Prague, Czech Republic: Where Absinthe Lovers Come to Drink, Dream, & Die

I love Prague. I love Prague. Also, I love Prague. Did I mention that I love Prague? Because I do. Why do I love Prague? Well, why not? But if you want reasons, I have plenty. First, it's an absolutely beautiful old city with more historic sites than you can shake a stick at. And I've been known to shake a mean stick in my day. Two, there is great food- from rib-sticking tasty Czech staples to international cuisine to fine dining to street vendors hawking fried cheese sandwiches 24 hours a day. Yes, I said FRIED CHEESE SANDWICHES and yes I said 24 HOURS A DAY. Third, the Czech people, while initially sometimes coming off as reserved or a bit standoffish, are amazingly warm and generous people who really know how to treat their guests. Fourth, the ladies roaming the streets of Prague at any given moment of the day are certainly not hard on the eyes. 

And finally, and most importantly, Prague is a drinking man's town. The Czechs consume more beer per capita than any other country in Europe- over 1.5 beers per DAY for every man, woman, child, elderly, and otherwise incapacitated but still breathing person in the country. Think about that, if you were to exclude all categories other than adults from the ages of say 18 to 60, you're probably looking at an average consumption of somewhere around 2 - 2.5 beers per person per day. And if you've ever been to Prague, the reason for that statistic becomes quickly evident: Czechs brew great beer. They are known for their pilsners which originated in Pilzen, Bohemia several hundred years ago, but they are by no means the solitary brew on offer. I personally prefer the lightly carbonated deeply flavored black beers brewed and served at almost every brewpub across the city.

But honestly, I would be wasting my time discussing Prague if I didn't mention its most important facet in my mind at least: the widespread availability and consumption of my personal favorite drink, absinthe. And not just any absinthe mind you, but real, high octane, high thujone (the active chemical compound in wormwood), knock your socks off, warms your entire body as it goes down, green fairy inducing, absinthe. Despite living in the US where absinthe was banned (for nearly a century) until relatively recently, I have done considerable research and tasting of this fine, and notably highly flammable, spirit. So for the few of you dear readers who are not familiar with this rare libation, indulge me in providing you with a (relatively) brief primer:

Absinthe is a distilled spirit usually flavored of anise (think licorice) with an alcohol potency of 45%-75% ABV or 90 to 150 proof. Yes, 150 proof. Often you will find it colored light to darkish green, but it can also be found in red, blue, purple, clear, or a very off-putting artificial neon green (which clearly you should avoid). While absinthe is predominately anise flavored a great number of other herbs and botanicals are steeped in the mixture during the distillation process, most notably Artemisia absinthium commonly known as wormwood. And no, not wormwood as in rotting wood with worms. Wormwood is a silvery-green plant and it contains the chemical compound thujone which is believed to have psychoactive effects.

Absinthe was popularized in the late 19th century France during the Bohemian movement of writers, musicians, and artists and began to gain fame during the early Prohibition era. Many people will claim that you halucinate when you drink absinthe but from my personal experience that is flatly untrue. Usually what happens is people drink too much of cheap very high proofed low thujone absinthe and just get really drunk and act like idiots. Consumption of good proper absinthe is best done slowly and in moderation (yes I'm actually advocating moderation) to enjoy both the flavors and the warming expansive feeling.

In the US and most countries in Europe absinthe is now legal but with strict limits still enforced on the thujone mg per liter ratio. The US sets the limit at either 10 or 15 mg/L and if I remember correctly most of the EU follows a similar course. The Czech Republic, however, has no such limit to my knowledge as you can readily purchase a bottle with 100 mg/L thujone. An absinthe of this level will not only have a considerably different effect on you, but will also be more refined, smoother, and exceptionally more expensive. A 750 ml (1 fifth) bottle I investigated would have run me over $190.

That said, there are plenty of other excellent absinthes with varying strengths between 100-140 proof that offer moderate (25-40 mg/L) levels of thujone that won't break the bank. And if you would like to give it a try before you buy an entire bottle there are dozens of absinthe bars scattered around the city with extensive menus and well trained staff. Finally, there are two widely popularized methods of serving absinthe (and several more great ones that I won't bore you with but feel free to leave a comment and I'll gladly divulge):

(1) the Czech way, which involves setting an absinthe (slotted) spoon on top of a glass and placing a cube of sugar on top of that. Pour the shot of absinthe over the sugar and into the glass and light the entire thing on fire. Continue to let it burn until the cube has melted, caramelized, and fallen into the glass. Stir the mixture, drink the shot in one swig, and chase with a fresh sugar cube; and (2) the Parisian way, which follows the initial set up but instead of lighting it on fire you slowly drip water over the cube and into the absinthe until the mixture turns a milky white or whitish green. This happens because the chemical compounds in anise bind to water below a certain proof level thereby making the drink appear opaque. The sugar will dissolve into the drink and it is then sipped, occasionally with ice or straight up.

Personally my favorite method is the Parisian method. One, as I mentioned I prefer to enjoy it slowly, and two, I hate the thought of unnecessarily burning off alcohol unless you are starting with a very high proofed absinthe. Hm.. so that ended up being a longer primer than I had anticipated but given that I could have probably written a treatise on the topic, we'll count it as a win. I'll talk about my experience with absinthe on this particular trip later as it didn't occur until after my old work buddies had already departed. Anyway, let's pick up the adventure where we left off- a tired but excited group of gents hopping off a train from Krakow after a few beers and with the rest of the afternoon free.

