A very important date.

Well, it would seem I've not updated my blog in about 4 months. If I've inconvenienced you in anyway, please, feel free to blog about it.
The past while in Scotland has been one crazy and awesome blur but I am now back in Canada. Yes, Halifax, Nova Scotia. Abiding in my sisters 1/3 of the way renovated house, I am sleeping in the furnished basement bedroom for the year. A nice contrast of gorgeous modern kitchen connected to the torn up floorboards and unpainted walls of the living room is great, oddly enough.
Anywho, I hope to get my camera working again and begin updating the blog with further artistic endeavors and amusing anecdotes. Thank god for spell check, or else that last sentence would have been wildly embarrassing for all you grammar police.

Godspeed!

Edinburgh

This room is boiling! I'm in Edinburgh, at the castlerock hostel, and I'm sitting by the fireplace. So thats why its boiling. But it's a pretty swank hostel, so I cant complain.
I got the interview for the walking tour and am being trained currently! It'll be a bit as I have a gigantic amount of info to memorize, and my mom can testify to how much I studied during school. But daddy needs to get paid, son. The man training me is a character to say the least. I've never really seen him not wearing a kilt, aside from when he showed up donning a completely accurate replica of viking armour. Equipped with a chain mail vest that took him two years to build and weighs about 60 kilo. I couldn't really lift it with my two arms, but he can wear it to sword fights... so, whatever.
Allen, the made previously mentioned, gave me a time and location of where to meet him the next day. I had only just met him, but was incredibly interested in what he could possibly be getting me into. Long story short, I end up meeting im in the afternoon outside some pub. He says 'follow me' and leads me into a room. Two guys are at the top of the stairs waiting, one in a suit nods hello, and we follow them into another room. Much to my ammusement it is filled with rather husky men sporting some of the finest handlebar moustaches I've ever seen. It turned out to be a private annual meeting of the Handlebar Moustache Club. Men from Scotland, England, The States, Germany, all over the place. I didn't know what to say. As a boy who can't grow a moustache I can only say I was honoured. Then the day continued on as any other as we all had a pint and talked about nothing.
I even met Megan O'Handley today, and yesterday for dinner! It was a bit surreal to see somebody from home, but it was also awesome because it wasn't a peanut butter and jam sandwhich for the first time in a while. If any O'Handley's are reading this, thanks for dinner, it was delightful. Typically Canadian, we tried to quote as many different herritage moments as possible. How many can you do? Also, can anybody send me the dvd of all them? With some proper peanut butter and maybe some KD.

Edinburgh

After watching far too much Scrubs (or not enough?) and drinking ungodly amounts of tea, I said bye to Anita and took the night bus to Edinburgh. I took the cheapest one I could find. My thought process was that it was a Monday night bus to Edinburgh, I could reason why there would be a ton of people, so I figured there wouldn't be. That's my logic, don't ask me to explain it. What's yours?
So I sit with the person closest to me. If you sit beside a pretty girl, she'll think your creepy. If you sit beside some hoody, then youre probably going to have to put up with a massive leg spread and R&B music. So I thought, this looks like a middleaged businessman kinda guy, he'll probably be happy to have a skinny guy reading beside him with no headphones. Once it was getting time to sleep, I noticed I wasnt too sleepy and that neither was he. In fact he seemed wide awake, and was twitching his hand back and forth. Then, I wish I hadnt, but I realized he looked a lot like the infamous bus killer. Even if youve forgotten who that is, imagine thinking you're sleeping next to him?
After sleeping, collectively, two hours I arrived in Edinburgh. I am so awesome and ambitious that I passed out all my resumes to local pubs and even lined up an interview for Thursday. Im a regular Donald Trump I am. Its actually an interview for a walking tour. Which is great for me, but maybe not for tourists.
"Thats a castle... it's old."
"When was it built?"
"Ill ask the questions, sirrr. Moving on! A... hill."

