2008 had some great cinema, but what it lacked was that one film that I connected with so completely that I can’t wait to put it at number 1 on my list so I can say to everyone – this was my favorite film this year, go see it (previous years toppers, like “Half Nelson” and “The Incredibles” still resonate). I liked a lot of movies this past year. I just didn’t really love any. As such, I’m not going to rank my list this year, I’m just going to give an alphabetical 10.

I’m also fairly ambivalent to the big epic movies that are getting critics hot and bothered. Slumdog Millionaire was okay, expertly crafted of course, but in the end a little too slight for me. The Curious Case of Benjamin Button I found phenomenal in points, and tedious in others.

But while we’re on the subject:

Honorable mention: Cate Blanchett, The Curious Case of Benjamin Button

The movie underwhelmed but Blanchett was revelatory, and for someone who is so consistently excellent it’s a boon to be yet again surprised at how wonderful she is. It’s a shame that she got hosed across the board for this performance which is surely better than some of her previously nominated work (think specifically of “Elizabeth II”).

Ballast – A quiet little movie about a family that comes together in the wake of the suicide of the man that connected them all. Even though it made me nauseous to watch because of that shaky, indie camera, it was still one of the most compelling, engaging cast of characters in any film this year.

Boy A – Rarely does a movie actually change the way I feel about an issue. Loosely mirroring a similar case in the UK, Boy A is the story of a young man, in his early twenties, fresh out of prison for a murder he committed when he was a youngster. How do you punish someone that young for a crime they probably don’t fully comprehend? How much rehabilitation and reentry into the real world should society at large shoulder the burden for? Is there a separation between a monster and a monstrous act? Boy A tackles all these questions, and doesn’t shy away from the complexity of the issue or the ramifications for everyone involved. Fascinating, with a great central performance from Andrew Garfield.

The Dark Knight – I feel like everything has been said about this. I wrote a review back in July if you want to know my thoughts.

Let the Right One In – A Swedish vampire flick. Really, do you need to know any more than that? Okay, well it features the most stunning cinematic scene I’ve seen all year. That would be the climactic scene in the pool, but I can’t say more than that.

Rachel Getting Married – It’s a lot less like a movie and a lot more like you’re spying on someone’s family drama mid-meltdown. Anne Hathaway shifted out of least favorite actresses category with this performance, but the MVP is the titular character played by the charming and acutely natural Rosemarie DeWitt. The film can be messy, both in plot, character development and execution, but is still a wedding worth crashing.  

Speed Racer – Here comes my pretentious attitude but for the first time in a long time I feel like the critics didn’t really get it. I was never a fan of the show, I can’t stand the Matrix movies, but yet I loved the holy mess out of this movie. Again, I extol at length about the film’s virtues in a prior entry. 

Synechdoche, NY – Sometimes even when I don’t quite get everything about a movie, it still works for me. “I’m Not There” was that movie last year. This year it’s Charlie Kaufman’s “Synechdoche, NY.” I knew when a realtor was trying to sell someone a burning house that this wasn’t going to follow any normal filmmaking standards. Philip Seymour Hoffman, Samantha Morton, Catherine Keener, Emily Watson, Dianne Wiest, Michelle Williams, Hope Davis, and a slew of others offer a dissertation on life, love, death, language, poop, hope and fear. 

Wall-E – Pixar has rarely let me down (give or take a “Monsters, Inc”), but I haven’t been this blown away by one of their offerings since “The Incredibles.” The animation is meticulous. The bleak outlook on humanity is actually tempered in wondrous hope. And the courtship of Wall-E and Eve is more romantic and sweet than ten movies about crazy brides put together.

Waltz with Bashir – This amalgamation of documentary and animation (in a foreign language mind you) is one of those rare movies that is crucial in execution that I can’t imagine any other way in which the movie could’ve been presented. The final sequence is staggering, but the visceral meditations on war, memory and imagination that lead up to it are just as provocative. It’s a movie that is still with me long after I left the theater.

The Wrestler – I honestly never thought I would not only enjoy a Mickey Rourke performance but would be in awe of it as well. It’s a dreary story, heartbreaking in all the right places. Marisa Tomei once again shows that she’s one of the most engaging actresses around.

My favorites in music for last year.

10. Vampire Weekend
It’s tough to come screaming out of the gates with a “sound,” but Vampire Weekend’s first album (I guess, I assume it’s their first as it’s the first I’ve heard of them) was chock full of catchy tunes that have a unique sensibility while not sacrificing accessibility.

Best Track: “Oxford Comma”; I suppose I give a fuck.

09. The Pretenders – Break Up the Concrete
Yes, those Pretenders. Chrissie Hynde and her pals have been cranking out music longer than I’ve been alive and just put out their best record since their 80s heyday; a nice hybrid of rock, country, blues, and punk that few bands could pull off.

