Hanging out and hanging clothes

One of the consequences of watching bleeding palms dance at the WomBar until the wee hours of the morning, you're pretty much guaranteeing that your Monday is going to be pretty low key. Which was a-ok.

We decided to do some of the shopping around for chotchkies and bratwurst from the vendors around Stephensplatz, the square surrounding St. Stephen's Cathedral:

I kid you not when I say that this was the most significant event of the day. We returned to the hostel and continues our daily reading/napping extravaganza, but with added benefit of all my clothes hanging from any possible post and wall hook, since the dryers in the basement were somewhat sub-standard.

Cue the nightly drinks at the WomBar, but with a marginal amount of excitement, as compared to Sunday night. Which was again a-ok.

A day of museums, a night of ridiculous

Here's the most important thing to remember about Vienna on Sundays: it shuts down.

Museums and McDonald's are about the only things that are open. Which is halfway ok. And when the museums to be seen are the Belvedere and Mozarthaus, it makes up for the fact that a Royale with Cheese from McDonald's is still there to be had.

The Upper Belvedere is an amazing art museum in the former summer palace of Prince Eugene of Savoy, built after a successful campaign against the Serbians (can't argue with that). It has a good proportion of Austrian artists, including more Schiele and Klimt, which made us all happy, especially when considering what is perhaps Klimt's most famous painting, The Kiss:

After a pastries and coffee break, our little rag-tag group split off for some individualized Vienna-ization. Connor headed for the local churches, Wendy to the Freud Museum, and I was able to complete my pilgrimage to the Mozarthaus. This unassuming little building of flats houses the apartment that Wolfgang Amadeus Mozart rented from 1784 to 1787, during which time he wrote some of his most famous pieces, including "The Marriage of Figaro." Needless to say, I was dorking out. Bigtime.

I even bought a copy of the libretto from Don Giovanni. It was amazing. And when I found a postcard that advertised where Mozart's grave was, at the St. Marx Cemetery, I knew that I was on a Blues Brothersian "mission from God" to find his gravesite.

Unfortunately, the weather, winding roads, and a poor map all conspired to send me wandering around a most residential part of Vienna for 30 minutes before I returned to the Metro, soaked and succumbed to the fate of my unsuccessful mission. Such is how it goes. Time to head back to the hostel and do the laundry that I so desperately need to wash.

Vienna shuts down. Except for the best Chinese restaurant I've been to in quite some time. Wendy, who taught English in Shanghai for a year, said that we ate the most authentic Chinese meal she's had since she left China. I think that's high praise.

Vienna shuts down. Except for the hostel bar, the WomBar. And you'll have to excuse the pay-channel language, but the only way to describe Sunday night was a shit show. Here's the cast of characters:

Vaughn - named in homage to the character on NBC's hit show, Community. Dreadlocks, cargo shorts, steals sandals from girls in bar and then promptly holds them hostage.
Ransom = 1 kiss.
San FranCISco!!! - as soon as he found out we were from California, those words were all we could get out of him. Dancing fool. Going crazy and drops his drink and glass shatters all over floor. Staff does nothing to clean this up. Continues dancing. Slips and falls and in breaking his fall, gashes his hand open on the glass from his dropped drink. Goes to bathroom and returns with hand wrapped in paper towel. Continues dancing.
Serb - really doesn't have much to say to us once he finds out we're Americans.
The Pantsless Wonder - shows up into bar in boxer briefs. Friend has shorts. Doesn't bother to get shorts from friend. Just makes out with girl who he didn't seem to know 30 seconds before walking into bar (pantsless).
The Object of Affection - 30-ish woman being danced around by pretty much everyone else already mentioned. Several men are trying to spend some quality time with her. She's just there to have a drink and maybe dance a little bit.

Also of note, the WomBar is nothing even remotely close to a place to dance. Dancing is not the best idea there. It may go without saying that we just sat back, laughed, and played "Your Team." That is, until the blood splattered one of us and we decided that biohazardous materials were not worth the entertainment.

