OK... so I had a rather odd coincidence today. If you haven't yet read the post from earlier today, read that and come back to this one.

...

OK, all caught up? Good. So, I walk past naked guy in hallway, laugh, go on with my day. Then I go to the (kinda lame) hostel bar tonight. Tell naked guy story to guy I've just met at the bar. His response? "Was it that guy over there? The one with the shaved head? Because he was drunk this evening and walking around in his underwear... and he said something about running in to someone in the hallway."

What the fuck?? The one person I get to tell the story to all day, and it's his brother??!!

Today I had the frustrating experience of walking into a hostel, giving them my reservation number, and being informed that they didn't have a bed for me. Not to worry, though -- their 'sister hostel' across the street had room. So I gathered up my things and went across the street where... again, there was no room. But, they said, there's a THIRD 'sister hostel' (why are these things all female, anyway?) a few metro stops away. And sorry, but it's not in the area you wanted to stay in, and it's more expensive, and even though you had a reservation for a cheaper room, we won't be able to honor that price.

Needless to say, I decided to try my luck elsewhere. Tonight I am staying in an actual soviet era apartment building, as far as I can tell. There are doors everywhere you turn, dividing the hallway up for no discernable reason at all. They tried to fix it up by painting the walls two-toned, but it doesn't really help. I look around and imagine what it would have been like to live in the building for decades, with all the walls painted in peeling white, and I shudder. On top of all that, the bathrooms and showers are not only down the hall, they're on another floor. I have to climb three flights of stairs to get to my room, but to take a piss I have to climb an additional two. And the stairs are steep. And my legs are tired from walking all day.

Had one of the funniest experiences ever. I wish I could draw, because it deserves its own cartoon. I was walking from the kitchen (on the 5th floor, near the bathrooms), back to my room. I opened one of the afore-mentioned random hallway doors, and realized that about half way down the hall there was a man standing in his underwear. To give you a proper visual, though, picture a wide, long hallway (soviet apartment style, you've seen them in the movies) with harsh lighting. Then, right in the middle of this long hallway, stick a scrawny man with a shaved head, wearing only a pair of shiny turquoise breifs and a very confused expression.

He looked totally startled, glanced around quickly for a way out of the situation, and quickly realized that there wasn't one. The only way either of us was getting out of the hallway was to walk directly past each other. Which I managed to do with a straight face... until I went through yet another door and started laughing uncontrollably. Where was he going?? Did he think there was no one else in the entire building? He was at least two coridoors away from the showers, so it wasn't like he was just dashing from the shower to his room. I'm so confused. But really, his expression was priceless. Poor guy.

I miss everyone back home. I'm meeting tons of cool people, but I have to leave them all behind every few days. It's really liberating and frustrating at the same time. I meet people, and I get the perfect snapshot image of them. We're both fun, and outgoing, and vibrant, and then we go our separate ways thinking how cool the other person was. I don't have to stick around to find out that they were abused as children, or that they have issues with their father, or that they are actually needy and domineering once you get to know them better. I get to miss all that shit, leave them with their good impressions, and go find new people who I can like temporarily. But I miss having people around who really know me. I miss having inside jokes, and not having to explain who 4 different people are before a story makes sense. And I hate knowing that all these people will have forgotten me in two weeks. I'll just be "that girl who was in town a couple months ago." It's great to be able to meet people easily, but I know we'll all forget eachother with even less fanfare.

Shit... sorry about the repeated posting. It kept saying it wasn't able to update my blog... apparently it was. And I can't delete them, either, because apparently the blogging website I'm using can tell that I'm in Germany right now, and it's got all the buttons switched to German, and I can't tell what I need to press to delete the excess posts.

Anyway, I'm still in Berlin. I never want to leave. Really. I love this city more than anywhere I've ever been. Mom and dad, if there is ANY way that you guys can make it up here while you're in Europe, you HAVE to do it. And take the Terry Brewer Walking Tour. 8 hours of walking around the city, guided by a man who's lived here since the 60s as a diplomat for Britain. I grew up with the Berlin wall in place, so I really never fully grasped what it meant for people who were living here at the time, but Terry Brewer really brings it home for you.

