Europe: From Princess to Peasant           
 20.X.2 Summer Shugyo Pt.1

Some would say that this is the story of a girl corrupted, others a women set free. I would say that given the scope of the material verses the length of the story coupled with the things talked about versus not talked about that it’s less a cohesive story and more a string of increasingly less lucid thoughts put words. Either way, read it and judge for yourself.







The year is 20.X.2….







So there I was … class at university. Not my natural habitat, but one that begins this story none the less. Some guys from class and I where swapping adventure stories, and one of my female classmates made exclamations of surprise every time I mentioned something: “You did what!?” “You’re a fighter!?” “How did you even wind up there in the first place!?” “How are you still alive!?” I continued to talk of travels. “Wow, I’ve never been anywhere or done anything. I’m 22 and all I’ve done is go to school. I wish I could travel like you.” You can, I said. Pick somewhere you want to go, and just go. Don’t think. Just go. Opportunities are everywhere. “I don’t have time…” The only time you have is the time you make.




About a week later I was sitting by myself in a lounge sipping hot tea when the girl came up to me. “Nash!” Yes? “So I play for the girl's soccer team…” I didn’t know the school had one… “It does. I’m on it.” Congratulations? “I’ve been o nit for years. I’m a soccer player. This summer the team is going to Spain to play a few games.” That’s awesome! “I’m pretty sure I can get them to let you come with us, but you’d have to put up staying with the girls soccer team for a couple weeks in Barcelona.” I think I could manage. I’m willing to take one for the team… or several if I have to. Why are you offering this to me though? “After the two weeks in Spain I want to backpack around Europe… but I’ve never been backpacking, and I don’t know what to do. I’m kind of treated like my dad’s little princess. I need you to be my bodyguard and teach me what to do. In exchange I’ll take you. Listening to your stories made me realize there’s a whole other world out there, and I want to see it. I want to go on a Nash style adventure!” Deal! I’m not sure you know what you’re asking though… “Yes I do. I want to be in the wilderness, sleep in the mud, see animals, and have crazy adventures!” Ok, well that about sums it up. You do know that I have a habit of getting into terrible situations right? “yeah, but you always get out!” Exactly. I always get out. “You’re super smart and clever. I trust you.” Ok. It’s a deal then. “Oh, I’m a germaphobic and I’m really afraid of the dark… is that a problem?” … we’ll work on it.




In the subsequent weeks soccer princess informed me that she was being looked at to play soccer professionally for the girl's national Spanish team. She also told me that her boyfriend was not keen on her taking off for a month and a half jaunt around Europe with some guy. I couldn’t fault him for that. “He said he’ll break up with me if I go.” You may want to reassure this guy that you don’t want to ruin your relationship… “I don’t care if he breaks up with me.” Oh. Well, you may want to break up right away; that does not sound like a good relationship! I just want to be free. Like you.” Then follow your heart. The next time I saw her, she had broken up with her boyfriend…




Since her father was to be the trip benefactor, he wanted to meet me to see what kind of person his daughter would be keeping company with. He took her and me out to dinner. This was a man used to striking fear in her friends and enemies. A wealthy hard-assed intimidator of an alpha male. I would not be intimidated. I am the alpha male. I missed no opportunity to subtlety showcase it either. I knew that this was no mere meeting dinner. It was a test, a shadowy game. I came prepared bringing typed itineraries, packing lists, a resume of past endeavors, a folder, and my intellect. My calmness aggravated him. “I don’t like the idea of you going with some boy” he told his little princess. “I’m going.” She sternly informed him. The battle was on. He was convinced I was taking his little girl on a month long rape-a-thon across the European Union. “If you had a daughter, Nash, would you let her go on this trip with some guy?” Well, I said, if she was an adult it wouldn’t be up to me, but I suppose it depends. You know the old saying : If you have a son you only have to worry about one penis, but if you have a daughter you have to worry about all the penisis in the world. He sat and stared at me for a moment, flabbergasted. A smug grin on my face that said “That’s right. A wiener joke. Now what?” I let him know, subtly, that I would not be beaten. This did not sit well with the man, and he argued with his daughter for a bit before she told me she wanted to leave. So, we did.




This was a man who was used to getting what he waned. Used to controlling with money and authority. The girl had decided to make her own decisions and it pissed him off. He withdrew his offer for funding. “Fine.” She said “I’ll get a loan. I don’t need your money.” She told me one night with a laugh “Nash, you’ve changed my entire life, now you’ve got to teach me how I’m supposed to live!” She was not kidding. I also knew that if I didn’t think 10 moves ahead of her father I would lose my opportunity to subtly spend his fortune for my personal motives! The constant bickering between the father and daughter led to the man cutting her off entirely. He closed her bank account, stopped payment on her phone and apartment, and was coming to get her car. She pressed on, determined to get a loan. Through a series of unfortunate and unforeseen circumstances having nothing whatsoever to do with me, the girl's life had been completely changed. On top of losing her boyfriend, bank account, apartment, phone, and car, her father had turned the rest of the family against her, she canceled her summer classes to make more time for backpacking, and she was realizing her newfound dream of becoming intimately familiar with many more guys. 




It wasn’t too long though before the father and daughter had a fight that convinced him to help his daughter rather than sabotage her. Funding back, game won. 10 moves ahead, I knew the outcome the whole time. I had been coaching the girl with what to do during their fights. The only hitch in the plan was that the man was now extra stingy with his money, which meant only a little money for the girl, none for me. She now had funding but I didn’t. I would have to approach siphoning his riches more subtly now. Soccer princes went out and got supplies. We where to leave on Monday. It wouldn’t be a Nash style adventure if some opposing circumstances didn’t arise however.




A few days before I was to leave I found out my airline ticket had been revoked. I had purchased it from a discount student website, not realizing that you needed to reconfirm every few months that you are still, in fact, a student. They needed copies of transcripts, bills, and class schedules. I sent the documents and waited. During this time I also found out the backpacking backpack I got wasn’t quite big enough and so I needed a new one, with only a couple days to get it. If I wasn’t leaving straight from Europe to Asia for training, it wouldn’t have been a problem, but because I was, I needed to be carrying around my training equipment which is space consuming. Also during this down purr of news I discover that due to a series of circumstances I had $2,000 less than I thought. Typical.




My paper work went though, my ticket was reacquired (but for a couple days later than originally planned) and my bag showed up the afternoon of the night I as to leave. Right in the knick of time. I packed and set off, to Barcelona, Spain. 




The flight was long and devoid of distractions, save for some red wine. Upon landing in Barcelona I found the airport staff to be particularly unhelpful. It seemed that they had never been to the airport before that day… or Spain for that matter. I was trying to get to Lloret de Mar and they were more than less than unhelpful. After a couple hours of being sent in circles at the airport I decided to just ace off and wing it. Two trains and a bus later I made it. I proceeded to the hotel the soccer team was staying at, but they were gone. It was around this time that I realized the bag I was using was far too large and unwieldy for backpacking. For the time though, I was stuck hauling it around. I wandered Llorett de Mar all day, pausing to take a couple naps on a couple beaches. That night I met up with soccer girl, her brother and mother, and the team. We went out drinking; I was drunk before we even left. Towards the end of the night I was unknowingly fed garlic…




I’d been in Spain 23 hours when I woke up in the morning. In a place I’d never been, with a new gash in my head, with a search out for my arrest, covered in dirt and probably puke, all after almost being taken to the hospital and/or stabbed with an adrenaline needle, and almost getting the soccer team thrown out of their hotel. It was now officially a Nash style adventure! This girl had no idea what she was getting herself into. Needless to say I had not endeared myself to the parents of the team…




The Girl’s brother came to the hostel where he had brought/left me that morning to drop my bag off. “That’s heavy.” I know. “We’re all taking a boat somewhere for the day, we’ll be back in Lloret tonight.” Is that your subtle way of telling me not to go? “Yes.” 

Not so subtle.

“The hotel is still being combed for you, you can’t go back.”

Great.




The next few days I spent in Barcelona proper, with not much help from the bus ticket lady in Lorret de Mar who charged me 20E for a 10E ticket. She assured me it was a round trip ticket and I could get back with it. Not true. While in Barcelona I visited all the expected places, and spent a good deal of time hanging around La Rambla, the street market/ party strip. I crashed at a hostel and ran into a recent Harvard law school graduate who boxed, and we went out and partied until he had to leave for his flight to the states.




