t-minus

Polish Salt Mines. This is a UNESCO world heritage site.
It was quite the amazing tour. I would elaborate more, except time is running thin and will later. For now, it is pics galore.

it all depends

Alright, another one of those quick entries because I had to pay ten Euros to use the internet just to look up a few addresses, so enjoy it because I could have bought like eight beers with ten Euros.

The other night we thought we'd hit up some local polka party time. This was also another one of those infamous "all you can drink" evenings. The dinner starts out with Schnapps for everyone, except nobody at my table liked that shit because you could remove nail polish with it. Therefore, my inner Irish pushed me to drink everything in sight. The worst part of this was that I forgot about the notorious Polish hospitality, and those shots never stopped coming. An empty glass meant a refill apparently, amongst all other alcoholic beverages. I'm sure you have a hangover just from reading this.

There was a lot of traditional songs and dancing throughout the night, most of which I don't remember because I was drunkenly laughing hard at pretty much anything. But it's vacation, right?

Notice the amount of (empty) shot glasses surrounding my bowl of soup. I also threw down a couple glasses of red wine and several bottles of Zwyiec. After the meal, everything became a bit hazy. Now, I've never seriously lost control of myself when drinking (except for those two times), so I had a good understanding of what was going on. It was time to fucking polka! I should also mention that I never drink hard alcohol because I think it's the devils delicious juice and I can't pace myself.

The band was cookin' and the circle began to take formation. I didn't know dick about the polka at the time but I was totally ready for what was to come. We danced in a circle to some fairly hype polka music and this cute Polish girl laid down a towel in front of me. Apparently this meant we both have to kneel on it and kiss cheecks a few times, to which the towel gets passed to me and then I get to choose who gets smooched next. Now, don't get me wrong, I had my pick of the litter. There were good looking girls in this circle, but what happened next is a classic move from the Book of Andy. Are you ready?

Whoooaaa shit!

I totally macked up that old broad.
To be honest, I can't stop laughing when I look at that photo.
Oh those cheecks. They were so damn smooth.
I really don't have anything else to say about that. You can draw your own conclusions. If I was really funny I would create an alternate ending to that story that would end in some Depends joke, but I'm not that funny and only have 15 minutes left of my Hilton Vienna account.

There's no real end to this story. We went back to the hotel and drank some more with Bernie and Mike in the lobby. I woke up with a hangover and an old broad in my bed.

Like I said, I'm not that funny.

the imperial march vs. idiot vader

Now, for some lightheartedness.
I recorded this during the writing of the Auschwitz post, only twenty minutes ago.
By fuck, that girl can snore. And I thought I had pipes.

ps. that is a star wars reference at the end

Auschwitz

I was considering throwing together a lengthy entry about my visit to Auschwitz, but thought I'd save the subject for a rainy day when I can really put some thought into it.
Needless to say, this was easily the most emotional landscape I'd ever laid eyes on. As soon as the fences could be seen only two words came to mind:

"Awwww...........shit,"

Just the sight of the camps made my soul flip upside down.

For those of you who have no idea what this place means, or have never seen or heard of such films as The Diary of Anne Frank, Schindler's List, The Pianist, and Life is Beautiful, I urge you to educate yourselves.

how many punchkis?

Warsaw as cool.

Wow, what a way to start a post. Right after mentioning how I pride myself in good writing structure, I blow it with a three-word thickheaded intro. Moving along...

Warsaw was actually quite interesting.

This was another classic example of a city that has been rebuilt within the past few decades because of the effects of war. Beautiful architecture, good food, and nice people. Well, mostly nice people - I had to talk Charlie out of a fight with no knowledge of the Polish language whatsoever.

The monument of Frederick Chopin. This was nice to see because I have a softy for his work, and I'll tell you why. When I was growing up we had a fancy piano at my house. This fancy piano played audio samples on command, so when my friends came over I would cue up the Chopin demos and pretend to play, when I would really just nervously slam on the keys hoping not to get busted. Needless to say I fooled 95% of my childhood friends into thinking I was a concert pianist by the age of 11.

One of the most frustrating issues on this trip so far is constant change in currency (and this will be the only thing I complain about). I can barely keep up with the exchange rates, and the result is that everything seems like a deal to me because the Euro is stronger than everything. There's been a reoccurring joke that none of us can remember any of the names of the currencies. For example, the Polish dollar has been called the names: schlotzky, punchki, polski, zlatki, dobri, fiski, tuskis, etc. And this goes for every currency so far.

moving along...

kisi, kisi

Here is a rough itinerary of the trip. Seeing as I am a few days behind in writing and currently reside in Budapest, you can see that I have some catching up to do. I am a bit slow when it comes to writing entries, not because I don't know what to say, but because I set high standards for my writing and take pride in good quality posts.