Two important things I learned: 1) Berlin was initially supposed to be divided only in name. All four powers - French, British, US, and Soviet - were to have an equal say in the city, and votes were supposed to be unanimous. The Soviets, realizing that thousands of "their" people were walking in to the allied offices and requesting amnestz, unilaterally blocked off their half of the city overnight. It was the same as if someone suddenly drew a line through... let's say Silver Lake and Korea Town and said that no one was allowed to cross it. Even if their family lived on the other side of the line.
2) The wall wasn't just a wall. It was a wall that sealed off the Western Berlin border, then a gap known as "the death strip", and then another outer wall to the east. The death strip ranged from 5-?? meters across, and had guard towers and flood lights throughout. Hundreds of people were shot to death while trying to make a run for it. The last casualty was killed only days before the wall came down.

I don't know how I missed this in school. I know my world history teacher was a little cracked -- did y'all out there back home learn this anywhere??

Also, at the recommendation of the hostel staff, I went to a club called White Trash Fast Food last night. It's run by a couple of Americans, who also own and run (but don't work in) a tattoo studio two doors down. I ended up meeting the co-owner's girlfriend, who is from San Francisco. She came here 8 years ago on a backpacking trip and never left. I'm tempted to follow in her footsteps...

Yesterday I touched shrapnel scars on a former Jewish hospital. All over Berlin, there are buildings that are still partially unrepaired from 1945. Of course, the number of buildings that have been renovated is really astounding, but in East Berlin, where I'm staying, they're still in the process of repairing buildings that have been falling apart since the Soviets took over. It's a city in a state of rapid change. Despite the cosmetic damage, most of the old apartments and residential buildings are still intact. Many of them have been renovated, patched up, and given a new coat of paint. The beautiful thing is, though, that between all these repaired buildings you can still find places with broken out windows and chunks of plaster falling off the walls. Graffiti covers everything. There are independent clothing shops that don't feel like boutiques, and there are kids playing happily in old Soviet-era parks. It looks like a slum, but it doesn't feel like it. It doesn't feel dangerous. It's just normal to have crumbling buildings and graffiti here. I love it.

I don't think I can put this place in to writing very well, but when I get back home ask me about it. I'm absolutely floored and I'm so, so glad I got to come here while there is still evidence of East Berlin's existence.

Yesterday I touched shrapnel scars on a former Jewish hospital. All over Berlin, there are buildings that are still partially unrepaired from 1945. Of course, the number of buildings that have been renovated is really astounding, but in East Berlin, where I'm staying, they're still in the process of repairing buildings that have been falling apart since the Soviets took over. It's a city in a state of rapid change. Despite the cosmetic damage, most of the old apartments and residential buildings are still intact. Many of them have been renovated, patched up, and given a new coat of paint. The beautiful thing is, though, that between all these repaired buildings you can still find places with broken out windows and chunks of plaster falling off the walls. Graffiti covers everything. There are independent clothing shops that don't feel like boutiques, and there are kids playing happily in old Soviet-era parks. It looks like a slum, but it doesn't feel like it. It doesn't feel dangerous. It's just normal to have crumbling buildings and graffiti here. I love it.

I don't think I can put this place in to writing very well, but when I get back home ask me about it. I'm absolutely floored and I'm so, so glad I got to come here while there is still evidence of East Berlin's existence.

Yesterday I touched shrapnel scars on a former Jewish hospital. All over Berlin, there are buildings that are still partially unrepaired from 1945. Of course, the number of buildings that have been renovated is really astounding, but in East Berlin, where I'm staying, they're still in the process of repairing buildings that have been falling apart since the Soviets took over. It's a city in a state of rapid change. Despite the cosmetic damage, most of the old apartments and residential buildings are still intact. Many of them have been renovated, patched up, and given a new coat of paint. The beautiful thing is, though, that between all these repaired buildings you can still find places with broken out windows and chunks of plaster falling off the walls. Graffiti covers everything. There are independent clothing shops that don't feel like boutiques, and there are kids playing happily in old Soviet-era parks. It looks like a slum, but it doesn't feel like it. It doesn't feel dangerous. It's just normal to have crumbling buildings and graffiti here. I love it.

I don't think I can put this place in to writing very well, but when I get back home ask me about it. I'm absolutely floored and I'm so, so glad I got to come here while there is still evidence of East Berlin's existence.

