Home is Where the Heart Is...

It's also where my awesome comfy bed is, my tv is, my cat, coffee, crappy Saturday TV, and currently my girlfriend.

This is gonna be a good day.

Jim Out


P.S: It looks as if Europe was an inspiring place for old Kayak. This is my 32nd post for the month of January, which is as many entries as I wrote in all of 2008. Geez!

That's it! I'm Outta Here!

Well, dear readers, my Europe adventure ends today. At 3:55 PM, London time, I will be boarding a plane, flying over the ocean, and returning to my little life in Toronto.

Provided I don't screw up and get lost. Or the London Tube breaks down. Or Air Canada fucks me over. The third option is the most likely.

It has been often said that, when you take long journeys alone, you learn a lot about yourself. I'd agree. Here are a few things I learned about old Jimmy Kayak:

1) I have a HORRIBLE Sense of Direction.

Actually, I already knew this, but I didn't know it was as bad as it is. Living in Toronto, you have the ugly but reliable CN Tower to bail you out. It's always south. Unless you're in the middle of the lake. Then it's north. But you have bigger worries.



On this trip, I've gotten lost many, many, many times. Usually this wasn't such a bad thing. I like walking around and looking at stuff, so getting lost just meant I got to see stuff I wouldn't have seen otherwise.

But when you're stomping around a strange city, at night, and you're tired, and it's raining, getting lost is very bad indeed. I need to trust my instincts better. And by that, I mean I need to trust that my instinct to go in a direction is wrong, then go in the opposite direction.

Oh well!

2) I'm very good at reading maps.

Luckily, this skill bailed me out when I got lost. It's relatively easy for me to find where I am on a map, using side roads and major landmarks. For this reason, I always made it back to my hostel at night, and never had to sleep in the gutter.

Good for me!

3) I RULE at transit systems.

The Tube? Bah! Paris Metro? Pa-LEAZE! Berlin? I mocked thee! Brussels? Well...Brussels is a little complicated. But you don't need to use that one too much anyway. Brussels is small.

A couple of pieces of advice that I'd like to pass down to the uninitiated are:

a) Keep your ticket on the Tube. You need it to get out!

b) The systems in Prague and Berlin are NOT free! You gotta buy a ticket and then stick it into a machine to have it stamped. If not, you may get a free ride...but you may also get caught by a plainclothes inspector, and have to pay a fine.

The fine's not horrible (40 euros or so), but it's still more expensive than buying a ticket in the first place.

Just sayin'.

4) I over-pack.

A good piece of advice I got before I left was to pack the minimum amount of clothes I thought I'd need...then only take 2 thirds. I wish I'd followed that. I packed a bunch of stuff that I never ended up wearing.

Poor Europe. It never got to see my super cool Clash Japan Tour t-shirt.

5) I like home.

I've now, officially, visited 7 countries and a whole whack of Caribbean territories. All of them are cool and beautiful in their own way.

But I'm Canadian. I like Toronto. I like our laid-back ways. I don't like that our Parliament is currently full of douchebags...but I like the fact that I have the freedom to call them douchebags. I like my job. I love all my friends. I love my family and my super cool girlfriend. I love my cat. I like my apartment (especially my little porch), and I like that, when I get home, I will see all these things again.

I also learned one final thing. Trips like this are taken for many, many reasons. Some people take them for adventure. Some take them for the status of being able to say they did. Some people take them to find themselves. I thought I was taking this trip for all three...but I really wasn't. The first two are nice, but as for the third, I discovered...

6) No matter where you go, there you are.

See you soon.


Jim out.

Gnoman Chezks Out Prague

Well, dear reader...our European adventures are almost at an end. Tomorrow I will be boarding a plane and flying back to Canada.

It's been a fantastic trip, but I've got a sweet life at home, and and I'm happy to be returning to it.

I'm in London, today, and am off to visit with family and friends. But don't worry. Gnoman will be taking up the slack by telling you all about our trip to Prague.

Okay Gnoman...you're up!

Hey bitches!

Yeah, we're comin' home soon. It'll be nice to go back to my little roost on Kayak's porch, hang out with my buddy, the Turd, and continue my strict regimen of hitting on Jim's girlfriend. It's been an awesome trip, though! One of the cities we hung out in was Prague.

Here's the proof:


Old Town Square! This beautiful area was just steps from our hostel.



Look at this place! Not even my horrible absynthe hangover could prevent me from enjoying the architecture.



The Celestial Clock. Best. Clock. Ever!



This band of old Chezk guys was rockin'! The singer sang out of an old-timey megaphone!



See that behind me? That's Prague. Soak it in.



I stand on guard for thee.



Just a nice cathedral...



We went to the Toy Museum. Oh, hey Darth! How's it hangin'?



Fuck you.



Creepiest toy ever.



I hooked up with my old Special Ops Action Squad. We used to do mercenary work back in the bad old days.



Ladies, we have a problem. Too much clothing. Get naked!



One of my exes. She was always so kinky!



Damn you to hell!



This is a sculpture by a guy named David Cerny. He's awesome.



Ha ha! This band sucks ass!



Another Cerny sculpture. This one's dedicated to my man Kafka.



Jim said we were going to the powder gate, and I got super stoked. Then he explained it used to store gun powder. Fuck that shit.



