Iron Maaaaaaaideeeeeeeennnnnn (said all sing-songy)

Photos of yesterday are here.

I climbed to the top of the town hall tower yesterday morning after I wrote. It was sweet and not too serious of a climb.

Then I went to the Medieval Crime and Punishment Museum. On display, they had all manner of torture devices including an original iron maiden and an actual drunk tank. It was awesome. They had extensive exhibits on medieval law, signets and seals from people and places around the ol' Holy Roman Empire (so detailed, and some huge!), and miniature reconstructions of towns full of people being hanged, in stocks, on the pillory, or being dunked in water for baking loaves of bread that were too small. Really, really good museum.

Last night I went on the night watchman's tour. It was good. Dude was funny. But perhaps the best part was his accent. He spoke with a sort of German British accent (many people over here speak English with more of a British accent... it's how they are taught in school) that was a cross between Prince Humperdink from The Princess Bride and Alex from A Clockwork Orange with a little Snagglepuss and/or Paul Lynde in there. The accent cracked me up almost more than the jokes.

Anyway, that guy must clean up. He offers two tours per night, at €6/person. In my group, which he said was small, there must have been at least 30 people (probably more), and last night, I saw him leading a group that was probably twice the size of mine. So, on a slow night, he's probably making at least €350, plus he sells a DVD and a booklet. Not bad for 2 hours "work" per night. Maybe he'll be able to get a new halbard someday.

I'm headed to the Czech Republic in a couple of hours. The homeland. I'll have people to talk to again! Yay!

Photos are on hold for the moment... the internet connection here is spotty at best, and I have a TON to upload.

I'm gonna be on TV!

Well, not really. But how's this?

At a little before 11am, Pacific time, today (Sunday):

If you go to nightwatchman.de and click on webcam at the bottom of the list on the left side, I'll be standing or sitting or something by the fountain in the webcam image on the right of the page.

So that'll be fun if you see me! Yuh huh!

After that, I'll just be in the crowd that's gathering for the night watchman's tour.

But then, why would it make any difference to you whether I was standing in front of a webcam in a pseudo-medieval Germany or one outside my house in Portland? Because they didn't have webcams in medieval Germany, duuuuuuh.

I'll stop.

Morning ob der Tauber

I got up way too early, but I imagine you expect that from me.

I walked the city wall and only ran into two other souls while I was at it. The sun came up, I walked some more.

I ended up back in the room, and breakfast is being started downstairs.

I've only had two pangs of "man, I wish there was someone with me." One was when I was eating the pancakes in Amsterdam. The other was yesterday on one of the trains. There was a couple playing cards in the seats in front of me, and I thought, "yes, it would be good to play cards on the train." (And by the way, single seats on one side of the train is GENIUS.)

Maybe it would be different if I had remembered to bring a book. I never got around to actually choosing one before I left home, and in the hurry to get everything done before I left, I forgot to bring a ding dang book. There's a bookshop down the street. Maybe they have something, anything in English.

Still, there's a certain bigness to being over here on my own. A certain reassurance that comes with being able to do whatever whenever I want and not have to consult with anyone.

Besides, I don't know if anyone could take the constant hacking. Well, not constant, but my cough is still hanging around. It seems to have picked up in the last couple of days, perhaps because I didn't go inside of the boat when it got really cold. I don't feel ill, though. I feel fine.

Love and laundry,
pr

I went for the dinosaurs. I stayed for the mammals.

If this trip gets any better, I might have to stay here.

Photos are here.

I left Mainz at about 8:30 this morning and headed straight for Frankfurt. (Yes, a person from Frankfurt is called a Frankfurter.) I had been on the fence about going to this dinosaur museum (Senckenburg) that has the biggest collection in Europe, but I was feeling full of vim and vigor (I am SO a believer in the continental breakfast), so threw my larger backpack in a locker and hoofed it (not steep this time) about a half mile to this museum. When I stepped into the main hall, I got chills.

There were about a dozen dinosaur skeletons all articulated right in front of me. I don't think I have to tell you that the ol' childhood fascination with dinosaurs never really wore off of me. Maybe it never really wore off of anyone. Anyway, I went room to room... ancient fish and swimming dinosaurs, wooly mammoths, whales, evolution of humans, volcanoes, earthquakes (they had a photo from 1989 that caught me off guard), and mummies. All awesome, but I was surprised that there wasn't more.