After a few days in Barcelona I hopped on an overnight train to Madrid. Crammed in a non ventilated cube with 5 fat smelly guys for 9 hours isn’t my idea of a good time, but it got me where I was going. Upon my arrival I made my way to another hostel. A hostel like none other. This hostel had been converted from a palace into a hostel and apparently had a reputation as a party place. It’s reputation was well deserved. Amidst the constant drunken revelry I managed to make several new friends, go to the oldest restaurant in the world, get mistaken for an Argentinean by a group of Spanish guys, mail a big box of things to myself in Japan, get mistaken for a Spanish guy on several occasions by Spanish people, cross a magic street that is said to see the crosser soon married (no one warned me until too late… I’ve devoted good energy to counter acting it!), get mistaken for a British guy on several occasions by Americans, and get swepped up in the “occupy” movement (said to have started in Madrid, and this was it’s one year anniversary) which was both interestingly fun and dangerous. I also went to some extraordinarily brutal bull fights which saw goring of man, horse and bull alike; and I took over a children’s playground in order to do pull-ups and work out.




It was also while I was in Madrid that I learned of the pilgrimage of Santiago. The pilgrimage is officially recognized by the Spanish government and is similar to the Shikoku 88 temple pilgrimage, though much much shorter. I wanted to do it badly, but I was out of time; I was to meet soccer princess in Paris France to begin our adventure properly. She had finished her soccer tour and had taken off to France with her mother and brother for a few days, after which time they would leave and I would show up and show her a Nash style adventure in the form of a whirlwind tour of Europe. First thing was first though: I had to get to Paris.




Given time constraints I decided on flying from Madrid to Paris. I ordinarily would not have entertained the thought of flying, but I found a really cheap ticket. Suspiciously cheap. I did almost miss the flight though, because some lady pointed me towards the wrong train to the airport. I made it literally as they were closing the door to the plane. The flight turned out to be rough, hot, and overcrowded. I dubbed the carrier “crying-baby airlines”, since I seemed to be on a cargo plane with nothing but crying babies; although, they say any landing you walk away from is a good one, so I suppose I can’t complain about the flight too much. I landed in Paris’ embarrassing back-up international airport, which amounts to little more than a shack in a field, and headed into Paris proper. I needed to find the girl ahead of schedule and reclaim a certain object. The object in question was a tent. Right before leaving for Paris I decided to do a bit of reconnaissance as to where I may be staying. As it turned out, nowhere. It seemed that every conceivable accommodation was completely booked the whole time I was planning on being in Paris, so now I was going to grab the tent and improvise. I did just that. After tracking the girl down and grabbing the tent, I set off for the only camp grounds in Paris. I waited until late night and the final group of people were going into he camp right as they were shutting the place for the night and locking it. Then I jumped in the group going in and pretended I belonged. I set up the tent and slept, then got up at 5 and took it down and snuck out before they opened. I managed to do this the entire time I was in Paris! Paris is the second most expensive city in the world, so I don’t feel bad about staying for free… not that I would feel bad anyway. Late at night I would sneak into the camp, but during the day I would hike 2 hours into the city and gallivant around Paris: climbing the Eiffel tower, climbing Notre Dame, climbing pretty much all climbable things in fact, and visiting the world’s largest roundabout (the Arc de Triumph) and the Louvre to see the Mona Lisa and Vines de Milo among other works. It was fairly easy to get around Paris, even though I was lost all the time walking around with a map and compass. The Parisians where extremely warm, nice, helpful, and attractive…nothing like the stereotype! I also found it great that plugs for electric cars where common, and often part of parking meters. One could pull up, pay for their spot, and charge their car while they’re gone. After a few days of taking what I could from Paris it was time to reconnect with the soccer princess. On the way there, after sneaking out of the camp for the final time, I was propositioned by a prostitute at 6:30 in the morning on the border of the forest. I knew it would be a good day.




After I met up with the girl my first order of business was to use her hotel room to the fullest. I had a shower and pilfered a large variety of foods and tiny toiletries. Then I took a nap, and the girl got her first taste of what it’s like to suddenly wake me in a strange place. She was not expecting my reaction, and I’ll say she learned to be more cautious when she wakes people. Afterwards we then collected ourselves and began the whirlwind euro tour proper. First order of business was to leave France and get to Rome, Italy. I had a friend I’d met in Thailand studying abroad there, K’. So it should be nice to go out and see her again.




We bought some tickets to Rome for the following day, from the same suspiciously cheap airline I flew there on, and partied all night in Paris. Before we left the hotel to party the girl’s former hotel concierge gave us directions to the airport by train, but we wound up missing the last train because of how late we were out. This turned out to be a good thing though, as he had sent us to the wrong airport! If we had made the train we would have missed our flight. As it was we wound up taking a taxi to the airport around 3 in the morning. It was the largest airport in Paris, and very small. It was locked on our arrival, so we slept outside. My first night with this spoiled germaphobic afraid of the dark girl and I had gotten her to sleep on the gum covered ground outside of an airport in the middle of the night! Off to a good start. In the morning we went to check into our flight which was when the lady behind the counter informed us our tickets were not tickets. Somehow we had no tickets for the flight. The girl was worried and wondered why I was so calm. I told her this was fairly common, and was part of the “Nash-style” adventure she wanted. After jumping through many hoops and spending too much money we got actual tickets and flew to Rome.




Almost the second we arrived in Italy we became lost in the train station. For a long time. During this time everyone we encountered not only refused to help us, but was exceptionally rude and abrasive. This would be the girl’s first impression of Italians, and a lasting one. By the end of our time in Italy the girl had grown to hate Italians, and she was of Italian heritage! Oh, the joys of traveling with me.




The first day in Rome we decided to stay at some camp grounds, which turned out to be a party camp grounds. The place was great, but we could never time the bus correctly, so on the first day we wound up rucking our bags 3 miles to the campsite. It turned out to be the same price for a tent or a bungalow, so we stayed in the bungalow. Me, the girl, and another girl from Australia who showed up later. 




The most important thing on my agenda in Rome was to see the coliseum, the grounds of my spiritual ancestors. Once we got settled that’s were we went, and took a fantastic tour of the place. The coliseum was such a magnificent work of functional architecture that it puts even modern arenas a theaters to shame. At one point the Romans would flood it and reenact navy battles! Also the floor had some 27 elevators built into it so that things like trees, soldiers, and animals could be loaded up underground and when the elements where raised the battle scenery would change instantly.




A few nights we met up with K’ and her friends and partied. One night some drunken girls said I looked like “Thor” and wanted to take their picture with me. I obliged. When parting ways with K’ the final night she mentioned she was going to be in Prague, the capital of the Czech Republic, and asked if we were going there as well. I told her I didn’t know as I was just improvising the trip, but assured her I’d meet up with her if the opportunity presented itself. Each night in Rome we would stumble back to the campgrounds in the early AM, drunk, loud and obnoxious. I think we should have felt bad for the Australian girl who was always asleep when we would burst in, but I was too busy apparently continuing the tradition of being “the loud guy in the night”.




During the daytime we would go about incidentals, sightseeing and whatnot. To work out I would commandeer children’s playgrounds and use them to my own ends, which was a theme I would continue in every part of Europe. Another trend that would continue through the duration of my European jaunt would be the rain. Torrential downpour more like. It seems we wound up following this same grimy weather pattern throughout most of Europe, though we got our first taste of it in Rome. Everyone said that it would be perfect beach weather at eh time and place I was there, but it was not. The day we decided to do Laundry it poured for hours… which was fine because apparently Italy doesn’t know about washing machines yet anyway.




The day the rain broke we made a break for Vatican City. The Vatican is the smallest sovereign nation on earth, and the seat of power for the Catholic Church, with about 860 people and a birth rate of zero. More importantly though it houses amazing works of art. While crossing the threshold into the Vatican I stubbed my toe. Hard. Most people are surprised I didn’t burst into flames upon entry, so I’ll take what I can get, not so subtle a hint as it was. Whilst perusing the Vatican and taking in sights like St. Peter’s square and the Sistine Chapel ceiling (the origin of which is hilarious) and an awesome tour, I picked up a charm of Saint Christopher. St. Christopher is the patron saint of travelers and athletes, as well as seafarers and other such things. Seemed appropriate.




