Semantic Chicanery

The Run Down, in Case You're Curious

2007-09-09T19:32:00.000-06:00

My little Tanzanian adventure starts on September 14th when I depart Chicago for Kilimanjaro by way of Amsterdam. The flight to Holland takes about 8 hours, and then I have a solid 3 hour layover at Amsterdam-Schiphol. From there, it's another 8.5 hours south to the airport near Kilimanjaro. I land around 8 PM local time (GMT+3) on Saturday, September 15th. Assuming my luggage arrives intact and on time, I board a shuttle to my hotel in Moshi, a smaller city near the mountain.

DAY 1 (Sunday, September 16^th): The first day is mostly clear for chillin' and exploring Moshi. I'll probably hit up the sights, mosques, and whatever markets they have in store. Later in the evening, I have a pre-climb orientation session to meet the other climbers. A bit to my chagrin, my group ballooned to 15 climbers (I was expecting 12), exclusive of guides and porters. Bigger groups can get a bit unwieldy at 19,000 feet once you add the support staff. I'm guessing around 40 porters (2.5 to 3 per climber) will help haul us and our gear up the mountain. Add in roughly three guides, and suddenly the "small group" hits nearly 60 people. The more climbers, the more potential problems. On the other hand, the more cool people I get to meet. My entire group (unfortunately) is from the States.

DAY 2 (Monday): Properly settled and oriented from the day before, we grab a quick breakfast before driving out to the remote Rongai route trailhead.

ASIDE: Kilimanjaro is by far the easiest of the Seven Summits to climb. In fact, over 20,000 people climbed it in 2000 alone. There are six ascent routes up the mountain, each with its relative merits. The Rongai route (also called Loitokitok or Nalemuru route) is by far the least traveled. Compared to the others, it’s harder to reach (the trailhead is on the north side of Kilimanjaro, furthest from the towns of Moshi and Arusha) and more expensive (as it’s further away). Since potable water is more scarce, porters must carry all that’s necessary (again adding cost and complexity). Also, given the trailhead’s close proximity to Tanzania’s northern border, the area is prone to occasional forays by opportunist bandits from Kenya who enjoy a little light larceny before slipping back into their homeland and out of Tanzania’s jurisdiction. To prevent such thievery, the Tanzanian government requires that armed guards accompany all groups starting up the Rongai route. By all accounts, however, neither guards nor bandits are ever seen on the mountain. And further decreasing the trail’s appeal, farmers have mostly denuded the bottom of Kilimanjaro around the trailhead, thus destroying any semblance of native flora and fauna.

The appeal of this route, however, is also rooted in its remoteness. Of the 20,000 Kili climbers in 2000, only 130 took the Rongai route. We’ll basically have the entire side of the mountain to ourselves. It’s a better adventure. And just in case you aren’t convinced, we descend the other side of Kilimanjaro, so we won’t miss anything on the other side. It’s the best of both worlds.

Back to Day 2. Depending on road conditions, the drive to the trailhead can take anywhere from two to four hours. After lunch, we start climbing. Day 2 takes us from the trailhead at 6,400 feet to Simba Camp at 8,500 feet. We start in cultivated farmland, pass through an alpine forest, and end up in a transitional heather zone. Climb: 2-4 hours, 2,100 foot gain.

DAY 3 (Tuesday): With enough altitude beneath us, the morning should hopefully bring a spectacular sunrise over the Kenyan savannah. I’m not sure what time we hit the trail, but the morning portion of the climb is long and hard. We gain 2,600 feet over a four hour trek through heather and moorland (boring) before stopping for lunch. In the afternoon, the trail flattens out up to Kikelewa Camp at 11,500 feet. Climb: 6-8 hours, 3,000 foot gain.

DAY 4 (Wednesday): Thankfully, Day 4 is much easier than Day 3. By morning’s end, we reach the base of Mawenzi Peak, one of two peaks on Kilimanjaro. Mawenzi is more jagged, more technical, and lower than Kili’s summit at Kibo Peak (our destination), and therefore we don’t bother with it. We break for lunch at Mawenzi Tarn (14,000 feet), and then we take an acclimatization hike to work through the side effects of altitude sickness. In addition to the hike, I’ll be on Diamox to help get acclimatized, and I’ll be forcing fluids, too (6 liters a day). Climb: 3-4 hours, 2,500 foot gain.

DAY 5 (Thursday): At this point, there are no easy days. The air is seriously thin. In the morning, we leave camp a little earlier to trek toward the saddle between Mawenzi and Kibo peaks. At one point along hike, we can look out over Kenya to the north and Tanzania to the south. With Kili’s summit in the background, the trail to the high camp will stretch out before us. Our destination for the day, Kibo Hut, sits at 15,500 feet, and we reach it early afternoon. The rest of the day and evening is spent conserving strength and eating. I go to bed super early. Day 6, summit day, is looooong. Climb: 4-6 hours, 1,500 foot gain.

DAY 6 (Friday, September 21st): SUMMIT DAY! But before you get too excited, listen to this. We wake up at 11 PM on Day 5 to prepare for our summit bid. At midnight, we leave camp, slowly climbing for the first time under our headlamps. In the early morning hours, we hit Gilman’s Point on the Crater Rim at 18,600 feet. The route will take us through a scree field laced with 37(!) switchbacks. With luck, we catch the sunrise from Gilman’s Point before trekking another 90 minutes along the rim to Uhuru, the roof of Africa, at 19,340 feet. I’ll dance and sing or maybe just collapse, but regardless we have only 20 or 30 minutes at the peak before we have to head back down. Our initial descent to Kibo Hut takes about 4 hours. By then, it’ll be early afternoon, so we have a light lunch and then catch the Marangu route to Horombo Camp at 12,200 feet. Basically, we fall down the mountain. My knees will want to kill me. Climb: 13-16 hours, 3,800 foot gain followed by a 7,100 foot descent.

DAY 7 (Saturday): We sleep in. A long time. And then we eat a giant breakfast. No longer dead, we fall another mile or so to the Marangu route trailhead at 6,400 feet. This day should be relatively easy, all things considered, and filled with expansive, stunning vistas of the Tanzanian savannah. Once at the trailhead, we drive 90 minutes back to Moshi, our hotel, and my first hot shower in a week. I may or may not snag a quick nap before cracking my first beer at the celebration dinner during which I’m bound to forget my name, where I am, and how to walk. Climb: 4-5 hours, 5,800 foot descent.

DAY 8 (Sunday, September 23^rd): PARTY! I finally get to chill in Moshi. Not sure what the day will entail, but I’m sure I’ll spend some money in overpriced tourist traps, drink piss for beer, and meet at least six crazy Aussies, three Kiwis, and two creepy Germans.

DAYS 9 and 10 (Monday and Tuesday): My safari begins! Our first destination is Tarangire National Park. We’ll take a few game drives and then a walk to get away from the vehicles. I’m liable to snap more pictures than a Chinaman with a brand new 12 megapixel Minolta. No, I’m not racist. I ROVE Asian tourists!

DAYS 11 and 12 (Wednesday and Thursday): We’re off to Serengeti National Park! It won’t be migration season, so I’ll miss all the sucker wildebeests getting munched by every living creature in Africa, but we’ll hopefully catch zebras, gazelles, lions, cheetahs, hyenas, elephants, baboons, hippos, crocs, and all sorts of hoofed mammals and crazy birds. It’s raw, unbridled, and unmitigated life all around us in one of the last truly wild places on Earth. Gnarly.

DAYS 13 and 14 (Friday and Saturday): On the way out of the Serengeti, we’ll stop at Olduvai Gorge in East Africa’s Great Rift Valley. This area is often called the ‘Cradle of Mankind’ (if not the ‘Cradle of Life’), because the earliest remains of Homo Habilis, among other hominid species, were discovered here in the 1950’s by Louis and Mary Leakey. Homo Habilis lived between 2.6 million and 1.5 million years ago, in case you were wondering. I think that’s awesome.

After Olduvai, we’ll head to Ngorongoro Conservation Area. More hikes and game drives follow, as the crater is home to perhaps the highest concentration of big game in the world. We’ll see huge herds of buffalo, zebra, and gazelle along with more lions, rhinos, elephants, and leopards. Groovy. My safari ends with a final game drive along the crater on Day 14.

DAY 15 (Sunday, September 30th): This is the final day of my trip. In the morning, I’ll take a morning cultural tour of traditional Masaai Boma where I can meet and interact with members of the Masaai tribe. Afterward, I’ll catch a ride back to a hotel for a quick shower and repack, and then I’m off to Kilimanjaro Airport. My flight departs at 8:55 PM local time. The plane will make a quick stop in Dar es Salaam before heading north to Amsterdam-Schiphol. Another layover, another flight, and I arrive back in Chicago at noon, one more country and one more adventure securely notched in my passport and belt. The End.

OK, but WHY?

2007-04-20T22:07:00.000-06:00

So now that I've convinced most of you that I'm serious about this trip, the inevitable follow-up is "WHY?!?" I'm not sure I have a satisfactory answer for you, but I'll take a shot.

First and foremost, clearly, I wanted to impress women. Unfortunately, this plan has already backfired. Just two weeks ago, I was out to dinner on a first date of sorts with a girl we'll call 'Amelia.' When she asked about my post-bar exam plans, I was careful to build the suspense with a long-winded explanation of my desire for excitement and adventure (a novelty for me, because I've NEVER given a long-winded explanation of anything). Then, just as Amelia's anticipation reached a crescendo, I dropped the Kilimanjaro bomb. The exchange went something like this:

Me: Seriously I can't even tell you how stoked I am. It's gonna be a crazy adventure.
Amelia: Alright. I get it. Just tell me already what you're doing.
Me: OK, ready?
Amelia: (looking over menu nonchalantly) I guess.
Me: I'm climbing Mount Kilimanjaro.
Amelia: (finally looks up from menu)
Awkward 10 second silence
Me: So?
Amelia: (slowly rolls her eyes) Whatever it only takes like six days to climb and a grandma could do it. Hmm, these portobello mushrooms look good. Maybe I'll get a salad, too.

True story. Just my luck, it turns out I was talking to the only girl in all of central Illinois who had already looked into climbing the damn thing herself. So that's the last time I try to impress Amelia or any other women with my Tanzanian adventure.

But luckily, as with everything I do, I have several other reasons. Chief among them are the following two.

First, for about a year now I've had an obsession with East Africa. It all started with a copy of Isak Denisen's Out of Africa that I read in springtime '06. For those unread (or who haven't seen the movie) , it's the memoir of a Danish woman who moved to Kenya and ran a coffee plantation in the early 20th century. Few stories have better captured my imagination. To wit, I spent a significant portion of the following summer daydreaming of a life at the foot of the Ngong hills. Now, less than two years later, I'll actually get to find out what it's like. True, Kilimanjaro is several hundred kilometers south of Ms. Denisen's plantation, but it's close enough to do the trick for me.

Now, my second main reason for going is a bit of a downer. The truth of the matter is that Earth is heating up, and in the process we're losing many of our finest treasures. Only seventy years ago, Earnest Hemingway published a quasi-autobiographical short story The Snows of Kilimanjaro. Thirty years from now, his title may be no longer self-explanatory. Kilimanjaro's 11,000-year-old ice cap is melting away at a freakish rate.

Kilimanjaro's ice cap in 1993 (above), and seven years later in 2000 (below).

It's sad, but the ice cap will be gone very soon. For stories and the websites from which these photos came, see here and here. As a traveler, I want to experience as much as possible before it's too late. Ergo, I'm running off to climb Kili.

Sadly, I have a lengthy list of destinations I want to see before they disappear. Among them are Antarctica (melting), Venice (sinking), Greenland (melting), New Orleans (oh, wait...), and the Amazon (being chopped down). I have to start somewhere, so the snows of Mount Kilimanjaro seem like a good place. My kids won't have the privilege to see what I can, but perhaps a few pictures and a personal story can bring the place back to life, much like old photos and stories from my parents' past do for me. But even if I'm unsuccessful in this admittedly lofty endeavor, at the very least I'd like to experience the same majesty and power of Kilimanjaro that led eleven millennia of local Masai tribesmen to name the mountain the "House of God."

True Story

2007-04-20T21:20:00.000-06:00

So apparently I need to clarify. Yes, I am in fact going to climb Mount Kilimanjaro. Literally.

Perhaps a little explanation will help. For those of you who don't know, post-bar exam trips are quite commonplace for those among us who've sold our souls and best years of our young lives to giant law firms and the clients who pay them. It works like this. I'll spend May through July preparing for and then taking (up the ass) the Illinois bar exam. Thereafter, I have approximately two months to travel before I start work. It is, quite simply, my last, best chance to do something crazy before I buckle down for a couple years (in theory). It's kinda like the summer before law school but with money.

Many of my friends are doing some pretty cool things. For instance, three guys are riding the Trans-Siberian Railway from Moscow to Vladivostok (with extensions from St. Petersburg and to Hong Kong). Others are going to India, the Middle East, and New Zealand, while most everyone else is will spend their remaining days of freedom in Europe. And two girls (two of my personal heroines) spent five months this year past trekking through Eastern Europe, Southeast Asia, and South America after their bar exam. And to boot, their adventures aren't even over. One's at a legal aid clinic in Argentina while the other is stationed in London.