I thought I had seen all there was to see, but as I was going to the exit, I looked to my left. Up some stairs, I saw birds. I saw stuffed birds (taxidermy, not plush). As I went up the stairs and got closer and closer, I realized that there was a whole hall of the brilliant things... case after glass case of nearly all manner of bird, put on display after death because someone is a whiz with a needle and thread. Hundreds of them. I got near the end of the bird hall and caught a snake out of the corner of my eye. No thanks.

So they had birds... they had reptiles. I thought to myself that it would be really cool if they had mammals. I went down the stairs, looked up at the hall on the other side of the building. And they had... wait for it... MAMMALS! Tons of them. Large and small. Rare and common. All loosely grouped together by family. Notice the orangutan arm. Brilliant.

If it weren't for the reflections on the glass, these photos would be knockouts. Some of them are. For me, anyway.

For everyone's peace of mind, let's say they all died from natural causes and wanted to be donated to science. They were really, REALLY cool.

In the back of the building, there were a dozen or so scenes of stuffed animals in their habitats. I don't remember ever seeing a moose hang out at a temperate beach, but whatever.

All in all, a totally worthwhile side trip. Awesome, awesome, awesome. I know I'm going to lose some of you in those photos, but I'm so glad I have them.

So! I headed back to the station, where I waited for a late train. I did three train changes and finally arrived in the idyllic Rothenburg ob der Tauber, a medieval city full of half-timbered houses and plenty of tourist funtimes. It's gorgeous.

I had some kind of pork chop with potato dumplings and a glass of white wine for dinner. Dad, eat your heart out. I've been pretty much eating whatever I've wanted. I figure it doesn't matter too much what you do or don't have when you're walking an average of about 3 hours a day. I pretty much just have breakfast and dinner, though. And I've had a couple of desserts. I've made it policy to eat a whole lot at these continental breakfast buffets... never know exactly when the next meal is going to come. I haven't felt all full to the point of grossness since I've been traveling. And that's a very good thing.

So anyway, I'm sitting in my extraordinarily quaint hotel, the sun is going down, I went on a walk in the breathtaking castle garden after dinner, and I'm feeling super mellow. I just can't get over how pleasant it all is. I mean, come on. This is the kind of place after which they model theme parks. The bells on all the churches all chime at once, and the birds are going ape shit with their chirping out there.

As a side note, I've been having interesting dreams. When I first got to Europe, I had a couple in which I saw Rick Steves walking the streets of Amsterdam, and I stopped him to tell him the book I have is awesome. So, ok. The last few nights, I've been having dreams that I walk up to local people and start talking to them... in their language. We chat and generally have good times and they're impressed with how well I speak and it's wonderful. I had the impulse to just start speaking to someone in what seems like German to me today. These dreams, sadly, will not come true just yet.

I think I'm going to walk up the street to the dessert place that's been recommended to me. Oh boy!

I did miss the night watchman's tour tonight because of my stupid pocket watch, though. It's my traveling timepiece, and it may be on the way out. Maybe I'll get another timepiece here.

Sigh. Twitter. Sigh.

Oh, AND!

I'm beginning to feel like Hayden (as he describes in the intro to the one song off of Live at Convocation Hall) when he says he thought he had a great vacation until he got home and had his film developed and he wasn't in any of the photos.

Yes, I took this photo of myself on the 1st train. Oh calm down.

I love you guys for reading this blog and posting comments. Makes me happy to know that some peeps care about this trip at least a fraction of the amount that I do.

That is all.

Children of Germany

Photos are here.

And here.

I SWEAR they're after me.

And yet, I'm so happy right now that my sunburn and the knee that was just murdered by the edge of the bed aren't flapping me at all. I just stepped into the best hotel/hotel room in the world, and today has been bash-your-head-on-a-wall- because-you-can't-believe-it amazing.