After experiencing all that I wanted in Rome the girl and I took a 7 hour overnight bus to Venice. It was uncomfortable and I got no sleep. We arrived around 5am and had breakfast in a park with seagulls eating out of garbage cans. The city was beautiful with it’s canals and buildings…until the people got there. By 9am it was too crowded, too hot, and too expensive. I also got tired of having to pay exorbitant prices to use a toilet. Judging by the look and smell of the canals everyone just pooped in there for free anyway. Around midday miss soccer and I sat in a benched avenue in front of a church to eat lunch. She watched in amazement as wild birds (mostly finches and pigeons) would come up to me and feed from my hand. I would go on to do this all over Europe. This seemed to really intrigue her and she wished to do it herself. With practice she had slight success. Later in the day the sun became so hot we decided to take a water bus to the island of Lido to the beach for some “fun in the sun”… we didn’t get much of either. Despite the face that it had been murderously sunny all day, once we got on the water bus it became cloudy. By the time our 30 minute trip to the island was over it was full on cloudy and rainy. We went to the beach anyway. The “sand” was more dirt than anything, and there was a bulldozer pushing it around by the tide. Why wouldn’t there be? There were some people defiantly playing volleyball and laying out, pretending they should be at the beach. We decided to join in their denial and laid in the mud-sand for awhile. We did this until dusk when we felt the need to eat, and I felt the need to sneak into a bathroom without paying (another skill I would make full use of across Europe whenever possible). Night Fell. The girl and I went on a beautiful lantern-lit, wine fuelled, nighttime gondola ride through the canals around Venice. The city and sky shone so romantically one could forget they were being pushed through a river of dooty by a guy with a stick. Once we burnt ourselves out for the night we slept outside the train station on the ground in front of the main canal and it’s moon-lit city. A pretty sight to watch as you drift off to sleep.




In the morning we headed off to Zurich Switzerland by train, via Milan. I saved over a hundred euro by booking the tickets separate, even though the ride was identical to the one had I not. The ride was packed with some of the most breathtaking scenery. Snowcapped mountains, waterfalls, forests, and quaint villages dotted the way. The train itself though was very uncomfortable and arrived an hour late to Zurich. A Swiss man sitting across from me was quick to let me know that this was an Italian train, not a Swiss one! I should think not.




We arrived in Zurich with no place to stay, as per the usu, but it didn’t matter; Zurich was a utopia. A Shangri-la of beautiful scenery, beautiful weather, and beautiful people. Or maybe it just seemed that way coming from Italy. We wandered a bit and decided to stay at some campgrounds. We pitched the tent right on the edge of the lake, facing east to be greeted by the rising sun. Everything about the place was so picturesque it was almost unbelievable, even the intangibles, like kindness and punctuality. Especially the punctuality. The entire city shut down at 8, and became a ghost town. Likewise, 7am was greeted by bells and music and the whole town coming alive. During the day soccer princess and I would hop busses, even paying for them sometimes just to support Zurich, and see the town. One day we procured some free bicycles and rode all over the city. In fact, we where on a quest to find a shopping mall I had seen on a map I got that seemed to be by the campgrounds. Using my finely honed navigational senses I led us many kilometers out of the way, out of the city even, and into a neighboring city. I did find the mall though. Girl was not especially pleased, and wondered aloud if my routes were the best ones. I reminded her that I always get were I’m going which is the most important part, and that it’s more the journey than the destination anyway. She would become all too familiar with the sight of me walking zig-zags, head down, staring at and following my usually mostly reliable compass. Once we got back to town we continued our ride all over the city. We went to the Chinese gardens, ate at the most famous sausage place (the Sternan grill), went to a Saturday bazaar in Bukerlnplatz square, and biked to the parks where we drank and napped in the sun. At night I was to make a campfire to roast marshmallows and make smores because the lady had been craving some, but first we needed supplies for this endeavor. While looking for supplies I realized that in Europe they dye all their hard boiled eggs, so you can tell they’re hard boiled. They come in several awesome colors, everyone wins! Pooling our resources we got the necessary materials for a fire and smores. After some work getting it up and getting the fire going, and about 20E of invested money, we had created a smore. She ate one. “I’m good.”, she said, and made for bed. Most expensive single smore I’ve ever seen. It was also before midnight. This lady had been a party animal when I met her in the states, but was now going to bed earlier every day. “you’re lifestyle wears me out! I don’t have the energy to stay up late!” I assured her she would get better with practice. For then though, what I wanted was a shower, so I made for the camp showers.




The camp had complimentary showers, but hot water was 2E for 4 minutes. Not only did I think that hot water was completely unnecessary, but their whole price vs. time scaling was ridiculous. I’ve lived in Alaska, and showered in mountain waterfalls; I don’t need hot water. That’s what I thought anyway. This water was so cold I am still convinced they went out of their way to cool it by artificial means. I mean literally so cold it could kill you. I could only stay under the water for a few seconds at a time before I had to get out. I felt like the water was doing physical damage to me, like I was showering in liquid nitrogen. I could see and feel the effects of puberty reversing! After my 30 minutes of a 5 minute shower I returned to the tent and went to sleep. I was certainly not going to mention anything to the girl about how cold the water was, for I was certain she would bail and buy hot water. She needed this as an experience, I though. In the morning she went to shower, but before she left, she asked me how it was. I told the truth but convinced her to do it without hot water anyway. She did. She was not happy. It was a good experience to have though, I feel; plus, she didn’t die, so that’s good.




After a few days in Zurich we took a train to Sagrans (and bought the wrong ticket) and then transferred to a bus to go to the capital of the tiny country of Liechtenstein, Vaduz. Liechtenstein is the sixth smallest country in the world, is the world’s largest producer of false teeth, and is still ruled by a monarch in a castle on a hill overlooking the country. In fact, we went up to see the castle, and wound up pitching a tent in it’s front yard. Thanks for the free stay prince of Liechtenstein! The girl was scared we would get shot by guards or attacked by animals, but we didn’t so clearly there must have been nothing to worry about(despite suspicious sounds and activity)… it did rain though. When we arrived in Liechtenstein it was a Sunday, so the entire country was shut down; The following day was a religious holiday (Saint Jesus’ day?) so the country was sill shut down.




All of Liechtenstein is only 15 miles long by 1.5 miles wide so it’s not that big of a place. It sits snugly wedged between Switzerland and Austria, and I decided that we could make the walk from Liechtenstein to Austria, no problem. Except for the fact that even though the country is only a mile and a half wide, the roads don’t go straight. They are snakey and mostly long ways to the country it seems. Several hours, wine, and naps on artistic landmarks into trying to walk to Austria and the girl was ready to try a new experience (which I recommended she do everyday), hitching a ride with a stranger. I still wanted to walk, but I obliged because someone stopped and picked us up. After about a 30 minute ride (we were close! ….ish) we arrived in Feldrich Austria. Then we took a train to Zell am See where I met a half Ecuadorian half Austrian twin backpacker girl named Alexandria, and a knife maker who invited me to his workshop in Salzburg, but I didn’t have time while I was there, and so plan on going later. The twin girl is an avid fan of couch surfing, and extended to me an invitation which I have every intention of utilizing in the future. Once we arrived in Zell am See, late at night, we pitched a tent under an awning outside the station in the hard, bitter rain. We where able to lie down for about 3 hours, and were only interrupted by one creepily drunk Russian. Morning came, and I set off on the mission that had brought me to this area in the first place: climbing Krimml Falls, the highest waterfall in all of Europe. The climb was supposed to take an hour and a half or so, but the lady and I are athletes so it was done in half the time. Not to say we rushed though, as I despise rushing, we took our time and took breaks to soak up the atmosphere and take pictures. After our victory climb down, we began the journey to Vienna. The train was to be expensive, but I had a plan. Some spontaneous research had revealed that there is an all day “all-you-can-ride” train pass, with one proviso: you can only take local trains. So, in an effort to save 35E, I took a single train 3 hour trip and turned it into a 4 train 9 hour all day affair. Worth it. Soccer princess (becoming less regal by the day) bought a bottle of Barbosa Rum for the trip; and we decided it would be best if we waited until the last train to drink, in order not to miss our transfers. The last train came, and we drank… and wound up passing out on the train. Luckily ours was the last stop. The train man came and woke us up (to throw us off) and we got off, the girl drunk and blacked out forgot her bag on the train. We got it back. It was the middle of the night when we arrive in Vienna (as always), but the train station was lively. The girl and I where nonsensically intoxicated, and what force kept our bodies supporting our bags, I do not know. Whit I do know is that while trying to find a hostel I was so drunk I kept trying to pay taxis to take me to a place I already was. At least three times this conversation was had:




Taxi: Where to?