Best Track: The hippy trippy punk pop of “Boots of Chinese Plastic.”

08. Beyonce – “Single Ladies”
Really, I can’t deny Beyonce any more. If there’s anyone better out there at crafting infectious pop hits, she’s probably already stolen their song. “Single Ladies” is the hookiest hit since, well, “Crazy in Love.” And don’t get me started on that video.

07. Tokyo Police Club – Elephant Shell
Indie Rock is still chugging along thanks in part to this Canadian garage rock band. Their tightly woven tunes are good old fashioned guitar slamming hits fronted by Dave Monks’ vibrantly flawed voice.

Best Track: Though I’m loathe to keep picking the singles, “Tesselate” really is the A-game.

06. R.E.M. – Accelerate
Another band I didn’t think I’d hear from again, at least as far as quality is concerned. After most of the millennium was spent churning out lackluster tracks, Stipe and company surprised with their latest studio effort, a rollicking clutch of songs that feel truer to the group’s indie roots while not alienating the epic band they became.

Best Track: Out of the gates, “Living Well is the Best Revenge” sets the tone for the record by highlighting the tight production, esoteric lyrics, and sing-along nature of R.E.M’s best tunes.

05. M.I.A. – “Paper Planes”
I found other songs on Kala to be kind of a mess, production-wise, and I was never a big fan of hers, but I couldn’t help but get sucked into the sensual onslaught that is “Paper Planes.” With its heavy posturing, the prolific incorporation of gunshots and cash registers, and M.I.A.’s unique brand of vocals, it’s not stupefying to see why this became an across-the-board smash.

04. Girl Talk – Feed the Animals
I’m really not a fan of sampling, nor am I one to appreciate large chunks of hip hop, so it’s a bit unexpected that one of my favorite albums of the year (and probably the one I’ve listened to more than any other) is made up entirely of samples, the majority of which are hip hop. I guess it’s all in the delivery. Sure, half the fun is naming that Radiohead riff or marveling at the joy that comes from combining “Footloose” and Fergie, but if listened straight through, the album has an amazing progression, even if I’m still not entirely clear where one song ends and another begins.

Best Track: “Here’s the Thing” which manages to make Kelly Clarkson’s “Since U Been Gone” even more of an urgent rocker.

03. Estelle feat. Kanye West – “American Boy”Okay, this one is due in large part to where I was this past year, which was for the most part outside of America. This became my theme song. It helps that it’s a smooth, frollicky, bouncy jam.

02. Nada Surf – Lucky
The first CD of the year never faltered beyond the top 3. Nada Surf’s urgent, maudlin, power driven CD is nothing short of astonishing. Every song is a winner from the sweet harmony of “See These Bones” to the mournful intensity of “Are You Lightning?”

Best Track: “The Film Did Not Go Round” a weepy, guitar plucking duet that plays like the closing credits to the greatest movie you’ve never seen.

01. MGMT – Oracular Spectacular
I don’t even know how to describe this. I just know that I love it. I was hesitant to jump on the bandwagon because I’m never as big a fan of Britpop evolutions as everybody else, but then I heard “Kids.” As someone who doesn’t even tap his toes without six beers in him, I couldn’t believe how much I wanted to just dance around. It’s nearly perfect in every way.

Best Track: “Time to Pretend.” Really the whole psychedelic anthem is nonstop joy, but the opening lines just set the stage so wonderfully:

I’m feeling rough, I’m feeling raw, I’m in the prime of my life.
Let’s make some music, make some money, find some models for wives.
I’ll move to Paris, shoot some heroin, and fuck with the stars.
You man the island and the cocaine and the elegant cars.

This is our decision, to live fast and die young.
We’ve got the vision, now let’s have some fun.

Here it is, my top 10 Television shows, moments, scenes, etc. for the year. It doesn’t include Dexter (sorry, AC) but mostly because I just started watching it. I still have a little residual association to Six Feet Under, which I think is the worst show of all time. Yes, even worse than According to Jim (sorry, Dad). But here it is.

10. The New Adventures of Old Christine

Elaine who? The Julia Louis-Dreyfus led comedy solidified itself as a jewel in the CBS crown. Christine might be uncouth, a little racist, a tad homophobic, and completely self-absorbed, but she’s always hilarious. The ensemble is one of the strongest on TV right now

Throwback of the year: Two and Half Men has the ratings and How I Met Your Mother has the buzz, but Old Christine is still the most consistently funny four-camera show since the heyday of Friends and Frasier.

09. The Office

Like sex and pizza, even when it’s bad it’s still pretty good. Some consider this past year weaker than usual, but for me it still provides solid laughs while existing in some nebulous zone of being completely real and completely ridiculous.

