Biking through the Balkans

Well, I had been planning on writing a blog post about my traveling around England, Ireland, Holland, and Belgium with friends of mine from Pittsburgh, but instead ran out of time and will be leaving for yet another epic adventure, biking from Istanbul to Munich, over the next six weeks. My best mate Will and I have set up a blog especially for the occasion, so we'll be posting our stories during that time. Here's our blog: http://thefunkyangloboys.wordpress.com/

Lou

Still roaming around Europe...

Well! I just noticed today that it has almost been a full two months since I've posted anything, so I thought it might be a nice idea to write a bit o' something to keep this blog alive! In lieu of writing a la paragraphs, here's a play-by-play of what I've been up to in the past few months since I've posted last:

mid- to late-May: spent two weeks in Paris learning how to manage a restaurant while couchsurfing, making new friends, seeing old ones, and biking around just about everywhere in Paris, checking out food markets, patisseries, cafes, and parks

early June: headed to Berlin for a few days to spend with Will; busked for another time on the U-Bahn, then head back to Munich for a week

mid-June to early-July: met up with Wren, Kimmi, and Kevyn (friends from Pittsburgh) in Newcastle, England and traveled through norethern England and Ireland via rental car. Went to a beer festival outside Newcastle the first night, saw the Lake District for three days while couchsurfing with a Slovenian family, drove down to Wales to take the ferry to Dublin, met up with a friend from Cologne in Dublin, drove to the west coast (Galway, Killarney, Dingle, Beara Peninsula) for four or five days. Kim and Kev went home from there and Wren and I continued on to Holland and Belgium, seeing Amsterdam, Rotterdam, Antwerp, Brugges, Gent, and Brussels.

early-July: visited friends in Goettingen, Hamburg, Rostock, and am now sitting in Berlin hanging with Will.

Imminent plans: flying to Istanbul with my bike and Will to bike back to Munich through former Yugoslavia over the course of six weeks!

How time flies...

Man! It's been a while since I've written a post, and I've already had during that period way too many experiences to write about them successfully in one post: traveling with my dad and stepmom around Bavaria, Austria, and Czech Republic; running a marathon in Luxembourg; and I'm about to head to Paris tomorrow to embark on a two-week cooking adventure, working in an Italian restaurant and learning the tricks of the trade from a kindly man from Rome! Right now I'm sitting here in Luxembourg fighting off post-marathon exhaustion, packing my things for the early journey tomorrow and getting excited for Paris! I'd love to say more about what I've been up to, or at least some random recipe or another cool piece of writing, but all I have the time or stamina for is to say that many stories will come soon! So keep posted!

Paris to Vienna with Me Ma

There are some moments I want to talk about. Moments of reflection. Those moments of reflection that you experience, after not having taken time to reflect for a long time. During which long time you’ve done so much more than you can recall, even in the most lucid moment of reflection. So much more, that when that instant of reflection finally breaks through the thick barrier of constant and unbroken experience and accomplishment, it shatters that pristine unity into a thousand tiny fragments, some of which fall between the cracks of active consciousness and reflective thought, never to be retrieved again.

This is how I feel after the last several weeks of my life.  After a fantastic blur of trains, cars, couches, and hotel rooms, I have finally settled down for a second to breathe and realized just how much I’ve done even since I last wrote. This entry will be the feeble attempt to piece together those last couple of weeks in some semblance of coherent order for you to understand. Here goes the impossible....

So. I've been traveling with me ma across Europe over the past two weeks. Our first stop was Paris, where I met her. We decided to take this vacation very relaxed...not have a full schedule of things to do or see every day, but rather to have a couple ideas in mind, and seeing how the day progressed. The main goal of each day was to eat and eat well. Among the multitude of comestibles we rapaciously consumed, the items we devoured the most were wine, cheese, and yes, pastries. Lots of pastries. From several patisseries a day. More than any being should consume and still have a properly functioning heart. From croissants to macarons, pain au chocolat and tartelettes, they were delicious every time. I’ve never been to place with such a highly developed pastry culture, and my oh my was it tasty! But they culinary adventures didn’t end at the patisseries...one day we even lunched in the Champ du Mars just before the Eiffel Tower on a grand feast of cheese, baguette, and red wine. Also, we visited a couple of great bistros, at which I had escargot, black pudding over roasted apples, and other delectables.

Mmmmm apricot tart!!! 

Of all our gastronomic escapades, one stands out above the rest. This is the first time something like this has ever happened to me, something that doesn’t happen just any old day. It happened when went to an Italian restaurant—Augusto, in the 3^rd arr.—for lunch with my couchsurfing host around the corner from his apartment, a little two-man operation tucked away on a small street. Throughout the meal, the chef/owner came to speak with us a few times, as he is friends with my host and likes speaking with his customers. During the course of the chat, it was mentioned that I want to open a cafe and so we got onto the topic of running a restaurant and the like. Anyway, by the end of the conversation, after having expressing interest in wanting to work in my cafe for a little bit once I get it operational, he ended up doing offering me something beyond my wildest dreams: the chance to work under him for two weeks, to learn how to manage a restaurant by myself!

And so it shall be: after emailing him a few times to agree upon a date, we decided that I’ll come back on May 20 and work there until June 3. Although he’s unfortunately not able to pay me, his teachings will more than compensate for whatever money he could give me. This is the perfect opportunity to learn exactly the skills I need to for opening my own, small restaurant, from how to manage inventory to which food suppliers to look for.  And I’ll doubtless pick up some fantastic recipes along the way! I’ll have to dedicate an entire blog post to these two weeks—so look for it in a couple of months!

Me and me ma before that big tower thingy

Our stay in Paris culminated the next day with another lovely occurrence, albeit planned rather than a surprise like the last. On our last evening there, we met up with two couchsurfing friends, Justin and Flo, whom I hosted in Pittsburgh the autumn before last. They are a couple who’ve been living and studying in Paris for the last few years, and I had intended to visit them since arriving in Europe in September. They took us to a small bistro with—allegedly—the best steak tartare in town. While I had nothing to compare it against, it certainly was delicious. But never mind the food. Seeing those two again was lovely. So far, I’ve seen most couchsurfers whom I’ve hosted or whom have hosted me at least one more time, usually in a different corner of the world. It’s so lovely to make such lasting connections within the couchsurfing community, even though circumstances usually don’t presage our seeing each other again after the initial meeting. I fully intend on hanging out with them some more when I go back!

Me and my couchsurfing friends David (second from left) and Justin (third from left) with one of David's friends. We just so happened to run into David while heading to dinner. 

After Paris, my mother and I took a train to Cologne. Due to negligence to double-check our schedule, we ended up missing our train because I thought we were taking a later one than we actually were. Which unfortunately led to us having to buy last-minute tickets, which were by no means cheap (sorry Mom!). Anyway, along the way we had to sit in between carriages on the fold-down seats near the lavatory since the Thalys was over-booked (as always, apparently). But it ended up not being too bad, especially since randomly I had a chat with another Fulbrighter, who just so happened to also come from Pittsburgh, who’s a teaching assistant near Hanover. What are the chances!

In Cologne, while my mother swam in the hotel pool, I took the chance to enjoy a two-hour run along the good ol’ Rhein, my old pal of yore. For dinner that eve, we met up with Mark, my friend from Duquesne who moved to Cologne to marry the love of his life, Katharina, whom he met in Pittsburgh when she was an exchange student there. My mom had her first taste of Kölsch, Cologne’s famous brew, as well as a proper Cologne Brauhaus experience at Päffgen, a non-touristy favorite hang of the locals. Two days later, on Easter Sunday, we took to the Dom for the biggest Easter mass I’ve ever been to in my life (I mean, it’s only in the fourth largest cathedral in the world...). Though I was there three years ago for the very same service, my mother hadn’t seen it yet, and was quite delighted to have gone. And while I’m not into all the whole religion thing, I must admit I was quite impressed with not only the service, but also the setting. Gotta give ‘em some respect.