Nash: (holding up crumpled upside down piece of paper) Here?

Taxi: (driver looks at paper) You’re there.

Nash: How much to get there?

Taxi: You are already there.

Nash: How long of a drive is it?

Taxi: Nowhere to drive. You’re there. This is it.

Nash: How much money will it take to get there again?




And so on. Surprisingly, no one took my money. But then again, they could have been making legitimate money, so the time they where wasting on me wasn’t even worth it. During our drunken milling about, a drunk student walked by and walked us to the hostel. When the girl and I walked in our room there where 3 people asleep as it was the middle of the night. Time to continue tradition: we barged in loudly and banged around for a bit before we resumed drinking rum, this time in bed. We drank and laughed loudly, waking everyone up repeatedly, for hours, until we passed out. The girl lost consciousness holding the bottle of rum like it was a baby. There was lots of rain the following day, but I managed to find an under construction church, and worked out on the scaffolding. While around town for a few days I went to an Australian backpackers bar a few times and had a cheese toasty with vegemite. Got new roommates, one of which was a fighter who I got along great with. Girl got black out drunk again one night and decided we where going out on the town to party hard all night! We were out a grand total of 15 minutes before I literally had to carry her back to the hostel. I wondered if maybe her newfound freedom was too much for her. 




My main mission in Vienna though was to see the Hoffburg palace and it’s treasury museum. Back when the Hoffburgs were the rulers of Austria they amassed an impressive collection of treasures which I very much wanted to see. Treasures such as swords and the world’s largest emerald (at 2,860 carats!), and curiosities like a thorn from Jesus’ crown, and one of the nails he was crucified with. After meandering around the palace area and seeing the old Spanish stables and treasury and al the other goodies, the lady and I went to go wander around greater Vienna. While doing this we came upon a theme park, the Austrian equivalent of Disneyland. Except it had horrifyingly Germanic “Brother’s Grimm” quality to it, so it looked less like Disneyland and more like the strip clubs and areas from the move Beetleguice. Demons, naked women and distorted physical manifestations of raw human desire. And stuffed animals, of course. We stayed in the park and played for quite a while, with the lay picking a few rides to ride on the caveat I picked the final one. The first few she picked where roller coasters built for people of half my thickness. My thighs and shoulders were too big to actually fit in these rides, but the carnies made sure to cram me in anyway. Good thing too, because once I was in I could fully appreciate that these contraptions where just rickety piles of scrap metal slapped together by gypsies. I honestly feel like I almost lost my hands, and head on a couple occasions. The girl thought this was hilarious. The final laugh was mine though; I picked a big spinney-dropping-rotation snake thing to ride. I laughed for minutes straight as this thing flung us through the air. The girl cried. I laughed some more. The ride paused and I could hear her frantic pleas to any deity that would listen for the ride to be over. Then it started all over, but backwards. I laughed, a lot, her screams of terror reducing her in mind to a lost and frightened child of about 6. The ride ended and we got off, the girl shaken to her very core. That ride was worth every cent. 




Soccer girl and I kicked around Vienna for a few days before I decided we would go to Prague and meet with K’ again. After I had properly ingratiated myself with the area, we checked out of the hostel and went to the train station to sleep on a bench. After a couple hours we were thrown out of the station (a not uncommon occurrence for me) and we moved to a park. A somewhat seedy looking park, but at least it had benches. The girl was nervous she would get mugged or raped; I went to sleep on a bench. A couple hours later I awoke to rain, and so we left the park and made for the shelter of a much seedier bus station, and due to our new location the girls previous fears where legitimized. She slept; I stayed up all the rest of the night on guard. One guy tried to get her back to his place, and said she could come back and sleep in bed with him. Until he saw me that is. The girl impressed me with her naiveté “He just wanted me to be safe at his place.” Hardly. A drunk Russian guy stumbled by and asked if I needed a place to stay, and offered me his flat for the night. He had just come from a party, and had drunkenly passed out in the park, but was awoken by the monsoon. He was on his way back to his place when he spotted me. He said his place was cramped because his family was in town and also staying there, but there was always the floor and at least it was sheltered from the elements. Had the girl not been there, I’m sure I would have taken him up on it. After all, he just wanted me to be safe at his place. 




The sun began to rise and for some reason the town began filling with crazy people as if it was get out of insane asylum day. Perfect time to leave. The train ride was going good until we crossed the border into the Czech Republic and the thing filled with people like thy were trying to escape the eastern bloc of the USSR. Crowded would be an understatement. Hours of the hot boring cramped dullery of this train were driving me mad. Also, I needed to use the toilet. I’m a firm believer that the more by yourself you are, the more interesting the experiences you can have. Case in point: I’d been sitting with the girl on this train for hours and nothing of note had happened, but when I left to go find the toilet I encountered something. That something would be a college Czech soccer team on their way to watch a pro soccer game. I’d been gone a grand total of about 2 minutes when I found them. Riotously drunk. Extremely happy, ready to cheer and drink to almost anything. I tried to move from one train car to the other and found them clogging the way. They saw me and started talking to me, in Czech, and didn’t understand a thing they were saying. One guy in their group spoke pigeon English though, and through him we managed to work out group details and that I am a fighter. They loved this. Cheering loudly they handed me a 2 liter bottle of Czech beer, and told me to chug. I did. Loud cheers and high fives followed. Then they told me to chug and chase it, and handed me another bottle: Czech vodka. I did. Cheers and high fives all around again. This went on for awhile, before I was forced to resume my quest for a toilet. Shortly after we arrived in Prague, around 5pm. Soccer hooligans and I parted ways with shouts and waving. Girl and I headed towards the hostel were we would meet K’, but separated on the way. Miss soccer wanted to go shoe shopping, I was now in a mad dash for a toilet; we agreed to meet up and the hostel, even with my doubts that she could make it on her own. I knew she had a phone though, and I had more pressing concerns besides. We each took care of our respective businesses and then met up with K’ and her friends. Everyone wanted to go bar hopping and clubbing, but I was not in the mood. After being subjected to their best coercive persuasion tactics I agreed to come out to the first bar, but said I wouldn’t spend money and was going to leave after the first place. The girls bought me several drinks, sure that once I drank them I would stay. “I’ve never seen you turn down a night of booze and hot women. Not when you’re not in training for a fight. You’ll stay out for sure.” I assured them my mind was made up, but they were sure of themselves. “Just wait until you drink, then we’ll see.” Indeed we did see, because after many drinks, I left, true to my word. I knew what was to be of their night, since I had done what they were doing several times myself. I struck out on my own and wandered beautiful nighttime Prague. The following morning I was informed by the group that the night went exactly as I said it would, and that they wished they had gone with me. That same day the girl and I went walking around and saw all the sights. While out we stopped in a hole-in-the-wall eatery and had phenomenal Czech food. Not only were we treated to a low priced multi course meal complete with multiple meats and Czech dumplings, but on their menu they had hot grog! When we order the hot grog the waitress had a look on her face that seemed to say “It’s 1pm! What are you doing with your lives!?” It was great. By the time we’d stumbled out of the restaurant we decided to take a the tram back to the hostel in order to save some time. The girl had by now become in tune with her own natural instincts to constantly and spontaneously choose the wrong tram or bus for wherever she was trying to go. I was teaching her well. We hopped several of the wrong tram before winding up on an incredibly memorable one, though also very wrong. This particular tram resembled an old small trolley, but made of wood. This thing was conducted by a person of such fatness, and said fatness distributed in such a way, that he looked like a cartoon character. He looked like a little kids’ drawing of a fat person: a circle with 4 sticks coming out to be arms and legs with a face drawn on it. Humpty dumpty comes to mind. He was a super nice guy though, even though the tram terminated in the middle of nowhere, farther away from our goal than when we’d gotten on. By the time we’d made it were we where going we were ready to turn around and go back out again. Which we did. We took off to go find the beautiful moon-lit, and city-lit, Prague palace. While on this excursion the lady and I drank most of a bottle of what may have been grape flavored ammonia. Some was into the bottle the girl experienced violent kidney pain, and I horrible chest pain. We decided against finishing the bottle, and after we had had enough of our fantastic view of the palace we decide to take off in search of another real Czech meal, complete with good drinks that might not kill us immediately. What we found instead was an expensive place that didn’t even have any food worth looking at, let alone eating. As for the drinks? Well we each got a beer that tasted like it was made from a foot and brewed in a butt. We left and went to bed. I was excited to go to the main place I wanted to see near Prague (though about an hour by train outside the city): “Bone church”. 