Old music and old Vienna

So when you hostel right across the street from the expansive Saturday flea market that the Naschmarket becomes, you start your first Vienna exploration day wandering the stalls. And when you find old piano sheet music of Chopin, Liszt, Strauss, and Beethoven, among others, for only € 1 apiece, you grab four of them in a mad dash of excitement.

Vienna is replete with museums. It's hard to throw a stone without hitting some old palatial building that has been turned into a museum (although that would probably result in a fine). We took the metro, which was quite nice, as far as metros go, to the Museumsquartier. Guess what they had there.

This would be the Leopold Museum. This museum has been set up to showcase the best and the brightest of Austrian artists, most notably Egon Schiele and Gustav Klimt. I'd heard of Klimt before, but that was as far as my knowledge of either of these artists goes. Both are fantastic artists of the highest caliber, and I would have to say that they add to an already impressive curriculum vitae that Austria has amassed when it comes to the arts. I was particularly taken by Klimt, but there was no let down when a Schiele would be next on the wall.

We thought we were going to be the artsy lucky ones, as there was another museum, the Kunsthalle, which was boasting a Salvador Dalí exhibit as well as a space exhibition. The Dalí was decent, especially sketches that he drew for a surrealist book. There were also some pieces by followers and disciples of his but nothing nearly as impressive as the man himself. The space exhibition definitely got off on the right foot. As we climbed the stairs, we could hear the strains of The Blue Danube and turned the corner to be greeted by a large projection of the scene from 2001: A Space Odyssey the song plays through, while the spaceship spins in Earth's orbit like a majestic metallic ballerina. Unfortunately, this was the best part of the exhibit. The rest was interesting at times, disappointing at others, and a bit odd in between.

But with two museums under our belts, we were famished. The prosciutto and cheese on baguette picnic that ensued right in front of the Hofburg Palace really fit the bill:

The rest of the evening provided a smidge more relaxation and reading. That night, I somehow managed to finish my 4th book of the trip. And I only brought 5. I've never underpacked on vacation books. But something about these afternoon relaxation sessions really let me plow through the printed word...

Old markets and young faces

Well, Bratislava is a beautiful city. That we knew for sure. We also knew that there isn't a whole lot to do there, so it was a one-night stay.

So we threw the packs on our backs and headed to the train station, past the presidential palace and gardens,

intent on hoofing it to Vienna. We found our way back to the train station from whence we came not 20 hours prior. While waiting for our train to arrive, I did find a tasty little morsel that would become a staple for the trip, fried cheese. Imagine a mozzarella stick, but in the shape of a burger patty, on a bun with mayonnaise and ketchup, and you found my lunch for the day, as well as several meals later on in the trip.

Upon getting to Vienna, we quickly discovered that the Wombat's City Hostel in immense. It has the feel of a hotel to it, with a bar downstairs, 5 floors with hundreds of rooms, and tons of young travelers milling about.

Well, this was day 12 of the trip. We were all pretty wiped out and decided that, once again, that afternoon staple of our ramblings, the three-hour nap, was in order.

When we emerged from our haze, we stumbled upon the Naschmarkt for the first time.

It's a cool little outdoor market right outside the hostel, with tons of stalls with everything from fresh food to cheap sunglasses, soccer (sorry, football) unis to fine dining. We settled down for a nice meal at a Vietnamese restaurant, as the Naschmarkt is apparently in a fairly predominantly Asian neighborhood of Vienna. Some delicious phở later, we descended on the WomBar, the quaint little drinking establishment off the lobby of the hostel, for a free beer with a bunch of kids that seriously made us feel like the old crowd in town. No big deal. Drinking age is 16. Rock on, Vienna.

Bratislava joins the party

It's time to leave Budapest. Train departs for Bratislava, and we're on it. Heading to the land of the EU and quotes from EuroTrip. Full disclosure, I haven't seen the movie. But after traveling with two people who can basically quote the entire script from when they were in Bratislava, I feel like I know those scenes very well, at least.