Cast Addition of the year: Amy Ryan. With such a distinct style and such a difficult character, Ryan managed to not only carve out a space in the ensemble but she damn near outshined everyone around. It’s not unexpected from this Oscar nominee, but it’s still pretty impressive.

08. Lost

I think my estimation for this show went on the rise at the same point I realized I didn’t have to get so mired in it. You know what, I don’t care about the secret of the black smoke monster, or how absurd the notion of time travel is. All I care about is that week in/week out, I get a fast-paced, exciting show with some killer performances and decent writing. Lost still delivers.

Series evolution of the year: Yeah, that whole time travel. It’s usually tricky to change the way you’ve been telling stories for several seasons, but Lost expanded an already complex narrative without sacrificing style or weight.

07. Skins

This UK import demonstrated once again that the lives of regular people are infinitely more interesting than the supremely rich denizens that populate US shows of adolescents (suck it “Gossip Girl”). These kids smoke, shag, and sing (the number in the finale was one of the most electrifying moments in television, even as it reveled in its own ridiculousness) and never fail to eminently watchable.

Scene of the year: Cassie explains her anorexia. Where other shows might veer into movie-of-the-week territory with a storyline about an eating disorder (“Jenny! Eat something!”), Skins played it real, as an open secret that no one really talked about. When Cassie demonstrated to one of her friends (in such nonchalant charm no less) how she gets away with not eating, it’s fascinating in its obviousness, and yet horrifying just the same.

06. Doctor Horrible’s Sing-Along Blog

Sure, it never actually aired on television, but Joss Whedon¹s internet opus showed a new model for serialized storytelling. This internet sensation straddled genre lines (comedy! supervillains! musical numbers!)­ but was still more engaging in forty five minutes than most series are for a full season. That the final act of Horrible packed the emotional punch that it did after such limited time with the characters is a credit to the writers, actors and especially Whedon himself.

Song of the year: “My Eyes.”  The second act opening duet between the titular evil mastermind played by Neil Patrick Harris and his lady love played by Felicia Day was a rousing anthem worthy of Broadway.

05. Mad Men

It’s as slick and stylish as they ad campaigns they come up with on the show. Eschewing the standard TV narrative, Mad Men is a show that simmers where other shows skip right to the boil. It’s no surprise that the mastermind behind this show, Matthew Weiner, cut his teeth on The Sopranos, another series which favored subtlety over flash, and thought-provoking drama over crime scene investigations.

Upgrade of the Year: January Jones. I was fairly ambivalent to Jones in the first season but in season 2 I was floored. Betty, Jones’ put-upon wife of main ad-man Don Draper fully shifted into the foreground, as her struggles in marriage, motherhood, and femininity came to a head. 

04. South Park

How is it possible that “South Park” has now had more solid seasons of animated hilarity than The Simpsons? The showed mined humor in ‘08 from such likely and unlikely sources as Britney Spears, AIDS, the writer¹s strike, racism, the presidential election, the High School Musical phenomenon, breast cancer, and, naturally, Peruvian flute bands.

Challenge of the Year: Vampires vs. Goths. Taking on Twilight and the Hot Topic generation, the show perfectly captured the manufactured angst of the vampire trend versus the good old-fashioned disaffection of the goth crowd, through the eyes of one of Park’s most hilarious and unique creations-Butters.

03. Battlestar Galactica

It’s a sci-fi show that’s not about vast futuristic societies so much as it is about the world we live in today. The struggle between politics and religion has never been more timely, or effective. The first batch of season 4 wasn’t without it’s share of the shock value though, from the new masters of labyrinthine storytelling.

Performer of the year: Tricia Helfer. In a cast that features such a strong ensemble (and my personal favorite actress right now in Katee Sackhoff), it’s hard to get noticed, much less stand out. Helfer was saddled with more characters than anyone (it makes sense in context), and was able to present each one as an individual without losing sight of the unifying characteristics that make them all the same. If that doesn’t make sense, then you’re clearly not watching one of the best shows out there.

02. Friday Night Lights

Someone else pointed out how there’s not a bad character on this show, bad as in villainesque; bad as in walking plot devices. On Lights, it’s merely an absorbing peek into the private lives of real people struggling with real problems and trying to make the best decisions possible (though not always succeeding). It’s an uplifting show without ever resorting to treacle. It’s engrossing while eschewing melodrama.

Moment of the year: Matt’s Breakdown in “Leave No One Behind.” Poor Matt Saracen had been sidelined by the writers for part of the second season. While the focus shifted to other characters, Matt struggled with a breakup, and the usual family drama, mostly off-camera, which is what made his screaming fit with the coach so hard-hitting. After yelling about everyone leaving him behind and forgetting about him, it was clear the audience fit in there as well. As always, Zach Gilford (Matt) acted the shit out of it, with the naturalistic grace that every actor on this show seems to possess.

