Smile

There’s a picture on my desk of Stacie and I embracing in front of the Eiffel Tower in Paris. I stare a those two sun-baked smiling faces throughout my workday, enamored by the love in their eyes, the joy in their smiles. I look at the painted sky, just beginning to fill with the wispy brushstrokes of a distant yet looming summer rain. But the couple in the photo seems not to mind the weather. These familiar characters are caught, literally, in the moment. Clearly enchanted with each other, I’m enchanted by them – this beautiful moment frozen, like innumerable others, in a way that only those of us fortunate enough to live in the last century have had the luxury to enjoy.

This sweltering late-summer day would once have been a fleeting memory, slipping in and out of my mind and growing all the more distorted with each passing day. Yet now it’s pressed flat and tucked neatly behind glass safe keeping, the colors desaturated by an artist’s bias, hopefully not to be lost until long after its characters too have slipped into memory.

What I find so compelling is this – I can look at this photo twenty, forty times a day and at some point it becomes more about the composition, the lighting, my hair, than it really is a glimpse into the history of our life together – but sometimes, like this moment, I remember that I was really there. I can feel the cruel August sun stabbing its way though my shirt. The stained smell of a chlorinated fountain wafts into my nose. I suddenly can feel the magnitude, the sheer size of that place and that moment. Now this time seems more the substance of a legend or fairytale I’ve heard far too many times - a day spoken of an pondered longer than it was actually lived. Captivated by the sweetness of reminiscence, I strain back and hope to find what those two happy people were thinking on that sunny afternoon in Paris.

But that’s the crux of the photo, and perhaps the only sacred part of an image like this… although anyone can gaze at this portrait of our smiling faces, they’ll never be privy to the thoughts, the emotions, the love that we shared in the instant that the shutter oscillated open and closed.

Snow

There's something melancholic about snow when it falls on the city. Its presence creates immediate wonder and fascination, stirring children out of their homes and into tundra gear as quickly as their feet can carry them. The known world is gone, covered deep under a new layer of adventure. Lawns, streets and trees that never garner more than a moment's notice suddenly seem alive with the mystery and intrigue of an unfamiliar city or a new love. This is a joy unparalleled by any other form of weather, yet it's also unlike any other form of happiness we experience as children. In this part of the world, every one of us is acutely aware that the object of our excitement will quickly be retreating to the gutters and storm drains, revealing the world as we know it - yet somehow it seems a little less special an slightly duller than our memory holds. Sure, some may remain piled in parking lots and side streets for a few weeks, but those filthy, skeletal remains will pay no homage to their ancestors. So our exploits and shenanigans proceed with haste and a fear of stepping inside the house even for a moment. Anxiously we wonder, "Could this could be the last good trip down the hill?" and fret, "What if it's gone before I can get back out to it?" In a way, the snow teaches us when we're still children how to make the most of our time with a deteriorating loved one, how to cherish each moment and prolong the magic, even as we see the fatal signs: Blades of grass poking their heads above the fray in the yard. The distant thunder of wet snow falling from the boughs of far off trees. Wet shoes as we trudge back up the hill for another run. These things serve as warning signs that change is near. A good thing is drawing to its conclusion, and now we must prepare to return to life as we know it, yet with a sense that something is missing now. And lo, when the snow falls again, we're somehow both eager and apprehensive simultaneously - dreaming of the fun to be had, but carefully aware that it will too soon be snatched away.

...and It Wasn't Easy

I, like many people I know, was enchanted with outer space as a child. I dreamed of being an astronaut and braving the horrible, frigid vacuum of space for the sake of science. One of the first stories I ever wrote is entitled "We're Going to the Moon, and it Won't be Easy," a fascinating tale that follow the exploits of my then-best friend, Tim (a stuffed tree frog) and me as we voyage to the moon and are met there by strikingly retro-styled alien life forms, who (obviously) have an ax to grind with human folk. One might say I was not a kid with his head in the clouds, but rather a child with his mind stuck on the Sci Fi Channel. Unlike most people, however, my love of cosmology did not dwindle and fade as I grew to adulthood. I exhausted the University of Oregon's offered astronomy courses. I've spent countless hours watching "The Universe" on the History Channel (now in HD!). Hell, I have even read books by Carl Sagan. As obtuse as all these things may be, in my opinion the strangest thing about all of this behavior is the fact that virtually no one knows about it. In short, I'm a complete closet nerd.

