi, chocolate, bread, meat, everything. Then I found Alan together we proceeded to get lost and claustrophobic in the rest of the store. Again, this was a bad day for two dudes to attempt shopping. Some notes in our journey:
- This place was selling some high end fashion. I don’t know how you women do it, but I could never pay that much for a LV bag.
- There was an art gallery in the department store. Because why not?
- You know at the mall how you can look up from the ground floor and see everyone shopping about on the other floors? Imagine a department store the size of a mall with the same effect and you have Galeries Lafayette.I felt like I was in the middle of an ant hill, except the ant hill is made out of gold.

After that, Alan and I quickly retreated home very exhausted, shell-shocked, and unfortunately, a bit empty-handed. Ezeibe was in a chippier mood, as he was heading off to dinner with a friend from work who just happened to live in Paris. Whatever Ezeibe.

Since it was back to my day, I made the decision to go eat by the Latin Quarter, as it was one of the main districts/neighborhoods we kind of ignored thus far. This would give us at least a passing glance of Notre Dame as well. Alan decided on a vegetarian restaurant closeby to the cathedral. Before you accuse of being all yuppy, this place was divine. I don’t even like tomatoes, but I downed my entree which was a tofu stuffed tomato. This was some pretty spectacular food and it was a full three course fancy meal for only 17 euros. While we kind of missed the mark most of the other days of the week, at least our first and last dinner were exciting, affordable, and memorably delicious. This restaurant nearly made me want to convert to vegetarian. The only not-so-cool thing about this restaurant was that it was again tiny, and very, very, intimate. You would think this place was couples-only, as there were only couples and seating for two per table. This made Alan and I extremely uncomfortable. A nice restaurant and ambiance to take a girlfriend, certainly not a dude friend.

No real pictures from today, except for Notre Dame Cathedral. I thought this was a pretty good nightshot.

The Latin Quarter was as expected. Just lots of narrow alleys and streets full of restaurants and souvenirs. As we strolled the streets, Alan and I were happy we decided on a restaurant and ate dinner before going into the Latin Quarter, because we would’ve wandered aimlessly and passive aggressively for DAYS in that area trying to find the right restaurant. We were prepared for the pushy restauranteurs because of the practice from the pushy sex shop owners the night before.

Notre Dame was still pretty awesome. We couldn’t go in or anything as it was already closed, but we got our requisite blurry night shows of the place.

Other than that, we retired early that night. Alan and I, rather than being sensible and buy nice wine from Galeries Lafayette, decided to stop in the only open bodega nearby our apartment and buy some cheap bottles of wine to bring back home.

So looking back at what I just wrote on how we spent the day, I just realized I totally had a full-on date with Alan…That’s kind of uncomfortable to think about.

And dick never did call me back. I thought we had a connection too…

God, you’re probably tired of hearing about Paris. As travelers, we were getting tired of Paris ourselves. But there was still plenty to do in this city. Ezeibe was still taking it easy for most of the day.

The Good Surprises:
- Museum du jour was Rodin. I was pleasantly surprised at this small museum. All we knew was that The Thinker was there. Wiser from yesterday’s ordeal, we made sure to hit the museum early. While we didn’t have to wait in much of a line, our plan backfired when half of the museum was actually an outdoor sculpture garden. And yes, we froze our asses off. Nevertheless, the gardens were pretty, had sculptures, and lacked any vegetables or bees that can sting you. Just the way I like it.

Probably due to the cold and early morning, but all the sculptures were pretty much alone for us to admire. There was maybe only three or four other people with us at The Thinker, Rodin’s most recognized sculpture. I got to admire a masterpiece up close, without 20 million cameras and tourists surrounding it. That was pretty breathtaking for me, and a moment I had been yearning to have at each museum since the Louvre.

The rest of the museum was pretty cool too and gave a good glimpse into how Rodin created his sculptures. In hindsight, I probably should have done the museum first where it went over Rodin’s process and drafts of some his most famous works, and then seen the final products out in the sculpture garden. When we left, the line to get in and crowds were definitely building. A pat on our back for finally being smart and planning ahead.

He's not thinking, he's silently judging me...

All the single ladies...wuh oh oh...

- Sunday Brunch. Now hungry and with no other options for blocks around, we settled on the cafe restaurant right across the street from the Rodin museum. It was bound to be a pricey disappointment, but we were again pleasantly surprised. The prices were not unreasonable at all, I had an amazing potato and ham omelette for Sunday brunch. Our waiter was the surliest, stereotypically French waiter we had ever met. Upon entering the restaurant, he made some sarcastic comment in French that was clearly mocking the two American tourists who just walked in the door and his waiter buddies all har-har’ed at the sight of us. This oddly felt inviting.