London, England

Dont know when I last wrote anything. But plans to travel to Lisbon, Portugal were thwarted pretty quickly by a sudden realization of how much money I had (AKA owed), and that my train pass was ending within the next five days. So, I said to myself "self, we should be going back to the UK where we have a UK working holiday visa." So we did!
I took the next train to Barcelona. It was a fancy train, so we watched a movie called 5000 BC or something. People told me this movie was bad, but theyve lost a little credibility in my eyes, as they didnt even slightly touch on how awful this movie truly was. I gave up watching it, when while I was laughing at a certain character confessing his undying love some spanish dude gave me a look like "whats so funny, amigo?!" I tried eating a tomatoe whole, like an apple. It would have been embaressing aside from the fact that the only person who saw me make a huge mess was the guy who LIKED 5000BC. So, I wasnt too shattered.
Met up with some old pals in Barcelona at a hostel. Spring break was code for 'tons of dumb blonde girls', so I wasnt too sad to try and catch a train the next day. Little did I know, France is on strike! France! I literally had just watched a South Park episode joking about Canada going on strike. And then almost an entire country goes on strike. What does that mean to me? France was the final hurdle, and I couldnt even use my train pass. Long story short, I took a very dry humoured flight back to London.
Ill miss the euro-mullets and afternoon naps of Spain, but theres something about dry humour and driving on weird sides of the road.
Now I have to find a job. Which is fine. Theres only a recession. Thats french for "We have lots of jobs so here have a job", right?

Sevilla

Im in Sevilla, Spain. Tomorrow I think Ill head to Lisbon in Portugal. ...thats pretty much it. Other than that its been: eating tapas, chilling in the park under palm trees; chilling by a fountain, enjoying an afternoon nap; and, chilling on the roof. Hopefully I can get into trouble so I can write you all something ammusing.
Its basically just been ammusing for people nearby as Im forced to scrape together some of the worst Spanish ever spoken. A lot of pointing, grunting, and mis pronouncing ice cream flavours.
But I always say Por favor!

Ohhh

Apparently, when the shopkeeper says uno noventa, hes not saying uno momenta. Next thing you know Ive got some old spanish lady yelling UNO NOVENTA!! (Translated, means, One ninety...)
I thought only the english thought that just yelling something makes you automatically speak the language. The people here are super relaxed, but sometimes really relaxed, so dont ever expect speedy service. I mean, they have ciesta. Everybody closes up shop to go home and nap! That, plus free tapas (snacks) with every single drink you order, for free? Everybody should just move here so I dont have to go home. That, or everybody back home totally has to start doing afternoon naps. It aids the digestion.

Camp Grenada!

Its an easy pun, but yeah, Im here in Grenada. Its rainy, so I havent gotten out to see much yet.
Barcelona was way too hard to leave. But I had already been there a week or something, so I thought I should ramble on.
The squat was great. It ended up being a Polish couple upstairs, two guys from Estonia (Dima and Disa), Sasha the Canadian, and two guys from the Czech Republic. I never memorized their names, as they were a little difficult to pronounce, but they were awesome. One couldnt speak English, so his gestures ranged from asking for money to needing the corkscrew.
It was an intense experience to say the least. What little money there was went to tobacco and wine, for the most part. Other than that you could sneak onto the Metro and find tons of food in the garbage. It sounds gross, but it isnt! I couldnt get over the fact that by just living off what people throw out I ate better than I had in a few weeks, and there was enough for about 8 people.
They knew what dumpsters were for which stores and when they took them out. There wasnt much other people looking in them usually, but if there were you would just share what you found. Tons of tomatoes, potatoes, eggplant, bread, salt, bags and bags of chick peas and kidney beans. There was never anything rotten about them, they just werent par for the stores food quality. We even had a big shrimp dinner on my last night there, followed by a ton of Maltesers that we found.
Ive never been one for the "I hate cops" mentality, and Ill never think of Anarchy as a plausible idea. But the idea of a strong community of open and generous people just looking out for eachother was great. Though some come off as intimidating, and may actually be some of the toughest guys Ive met, they were also some of the sweetest and most generous guys Ill ever meet.
In a nutshell, a very interesting awesome time. I couldve stayed a lot longer in Barcelona, but I have to keep going. So, Grenada? Whats here? I dont know. Ill wait till it stops raining. Portugal soon too! I cant believe how quickly my time here is flying by. You all must be excited to have me back in your miserable lives soon. Anyhow, adios amigos! (Id share what Russian words Ive picked up, but I dont think they fit in any context thats appropriate to share with you.)

Barcelona stilll.

