Hey. I left London two days ago, and I am now in Nice, France (again).

To finish up London. The Millenium Dome was absolute madness. There was 60,000 crazy British people all packed under the largest dome in the world, dancing and popping open bottles of champange. The stage for the 10 minute countdown could not have been any cooler, and the light and pyrotechnics show that followed the clock striking midnight was unforgettable. Explosions and the like.

It took us, Aran and I, two hours to get home. We arrived to the Millenium Dome by Metro (or Tube as they say), and thought that was how we were to get home. Turns out, that the line for the tube was 15,000 people long, and they were only letting 800 people on at a time... a major problem. We then decided to wait for the bus, in the cold, for 20 minutes. When the bus finally did arrive, the throng of people attacked it to get on, and started to force the doors of the bus open. The bus driver, fearful for his life, drove away. It was Aran's inspired idea that we chase after it, which we did, and luckily were able to board the bus and get home safely just as the sun was coming up. Good work.

The following day I slept till 1, and went to a football game with Aran, Heather, and Justin who was this English guy we met in a pub. The game was a lot of fun and so was hearing some of the most uninspired chanting in the history of proffesional sports. Our team, Charlton Athletic, won.

The rest of the days are a bit more of a blur, best recorded in list form.

Westminster Abbey
The British Museum
The Tate Modern
Tower Bridge
Lord of the Rings in the Largest Cinema in Europe
The King and I in Theatre Land
Pubs
Resturaunts
Speakers Corner in Hyde Park
Lots of Tube riding
and a fond farwell

After the Keatings flew home to the States, I booked myself into a hostel with a capacity of 800 people. It was called the Generator. And it was alright.

I stayed there one night, and I stayed the other night on the floor of the airport, because I was not about to spend 70 dollars to get to the airport by taxi for my early morning Sunday flight to Nice.

Sleeping on the floor in a public place is an odd experience. When I woke up, I felt as if I had crossed some sort of threshold, and that I would never be the same again. I felt invisible when I woke up.

Nice is great. And there is nothing to see here, which I love. It is my vacation. I will be here, in Nice until my sisters arrive in Paris.

Alright, it has been eight days, and I am now in London by way of Switzerland.

Christmas with Mikey and Jess was very nice, and we had the most wonderful Christmas pineapple to put our gifts under. A true masterpiece of surrealist sculpture. If you are interested, I did take a picture, so maybe I can so it to you sometime.

Christmas day, I left Jess' flat at 5:40 in the morning in a panic thinking that I was going to miss my 6:20 train to Zurich Switzerland. Thanks to a cab driver, driving around at quarter till 6 on Christmas morning, I was not late, and I made it to Zurich without incident.

I had made a booking for a hostel in Zurich, and when I arrived, I found that it was a prison hell hole. If you could take the worst aspects of a hospital, retirement home, and a prison, and them combine them all together and people it entirely with people over forty who haven't showered in days and have no understanding of the english language or common courtesy, then you would have a watered down vision of what this hostel was like.

Zurich was equally unimpressive. I arrived Christmas day and everything was closed. The following day everything was closed. The day after the following day, only restaurants were open. If it wasn't for the overpriced prison buffet in the hostel, I would have died of starvation long before getting on the plane for London.

One Airplane, bus, and the tube later, I am at the doorstep of a hotel, housing my good friends The Keatings. They are well, and I was more than a little excited to see them. These past few days we have been seeing the sites and laughing and eating and admiring the amazing power of the cold. That is of course if loud declarations of hatred for the weather can be considered admiration.

Tomorrow is New Years Eve, and I plan on spending it in the Millennium Dome, for the largest party the world has ever known. I promise to write in detail about it after I have recovered from an entire night of dancing till dawn.

Alright, I am now in Budapest

I arrived here two nights ago, after a leisurely eight hour train ride from Prague through Slovakia, and eventually Hungry and Budapest.

The following day, I spent with Jess, Mikey, and two of Jess' friends Dan and Will, two aspiring filmmakers from American University. Together, the five of us tackled a tall hill, and saw amazing views of the city, stormed Budapest castle, took in a contemporary art museum, got yelled at by an irate English language tour guide, visited the Hungarian national shrine, and ate dinner at the local Hungarian Mafia hang out. It was a very full day.