That afternoon, we boarded another train (the right one this time) headed for Munich. The whole ride we were looking forward to enjoying our first home-cooked meal of the whole trip, but were unpleasantly surprised when I went for my run the next morning. Apparently, the day after Easter is also considered a holiday in Germany, and thus all the stores were closed, including, most oddly, most of the restaurants. Since I had been in Berlin the month before our trip, I had absolutely no food in my apartment, and so we were forced to go out yet again. We met Michael, one of my best mates here, for dinner at a Greek restaurant in Schwabing. Otherwise our stay in Munich was quite peaceful, walking around the city center and enjoying the hoards of buskers that were out that day. The next day (Tuesday) we shipped off for Vienna on yet another train.

Serious buskers in Munich

Vienna was definitely our favorite city. The ‘City of Music’ indeed—every night, there’s quite lit’rally two operas, three musicals, a couple of plays, a handful of symphonies, and every other kind of performance imaginable being put on. Of course, we took full advantage of such offerings, seeing three concerts (two classical piano, pieces by Bach and Chopin, and latin flamenco-jazz by Diego el Cigala). Otherwise we relaxed, supping on (of course) much schnitzel, strudel, and Sacher Torte. Though I must say the Sacher Torte was a bit of a disappointment, the coffee was certainly not. We also found a lovely restaurant that offers dishes centered on apples and potatoes, two main crops of Austria, near our hotel: Jonathan und Sieglinde, Riemergasse 16, 1010 Wien. They had most delicious creations (including, thankfully, lots of veggie dishes), and the most extensive selection of apple wines, juices, and ciders I’ve ever seen. It’s rare to see such creativity, albeit simple, in restaurants these days. Above all ones that offer more than just a couple vegetarian dishes.

Sacher Torte and a coffee-hot chocolate drink at Cafe Mozart 

We also visited the Museum Albertina, one of the most well-laid out and structured collections of art I’ve been to. Not only did they show their artwork chronologically, but they also gave extensive biographies of the artists whose work in prominent in their collection, as well as a good deal of context behind their paintings. For once, instead of aimlessly wandering through a confused maze of colors, I learned about the significance of painters’ contributions to the art world, and what they did to become famous. The two rotating exhibits were on Impressionism and Gustav Klimt’s drawings.

Well after four days in Vienna, I saw my mother off to the airport, from where she flew to Paris to catch a connecting flight to Pittsburgh the next day. Her flight was at 6:20 in the morn, so I returned to the hotel and slept till check-out, moving myself and my bag to yet another couchsurfing friend’s place, whom I had hosted in Munich over New Year’s a few months ago. Kathi was quite busy, needing to study for a large test and I was pretty exhausted from my extensive jaunting across Europe, so we just pretty much hung out for the weekend, watching a movie and cooking together when not reading or studying. I made her a lemon meringue pie, which we ate after enjoying some mushroom risotto and red cabbage salad. After a day and a half’s rest at Kathi’s place, I caught one last train home to the Münch, to actually live in my apartment again after nearly two months of not being there for more than three consecutive days.

Hitchhiking Diaries, Part 3: Berlin to Paris

Well, I suppose it's the time again to write a blog post. And what a time indeed: so much has happened in this past week! So much so that I'm afraid that I have only one story to tell--but hang on--it's quite a doozy, this one! The basic story is that I hitchhiked from Berlin to Paris to meet my mother, who has come to visit me for a two-week adventure in France, Germany, and Austria. But the interesting bits are in the fuller description of what happened that day!

As my hitchhiking prowess and experience has been increasing since I began in February, I've been also hitching increasingly farther distances. This past trip to Paris was by a long shot my farthest: just over 1,000km, compared to my second longest, Munich to Cologne (600km). Add to that the fact that I was to meet my mother at the Charles de Gaulle Airport outside of Paris two days after I began my journey, and things start to get interesting. For if I for some reason unable to meet my mother there....well, who knows what would have happened. But I may not be typing this right now...

Anyway, with such a long trip I had a lot of firsts. First hitch from a trucker, first hitch at night, first time getting stranded miles from a viable hitching spot, having then to walk for a couple hours before finding one. But enough lead-in. I'll just tell you what happened!

The journey began last Friday morning, bright and early at 8am, when I left William's apartment in Berlin to take the public transit to the hitching spot, the rest stop Michendorf well south of town. It takes a while to get there, since Berlin is a massive city by area, so it wasn't until 9:45 or so till I was there and looking for a hitch. That morning passed pretty uneventfully, cloudy and chilly, without many cars stopping to refill their tank or take a break from the Autobahn. I was feeling quite anxious about whether I'd make it the whole way to Paris, and whether I'd have to sleep randomly somewhere outside (not that I wasn't prepared both physically and mentally--I had my sleeping bag and was fully expecting the day to end that way), and so wasn't at all encouraged by the sparsity of drivers. Because of this, I was shier than usual, ruling out certain cars before I could know for certain that they wouldn't take me. You see, the type of people who usual pick up hitchers are men driving alone, so when I see a family or women, I tend not to ask out of common sense. But this day I was being overly cautious. After seeing one car pull up around 11:00am which appeared to be a couple with a teenage son, I immediately ruled them out. But then when the 'father' and 'son' got out,  I decided to ask the 'son' just for fuck's sake. To my surprise, he seemed obliging, but wanted to defer the final decision to the 'father,' who, upon being asked once he joined our conversation, simply laughed. When he saw me standing there with my guitar and hiker's bag, he knew I was going to ask, and was waiting until I did! What was more, he was heading to Limburg, a small city between Frankfurt and Cologne---a good 500km away, about halfway to Paris in one go! So we shifted the luggage in his car, piled in, and headed for Limburg.

Not only was it an incredible feeling to get a ride from people I thought surely wouldn't be able to take me, but they were also an interesting bunch. The 'father' and 'son', who actually were old enough to fit their respective roles, turned out to be just friends, while the 'mother' was a thirty-something Vietnamese guy who didn't speak German (in my defense, he was lying down when the car pulled up, and I couldn't see his face!). They were all making a pilgrimage of sorts to see the 'Holy Mother'/'Lebendiger Gott '(living god), some self-proclaimed Indian prophet who had ended her world travels in Limburg, feeling that the energy in Germany was just perfect for the kind of spiritualism or whatever she was looking for. They deferred most of my questions about her and what they were doing to a book about her that they handed me, that just confused me even more. So I just shrugged my shoulders, pretended to understand, and had a lovely conversation with them about other random topics. Since I had only slept four hours the night before in my usual last-minute packing ritual, I soon nodded off with the other passengers, getting some much-needed zzzzs along the five-hour ride.

The Limbuger Dom, from a bridge over the Lahn

After discussing with the driver about where would be best to drop me off, I opted for the city of   Limburg itself  instead of the previous rest stop, which was 60km before the city. I figured that because Limburg was small, and that I had stopped at a cool rest stop in Limburg before on a previous hitch, it would be better to walk the little bit to the stop and ride 60 more kilometers than stopping short at a hitching spot. Boy, was I never so wrong! It turns out that the rest stop I was thinking of either doesn't exist, or isn't by the city of Limburg at all. After scouting out where the A3 highway was, I headed in that direction, walking up some pretty serious hills until getting to a point where two highways intersected. I had come to a pretty serous obstacle--the rest stop I needed to be at was on the other side of both highways, diagonally across the intersection, and there weren't any sidewalks or smaller roads going over or under the highways, which meant no easy way to get there. As it turned out, I had to walk about 5km all told, getting lost and having to reorient myself several times. I called William to see what the quickest path would be, getting help from a dude who accurately guessed that I needed some who approached me as I was on the phone. Along the way after getting directions from him, I had to keep asking. It didn't help that half the locals I asked either didn't know where the rest stop was or didn't believe it existed, while the other half affirmed that it was there. After spending a solid two hours walking, I finally arrived at the rest stop, around 4:30pm. I've never been so grateful to see a gas station along a highway.