So, my trip to Mallorca seems more and more expensive, and I wasnt sure what to do. But through a series of trivial events I ended up meeting some squatters. My british friends were a bit on edge about it, and had some commitments, so it ended up just being me and these three dudes. I think maybe the dread locks and such freaked them out. Damned hippies.
But they were awesome guys. Two were from Estonia, and one was from Thunder bay, Canada. THunder bay! Does anybody other than me remember that god awful show? And if they do, do they maybe have some DVDs I can borrow of it?
Anywho, Im staying with them for free in a house thats nicer than the apartment I payed to live in. Itll probably just be a few days. I dont think I hate cops enough to be there for too too long.
But I have to make this short, I have to get my stuff ready and head to the beach. Its super hot today, but these crazy Spaniards still walk around in scarves and jackets, like its cold! Apparently in the summer its like... 26 degrees in the dead of night. I dont think I could handle that.
Since this isss the internet generation, dont think Im dead if Im not check my facebook every day. Its just because, even though they found a tv and computer, they havent found a way to get free internet too. Soon Im going to learn how to dumpster dive behind grocery stores! Then, I think living that cheaply for a little while can probably justify buying an expensive ferry ticket to the islands. Godspeed!

Love, Milhouse

Sichez! Cervesoz! I cant speak Spanish.

So, yet again, I meet a ton of British people. Canadians seem to do well with Brits and Australians. Im not sure about Brits and Aussies though, considering they areee their prisoners.
I digress though. Its around the end of Carnival week here, which involves all sorts of parades and setting things on fire, all of which Ive missed. Until last night, swarms of people dressed up in absolutely insane, and well done, costumes kept passing us outside and disappearing into the Metro. After some broken English and awkward Spanish greetings we deduced that the biggest party of Carnival was actually tonight, in a place (pronounced) Sea-chez.
Ironically, we looked like morons in normal clothing, so most of us ended up pulling our best "backwards man" costume, and heading onto the Metro as well. It was hysteria, but we eventually got a ticket to the train. There were nuns and cavemen and half naked everything running around singing. When the train showed up it escelated even more. People were jumping over eachother trying to get on this train, because it was a 40 minute trip to the beach. 40 minutes is bad enough, but its even worse when your packed like sardines in a train full of drunk sweaty people. But somehow it was a total blast.
Sweat was dripping from the ceiling and the windows were completely fogged. At every stop, people were shoving as many people as they could on until we literally couldnt fit any more. THen there were random outbursts of Spanish people singing and yelling and spilling beer on me.
When we finally got off the train somehow I ended up with my face painted and a feather in my hair. Like I said, it was very strange. The Carnival itself was like in Pinnochio, where they send the boys, and they all start turning into donkeys. Except we looked a lot more stupid by the end of it. This town was basically overthrown for one night. There wasnt one street that wasnt having its own little party. It was just a sea of people. I´ve never seen that many in one place before. You had to be on your toes though. I watched Pocahontas rip off his wig and get face to face with some dude that touched his woman.
The entire night we couldnt stop smiling, it was just the coolest most liveliest vibe. Something I think only the Spanish could bring out in you. Just complete energy. That and you could pee anywhere you like! Again, a boys dream land.
Okay, and Im not just leading a life of debauchery. I just figured nobody wants to hear about me doing laundry, calling student loan, or visiting museums and churches. And I bet you dont want to hear about me relaxing on the beach. Its cold though. It got so breezy I had to put on my jacket at one point. I looked like a total tourist on the beach, I was just wowed by the palm trees. Can you blame me? Theyre like, the coolest tree ever! Well, Ive always been a hemlock man myself, and the spruce holds its own, but the Palm is a whole nother level of tree.
Adios! (See how cultured Im getting?)

Barcelona, in a nutshell

Its pretty loud, busy, smelly here. But its also warm and beautiful. Today I sat on a beach, leaned against a palm tree and drew for a bit. Later I just let myself get lost in the gorgeous streets. Im most excited to get out of really city areas though. Theres way too much traffic and honking and reallly bad human statues. Theres endless human statues! And most of them are awful. They just put on a fairy or pirate costume, and wait for dumb tourists to give them money to take a picture with them. I mean, one or two are really good though. Anyways, gotta go try and call student loan from a payphone that wont eat all my euros.