We arrive at the Backpacker's Downtown Lounge, and after settling into our tiny 8-bed room, find ourselves at the bar with a complimentary shot of Borovička, an absolutely atrocious juniper berry liquor. But it is a very traditional Slovak drink. And after all, we were in Slovakia. And it was free. And it was a drink we would never indulge in again. Ever.


Our hostel was situated very close to the Old Town of Bratislava, but we did get some cool looks at the Bratislava Castle, overlooking the city from the hilltops:

Walking around Old Town was a little interesting at times. Connor commented that it was a bit of a "Disneyfied" eastern European city, which was pretty legit. However, there were a lot of very neat buildings to walk around amongst, some cheap panini to eat, and some winding roads to get lost on.


One of the plagues of the trip has been our inability to find the nightlife. We struck out in Budapest, were shot down in Belgrade. But Bratislava. This would be our town.


After all, they have a KGB bar where you can drink near authentic Communist-era propaganda and memorabilia. Thank you, Lonely Planet, for that find. Only problem being that the bar is not there. At all. Can't find it.


But bless our stars, at least Hacienda Mexicana is open. They even had Herradura Tequila for Wendy. And how do these lovely people take their tequila shots, you might ask? Well, with cinnamon and an orange slice, naturally.


Well, we missed the nightlife again in Bratislava. But at least our server was kind enough to teach us the Slovakian world for "thank you," which happens to be "dakujem." And then we promptly forgot it again.


It had become a bit of a running gag to butcher the words for Thank You in the other languages, when it was just the three of us. Of course, by running gag, I mean a joke I totally killed to the point where I had to stop because it was confusing us as to what the words really were.


But here's a primer:
Bosnia and Serbia
     Thank you to the natives: Hvala (pronounced va'-lah)
     Thank you from me: Valhalla
Hungary
     Thank you to the natives: Köszönöm (pronounced coh'-za-nome)
Thank you from me: Kosovo (or Cocomo)
Slovakia
Thank you to the natives: Dakujem (pronounced day-coo-yem)
Thank you from me: Dagobah


And we wonder why we Americans weren't always the most warmly received...

A brief gaming interlude...

So the game is simple. It's called "Your Team." We've been playing it constantly for three weeks now, and deserves some sharing.

THE CONCEIT: It is the Apocalypse. (Zombie, Nuclear Winter, however you conceive the end times.) You and your group of friends have survived and now must scramble to make a living.

THE RULES: This is where it gets easy. You have a team with you that has survived the Apocalypse. The only stipulation is that your fellow survivors get to designate your team members. As you are walking past indubitable individuals, you lean over to your fellow survivors and inform them, This person is on "Your Team."

Simple enough, right?

It's a great game for people watching. You can play amongst friends, travel buddies, or people you meet at hostel bars. All the fun in the world.

To give you an idea, if you are reading this:

Meet your first teammate.

Day trips and trekking

Having consummately conquered both ends of Buda and Pest, we decided to take a train, a little day trip to Esztergom, a city cuddling up to the Slovakian border in northern Hungary.

Esztergom boasts the largest church in Hungary, the Esztergom Basilica. This serves as the seat of the Roman Catholic Church in Hungary, and is a truly magnificent structure.

We disembarked from the train and began the long trek up stairs and hillsides to get to a vista and view truly worth walking towards. The top of the hill gave us a wonderful view of the city of Esztergom, as well as a sight across the Danube into Slovakia (see ya tomorrow in Bratislava...).

We also got to step downstairs into the catacombs, which was worth the 200 florins just to cool off for a few minutes. They have many tombs down there, including the final resting place of Cardinal Jozsef Mindszenty, who strongly opposed the spread of communism in Hungary, to the point where he was tortured and received a life sentence, forced to live out much life after World War II in exile.