After checking into the hotel and meeting up with one of Joe's old college buddies Derek who happened to coincidentally be in Prague for 2 weeks for meetings with his firm, the first thing we all needed was a shower and some fresh clothes. Refreshed, the next objective was clearly to take a stroll around the city: swinging by Wenceslas Square, Tynsky Church, St. Nicholas, the Astronomical Clock, and the main square.

Given that it was Sunday and we weren't sure what would be open, Derek suggested we head over to the James Dean bar and check out the scene. Let me just say, the James Dean was awesome. It wasn't incredibly crowded and we weren't really up for too much more than a couple beers given that most people had meetings the next day, but I was stunned by just how cool it was. Imagine a 1950's hamburger/milkshake joint but only in bar form! Actually, the upstairs even had burgers and shakes, but the downstairs was a hopping place with 1950's/60's music, cool retro relics, and a great vibe. It was Sunday and people were dancing in the bar! Plus they gave you free cheese popcorn as a bar snack. How great is that? Here is a tremendous shot of Mark sitting in what is half-car half-table. Seriously, they cut a car in half and put it in the bar as a table. Pure awesome.

On the way back to the hotel we were a bit hungry and so I tipped the crew to a particular delicacy served by the many late night street vendors occupying Wenceslas Square: fried cheese sandwiches. These vendors have an assortment of things: sodas, beers, waters, sausages of varying types and sizes, and the coup de grace, a giant mozzerella stick in between a hamburger roll. Talk about the perfect food to steady your stomach after a night of beers! Obviously we all had to belly up to the bar so to speak and try one for ourselves.

The next morning Rudy and I ventured out on the free walking tour of the town. I had actually never done the regular walking tour as last time I was here I arrived a day later than my ex who did the tour without me. Despite this, she had shown me most of the sites when I arrived so I had a pretty good idea of what we were seeing. First up was the main square where you can see St. Nicholas, the main church of the Hussites.

Also there is the famous Tynsky Church, or Church of Our Lady of the Tyn, which is located nearby a statue of Jan Hus, the Hussite leader, a Christian reformer.

The other famous thing in the square is the Tower housing the Astronomical Clock. The clock does a bunch of stuff but I found it mostly overrated. The coolest thing was that the Czechs liked it so much they cut out the tongue and poked out the eyes of the guy who made it so he couldn't make another one elsewhere. Read about it on wikipedia if you're interested in more.

The other really neat thing we saw that was new to me was the Estates Theater where Don Giovanni first premiered. The theater still stands and runs the show numerous times during the year. It was actually running while we were there but I refuse to go to such an event without a stunningly hot date and a full tuxedo, neither of which Rudy or I had the time or money to procure before that evening's show.

After walking around for most of the day, we met the working chaps after their day was done to check out the tour of Prague Castle. Before we went, however, Mark insisted on getting another fried cheese sandwich. And who could blame him? The lady at this stand was so impressed by his persistent bravado she called him "big boy" and offered him up a double. See what I was telling you about the Czechs? This is a sandwich for half-men half-gods.

The castle tour is a great one and something I would highly recommend you do if you are in Prague. It runs about 3 hours, costs $10 or so, and winds you all through that side of town and the castle itself. The highlights in my mind are the Wallenstein Palace with its gardens, St. Vitus Cathedral where the crown jewels of the Czech Kingdom are kept, and especially the great views from the monastery atop the hill. The monks also brew their own beer so you can stop in for a pop or two if you are so inclined.

From the castle we walked back down the hill to the waterfront by the Charles Bridge in search of this particular pub that is supposed to have bacon and blue cheese potato pancakes. Yea, read that again. Tragically that pub seems to have disappeared or undergone an ownership change. Nearly downhearted, our spirits were suddenly revived when we discovered the opportunity to take a one hour boat cruise for only a few dollars. Since it was the perfect day for it, how could we say no?

After the cruise I took the guys across the Charles Bridge which, as always, was filled with street musicians, artists, and tourists all trying to shake out of Prague whatever it is they came for. A chaotic but inspiring scene. Since we had taken it easy the past couple nights I convinced the team to do a pub crawl under the condition that the working folks didn't have to stay out the whole night. Overall it was very similar to the one I did several years back- an hour or so of unlimited beer, wine and shots and then you get a welcome drink at the next 2-3 places. Finally you end up at a club. The first place we went was called Propaganda and was plastered with all kinds of paraphernalia from the World Wars era. Personally, I love this painting of Lenin and Stalin having a pleasant chat before everything went catastrophically awry.

We went to the next place where somehow we ended up losing the pub crawl. :/ ? So we had a couple drinks and then the working stiffs headed back and Derek and I decided to take the 5 story club by storm. This place is nuts- 5 levels of all different types of music and it's seemingly always packed. This was a Monday and it was bonkers.

I think I ended up getting back to the hotel right around sun-up and exhausted I slept away most of the day while everyone else did their thing. That night we had dinner at Pivovarsky Dum, a brewpub near the Sheraton that has a great beer offering and some awesome Czech dishes. My favorite is the chicken soup and the brewmaster's pocket (pork loin stuffed with blue cheese and ham, fried). Oh baby. Czech food is great but probably not the most healthy for you. We opted out of the beers, however, and instead took a walk around the city where I got a nice shot of the Prague Castle at night.

The next day the fellas all departed early in the morning with the exception of Derek and I who met for a late lunch and strolled over to check out the Lennon wall- basically a huge wall covered in Lennon inspired graffiti (under no circumstances to be confused with Lenin inspired graffiti).

