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. . .