Good Night and Good Luck

As the sun rose in Paris, I reflected on my trip. I can't believe I was saying goodbye. 1 month ago I entered this new continent and here I stood 5 countries and 8 cities later a changed man.

Before the ultimate reflection let me recount my past 48 hours. Of all the cities along our route, I believed Paris would be grandest. I always dreamed of France. Whether it be because of the cooking, the language, the culture, or the nostalgia and romance associated with the country is beyond me, but I nonetheless dreamed of it. So, upon arrival, I took off like a lighting bolt, fearing that my time in europe was running short. I sprinted to the hostel, dropped off my bags and told my companions to meet me for dinner at Le Petit Cler at 21:00. Out on the street alone, I was in heaven as Montmarte reminded me of a European New York with its diversity and energy. My first task was the Eifel Tower, I needed to see it. I went straight for the river Seine and took a right. This journey would have taken but 15 minutes by rail but I got drunk off the hour plus long walk along the river. I firmly believe that the best way to see a city is on the ground and after this walk, I stand by this judgment. Along the way I saw the grand cathedral Notre Dame and saw all the youths of paris crowded along the banks of the river. I saw parks and skateboarders, little dive bakeries, and street vendors selling the infamous one dollar Eifel tower statuettes. When I caught a glimpse of the tower over the tops of buildings, I began running scratch that sprinting. As fast I could I "excuse-moi"-ed my way through the streets and lay at the feet of the grand tower, on my knees, I felt complete. I had come full circle. From this point on, the trip took on a lighter note, I wanted to leave center city Madrid, see Europe and end at the Eifel tower in one week and I had done it.

Completely fulfilled, I met alvaro and kristy for dinner and we had a fine meal. Roasted chicken, baked potato, Sour cream, curry, bread, a salad with French dressing, and dessert all sat in the belly well. We thanked our waiter, left an uncharacteristically high tip for Europe and were on our way back to the tower where we sat in awe among the crowds for an hour. Once the lines faded, we went into the great structure. I raced alvaro up the stairs and hands on my knees catching my breath I looked up and beheld Paris. My city. I only wish there were couches to catch me. I only wish I never had to go back down.

Another race down the stairs and we were off to the jazz club in the latin quarter. A low key club, we snapped our fingers to the beat of Nat King and Coltrane before going back to the street for a new adventure. Outside another club we met some locals and tourists hanging out. They invited us to chill down by the seine and looking for the authentic experience we could not say no. I shared words with a Moroccan, a dane, a parisian, and a Saudi about love, life, and the pursuit of happiness while dangling my foot above the mighty river. I caught the metro home, tomorrow would be an even grander day.

Up bright and early I woke up my whole dorm and sprinted out the door. I messaged the guys to meet me at the Louvre in a few hours and went to find some croissants. I believe I found the best in Paris. I wandered down an alley in a side street to a cafe. I sat down and carefully articulated my desire for a croissant and a cappucino to the parisian who couldn't speak a lick of English. I enjoyed the soft, flaky, buttery piece of perfection and it's caffeinated counterpart so much I had another round and once again tipped the man more than expected for reasons I don't think he understood. Off to the meet the guys I stopped at a bakery and accomplished my dream of eating a whole french baguette as I walked through town. It needed no butter, oil, cheese, or meat inside. Complete deliciousness in and of itself.

Waiting in line at the louvre, I assumed this would steal much of our time. Fortunately, fate was on our side and a woman approached my sector of the line saying she had two extra tickets. I reached my long arms over the other piranhas and paid the women. We were in the louvre.

We visited all of the masterpieces of this tremendous museum. The ancient Venus de Milo and Winged victory of Samothrace were especially enjoyable as their antiquity was astonishing. Just as when I was in Rome, I couldn't even comprehend their beauty and their history. A few masterpieces later, I found her, the infamous lady, Ms. Lisa. She is tiny and as emotionless as she is rumored to be. I quick asserted myself to the front of the line once again using my God-given lengthy extremities to my advantage to snap a quick photo. She gave me that smirk, said thanks for visiting and told me to move along cause no one could see her over me. I agreed and finished the louvre in perfect time to meet alvaro and go to lunch. Nestled just off Boulevard Saint-Germain a peaceful cafe fed us proper. I tried escargot, had more bread and devoured flank steak. I realized that I was eating no longer out of hunger but out of gluttony, I was unashamed. We went and walked the historic shopping Boulevard and I dreamt of the day that I would be able to actually purchase some of the street's wares. Stopping at the top of the street for more fuel, we decided crepes would be nice. We found our way back to the latin quarter and ordered a creperie's best from an alley-side window. Ham, egg, and cheese for salty then Nutella and banana for sweet. The food coma was worth it.