That night Derek and I mustered up all of our remaining courage and gusto and hit the final two places on my list: U Flecku and Absinthe Time! U Fleku is a Czech beer garden that opened in 1499 (yea, whoa!) that has multiple rooms including a cabaret and two huge outdoor garden areas. The waiters come by every so often with trays of their famous dark beer and "Czech medicine" shots. You simply ask for one, they mark a tally on a sheet of paper and you're off and drinking. They also have great "beer cheese" which is a cheese spread with butter and onions and fried, yes fried, bread to put it on. Arteries beginning to clog. Note: be careful with that Czech medicine, it's strong stuff.

Finally, and not a moment too soon, it was time to get some great absinthe. Thankfully, one of the better absinthe bars was right down the street from U Fleku, Absinthe Time! Derek and I both opted for a relatively expensive (about $12 per shot) absinthe of about 60% and 30 mg/L thujone recommended by the owner's daughter. Derek went with the Czech presentation:

And I went with Parisian:

In all it was an outstanding absinthe and so we ordered a second! But after that, I was honestly toast. The next day needed to find me in relatively reasonable shape for my flight to London to visit my old college buddy Mike Paradis and to gear up for a week of insanity that is the 2012 Olympics! So I bid Derek farewell and off to my insufferably warm hostel I went. Which, after staying 6 nights in Sheratons, the difference between that and the hostel I crashed in my last night in Prague was noticeably severe. But, I suppose, that is the life of those of us on the road. We must embrace all unknowns, good and bad. Plus... I knew I'd have a decent place to crash the next night anyway. ;)

Krakow, Poland: Back in the High Life Again

Your universal traveler is back on the road, dear reader, resuming his wanderlust quest. This particular stint is set to last 124 days, just a little over four months, and 42 days longer than the previous stint. The overall loosely designed program kicked off in Krakow, Poland and will continue through Prague, London, various cities in the UK, Ireland, and then Croatia, the Balkans, Bulgaria, Romania, back to Munich for Oktoberfest, Austria, Slovakia, Northern Germany and perhaps Denmark and finally the Netherlands, Belgium, northern France and a return to Paris before it's all said and done. All told I think I'm planning to hit something like 20 countries in the next four months- a daunting task considering I could only muster five during stint one. 

But before getting myself waist deep in this next stint I first had to make my way back to Europe. And as you are about to find out, that was a way more challenging task than it should have been. Initially I was slated to fly from Greensboro to Washington DC then to Frankfurt, Germany and then on to Krakow. When I arrived at my gate at the airport my expected departure time for the first leg immediately jumped from 3:30 to 6:30. Not a good start. But that was fine, there are plenty of ways to get to Frankfurt in time for my flight to Krakow.

Back at the check-in counter I'm informed there are no later flights from DC so they book me on a flight to Newark and a new flight on to Frankfurt. Obviously since all of these delays are due to massive lightning storms across the east coast I inquire as to whether the Newark flight is destined for similar delays. I am assured it is not. 20 minutes later Newark goes into a ground stop program. So then I try to be rerouted through Chicago only to discover that there are no seats on any of the flights that could make my connection possible. Moderately defeated, I made the election to try and get to Newark at whatever time and then if I got stuck there I would just spend the night hanging out with my old pals in NYC and try to get to Europe the following day.

Meanwhile the Washington DC flight I was originally on starts a rapid immediate boarding. Just then a lightning bolt of curiosity strikes and I rush over to the agent at the gate to inquire if there really is a later flight from DC to Frankfurt that I could get on... only to find out there actually is! The woman at the check-in counter must have seen that it was full at the time and told me the option was not available which is absurd considering how many people were missing connections. Obviously the odds were high that I would be able to squeeze a seat once I got to DC. Because I had to wait until she was done with the boarding before I can ask the woman at the gate this, however, she couldn't hold the plane long enough to reroute me. Balls!

Feeling terrible that bad intel had cost me a chance to make it out to Krakow Thursday morning this nice woman, Mitsi, took it as a personal quest to find a way to get me there sometime Thursday. The only apparent route was to fly to Newark then to London then to Frankfurt then to Krakow. Holy moly. Also, during this process I was informed that my bag was never rerouted onto the Newark flight and was likely midair on its way to DC. Awesome. Meanwhile, as she was doing all this rerouting, the ground stop in Newark was lifted and they started immediate boarding of that plane. Chaos! Because she was rerouting me with an additional segment she had to clear me through the international desk, which as you may imagine was jammed up with all of these changes, and thereby couldn't issue me boarding passes.

So a confused, haggard, bagless me darted across the terminal and boarded the flight to Newark with no boarding passes for continuing flights to ANYWHERE and just a promise that Misti would sort it out while I was en route and call me and let me know what to do. The last thing I said as I dashed down the jetway was "oh- and see what you can do about finding that bag!" It was like a scene from a movie. Anyway, to make a long story longer, she sorted it all out with the boarding passes and I printed them out at a kiosk in Newark, made my flights, and arrived in Krakow Thursday night. My bag, however, was no where to be found but the nice people at LOT Polish Airlines assured me it would arrive the next day, which thankfully it did.

The one bright side of this whole ordeal was that I made a new friend, Emily from Newcastle, who was stuck in a similar quagmire of rerouting trying to get home. We both ended up on the flights to Newark and London and soundly destroyed some much deserved McDonald's in the Newark airport at 11pm after not having eaten since noon. Hopefully when I get up to Newcastle I can pay her a visit and even more hopefully, I wont encounter a similar transit nightmare.