Anyway, I'd been struggling to come up with a trip that was suitably exciting and worthy of my bar trip rite of passage. I just spent several months in Europe, so I didn't much want to go back right away, and I also wasn't having much luck finding friends with whom to travel. I needed something big. Something crazy. Something unique. And something about which I could get genuinely excited. As much as I love Europe, it doesn't stir my blood quite like it used to. After all, weekend trips to Paris are possible. Weekend trips to the far corners of Earth are not.

For some time, I was thinking Bali or Fiji or some other tropical paradise. Then, I got an email through my university's alumni association advertising a climb up Kilimanjaro. I usually discard association emails without much thought, but this one obviously caught my eye. To be honest, it took no more than two minutes before I decided to go. Nonetheless, I still had to research the idea and iron out a few kinks before committing. There are several operators that run treks up the mountain, so I had find the right one. Lots of Googling and a few phone calls later, and now I'm all booked up.

Of course, I'm not just trekking Kilimanjaro. I've currently committed to the climb (six days, from September 2-9) and a week-long safari thereafter (September 9-16) that includes trips to Serengeti National Park, Ngorongoro National Park, and Olduvai Gorge. For extensions, I'm looking into a few days on the beaches of Zanzibar, as well as a three or four day excursion to track chimpanzees through either Gombe Stream NP or Mahale NP. Other ideas I've kicked around (emphasis on 'kicked') include Victoria Falls, the Greek Islands, Cairo, and South Africa. Any thoughts? Suggestions would be *greatly* appreciated.

But that's the ~~short~~ long of it. With a new adventure comes new blog fodder. With luck, you'll see some pretty cool pictures of Africa right here around the first of October.

Climbing Kilimanjaro

2007-04-18T17:52:00.000-06:00

My apartment is on the third floor on my building (which still feels like it should be called the second floor). Sometimes I get winded walking up the stairs. It's about 30 feet.

In September, I will climb Mount Kilimanjaro. It's about 19,340 feet, so I kinda have my work cut out for me.

Yes, I will climb to the top of this. Don't laugh.

A reasonable person might be inclined to ask such questions as "why are you doing this?" and "are you a masochist?" or "when did you grow such a giant pair of balls?"

I don't really have a good reason other than "just because." I get bored easily, so I just think this will be a good way to fill my time. It's not really any different than if I took up solitaire or knitting.

Also, I'm not really a masochist, I'm just naive. The operator and head guide that will lead our little trek said the final push to the summit was the hardest, most painful eight hours of his life. His wife said the same, and yes, she's given birth. But they're not invincible like I am. They're at least seven years older.

And as far as growing giant balls goes, who are you kidding? It's me we're talking about here. If I actually knew what I was getting myself into, I'd be signing up for that free knitting class at Joann Fabrics instead of a six day climb to the roof of Africa.

Overdose

2007-04-17T12:00:00.000-06:00

I was walking through the law building at lunch today when a friend asked if I wanted some food left over from her student group meeting. They bought milk and cookies but no one showed up. I hadn't eaten lunch yet, so I thought I would help my friend out by eating her leftovers. I took a half gallon of milk and a large chocolate chip cookie, and then I finished them both.

Let me tell you, a half gallon of milk is not a good idea for lunch.

Go Cubs Go

2007-04-12T16:07:00.000-06:00

My brother apparently doesn’t do much “work” at work these days. During March Madness, he somehow managed to throw together a bracket that won him a $1300 first-place office pool prize. He claims he only spent a couple hours of lunch researching. No one really believes him. Nonetheless, we were willing to give him the benefit of the doubt. As my Dad always says, “Even a blind squirrel finds a nut every now and then.”

Yesterday, my brother sent me an email with some interesting stats he threw together on the Cubs’ outstanding early-season play. Again, he claims he didn’t spend much time on it. Apparently, the story goes, he listens to Cubs games on his lunch break, since 1:20 games start at 11:20 in California (where he lives). Because the Cubs were snowed out yesterday, he had a little extra time to kill and threw together his email. Of course, Cubs games last at least two hours. Those must be some pretty long lunches. It’s now blatantly clear there isn’t much “work” going on out in Irvine these days. From my brother:

Total Games: 8
Record: 3-5
Central Position: Tied for last with Houston who beat us twice
Runs Scored: 31
Runs Scored/Game: 3.875
Runs Allowed: 35
Runs Allowed/Game: 4.375
Cubs Salary Paid: $4,921,991.70
Dollars/Run Scored: $158,773.93

And because he’s our favorite middle-reliever, a special look at Bobby Howry.

Total Appearances: 4
Total Outs: 11
Hits Allowed: 5
Strike Outs: 3
Walks: 1
Wild Pitches: 1
Total Runs: 4
Earned Runs: 3
ERA: 7.36
Record: 0-2
Salary Paid: $222,222.22
Dollars/Out: $20,202.02

Speaking of the Cubs and interesting numbers, I recently came across some other facts worth sharing. We all know they haven’t won a World Series in 99 years. It’s common knowledge and given little thought. But, when put in context, their drought proves way more pathetic. For example:

- The Cubs last World Series title preceded: 1.) the Model T (by thirteen days); 2.) the construction and sinking of the Titanic (by four years); and 3.) the construction and explosion of The Hindenburg (by 29 years!).

- Just 28 years prior to their last World Series title, Thomas Edison received a patent for the light bulb.

- In the twenty years prior to their last title, the United States gained 8 states (North Dakota, South Dakota, Montana, Washington, Idaho, Wyoming, Utah, and Oklahoma). Since the title, we’ve gained four more (New Mexico, Arizona, Alaska, and Hawaii).

And if the start of this season is any indication, we might be in for another 99 years.

...Stop Being Polite, and Start Getting Real

2007-03-21T12:16:00.000-06:00

I know, it’s tired and played out. Two posts in two days on the same topic. I’m whining. But it’s kind of a big deal. If you’ll grant me kindergarten, this is my twentieth spring break. Twenty springs. Twenty breaks. Twenty weeks of lukewarm temperatures and rain, or, if I was lucky, an escape somewhere hot or adventurous. That’s almost half a year of this. Five months, at least. And now, the end.

On the other hand, one of twenty isn’t much of which to speak. Yet, as it’s my last, the break precedes only shortly the impending thrust that will force me headlong into the “real world” – that scary place where all things financial are truncated to abbreviations (IRA, 401k, FICA, etc.), where student discounts and the appurtenant treatment don’t apply, and where the address on your license becomes yours alone, not a constant if latent reminder of your childhood home and the stability of your parents. Oddly (thankfully), none of this makes me nervous. A little responsibility never hurt anyone. Indeed, much of me looks forward to casting off the “student” label and the claustrophobic binding it necessarily imposes. It’s been a long time coming.

Nonetheless, I hesitate and even push back a little. I like school. I’m good at it. It’s what I do. Why fix what ain’t broke?

Ok, I’ll stop now. No more sulking. No more last this and that nor counting all that matters. I should be enjoying myself, not thinking about school on my last free week in March. And I would be, if only it weren’t forty degrees and pouring rain.

Enumerated Nostalgia

2007-03-20T13:14:00.000-06:00

There’s something about impending “ends” that lends itself to list-making. I made all sorts of lists the last few weeks I spent in Leuven, and I once again find myself doing the same as law school comes to a close along with my formal education. They provide, I think, a convenient means of reminiscing, of looking back, taking stock, and appreciating the sum of a particular experience. Of course, it’d be great to have foresight enough to record events at the beginning of adventures, but who ever knows what’s worth remembering before the fact?

After seven years in The Corn, there’s a lot I won’t miss when I leave. But there’s also a lot I will. After all, I’ve traipsed about those streets for nearly a third of my life. There’s no doubt I grew up there, and when I drive away for the last time in May, I’ll leave more than just a college town and a few friends behind. In the next few weeks, I’m sure I’ll find myself listing all that won’t come with me wherever I go next.

For now, I’ll enjoy my last Spring Break for all it is and was. I’ll no doubt spend considerable time looking back. But to be honest, my eyes are squarely focused on the road ahead. With so much coming up, something tells me I won’t be missing law school very long at all.

Anarchy

2007-02-14T00:08:00.000-06:00

Hell hath no fury like three baked girls in Panera when the manager gives away the bakery.

It snowed today. A lot. The University cancelled all classes for the first time in nearly thirty years. Of course, I didn’t find out until I actually went to class. All dressed up with no where to go, I headed out in search of coffee and nice place to study. Some stuff happened in between (three clues: snow, rear-wheel drive, unplowed parking lots), but eventually I made my way to Panera. Six or eight other brave souls (all of whom drove Jeeps!) had the same idea, including aforementioned “artists,” but the restaurant was otherwise empty.

Not long after I arrived, the manager announced he was closing the restaurant and sending his employees home before the roads worsened. But what’s a bakery to do with a day’s worth of fresh-baked goods and no one to buy them? Give them all away!

Now, I’ve spent alotta time around alotta people high on all whatever kind of bud or hash they preferred (after all, I lived in a frat house for a year), but never have I EVER seen three stoned girls move so fast! They were up at that counter quicker than beer turns to piss. Ludicrous Speed. It was like watching kids in a toy store, but not. Maybe hyperactive kids on crack in a crack store? Anyway, when they finished, each girl had a couple boxes and a bag full of spoils - scones, brownies, pastries, muffins, you name it. They have their work cut out making sure it all gets eaten. Good thing classes are cancelled tomorrow, too.

For my part, I took a cinnamon roll. And then, I took another. Whatever. Maybe I’ll knock up Starbucks tomorrow. And maybe I’ll throw more snowballs at cars passing by my balcony. Or perhaps I’ll just play football in four foot snow drifts. If only there was a good sledding hill around here...

Yeah, I pretty much love snow days.

The Final Countdown (do-do DOO doooo...)

2007-02-07T22:49:00.000-06:00

Somehow, I'm scheduled to graduate from law school 94 days from today (not that I'm counting). After twenty years of education, precious little stands between me and ~~the end of my youth as I know it?~~ ~~a giant bag of cash?~~ ~~the sale of my soul?~~ being a lawyer. A couple months, a couples exams, a couple papers. Oh, and there's the bar. Almost forgot - it's such a minor inconvenience. By "minor inconvenience," I mean "most ridiculous exam ever created," and also "biggest pain in my ass ever." But like I said, precious little.

Between now and then, I'll be occupied with little things - like what to do with my life - and big things - like how I'm going to fit studying for the bar in between Cubs games. But before that, I have a couple classes left. In case you're interested (I know... you're not), the line-up for this semester:

Constitutional Law II: inter alia, procedural due process, substantive due process, equal protection, other fundamental rights;
Constitutional Law III: first amendment jurisprudence;
Federal Courts: Article III courts and the nature of judicial power (with a little jurisdiction thrown in);
Advanced Law & Economics Colloquium; we review working/unpublished papers on various L&E topics;
Advanced Legal Writing: self explanatory, dry, and practical.

Mixed in with all that, I have work to do as grad assistant and as an associate editor of my journal. So yeah, I'll be busy. But believe it or not, I actually love this stuff. Don't laugh. Or do. Whatever.

Now if you'll excuse me, it's time for laundry and a little non-law school reading. I'm currently paging through The Emperor's Children by Claire Messud, and I *highly* recommend it.

Meanwhile in Champaign

2007-02-06T22:07:00.000-06:00

I've been home a little more than six weeks now, but it feels much longer. I still think about Leuven every day. I miss it. Terribly.

Ladeuzeplein, mid-morning, Autumn.

Alexander Pope told us long ago in An Essay on Criticism that "A little Learning is a dang'rous Thing." Some people think this drives at the same idea behind "blissful ignorance". They might have an argument, too. While it's foolish to envy the ignorant, life might be a bit easier, on occasion, if everything was a bit more simple. If I never spent time abroad, I'd be more content back in America's Heartland. I wouldn't ache for last October, and I wouldn't daydream of morning bike rides through Haverlee.

The 'castle' at Haverlee. Though it's in the wrong country, it recalls my image of Austen's Pemberley.

Of course, anyone who argues the virtues of a sheltered life is an idiot in my book. Besides, Pope wasn't advocating a simple existence at all. Most people don't bother to go back and read what actually follows his famous line, but if they were to remove their heads from their asses, they'd discover something completely different. Pope was merely observing the naivete of youth and the ability of experience to dampen inspiration. He notes "In fearless Youth we tempt the Heights of Arts," while those who've already bought the tee shirt "tremble to survey/The growing Labours of the lengthen'd Way." If anything, Pope was telling us to embrace the irrational exuberance of unjaded youth and do crazy shit before we grow old and tired.

Anyway, do I miss Leuven so much? Yes. Would my current situation be easier to handle had I never gone? Probably. But I guess that's just the price I pay, and I'd pay it a million times over before I gave it all up. Besides, I have like 1,500 pictures to look through when I get bored.

Haverlee.

Happy to be of Service

2007-02-05T19:48:00.000-06:00

Like many part-time narcissists who blog (at least in part) for the sake of inflicting themselves on the world, I use Site Meter. By the magic of a bit of software, a massively interconnected web, and the internets, Site Meter provides (for free) a very limited amount of information about computers that access my blog. Basically, I can see how many users visit my page and, on occasion, how they got there. Thus, if you were Google the terms "semantic chicanery" and then click on the website that pops up, Site Meter would tell me you arrived here via a Google search of "semantic chicanery".