With the hours passing quick and fatigue setting in, alvaro and kristy split back to the hostel for a nap as I decided to make the two hour walk to the arc de triomphe, where alvaro would meet me via the metro after his nap. I walked in silent reflection, browsing various stores and bakeries, wondering what this trip taught me. I ducked into a sweet shop and had a 20 euro cream puff to help with said reflection. As I bit into the soft, whipped baked good, I decided that this trip was partly about decompression. So much western stress had built up inside of me that I didn't even realize I was about to blow. My biggest decision this night was whether or not to get a cream puff or an eclair, an enviable position for any type A overachiever.

I finished my puff, met alvaro and we walked the streets until the early morning hours, both of us afraid to say goodbye.

The flight to madrid passed quickly as did the trip to our residence then back to the airport. My time in Europe was over. From the streets of san fermin to the beaches of northern spain and the deserts of madrid, from the chaotic streets of italy to the coffeehouses of vienna, and from the gothic chapels of germany to the lawn of the Eifel Tower,  I experienced it all and the only thing left to do was go home.

I wish I had a great philosophic lesson to bestow upon the readers of this blog, but I don't think I do. The worst part is is that that's okay. Travelling is for the traveller, another realm of consciousness opens up inside of you and life becomes easier and more clear. After this travel, I know more about myself than I could have ever learned from reading a book or taking a test. I know that I contain infinite possibilities. I am an atom bomb. If you need me or have any questions, you can meet me on the road looking for my next adventure under the sun. Good night and good luck. 

Vienna waits for you...

They say about travelling you have to lose yourself to be found and such is the case with venice. The streets of this sinking city form a natural corn maze  and are virtually unnavigable. Despite this unpleasant fact, we saw this beautiful Renaissance city. We had pizza along the grand canal upon arrival then wandered until we found San Marco square. I wanted to roar just like Saint Marks lion, the symbol of venice when I saw it. The beautiful square is easily the most picturesque in italy due to its grand watchtower and canal backdrop. After saying hello to the best fed pigeons in the world, I began to walk the streets. I saw the weaving water roads and the gondola traffic, I heard sweet music playing In every corridor, I smelled the raw fish at the rialto market and soaked it all in. I passed endless street vendore selling venetian fabrics, drapes, notebooks, quills, masquarade masks, and glass. I also passed the finest italian brands like gucci, and prada. Venice is very appripriately given its high tourist population is bursting with places to shop and eat. Although much of venetian culture is overlooked this way (simply shopping), just to walk around the city is enough.

Being exhausted from the heat not much could be accomplished this day anyway. I sat multiple times at cafe lavena for the caffe freddo and used this day to relax. When the outdoor band played La Vie En Rose I knew this was the right decision. I stopped in one of the numerous churches to say a prayer as this practice always relaxes me. Then, as the evening progressed we met with Alvaro's friend Marco and hit the streets once more. We stopped for more pizza, which puts our American stuff to shame, and made it to the train station.

Now after this day of rest, I am ready for vienna and the last leg of this trip. I will be singing Billy Joel the whole way there and pray that his words were true.

We have seen the south and now head north. I am becoming more than what I have ever been before. My core reality is changing and I couldn't be happier. I could bear any backpack load, navigate any street, eat any food. Live any life.

Joie de Vivre

My whole life, I have dreamt of paris. I took three years of french, probably remembering only a week's worth, just to get a taste of French culture and prepare myself for my trip there one day. That day is today.

However, let me backtrack. We head to paris from munich via Stuttgart this day at 1030. We are fresh off an overnight train from vienna and our bellies are full of pastries and sausage. Last night we toured the mighty vienna, by having coffee and chocolate wafers at cafe sperl (a historic viennese coffehouse), by strolling through the naschmarkt (an outdoor market with every food you've ever wanted), by gazing, jaw dropped (as usual), at st. Stephens cathedral with it's line of taxi horses out front, by strolling up kohlmarkt(outdoor market with every piece of clothing you ever wanted), by having lunch at caffe landtmann with its spicy sausages, apple strudel, and ristretto, by relaxing in an authentic Turkish bath house, by standing in the shadow of the imperial hofburg palace, and by eating from the bitzinger sausage stand with lines around the corner. All of this was done on bike and much of what was seen in vienna can't be quantified. The feel of the city, it's great sites, it's art, poetry, and music. You can feel the grandiosity of the old austrian empire and the impact it still has today.