In the town of Kutna Hora is a church called Sedlec Ossuary. Inside, the real bones of 40,000 real people have been used to make the internal objects of the temple. From crosses to curtains to chandeliers and candelabras, everything is made from human bones. A macabre reminder of the way of nature, and quite a heavy thing to think on. On a more artistic level, the craftsmanship was extraordinary and gave the place a very “voodoo” feel. Having finally experienced this place in person I was content with my half week in the Czech Republic and decided I needed to get back on the road. Next stop: Munich, Germany! Via overnight bus…




My frugal nature resulted in another overnight bus ride. Never comfortable, but the price can’t be beat, so bus it was. The bus was not only super crowded, but also very hot. The girl kept telling me I put off heat like the sun, and since enough people keep saying it I’m inclined to believe it. Plus, I’m hot all the time. Outside of the raging heat that I was inadvertently contributing to, the bus seemed to be full of people who had uncontrollable gas. I was stuck in a hot tube of farts for the whole night! My seat (all the seats actually) was too small to allow proper sleeping or not-bashing of the knees on the seat in front of me. In an attempt to sleep I tried to rest my head on my hands, to no avail. My hands are too pointy and sharp! There was no way I was getting sleep on that thing, and around 3:30 in the morning we arrived at the Munich bus station. The girl and I slept at this freezing cold station from 4-7. When we got up we took a train to Munich proper and went on a tour of the city. During the tour I went to a church that supposedly houses the devil’s footprint, the story of how it got there is fascinating. I also learned, first hand, that Bavaria (Germany’s southernmost state) is serious about its beer. So serious that monks used to roll barrels of it up to the top of the Alps so they could drink it in summer. This led to the creation of beer gardens, and ultimately to the refrigerator (designed to keep beer cold). The list of beer related inventions and activities for the area is almost endless (for example, if someone steals a town’s town symbol, the may-tree, they are awarded 100 barrels of beer in ransom).

The pope even has 50 barrels of his favorite beer, Augusteiner, brought to the Vatican each month. I was told that ‘the pope’s favorite beer is god’s favorite beer`. I certainly wasn’t going to miss a chance to drink god’s beer, and so made good use of the beer garden. Giant pretzels and sausages usually accompanied the many liters of Augustiner that all drink in Bavaria, so I sampled those as well. After the girl’s first proper Bavarian meal we hitched a ride with some guy to a hostel. The next day we went on a tour of Dachau, the prototype Nazi concentration camp. It is always sobering to be reminded of the deep horrors of which human beings are capable. The Germans now have come to terms with this event in their history and discuss it freely, though seriously. So seriously in fact that performing the Nazi salute anywhere in the country will net you a 4,000$ fine and immediate deportation from the country; though you can come back after 8 years. I hear every year there are a few people who get too drunk at Oktoberfest and this happens to them. That night the girl and I went to some over crowded poorly laid out hostel. I tried to sleep but was subjected to my usual round of nightmares, which until that point I’d been lucky enough to stave off. This resulted in my getting about 30-60 minutes of sleep for the night. 




On the third day in Munich I was determined to go see NeuSchwanstein castle, the real life castle that inspired Walt Disney’s "Sleeping Beauty" castle, the castle displayed before Disney moves and at Disneyland. First, we took a train to Fussen, and from there rucked the 3 miles to Shwangau, the town which features the two castles and Swan lake, the famous lake that inspired the music and opera of the same name. Along the way I imparted `forest wisdom` on the girl, such as the signs of rain and what happens when you walk into a patch of stinging nettles wearing shorts (which I accidently demonstrated). The girl and I were planning on pitching the tent in a pretty meadow by the woods and staying the night, but signs of a flash flood on the horizon dissuaded us. Once we had finally arrived at the entrance to the hike up the mountain to the castle, I found a hotel and got a lady to hold our bags. Next, we snuck in to the area you need to pay admission to (we arrived late, so they were closed) and began our climb up to `Mad Ludwig’s` NeuShwanstein castle. The area was every bit as unbelievable picturesque as the Disney movies it inspired. It literally looked like a painting. There were waterfalls creating pools leading to hidden caves between other waterfalls, rolling hills and foggy forests, complete with a tiny hamlet. Soccer princess loved the castles because they resonated with her princessly nature, though she was less princessly everyday. While up touring the castles we got hit with the beginning of the flash flood and just barely made it down to the hotel holding our bags and then to the tourist info counter, which was closed but had a roof awning with a bench where we wound up sleeping for the night. The winds and rain lulled me to sleep.




In the morning we made for Berlin. Fussen is in the far south of Germany while Berlin is in the North, meaning there was to be quite the journey ahead. This journey could have been simple, direct, and concise… for a price. Of course I wasn’t willing to pay that price, and wound up saving over 200E by having us take 4 different trains totaling 13 and a half hours of train riding time. It’s funny to think that before the girl met up with me for this trip that she had never ridden a train before, and now she had become a kind of connoisseur of trains all across Europe. Most of the trains we rode that day could be classified as `crap`. Broken, smelly, hot and full of gypsies (not the good kind). The ride was so bad for the lady, and it was so late by the time we got to Berlin that she was beyond being able to tolerate living the way I normally would. She caved and bought us a hotel for the night. The place was nice enough, except I couldn’t figure out how to make the air conditioning work, so it was unfortunately hot. It had a patio door which I broke (ripped it off its odd German hinges), and the staff walked in without warning (Knocking as you open a door isn’t warning. What if someone was doing something illegal?). In the morning I suited up to go for a run. “what is that!?” Running close. “It’s fucking hideous. Purple shorts, red converse, black shirt, red bandana.” I know. Awesome right? “You look like a clown.” She seemed confident enough in her words, but I ran by several reflective surfaces and was reassured that I did indeed look totally rad. I got back and showered up and we went out sight seeing. We discovered there was a big soccer game that night that Germany was in and the whole of Berlin was alive with wild revelry; people getting drunk and going wild everywhere. `When in Rome…` we figured so we joined in. We ran into a couple of drunken Irishmen who where in line for tickets, and almost got kicked out of the station for singing too loudly. They were the norm that day, not the exception. Berlin was like this from 6pm until after 6am the next day. While the lady and I drunkenly perused the night streets we came across an old parking lot in the middle of the city that had been filled with sand and made up to look like a beach, complete with grass roofed huts, chairs, and a projector projecting the game onto a neighboring building. We sat on the `beach` and drank rum while stargazing. Around 2 or 3 in the morning we left the beach and went to the train station to stay the night. Of course neither of us could sleep because of all the soccer hooligans. The girl mentioned that her throat and guts hurt, and she had been experiencing progressively worse acid reflux everyday. She said she didn’t know why; She never had it before. I proposed that maybe it was because she’d been eating garbage every day and super drunk for over a month. “Ok then. From now on, no more drinking and I`m on a diet!”