A few final brief observations about Amsterdam:

1. I lurved it.
2. Take people seriously when they say watch out for the bikes. AND I almost got my ass handed to me by a tram or two. So, yeah, transportation there... watch it.
3. Trekken means pull, duwen means push (thank you, dude outside the Apple store, for both helping and embarassing me). Dutch is a silly sounding language, but I picked up a bit. Seinfeld subtitles didn't hurt anything: Roken = Smokin' (as in, "that's awesome")
4. I felt safe in Amsterdam. Maybe partially because I avoided walking around with a map unfolded in front of me like some sucker tourist.
5. One car a week ends up in a canal.
6. The houses lean because the wood pilings they were build on are settling or rotting. (If you're into 90° angles and parallel lines, Amsterdam will drive you batshit crazy.)
7. Canals are 3 meters deep.
8. Wind farms are popular in the Netherlands and these new windmills are GINORMOUS.
9. I really, really lurved it.

So, welcome to Germany, Pamela. You are a kid magnet.

I went from Amsterdam to Köln (Cologne) yesterday, where I switched trains and headed for Koblenz. This girl... maybe around 14, gets on and starts talking to me in a very, very loud voice while she's shoveling some sort of candy into her mouth. I tried to tell her I didn't speak German... she kept on talking. I said it louder, and she kind of cocked her head to the side and asked me another question. I said again that I don't speak German, and she finally gave up. Later, a man, then a woman, then another man boarded the train at different times, After sitting next to the girl through one stop, they all moved. I imagine she was spewing some insufferable crap about candy or something... either way, I was quite glad I had a get out of jail free card. Still, she stared at me for most of the train ride. You know that feeling when you're being stared at but you can't look at the person? Yeah, it was like that. Thank goodness for interesting scenery.

(Spent the night in Koblenz in a not so great hotel that smelled all through the night of whatever it was the family that runs it had for dinner last night. And it was not a good smell. It didn't have a shower toilet, though! Koblenz is a wierd place... old buildings mixed with new because, apparently, it got the hell bombed out of it in WWII. It's at the confluence of two major rivers, so I can understand why. I had "Schnitzel Einstein" for dinner, and woke up at 4 am.)

So, I got to the dock this morning to get on my Rhine boat, and beheld a sight that would haunt me for the rest of the morning: about thirty 11 or 12-year-olds waiting to get on the same ship as me. At first they were mellow. But as the morning wore on, they went slowly crazier and crazier until I thought their game of tag was going to end in some weird middle school lemming-like activity where they all go crazy nuts and just run off the end of the boat. Luckily, my iPod charged during the night, and I only had to hear their shrieks (of excitement, not of drowning) between songs.

The Rhine cruise was almost excessively pleasant. As in, "this is so pleasant and I'm seeing so much quaint crap that I might have to have a barf." Fortunately for me, I love pleasant, quaint crap, so I did not have a barf. I saw Roman walls and a bazillion medieval castles. I have waaayyyy to many photos. I'll try to edit some out for you. But I doubt I've got time for that.

By the by... if Dutch is a silly sounding language (don't get me wrong, I loved hearing it), German has some HILARIOUS words. The word fahrt is everywhere... abfahrt, einfahrt, everything. I guess it means drive. Also, one of the stops on the boat ride, Assmannshausen had me in peals of laughter. I guess we know where Cosmo Kramer lives. Or where proctologists come from.

SO! I got off the boat in St. Goar and hoofed (I mean panting, sweating, muscle-burning, questioning life kind of hoofing) it up the hill (um, small mountain) to Rheinfels Castle. I had thought myself a sucker for a moment [read: many moments] for not paying the €5 for a cab while trying to will myself up that hill, but it was magical when I got up there. It must be some low-grade version of what mothers feel after they've gone through living hell to give birth to a child, but once they see the kid it all melts away. Rheinfels is AMAZing. You'll see a ton of photos of it if you look at the pics. I was up there for nearly an hour, and the only thing that made me wish I'd paid for a cab was that I felt too rushed to get back down. The place was almost empty. I definitely chose the right time of year for this.

I had checked my bag at the local TI, and so had the Brazillian girl (probably a little younger than me) that had asked me if I was going to the castle before we got off the boat. I also saw her up at the castle. When we were both stuck outside the TI because the person working there was half an hour late coming back from lunch and our boat was 10 minutes from leaving, we bonded. She and I spent the next hour talking on the boat. Her name was Maria, she was from Brazil but living in Michigan. It's funny how not talking to anyone for a few days will make you appreciate simple conversation.

Anyway, when we got back on the boat, we got on with a billion Japanese tourists and a billion teenagers. These teenagers were LOUD.