Moreover, the problem with munich was that we couldn't stay longer and the 4 hour layover was well worth the delay in getting to paris. We witnessed a magical moment while waiting outside a small german cafe named schmalznudel. The cafe opened at 8 but we arrived early, 730. Though very hungry, we were more than happy to watch the owner of the shop prepare the day's pastries as he wondered why there were Americans staring at him through the window. We watched him lay out the dough, toss it in the fryer and coat his masterful confections in sugar. I cant quite explain why this moment was so important except that it made me feel like a little kid again. I felt the same as when my dad and I would walk the boardwalk in Atlantic city. He put me on his shoulders as we passed the saltwater taffy stores and I saw them prepare the sticky sweets. I consumed the pastries when they opened dipping them in my perfect coffee. However sometimes it's just as good to watch from the window and wonder.

After our hectic couple of days in italy, it is good to be well rested and ready to travel to paris. Vienna and Munich were restorative. I realize my experience is now ending though and I must make sure to leave all of my blood, sweat, and tears on the streets of paris. I will leave no stone unturned as now Paris shall know our velocity!!!!

All Roads...

Good times in barcelona passed into the early morning and few short hours of sleep found us at the airport. Asleep the whole flight, I awoke in Rome and the cab dropped us off in the center of the ancient city. I would love to regale any readers of this blog with the details of this trip and how it made me feel but words can't express the power of this empire even thousands of years after its fall. However, I will try. The old streets twist and turn endlessly and in addition to the towering buildings, each and every one as historic as the next, you feel as a mouse in a maze. We started our adventure with espresso and despite the small quantity, it was just enough fuel to propel us along the main street to the Vatican. Boiling in the sun, the pope gave us his Angelus and the sheer number of people gathered to hear his words is a spiritual event in and of itself. A million years isn't enough for reflection on the vatican churches but we only had one day and had to make the most of it. We zipped down a few side streets and found the ultimate dive pasta joint where we refueled and got ready to charge through rome. And such is exactly what we did. We had gelato at piazza navona, lay on the floor of the pantheon staring up through its perplexing hole, we made our wishes at the trevvi, and sprinted the stairs of the Spanish steps in such a way as to put rocky to shame.  Next came the long haul to the collosseum and we saw the center of the world. Standing in the shadow of the collosseum with ancient ruins on both sides of you, i felt infinitely small yet infinitely capable. The achievements of collective human endeavor are absolutely astounding. It's so great that an individual life seems worthless. With no time to waste we hustled to campo de fiori for dinner. The walk back to the hostal passed in a blur as rome was becoming illuminated and more alive. The whole town was a work of art, every building and every brick had a story to tell.
Left the hostal at the crack of dawn and slept a few hours in the station before boarding the train to Florence. Though we would love to have enjoyed the italian countryside, the body once again demanded rest. In florence we went straight to caffe donini for an italian breakfast then straight to trattoria mario for an Italian lunch. This small eatery is home to the best pasta I have ever had. Just as I felt small in rome, the pasta made me feel like there was a part of me yet to experience the best that the world has to offer. I made the joke that the reason for such great Italian opera is because you take one bite of good italian cooking and you start singing to the heavens. We moved on.
We went and took a spanish siesta at our hostels and met at the duomo a few hours later. Another shot of espresso and we were off to our next gastronomic experience, this one even better than the previous. We stopped quickly on the world famous Ponte vecchio bridge and felt as if we were part of history. Dinner at Casa linga was incredible. After dinner we hiked to Piazza Michaelangelo and saw all of florence amidst all the kissing couples, that view and this night shall forever be burned in my head; my day under the Tuscan sun. We meandered back to our hostels stopping everywhere along the way to point, gawk, and dance on the street with other travellers. The night passed quickly and before I knew it, I found myself sitting in the Santa Maria train station, waiting to go to Venice. I have become confident that there is nothing better you can do than take a new road every day no matter where it takes you. 