Prague it up!



Yep...another Cerny. These guys piss Chezk literary quotes.



AAAHHHH HA HA HA HA!



Okay...off to Berlin.

That's all she wrote for Prague, folks! Now, if you'll excuse me, I think I'll hit a pub for a pint or nine.


Gnoman out.

Random Trivia Factoid

I'm back in London for a couple of more days...then home!

I'm wiped, so I'm just going to toss up an RTF for your edification and enjoyment. I was discussing this one with friends, this evening, and realized I should pop it up on the old blog. Here goes...

One of Canada's most successful television shows is the Degrassi Series. There are four in all. The current "Degrassi: The Next Generation", "The Kids of Degrassi Street" (the one that started it all), "Degrassi Junior High", and "Degrassi High". There was also the TV Movie, "After Degrassi". All of them were compelling dramas that revolved around the lives of the students of the Degrassi Schools. All of them were awesome.



So awesome, in fact, that a successful television producer from Los Angeles tried the buy the rights to the series. The makers of the show, however, weren't interested in selling. So, instead, this producer went off and made a show based on the high school.

That producer? Aaron Spelling. The show, of course, was "Beverly Hills: 90210".



Gnoman says hello, and that he'll be posting pictures of Prague very soon.


Jim out.

Tragedy!

It's nice to have living creatures in your apartment. There's something soothing having a few plants to water, or a cat to pet/feed/cuddle/pile-drive.

In my apartment, there were three plants. A big leafy fellow named Sherlock, his portly, shorter, aloe-filled compatriot, Watson. And a big shaggy ugly fucker named Boris the Blade.

I also have a cat. Her name is Ella.

Today I was informed that Ella knocked Sherlock off the window sill, and he plunged to his demise.

And this is no Reichenbach Falls situation...he's really dead. Here's the photographic evidence:



Notice how Ella just lies in the foreground, smugly looking into the camera as her victim lies helpless just a few feet a way? Cruel and heartless.

This is, no doubt, her brutal revenge for that time I put a pancake on her head.



R.I.P Sherlock.


Jim out.

Chessmiliation and Twitterbaiting

Brussels is really nice. You should all check it out, sometime.

My favorite place, so far, is a bar called Le Greenwich. This place is the ultimate chess club. Bobby Fisher played here!



That crazy bastard...

So last night, I headed into the fray. I consider myself a chess master...er...player. I accepted a game from a fellow named Art. He was originally from New York, but he moved to Brussels.

Specifically to play chess.

That should have been my first warning, but I had a couple of whitbiers in me, and I was feeling cocky. "How bad could it be?" I thought.

The answer is "pretty damn bad". Art pretty much made me his bitch on that board. About 9 moves in, he chuckled and said "I'll have your king in 6". Six moves later, he did.

As I was shaking his hand, though, one of his friends said I should be proud I lasted as long as I did. I guess that's something...

And then there's the Twitter incident.

For those of you that don't know, Twitter, is another blogging/networking site. The rule, though, is that you can only micro-blog, using 140 characters per entry. It's a fast, fun way to let people know what you're up to, in your regular daily life.

It seems that the computers here, at the hostel, have pretty strong content filters. One of the Tweets that I was reading contained the word "fisting". For those of you who don't know what that is...I ain't telling you. Google it, if you want...but I don't think you'll like what you'll find.

Or maybe you will. Who am I to judge?

ANYWAY, immediatly, my screen goes blank, and a message from the content-filter service pops up, saying that the site I'm viewing is inappropriate. I'm forced to hit the back, button, and can no longer read anymore tweets.

Those of you that know me know that I DESPISE being told what to do. Nothing sets me off more than some person/computer/networking site telling me that my content is inappropriate, I shouldn't swear, my gnome's not real...etc, etc.

So I react. I post a tweet that simply says the following.

FISTING! FISTING! FISTING! FISTING! FISTING! FISTING! FISTING! FISTING! FISTING! FISTING! FISTING! FISTING! FISTING! FISTING!

Clever, huh?

Except that this entry appears on the very first page of Twitter. So now I can't get into it at all.

Sometimes my mouth writes cheques my ass can't cash.



Oh well! Bruges tomorrow.


Jim out.

P.S: Now the computer won't let me look at my own blog. For any of you who have ever wondered why I sometimes kick the shit out of computers...this is why.

My Coat

is stinky
and
smelly.
It reeks of second-hand smoke from bars in Prague
and spilled German beer.
It's
missing a button now.
The seams in the shoulder are coming apart
from humping my backpack like a
voyageur.
And
there's a stain on the front.
I think it's falafel sauce
from
the sandwich I ate with
my buddy from Scotland.

Soon I'll be home
and
I will dryclean this jacket.
I will sew the seams
back
together
and
put the button back on.

And all of the stink and the reek and the splashes of puddles from the streets that I walked on
and the saliva sprays from conversations
with strangers who are now friends
and the falafel sauce
will be gone.

It's sad, when you think about it.
But you should wear a clean coat
in polite society.


Jim out.

Dutch

I made a new friend in Amsterdam.

It was cold and rainy, but I was out for a stroll, anyway. Just thinking my thoughts and eating some delicious french fries.