Now, I can do more with computers than most people this side of those whose job it is do things with computers, but I don't claim to have a strong grasp of the complex algorithms behind search engines like Google. Nonetheless, if the search engine spits out my website as a result for whatever search, I'm happy. It means I get more readers, and thus, more victims. As a (temporarily) small-time media mogul, I'm not picky about who reads my garbage. And so to the individuals who arrived here via Google searches of "Amsterdam prostitution genital warts" and "beer fest bitches", I thank you for your patronage and hope you find continued prosperity on the road of life, though if your searches are any indication, I'm afraid at least one of you may encounter a few rough patches ahead.

Human Rights Violations

2007-01-24T20:26:00.000-06:00

True, between my last significant post and now, I've been a bit busy. I spent the prior five months on relatively slow pace; few issues of any importance demanded my attention. Mostly, I just traveled. Now, however, I've been forcefully thrust back into the ~~real~~ law school world. And despite the fact I'm in my very last semester of law school, I actually have a boat load to do.

Nonetheless, I promised myself I'd return to consistant blogging today. I genuinely enjoyed writing so frequently while I was abroad, so despite the increased distractions (read: television) I'm going to keep at it.

Unfortunately, something came up and I once again don't have the time to put together a post of substance. I had hoped to write about either London or Budapest, but no such luck. I know what you're saying... "you have to make time." Yeah. I know. But seriously, I really can't pull it off right now. My Human Rights Law professor emailed me today and informed me I had to write my final exam tomorrow. Mind you, I hadn't heard from him since December, and I had no idea when he'd schedule the exam. Gotta appreciate the irony, though. Springing an exam on a 3L a day before he's supposed to take it should be a human rights violation itself.

Anyway, I told him I couldn't pull it off, and we settled on Friday, but nonetheless I'm SLAMMED. I had a full plate before, but now I somehow have to squeeze in a final exam Friday morning. Sweet.

So, kinda like our troops in Iraq, my return will be delayed.

Wish me luck.

PSA: '007 is NOT an Acceptable Abbreviation for 2007

2007-01-22T18:45:00.000-06:00

That is all.

This Needs to be Shared

2007-01-10T22:15:00.001-06:00

AP via ESPN.com: HS Coach Charged for Allegedly Hitting Students in Groin

"A former high school basketball coach faces 39 charges for allegedly hitting male students in the groin .... A student in documents said [the coach] would ask them, 'What is the capital of Thailand?' When they would answer "Bangkok," he would hit them in the groin."

Taking Stock: My Semester Abroad

2006-12-26T10:50:00.000-06:00

I spent one semester, one autumn, and one hundred twenty-one days in Europe during which I completed six courses for thirteen hours of credit.

When I moved in to my twenty-four square meter studio, I bought one fork, one spoon, one knife, one bowl, and one mug. I “requisitioned” several more from the trash.

During my stay, I visited twenty-five cities in eleven countries, accumulated thirty-eight postcards, and sent none of them.

In addition, I personally snapped one thousand, five hundred twenty pictures. At least half of them are garbage.

To get around, I took seventeen flights covering sixteen thousand, one hundred twenty-seven miles, none of which qualified for my frequent flyer program.

I also boarded over sixty different trains going to various cities, airports, and bus stations, only five of which were of the high-speed sort, and I missed five others.

Between planes and trains, I rode eighteen buses.

Border control stamped my passport fifteen times; all but four stamps are boring, EU rectangles.

I read only three books, and I never got a hair cut.

In lieu of reading, I watched four movies one time each, listened to twenty-six episodes of PTI, downloaded five weekly airings of CPR’s This American Life from iTunes, and posted sixty-nine blog entries.

I had a lot of free time.

My mom sent, and I duly consumed, two jars of peanut butter, one jar of jelly, five boxes of Kraft Macaroni and Cheese (The Cheesiest), one box of Club crackers, one tube of original Pringles, and two bags of Pepperidge Farm Goldfish (Cheddar).

My diet was supplemented by over seventy waffles and a sampling of roughly sixty different types of beer shared with students from twenty-two different countries on four continents.

I drank two bottles of Hungarian wine I bought for friends back home. Sorry.

But I worked out a little, too. In twenty-nine short-sided soccer games, I scored one goal.

A total of five people came to visit me on two occasions over two different weeks. I spent one fantastic week with my parents.

At the end of my stay, I waited through two canceled flights and booked eight separate reservations on three different airlines before I could find a flight home for the holidays.

I cannot count the memories.

Six Bucks and My Right Nut Says We're Not Landing in Chicago

2006-12-21T16:16:00.000-06:00

Yes, I was supposed to be in Chicago by now. No, I never made it. But two canceled flights and eight different reservations later, I think I've found a way back home tomorrow. At least I'm not stuck in Wichita.

Random Thoughts While Studying for Law School Exams

2006-12-17T05:01:00.000-06:00

Remember Spacely's Sprokets? I probably wouldn't want to work there - Spacely was a dick - but I bet he paid pretty well. They always did better than Cogswell Cogs.

Six Steps for an A? Or Seven?

2006-12-15T09:35:00.000-06:00

Two exams down, three to go. I had my second oral exam today. This time it lasted about 15 minutes. If my grades transferred back to U of I, I'd be annoyed with the administration of these exams. There's just no way a ten or fifteen minute conversation can accurately reflect an entire semester's worth of nuanced analysis and synthesis, especially when most of the questions start with "what do you think of..." or "how do you feel about... ." If all you want is my opinion, then I'm going to stop studying altogether. I take pride in my bullshitting skills, and if bullshit is all you want, I'll be happy to oblige. As it is, my grades don't transfer, so it doesn't matter. All I have to do is pass, and pass I did.

Speaking of grades, I can't resist linking to this. It won't be funny to non-law students and/or normal people, but I find it hilarious. I can't even tell you how many conversations I had with fellow 1L's my first year about grading and how it's done. And we definitely had long debates over whether the "bottom-up" approach is superior to the "top-down" approach.

In case you're curious, I'm personally a fan of the bottom-up approach, as the thickest and longest exams should fall to the bottom. While many dismiss long-winded exams as nothing more than mere vomit-on-a-page, I disagree. All exams are garbage, and verbal diarrhea is clearly better than no shit at all.

Regardless, it's good to see another professor injecting a little life and humor into the legal academy. While the venerable BW&V may think otherwise, there are at least some things funny about law school.

Revolutie / Revolution

2006-12-14T15:27:00.000-06:00

The NY Times ran a story today about a fake broadcast aired last night in Belgium and claiming that Flanders had declared its independence from Wallonia. I thought you might find it interesting. I don't have time right now to expound on the issue, but perhaps later I'll throw in my own commentary. For now, take a look. It can be found here (free registration may be required).

Bear in mind, I live just north of the dividing line between Dutch (or Flemish) speaking Flanders and Francophone (French speaking) Wallonia. Since I'm in Flanders, I've been exposed to much of the tension between the two regions and the separatist sentiment of many in the north of the country. It's one thing to read about it; it's entire different to be living right on the front line!

Examination Nation

2006-12-14T14:57:00.000-06:00

Lest you get angry at the sparsity of posts in the upcoming days, I thought I'd list my schedule for the next week.

Friday: 10 page Law & Anthropology response paper, Information Technology Law Exam
Monday: European Economic Law Exam
Tuesday: Law & Anthropology Exam
Wednesday: The Court of Justice and the Emerging Common Law of Europe Exam
Thursday: Home, assearly in the morning

My exam on Monday will be the most difficult, Wednesday the most interesting. Monday is purely written while Friday, Tuesday, and Wednesday are either partly or entirely oral. I already had my Church and State in Europe exam on Tuesday. It was oral and lasted 10 minutes. And I will write my last exam, International Human Rights, in January and then fax it back to Leuven.

Sometimes I wonder why I love law school so much...

All I Want for Christmas

2006-12-13T14:08:00.000-06:00

Speaking of lists, here's a modest review of what you should all get me for x-mas:

1. The Complete New Yorker on DVD-ROM or hard drive for hours and hours of endless procrastination material;
2. A 2007 even half as awesome as 2006;
3. Super Powers;
4. The Chicago Manual of Style, hard bound, for reference when I write the Great American Novel;
6. Common Sense;
7. Really. Good. Red. Wine.;
8. Starbucks Gift Cards;
9. A seat at the 2007 World Series of Poker Main Event;
10. Entourage Season 2 on DVD;
11. Spoils;
12. Movie rights to Litvinenko's story;
13. Books and DVD's that don't suck;
14. Common Sense;
15. World Domination;
16. Midget Porn;
17. Mob Ties.

Lists and Lasts

2006-12-12T15:01:00.000-06:00

I returned this afternoon from the last trip of my Trip, and what a phenomenal trip it was; Rome is spectacular. The ruins. The history. The faith. The food. The wine. THE WINE. The scooters. The people. The history. The ruins. It must be good to be an Italian these days, except for the whole being short thing. My travels, for now, shall pause.

This is my last week in Leuven: my last lecture; last lunchtime waffle; train ride; soccer game; trip to the laundromat and grocery store; dinnertime waffle; breakfast waffle; snacktime waffle. You get it.

Lately, I've been making a lot of lists: Christmas lists; to-do lists; lists of things I'll miss and those I won't; lists of places I've been and yet to go; books to read, movies to watch, music to hear, food to eat. I think when I get bored from studying I'll post some of my lists.

Traveling Part (I lost count)

2006-12-08T04:34:00.000-06:00

As you all know by now, I will be in Rome until Tuesday morning. While it doesn't look like the weather will cooperate, I'm still looking forward to the Colosseum, Vatican, Saint Peter's, Spanish Steps, Villa Borghese, etc. Today's a national holiday in Italy, and I'm not sure how it will affect tourism. If every thing's closed, I'll be more than happy to just eat and drink all day long. I can think of worse trips.

On the down side, I return to Leuven around noon on Tuesday only to drop my bags, pick up my notes, and run to my Church and State exam at 4:30. Good thing it's pass/fail. Wish me luck, and enjoy your respective weekends!

It's Beginning to Look a Lot Like Christmas

2006-12-07T10:16:00.000-06:00

As I mentioned earlier, I recently spent one last evening in Brussels. They're hardcore about their decorations here. It's way more festive than cities back in the States. In addition to the requisite tree in the Grand Place, the city also set up a nativity scene replete with live sheep. It's weird to see such blatant endorsement of Christianity in public displays. That kind of thing would never happen in Chicago. I'm a bit ambivalent toward nativity scenes myself, but it was still kinda cool. They also had several streets blocked off for a Christmas market and all the other standard accoutrements of the holiday season: Salvation Army musicians with red buckets, wreaths on lamp posts, hot chocolate, etc.

The best part came after dark with a music and light show in the Grand Place. Several multi-colored spot lights were choreographed together with ambient remixes of traditional Christmas songs. With the Hotel de Ville and the other gilded buildings as a backdrop, the effect was awesome. It was the best light show I can remember. Later in the night, a Belgian singer held a concert on the square and sang a bunch of Christmas carols. Given how much fun I had, I might go back just one last time before I leave.

Got Nino?

2006-12-07T09:47:00.000-06:00

Despite the rain, wind, and cold, I'm not bitter or angry anymore, mostly because I'll be in Rome this weekend. Somehow, I'll also be on plane back to Chicago two weeks from today. Since I have no motivation to study, I've spent my day catching up on past episodes of PTI podcasts and trolling the web for anything new or different. In my virtual travels, I finally found a recording of the joint Federalist Society/American Constitution Society symposium on constitutional interpretation. The event featured a rather lengthy (and rare) discussion between Justice Breyer and Justice Scalia.

For those that don't know, the Federalist Society is group of conservative legal practitioners, students, and professors, while the ACS is it's liberal counterpart. While Justice Scalia gets a bit more face time in the press than Breyer for his sometimes abrasive, conservative commentary, they're both brilliant and manage to succinctly describe their opposing theories of constitutional interpretation. It's good stuff.

I don't expect any of you to watch it, but I think you should. The American public should know more about the Court so they can understand its primary function and role in government. Without this knowledge, we're left to the devices of mass media that reports only the outcome and not the substance of big cases. The video is long - nearly ninety minutes - but you don't have to watch it all. If you even catch the first ten minutes, you'll learn some good stuff. I've watched it twice. The video can be found here.

Enjoy. Or don't. Just thought perhaps one of you might be bored enough to check it out.

Blame TV for Your Fat, Drunk 11-Year-Old's STD

2006-12-05T13:55:00.000-06:00

With exams around the corner (my first is a week from today), I have much less time to post. For the next three weeks, blogging will be lighter than usual. Since studying all day isn't my favorite thing to do, there's a good chance I'm a bit more testy than usual. So when I caught this article on CNN.com the other day, I about tossed my laptop out the window. I'll share my favorite parts along with a little commentary of my own.

"Inappropriate advertising contributes to many kids' ills, from obesity to anorexia, to drinking booze and having sex too soon, and Congress should crack down on it, the American Academy of Pediatrics says."

Bullshit, but whatever. I wanna know how television can cause both anorexia AND obesity? And what's the problem with anorexia anyway?