Yesterday I touched shrapnel scars on a former Jewish hospital. All over Berlin, there are buildings that are still partially unrepaired from 1945. Of course, the number of buildings that have been renovated is really astounding, but in East Berlin, where I'm staying, they're still in the process of repairing buildings that have been falling apart since the Soviets took over. It's a city in a state of rapid change. Despite the cosmetic damage, most of the old apartments and residential buildings are still intact. Many of them have been renovated, patched up, and given a new coat of paint. The beautiful thing is, though, that between all these repaired buildings you can still find places with broken out windows and chunks of plaster falling off the walls. Graffiti covers everything. There are independent clothing shops that don't feel like boutiques, and there are kids playing happily in old Soviet-era parks. It looks like a slum, but it doesn't feel like it. It doesn't feel dangerous. It's just normal to have crumbling buildings and graffiti here. I love it.

I don't think I can put this place in to writing very well, but when I get back home ask me about it. I'm absolutely floored and I'm so, so glad I got to come here while there is still evidence of East Berlin's existence.

Yesterday I touched shrapnel scars on a former Jewish hospital. All over Berlin, there are buildings that are still partially unrepaired from 1945. Of course, the number of buildings that have been renovated is really astounding, but in East Berlin, where I'm staying, they're still in the process of repairing buildings that have been falling apart since the Soviets took over. It's a city in a state of rapid change. Despite the cosmetic damage, most of the old apartments and residential buildings are still intact. Many of them have been renovated, patched up, and given a new coat of paint. The beautiful thing is, though, that between all these repaired buildings you can still find places with broken out windows and chunks of plaster falling off the walls. Graffiti covers everything. There are independent clothing shops that don't feel like boutiques, and there are kids playing happily in old Soviet-era parks. It looks like a slum, but it doesn't feel like it. It doesn't feel dangerous. It's just normal to have crumbling buildings and graffiti here. I love it.

I don't think I can put this place in to writing very well, but when I get back home ask me about it. I'm absolutely floored and I'm so, so glad I got to come here while there is still evidence of East Berlin's existence.

Shit. I just lost my last post. Well, to summarize, I got in to Hamburg and left immediately for Berlin, where I am now. It's great to be back on the Euro. Everything is cheap again. I miss you all!

Heading in to week three already. Wow. Hard to believe...

I got in to Hamburg this morning, walked around the block, and took the next train to Berlin. It's great to be back to the (relatively) cheap Euro. I went to the market today and got a bottle of wine, a bottle of beer, and a couple of other things for under €5. Yahoo! I can afford food again!

The keyboard is funky again, but not too bad. They just switched the "y" and "z" keys. It makes me type like a rapper. Seriouslz, zou know what I'm sazin? I haven't reallz had a chance to explore zet, but I'm going to take a walking tour tomorrow, so that should be cool.

So, in the spirit of listing things I've lost on this trip... I lost the key to my luggage locker today. That sucked. Fortunately, whoever picked it up was kind enough not to steal all my belongings from the locker, which they could easily have done. All it cost me was 20 minutes of panic and 200 Kroner (about 30 bucks) to get my stuff back. Not that I'm happy about the 30 bucks, but at least I still have my pack, and I know what pocket *not* to put the locker key in next time.

I'm sitting in Stockholm's main station waiting for my 11:00 train to Hamburg. The great thing about night trains is that you get to spend the whole time sleeping comfortably. The crappy thing about night trains is that there's really nowhere to go between 7:00 pm and whenever the train leaves, unless you want to spend all your money sitting in a bar. And that gets really expensive in Scandinavia.

I spent all day today trying to go to museums that weren't open. Almost all of the museums here close on Mondays, so I got a lot of walking in, but that was about it. I'm tired and bored and wish I could just fast-forward through the next couple of hours. *sigh* And I have to go because I'm about to run out of internet minutes. Tah tah for now.

P.S. I was lucky enough to find a coupon for free minutes lying around (again... this is like the 3rd time it's happened), and I just remembered something else you should all find amusing: I'd heard from a reliable source that you can buy caviar in a toothpaste-style aluminum tube here. I've confirmed this report, and not only is it true that you can purchase it, it's true that you can purchase it at 7-11!