Now that we have that fun little tale out of the way, I can get on with it about Krakow. The genesis of my travel to Krakow was that I was planning on an Eastern Europe kickoff to Stint 2 and discovered that two of my work friends Mark and Joe were going to be in Krakow for business right around the time I was planning to start. So we coordinated and all decided to meet in Krakow. The best part of this, of course, is that I was graciously allowed to crash with them in their rooms at the Sheraton, which from my prior international travels, are significantly nicer than the Sheratons scattered across the US. Score!

I arrived around 8pm Thursday and feeling like the Biggest Boss I hailed a cab and rolled into the Sheraton lobby with nothing but a laptop, passport, wallet, the clothes on my back, and handsomeness. I wasn't there 5 minutes when I ran into Joe who indicated that he and Mark were in the lobby bar having a beer and preparing to take an evening stroll around the city. I quickly threw the little stuff I had in the room and suggested we check out this old bar called Alchemia in the Kazimierz area. It's a really solid bar with a strong candlelit vibe and a basement where that night there was a live jazz concert. In addition to Mark and Joe, we acquired a fourth pal, Rudy Stein from Chicago who was on his maiden voyage to Europe. So the four of us headed out to Alchemia.

After a couple beers we took a stroll around the square in which the bar was located only to discover nearly the entire square is blanketed with bars and in the middle it was filled with food-stands selling various sandwiches and sausages. What a great set up! We were all fairly exhausted at this point from our long travels so the decision was made to call it a night especially considering the guys had meetings the next day.

As you probably imagine the next day mandated a late arising to fully restore my wanderlust touring powers to their necessary levels. After finally dragging myself out of an exceptionally comfy bed, I took a stroll by the riverfront where I happened upon the option for a riverboat cruise for a reasonable 20 zlotys (about 6 bucks). The cruise was about an hour and provided a great shot of the Wawel Castle.

Afterward I headed up to the castle and walked around the grounds. Unfortunately it was too late to enter the Cathedral but I did get a great shot of the outside of it. Personally I love the non-uniformity of the various towers, domes and alcoves making up the exterior.

I walked around for a bit longer and then met up with Rudy at an interesting bar near the hotel that I can only describe as a multifaceted complex of wood. Beams are crisscrossing everywhere and there were staggered levels with various seating areas. It kind of reminded me of something you would see in Wilderness Land at Disney World. Also, they were pumping some serious unedited American rap music which I thought was pretty funny considering where we were and the number of families eating and drinking nearby. I doubt many understood what was being said so it's probably fine.

Afterward, Rudy and I changed and headed to the Grande Grill to meet Mark and Joe for dinner. Look at these two guys! So great to see old work buddies again. The meal was so-so but the company was outstanding.

At night they light up the market square which looks outstanding. On our way back to the hotel we ran into this girl wearing a black and white striped shirt who we instantly deemed the Hamburglar. She was trying to recruit people to come to a bar but we kept insisting that we would only go if mass quantities of hamburgers were made available, to the point where she became too frustrated to continue talking to us. Just like old time antics, ha.

Saturday Joe and Mark had the afternoon off so the four of us went back to the castle and took a walk through the Cathedral. Very impressive, especially the crypt below containing one of the great Polish kings. While we were trying to figure out who it was, we were loudly shushed by a large Polish grandma. So FYI- apparently the crypt in the Cathedral is a no talking area. After that we headed back to the market square for a late lunch.

At lunch this bum somehow wandered into where we were sitting and began accosting Mark for money. When the hostesses/waitresses didn't do anything after probably 10 minutes, Mark politely removed the man from our table. Below is the hilarious photo sequence with Joe (and the rest of us) cracking up.

That night we had dinner in a Polish brewpub. I had a chicken schnitzel dish with potatoes which was fantastic. Overall I have to admit I'm a big fan of Polish food. Only the steakhouse the second night wasn't excellent, but it wasn't bad either. Included with our dinner was also obviously a tower of one of their beer choices of the evening: the weizen. It was very light without the overly sweet wheaty kick of a Blue Moon. It reminded me of a Hoegaarden, which is pound for pound probably my favorite weiss. 

The next morning found us on an early train to Prague. Again, I decided to tag along especially since I've been to Prague before and could show them around, and secretly because I'm in love with that city. It is definitely one of my favorites in Europe. Winging it, Rudy purchased a ticket and accompanied us as well. Here is a nice shot of us looking very tired about to board the train.

I was actually shocked that we were able to stay alert enough at that hour of the morning to make our connecting train in Katowice. But somehow we made it. And, as always, after a few Budvars on the second train, we were ready to storm into Prague hot!

Paris, France: Going Out with a Bang, a Whimper, and a Baguette

When I visit a new city or country I prefer going in with absolutely zero expectations about what I'll find there. The less I know or think I know about the sites, the people, the climate, the food, the drinks, everything, the more I feel I enjoy the experience. So far on this trip I've been fairly successful in this aim- many cities I visited I didn't even know the location of the bus/train station I was arriving at, much less where to go from there. 

With Paris, however, I knew going in that objective was going to be flatly impossible. I've seen way too many movies set in Paris, among them some of my all time favorites. Some of my favorite musicians hail from Paris, some of my favorite works of art were made, conceived, or inspired by Paris, and most of my favorite authors lived and wrote in Paris at one time or another. My favorite drink, absinthe, was even popularized there. And most importantly, just about every single person I've met outside of the US has been to Paris and has informed me of their opinions- what to see, what to avoid, what's awesome and what's lame.