"Advertising examples cited in the statement include TV commercials for sugary breakfast cereals and ... ads for Viagra and other erectile dysfunction drugs shown during televised sports games"

I'm pretty sure kids aged 2-6 aren't the NFL's target audience, but explain to me how ED drug advertisements affect children. First off, a five year old can't even pronounce "erectile dysfunction", let alone figure out what it is. Second, those commercials don't ever advocate promiscuity among young people. Have you even seen a young person in a Viagra commercial? And third, I'm pretty sure kids do the opposite of what their parents do anyway.

"These pervasive ads influence kids to demand poor food choices, and to think drinking is cool, sex is a recreational activity and anorexia is fashionable, the academy says."

Drinking, recreational sex, and anorexia ARE cool and fashionable. So really these ads are just educational. You don't really wanna lie to your kids, do you?

"In response, the academy says doctors should ask Congress and federal agencies to:

• ban junk-food ads during shows geared toward young children;

It's definitely your kids' fault for eating junk food and not your fault for buying it for them.

• limit commercial advertising to no more than 6 minutes per hour, a decrease of 50 percent;

Interesting concept. I'm all for less commercials. That way, kids can watch even more of their favorite G.I Joe or Power Ranger or whatever the hell they watch these days brutally shoot, kill, maim, and generally beat the shit out of other cartoon characters.

• restrict alcohol ads to showing only the product, not cartoon characters or
attractive young women

Yes. It all comes down to attractive young women - those little devils with great bodies and short skirts. If only they had watched all these vile advertisements when they were younger, they'd be obese, too, and we wouldn't have this problem.

ENOUGH! Now you've crossed the line. Blame anything else for all that's wrong with you. Hell, blame me. But don't blame attractive young women. They're the only material objects that are any good in this sad, superficial world.

I grew up on G.I. Joe, Teenage Mutant Ninja Turtles, Tom and Jerry, and all the other sweet shows that existed before everything got pussified into Barney. And I turned out okay for the most part. I rarely get the urge to impale Shredder with a dagger or two anymore (Raphael was cool, but rude!). Plus, without G.I. Joe, I wouldn't know so much valuable shit (and knowing is half the battle). Like, for years I cut up the rings on plastic six-pack holders so little fishes wouldn't get their stinky heads stuck in them and die. Hell, my parents threw law darts and shot rifles when they were kids.

So my question is this: how is it possible that we shelter and censor more and more each year and yet we manage to find more and more wrong with America's youth? How many more things are we going to find to blame before someone steps up and starts telling YOU it's YOUR fault your kid is fat, drunk, and diseased by age 11? It's more than a little ironic that parents are supposed to teach children how to take responsibility for their actions yet can't do so themselves. It's hypocritical and grossly irresponsible.

Geeez... okay I'm done ranting now. Just leave me alone with my cool beer and fashionable anorexic chick.

As You Like It

2006-12-03T09:05:00.000-06:00

I thought green tea was supposed to make you feel better. I wanted to feel really good, so I drank eleven cups of it in two hours. Now I don't feel so good at all.

The Most Wonderful Time

2006-12-01T09:31:00.000-06:00

Alright. So I got drunk, stayed out too late, and missed my train to Paris. Way to go me.

Despite my little miscue this morning, things are lookin’ up. Waffles are great for hangovers, and Leuven just hung a bunch more Christmas lights. But best of all, it’s a snow day in Chicago. Schools are closed, plows are out. I seriously can’t wait to throw snowballs at my dogs. It’s been mild here way too long. I want feet of the fluffy white stuff, and I want it NOW! While I'm waiting, I’ll sip my mulled cider and cue the Christmas music. Good enough.

Home.

[UPDATE: My Dad took a picture of our house sans snow-blow and sent it to me yesterday. Love it. Miss it. And it's much better than the winter picture I originally posted here.]

Weekend's Prelude

2006-11-30T13:02:00.000-06:00

It's been a long week, O my brothers. In addition to the standard grind, I'm now gearing up for exams, the first of which I write in less than two weeks. We also ended up playing a boat load of indoor soccer last night, so I'm sore as hell. You'd think I'd take the night off and sleep, but Cafe Wink is calling my name once again (Damn you, Wink! Damn you!).

Not to worry - it won't affect my travel. I'll be in Paris tomorrow, Brussels on Saturday, Rome next weekend. Love it.

I gotta run now - Stella's waitin' for me - but don't worry; I'll return with more pictures in a few days. In the mean time, I'll leave you with two of Jeff's photos from his visit back in September. Oktoberfest 2007 should be even better.

The four of us, three Finnish dudes, and one very lucky Bavarian chick. 7:1 - that's how we roll.

Lindsey, you've taught me well.

Stockholm Archipelago

2006-11-27T15:23:00.000-06:00

Before I talk about the islands we visited, I have to mention the coolest thing I saw the entire trip. You have to understand, I’ve long had a fetish for trimarans, especially of the racing sort. Given Stockholm’s location on the Baltic Sea, you can imagine the number and variety of boats on the water. While cruising out of the harbor one morning, we came across one such trimaran. Later, we found it docked at the same island we visited. Check it out.

Pure Menace.

Sweetest. Boat. Ever. One day, I'll own one, and I'm not even joking.

On the way back from the island, we saw it sailing again. In the picture below, you can see it listing to one side. Moments before I snapped the photo, the boat turned and in doing so tilted at least 35 degrees. One of the coolest things ever. The boat was also, by far, the fastest thing on the water. Bear in mind it was moving under sail while everything else in the harbor was under full throttle. I can’t express how impressive I find really fast sailboats and how much I love to watch them.

One last boat note. We came across this military ship thingie during another trip. I didn’t see it until it was almost on top of us. Who knew camouflage actually worked so well?

Ok, enough of boats. The first islands in the archipelago we visited were Vaxholm and Grinda. Vaxholm, which supports a small community, notwithstanding, the islands are mostly uninhabited and serve primarily as camping and hiking sites. During the summer, they’d be a great place to visit. In October, however, when it’s cold and wet, the situation gets a bit more complicated. On the upside, however, is that the leaves were changing. All things considered, the first day of hiking was very pleasant. The clouds even broke briefly for about twenty minutes.

Grinda.

Robert Frost, eat your heart out.

Given that the island only has a few permanent residents, I was convinced something foul was afoot. During our hike, I found evidence. The Swedish government, or perhaps some rogue organization of international bandits, is clearly performing sick and twisted genetic experiments on animals. If you don’t believe me, I present the hybrid goat, ram, sheep, thing below:

I didn’t find any lasers coming out their eyes, but you never know. Watch out.

More pics from the Grinda...

The sum total of civilization on Grinda was a small lodge (or evil lair?).

Our second excursion was a bit less successful than our first. While Vaxholm and Grinda took a little over an hour to reach by boat, Finnhamn, our destination the second day, took three hours. Still, all would have been okay but for the unrelenting, torrential rains. When we finally arrived at the island, we actually found a small hostel not too far inland. Hoping they might have a place to grab some food and warm up (it was only about 40 degrees), we stopped in. Luckily, someone was there, but they had nothing to eat. Instead, she directed us to a small store about a five kilometers from the hostel that sold vegetables and vinegars from a local farmer. Giver her description, we thought it sounded promising, so we headed out in the pouring rain. Below is what we found:

Now, don’t get me wrong. It was a cool, little place. There was no attendant, so you just took what you wanted and left your money on the table. And the vegetables were HUGE. Trouble was, we took a six-hour round-trip boat ride to a nearly uninhabited island in the middle of the Baltic Sea, and then hiked 10 kilometers round-trip through pouring rain, standing water, and thick mud, and this was our reward. I was a little bitter. Nonetheless, I’ll always remember it. Good or bad, it was an unforgettable experience. And that, I suppose, is the point of traveling.

Where.I.Am

2006-11-27T11:21:00.000-06:00

I was messing around with Google Earth, and I thought I'd pinpoint my precise location for all my geographically challenged readers out there. I'm the little, yellow push pin. If you can't really see it, click on the image for a larger map. I'm not sure why, but looking up places on this thing gets addictive.

Stockholm City

2006-11-27T08:57:00.000-06:00

It’s been so long I had to check my calendar. Stockholm came and went for me a little more than a month ago. This post is a long time comin’.

The weather, much like the new layout and writing quality of this blog, was shit. With more or less constant rain, it and I were cold the entire time. But I was also, after all, in Stockholm. Life could have been worse.

A quick rundown of the essential: Stockholm is built on 14 islands, most of which sit in the Baltic Sea. Extending further out from the coast is the Stockholm archipelago, a series of over 24,000 islands (more on these in the next post). Though we stayed on Norrmalm, the modern center, the city was first built on the historic Old Town of Gamla Stan. We also spent time on Djurgarden, home to several museums and parks, and Sodermalm, the city’s funky, bohemian area.

As usual, I spent the first day walking the city. We also took a combination bus and boat tour through the main areas, and I must say Stockholm would be among the most picturesque cities I’ve yet seen (perhaps second only to Edinburgh) but for the low, dark, and omnipresent clouds. Even so, a few of my photos hint at what awaits those who visit during sunnier days.

Gamla Stan up close. Love the architecture.

The whole of Gamla Stan from our boat as we left the harbor.

The second day brought more rain, so we headed for cover inside Stockholm’s Vasa Museum. The Vasa is an old Man-of-War that at one time was the largest ship in Sweden’s navy. Unfortunately, it sank on its maiden voyage a bunch of years ago in 1628. Despite the best efforts of our patriotic tour guide to explain otherwise, it basically sank because it was a shitty design. The King personally ordered that a second row of canons be placed above the first, thus throwing off its proportions and causing it to be way too tall and narrow for its own good.

Just how unstable was it? Before each ship was put out to sea, the crew did a stability test which consisted of thirty men standing on one side of the ship and then running to the other. This was repeated several times. The purpose was to get the boat rocking side-to-side and make sure it wouldn’t tip over. When this test was performed on the Vasa, the commanding officer had to stop the men after they made only three runs across the ship because a fourth would have caused it to tip. And yet, because the King really wanted his precious two-gun-deck ship, they sent it off. It didn’t even get out of the harbor before a stiff wind broadsided the vessel, tipped it to one side, and sent it to the deep blue depths below.

Anyway, the Vasa sank in really cold water, which prevented most of the rot and decay. It was recently raised, restored, and put on display. If it sounds boring, you’re wrong. I thought it would be, too, but somehow we ended up spending like four hours in the museum. It was super cool. Unfortunately, to preserve the wood it was also very dark inside, so the pictures are difficult to see.

This is a mock-up of the Vasa. The actual ship stands in the background.

The Vasa, standing at the back and looking toward the front.

Our last day was spent back on Gamla Stan at the Nobel Museum. It's very new, opened only a few years ago, and it’s also very small. Nonetheless, there are few museum experiences I’ve enjoyed more. As someone who plans on winning a Peace Prize one day, I was a huge fan.

Nobel Museum. Look for my picture in here in about forty years.

Before we left, I meandered around Gamla Stan a bit more. A few minutes of people-watching and it’s clear that the legend of a nation full of tall, blonde, blue-eyed, gorgeous women is absolutely true. The other thing I noticed was a bit less exciting. In addition to the ubiquitous McDonalds, Pizza Huts, T.G.I. Fridays, and Burger Kings that infest most every city, Stockholm has a ton of 7-Elevens. Go figure. The irony here is that the aforementioned beautiful blonde behind the counter speaks better English than any 7-Eleven attendant you’ll find back in the States.

Narrow street on Gamla Stan with another 7-Eleven.

A few other randoms...

Sunset over Norrmalm.

A rare peak at blue skies over the water.

In case you missed my ugly mug, here's me freezing on a boat in the archipelago.

Makin' the Most of It

2006-11-25T09:17:00.000-06:00

I went to the waffle store today. It's about 8 minutes from my apartment. I bought two waffles; one for lunch, and one for later. By the time I got home, it was later. I had to lie down afterward because it made me sick, but that didn't make the second waffle any less delicious.

Always Low Prices

2006-11-24T18:11:00.000-06:00

Ah yes, Black Friday. The day after we celebrate the most American of holidays, we celebrate the most American of past times: consumerism. While I can't be there to share in the revelry (or endless, checkout counter queues), I wish you all the best of luck in your respective shopping endeavors.

And while you all walk off (or polish off) that Turkey Day feast, Europe continues to march on, oblivious to the joy of the best holiday weekend ever. Though most everyone here missed the point, my Thanksgiving dinner wasn't all that bad. Turkey was decent; mashed potatoes yummy; apple pie delicious. The company was good and even the football games were fun to watch. True, I missed my family (and my mom's mandarin orange jello salad - a staple at the Delaney family Thanksgiving dinner table), but I can't complain too much. I enjoyed myself. I hope you did, too.

Unfortunately, it's back to work for me. I'm not traveling this weekend, so with luck I'll catch up on the little things I've put aside lately. These include several blog posts on several cities. Between bites of the turkey sandwiches you'll have for the next week, check back and look for new material.

Turkey Day!

2006-11-22T08:47:00.000-06:00

Today is my busy day (8 hours of class followed by another two of indoor soccer games), so I unfortunately don't have time to say much. But a few quick notes nonetheless:

Budapest was fantastic. Unlike Krakow, the struggle for democracy (and the presence of Communism) remains palpable. I gained an excellent understanding of what life was like under Communist rule. And the thermal baths... oh, the thermal baths. By far my favorite "cultural experience" I've had in my short but growing career as a traveler. I promise to expound later.

