Friday, October 27, 2006

Traveling (sort of) Part V

If you're wondering whether I'm actively trying to destroy my very limited readership by posting nothing of substance for long periods of time, your thoughts are not unreasonable. I suck, I know. But it's not going to get any better soon because... my parents are coming! They arrive tomorrow morning and will stay the week. We'll mostly hang out in Belgium, taking day trips to various cities and sites here. After they leave, I'll spend three days in London trolling about and contemplating a life in the Old Country.

As such, I'll have much better things to do than post for you mugs. Sorry. But I implore, don't leave! Or at least come back when I do. After all, I'm still here for two more months, so you best keep reading so you don't miss out.

I Love Chicago...


... and I'll be home for the holidays!!

I just bumped up my flight to December 21st. I have no idea how I'll take my exams before then, but I'll make it work. As much as I'd love to travel more, I want to spend Christmas with my family and friends (here's your shout out, LJ!) in the city I love and call home, Chicago.

Sweet.

Wednesday, October 25, 2006

Be The Change

On a side (and personal) note:

Back At It

I'm back in Leuven now after five good days in Stockholm City and the Stockholm Archipelago. Had a great time, but the weather blew - a risk, I suppose, of visiting any sub-artic, maritime climate in October. In a few days, I'll post a few more unremarkable pictures.

Also, as promised, I'll get back to posting on my other travels tomorrow. I still have Krakow, Leuven, and a few others to note up. Check back manana.

Thursday, October 19, 2006

Traveling Part IV

After several days of solid posting, I'll take another hiatus while traveling. I'm in Stockholm until Tuesday evening, so check back Thursday at the latest for more updates (I have eight hours of class on Wednesdays, so I don't do much else).

I'm stoked for Stockholm, but it looks like its going to rain the entire time we're there. Among other things, I'm sure I'll stop by the Nobel Prize museum since I plan on winning one someday.

In the mean time, go watch football and eat Potbelly for me (turkey, wheat, american). I have serious cravings. True, the Bears have a bye week, but on the upside Grossman can turn the ball over if he doesn't step on the field. Six turnovers over two weeks sounds a lot better than six turnovers in one (nevermind the fact they aren't playing).

Tuesday, October 17, 2006

Munich Part III – Championship Drinking

Story time.

So remember the Italians I mentioned below? There were about six of them, they were from Florence, and they loved us. When we said we were from Chicago, their immediate response was “Chicago Bulls!! Michael Jordan!!” (this was not the only time, by the way, that Europeans connected Chicago with Michael Jordan). We all chanted “JOR-DAN JOR-DAN” several times until one guys, not a Bulls fan but instead a fanatic of San Antonio, started naming players on the Spurs. He threw out names like Tony Parker and Tim Duncan, and then he came to Robert Horry and the fun began.

For an Italian, this guy knew way too much about the NBA – more than many Americans. In fact, my guess is that most Americans don’t know this, but Robert Horry’s nickname is “Big Shot Bob” for his penchant for hitting, well, big shots at the end of games. Our little Italian friend was apparently a huge fan, and so to counter our Jordan chant, he started up with “BIG SHOT BOB!! BIG SHOT BOB!!”

For the next five minutes, we all joined in. So half way around the world from San Antonio, standing in the middle of a beer tent at Oktoberfest, four Americans and six kids from Florence chanted, in union, “BIG SHOT BOB.” Traveling is great.

The same night, we thought it would be awesome to do chest bumps down the street after Oktoberfest closed (the tents shut down around midnight, and everyone goes to bars or clubs afterward). Tino met one guy from somewhere (not the US, maybe Germany?) who saw the awesomeness of the chest bump and wanted to do one, too. This guy was like 5’10”, 250 – huge – and piss drunk. He had half a beer on the front of his shirt. But when he chest bumped Tino, who is probably half his size, he fell flat on his ass backward. Best chest bump ever. The guy stood up, high-fived Tino, and went back to dancing like nothing ever happened.

Along the lines of messing with Europeans, we also taught a few fellow Oktoberfesters a new English word. As you can imagine, there is a lot of toasting during the Beer Fest. Pretty much every five minutes at least, someone gets the bright idea to have a toast and clank the giant, glass mugs together really hard. Sometimes they break and shatter. Sometimes they slice someone open and they start gushing blood. Championship drinking is a contact sport, after all.