A train brought us back to Budapest, and back to the hostel for some more much-needed napping. I had things to do, but they were contingent on staying awake on the south end of dinner. I couldn't manage that, so the beard will have to be trimmed tomorrow.

We decided to have our "final meal" before going on the economic death sentence that is the Euro in Slovakia and Austria. Appetizers all around, including the best beef tartar you could ask for, and plenty of wine. We finally got around to trying the most famous red wine in Hungary, Bull's Blood. Turns out, it's delicious. And not blood. Or from a bull. Who knew?

Sketches of Pest

So our Buda day was definitely a step-by-step run from place to place. While it was great, it was pretty tame and kosher. Perhaps we were all jazzed up and wasted energy from Belgrade and the overnight train to Budapest, but we were looking to spice it up on day 3 of Hungary.

And the weather wanted us to, as well. The sun was out; everything was lined up for a great day. And as cool as the place looked in general, seeing it in the sunshine was truly specatcular.

Our first stop was to Hősök tere, or Heroes' Square, abutting onto City Park. This astounding monument commemorated the rulers of the Austrian Empire, as it was built during that phase in Hungarian history. City Park was a beautiful green space, with pick-up soccer games (facetiously the Hungarian national team), statues of antiquity, and a large and beautiful Hungarian bath. Connor decided he'd be up for a swim while Wendy and I headed for the Palace of Fine Arts for the mummy exhibit.

This outstanding exhibition had four mummies in various states of unwrap, donated by a generous benefactor to a project that set about reconstructing the life and history of the four recovered ancient Egyptians. They even set about facial reconstruction of one of them using advanced CT scans and ideas of what people of that time and area looked like. Aside from the man's unfortunate overbite, seeing a mummy's face reconstructed was absolutely awesome.

The rest of the museum had an extensive art collection, including many pieces of religious medieval art. Now, this isn't my favorite style of art, despite its absolute technical perfection, so there wasn't too much that grabbed me. There was one thing that absolutely did grab me, and it was tucked into a corner in a side room, unnoticed by many, I'm sure. But this small sketch from Francisco de Goya, The Sleep of Reason Produces Monsters, had me enthralled:

The mummies behind us, the stench of dirty socks ahead, we went back to the hostel for a much needed laundry session, reading and relaxing while the washer spun out the backpacking dirt.

It was time for some Curry Wurst, where they slather ketchup and curry powder on a bratwurst (delicious, whether or not that sounds tasty) and some cheap whiskey and drinkable beer before calling it a night.

Beautiful Buda and basking in baths

After a day of relaxing at the hostel, we decided that our second day in Budapest would be on the Buda side of things.

The Danube cuts through the city and splits it into two main sections, the hilly Buda side and the start of the plains on the Pest side (the two cities were combined into one in the late 1800s, if memory serves).

The hills are beautiful, and we climbed up to Buda Castle, which boasts some magnificent tiled roofs and gorgeous views across the river to Pest from Fisherman's Bastion and nearby Mattias Church, a beautiful church overlooking the Danube:

One of the best views was looking down towards the Parliament building, an absolutely outstanding building on the banks of the Danube. It was truly an awe-inspiring sight from the top of Buda Hill.

From there, we waltzed over to the nearby palace, within the walls of what amounts to a citadel on the hill. Another outstanding building. I really could go on and on about the beauty of the buildings we were visiting. Not enough can be said, but I don't want to sound trite and all that jazz, so just understand that they were all amazingly wonderful.

We stumbled across a nice little wine shop that was housed in the cellars of the palace, some of the wine cellars dating back to the 13th century. Needless to say, they were creepy as all get out. We were the only people we saw in the entire cellar museum, and for good reason. We couldn't get out of there fast enough. But we then had to taste the wine, of course. And I must say, Hungarian wine was delicious, all four we tried. There was a particular white, Darazsko Furmint by Tokajicum, that was exquisite. You won't find it anywhere in the States because they haven't started shipping there yet and don't exactly have a good wine marketing program going, according to our sommelier. But as soon as we get Hungarian wines out of Hungary, look out boys. Good stuff comin'.