Unrelated, but more important: in the event I don't post tomorrow, I want to wish everyone a Happy Thanksgiving. For my part, I'll join 14 or so other Americans for my first expat Turkey Day. The (Aussie) owners of an expat bar here have graciously offered to cook up a proper meal for us, and as an added bonus we'll be able to hang out and watch football while all that tryptophan and alcohol does its best to pass us out. A near-complete Thanksgiving feast, we'll only be short a too-drunk relative or two and a little family drama. So, my American friends, wherever you find yourself tomorrow - from Samoa to Irvine, L.A., San Fransisco, Denver, Chicago, Pittsburgh, D.C., London, Leuven, and back to Cambodia (sorry if missed anyone!) - HAPPY THANKSGIVING!

One Month from Today

2006-11-21T16:46:00.000-06:00

... and I'll be home for Christmas.

Traveling Part VI

2006-11-16T08:27:00.000-06:00

...in Budapest 'til Monday.

I'm a little worried. I'd like try out the thermal baths, but if they're filled with old, pruney, junk-baring men, I'll pass, cultural experience or not.

I'm also looking forward to wine tasting in Eger, a two-hour day-trip from Budapest. The weather looks clear, so maybe we can catch a few solid hours of sunshine. My fingers are crossed. Enjoy your respective weekends!

The Nutty Professor

2006-11-14T16:30:00.000-06:00

[EDIT: The original version of this post included my professor's name. After thinking twice, I have now replaced it with "Prof. A". Seems silly, but slowly my blog is starting to climb in relevance on Google searches, and I'd rather not have someone important stumble across a post and get me in trouble. Though my name never appears on this blog, a few clicks can easily unveil its creator.]

I’m enrolled in a course called Church and State in Europe. It’s something of a seminar meant to discuss contemporary legal issues that lie at the intersection between state and canon law. This is, without a doubt, my favorite class this semester for one simple reason: [Prof. A].

[Prof. A] is my professor, but he’s as much Belgian pop culture personality as academic. Talk about a renaissance man, this guy’s does it all. Between frequent appearances as a commentator on television and radio shows, he writes regular columns for De Standaard, one of the biggest newspapers in Belgium. This year he was a guest judge for the Miss Belgian Beauty 2006 competition. No joke!

In addition to his dabbles in Flemish pop culture, he’s taught in Belgium, Holland, France, and South Africa, but he’s called K.U. Leuven home for most of his academic career. Last year he ran (but unfortunately lost by a mere 20 votes) for University headmaster. Bear in mind K.U. Leuven is one of the most prestigious universities in Europe and is known for its outstanding faculties in law and canon law, to both of which [Prof. A] is connected. So basically he’s somehow managed to become a pop culture figure as well as a top-tier academic. Plus, he’s only like five feet tall.

But all that aside, it’s his jokes that make lecture so much fun. True, the subject matter is challenging and rigorous and all that stuff, but this guy’s a riot. Driest sense of humor ever. For example:

First off, he is always at least 20 minutes late (sometimes 30!), and he often ends lecture early after giving a solid 20 minute break in the middle (lecture is only scheduled for two hours to begin with).

Second, he prepared a reader for the course (which is taught entirely in English) filled with all his own, un-translated articles regardless of whether he wrote them in English, Flemish, or French.

Third, he scheduled our final, oral exam for a 15 minute slot (yes, the entire final exam is 15 minutes!) before the end of the last lecture and suggested that if we couldn’t make it he was just too busy to reschedule so he’d be happy to meet with us at the airport while he waits for a flight.

He refers to his lectures as his “classy performances” as in “I’ll have to end my classy performance a little early today.”

When I asked what we should read and prepare ahead of class: “Nothing. I don’t really know what I’m going to talk about, so there’s no use preparing for it. You can read if you want. (Referring to his classy performances…) This is all improv anyway.”

When asked what material we should present for the oral exam: “Whatever. Just make it interesting. I don’t want to be bored. Don’t come in and talk about religious freedom in Vatican City.”

Later, answering the same question: “You can prepare whatever you want. But you can’t just answer the question as it pertains to your home country. It’s no fun for me if you know more about it than I do.”

Speaking on a law meant to prevent people from wearing religious symbols: “This is meant to prevent headscarves. This is not meant to prevent little, tiny crosses… on necklaces… that little girls wear to school… underneath their dresses (with a creepy smile). Maybe if the crosses were as big as their heads then they would be banned, but I don't really know anything.”

Discussing a case in which the Italian High Court essentially refused to reverse a ruling of the Catholic Church despite the fact it was a severe violation of European human rights law: “Can you blame the justices? It’s only fundamental human rights at stake here. The defendant is the Holy Roman Catholic Church. Would you rule against the will of Jesus Christ?”

New Threads

2006-11-12T11:45:00.001-06:00

As you can see, Semantic Chicanery got its very own Extreme Makeover. It's definitely a work in progress, so feel free to share your insights by either posting in the comments or emailing me. Cheers!

New Hard Drive, New Format, New Lover

2006-11-12T10:00:00.000-06:00

I’ll spare you the details, but I’m up and running again thanks to a clutch (though bootlegged) copy of Windows and a Dutch version of Office provided by a friend of mine. I now have a new hard drive and a fully-operational laptop, so keep the emails coming!

Also, in case you need added incentive to check back and keep reading, I’ll be updating my blog’s format and structure in the next few days. Prepare to have your mind blown.

And while I have your attention, I would just like to tell all of you that I am truly, madly, deeply in love.

My lover is everything a man could ever ask for: she picks me up when I’m down, get’s my blood flowing like nothing else (get your mind outta the gutter I didn’t mean it like that), sharpens my mind, always puts me in a good mood, and is always there when I need her. When she’s not around, I can hardly function. I literally ache. My body feels disconnected. Only a strong dose of my lover picks me up again.

We actually have a long history together. I first got to know her in high school, but we kinda fell apart during my undergraduate years. My first year of law school found us reunited and closer than ever, and she’s been my best friend ever since. I think it’s about time in this relationship to tell the world how much she means to me. And so I proudly pronounce:

Dearest Caffeine, you complete me.

My Tested Patience

2006-11-10T04:38:00.000-06:00

My Dell laptop has crashed. Again.

This time, I do not have the software to fix it. I'm trying to secure what I need from other exchange students. I have no idea when, or even if, I'll be able to solve the problem. Until then, blogging will be light, as typing on the French keyboards they have in the computer lab is a huge pain in the ass.

Sea Change and Cautious Optimism

2006-11-08T17:28:00.000-06:00

I won’t hide my extreme satisfaction with last night’s election (various state ballot initiatives notwithstanding), but I am even more happy with the approach each party’s leadership has taken in the immediate hours after what Bush himself called a political “thumpin’”.

Pelosi announced a “First Hundred Hours” plan that addresses several issues, the Democratic position of which is relatively easy to define. True, harder problems like immigration, Medicare reform, Iraq, and stem cell research funding will require debate and compromise, but minimum wage increases, student loan support, and 9/11 Commission report implementation should be easy to push through. More important, however, is Pelosi’s tone toward the White House. It’s clear the new House majority has no desire to continue the political hacking and partisanship that can paralyze a divided government.

For his part, Bush’s tone also gives reason for optimism. Less than 24 hours after the election, he has already replaced Rumsfeld with a non-neocon, non-idealogue from Bush I’s days. More importantly, he did it against the advice of Cheney and Rove. Perhaps Bush is finally his own man? With a conciliatory tone, he also extended an olive branch to the new Democratic leadership and expressed his desire to work across the aisle on Iraq and immigration.

Look, I’m not entirely naïve here. I know at the end of the day we’re still dealing with Washington, and one night doesn’t change the fact that this country is still incredibly divided. But I think both Pelosi and Bush are taking a far more pragmatic approach to the upcoming two years. Let’s just hope this isn’t mere political puffery. Let’s hope it continues for 24 more months.

Finally, bear in mind what happened in 1994. Hate Clinton for his scandal if you want, but you can’t deny his policies worked. During his presidency, the country’s economy expanded at historically unparalleled rates, unemployment was down, trade was up, poverty rates were low, our budget deficit was turned to a surplus, and the world didn’t hate us. True, he didn’t get Osama and like almost everyone else (including Bush II) misjudged the threat of Al Qaeda (a mistake which he says he deeply regrets), but that may be his only major policy black mark. I mention this because in 1994, when the GOP took over Congress in a similar manner, Clinton was horribly unpopular and arguably ineffective to that point. All he achieved later in his presidency was done so on a bipartisan basis with a Republican controlled Congress. A divided government tightens the ship, keeps everyone on their toes, and provides a check on any one party’s political agenda. Perhaps our new government can find similar success.

And Tucker Carlson is still wearing a tie!

Krakow

2006-11-07T16:45:00.000-06:00

How do you keep a Polak in suspense?

Krakow came and went awhile ago, but I’m only posting on it now. It was my first foray into a former Communist state. I imagined a heavy atmosphere still dripping with the effects of the now-thawed Cold War (smelted iron curtain?). In some ways, I was right – they’re still working on this whole “capitalism” thing – but in other ways I was pleasantly surprised.

After arriving on a Friday afternoon, we went out that night in Kazimierz, an ethnically Jewish quarter near the main Old Town center. The “night life” there, or its equivalent, was A LOT different from anything I’d seen before. Most every bar was a quiet, dim, candle-lit enclave. Everyone sat close in hushed conversation while classical or traditional Jewish music played overhead. There were probably 15 bars like this in the center of the neighborhood. It was kinda cool, actually, and maybe if I was there with a girlfriend it would have been great. As it was, I wasn’t, so it wasn’t the most exciting night of my trip. But it was also low-key and laid back and provided a nice closure to a travel day.

Saturday morning came, and our first stop was Wawel (pronounced “Vavel”) Castle. At this point, the layout of all these European cities should be clear – big castle somewhere near a big center square, usually with an old church somewhere nearby. Krakow is no different. The castle is impressive. Inside, there are ruins of older buildings at the foot of a massive cathedral and state rooms.

Wawel Castle

Inside Wawel Castle - ruins in the foreground, cathedral in the center

View of Krakow from Wawel Castle

For the hell of it, we strolled through the state rooms which are only about as interesting as they sound. Poland was once a super rich nation in Europe (who knew?), and at the time they built and fitted these apartments with all the finest ~~meats and cheeses in ALL the land~~ furniture and whatnot. Everything’s Italian, which is ironic I think, but ultimately not that interesting.

On to the main square and, shockingly, the requisite old church. The center is actually dominated by an old cloth hall which has now been converted to a large market for all things amber. Krakow (and the Baltic region generally) is the main source of amber in the world, and you can find all sorts of jewelry and other crap made from it. Personally, I don’t much care for it (tacky), so if you were hoping I bought you something, too bad.

Old cloth hall on the right, clock tower on the left

Next to the cloth hall is the clock tower you see on the left in the photo above. The 70 meter tall Town Hall Tower was originally constructed in the late 13th century. It currently leans 55 cm to one side due to a very strong wind in 1703.

For its part, the unremarkable exterior of the aforementioned old church (St. Mary’s Basilica, below) belies its ornate interior. This is not, however, Pope John Paul II’s old stomping grounds. We unfortunately didn’t make there. The Basilica is Poland’s most famous church and has been around for 1.8 million years I think. Every hour on the hour (even in the middle of the night), a trumpeter plays a truncated tune broken off mid-bar in remembrance of his 13th century counterpart who was shot in the throat while sounding an alarm to warn of a Mongol invasion. Rumor has it this guy sits around and watches TV for the other 59 minutes every hour. Great job.

St. Mary’s Basilica

Overall, the Old Town’s main square is both vibrant and beautiful. There are lots of cafes and shops and street performers, including a group of hilarious young break-dancers no older than 12 who plied and perfected their trade to the tune of their buddies’ crazy beat box skills. Awesome.

The second night we were there, we ditched the scene in Kazimierz for something more lively. After pregaming at the hostel bar with a bunch of Aussies, New Zealanders, and Irishmen, we all headed out to the bars. On our way, we came across a tiny, rusted-out, purple, Communist-era “car” that seriously looked almost exactly like the one below parked along the side of the road.

Not the actual car, but damn close to it

The obvious question all popped into our heads at the same time: how many Polaks does it take to lift and carry a Communist-era go-kart? (Trust me - you’d ask the same if you were wandering wasted through the streets of Old Krakow) Well, I can’t say exactly, but I can tell you that it takes three Aussies, an Irishman, and a Lithuanian to lift and rotate the car 90 degrees. Good fun. We all laughed and they went into another bar across the street while some new friends and I stood outside a little longer.

Trouble was, while we were still standing outside, the cops came by and accused us of moving the car. To make a long story short, it took about ten minutes and a clutch knowledge of French by Danielle, one of my new friends, to get us out of the situation. We quickly left the area and headed to a club called Prozac which was way too much fun.

Later that night we learned the cops pulled the other Aussies out of the bar and interrogated them for about twenty minutes outside. Eventually, they fined one guy 200 Zlotys (about $60), which he paid in cash, before letting everyone go. Crazy Aussies. Crazy times in Krakow.

