Sorry, it has been awhile since a post. Im in Rome right now, headed to Naples and Pompeii after that, and then an overnight ferry to Cagliari, Sardinia at the beginning of Sept. I cant find the apostrophe key on this damn keyboard, so yes, there are some typos. Plus, Ive been walking around in 90 degree heat for 11 hours, so the coherency of this entry might be a little lacking. I will be home next week with a full report of everything, but so far, everything is wonderful here. Food is amazing, scenery beautiful, heat is here, and life is good.
Ciao for now.

Just a few thoughts while at home

A Little Background of Why I'm Here

Just as a clause to why I'm even writing this. There are some people I know, and a lot of people I have read about that have amazing lives to which I could only aspire. My story is pretty mundane compared to those, but for those even reading this, it is what I know. The people I have met so far are amazing, and I hope to continue meeting people that not only I can call friends, but inspire me to keep traveling. So for the past ten years, in brief, here is my story.

When I was leaving Seattle, everybody kept telling me how jealous they were that I was going on this trip and how they wish they could do something like what I was doing. Now I have a few friends who have backpacked through Europe or taken trips to Southeast Asia and some who've even been down to South America and beyond. Hell, even my mom's been to Brazil. Me, well, I've been to Europe a couple of times, but mainly just Germany and Italy. I lived in Seattle for eight years and never even made it to Canada. That's only a two hour drive and for some reason I couldn't take a weekend and go visit Vancouver. I still haven't figured that one out, but that's a different story. I guess I figured that it was just time to do something different. You know, like in the movies when someone comes to the fork in the road, trying to decide which way will lead to their destination. Well I picked the opposite way. The one that would take me away from that destination. Granted, I have a home base in Germany with my brother and his wife, but I figure it's still a lot different path than I could've taken.

After college, or uni, as everyone else in the world calls it, I got a job in advertising. It was for a cluster of radio stations under the umbrella of the largest media corporation on the planet. I won't go into too much detail since I only worked there for six months, but it was awful. A market of 100,000 people with 10 salespeople for a lot of local business owners who get inundated with sales calls all day. Looking back, I can see why they would just shrug me off. Another kid, fresh out of school, trying to sell me some shit that I don't need. Don't get me wrong, radio is a great medium for advertising. But only if you have a catchy jingle (I'm lovin' it) or there's a monster truck rally coming up. Other than that, it doesn't really drive people to your weekday pizza buffet or make you buy a new heating and air conditioning unit because you heard that you can trust Mike for all of your heating and A/C needs. That kind of stuff is word of mouth and we knew it, and just like most other jobs out there, the upper ups were kind of assholes. Bottom line this, sales figures that. Not the best people skills in the world unless you were also an upper management person sipping whiskey on the golf course.

Six months in and I had had enough. I enjoyed the marketing analysis aspect of this job. I could run the figures for clients and tell them why the correlation between our listening audiences matched up with their business model, etc., etc. But did it work? Maybe. But like I said, I don't think small town Joe is going to rent a tractor from the blankety blank power equipment rental place because he heard an ad for it during his drive to work in the morning. I'm pretty sure he had more important things going through his head at that hour. Work, wife, kids, where am I going for lunch today (I heard about a sweet pizza buffet on the radio)? I just wasn't enjoying the work anymore and so I quit. I moved back home for a few months trying to find another line of work. That's when I sort of fell into retail management. I got a job at a sporting goods retailer, mainly just to start earning some money and fill my days. I did that job for awhile, moved in with an old friend (who happened to own a house down the street from my dad). I heard about an old acquaintence who lived in Seattle who wanted a roommate, and so I transferred up to Seattle with my job to move to the big city. I loved it right from the start. Whatever you want to do, whenever you wanted to do it. A complete 360 from small-town life to which I was accustomed. I found a job with another retailer which offered way more money and soon enough I was making a comfortable living, sharing a house in a large suburb with some friends. We were going out, living life, and having a great time. Then, the housemates started getting married, moving away and soon, I was the only one left out of the four. So I moved in with a good friend of mine from college for four years, and just plugged along at work. This is where life started taking a turn for me.

Now, my roommate Aaron is a great friend. I still call him frequently to see how married life is going. His wife is a doctor, he's a construction engineer for a home builder in Seattle. Needless to say, these guys are going to be okay. Over the past four years, however, my life just sort of became drab. Don't get me wrong. We had some great times. Concerts, sailing, occasionally going out to bars. It just seemed like life had slowed down. I wasn't in college anymore. I was getting older, in a dead-end job (no matter what they said about career advancement), and I wasn't going out and living the life that I wanted. After eight years of retail management, I finally started to wonder what else was out there. The good thing was that my roommate was getting married, got married (although his wife didn't live there yet, long story, some other time), and they were going to end up moving. This is the sort of kick in the ass that I needed to make a change.

