Luxembourg

I’m about to end my time in Luxembourg, and I’m still not sure what I think. The only word I can come up with is cold.  The temperatures have been in the 30s and low 40s, with rain and fog to increase the chill, but that’s not all. I get the sense that the people here are not particularly friendly. Maybe it’s just because I don’t speak their language(s), or look like an outsider… but they don’t seem to be particularly chatty with each other either.

In my time here, I’ve only had one interaction with someone not part of a service staff. I popped into the Top Affair supermarché for a cheap snack, and ended up in line behind two young guys who were using some kind of lunch vouchers to buy such healthy items as cookies, chocolate milk, and mentos. They were clearly down on their luck, and kept asking the clerk for one thing after another, taking ages to complete the transaction. I heard a low voice coming from behind me. Assuming the woman next in line was just muttering to herself, I glanced back to find that she was actually attempting to commiserate with me, quietly and in Luxembourgish. Since I had no idea what she was saying,  but could see her disdain without any translation, I just gave her an understanding smile and shook my head at the boys ahead of us.

Despite Luxembourg having 3 official languages, none of which I really speak, I’ve been able to get by without asking for English. Per the Musée d’Histoire de la Ville de Luxembourg, Luxembourgish (Lëtzebuergesch) is the primary language people speak in their day to day lives, while the press is typically in German, and business/administrative affairs are handled in French. Since that includes things like shops, and  I understand enough French to say, buy a sandwich and a beer, I’ve muddled through.  

According to what I learned at the history museum, Luxembourgish is a fairly new language, adopted widely to help differentiate the citizens from neighbors and former occupiers France and Germany. The use of other languages continues only due to tradition, and Lëtzebuergesch is central to the national identity.

Maybe the history contributes to the closed off nature of the Luxembourgers. Or maybe their coldness shaped the history. They’ve managed to avoid being taken over by the superpowers around them, and maintained a distinct culture of their own in the process. Maybe keeping to themselves is part of that culture.

Not that I’m one to talk… Loner that I am…

Paris

It's my second trip here, and I've concluded that Paris is the Adele of cities. Everybody loves her, and I completely understand why; she's just not for me.

My first time here, I hated it. I spent one day strolling around, trying to do and see everything that a tourist isn't supposed to. Rather than enjoying myself, I just got desperately lost and rained on. Lots of people told me I needed to try Paris again, though, so I've returned for another couple of days.

I got in yesterday afternoon, and spent the rest of the day drinking wine. That part was pretty good. Uneventful, not the greatest time I've had in a city, but nice enough. So I decided that I'd spend today doing all the obligatory tourist activities... and then go back to drinking wine.

I saw some lovely things -- La Tour Eiffel, Sacré Cœur --but I really hate being a tourist. Even worse than the other tourists themselves are the assholes who prey on tourists. All day long I had to deal with high pressure sales and people wanting me to sign their petition (or whatever it was). I don't care how worthy your cause is or how cheap your tchotchkes are, if you try to force a pen/item into my hand, you're not getting my money or my name on your piece of paper, and I will be very rude to you.

By far the worst encounter was with a guy wanting to tie a string on my arm "for Africa." I politely declined, so he grabbed my jacket sleeve and attempted to do it anyway. I jerked away, and said no rather forcefully. He started to reach for my arm again, then thought better of it, perhaps because he realized he was a split second away from getting punched.

Having survived the worst tourist traps, I moved on to the Centre Pompidou. After waiting in a very long line (and shamelessly using their wifi to entertain myself in the meantime), it turned out the art gallery was closed, and I didn't have a ticket for what everyone else did. I was turned away. That meant an afternoon similar to my last one in Paris: wandering the streets along the Seine, snacking on a baguette, checking out the Louvre (also closed, Paris hates Tuesdays), and not really having that spectacular of a time.

In the end, I don't hate Paris anymore, but I don't love it either. It's just not my thing. I'll take a London or a New York over it anytime. Still, I'm glad I gave it another shot, because the wine? I really do love the wine.

A couple of musical liaisons

I've always been a bit of a loner. I tend to have a small group of close friends, but the people in my life never have the staying power or emotional connection that music does for me. Human beings come and go, but the music? That's forever.

So while the songs are like my friends, sometimes there's an artist or a band that I really love, with whom I cultivate a special relationship; almost like a long-distance crush. In those cases, finally getting to see them live is like finally getting the object of my affection into bed. It may be a crass comparison, but it's true. Like sex, sometimes the live show is just good enough, once in a while it's awful and destroys my interest, and occasionally, it puts me over the edge and I truly fall in love.