We got around this expansive city with the help of the Budapest metro system. It is like every other metro system in the world with one exception. The noises the loudspeakers make right before the doors open and right before the doors close are THE EXACT same noise as one of the effects in Bases Loaded, a video game for the original Nintendo Entertainment System. It is uncanny. Honestly.

A quick note about the Hungarian people. They seem to have embraced capitalism better than their former EasternBloc brethren. There are the ubiquitous advertisements, the pricey theme resturants, and an amazing awareness of salesmenship that I had yet to witness outside of the grand ole US of A. They also seem to be happy and fun loving, and maybe a bit loud at times. I think that if Hungarians spoke English, they would be Austrialian. (I might get flamed for that)

Today, we went around again, did some shopping in the Christmas market, and then went to the Bathhouse. Most people don't know, but Budapest has loads of hot springs, and as a result, bathhouses. The bathhouse we went to was mixed, the largest in Europe, and largely outside. Mind you, it was at most 30 degrees outside, but the water was warm and incredible. And the people watching could not have been better. It is a real institution in Budapest, loads of people of all ages are all in European swim wear (read: Speedo), splashing about the pool, and getting out in a hurry to grab their towel. There were the old men playing chess, the young couples practicing PDA, the fat men with an (almost) refreshing lack of self consciousness, and the pretty Hungarian teens splashing about in large groups. Truly an experience that words do little justice.

Going back to Prague tomorrow, a safe and happy holiday season to you all.

Still in Prague.

Yesturday was a momentous one. It was yesturday that I said my final "see ya later" to my travel companion Thomas. He flew out EARLY this morning from Prague to San Fransisco. Also, yesturday, I said a "see ya later" to my other long term travel companion Matt. He went to Rome, from Prague, via Budapest, Vienna, and Venice. 21 hours later, he should be in Rome. I may see hin later on in my trip.

More events from yesturday: Mikey arrived in Prague at 3:30. Jess, Matt, and I were at the train station to welcome him into the city. It was good to see him, and it will be fun thinking about all the crazyness of yestur-year.

Lastly, today I move out of Sir Toby's hostel and into the luxurious Jess's Flat's Floor. Highly affordable though.

Write more later, but I am afraid to report that I am missing some serious inspiration. Maybe I will write eulogies for my now gone travel companions. Stay tuned.

Also, my brillant younger sister, Mollie, was recently admitted to New York University!

If you would like to congratulate her on this amazing feat, you can email her at unwrittensymphony@hotmail.com

Also, it snows everyday here. Not a lot, just enough.

Alright, 9 days since my last post, and I need to write something substantial.

More bank drama. My bank card never arrived in Berlin. It is now Sunday, and the bank is closed today and tommorrow. I need to get them to send me another one to the Czech Reublic.

I am now in the Czech Republic. I am in Prague. I have been to Prague before. I enjoyed Harry Potter.

I am reading Stranger in a Strange land by Robert Heinlein. It is excellent so far.

The new Frank Miller Batman book came out sometime last week. I bought in in Berlin, and let me tell you... IT ROCKED! It is now quite obvious to me that Frank Miller is not fond of Superman.

Lastly, (and I promise to write more later), I have met Jess in Prague, and Mikey will be here tommorrow. My friends Matt and Thomas will be leaving Prague in a couple of days.

Probably write more tonight.

Hello, still in Berlin.

I have good news, bad news, more good news, and extra good news on top of the other two bulletins of goodness, and a fourth and final piece of incredible goodness.

Alright, first the bad news. I called the bank yesturday, and they told me that there was no record of my phone call last Saturday. Not only that, but they did not send me out a replacement card. I asked if they might send me out a new card with the greatest of all possible speed, and they said that FedEx would take until Tuesday. TUESDAY! I was upset, but at the same time, I am not going to sweat over it.

My friends Matt and Thomas have met me in Berlin, and they are here for the next three days or so, after that they are going to Prague, and I think that is where I will head to as well. This means, that I will have to come back to Berlin for a day or two to pick up my card, and then head back to Prague.

