Lots of stuff, no time, what is a blog to do?

As I expected, I have had no time to blog to the world about my latest misadventures in Europe. And really, I shouldn't be spending my time writing the perfect post. Rather, I should be meeting the locals, eating the food, drinking the wine, seeing the sights. But alas, in all of these hedonistic pursuits, the blog falls by the wayside.

So, for the sake of keeping up, here is the very fastest summary I can put together to keep this blog current.

When we last left our traveler. . .

I went to Bordeaux. The wine is tasty, and the vinyards are really pretty. A big thanks to Fred and her brother for hosting me and letting me borrow their car.

Then I went to Avila, Spain for one whole day. Great city walls from Medival times. Watch for the photos. They will be up one day!

After that I went to Zaragoza. More on that later.

Then I found myself in Barcelona, where my girlfriend (Courtney) met up with me. Gaudi was on some serious hard drugs. Had to be. But I, for one, think he should be sainted. Then again I'm Jewish and don't know a thing about saints. So there you have it. Barcelona also featured a puppet dancing flamenco, real flamenco dancers, great food, and yet again, another great host. Esther, you are the best, and the bunk beds suited me and Courtney just great.

After Barcelona Courtney and I went to Zaragoza to visit my cousins Matt and Ben, Ben's wife Alicia, and their new son Samuel. He is the cutest little guy. And, at only 2, has a better command of both English and Spanish than I do. Wait for the pictures on him, because he really is something.

After Zaragoza, we caught a flight to Bergamo, Italy. This random city landed on the itenerary because of the cheap flight from Zaragoza. We were lucky that it had a charming old city to explore. So that lasted about an hour.

We then went to Cinque Terra, five cities on the italian riviera. Paradisio. Again, wait for the pictures.

And now I am in Florence! Nice town, super expensive, especially if you don't get your bus ticket validated. But the food is good, the art is better, and the architecture is out of this world.

More to come. Tuscany, Rome, Pompeii, and Prague are all still to come. Woo hoo!

(PS If there are a lot if mispeelings, it is because the italian spell checker is virtually worthless to me.)

Fraternité

Quick disclaimer: I am currently using a french keyboard, which has all the letters in different places, so I may have a typo or ten. For example, to hit the "." key, I need to press the shift button first, and if I don't, I get a ";". I hope this isn't too disruptive, and if it is, well, just deal with it;

The last few days have been fun here in Nice. I took a quick train into Italy and went to the open air market. The real highlight of my little sample of Italy was (surprise) the lunch we had at this little divey restaraunt. Best fried calamari I've ever had. I had a day at the beach, which was, if I may use the expression, a real day at the beach.

On Friday I saw some jazz in a bar with some french people that my buddy Andrew introduced me to. First, they all spoke very good english, which was very helpful, and they all had a great time making fun of my American accent. The "r" in this country is quite impossible for me to say, but all the frenchies keep telling me that as long as I keep trying to pronounce it, I'll be okay (and the source of some humor for the people of France). After the concert I was taken to an apartment right in the old part of town (very cool!) and had a glass of homemade orange wine. It was good stuff, although a little sweet for my taste. Despite my difficulty with the local toungue, I had a great time and was really grateful for the hospitality that the french folks showed me. Fraternité indeed.

Yesterday was one of the highlights of the trip so far, as I moved from the apartment I was sharing with an American and two Russians, into a French couple's apartment. The French couple, Morgan and Severine, (randomly) stayed with me in my house in San Francisco three years ago, and we became fast friends because we are all musicians. When they heard I was visting Nice they were eager to return the favor for my visit in Nice. So yesterday they volunteered to drive me around Nice, show me Morgan's brand new recording studio, and take me to a party.