Over the A3. On the distance on the left
(past another highway), is where I needed to go

Feeling full of positive energy after getting through the treacherous maze I had just blindly ambled through, I wore a smile and began asking. This go round it only took half the time to find a ride (30 minutes), receiving one from a Belgian businessman who spoke nearly perfect English. He was going to the Belgian-Dutch border, but only as far as Aachen along the same way I needed to go. At this point, being 5pm, I was considering getting let out at Cologne and spending the night with one of the many friends I have there, finishing the 450km or so in the morning. I was pretty indecisive when Walter (my driver) had asked me where I wanted to get out, but then a wave of optimism and determination swept over me, and I told him I wanted to see how far I could hitch that day, and so went the last rest stop before Aachen, right near the Belgian border. Besides my curiosity for how far I could keep going and my will not to quit early, I had plans to stay with a rad couchsurfing host that night in Paris, coupled with the fact that I wanted to spend as much time in Paris as possible, so I pushed onward. Walter was a legit dude, holding one of the most interesting and lively conversations I've had so far while hitchhiking.

From this point onward, my optimism was through the roof, which was appropriately reflected with the more positive responses I was getting from drivers. At Aachen, it only took around 10 minutes to get a ride, and even from someone who didn't speak either English or German. He was a Hungarian trucker (who's Hungarian name I forget...started with an 's'...), who gave me my first ride in a semi! And he did speak a little German, but just not enough to hold a continuous conversation. We were able to communicate through the universal language of hand gestures, facial expressions, and random noises, and had a rad time together. He was a really nice dude, who usually picks us hitchhikers (even though his boss tells him not to). At first I thought I was only going to Liege, not even 100km from Aachen, but then he told me he was going all the way to the Belgian-French border on the highway going straight to Paris! He would be going to Paris, but not until the next day after he took his required night's sleep. Driving in a truck was cool, but different. The cab is huge, so you have more space, but the trucks go muuuuuch slower than cars, and have to refill their gas tanks every two hours or so, which I experienced. But hey, a ride's a ride, and off into the night we drove!

Just over the French border at the first rest stop where I was dropped off, well dark by this point (11:00pm), I was completely awake and ready to keep pushing forth. After waiting just three minutes for someone to arrive, I got a hitch from the very first person I asked, a Belgian trucker delivering frozen chickens to....Paris! Tom was a friendly, stand-up guy who had a wealth of stories to share with me. Along the ride through the French night, he told me about the hooker he had given a ride from Italy to Belgium over three days (but refused to have sex with her), who had neither money nor any clothes besides the ones on her back. She had been abandoned there by her boyfriend, and was at a loss at what to do until Tom stopped for her and took her to where she wanted to go. Though the road to Paris was only another 300km or so, the ride ended up taking much longer than expected, since Tom had to take his required 30-minute break along with having to make a delivery before dropping me off. He was only getting 30km or so of the city itself, and the delivery ended up taking longer than anticipated, but it gave me a good opportunity to sleep somewhere warm for a while. It was particularly interesting chatting with him about delivering food (they were organic chickens, and I asked him about the differences in regulations for them, etc.), and experiencing (not really, but sort of) a delivery. He forced me to stay in the cab, saying that me leaving would be a breach of security, in case I was a journalist or someone taking pictures of the process. Which gave me a huge surge of optimism for the food industry...

Anyway, he dropped me off those 30km or so away from Paris around 3:30am. Unfortunately, he had to switch highways just before dropping me off, so I was on one leading around Paris, not into it. But it didn't phase me at all--I couldn't believe I had gotten that far, and was close enough to sleep till the sun came up and walk if I had to into the city. But I was hungry, having long before finished my packed lunch and snack. I was trying to see just how far I could go without spending money, and so didn't buy food along the way (except for a couple pretzels in Limburg....). But at this point I had to cave. At the same time, things started quickly going downhill. The dude inside the shop (which was open), didn't speak any English, and couldn't understand what I wanted to buy (I had to order through a window at that hour). He also was in disbelief that I was hitchhiking, which didn't help the situation.  But Lady Luck has a way of showing her face just when you least expect her. As I was endlessly trying to explain to the shop keeper that I wanted some bread, some guy who had just filled his tank approached us, and was equally shocked I was hitchhiking. So shocked, in fact, that he simply couldn't let it be. I quote: "You're hitchhiking? WHAT?!? This cannot be. I take you to train." Not only that, but the shop keeper gave me a pastry--for free! It seems Lady Luck manifested herself in the form of extreme compassion and aid!

Dan, the French dude who gave me a lift, lived right down the highway, about 10km away, near one of the last train stations on the train going into Paris. We arrived at 4:00am, and he explained as best he could when the train arrived and where I needed to go in the station to get to the platform and buy a ticket (he didn't speak English). He still couldn't believe that I was hitchhiking at 4am even when he dropped me off, shook his head once more, and drove away. I was so close.

Alas, the train didn't start running until just past 5, so I bought my ticket, plopped myself on the station, and did the only thing I could have to pass the time and stay awake for an hour: I busted out my geetar and began playing. The time flew faster than expected, and before too long I was joining the locals on their commute into one of the biggest cities in Europe, and one of the cultural capitals of the world. If only they knew what I had done that day (though I'm sure they were confused a bit by my guitar playing).

I arrived to my CS host's just past 6am, who had generously left the key under the mailbox to let myself in. It took a little bit to fall asleep from all the excitement of reaching my 1,000km-away goal (which turned out to be more like 1,200) in less than 24 hours, and having the opportunity to spend a full day in Paris before meeting my mother. But once I was asleep, I slept for a solid four hours, before being awoken by my host, who had prepared breakfast for me. I had a wonderful day exploring the better part of Paris by foot, concluding it by cooking dinner for my host and his partner, who were some of the most generous and interesting people I've ever met through CS. 

So that was that! I learned a lot about myself, other people, and the world in general through this trip. Most importantly, it seems perfectly clear to me now that the universe always works itself out, as long as you give it a chance to. We spend so much time worrying, hoping, and getting angry and frustrated when things don't turn out how we want them to that we forget how easy life is if we just let go and allow it to happen. I'm not saying that there's such a thing as 'fate' or that there's some sort of god or something running the show, but simply that there never is a need for us silly humans to worry. This was by far the best hitching experience I've had yet, and not nearly my last!

---------------------------

As an addendum: of course, before I left, I lied to my mother and told her I had booked a train to Paris to assuage her already immense anxiety of properly leaving the country, but then told her of my hitching adventure once I met up with her and the possibility of me not meeting her was nonexistent. She thought it was funny :).

Turning a New Leaf and Baking a Few Pies

Well, I guess it's that time to publicly reveal what has been an inevitable and long-coming process, a transition into what I've always wanted to do: cooking professionally. Yes boys and girls, this cat's jumping the philosophy boat and putting his profession where his passion is.

If this year in Germany has taught me anything, it is that (1) I cannot--at least not in this part of my life--properly conduct independent study in philosophy and that (2) I am much happier and interested in spending my time researching food, developing new cuisines, and cooking delicious food as my principal vocation. The vast majority of my free time over the past few years has been devoted almost exclusively to just that goal; there is never an idle moment in my life in which I'm not planning the next dinner party, thinking up what new dish to try, or baking some delicious pie or cake for a friend as a present. It only makes sense that I use those skills I've been honing since I was young in a professional setting.