- Hotel des Invalides. We kind of went here on a whim because the Rodin museum didn’t take up much time and we still had the entire afternoon to kill. It was just down the road from Rodin Museum and it had Napoleon’s tomb. And you know how we feel about dead people. What we didn’t expect was that the Hotel des Invalides included an overwhelmingly comprehensive war museum and a medieval history museum to boot. What we thought was an hour-long distraction turned out to be five-hour French Military class. 10 things I learned:
1) For what is assumed to be a very small guy, Napoleon sure has a big ass tomb.
2) Note to self: Get buried in a mausoleum after death.
3) If I had more of an attention span and patience for crowds, I would’ve read the description of the 60+ letters in order written to get an account of Napoleon’s personal life and his military strategies. Can you believe at one time, people communicated and fought wars through written correspondences?
4) It still feels weird to be snapping tourist pictures in front of a tomb. It didn’t stop me, but I’m just saying.
5) World War I and World War II were some pretty devastating wars for the Europeans.
6) I didn’t realize Risk was as true to life until I saw the military museum and their visuals on major World War battles.
7) The French have a very different history of the World Wars than the Americans. For example, Pearl Harbor and the Holocaust are just notable footnotes in their history. But the invasion of Paris, invasion of Normandy, or African colonialism…don’t get me started.
The Hotel des Invalides have a ton of suits of armor. Weapons too.
9) I have no idea why the three-barrel split hunting gun (three gun barrels pointing at different angles) disappeared. Because that was a fuckin’ hardcore gun.
10) Gun existed way further back than I expected. Medieval times. Why use arrows and crossbows then?

Whatever could they be looking down upon?...

The tomb of Napoleon!

Alan looks for ways to kill me...

Two guards in a glass box. How this helps keep the place safe, I don't know. Plus, what happens if one of them farts? Instant death.

- Baby bottle bar! The name of the bar is actually Zero de Conduite, but it’s real name is “Awesome Hipster Bar for People Who Want to be Five Again.” It’s run by a pretty mellow dude, and the bar, like all places in Paris, was tiny. It draws a mostly college/university crowd. All the drinks were cartoon or comic book characters and you were given a whiteboard to DRAW your drink requests. I drew Babar (an elephant face), Aladdin (a stick figure on a magic carpet with genie), and Nemo (a generic fish, circle plus triangle for tail). So our drinks came in baby bottles. And to top off the cake of awesomeness, you play games while you drink! We were given Uno. I think we messed up the rules, because it took forever for one of us to win. I didn’t win, so it’s not worth mentioning who did.

A toast with the big babies.

- Crepes! We had one drink at the baby bottle bar (see bad surprises for why) and went to eat crepes at a restaurant next door. Ezeibe and I were craving them. Alan had given up on being disagreeable. The crepe place was really good. They had a mixture of both dessert crepes and dinner/breakfast crepes. All equally appetizing. We ate as the restaurant was closing. It was a quiet end to the night…

- Paris Red Light District. …except for Alan and I, our night didn’t end there! You know the clubs we were looking for by our apartment? Well, we happened upon them this night, and then realized, those clubs and bars made up the Red Light district of Paris. That’s also where the Moulin Rouge is. We were harassed by strip club peddlers trying to get us to enter. What was odd (and really, it shouldn’t be), but there were a lot of regular couples, middle-aged, that were just casually strolling down this strip of road, entering and shopping at the various sex shops. It’s like catching your mom and dad here, it’s awkward to even witness it. It was getting to the dicey part of the night, so we just did our passive-aggressive “Where should we go” walk around the area and decided to just call it a night. The Red Light District wasn’t quite our vibe, I guess (their vibe being sexy, hip, and club-banging. Our vibe being lame, beer, and anti-social).

The Bad Surprises:
- It was Alan’s day for picking dinner. If you thought Ezeibe’s dinner choices were questionable, Cheapskate Alan wanted a homemade pasta dinner. As with everything we do, this was easier said than done. All the markets and shops were again closed because it was already Sunday evening, including the grocery stores. So we went to a bodega at the corner of our street at the end of our day and ran into Ezeibe who had hobbled out of bed to buy some more tissues. And together, we bought a box of thin spaghetti. Nothing else. So for dinner, we had a plate of spaghetti and olive oil. Because although we talk a big game about a luxurious vacation, we’re all just starving college students at heart.

- Unfortunately, when you’re already having cocktails with low’ish alcoholic content, sucking it out of a baby bottle isn’t conducive to getting drunk. Someone should’ve warned us.