The first thing we did was drive to a great lookout spot on the top of a mountain. That's what this picture is from. That's Nice! On the way back to the car we saw a coule of guys playing patonk, the French national pastime. I was proud of the action photo I got. No, I am not a good photographer.
Then we drove to the other side of the mountain, and looked down upon the other side of the Nice shoreline. Like an idiot I forgot what the name of it is, but again it provided a pretty good photo op.
There was a neat castle up there also.
Then we drove to Eze, a small mountaintop village that had yet another castle. We drank pastis and had a sandwich. Yeah, I know, tough life. I only took one (rather poor) photo because it was the kind of place you had to see. Although if you've ever been to a thousand year old village perched on a mountain next to a sea, then you know exactly what this place looks like. Nonetheless, this is from the fancy hotel in the village.
After Eze we went to look at Morgan's studio. Nerd alert: this next paragraph may only be interesting to musicians and recording engineers. But hey, it's my blog.

If you've ever been an amateur musician, then you've heard of, and probably seen, the home "studio." Usually it is one, small, run-down room, with a half-assed collection of gear, and without any thought to accoustic balance. You can imagine my surprise when I saw this (that's Morgan on the couch and Severine scooting out of the way).
Pretty neat, eh?

So after the studio, we head back to the apqrtment, Severine made a great curry for dinner, Morgan's best friend Lorice came over and we prepared to go to the party run by some Italians. Severine and Morgan warned me about the party, they said that if you don't bring more women than men you don't get in the party. Their explanation, " what do you expect? They are Italian. They want to be Macho."

The four of us (three men, one woman) drive over to the party and, sure enough, the Italians wouldn't let us in. We had to wait outside the front door, and yeah, we started to get unhappy. Fraternité? Felt more like a fraternity

Then Lorice took over. This is Lorice.

Lorice is straight out of the movies. He is easy to talk to, very friendly, and just doesn't give a crap what people think (i.e. he's loud and hilarious). After 10 minutes of gibberish (to my ears anyway) we were finally let in the party. Lorice declared, "I should be a politician!!"

The party was great, if only because everything was new to me. Overall it wasn't realy my scene, actually felt very much like a fraternity party. But needless to say I had a great time. Lorice, Morgan, Severine, and the Gin and Tonic saw to that. Fraternité!!

In New York, after a party, usually people are hungry and go for the cheapest easiest greasiest food available: pizza. But in France, pizza is not the food of choice at 4AM. Nay, after the party we did what every self-respecting Frenchman does, we went for croissants.

The best part was that there was a line at the bakery! And the croissants were fresh. Ineed, the French know how to live.

On Monday night I will be taking a train to Bordeaux to stay with a friend of Morgan's. I will rent a car and see the wine country, so you can be sure I will have plenty of food and wine details to bore you with in the coming days (pending internet access of course).

Below are some Nice photos, just because I can.

Le Clock

Le Vieux de Apartment

Le Church

Le Beach

Le Sandwich

Chez Vin

A few things I forgot to mention in my previous post.

1) On the flight from Geneva to Nice I saw Mont Blanc out the plane window. The peak was poking through the clouds. Now that is a big friggin' mountain.

2) So far I have taken 6 flights, 6 trains, and 3 buse. No cars. Viva la transportacion public!

3) I learned how to say hello, goodbye, and kiss my ass in Irish Gaelic. These are all essential.

Okay, so now on to the highlight of my trip so far, my first meal in France. For lunch I went to Le Part des Anges, a little wine shop and bistro about a 10 minute walk from the "Old Town" Nice. I was pointed there by my buddy Andrew, who lived in Nice, so I knew it would be good. Needless to say I was excited.

The place is divided into two sections, the first was the wine store, and it looked, well, like a wine store. The second half of the room was the bistro, which was a simple arrangement of about 8 tables, a kitchen in the back, and more wine for sale lining the walls. The menu was a chalkboard on the wall with (thankfully) legible writing.

The waitress spoke english and translated the menu for me. I was surprised that I didn't need too much translated, I guess if I have a strong point in my french vocabulary it would be the food. I chose the Tartaine de Rillettes Canard to start (10 Euro), Linguini with ausperagus, pancetta and parmesean (13 Euro), and a 2002 Bandol from Chateaux St. Anne (not that I know what a 2002 Bandol is).

The Tartaine de Rillette (duck meat pate on toast) came with the toasted sliced bagguette still warm, two cornichone (little pickles), and some greens. The dish was perfect, the rillete was rich but not heavy and the toast was incredible. How do the french know how to bake such incredible bread?! I'm also a huge fan of cornichone with this kind of dish, so that was a most pleasing inclusion.