This means a few things. First of all, it means I will definitely be returning to Pittsburgh in the fall after my grant is over here. Not only do I know and love Pittsburgh through and through, but I have the support of my loving friends and family to help me along as I embark on this new adventure. It is the perfect city in which to set up shop: the timing is right, the public is hungry for change, and the rents are low. Secondly, I will not be able to do this without the help of Wren, with whom I will be opening a cafe in the near future (at latest within a year) on account of our strong passion for food. I've had the most gustatorily wonderful collaborations with him over the past few years, and we are both in a perfect position to give this a shot. We've been developing plans since we first joked about doing this as a back-up plan pipe dream exactly one year ago, and want to ride the wave of momentum that's grown through our communications since then. Thirdly, I will become an entrepreneur, setting up a couple different businesses and looking for a few other sources of incomes and outlets for my home-cooked food, doing something vastly different than what I've been training to do over the past four years.

As far as what the businesses will be like, I have two in mind at the moment: the cafe, which is more long-term, and a pie delivery business, which is more short term. I will set up the pie business as soon as I return, using it to lead into the cafe, which will take more time to plan and realize. As I have told many of you, the principal philosophy behind the cafe will be: (1) to offer a weekly and seasonal menu featuring unique and experimental dishes spanning nearly every cuisine, food, and technique imaginable; (2) to encourage an interest and passion for good, healthy, locally-grown, and natural food through food education; (3) to promote a stronger sense of community through various events such as weekly cooking classes. Food is by and large the most vital part of our lives, the stuff that not only is a major factor in our personal health, but also that which holds together our community networks and social bonds. It's more than just an inconvenient daily requirement that has to be met through any means possible--it is who we are, just as crucial a part of our culture as things like language, music, and sports. Every social gathering is centered on food; every family convenes around the dinner table. Most restaurants are content to serve the same food day in and day out, on a menu similar to nearly every other restaurant within the same category, and do it without explaining where the food came from or how they cook it to their customers. In a world full of ultra-fast, chemically-altered, nutritionally-unsound food, we have forgotten what it means to eat well and live well through that. My goal is to help others rediscover the magic and wonder that is downright good, delicious, healthy food, and have fun doing it.

This decision of mine to become part of the food business, however, does not mean that I'm abandoning philosophy altogether. It's become one of my most treasured hobbies, and is among a group of a handful of activities that has most dramatically (and positively) influenced my life. I cannot begin to count the valuable advice, different perspectives, and profound knowledge I've gained through my study of philosophy. Indeed, I could not have arrived at my current life juncture without first having traveled down the windy, complex, wondrous path that is philosophy. Were it not for the nuggets of wisdom I've distilled from those dense philosophical tomes, I would not have the wherewithal and confidence necessary to start my own food business.

So that's that. A new chapter of my life begins, one involving much flour and butter, roasts and reductions. I've finally been able to allow myself to pursue that which I've wanted to do over and above all else since the young age of nine, and be totally certain that it's the right decision. Let the cookery begin!

Busking Bonanza, Hitchhiking Hoopla, Munich Memories, and Random Updates

My, oh my. Much too much has been happening in my life as of late to keep up with on this here blog. My past month has been incredible--seriously one of the most productive of my life--and has had an extremely positive influence on my life. I've picked up a few new hobbies, gained a new-found confidence and sense of self-worth, and have generally been having the time of my life doing it. Though this post can't possibly do justice to just how great things have been going, I'll try to describe it the best I can.

So this whole busking adventure has taken on a life of its own. Partly through the pure fun we experience through doing it, and partly from Will's initiative in promoting us as a busking duo through social media, busking has been the activity which we've focused the majority of our energy on in the past couple weeks. During our busking shift last Friday, I experienced a couple of things I never thought I would. Firstly, we continue to connect with all sorts of people in an extremely positive way. For one reason or another, we had a lot of contact with the so-called 'vagrants' of the street: the homeless, drunks, and other 'unpalatable' people that an average middle-class person would avoid. However, they didn't aggravate, beg money from, or show any sort of hostility towards us in any way. While roaming around Alexanderplatz, we walked past a group of such people who only wanted one things from us: to play a song for them. When we stopped and paid them the little bit of attention they politely asked for, the response was simply electric--we haven't made people so happy through our busking besides then! Afterwards they shook our hands and let us go on our way, without any of the usual money-grubbing or disgruntlement that they show towards people who ignore them. Amazing.

Secondly, we performed for somewhere between 70 and 100 people at the Kottbusser Tor U-Bahn station for around 20 minutes before the security guards asked us to stop. The energy we created there was astounding - when the guards came to stop us, everyone gave them a resounding 'boooooooo,' and then cheered for us when we bowed. I think that qualifies as me completing my recent goal of wanted to perform on stage! What's more, five girls we had met two nights before at a bar showed up to listen and cheer us on. We told a lot of people that night about us, and weren't expecting many (if any) to show up, so that was rad. We got some video footage of the event, which we'll be soon editing and posting on our facebook page: http://www.facebook.com/pages/The-Funky-Anglo-Boys/281964835205989.

Thirdly, we had a glimpse of what it must of been like to be a Beatle: as we were standing on a relatively empty platform waiting for the next train and talking to the few people sitting there, we were about to play a calm, quiet song when a full train pulled up.When the doors opened, nearly 35 teenage girls stormed out, screaming wildly and swarming us. I changed tunes to "Crazy Little Thing Called Love" and tried my damnedest to keep singing during the wave of shock that hit me like a ton of bricks. For the entirety of the song, they were surrounding us, getting their pictures taken by their adult chaperons (it must've been a school trip or something), screaming all the while. And they left as quickly as they came, leaving those of us who had been on the platform before standing there in confusion and disbelief. So random, but so awesome.

Fourthly (and least importantly, though certainly great), was that we made over 110 Euro in around two hours of work! Not only was it incredible to have felt such a strong, highly-energized connection with so many people that night, but it was great to see people's generosity. We even managed to get three free beers and some melted chocolate during the tail end of the night. Most importantly, though, was just how happy both we and those we performed for were during and after our busking. One particular carriage full of drunk-off-their-rockers 50-somethings for whom we played "Take Me Home Country Roads" was memorable for the happiness and warmth exchanged there, as well as the countless people we talked to who were intrigued by what we were doing. We even gave one Euro to another busker with a much more professional set-up, who couldn't restrain his laughter when he saw who was paying him compliments. As I said before, this busking gig is becoming bigger than we ever expected: on Monday, we went out for a couple hours simply as a pick-me-up when Will was feeling a little down. Of course, afterwards we felt on top of the world! And we got invited to play at a kindergarten from a couple on the subway! Lovely randomness continues to ensue from our busking adventures. More stories from the busking front soon to come!

-----------------------------

In the hitchhiking department, I'm making huge strides in gaining confidence and experience through doing it more. Two days ago, I hitched back to Munich from Berlin in around an hour more than it would have taken had I caught the train (even though I got rides from four different drivers). I took a more proactive approach this time, going up to drivers at rest stops and asking if they had any interest in taking a hitchhiker instead of standing on the side of the road with a sign. Shortly after arriving to my first rest stop outside of Berlin, I ran into a young couple also hitching to the south (to Rosenheim, just an hour or so south of Munich). They had much more experience hitching than me, and it was great to observe and learn from them. They were suuuuper relaxed about the whole enterprise, and had absolutely no fear in confronting everybody who stopped at the rest stop. Of course, they were extremely courteous and humble (which you sort of have to be for anyone to take you), and just let things happen as they would. We ended up getting three rides together, and they even got the last one for me (since the guy was going to Munich, not Rosenheim). The whole day was quite full on, as we didn't wait for longer than three minutes at any given place after the first stop (at which we waited for about half an hour). In fact, between the second and third rides, I barely had enough time to pee and scarf down a sandwich! I had some awesome conversations along the way with my travel companions and those who picked us up. After that, I'm more than confident that hitchhiking is an easy, stress-free way to travel, and will continue pursuing it when I have the time to do so.