Yes, 7-11. They're a lot nicer here. They actually are closer to a tiny supermarket than what we would normally think of as a convenience store. For example, in addition to the single-serving yogurts and string cheese we find at home, here you can purchase a whole quart of yogurt or a block of cheese. They have pasta and semi-decent-looking food under heat lamps. And the coffee is dispensed by the cashier, from behind the counter. For those of you who have a deep-seated fear of the 7-11 coffee in Hollywood, you can see how this conveniently prevents the local homeless population from contaminating the coffee... except I'm in Sweden, where they have socialism, and so there is no homeless population. Don't get me started on that bit...

Things I've lost so far this trip:

1) Tank top reading "It's [not] all good [damnit]! -- Left drying on a window sill in Bergen hostel while moving from a room with a smelly homeless guy in it to a room without said smelly homeless guy.
2) Bukowski book of poems, one of my favorites, of course. Left either on a train or in an internet cafe. I'm leaning towards the internet cafe.
3) One pair underwear. No idea where they've gone off to. Hopefully not left in the room with the smelly bum, but I'm really not sure. No, there isn't any possibility of an interesting story regarding their disappearance.
4) There's something else, but I can't think of it right now.

Non-consumables purchased:
1) Sleeping bag and foam mat. Used twice. Very comforting to have when faced with a new city and limited hostel space. Surprisingly light to carry.
2) Adorably compact spork from Danish Design museum. Used repeatedly. One tine broken after attempting to cut cheese with it.
3) Nylon shopping bag that folds in to a 2"x 1" pouch. Very handy for groceries, as many stores charge for bags.
4) One knee brace and one pair of insoles. I think the insoles may have disappeared enroute, but they could just be buried somewhere in my bag.

Weighed my back pack today. It's a little over 35 pounds, all told. Not terrible, really. The scale also seems to think that I've gained 10 pounds, but I'm pretty sure I would have noticed my trousers no buttonin if that were the case, so I'm going to assume it was off by a bit...

I'm stuck in Stockholm through the weekend. As I discovered on Saturday, you can't make a (compulsory) reservation for an international train during the weekend, so Mick (my friend Becky's friend) has been kind enough to put me up for a couple of nights. I'll leave tomorrow on the night train. In the mean time, I've learned a great deal about Swedish politics and regulations, and seen the neat contraptions in the laundry room of his apartment building. (One piece of machinery he *thinks* may be for folding sheets, but after two years he still isn't sure.)

Tomorrow night I'm headed to Hamburg and then on down through Berlin, Prague, Vienna, etc until I hit Italy. Right now I'm sleepy, and headed off to the couch for a nights sleep. Cheers!

You're getting an extra post today, since my earlier one was pretty lame. Today I went to the Vasamuseet (Vasa Museum), a museum built around a Swedish warship that sunk in Stockholm harbor in the 1600s. http://www.vasamuseet.se (You can choose the English language website at the top.)

It was underwater for 333 years before they successfully re-located it and brought it to the surface. The ship is amazing - the pictures can't possibly do it justice. They keep it under somewhat dim lighting, and the temperature and humidity of the museum are carefully controlled. It looks like a ghost ship -- the photos don't really show it, but the whole hull looks almost black when you see it in person. They also have the skeletons and artifacts found in the wreckage on display, as well as facial reconstructions of some of them. Check out the website, it is really neat.

People in Sweden have more style than Amerians. Not to say that there aren't plenty of Swedes running around in jeans and t-shirts and sweatpants, but if they aren't wearing something like that they tend to have more, more interesting, jaunty flair to their ensembles. And the clothing store displays along the main streets are amazing. The mannequins are fully articulated, so they can be placed in almost any position, and they group and dress them in ways far more interesting than anything I've seen at home.

My traveling buddy, who I've been bumming around with since Oslo, is leaving tonight. His friend has a cabin somewhere up in northern Sweden, near the Finnish border, so he's off that way and I'm headed down to Hamburg in a day or two. It's been nice having company, and considering we just met we traveled together really well, but I am still glad that I'm doing this trip alone. It's tiring to coordinate things between two people, and I'm starting to miss having absolute control over what I do and when I get around to doing it. I don't think there's anyone in the world I could travel with for two solid months and not hate them by the end of it...