Alright, I forgot, the fact that my friends are in Berlin, that is good news. I am going back to Prague to see Mikey Church and Jess Wolfley, that is my second piece of good news.

My third piece of good news, is that I have been invited to join the Keatings on vacation in London. Which is good for two reason, for one, it means that I will be able to see the Lord of the Rings in English, and I have a place to stay. And it is also convient that I will be able to see Tim, Vicki, Heather, and Aran as well and spend the New Year with them. But mostly The Lord of the Rings. ;)

The fourth and final piece of good news is that my family still loves me very much and that my sisters, Mollie and Katie, now have tickets to visit me in Paris in January. That is all so wonderful.

I think I am going to see Harry Potter this evening at the Sony Center, should be a nice time. I will be sure to write my impressions of the film sometime in the future. Funny how I am hundreds of miles from home, and there is a whole ocean between us, but I am able to still see all the movies in English. Weird huh?

Alright, thanks for wading through the poor grammar. I will write more soon.

Ok, I am now in Berlin, Germany.

I left Vienna two days ago, on a night train, which was as always, a load of fun and rife with paranoia. You might be asking yourself, "What does a strapping and intimidating young man like Mike have to fear on a little old night train", and the answer to your obvious question is simple, Bagthieves; sneaking into my compartment at night. I have inherited my parents ability to sleep through almost anything, and I have found myself physically shaken at times by the ticket checkers because I was sleeping.

If I don't hear the door of the compartment open, I would have no way to know if someone was in the compartment taking my bag. This is why I sleep in fear, with my bags firmly under head. The only problem with this is that I now have a crick in my neck as the result of my inclined sleeping. Perhaps there is a better way.

When a lot of people think of Germany, they think of Fascists. This was really never the first thing that came to my mind, but Berlin is not making it any easier. I say this, because my first day in Berlin, was also, by coincidence, the day of the largest fascist demonstration since Hitler. There were loads of fascists, throngs of antifascists, and an army of police officers trying to keep the two groups apart. I couldn't really get close enough to the epicenter of the demonstration to see what was going on, but I did get to watch some of it unfold in a public park. There were dozens of young skinheads running away (probably they just did something very bad), and they were being pursued by stoic policepeople. Pretty heavy shit. (Sorry I am just to old to be saying poop)

Berliners, are by definition cooler than the entire rest of the planet. They make looking cool, acting cool, and living cool, look so effortless. This is easy to explain: Coolness in Berlin is pasted down genetically, and if this is not why, there is a chance that there is something the government puts in the water, much like the US government does with Fluoride. They have an exuberance for their nightlife, and there are so many youth subcultures, keeping track would be impossible.

Blah, Blah, Blah, my ATM card is officially dead (RIP Oct 11, 2000 - December 1st 2001), I was able to get money out of my account however, thanks to the helpful people at American Express. I have ordered another one to be overnighted, and hopefully, it will get here sometime around Thursday. If not, I am thinking about enrolling myself in some sort of scientific study where they pay me for two solid weeks of abject pain and suffering.

Alright, five days since my last post... lets see what has happened.

I was able to meet up with half a dozen people from Barcelona, and we spent Thanksgiving together eating pizza in the hostel. The whole event was pretty memorable, and to signify Thanksgiving, we all went around the table giving thanks for the things we are thankful for. I was thankful for my siblings, my parents for helping to make this trip possible, American breakfast, and my brand new hair cut. My hair cut is by far the greatest haircut I have ever had. Don't worry, I will get pictures of it, so that in the months to come, when it grows out beyond recognition, I will have proof of the past glory that was once my head.

From Florence, my two buddies from the West Coast, Matt and Thomas, and I went to Venice. We arrived in Venice on a Saturday night. The only hostelling option we had, had a 11:30 curfew, and we thought this was wholly unacceptable. We thought we would spend the evening on the streets of Venice, seeing the city, and enjoying its nightlife.

We did find a place to crash outside, within gated walls, for a mere $4 each (originally $10 each, sneaked two people in, split the cost). This was great. So now it was off to see the city until we got too cold and tired. Unfortunately, Venice shuts down around 10:00 pm. There was nothing to do.