Anyway, “cheers” in German is “prost”. Not many people knew “cheers”, which is good because it’s not that cool. So instead, whenever someone else taught us the equivalent in their language, we taught them to shout “SEXYTIME!” Let me tell you, there are few things funnier than watching two guys from Helsinki shout “sexytime” at the top of their lungs and have no idea what the hell they’re saying. No wonder no one likes Americans.

Oktoberfest is great.

And I’m obviously not the only one that thinks so. Several other friends of mine trekked out to Munich independently of Jeff, Mark, Tino, and me. I really had no expectation of seeing them, and I wasn’t even sure when they’d be there. But despite the other six million people, I managed to run into not one, but two different groups of friends unexpectedly. I saw one friend, George, who is currently studying in Hamburg, at the train station. And I also ran into four girls (and I might add, four of the coolest ones you’ll ever meet) with whom I spent much of my first year of law school studying (they were graduate accounting students studying for the CPA at the same time), and with whom I unfortunately haven’t spoken very often in the past two years. So to Sue, Val, Liz, and Jessica – it was great seeing you guys.

All in all, I honestly haven’t had that much fun in a very long time. We stayed for four nights, and by the end our bodies couldn’t take much more. I’m not sure we could have handled one more night. On Saturday, I returned home to Leuven and the guys caught a flight back to Chicago. I spent the next three days exhausted, sick, fatigued, and generally feeling like shit. Yet, each night all I really wanted to do was head back to a beer tent, stand on a bench, drink German beer, and sing awesome music. Even though I felt like crap, I was definitely rejuvenated in a way only friends can do. We met a couple people that were on their third or fourth visit to Oktoberfest, and I honestly hope that I make my second trip back next year. If you like partying, having fun, and meeting random people from all over the world, I *highly* recommend the experience. Start saving your pennies now for next September – it’s way more than worth it.

Monday, October 16, 2006

Munchen Part II – Beer Fest Primer

Let’s be serious. This was the main reason for the entire Brussels/Amsterdam/Munich trip. I don’t have too much to say, except that it was one of the best times I’ve ever had.




For the uninitiated, a primer: Munich takes pride in their beer as much as Belgium does (if not more so), but they also take pride in how much of it they drink. I think I read somewhere that Bavarian citizens (Bavaria is the region in which Munich is located) average over half a liter of beer per day.

Bavaria is to Germany like Texas is to the US; culture there is entirely different from the rest of the country. When I told a German guy I met in Leuven I was going to Munich, he cringed and made me promise not to judge the entire country by it. People there actually wear lederhosen for the hell of it. I thought it was just a costume thing or something that Germans wore a long time ago. But these people wake up in the morning and think, “hmm, what should I wear today… my brown lederhosen? or perhaps my brown lederhosen? It’s awesome.

So they drink a lot and they dress funny, and Oktoberfest (locally known as “The Beer Fest”) is basically just an excuse to party, drink even more, and still dress funny, but this time for the world to see. And it is a world affair. We met fewer Germans than internationals, including Italians (more on them in a minute), Finns, Swedes, Japanese, and the omnipresent Aussies. Of the six million people that descend upon Munich every September, one million are Australian. To put this in context, Australia is a nation of only 20 million people, so fully one twentieth of the entire continent treks to Munich every year. That would be like the entire state of Illinois going, plus another 3 million. Crazy.

Anyway, so Oktoberfest, at its heart, is a simply a festival, but Barry Bonds style – everything here is bigger than it should be. There are all your staples: rides that spin you around, slides, food stands, places to buy overpriced souvenirs, etc., but the best part is obviously the beer tents.

Now, to be clear, these aren’t your typical tents. They’re completely enclosed and heated, and have kitchens and bathrooms and everything else. The biggest, the Hofbrau tent, officially holds 10,000 people, but it gets so packed I’m sure there are even more. The tents are filled with picnic benches, but no one sits down. Everyone stands on the tables. And of course, everyone drinks a ton of beer. For the low, low price of only 8 Euro, they serve up a one liter "mas" (huge ass mug) full of yummy goodness. They’re huge. My arms got a workout just holding those things for four nights.

One of the smaller tents.

Inside the Hofbrau tent.