Then moments later we took a train to Amsterdam…




Amsterdam is in Holland, in the Netherlands, and is famous for its prostitutes, drugs, and alcohol; in short, it’s debaucheries, as well as it’s ability to such people in and keep them there longer than they intended to be there. On the train ride there we ran into two English girls on holiday who were also backpacking. They told us of the cheap hotel they were planning on staying at, and since the soccer lady and I had no place to stay, we decided to give it a shot. The price was unbelievable. So unbelievable that the girl wanted to book it for the 2 nights we where planning to be there. So unbelievable though, that I didn`t believe it. I told the girl to book one night, and we`d see how it was. She thanked me later. The place was a 2-star crap pit. The maintenance crew just left their crap all over the building, meaning cleaning equipment and garbage bags of soiled linens. The shower was not only gross, but poorly designed, a distinction it shared with the toilet, which there was also only one of for all the rooms of the floor (5 rooms). Our room itself was what you would imagine based on such a lead up. The ceiling was clearly crumbling and poorly patched; smashed bugs left as-is plastered the walls; the lights were off kilter; the sink, oddly placed, would randomly leak water; seamen splatter caked the floor; the beds were odd shapes and small, with stained sheets. The girl was so disgusted she wanted to check out immediately, letting them keep her money; she just wanted to leave. I protested saying I had stayed in worse. She came up with the idea of pitching the tent in the room, which we did. The room was so bad we had to move furniture and pitch a tent inside of it! Needless to say we didn’t spend much time in there. We left for the night to have a huge Dutch meal, then came back and passed out from exhaustion. It had been a rough trip. In the morning we were rudely awakened to the sound of harsh construction on the street, right outside of our room. We got up and checked out of the dump post haste. That day we found a hostel, much nicer than the `hotel`, and dropped our bags off. We then went out to explore Amsterdam properly; which apparently means a day of altered consciousness and eating gluttonously. The first thing we did was go out and get a big bottle of absinthe. It wasn’t displayed at the store, and when we asked for it, the shop keep had to go get it out of a bar box from underneath a back counter… always a good sign. Absinthe is an alcoholic drink made from wormwood that has been known to cause hallucinations in some people, and long-term use has been linked to permanent brain damage… In fact, it was blamed for Vincent Van Gogh’s ear incident. The girl and I spent the day drinking absinthe, and she has no memory of the day at all, or our roisterous debaucheries. This may be because we were floored on absinthe before it was even noon; the regular townsfolk trying to live their regular weekday afternoon lives looked none too pleased to see these two people who couldn’t walk or talk properly propping each other up, shambling incoherently into their eateries. We ate so much that day. Everytime I turned around the girl had wondered off and gotten more food. Pancakes, shoarma, pancakes, muffins, chocolate. I almost suffocated and drowned in all the shoarma! In fact the flow of the day was : shamble around, eat, passionately shamble somewhere, take a random nap in a public place, and repeat. The whole day was this way, and that night we met a couple of Australian guys and a couple of Irish girls. “Shit! Are you drinking absinthe!? Hardcore man, lets go drink!” The six of us went to the red light district and partied. I wound up have some girl pour Jagermeister into my face and then drinking beer out of one of the Australian guy’s shoes. The girl also had a shoey; a big step for a germaphobe. The shenanigans lasted until about sunrise. A quick nap and lots of water later I was ready to go back on the town. First we hit up the fascinating sex museum. Then we went to a comedy club, sneaking our own drinks in of course. That night the girl wanted to stay at the hostel again, and was to try and sneak me in. She panicked and didn’t have the ability to think on her feet quickly, and the mission was not successful. If only I could train her faster, I would save so much money… Since the hostel was a bust we moved to our third accommodation in Amsterdam (already staying much longer than anticipated). Which turned out to be almost as bad as the first. The whole place only had 1 shower, and 2 toilets 5 floors apart. The room we were supposed to have wound up having 4 beds, but 5 people in it, and had no place for people to put their luggage. The beds were really dangerously small for bunk beds, and their `free breakfast` was just bread. Not even toast! We were now on day 4 of a 2 day stay in Amsterdam. We had come across people who had been there weeks and months; people who had every intention of only having been there a couple of days, but lost track of time. In order to avoid such a fate I set into motion the chain of events that would get us out of there, but first I went to the largest flea market in Amsterdam. No sense in missing out on a hidden curiosity or potential treasure. Afterwards we hopped a train to the airport. We had decided to fly to our next destination because the girl was running out of time. She had only a week left and couldn`t afford to dilly-dally. We got on a rickety plane who’s wheel seemed to fall of during take off and flew to the recommended location from the Irish girls we had met. Ireland!




The island of Ireland is actually 2 different countries. The Republic of Ireland in the south, and northern Ireland which is part of the United Kingdom. Going from one to the other can be a bit annoying since they each use different currency and measuring systems. We began by flying into Belfast, the capital of Northern Ireland, as it was the hometown to the girls we had met, and cheaper than flying to the south. Upon arrival I immediately noticed how nice and personable everyone was. I couldn’t walk for more than 5 minutes without someone striking up a (long) conversation, regardless of the time of day. In fact, when we arrived in Belfast it was the middle of the night but passers by still stopped and talked to us. Clerks, bus drivers, pedestrians, everyone. One of my favorite of these exchanges occurred around 1 or 2 am right after we arrived and was from a young couple who stopped to talk to us. As the girl was talking the guy interrupted her and said ` wow, you are ripped! Is there anything you cannot scale!?` I laughed and said not much. The girl, confused by her boyfriend’s unprovoked outburst, went back to talking, only to be interrupted by the guy seconds later. `Oh, so you’re going to just ignore the fact that this guy looks like he can bench press an avalanche!? I bet he could push a whole avalanche!` His girl looked confused and annoyed, yet understanding considering their state of drunkenness. The guy turned to soccer girl and said `This guy is amazing! I hope you’re hitting that.` Soccer girl blushed, still not used to these sorts of confrontational spontaneous conversations from strangers. After that exchange we continued hunting for a place to crash for the night, which did not go smoothly. Unbeknownst to me previously I had picked the worst day to be at this particular place. This is a common thing with me though. It just so happened that on this day the band blink 182 (who I do not care for) was in town and the place was booked solid. Everywhere in the whole city. After a few hours the girl had another caving moment and we slept in a hotel, after having doubled back to the airport. Going to sleep around 4am, we didn’t get much rest before we had to be on the road again. After sauntering around Belfast at my swaggering leisure, and buying what may be considered one of the world’s worst umbrellas (which I made ‘last’ 3 months, despite it almost destroying numerous eyeballs and doing nothing to shield from the rain) we made for a bus to Dublin, Capital of the Republic of Ireland, and then another bus to Cork, which many regard as the `true` capital. After dealing with switching back and forth between Euros and pounds, and the aches that come from long bus rides, we got an amazing room at a hostel for a super cheap price. I’ve lived in houses smaller and crappier than this room was. It was spacious and accommodating to say the least. While getting ready to bed down in the room for the night, soccer girl turns to me and says ` Could you leave the room?` I ask why. `I have to go to the bathroom.` I’m not in the bathroom, just go use it. `I get bathroom shy if people are in the next room.` Just go pee, no one’s going to care. ` I don’t have to pee…` I’m not leaving so you can poop. Just go in there and poop. She looked painfully exasperated. `I’m nervous! I’ve never done it with a guy in the next room! I always make my boyfriends leave the room.` Very good thing I’m not your boyfriend then, eh? Look, I’ve lived with plenty of girls. I know the tricks. Go in there, turn on the faucet, the shower, your ipod, whatever; and poop. `….Fine.` She then went in there and did her completely natural nothing-to-be-ashamed-of foul foul business. Another first! I was completely opening this girl up to the world. It seemed like half (or more) of this girl’s total life experience had been in the past couple of months, via myself. In the morning we rented bicycles and began a bicycle trek to Blarney, home of Blarney castle, home of the famous Blarney stone. The ride was not what most would call pleasant. Approximately 10 seconds into our journey we got hit with a torrential deluge with unmerciful winds. Thankfully, having anticipated this, we got raingear. Even myself, though I skimped and got the cheapest and shoddiest things; my primary concern was keeping my ass dry. I hate my ass being wet. The wind and the rain were not our only concerns however; the terrain was even more unforgiving. The first few miles were steep and uphill. The next few where completely the domain of automobiles where bikes had no business being. For all the niceties of the Irish, they don’t appear to give a shit if they hit you with a vehicle; `pedestrians have the right of way… unless they are IN the way.` Indeed! The last few miles were the exact opposite of the first, sharply downhill, though far more dangerous. The bikes picked up speed on the steep way down, the rain threatening to hydroplane us to death even as we rode the brakes. After another of my research and reconnaissance free travels we arrived at the beautiful village of Blarney, and to Blarney castle. Making my way through the castle and up to the top I made out with the famous Blarney stone, which legends tells that a kiss on said stone will bestow the kisser with the gift of eloquence ( the silver tongue, gift of gab). After my steamy upside session with the rock I expect to be granted awesome powers of persuasion and story telling abilities! Coming down from the castle the girl and I explored the compound and meandered around the less famous, but equally or more fascinating, poison garden. The garden is just as you would imagine it: a big garden of various toxic plants with signs describing them. Brilliant. Having gotten my fill of blarney I decided we should head back to Cork. The girl agreed, but really did not want to ride back. The ride there had spent her, both physically and emotionally. She wanted to take a bus. She had been doing good, I thought to myself, and she was paying, so I acquiesced to her request. After we found the bus however, it turned out to not be as easy as just getting on. The bus didn’t allow bikes! Using my new powers of eloquence though, I was able to persuade the driver to take us and our bikes anyway. Getting back to Cork I finished my tour of the town and the girl and I headed for Dublin. This time to actually experience it, rather than just pass through. A lumpy bus ride later we made it. 