From there, we trudged up and around to the Gellert Baths, a touristy but interesting Hungarian bath, dominated by some Turkish influences. We relaxed in some 36 and 38 degree Celsius pools (or about 96 and 100 degrees Fahrenheit). The aches and pains of hilly walks were certainly washed away and an immense sense of calm rested on the group and that was about all she wrote for the night.

After a long day of hiking, we were ready to relax the evening away. Calm, cool, and collected. Dinner, some drinks, and off to bed.

On time and on point in Budapest

Eastern European trains are a model of efficiency. When they say you arrive in Budapest at 5:04 am, you arrive in Budapest at 5:04 am.

So we are in a new city, the jewel of Hungary, home to 20% of its population. The train station, although a little shady-looking in the wee morning hours, seems not too shabby. We load our packs on our backs and set out for the Backpacker's Lounge, near the Oktogon. Our merry band has been reduced to 3, as Joe has parted ways on his journey to Budva, Montenegro, for some much-needed beach time. After some searching high and low, we find the hostel, as well as finding our welcoming committee, a very drunk traveler making the most of his stony doorstep nap, sawing some serious logs. Several attempts to ring the hostel proves that this is no 24 hour hostel, that we'll have some time to kill.

Thank God Budapest has thoroughly jumped on the American fast food bandwagon. Breakfast and coffee at McDonald's, followed by more buzzer rings at the hostel. Still, no dice. So Starbucks it is, for more caffeine and waiting. We finally rouse the front desk after 9 am and promptly deposit our bags before exploring the city a bit.

First stop, since the weather isn't especially resplendent, is the Terror House.

This amazingly stunning museum is a dedication to the Nazi occupation, the Russian occupation after World War II, and the atrocious things done at this building when it hosted the Arrow Cross Party, a group that perpetrated some serious horrors on the Hungarian people in the name of national socialism. It was a heavy exhibit, but very well done and well worth the break from the rain and clouds.

From there, we stumbled across St. Stephen's Basilica:

An absolutely gorgeous church. We waltzed in during Latin Mass and quickly decided that we needed to return and explore at a much less intrusive time, so we ducked out and headed back to the hostel.

We knew that naps were a necessity, as a sleeper train doesn't always provide the best sleep, even with pharmaceutical intervention (again, thank you Unisom). Napping the dreary afternoon away, we set out for a local eatery to fill our stomachs, and stumbled across a row of restaurants, with much to choose from. The place we descended upon did not disappoint. We even threw down for a taste of the local liquor, an amazingly strong and unsavory drink called Palinka which turned out stomachs and our faces away from a second round. Good thing the Passion Sor beer was delicious. We befriended a table of Brits next to us and carried on a lovely conversation until we were ushered out at closing time.

Tomorrow, we properly explore a beautiful city, with the hint that the sun might just join us.

Leaving on a midnight train to Budapest

Have you ever woken up in a foreign city, just pining to leave, and have to wait until the sleeper train departs at 9:35 pm and you have to wander this foreign city that hates you for hours on end hoping that it will end well?

Welcome to Belgrade.

Maybe my rendition of our full day in Belgrade was a bit, shall we say, diplomatic? Now, there were some good things, the best of which being the company we kept. Although we were loathed openly on our journey, bamboozled and shunned, we had a lot of fun. We didn't have a good time, but we had tons of fun.

But there was still more Belgrade to see. Overlooking the Danube, there is a beautiful city park with ruins from an old fortress, some interesting artwork, and a military museum (closed, unfortunately), but with plenty of tanks and artillery surrounding it for climbing and photographing.

And the bazaar in the park offered plenty of interesting merchandise, including a 500,000,000,000 dinar note (that's right, 500 billion), no longer in circulation, but on sale for bargain basement price of 300 dinar (or a shade over $4).

The day was pretty uneventful. We ended up killing time in the park, bench-sitting and people-watching, a definite favorite pastime of the group. And the people-watching in eastern Europe can beat all.

