The End is Upon Us

So it’s been almost a month since my last post. What has occurred since then? Some really great stuff that’s what. I believe my last post was from Vienna. After Vienna it was time for some serious hanging in Prague. School was done the weather was great and everyone was ready to just soak it all in since the end for most was drawing near. The days consisted of reading at my favorite little Hobbit Café where they now (at least the cute little waitress) know me and know my order. That was one of my goals before coming to Prague, to gain regular status at some place. I’d say I half achieved it. Coffee and reading was usually followed by a trip back home to eat and then we would just go to a bar somewhere or to the beer garden. Especially since the World Cup had started there was never not anything to do. On two boring nights I made my way to Old Town Square with a bag of beer and watched the madness that is Football in Europe ensue. Pretty exciting stuff, I don’t think anyone gets that passionate over sports in the States save for Jack when baseball season starts.

I don’t really know what to say about those few weeks in Prague. They were extremely relaxing but also sad. Near the end nights out turned into going away parties. I’d say the hardest goodbye was to dear friend The Mark Murphy. You all remember him, the first friend I made here, the cool Phish fan from Buffalo, the kid who acted as my ATM for a week and a half. What a great guy. I got super sick after he left and it was a bummer cause I really was all alone in my dorm. It kind of felt like that first night all over again when I knew I had no one to talk with. He was definitely my best friend here and not just because we were neighbors and American, he was just stoked to do things and also was down with gossiping. Without him I would not of been a happy camper living in Hvezda. One of my biggest regrets is not hanging with him more, oh well, Euro Trip 2015!

So now I’m leaving Munich. Would you like to hear about Munich? Fine. So after the failed plan that was the French Rivera and Paris I was left struggling for places to go. I knew I didn’t want to go anywhere where I didn’t know anyone. It’s just more fun and easier to show up somewhere and have an immediate friend, why waste time trying to find someone to hang with when you could just as easily go somewhere you can sleep for free and have a tour guide/drinking buddy. Anyway, that’s my philosophy and thankfully I had enough friends abroad that I could figure something out. But sorry, how did I come about going to Munich you ask? Well let me tell you.

One day my friend from Glenbard West Lacrosse, Mike Udelhofen sent me a Facebook message informing me he was in Munich, had a floor, and wanted to hang. End of story.

After mostly recuperating from one gnarly cold I took the train to Munich and started hanging. Mike was pretty busy with summer school and a lab report that thanks to me (I think) he had to stay up all night finishing. That’s what you get for taking summer school! Anyway, Munich is in Bavaria, which for those you that don’t know is like, the strict, law abiding, extremely proud part of Germany. It is also the home of October Fest and huge beers and huger pretzels. Since I was still battling the cold we didn’t hop right to the getting wasted. The first night was spent in the famous Chinese Beer Garden at the even more famous English Garden. Cool tidbit, Central Park in NYC is modeled after the English Garden in Munich. Unfortunately this Beer Garden experience was not too grand. I made the cocky yet adventurous decision of ordering a one-liter Ruß’n beer. Turned out to be half weiß beer and half orange juice. Gross right!?! I know! Who the fuck mixes those two things? Let me tell you who, Bavarians. They are also big fans of the Radler which is weiß beer and lemonade?!?! Yuck, I’ll stick to my pilsner, thank you. So after this 9-dollar jug of shitty ass beer, we went home and I set up camp at the foot of Mike’s bed, which became my home for the next 5 nights.

Unfortunately, Mike was pretty busy with school during the week so I was left on my own all day. I used this time to be a tourist, which I hadn’t really done since my first few weeks in Prague. I went to the main town square, the garden etc. Most of the sights were pretty non-enthralling. The best part was probably the palace because since Munich has the massive English Garden no one goes and chills at the Palace gardens. There may have been only 20 or so people on a hundred acres, pretty cool and tranquil n’shit. What was super crazy to think about while there was that you totally know Hitler and the other Nazis did exactly what I did. They went and wandered around those gardens, sitting in the shade, taking in the beauty. Kind of terrifying, kind of sad, but also kind of awesome, LIVING HISTORY!

Short summary of the rest of the trip. Pizza dinner, lots of ice cream and kebabs, super crazy awesome party at the main university in Munich, rioting in the streets after the Germany soccer win, people throwing up on me/next to me, throwing bottles off the roof in celebration of the 4^th of July. Yeah! That’s the jist of it. Big ups to Mike for letting me invade his home for 6 days, it was definitely a lot of fun and really nice to hang with him since it had been so long.