01. 30 Rock

There’s something to be said for flat out showmanship. No matter how many times I watch this show, no matter what episode, it always delivers. Something new pops out, the anticipation of a joke I’ve heard several times still makes me snicker. And is there a more quotable show on the air? I love 30 Rock so much I want to take it behind the middle school and get it pregnant.

Episode of the year: Episode 210. People like to think the musical number at the end (“Midnight Train to Georgia”) was just a quick tack on because of the looming writer’s strike. Maybe it was, but it was also an astute meta treatise that thematically tied in to all three storylines. The job 30 Rock does of straddling between intelligent humor and absurd comedy is nothing short of phenomenal.

But yeah, tomorrow I’ll cover the best in TV ’08. I know most people do this in december, but i had to play catch up this year.

Th first day I was there was an independence like festival, that seemed to continue throughout my time there. Red poppies everywhere.

Apropos of nothing my geography knowledge has certainly improved because of my trip. While playing a trivia game last week I got answers right to questions I didn’t realize I knew (Scotland Yard being one such answer). I think I’m ready for Jeopardy now.

The London Eye, from Fantastic Four 2. I would’ve considered going up if it weren’t so ridiculously expensive.

One thing I dig about London is that you’re never too far from a decent park. There’s some bigguns too. This is in Hyde Park where I ended up while looking for a place to eat my sandwich.

What’s great about these trees is that they only looked uniform like this from this exact angle. A few feet to the left or right and it felt a lot more random.

Buckingham Palace. Nice, I suppose, but one of the least interesting palaces I’ve seen.

Look, kids. Big Ben.

Westminster Abbey.

The guards did their little hokey pokey dance, but it didn’t come out with all the rain.

Thanks to a friend of Brad’s (the friend I was staying with) we were able to take in a soccer match (or footie as the brit kids say. And guys that are trying to acclimate entirely too much).

I decided I was for Fulham (Come on, you whites!) because that’s the stadium where I was.

The crowd, at first glance, was much more playful between opposing sides. The same songs were sung back and forth to each other, albeit a tad more ribald (i’m not sure if it was actually the Saints were marching in).

Maybe the playfulness was the lack of alcohol and the large number of police officers in the neighborhood. I guess the games got pretty out of hand at one point. Nowadays it’s more like a bunch of big fluffy puppies rooting for their teams as opposed to some of the American sports I’ve seen.

I decided this little jig dancer was my favorite player. I forget his name, but he was out there mixing it up, making things interesting with sliding tackles, power headers and what not. And in a game where the combined score doesn’t near double digits, I kind of needed that.

Drunky the bear took a tumble. Or maybe he was doing pushups.

Well, this is the sad part of this story. My shoes, the shoes that I wore pretty much every day for my trip, didn’t make it back to America. After the wet and muddy day in the Cotswolds, they didn’t make it back in the house. Seriously, the smell will haunt my nightmares for years to come. I wanted to burn them in some symbolic ceremony, but they ended up neatly placed in the garbage for one of the nice Notting Hill homeless men to find and wear. The garbage could only make them smell better. Yes, they were that bad.

Aarrghgghghg!! It’s a big giant!!! He’s got an axe!!!! Run!!!!

The London equivalent of the fashion district (or maybe they started it, I really don’t know). A lot of uniquely designed Santa exhibits. Given the number of people on the streets, that I managed any of these shots without bystanders is impressive.

My last day in London I walked from Notting Hill (where Brad lives) to the Tower of London (this would be the Tower Bridge). It was a 7 mile walk (this is relevant later). I was planning on sticking around that area until later when I had to meet up with a friend but ended up taking the train back to Notting Hill to pack. Or not pack as it actually happened.

The Tower was under construction so I didn’t get any decent shots. It reminded me of Natalie Portman because I had seen The Other Boleyn Sister which was set here. And I love Natalie Portman.

Ah, the old school vs. post-modern visual extravaganza I like to take pictures of so much.

Okay, so here it is, my last night in town. My friend Tabitha (she who visited me in France thru Switzerland) just happened to be in town for work so Brad and I trained back up to a restaurant near the Tower to meet for drinks and dinner. As the evening wrapped up, Brad and the others that worked in the morning took their leave. But it was my last night in London, the last night of my trip, and I was teetering on sobriety. No way was I going home then. Tabitha talked me into one more drink, but it took us about an hour to find any place that was open (turned out to be her hotel). We had a couple more drinks, talked about the monumental occasion, said our goodbyes and then I went to hit the train home. As per my usual protocol I had gotten rid of all my English money as it was my last day and I didn’t need any pounds clanging around my wallet.