I decided it was time to endorse the local potato chip brand, Chipsy. How could you not? So for the train ride, I snagged a bag of "hot-dog flavoured flips" and another bag of bacon flavored deliciousness akin to pork rinds. Sounds gross, maybe, but don't judge. It's hard to purchase snack foods when you're options come in a variety of Cyrillic letters.

We got to the train station, and after a quick paid bathroom break (20 dinar), we boarded our train, found our compartment, and settled in for the night. Shortly after the train left the station, to not insignificant jubilation as we departed Belgrade, our ticket checker came and showed us how to properly gypsy-proof the door. Apparently locking the double locks won't keep out the theives and we were instructed to insert a metal rod through the locking mechanism to completely remove all possibility of anyone opening the door from the outside. The interesting part was when we were told that we wouldn't have to worry about thieves while we were still in Serbia. He specificially told us that it wouldn't be a problem until we crossed into Hungary, like the looters come out of the woodwork as soon as we cross the border. Another interesting slice of life in the Serbian nationalistic adventure.

A pill of Unisom later (which worked like magic), we all crashed majorly. In the haze of drug-induced sleep, someone came to our door and checked the passports. When he saw mine, he exclaimed "es kinder!" to our enjoyment. See, my passport is from when I was a shade shy of my 17th birthday, and it is an indictment of my babyface from those times. I look shockingly young and it always seems to get a chuckle out of whoever sees it.

But all that aside, we were on our way to Budapest, and couldn't be happier.

Shadiness and shades of gray in Belgra(y)de

Belgrade was ... interesting.

Rolling out of bed, we immediately wanted to throw some Monopoly money at breakfast. An American dollar will grab you about 70 dinar, so conversions began to take on new sense of math to accomplish.

Taking an improvised walking tour of the city, we were confronted with many beautiful examples of architecture, including the Hotel Moscow and several state buildings, but all in an extensive variety of the motley shades of gray. Also interesting was seeing several buildings that had obviously been bombed in the NATO attacks in 1999 in response to the conflict in Kosovo.

From there, we headed for the Tesla Museum, an outstanding exhibition of the genius of the most famous Serb who never actually seemed to have ever set foot in Belgrade, Nikola Tesla (as played by the incomparable David Bowie in The Prestige). The museum boasted a very cool exhibit, full of replicas of Tesla's original ground-breaking inventions in the field of physics and electricity, not to mention his ashes, as well as several famous pictures of him with his undeniable "bedroom eyes."

And if you need more proof of his genius, check out the Drunk History version of his life.

One of the most interesting aspects of the day was all that surrounding Serbia's attempts throughout the past couple decades to rule over all those around them, in a sense. After coming from Sarajevo and hearing the atrocities that the Serbs unleashed on that city, it was hard to come in with an open mind. We just kept walking around, looking at the natives, impossible to not think "I know what you did..."  We made a valiant effort and took our time to enjoy the city. We walked past the monument dedicated to the children killed by NATO aggression in 1999, which was in response to the horrific things the Serbs were perpetrating in Kosovo. I can understand backing your young and innocent. But it can be somewhat hard to grasp when there is a t-shirt in a bazaar with Ratko Mladic on it, who was recently arrested for war crimes, an arrest that the citizens of Belgrade rioted against. I know that everyone is indoctrinated into their national belief system, but I find it difficult to comprehend the possibility of rioting to protect the "good" name of a mass murderer. (But let's not bring the Native Americans into this, shall we?)

All that aside, Belgrade is supposed to be renowned for its nightlife. First up was perhaps one of the tastiest and most entertaining meals we've ever had. We found a spot called Little Bay situated in what looked like an old opera house. Recessed seating and opera booths above, it was truly a beautiful restaurant. And then the piano and violin duo came out and serenaded us with everything from "Habanera" from Carmen to "Cruella de Vil" from 101 Dalmatians. Insert the violinist sauntering around the restaurant and having a blast interacting with the crowd, and there was some very Marx Brothers about the entertainment that evening.