I felt like I was walking around in a museum. The city had few people in it, and even fewer people actually lived there. All the shops sold masks and other tourist things, which I took as proof that no one lived in Venice. A notion later reinforced by statements in my guidebook.

The irony of the entire sleep-outside scenario was that we did not go to the hostel because of the curfew, and instead we ended up sleeping outside, in the cold, at around 10:00. The positive side of this whole thing was that it was a great adventure, and an even better story to tell.

The next day was spent in Venice walking around and seeing a couple of the sites. The city itself was beautiful, and it had a couple of nice churches, but it definitely had no life or vibe. Venice had long since slipped into torpor.

I am now in Vienna, having left Venice after only a one night stay. Vienna is the antiVenice. It has life, people live here, AND it is of comparable beauty (canals aside of course)

In case any of you were wondering, I did not catch cold after sleeping outside, because I was dressed warmly, and wearing a hat.

I am now in Florence, Italy. The height of the Italian Renaissance.

I left Barcelona, where I had run completely out of money. Up until that point, when I had no money, I was having the greatest time. Barcelona is perhaps the most exciting European city that I have seen so far. It was full of restaurants, museums, cafes, bars, clubs, petty criminals, street performers, avant garde architecture, sun, and mattress equipped homeless. It would be hard to describe Barcelona in terms of American cities, because it would be like trying to compare New York to someplace else. New York is New York. Barcelona is Barcelona. It is as simple and as complex as that.

The people in Barcelona are very laid back, and sometimes to the detriment of the attentive service that I was so accustomed to at home. This seems a small price to pay to live in a city that still seems so alive. While in Barcelona, I was staying in the dodgiest square in the whole city. Place Reial. Sketchy people in Spain are a world apart (both figuratively and literally) from their Stateside brethren. It is important to point out that I was never in mortal danger, and those armed with a brisk walk, a stern voice, and discreet money belt have nothing to fear. They usually try to engage those coming home late from a night on the town, in various games. One of my favorites is perhaps the "Do you know Karate" game. The idea of this ploy is to get their victim to respond with moves well studied from several viewings of the Karate Kid. At this point, the victims hands will be out of their pockets, where there is then room for the thieves to place their hands. This is how wallets are lost on Place Reial.

In Barcelona, I was staying in the always colorful, often loud Kabul Hostel. I met some of the friendliest people there, and some of the greatest people that I have met elsewhere. The Kabul seemed like a giant magnet for travellers tired of bundling up before leaving the house. Some of those people are either here in Florence or on their way. The idea is, that we, the Thanksgiving crew of Barcelona will attempt to create a facsimile of an American Thanksgiving while here in Florence. With any luck, it will be as near perfection as any group of near strangers can achieve, having all come from vastly different backgrounds.

Now, about Florence.

Two days, while waiting for Western Union on the main shopping street in Florence, I ran into a chaperone who was accompanying my friend and teacher Ms. Boothby on their trip to Italy. She told me where they were to meet later, and that I was invited to dinner because their guide had come down with food poisoning. I was overjoyed, because not only was I going to have money for the first time in three days (Thanks Dad and Western Union), but I was going to eat food prepared by someone other than me. This was also advantageous, because, I was under the impression that this group was arriving in Florence on the following day.

I was also excited to see this group, because they came bearing gifts (thoughtfully assembled by my little sister), including shampoo, magazines, 10 pounds of Resses candy, and batteries. These may sound like mundane things to give as gifts, but to a backpacker, they have greater value than gold bars, which of course weigh to much to carry around.

That night, I stayed at Pablo's House. It was called Pablo's house, because Pablo lived there, and rented out rooms to young, respectful looking backpackers. I was not the only person staying in Pablo's house, there was also 2 girls from Colorado, and three wealthy Mexican students. Pablo was nice enough, but I am afraid that he was a bit off of his rocker. We would be (the Mexican students and I) watching television, and Pablo would be fussing about in the kitchen. Any time we said anything of significance, Pablo would emerge from the kitchen and speak to us in a mix of broken Spanish and English. I am happy to report that I was able to understand the old man's attempts at the Spanish language, because they were analogous to my own.