So, you see, they're after me. All of 'em.

Maria got off the boat in Bacharach, and I stayed on. My hotel for the night is in Mainz (pronounced Mah-eentse... I've been corrected several times). At Bingen, I figured I could catch a train that would get me out of another two and a half hours on the boat (I'd been boating a grand total of about 6 hours already, and apparently there was nothing good left to see) and that's just what I did. I wouldn't have even landed yet if I had stayed on the boat.

My hotel is so lovely, and so beautifully close to the hauptbanhof (main train station) and yet isn't loud. My room is awesome... my bed is larger than a twin... and there's a bathtub. GUESS WHAT PR IS DOING AS SOON AS SHE'S DONE WITH THIS!

Today was incredible. Not just because I saw some incredible things (which I totally did), but because I am really enjoying the travel part of this whole thing. I've got the wanderlust in me somewhere, and other than my beloved road trips, I can't believe it's taken this long to really come out. I feel like a hermit crab carrying her house around with her, and I'm adoring it. Remind me I said that in two weeks when I just want to get the hell out of Dodge.

Loves and ever-present 5-story buildings,
pr

p.s. I don't know when I'll next have internet access. It could be a while.

p.p.s. I know all the stuff I said about teenagers does not bode well for my future plans. I think it's because I don't have any say over what these kids do that they drove me crazy. So, yeah, good luck with all that, PR.

Deutschland!

Today I'm leaving this charming, charming city and instead of canal after canal, I'll be looking at a real live river! That would be the Rhine River, and that would be in Germany.

Since I've yet to master the train system (rest yer worried mind, I'll have it after today), I'll head to the station nice and early (just like Dad would want) and continue to get very, very excited about storybook castles. Very excited! In the way that only PR can get!

At this point, I must thank the gods for the wonderful thing that is the Continental breakfast. A few thin slices of Gouda, a few rounds of salami, a couple of tiny croissants, some jam and an apple. Gets you through the day like nobody's bidnizz. And I'm really happy about that.

And I think I learned to like cream cheese today! By accident!

Super street memory makes for happy converter funtimes

Photos are here.

I saw a Mac store while I was walking around yesterday. I went back there first thing this morning and the (very, very cute... everyone is cute here) young man behind the counter sent me across the street to an electronics store that carried converters. Everything in the store was covered in an inch of dust... even the stuff in display cases.

Since I'm kind of sick of typing, here's what I did today:
• Boat Tour - Since I consider being on boats a novelty, I got my novel fill and got the hell out.

• Rijksmuseum - Sort of the national Dutch art museum. I like Rembrandt, and some of his best stuff is in there, so I was happy.

• Diamond Museum - Utter bullshit. They let you watch a few people behind glass grind some diamonds, and then they send you through corridor after corridor filled with jewelry and cheap souvenirs that are for sale. It was free, but I still want my money back.

• Van Gogh Museum - I've never been a huge Van Gogh fan, and the Millais exhibit was the best part.

• Vondelpark - a very, very large park... call it Amsterdam's Central park, even though it's not central. I sat down for about five minutes, thought about whether I wanted to go back to the hotel bad enough to walk on my tender pups again, and then was relieved when the hotel was closer than I thought.

I'm'n'a go back to my favorite area tonight for dinner, and tomorrow morning I go to the Rhine Valley. Yay for train rides! (I get the distinct feeling that I won't feel that way by the end of this trip.)

I like Amsterdam. I'll come back someday.

What a difference a bottle of chianti makes.

And I don't even really like chianti. Until now.

Ok, so. I went searching for this restaurant earlier and I got hungrier and hungrier... when I didn't find it (because it wasn't where they said it was), I opted to go back to the hotel and eat at the place that I meant to eat at the first night, il Monte Bianco, little pizzeria.

I accidentally ordered an entire bottle of chianti. I was pretty much empty stomached, and that stuff went directly to whatever pleasure centers alcohol activates (yes, I am supposed to know what pleasure centers those are), and I ate.