So now I’m sitting on Ilka’s back porch while she and her cousins play in the pool. She resides in a town called Dorste, which is basically the size of downtown Glen Ellyn. I think the population is a little over 1,000 maybe less and it’s in what I’m deeming the Midwest of Germany. If I look to my left I see rolling meadows of wheat, barley and other crops and to my right, in the distance, the same. There are two friendly neighborhood hawks that are always outside my window. At night the skies are clear and full of stars after the sun sets behind the hills and since we are pretty far north, it lingers there for a while giving you a longer sunset than usual. Even at midnight there is still a glowing in the west silhouetting the trees, it’s pretty fucking badass and despite being super drunk last night I got to see a very beautiful sunrise sky.

What I’m getting at is it’s a very small town. I like to joke that I’m the first American any of these Germans have seen since the war and for the old people, I think it’s true. So far it’s been a crazy experience.

So you all know I like to talk. I’ll talk to anyone about anything especially if I’m drunk or know I will never see that person again. But here, in Dorste I don’t really talk with anyone and not just that, I can’t understand anyone else’s conversations, why? Because everyone only speaks German. You may have just asked yourself, “but Greg, I thought you speak German” well yeah I do, but these people are German, it’s their language, I wouldn’t expect Ilka to understand everything me and Jack talk about at 3am. The first two nights, one of which was Ilka’s birthday, I just sat amongst 15 Germans, all speaking super fast catching a word here or there, twiddling my thumbs. I would have gone to bed but I was so desperate to talk to someone I waited for everyone to leave just so I could talk to Ilka. We went for a walk through the wheat fields checking out the stars n’shit. It was pretty rad but made me homesick for the nights when I would tag along with Setu, Grant, and go scoping. Saw some pretty cool shit back then, strange to think it was almost a year ago when that all happened.

So a few days have passed. Germany lost in the semi-finals against Spain. This resulted in everyone getting absolutely wasted at the place where we watched the game. This little hut more or less had a bar (conveniently being run by Ilka’s mom) that served beer only in .2 liter glasses. Now this has its upsides and downsides. The upside is you never think you’re drinking that much and compared to the 1 liter mugs in Munich your arm doesn’t get tired while holding your beer. The downside is they are extremely easy to chug or in German “x” or something like that. I told everyone the various ways to say chug in English i.e. pound, slam, down, they were stoked. So needless to say, that night got sloppy. There were several times where I had 3 full beers in front of me because people just kept buying round after round. The positive of everyone being drunk was that everyone I had met the past 2 nights were much more inclined to speak their awful English with me. This may have also been provoked because I basically said fuck it and started speaking German as much as I could with everyone. I was so sick of sitting in silence I had to try and it worked! The night ended with after hours at Ilka’s cousin’s house that has a pub in the garage. Apparently Ilka’s parents used to party there when they were our age so it has a lot of history, pretty awesome, no bro-lair though. One solo Bruce Springsteen/blink 182 sing-a-long later, the sun was rising and we were on our way home. Not much happened the next day, obviously.

Well except for one thing. Which is what I plan on talking about because I guess it’s kind of important.

I am very fond of this girl. So now lets just say I am very content staying in this small town with her until I have to go home. Alles gut.

This will be my last post. In a couple of days I will be on a different continent. See you all very very very very soon. Except for those of you from Europe reading this, probably won’t see you very soon.

yada yda

Who wants a blog post?!

Well I got time to kill on my train to Vienna so I figured I’d jot some things down.

I think I left off with Copenhagen, to make things brief, the trip was amazing, especially cruising bikes to the beach with Jerome then going to the hippy district and playing some backgammon over 8 dollar beers. Later that same day we went to an awesome club and danced the night away. The train ride home, 13 hours, wasn’t too bad.

Shit got all sorts of crazy when I got home since my friend in Paris had bailed saying he was too busy with school to let me crash at his place for a night en route to Cannes so after trying to contact everyone I knew with French connections I managed to piece back together some sort of mutant version of the trip that I had been planning for a month. Discouraged, tired, and depressed I just decided to surrender and forgo going to the French Riviera and Paris until a later date if ever this trip.

So now because of one little change of plans, losing somewhere to stay in Paris my schedule is FUBAR. I’m basically just doing whatever sounds good now, trying to throw together some trips to see other friends I’ve made here in their home countries. So far I’ve gathered one trip to my absolutely lovely German friend’s small town kind of near Hannover. I’ve been welcomed to Jerome’s in Arnhem so long as he doesn’t have work, I could roll to Flanders in Belgium, Bratislava, 3 different cities in Poland, Budapest, and possibly Paris and Berlin assuming people keep their word.

However, Little did I know while in Denmark that I had a paper due the day of my return to Prague. I had been operating under the assumption that it was due before the examination term ended in September. So after frantically trying to figure out when the paper was due I bit the bullet and spent several nights locked in the study rooms at my dorm working on one of the worst papers I have ever written.

