Eurail Diaries
Cocaine
First, right off the bat let me begin with a confession. I seem to be suffering from what some people call writers block. For me it entails sitting in front of the computer patiently awaiting some remnant of a creative spark and it not arriving. After several attempts on the train, one in an English pub, and one other in some god forsaken French town called Boulogne, igniting this spark as come to be quite a process. Thanks to the vibe of southern Germany I’ve got one paragraph written, so for your benefit and mine I can continue with this dialogue of an irrational young American caught up in the European allure.
This next ramble of words has been delayed longer than I had planed but my excuse is legitimate. Hey! If a guy can’t write, he can’t write! It was only two weeks ago, on August 5th that I arrived in Europe. My departure from the States could only be explained as a relief. With six months of planning, my last year of school coming to an end, and the thought of parental freedom right around the corner, containing my self was not an option that I thought within my mental capabilities. Even now the thought of investigating some other outlandish country is hard to keep under a realistic mindset. Of coarse you can understand how my mind wanders. It’s too easy to do when on a seven hour train ride from Paris to Zurich. Let me put it this way, travel is like cocaine, you try it, you love it, the high can get out of control and before it ends you look for that next white line whether it be in Venice or Tim Buck Two. (Disclaimer: Cocaine, it’s just an analogy.)
At this point I have lost all track of time. All I know is I am into the second week of my travels. The joy is that I don’t need to keep tabs on my time spent; I have no itinerary and no real plan. It’s a beautiful and satisfying thing. Time however has been busy and spent on things that I never thought would be possible at my young age. After arriving in London I wasted no time. I caught the next bus to Bristol and soon after met up with old friends that I thought had forever gone their own separate ways. (I have come to find out that the English are more than just tea, crumpets, and top hats) Attending clubs, pubs, and viewing the latest in English culture was a major period of reflection as we reminisced of memories and of life’s instances that most would assume to be ludicrous.
Two nights in Paris. To be absolutely frank, not much more time is needed. First impressions are the ones remembered and mine was the sincere greeting of a Parisian bum that insisted quite persistently that he needed money for is three children. After looking at his coarse design of burses and blisters on his for arms I took this story of his three children as a hallucination at best and continued to the sub way. The sub way only more deeply defined my thoughts of the Paris city scape. With the unavoidable aroma of piss and god knows what else, I made my trip across town with a junky on my left and a junky on my right.
With a few tweaks and a minor demotion in appeal Paris still stands to be the city of love, of architecture, egotistical men and of fine woman. A dismal sub way ride and the abundant array of colorful but still homeless public is no excuse for me or anyone else to
define the city of lights to be anything other what it is; superbly extraordinary with a hint of urine.
Tonight I stay in Munich. With a superb diversity and lousy underground system I made my way to America’s equivalent of Rodeo Drive. Although I have little reason to even enter this modern day coble stone street of synthetic and absurdly priced textile I figured glance won’t affect my stiff budget. It didn’t, I’m still stuck with my bread, cheese and an occasional beer.
Now imagine some picturesque scene from The Sound of Music. Few guys will admit they’ve watched Julie Andrews prance around in flowers singing a pocket full of sunshine. That’s beside the point though; this picturesque scene is my home for the next week. It’s just lacking all the nuns, singing school children and I don’t think Julie Andrews has even been here.
Time has a value, don’t spend it all in one place, chances are you’re life will ensue prosperity.
Looking for that next white line,
Jake
Cocaine
First, right off the bat let me begin with a confession. I seem to be suffering from what some people call writers block. For me it entails sitting in front of the computer patiently awaiting some remnant of a creative spark and it not arriving. After several attempts on the train, one in an English pub, and one other in some god forsaken French town called Boulogne, igniting this spark as come to be quite a process. Thanks to the vibe of southern Germany I’ve got one paragraph written, so for your benefit and mine I can continue with this dialogue of an irrational young American caught up in the European allure.
This next ramble of words has been delayed longer than I had planed but my excuse is legitimate. Hey! If a guy can’t write, he can’t write! It was only two weeks ago, on August 5th that I arrived in Europe. My departure from the States could only be explained as a relief. With six months of planning, my last year of school coming to an end, and the thought of parental freedom right around the corner, containing my self was not an option that I thought within my mental capabilities. Even now the thought of investigating some other outlandish country is hard to keep under a realistic mindset. Of coarse you can understand how my mind wanders. It’s too easy to do when on a seven hour train ride from Paris to Zurich. Let me put it this way, travel is like cocaine, you try it, you love it, the high can get out of control and before it ends you look for that next white line whether it be in Venice or Tim Buck Two. (Disclaimer: Cocaine, it’s just an analogy.)
At this point I have lost all track of time. All I know is I am into the second week of my travels. The joy is that I don’t need to keep tabs on my time spent; I have no itinerary and no real plan. It’s a beautiful and satisfying thing. Time however has been busy and spent on things that I never thought would be possible at my young age. After arriving in London I wasted no time. I caught the next bus to Bristol and soon after met up with old friends that I thought had forever gone their own separate ways. (I have come to find out that the English are more than just tea, crumpets, and top hats) Attending clubs, pubs, and viewing the latest in English culture was a major period of reflection as we reminisced of memories and of life’s instances that most would assume to be ludicrous.
Two nights in Paris. To be absolutely frank, not much more time is needed. First impressions are the ones remembered and mine was the sincere greeting of a Parisian bum that insisted quite persistently that he needed money for is three children. After looking at his coarse design of burses and blisters on his for arms I took this story of his three children as a hallucination at best and continued to the sub way. The sub way only more deeply defined my thoughts of the Paris city scape. With the unavoidable aroma of piss and god knows what else, I made my trip across town with a junky on my left and a junky on my right.
With a few tweaks and a minor demotion in appeal Paris still stands to be the city of love, of architecture, egotistical men and of fine woman. A dismal sub way ride and the abundant array of colorful but still homeless public is no excuse for me or anyone else to
define the city of lights to be anything other what it is; superbly extraordinary with a hint of urine.
Tonight I stay in Munich. With a superb diversity and lousy underground system I made my way to America’s equivalent of Rodeo Drive. Although I have little reason to even enter this modern day coble stone street of synthetic and absurdly priced textile I figured glance won’t affect my stiff budget. It didn’t, I’m still stuck with my bread, cheese and an occasional beer.
Now imagine some picturesque scene from The Sound of Music. Few guys will admit they’ve watched Julie Andrews prance around in flowers singing a pocket full of sunshine. That’s beside the point though; this picturesque scene is my home for the next week. It’s just lacking all the nuns, singing school children and I don’t think Julie Andrews has even been here.
Time has a value, don’t spend it all in one place, chances are you’re life will ensue prosperity.
Looking for that next white line,
Jake