So why do I say they’re still working on the whole “capitalism” thing? There aren’t too many specific instances I can tell you about, but it’s clear that some things are grossly over-priced, and many more things are just the opposite. Also, entrance to many sites such as Wawel Castle is free, despite the fact that a fee-based system would surely be successful given its popularity. In another case, two street vendors stood selling the same pretzels not more than 30 meters apart, yet one guy was charging twice what the other one was. And both were selling out!! Maybe the lower priced guy didn’t like money, or maybe the customers of the higher priced guy were feeling rather charitable that day. I don't even know. There were seriously no differences in product. How this happened is beyond me.

All in all, Krakow was fantastic, and like pretty much every other place I’ve been, I highly recommend it. It’s a great destination for someone looking to ease into Eastern Europe. As one of the “new Pragues”, it’s still very cheap and still has a “charming” touch of Communist influence, but it’s probably a bit more developed than some other places further to the south.

BREAKING NEWS

2006-11-07T16:13:00.000-06:00

While I stream live coverage of the election (!) on msnbc.com, there are two CRAZY stories I have to post. You heard them here last:

First, Tucker Carlson is actually wearing a tie. Is this the apocolypse? No, no it's not. Because...

Britney Spears if finally getting divorced!! Poor, poor K-Fed. That's what you get for changing the "Ferrari" logo on the brake calipers of your 360 Modena to "Federline". What a douche.

Election Day!

2006-11-07T10:04:00.000-06:00

First, I am finally back in Leuven after a fantastic week with my parents followed by a phenomenal trip to London. I think the past ten days have been my best here yet. More on that in subsequent posts, but first a few words on ELECTION DAY!

Yes, election day is one of my favorite days of the year (I don't wanna hear it... you're all nerds in your own way, too). Given the current climate, this year is even more exciting than elections of the recent past. Yet, at least for the Illinois governor's race, I feel a bit of creeping apathy toward my choice.

You see, Rod Blagojevich is a douche bag. And a corrupt one at that. I'm a Chicagoan. I don't expect my politicians to be honest and transparent. In my book, however, you can be either corrupt or a douche bag, but not both. Plus, Blago's corruption isn't of the Chicago machine sort. He was carried to Springfield on the back of the downstate vote. And of top of that, his hair really bothers me.

Unfortunately, Judy Baar Topinka is also a douche bag. I can't imagine how the Republican party couldn't find ONE person better than her to run. Talk about playing down to your opponent's ability. Maybe they thought they should try to match the Democrats douche for douche. I dunno.

So I've been pretty ambivalent about the race, assuming Blago would win, and hoping he wouldn't completely ruin the entire state during his next four years. But then J.Bar did something unforgivable. She ripped on the Cubs and then referred to Wrigley Field as "Cubs Park". What the f*ck?

Now, I know lots of women think it's unfair to call her a bitch because it's sexist and all that. Since I'm a nice guy, I won't. But she's definitely a whore. I mean, seriously... I won't rant on asininity of this genius political move, because I won't insult your intelligence. All I'll say is that no one rips on the Cubs and still gets my vote. I might vote for a douche bag (especially one that defends the Cubs), but I definitely won't vote for a whore. I have to have some standards here.

Anyway, I should be governor. I'm not joking. I totally could have won this race.

Traveling (sort of) Part V

2006-10-27T15:35:00.000-06:00

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...

2006-10-27T06:24:00.000-06:00

... 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.

Be The Change

2006-10-25T16:15:00.000-06:00

On a side (and personal) note:

Back At It

2006-10-25T14:46:00.000-06:00

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.

Traveling Part IV

2006-10-19T06:58:00.000-06:00

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).

Munich Part III – Championship Drinking

2006-10-17T09:40:00.000-06:00

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.

Munchen Part II – Beer Fest Primer

2006-10-16T10:28:00.000-06:00

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.

Munchen Part I - The City

2006-10-15T12:43:00.000-06:00

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.

Amsterdam Part III - Tomfoolery

2006-10-14T15:34:00.000-06:00

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

2006-10-14T14:38:00.000-06:00

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.

Fuck Jurisprudence

2006-10-13T10:56:00.000-06:00

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.

Unfortunately, I Do More than Just Travel

2006-10-10T12:04:00.000-06:00

[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.

On a Side Note...

2006-10-09T10:36:00.000-06:00

North Korea now has nukes. Happy Columbus Day!

Amsterdam Part II – Daylight

2006-10-09T08:22:00.000-06:00

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

2006-10-09T07:03:00.000-06:00

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!

Traveling Part III

2006-10-06T13:33:00.000-06:00

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

First Monday in October

2006-10-02T14:48:00.000-06:00

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

2006-10-02T14:38:00.000-06:00

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.

Traveling Part II

2006-09-23T03:25:00.000-06:00

A couple friends from the States are joining me for a week of debauchery. Our travels will take us to Brussels, Amsterdam, and then Munich, where we'll spend four days at Oktoberfest because I haven't really been drinking enough beer in Belgium. Awesome.

I return September 30th, so look for more posts thereafter. I'll also fill in on life in Leuven since I haven't had the chance yet. Unfortunately, I'll also have to go to class when I return. They don't call this ~~party~~ study abroad for nothing.

Zum Wohl!

Barcelona Part II

2006-09-21T05:41:00.000-06:00

Our second day in Barcelona started off with more Gaudi, this time at Parc Guell. He designed a number of public structures and statutes there, and it was cool just walkin’ around and snappin’ photos.

More cartoon buildings and brilliant photography.

Maybe Gaudi was really Dr. Seuss.

After Parc Guell, we walked down to Barri Gotic, the gothic part of Barcelona, passing one last Gaudi on the way. Barri Gotic, with its narrow, winding roads and big cathedral has all the staples of really old Europe.

Kinda creepy.

Barcelona goes goth.

At one point in Barri Gotic, we sat down in a tapas restaurant for a quick bite, and Joe put his shoulder bag on the ground underneath his bar stool. Some shade-ball tried to steal it by wrapping his foot around the strap and dragging it out, but luckily someone at another table saw and alerted Joe. He bolted out of the restaurant, only to find his bag ditched just outside the door and the skeeve running up the alley. Good thing someone saw it – Joe’s passport was in there. We were warned by the server that Barcelona, and especially Las Ramblas, is one of worst places in Europe for pickpockets, a fact we knew from books but now know from experience. It sucked for Joe at the time but it makes a good story now I think.

Our day, and our trip, ended with me lobbying the others to attend a Barca match, Barcelona’s soccer team and arguably the best club team in Europe at the moment. But with nosebleeders at E50, we decided to pass. Early to bed, we were up at 4 AM for our flight back to Brussels.

Barcelona Part I

2006-09-21T04:30:00.000-06:00

We flew RyanAir again out of Milan and ended up at another airfield in the middle of nowhere, over 90 kilometers from the Barcelona city center. Because we arrived at night, the bus trip didn’t give us much a view of the countryside, but about two hours later we pulled into the city. As soon as I started walking to the hostel I had a good feeling about Barcelona. I had heard good things – it’s many travelers’ favorite city – so my expectations were once again high. This time, the city didn’t disappoint.

Our first order of business the next day was to check out La Sagrada Familia, an “interesting” bit of architecture and probably Barcelona’s best-known landmark. In essence nothing more than a church, it is Gaudi’s most famous building in a city full of famous Gaudi buildings. And though it was started over 100 years ago, it is still actively under construction. You won’t be able to grasp the scale or detail of this structure without seeing it person – it’s unlike anything you’ll ever see elsewhere. Two guidebooks call it a once-before-you-die experience. When it first came into to view, about the only thing I could say was, “what the fuck?” It seriously looks like something out of a cartoon.

The front facade of La Sagrada Familia is over 100 years old.

The rear facade is equally "interesting".

I don’t quite know how else to describe it. Gaudi pulled his influence from nature, and many of the themes are present all over the building. There are baskets of fruit atop various spires, a tree with doves in it atop another, and what looks like “snow” draped over many of the edges. Inside, the entire space is meant to look as though it sits under a canopy of trees, and quite frankly it does.

A concrete canopy of trees.

Because it’s still under construction, they have several, very technical displays set up explaining how the various features are designed and constructed. Given my limited background in math and engineering, I was able to wrap my head around most of it, but some of it also slid over. I think any architecture student would have loved it the way my brother loves Star Trek conventions. Definitely see it if you ever get a chance.

Gaudi’ed out for the day, we next headed down to Las Ramblas, which is basically just a massive street market. It’s like the Taste of Chicago, but every day and without the delicious pizza and ice cream. Instead, they sell pretty much anything you could ever want here: live turtles, chinchillas, roosters, chickens, iguanas, flowers, plants, all sorts of fresh fruits, fish, and meats, clothes, and jewelry.

YUM! Whole dead pigs!

A food market off Las Ramblas.

There are also ~~scam~~ street artists everywhere and kiosks for at least a mile. I was “lucky” enough to be called out to participate in one street performer’s act where he pretended to put a lit cigarette out in a rolled up handful of my t-shirt. When he pulled the cigarette out, it was extinguished, but there was no mark on my shirt. Everyone laughed. I looked like a jackass because I couldn’t figure out how he did it. Those people make me angry. I refuse to post the picture of it here.

We also went out later that night, first to a bar and then to a club. Red bull and vodkas were E9 and I thought it would be awesome to drink several. It was. I met some people from Brighton, England, and, just playin’ around because I was bored, said I had been there (I obviously haven’t). When they asked what I was doing there, I mentioned I was passing through on my way to another city. But unbeknownst to me, Brighton is on the southern coast of England, and it is completely out of the way from everything else. There’s no reason anyone would ever pass through there while moving on to another city. So I kinda got called out. Oops. But they all kinda sucked at life and I’ll never see them again anyway. Awesome.

Milano

2006-09-19T10:52:00.000-06:00

The next stop on our tour was Milan. Initially, we chose Cinque Terre and Barcelona as our bookends, and we needed another city to fill in the middle. Florence and Venice were too far away; the French Riviera and Monaco weren’t places to which I wanted to backpack. Milan seemed like a good solution, as it would provide a serious change of pace without requiring a long trip to reach. Indeed, the train ride from Riomaggiore only took a couple hours, and Milan could not be more different from the five villages.

Unfortunately, it wasn't exactly my favorite stop on the trip. Perhaps high expectations spoiled an otherwise interesting city. I imagined nothing but unparalleled grandiloquence and class, sophisticated opulence and haute couture; this was Milan, after all, where impossibly slim Dior-clad ladies and Armani-suited gents slip gracefully out of Ferraris and Maseratis to fetch (nay, have their butlers fetch) champagne flutes and caviar on every street corner. And while I’m convinced this vision still exists somewhere (read: the Four Seasons), the vast majority of the city was something quite different. Even the nicer area around all the designer shops lacked the glitz and glamour I imagined would pervade. In a way, it reminded me of Los Angeles (sorry, Melissa!).

Overall, the city has a very industrial feel, which is really just a nice way of saying it’s dirty. There is a fine line between that visceral, grimy residue of urban energy upon which I thrive, and just plain filth. In too many places, Milan crosses that line and has far too much of the latter.

But what it lacks in form, it makes up for in function. This is a city that works. Everywhere you look business suits and skirts scurry across the streets. The freneticism of people running every which way, coupled with stifling heat and humidity, amounted to a downright oppressive atmosphere. I think the thickness of the air clouded my entire perception of the city. But don’t get me wrong. Milan was a great change of pace. If you know me at all, you know I love a bustling city, and it felt good to be there after a few days in rural Italy.

The upside of Milan, however, is Il Duomo, the world’s largest Gothic church (and second only to Rome’s St. Peter’s in sheer size). With seating for up to 40,000 condemned souls, it’s pretty freaking huge. Basically, it can hold all of Wrigley Field, so Cubs fans should probably make a pilgrimage there to beg forgiveness for their fucking atrocious baseball team (on the upside, there are actually two teams that have worse records than we do!). Anyway, I took a picture of the interior, posted below, but though I noticed no signs forbidding flash photography I thought it would be disrespectful. As a result, the flash-less image is crappy. Sorry (but not as sorry as I am for the Cubs!).

We took a lift to the top of Il Duomo and walked around the roof for an up-close look at the architecture. Let me tell you, anything that takes over 500 years to build is going to be impressive, and this was no exception. What takes over 500 years to build, you ask? 2,245 unique marble statues, the first of which was carved around 1386 when construction first began. You’d think I’d learn a lesson here about patience, but I didn’t – I’m still annoyed the Trump Tower in Chicago isn’t finished yet.

As the theme goes, the pictures I took atop the church once again don’t do it justice, but check them out anyway. Looking out from the roof, the Milanese skyline isn’t much to behold, but all the flying buttresses and statutes were enough to keep our attention for an hour or two. We sat on the roof for a good long time just chillin’. It was the high point of my stay in Milan.

The rest of the time before we flew to Barcelona was spent walking the city, window shopping a bit, checking out a museum, and hanging out in the park. That’s about it. We spent two full days in there, but only one was necessary. Then it was on to Spain.

The piazza from the top of Il Duomo.

On the left, Il Duomo; on the right is the Galleria Vittorio Emanuele II, essentially an open-air mall and home to many designer shops.

Down a steet in the Milanese shopping district.

