Lisbon, primeira noite; estreia.

Plan for today's to pack things up and head out for Lisbon. I hanged around the common room for awhile and met more people. The Hostel was picking up again. New crowd was moving in. If you ever go Madrid, The Way hostel is good times. Steve-Yiota and I headed toward the station. We had a long night train ahead of us. Steve and I were in the same cabin and Yiota was booked in the one next to us. This was kind of weird since they both had requested to be in the same cabin. Once we got the station, we found out that we were on Jesus Express and that guys and girls actually slept in different cabins. Not to worry though, boys and girls both got to drink at the same bar.

We head out to the bar on the train along with two Norwegian girls who were cabin-mates with Yiota. We slammed back a few Portuguese beers and chatted away. I was impressed by the Portuguese and their openness to speaking English. The Spanish and the French are somewhat reluctant to the idea. We headed back to the cabins pretty late and passed out. Next morning we were in Lisbon.

We cabbed it to the Hostel. The city was quiet, it was still too early for the tourists, gypsies and the locals to come out. We made it to the Hostel, it was quiet and the staff were getting ready for breakfast. As I'm writing this I've stayed in more than seven different hostels and Lisbon Lounge is easily the best one when it comes to style, atmosphere, staff, breakfast and just being cool. After breakfast I moved in to my room and relaxed.

Around lunch time I came down to the kitchen and met Katy. A masters students from Montreal. She had been traveling through Portugal and was going to be in Lisbon for awhile. She too was a lone traveler and made a perfect candidate for my random adventures. After lunch we headed out, walking through the streets of Lisbon, dodging gypsies selling drugs, taking pictures, absorbing as much sun as possible and relaxing by the beach. After a long day of sightseeing we head back to the hostels, had a few drinks and chatted politics.

Great night in Lisbon.

Madrid, better to be a bull in India than Spain.

When I was hanging out with The Lone Travellers, I found out this year was the last season of bullfighting in all of Spain. It was being banned and it would have been my only opportunity to partake in a truly Spanish spectacle. I thought about it for a while and did consider attending, but eventually decided against it. Now, anyone who knows me, knows that I'm no hippie. I'm also not a member of PETA or any animal rights group. I love my stake rare and appreciate a good meaty dish. I'm even somewhat indifferent toward fur. However I do consider bullfighting to be inhumane. There is no reason for any living being to lose its life for sake of our entertainment, however that is not my biggest issue with bullfighting.

Bullfighting is unfair. The bull is already dead before it enters the arena. He is out numbered, handicapped and primed to die. It's shouldn't be called bullfighting, it should be called bull-killing-by-out-numbering-it-and-totally-rigging-the-odds. The only way I would watch bullfighting is if it's one on one. Man vs Beast. Only the matador and the bull enter the arena. The bull gets to use its horns and the matador gets a sword. If the bull has to bleed when it gets hit then the same has to happen to the matador. No help, no aid. If the matador gets a standing ovation and the envy of his audience after a victory, then the bull should be treated with the finest hay west Toledo when he sticks it to the man. If the matador gets the admiration of bullfighting groupies after he wins, then the bull should be treated to his choice of heifers all night long.

Make it fair, make it even.

Madrid, Una mas!

I got up late today. I think my sleep's finally fixing itself to European time zone. It's getting harder and harder to wake up in the morning. Plan for the day is to do the free city walk tour. I met Steven on the pub crawl and he was chilling in the common room. I grabbed him and we headed out to the meeting point for the tour. I love these tours, they're perfect for learning about the city and meeting people from other hostels.

Once the tour was over, we went to a tapas bar with a bunch of people from the tour. If you ever go through Spain, make sure you try it out. There are plenty of them and it's an authentic Spanish experience. After the tapas I headed out toward the Museo Centro de Arte Reina Sofía. It's one of the better known museums in Madrid that carries Picasso's famous works. It also carries quite a few modern pieces and hosts various theme exhibitions. The museum kept me busy for three hours. I didn't even notice it took that long, it was quite a ride.

The plan for the rest of the night was to go on another pub crawl. This one with a different company. Steven and I head out close to eleven and met up with everyone else. It wasn't long before the booze started flowing and singing and dancing filled the night. Same routine as before, just as fun.

Madrid, No te preocupes!

(Steve looking up the Chinese GDP)

Yesterday was an eventful day. I decided to take it easy and relax. My next stop was going to be Lisbon Portugal so I went to the central station and bought my ticket. It was going to be an eleven hour night train from Madrid to Lisbon. I came back to the hostel and met a couple from Australia. Steve and Yiota had been travelling through Europe for awhile. I found them to be pleasant and easy to talk to. I usually stay away from couples. They're not smart social investments when you're travelling by yourself. They tend to levitate toward each other or other couples. But these two were different.