I say Geneva, you hear Helsinki?!

Pack your bags, your fired!!
Anybody who doesnt know Tom Green will not get that, and will be about on the same page I was when I got there. Geneva... why am I in Geneva?
I was going to go to Italy from Zurich, but then I said, I cant wait for Spain, so Im not going to. Stephanie Bertossi is going to kill me, I know it.
So I had to go through Geneva before connecting trains. Long story short, direct train was like 150 bucks, so I said no way in hell, Ill take the 13 hour one later. So I found the only available hostel, the YHA. Its a chain of Hostels known for their lameness, but I had no choice. And apparently to them, Youth dictates anywhere between the ages of 3 and 75. Breakfast was loud and smelly.
I ventured to the social area and two grandmas were watching TV. So I left. But when I went back later there was 5 girls, so I stayed, because they werent watching a french version of Murder She Wrote. We began talking and then one of the girls asked me if I had ever been to the Ste Annes french immersion program. Long story short again, it ended up being a friend of mine from 4 or so years ago. I knew her from camp but had never spoken to her since. What a weird and small world that we would meet in Geneva at a hostel I didnt plan on going to.
A few days later, I say, enough of Switzerland and its overpriced fondu and spoons players. I got up at 6am, eeeeeeew, and finally landed in Spain at 8pm today.
Just to rub it in, because I know you want it, I was walking outside and took off my jacket because it was just a little too warm for my taste. Ill send you pictures from my trip to the beach within the upcoming days, SUCKAS. Its not always so cheery though, a french man burnt my Panini today. Ah mon dieu!!
Even though I only saw it from the train, the south of france is intensely gorgeous.
Thats enough useless rambling from me for today though. The to do list now.
Meet my new pal Ohad in Barcelona for a tour of real spain.
Take ferry to the Canary Islands and meet my Spanish friends from Edinburgh.
Do the San Diego pilgrimage.
Head to Portugal.
YES.
Miss you everybody! Adios, as we say here.

Swiss Chocolate.

I was in Berlin, for about an hour, until my British pals (Milo, Reuben, and Patrick that is) convinced me to come stay in a loft that there 12 friends had rented in Amsterdam for the weekend. Needless to say, I wanted to go to Amsterdam again, and free accomodation is always awesome.
It was friday the 13th and, appropriately?, our trip was delayed due to somebody throwing themselves on the track. That was a bit odd, but we continued nontheless.
I had lost my coat in Poland, and had been layering up with whatever longsleeves I could find. It consisted mostly of me in my only long sleeved shirt, and my only dress shirt. Smashing as it was, I was super pumped to be given a new coat by a dude who was on his way to India. More free stuff! Awesome weekend! Very cool people, I think Britain holds a lot of similarities to Canada. Aside from dental care and the ungodly amount of slang they use.
But now, Switzerland is wet and stupidly expensive. I shant be here for too long. Ive been convinced to head down to Napals, and take the Mediteranean coast to Spain. It sounds gorgeous, and it means I could aim for Cannes, as well as end up nearish the Cannary islands. I was also told of a pilgramage you can make through spain. Theres like a bunch of churches, and each one stamps your passport and at the end you get some sort of medallion and (hopefully) a "get into heaven free" card. I might have to barter that one.
I will give them this. Even the regular chocolate bars RULE here. Plus, didnt they invent valcro? If Dad's reading this, I might just apoligize for not having called home in a lil while. Blame it on all the fun Im having. Hope you guys are enjoying your week *snicker* off. LATER!!

Poland!