But in case drinking copious amounts of beer and partying with crazy internationals isn’t enough for you, each tent has a traditional Bavarian brass band. And while they play the occasional traditional Bavarian song, they mostly rock out to American music from the 70’s and 80’s. We’re talking Satisfaction, Sweet Home Alabama, Sweet Caroline, Take Me Home, etc. The amazing thing is that the Germans knew more of the lyrics and we did. Everyone sings. Loud. And dances. And falls off benches. And cuts themselves on broken glass. And laughs at people who fall off benches and cut themselves on broken glass. In short, BEST. TIME. EVER.

Band at the Hofbrau tent.

This guy's face says it all. He probably had a beer or two.

Sunday, October 15, 2006

Munchen Part I - The City

I’ll dispense with the non-Oktoberfest related first, because it’s not quite as fun. During the occasional sober moment, we toured the city two or three afternoons. Believe it or not, Munich has more to offer than just one, great Beer Fest. I actually really enjoyed what I saw. It’s perhaps the first city I’ve walked this semester where I felt like perhaps I’d enjoy living there.

As with every other European city, it has its share of old churches near the city center. I’m a big fan of the one below, Frauenkirche, and it dates to the fifteenth century. Inside can hold about 20,000 people. The square in front, which you see the foreground of the picture, has a cool water fountain and place to hang out.




And also like most other European cities, it has a city center that makes for a tourist trap. In Munich, it's called Marienplatz, and on one side is its famous glockenspiel. At various times throughout the day, the little wooden sculptures at the top dance around and joust. I guess it’s cool, mostly because jousting is awesome.

The glockenspiel is in the central tower inside the corroded-green brass facade. The building in which it resides is the old city hall.

One afternoon, we took a brewery tour around the city and stopped at a few of the major beer houses and breweries. Beer houses are much like beer tents, just more permanent: big open spaces with picnic tables, food, and of course a ton of beer. One of the houses we stopped at was the famous Hofbrauhaus. It’s one of many beer houses owned by the major brewers in Munich, but it’s also both the largest and most notorious. It holds over 3,000 people, and it was here in February of 1920 that Hitler gave one of his first and most important speeches. "The First Hofbrauhaus Speech”, as its known, laid out a 25-point plan that formed the basis for his new party, the National Socialist German Workers Party (or Nazi, for short). Thus, the Nazi party was born right here. On a lighter note, it's freakin' sweet to drink at.



And of course, no city center would be complete without its share of street performers, but I thought this guy was rather inventive. Apparently he’s been around for awhile, because I saw postcards of him in souvenir shops. Somehow he wires himself up with tubes to form something of a fountain, and every once in awhile he sprays people with water. He also made robot noises when he moved, which was awesome.



Street artist on Marienplatz.

Saturday, October 14, 2006

Amsterdam Part III - Tomfoolery

When we arrived in Amsterdam, we picked up the usual smattering of tourist brochures and maps. One advertisement said the city’s biggest problem was public urination, and it warned not to partake in this cultural experience. And since much of the city does indeed smell like urine, we thought it was funny.

Monday night rolled around (our second night in Amsterdam), and we found ourselves in a small bar on the outskirts of the red-light district. This was just a straight-up pub – nothing “red light” about it – and the bartender was freakin’ awesome. I think his name was Rick, but that’s probably wrong so we’ll just pretend. We got there early, stayed ‘til it closed, and rocked out to sweet American music from the 70’s and 80’s the entire time. Lots of beer. Lots of new random “friends”. And even more fist pounds with Rick. Don’t ask.

Anyway, it was a great time, but the bar had to close at some point. I think we were kicked out around 3:00 or 3:30 AM, after which we slowly started to wind our way back to the hotel. That’s when things got interesting.

At one point on the way home, Tino and I turned around to find Jeff and Mark walking down a small alley in the wrong direction. It was a long way home, and we were walking slow, so we just figured they wanted to partake in the aforementioned Amsterdam tradition (after all, when in Rome…). So they’re down the alley peeing, and all of the sudden two guys on bikes (GOBs) go flying past Tino and I down the alley. Jeff and Mark are probably 40 meters away, so we can’t really hear what’s going on, but we see the GOBs surround them so they can’t walk away. We also see a third guy on foot, also not in a uniform, standing near them.

So Jeff and Mark finish their study in Amsterdam culture, and the GOBs herd them into a small, unmarked door – the only door in the entire alley. Now things are getting messed up. Two GOBs, who may or may not be cops, just surrounded our friends and took them into a seedy, unmarked door down a dark alley in the middle of the red-light district of Amsterdam.