So about two months before I moved out here, my brother and I were on the phone, and he mentioned something about moving out to Germany. I thought that sounded like a great idea. Quit my job, sell everything I own, and just move. Now, I had some things I wanted to do while I was there besides travel, but traveling was the main reason. To some people, this may seem brave (or so I was told), but honestly, I never really though about it at the time. When it really sunk in is when I sold my bed. Not only did I love that bed, but it was sort of the finale that told me that I was moving and when or if, I ever went back to the States, I wouldn't have a bed when I got there. Life is starting over. Everyone says you only get one go round in this life, but it sort of feels like this is round two. Let's get started.

Am I trying to 'find' myself, especially at this stage in life? To be honest, I thought that is sort of why people traveled. After six weeks of living here, I don't find that to be as true. This isn't a sappy Hollywood production of a thirty-something who became bored with life and just dropped it all to start over (although it's kind of what I did). I guess I was just never all that lost. I didn't need finding. I'm not that typical American dreamer who marries his high school sweetheart, goes to school, has 2.3 kids, buys a house, has a dog, and puts in 35 years with the same company for the rest of their lives. I'm sorry, but if I ever get a plaque and banquet signifying that much time at the same place, I'm going to be one sad old man. I don't have anything against the American dream for other people. Some people are very comfortable and quite happy with that life and that lifestyle. I'm just not one of them. I have a lot of friends who do this and they are perfectly happy. Great wife, kids, house, good job, friends, security. That sort of thing, for myself, just isn't compatible at this point in my life.

Since I've been traveling, I've seen a lot of people that have been doing this for years. They're getting out there, discovering, seeing, living. It seems as if they weren't happy with conventionalism as well. Young, old, my age, whatever. They're out there. Doing it. Some of them are even married and doing this thing called life together. I feel like I couldn't just work all year and do this a week at a time, three times a year. Yawn. Disneyland. Yawn. My kid just got potty trained update on Facebook. Yawn. Jesus, it's time to start living. Some of the people I've met so far absolutely fascinate me with their lifestyles. Working half the year to finance their travels for the other half. Now that sounds like living. It seems to me like the U.S. has their head on backwards as to what life is. People are defined by their work, not their friends, family, interests, hobbies, etc. They live to work, not the other way around, which is how it should be. These people, albeit some of them young, and not really experienced with the work force and the 'real world'. Well, maybe the 'real world' sucks. It certainly did for me. I can't imagine getting a 10, 15, 20 year pin for all those hours spent under fluorescent lighting dealing with shit that doesn't really matter to anyone anyway. So the company made a couple extra bucks because I spent an extra four hours at work today. Well, guess what? I'd rather give you the money and just have me go home and enjoy my life. It's sunny for Christ's sake, and we only get a couple weeks of that a year in Seattle. I'm ooouuuttttaaa here! Enjoy suckers!

There are millions of people doing what I am doing right now. Going against the norm, defying the American dream and kindly giving the bird to to the suburbs. However, since this is now my daily life, it sort of just feels like the norm. My norm. Sitting at the end of the bar making wisecracks Norm. Living over here doesn't feel out of the ordinary anymore. It may seem that way to my parents and my friends back home, but I sure don't feel any different. I actually want to make it last as long as I can. Explore more. See parts of the world that most people don't see. You know, go somewhere different for a week, live there and feel a little local. Just long enough to get comfortable, routine, and then go off again. Somewhere new, maybe relaxing this time. Not so many tourists. Whatever. Right now, it feels like I can do this anytime I want. And for now, I can. But soon, the money will run out and reality will slap me right in the face. It's a good thing that that's sort of the way I've become accustomed to dealing with things. When they're right in your grill begging to be dealt with because there is no other option. It's time to get a job. Shit.

So here we go. Whether I get a job, go back to the States to study, stay here and travel with my brother, who, by the way, is an amazing photographer, that has way more patience for a sunset than I would ever hope and way more ambition to get up for a sunset than I could ever dream. I guess, I just want to see all that life has to offer. Man wasn't meant to be confined. And I don't intend to be. Maybe I'll find a job that has me indoors for a few hours a day, but I'm sure as hell not going back to the life that once was. In my six short weeks here, I've met too many people that embrace life as it's meant to be. Meeting people, laughing, sharing stories, staying up way past a 32 year-old's bedtime, whatever. Not to sound sappy, but it's inspiring. I'm going to try my best to stay here and make the best of the time I have. Thank you to all the people I've met so far, and I can only imagine who I'm going to meet in the future. Thank you Nate and Dawn.