All of this is to serve as only a brief precursor to the short vignette I'd like to share: On Wednesday night I was trying to convince myself to go to the gym - or rather, I was laying on the couch watching Mythbusters thinking that an evening of exercise would be a more astute (yet far less satisfying) way to spend my evening. This particular episode focused on all the ludicrous conspiracy theories posed over the last 40 years that claim NASA never made it to the moon. Test after test categorically debunked the theories, and as they did so I found my self cheering for the side of NASA.

I've come to realize that when someone claims the moon landings were all just an elaborate masquerade, I am personally offended as a member of the human race. Sending Neil and Buzz (and all ten other men) all the way to the moon, and then bringing them back safely is in my opinion the most difficult endeavor and greatest achievement in the history of engineering, mathematics and physics that humans as a species have ever successfully accomplished. On top of that, it speaks volumes at the strength and determination of the human spirit of adventure.

After thousands of years wandering around by the light of the moon and the stars and wondering what was really up in the sky, we were able to go there not even 70 years after the Wright Brothers' first successful airplane flew across the sands of the Carolina coast. To ignore all the evidence or our success and try to cheapen the awe and wonder of what we've actually done as a species is simply insulting. To claim humans have never walked on the moon is beyond simple ignorance, it's to spit in the face of all the brilliant men an women who designed the Saturn V rocket that took us there, a slap to the families who lost loved ones in our attempts to get off the ground, and a sucker punch in the gut to our species as a whole.

From Turkey With Love

Hey all! I've finally arrived in a hostel that has free Internet! Sorry I've been incommunicado for so long, but the bill really starts to add up when you've got to pay Euro for blogging privileges. Life's been awesome - Oktoberfest, Prague, Vienna and Salzburg were all delightful in their own rights, and I can fill you in on them later. But all that can wait, because yesterday we arrived in the crown jewel of the trip - Istanbul.

The world's greatest (and only) intercontinental city and not ceased to delight me since the moment we made it through customs. Even before touching down on the runway I got shivers of excitement down my spine as the approach to the tarmac revealed a massive city peppered with countless minarets rising from the ground like arrows caught just before their vault into the sky. Our hostel is situated only a few blocks from the Aya Sophia and the Blue Mosque (more on those later) and from the rooftop bar we can see across the Bosporus to Asia. Today we went to the former Ottoman Topkapi Palace and took a stroll through the Emperor's old harem. The beautiful women are gone today, but the gorgeous frescos, mosaics and furniture have survived. After a Kebab lunch (awesome, cheap and incredibly unhealthy) we ventured into the subterranean Bassilica Cistern built by Justinian in Roman times to hold the city's drinking water. It's not a reservoir any longer, but instead a massive underground room with a ceiling 30 feet above the floor held up by more than 300 columns. As we walked along the catwalks (there's sill a few feet of water kept down there so the carp and trout can stay alive) I could hardly believe my eyes. To finish the day off right, we went to the Aya Sophia, an almost unfathomably large cathedral-turned-mosque-turned-museum. Inside her massive belly, I filled my mind (and SD memory card) with gorgeous frescos, calligraphy, columns, arches and domes that I truly hope to never forget. This building is without a doubt the most impressive place I've ever been. If you don't believe me, google it. The photos might help you understand a little, but in all honesty you should probably just fly over here at some point in your life.

More later, time to grab a drink and play cards on the roof. Cheers!