Now, at this point I should say Tino and I were pretty confident these were police officers. It’s not like we just let two random thugs kidnap our friends. Another girl we were with thought she saw a uniform on the GOBs, and Jeff and Mark went willing into the door. It’s not like they were alarmed or anything. Nonetheless, we all thought it was pretty shady. So while Tino stood at the top of the street to wait and see if they appeared somewhere else, this other girl and I went down and pounded on the unmarked door. Eventually we were buzzed in and found ourselves in the holding room of the only freaking police station in the entire red-light district! I could hear Jeff and Mark talking on the other side of the door, and eventually some other cop told us they were being fined. About 20 minutes later, the two came out, each 75 euros poorer. oops.

Walking home, we got the whole story and a funny epilogue. Remember the third guy on foot standing around them as they were led into the police station? He was a drug dealer who offered to sell them cocaine while they were peeing. But he didn’t get fined or arrested. He just walked away. So Jeff and Mark pissed in an alley, something so many others do (albeit not on a police station), and got fined 75 euros and berated by the cops at 4 AM while the guy dealing cocaine just walked off looking for more customers. Go figure. Only in Amsterdam…

Anyway, good times.

Blog Apathy

As you have all noticed, blog posts are light these days. I am behind.

At the outset, I promised to make a concerted effort to maintain and publish as often as possible - ideally once per day - to keep in contact with everyone back home. A bored readership is a dwindling readership, and an empty blog cheats us both.

Of course, I can give you several reasons for my absence - my forced reintroduction to the vampire set (bars literally stay open "until the last person leaves"), my preoccupation with classes (ha!), or my preoccupation with other important writing projects (which would be valid if true, but I've been ignoring those, too) - but none of them excuse my slacking.

So, what to do? A new initiative: at least one quality blog post per non-travel day until I'm caught up on everything I want to say. With luck, I'll be all caught up in two weeks, despite an intervening five-day trip to Stockholm next weekend. Keep checking back.

I'll keep you "posted". Get it?? I'm such a dork.

Friday, October 13, 2006

Fuck Jurisprudence

No, I'm not angry at jurisprudence. Instead, I refer to Fuck, a working paper by Ohio State University Professor Christopher Fairman, which explores (in a convincingly scholarly manner) the history, use, and legal ramifications of the word "fuck" (note: I link to the article abstract, but you can download it for free from the same page). As with everything I post here, only read it if you're REALLY bored. But since you're on my blog in the first place, I can safely assume you are.

This is clearly not the first long, trivial article to which I've posted on my blog with the disclaimer that it's only for procrastinating law nerds. If you're wondering, yes, I am one such person. And sadly I do read all this crap. It's amazing I get anything productive done at all.

In other news, I have cravings for mashed potatoes and hot dogs, but not at the same time.

Tuesday, October 10, 2006

Unfortunately, I Do More than Just Travel

[My posts for the past several weeks have been almost exclusively travel-related, and while I suppose this dovetails with most of my readers' interests (all 2 of them - my mom and my brother), I like my little forum to be broader in scope. If I ever find the time (my classes these days are severely interfering with my travel schedule), I'll post more on random thoughts and musings in addition to travel stories. Along those lines, the following:]

Came across a solid op-ed in the Chicago Tribune by University of Chicago law prof Geof Stone entitled "What it means to be liberal", a label that has lacked definition for some time. I agree in principal with several of his propositions, though my faith in the power of free markets (and thus my libertarian bent) causes disagreement with a few others. Anyway, it's good reading (and very apropos to the current political climate) for those on either side of the aisle, but perhaps even more so for those who fear the stigma of the "liberal" label.

And, if you're really bored and have way too much time on your hands, check out the Daily Kos' dissertation "The Case for the Liberterian Democrat", and the Ilya Somin's excellent response over at Volokh Conspiracy. I agree with a few of the the Kos piece's underlying ideas if not the finer details. Somin, blogging for the (more conservative) libertarian VC, provides persuasive commentary.

Monday, October 09, 2006

On a Side Note...

North Korea now has nukes. Happy Columbus Day!

Amsterdam Part II – Daylight

Amsterdam is a study in dichotomy. Daytime is polarized from the city at night by more than the presence of light. The entire character changes. In day light, Amsterdam is a beautiful city.