Cinque Terre Roundup

2006-09-19T08:36:00.000-06:00

We spent another day in Riomaggiore after our hike more or less just chillin’. We rented kayaks and paddled out into the Mediterranean, which was a lot of fun but also quite a (needed) workout. I also spent a good amount of time lying out on the beach, though this was an interesting experience because the “beaches” have large, flat, rounded rocks instead of sand. But I was able to get comfortable enough to fall asleep for a couple hours. I did not, however, get much sun. boo. We also bought postcards and did other tourist crap, though we didn’t take any more pictures. The photos below are a few more random Pisa and Cinque Terre shots.

Note the bird in mid-flight.

Up the coast from Riomaggiore.

Vernazza and Monterosso

2006-09-17T12:08:00.000-06:00

Though we started our hike mid-morning, the afternoon was well upon as by the time we left Corniglia. Though I can’t be sure, I think the trail to Vernazza, the fourth village, was the longest. It proved much more demanding than the previous two. At first, we had difficulty finding the trail’s exit from Corniglia. We had to hike up a steep road and then shimmy down a set of “stairs” that looked more like miniature cliffs before we got on our way. The trail took us through a few substantial elevation changes and was far more rugged than the others before. With all the rocks jutting out from the ground, I got a bit nervous that my sandals wouldn’t hold up. But somehow the difficulty of the terrain, coupled with our growing hunger, wasn’t enough to spoil the hike. At higher elevations, we found our best views yet of the Riviera.

Vernazza is a bit different from the other four towns in that it used to be the site of a small castle. You’ll notice in the pictures below a small turret and fortress at the point. We later learned from a few retired Brits that kept leapfrogging up on the trial that the castle now hosts a small pub, which for some reason I think is kinda funny. Vernazza is a bit larger, and given its proximity to Monterosso, which is by far the most commercialized and touristy village, it is also more congested than the others. Nonetheless, I still enjoyed it. A small lagoon and beach area made for some good people watching.

Vernazza from the south; note the turret at the point and all the boats moored in the cove to the north.

Once settled into Vernazza, we found a small restaurant for lunch. I, of course, had a delicious pizza. I’m still loyal to my Chicago-style deep dish, but the stuff in Italy ain’t all that bad either! In each village, there are several taps that bring up cold, mountain spring water, and we caught this cat enjoying a bit of it just outside our restaurant.

Even the cats love it there (but sorry my photography sucks!)

A meal has a curious way of slowing you down, so we hung out in Vernazza a little longer after lunch to digest and relax. Even as we left, we did so sluggishly, but not long into the hike to the final village, I turned around and snapped my favorite picture of this trip so far. It’s currently my wallpaper. And no, I didn’t just scan it from a postcard!

Best. Picture. Ever. Even a blind squirrel finds a nut every now and then, right? Vernazza from the trail to the north.

We continued on the trail to Monterosso, and it proved at least as difficult as the one to Vernazza. Each time we thought we were done climbing, we’d round a bend and face another steep incline. But as always, what goes up must come down, and the final stretch into the village was thankfully all downhill. Since many tourists stay in Monterosso, they most likely do the hike in reverse (if at all), but we all agreed that we liked our direction better. Though the hardest trails come at the end of the hike, it seemed more rewarding to trip from smaller villages to larger ones, and then return to the smaller one at the end.

As for Monterosso itself, I wasn’t very impressed. It is, by my amateur calculation, at least twice the size of the others, and it is far more commercialized. There are a number of hotels there as well, and for the first time I felt as though I was in a tourist trap. On the upside, there was a much larger selection of restaurants. We grabbed some gelato, walked around for awhile, and then hopped on a train back to Riomaggiore for the night. Due either to my exhaustion or my distaste for the town, I have no pictures of it, but I promise you’re not missing too much!

Manarola and Corniglia

2006-09-15T14:11:00.000-06:00

Our second day in Cinque Terre started with a bang – several of them, actually. For whatever reason, one of the churches rings its bells for about three straight minutes every morning at 7:30. I suppose this is to wake up the town or mark the end of morning mass. In retrospect, the practice sounds like the quaint tradition of a small village whose life and livelihood once revolved around the church, but that morning it was just downright rude! We were on a vacation, after all, not a mission, and were no mood to wake at 7:30 to the clanging cacophony of church bells not more than 100 meters away. Despite a tiny population, there are two churches in the village. I am convinced the clergy there entertain themselves with dueling bell-tower concertos. Each hour brought a new tune.

Unable to fall back to sleep, we rolled out of bed and prepared ourselves for a long, difficult hike. For me, this included sliding on my thong sandals and downing a few slices of toast with juice. I didn’t know what Cinque Terre had in store for me.

By default, we chose to walk Via dell’Amore, the (not so) low path among the villages. Several other paths exist, but they all take you high into the mountainside. Our chosen route provided plenty of adventure and picturesque vantages for our purposes, but I give credit to those who might choose the more secluded, higher trails. Besides, Via dell’Amore, though the most direct path among all five villages, is something quite less than a straight line. They say you can hike from one end to the other in six hours, but we were in no hurry. With a name like “Lovers’ Lane”, I think it was meant to be more stroll and less sprint.

Of course, the idea of me walking a trail called Lovers’ Lane is kinda funny, because, let’s be serious here, I don’t quite qualify as a “lover” at this point. And even if I did, I'm not convinced that sweating through a day-long hike is the most romantic way to spend a vacation. I think this was a rare case of the area pandering to tourists. Whatever.

Anyway, the walk between Riomaggiore and Manarola, the next village, is by far the easiest, and with fresh legs we made it there pretty fast. Manarola is a lot like Riomaggiore, but a bit bigger. It sits on something of a bluff, and it seemed a popular place for tourists and locals to lay out on the rocks by the Sea. We had perfect weather that day – clear skies and warm sun – yet for whatever reason none of us got much of a tan. The sun just wasn’t very intense. We didn’t stick around Manarola long, as it was the first village on our trip, and we were eager to continue the hike. We did, however, snap a few good pictures, some of which makes this very amateur photographer rather proud!

*A side note on the pictures: clicking on one will open a larger version in a new window for better viewing.

Manarola.

The trail to the third village, Corniglia, was only a bit more difficult than the first leg. Plus, there were fewer people on it. At one point, I turned around and snapped the picture below. If you look closely, you can see Manarola looking tiny just about dead center of the photograph. I think the sun bleached some of the color out of the picture (like I said, I’m only an amateur), which makes finding it difficult, but I promise the town really is that small compared to the surrounding hills!

Manarola from a distance and dotting the point of the nearest protrusion in the photo.

At the end of the trail between Manarola and Corniglia, we had to climb 400 stairs to reach the village. I thought this would be the most difficult part of the hike. I couldn’t have been more wrong! Both of the remaining legs were far more difficult and involved much larger changes in elevation.

We spent a little more time in Corniglia walking among a few small shops there. We also grabbed a bit to drink, as the midday sun was now beating down on us. The owner of one small wine shop must have been a big fan of socialist and communist regimes and dictators, because every label of wine portrayed a revolutionary or important leader of some sort. For example, he had several bottles of Che Guevara wine, along with other bottles celebrating Marx, Stalin, and Castro. I wish I had a picture, but you’ll have to settle with your own imagination. The shopkeeper, however, was hosting an impromptu midday dance party in his store with what I presume was his granddaughter. We all wanted to join in – he was bumpin’ some good music!

We finally came to the end of the one main street in Corniglia, a picture of which is posted below. The landing at the end of the road sits atop a cliff that leads straight down to the Sea. To get an idea of Corniglia’s size, notice the width of street in the picture, and bear in mind this is the main “thoroughfare” through the village.

End of the road in Corniglia.

Refreshed from naturally chilled, mountain spring water that comes up in Corniglia through a series of taps, we hopped back on Via dell’Amore toward the fourth village. On the way, I snapped these parting pictures of Corniglia. Perhaps had I known that the trail ahead would be so difficult, I may have stayed in town a little longer!

Looking south from the trail, Corniglia.

Corniglia again, high above the Mediterranean.

Riomaggiore

2006-09-13T12:06:00.000-06:00

From Pisa, we continued on to La Spezia, the town nearest Cinque Terre. A quick layover, and we caught another train to Riomaggiore, the first of the five towns.

Before I go any further, a little background on Cinque Terre. Literally translated as the “Five Lands”, Cinque Terre is a series of five tiny villages hidden in small coves along a stretch of beautiful, UNESCO-protected Mediterranean coastline at the south end of the Ligurian Riviera. Only recently has the area been connected to the rest of Italy by road; the harsh, unyielding cliffs previously made the villages accessible only by boat or mule. Several trails connect all five, though I use the term “trail” loosely. In some parts, the foot path was only ten or twelve inches wide, flanked by the cactus-dotted cliff wall to one side and a sharp drop-off to the water below on the other. I have not hiked much, but I have never seen more picturesque coastline.

Our hotel was in Riomaggiore, the southernmost village, and furthest from the most commercialized village of Monterosso to the north. The town is constructed in a small valley, so to get to our hotel room we had to climb up a steep hill through narrow, winding passageways. It was like something out of a movie. And yes, old Italian women really do shout at each other across the alley while hanging out their laundry!

Taken from high above the village, the whole of Riomaggiore - a single main street and a few homes alongside.

The remainder of the first day was spent resting by the Sea, as the drive to Charleroi, flight to Pisa, and train to Riomaggiore left us a bit tired. I bought a bottle of chianti (for E4!) and settled into a crag in the rocks to read. It was precisely what I wanted it to be. Good red wine. Great book. Blue skies. And the Mediterranean. I could have stayed there for weeks.

In the evening, we dined in one of two outdoor cafes/bars in town, and polished off the day with some delicious lemon and strawberry gelati. Our company was limited to 20 or so other tourists at the bar, most of which were either American or Australian. There was no one else around, and I felt as if we were tucked away in some far corner of the Earth. Absolutely loved it! Even though it was Saturday night, we turned in early, as the following day would find us on the long hike up Cinque Terre.

The cliffs that guard Riomaggiore. The village is tucked in a cove around the precipice in the foreground.

Shout Out

2006-09-13T10:49:00.000-06:00

My friend Jerry took the plunge and started his own blog as well - It's Tough to be a Pirate. If for no other reason, check it out for the title graphic he created. It's hilarious, as I'm sure the rest of the stuff he puts up will be as well. Yeah Yerry. 12

Pisa

2006-09-12T12:09:00.000-06:00

I'm back from my first trip. In the next few days, I'll post a bit about each place I visited.

The cast for this trip consisted of me and two U of I undergrads, Jill and Joe, I met during a study abroad orientation at the end of last semester in April. The first leg took us by air from Brussels to Pisa.

Unwilling to go bankrupt before classes begin, we flew RyanAir, a low cost carrier. RyanAir, like Southwest, flies out of ghetto airports to reduce expenses. Our flight departed from Charleroi, which dubs itself "Brussels South" despite begin an hour a half south of the Belgian capital. Oddly, the shuttle from Leuven to the airport cost more than the flight itself (E30 compared to E25).

Despite RyanAir's low fare status, there was fortunately no duct tape on the propellers or landing gear (don't worry, that's not our actual plane to the right!). In fact, we actually had a shiny new 737, but the freaking seats didn't recline and there was a fat ass baby next to me that cried like it was in boiling water the entire flight. Awesome. We also bounced on our landing, which was interesting.

Once in Pisa, we took a quick bus ride to the Tower. The route took us through a good part of the city, and I have nothing good to say about it. The city is remarkable only insofar as it is entirely unremarkable. In fact, it's kinda run down. We made no plans to see anything else.

The Tower sits in a complex along with both a cathedral and a basillica, all of which compliment each other well. Among these gleaming white, centuries-old stuctures, street venders hawk every type of touristy crap imaginable. Luckily for us, we arrived so early (8:30 AM), that many of the venders hadn't opened.

All three structures. From left to right; the basillica, the cathedral, and the tower.

When I first entered the complex, my first reaction was, "holy shit that thing really leans!" Pictures don't capture how startling it is to see such a large building tilted so much. It's bizzare. But my second reaction was to forbid Jill and Joe from taking any pictures of each other "holding up" the Tower. That's just obnoxious. I agreed, however, to permit pictures of them pushing the Tower over instead, because that's kinda funny. Thankfully, we took neither.

Lean back.

The Tower is open to enterprising tourists who want to climb the stairs to the top, but as Pisa isn't much to see, we chose to forego the wasted time and money. After snapping a few photos and walking the grounds, we hopped a bus to the city center and quickly caught a train to Cinque Terre. Our entire stay in Pisa lasted about two hours - just long enough to see the Tower, snap some pics, and bug out. I definitely recommend seeing it, but don't spend more than a couple hours there. Up next, Cinque Terre.

Traveling

2006-09-01T13:11:00.000-06:00

Light blogging ahead for the next ten days. My travels will take me to Pisa, Cinque Terre, Milan, and Barcelona. I'll be back September 10th. Do your best to procrastinate without me.

Negligent Negligence?

2006-08-31T14:04:00.000-06:00

NOTE: this post is really only for law students and/or other huge dorks. I apologize to the rest of you. Don't judge me for it!

Belgian law is based on the French system of civil law, rather than English common law. As I'm not intimately familiar with civil law systems, my understanding of their tort regimes is limited. Nonetheless, I'm going to wing this one anyway.