So as you might imagine, when I arrived worn out and hungover from the insanely fun and outlandish days in Le Mans, the prevailing feeling was "what the heck am I even doing here- I already know everything about this place." And for the first two cold, rainy days in Paris, I didn't even venture out of the hostel. But when I finally pulled myself together and set foot on Parisian soil what I discovered was a city with thousands of nuances- little nooks and crannies to seek out and conquer- creating, if you looked for it and opened yourself to experience it, a city of hundreds of smaller unique cities. It was in this way that Paris reminded me so much of New York. And because of that I felt at ease, I felt at home.

But before I got out and about in Paris, I had some business to attend to. And the first thing on that list was trying a croque-monsieur, which is basically just a ham and cheese (usually emmental) sandwich that is grilled and then topped with more cheese or a bechamel sauce. Kind of like trying a francesinha in Porto. Luckily the hostel I was staying in offered one in the bar, and even luckier, they also offered a croque-madame which is a croque-monsieur... but with an egg on top! Stone cold lead pipe lock.

Overall it was pretty good but not something you want to include in your daily (or even weekly for that matter) dietary intake. This was pretty much all I accomplished on the day I arrived in Paris. Day two found Paris cool and rainy and I was still exhausted from the past 2 weeks so I decided to spend the day uploading pictures and updating the blog. So here is pretty much my only photo of the day:

Also, when I went to the bathroom downstairs in the hostel I was greeted by these curiously shaped urinals. I found this at first disarming, however, how can you deny a mouth that inviting? Still, to be honest, it was a bit creepy.

The next day I figured I owed it to myself (and more importantly to the great city of Paris) to actually venture out of my domicile and take in the sites and sounds and smells of wine and baguettes and croissants and pastries of every imaginable description and... well car smoke, people smoke and urine that glorious Paris had to offer. So, since I awoke 30 minutes after the start of the free tour I did the next best thing: I acquired a makeshift map and engaged myself on the "Mike Steele I Really Have No Idea What I'm Looking At But I'm Sure It Has Some Sort of Historical Significance One-Man Free Walking Tour" or MSIRHNIWILABISIHSSOHSOMFWT. Ok, I'm still working on the title. 

The general plan was to follow the canal down until it hits the Seine and then follow that until Notre Dame, etc, etc, yatta, and blah. The first thing of some historical significance I came across but didn't realize was the Bastille. In fact, it wasn't until two days later when Dan and Tim insisted (despite my indignant claims) that the Bastille was in fact IN Paris that I finally "realized" I had been there. These days there's not much left of it- a big column in the square and I think part of the building which is now used as a theater or opera house or something. Honestly I don't know- as you may recall, I was on the MSIRHNIWILABISIHSSOHSOMFWT. Anyway, one of the coolest things I saw was the old school Parisian bookstands. I was "this close" to buying an old print (like mid 1900's) Arsene Lupin novel. Unfortunately it was in French which I can't read, and for some reason I was stupid enough to not take a photo. But here is the stand.

Next I actually found something I knew about- Notre Dame. What you probably already know about Notre Dame: (1) it was one of the first (and perhaps best) examples of the use of flying buttresses as exterior wall supports; (2) it was completed in the mid 1300's (so yea- really really old); and (3) the cathedral gained immense international popularity with the publication of Victor Hugo's The Hunchback of Notre Dame in 1831. What you likely may not know about Notre Dame: (1) there is no hunchback actually living in Notre Dame (I know, I was disappointed too!); (2) according to the free walking tour (which I only heard second hand as, despite being in Paris for 8 days, I never got around to taking) it was at one point scheduled to be demolished and replaced prior to the acclaim gained from the publication of the novel; and (3) the cathedral is in fact NOT affiliated with the University of Notre Dame Fighting Irish (a win for Catholicism). Anyway, here is a picture of the back of the cathedral all flying buttressed out.

Next, I wandered along the river until I came to the Louvre which, much to my dismay and embarrassment, despite similar phonetics is not pronounced the same way as Favre. Since it was Tuesday the Louvre ("Loov-ray" hehe) was closed so I resigned myself to returning on a subsequent afternoon. From the Louvre you can walk west-ish up the Champs-Élysées until you reach the Arc de Triomphe. From the gardens of the Louvre you can even see the Arc in the distance and it appears to be a lovely stroll.

THIS IS AN OPTICAL ILLUSION: DO NOT BE DUPED. It takes a virtual eternity to walk from the Louvre to the Arc. Every ten minutes or so I would poke my head out into the street to see how close I was only to discover I had barely made any progress at all! It's some sort of horrible time-space warp. Do yourself a favor and take the subway or a cab or just honorably admit defeat, retreat to a cafe and nurse your bruised ego with a carafe of cheap and delicious red wine. Anyway, here's the Arc. Note: my feet were bleeding when I took this so you're welcome dear reader.

After way too much walking (why didn't anyone tell me Paris was this big?! I mean, you told me everything to do and not to do- "don't try to walk the entire city" would have been nice!), I finally made it to the Eiffel Tower. I must say, I was prepared to be underwhelmed but I was actually very impressed. It was a cloudy day but I got a decent shot from the bridge (better shots forthcoming).