The linguini was also good but a little surprising. The panchetta was not italian pancetta (italian bacon), like I'm used to, but instead sliced meat served over a heap of noodles and asparagus. The pancetta was tasty although a little gamier than I would have liked, and the noodles were pretty ordinary (but hey, they are just noodles). From what I have been told, the real star of Nicoise cuisine is the vegetables. This dish certainly proved that to be true. The asparagus were absolutely amazing, with a bright but mellow flavor, if that's even possible.

The wine was also good. Tasted like red wine. Nothing really surprising there. I'm not a wine critic, so I'm not of much use here. But I certainly enjoyed it.

She-Devil I'm Not

One week ago today I embarked on a seven week tour of Europe. I flew from New York to Dublin, then went to Amsterdam, and today flew from Amsterdam to Geneva and, after spending the day in Geneva, continued on to Nice. This is the story of this first week.

I landed in Dublin at 5:30AM Ireland time (12:30AM my time) and went straight for my youth hostel hoping for a bed to crash on. No such luck, I was told that I had to come back at 2PM. I spent the next 10 hours getting lost in Dublin, with each passing hour going deeper and deeper into jet lag. So sure, I saw some great museums, but man I was beat. At about 4PM I finally got into bed and took a much needed two hour nap. I finished the first day at the Stag's Head, a fantastic Irish pub that has an homage to James Joyce.

The second day was spent mostly at the Guinness Factory! Yay Guinness! Yay being a tourist! My favorite part of the tour was the room with the original artwork of all the Guinness posters and ads. You know the ones, "Guinness for Strength," "Guinness is Good For You," "My Goodness My Guinness."

The evening of the second day was interesting.

There were signs posted in the hostel: "Can you perform? Inquire at the front desk, you could earn a free night's stay!" Like most "young" travelers (more on that later), I am on a pretty tight budget. And while I've never played a set by myself and have a terrible singing voice I thought I might try to do it. I thought the worst thing that could happen is I'd make an ass of myself in front of a small collection of strangers. Why the hell not? So I had a quick audition, got the gig and started preparing.

After my rehearsing, I went down to the lobby and noticed "Joe Plays Jazz, tonight at 8PM! at the Cafe" signs all over the place and started to get nervous. As I entered the hostel's "cafe" for my performance I found about 20 kids there with there full attention. . . on the TV. They were watching She Devil with Meryl Streep and Rosanne Barr (a crap movie, by the way). As I tuned up, I thought they'd pay attention when the music really got going. So I play one loud chord as an announcement--the music is starting now--and I got a very clear signal from the youth of the world: they turned the volume up on She Devil.

I wasn't offended. Afterall, I only played a chord, so they couldn't be responding to my lack of skill. They just couldn't care less about "Joe Plays Jazz." So I make a very quick and awkward announcement, "hey, I'm Joe, I'm supposed to be playing Jazz for you right now up here. But instead I'm going to move it downstairs (to the billiard room). If you want to listen, just head on down."

Having escaped She Devil I headed downstairs to the billiard room with my "crowd" in tow: one 40-something Canadian named Rohan. He was a nice guy, with a carefully grown goatee and an appreciation for my playing (which was nice). I humbly finished out my set and hoped I'd actually get paid for my efforts.

---Side Note---This whole experience made me realize that I got old. Each night there were a ton of kids at the hostel, and I asked the front desk, "why are all these kids here? Why aren't they going out?" The answer: they were all underage! And here Rohan and I are talking about our aching backs and arthritis! I've got a back pillow for peete's sake! When did this happen?!

So the good news is that the next day I did get paid for my gig! In fact, due to the current exchange rate, it might have been the most profitable concert I've ever been a part of!

And that was my second day in Ireland.

The third day I did more touristy stuff, took a tour of the area around Dublin (called Wicklow, really pretty, you should go there) and then took an afternoon train to Galway.