---------------

Otherwise, I've been hanging out in and around Munich with my friend Karen from Pittsburgh and Cathy, her friend since childhood. They're on a six-week European backpacking adventure, and will be spending a week with me, half of it here in Munich, the rest in Berlin. We've been taking advantage of the warm weather by frequenting various beer gardens, leisurely strolling through the great parks of Munich, taking a sobering trip to Dachau, succeeded by a much needed 'water-break' at Kloster Andechs for some delicious German beer and food. Tomorrow a couple of my Munich friends will be over for dinner to celebrate Karen and Cathy being here as well as my brief return to Munich before hitching it back to Berlin on Saturday. I'll spend another couple of weeks there to attend the Fulbright Berlin Conference, as well as hone my busking skills some more with Will, before shipping off to Paris to meet my mother for her first proper trip to Europe.

Well, that's all I have the patience and energy to write about for the moment (and more than enough than you probs want to read), so I'll end here. Though I will say there will be an important blog post coming soon, which deserves all the attention of a whole post to itself (which can't be given justice here and now). I'm still working out the finer details, but my life is going to change directions drastically within a few months. It will probably not come as a surprise to most of you, but it's something I've struggled to convince myself of doing for the longest time. But if I've learned anything so far during this year in Germany, it's been that I need to do this. Until the next post!

Busking in Berlin

Life happens so damn fast--way too fast to match its pace with proper updates. Although a number of events worthy of writing about have happened since I last posted something, I'm going to write about just one--and probably the most interesting and momentous of those events: busking in Berlin.

Just five days ago, a best friend of mine and I decided to busk, something we've been contemplating doing for a long, long time. Though busking itself was more of an interest to him, I had had a desire to perform live music before an audience since I've started up playing the guitar again in January. Though more than seven years have passed since I first picked it up, my guitar playing had always been sporadic at best and non-existent at worst. Inspired by a couple of friends in Munich to give it a serious go, I brought my guitar back to Europe with me after visiting the States over Christmas. It's been one of the best decision so far of this new year.

After a short period of re-learning songs I once knew, I quickly regained my guitar fingers and was eager to put my re-discovered skill to good use. Until now, I've only ever practiced alone or played for small groups of friends, never actually performing per se. Thus the desire to play on a stage before strangers appealed to me. Ever since moving back to Germany in September, my stay here has been a thriving period of growth for me, gaining life experience, learning heaps of useful and fun skills, overcoming obstacles, setting and smashing new goals for myself nearly every day. So when I came to Berlin to visit my best friend William, someone who routinely inspires me and encourages me to be as awesome as I can be more than most, busking was an inevitable outcome.

In Berlin, buskers are a city institution. On the streets, in train stations, even on the U-Bahn (subway) trains themselves. Though everyone knows them and some pay them heed (or money), they lack something: creativity. Half of the time you see a group of buskers in this town, chances are they're a a bunch of foreigners dragging around a amplifier blasting the karaoke version of "Hit the Road Jack," accompanied by poor trumpet and sax playing and even worse singing (and only of the chorus at that). Rarely do they seem to enjoy themselves and even rarer do they instill a sense of fun and merriment in those to whom they're playing. It seems too routine, too forced, too boring, too lifeless. Many patrons of the U-Bahn have learned to accept them as just a part of the scenery, something else to ignore like the countless number of eyes with which they neurotically strive to prevent contact.

Hence: opportunity for the Funky Anglo Boys. Since celebrating Karneval in Cologne two weeks ago and buying tiger costumes for that party of parties, Will and I decided to one-up the current breed of buskers. So we donned our tiger suits, gave ourselves a name, and hit the streets. The main mission of our busking is to spread the fun (though getting a few coins here and there is a nice reward). Nothing is more worthwhile and rewarding than inspiring a smile on a stranger's face, particularly in an environment when people want nothing more than to distance themselves as far as possible away from other people. As we step into each train, we instantly focus the energy of all the people on us, rebounding it back to them amplified a thousandfold with kitschy pop and rock songs that everyone knows the words to. After blowing the ice to smithereens from the sheer absurdity of a couple of guys walking onto the U-Bahn playing music in tiger suits, U-Bahn passengers seem to find us refreshing from the norm and even...dare I say...fun. Countless people have already sung along, danced to the music, or even stopped to chat with us, turning a boring, time-wasting train ride into a bona fide party.

The Funky Anglo Boys

After getting a taste for a few hours the first time we went out to busk, we decided to do it again just two days later, this time adding two more songs to our repertoire. And we're going again tomorrow, with yet again two more songs. Since I only have a couple of more weeks here in Berlin before I head back to Munich, and because we're having the time of our lives doing this, we're attempting to busk every couple of days until the two weeks are up. There are few activities that are as rewarding as it: we get to practice the songs we've just learned, we get a boost of confidence when people listen and enjoy, we make other people happy, get plenty of physical exercise, and even get a little monetary compensation to boot! I've just found myself a new hobby!

With and Without a Hitch

So yesterday I experienced something both formative and exciting—I hitchhiked from Munich to Nuremberg, my first taste of what I hope to become a regular mode of transportation! After wanting to try out hitchhiking for quite some time now coupled the encouragement and inspiration from one of my best friends, I finally got down to it. I chose a short distance for my first attempt (100 miles/160km), so that I wouldn’t have too long to go in case I encountered unforeseen problems.

The adventure went quite well, much better than I expected. To be honest, I didn’t think it was going to work, so that any success I might receive would have been fantastic in my eyes. And indeed, that is the perspective of the hitchhiker: laidback and humble demeanor, being grateful for any help received. Because that’s exactly what hitchhiking is: getting help from strangers. There’s no guarantee you will get any (not immediately, at any rate), and you can’t be picky when you do. It humbles you greatly, since traveling in this fashion is completely out of your hands; you have zero control over whether any car will stop for you.

So with that in mind, I set off to a spot highly suitable to hitchhiking, which I had previously found through online research. I used hitchwiki.org to search for potential pickup spots, and hitchbase.com to see which ones were the most effective. And indeed my chosen spot was highly effective: it was a long on-ramp for the A9, the highway that connects Munich and Nuremberg, with a shoulder as wide as the lane next to it, perfect for cars to stop in. At this spot, the road went straight for 100m, giving cars optimal visibility and time enough to decide whether to stop or not. The weather, despite the cold, was also as good as I could have hoped for during the dead of winter, the sun shining brightly in a clear blue sky warming my freezing body.

I had made a sign marked ‘NÜRNBERG’ for the occasion. Upon arrival to the pickup spot, I checked out where would be best to stand (luckily there was a footbridge that passed over the on-ramp that made this task perfectly easy), and stuck out my thumb. Traffic was moderate, with about 10-15 cars passing every minute. I waited for several minutes, my optimism never flagging, slightly smiling and hoping it would work. Honestly, it felt rather surreal, having only seen hitchhiking in the movies and I didn’t entirely believe that people would recognize my thumb as the hitchhiking symbol. It was one of those moments, which we’ve all experienced, in which we doubt even the most apparent and certain of facts. So I tried meditating for a little bit, not focusing on what I was doing or whether or not a car would stop, but just allowing whatever was going to happen to happen, letting the noise of the traffic couple with the warm rays of the sun wash over my being. This led me to ignore the truck that had stopped 50m or so beyond where I was standing (presumably to pick me up) until he started pull away after waiting for a bit for me. Though I was a bit frustrated for not being observant enough to look behind me every once and a while, it taught me a good lesson to not do it again. After a brief 25 minutes total, my hands and feet quite cold, a car finally stopped.

