Camping out on my couch.

Its Friday, February second at 12:15 am. With Simon next to me, Im sitting in my living room, listening to the winter rain smack a window, on what also happens to be my bed, my couch. Since Ive gotten back from Dubai on Jan 4, this has been my bedroom.

I have owned this house over three years now, this marks the third room in the place I have called bedroom. While I was remodelling my "real" bedroom, I called the dining room the "place where the magic happens." This was waaaayyyy back when November of '03 and lasted for 8 months. I then occupied the masterpiece for a little over a year and a half, where I remained until I rented the place out to Ryan upon moving to Dubai.

Here I am again. I think about the person I was during each phase. The dining room me was unbridled, unjustified, unmeasruable, and certainly unwarranted. I had all the driving force but no direction. I tried to eat the elephant 3 bites at a time. This got me so far, but was not sustainable in the long run.

My days in the "master suite" were filled with equal parts accomplishment, uncertainty, and a little fear. I was proud of what I had done in the room, although it almost cost me my left pinky finger. The night the Red Sox beat the Yankees in the ALCS I tore through my finger with an electric mitre saw.

Theres a big difference here on the couch. The house, although not perfect, is stable, I have had the greatest of fortune in travilling overseas for the first time in my life.

Im pushing 30. I was 26 when it started. I think about what was important to me then, and now. As I'm about to turn 30, what the hell is next?

So Im camping out. Unemployed, but with plans. Plans to use the couch as a launching pad rather than a cot.

This house will always be symolic, as well defined as those all too short lived "college years." These will be the "house years" or hopefully something more creative. The cast is well defined too.

Thoughts at 29…

Back in Dubai August 2, this time for what will be the longest period of time I have spent outside the states. Its October 4^th right now, and I’ve been here 63 days and it feels like home. Stay anywhere long enough and that tends to happen. I think it’s fantastic that at the moment I can say there are two distinct cities in this world I feel at home in. My home-hometown, Erie PA, has changed so much and so many people have left that I am certain that it would not feel like home if I had an extended stay there now. The majority of my family is there, yes. But I have alienated myself, in a way, from them in that I am not following the paradigm they have chosen, that being marriage, kids, family, responsibility, and the like. I have gravitated towards the world traveler, quite possibly the single-for-the-remainder-of-my-days route. And honestly, I rarely look back.

I’m 29 now, and going through the “second wave” of weddings of my friends. The first wave began at 22 and lasted through 24, and there was not one iota of doubt in my mind that that was not a train I was boarding any time soon. Now its happening again and it came out of no where. First it was one random wedding, then word reached me that a long lost friend recently tied the knot. Then almost immediately, two more wedding invites and WHAM! like a fish in the face, a full on wedding wave! My natural reaction was “am I supposed to be on this train? Is this the last one to leave the station?” Being a rather calculated soul, I started running the numbers.

My dad was about 26 when he got married, and about 30 when I was born, but its easy to argue why getting married older now a days is common, whereas getting hitched earlier was the norm for his generation. A lot of my professional peers, who are almost to the T, 3 to 7 years older than me, did the deed around 29 or 30. So there is a case to be made that possibly the time is right compared to my peers. But I have never done things based on what my peers were doing aside from perhaps listening to a little New Kids on the Block when I was prepubescent. The driving force here is what I want to do and what it takes to do it. I am only now starting to reap the benefits of staying single through the first wave, and the following 5 year low tide. I’m living outside the states, exploring the world, making decisions on the fly, with no regard to anyone else.

Selfish? Perhaps. But I do know that if I were to ratchet-strap myself down with responsibility, that one day I would regret it and that is not fair to anyone who has committed them self to me nor to anyone I might bring into the world. At very least I consider my decision to be the lesser of two evils. The only real statistic which holds any value in my mind is children. Now I’m not sure if I want them, but if I do I want be able to do as my father did with me, be spry enough to horse around with them, play ball, be an active father.

In 2003 life expectancy was at 74.8 years for Caucasian males in the United States compared to 69.7 in 1976. My fuzzy math tells me that I can have a child 5 years later in life than did my father and still be as active with them as he was me. This hypothesis then states that I can be the ripe old age of 35 and still be in the clear. Another 5 and one half years of experiencing what this world has to offer before I make my bed and lay in it.

It’s good to have a three, five and ten year goal, so let’s pencil this in as a five year goal. Maybe a good three year goal would be to find the right woman? Hopefully whoever might be a candidate might read this and decide I am not a complete kook! I also reserve the right to readjust my goals every six months or as I see fit!

Amsterdam

Its 3:22 pm EST on Monday July 24^th. I am sitting on a train bound for Paris’s Nord station from Amsterdam. Amsterdam is a stunning town. Why didn’t every city designer include canals in their layouts?