The following day, I toured around with the school group from South River High School, and saw all of the A-list sites in Florence. Thanks Ms. B. I then walked about with Ms. B, and accompanied her while she did some shopping. That night we had dinner, and said our goodbyes.

I am now staying in the hostel Archi Rossi, and having a decent time there. The weather in Florence is beautiful, so I plan on going outside and putting some more hurt on those much cherished American Music Magazines.

Alright, I ended up in Barcelona.

Let me catch you up with the remainder of Toulouse before I get carried away.

The morning my father left, I went to Carrcasone with some of his associates. Carrcasone (possibly misspelt) is famous for having a fully preserved medieval castle and city walls. It was magical, the entire thing seemed entirely too epic to be real. It was though, 900 years old and still standing thanks to the marvels of modern restoration. I am not sure how much of the structure is original, but it doesn´t matter to me too much, the whole thing looked great.

While waiting for the french language tour to begin (on which I was to attend) I met a Canadian foreign exchange student studying in Toulouse named Jessica. We ate lunch together and toured the castle, and then made plans to meet up later. Unfortunately, I would have to break these plans and postpone them until the following day, because I was staying with a family known to my father through work, and their house was a two hour walk from Toulouse, which at the time was well below freezing with the wind chill. Surprisingly enough.

The family I was staying with were consummate hosts and excellent cooks. I asked if I was the first strange guest they had invited into their home and they told me that I was. The wife had prepared a wonderful french dinner composed of beef stew and and caramel covered cherry tomatoes. I was to sleep there two nights. I think I made a pretty good impression, because they enthusiastically invited me back for a future visit. I am thinking about taking them up on it, because their meals were divine (Norwegian smoked salmon, pound cake and gingerbread ice cream)

About my day with Jessica. We met early Sunday morning, and went to the large weekly flea market. They had a generous selection of french language comic books, and over a dozen assorted Radiohead bootlegs. I bought one, and it is pretty awesome. I needed to after having their Washington concert cancelled in August. After the flea market, I had lunch in her dorm, where I met her friend from down the hall. Her friend was also a foreign exchange student from Canada, but the one thing that I noticed right away about her, was that she was blind. I have racked my memory trying to think if I have ever met a blind person, and though I might have, I certainly have never had lunch with one. A couple of things stuck out about her in my mind. First, when we were talking about something or something that happened, she would nod knowingly and say "Oh, I see". Please don´t think that I am trying to mine this for humor, this is what she really said. Later during lunch, the discussion drifted toward the arrangement and decoration of Jessica´s dorm room. Jessica´s friend had very interesting things to say. She said that despite Jessica´s feelings toward the contrary, that she had a wonderfully decorated room, and that she would do well to decorate her room in a similar fashion. She spoke of her room having a "residence feel" and how she wanted to get posters to liven it up. Lunch ended and we said goodbye to Jessica´s friend and ventured out into the cold afternoon.

List of things: Canal walk, photo exhibition, goodbyes, and a solo visit to a local modern art gallery to see a temporary exposition by a famous Japanese artist whose name I cannot recall. The art was great though, it was infused with a real sense of whimsy and longing for the infinite.

Alright, now about my journey to Barcelona.

I was driven to the train station this morning at 6:45 in hopes of making the 7:10 train toward Barcelona. That dream was quickly smashed by the counter attendant when she told me in stern french that the connection I needed halfway between Toulouse and Barcelona was completely full. Major bummer. She did however say that there would be a train in an hour, that could get me to Barcelona, and it would only take an additional hour. My other option was to wait around till four in the afternoon for the next train. The second train sounded alright to me, so I bought the new Rolling Stone (Bob Dylan on the cover, photo by Herb Ritts), and boarded the train. This was to be the biggest mistake of my entire journey thus far... (feeling of melodrama)

Somewhere along the way, in the mountains, and surrounded by snow, our train stopped breathing or had a heart attack or something, but for whatever reason it was not moving. I was getting hungry too, and my next connection was only 20 minutes away. You can guess that that connection was missed, but luckily we only had to sit there for an hour or so. Our train was then revived and we pulled (albeit slowly) into the train station. At this point it was "Everyone off the train" it was the beginning of my adventures with buses.