Krakow is a gorgeous city. Not only that but this hostel is amazing. Free everything, pool table, gorgeous lounge areas, cheap, I dont know. I just want to live here. But we met a guy that kinda does... maybe I dont want to be the guy who lives in a hostel.
Anyways. Went to Auschwitz today. Needless to say it was a surreal and disturbing experience. It's almost impossible for me to wrap my head around those sorts of sights fully, but it was still very intense. There were displays of just piles and piles of glasses and shoes and things they took from all the prisoners. The most unsettling being an unbelievably large pile of human hair that they shaved from the women prisoners, usually after they'd been killed. They used it for textiles, but not surprisingly, couldn't sell a lot of it. Also, standing in the actual gas chambres, and looking at the actual ovens... just, strange strange strange.
On a lighter note, our tour guide was a very awesome and crazy driving old dude. He told us about meeting Spielberg when he was filming Schindlers List there, and how he had to translate for him here and there. Then he began to show us all the languages he could speak, up to 11. I couldnt disprove him, but he sounded like he was speaking Chinese and Arabic very well. I speak one language fluently, another poorly, and another almost not at all. I'll let you guess what they are.
I'm learning more and more what words mean completely different things in other languages. My friend had the unfortunate oppurtunity to learn that inviting an Englishman to come "cottaging" with you and your friends in the summer, doesnt quite mean sitting around a campfire and swimming.
Im almost over my cold too! And I bought an awesome baklava, which I can wear outside the privacy of my own room, but I love it.
Not much else to say at this moment. The Englishmen are heading to India in a few weeks, so we might be splitting paths in the next couple days. I might be going to... switzerland? I don't know. Ive actually had to ask myself where I am a couple times, and trace my steps as to where I had been yesterday. The ol' noggin and what it used to be it seems.
Hope everybody hasn't filled the void in their life, since my leaving, with binge eating or obsessive online gambling. Buh bye!

Kenzie

Hi ho, Hi ho, to Auschwitz I go!

Obviously, that's a completely tasteless joke. But, I want to be able to look back on it and be like "My god, this ironic humour craze makes me sick."
Just to fill in. I'm in Prague now. It's a gorgeous city, but I'm sick as a dog. Its hard to keep up with two Argentinians and three Canadians in a bar, okay, let me explain this bar first. Its deliciously evil.
It's called the pub, and its probably illegal in North America. You walk in and it's basically Boston Pizza atmosphere, except you can smoke inside, eeeew. We all sit down at this booth, and the bartender brings over 6 glasses. He is the most useless man in the world though. Why, you ask? Because at "The Pub", you pour your own beer! Yes, there are four taps at the table, and a little screen on top of them that shows you how many litres of beer you've drunk so far.
Now, that would be an incentive to compete among 6 guys already. But they had to take it further. I looked to my left and noticed a giant screen displaying a grade 8 bar graph kinda thing. But it was depicting which table was "winning", and the ten tables that were behind it.
THEN another screen shows how your bar is holding up against about 6 other bars in the greater Prague area. So... I'm not sure if this sort of establishment encourages binge drinking, but they seemed to be okay with it. Realizing we were indeed in over our heads, we left when we got to fifth place, and payed an ungodly cheap amount of money. Czech Republic is super cheap.
So, met some English guys, and tomorrow or so we are heading off to Krakow, Poland. It's supposed to be gorgeous and there's a short bus ride out to Auschwitz, which I'm sure will be beyond anything I could write in a blog. So, needless to say I'm highly anticipating this stop.
If anybody has any suggestions for pit stops and stuff, or things that they really enjoyed on past trips, let me know. I dont really see the comments on these until a week later. So, if you're not on my facebook, my email is kenz_e@hotmail.com
Where in Portugal should I go? Im not trying to rub it in, but I just want to know if anybody knows the best city.
Peace and Love, Kenzie 'Runs from Bears'-'Sugar-ray' Gunn

Then I took berlinnnnnnn

Yeah. So, here I am in Berlin. It's unbelievably huge and full of intense history. My favourite was seeing the window where Michael Jackson dangled his baby. Other than that there was some wall thing and a giant museum thing where some dude gave very convincing speeches.
It's a great walking city, at least the tiny portion I've gotten to see. But I'm sick as a dog and exploring Germany's nightlife doesn't really help kick the cold. So, today I'm being a loser, because tomorrow it's Prague! What's there? I have no idea. But some Argentinian and Canadian dudes are escorting me. I hate that Im always comparing things like this, but one looks like Dana Carvey (Waynes world), one looks like The curly haired guitarist from the Strokes, and one of the Canadians is a dead ringer for Matt Clarke (You're not classy enough to eat at Bish, so you don't know him. But its for the best.)
Yeah. I'm sure everybody loves to read stupid blogs about lookalikes, but I'm going to go hack up more phlegm and do laundry.
Also, Karaoke rules! Especially when Brazilian guys do drunken renditions of Eminem and Backstreet Boy classics. I did 'Yesterday' and people could scarcely contain themselves. It's my gift, it is my curse. It helped that since Im too cheap for haircuts Im looking like Paul Macartney again. Minus the baby seal photo-ops.
What is it about my face? Does it just scream 'Hey crazy, I'll listen to you ramble!'? That and it seems to welcome 5 minute handshakes from crazy old Danish ladies with no teeth. It keeps train rides entertaining at least. Till later!