First, though, understand that the green salad I ordered was 10 cucumbers (WHOA THOSE THINGS ARE GROSS!), 5 black olives, and a light layer of Taco Bell style lettuce shreds. I salted the ridiculous plate. Salt came from that shaker as if Moses had commanded it to. Then I peppered it. Almost no pepper came out. Repeat those last three statements and substitute vinegar for salt and oil for pepper. That's right. I had a vinegar soaked plate of salty olives, cucumbers (YES, THAT'S RIGHT! CUCUMBERS ARE NASTY! I EVEN ATE ONE OF THESE TO REASSURE MYSELF THAT I DIDN'T WANT ANYTHING TO DO WITH THEM!) and lettuce shreds. Tasty!

But then... then came out a perfectly sized pizza-for-one, a steaming, flat round of cheese and crust with salami and ham (yeah, I had hoped it was like Canadian bacon ham, but it so wasn't), waiting to get in my belleh. In it went, and it was soooo appreciated.

The waiter/owner/member of the family/whoevsthedudewas struck up a conversation, asking me where I was from and where I was going. And now that I think about it, it's the first time I've really talked to anyone since I've been here. I was the only patron in the place, but it seems like they do a pretty brisk business with their delivery scooter, as the delivery guy was constantly running in and out the door.

Hm, anyway, resisting all but one temptation to drunk dial via Skype (Sissy, DAMN it), I shall now off to sleep, hoping that my pathetic attempt at laundry dries by morning (and it so completely won't). I could have sworn that I brought more socks and underwear... alas, the lack of such articles in my "clean clothes" bag is quite unavoidable, and leads me to believe that the airplane gnomes messed with my stuff.

Plants, Pancakes, and Beer

Today, I, Pamela Rooney, kicked the crap out of Amsterdam. Which, yes, is better than Amsterdam kicking the crap out of me.

Photos are here.

I woke up early (um, yeah, 2am is early... and I've posted a blog since then) and couldn't get back to sleep. Since the little breakfast area downstairs wasn't open until 8, I watched reruns of American sitcoms with Dutch subtitles. Such a funny language.

After breakfast, I set out for the Hortus Botanicus (because I like plants, ok?) all the way across town. And I mean all the way across town. The nice thing about walking around a place like Amsterdam at 8:30 in the morning is that I'm just about the only tourist doing so. I was even mistaken for an actual Dutch person (a lady pulled up next to me on her bike and asked me something about a street, to which I shrugged and tried to remember the words for "Do you speak English?" but failed), which gave me hope that there were only a few people rolling their eyes at the big, dumb American walking around their town. Truly, it warms the heart.

The botanical garden was cool (the tropical house being by far the coolest), but probably not quite worth the 7 Euro I paid for admission. Eff. On to Centraal Station to get ye olde Railpass validated.

After the station (which has all the calming features of a metaphorical zoo, and is under construction), I hit the alleys between Damrak and the concentric canals. Here I found Burger Bar. Glorious, wonderful Burger Bar. I ate a beefburger. I ate a beefburger that was scrumptious. I think most of you know how I feel about burgers. I lurve them. I luuuuuuurve them. I lurved this burger. There were also fries. Thick cut Dutch fries. I was the only one in the place because it opened right as I walked up. It was heavenly. And thanks be to me for packing moist towelettes.

From there, I walked to the Anne Frank House. I had read in a travel book that planning to visit in the evening hours is best because there are no lines. Being midday, there was a line around the block. My hips and feet were killing me, so I headed back to the hotel. I then slept for six hours when I intended to sleep for one... which is why I can't sleep now.

Determined to get to the Anne Frank House, I decided to try my second pair of shoes (the first pair, the ones that I thought were so great, were KILLING ME). Now, you have to understand that I almost left the second pair at home. They're effing vans slip ons with arch supports in them. And they were heavenly. I was virtually gliding to said tourist attraction and there was no line. None. Beautiful.

The Anne Frank House is remarkable. And not for the reasons I thought it would be. I thought I would be standing in an attic in this place saying to myself, "They lived in HERE?!?" But there was very little of that. The place does a good job of putting the holocaust and the war in human terms. I saw the yellow Star of David patch in one of the displays, and my blood went cold. There was a book that had the names of the over 100,000 Dutch Jews that were killed concentration camps. The thing was thick. I tried to imagine it 60 times thicker with the names of 6 million. Yipes. It was terrifying.

I bought a post card of what Anne's wall would have looked like... photos of movie stars plastered onto the walls. Then I left.