Do you see where this is going yet?

I set out to grab the train only to be shocked (shocked, I say) to discover that the trains don’t run at 2am. And given that I had gotten rid of all my moolah, I had no cash for a cab (looking back, I think I may’ve had my bank card in my pocket, but once I succumbed to having to walk the 7 mile path back home, I ran with it, or trotted really). Thankfully, I knew the way because I had just walked it that morning. Off the main streets, London can get kind of squirrely.

As I walked down those old streets, moving from inebriation into sobriety into exhaustion, it hit me that this was the ironical end to my trip. One final, out of the way nearly 10 mile trek, because I had done that so many times. It also hit me that if I was going to get murdered, the final moments of my trip while walking down the dark and desolate London streets would seem to be a likely time. I walked a little faster. I still had to pack.

I made it back (no murder for this guy), and the next batch of hours was a complete blur, albeit the slow-moving kind. I packed. I didn’t sleep. I tried to clean up my area in Brad’s living room. I boarded the metro. I boarded a train. I boarded my flight. Ready to leave it all behind me and already missing my adventure and wishing I had another day, or week, or month, and yet being excited to be home for the first time in what felt like years.

The trip home was long. I tried to sleep. Couldn’t. Watched bad movies (I almost walked out on Mamma Mia before remembering I was thousands of miles in the air. Thankfully, I had my own personal viewer so I was able to watch Speed Racer again and reconfirm that it is an unsung cinematic hero).

Iceland maybe?

Canada, definitely.

The Vegas strip.

Downtown LA. I was home.

I’m not usually one for window seats, but I actually had the whole row, so I didn’t mind. Plus the exhaustion was keeping me irrational fear of heights from being too annoying.

And just like that it was over. Five continents. Twenty-seven countries. More cities than I care to count. More miles than I’ll ever walk again.

So, thanks to Zack, Paula, Melody, Peta, Virginia, Jason, Andrea, Tabitha, Svenja, Evan, Mike, Lisette, Tunay, Mark, Lisa, Ben and everyone who traveled with me or travel guided me.

Thanks to Dee, Missy, Ann, John and Mariane, Lisette, Brad, Greg and anyone who opened up their house for me.

Thanks to Mom and Dad, Cindy, Jean, Mike, Bill, Natalie, ROG, Rachel, Matt and everyone that kept me connected to everyone back home.

And thanks to everyone for reading.

Oh, and this blog will still be here. I have movie reviews and top 10 lists to do. I have random life stuff to talk about. I have writing to promote.

I was standing there with my passport and credit cards in my hand trying to get my tickets out when some drunk frenchie came up and started talking to me. I had my headphones in so I couldn’t really hear him, but I could make out the gist of his query – give me money. I gave him the hand, you know like a good audience member of the Ricki Lake show. Is that still on? Anyway, usually waving someone off is good enough. Not for this frog. He inched closer, entirely too much into my personal space and started saying more things. I was annoyed, not just because it was rude, not just because I hadn’t slept, and not just because I had too much crap in my hands and not enough hands on my bags. Mostly I was annoyed because LEAVE ME THE FUCK ALONE. That was my mindset. And that’s probably why I pushed him, which hindsight tells me was not the best idea. He pushed me back and got ever so much closer, hurling French expletives and waving his arms about. So, I did what any red-blooded testosterone fueled man would do in this situation. I yelled “SECURITY” at the top of my lungs.

It was enough to drive him off, but not enough to get anyone else in the vicinity to give a shit. No matter, he was gone and I was free to hit the train to London. Oh, if only life were that simple. I don’t have the energy to relive the longest travel day, but I’ll shorthand it for you. The two and a half hour trip took me nearly eight hours. I didn’t sleep. It wasn’t fun. But, I did get the trip paid for (can you imagine if the airlines gave you a full refund for a delay?). Honestly, the time didn’t matter one I got my three hundy back. I kind of wish I would’ve met more delays on my trip. I could’ve saved some money.

England was amazing despite being entirely too wet and getting dark just after lunch. I was only supposed to stay a week but because of a snafu with my airline, ended up staying to and venturing out to little side trips. In the effort of saving time, and energy, I’m going to cover the side trips now, and the bulk of London next time. Incidentally, the first pic is in Hyde Park in London. But more on that later.

Brighton

I’m sure it’s shockingly new info, but did you know it rains a lot in England? In Brighton I met up with Canadian Mike of Budapest and Luxembourg fame. What was supposed to be a simple day of fun and frivolity instantly became a soaking wet pile of wet when we got caught in a downpour. We were so wet that we left puddles behind everywhere. At the first bar, at lunch, in the theater when we saw Bond. The night we spent at his friends house, hunched in front of the fire place, me in a stranger’s pants, he with his socks in the fireplace.