Czeching In

Hey all,

Sorry it's been so long since I've posted anything! We've been having a great time in Eastern Europe and there are loads of stories to share, but the internet's been a little dodgy here, so I've got to be brief. Hopefully tomorrow or Sunday I'll have more time and a better computer to use, but know that we are all loving life and having a ball in Prague. Off to Vienna on Sunday!

Cheers.

Money For Nothing

Our first day in Berlin was absolutely spectacular. We slept in and awoke to a crystal-clear sky. After sipping coffee and taking our time to get ready, we hopped on the metro line and rode down to the Brandenberg Gate. From there, we met up with a free walking tour that took us through the city for more than five hours, explaining the significance of each special building and location we came across. In a word, it rocked. Afterward, we wandered the city streets (as is now habit) and eventually came across a pub that promised "Live Music Tonight @ 22:00." We decided to duck in and check it out. In no way was this worth the wait. Eventually, two men stood before us with guitars and a bass/drum track player to lead each song for them. The opening song on the setlist was an overly cheesey and canned version of "Money for Nothing" by Dire Straits. The lyricist sounded as if he knew the way the song sounded, but was not actually aware of what any of the sounds (words) he was singing meant. Aaron and I could not stop laughing - in fact, it got so bad we had to leave. Horrible music, but great times. Love you all!

I thought our flight left at 8:45...

We almost got to spend another night in London.  The story is far to long and complicated to adequately convey here, but know that we somehow made it onto a train that delivered us to the airport 5 minutes before check-in closed, ran through the terminal, got hasseled by security, I got lost and stranded (literally) in a part of the airport that had no public exit and had to be shuttled across the tarmack by security in a van, and still made our (thankfully delayed) flight to Berlin.  I woke up this morning and remembered immediately that I was in Germany when I saw the framed David Hasselhoff album hanging opposite my bed.  Delightful.  That's all for now, but I'll try to type up the whole Stansted Airport debacle later today.  Cheers!

This is Stonehenge

Just track with me for a minute. Let's say that there is some other race of highly intelligent, technologically advanced creatures living somewhere in relatively close proximity to the planet Earth. Now let's suspend reality further and imagine that these people (or martians, or whatever you want to call them) were able to out-engineer the harsh vacuum of outer space and somehow overcome the massive power demands necessary to travel between the stars. We can assume that of all the countless dots in their nighttime sky, they arbitrarily picked our sun and traveled for several (probably even hundreds of) years to our little blue planet. Assuming all of this had come to pass, I simply cannot believe that the only thumbprint these super-advanced people would leave here is Stonehenge. It's truly just a bunch of rocks. I'm glad I saw these stones with my own two eyes, but if aliens ever do visit this planet, they better leave something way cooler than the Henge.
We also went to the City of Bath, which was remarkably nice. Almost all the buildings are built out of a beautiful honey-colored rock called, aptly enough, Bathstone. There is a lot of Roman history here and the whole town has a very nice, relaxed feel. Today, I'm off to find Wembley Stadium, a guitar, and a plane ride to Berlin. Cheers!

Make It Mine

Based upon my activities today, I can only hypothesise that the English have a very unique look at history, which goes something like this: 'If our stories are not interesting enough, we'll just liberated those which belong someone else and use them as our own.' I came to this conclusion while walking through the British Museum this afternoon. Britain's largest and surely most impressive gallery is filled to the teeth with gorgeous antiquities and relics of human history - there are mummies from ancient Egypt, Buddhas from all over East and Southeast Asia, The Rosetta Stone itself, and even nearly every surviving fresco and statue from the original Parthenon in Athens. Each of these pieces is interesting in their own right, yet it seemed almost as interesting to me that they could all be found under one roof. In London. It seems that in years past, Her Majesty's Royal Navy was privy to pack and ship anything that was not mortared into the bedrock back to the archives in London to ensure "preservation and care taking for the sake of mankind." All sarcasm aside, I was humbled and amazed time and again as I browsed through the serpentine corridors of this massive structure. The best part?...free admission (but the mummies were a close second).
Oh yeah, we went to a Jason Mraz concert tonight too. I thoroughly enjoyed myself. Off to Stonehenge and Bath tomorrow, and we just might be able to meet up with Winston's mom and dad. Brilliant!