The new BB&B - Budapest, Bratislava, and Beer

This last trip was to be my first official backpacking trip on my own in my life. I was finally going to be one of those people you see in the movies with a huge framepack overstuffed with twice as many clothes as they needed and plenty of things that they needed but forgot. Constantly looking up at train station boards with that confused look, as in, I'm sorry, but what is Hungarian for track number, and where in the hell do I get a map to find my hostel? These are things that are quickly picked up, but I guess, there is a learning curve.

So I bought a train pass to Budapest from my "hometown" of Parsberg, Germany. I was also going to take a side trip to Bratislava, Slovakia for a couple of days while I was there. I had done some research on different places to go in Europe, but the weather was going to be nice (as if you can trust weather sites anywhere in the world), and the price was right. So I packed my pack, hopefully not forgetting too many necessities, and headed for my tiny little train station. What a way to begin. I got on a train earlier than my ticket said, but hey, it got me to my first stop. So I had a few minutes extra at the train station. More time to grab a bite. My next train was an ICE train from Regensburg to Linz, Austria. Side note here. When booking a train ticket from the travel agency, and she asks you if you want to reserve a seat, you say yes. I'll tell you, it's no fun to be at the back of a train, in the walkway area crammed into a hallway with your pack trying to read a book. Luckily, most people got off an hour later in Vienna, so I was able to grab a seat for the rest of the ride to Linz. The rest of the train ride to Budapest was pretty uneventful and there I was. New country, by myself, different currency (which I didn't have any of, and no ATM in sight), and a language that I'm pretty sure most Hungarians can't even read. What sound does Szy- make. Whatever you're thinking, you're probably wrong. So big city, no clue how to get around, sense of direction thrown for a loop, get a cab. He probably overcharged me by a couple of dollars, and he almost killed me a couple of times while trying to show me how beautiful Hungarian women are and proceeding to run a red light, but I got to my hostel.

Now most of these places don't take credit cards, so first mission was to find some Hungarian forints (exchange rate at the time was 286 HUF to 1 Euro). So when the ATM pops up, 'How much do you want', and the lowest amount is 10,000 HUF, you are kind of taken aback. So I got some money and proceeded to my first hostel experience. I didn't really know how this was going to work. First of all, the sign said floor two. So when I got to the second floor, looked around with no sign of it, I had to remember that floor two is actually what I would call the third floor. The first floor is generally called the ground or main floor, and the second floor is floor 1, and so on. Finally got to my hostel after about ten hours of leaving my house. Walked in, got the tour (which took about 2 minutes since it was pretty much just a big apartment), and got to set my pack down. At first, there were no friendly greetings from fellow travellers, more of just looks as to 'Who's the new guy?' I'll explain more about this, what I'll call 'phenomenon' later. It wasn't too late, and I was starving so I went to walk around a bit, get my bearings and grab a bite to eat. I found a Hungarian fast food joint that looked all right. At least by 'fast food' standards. Plus they had vegetables, so right there, it's got American fast food in the sleeper hold. With a full belly, I went back to the hostel to meet some fellow travelers, which I have heard is the standard procedure at hostels. Where are you from? Where have you been? Where are you going? These are the questions I found to be answering, or asking, probably a hundred times in the next week. I guess the redundancy of the questions and answers hadn't quite hit me yet, but I can see that it might to some people after a few months on the road. Me, I see it as kind of a jumping off point and ease into conversation with fellow travelers, and as an instant way to make a part-time friend. Or maybe I just haven't been on the road long enough.

My first hostel was called 'The Groove.' Dutch, British, French, Scottish, Canadian, Irish, Icelandic, New Zealander, and me. The lone American. I guess Americans haven't found out that there's more to Europe than France, Spain, and England. It was kind of nice, however. Everyone spoke English and they were really easy to get along with. I had a group of five young Brits in my room, which proved to be my demise the first evening I was there. Everyone got to talking and getting to know each other in the common room and me and these five guys got along pretty well, so we all decided to go out and get some beers. Mistake one for my liver. Not that I can't outdrink these guys pint for pint, but the longevity for which they do it is pretty amazing. We were out until about 4 a.m. that night at a club which happened to be across the street from our hostel (after a few failed attempts at other bars - "This place is dead anyway - a la Swingers"). These guys had told me that in each city they found a 'father figure' to go out and party with. You know, someone who was just a little older and wiser. I let them know that I wasn't quite ready for kids yet, much less five British teenagers. I told them I would be their uncle though. That way, like a real uncle, I could give the kids back when I was done 'babysitting' for the evening. All in all, we had a good time, but the next morning/afternoon is not the same story. Thanks to Will, Nick, Jaime, Al, and Matt for that one.