We chatted about philosophy, books, religion and my favourite topic: US politics. At the end, Steve and I made a bet that if in 30 years the Chinese are the sole superpower I have to fly him out to Canada and show him a good time, and if the Americans are still the superpower he has to do the same for me in Australia. I'm not much of a gambler but I'm pretty sure I'm safe on this bet.

(Yiota)

As we chatted more, I learned that Steve, Yiota and I were heading out to Lisbon on the same train. I booked the same hostel they were staying at in Lisbon and pretty much took it easy for the rest of the day. One of the fun things I've been doing a lot, which I suggest anyone seeking absolute serenity to try, is to nap by a water fountain. One thing I love about Paris and now Madrid is that there is always a fountain somewhere close by. Sound of moving water and the heat from the sun make for the perfect recipe to relax and unwind. Try it next time, just take off your shirt, lay down on the brick foundation and nap for hours. It is heavenly.

Madrid, Serve Reza Cerveza

I got on the train around seven Paris time. Got in to my cabin and tried to make myself as comfortable as possible. It was a small room with not a lot of leg room. There was no way I was going to spend eleven hours in such a cramped space. I got out of the cabin and walked toward the bar. Watching the bartender and the chef work on a moving a train was fun. Imagine the challenge of making a drink and cooking a dish, while everything is shaking and could fall any minute.

I met Kim at the bar. She was an accountant from London going to Madrid for work. She worked for THQ, so we quikly started to talk video games. Once the nerdy talks were out of the way she told me about her travels to South East Asia and South America. Kim turned out to be pretty exciting person for an accountant.

After a few drinks I head back to my cabin. The beds were folded out and the lights were out. I got up on my bunk bed, turned on my music and passed out. It wasnt long before I was in Madrid. I hopped on the metro and made my way toward the old city center. I found the hostel, checked in and made myself comfortable on my new bed. The room was big and spacious. There were no bunk beds and the other three beds were empty. I had the whole room to myself, atleast for now.

I went out to the common area and met a group of lone travelers. John from Florida, Ryan from Edmonton, Mellisa from States and Alex from Quebec. They were all travelling by themselves and had merged in to a group of their own. They´ve been hanging out since yesterday. Apparently Madrid had gone a little crazy the night before. They told me about the protests around the city and how they heard gun shots and witnessed confrontations between the police and the protesters. They seemed a little surprised to see that kind of stuff in Europe. I hanged out with them for awhile. They were going out for food and then to see bullfighting, but since I wasn't hungry, and am too much of a hippy to support bullfighting, I decided to go out on stroll around the city.

I try to get an idea of where everything is when get in to a city. Madrid's much smaller than Paris and has a completely different feel. I walked around for a bit and head back to the hostel. The Lone Travellers had also returned. They were planning on hitting up a park on the northern side of the city, since I had no other plans, I decided to join them. The park offered a full view of the city. It was a beautiful sight. The park also offered a building that looked like a crypt from Indian Jones. It was apparently built by the Egyptians and offered to the Spaniards as a gift. I love the old days when countries build buildings and monuments and sent them over on a ship as a gift.

(The Lone Travellers™)

We came back to the hostel. This was the last day before The Lone Travellers were parting ways, each one heading out to a different city. I grabbed their details and bid them farewell in case I wasn't going to see them again. I went back to my room and met three Brazilian girls who had checked in. They were going to be my roomates for the next few days. Their English was pretty broken but it was enough for us to get to know each other. We had a short chat and decided to head out tonight on a pub crawl. I also rallied up a few other people around the hostel for the crawl and before we knew it we ended up being a pretty large crowd. The pub crawl company should have really given me a cut of their earnings for that night cause I made them a lot of money.

We went out, hit up a few a pubs, got drunk and danced and sang the night away. It was close to morning time when we came back to the hostel, pretty smashed and passed out. Great first night.

Paris, A l'aise, Blaise

Today was my last day in Paris. I have an overnight train to Madrid in the evening and need to have everything set for the trip. I find travel days to be the longest and most draining part of the trip. The process of having to repack everything and the stress of making sure nothing is being left behind plus figuring out how to make it to the train stations and the hostels all add to a very tiring day. Today was going to be no different, so I grabbed my book and head out to the Eiffel Tower. The plan was to relax and rejuvenate until evening time. Then I'll shift gears and get to work for my trip to Madrid.