Burning Passion

No minute has been wasted since touching down in Barcelona. We danced all night and immediately upon waking up went sprinting to the beach. We got the lay of the land from no more than a screenshot and stopped along the way for croissants from the critically acclaimed Baluard. The crisp hot croissants exploded with chocolate and being satiated we downed some coffee embracing the fact that we made it to the first stop of our european tour. The beach was calling and once again sprinting we shoved through the catalonia freedom fighters, found the beach, dropped our towels, and plunged into the cool water. Most beaches are similar but the hot sands and the calm water of Bogatell beach is second to none. All the wading, sunbathing, and volleyball with the locals helped us work up quite an appetite. And we devoured tapas in the shadow of the 14th century Basilica of St. Mary of the Sea. The pimientos and then the potatoes reminded us of why catalonian cooking is so widely renowned. Much still to be done, we rushed through the streets after another coffee stop and stood in awe of the grand Sagrada Familia, a church decades in the making and one of the biggest buildings I've ever seen. It will not even be completed until 2026. Words mean nothing while reflecting on this church and we sat nearly speechless in the wake of its magnificence; gaudi architecture never fails to excite. We, now, have finally made it back to the flat where I have received the wifi necessary to publish this brief update. But now we must leave for the houses of gaudi and the fountain of monjuic, our adventures In barcelona have just begun. Tomorrow we are off to Rome where Italy shall know our velocity as well.

You Shall Know Our Velocity!!!

Time to step out from behind the curtain. At last my ultimate adventure has arrived. We will travel to 7 european cities in 5 countries in as many days at a breakneck pace. We will see the glory of the western world and hopefully live to tell the tale. Blood, sweat and tears will be spilled along the way. Late night train rides, cramped legs, and sore backs await us three musketeers. All we carry for the next week is one backpack carefully packed to 10kg. Updates from the road will be sporadic and fragmented. But for all those who read this please know we are searching for ourselves and the meaning of the world, though I doubt we will find either. What is for certain is that we will experience life as few get the chance. We will give our souls a breathe of fresh air. We will scream to God from the top of mountains. Stop #1 is Barcelona and our ride is waiting, so I am off, Carpe Diem my friends, Carpe Diem.

Adios Madrid

Dear Madrid,

I would like to say thank you for these past three weeks. It's really been a wild ride old girl. We danced in the streets, walked for hours, stood jaw-dropped at eloquent masterpieces, peered from the sides of mountains, and ate till our stomachs could hold no more. We talked for hours without saying a word. We laughed. We cried. We embraced life.

Oh Madrid, I must declare before I depart that this last week has really made me love you. After all the excitement of the first two weeks, I like to think I used these last few days to show you my sensitive side and to express this love. I went to your Basilica de San Francisco and crooned over your enormous frescoes. It may be the fourth biggest by the world's standards but it will always be the absolute biggest to us. When I bowed my head to pray, I swear I heard you whisper to me that all is well and will be well forevermore. A bold promise that only you are capable of keeping.

I dined at your Cafe Commercial, a haunt of the writers and artists that use you as their muse. I, too, must say I felt the inspiration as I ate your calamari, sipped your coffee, and enjoyed the views of fellow writers looking for a story. How selfless, Lady Madrid, we use and abuse you for inspiration and you ask nothing in return.

I ambled, as I have many a night since being here, in your center. I moved with the people like blood towards your heart; your streets serving as arteries. I felt as a part of your body. I felt your boundless energy with your street performers and post twilight dinners, your pride with your majestic buildings, town halls, guards, statues, fountains, festivals, and fairs, your appetite with your gourmet paella, cocido, jamon, salmorejole, churros, and tapas concoctions, your love with your romancing couples in the park and your passion for living, and your intellect with your monumental museums chalk full of nautical, artistic, architectural, and societal innovations.

Oh Madrid, you took me out to dinner on my last night. You took me to the oldest restaurant in the world. You treated me just as you did Hemingway years ago to the roast suckling pig. And I felt like the old bastard as I listened to the hum of the vibrant crowd and the acoustic music emanating from upstairs. I sat in a hobbit hole of a cellar that has been used for the purposes of fine dining for nearly 300 years. I was astonished at the brisk movements of the bow-tied waiters as they navigated though said tight space. It was here in this solitary cellar, in the bowels of Madrid, that I felt how hard it would be to leave you. And in the same moment I became so glad that you were a part of my life for however brief a time.

I realize, Madrid, that I don't own you. You belong to everyone. You will stand for centuries providing the same passion for life to others as you provided me. And as I leave you today Madrid, I know that not only was I a part of you,  but that you will always be a part of me.

Yours Truly,
Bryan Anthony McIntyre