K to the G-U- Double N

Back in Denmark

Well, Norway got old quick, so I had to get out. Especially since my roommate turned out to be a crazy white seperatist. I won't even repeat what he said. But he did call me a stupid american, and that none of us can think, and I was lazy... I resent being called an American, but other than that he wasnt too far off.
So, I got the very next train to Sweden. I don't know why, really. But I ended up in this seemingly quiet city called Malmo. The O with two dots above it, you know the one.
Yet again, I seem to have a nack for awesome hostels, so I ended up at this place a half hour walk from the centre, that consisted mostly of 45+ year old men. I think the family that owned it had a bunch of friends or something living there too? I dont know. But it was weird. And maybe Im just paranoid, but they were looking at me funny.
You know in the Texas Chainsaw Massacre when that girl is forced to have dinner with the family or something. With every too-much-like-a-weird-family's-house kinda hostel, I get closer and closer to knowing how she felt in that scene.
But I digress!
I had to get out of that hostel, so I ended up walking around for 2 hours, finding only too posh looking bars filled with even more older people. Was I the only child they had seen in years? Like in Chitty Chitty Bang Bang?
When out of nowhere! I came across what looked like a church but turned out to be a club. The cross was lit up neon blue and there was soul music pumping out. Some girls explained to me that it was indeed not a church and explained the band. So I checked it out and was pleasantly surprised.
Talking to people in bars is awkward with friends in your home country. But meeting Swedish people alone in a bar is even more confusing. I broke the ice with the nerdiest guys I could find and the night took off from there.
In a nutshell I ended up being invited to some... not illegal, but, not legal Reggae show. The streets were covered in untouched snow when we left the club, and I soon found myself on the back of a Swedish bike following four other Swedes on bikes to said Reggae show. (Sidenote: It was Bob Marley's birthday too!) They reassured me that this place wasnt known very well yet, so it was very unlikely it would get broken up.
By the end of the night I found myself standing in the middle of a warehouse basement surrounded by blaring speakers, dread locks, and confused Swedes wondering how the hell a Canadian found this place.
Oh yeah, and being Canadian? It's like... cool! I just say, Hi, I'm Canadian' and people can scarcely contain their excitement to be in my presence. It's just like home, except at home I say I'm Kenzie Gunn... David Gunn's brother.
So, I'll explore Copenhagen a little more tomorrow and then it's Berlin! I can't believe you read all that. I don't even remember what I write in these posts as soon as they're done. I hope they replace your tears of sorrow, with tears of joy. (That one's for Francine, I'm trying to take over her column in the Oran when she retires.)
Hope everything is going good back home.

Ciao, Slainte, Cheers, Adios, yada yada
Kenzie

Oslo, Norway (1 month in)

Well, I'm in Norway now, and I can't figure out whether it feels like I've been gone a week or a year. Both maybe.
I saw the Edvard Munch museum today. Damn he's good. He's everything I want to be as an artist. I mean, he was miserable enough to make amazing art work, but not so miserable that he killed himself like everybody else. Rock on, Edvard!
Okay, I heard Norway was expensive. But, Jesus! I saw some rundown burger pit selling a cheese burger for about... 20 Canadian dollars! Which reminds me, one of the few americans I met on this journey was like "You guys shouldn't call them dollars, you should call them Canadian dollars." Needless to say, this went into a futile semi-argument about how silly that was. So silly in fact, that there was nothing to argue really.
I wish Americans weren't proving my stereotype of them as I travelled. But they are. Actually, I started of with having only met amazing Americans! So, I dont judge them all by this trip, but I get what the Europeans see.
I went to Nosbleed records. Basically it's half store, half crazy impressive Black Metal museum.
The rest is for Metal nerds only. Everybody else skip to the end. They had Euronymous's cross from the album cover; hundereds of original pressings (yes, vinyl) of Mayhem; Burzum; Gorgoroth; bands whose names I couldn't pronounce, totally awesome. Not to mention crazy signed photos and master copies of Burzum, Gorgoroth, Mayhem.
I know what you're all thinking. And NO, I couldn't find any Anaal Nathrakh LP's OR EP's... I know, right?!
I don't know if I'll stick around long. It's super expensive and I saw what I basically came for. It's dead winter now, so there's not much for music until April or so. Maybe Berlin next.
*Then I take Berlinnnnnn.* (Get it? Cohen?)