Slight annoyances so far on this trip:

1) My knee started making some scary grinding sounds after 3 days of walking around London. I coughed up a small fortune on a knee brace that ended up making me so sweaty that I couldn't wear it after day two. Fortunately this problem seems to have corrected itself for now.

2) My wrist (the one I wore the brace on for so long) is telling me ever so subtley that it doesn't like hefting my backpack all the time. I'm trying to use the other arm, but I *always* put a backpack on with my right arm. Oh well. Just as long as it doesn't get any worse.

3) I've been wearing a money belt, which has the amusing effect of making me look like I've just packed on 5 pounds of belly fat. If I ever see anyone that I've met here when I'm back at home, they'll think I lost weight, though, so I suppose that's OK.

4) My pants are hemmed about a half-inch shorter than I would like, so I'm walking around Europe flashing dorky white socks everywhere I go. I either need to get some more interesting socks to wear, or take out the hem of my pants. How did I not notice this problem when I bought them?

5) I tried to make a (mandatory) reservation for an overnight train to Hamburg, only to find that the international reservations desk at Stockholm Central Station is closed on the weekends. I'm going to try to figure out a way around this, but I may be here through Monday. That wouldn't be the end of the world, but I'm ready to go back to the Euro. It's bad enough trying to figure out how much I'm paying for a pound of apples when I'm looking at Euros per kilo, but when I'm trying to convert kilos to pounds and then Swedish Kroner to dollars, it gets damn confusing.

Whew, boy... well, I made it to the Foggy Dew last night and met my friend Becky's friend Mick. A jolly Irish fellow if ever I met one. Very nice guy. I think I'll be crashing on his couch tonight, as all the hostels in Stockholm are full because of a marathon. I'm going to keep this post short, as I'm nursing a slight hangover and I'm still a bit foggy-headed, but mostly I just feel the need to point out that Stockholm is a very difficult city to get around in. Getting the long part of the journey right is easy, but pinpointing the destination is an excercise in frustration. I've been traveling around with a friend I met on the ferry a few days ago, and between the two of us we've managed to go in circles every time we've tried to get anywhere. It's exhausting.

Can't believe I've only been over here two weeks. It seems like much, much longer than that.

I'm currently in Oslo central train station waiting for the night train to Stockholm. Foggy Dew Irish Pub, here I come! Also, I have a new goal in life. Before I die, I have to come back here and back pack through the fjords for a couple of weeks. Above the tree line. I spent hours drooling out the window on the return trip from Bergen. It's the most amazing scenery I've ever come across. The area is covered in sheer rocky cliffs, some glaciers, rivers, waterfalls, and all the shrubs are different shades of red, orange and brown. So, so gorgeous.

Mom and dad, or anyone who might ever have the chance to come through Norway - take the train from Oslo to Bergen, but get off in Myrdal and take the Flam scenic railways. It goes up through the fjord from the town of Myrdal to the town of Flam, and is supposed to be even more stunning than the Oslo-Bergen route. I was a little confused about the process and missed out, but if I could do it again I would stay overnight in Flam and hike around the next day before catching the train back. But no such luck, so instead, off to Stockholm.

I got homesick for the first time while I was in Aalborg. It looked strangely like San Francisco, and of all the things, that's what really got me. I didn't think it would be something looking familiar that would do it...

After a frantic dash to make it from my sleepy college town to the only ferry leaving for the next two days, I finally had the luck to score my own cabin. No roommates - what a treat! Got off the ferry in Oslo at 7:30 this morning with a friend I met last night, and we decided that Oslo wasn't really worth sticking around for. It was gray, threatening rain, and really kind of sterile and uninteresting. Too much like home (except for the rain part). Luckily, the Eurrail pass covers the scenic Oslo -to-Bergen train route. It really is amazing. The train goes along a fjord up past the tree line, past some glacier runoff, past a glacier, back down in to the trees... I've never seen anything like it. It was like Alaska, Ireland, and Scottish Highlands all rolled in to one. So I'm at a YMCA in a small Norwegian town called Bergen for tonight, and then I'll probably take the night train back tomorrow night.