Upon registration here as a student, I had to pay E13 for what they call "third-party liability insurance." Always skeptical of insurance, I asked for an explanation. In broken English, the administrator said something to the effect of:

"It is for if you bring damage to someone else, then you don't have to pay. So if you damage someone or scratch a car with your bike, then you don't pay."

For reasons that should be obvious, I found this hard to believe, but upon further research the administrator appears to be correct. I don't know the precise scope or contours of this insurance plan (for instance, I don't know if it covers intentional torts, though I think it does), but its existence just blows my mind.

Insurance, as we all know, is subject to the so-called Moral Hazard problem, whereby an individual is likely to change his behavior in the presence of an insurance contract because he will not be subject to the same degree of liability in the event he fucks up. In short, he won't be as careful. This certainly isn't an insurmountable problem as both providers and purchasers think insurance in many situations is appropriate. In fact, we as a society even require it in some circumstances (as with auto insurance).

But here, I have what amounts to "tort insurance", which seems to undermine the entire purpose of tort law. Though admittedly open to debate, at least one of the underlying goals of an effective tort regime (at least in our system) is to induce people to behave optimally. Justice Learned Hand first applied a cost-benefit analysis to negligence cases in US v Carroll Towing, and we've more or less been down that path ever since.

(for any non-law people who have made it this far in the post, (1) congrats, you're a dork, and (2) a brief aside: Carroll Towing and its progeny created a system whereby negligence is assigned to incentivize individuals to take efficient levels of precaution. If the cost of a certain precaution is less than the benefit it creates, then the individual must take such precaution. When one fails to do so, he is deemed negligent and held liable for injuries incurred.)

As applied here: if I have tort insurance, the potential cost of my actions drastically decreases since I won't have to pay any damages I cause. As such, the cost of certain, potentially risky behavior is no longer greater than any benefits I may recieve from engaging in it. Ergo, jumping up and down on cars sounds like a great idea, and I am far more likely to be a reckless hooligan. Awesome.

I dunno. This country hasn't blown up yet, but if this system were implemented in the US we'd (finally?) have total anarchy! I guess it's also possible the civil law system handles these issues differently, but I'm pretty sure I'm right here. Either way, I find it interesting - food for thought if nothing else.

In other news, I really need a haircut.

Setting

2006-08-30T15:15:00.000-06:00

A little about Leuven:

The full name of the university I'm studying at is the Katholieke Universiteit Leuven, or K.U.Leuven for short. It's situated about 20 km east of Brussels in Flanders, which means the primary langauge here is Flemish (essentially Dutch). The southern half of Belgium is called Wallonia, and there they speak French.

Leuven is in essence a college town. The university has about 30,000 students, while I think the town and surrounding area has something like 90,000 residents. It's also surrounded by cornfields. Sound familiar? It's not. The similarities between U of I and KUL end there. This place is much more urban, in a sense, but it still has a small town feel to it. Pretty much what you'd expect from the middle of Belgium.

KUL was founded in like 1450 by some pope, so it's pretty old. The streets here all medieval and shit, which means this place a maze. I talked to a Dutch kid the other day (see earlier post on "footy"), and I commented on how hard it was to find my way around. He thought it was easy, but then added he was used to this sort of system. Apparently, he visited New York (a grid) and couldn't get a handle on it -"On a grid, if I turn around and go the other way I'm immediately lost. It's just what you're used to."

Dumbass.

Now the important part. They have a Pizza Hut and a McDonalds, but no Starbucks. Wtf? Not many people drink coffee around here I guess. Freaks. But they also got good clothes stores. I'm sure I'll hit up Hugo and Pepe Jeans, among others, because 11 pairs of jeans just isn't enough. Part of Leuven is actually a bit touristy from what I'm told, but being something of a tourist, I don't so much mind. Other than that, this place is chock full of bars, cafes, restaurants, and ice cream shops. It's going to be a good semester.

That's all for now. School's out.

Best Sign EVER

2006-08-30T10:52:00.000-06:00

I found this on a poster advertising a party in a couple days.

"DJ KICKEN: Ain't no party like a alcoholic party, Nasty Creep"

With a tag line like that, how can I refuse?

Irony

2006-08-29T17:14:00.000-06:00

1. I have a post about "manning up" right above a post entitled "Wonderland". oops.

2. I've spent the past six years in Champaign. I came to Belgium for a change of pace. So what's the first thing I see on the train from the airport to Leuven? Cornfields.

Brando's Finest?

2006-08-29T15:33:00.000-06:00

"Stella! Hey, STELLA!"

...one of the AFI's 100 most memorable movie quotes, and also the beer brewed right here in Leuven. It's everywhere. Belgium is home to over 450 brands of beer, but everyone knows which one's brewed here. And that's ok with me, except for the fact that every time I see the logo I think of A Streetcar Named Desire. I give myself one chance in twenty of making it the entire semester without drunkenly reenacting that line one night on the way home from a bar. Hopefully no one will know what the hell I'm talking about.

But on the subject, my other favorite line from the movie (for obvious reasons):

"What your talking about is Desire... just brutal Desire... the name of that rattle-trap streetcar that bangs through the Quarter, up one old narrow street and down another."

Good stuff.

Nuts

2006-08-29T14:13:00.000-06:00

Dear Europe,

Your behavior is unacceptable.

Earlier today, a couple of your Dutch cohorts managed to take a perfectly good name "football" for a perfectly good sport (soccer) and make it sound like the everybody-wins-for-playing-and-we-don't-keep-score-because-competition-is-the-devil game that most of America thinks it is. Trying to get a game together, the Dutchmen-in-question invited me to play a little "footy."

Wait... "footy"? Seriously?? I'm in Belgium, not an Amsterdam whorehouse. This is the kind of crap that people get beat up for. No wonder the world referred to Belgium as Germany's screen door to Paris during WWII. And France, you're not off the hook either. As if the Maginot Line wasn't dumb enough already, you thought these guys would hold up your border? Wow. No wonder you got trampled.

It's clear you all need help, but fear not. I'm here to provide it. Your entire continent needs a few more F-150s and a few less fendered Schwinns. Take a PBR-and-McCormick boilermaker down a beer bong. Chug a bottle of Jack. And while you're at it, slap some chick on the ass. In short, MAN UP!!

And then come talk to me about football.

Wonderland

2006-08-27T15:02:00.000-06:00

Embarking on my own fantastic adventures, I am reminded of a favorite literary quote of mine from Louis Carroll's Through the Looking Glass:

Alice laughed. 'There's no use trying,' she said: 'one CAN'T
believe impossible things.'

'I daresay you haven't had much practice,' said the Queen. 'When I was your age, I always did it for half-an-hour a day. Why, sometimes I've believed as many as six impossible things before breakfast.

Schooled

2006-08-27T14:24:00.000-06:00

Two days in, three hard lessons:

1. Broken English is AWESOME!!! I’m not even joking. It is infinitely better than no English at all.

2. Wheeled luggage on centuries-old cobblestone streets = bad.

3. Little waste-baskety things in store fronts with pictures of umbrellas on them are not for garbage. They are for umbrellas. If you put garbage in them, people will not like you. Stupid Americans.

Down the Rabbit Hole

2006-08-27T13:48:00.000-06:00

I’m here. Finally. In temporary housing. Getting here was an adventure in itself, and by “adventure” I mean “huge pain in the ass.” More on that later.

Before I left, a friend of mine said something to the effect of: “so you’re traveling by yourself, to a country you’ve never been to, and where you: (1) don’t know anyone; (2) don’t speak the language; (3) don’t have a place to stay; and (4) have nothing but the address of an administration office with whom you have never corresponded. And you’re not worried?”

My answer, of course, was “no,” but perhaps it shouldn’t have been. Though ultimately my plan proved effective, a bit more forethought may have been useful. After I got off the train, I had no idea where to go or how big Leuven was. I thought perhaps I could walk to the International Student Building, but I wasn’t really sure where that was either. To make things worse, I hadn’t yet figured out the legend or the key to the map of the town I was given earlier since it was all in Dutch. So I sat on the curb outside the train station for about ten minutes, exhausted from a red-eye trans-Atlantic flight to Heathrow, a two-hour layover spent mostly in a security queue, a puddle-jumper to Brussels, and a train ride to Leuven, all while schlepping 100 pounds of luggage. I finally decided to jump in a cab, show him the address, and see where he took me.

This turned out to be a good move, because the International Student Building was a good twenty minute walk from the station, and I never would have made it and/or found it with all my luggage. I arrived at the administration office at 12:30 PM, an hour and a half before they opened. People take long ass lunches here. Luckily, one woman that worked there saw me and helped me out anyway. She sent me over to a student dormitory a few blocks away that serves as temporary housing for international students. She also, thankfully, allowed me to ditch my luggage in her office for a couple hours so I didn’t have to haul it all around at once.

I found the temporary housing without a problem, rented a room, and immediately passed out for about an hour – almost twenty four hours since first leaving for the airport in Chicago. I later retrieved my luggage from the admin office and then went back to bed having survived the first major ordeal of the trip.

Primer

2006-08-25T15:42:00.000-06:00

"Pay no attention to that man behind the curtain."

Now that I've told you all about my little hidden blog, I feel I've been found out! My little secret sounding board is over. But, as it is, welcome to my blog. I've had this site for about two years now, posting sporadically and anonymously on whatever crossed my mind. Lucky for you, nothing much remains of my prior rants, save for two recent posts that I liked and felt like keeping for the hell of it.

Coming up, I'll keep you posted on all the folly, nonsense, and downright lunacy that will be my semester abroad. Maybe I'll post a few pictures as well. Hopefully you will find this entertaining and informative. At the very least, I think you'll find it to be an uncommon peek into my own little world. Don't be scared!

Erosion

2006-07-31T22:25:00.000-06:00

On friendship and the last post, I also like the following passage from The Rule of Four by Ian Caldwell and Dustin Thomason. Great read and I highly recommend it.

The thing people like to say to victims is that time is a great healer. The great healer is what they say, as if time were a doctor. But after six years thinking on the subject, I have a different impression. Time is the guy at the amusement park who paints shirts with an airbrush. He sprays out the color in a fine mist until it's just lonely particles floating in the air, waiting to be plastered in place. And what comes of it all, the design on the shirt at the end of the day, usually isn't much to see. I suspect whoever buys that shirt, the one great patron of the everlasting theme park, whoever he is, wakes up in the morning and wonders what he ever saw in it. We're the paint in that analogy... Time is what disperses us.

Glue

2006-07-20T09:13:00.000-06:00

My friends hold me together. And so I find rather poignant this excerpt from an essay by Joseph Epstein entitled Friendship Among the Intellectuals.

"It is painful to consider,” wrote Samuel Johnson about friendship, “that there is no human possession of which the duration is less certain.”

Too true. Some friendships die on their own, of simple inanition, having been quietly allowed to lapse by the unacknowledged agreement of both parties. Others break down because time has altered old friends, given them different interests, values, points of view. In still others, only one party works at the friendship, while the other belongs to what Truman Capote called (in a letter to the critic Newton Arvin, his ex-lover) “some odd psychological type . . . that only writes when he is written to.” And then of course there are the friendships that end when one friend betrays or is felt to betray the other, or fails to come through in a crisis, or finds himself violently disputing the other on matters of profoundest principle.

These days, such principled disagreements tend often to involve ideas, and to be endemic among supposedly educated people and especially among intellectuals. ...[But] here is the question ... raise[d] in high relief: for what ideas would one be willing to give up one’s friends? Most of us, I suspect, would answer: none. Ideas, after all, are but abstract things and as such are not worth even a single flesh-and-blood friend. And yet, abstract as they are, in the realm of politics ideas have consequences, and those consequences can be measured all too often and all too precisely in flesh and blood.

Communism, which began as an idea, ended up causing death and misery to scores of millions of people for nearly a century. If your friend were to advocate or defend the Communist system, could he truly be your friend? Cicero defined friendship “as nothing other than agreement over all things divine and human along with good will and affection.” That is a lot to ask, but it seems undeniable that general agreement on such major matters is a great lubricant for a friction-free friendship.

For me, a person’s general point of view is more important than his opinions on specific issues, though I admit that the line between the two is not always easily drawn. ...Jean-Paul Sartre and Albert Camus broke up their friendship over Camus’s The Myth of Sisyphus. The book argued against political utopianism, which Camus thought was the world’s most dangerous delusion. Sartre, a utopian who lived comfortably enough with the horrors perpetrated by Joseph Stalin, felt this was going altogether too far, and closed things off. Sigmund Freud, unable to bear deviation from any of his own central ideas, broke with just about everyone in what was once called the Freudian circle.

...Every broken friendship can be thought of as a failure or a defeat. Yet, one must ask in each case, was the friendship itself therefore without meaning? Nietzsche, who himself had a famous broken friendship with Wagner—he began by idolizing the composer and ended by despising him—devotes a strangely fortifying paragraph to the subject in The Gay Science. Trying to make lemonade out of the rotted lemons of broken friendship, he suggests that perhaps, in “a tremendous but invisible stellar orbit, such friendships might be renewed and better made.” One would like to think this may be so, but the odds in favor of it are only slightly better than those in favor of the return of vaudeville.