After walking around ET and taking a few more photos I checked my map and made the executive decision that my poor feet couldn't take the long hike back to the hostel so I hopped in the subway and repaired to St. Chris. As usual, the best remedy for a long day is a drink and upon meeting my new roommates Tim and Dan, we headed downstairs to knock back the bottles of cheap Bordeaux I procured from the grocery store down the street. Drinking wine and watching the Euros was the supposed relaxed-gentlemanly theme of the night, but we made a number of new friends including some Aussies who decided it would be a rather good idea for the large group of us to partake in a beer drinking challenge: losers to jump in the canal outside the hostel.

I know what you're thinking... this already sounds like a bad idea. And you, dear reader, are correct. But I had one ace up my sleeve: me. Physical impossibilities of that phrase aside, I really mean my nearly three months of beer-drinking training; including my doctoral thesis only days before in Le Mans. I figured there was no way we would lose the challenge. And, shockingly, I was correct. We won handily. What I didn't anticipate, however, is that the Aussies on our team would decide to jump in anyway and thereby, in order to not lose face for America, I would of course be obligated to follow suit. So... against well, ALL judgement, into the canal I went. Yes, it was gross, really gross. As soon as I climbed out I showered three times and went straight to bed. Thankfully, despite my fears, I didn't contract hepatitis or any other communicable disease that I'm aware of. Thank you immunizations! Add this to the list of things I would not recommend in Paris. But... it was kind of fun.

The next day demanded a reprieve. Honestly what I really wanted to do in Paris was simply to sit in a cafe, have a coffee (and perhaps later a pastis), and write. So, Wednesday morning I set out for Montmartre in search of a place to do just that. Montmartre in the 18th arrondissement is probably known to most people for either it's cafes, the residence and studios of artists such as Picasso, Dali, and Monet, or the myriad of movies set in the charming district. I set off from the metro with two intentions: (1) make my way to Sacré Cœur; and (2) find a cafe where I could simply sit and write. On my way up the hill to Sacré Cœur I passed something that took me totally by surprise: the Two Windmills cafe from Amelie. In reality, I think they just call it the Amelie cafe now but it was the one set in the movie. Since I love that film, this was quite the early morning boon.

I eventually made my way up the winding streets (which I highly recommend you check out the photos of Montmartre on flickr) to Sacré Cœur. It was very impressive and, I think, also the set of the scene in Amelie where she is giving Nick the runaround to get his photo album back. Walk to the balcony at the edge of the steps and take some pictures of the city; you will not be disappointed (unless of course it's smoggy like it was that day, in which case you will).

After wandering around some more in the increasingly impressive streets of Montmartre, including a place that had its own vineyard (!!), I made my way to a cafe that seemed reasonable. I walked in and scored a table outside on the patio. Unbeknownst to me this particular cafe is apparently a big tourist attraction as people kept coming up right to where I was sitting and taking photos of me (ok, of the cafe but with me in them!). I ended up ordering two coffees and a creme brulee which cost me a meager 17 euro. So maybe I didn't pick the most affordable cafe. But everything was tremendous and here is a picture to prove it.

Also, it should be noted that by this point in the trip I had run out of shampoo, and with only days left until my return to the states, buying another bottle seemed economically unfeasible. So, for posterity's sake, here is perhaps my second favorite shot from Paris: me as the bearded, unshowered, struggling writer.

I spent about 6 hours writing in Montmartre and then it was time to head back to the hostel. The night before (post-beer challenge and pre-jumping the canal) I had conjured up a brilliant/stupid idea: the first ever Drinkathlon. My English friends and I had been discussing the Olympics and I was proffering that perhaps my favorite event was the Decathlon where athletes compete in 10 disciplines to determine who is best all-around. Naturally, the next step while drinking was to apply this to booze. So I came up with the Drinkathlon: 10 drinks of all different type and variety, drank in succession. Last man standing considered a champion (we weren't operating on that competitive of terms). The competitors were me (USA), Sioni (UK), Dan aka: "the Scarecrow" (UK), and Tim aka: "the Big Sleazy" (UK).

If you want to do something really really stupid, this is the list of drinks in the Drinkathlon in order. I would highly recommend you do NOT do this. Leave it for the professionals kids. Anyway, here it is:

1. red wine
2. lager beer
3. pastis (because we were in France, but Sambuca/Ouzo/Raki/etc.- anything anise will do)
4. hard cider
5. whiskey (bourbon, blended, or scotch is fine)
6. guinness or ale
7. vodka Red Bull
8. white wine
9. gin/rum
10. tequila

Any of the spirits may be mixed with whatever but the vodka must be done with Red Bull (or other energy drink) and the tequila must be done in shot form. Also, when the majority of people finish a round, the remaining people must kill their drinks and move on to the next round. Those are pretty much the only rules. Here's a shot of us at the end (tequila). It was the best of times, it was the worst of times.

After finishing the Drinkathlon, the four of us and our two lovely cheerleaders Amy and Gina attempted to revel in the Parisian streets. Not 10 feet from the steps of the hostel, however, we lost Sioni who ended up spending the remainder of the night on those very steps. It should be noted we left the hostel at approximately 12:10pm. Outside we met up with our Canadian friends from the canal jump and apparently proceeded with them to nearby the subway station where everyone was drinking beer/red wine out of the bottle and generally rabble-rousing. Somewhere therein I or Amy acquired roses and this picture was taken. Haha.

Subsequently, I took the night's final picture of Dan "the Scarecrow" at approximately 12:45. This was the last we saw of him until after 10am the next day. At some point I ended up in the children's park nearby the hostel hanging out with one of the Canadians- evidently somewhere acquiring a 6-pack of Kronenburg. :-/ ? Anyway, the next photo on my camera was of Tim "the Big Sleazy" passed out halfway in his bed at 4am.