It was really wet.

Because of all the wetness (did I mention that it was wet?) I wasn’t able to get any real pictures of Brighton, which I hear is lovely. I managed the above shot on the way to the train station.

Bath

I lucked out when I went to Bath a few days later. Nice, sunny afternoon. This time I met up with my friend Ben whom I met in India. The great thing about the way my trip was organized was that all the Europeans I met on the road were now home and hospitable.

Ben gave me a tour of Bath, at least as much as he could before it got dark at three. Bath is a neat little university town, founded by Romans. It was once a prime vacation spot. And still is, according to our cabbie.

Where all the rich people live. Apparently Streisand has a home here. Thankfully I didn’t see her.

Ben and I mostly did a tour of bars in Bath. We hit upscale joints and dives, my personal favorite.

Ben. He helped me with my accent. There’s entirely too many british accents for me to keep straight. Ben’s a northerner, from York. He’s only in Bath for grad school. I tried to imitate his accent, but it just came out some mishmash of faux-posh brit slang. Like Madonna’s accent.

The moon looked really cool but the night sky and simple camera didn’t quite capture it.

Dover

Dover was windy. When my friend Brad and I were trying to figure out where to go, I saw the listing for Dover. White cliffs and a castle? Sold. The wind though nearly blew me off into the water. And that’s not as big of an exaggeration as you might think.

Brad, despite having an address in London, is trying his best to out-tourist me, with the camera strapped to his chest, the hat, and of course the map.

Climbing leads to null gravity?

I don’t think they’re much of a secret anymore. Unfortunately we didn’t get to see much of the secret wartime tunnels because of the need for a tour. I imagine they’re a lot like the secret wartime tunnels I saw in New Zealand. Only, you know, more British.

The diagram of the secret wartime tunnels. I want to just say that all the time. Secret wartime tunnels. It just sounds fun. Secret wartime tunnels. I think everyone should try and fit that into conversation today.

See? Windy. And look at my formerly bald head.

My camera not knowing how to process the night sky once again gives me art I get to take credit for.

The Cotswolds

The next trip was to the Cotswolds, a rural area of England that provided a nice escape from the the big city dynamics of London. Brad and I hopped a train for Morton-in-Marsh and hiked from there through to Bourton-on-the-Hill and back. The towns here had the best names. Everyone was in or on something.

I saw this sign and then immediately to the right I saw…

Talk about truth in advertising.

The Cotswolds were wet, okay, but more so they were muddy. My shoes would not be recovering from this trip.

Climbing up to the high-hide like they had in Jurassic Park: the Lost World.

But, unfortunately, England is not lousy with dinosaurs.

This is what Brad and I refer to as the Incredible Hulk walk, like the end of the old TV series. I haven’t seen either of the new movies, but I remember that slow depressing stroll Bill Bixby took every week.

And that was it for the side trips. I tried to make it up to Stratford-Upon-Avon to feed my Shakespeare jones, but didn’t make it. Still, spending the last week of my journey in London was nice. But what happened to my supposed final stop of Ireland you ask? Well, I’ll get into that next time too.

I was in Paris when I got word that my friend Andre (with major assist from his lovely wife Amber) had a baby boy. It was one of those urban legend tales where they had been told it was a girl. Prior to that, I’d had a dream it was a girl. And I really hate it when my subconscious is wrong. Anyway, it felt like kismet to see this store the same day I’d heard the news. I was hoping to come across a store called Amber to really drive it home, but alas, I did not.

The best part about heading to large monuments is that it is difficult (though not at all impossible) to get lost while trying to reach them.

So it’s the Eiffel Tower. Something of a landmark I hear. The one great thing about the rain was that it offered no visibility at the top of the tower. So said the signs. Since there was little chance of me going that high up anyway, it was nice to skip it knowing I wasn’t missing anything (and saving money too).

I did go up to the first level. And I went up the cheap way, aka the stairs. It was the only way to go without standing in line and I was on a mission. The stairs were rickety enough, but whenever the elevator would glide up they would shake. I was not amused. The wind blasting in at strange intervals didn’t help things either.

But I made it up. To the first level. Nice views. High enough up to make me nervous, but not too high I had to cling to the sides.

This dude freaked me out. He would not stop staring at me.

The Arc de Triomphe, which is a lot the Arc de Triomphe I saw in Barcelona. Timing is everything.

I was in Paris the week after the election and Obama’s face was everywhere. You always hear about how much more invested in American politics the rest of the world is but I could really sense it (mostly with my sense of sight).