Now, having heard of a place up the street that serves great pancakes, I of course had to try that out. I had a chicken, cheese, and onion pancake and it was effing dreamy. With it, I drank two white beers, a sort of light, sweet, weak flavored beer that seemed to me to lie somewhere between PBR and the pear cider they have on tap at a lot of places. As revolting as that might seem, it was quite refreshing. I couldn't pass up a second pancake with ice cream on it. And a third beer.

After that, I went for a stroll in the Red Light District, where there were far fewer hookers than I thought there would be. I only saw a few.

I walked back to the hotel through what is my favorite part of Amsterdam so far... the uncrowded streets on the concentric canals between Raadhuisstraat and Passeerdersgracht. So pleasant.

I'll try to make my posts funnier. I think. I have no sense of humor at the end of the day and with my feets screaming at me to get some shuteye. So, guhnight.

PS: Someone must have retouched the color of the canals in Google Earth. The brown was a brutal surprise. These canals are much prettier at night.

Converter funtimes

My power converter died last night.

If anyone thinks I've remained too connected while I've been here, you're about to get your wish; I'll likely be out of touch until I find a new one.

It's all I can do to resist chucking this one into a canal.

PS: I'll miss being in the Netherlands when I leave tomorrow, if only for one reason. Most sites, including the regular Blogspot show up in Dutch (I'm guessing it's because of the IP or something??!??). Up in the corner, where it would say something like "write blog" it says "Blog maken." Lurve it.

Shower toilet.

Here I am. Amsterdam. I've screwed myself, though; I was really, *really* trying to stay awake until at least 7pm, but I couldn't move at about 4 o'clock and fell asleep for what turned out to be 10 hours. Right now I'm watching a National Geographic special on the Shroud of Turin because that and CNN (a weird version of CNN) are the only things available in English. Listening to the Dutch on the other stations is both fun and educational, even if I don't understand a word of it.

Photos are here.

The flight over was remarkable. First, it was so smooth that I probably could have slept if I ever slept on planes. Well, I did catch about 10 minutes between Iceland and Scotland. I watched Atonement (about which I was mostly indifferent... James McEvoy's eyes were worth it, I guess) and There Will Be Blood (which I LOVED). The sky never got completely dark, instead leaving a rainbow gradient-looking strip of half-light on the edge of the world for a few hours. I suspect you know how I felt about that.

I was sitting next to a pleasant young man with whom I did not start talking until the last hour of the trip. He lived in Paris for 10 years and now is in Portland. Amsterdam was only a stopover for him as he was headed to Ghana. I can't imagine getting off of a 10 hour flight and getting on another 8 hour flight. Eegh. He pointed out a wind farm off the coast of the Netherlands (of which I unfortunately did not get a photo... it was rad), and I pointed out the bright strips of blooming tulips in the fields once we were over land.

A one-word question waited for me at the customs area ("Vacation?") and I was through. When I stepped out of the baggage area, there was an H & M right in front of me... in the airport. I saw another one on the way to the hotel. The train into central Amsterdam was unremarkable, and I decided not to get my railpass validated right then (now I wish I had waited for customer numbers 145-188, though).

At this point, I think it appropriate to thank my father for the glorious genes he has passed on to me. I'm sorry if it sounds like bragging, but after some hours of studying Google Earth before leaving home, I didn't even have to look at a map to get to the hotel. Granted, Amsterdam isn't impossible to figure out, but I did take some side streets and alleys along the way (kind of necessary if you don't want to get stuck in throngs of elderly people in tourist groups on Damrak).

The thing that kept going through my mind as I slogged my too-heavy bag past canals (and tried to avoid slapping people with it) was that I used to have more than twice the weight of my bag on my actual body. No wonder I was tired and couldn't walk up stairs and had bad feet and hips and back. As much as I walked in the shoes I was bringing, the extra weight was significant enough to cause problems on my little toes. I couldn't have done this two years ago. I couldn't have done this five years ago.

My hotel is in a mostly residential area, with little restaurants and bars on the larger streets, and even an out-of-nowhere grocery-and-seemingly-anything-else-you-need store. It is a small, clean room with a SHOWER TOILET. I don’t suppose it would have been a real vacation without one. And really, it’s only inconvenient if you need the toilet while the entire bathroom is still wet. There’s a huge window in this tiny room. When I arrived, it was warm and there was a breeze, making it a perfect spring day. Apparently those across the way thought so, too; when I opened the window, there was a man tending the flowers in the planters hanging from his balcony (and listening to the Cranberries and Peter, Paul, and Mary) and a woman sunbathing. Naked.