So by taking a peak you should have a good idea what's in store. We've also added four days in London after our Frankfurt departure. It would also be pretty sweet if one of you could see if there will be any good live music shows in London between May 2-5th. I'll even buy you something! (depending on how good the show is).

bondark presents part 2

yeah, yeah, yeah. haircut. budapest.

look at me! i'm hitler!

One of the finer facts about Europe is that you can only imagine how much shit has gone down on any single square inch of terrain. This continent has been through more twists, turns, turmoils, tragedies, and travesties than any other on the planet, and it has always been this way. The place is just soaked in the past and you can smell it in the streets. None of this Wal-Mart-today, Costco-tomorrow bullshit. There is grit in everything you look at. From the bullet holes in the walls to the older women that line the streets selling tulips.

Above, I can be seen standing at the front steps of the Reichstag building in Berlin. For those of you who have no idea what this means, either Wikipedia it yourselves or listen to me when I tell you that this was something hauntingly auspicious, if only for the sake of history itself.


The Reichstag, although bearing witness to some of the most horrible evil that ever walked the planet, has been transformed into something quite extraordinary. It's a beehive.


Aside from all the haunting monuments that crowd the city, Berlin was actually rad (and I use "rad" sparingly). Everything that my true love said about the city was true. It really was quite spectacular, and it takes a lot for me to say something like that.

From a fairly young age, I've been incredibly fortunate to see many of the globes finest cities. Everything from exchanges in Paris to vacations in Cancun. From back alley sleeping in Sydney to stirring shit in Barcelona. I've been such a lucky shit to be even close to these places, and Berlin has been no exception.

It's clean, very easy to follow, and German isn't all that hard to learn. The architecture is top-shelf-baroque-modern and the girls are beautiful. The people are very friendly and all know enough English to make you feel accommodated.




One of the more anticipated destinations in this city was the Berlin Wall. Again, something that you should investigate if you are unsure as to what this means. The Wall was one of the the darkest chapters in Germany's history, only second to the Holocaust and the reign of Adolf Hitler himself. This was something I'd wanted to see since I was young, right up there with the Coliseum - but I'll get to that one day when I'm good and ready.

To even touch this wall was as important to me as the pyramids of Giza or the Great Wall of China.
Now, before I close this entry I should mention two things.

First, when resting after a long run through the streets of Berlin late at night, I stopped for a breather. I sat upon the highest step of a famous concert hall (which I will recall at a later date) in one of the cities oldest squares. It was here that I experienced a moment of pure pleasure.
Now, I should mention that this doesn't happen to me very often.

I've garnered many moments of satisfaction throughout my days, but a moment of uninterrupted, inexplicable pleasure is something that happens only once in a black moon. I'm not talking about finding five bucks on the ground or a cheap lay. I'm talking about soaking in a moment without any effort. The kind of moment that just makes you sit back and realize how good you've got it. A young man was reciting a lengthy Chopin piece on the violin to a crowd of none in the town square. I sat behind a statue, unnoticed, until I applauded on my return to my room. These moments are rare to everyone, and I don't blame you. We've been bought off so incredibly badly by toys that we sometimes forget what a palpable sensation even feels like.

Secondly, I've been getting drunk. We'll have nights with an "all you can drink" option. Me, being me, have taken full advantage of this. Beer, wine, schnapps, you name it. It's all been up for grabs.

When my aunt gets drunk she pets strange dogs. When I drink I take abstract long-exposure aisle photographs.

or lack thereof

friends!

i'm sorry, and not sorry for the absence of postage on this blog.
my main reason for this is because I poorly planned how I would keep the battery on this infernal machine charged. i'd heard there would be converters brought with us, but only of the two-prong variety, and this thing needs the big juice.
so yes, i am sorry for the lack of entries.

apparently macs do not even exist in eastern europe. i've searched everywhere for a charger that would be compatible with european electrical sockets, to no avail. i concluded that these past few countries i've visited aren't quite as developed as those in the west, and there are no signs of modern gadgetry in sight. no mac advertisements, no computer stores, and no screaming spolied kids with ipods, which has been quite nice to be honest.

with that in mind, please be patient and treat every post as if it were a savoury hunk of gold, because holy shit is it hard to find adapters here. this has been my first charge since Berlin and i'm already at the Ramada Plaza in Budapest.

the scarlet exit

Finally, after hours over hours of flight, layover times and copious amounts of medication I sit in bed overlooking a beautiful courtyard in the largest city in Germany. Yet there were some stories along the way.