It’s been brought to my attention that too many of my self-pics include the headphones. It wasn’t brought to my attention soon enough here but I figure I could just photoshop them out later at that same point I photoshop in a decent smile.

I’m not a particularly maudlin person, nor do I care an awful lot about worshipping dead celebrities (or live ones for that matter). Still, I opted to check out the Cemetery. Famous people are buried here, including Edith Piaf, whose grave I never found even with a map. In addition, there are a lot of non-famous people buried here. This became evident when I saw a woman lay flowers on a grave for, I’m assuming, her husband who died last year. It must be weird trying to mourn while tour groups and solo dorks with a camera are strolling by. Made me feel a little cheap. But not cheap enough to turn back.

Chopin won the prize for most flowers on the tomb area.

This tombstone won the prize for most resembling an alien creature. Go ahead. Squint. It’s there I tell ya.

Oscar Wilde’s grave was one of the more unique. I couldn’t quite figure out all the red marks until I got a closer look.

Lip smacks. While taking a picture, three nervous young girls were gearing up to be next.

I plan on being cremated, but if I wasn’t, I think I would like the freaky as shit rising from the ground look for my tomb. If I saw this at night I would definitely be making a twosie in my pants.

Perhaps the most popular tombstone in the whole cemetery. Jim Morrison. It seemed so innocuous, bunched up around it. I wasn’t sure if I had the right one, I mean, even Chopin had a crowd.

This helped convince me.

Pretty sure this cat had some evil spirit lurking inside. But then, most cats do. However, most cats don’t stare me down in a cemetery when it’s getting dark.

I got a bit side tracked and hoofed all the way over to Notre Dame only to get there right about the time the light wasn’t working for decent pictures. Pics aside, I still thought it was one of the most magnificent churches I’ve seen. No hunchbacks that I could see though.

My last night in Paris involved a couple beers out with some people I met in the hostel. There was singing, but not enough beer to involve dancing. I got back to my room and started to pack. I had a well-oiled plan for the morning. But then I should know better to rely on having a plan. Leaving Paris proved to be one of the more dramatic travel days I’ve had. But more on that next time.

Aside from French Fries (it’s true!), Belgium is also responsible for giving the world Tin Tin, which I fond out debuted on my birthday (albeit 70 years prior to that blessed event). Given the buildings and museums dedicated to the comic strip, they are certainly quite proud of it.

The aptly named Mannekan Pis (dutch for little man pee). It’s something of a Belgian icon, despite being shoved into a nondescript corner of town by the palace and being about as iconic as a street lamp.

I did enjoy this though. Nothing like warning you of the threat of security (the !). I guess the security worked so well that they didn’t even notice someone stole the camera. I wonder what the people around me thought of the strange foreigner laughing out loud while taking a picture of the boring wall next to the landmark.

While walking up towards the museum, this crane and pallet o’ crap seemed to target me. I stood to take a picture, because it was interesting, but then grew concerned when the heavy load seemed to slowly creep towards me. It didn’t land on top of me, as you might’ve realized, but it did drop about ten feet away behind the construction wall. It was disconcerting.

Hours after the election was called the papers had the story. I debated on grabbing them for collector’s items but a) they were boring and 2) I doubt that I would’ve been able to get them back to America intact.

Sylvester liked me and we played around with him for a bit. I couldn’t tell if the old woman was yelling at him or me because it was a French word I wasn’t familiar with. Still, it was fun being around a dog again, even for a bit. Felt a little more homely than a lot of places I stayed.

Luxembourg

A friend of mine (Canadian Mike that I met in Budapest) was in Luxembourg so I decided to pit stop there in between Brussels and Paris. It wasn’t exactly on the way, but hey, I got to check off another country on the to-do list. Luxembourg is tiny, and known for being the richest country in the world. Or something like that. It was beautiful, but not real exciting. And after a few hours, it seemed like Mike and I had done everything there was to do in Luxembourg.

Canadian Mike who is probably thrilled to be referred to as such. Of course, his English pals call me the Yank, which is even less thrilling.

And after dinner and a few drinks I was back on the train gang heading to Paris, which was a bit of a wash, in several ways.

The three of us met up in Eindhoven, a town outside of Amsterdam where Lisette currently resides. We took in the new ice bar there. Nifty Heinekin jackets provided by the polar pub.

Tunay striking a pose. And yes, that’s his real name.

The ice bar was a little room within a bigger bar. We donned the jackets, went inside, froze, and then left after about twenty minutes. Because it’s small (and cold), there was a time limit.

Me. Chilling. Get it? Cause it’s cold.

The rest of the bar was made to look like it was underwater, with blue wavy ceilings and, naturally, a DJ booth cum submarine.