In other news, I've suddenly discovered that I don't have the battery charger for my camera. I don't know where it got left... I haven't used it yet, so it's probably somewhere in California. Has anyone seen it?

Camped next to a fjord in a small college town called Aalborg. Tonight I'm off to Oslo on the ferry. Had my first really weird food experience - I bought what I thought was a small cube of butter or cheese, but when I opened it I couldn't tell what it was. It looked more or less like light grey Playdough. A quick (tiny) taste revealed... compressed yeast! Aha!

Copenhagen is more like LA than I ever thought possible. First of all, it's the only city here that I've seen so far that has 7-11s. Gross, right? And ugly modern buildings, and no attitude at all... so I'm cutting out early.

I was going to go to a small Swedish town with some people I met in the hostel, but we got separated. So I'm heading to Arhus with a sleeping bag I just picked up, and if I can't find a hostel there's a campground there. We'll see how it goes.

I had the amazing luck last night to find out about a Dance for Peace event at Christiania last night. http://en.wikipedia.org/wiki/Freetown_Christiania It wasn't really as mind-blowing as I expected, but I'm still amazed that I found out about it and was able to attend. I was going to go look around there today anyway, but the fact that I actually got to participate in something there instead of being a tourist made it much, much better. The place is fantastic -- covered in graffiti murals from top to bottom, beautiful houses... as soon as I stepped through the gates it felt like I was home. (And yes John, I know this is giving you a conniption fit. Sorry.) But after that the rest of Copenhagen feels pretty dull, so I'm off to see what else there is to be seen. Wish me luck!

Note to self: 2 hour layovers in suburban German train stations are not the best way to break up 14 hours of travel. Regardless, though, I did manage to sleep on the train -- much better, in fact, than I did on the plane over here, and the train was much less comfortable. So, here I am in Copenhagen, home of the snuggly striped sweater and oversized baby strollers. I don't know why, but there are babies all over this city riding around in hummer-sized strollers. Maybe because it gets cold here in winter?

I hated it when I left the station. I was right in the center of the tourist district, which most closely resembles a shopping mall transplanted in to a street full of old buildings. And after all the beautiful canals and old homes in Amsterdam, the few modern buildings that Copenhagen has thrown in to the mix were upsetting. Once I got away from their and found a hostel to stay at, though, things got better. It really is gorgeous here, and there's finally enough chill in the air to wear my sweater. It's also warm enough to get by in a tank top in a lot of places, which is why I find it amusing to see natives walking around in the aformentioned snuggly sweaters and scarves. I'm from California and I'm less bundled up than they are! (I can't tell you the actual temperature, because my keyring thermometer-compass got stuck at 78¤ somewhere in London and hasn't moved since.)

I have yet to figure out exactly what happened, but apparently I walked in to some sort of restricted area while attempting to get to the Rosenborg castle. I knew I was right near the entrance, saw the castle across an expansive lawn (really expansive, but hey, it's a castle, right?), walked by the wide open car entrance and in to the wide open pedestrian entrance. At which point a Royal Guardsman in full uniform stopped his paces and told me I wasn't allowed in. I eventually found the castle entrance around the corner through a park, but I'm really wondering what it was I tried to walk in to.

I also went to the Danish Design Museum (Hammill and Jess, I know you're hating me right now). It was filled with... what else but brilliant Danish modern design in bright colors and cool textures and patterns. I think my favorite piece was a couch... how to explain? If you set it down as they did in the museum, it's a seesaw couch. There is one "leg" that runs from front to back, and the couch rests only on that. To balance, you would seat one person on each end and a third in the center. There is one armrest on each side of the center seat and one at each end. Of course, it can also be flipped so that the couch rests on the armrests and balances properly, but it's so much more interesting the other way! Really wish there were someone here to geek out with me about it. :-)

OK, leaving Amsterdam this evening on a night train. I don't know where I'm staying in Copenhagen yet, so it may be a while before I have internet access again. Wish me luck!

Today I'm back in Amsterdam proper. It's good to be back in the city. I couldn't fully relax yesterday in the countryside, because I knew I was missing out on the action. I'm still glad I stayed where I did, though, because it was probably the last time I'll have a chance to sit outdoors and watch the sunset lakeside for a long time.