The rest of the week was spent enjoying the sunshine in Prague because the weeks prior had been rainy and cold. The best thing about nice weather in Prague is you don’t need to think about finding somewhere cool or hip to hangout at because you can just hang outside and I think the general consensus is that drinking, reading, laying, sitting, standing outside is always better than inside.

During this span of outside hanging I met some very nice Swiss guys, a nationality I had yet to come across in Prague. I was also privileged enough to spend some time with a very nice, cute, sweet, German girl and all I can say is that you never realize how beautiful Prague is at night until you have someone to share it with. Not that Mark is insufficient, Mark it’s not that I don’t like you, but I mean come on, you’re a dude. You get what I’m saying right? Right.

So lets now fast forward a few days.

I am currently on the train home from Vienna. Michael and I decided to take a trip there to stay with Branden Gebka. Branden did a really great job showing us around and taking us to cool places but in the end it got the best of Michael and I so after only 2 nights we were ready to go back to Prague. Being a tourist and a college student simultaneously is fucking hard.

Vienna though was amazing. Never in my life have I ever seen a city so grand, so regal. The main area is just palace after church after government building all built hundreds of years ago but so majestic and overwhelming you couldn’t even really believe what you were looking at. Michael and I took a day trip Friday morning to the summer palace/gardens and it was just unbelievable that something like that exists. I kept asking, “why does this place exist?”

I’ve come to learn that words can’t really describe the things I see in Europe. Or maybe my vocabulary just sucks. It’s not about what the buildings look like, or what the gardens look like, it’s about how you feel when you see them. There’s just this feeling of insignificance that comes over you. It was like when I stood at the base of the alps, gazing upwards, realizing that I am a mere ant to these mountains and it’s the same when comparing America with Europe. America is a meager 300 or so years old while Europe is over 1,000 years old. But I mean America still fucking rules and we don’t need palaces or gardens or old churches to make our cities seem superior, we got fucking sky scrapers n’shit and to me, that’s what a city really is, tall ass buildings made out of iron and steel.

However, Vienna was still amazing, but as I sit here on the ride back to Prague, I couldn’t be happier. Prague is the best, nowhere I have been can top the feeling you get walking around Old Town or Malastrana at night arm in arm with someone or drunk with your friends feeling like in that instant you own those narrow cobblestone streets.

Now I go home, recouperate, finish another paper, and finalize my travel plans for July. To quote Jack, “and we’ll say ‘now the end is near’”.

Greg's first adventure in back packing part 1

It is with a heavy heart that I am leaving Copenhagen right now. I’ve visited other cities in Europe so far but none can compare to my time in Copenhagen, which did not consist of much. My friend from high school housed me, despite the fact we may have only hung out once or twice outside of school or football. His apartment, shared with 7 other people is located minutes from the city center and ocean. His 7 other flatmates are wonderful people from France, Spain, Poland, Holland, and the states. Everyone was so hospitable and welcoming I couldn’t have asked for a nicer group of people to hang with for 4 days. I felt at home on his floor, and after the first day, in his neighborhood. If the weather had been nicer I don’t think I would have left CPH but with rain forecasted for the next few days I figured I should get back to Prague and get things figured out for France. With most of that said, here’s what happened.

Hamburg: a let down. Save for some awesome shops and nice parks Hamburg wasn’t anything to write home about, so don’t expect any postcards. The people were nice and it’s always fun trying out my German but I got lost so much and was so hungry most of the time I just wound up disgruntled and disheartened. I’m sure the city would have been fun if I had some friends with me but I didn’t so I was left to my own devices.

I left for Copenhagen Thursday afternoon with no idea of what to expect. I had no impressions of the city, no idea what it looked like, only that it was expensive and that the women should be beautiful.

The train ride was pretty chill. I knew we had to cross one massive body of water so I was stoked to cross some gnarly bridge defying architectural standards but much to my pleasure the train wound up on a boat and me on top of the boat, and the sea before my eyes. What better way to get up and stretch your legs than on a boat? There was this rad Palestinian dude on the train so me and him chatted it up while sailing away. It’s always great meeting middle eastern people who are just so stoked on life and really want there to be peace. We didn’t delve into the whole Israeli conflict because I could tell it would get pretty intense if we did, so we kept it light and enjoyed the ride.

An hour or so later we were in CPH and I was on my own. Pat said he couldn’t grab me at the train station but gave me metro directions to his place. I decided to forgo the public transportation and hoof it, no map, no money, no idea. I felt comfortable enough in the city that I walked up to the first guy I saw and asked him for directions. He spoke perfect English and was one of the most ruggedly handsome men I’ve seen in my whole life. He was stoked that I wanted to walk and he even referred to it as a “pleasant stroll”. Well 45 minutes and one pleasant stroll later I was where I needed to be. Pat rolled up on his bike soon after and we headed to his place.