I had planned to get up early and walk the city and see the castle and the rest of the touristy destinations in the city so that I could get that out of the way to leave me to my own devices and get a 'real' feel for the city the rest of the time I was there. Waking up at noon the next day did not allow for such ambitious endeavors. Instead I met up with a New Zealander, Nick (Neck, Nip, whatever it is), in the common room that I had met the night before in the common room. We ended up heading to the Castle district to check it out and to see the Palace and the rest of the hill up there. There was great scenery of the rest of the city up there and we also found the Labryinth that lies beneath the castle. Although I was enjoying the city and seeing the sights, my body had still not recovered from an hour of drinking I had not seen since first moving up to Seattle. So I went back to the hostel and decided I was not going out and decided to stay in that night and watch a movie. Boring I know, but I did have plans the next day. Of course, I ended chatting with the other group of Brits in the room (Loz, Charlotte, and Katie) and then finishing the movie with a few of the guys from the first night. Overall, I couldn't complain that I didn't go out again that evening. However, bedtime, 4 a.m. This is not boding well for sunrise pictures over the city. Unless I wanted to get them when I was extremely tired, or drunk. Both of which, I hear, are great for a steady shot of the city. Oh, I did get some traditional Hungarian beef goulash earlier, which by the way, is amazing. If you're ever there, get it, you won't regret it.

Day three started a little earlier and I was planning on going to the thermal spas. Nick and I decided to go together, and since there weren't that many girls in the hostel at this point, it was just the two of us. The spa, which I couldn't pronounce (it started with Szy-) was and wasn't what I was expecting. It was, in the fact that there were plenty of old, overly-tanned, men in Speedos. Plus plenty of old, overly-tanned women in bikinis, that probably shouldn't have been. Not really that they shouldn't have been. I just find that Europeans don't have that whole self-image thing that most Americans do (which is good and bad, depending on how you look at it). It wasn't what I was expecting in that, it was really just a collection of indoor and outdoor pools. It did have saunas, massage, pedicure salons, etc. But Budapest is not famous for its pedicure salons. Everyone says, 'oh well, you have to go to the thermal spas.' It was really just a collection of swimming pools. Which isn't a bad thing, I got a hell of a lot of relaxing in. I guess I was just expecting more. More exotic. More islandy. More of a place with less Speedos. Okay, I was expecting that, so no foul on their part. Maybe this is wrong, but it made my feelings feel more justified when I got the same response from a lot of the other people at the hostel. Of course, I said, 'Yeah, but you have to go to the thermal spas.'

Night three in Budapest was something completely different. One of the groups of young Brits left our hostel as well as the Scottish girls. Which brings me back to the family aspect of the hostel. After we had all seen each other for two days, albeit a short amount of time, there was a sense of community that I think we all shared. No more awkwardness, knowing each other's names, sharing stories, saying hi and sharing stories as we passed from the shower to our respective rooms. Now, a lot of our family was gone and there were newcomers. Did we just accept them into our family, or did they have to earn it? So same round of questions ensues with each new couple or group of people that came in. I figured it didn't really matter, it was my last night there, and we still had some of the old family left. So I took it upon myself to organize a night field trip with everyone from the hostel, new and old, to come out to one of the rooftop bars in the city. All in all, there was about 15 of us who went out to the wee hours. The rooftop bar was fun as hell, a good place to hang out and grab some drinks before heading to the club directly underneath with pumping techno, house, breakbeat, or whatever it is that Europeans call it. I will tell you this. There's nothing more entertaining than watching a tall dude from Iceland busting out to house music. I think we all had fun that night. Some of us went back early to the hostel, you know around 3. Most of us stayed at the club till about 4:30 in the morning. Luckily, the trams start running at 4, which made for the easy commute home. Night three was done.

The next morning/afternoon, I went to catch the train to Bratislava. Getting to the Budapest train station - easy. Leaving the Budapest train station - pain in the ass. At least when you're not expecting it to be more like the DMV. For international tickets, go take a number and wait in line. And wait. I figure, show up a half hour early and get a bite. I wasn't expecting to wait in line for 45 minutes, missing the train I wanted to take, and then find out I have to wait an extra hour and a half to catch the next train. At least I brought some Vonnegut to read.