Amsterdam is drawing conflicting reactions from me. Part of me thinks it's absolutely beautiful and filled with interesting people and artists' space and squatters collectives and that I would love to live here for a few months and really get a feel for the underground scene here. The other part of me is annoyed by all the college students who come here and spend the entire time too stoned to hold a conversation. I don't care if people are stoned, but when they're out of their heads staring at the wall I get mad. They're in the middle of this beautiful historic place, and they'll hardly remember any of it. Grrr.

Anyway, tomorrow I have the whole day to explore, and then I leave on a night train to Copenhagen. I should arrive about 10:00 am on Saturday morning. I don't have a hostel reserved for the night yet, but I'm arriving so early I'm sure it will be OK.

PS. Not to be rude, but if you are a "Paul" and signing my guestbook, could you leave a last initial por favore? I know three different Paul's, and I can make an educated guess as to who's writing, but I'm not sure. Gracias.

So, I found out today that the area I'm staying in is the Beverly Hills of the Netherlands. Apparently the summer cottages (small houses, very nice) run about 3-400,000 Euros (which is a fortune around here). Pretty much the only tourists that ever get to see this part of Amsterdams are the ones staying at the hostel/campground I'm in. We're a short walk from Lake Vinkeveense a.k.a. Vinkeveenseplassen. The whole lake branches out into canals so all the houses in this area have lake-or-canal-front property.
I went swimming today with a few people from the hostel. There are 11 islands out in the middle of the lake, and apparently you can camp for free on any of them for up to three days. The owner of the hostel has a boat, and they tell me he'll give anyone who wants one a ride out there and back for free. I'm sorely tempted to go camp out for a night on one of them, just because almost no one ever gets a chance to do it. Then again, it would probably be more or less the same as camping anywhere else back home -- except I'd be in the middle of a lake in The Netherlands, and how cool is that?

I rode a bike into the little town near here. It was adorable, as expected. Did some grocery shopping. When you find yourself experimenting with something that is clearly a pate, you're much happier when you can't read the ingredients list. Unfortunately, I find that I've learned enough French to make out the first two: pork liver and pork fat. I can't wait until I get up to Denmark where everything will be totally incomprehensible to me.

Amsterdam is a great city to get lost in. First of all, that's about your only option unless you're a local. Nothing goes in a straight line; it's all laid out in somewhat-concentric circles from the central station. But no matter where you go, the scenery is nice. Even way outside the center, where there are mostly utilitarian buildings, they build them from brick. There's no stucco to be seen.

I found the Anne Frank House, and then decided to head in whatever direction I found myself heading in. It worked nicely; I got to see lots of the un-touristed parts of Amsterdam. I walked for pretty much 8 1/2 hours straight. I'm totally exhausted, and I didn't come close to seeing all of it. Tomorrow I head back to check out the Van Gogh museum to the far south.

Got a photo of an enormous spider outside my room this morning. He must have been part tarantula or something. Big sturdy body almost the size of a quarter, furry back and legs... I got a couple of good photos, but can't post them for lack of a card reader.

I'm in Amsterdam. The hostel/camp ground is about 20 minutes outside the city by metro. Each person gets their own trailer with snug little quilts and cute checkered curtains. The owner has these crazy animal sculptures all over the campgrounds, made from some kind of tinfoil/silicone/paint combination. We're a short walk from a lake, and I swear this is the most beautiful place I've ever seen. I was so glad that I was alone while walking around the lake, because I couldn't stop giggling and grinning (and no, I haven't been to a coffee shop yet). The grass couldn't be more green, and there are small canals and bridges everywhere I turn. I haven't even gone into the city proper yet, except while walking to the metro station. That looks gorgeous too, but crowded, of course. It's so nice to be in a quiet place for a while. And -- my own room. What a treat. A literal breath of fresh air. More on the city tomorrow...

Last night found me very lonely, sitting in a hostel room with no roommates, hearing French everywhere I turned. As I sat there nursing my €2.50 Chimay {hah!} I suddenly heard loud drunken English wafting down the hall. The source turned out to be a group of 19-22 year old college students from California. They talked me into going to a disco with them... not one of the finest decisions I've ever made, but now I can say I've done it, I suppose.

