Well, I really wanted to share my Europe experience with y'all. I had/have a lot to tell...and no one to relate it to! The journey has come to a close, and after a month and a half of cavorting around the decidedly and appreciating non-American border of Western Europe, I gotta admit, it's somewhat comforting to have the ridiculous amounts of U.S. Convenience available at my greedy consumers paws all hours of the clock. How many brands of toothpaste can I choose from and buy at 4:23 a.m.? I need Doughnuts, STAT! It's 11:43 pm, I want a hunk of chocolate covered goo stuffed with pink cream and covered in powdered sugar; NOW, damnit! Above all, I want my hydronated bean and cheese burrito in less than 2 minutes, and served to me from the comfort of the front seat of a '74 Plymouth Valiant --that has a full tank of 87 octane that cost less per gallon than bottled water.
Ah, these are the culture comforts than only a true American can fully appreciate...
Unfortunately, I've yet to get back in the country's groove. I'm still stuck on "siesta" time and haven't had too much luck in implementing this concept onto the timetable of my corporate clients.
I say, "Hey, what's wrong with a 3 hour lunch-break?" It's the schedule created by the gods. If it's good enough for Apollo, why can't I indulge? Nope. The Christian Calvinist slayed those Olde World divinities here in the states with a good bit a WASP-ish vigor. "A nap after a 3 course lunch? Are you mad, sir? We have legers than need to be itemized and balanced before the 2pm accounting meeting!" ...And so it goes...
Meanwhile, I DO bask in the memories of travels and a lifestyle more than a bit removed from my ordinary. And that's the point, then, isn't it? Giving up the convenience of Super-Sized portions of gastronomical poison to witness the grandeur of glacial covered mountain peaks from 2 wheels and a 3 foot wide roadside perch...well, that's a fair trade, don'cha think?
So Yeah, I think my cultural elitism is into high gear right now. (And if you REALLY know me, you'd laugh at what a joke THAT is!) I guess the snobbery will subside before too long. After all, this country of consumer gluttony is great because of it's "faults," not in spit of 'em. And if America was Europe, how friggin' boring would that be?
Okay, granted, if Americans drove like Italians (and the cops ignored all traffic laws) then that would be cool. Not bloody likely. I think I can also pretty much count of taking a miss from McDonald's ever serving Tomato and Mozzarella with Oil and Vinegar...and upon ponderence, that's a good thing, eh?
Anyway, from the most "American" of Euro's cities, London, I began my trip. A full night of good and proper Brit humor, beer, and the King's English before the short hop across the channel to Amsterdam. Ah, the metropolitan Dutch equivalent to Times Square circa 1975. Without the hard crime. Without the hard people. Without the garbage. Just mild drug use and lots of prostitution. The nice "friendly" kind of prostitution that seems less real because it's so real and available under every red light and around every corner. If Michael Eisner ran a brothel village, it might look about the same. Fairy tale Disney in a beautiful charming city with all the naughty-bits you'd wish to indulge in. Porn with a "Golly-Gee-Wizz" quality to it. Thankfully, just spectacle for me, not an indulgence.
Germany was next on the list and that meant I was picking up my bike and was finally on 2 wheels in Europe. Unfortunately, the first leg those 2 wheels experienced was 1500 kilometers of autobahn. Fast, god-almighty-fast, and just about as boring. 160 Km/hr sounds like fun, for just about 5 minutes. After that it's butt-numbing time as the high engine revs seem to create some weird harmonics in said gluteous - maximus. It was enough to turn my legs to Jell-O and make my bum-crack hum like angry bees.
At any rate, that's just the first part of my journey. As I suspect, travel logs are much more entertaining to the composer than the reader. The prose equivalent of Auntie Geneva's 4 carousel slide presentation of her summer get-away to Branson Missouri...not to mention the 100 out-of-focus snapshots from row 56B of Andy William's 9am cabaret extravaganza. Yeah, that's Andy in a red sweater. Here's another one of Andy in a red sweater. This is the one where Andy, in his red sweater, sat down on the stool and talked to the audience...
So, I'll subside for now. Suffice to say, you can probably get a good idea of the kinda stuff that turns my camshaft. If you really wanna know more, Stay tuned...
Ah, these are the culture comforts than only a true American can fully appreciate...
Unfortunately, I've yet to get back in the country's groove. I'm still stuck on "siesta" time and haven't had too much luck in implementing this concept onto the timetable of my corporate clients.
I say, "Hey, what's wrong with a 3 hour lunch-break?" It's the schedule created by the gods. If it's good enough for Apollo, why can't I indulge? Nope. The Christian Calvinist slayed those Olde World divinities here in the states with a good bit a WASP-ish vigor. "A nap after a 3 course lunch? Are you mad, sir? We have legers than need to be itemized and balanced before the 2pm accounting meeting!" ...And so it goes...
Meanwhile, I DO bask in the memories of travels and a lifestyle more than a bit removed from my ordinary. And that's the point, then, isn't it? Giving up the convenience of Super-Sized portions of gastronomical poison to witness the grandeur of glacial covered mountain peaks from 2 wheels and a 3 foot wide roadside perch...well, that's a fair trade, don'cha think?
So Yeah, I think my cultural elitism is into high gear right now. (And if you REALLY know me, you'd laugh at what a joke THAT is!) I guess the snobbery will subside before too long. After all, this country of consumer gluttony is great because of it's "faults," not in spit of 'em. And if America was Europe, how friggin' boring would that be?
Okay, granted, if Americans drove like Italians (and the cops ignored all traffic laws) then that would be cool. Not bloody likely. I think I can also pretty much count of taking a miss from McDonald's ever serving Tomato and Mozzarella with Oil and Vinegar...and upon ponderence, that's a good thing, eh?
Anyway, from the most "American" of Euro's cities, London, I began my trip. A full night of good and proper Brit humor, beer, and the King's English before the short hop across the channel to Amsterdam. Ah, the metropolitan Dutch equivalent to Times Square circa 1975. Without the hard crime. Without the hard people. Without the garbage. Just mild drug use and lots of prostitution. The nice "friendly" kind of prostitution that seems less real because it's so real and available under every red light and around every corner. If Michael Eisner ran a brothel village, it might look about the same. Fairy tale Disney in a beautiful charming city with all the naughty-bits you'd wish to indulge in. Porn with a "Golly-Gee-Wizz" quality to it. Thankfully, just spectacle for me, not an indulgence.
Germany was next on the list and that meant I was picking up my bike and was finally on 2 wheels in Europe. Unfortunately, the first leg those 2 wheels experienced was 1500 kilometers of autobahn. Fast, god-almighty-fast, and just about as boring. 160 Km/hr sounds like fun, for just about 5 minutes. After that it's butt-numbing time as the high engine revs seem to create some weird harmonics in said gluteous - maximus. It was enough to turn my legs to Jell-O and make my bum-crack hum like angry bees.
At any rate, that's just the first part of my journey. As I suspect, travel logs are much more entertaining to the composer than the reader. The prose equivalent of Auntie Geneva's 4 carousel slide presentation of her summer get-away to Branson Missouri...not to mention the 100 out-of-focus snapshots from row 56B of Andy William's 9am cabaret extravaganza. Yeah, that's Andy in a red sweater. Here's another one of Andy in a red sweater. This is the one where Andy, in his red sweater, sat down on the stool and talked to the audience...
So, I'll subside for now. Suffice to say, you can probably get a good idea of the kinda stuff that turns my camshaft. If you really wanna know more, Stay tuned...