It was so sunny yesterday that I think I may even have a bit of a sunburn. In Amsterdam. I am now happy to have brought sunblock.

It’s now 4am and I’m going to try to get a couple more hours of sleep. G’night.

Seattle, Portland, plane, Amsterdam

The band played in Seattle on Friday, and it was snowing when we arrived. It was snowing when we drove home. It was ridiculous.

Seeing all those Turn-Ons again was soooooo nice. As Nate and I stood and watched them play "Robert Altman," we exchanged gasps and jaw drops, generally freaking out about how good they are. Freaking out about how totally and completely effing good they are. It's been far too long, and they've got so much talent. We wished we lived in the same city as them.

And, just to be clear, we would have had Hypatia Lake's backs if those drunk dudes started throwing punches. Charmparticles are just waiting to release our crazy blinding-speed strike-you-in-your-insides-before-you-know-we're-coming-for-you fists. That's right. Or, we're really excited to get the shit kicked out of us by some bros. The whole thing would have been a glorious shoegazer's brawl, and it would have been hilarious. For some reason, I picture it all choreographed. Shoegaze street battle? Yes.

I'm getting on a plane bound for Amsterdam at 4pm today. At this very moment, I'm pretty stoked that I got most of the stuff I needed to do done yesterday. Just a bit of laundry left to dry. I'm having a leisurely morning. It's nice.

Next you hear from me, I'll be in the Netherlands... taking in canals and waffles. I'm too excited to type.

I managed to get my bag down to 30 lbs. That's a big deal.

I think I need some air, I think I need to go home.

One of the more adventurous nights I've had in a while.

I had dinner with my closest now-ex-coworkers, Tamara, Brad, Jamie (plus his wife and son), Christine, and Craig (the last two being the ones that made me cry earlier in the day). It was at Jake's, the crawfish place, and it was AWESOME. A ridiculous spread of seafood appetizers and a delightful Beaujolais later, I was apparently commenting on how enjoyable the lettuce in my Caesar salad was, being that it was crispy and hydrated. Go, PR, go.

And here's where it gets sick... I gave up sugar about a year and a half ago, leaving only room for the occasional soda and the very, very rare [read: I've had about three in the last year and a half] sugary dessert treat just for the sake of having a sugary desert treat. And this one was ridiculous. THREE scoops of silky vanilla ice cream drizzled with caramel and chocolate sauces, topped with nice, thick whipped cream and flanked on three sides by the most divinely textured, dense but smooth, thick ass fudgy chocolate truffle brownie tort slices. Holy shit. I almost died. When I didn't die, I almost passed out from the happiness. I came nowhere near finishing the stunning thing.

After dinner, I said goodbye to Brad. Brad, being the most recent addition to the editing pool, was quiet at first. After Tamara and I had to start working in the office again, it took just a little bit for the three of us to get completely warmed up to sharing an office every day (at least that's how I see it). But we did warm up to it... in fact, I don't expect to ever again have such close coworkers in the sense that the three of us had a knack for bullshitting until we were all in belly laughs. I appreciate Brad and the time we spent together as coworkers maybe more than he knows. His sometimes deadpan sarcasm, and his classic line from the point of view of the clueless person we're talking about, the overtly and intentionally facetious, "I think I know a little something about [insert whatever you're talking about here]" is one that I'll take with me until the end of my days. I'm going to miss the conversations. He's a hell of a good guy, and I hope beyond hope that we don't lose touch. Even that mustache grew on me, though I can not at all blame his girlfriend for not wanting to be with the guy with the mustache. Heh.

Several of us went to Ringler's, where there were a few more coworkers waiting and drinking. That didn't last long, but there were some faces I was happy to see there... some people I wasn't expecting to see.

And then I said goodbye to Tamara. If I've said it once, I've said it, err... a few times... Tamara and I have a very unlikely friendship. We don't run in similar circles at all (she climbs mountains, I stare at my ceiling), we don't share a lot of similar interests (on the surface anyway), and I don't think we would have ever run into each other if not for CD Baby. As it turns out, we think about a lot of the same things, and we've had a few similar experiences in our lives.. We've spent long hours talking, we've spent long hours typing. I made up characters for her prosthetic radius and cadaver ligament when she was about to have surgery on her busted arm, and she always had a willing ear for me to bend when things weren't going great for me. I'll miss it. She offers excellent perspective and riotous giggling, and she's amazing.