My first driver was a 25-year-old student, on his way back home from a night of partying in Munich. He wasn’t sure whether I wanted to get in or not, since he was driving 40km, only a quarter of the way to Nuremberg. But since my extremities were getting numb I jumped in, deciding that warming up and finding a ride later (in a potentially worse spot than where I was standing) was preferable to continuing to wait in the cold. We had an awesome chat, and he dropped me off just before the on-ramp to the A9 at a park-n-ride. It was near a tiny town in the Bavarian countryside, with much less traffic (2-3 cars a minute), but literally after two minutes of waiting, another driver stopped for me.

This one was a 50-year-old man on his way to pay his mother a visit some 30km away. He told me that though he wasn’t going far at all, he picked me up so that he could drop me off at the next rest stop, where he figured I’d have a better chance of finding a ride to Nuremberg. I couldn’t believe his generosity! After another amazing chat, (including a little explanation that the area we were driving through produced the most hops in the world, and him point out how they are grown) we stopped in the rest-stop store and continued our chat over a quick coffee, until he was on his way.

At this point, I couldn’t believe the quick luck I had been having, but my luck was about to slow down—dramatically so. To scout for a good spot, I quickly walked around the rest stop and decided to position myself just before the on-ramp, since there were many drives among the parking lots which all converged just before the highway. I walked into the woods to briefly relieve myself and returned to the road flaunting my sign and my thumb. I waited for quite some time (about twenty minutes) before getting too cold, so I walked back to the store to warm up for a couple of minutes. I had noticed that most of the cars leaving the rest stop were driven either by families with young children or foreigners (heaps of Dutch people for some reason) on their way back home from a ski-trip, the backseat heavily laden with equipment—people either with a good reason not to pick up a stranger or without enough space for one. Trying what I considered the best strategy for finding a ride, I looked for lone drivers at the gas pumps, and asked them whether they were going to Nuremberg. Failing at that, I returned to the on-ramp, asking the truck drivers on the way whether they’d take me. I had a few conversations in broken German and English with a few Eastern European truckers, and then waited some more with my thumb extended at the on-ramp. As cars continued to rush by, I observed the various reactions drivers had to my presence: if they didn’t ignore me completely, they either looked in astonishment or curiosity or shrugged at me as if to say ‘I’d love to, but sorry, buddy.’ What the hell those people who shrugged at me were trying to convey, I’ll never really understand. So I waited.

Just as my optimism was beginning to falter and the sun getting ever lower in the sky, a red car that appeared to be approaching too fast to bother stopping came to a halt just past where I was standing. He was driving past Nuremberg, but not into the city itself, and so with my hopes renewed, I hopped in. He was a 60-something auto mechanic, who appeared to maintain the accoutrements of a free-wheeling hippy. With rounded Lennon sunglasses and his well-grayed hair pulled back into a short pony tail, we puttered along the highway in his old car. He explained to me that he drove a car that was 22 years old because back then cars weren’t made with complex computers, making them much, much easier to repair. Along the way, he was feeling especially generous, and ended up driving into the city itself, dropping me off one bus stop away from the main train station.

All told, it took me just over three and a half hours to make the 100 mile distance. Though I could have made the distance in just under two hours for only 5€ had I taken the regional train, I didn’t hitchhike to save money. It was for the experience—to not only prove to myself that I could do it, but also to work out the kinks for when I make longer trips. I also was eager for the social interaction along the way, which is much harder to get when taking the train. I shared some cool stories and learned some interesting facts about German culture.

The most surprising observation I learned from my drivers was something they all shared with me: that they have seen far fewer hitchhikers in Germany as compared with only ten years ago. Although hitchhiking is fully legal in Germany—not to mention it’s the best place in Europe to do it, what with its excellent highway system and central location on the continent—the popularity of hitchhiking has declined. I’m really interested to figure out possible causes of this: perhaps the advent of cheap online alternatives to the trains, such as mitfahrgelegenheit.de, a ride share site, or more fear-mongering news than before? The general make-up of people and their outlook on the world can’t possibly have changed that much since then, so what’s different?

Despite this change, I was pleased to find that hitchhiking can still be done. I’ll continue to solve this riddle throughout the remainder of my stay in Europe (and once I return to the States), as I plan to hitchhike as my default mode of transport, whenever I have time enough to do so. My next journey will be from Munich to Cologne on Wednesday, a considerably farther distance (580km or 360miles), but a challenge I eagerly await. The logistics involved are much more complex, but I’ll prepare a bit more for the adventure by buying a road map of Germany tomorrow and doing heaps more research. I’ll write up a post later in the week to tell about how successful my journey was! Wish me luck!

Winter Running

So now that the wintry cold has finally descended upon us in all of its breath-snatching, soul-freezing glory, I thought it was appropriate to write a post about braving the icy climes in the name of good ol’ fashioned exercise. Temperatures have been colder in Germany than they have been in over 25 years, and I just read a statistic that almost 300 people have died from the cold in Europe so far. Also, a good friend of mine recently got terribly ill from attempting to run without hat or gloves, wearing just a T-shirt and shorts. (Silly man, though I must admit I’ve done stupider things in my day...)

Yes, I’m talking about winter running (in particular, but this generally applies to other outdoor sports too). Now while most joggers hang up their sneakers for the season or seek refuge in the warm and crowded gyms, some us of on the more insane side refuse to give in the Mama Winter’s freezing breath, completely disgusted by the thought of having to run many a mile on a treadmill or worse: not at all. You see, for more experienced runners and committed joggers alike, we possess an absolute need to run. As most of my friends know, I get quite grumpy, anxious, tired, and restless when having to suffer a pause from running. And after having had to run a 70-mile week on a treadmill once, those blasted machines make me cringe. So it’s out on the streets for me, despite the biting cold.

But winter running is an entirely different beast than running during any other season in reasonable temperatures. It actually requires a lot more planning (and clothes) than otherwise, and if you don’t prepare for it properly, could have disastrous consequences for your health.  “But surely I wouldn’t go running in the cold without appropriately dressing,” I can hear you saying now. I used think that, too. But sometimes you don’t have time to prepare, you forget your hat back in your apartment, and you think you can get away without it just this once...

WRONG. I can say that I’ve done it myself: I once got hypothermia from running in -10 (-23C) degree weather, and had to be brought back to proper warmth by wrapping myself in towels freshly hot from the clothes dryer. I had ridiculous long hair at the time, and could get away without wearing a hat for most of the winter, until temperatures dropped below 0....and it didn’t help that my gloves were of quite poor quality. Needless to say, it only took getting hypothermia once to prevent me from ever under-preparing that badly again.

So how do I prepare for such awful weather now? In one sense, the answer’s simple: the determination to first get you out the door into the icy hell that is winter, and layers. Layers of clothes, that is. Here’s a list of what I where in 5 (-15C) degree weather:

Compression shorts

Athletic shorts

Spandex pants

Spandex long-sleeve shirt

Long-sleeve cotton T-shirt

Dri-fit T-shirt

Synthetic quarter-zip long-sleeves

2 pairs of socks (one thick, one normal)

2 gloves (one winter running, one thick ski gloves)

Beanie

Scarf, wrapped around face like balaclava (I seemed to have misplaced my balaclava....)