It had been awhile since we had partied properly, or I regaled strangers with tails of daring-do, so we decided to shack up at Dublin’s notorious party hostel. We expected party animals and all sorts of characters… what we got however was a room full of fat sleeping people. It was only 10pm! Even the girl was awake! Seeing that the party was just the two of us we headed out to an Irish pub for the night and listened to a fantastic live band. Late that night/early morning we returned, much to the chagrin of our obese roommates. I will not be quit! It’s a party hostel! Also, I was concerned the heavy set girl sleeping above me was going to roll over and bring the upper bunk crashing down, severing my legs. An uneasy sleep indeed. The morning saw the girl and I doing laundry, which took far longer than we though it would. Given the situation, and not able to stray far so we could keep on eye on our cloths, we did what anyone would do given the facilities and equipment; we played super Mario 64. After our fantastic 2 hour diversion, and discovering one of the girl’s new shirts was ruined, we took lockers we were supposed to have paid for but didn’t, and then headed out. In between ducking the rain we managed to get to the Guinness brewery/storehouse, have an amazing lunch, and take in the vibe of the city. That night we headed back to Belfast in order to catch the ferry to Scotland, which we missed. Once again we found ourselves stranded and filling time in Northern Ireland’s capital. Strategic wandering led us to a backpacker’s hostel that was having a barbeque. We procured a big meal without paying, but the girl felt guilty and went and paid. Rooky. She wanted me to contribute. Mine would have been free if she hadn’t said anything, so she had to foot the bill for her guilt. As good as she was coming along, she still had much to pick up. She did wind up giving me a cheeseburger though, which when combined with the rest of my food, turned out to be far far more than I needed. The staple of the hostel was a cider that it gives away, which we drank and fell asleep to. Not for long though. We had to be up at 5 to catch the ferry to Scotland, for real this time.




The ferry was huge, and more closely resembled a small cruise liner than the ferries I prefer to ride. It did offer so much space though that I got some to myself, which is always appreciated. A few short hours later we docked in Scotland. We then took a train up to Ayr and had a huge Scottish breakfast, complete with all the trimmings, including black pudding. The girl thought it was a brownie; I didn’t tell her otherwise. Her facial expression as she tasted it was priceless. After we finished instantly becoming fat we got on another train to Glasgow, and then a bus north. The mountains, lakes, and forests of Scotland where stunning. It’s difficult to categorize a place as `most beautiful in Europe`, but once attitude, economy, and scenery are taken into account, it becomes difficult to argue that Scotland is certainly in the running. At the end of our bus ride we arrived at our destination : Loch Ness! This loch is famous for the monster said to live deep within it’s waters, and most souvenirs from the area feature a representation of the creature. The girl and I went to go stay at a hostel, but it turned out to be a proper youth hostel and therefore noncomplimentory to me; things like a curfew, expensive price, being thrown out from 10am until 5pm like staying at a homeless shelter, and a general feeling of dulldrum led me to prick a different spot to stay. A bed and breakfast run by a retired Scottish couple with a house right on the shore of the Loch. The scenery was beautiful and the couple were charming. The man in particular was the most Scottish man I had ever seen. Aside from his kilt and love of old Scottish culture, he also loved his whiskey. In fact, the man looking suspiciously like Scottish Santa clause taught me the trick to seeing the Loch Ness monster! ‘Aye, what to do is simple. First, get yourself a bottle of whiskey. Then, go down to the shore; kneel on one knee and drink the whole bottle. Once it’s gone hold the bottle up to your eye and look inside and out he other side. You’ll see the monster coming at you!’ He laughed a big Scottish laugh and fixed us a huge 3 course dinner (at the girl’s request). If it weren’t for my metabolism and lifestyle I:m sure my time in Scotland would have given me instant obesity and diabetes. The Scotsman wanted to make sure we knew we would get a spectacular home cooked Scottish breakfast in the morning as well. I told him thanks, but we had a 6am bus to catch so we wouldn’t be able to eat it. ‘Then Ill cook it at 5 then. You’re getting breakfast!’, he said proudly. Certainly didn’t want to upset the man, so when the morning came the girl and I got a huge breakfast: complete with another black pudding! To give the girl credit, she did try it again; can’t ask more than that. The breakfast was huge but we needed fuel for the fire, for that day we had a climb ahead of us. Ben Nevis, highest point in the British Isles. The average time up is 5 hours, average time down is 3. Though the mountain is not that large, it is deceptively large. Every time you think you’re about to get to the peak… surprise! There’s another peak on top of the one you thought was the real one. Also, even though it was almost July when we climbed, it being a mountain meant the top still had a significant amount of snow on it. This wasn’t a problem, even though all I had clothing-wise was jeans, a t shirt, and flip flops. I got quite a few compliments for climbing a mountain through snow in flip flops actually; if they only knew my usually shenanigans… We got lucky and it didn’t rain the whole time we were up there, which turned out to be a somewhat embarrassingly long time. Even though our ascension only took 3 hours 45 minutes, our climb down took 4! ‘I feel like I’ve been doing this my whole life!’ said the former princess of soccer jokingly. The climb wound up making her calves sore for the rest of the trip. Cripplingly sore.




In celebration of having conquered Scotland the lady and I went back to Glasgow where we took a really uncomfortable 10 hour Grey hound bus to London. We weren’t actually going to London however. We were just catching a train to Wales, to visit the legendary Stonehenge. We spent the day on a bus tour, and audio tour, and at the sight proper; but the girls ADD being what it is turned to me and said ‘ I haven’t learned anything today.’ It was difficult to argue with her though, as most ‘known ‘ facts about Stonehenge are speculation. I did learn some things though, so the day was successful. Something about Merlin being the Devil and stealing Stonehenge from an old lady because the Devil is a giant space alien? It was hot that day, my facts might need double checking. More amazingly though, while walking to Stonehenge I saw an Englishman wearing a Martial arts t shirt walking the opposite way. More specifically a Kyokushin karate t shirt. Even more specifically a shirt from a Kyokushin Karate tournament that was held in the north western United States. That I fought in. I fought in that! I said pointing to his shirt. ‘Oh? You study Kyokushin Karate?’ Yes I do. ‘Osu! My student gave this to me.’ Osu!, I replied. After some talking and finding out his teacher is quite famous, he invited me to come train if I ever find myself out his way. I reckoned that within a year there was a good chance I would be over. We exchanged ‘Osu!’ and parted. Hyped up from a combination of world heritage exploration and amazing coincidental run-ins I made my way (with the girl) onto a train and headed for London, to actually go to London this time.




My time spent in London was great, of course. First order of business was to find a place for me and the non-regal lady to base out of, which I accomplished by finding a room let upstairs of a pub. Living upstairs of a pub is great, a highly recommend it. Our time together in London was spent doing regular sightseeing things: Rode the eye of London (A giant ferris wheel that takes 30 minutes to go around), went to the usuals like Big Ben (which is the name of the bell, not the tower that houses it), Buckingham palace, the tower of London (where the crown jewels are now held), and saw a kid of about 4 years old shit his pants. The girl and I were in the tube, riding from someplace in London to some other place in London, like usual, when this guy carrying his kid gets on and sets him down. As if subways weren’t bad enough this kid had his pants covered in crap like it had exploded out of him and through his pants. I was as if Michael bay had directed this child’s shart. The smell and the heat from the metro were a terrible combination. Eventually the dad picked the covered in feces kid up (did he not know!?) and got off the train, but not before I took a picture; thought eh angle does not do it justice. 




After that we were naturally hungry and headed towards sushi and Japanese food . This was the first time the girl had had true Japanese food. Another first! She liked it! She had a good meal and even learned how to use chopsticks. Not too shabby. Another meal of ours involved us meeting up with one of the girl’s former soccer teammates from her grade school days, who was now living in London, for dinner. On the way there I was briefed that the girl had diabetes, and I was NOT to make any diabetes jokes. Who does she think I am? An idiot or an inconsiderate monster? I told her I had not planned anything of the sort. After we met up we got food and drinks and the two sat and talked about soccer and guys for what I guesstimated to be just shy of eternity. I sat there, not even able to entertain myself by talking because I want given the chance. About an hour in, the girl’s friend turned to me and said something. Instinctively I mad ea diabetes joke. Oops. Aaaaand right back out of the conversation. Thankfully a toothless Irish beggar came up and, asking for spare change, rescued me from my third wheeled isolation. I gave him some change and he asked if I was a body builder. Fighter, I replied. ‘Like in K1?’ I was taken back that this guy knew of K1. He wound up being a fight fan and we talked for about 30 minutes about fighting. He asked that if I ever fought in London that I give him a ticket if I ever saw him again. I told him I’d do him one better: if I ever fought in London and saw him, not only would he get a ticket, I’d take him out for drinks afterwards. ‘Dya mean that?’ I promise. ‘Ah think ah may be talkin t the future champ.’, he said with a smile before offering me one bit of wisdom before he left: ‘Don’t shave your head. It’s the source of power.’ Noted. 