The flight out of Toronto went off without a hitch. I slept on a bench in the terminal and apparently twitched and snored like crazy to the point where onlookers were laughing. If this was something new to me I would be embarrassed, but it happens all the time.

We flew with British Airways. Forget anything I've ever said about any airline company, because BA was the shit. Highlights included Steak and Yorkshire pudding for dinner, on command movies and music with touch-screen televisions, awesome bathrooms and incredible service from charming old Brit fucks.


After an hour in the air the dinner service rolled around. The ladies in front of me ordered wine with their dinner. I said "say what? free wine?" and the mouse began to run on the wheel in my head. I quickly thought to tell my mom and aunt to order a serving (almost two full glasses) of California red each. I asked for a serving myself of French Bordeaux and got two bottles. The man mentioned that if I needed any more to just holler. Oh, I hollered.

I spent the next four hours watching Casino Royale and Quantum of Solace (I had seen neither at the time, so I thought it suitable to drink tons of wine and watch both back to back). Long story short, I drank about eight of those bottles of wine and thoroughly enjoyed Casino Royale. Quantum of Solace was good, except it was a bit watered-down in comparison to the super-fresh approach to Bond filmmaking that was Casino Royale.

I've never been that drunk on a plane before, so I wasn't ready for my usual drunken antics and ideas. One idea occurred to me when waiting for the bathroom while standing near the emergency exit. I really, really had the urge to pull that big handle that lets the door fly open in case of emergencies. I decided not to only because the lady came out of the shitter.

I never really considered the time zone changes, but about an hour after I drunkenly passed out I was awoken to a sunrise and was served breakfast. What!! I was just about to have the nap of my life and I was being stuffed full of strudel. At that point it was 1am in Toronto and I was already up again to start another day. Lest we forget, I only slept for four hours the night before to wake up for the stair climb at 6:30, so I've been running on fumes ever since.

On the way down my sinuses really began acting up to the point where I couldn't even pop my ears to relieve the pressure. So, from about 10,000 feet and descending, the pressure began to build and there was nothing I could do about it. When we landed in Heathrow I couldn't hear a thing out of my right ear. Combine this with a red wine hangover and you've got yourself a cranky ginger cunt. I snapped back at a security lady when was asked to empty my pockets and I threw bills in, to which she snapped back with a gnar-Britch accent. I kept my temper to a simmer and walked away.


We waited for our next flight into Berlin, and the entire time I was yawning and chewing gum in hopes of popping my ears, to no avail. The nice thing about traveling with my mom and aunt is that they have a medication for everything. My prescription relieve my pressure was Tylenol Day Cold, Gravol, and Buckleys De-congestive washed down with a ton of orange juice. So here I was again ascending to 11,000 feet with so much pressure it felt like somebody was popping popcorn in my face. My ear drums were constantly cracking by themselves, along with my nose and throat. Remember how I mentioned that getting my hand re-aligned was the most painful thing yet? This was a close second. I wanted that plane to crash so badly just so I could get out. Even as I sit here now my ears are still full of fluid. Hopefully this will be gone by morning.

Aside from flight, everything has been peachy. Germans are cute and the English were annoying. A one hour layover was good enough for me. Germans just seem to float around in their own little bubble and smile a lot. The English have annoying accents and a "fee-fi-fo-fum" mentality about them.

I went out for dinner with Charlie and his wife Nancy. I've known these two Yanks for a while so it was nice to meet up with them again. At the restaurant I decided to go for the most German-style dish I could possibly find. I settled on a Pork-Knuckle with Dumplings and Sauerkraut. That's about as German as it gets, along with a dark beer. I lay here in bed now at the Hilton Berlin. Somewhat of a rough start but there's no more flying the another two weeks so I'm sure I'll be all cleared up by then. I'm also sure that the reason this entry is so long is because I've taken off my splint and can type like the wind blows.

terminals

Here it comes again.
Tomorrow I fly to Berlin.
Pictures, writings, and wanderings will ensue here as much as possible.