With only one full day there, we had to prioritize our activities. There just wasn’t enough time to see everything I would have wanted. Instead, we settled on a visit to the Anne Frank House and museum, followed by a boat tour of the city’s canals in the afternoon. This meant we never made it to the Van Gogh and Rembrandt museums.

The Anne Frank House is very well done. Tourists are granted access to the entire hideout, all of which is preserved incredibly well. For instance, many of the magazine pictures Anne Frank pasted to the walls of her room as decoration are still hanging. I read her diaries a long time ago for school, but walking through each room of the annex quickly refreshed my memory. It’s a great experience, even if it’s not the easiest thing to get through, and it was my favorite part of the city.



Anne Frank Huis is the building to the right of the red and white awning with dark green trim. At first glance, it looks like any other building on the street.


Before we hopped on the boat tour, we did a little more walking. Amsterdam consists more or less of several concentric canals that surround an inland harbor. Because the city sits below sea level, a series of locks was built to prevent flooding. As the city expanded, its residents would simply build another, wider canal around the harbor, much like a tree adds a ring to its trunk as it grows outward. The locks prevent tidal changes in sea level, thereby making the canals very easy to navigate. Countless arched bridges make walking around even easier.





Once on the boat, I was able to snap better photos of the row houses. The buildings you see below are representative of pretty much all of the structures that line the canals. In addition, over 2,000 house boats are tied up along the canals. It’s really great architecture. I’ve definitely never been anywhere like it.



Amsterdam Part I - At Night

After the afternoon in Brussels, we caught an evening train to Amsterdam. We arrived without event – the trip took a little less than three hours via high speed train.

Once settled, we went out that night and walked around a bit. I think we found the only bar in all of Amsterdam that shows American football games, so we stopped in. If it sounds weird that we were vacationing in Amsterdam yet watching American sports on tv, bear in mind two facts: 1., I haven’t watched any television (sports or otherwise) since arriving here in August; and 2., I was traveling with three tried-and-true sports guys. Can’t go wrong. The game was horrendous – someone was getting blown out by somebody else – but it was still cool to catch a game. It might be the only football I watch until I return home just in time for the Super Bowl. But anyway, we left at halftime when the bartenders turned off the game for karaoke. Yeah.

Afterward, we strolled through the red-light district. It’s pretty much just like any other part of any other city, save for the sex shows, hookers in the windows, and cocaine dealers every thirty yards (just like Detroit… ZING!!) .

But honestly, it was just bizarre. First, you have these dudes all dressed up in suits trying to get you to watch live sex shows for the bargain price of E40. My favorite line: “Com’on… you’re not here for the windmills.” He must have a marketing degree. Rumor has it some of the shows have an “audience participation component”, but given my surprising aversion to things like the clap and genital warts, I somehow wasn’t interested.

Now, if prostitution can be done tastefully, Amsterdam hookers don’t know it (I bet you thought I was gonna say something different, didn’t you?). Basically, these girls rent out rooms and windows from a landlord in the red light district. Each window is lit around the frame by red neon or frosted-florescent lights. Behind it, the girls sit on stools in lingerie (or what passes for it). Some read, some do crosswords (probably the Monday editions… let’s be serious), some chat with fellow hookers, and still others give each other cutaneous injections of crack and heroine speedballs in their eyelids. And they just wait. All night. It gives a whole new meaning to “window shopping”.

Then, when some uptight, bottomed-out business exec from Kansas wants to forget about his wife, three kids, and dog named Wrigley, he knocks on the window of his choice , talks business with its tenant, heads in, and closes the curtain. He then pays to contract any number of STDs and severe emotional disorders (if he doesn’t have them already). And so the world’s oldest profession thrives. It’s all very wholesome.

But if, however, you aren’t a horny little bitch looking for sex shows and whores, fun can still be found from any of the 2,000 or so drug dealers who discreetly market their wares by asking you, in code only drug users might know, “want some cocaine? Ecstasy? Charlie?” Imagine the StreetWise vendors in Chicago but selling hard drugs, and that’s pretty much what you have there. Bear in mind, marijuana and hashish are sold legally, and the strong smell of weed wafts from every coffee shop. I’m pretty sure between the dealers in the red-light district and the coffee shops on every corner (kinda like Starbucks, but not), you can get pretty much any drug, any time you want it.