In the past week I was lucky enough to finally see two bands that I've adored from afar for quite some time.

Last night I saw First Aid Kit, a Swedish combo whose perpetually sold-out shows I had failed to get a ticket for twice previously. Needless to say, I was thrilled to finally get into their performance at the Neptune. And I enjoyed it. It was good, even had moments of greatness, like their cover of one of my all-time favourite Simon & Garfunkel tunes, but it didn't leave me wanting more. In the end, I was happy and satisfied, but... well...  let's just go back to being friends.

Frightened Rabbit was another story entirely. I loved every second of their show on Monday, and wished they could've gone on playing all night. I walked out of The Triple Door energized, and more in love with those Scottish boys than ever. I'm listening to their records even more often now, and I've already planned a trip out of my way to see them again in Glasgow this winter. I'm smitten. I can't get enough.

Sure, the analogy may seem a bit of a stretch, but I can name men in my dating life who parallel both of these situations, as well as the more disappointing live shows I've attended. And no matter the outcome, spending a night with your crush (musical or otherwise) is always worth it. You never know, it could be that oh-so-rare one who captures your heart forever.

Tallinn

It's shortly after 5pm on my last day in Europe, and all I want is a nap. I guess it's fitting that the sun has disappeared behind some rather dark clouds just at the time that I've run out of energy.

I'm currently in Tallinn, which is actually quite a lovely place. Estonia's history is fraught with occupations and revolutions to regain their independence, which may be one of the factors in the very multicultural nature of this city. You can clearly see the influence from all their neighbors, but it's still got its own particular charm, unlike anything I've seen in any other country.

The main thing I've noticed is how quiet the city is. There's a bit of traffic noise, and you hear the occasional music or conversation, but it's mostly just silent. I read that the Estonian philosophy is something like, if you don't have some brilliant, well thought-out thing to say, just keep quiet, and it seems most people here do just that.

I arrived yesterday without much of an agenda, and my stroll out of the hotel led me directly to the mall. I didn't intend to go there, I just followed the Food Store sign, hoping to get some provisions for my stay, and bam! Mall. It was exactly like every other mall I've ever seen, which is to say, horrible and full of teenagers.

Luckily today, after sleeping off a bit too much of the drink from last night, I pointed myself toward Old Town and found a cute -- albeit very touristy -- little section of the city protected by the castle-like city walls. I also wandered through a couple of parks, one of which was hosting the Flower Festival, and made it to a late lunch without passing out from sunstroke.

Did I mention it's been very sunny and hot my whole time here? Well, it has. I love it, but walking miles in it, with little to no shade, isn't doing me any favors.

After a quick air conditioning break, I did some more rambling around town, but mostly came across tall buildings and more shopping centers. I also got shouted at, in what I presume was Estonian, by an old lady on the street for no apparent reason... proving that crazy is universal.

At this point, I'm taking another break for a long drink (cranberry taste) and will see if I can muster any energy later. The dark skies (despite sundown still being hours away) and my need to go to the airport in roughly 12 hours, probably mean that I won't go far. Even if I don't, the long trip has been worth it, and I'll be sad to leave Estonia tomorrow.

On a Boat

Today, I think I had the longest 2.5 hour trip of my life.

Given that it's only a 2 1/2 hour ferry journey from Helsinki to Tallinn, I decided to boat across the sea, rather than catch a plane. I figured a ferry is a nice way to travel, quietly drifting along, gazing out the window at the water....

Totally not what I got today.

I boarded with the throngs of foot passengers, and managed to make my way up past the cabins (which seem overkill for less than a 3 hour tour... a 3 hour tour!), to the first deck of general seating, which could either be had in the dance club or the casino/bar. I preferred neither, nor did I want to sit outdoors for the whole trip, so I chose the deck with 2 small restaurants. Since most of the tables were reserved for diners, I took up residence at one of the unreserved spaces, and started reading the newspaper.

Not until the person dressed as a giant sailor cat -- evidently named Viki Viking -- appeared, did I notice that the seats around me were filling up with families with many small children. I frantically scanned the room for an open unreserved table elsewhere, but it was no use. I was stuck with them. For two and a half looooooong hours.

I spent the time with headphones on, music turned up, making use of the free wifi and/or reading, trying to pretend they weren't there. But even with all that, it was amazing that I made it off that boat without killing one of the little buggers.

While screaming children are equally annoying in any tongue, it's amazing how freeing it can be to spend time in countries where you don't speak the language. I've talked about this before, but it's worth mentioning again. At first your brain uses extra energy searching every word around you for one you recognize, but soon, it just gives up. And then you realize how much mental energy you waste on the bullshit of strangers in a given day. At least I do. So it's really quite calming for the mind to just completely tune it out.