Naturally, when you are on holiday you see the good parts of the city, that being said, I would still strongly consider living there. The first and foremost reason for this is… no, not that, but the predominant form of transportation; bicycles. Let’s start with the fact that Amsterdam is a pretty teeny little city. The first day I was there I walked for 12 hours and covered the vast majority of town. This enables bicycles to be a valid method of transport. Secondly, the place is so old. It’s obvious the notion of automobiles never entered the minds of those who built the place. The cars that are there look like they were designed for Amsterdam and Amsterdam alone. I certainly couldn’t make practical use of one. Finally, and this is the best part, to me, the people I saw on bikes, and that’s the vast majority, just seemed smarter, classier, sexier, fitter, than the rest of the lot. I know this is merely my impression as a bike can really only truly help one with the latter of those attributes.

These are my impressions BEFORE I rented one! Once I was on a bike, I felt that I was part of an elevated class of people. Pedestrians are to serfs as cyclist are to lords. On foot I would have never interrupted a cyclist to ask for directions. When on a bike, you become the equal of others on bikes and it becomes its own social club. “Hi, my names Michael (not Mike, mind you) and I’m cool, I’m hot, I’m happening and a good part of the reason is I use a bicycle to get around.”

Let’s shift this topic slightly and look to the canals themselves. The canal belt as it’s called is lined with old converted barges turned into stylish living quarters. I didn’t get the full story, but the Dutch allowed people to live on boats in the canals and actually ran utilities to them. Others came illegally and have no such luxuries. The end result is a community within a community. I also gazed at countless runabouts, mostly outboard motored containing groups of friends strolling along on a summer’s day. If I thought being a cyclist elevated my class…

Then there’s the town itself. The old churches, Oude Kirk, Newe Kirk, and others were all spectacular specimens of ancient architecture. The quaint little canal bridges, most that lit up at night illuminating the still waters below were a pleasure to gaze at and photograph. Combined with the random steeples which would peek out from atop the tree lined streets and row houses made for an amateur photographer’s dream.

Finally there was the art. Van Gogh, Rembrandt, and a slew of others whose works amazed me for 2 solid days. I thankfully learned how to operate in a museum. Rule #1: ALWAYS get the audio tour, especially for me for I was alone. The wealth of information I learned as a result of the audio tour more than paid for itself. (4 euros tacked onto the ten euro entrance fee) Rule #2: patience! When I got into the Van Gough museum I became annoyed with how crowded it was and felt that I wasn’t going to get my money’s worth. But a quarter of the way into my 5 hour tour, I learned how to maneuver around people, how avoiding eye contact actually improves flow of people around you (shame on me), and how to assess each gallery as I entered it and get a feel for the room before delving into the works. This allowed me to pick a less crowded part of that gallery and get a general idea of how much time I was going to spend in each one.

The train just passed through Brussels on the way to Paris. Amsterdam was a fantastic choice to start this trip with its smaller stature and compressed itineraries. I will definitely take the lessons learned to Paris, and onto Rome!

Back Homes...

So I got back from Dubai. One month to get my bits sorted then back out for 4 months. I was in town for 21 days and accumulated the following memories:

July 1: Leah Redus’s wedding. Leah and I have been friends for 6 years now, making her the person I have known in Baltimore for the longest. And she finally got married. Her and I went from relocated college grads living in the suburbs to city dwelling drinking buddies, to part time Dave Matthews followers (her and I saw two DMB shows together, one in Pittsburgh, one in Central Park), to yearly Fat Tuesday and St Patrick’s day revelers. Now I am an aspiring world traveler and she is an inspiring wife probably soon to be mother.

July 2: Shaq’s birthday. Shaq is another of my long term Baltimore cohorts. The year previous I missed her birthday for lack of sense, but this year I made it out to Bo Brooks for crabs.

July 4th: I ended the night seeing Rose and her husband Stephen. Rose trumps both Leah and Shaq in terms of length of friendship. I met Rose in college when her mother and my Aunt became pen pals on the internet. They got to talking and decided that her daughter was going to the same school as the other’s nephew! So we were put in touch with each other and have been best friends ever since.

July 9^th: JK MRB Day. Julie Keller and I met through a friend resulting from another college friendship, Heather Mills. The two of them are roommates and I am a frequent troublemaker in their apartment. Julie and I hiked around Rock Creek in DC as well as Arlington cemetery and Gravely point where we watched planes land every minute within spitting distance.

July 10^th: HJM-JK-MRB Day. With Heather back in town we set off to central Virginia to tour two wineries and Lauray Caverns. On the way back we drove the final bits of Skyline Drive in the Shenandoah National Forest.

July 11^th - 13^th: The folks tour, leg 1. Flew up to Buffalo, rented a car, drove to Erie to visit Mom, Grandma, Uncle and home based friends. Met up with Tom and Jay, and also Bill, Ryan, Emily, and Brian in the short time I was there. It was quite fulfilling.