But aside from all that, it’s really a pleasant city at night.

One last note on the prostitutes: a reasonable capitalist might think that since their goods are their bodies (and the services they perform therewith), they might make some effort to offer the best goods possible. Much to the chagrin of men who like attractive women, this is not so. The red-light district is a veritable cornucopia of feminine flesh sharing but one common characteristic: they’re all freakin’ gross!

Friday, October 06, 2006

Traveling Part III

In Krakow 'til Monday. Post more when I get back.

Monday, October 02, 2006

First Monday in October

On a law dork note, today marks the start of the new Supreme Court term (OT 2006). This makes me happy. Stay tuned for some serious fireworks in the coming months as the new Roberts Court finds its footing.

Bruxelles

Another week, another trip. This time, however, I traveled with three good friends of mine from Chicago – Jeff, Mark, and Tino. Traveling with good friends is awesome.

Everyone arrived in Leuven on Saturday night after the three spent several hours in Paris where Mark’s bag was taken by some other guy on two separate occasions. Against all odds, he somehow got it back and saved himself the humiliation of having to wear all my awesome law school t-shirts for the rest of the trip.

We went out that night in Leuven and were joined by a few international friends of mine, two of which were the Russians – Elena and Ksenia. Though they both speak excellent English, they completely fail to comprehend American slang, so we took a good two hours trying to describe to them a few words we commonly use. I haven’t laughed that hard in awhile, and I’ll post more about it later. For now, just imagine trying to explain what a “douche bag” is and why we use it…

Sunday brought another cloudy day, and it saw us off to Brussels. As much as I hate to admit it, my “home town” isn’t much to see, though the Grand-Place (the city center) is surrounded by a few incredible gilded buildings. On one side of the square sits the Hotel de Ville, the only buidling to escape French bombardment in 1695 - ironic because it was the target.


On the left is the Hotel de Ville, Brussels' most recognizable structure.


In person, these buildings are beautiful. The guilded gold facades, barely visable here, set off the intricate architecture. I don't know who the hell takes the time to build these things.



Prior to my arrival here in August, I was told that Belgium is arguably Europe’s most eccentric country, filled with odd but quaint little stories and statues. Brussels does its best to uphold the reputation.

With this in mind, we headed over to the Manneken Pis, a statute not far from the Grand-Place. But this is no ordinary statute; rather, it is a small boy in a somewhat compromising position peeing atop a fountain. He’s not large – maybe two or three feet tall – but he’s definitely naked, definitely “anatomically correct”, definitely holding his junk, and definitely pissing.

I had to do a little research here, because I knew there had to be a story. Turns out, this little Manneken Pis was born on August 13th, 1619, when the city ordered a local sculptor to make a new bronze statute to replace an old and withered one. No one knows exactly why he’s there, but it’s thought that he is nothing more than a decoration atop a fountain where local peasants once filled their buckets with fresh water. Why they thought this was a good idea is anyone's guess, but it's pretty freakin' awesome.

Even more strange is that he is not the only pissing boy atop a fountain. Historians have found references to a similar statute that date to the 1400’s, and citizens of the Flemish city Geraardsbergen claim they possess the oldest peeing boy in Belgium (and for that matter, I hope the entire world). Apparently, the two towns feud over this issue, and Manneken Pis has been stolen at least once by a raucous clan of crazy Belgians. Some people really have way too much time on their hands…

Rumor has it Michael Jackson ordered a replica. OH SNAP!!


Anyway, you’ll notice that Manneken Pis has a costume on in my pictures. This is common. He actually has a wardrobe of over 600 costumes, each of which is stored and preserved in the King’s House or the City Museum. Daddy’s first new suit dates to May 1st, 1698. No, I’m not joking. These people take their pissing boys seriously!

On a side note, this is not the only odd statute I’ve encountered during my time here. I’ll have to say I’m warming up to this country quite fast. On the surface, everyone is calm and extremely reserved. But every now and then you get a glimpse of their quirky side that I really appreciate. I’m sure I’ll have more pictures of Belgian oddities in the future.

That about wraps up everything noteworthy of our stay in Brussels. It was cool to be with people who appreciated where we were. As Tino said sarcastically, “I’m not sure when I’ll be in Belgium again.” Good point. I’ve been traveling so much that I risk losing perspective here. I probably won’t visit many of these places again for a very, very long time.