Thursday, June 29, 2006

Dear Europe,
I heard there are a lot of American kids over here in the summers making trouble but wow I did not expect it to be like a final spring break for everyone leaving college. The crowned jewels that are your biggest cities may be teeming with history but their also crawling with tourists looking for the next good time. All thi sis good and fine and I'm sure you love it when we bring our big fat american wallets ovewr but I'm more of a nook and cranny guy. The most beautiful sports are the ones where I don't hear english and I can't expect to see someone I know.

Tonight I'm off on a book to find another nook somewhere along the coast of a country which may very well have more sheep than people and might welcome me in a way that doesn't include brochures or pub crawls.

Everyone has to find their nook. Somewhere I'll find mine.

Sunday, June 25, 2006

I'm so done with waiting. Waiting for Moroccan nights and Tuscan sunrises. Waiting to put myself through a wire and get to you. I've lost track of the days but only a few weeks and I'll be back with you. Stop waiting. Go get what you want.
Or keep on waiting...

Wednesday, June 14, 2006

Dear Mrs. Pearson, my 9th and 10th grade spanish teacher,
Thank you. I'm sorry if I was a jerk to you and mocked the fact that at one point you were an NFL cheerleader but everything you taught me is finally coming in Handy. I'm not in Mexico and I'm not in Sotuh America and I'm not in Spain. I'm in Morocco in Africa and I've left my travelling companions in Europe and I'm totally alone. Barely a soul here speaks english and the few who are willing in these small towns to speak something other than spanish are muttering an ever so slight bit of spanish.

For an ex-chearleader like yourself I would not recommend this place. It's hot, it's different, people try to hustle you in the big cities and the toillets, I don't even want to talk about the squatting situation. All I ever wanted to do on this trip was get away from cell phones. But then, realizing the impossibility of this, I wanted to get away from those little white earbuds. I can assure you that not a single on of the children begging on the streets nor the market men in the Medina have then (unless they stole the ipod which I keep vigilently in my zippered pocket). This is as close to the Islamic world as a man like me could ever voluntarily go. I was awoken last night to the sound of prayer. I have admired the beauty of women hidden in vails. I have a man standing outside this internet cafe with his mouth nearly watering as he stares at me and imagines the amount of Dirham he thinks are in my pocket. He would be surprised to find that it is actually very few.

This is not spanish class Mrs. Pearson. This is definitely not Spain or Mexico or South America. But that is why I am here. Not for a vacation but for an adventure. Lets just hope I make it through.

Adios y grcias,
Tayden (but you will probably remember me as Pablo)

Friday, June 02, 2006

I can't believe this blog has lasted two years. I can't believe how many prostitutes are in Amsterdam. I can't believe that Germany can be so green. I can't believe I'm leaving six days before the World Cup starts. I can't believe that the y on this keyboard is in such a weird spot. I can't believe how many dipshit american kids are traveling in Europe. I can't believe that in a club of 4000 people, no one can dance.

The trip has barely begun but I've already realized that I'm not searching for a place or a thing or even an idea. I'm searching for a feeling. Something that lives close to where lost and found meet and merge and intertwine. I don't even know if this feeling still exists in me but there's not a thing I can do but put myself out here on the road and see what happens.

To anyone who has stuck around for two years: you know that all the best is yet to come.
To the rest of you: I guess You'll just have to stick around and find otu for yourself.

Next Stop: Berlin
Next Feeling: Hungry
Next Acquaitance: Hopefully not American
Next Expense: A liter of beer and a bratwurst