by ·Comments Off on Belated Travel Chronicles, Pt. 2: North by Northeast

Long due remaining travel notes (it’s been a busy few weeks)…

Antwerp Train Station April 30th: Apparently, many residents of Antwerp consider their city to be apart from the rest of Belgium (sort of a Kyoto situation there). They are not completely wrong: while Brussels might have the economic and politic pull (especially with the EU parliament and its attached contingent of bureaucrats), Antwerp manages to fit an incredibly cosmopolitan population in a human-sized harbour city: a small walk gets you from the Portuguese neighbourhood to the medieval centre through a mini-Chinatown. It also has one of the nicest looking train station I have ever seen: seamlessly blending the original stone building with a modern structure while managing to retain most of its character.

Swing Jazz Klezmer Band Thanks to Goldi’s impeccably tuned cool-dar, we spent our Monday evening at a small downtown bar, listening to a really cool Swing/Jazz/Klezmer band. Couldn’t always catch the finer nuances of the jokes in Dutch/Yiddish between songs, but still an excellent night.

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Club Metro, Thursday, 1am

_ “Hallo! How aru you?”
…
_ “Whichu country… Whichu country aru you from?”
…
_ “Ahh… なるほど… すごいですね…”
…
_ “Your nose… Your nose: it is berry strong. はなは… つよい！I like very much!”

Don’t change a thing, Japan.

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April 24th: I’ve ranted so many times about the comically horrid shortcomings of Parisian infrastructure that it has become a stale subject long ago. I still want to set the record once and for all: rallying in short succession the cities of Tokyo, Hong Kong and Shanghai from their respective airports, makes one really wonder, upon landing in Roissy-Charles-de-Gaulle airport, what economic world-tier France sits in.

Forget the usual mess at immigration, the overall decrepit state of arrival satellites or the thoroughly unhelpful signage1“Paris by Train”? “Paris by Bus”? I lived in Paris for 5 years and I have no idea what these are supposed to mean. Give me a fucking line number I can find on a map.: riding the RER to Paris (only semi-reliable, affordable way to reach the city centre) made me honestly ache on behalf of hapless first-time visitors, their head full of clichéd romantic Parisian imagery, who get to sit on some of the nastiest train cars this side of Eastern Rajasthan, stopping at every single suburban town between the airport and Paris, having to meekly apologise to dour-faced morning commuters for taking precious space with their luggage. Who-the-fuck designs an airport line with no room for luggage and non-existent escalator/elevator access to the platforms?

Anyway, consider this my heartfelt apology, as a honorary Parisian, to anybody who ever had to land in Paris.

April 24th (3h and a quick shave later): The story of how close I was to end the Japanese chapter of my life prematurely.

Barely summarised excerpt of my exchange with Japanese embassy employee:

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by ·Comments Off on Ich bin very confused だよ.

This morning, I absent-mindedly answered a tiny obāchan’s barely intelligible shitamachi-ben address with “wie bitte?”…

Language module of the brain = Fucked.

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As of today, I am officially offering my services as Human Rain Cloud for hire:

For a modest fee (and travel expenses), I will visit your city and bring unseasonably cold and wet weather for a duration of time equal or longer to my stay. No matter how naturally arid or sunny your local climate, my rain cloud-conjuring abilities have been tested on a variety of European towns, with a perfect 100% success rate to this day.

Hire me and ensure your crops do not go dry and your golf course lawns remain a healthy green, even in the middle of the draughtiest summers.

My service fees will go toward paying hospitalisation costs for the pneumonia I am developing.

PS: to all my friends in Paris, Bordeaux, Antwerp, Amsterdam, Berlin: I am sorry for fucking up your sunny Spring weather. I’ll be going soon and normal weather should resume immediately.

by ·Comments Off on Royal Birthday Party

Walking through Amsterdam the day after Queen’s Day, is a little like paying a visit to your friend’s magnificent loft apartment, the morning after their all-out 30th birthday party.

Damn that’s a lot of rubbish piles.

by ·Comments Off on Hong Kong with Subtitles

It’s only been a few days into this year’s world trip and I am already behind on the note-taking…

Anyway.

Hong Kong!

Last time’s experience had been somewhat marred by my travel buddy screwing up with her flight, leaving me to go on my own at the last minute. This time around, I barely had enough time to get in touch with all the friends and acquaintances that happened to be there when I was.

I stayed with little brother #3, currently implementing the SE Asia part of our family world domination plot at HK University and proving a very competent guide despite only arriving 6 months before. Tending to his newfound Canadian roots, he was sharing with Chris, hockey-loving Vancouverite and all-around nice guy, a bachelor pad conveniently located in the middle of the dry market near the harbour on Hong Kong Island. The presence of the dry market meant a large population of cats, apparently living a symbiotic relation with the market people, wherein they’d leave the fish stalls alone and presumably keep other four-legged creatures away.

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