Word on the street for the night was poker then some big party so I set in for the long haul. Headed to the market and grabbed some 2 dollar New Castle tall boys and chips and after a short meal of watermelon and chicken sandwiches poker started.

I hadn’t played poker since Fawell’s basement circa 2004 but I knew I still had skillz. The game was fun and friendly with lots of joking around and big betting. I eventually lost but it was fun regardless. The sun had finally set around 1030 so everyone got dressed up and we went to this party. Pretty fun time and just so many beautiful women I was fine people watching with some dancing intermixed. When I finally hit the dance floor to cut some rug this short girl came running over to me pulling on my tie and blazer yelling “you’re so tall! You’re sooo tall! Why are you sooo tall?!” I mean I know I’m tall but it was Scandinavia, the land of Vikings. However, I was the tallest person there. She seemed nice but very drunk so to Pat’s chagrin I just left it and got another beer. The party finally ended around 3 and everyone was quickly ushered outside. Outside I made friends with a Danish guy who was more than happy to talk about Danish culture and Danish people, I don’t remember much of what we talked about, but he was a super nice dude. After hanging out side for 45 min we took the Metro home, made some food, watched the sun rise (4:00am) and hit the hay.

The next morning, pretty hungover, I killed time waiting for Pat to wake up by talking to his lovely French flat mates who were busy cooking and cleaning. I’ll make it short. Big dinner planned that night, everyone contribute, so I went to the bakery got a nice loaf of bred and some danishes hoping they’d wake Pat up, they did and he showed me around the city. The city center was very humble and relaxed, nothing like Prague where it’s super busy with tons of tourists and people peddling things. We came back home, Pat worked out, I went and read in the park and then everyone started cooking. The French girls had desert, me and pat made chicken pesto pasta, Enrique and Elliot made crazy Spanish dumplings and Slawek and Jerome made awesome cabbage wrapped sausage things.

The dinner was lovely and chill, everyone stoked on the food and atmosphere. Everyone’s contributions were amazing, especially E&E’s dumplings and the French desert. Once dinner was over it was party time.

A huge party was planned in the apartment with over 70 people to attend. We had returned all the bottles/cans from the last party they had and were able to get two more 30 beer crates. The party was a blast with tons of dancing and chilling but I was incapable of getting past buzzed because of all the food in my belly. I called it quits and walked out to the pier to watch the sunrise, came home and went to bed.

Austira part 2, FINALLY!

So where did I leave off? I believe we had just gotten off the fucking bus ride from hell, but at least it had a nice view.

It was about 7am. I don’t remember the last time I was awake at 7am save for flying to Prague from the states, but that doesn’t count cause I was flying through time zones n’shit. Needless to say, I was getting pretty darn loopy and slap happy. Our trip coordinator Tereza decided we would all walk to the local grocery store and sit outside for 30 min waiting for it to open. After awkwardly standing on a street corner watching elementary school kids fail at kick flips and ollies the grocery store opened and we made bets as to what the adorable little boy patiently waiting outside the door would buy. I decided to hop in and buy a tasty Danish. Of course it’s too early for the Austrian sweets to be ready yet so I pass the little boy buying Football trading cards and step through the sliding doors. To add to my displeasure the doors decided to jolt shut on my as I crossed the threshold. It was a good laugh and I think the 13-year-old German Scenster girls who watched the beating go down enjoyed it.

I’ll spare you what I had for breakfast, it was good though.

We proceeded to some huge gardens that apparently were in The Sound of Music. I had never seen the movie but regardless, the gardens were breathtaking. Since coming to Europe I have this new found appreciation for flowers. I always enjoyed them but in the USA flowers seems like this treat, something that’s not for everyday enjoyment. In Europe people fucking love flowers. They are everywhere. In huge plots near my tram stop, outside my communist dorm, everywhere.

We plodded around taking pictures and what not, walked past Mozart’s boyhood home, birth place, etc, then stormed the Salzburg Castle with all our might.

It was quite the hike up, especially on an empty stomach and 0 hours of sleep, but we made it. Surprisingly, it was a real castle. Prague castle isn’t really a castle as much as it is just a bunch of buildings and open spaces. This place though was a legit castle with like turrets and places where you know they used to pour boiling oil on invaders. We took an audioguided tour. I chose to use the children’s version, it was way more exciting than the adult one, they even told me what an archeologist does! After the castle there was more plodding, eating, hangin’, and then finally, nap time. I took full advantage of this. I was asleep as soon as my head hit the pillow and woke up 2 hours later feeling somewhat refreshed and ready to drink.