But the party barges were yet to come. This is supposed to be where it is at, when you hit up Belgrade. So we flagged a cab, hopped into his Alfa Romeo, and subsequently were completely bamboozled on our way to the barges. Sucker charged us something like $50 for the ride to a deserted club where we sipped our whiskey amongst good conversation until we realized no one else was coming. But we did have the good fortune of finding Belgrade's hottest new club, Blaywatch. We waltzed in, American as you can be, and were immediately the recipients of death stares to beat the band. The bouncer was giving Wendy quite the evil eye. They shoved us into the back corner table by the bathrooms and I got the nastiest looks I've ever gotten from pretty much everyone that passed. When Joe started dancing, the guy at the table next to us was motioning for the bouncer to forcibly remove us from the premises. So we took the hint and hit the bricks. Cue the cab ride back, which cost us all of $7.

Pizza and beer awaited us at our favorite pizzeria, but the torrential downpour that started and we ran through to return to the hostel was just a sucker punch of an exclamation point to the theme of the night, "Get the Americans out of our city!"

Tomorrow, we leave for Budapest. And we can't wait for that train to roll out of the station.

Hvala, Sarajevo.

We got the hook-up. Our hostel informed us that they could book us a mini-bus from Sarajevo to Belgrade for less than the train, no overnight baloney. And best of all, we had an extra day, which we all immediately decided to spend in Sarajevo. No bones about that, we were here for another day.

Day four of the trip: we wake up to indecisive weather. It was sunny one minute, threatening rain the next. We didn't actually hit any rain for the most part, so that was definitely to our benefit. We had seen what we wanted to see and all that was left was finding the souvenirs, the postcards, the knick-knacks and chotchkies.

Wandering the market, I found this absolutely phenomenal print of a Nazi propaganda proposing a serious ransom on Josip Tito's head. Seriously, if there was any way it could have been transported back home safe, it would be framed and on my wall in a skinny minute. I wavered and eventually said, "I'll think about it" to the shop-keep and began my what-ifs. On top of everything, this vintage amazingness was only 20 KM (about $15, or 20 Captain Crunch Marks, as we began to call them). Too bad.

We camped out/napped out in the hostel common room until it was time to leave this fair city, on the mini-bus to Belgrade. This trip, supposed to leave at 3 pm and take 5 hours, turned out to be leaving at 4:30 and take 7 hours. But we got there. And, oh how we got there. I have been on some mountain drives, but going through the Dinaric Alps regularly accosted us gorgeous views not too dissimilar from this lovely online pic I found:

A gorgeous drive to end time in a beautfiul city within a wonderful country.

Not to mention that the Serbs in the seats in front of us were listening to that Muppet Show classic, Mana Mana. Or however it's spelled.

And so, from there, we find Belgrade. Now, this city is known as the "White City", but rolling in, it's very obvious why tour guide books let us know that we should get used to all the shades of gray in the color palate. It may be dark outside, close to midnight, but we can tell that this city has maintained an aesthetic that is far from colorful. But final judgment will have to wait until tomorrow. For now, it's pizza and a beer, and off to bed.

Play that funky music, Josip Tito

The sun came out in Sarajevo. Finally seeing this beautiful city in bright, dazzling rays of light truly set the mood off right for the day.

We planned to head to the museums and enjoy some history of Bosnia and learn even more about where we were. The first stop was a museum in a building that was partially destroyed during the siege and intentionally not fully renovated. It was a very interesting building to even approach, somewhat decrepit and actually looking a bit abandoned from the outside. We also got a history of the country in general at first, just a brush strokes analysis of the formation of Bosnia and Herzegovina.

