C'est Quoi?

My final dash around Europe took me to London, Brussels, and Amsterdam.

In London, I couchsurfed with Conor, a completely inspiring and interesting guy who grew up in Northern Ireland and spent time hiking and farming across Spain, New Zealand, and Australia. We went to Camden Town and Notting Hill together, and he lived in a neighborhood that brought back pleasant memories of Brooklyn. 

The weather was amazing throughout my trip with the exception of one small downpour when I was in Notting Hill by myself. I took shelter and free wifi in McDonald’s, which led to an unusually long conversation with a random stranger who invited me to go with her to a student theater production nearby. 

I naively obliged and soon found myself strategically placed in the corner of a Baptist Church auditorium, where escape would prove precarious but essential, as the production mashed up digital flames, hip hop, rap, and overall absurdity to portray a dead man going to hell because he had not accepted jesus as his savior, in addition to looking at women with lust. 

After escaping like a Jewish bat out of hell, I wandered down by the Thames to see old London and met another character from Ghana, Papa Jay, at this totally unique open venue for free and paid cultural events.

Said goodbye to Conor the next day and checked into… The Generator. Imagine an enormous complex home to blaring music, groups of loud foreigners, and an on-premises club. This was my hostel for the last night.

I slept below a very old woman who snored louder than two earplugs combined in each ear would drown out. And the following night, I snuck back into the building, took a free shower, and camped out in the lounge until it was time for me to head to the train station at 4:30 am to go to Brussels.

Once there, I met up with Diana, the girlfriend of my next host, Alex. They were from Romania and lived in a totally amazing converted industrial loft-esque space. I had a real bed to sleep on and access to a long, hot shower. Is it any wonder I loved Brussels?

On top of that, I tried a few varieties of strooong Belgian beer, waffles, and chocolate. And made my way through an inspiring look at the life and work of Magritte. I was also approached by more men there than in any other city thus far, so if you are single and want to do something about that, go to Brussels.

Next up, was Amsterdam. On the way, I met Faisal who was sitting across from me on the train. With no plans, we decided to go to a “coffee shop” together when we arrived. This led to two days spent together higher than kites.

My first host in Amsterdam was an intense dude who scared the beejesus out of me. He totally meant well, but he never shut up and said some pretty lunatic things. About his ex wife, physically removing and denying said removal of someone’s car in his driveway, a young prostitute friend he had to rescue, oh and his 70 year old mother doing his laundry and cooking for him…..

Faisal also said some pretty out there things. He hinted that he was a saint and even went so far as to bless the ring I was wearing while we were lighting up the second day. Later a waitor came by and asked if a bottle on the ground belonged to Faisal. It appeared to be nose spray. Faisal vehemently denied ownership, and the waitor said that this thing was used for “ice.” I don’t even know what “ice” is but believe me, this freaked me out…

The next day, was Queen’s Day. Wil, my first host, woke me up bright and early to haul my ass and this other hippy dippy Dutch chick to the train station. (He lived an hour oustide Amsterdam.)

I would be staying with another character in Amsterdam that night, who was also hosting 3 other people and who spoke very oddly.

I was feeling pretty overwhelmed, paranoid, and freaked out, so after landing in Amsterdam, I took the train back to Amstel Station and went to the bus terminal and booked a ticket to just leave. I didn’t really want to be there any longer, even though I had come for Queen’s Day. I ended up just changing my ticket from Monday to Sunday, and continued on my journey to Ramón’s flat.

Ramón had post it notes all over his apartment. He was a total control freak. And made me ride on the back of his single gear bicycle against all my protests. We walked around the insanity that was Amsterdam on Queen’s Day. Drunk people everywhere, people selling rubbish on the streets, children performing in the park, and rivers of piss running alongside trash everywhere by night fall. That night I slept next to a random girl in Ramón’s bed. 

I was happy to leave the next day, but also felt a little defeated. The eight hour bus journey stopped through Brussels and ended in Paris, where I caught a train back to Lisieux and was fined 16 euros for buying the wrong type of ticket for the journey back.

When I got back, it was pouring in Lisieux and my fridge had been mysteriously unplugged so it is now filled with all sorts of mold and nastiness which I am happy to leave behind for whoever unplugged it.

When we arrived back in Lisieux last night fueled by alcohol, we marched down the streets yelling at the city in contempt, anger, and profanely modified English. Thereby releasing some of that pent up insanity directly onto our perpetrator. It wasn’t redemption, but damn it felt good.

We assistants had our final hurrah in Caen today.

There was beer pong, boxed wine, freestyling, cave wandering, acrobatics, yoga, dizzy ball, and burgers in the yard of a Catholic home with its own underground sanctuary and afforementioned cave!

Unbefitting because it was so righteously fun. 

I think we were all wondering why this shit didn’t happen sooner and more often. Not to mention if it had, would we all be so fervently eager to get the hell out of here.

Speak to a French person in English, and you will either be ignored or shunned.

Speak to a French person in French, and you will often receive a response in English.

Kind of a bummer.

Downing beer on the train and much later discovering you’ve tucked your shirt into the thong that’s hanging out of your pants.

Your welcome, America, for perpetuating our formidable reputation abroad. Cheers!

That was weird.

to get schlossed the night before I’m doing something that requires me to be respectable..

Ah well.

Recap of last night:

twenty boys + me (by myself) + one other girl + beer drinking all over the city for 7 hrs = hilarious and awesome, so fun.

I also switched hostel rooms yesterday because my male roommate was creepin me out! I’m now staying with a girl who I’ve yet to meet, but who has 4 full sized hairspray bottles with her! Intense!

And the weather’s great.

After 10 hrs traveling…

Drinking a local beer in my hostel lobby, bunking up with some strange foreign men, gearing up for a free tour tomorrow morning, a paid biergarden crawl tomorrow night, and meeting my half sister here on Saturday.

Just another day in the life.

TWO weeks left in the most boring, depressing village

and exactly FOUR until I am home!