Love Kenzie (You do)
Love, Kenzie

Copenhagen, Denmark

I love these Scandinavian people. There's an insane amount of bikes everywhere, not to mention weird furry hats, and everybody is super friendly and happy. This is the happiest nation on earth after all *seriously.
I might stay tomorrow, and check out some weird hippy commune sort of area, or I might head to Norway. Black metal and Edvard Munch paintings!!
Marzipan and nuget equals yummmm.
I went to another museum today. If I see one more painting of a rich person looking over their shoulder, a naked jesus, a dying jesus, a dying martyr, or some still life of a dead goose... I'll cry. But there are some cool paintings. The Mona Lisa? Big woop! Im beginning to realise why I dropped out of art school. There's tons of awesome graffiti though. Copenhagen seems to leave it all up, so every building and van here is covered in throw ups and tags. Not to mention tons of sweet wheat pastes and stencils.
Record shopping is the same here as it is back home. Nobody can get rid of those god awful Yanni records and theres an overflow of Phil Colins. No matter where you're from, you know Phil Colins is a dope.
I need to start attempting to use public transit, I end up walking about 8 hours a day. I'm going to have the knees of an 80 year old by the end of the trip.
Amsterdam! Go there. I spent about three days there having a wicked time, and that was without legal drugs and prostitutes. The red light district is a bit of a let down, maybe my generation is to desensitized. Actually, theyre trying to clean it up for tourists. Because that's what the tourists want, right? It makes me feel like I live in the stone age back home where all this stuff is illegal. It takes it off a pedestal when it's legal, you don't even care about it. Enough preaching to the choir though. I will say though, I had some cake on my train ride home... it made it go by fast, but it didn't make it fun when the police came on board to check passports.
Anywho. I still don't have pictures up yet. I'm too cheap and lazy to go and find a camera chord. So I'll put them all up one day, and none of you will want to look through them all. Just google all the places I'm talking about, it's the same deal. Just picture a really cool, ruggedly handsome, kinda guy standing in the picture.
Hope everybodys enjoying the freezing cold. Its cold here too though. Ive been considering buying gloves!
Ciao, dudes! (That's for, Colin)

Yah!

Okay, internet access has been limited as of late. And I have like, 5 minutes to use this. So, in a nutshell. Paris is gorgeous, the cheese/baguettes/crepes/eifel tower are actually as awesome as they're made out to be. And yes, the french can be rather rude.
I am now in the Netherlands! Amsterdam to be exact. Heineken's awesome, the people are super happy everywhere, there's an insane amount of bikes, and I haven't had the chance to get out and see the "amsterdam" amsterdam side of things yet.
For all the electronic music fans out there. I can't get tickets, but I just found out that Sebastian is playing here tonight. On this crazy boat party thing sponsored by Jagermeister. I'm trying not to cry about it, but oh well. I guess I'll tryyyy to have a good time.
More later!

Gay Paris, Ahhh Oui.

Well. In London and I just got my europass and *drumroll* credit card! I'm going shopping, baby! Not really, but I am going to get a train to Paris tomorrow. This will be my first real cuture shock with a language barrier. Quebec was a bit like that, but not really at all. So, it's time to whip out whatever butchered french phrases I have.
Ou est la biblioteque?
Je besouin (sp?) un ordinateur, pour mon coeur.
Voila, mon passport!
Mon pere est plus fort que le tien.
The last one is the only gramatically correct one, I think, because it was on Colin's t-shirt. It basically reads "My dad is stronger than yours."
Another minor annoyance, maybe I can fix it, even though I'm doing paragraphs and crap here, they come up as one jumbled mess when I post it. Sorry for any un-readability.
I'll be at some hippy commune when I get there, the Peace and Love hostel. Why don't you go back to San Fran, Garcia, and let the rest of us enjoy our baguettes et petite fromage dans peace?
www.we7.com <-- Free music site that rules! (even though it doesn't have Elliot Smith) Check out MGMT, specifically Weekend Wars and Pieces of What.
I'll update again when I actually do something of interest. What's in Paris anyways? The Louvre, crazy cinema, pisinne, absinthe, berets, etc... I think.