I wandered around with them all day today, and was reminded of how glad I am that I'm doing this trip on my own. And also how glad I am to be out of college. The guys in the group were OK, but the girls made me insane with their constant babbling about nothing. I never want to feel like that much of a tourist again. Traveling vs. touristing: traveling is going to a new place in hopes that it will change you. Touristing: doing the same thing as always and expecting the place to change for you. Whoopdie-freakin-do.

Off to Amsterdam tomorow. Forgot to book a hostel until the last minute, so the place is kind of out of the way, but that will probably be a good thing in the end. Looks nice enough, and it's a single room for only €23 Not bad...

OK, I'll admit that there were moments when Britain felt a little like Disneyland. Having crossed the border in to Belgium, I'm fully aware that I'm not in freakin' Kansas any more. First of all, the damn keyboard has been switched around on me. Q switched with A, Z switched with W, a comma is suddenly where the M should be, and if I try to hit a period I get a colon. Allow me to demonstrate what this does to my typing: "Qlloz ,e to de,onstrqte zhqt this does to ,y typing:"

It's making me quite crazy. I haven't had to look at the keys to type in about 15 years. Ugh.

Other than that, I'm happy to say that my tiny bits of french are at least helping me understand the signage, even if i can't understand anything that's said to me. I found the hostel without getting lost; navigated a very foreign metro system without a problem, and i've made the receptionist at the hostel chuckle at my attempts at speaking. thank god he speaks English. so far the streets are incredibly narrow and crowded. The hostel I'm in tonight is in a heavily Muslim area. I'm not sure about the one I move to tomorrow. We'll see, I guess.

Vegemite!! I tried it! I know, I know, it's Australian, not British, but all the Aussies told me how horrible Marmite is, so I was a little afraid. Maybe I'll try it on my way back through London on the return. Vegemite makes a nice sandwich spread with a tangy cheese. It doesn't taste bad at all; mostly it just tastes like salt. I don't really know what all the fuss is about.

For all you in the States complaining about the price of cigarettes, they're £5 pounds here for the most part. That translates to 10 US dollars. Per pack. And I'm told in Australia and New Zealand they run 10 or 12 dollars. Yikes.

I'm off tomorrow on the Chunnel to Brussels. Now to track down a hostel...

Further research reveals that *everyone* gets lost trying to find my hostel. It isn't on a street. There's no address. And my guidebook listed two possible tube stops to get there -- only one of which was near the place. It's literally in the middle of a park. It's beautiful, though, once you find it.

I finally got to try Wensleydale cheese, of Wallace and Grommet fame. It's delicious, especially with a baguette.

It seems like everyone in my hostel is Australian or a Kiwi. May this trend continue -- they're a fun bunch, and their accents are just too cute. I'm told I have a California accent, and was able to entertain the group by pronouncing words like 'aluminum' and 'caramel' for them.

Thank god it finally cooled off today. Yesterday it was in the upper 70s, but today we're down to a more comfortable 70 or so. I can't wait to get somewhere cooler.

P.S. I'm sitting in an internet cafe listening to some horrible Beyoncee song. Where's all the Euro-pop I was promised????

Landed safely in Heathrow. Spent three hours attempting to locate Hostel in the middle of a park. Immediate and urgent desire to divest myself of all material belongings and wander the continent as a pauper, if only for the sake of not carrying all that shit around on my back. Further investigation revealed that, although romantic, this idea won't pan out very well. I need at least two pairs of pants, or I won't have anything to wear while washing...

Can't believe it's only 8:00 am back in the states. It feels like a solid 4:00 pm right now, and I'm just waiting for 9 or 10 to roll around so I can call it a night. Many firsts to list for today, but they'll have to go on paper, as my internet connection is currently running £1 for every 15 minutes. Cheers!

8 hours and 20 minutes. Holy shit. So far today I've awoken from my last US sleeping spot, taken my last US shower, checked my email from the last US computer I'll have access to, and eaten the last breakfast I'll have on US soil for 2 months. And yet it all still seems completely surreal. I really have so little idea of what I'm in for that I can't even get nervous. I'm excited, but only about the fact that my plan actually came together. I'm actually leaving on this trip that I've been planning off and on for the last three years. 8 hours and 10 minutes. Time to go tidy up my car.