Bratislava is not the most beautiful city I have ever visited. Nor the largest. Nor does Slovakia have the best cuisine in the world. There's a reason there aren't any world renowned Slovakian chefs or restaurants. At least that I have ever heard of (and I used to watch a lot of the Food Network). However, this city is steeped in history. I'll get to that for day two of this adventure. I checked into this hostel, which was more like a hotel with common rooms, later than expected, but it did have a 24-hour bar, so I guess I couldn't complain. Especially since the noise of the 50 people drinking their asses off didn't carry up to my room. I was sharing a room with an Irish guy, two Irish girls, and two young French guys who were cousins. Not the best senses of humor (by American standards), the French, but nice guys. I ended up walking the city for a bit the first night and got some Chinese food. See above if you're wondering why Chinese food in Slovakia. It wasn't bad (not good, but not the worst I've ever had - Thank you for that honor Panda Express). When I got back to the hostel around 10, the Irish folk from my room wanted to know if I wanted to have a few beers down in one of the common areas. I wasn't feeling too well after the late night before, but never look weak when it comes to drinking in front of the Irish, or they'll keep on thinking they're the best in the world for years to come. I, as a beer-drinking American, living in one of the other holy lands of beer, Germany, couldn't allow that weakness to show. We ended up playing some drinking games and had a good time, luckily until only 4 in the morning. My body was starting to hurt. Two more days of this and I think it might just shut down. But perseverance is an attainable quality.

Day two in Bratislava. Decided to finally get up, go walk the city on my own for a bit, run a few errands, take some photos. I had planned a free walking tour at 5 p.m., so I had some time to wander. After joining the wrong walking tour for about ten minutes, I figured out that it wasn't the one I was supposed to be on. Everyone in this group seemed to know each other somehow, although no one said a word to me, like, 'Hey, sir, what in the hell do you think you're doing here?', or 'Please leave.' So, I just kind of dropped back, pretended to take a picture of something, and walked back to the original meeting spot. Was I embarrassed? Not really, seeing as how half of that little tour group all had the exact same shirt on. Was that how they recognized each other? I don't know, but it was like they all belonged to some Adidas cult. I could barely understand the tour guide anyway, even in her accented English. I did understand the word 'Bratislava', however, since she said it maybe thirty times in the span of a block. Maybe she was unsure if we all knew what city we were in, or maybe that tour group was for 'special' people. I don't know. My tour guide was an Aussie named Tom who was a history major and a vagabond about the world. Had to respect the guy for picking Bratislava for a place to do a free tour for three months of his life. We toured the old town for a bit, but most of his information was about how Slovakia came to be over the last 100 years and the historical sites in Bratislava that led up to their independence. It was interesting, and Tom had a way about his speeches to make them that way. My hat's off to the guy for making a place like Bratislava (which I said before is no Prague or Budapest in its beauty) somewhere I would actually recommend to people to visit. That night, I really wanted to take the night off from the bottle. Unfortunately, I ran into Manny, the Irish guy from the night before, who insisted that I went out with everybody that night. So, again, not to be the weak country link, I obliged. We went out for a bit, and then back to the hostel bar. Apparently, Tuesday nights in Slovakia, just aren't the party nights that every brochure speaks about. Goodnight and goodbye Bratislava. More than I expected.

Back to Budapest for one more night. I told myself I wasn't going out this night. And I didn't. Luckily, there was a huge thunder and lightning storm with plenty of rain, that made that guilty feeling of not exploring those last little corners of the city, all right. Instead, I checked into my hostel and took a nap for about an hour. Then I wandered through the neighborhood for a bit to grab a quick bite when I saw those storm clouds coming. I went back to the hostel and there was an Egyptian guy cooking up a meal which ended up being for the entire hostel. Some sort of lentil soup (delicious), some sort of rice dish, and from scratch baklava (also delicious). The rest of the night I just talked with other travelers and then read my new book I purchased in Bratislava until about one in the morning. It felt good to actually just relax for a day.

My last day of the trip was the 8 1/2 hour train ride back to Parsberg. Luckily, I already had my ticket and didn't have to go through another DMV experience. This train ride was pretty uneventful. Spent the hours reading and listening to music. More time for my body to heal itself from the onslaught of young European's enthusiasm for partying balls until the wee hours. I got back home about 7:30 in the evening, wiped out, ready to do laundry and go to bed. Time to plan the next onslaught.