News had travelled of multiple marching band performances so we walked on over to that shindig, had some german brews, watched dudes and gals play sweet marches in lederhosen then went and got some za. The night ended as quickly as it began with the deathblow being dealt from an Irish pub that the majority of our group was adamant about going to. One beer and Johnnie Walker Black later I was ready to go home, so me and my new lovely English friend Hanna made the trek back getting inside just in time before the rain came pouring down. I heard the others come back several hours later wanting to go dancing, I would of fucking loved to go dancing, and lord knows I would have stayed out til the wee hours of the morning but 2 hours of sleep and a wake up call at 8:30am the next morning were really disheartening. After a peculiar breakfast and cornflakes the bus was off again, this time to Hallstatt, this time deeper into the Alps, this time, to paradise.

Hallstatt was the place we saw pictures of before heading out, and goddamn if I wasn’t stoked to the nth degree to straight chill out by a lake and strain my neck looking up at snowy peaks.

Hallstatt exceeded our wildest dreams of grandeur. It really was unbelievable. Like a picture was placed in front of your eyes and you couldn’t remove it. Our hostel was on the bank of a raging river with a deer farm on the opposite bank and a football pitch across the street all sitting at the base of a towering alp. We had the place to ourselves, 24 students from all over the world left in paradise with literally the keys to the palace. I knew it was going to be a good night, but the day had yet to begin.

After some regrouping time we were off again, on foot, to town and then the half anticipated for Salt Mine Tour. The walk was about 5Km or 2 and a half miles for you Americans. We started in one big line but people began to speed ahead or lag behind mostly due to picture taking opportunities and awing. Michael and I held up the rear because I needed to use his camera to “test” shoot pictures I wanted to take. He was more than happy to oblige as he normally is. We finally caught up with the group at the dwindling May Day festivities. We had a nice little picnic in the grass next to lake, I fed ducks, Mark played on the playground and everyone took pictures. Next was the salt mine. I won’t go into detail but basically you had no idea you were in a mine because now-a-days museums do a pretty fuckin good job recreating the natural world. In my opinion it was a waste of time and 25 euros.

Hanging around the down town area was next, and like every trip to Germany it involved ice cream and more duck feeding. I found a nice little bench to sit on behind a chapel on the bank of the lake and watched the boats go by while feeding various water fowl. Next thing I knew the entire group is gone and it started to rain. Somewhat panicked I decided my best bet would be to walk back to the hostel, all 5km and hope to meet them there before dinner. I shrugged it off and kind of felt like a badass and that my rogue behavior was pay back for the shitty Salt Mine tour. But, the cards fell and they fell my way because about 2km into the walk our bus drove by (I dunno if I already mentioned this but me and the bus driver had a connection) and pulled over for me to hop in. Apparently he was on his way to town to grab the others. Score!!

Upon return to the hostel the drinking began. My two bottles of whisky and Mark’s bottle of vodka were finally going to be put to use. After a solid round of pregamming and me making a road soda we were off to the restaurant for some za. It seemed like everyone had the intention of getting drunk that night so after several beers, glasses of wine and fantastic meals everyone was feeling the best they had all trip. The details of that night are still blurry, I know they consist of and Mark and I debating music, Mark and Michael swimming in the lake, never have I ever, more beer and wine and whisky and passing out at 3am. It was a rough morning. Breakfast helped but no one was stoked for another bus ride to Bad Aussee. Where the fuck is Bad Aussee? I don’t want to leave. Why leave this place is amazing?! Were just a few of the grumbles I heard, mainly from myself.

Bad Aussee was another magnificent town, but this time instead of a lake it had 3 rivers 3! That all met at one point. Everyone wanted to rent bikes, save for me because well shit, I love cruising bikes but not up Alps. Then after the mess that was the bike rental shop Hannah, Ilka and I went off on our own with the mission of finding a lovely spot to just sit, relax and possibly reenact The Sound of Music. As most of you saw from my pictures, the majority of which are from Bad Aussee, we found a place to sit and just bask in the sun. Despite my grumbles Bad Aussee was fantastic. Especially riding a bike too small for me on which the chain kept falling off, up an Alp. It wasn’t the going up part that was terrible, just get off and walk not that hard. But going down, that was a different story. Imagine you’re on a children’s bike, riding down a 30-degree incline with shitty brakes and two girls to impress. I thought I was going to die right then and there but thankfully gravity saved me and held my body down on the seat.

Not much else happened the rest of the trip.

Since then Prague has been pretty bleak, it rained a lot and was cloudy. The Beer festival was fantastic.

Right now I am writing this on the train to Copenhagen. Expect a blog post about this trip 4 weeks from now.