Galway is a small city on the West Coast of Ireland. Nice place to be, good atmosphere and great nightlife. I went to one bar called The Spanish Arch and they had a 20 piece big band! They closed with New York, New York and encored with In The Mood. It was fun to watch the Irish try to swing dance. I spent that night in my first dorm style room, and with unfortunate results. At about 3AM, some drunk guy stumbles into the bunk below me and proceeds to snore like a freight train. Ah. . . the life of a broke college kid! (Shit, that's right, I'm almost 28.)

And on the fourth day I went to the Aran Islands. It's a collection of islands off the coast of Galway with 2000 year-old forts, and communities that seemed like they haven't changed in that long. I took a great bike ride around the island, saw some cows and seals, had a sandwhich and headed back. I flew there on a two-prop puddle jumper, which afforded great views of the islands.

Before I went to the Islands I met a really nice guy who just graduated from UVA with a degree in photography, which was great because I'm a lousy photographer. We went around the island together and he said he'd send me the photos from the trip. I wonder if I'll ever actually see those?

After I got off the islands I headed straight back to Dublin and prepared for my next day, traveling to Amsterdam.

When I got to Amsterdam the next afternoon, I was shocked. Everyone knows about the red light district and the infamous hash bars. But what I didn't know was how absolutely gorgeous the city is. The canals are just stunning. The city is remarkably clean for being renowned for vice. The atmosphere outside of the red light district is laid back but up beat. I was expecting a European Vegas, but what I got couldn't have been further from that. It was quaint and, surprisingly, tasteful.

I won't go into the details about much of experience in Amsterdam because it's pretty much more of the same. I was the old guy at the hostel, I lost my way around the city, the museums were nice. Vondelpark (Amsterdam's version of central park) was nice. Van Gough is a great painter with a great museum. Blah blah blah.

I did venture into the red light district however, and that has a law unto itself. It's absolutely bizarre. Not only are there half naked women hawking their wares behind "storefronts" (black-lit glass windows) there are full families there to gawk at them. The worst part of the district, by far, were the drug dealers. Everywhere I went I heard, "you want some coke." One guy even tried to bully me into giving him money because we brushed by each other and he accused me of "putting my hands on his drugs" (of course I did no such thing). He was pretty aggressive and persistant but once I threatened to call the police he ran away. There were a ton of tourists (and hookers) around, so I wasn't ever in any danger.

This morning I left Amsterdam on an 8AM flight for Geneva. I arrived in Geneva proper around 11 and, yet again, got lost in the city. Turns out Lonely Planet guides have really crappy maps. But that's beside the point.

Geneva is a nice place. Very relaxed, although I was there on a bank holiday so I have no idea what it's really like. The city was D-E-A-D. I also had to get back to the airport for an 8PM flight to Nice, so I didn't have a ton of time there. But the lake is serene and the old town has a ton of neat little nooks and crannies, like an english muffin, but with perfect timing and good chocolate.

I caught my plane to Nice, hopped on the bus and. . . (drum roll) had my first brain fart of the trip! Hooray!

My buddy Andrew arranged for me to stay with his friend Alex while I was here in Nice. I was to catch the bus and get off at the "Gare Routier" (pronounced Garghghghghe Root-ee-yay). I didn't. Instead, I stayed on the bus and went 15 minutes out of the way. I got off at another "Gare."

So I hail a cab, tell him where I need to go, and 2 blocks into the trip I realize that I have no idea what the ride was going to cost. He tells me 20 Euros (about $26). I was livid! I knew that wasn't a $26 cab ride and I didn't even check to see if his meter was on. And to think I'm spoiled by the law abiding cabbies of New York City.

My friend Brendan introduced me to a concept called "Karmic Economics." To my understanding, Karmic Economics is used to describe the free-flowing yet checking and balancing nature of Karma. I am convinced that tonight's cab SNAFU was an example of said economics. In Dublin, a gig landed in my lap where I got paid 30 Euros for 30 minutes of work. I arrive in Nice and lose 20 euros and about 45 minutes to my own stupidity. Karmic Economics.

So, now I'm in Nice. I have no idea what I'm going to do and I have almost two weeks here. What adventures await our bespectacaled crusader?! Find out in the next installment. . .