The first things to freeze are the hands, so I take special care to prevent that at all costs. I’ve actually been getting into the habit of placing my gloves, hat, and scarf on the heater in my room so that they’re nice and warm before going out, because I’ve noticed how immediately my hands freeze when putting on cold gloves (they were sitting in a room that wasn’t heated). Also, if you have been sitting in a cold room and then try to run in the cold, you’ll soon regret it.

One crucial thing to keep in mind when you start running is that you’ll feel unnaturally cold for the first couple miles or so. It takes your body a little while to start generating more heat during winter exercise, but after the first couple miles or so you should be fine. A good rule to winter exercise is that you should feel a tad chilly when starting—if not, you’ll soon start to roast in your clothes! If, however, you are still very cold after 20-25 minutes, it’s best to head back home. In this case, it’s more than likely that you’ve not put on enough clothes.

Also, be aware that winter running is (as we say in Pittsburgh) slippy. Yup, not only is there ice, but when the treads of your running shoes are packed with snow, there’s no hope of regaining any traction. So be careful!

Otherwise, enjoy the muffled silence and lazily-falling flakes of the white stuff when running! Though in one sense miserable, winter running is in another quite a beautiful and calming experience. Not only because frolicking through a landscape covered in deep snow is quite the magical adventure in itself, but also because there are far fewer people outside. It gives you an excellent opportunity to reflect, or better yet to calm your mind, relaxing the processes of thought until you become pure reception of feeling and perception—it’s times like these where I find that we are the happiest.  

Ahoj Praha!

Prague from aloft

So given that I spent the past week in Prague, I suppose a blog post is duly warranted. What started out as a long weekend trip to visit a few study abroad friends I had met in Cologne three years ago turned into a multiple day gustatory and cultural adventure. 


The first aspect of Prague that impressed itself upon me is its stunning beauty. Well, I suppose more European cities would also be this spectacularly gorgeous, were it not for that pesky little ol' thang called WWII...but one interesting little tidbit about Prague is that it was never seriously bombed like the rest of Europe. So the architecture is incredible, there are heaps of statues a'plenty, and the sidewalks are a literal sea of mosaic stones. Plus, it's topography offers quite scenic hill-top views and a wide river to create some breathing space in the middle of the city. And with prices cheap enough to buy beer (at a club, no less) for around US$1.80--and the most gorgeous women--Prague is the place to be! 

Trdelnik fresh from the vendor 

One of the principle themes of my trip was to check out the delicious (albeit meat and potato heavy) Czech cuisine. Because prices were so low, I could afford--on my measly student budget, no less--to eat out every day during my stay (sometimes even twice a day), and to order meals replete with soup,  main course, and accompanying beer. Among the gustatory delights were Svíčková, or marinated beef tenderloin swimming in a plate of sweet-savory gravy, joined by those knedlíky guys (wheat dumplings), cranberry sauce, and whipped cream. Yes, you read right: the same whipped cream that we Americans put on cakes and other desserts has found its way onto slices of meat. Other notables are the bramboráky, which are sauerkraut pancakes, goulash, and beef tartare (admittedly, the latter two aren't traditionally Czech, but appear in nearly every 'Czech' restaurant there). On the sweet side, the trdelnik reigned supreme, which is a tubular pastry that can be found spinning 'round a wooden pole eagerly awaiting your enjoyment of it. There are almond and cinnamon varieties of them, and they're soft, flaky, a deliciously warm. Perfect winter treat! Beyond the food, there is of course the beer. Upon consuming glass after glass of pivo, it didn't take long for me to personally confirm all the good blandishments I had heard cast upon the Czechs' skill in brewing. Leaning more towards the dark beers, there was only one glass I didn't like (the ultra-cold and equally tasteless Budweiser Budvar I had at a Praha Sparta hockey match). In fact, a friend took me to an awesome pub that served over 150 different Czech brews, which I ended up going to another time as well.

My visit was extremely pleasant because I have five friends from my study abroad says in Cologne three years ago who currently live in Prague. Multiple times per day we convened and went about merrymaking. In fact, my one friend Martina was so generous as to meet me for lunch every day (thank Jebus she has a lenient boss)! When I wasn't meeting friends, I was either running (literally) several miles around town or footin' it for hours. When asked whether I had seen some of the more famous sites by Martina my second day there, I responded that I had quite actually seen them all in one run that morning! But because of the biting cold, I made frequent stops inside cafes and bars to warm up. Upon leaving the castle and descending the mount on which it sits, through the narrow streets lined with small and expensive shops and restaurants, I managed to find a decently-priced cafe that lured me in with it's epigram written upon the door: "tea is not dead." Indeed, the tea was delectable, but I quickly felt the attention I was trying to pay dear Nietzsche was quickly drifting away from my book. It always happens that when I travel, I much prefer to gaze out the window and contemplate as the world whizzes past me, rather than bothering to even pay heed to a book. Which was a good thing, because a self-proclaimed poet who was talking to a Turkish family piqued my interest--so I struck up a conversation with him, which ended up lasted well over an hour. I had never met an actual professional poet (he had published a collection of poems), and was eager to learn about his life. Much to my chagrin, he was actually an American who has been living in Prague for thirteen years, apparently sick of how things are handled in the US. Well we enjoyed each other's company so much that we decided to meet up the next day for lunch. I always do love those random encounters one has with interesting people when traveling. It never fails to inspire me and give me hope for the goodness of humanity.

So meet we did the next day, after my great friend William had arrived on the scene from Berlin for the weekend. Our conversation--in one of the most hipster cafe/bookstores ever--was highly enjoyable, spanning topics from the Rainbow Gathering and hitchhiking to how best to incorporate philosophy into everyday life and what the meaning of art is. Unlike some conversations I've had that dwell among the 'higher aspects' of life, this one was extremely casual and organic. Tangents were abundant, which is always the sign of a healthy convo, in my book. We chatted for almost two hours.

Comely ice maidens

Later that day, we met up with a couple friends and headed for the hockey arena to watch the Sparta play. We managed to get free tickets through connections with someone who worked there (and a shady transaction involving giving him a bottle of wine). It was most enjoyable, which is no surprise considering I'm from Pittsburgh, a place where hockey is quite dear. What did surprise me, however, is how cheap it all was: food for less than 2 Euro and beer for 2 Euro! Also, I was exceedingly confused by the comely maidens that skated to the goals to clean the ice every ten minutes. Instead of the random ice boys they employ in America to do the job, the Czechs dim the lights and shine a spot on four scantily-clad beauties who perform this duty. I couldn't stop laughing. 


That night, I had a taste of Prague nightlife. We went after sipping on a few beers at that great pub, which were sufficiently strong enough for me not to drink the rest of the night. But there are several hilarious anecdotes from this night. After the pub, we went to meet up with Moni and her friends for a night of bar and club hopping. After entering and quickly leaving many over-packed venues, we finally found a club with some room to dance. While there, I couldn't resist noticing the Prague wildlife--as I mentioned before, the women are absolutely gorgeous! Well, nor could I resist not talking to them. Now usually, I'm quite shy in social situations like these, and tend not to hit on women too bluntly or confidently. But on this particular night, the porters and stouts I had drunk had given me sufficient courage to approach the most beautiful women in sight, and say: "You may or may not speak English, but it doesn't matter, because I just wanted to tell you that you are incredibly attractive." When I had turned to leave, she stopped me and asked (in English) for my name, and we started a little conversation. Much to my infinite chagrin, she hailed from Texas and was in Prague for an internship. The conversation remained well-humored, but only that, and after a few minutes she ever-so-subtly brushed me off and left to rejoin her friends. Never able to pick up on such hints (I blame my ever-relentless optimism), I followed her and sat among her friends. When she was ignoring my attempts to talk with her again, another of her friends spoke words at me....but I was too distracted to care what she was saying. After a few minutes of boredom, I stood up, grabbed the Texan's hand, and kissed it goodbye (literally), saying it was a pleasure to have made the acquaintance of such a beautiful lady. Upon doing so, the dude sitting next to her--with his arm around her--duly informed me he was her boyfriend. Undaunted, I gently rubbed his chin, replied "hey, you're cute too!" and promptly left. Besides the inherent humor of this story, it marked a turning point in my skills of social interaction: I've learned from this that, despite anything you may say or do to place you into a potentially awkward (or dangerous) situation, there's always a way out! You just gotta keep your head about you, a smile on your face, and your sense of humor by your side. Also, I had one of the most hilarious conversations in 'Italian' with another girl as I was leaving the club. Throwing in assorted culinary phrases like 'frutti di mare' among bibbity bos and daddidi das, I hadn't had so much fun doing something random in quite some time. 