I boarded the bus at the train station, thinking that it would take me to my destination, where I could get back on the train to Barcelona. If only it could have been so easy. The train drove for an hour, and arrived in Andorra, which as you may or may not know is a small sovereign nation between France and Spain. Once in Andorra, I was starved so I ate. Omelette and frites.

Then the waiting started. First I was told it would only be twenty minutes, and then an hour. A full hour and a half rolled by, and I am waiting, in the snow thinking that God had forsaken me to live in this mountainous region for the rest of my days, and the bus rolls up. Heated too, which was a definite plus. The bus then snakes around the terrain, up and down the rocks for about an hour, before I arrive in Andorra Central. Once there, it wasn´t difficult to find the bus station that would take me to Barcelona, and ultimately the last leg of my long journey, at this point almost 10 hours on what should have been a 4.5 hour trip.

I did have to wait around for an hour before the bus to Barcelona departed, and the bus ride itself was 5 hours long, so for those of you following at home, that would bring the entire journey to 15 hours. The bus ride itself was uneventful save for the one moment where I thought I would actually commit vehicular homicide. Not with the bus, but rather on it.

It was because the sole other person on the bus, a curly hair and portly woman in her late twenties thought it a perfect time to test all of the rings on her Nokia. I heard all the varieties, from pulse to tone, from Cheers to Mozart, and back again. For 15 minutes the ringing would not stop. It was at this point that I decided to say something, and this is what I said, in Spanish, or close enough to it.

"Hey! This is not the time or the place to play with your phone. I was sleeping. I know I am the only person on the bus, but I still need to be respected!" She quickly apologized, I pondered forgiving her, which I eventually did and tried sleeping again.

The two pleasant surprises from the whole trip was the I was the only person (ring chick since gone) on the bus into Barcelona, so I asked the bus driver (in Spanish) if he would drop me off in the city center, to which he agreed. And the hostel was not full. Thank God.

I am able to write this lengthy message because I am at an easyeverything internet cafe with english style keyboards and rock bottom prices. It works out to be about twenty five cents per hour. Yeah!

Hope everything there is alright.

This message is brought to you by an English style keyboard "Preventing grievous typos for travellers abroad" and Spell Check.

I am writing this from Toulouse, France where I am visiting with and staying with my father. He is here on business, because Toulouse is the capital of the French Aerospace Industry, and that is what he does for a living.

Alright, about Toulouse. It is a nice enough city with a large student population and a fair number of historical landmarks. Nothing really jumps out at me though, except perhaps their hot ham and cheese sandwiches. Chances are, they are all over the continent and I have simply not yet been exposed to them, but here in Toulouse they are fantastic. Also, Toulouse is the eternal resting place of St. Thomas Aquinas, an A-list Catholic Saint. He is chilling out in a gilded wooden box in one the three ancient gothic Cathedrals here in Toulouse.

Yesterday, I went to a FANCY dinner with my father and his 24 co-workers. It was in this ancient cellar that was more than likely several hundred years old. I had the salmon, which upon finishing, I declared that their are two kinds of salmon, good and bad. I was fortunate to be served the good kind. The point I was trying to make, with my sweeping culinary outburst, was that once you master the fine art of "good salmon" there is very little room to progress to "excellent salmon" because such a salmon does not exist.

Today, I went around and saw the sites, Tommy A included. I also saw the new Cohen brothers movie. The are calling it "The Barber" over here, but the US title is "The Man who didn't Exist" or something like that. It stars Billy Bob T as a barber, and is shot in the film noir style. An excellent feature, and for those of you concerned with such things, I could see this film bring Oscar buzz Billy Bob's way. Perhaps he could follow the lead of his spouse, and drag an immediate member of his family on stage and declare passionate love for them. I cannot wait until March.

Tomorrow, my father is flying home and I am spending an additional day in Toulouse. The plan is that I will accompany some of my father's colleagues on a day trip to a nearby castle. The next day I will be off to an unknown location. I am still weighing my options. You can rest assured that you will be the first to know where I end up.

