Entering Sweden and making our way to Malmö was pretty uneventful. I was still battling the sickness I had acquired during the night that we had spent camping in Germany. We weren't planning on doing much of anything in Sweden, other than relaxing and spending a night in our tent before heading back to Germany. We didn't foresee any problems. We didn't foresee any weirdness. Rest. Dinner. Sleep. Breakfast. Should be easy. We arrived at the Malmö Camping & Ferie Center and went into the office. It was the usual thing: the guy showed us a map, pointed out places to pitch a tent and where to pee. Good enough. So, we were ready to pay. "You also have to buy the camping card," campground employee guy informed us. "A camping card? What's a camping card and why do we have to buy it?" He looked at the two of us as though we might be completely daft. We looked at him as though he might've been drunk....
“Traveling expands the mind rarely” -Hans Christian Andersen “My life is a lovely story, happy and full of incident.” -Hans Christian Andersen “Something is rotten in the state of Denmark.” -Marcellus, Hamlet scene iv * * * It only took one day for me to decide that Copenhagen was my new favorite place in the world and that absolutely nothing was rotten in the state of Denmark as far as I could tell. The second day there only assured me that I was right.Of course, I didn't need that assurance, but you get the point.Since we were there as tourists, we were obligated to make a trip to see The Little Mermaid statue at the harbor at Langelinie. No, this was not Disney shit - what I'm talking about here is a statue based on the original Hans Christian Andersen story.First, we had to make a trip near the Royal Theater opera house to catch the boat that would take us to the...
It didn't take long for Olivier and I to make the drive from Hamburg to Copenhagen. That's one thing that I still get a kick out of when it comes to living in Europe - just drive for a couple of hours and instead of crossing state lines, you cross borders into another country, where the language changes and the road signs become meaningless, crazy looking words.In France, Olivier and I both understand the road signs. In Germany, I could make out a few while Olivier could make out the rest of them.In Denmark, we were both lost.Luckily, everyone there speaks such perfect English, that it doesn't really matter.Score: 1 for Denmark.We arrived at the place where we would be staying. We had made a reservation while we were still in France. We walked up to the front door and found a note with Olivier's name on it telling us to go inside.Then we found a path to our room...
When Olivier and I woke up in our hotel room in Breda, we couldn't focus on much except for breakfast. Here's the thing about breakfast: each time I leave France, I get all worked up and dizzy about what this new place will be serving for the first meal of the day.I judge a country based on its breakfast. Sure, there are other small, less important factors that affect my opinion of a place: the booze, the people, the sights... but, these are all nothing compared to the importance of what food a country starts its day with.France, I love you, but a croissant and a cup of coffee just doesn't cut it for me. This is a snack. Fail.Holland, on the other hand... they have their shit together in this area. There was fruit, cereal, plates of meat and cheese... yogurt, juice, coffee, pastries and a variety of bread. A chubby woman with an absurdly sincere grin brought me...
Between Belgium and Germany, Olivier and I decided that it was absolutely necessary that we spend at least one night in the Netherlands. We ended up spending the night in Breda, between Rotterdam and Antwerp.When we arrived at our hotel room, it was an oven full of stagnant air, little soaps and disposable plastic cups. We had spent the first half of the day broiling inside of our car. We needed a cool place... a comfortable place.We needed a place that would fully let us appreciate the Netherlands.We needed a coffee shop.Within walking distance of our hotel was a place called 'The Cat'. We got inside, went up to the counter and placed an order: 2 cups of hot tea and 5 grams of Super Skunk.After a few minutes, I realized that I was still sweating and that I had been sweating for the entire day. I asked Olivier, "Why is it that we ordered fucking hot tea?""Uh... I don't...
"... at least in prison and at least in death, you know, I wouldn't be in fuckin' Bruges. But then, like a flash, it came to me. And I realized, fuck man, maybe that's what hell is: the entire rest of eternity spent in fuckin' Bruges. And I really really hoped I wouldn't die. I really really hoped I wouldn't die." - Ray, In Bruges * * * After Olivier and I had molded Play-Doh into poop, it was time to go with our friends to Bruges. I had been to Belgium before - briefly. A couple of years ago, we made a quick run there to eat some fries, buy some chocolate and grab a case of assorted Belgian beers. You know, important stuff. Why else would anyone go to Belgium?Oh... right. Sightseeing and other touristy shit. We hadn't done that, so it was time to go to the wild, loose, medieval city of Bruges.When we arrived, we found an enormous...
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