Dinner with old friends!

The absolute highlight of the trip, though, was Saturday night dinner. All seven of us (who had studied in Cologne together: me, William, and the five who live there) met up at Moni's place to cook a delicious vegetarian feast. I've been cooking mostly veggies as of late, partially due to a tight budget, partially because I'm freaked out by the quality of most commercially-available meat. I'm far from ever become a vego, but if I'm going to eat meat, by Jebus, it better be sanitarily and ethically produced! Anyway, we decided upon a menu of baba ganoush and spicy pumpkin-apple dip for starters, roast veg (featuring fennel, kohlrabi, celeriac, sweet potato, carrot, and onion), and apple pie and Linzer torte for dessert. Yes, two desserts for seven people. Couldn't have had a more delicious meal with better friends! 

All in all, Prague was amazing. I highly recommend, and will be returning there soon! Better end this post now before it becomes a novel....

Near the Charles Bridge

Guitars, Wine, and Snow!

So per the promise I made to myself a couple of weeks ago to write something every week, here we go! This is basically just an update post about what's been going down in Munich the past week - more food philosophy to come soon! I need to do some musing....and eating first! 

On one hand, this was a quiet week, but on another busy and fun. It started with me having a Australian couchsurfer stay for three days (Mon - Thur), and is ending with me hosting a dinner tonight with Fulbright friends. 

It was nice having Dmitry (the Aussie) over for a few days. I'm starting to realize how much more I prefer hosting CSers (couchsurfers) for at least a few nights, as that means I get to actually know them rather than just provide them with shelter for one night. He is currently on his first trip around Europe, and I was lucky enough to show him Munich. On Monday we visited the Turkish supermarkets for delicious, cheap food which we cooked later that night (mmmmmmmmm hummus!). Tuesday I went to uni during the day while we checked out the city center, and then we met up with my Swiss friend Michael for bouldering (basically rock climbing without ropes) that night. This is something I'd really like to do well in, as it really works out your upper body, something which I never do. Would complement running perfectly. On Wednesday, I invited a bunch of friends over for a beer tasting evening, sampling three beers I brought back from the States to show how good American craft beer can be: Penn Brewery's St. Nikolaus Bock, Treog's Mad Elf, and Southern Tier's Pumking. It was a good representation of not only how American brewers can skillfully brew in the tradition of other countries (St. Nikolous), but also of the crazy imagination and experimentation of American microbreweries (Mad Elf and Pumking). Thursday morn, Dmitry left early.

Thursday was a quiet eve, cooking curry with my roommates and then watching Mary Poppins. Had been so long since I've seen it that I've forgotten how great it is! Yesterday - Friday - I went to my friend Daniel's pad for a wine tasting eve. He had bought five or six different kinds, coupled with some delicious treats that he cooked up (quiche and homemade shrimp ravioli for instance!). We then went dancing till the early hours of the morn, and I didn't get home till six. But to my amazement, it had been snowing all the while Friday evening, and so by the time I got home there was a good layering, the giant snowflakes that were floating down from the heavens accumulating nicely. By this morning, I was amazed at how much snow was sticking to the trees, roofs, and streets, and went on a run to document the beauty! 

Tonight should be another fun evening, shopping and cooking dinner with friends. Since I've been back from the States (was there over Christmas), I've been playing my acoustic guitar heaps (I always brought it back with me), something I haven't done regularly in over a year. I'd really like to be able to play well, so play I shall. And now that I have no inhibitions singing as well, it's even more fun! 

 

The Color of Food

This week’s food topic is about an aspect of food that is quite obvious and apparent, while at the same time often unappreciated: the color of food. The food we eat showcases some of the most striking hues nature has to offer, yet its true brilliance and potential is stifled through the ‘advent’ of industrial and mass-produced food, most of which is pale, monochromatic, and ugly. However, focusing on improving the color scheme on your plate can be one of the simplest, yet most rewarding changes to your diet and eating habits. It can also be an excellent way to begin thinking seriously about your food. This post explores the benefits and importance of paying mind to the color of your food.

What’s Fresh? The more colorful your food is—and the more vibrant those colors are—the fresher it tends to be. And the fresher your food is, the more nutritious it is. Of course, this is a no-brainer. But if you go to the store only once a week, your veggies will tend to look rather sorry by the end of the week, precisely because they’re no longer fresh. Emphasizing the color of your food would require more frequent trips to the store, incidentally improving how nutritious your food is.

The spice of life: Thinking about color naturally leads to considering how the different colors on your plate interact, and the impact a variety of colors can have collectively. Though sometimes it can be aesthetically pleasing, more often than not you’ll want more than one color on your plate going on so as to add some interest to your dinner. But just as monochromatic meals are boring, so can some combinations be ugly and repulsive. When preparing a meal, most cooks think too much about what they’re going to cook and not how well they interact together; and if they do, they consider taste first and foremost. While taste is important, choosing colors that complement each other rather than work against each other can make a meal that much more enticing, improving the overall enjoyment of the meal that much more.

What does red taste like? Indeed, the color of our food can dramatically affect how we think the food tastes. Ever try dying foods colors that are far removed from their natural one? Imagine how you would feel drinking blue orange juice or eating green bread. But our mind doesn’t participate in taste only in extreme cases. As people have often reported (http://www.infoplease.com/spot/colors1.html), colors are each associated with different moods, and can trigger them in us upon seeing them. So depending on what atmosphere you’re trying to set for a meal, try using colors to suggest it.

Hey you! But color doesn’t just set the mood—it also grabs out attention. Manipulating the color of a dish is an excellent way to make your meals more exciting and appealing. Doing so can help elevate the status of food from a mere means to an end in itself. Think about which foods most people eat simply because they are the most convenient and will subside their necessary urges to eat the most quickly: fast food. Obviously, color is not what fast food marketers focus on to sell their product, otherwise it wouldn’t be a pale, boring mixture of brown, white, and yellow. The price of fast food is what is most appealing, not the food itself, thereby essentially making eating an act of filling a food, rather than one of beautiful enjoyment. Color can help shift the focus back onto food, to make eating more of a joyous end in itself.

Teach a man to fish: Considering food more as an end in itself is also a great way to innovate, especially where color is concerned. Try cooking based on a certain color combination you have in mind. Or try copying the color scheme of a certain dish but with entirely different foods. Maybe even choose a different color to be the principal theme of your dinner, and change it up each night of the week. This will get you to think about which foods have the particular colors you have in mind, and whether they would complement each other well. This is an excellent exercise you can do to increase your creativity, especially if you’re used to just following recipes without ever thinking about why or how the ingredients in them go well together.

Overall, thinking about the color of your food leads to fuller dining experience. Consider how many different colors you ate over the past couple of days. How could become more connected with your food by changing what colors you eat?