The next day was our tour through the city. Yes, we walked through the red light district. No, I don’t have pictures. Apparently, if they see you taking pics, “they” (not sure who exactly they are, but wasn’t inclined to figure it out) will throw you into the canal. I debated, but I had my ipod with me and it’s not a fan of water. The red light district is every bit as seedy as you have heard. But there’s also an interesting nonchalance to the entire thing. You round a corner down a quiet alley and there are buildings with scantily clad ladies holding court in individual windows. Some wink. Some give you come hither eyes. Some text message in their panties without bothering to look up. She was probably tired from her morning twofer.

After tackling the red light district, we took a water tour. It was informative, but as the sun set, picture taking became a useless endeavor.

This snack was a tasty ginger snap type cookie from the white-bearded red-suited Sinterklaas. Similar, but not to be confused with Santa Claus. But more on him later.

Oh, and then the food. There isn’t a whole lot of truly Amsterdamish food. I had a burger. I had pizza. But, there is a snack treat that is local and quite awesome. It’s called bitterbollen, pictured here, and the best way I can describe it is that it is deep fat fried gravy. Truly a treat. The gravy is thick and meaty. The batter, light and fluffy. I think I had bitterbollen every meal.

Lisette, Tunay and I took in the Heineken experience. It was a nice tour through the HQ of a beer that I only marginally enjoy (although it’s much tastier here).

The ceiling was all bottles. I’m debating on redecorating.

After Heineken there was the Anne Frank house (no pictures allowed). I’ve read the book, but the experience there was no comparison. To actually see the rooms they lived in, the tight staircases, the tiny, darkened windows, it really solidified the experience. The tour had lots of video accompaniment and the most harrowing aspect was seeing Anne’s father comment that after reading her diary (which he hadn’t until it was confirmed she had died), he realized that he didn’t really have any idea what his child was thinking. If this man, who spent a cramped lifetime with her, wasn’t privy to her thoughts, it kind of hits home how little hope there is for any parent.

After the Frank home, there was more night out fun. No real pictures, and I have to save some stories for telling in person.

But back to Sinterklaas. You can see here that he has his own festival. You can also see that he travels around with slaves. But don’t worry, it’s not racist because the slaves aren’t black. They are just dark because they are covered with soot after climbing up and down so many chimneys (you know, because the slaves do the dirty work). I can’t quite pinpoint what is wrong with this scenario, but deep down I know it’s wrong.

The most memorable moment for me in Amsterdam though was another moment not captured on camera. I was in my hotel room, snoozing quite effectively, when the fire alarm went off. Now, I know in hindsight that it was a fire alarm but at the time it sounded much more like an air raid siren. It was loud, really loud, and quite oppressive. I woke up quite dazed and the first thing I did was grab my computer and I bounded for the door. I stood in the doorway in my underwear, clutching my macbook pro when I thought that maybe it was a false alarm. I waited out the noise for roughly two minutes and it went off. I went back to bed. It’s nice to know that I’ve got my priorities straight, though.

My hostel. I think it was a former jail. The rooms were small and the walls were thick. Given that I was in Germany I didn’t want to think of alternatives.

Now, that’s some graffiti.

Being incredibly flat, Berlin is definitely a biking city. It’s great, at least once you get used to which lane is the walking lane and which is the getthefuckoutofmyway lane.

The tower at Alexanderplatz. I have to say, it was nice having such a distinct landmark. Helped me keep my directions about me. Not that I would ever get lost or anything.

The train stations. One of the more massive ones I’ve seen.

Christmas is coming.

The holocaust memorial.

There was a celebration of sorts going on in the square I was walking by. I don’t think it was for Halloween. I think it was for something yellow. But these kids were throwing down mad beats.

These kids were bringing in da noise as well.

And these guys were supplying more of da funk.

Checkpoint Charlie. This was the crossing point from East Berlin/West Berlin for foreigners when the wall was up. That whole thing is still hard to get my head around. You read about things like that, but to be on the streets kind of hits home how lucky I was growing up in America.

What the streets used to look like. It’s kind of weird seeing it on the poster and then looking to my left and seeing shopping centers and the like.

I have no earthly clue what the hell this is.

The East Side Gallery is a section of the wall that was left up that numerous artists have left their mark on in one way or another. There are political statements, weird cartoons, lots of names being signed, bad jokes, good jokes and the like.

Have to be honest. Not sure where the Lakers fit in here.

The Dark Knight really left no stone unturned when it came to advertising. Guerilla marketing indeed.

This made me laugh. I like to imagine it was there twenty years ago but the ink suggests it’s a little more recent.

Batman? And the Hulk? Well, that’s just a whole mess of mixed universes. I’ll resist the urge to nerd out any more than that.