I am still in Nice. Everything here is really nice. Accidential pun, I promise. I have spent the last two days watching the sun set over the Mediterrian, and I plan on seeing it today too. I have been hanging out with a large group of individual travelers, and we have been getting along famously. Yesturday, the Muesums were free, so I checked out the MOMAC Modern Art Muesum of Nice. They had a lot of Yves Klein's work, and it was easily the bluest stuff I have ever seen. After the Muesum I went towards the beach and sat watching a skateboarding competition. There were kids no older than 9 cruising around and landing tough tricks, I was amazed by their persistance. There was this one kid who couldn't have been older than 6, and he was a horrible skateboarder. It didn't matter to him though, he just would pick up his board, smile and try it again. (and again and again and again). The nightlife in Nice can be very expensive, and as a result, I have stuck close to the hostel these past few evenings. Tonight is my last night in Paradise, and tommorrow I am going to see my Pop.

Hey everybody. I left Hamburg too days ago, and took a 20 hour train to arrive in Nice, France on the Mediterranean Coast. It is pretty warm here, and the city and beach are beautiful. Yesterday, I went to Monaco, and saw more Ferraris in one place then I ever thought possible. It is an amazing place. I promised that I would retire on the Mediterranean instead of Florida, but longer planning like that doesn't really fit into my time schedule right now. We will see.

Today, I think I am going to bum around on the beach, which here isn't sandy. It is rocky. Really small pebbles. The kind that can float :)

Hamburg is such a great German city. The nightlife there is alive, and I was staying in the anarchist/student area of town. Hamburg is also home to the greatest second hand record store I have ever visited. It even had Jimmie's Chicken Shack Bring Your Own Stereo. I was shocked.

Other highlights of Hamburg include the dock area, the Wesley Willis concert, and the lame Halloween party. I am hoping that I will never have to suffer Halloween being a non-event again. There was one bar with the DJ in costume, and a couple of Goths on the train, but it is Halloween everyday for those people. The graffiti scene in Hamburg is also really alive, I spent an entire day walking around and looking at tags. It was truly an art form.

Meeting my dad in France in a couple of days, and then maybe Barcelona.

Today I am in Hamburg, Germany. I don't really have an impression of it yet because I have just arrived here.

When I arrive in a city, I transform from the Mike you are all familiar with, into MIKE URBAN NAVIGATOR. Armed with only a map, a keen sense of direction, and a strong desire to put down my pack, I traverse great distances in all kinds of weather. Upon arrival at my hostel, I can often be heard letting out a victory yell to thank the gods of lost children for finding me.

But seriously, (and perhaps better written), I am becoming impressed with my own resourcefulness when it comes to navigating unknown cities. I have yet to be totally lost (knock on wood), and am never lost longer than a minute or two. I guess this is a survival skill that I need, and it is a kind of sink or swim situation. I am pleased to report that I am swimming.

Also, those of you who are aware that I am travelling with a GPS satellite system can put away your comments of descension and ridicule, because I have not used that remarkable toy in over 3 weeks. Thank you very much...

Alright, now I am going to try and write a little more about Amsterdam. Firstly, I am staying in the Bulldog Palace. This place is a little seedy and in the heart of the Red Light District, but they have a decent sized DVD selection (first place I've stayed in with movies), and was recommended to me by my Aussie best friend Kate. Yesturday, I went siteseeing (oneword?) and had a nice time. Today, I wanted to take in a Mike's Bike Tour, but they are not running in this season. In the morning, we have had about an hour of nice weather, which quickly turns into overcast. Yesturday evening, I had to walk one block to meet some of my friends from Bruges, and while on the way, I was solicited 3 times, and ask to buy from a street vendor twice, and one guy tried to change money with me on the street. I was in no danger though, because these people were asking me these questions in the middle of a very, very crowded sidewalk. 60 seconds... Amsterdam is a nice place, but it is far from the end all be all that some of its more enthusiastic vistors bestow on it. Give me Switzerland over the Netherlands anyday.

I I have 90 seconds to describe Amsterdam. Everything here is pretty crazy. I have been doing a lot of the site seeing here. Tonight I am going to watch a Chicago Improv show. Boat toar in an hour.

