Mont Saint Michel

Mont Saint Michel

Not long after I moved to France, I had French friends & relatives telling me about Mont Saint Michel."Have you been?""Um... no, not yet," I'd say."Oh, it is so beautiful - you really must go."After I had been in France for about a year, Olivier & I returned from a trip to Normandy."So, did you visit Mont Saint Michel?""Er, uh... well, no... not yet.""Next time!  Next time, you must go."People kept talking about it.  Everyone that had been there agreed on one thing: this place was fucking awesome & had to be seen.  I started to feel like such lame-ass for not having seen it yet.Eventually, upon making another visit to Normandy, I got the chance.Now, on the wee tiny island of Mont Saint Michel, as you can see behind these two stunning tourists, is a tiny, uh... mountain. (Sorry, I'm from Colorado. My people tend to be snobs when it comes to what constitutes an actual mountain.) At the...
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Storming the Beaches

Storming the Beaches

It seems that most people, when planning a trip to France automatically plan a trip to Paris. I suppose that's because if you're going to come to France, you just HAVE to see the Eiffel Tower.Yawn.For many people, Paris IS France - there is nothing at all worth seeing that exists outside of Paris, so they spend their vacation strolling on the Champs Élysées & gawking at the Arc de Triomphe.Snore.Of course, standing around in museums, staring at a painting of a bowl of fruit is a really good time. Shopping for over-priced clothes is a real kick in the ass, too. Right?Ugh. Whatever.There are some other people who comprehend the fact that there is a France outside of Paris. Maybe those people are taking bicycle tours through Provence, are sunning themselves on the Mediterranean coast, or are taking wine tours through Burgundy. Good for them.Maybe they're history nerds on the beaches of Normandy.Olivier & I have been to Normandy...
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There & Back Again, Part 5 – The Last Stage

There & Back Again, Part 5 – The Last Stage

"No vacation goes unpunished." ~Karl Hakkarainen"No one realizes how beautiful it is to travel until he comes home and rests his head on his old, familiar pillow." ~Lin Yutang"The whole object of travel is not to set foot on foreign land; it is at last to set foot on one's own country as a foreign land." ~G.K. Chesterton * * *When the guy across the aisle from us began discussing stabbings & which mixture of drugs enabled him to best endure such an incident, I knew that I had had enough of fucking Greyhound.We arrived at the Greyhound station in Denver after our brief stop in Amarillo.  We had 2 hours to stand in a line in front of the door where the bus would arrive.  Sucking down our mediocre & over-priced nachos, Olivier & I observed that while the bus station in Denver was larger & cleaner than what we'd grown accustomed to, being forced to watch Fox News on...
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Sachsenhausen

Sachsenhausen

"First they came for the Communists, and I didn’t speak up, because I wasn’t a Communist. Then they came for the Jews, and I didn’t speak up, because I wasn’t a Jew. Then they came for the Catholics, and I didn’t speak up, because I was a Protestant. Then they came for me, and by that time there was no one left to speak up for me." -Martin Niemöller * * * This is the blog post that I almost didn't write. I debated long and hard about it, knowing that I could never do justice to the topic, that I wasn't worthy and I would have to abandon the mockery, snark and sarcasm in order to discuss it. Let's face it - as much as I hate it, some shit just isn't funny. In the end, I decided to sober up and write it, knowing that I still can do no justice to the topic, but the fact that it is such...
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Copenhagen, Part 1: Entering the Gene Pool

Copenhagen, Part 1: Entering the Gene Pool

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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