Copenhagen, Part 1: Entering the Gene Pool

Copenhagen, Part 1: Entering the Gene Pool

by Rasmenia Comment Closed
It didn't take long for Olivier and I to make the drive from Hamburg to Copenhagen. That's one thing that I still get a kick out of when it comes to living in Europe - just drive for a couple of hours and instead of crossing state lines, you cross borders into another country, where the language changes and the road signs become meaningless, crazy looking words.In France, Olivier and I both understand the road signs. In Germany, I could make out a few while Olivier could make out the rest of them.In Denmark, we were both lost.Luckily, everyone there speaks such perfect English, that it doesn't really matter.Score: 1 for Denmark.We arrived at the place where we would be staying. We had made a reservation while we were still in France. We walked up to the front door and found a note with Olivier's name on it telling us to go inside.Then we found a path to our room...
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Angela’s Son, the Teacher Man

Angela’s Son, the Teacher Man

by Rasmenia Comment Closed
"You feel a sense of urgency, especially at my advanced age, when you're staring into the grave." -Frank McCourt"I began to look at other religions, Buddhism and so on, and realized there is another way of looking at life. A more benign way of looking at life." -Frank McCourt"I had to get rid of any idea of hell or any idea of the afterlife. That's what held me, kept me down." -Frank McCourtFrank McCourt  1930-2009.[tags]Frank McCourt, author, death[/tags]...
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24 Hours, 4 Meals, 2 Countries & 1 Pharmacy

24 Hours, 4 Meals, 2 Countries & 1 Pharmacy

by Rasmenia Comment Closed
When Olivier and I woke up in our hotel room in Breda, we couldn't focus on much except for breakfast. Here's the thing about breakfast: each time I leave France, I get all worked up and dizzy about what this new place will be serving for the first meal of the day.I judge a country based on its breakfast. Sure, there are other small, less important factors that affect my opinion of a place: the booze, the people, the sights... but, these are all nothing compared to the importance of what food a country starts its day with.France, I love you, but a croissant and a cup of coffee just doesn't cut it for me. This is a snack. Fail.Holland, on the other hand... they have their shit together in this area. There was fruit, cereal, plates of meat and cheese... yogurt, juice, coffee, pastries and a variety of bread. A chubby woman with an absurdly sincere grin brought me...
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Fear & Loathing in Breda

Fear & Loathing in Breda

by Rasmenia Comment Closed
Between Belgium and Germany, Olivier and I decided that it was absolutely necessary that we spend at least one night in the Netherlands. We ended up spending the night in Breda, between Rotterdam and Antwerp.When we arrived at our hotel room, it was an oven full of stagnant air, little soaps and disposable plastic cups. We had spent the first half of the day broiling inside of our car. We needed a cool place... a comfortable place.We needed a place that would fully let us appreciate the Netherlands.We needed a coffee shop.Within walking distance of our hotel was a place called 'The Cat'. We got inside, went up to the counter and placed an order: 2 cups of hot tea and 5 grams of Super Skunk.After a few minutes, I realized that I was still sweating and that I had been sweating for the entire day. I asked Olivier, "Why is it that we ordered fucking hot tea?""Uh... I don't...
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