The Bard

Big Ben and the Tower Bridge were both very cool, and I'm glad we saw them both, but today's most brilliant star shone from the stage. After a fantastic day of touring and shopping, we sat down for an authentic English pub Fish & Chips Dinner before heading down the Shakespeare's Globe Theatre for an evening of civilized entertainment. Our bellies satisfied whit deep-fried fantasies, we waddled into the circular theatre and took our standing positions in the general admission section (5 Quid for tickets - the best value of our trip!). For the next 3 hours, our minds bounced to the iambic pentameter of Timon of Athens, a play I knew nothing about before but thoroughly enjoyed. The actor playing the lead in this uplifting tale of greed, deceit, bitterness and murder was a both incredibly talented and uncannily similar in appearance to James Taylor. For those unfamiliar with the play, Timon spends the entire second act wearing nothing but a loincloth, so as I watched part of me kept hoping I would get to see a performance of 'You've Got a Friend' by a grown man wearing a diaper. If only all my dreams came true...

London Calling

We hopped a bus to London for £10 today, leaving the hallowed ground of Liverpool in our memories. Kudos to Adam for finding this bus - the train costs about £100 and only saves about an hour in time. Instead, we took a peaceful jaunt through Northern Wales and Central England. As I stared out the window and watched the lush hills and ancient hedgerows weave in and out of one another like a massive afghan blanket, I half expected to see Hobbits milking the cows and herding the sheep. In this idyllic setting, our bus driver stood out as a beacon of all things unsettling and wrong with this world. We arrived to the bus station at 7:59 (the bus was supposed to leave at 8:00) and listened to the short, crimson, heavyset man weave a cloud of unitnelligible obscenity regarding our alleged tardiness and how we were going to make everyone late. In my mind, I wanted to point out the fact that had this bafoon not spent 3 minutes berating us, we could have left on time, but it seemed that I should pick my battles wisely when in a foreign land. He trash-talked the toll booth operators as we passed through their gates and yelled at anyone who wanted to stop for a smoke. Curiously enough, when he needed a smoke, we pulled off the freeway without pause, and he proceeded to flirt with every cute young woman that got off the bus. Classic. I'm actually glad this man verbally assualted me - at least I have something to laugh about.
London is beautiful. The Underground is amazingly easy to use and makes traversing Europe's second-largest city quite easy. We went up in the Eye (huge, glorified ferris wheel) tonight and then had a beer at a pub next to Big Ben. Good times.

The Red Sea

- Saturday -

Sweaty palms. Short breaths. I can feel the roots of the hairs in my neck straining, writhing, fighting to push through the skin on the back of my neck. Pacing back and forth, I am entirely myopic-even when I deliberately try to let my mind wander, the effort comes to no avail. ''Where is he?!?'' is all that my mind can process. The dance of fright and frustration in my mind is too much to bear. I'm worried about ulcers-I can feel them forming now! Oh no, oh no. What am I going to do?
If any of this sounds unsettling or awful to you, take my advice: don't buy highly-demanded tickets to a football game on Craigslist. And if for some reason you do, don't prepay using PayPal. It just causes anguish. Eventually, Paul did show up with my tickets (45 minutes late) and I almost gave him a hug. All my stress was fou naught (the story of my life, go figure). The weight of this opportunity to go to a Liverpool home match is something that I cannot adequately convey in words, so let me leave you with this simple explanation: the match ended in a 0-0 tie, and I still loved every second of the experience. Watching and participating with the sea of red shirts as it jumped, swayed, screamed and sang brought a sense of enchantment to me that I've not experienced since going to Disneyworld. I've got tons of pictures, and I'll tell anyone all about it, but I've been too long winded already.

Free Internet at Last!