Au bientot, Kenzie

PS What's it like in Canada? It's not too bad here. A little chilly sometimes though. When I left Edinburgh they got 1cm of snow! Thank God I got out in time, I'd have been stuck there for weeks. Enjoy shovelling, suckers.

Back In London, but not for long.

I headed back to London about a week ago. I was going to stay one night in Edinburgh before continuing on. But it was not meant to be. If you ever want to not get sucked into a city, don't go to Edinburgh, and don't stay at the Castle Rock Hostel.
The hostel is literally at the bottom of the castle's 'mountain', which is a dead volcanoe. It's a jaw dropping kinda view.
I went to Arthur's seat. I think it's where you can see where King Arthur did... something. In a nutshell, it's a set of stairs from hell. I climbed the wrong hill first, before realizing that there were two other ones. Luckily the second one was Arthur's seat. I can't believe I'm so lame that I enjoy things like taking hikes... to see views!
On less lame notes, there's a lot of awesome pubs. I ended up eating Hagis. I get it, man. Why is it put on such a gross pedestal? It's totally delicious and doesn't even look gross. I thought it was going to be grey and wiggle like jello. It's more like a ground beef. Oh yeah, blood sausage, that rules too. It is what it is.
The baby-face landed me a lot of new contacts throughout the world as well, so woo hoo! That, or it might be my new personality I'm trying on over here. Silent brooding type. I wear my sunglasses indoors.
Next on the list. Planning my train-ride. Methinks, London -> Paris -> Portugal. Crumpets, baguettes, port.

PS - Pictures I didn't take. I'll find a camera chord soon enough.

Arthur's seat panorama - http://homepage.mac.com/ippei_ukai/dotMac/Panorama/Photo/DSC01329-48.jpg

And the Castle! - http://hotels.lonelyplanet.com/LPImages/Hotel/115996_Castle-Rock-Hostel_1.jpg

Ullapool, Scotland, neat!

I'm in Ullapool, in the very north of Scotland, look it up. It's like all the best parts of Nova Scotia glued together then fed steroids. Although it tends to be cloudy constantly, it's still quite lovely.
This'll be a short post.
I might even get the chance to go out on a fishing boat for a week, next week. But we'll see.
More later.

Kenzie!

Edinburgh, Scotland

I'm in Scotland! That's very cool in my opinion. I got here last night after a 9 hour bus ride from England. I got out of the bus station and had that kinda Bambi-eyed look I get when I dont know where the hell I'm going.
Some old man in a suit asked me if I needed a hostel, and I told him the one I was aiming for. He convinced me that "his was better" and it came with a free ride there. I thought, this guy's gotta be legit', so before he could even offer me candy I jumped on in!
Long story short, it's like staying at somebody's weird grandpa's house for the night. Actually, two. His asian wife (his words, not mine) and he are very clever in getting you to stay an extra night. If the second night there is anything like the first, it'll consist of him and I drinking scotch while he repeats things the TV (at full volume) has just said, as if we both hadn't just heard it.

"The Pictish clan made a treaty with the Vikings..."
Mutes the TV.
"Did you know, the Pictish clan made a treaty with the Vikings?"
"Oh... nope, that's interesti-"
Volume full blast again.

The Castle is gorgeous though. I took pictures, but I don't think they'll do the slightest justice to what it feels like to stare up at it.
Tomorrow I think I shall go even further north, past Inverness, to a town called Ullapool. Kaitlyn's old pal Netta is there working at a pub, and she says its only a town of 2000. I'm excited to be out of the city and into the country. It should be gorgeous.
Also, I still can't find a camera chord, so there'll be a ton of pictures one day, spanning from Christmas at home to Edinburgh castle.
Also also. If Greg Christmas is reading this ever... Hey Greg, I'm in Scotland. Where are you?