Of course, the downside is that then I also fail to hear when people are speaking English, either directly to me, or on things like ferry announcements, and end up lost or confused.

Even so... it's worth it.

Helsinki

It took me less than 24 hours to run out of interest in Helsinki. I do love the beer here, though. I've had many a pint of a local dark lager called Karjala. Absolutely fantastic. It's going to be depressing when I get home and can't drink it anymore.

It's not that Helsinki isn't an interesting place, it's just that there's not a lot of tourist-type stuff to see. It might not be a bad place to live, but it's not one to photograph. While the city is old and surrounded by water, the best word to describe it is functional. It doesn't have the beautiful ornate buildings of much of Europe, and the harbor is full of ferries, sightseeing boats, and little fishing dinghies. Not many nice views. It must be the Baltic influence.

Similar to other small European cities, Helsinki is very walkable, and mostly puts your life in your own hands with its traffic control. Bike lanes aren't part of the road, but separate paths next to, or weaving across, the sidewalk. If you walk in the cycle path without paying attention, someone on a bike will hit you... or narrowly miss you, as in my case. There are crossing lights on major street corners, but there are also many intersections where pedestrians, cars, and trams all criss-cross each other without any signals whatsoever. As an American used to seeing a warning label on absolutely everything, I appreciate this; if you're dumb enough to step in front of a tram, your death or dismemberment is your own damn fault.

Anyway. Yesterday when I arrived, I spent a little while wandering the shopping area near my hotel, then grabbed dinner and sat in one of the city's many patio bars, soaking up the sun that lasted well past 10pm.

Due to all that beer and draining sunshine, I slept much later than planned this morning, and didn't head out until around noon. After visiting the market at the harbor, strolling through Esplanade Park, and doing a bit of downtown shopping, I was at a loss for what else to do. My guide book was no help, so I randomly turned the opposite direction from where I'd been so far, and found myself walking through a lovely park along a lake. With temperatures in the high 70s and no shade, though, I didn't spend long exploring beyond the park. After some more shopping and a small dinner, I've given up on the city. Too hot, not enough to do. Nothing left now but a couple of pints and a good night's sleep.

Tomorrow I'm off to Tallinn, Estonia, my last stop on this trip. I can't believe how fast it has gone by.

Stockholm

It's my last evening in Stockholm, in Sweden even, and I'm not sure what to do with it. Sitting in a bar overlooking the city seems a good start, though.

I arrived 2 days ago, sleep deprived, jet lagged, and utterly confused by everything. I never fully remember my first day on a new continent, and what I do recall tends to be surreal. As such, I didn't try to accomplish much; I did a bit of wandering, watched Spain win the Euro final with a couple of Norrlands Guld beers, and crashed for 12 hours.

I awoke feeling much better yesterday and headed off to visit Old Town (Gamla Stan), which is a short walk from my hotel. I made it to the right part of town, but managed to constantly turn the wrong direction and see things other than what I planned. I also unintentionally visited some other areas of town in the course of being lost. Still, it was beautiful, and I got a lot of great photos in and around the Opera House, City Hall, various churches, and random spots along all the water.

As a consultant at work told me, "Sweden has lots of beautiful old architecture, because -- ya know -- they didn't get bombed."

Maybe a bit irreverent, but true enough.

Today I set out again to see the Royal Palace, and this time I made it. Strangely enough, once I knew where I was, I no longer cared if I was in the "right" place. I ambled around the royal buildings, as well as the Cathedral of Stockholm and the Nobel Museum. The Swedish Navy band was performing, and in addition to the guards on duty, there were a large number of young, blond, fresh-faced servicemen marching around. They were adorable, but man, they made me feel old.

I always feel bad for the guards on duty at any royal residence. I'm sure it's supposed to be an honor, but how hard must it be to take your job seriously while posing for tourists' photos all day?

Other than Instagramming loads of old buildings, my time here has been spent shopping in the city, eating a lot of unspectacular food, and drinking beer. Seems tonight will be comprised of more of the same, then tomorrow I catch an afternoon flight to Helsinki.

As uneventful as my time in Stockholm has been, I still love Sweden, and will probably be back yet again. Something about it just feels comfortable. Yes, I'm the arrogant American, traveling the world, expecting everyone to speak English. But so far, they have. They either begin speaking English the moment they see me, or seem totally unsurprised that I'm American. In Sweden, unlike anywhere else, everyone seems totally shocked, and occasionally disappointed, to find that I'm not a local.

Shrug. I guess it's just a Viking thing.