July 13^{th – 16th}: Folks tour leg 2, Raleigh. Drove back to Buffalo, and flew this time to Raleigh to visit pops and yet another college friend Clint and his wife Sara. Dad is in good shape and my sister flew into town and together with his wife Robin we toured the Raleigh museum of history.

The next day Clint, Sara and I drove down to the Atlantic coast and attempted to catch some fish. We ended up feeding them shrimp and catching a heck of sunburn!

Finally July 20th: A going away shindig with my Baltimore crew, its funny, since ive begun

travelling and spending considerable time away from what is defined as home, I see more people when I am home temporarily than I do when Im there permaently!

Those are the highlights. It was a whirlwind tour that ended as soon as it began. Cruel is the person who decreed that good times go by fast.

July of a lifetime...

I don’t usually condone posts without tangible meaning, and that’s not to say that this one doesn’t have any, but its real meaning is to allow your humble author the opportunity to textually verbalize what I am about to write.

I have been in Dubai since mid May. I am scheduled to return home on June 29th. I have been instructed to go home, get my bits sorted out (bits and sorted, the two most prized souvenirs from this trip) and come back for an extended stay. So, me being the ever optimistic-opportunistic I have seen a chance to do some real traveling in the month of July.

First off, I am slightly pushing the second leg of my return flight back two days to give me a nice 60 some odd hour layover in London. Then, once I get home and spend the 4^th with my Baltimore peeps, I will whisk myself away on my motorcycle (hopefully, weather permitting) on a several stop tour which will include seeing friends in DC, Charlottesville VA, cruising the blue ridge parkway, more friends in Raleigh NC, and my father and his new wife. Once I return I am off again, this time to Amsterdam, Paris, and Rome. Two days in each with Eurail trips connecting them, finally returning to Dubai by August 1.

31 Days, 6 countries, 3 states, loads of people, memories, and snaps.

This is the plan. Execution is the most critical piece, watch this space for results.

Footbol (soccer) players are...

Panzies. yes, thats right, panzies. World Cup 2006 is off to a roaring start, and being in Dubai, and in fact staying at a place which houses the largest venue in the Emirate to watch all the games has given me a new appreciation for the sport. Nightly the place is packed, rowdy, and within earshot of my apartment. England has the biggest draw by far. So I've taken it upon myself to be an open minded American and really learn the sport. Let me begin by saying that I have a high appreciation for the fitness, footwork, and communication it takes to be a player at that level. That being said, every soccer player reminds me of the cast of Days of Our Lives. Without fail, in any game a player will try to make a move with the ball and a defender will attempt a slide tackle, and each and every time, the ball carrier will throw himself into the air, land in an apparent akward position, and finally wail in apparent pain. The first time I saw this I cringed until I saw the slo-mo replay. BAD ACTORS! Pleading with the refree for a penalty call. Once the ref makes his call, the player springs back to life as if he has had the hands of Jesus placed upon him. Its despicible, especially to this rugby player/fan. In contrast, no matter how badly you are hurt on the rugby pit: concussion, broken arm, anurism, tumor, you never, and I mean NEVER show that you are hurt. This will run the risk of you being taken off the pitch and that is something no rugby player wants. Here is a soccer trivia question: To the right, the Ivory Coast side, or the cast from "Days"? you be the judge.

A German, an Egyptian, and an American walk into a bar...

It sounds like the beginning of a joke, but it is the phrase that's described my second week in Dubai. Jochen and Mohammed have been doing a very good job showing me the ropes of Dubai nightlife. It has been quite an interesting trip. We usually get together after work start out at an Irish pub, and by the way, there are more Irish pubs here than there are in Baltimore, and if you know me, you know what that means! Our topics of discussion have been whats most fascinating. It started with race and politics, has since moved on to religion and our purposes in life. The bottom line is, in anything, we are all the same. Whether it is our stuggles in youth to our desires as an adult. By then we're drunk and our attention turns towards our favorite local Philipino band. They play at the mariners club 7 nights a week. I dont know the name of the band, but they consist of 4 lead singers who all could be sisters and always have a themed attire. Theres a lead guitarist, a bassist, drummer, and keys. The best thing about them is they play hard rock! Mostly American. Seeing 8 Phillipinos belt out "Freeird" or "Sweet Home Alabama" sitting in a club with Aussies, Brits, Egyptians, Palestinians, Germans, Asians and who else knows was quite a mind blowing experience. This is not to mention how good they all are. Often times they would switch instruments, pull out new instruments like a sax or a harmonica, or even play behind their heads, with their teeth, or with the mic stand!


Oh yeah, I also have an online photo album with much more than you see here:
http://community.webshots.com/user/wahoo189