Refer to the above photo of the three editors. That's us, me in the middle. The only two people in the world who understand the pain and elation of being an editor at CD Baby are Tamara and Brad. Someday there will be others, but it's an exclusive club, one that no one else gets and only we can appreciate. There's a certain tacit bond there. And that's where the ambivalence comes in... I loved it, I hated it. It's done now.

After Ringler's, Daniel gave me a ride up to the Towne Lounge, where I caught the last bit of Oh Darling and the first bit of Derby. And then I had to go. At first, I intended to catch a cab and go home, but I walked down Burnside a bit, and I wanted to keep walking. I think I have a need to mark significant events in my life with other things that are significant. Example: getting up early on my 30th birthday and driving out to the gorge to watch the sunrise, then cutting all of my hair off (also happened to be the day before all of my appointments started). For everything I find monumentally significant, there has to be something else to mark the occasion. It's like I can't let one thing stand on its own. There has to be some kind of double meaning in things so I won't forget them or something. It can't just be the day I left CD Baby, it has to be the day I left CD Baby and walked over the Burnside Bridge for the first time.

In my health and psychology classes, they always said something to the effect of "risky behavior indicates willingness to engage in risky behavior." I kept thinking that as I was weaving through crowds outside of bars, as people yelled behind me, but my walk didn't feel risky. All the way down the hill, over the bridge, and up the east side of the river. I made it to E. Burnside and 16th, and then I called a cab. A good 2 mile walk as it turns out... you know, prep for Europe (and in the bad shoes, so I'm gonna be fine!).

I've been so insulated in my car that I've forgotten the kinds of things you see and hear when you're just walking in the city. Girls half yelling into their mobile phones about who is sleeping with their friends (while sloppily walking to the next bar), fights breaking out, floodlights filling the area of rubble where a building is being torn down, how narrow the lanes of the freeways look when you're on an overpass. And then there's the river. I don't think I've noticed how big and beautiful it is since the last time I rode my bike to work when I worked downtown. It's wide, and it reflects the moonlight as well as the lights on its banks with perfection. I kind of wish I was wearing my glasses. I'm kind of glad I wasn't.

Good night all. Good night me.


--
Listening to "The Remains of a Heart"
by John Brodeur
from "Tiger Pop"

And just like that...

I'm unemployed.

Or should I say FUNemployed? Yes, that's it.

The damned HR guy and CEO made me cry, though. They said some very nice things to me before I left their office. Coming from them, two people I respect and fucking adore, it sent me past my ability to shove it all in for later. I think only one person saw me bawling. That's ok.

Just for that, I'm having the damned lobster tonight.

--
Listening to "P.S. I Love You"
by The Turn-Ons
from Parallels

The emotions begin to rumble...

I was just sitting in my office listening to a particularly striking song for the first time when it sunk in a little that there are people here that I won't see ever again after tomorrow. It's a sad thought, and it doesn't help when the song you're listening to gives you chills anyway.

For a moment, I felt sure my eyes were going to get more watery than usual, but then something on my computer fucked up and made a disturbing noise and I was gratefully distracted from the deepening feelings of forfeit.

Yes, the sinking in has begun. It's just the change that's freaking me out.

--
Listening to "Vegas"
by Horse in the Sea
from I Order the Sun to Shine on Everyone

It really hasn't hit me yet.

My last day of a job I've worked for nearly 7 1/2 years is Thursday. I am leaving for Europe in six days. I am going on a national tour with the band as soon as I get back from Europe. I am starting graduate school in about two months.

Jeebus.

But today feels like every other day for the last couple of years. I'm in the office with the same people and we're talking about the same things. It's probably not going to hit me that I'm not coming back here until after I get back from my travels.

I'm wondering whether landing in Amsterdam will feel like landing in Tokyo, when things didn't miraculously become amazing the moment the tire hit the tarmac. I was expecting them to. Japan was incredible, but it wasn't really the life-changer I thought it would be. I hope I'm not getting my hopes up too high for this trip. I do that to myself.