After a few days in London it was the girl’s time to head back to the states. She got a legitimate hotel room by the airport, which I took full advantage of, and rested up the night before her morning flight. In the morning the girl and I said our farewells and parted ways. I later received a message from her that her flight from New York to the Midwest was canceled, and she was forced to take an overnight bus the whole way . She wrote : ‘I thought I was done with my Nash-style adventure! Guess not.’ Nash style adventure indeed. That’s usually how they go and she got exactly what she wanted. Her overall experience reminded me of the story of Ann Bonny. I reflected on our time together and on all the new things I had introduced her to. She went on the trip thinking the world was some big magical place, but everyday I slowly awakened her and showed her the reality; the world was bigger and more magical than she could have ever known! All anyone has to do is keep an open mind and follow their heart. The girl had a pretty good run at her ‘Introductory summer short term course’ , Nash-style 101. She passed the class with a B I would say, maybe B+, so she can go to a more advanced level if she would like (no money at all perhaps?), but the feedback I would offer her may say something like : ‘still far too worrisome and anxious. Calm down. Still has difficulty crossing the street. Does not understand money. Good open-mindedness, great determination. Keep up the good work!’ 




Before we left on our journey, I told the girl it would behoove her to keep a journal while on her trip, as people change gradually and don’t realize when they are with themselves all the time, but others do. Also, since this was a whirlwind tour I crammed a lot into a little, it becomes easy to forget exactly what happened. Before she left she let me read her journal, and here for your reading pleasure are some of my favorite excerpts:




‘Every 3 out of 4 times I have gone to the bathroom in Europe, I can’t figure out how to use the sink.’

‘The scenery in Switzerland is beautiful. Snow covered mountains and some waterfalls. I wonder how many sasquatches live here?’

‘We currently have no plans for the day or night, which seems to be a common theme. I’m not mad about it, it makes things spontaneous and like I’m on a true adventure. Like the Goonies.’

‘Also, the toilets here have several buttons. During one toilet visit I pushed 4 wrong buttons before I pushed the flush button. The shower above the toilet turned on, the sink turned on, soap squirted towards me, and the toilet seat lifted up before I finally bushed the flush button. ‘

‘I have been getting lamer and lamer every night, falling asleep an hour earlier each night. Must be all the walking and ‘double backing’ throughout the day. Pretty sure we are constantly lost. Nash has confidence in his voice with where we are going, then we end up in a diffident city. That’s when I hear the phrase ‘Ok, let’s double back’. Super!’

‘It had been 3 days since my last shower and I felt like shit. I told Nash I had been wearing the same cloths for 3 days. He responded by saying ‘I’ve been wearing the same cloths for 3 countries. Made me feel a bit better.’

‘I need a fucking shower. … guy across from me just sneezed with his mouth open. WTF is wrong with these people.’

‘Hopefully Nash gets sat next to another crying baby. He always gets sat next to them. Hilarious.’

‘We also met a guy across from us who makes knives. Nash wants to visit his shop and spend 2 days making a 240$ knife. I must attempt to plot a way for this not to happen.’ (Bitch!)

‘So far this trip has been a blast. We have managed to get drunk everyday, see great history, see beautiful land, sleep on royal territory while adopting some royal tics, sleep on several benches, go to several countries, meet tons of great people and assholes (Italians), get my first hitchhiking experience, several train experiences, and its only just begun!’

‘Our grocery trips seem to last 2 hours, and we stare at the yogurt section the majority of the time.’

‘Set out to go find the museum with the world’s largest emerald, 2,680 carrots! It also had a thorn from Jesus’ crown and a nail that nailed him to the cross. Had eggs and bacon, which was amazing.’ (THAT was the amazing part!?)

‘We basically walked the entire city, which was fun. Luckily Nash is a comedian so everything he says is hilarious.’

‘Got pretty decent sleep and woke up perfect timing thanks to Nash’s internal alarm system. Sometimes I wonder if he is an alien from a more advanced and knowledgeable planet. Hmmmm.’

‘The guy who gave me his hat was the more drunk one of the two and asked Nash to sing him a song. The line was very long and everyone was anxious, and pissed and German, which made the situation much funnier. Of course Nash sang him a song. Then the other guy sang a song. Extremely loudly and with a lot of projection. People in line would ask him to stop, only causing them to sing in their face, and much louder.’

‘We went to the sign at the end of the Berlin wall. It took 10 miles by foot to get there, which apparently Nash thinks is a short walk.’

‘Took a poo in the bathroom while Nash was in the room. He enjoyed making me feel awkward about that of course. He just informed me that he would title his blog ‘the princess who took a poop’. Not funny!’

‘Nash actually bought trash bag rain gear, despite him not wanting to get anything in the first place. Pretty entertaining considering its been freezing and he still walks around in a t shirt and flip flops while I have on 4 jackets and 2 pairs of leggings.’

‘Towards the top (of the mountain) there was snow. Nash had only sandals on and everyone was impressed. It’s normal for him though.’







Of course, as everyone knows, I’m not immune to the ridiculous either. I created a new mythological creature on this trip: The Lepricorn.




As for me, well not 5 minutes after parting ways with the girl, I had fallen back to my normal world. The only day I actually needed the buses to work, there was a bus driver strike because of the Olympics. The ATM was broken as well, and now I was stranded in the middle of nowhere with no way out. Except to walk, which I did. I spent the entire day hiking into a city. 




Eventually I came upon some money, making my way to Greenwich. Greenwich is a fantastic late 1700s – early 1800s nautically themed town. Very laid back and home to Greenwich Mean Time, and the 0* longitude. The beginning of the world! I went to a shop called ‘The first shop in the world!’, located at the 00*,00.4’W mark. It was great.　I also went to a bookstore having a huge discount… this is why people need to be on Nash duty. I walked out with 10 books and 3 magazines. Now I had to carry all that across borders! I wound up staying in Greenwich for quite a few days, living upstairs of a pub again. The place was good, but I don’t know if anyone there was aware you need to empty the filters in dryers every once in a while or you break them. All the dryers were broken, and I emptied one filter that looked like someone just jammed a quilt in it (Still didn’t work afterwards though). Greenwich was quaint enough that it even had a legitimate internet café, something that’s by and by going away. It was here that I learned my flight away from London had been restructured by the airlines, causing me to miss connections. I was told I needed to call them to straighten it out. I wasted several pounds trying to get through with that call, and when I finally did I was put on hold for over an hour and a half! That’s a long time to be trapped in a London phone booth! However, I got things straightened out, and it looked like I wouldn’t accidentally be moving to Russia. Also, at the net café I got a message from K’ telling me she was coming to London, to fly to the states but had a day layover, so I should meet up with her so we could catch up. Again. For the 3rd time in Europe. I thought it was a good idea, and planned to mooch her hotel room again like I did in Thailand. We met up and I did just that. She also said she was going to be in China for a year, and extended to me an invitation to crash with her, and go backpacking. Sounds like something I would do…




K’ and I hung out, had dinner, cleaned up, and rested because we both had flights out of London the next morning. She left before I did, and I stayed in her hotel room. When I went to check out, she hadn’t paid her bill, and they wanted me to pay it! She had given them her credit card information though, and as “Mr. K’” I authorized them to charge anything they needed to… after that it was off to the airport. I thought about what an odd, and therefore typical, couple of months it had been. My whirlwind Europe tour had brought the number of countries Id been to that year to 16, 14 of which Id hauled a girl around with me; partly to get her father’s money, which didn’t even work out! Yet. I did begin sculpting a good traveling companion, and completely changed her life and mind, so that has to count for something, eh? Besides, the girl was still a factor in my future plans. I was brewing a venture in South America, and she was a piece to the puzzle which I was forming 10 steps ahead of everyone. 




First though, I was on my way to country 17 for the year, Japan…

-Nash