I am, in Bruges, Belgium, and it is Sunday. I am one of about 3 trillion tourists in this city. The city itself is pretty cool, because everything is medieval. Unfortunately, the people in Bruges are not stupid, and therefore are using their status as "Most Visited City in Belgium" to set up tourist shops everywhere. It has a Williamsburg feel to it, because I am not sure if anyone actually lives here. Also, there is a load of "dog dirt" all over the place. The people in Bruges also think that horse drawn tours are the coolest thing since sliced bread, and as a result they are ubiquitous. This may sound like I am venting, which is partly true, but it is more than that. I am beginning to question the value of visiting someplace. As I was walking around today, I thought that travelling is really cool and often lots of fun, but you really cannot begin to understand and appreciate a place unless you stay there for some time. Also, since it is Sunday, everything is closed, and all I wanted to get was some french fries. If you think this is contrary for my previous call for authenticity, then you are wrong. Belgium is famous for their french fries, which they often eat with mussels (thanks Sarah). Everybody, make this week the greatest week ever.

SIDEBAR: If anyone is ever thinking about travelling around the Europe like I am doing, Bauhaus Hostel in Bruges is the (seemingly) coolest hostel I have been to yet. I haven't stayed overnight yet, but if my strong first impression rings true, than I am in for a fun stay.

Wow, it has been a full 6 days since my last post. This is mainly for three reasons. Firstly, the longer the radio silence is directly proportional to the amount of fun I am having. Secondly, the internet is simply too expensive in France and Switzerland. And thirdly, the post I paid for and typed slowly on a french style keyboard, here in Brussels, was lost when I went to go post it. So, here goes.

When I last left off, I was in Interlaken, Switzerland for my first day. The day after my boat ride on the Alpine lake, I took a long hike with this group of American students that I ran into by accident. We hiked for three hours until we reached the base of the mountain. Our group of two dozen, dwindled to about five when it came to ascend the mountain. The five of us huffed up the first 5000 ft. of the mountain, and then took a cable car to the top of the 12,000 ft. peak. The view was undescrible. If you believe in perfect moments, the couple of seconds that I was on that mountain, was perfect. Also, to my surprise it was very warm 12,000 ft. in the air. I felt like my friends and I were in an advertisement for jeans, because no matter how high up they are, they never look cold. And either were we.

From Interlaken, I rode the train for the better part of the day to Paris. I arrived in Paris, and was faced with the difficult task of finding my hostel, and mastering the subway, all at the same time. I was entirely too hungry and tired for this chore, so I chose instead to take a taxi. Upon arrival at the hostel, I booked in for two nights (I would end up staying three), and then preceeded to knock over a bottle onto the cobblestone courtyard floor. Luckily, there was only a dozen people to witness my clumsy arrival.

I then put my bags down, and joined a group of people recounting the days events. Within this group, were four other people who were about to rush off to dinner. Being hungry myself, I took it upon myself to invite myself. This would end up being the best decision I made in Paris.

My dinner companions quickly became my best friends, seeing as how we would spend every waking moment of the next few days together. There was Laurence from New York. Leigh from Canada. Jo (female) and Kate from Oz.

Together we saw the sites and conquered the Paris metro. In all we, had lunch with Jim Morrison (buried in Paris), had a photo oppurtunity with Voltaire (same deal as Jim), picniced on the Eiffel tower lawn, ate entirely too much cheese, took in a bike tour, rode along the Siene, were put on nipple watch for Lady Liberty (she has none), and learned the fine art of panhandler refusal in front of Notre Dame.

Yesturday, we all went our seperate ways, with Kate and I coming to Brussels, Belgium. Kate left for London today on an airplane. I am really going to miss her. Which is alright though, because we are "new best friends" according to her, and I now have a place to crash in Syndey. Brussels is really cool, chilled out, and has the greatest vibe.

The posse and I had a really special time in Paris, and would be hard pressed to find another group of total strangers that clicked together so well. They really helped make Paris a special place. Like Bogart said, we will always have Paris. I probably butchered that quote.

SIDEBAR 1: Kate and I saw this exposition yesturday. It is beyond description, to see what I saw, check out http://www.koerperwelten.com

SIDEBAR 2: Hey Anna and her co-workers! I haven't heard from you in a while it would be great to get an email.

I will try and be more frequent with my updates. Cheers everyone.