- My karaoke bar…we found it in the Red Light District! I’d been researching it all week. Unfortunately, at midnight, it was sparsely populated with a kind of sad mix of middle-aged folks with a crazy ass white woman singing on stage. Unfortunately, not the type of crowd I was shooting for. But for the record, I would’ve still joined had Alan not talked me out of it.

“Way to forget about how you and Ezeibe still went to dinner that night” – Alan in response to my Day 4 post

This is how he decided to comment on my blog. His snark will be forever immortalized on my blog like the puke stain that’s forever on my bedroom carpet because my dad decided it was a good idea to feed my dog an orange.

Well thank you Alan for the catch. Let’s take a moment to go back to Barcelona and finish off Day 4 so I can spend every other sentence mocking you in petty and immature ways. After being ripped off on paella, Alan felt physically ill from spending any more money. Our 75euro “snack” turned out to be quite filling, but Ezeibe was still determined to eat dinner at this fancy, expensive restaurant called Bar Mut, because the New York Times said so. Ezeibe claims he is an atheist, but he really worshipped two gods: his cell phone and The New York Times travel section. The only way he was convincing me to go was if he offered to pay for it, which he did. This wasn’t enough incentive for party-pooper Alan, who decided to skip out and spend the rest of the night presumably closing his eyes really tight and opening them until euros magically appeared back in his wallet.

Ezeibe and I walked a good mile up the Barcelona streets trying to find the restaurant. Meanwhile, Alan probably took a shit, hoping euros or a sense of a good time would come out of his ass.

When we got to the restaurant, Ezeibe claimed they screwed up our reservation time, which they had written down for earlier in the night. What probably really happened was Ezeibe screwed up again because he didn’t understand what they were saying when he called the restaurant. Ezeibe basically dropped the ball again…just like the New York Giants, right Alan?

It was probably good that Cheapskate McGee didn’t go, because this restaurant was small (probably a fire hazard to fit any more than 20 people in there at once) and cramped. The service was friendly, and the food was probably great, but a little over my unrefined palate. You basically ordered from a menu of fancy tapas, except it was all in Catalan, and we had forgotten what everything meant after our waiter meticulously went through each option on the menu, poor guy. Speaking of poor guys, fun fact, Alan clips his nails on the bathroom floor and doesn’t clean up the clippings, much to Ezeibe’s disgust.

Here's a godawful picture of some tall guy caught smoking pot on a Barcelona castle defense tower. I hope this picture embarrasses him enough to never point out my shortcomings again.

In conclusion, you’re cheap, Alan. Now, where was I?

My New Year’s resolution for 2009:

1) Travel more. This Europe trip is just the beginning. I bought an extra week of vacation, I’m regrettably back at home, which means I’m ready to get out and see the world. I want to be in all seven continents before I die (or, when I’m feeling more optimistic, before I’m 30). Also, my friends are drifting further and further across the globe and I’m determined not to lose them.

2) Get on Survivor. What? As if you’re really going to “go to the gym everyday.” Fat-ass hypocrite.

3) Be present. I don’t think I’m especially bad at this, I just think it’s getting harder for everyone to do this. Technology is a double-edged sword. I’m tired of talking to a person who is playing with a Blackberry or just looking at the computer screen or is already thinking of the next person to hang out with. I realize I’m hard to listen to, but come on. From the lyrics of the great Michael Jackson, “That’s why I’m starting with me…” (Man in the Mirror, classic song).

4) Be taller. Expand my presence. My brother is probably about the same height as me. I don’t think anyone sees him as short though. Such is the luxury of a big personality.

Our last full day in Barcelona got off to a late start from exhaustion. The nice thing with vacation is that this is totally okay. The bad thing was we essentially wasted our Arsticket from the day before. Price of Admission at two museums < Price of Arsticket. We only had time for one museum before everything closed (it was supposedly Sunday. We would have no idea of the day of week it was from here on out).

We chose the CCCB (the Contemporary cultural building or something to that effect) because it was closeby to our apartment. They had a cool special exhibit called Drap Art that was all art made with recyclable or re-usable material. Cool stuff. The other exhibits were depressing though. I think one was on people's obsession with material things and body image which made me, a person obsessed with material things and body image, feel like a horrible person. It was also very uncomfortable art, which I can respect, but I'm not going to look at it more than I have to. The other was not so much an art exhibit but a pretty extensive collection of evidence on the rapid globalization and urbanization of China in the form of movies, photographs, maps, and city records. Lesson learned: China is big. And it will destroy everything in its path.

My kind of Art

Up next, we took our first Barcelona subway ride and immediately question why we never took the subway before. Clean, cheap, empty, and on-time, all of which are my favorite properties of a good subway system.