It was a cloudy afternoon in Paris. The tower was swarmed by tourists. I walked around for awhile, trying to scope out a perfect spot to sit and read. I opened my book and read a few pages, but the thought of Paris and all the things around me kept distracting me. I guess I have a long way to go before I can be as disenfranchised from the city as the Parisians. I lied down on the grass across the tower and started to reflect back on my short time in Paris, the people I met, places I went and the amazing food I had.

My only exposure to French culture is through Paris. After spending time with Mathieu, I realized how limited this perspective is. He told me there is no specific taste to French cuisine . There is no unique taste or style of cooking. Each region has its unique dishes and flavours. The cuisine north of France is more focused on game meat where the south is more sea food oriented. A bottle of wine from Bordeaux has its own unique taste and flavour in comparison to a bottle from Avignon. The people of France too, come in different shapes and styles. That's why it's difficult to try an backup a specific view on their culture based on a four day experience in Paris. That would be equivalent to judging all of United States based on a four day trip to New York.

However much like judging a work of art at a museum, coming from an uneducated perspective and solely focused on an emotion evoked in mere seconds, I'm going to try and share my opinion on French culture.

Any human being with an ounce of taste or style, would not be able to walk the streets of Paris and not appreciate the beauty and glamor that is the city of light. It is truly one of a kind and there will never be another city like it. Gushing with history, character and culture, I believe you have not lived, until you visit Paris. I remember the first time I came, the feeling of being in Paris and walking through its street stayed with me long after I left. I know the same will be true this time.

However, I personally can not relate to the French culture. I've spend some time thinking about this and I think I've figured out why. Through my own experiences and what I've seen, I feel the French culture, or what I've seen in Paris lacks a certain level of masculinity. I think because of this, I can never see myself living in Paris or being able to become part of its culture. A cute example I use from time to time is the one of Dr. Joseph-Ignace Guillotin. He invented the Guillotine in the early 1800s, perhaps one of the most masculine inventions coming out of France. Shortly after its inventions, the French suffixed it with an 'e' to make it feminine.

Another reason I can't relate to the French is cause of something important to me that I couldn't find in their culture. Paris is a busy city very much like New York. However the vibe I got from Paris, is one where hard work and persistent is not celebrated. Work is seen as work, fun is seen as fun and no purpose in life seems to be greater than being French. When you see New Yorkers, you a get a sense that they're aspiring to become something better, to do something bigger and to make a difference. When you see Parisians, they're already something better and are doing something bigger and the biggest difference they're making is that their Parisian. a 35 hour a week work schedule and heaps of social services makes it kind of unnecessary to try and make something out of yourself. Paris is an overly relaxed city that can inspire a painter to paint a mesmerizing painting or a poet to write an epic poem, but don't expect anyone living in Paris to paint the greatest painting, or write the greatest poem.

I headed back to the hostel, grabbed my stuff and took off for the station. Next morning, I was going to be in Madrid, Spain.

Country of Champions!

Paris, Chaque jour je vous espère.

After an amazing drunken night through the streets of Paris, I wasn't in the mood for anything overly outrageous. I got up and went for breakfast with the girls. Shortly after, I came back up to pack my stuff, I had to change rooms for my last night in Paris. The girls also packed theirs and put it in storage, they were moving in to their apartment later today. Orsay museum was scheduled and we headed out after breakfast.

After riding through the Metros of Paris for half an hour, we made it to the Museum.

I'm don't know much about paintings or sculptures and my knowledge of different genres or styles are limited. In fact my only endeavour in the field has been limited to an introductory ancient Greek art class and Facebook Graffiti. However, I feel my lack of kowledge and education in the field, gives me an unbiased perspective when it comes to appreciating each piece. Since I have no idea who the artist is, when the work was created, what type of category it falls under or anything else a real critic considers when judging a painting, I simply look and try to find the feeling the piece evokes. If it reminds me of a personal memory, if it conjures an emotion or reveals a personal message: that's what I judge it by.

There were definitely some pieces that I could sit and stare at for hours. This one by Monet, for example, as simple as it was, I found very captivating. But my favourite was a painting called a beggar woman, by Hugues Merle. It was an odd piece among all the other fantasized, nude works that were featured in the same section. The artist had done an amazing job of capturing the pain and misery of his subject. Her hopeless eyes and painful expression along with a desperate body language evoked the same feelings in me.

We walked through the museum and checked out the Monet, Manet and Van Gogh exhibitions. I had already been the Louvre so getting a chance to visit Musée d'Orsay was great.

We got back to the hostel, the girls took off to find their apartment. The sensory overload of visiting a Parisian Museum had drained me. I had a light dinner and took it easy for the rest of the evening.