Now it’s my lastnight in Copenhagen. Expect post tomorrow. Two posts back to back?!

Oh my god i need some sleep, i think another six beers might bring me some relief

Ok this blog post is for real. Fo REAL. I refuse to back track farther than this weekend. Sorry Kim, we all know how much fun I had when you visited and how well all my friends and I ate because of you.

About 3 weeks ago I received a facebook event invite for a trip to Salzburg, Austria. I have been receiving these regularly. They are organized by the Charles University International Students Club. Mark has been on several but I have refrained due to fiscal problems and lack of interest. But this time, I was sold, Salzburg, fuck yeah. That night all the friends on my dorm’s wing got together and decided we would go on the trip. It was going to be the best weekend ever!!!!!!

Leading up to departure photos were posted in the facebook invite from the town of Hallstatt, our second destination for the trip. It was utterly unbelievable. The pictures did not look real. Imagine a pristine, deep dark blue lake, surrounded by snowcapped mountains that serve not only as a perfect backdrop, but a perfect wall, making you feel isolated and disconnected but also in the best way possible. We all went nuts when these pictures were posted, and could not be more excited.

The week of departure came, it really seemed to sneak up on me. It was a weird sensation knowing that in a few days I will get on a bus, drive through the night and arrive at sunrise in an entirely different country. Thursday came and I skipped out of my night class early to get home, pack, buy groceries and booze, and prepare myself for the trip. Packing was a breeze. One flannel shirt, one powder blue oxford, one pair of jeans, and the other essentials.

We all gathered, booze and bags of groceries in hand, backpacks heavy and slung over our shoulders and headed out into the night. An hour later we arrived at the bus station, smoked our last cigarettes and boarded on to one fucking tiny ass bus. Holy shit was it cramped. Michael and I decided it would be a brilliant idea to sit with each other. For those of you that don’t know Michael is taller than me. Good start to a 6 hour bus ride.

As soon as we began moving I knew sleep was out of the question. Thankfully I threw some “This American Life” podcasts on the ole’ pod, a trick I learned at the Lake Ellyn Boat House for killing time. Music has a way of making time slowdown but intriguing hipster podcasts about America’s faltering economy seem to make it speed up. After much adjusting, re-adjusting, adjusting again and again re-adjusting I was as uncomfortable as I have ever been. We had just unexcitedly crossed into Austria around 4:30 am and I finally felt as if we were in the home stretch. We kind of weren’t. But, slowly 5am rolled around then 5:30, and as I looked behind me, past the faux sleeping bodies and glazed over open eyes I saw the sunrise. And in the distance, what I believed to be dark, low hanging clouds, turned out to be the beginning of the Austrian Alps.

The sun began to rise faster, and the mountains began to take shape. The timing could not have been more perfect. As I looked around I saw that I was the only one with open eyes, the others were all missing this magical moment. Sure I have seen the Rockies before but never at sunrise and the Rockies are not the Alps. The sun the mountains rose faster and higher almost simultaneously. I threw Bon Iver on the pod and just stared out the window in awe. It really was magical. Snow capped mountain after snow capped mountain rise out of lush green grass.

We passed through the first few mountains and began winding around their bases. As we came around a bend Michael finally awoke to see something none of us had ever witnessed in our life. A lake, nestled at the base of jutting peaks with a small village resting on its banks, glowing in the early morning sun. With out taking my eyes off the lake I lifted my headphones off of my head and placed them on Michael’s. Everyone loves having a soundtrack for life and this moment called for it.

The world around us didn’t look real. It may have been sleep deprivation but nahhhh. We continued winding through the mountains, happening upon an even more beautiful lake town and passing higher and snowier mountains. More people began to awake and join in the gawking.

We finally arrived in Salzburg, around 6:45 am, found our hostel and hopped off the bus. With our view masked by buildings those who slept until the bus stopped had no idea what they were in for. When we turned the street corner “holy shits” and “oh my gods” were echoed almost in unison as half of the 28 sleep deprived kids got their first glimpse of the Alps.

To be continued…

Tell your mom that you're not coming home tonight

Okiedokie.

What up everyone? How are you? I hope you are doing well, I sure am. So what has happened lately? Who cares!

As I sit outside, enjoying a nice cold beer something occurs to me. I am sitting outside, on a Monday enjoying a nice cold beer. It’s a Monday. This shit never happens in Iowa City. Maybe it would happen on the first nice day of pseudo-spring because we all know in Iowa Spring doesn’t actually come about until April and it even snows in April so it’s really just a crapshoot. That fucking groundhog couldn’t predict the weather in Antarctica even though all he would have to say is, “It’s going to be cold!”