Since it was getting late for a Sunday, we were going to go to Montjuic, another giant park on another hill overlooking the downtown Barcelona area. This one was closer to the water. What’s fun is you take the subway to a funicular (those elevator-type vehicles that goes up a hill) that takes you to the base of the hill/park. From there, you take a cable car ride to the top of the hill where a castle sits with awesome views of the city and Mediterranean. It’s totally free and open to the public, although there’s a military museum you can pay for to visit.

Where did Alan go?

Alan's search party.

Always the willing subject, Ezeibe stares directly into the sun for me to get my shot.

Put some clothes on, woman.

The two most badass muthafuckas on the planet.

The view from the top of the fortress was as equally amazing as yesterday’s view of Park Guell. I love good views. Looking at everything around you, it weirdly just makes me so present and aware. I can hear my thoughts and emotions clearer.

A random couple enjoys the show.

Unspoken rule that all group photos must be taken from at least 50 feet above sea level.

One of the views from the top. I think that's the city museum in the foreground.

Thus ends my hippy diatribe. So the sun was setting, which meant we had to get out of the park and off to dinner. We decided to take a different cable car back down that would take us to Barceloneta, the neighborhood by the port close to the beaches. This cable car ride is up there in my list of scariest cable car rides. This car was tiny, with little seating. And, when it initially arrived to the station, the conductor looked at it funny, hopped out of the cable car, and talked to the tech. They discussed something, and then decided to send off the cable car on its own. Except, it went about 10 yards, swung in the wind a bit, and then came back to the station. And then they let us in. Paranoia sinks in and I start mentally accepting that this is the way I’m going to die.

This cable car was also unnecessarily high above the ground and water. I swear it actually went higher than the hill on its way to the port. At the end, you basically land on this giant hulking metal tower and have to take an elevator 30 something stories down. Not cool.

Scary cable car ride

We made it down and walked along the beach/boardwalk, which was another great “Holy shit, I’m in Europe moment.” It shouldn’t have been, but it just was. There were a scattering of people just chilling out in beach blankets either reading a book, having a picnic, or hanging out as the sun was setting. I have never been a beach person, but watching those people just hang out at dusk without a care in the world makes me want to immediately buy beachfront property. We walk through the sand and take our moment of zen along the water.

I could get used to beach life.

Cool art piece on the beach

Dinner provided some more fruitless wandering. We spotted an open restaurant that looked authentic enough and seemed to serve seafood. Everyone was eating on giant barrels, which was a good enough gimmick for me to buy in. Unfortunately, when we finally got seated, we were in the back room of the restaurant, where we sat in front of a giant keg, not on top of one. Whatever. Ezeibe decided he needed to try paella again. I felt adventurous and offered to split one as well. Alan, not really agreeing with our restaurant choice in the first place, just shrugged and joined in as well.

I guess the paella was okay. It had a ton of shellfish and clams. I’m not usually a fan, but hey, when in Spain. I’m sure it was better than the one Ezeibe had the day before, which we’re pretty sure was microwaved. I mean, for the giant portion we got even though we split a paella, it seemed well worth the 25euro price. Except it really wasn’t. When the bill came out, we realize we had each been charged 25euros for the joint paella. I guess that’s normal. It kind of ruined our day.

And so ended our last day in Barcelona. We tried to pack up and get some early sleep because of our day tomorrow, where we would leave the city.

So less than 24 hours before I leave for Europe. I’ve been answering a lot of repetitive questions, so thought I’d post them here:

Why Europe? Why now?

Why not?! There’s never a good time to travel, so now is as good of a time as ever. In fact, there are a lot of positives for the timing of this trip. Winter is off-season, so less tourists and wait times. The economy sucks, so strong dollar versus the Euro. And, I’m in between job rotations, so I don’t even have the stress of work lingering over me. As much as I’m against it, I’m still that guy that would be sending out work emails all day. That’s just my hard-working tendencies.

You’re going to blog and stuff while you’re on vacation?

Um…yeah. Got a problem with that? Listen, I don’t intend to be totally lame and spend my entire trip on a laptop screen. My -3 regular visitors sure don’t expect any constant updates or anything anyways. I hope to be as disconnected as possible from my regular world. But writing, photography, video journals, it’s all very therapeutic for me. So let me do my thing and enjoy the rants as they get published…

Aren’t you making this a bigger deal than it is?

Yes, I’m being mad overexcited for a two week holiday in some very ordinary destinations. Forgive me. The reality is I never had that life-changing study abroad. While I consider myself well-traveled, I don’t really venture far and away that much. No money, no time, too much going on, etc. I think all young, new working professionals need to take full advantage of their very limited time off and do something amazing with it. There’s nothing wrong with a little excitement in life.