Tag Archives: meta


Thursday, 4 August 2011

To those of you who’ve been posting comments – Nicola, Shawn – I’m grateful. I apologize for not doing a better job of keeping up, or keeping in touch.

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Thursday, 4 August 2011

This morning I either misplaced or had slyly taken from me about 200 Moroccan dirham, worth a bit less than $20. Which sucks, but either way it’s my fault, because I should have been more vigilant, or less absent-minded. And it wasn’t my entire supply of Moroccan currency. It just makes me feel a bit sad, is all.

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Wednesday, 3 August 2011

Incidentally, so many things about Marrakech remind me – powerfully – of India. The sound of motorcycle engines; the press of cloying people, demanding your attention; the women dressed in vibrant, brilliant colors. Curbs painted in rectangles of alternating colors – red and white here, yellow and black in India. The dust that settles over everything. The heat. The smells, sometimes putrescent, sometimes profoundly pleasurable; always potent. The traffic that has no rules and stops for no one. Shops selling every imaginable thing, and the government-run emporiums you can retreat to when you tire of haggling. Beggars gesturing, hand to mouth; the hospitality of strangers; the juice stalls you can’t drink from because they may not use expensive tap water to clean their glasses, and you don’t want to get sick, now, do you?

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But Then

Saturday, 30 July 2011

But then I had to go to the train station to arrange my ticket to Barcelona, and that wasn’t fun. I was directed – directed, mind you – to go to a line, where I waited patiently for an hour, before it was my turn at the front. Where I learned I was in the wrong line. There was a special line for Eurail pass holders – which wasn’t all that “special” for me, since it meant I got to wait for another hour and a half in an entirely different line. And pay 75 euro for an overnight berth at the end of it.

By the time I left, I wanted to flog little children, in the street, for no reason. Just like everyone does, from time to time.

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Saturday, 30 July 2011

“Hey Ryan, where are you?”

“I’m in Paris, Bitches!”


The place to be.

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Saturday, 30 July 2011

Here’s a quiz. American is to soda as…


This is deep.

Or maybe they’re trying to say that being American is like being soda: bubbly and effervescent, and explosive when shaken? I didn’t stop to inquire.

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Saturday, 30 July 2011

I’m in Barcelona Spain now, and it’s amazing how quickly my Spanish skills are coming back to me. I’m thinking in Spanish again and I don’t need to mentally translate everything I hear. Cerveza. Of course; what else would you call beer? A couple weeks; maybe a month, tops. That’s how long it would take me to become fluent in Spanish, just by living here, and drinking beer.

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Monday, 25 July 2011

Neither my laptop nor my smartphone can access the wireless networks in Amsterdam, so this will be a silent time for me. But I’ll update the blog when I get to Paris.

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Sunday, 24 July 2011

Incidentally, today is my first day in Amsterdam, and trying to find a place to access the internet has been extremely tricky. May not be many posts until I get that sorted out.

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At Night

Wednesday, 20 July 2011

I wish I could describe to you what Krakow is like in the evening. It’s just like being in Krakow. Only at night.

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