The next morning at breakfast, much like in the Hangover, we went through my (and others') photos to try and determine what the hell had happened to Dan. Around 10am he finally reemerged (he had somehow ended up on a boat in the canal having beers??). In all, the Drinkathlon was a resounding success and/or (depending on your point of view) failure. In any event, I doubt I'll be competing for the US in any Drinkathlons in the future, near or far. But it did serve for some great stories and pictures.

The next morning, as you may imagine, our stomachs, livers, and souls were feeling a bit tender. The best remedy we could come up with to deal with this peril was, obviously, a trip to the Louvre. As you likely know there are a ton of great things to see at the Louvre, most notably probably the Mona Lisa and the Venus di Milo. My personal favorites were sculptures of Poseidon spearing some sort of sea monster with a trident and a man beating a serpent to death with a stone. I would tell you what these were actually called but I couldn't read the French titles on the tags, so tough titty. Also, it was a rainy day (perfect for the Louvre) and I managed to get a really great shot of the courtyard from one of the windows.

My favorite single thing in the entire Louvre was discovering that the Louvre was once a former palace BEFORE it was a former palace. Go back and read that sentence again, yes I wrote it correctly. Best of all, the foundation for that even older palace, built in the 12th century by Philip II, can be found in the basement. AWESOME! Also, it was really cold down there which was wonderful for Dan, Tim and I who were still suffering from post-Drinkathlon hangovers. Here is a shot of what the medieval Louvre fortress looked like (a good portion of the bottom 1/5 of which you can see downstairs).

When we got back to the hostel we came to discover that this particular night was the Fête de la Musique, an outdoor street music festival whereby hundreds of musicians perform music all over the entire city of Paris. It geared up in mid-afternoon and went well into the next morning. Around 10pm, Tim, Dan, two of our Canadian friends, and I set off for the Latin Quarter to see what was going on down there. Right out of the metro we came across this crazy scene.

We then ducked into a bar for some locally brewed beer (a great reprieve from the liters of crappy Kronenburg I'd been ingesting) where much revelry ensued until somehow we lost Dan and one of the Canadians (surprise... only not).

The other one wanted to head back at some point so Tim and I put her on the metro and made our way back out for the festivities, ok probably not the most chivalrous thing to do but chivalry has been dead in France for centuries so as OneRepublic says "it's too late to apologize." Whoa, did I just quote OneRepublic? Wow, hold on while I punch myself in the face...

There, much better. Anyway, eventually we decided to take the metro ourselves only to discover, much to our horror and completely contrary to the intel we had received, the metro was closed! Not understanding the bus scheme, and not speaking French, and under no circumstances delving into any sort of mime, we had no choice but to walk back. When we finally arrived back at the hostel the sun was just beginning to come up so I decided to take a break and watch the sun rise over Paris (or at least the scummy canal I had jumped in a few nights before).

After falling asleep post-dawn, I awoke late with a powerful lust to scale something. Very Rampage of me. Thankfully, Paris offers just such a treat- the Eiffel Tower. And, as I had witnessed during my initial reconnaissance mission, there is an option to avoid the long lines by simply taking the stairs. Clearly the only gentlemanly answer.

Also, at this point I should note that when I awoke and shuffled myself into the bathroom to take a shower I managed a brief glance in the mirror at my visage. The first thought into my mind was "who the hell is this person?" Upon realizing that it was in fact me and not some ghastly apparition, my next thought was "wow, I honestly look like a homeless person." So I decided the only reasonable thing to do was to bail on the shower and impose my homelessness all over the people of Paris. In the process of making my way to the ET (and this time I took the metro to limit my inherent idiocy to the best of my ability), I snapped undoubtedly my favorite photo of Paris:

Once in line it was a quick climb to the second level where I could catch the main elevator all the way to the top. The best part of my ET climb was that not only did I look homeless, but for some reason from the night before I had acquired a massive quantity of euro coins which jingled in my pocket with every step. I can only imagine that the other tower-goers' prevailing opinion of me was that a poor drifter had panhandled enough coins to afford himself a long-awaited trip up the Eiffel Tower. What a French Patriot! And I'm sure the Next Stop Shanghai shirt only served to at best enforce, or at worst mildly confuse, this general theme. But never-mind all that nonsense- here is a picture of me looking vagrant and TOTALLY RAD from the top of the ET. If you want to see the other pics from up there, I suggest you check out flickr with all due haste.

After the ET, I took a few more pictures but eventually had to retreat to the hostel as I really had to pee and couldn't find a single public urinal in all of Paris. Normally I would just go on a tree but I've seen signs all over specifically prohibiting that and, after watching Catch Me if You Can, the last thing I want is to end up in a French prison. I'd rather my kidneys just explode.

So yeah, uh, where was I? Ah yes, pee adventures aside, that night at the hostel the crew and I continued our normal course of business which is to say we had wine and beer and half-way watched the Euros. At some point Amy wanted someone to accompany her to find something to eat, a task I gladly volunteered for given my penchant for late night wanderings. Eventually we came across a McDonald's (not before stumbling upon an Iranian grocer who more than happily sold me some ice-cold Hoegaardens). On the way, she was going to take a picture of me on the streets of Paris when two random French girls ran up and demanded to be in the picture. (If you guessed third favorite picture of Paris you are correct.)

