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.

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.