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
Friday, February 27, 2009
Wednesday, February 25, 2009
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?)
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?)
Tuesday, February 24, 2009
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.
Sunday, February 22, 2009
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.
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.
Tuesday, February 17, 2009
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!!
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!!
Wednesday, February 11, 2009
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
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
Sunday, February 8, 2009
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
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
Thursday, February 5, 2009
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
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
Sunday, February 1, 2009
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
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
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