Hi all. Sorry about my recent truancy, but when the Internet costs £4.00 an hour (about $8.00) other, tastier expenses come first. In any case, here's a quick rundown of the last few days:

- Thursday -
A mysterious glowing orb appeared in the sky today and the entire city of Dublin seemed quite befuddled for several minutes. Then, as if on cue, we all simultaneously realized that it was in fact the Sun and we were destined for a warm and beautiful day. Adam and I rode the DART (like the MAX) half an hour south of the City and went to Dalkey Castle. This was incredibly cheesey. Our ''guides'' through the small castle were actually struggling Irish actors straining to convey the misery of life in the Middle Ages through modern Brittish humor. Much of this was lost on us. The city of Dalkey, however, was gorgeous - small, affluent and quaint, it felt like the small, Irish country hamlet that most Americans picture when they think of Ireland. We walked to the sea and enjoyed the sunshine while watching the surf come into the harbor. Fantastic. Tonight we ventured to a commedy club and found ourselves as the ''star'' audience members, in that once the commedians found out we were American, every joke was either at our expense or painstakingly explained so that we could understand it. I was even brought up on stage to play ''Risk the Biscut'' a competition so convoluted and foolish that I could not for the life of me tell you what I was supposed to be doing. That said, I laughed my butt off.

- Friday -
Our last day in Dubling was rather relaxing. We got up a little late, checked out of the hostel and walked the three miles to Killemann Gaol (an old jail in the western outskirts of the city center). This was acutally rather interesting and Adam and I both got some sweet pictures. We split up after that and I wandered another several miles to the south trying to find a music store. I finally did, and was able to play a guitar for about an hour before the clerk told me to get lost. Again wandering aimlessley (as I've found many travellers do), I came upon another instrument seller, which I again utilized until they closed for the evening. After dinner, we headed out the airport and rode a 20 minute (literally) Ryanair flight to Liverpool. Looking around the concourse prior to boarding, I realized that about half the people on the plane were headed to the Merseyside for the exact reason I was: a religesque pilgrimage to Anfield.

That's all for now. I'll fill y'all in on the weekend later this evening.

Cheers.

24

Have you ever had a birthday when you knew you should feel special, but for whatever reason you just didn't? That's kind of what it's like when all your friends (except one) are thousands of miles away on the day you get to celebrate your existence. So, what did I do to remedy this situation? I celebrated the greatest achievement in beverages since the discovery of water - Guinness Draught. What's more, there were thousands of other ''new friends'' to celebrate with me. All joking aside, today was really fascinating. We saw castles, prisons and the world's single largest brewery all before dinner. St James's Gate Brewery is fantastic beyond measure. The Irish really know how to celebrate beer. Seven stories of exhibits all devoted to the progress of the gospel of Guinness. It kind of strangely felt like we were in the Church of Beer, but instead of leading worship, they served us drinks! I'm having a blast and keeping myself out of trouble. Pretty awesome so far...

Day 1 (i.e. I'm way too jetlagged to come up with a creative title)

Note to Reader: Use a ''wise-ass Ty Williams voice'' when reading the the following first sentance of this blog:

Wow - Who would've guessed it would cold and raining in Ireland? In spite of the less than savory weather (it really doesn't matter), I'm overly excited to be overseas and had a wonderful first day in Europe. We arrived early this morning and I, unable to sleep on the airplane, have been somewhat of a zombie ever since. However, we saw some amazing ancient books at Trinity College and walked through the most ornate and inspiring library I've ever seen afterward. We stumbled blindly into Ireland's largest shopping district, and spent the better part of an hour discussing Russian foreign policy with a guy who wanted to sell me a watch. After checking into the hostel (and napping) we wandered to the Temple Bar District and watched the Liverpool game on TV with an incredibly friendly Dutch guy named Baus (we called him ''Boss''). Upon our glorious victory, I found myself meandering aimlessly in a Liverpool-induced (and Guinness-enhanced) euphoria-daze. I led us to a bar with live Irish music, and hung around for a long time listening, singing and spacing out to some really fun folk tunes. Travel rocks...I am blessed.