Btw- doesn't it look like my beer can is a rocket blasting out of my hand with a super-badass blue flame? No?! What?? Fine, whatever. After, that absurdity and about 10 more minutes of walking, Amy got down to business. I have to admit, I was a bit jealous of the voracity in which she tore into that sandwich. I've only known one other person to devour a Big Mac like that. Meanwhile, the security guard pretended to scold me for bringing in beers, but after I chatted him up (i.e. gave him a couple swigs) I was suddenly a McD VIP. Bribery, the greatest form of flattery.

After what felt like minutes, but what must have been hours, discussing the great philosophies of our times and merely solving the world's problems via Hoegaardens and sheer gusto, we retired to the hostel. Of course this was not before being approached by a crack dealer who summarily told me I had great chest and arm muscles but not great abs (thanks, beer), and then offered us some crack. Hooray, Paris. Remember when I said it felt like NY? Well this felt more like NC. Anyway, we made it back to the hostel successfully abstaining from crack, and what seemed like even less time later, I awoke to the horrid rays of sunlight and realized defeatedly that today was the day I needed to make my way out to Versailles. Balls!

Like the ET, Versailles is something you HAVE to visit when you go to Paris, otherwise the gendarme track you down and castrate you with a rusty baguette knife. Having experienced enough rusty knife castration in Morocco, I felt it in my best interest to make the trek out to Versailles.

Have you been to Disney Land/World? Have you stood in line for Space Mountain for like 2 hours and been so frustrated with waiting you would hammer-punch a crippled kid in the clavicle just to move up five spots? Well, Versailles is like that but without the cool roller-coaster at the end. I swear I spent more time in line than I did actually seeing the palace and gardens (which by the way you need to stand in separate lines to get tickets for! I swear they are just doing that to screw with tourists...). Here is a picture of me at the back of the palace looking happy just to be out of the damn lines!

Honestly there is more to see in the gardens than there is in the palace. In fact, once you get out of the "grove" area it's really like Central Park. A great place to picnic and just chill out (and I think you can somehow get into these areas without paying for a ticket). Every time I saw a lone couple in the middle of an expansive field I had an almost irresistible desire to go sit right next to them and pretend I had no idea how uncomfortable it was making them. I'm a French personal-space urban terrorist! But the groves themselves were excellent and they play classical French music to make you feel authentic and it's hard to pick a favorite so you better just check flickr. My favorite part of the entire gardens, oddly enough, was the Orangery Gardens. Something about exquisitely mowed grass...

Inside the palace there are lots of great things to take pictures of as well. Tragically, about 10 minutes into the tour I dropped my camera on the lens. This was the last image of said camera which saw me through thousands of pictures in the past 3 months and made it 80 out of 82 days. I must say, I'm impressed camera- you ruled Little Grey. Rest in peace. This photo, from a rather mortal perspective, makes me wonder if this type of image is perhaps akin to what we see in our last dying moments. A blurry, off-center, partially obscured view of whatever happens to present itself right before our last breaths. A bit morbid, perhaps, but I like to think that my camera at least took in its last images in a great heritage site such as Versailles. Most of us just die old and alone in some hospital.

But it's not all morbid jibber-jabber here. I did manage to get a shot (albeit with my iphone) of the infamous hall of mirrors which is without a doubt the highlight of the palace of Versailles. So, here you go... in all its low resolution glory.

After fending my way onto the train ride back to Paris, I decided to embark on the organized pub crawl since it was my last real night and Saturday night (and despite the fact that France was playing in the Euro semi-finals). I made a huge mistake. Even had France not been playing (and therefore the pubs not been packed) this pub crawl was a rip off. The best part of the entire pub crawl was when two Aussies and I LEFT the pub crawl and pounded tall-boys with a French vagrant named Giuseppe on a park bench 2 blocks from Moulin Rouge. Pass on the pub crawl, hang out with Giuseppe. The only good thing to come out of the pub crawl was that it was in Montmartre and thereby I got some good shots of the area at night- specifically this cool one of the Moulin (which means windmill!) Rouge at dusk.

My final day in Paris I had planned to lay low (maybe go up into Montmartre and write) and then eventually make it to the ET at night to see the lights. But, tragically, it was cold and poured rain the entire day. So me, and my few remaining conspirators, laid low at the hostel for the day. I got some more writing done on the blog (pretty much up to where it is prior to this entry) and had some coffee, etc. No drinking or antics on this day. I had to be up at 6am to catch my flight back to the States. Stint 1 effectively complete.

In all, I really liked Paris. The people, food & drink options, metro, pace, size, and of course prices- it all reminded me of NY, but much much older and with a bit of romanticism that the casual NY-goer would overlook in that great city. I hold it high but it didn't quite live up to the mystique I had anticipated (nor did I think it ever would). What I look forward to the most is returning in the late autumn when it's cold and the tourists are gone and the festivals are over. That's when you get the real vibe of a city. So, until we meet again Paris, you'll be in my mind... just not quite in my heart.

To sum up- I think I'll ultimately do a Stint 1 recap provided I have time before I need to get after Stint 2. But don't hold me to that. To close out, here is a shot of me at Dad's after I had arrived home. No haircut in 3 months and I hadn't shaved in at least 6 weeks. Europe!

Bonus Photo: a sign at the hostel. I love the message. I honestly live this and I wish everyone could live it with me. But even if you can't live the travel life just yet, or if what you desire is other than a life on the road, take this to heart- live life to the fullest, take chances, and never be afraid to change anything and everything. "Many of the best things in life come when you embrace the unknown." I believe it's true. Let's prove Kev right.