But seriously, it’s Monday and having a beer seems perfectly acceptable. I’m even planning on buying two and bringing them to class to watch during our movie screening. The thing is, beer is just so gosh darn cheap that you don’t think twice about buying one. Like the waitress literally just walked by and I just said “ano” (that means yes in Czech, totally different story there) because what’s 28Kc to me? A buck fifty? Sure I’ll take another beer and possibly go to class with a head buzz. When you head to lunch in the states everyone always orders water. Why? Because it’s cheap, free actually. Here you have to pay for water, unless you specify tap water, but I don’t know how to say that in Czech so fuck it. dam si Pivo, prosim.

I definitely will not be coming home an alcoholic, possibly jaded and spend 6 months complaining about how cheap beer in the States sucks, but who knows? Maybe I’ll have some mystical vision when that goldeny goodness known as “Living the High life” passes my lips and swims down mi gulley hole.

I don’t have any insightful Americana references to make in this post. Life is pretty great, save for a very awkward Saturday night that shares similarities with that Drew Berrymore movie where she goes back to High School and David Arquette plays her younger brother who is way cooler than her and there’s the black dude in the surveillance van who is a total ladies man (you catch my drift?). Yeah well something along the lines of that movie. I think Joe Fawell received a 3am voice mail regarding it.

However, the night before was also interesting. My lovely Kiwi had recently moved into her flat and Friday was her flat warming party. I wasn’t sure what to expect. Michael and I just hoped for no paupers and tons of damsels. Enroute to the party Michael received a text from Tess requesting that we come speaking English with her. Not a good start. Tess moved in with two Czech girls. I am not sure why expected everyone there to be speaking perfect English, probably cause it had something to do with it was a flat warming party for an English speaker but who am I to criticize? That must be how babies feel when they have their 1^st birthday party and all these people are there, none of whom said baby is even friends with and they’re saying words instead of spitting, crying, laughing and giggling although those things may happen later on. But similarly, at a baby’s birthday party the guests will still crouch down, get real close to the child and baby talk he or she. Part of me feels like that’s what was going on when I spoke English with the Czechs. But it’s the reverse. I speak simply so they can quickly understand but I still feel like I’m being talked down to. That isn’t to say I didn’t meet some nice people at the party. The crowd was eclectic and rather hip. Honestly, aside from the cultural differences I didn’t feel anymore out of place than I would at a Chicago hipster party. The girls were smug, the guys were smugger and I just wanted to fucking dance to Wu-Tang Clan and sneak Birth Rites on to the stereo.

I did however meet the head editor and publisher of the Czech Vice Magazine, I got his card n’shit, he seemed like a super cool dude, and if all else fails after college, maybe he’ll hook it up with an internship? Pavel? You reading dis? What do you say?

He probably isn’t reading it.

I think The Vice would be a good jumping off point to a life in the indie-music scene. Pitchfork here I come?

Speaking of Pitchfork have you listened to my new myspace? Myspace.com/pumbabeatz

Pumba has been in existence for almost 3 years now.

It started as a way to spend my sore-throat provoked nights of solitude in the Currier ITC. The Macs there had midi keyboards so I just started creating music on garage band. Although I have only made 10 or so songs in my whole career, it’s a great way for me to push myself not only musically, but as a song writer. I get to control everything. I am my only naysayer and I am only limited by my own musical knowledge.

Every song has sounded different than the one before it, but there is still a “pumba” sound. It usually revolves around reverb and distortion. Lately, I have given into the whole lo-fi scene. It’s awesome. I feel like I am part of something. A silent contributor to the lo-fi music scene, making songs in cafes of Prague. Think anyone else is doing it as well? Maybe one day I will meet a fellow Garage Bander here and she will be a beautiful girl and we will create an unstoppable duo!

Anyway, I should go to class. Love you all!!!! Sorry for the abrupt ending.

I'll take my coffee with a side of America please

Hello USA and European friends who read this. You may have been asking, “Where the fuck is Greg? He’s not updating his blog anymore. Is he dead? Have you talked to him? No? Me either! Ugh! What is his deal? Does he not care about us? That son of a bitch!”

Well my apologies everyone, but there is no way in hell that I am going to fill you in on what has occurred the past two weeks, I’ll just let you know that Prague is getting more and more awesome, and I’ve made some great friends so far although none of them like Trail of Dead, Desaparecidos or Titus Andronicus but I’ll deal.

Sorry for the delay I had to put some more sugar in my Espresso. Let’s talk about that first, coffee. What do I have to do to get a big piping hot cup of black coffee? Well I have to go to Starbucks. That’s fine, I have no problem paying 50Kc for a cup of Starbucks coffee because none of the other cafes will hook a brother up with some regular ole’ joe. I caught a lot of flak from my southern hemisphere counterparts for my love of plain coffee. Sorry if I think a macchiato is a little metro sexual. Howoever, one great thing about every café in Prague is the hot chocolate. The hot chocolate in this city usually costs a little over 2 bucks and makes the stuff I sold at the Lake Ellyn Boat House look like, well, Swiss Miss is shit anyway so it looks like Swiss Miss.

The name of the café I am currently located is unbeknownst to me but I lovingly refer to it at as the Hobbit café because the ceilings are very low. It’s a solid place even though the coffee is not that great. It’s pretty hidden for being just outside Old Town Square. I would have never found it had it not been for my lovely Kiwi café aficionado Tess. She’s great for exposing us to cool little cafes in Prague. She’s also great to hang with in said cafes.

But enough of the wimpy touristy stuff like cafes. Let me dispel something that has been stewing inside me the past few weeks.

As most of you are aware Titus Andronicus’s new album “The Monitor” dropped a few days ago. Thanks to the ever so charming Jon Phillips I was hooked up with a leaked copy almost 2 months ago. This album is so American it might as well have come with your very own American Flag. The very first thing you hear is a paraphrased excerpt from a speech Abe Lincoln gave back when he was a mere 29! It basically says that America is impossible to invade and that European countries could never possibly cross the Atlantic and give us hell. If the United States is to be demolished our demise must come from within. The song then continues to rep Jersey (Hi Mom!) the Merrit Parkway (Hey Connecticut!) Springsteen (Hey Jarrett!) and J Mascis (Hey Jack!!!).

The song does not make me homesick, rather it fillms me with this overwhelming sense of American pride, something I never really ever felt back home. Being in Europe makes m proued to be an American. Even though the pubs and clubs play terrible American music, it’s nonetheless American music. It crossed the Atlantic and found its way into almost every establishment in this town. The only European acts to do that for the US died off long ago save for Radiohead, Oasis, and Blur, but they’re all English, hardly Czech and barely European. So using what Abraham Lincoln preached back in the 1850s about how Europe could never invade and take over America, the opposite is not true. I don’t mean to sound like some raving Sarah Palin supporter who thinks that European countries suck and that the only place worth living in is the US. Europe is awesome. However, I am taking a Czech national identity class with a bunch of Czech kids and several other Americans. Basically, the Czechs ask us about national identity in the US and my fellow Americans and I ask them about theirs.

It’s peculiar because they admit to not having one, whereas I sit there and just gloat about Jefferson, Lincoln, Payne, Hancock, Washington, Adams, Lincoln and other great American thinkers.

I am not sure where I wanted to go with this. I just wanted to confess that I love America, maybe not Americans but the idea that was so optimistically proposed back in 1776. Maybe this is my great revelation that so many encounter when they go abroad. Maybe that’s why it was once so popular for American gentlemen to cross the sea and experience the old world. Not to learn to love Europe but to instill a greater appreciation for the new world.

I made some Russian friends who were very curious about why I chose Prague. They did not have a choice. They were told by their school that they can go to Prague to study but receive no credit and must return in May to take exams for classes back home which they never attended because they were here, taking other classes. What up wit dat? Come on now Russia, Communism ended 20 years ago, you lost, let the people live! No wonder no one smiles in this part of the world, they have no idea what freedom is. Sure pot is legal and you can smoke inside everywhere and drink when you’re 18, but freewill? What is freewill? Oppression is so passé.

When I go home in 4 months people will ask me, “What did you learn in Prague?” And I think the only answer I can give, at least at this point, is that I love America. Even though, I may turn my head when I see a group of American students in a café or pub being loud and boisterous. But they aren’t America, they are merely an export just like Smash Mouth and Miley Cyrus. My America resides on the street where we used to go stargazing, within the pages of Washington Irving and Ralph Waldo Emerson. It lives in the old Bro House basement, on the stage at the Mill, on Lake Ellyn during a cold starry winter night or Fawell’s backyard, at the bottom of a Pabst Blue Ribbon can, or bottle of Jim Beam.

I don’t want you all getting worried about my wellbeing here after reading this. I am having a GREAT TIME! I am in no rush to leave. Maybe part of that is because I love feeling like an American. Perhaps when I return home said patriotism will be diluted. I can tell everyone one thing though. What I miss more than anything or anyone (sans Mom) are my drums and my guitar. Well I guess I miss the people I play them with just as much. It’s an awful feeling knowing I won’t be on stage ripping BR or Zak Slaybaum songs for at least another 5 months. Though, you can bet your bottom dollar when that moment comes I will play with the biggest smile in the history of smiles or music.

So with that I bid you all adieu, I will attempt to write at least weekly from here on out.

p.s. I have a date with a French girl tomorrow. YAW WHAT UP PARIS!?