Then came the "Surrounded Sarajevo" exhibit. No punches were pulled. We wandered through a room full of photographs and other tributes to an embattled time. Every last one of us took immense pause at reading the letters from children pleading for help from the international committee. There were also some very inspiring portions. The people of Sarajevo did a phenomenal job of maintaining cultural integrity, including people such as Milos Forman and Susan Sontag coming to Sarajevo to direct plays and present films to the people. There was also this breathtaking photograph of an orchestra performing Mozart's "Requiem" in a bombed-out symphony hall. The whole grip of that picture was beyond allegorical.

Overall, the history of this city, especially that from the past 20 years, has engendered immense amounts of respect for these gritty people. To walk around and saunter past anybody above the age of 15 and consider what they went through just seems unbelievable.

A quick turn from the museum brought us to the Tito Cafe, named after Josip Tito, the Yugoslav leader involved in Nazi resistance and formation of Yugoslavia after World War II. It was a nice break from paying 4 KM for the depression of the war, as we walked into Wild Cherry's jam, Play That Funky Music, followed by serious funk for the rest of our cappuccinos.

We decided to head back to the hostel and take some relaxation time before heading out for the evening, but along the way, we had to grab some of the local fare, delicious burek:

This tasty dish is filled with sausage, onions, and a wonderful mix of spices.

Sausage with garlic at a local brewery restaurant, along with the lightest-tasting dark beer we've ever had, followed by good conversation and whiskey at City Pub down the street topped off a great, albeit emotional day.

But because we found a van ride to Belgrade for the afternoon tomorrow instead of taking the overnight bus, we have one more day in a city that we have all truly fallen in love with.

Life reflects history

After a sufficient night of heavy crashing, we are ready to take on Sarajevo for a full day.  The hostel provides us with breakfast, and the Aussies staying here dare us all to try something that looks and smells suspiciously like pate but not.  Turns out to be this chicken paste that is pretty foul (pun intended), and the looks on the faces of me and Connor definitely deterred anybody else from giving it a shot.  But if you prefer your protein in spreadable form, that is the way to go.

We took the morning to walk around and explore the city a bit more, as we had an afternoon tour of siege-era Sarajevo coming up. The overcast skies and threats of rain seemed to put a possible damper on the day, but as will become evident, the weather proved all too appropriate by day's end. All of two blocks from the hostel is the site of the assassination of Archduke Franz Ferdinand and his wife Sophie, on the Latin Bridge spanning the Miljacka River. We continued to wander, including harassment of the pigeons at Sebilj, also affectionately called "pigeon square" for reasons that are extremely obvious.

From the hostel, we embarked on a tour of some of the famous sites crippled by the siege of Sarajevo by Serbian forces from 1992-1995. Our tour guide, Saeb, was one crazy cat. He was born in a concentration camp in Croatia during World War II, eventually making his way to Bosnia after spending the first 12 years or so of his life bouncing between orphanages all over the Balkans. As if that weren't enough of a difficult life, he spent the entire siege holed up in the hostel, trying to eke out survival. His stories are too countless to remember or retell, but it was an amazing perspective to have him lead us around the city.

Our first site was the Olympic stadium from when Sarajevo hosted the Winter Games in 1984. Although the stadium has been restored, it was burned and destroyed in the war eight years after the games. After meandering the city a bit, we headed up to a tunnel that was built to bring supplies in during the siege. It serves as such a strong testament to the resiliency of these people as they struggled through such a harrowing time. The tunnel measures 800 meters, or about 1000 yards long, if my mental conversion tables are correct, and is about 5 feet tall. We saw videos of the building and use of it from wartime, as well as getting an oral history of the war from Saeb. All captivating and inspiring, as we came to appreciate the immense difficulties of the war.

Our next stop was a winding pathway up Olympic Mountain, where the bobsled track could be found. While a lot of it had been decimated during the siege, there is a section that is easily climbed on, as well as easily tagged by the climbers with spray paint. We walked the bobsled track for awhile before heading back down the mountain, but not before stopping and getting a truly breathtaking view of Sarajevo from the mountaintop.

After we had learned the difficulties of the siege, we began to learn the horrors of it. Our next stop was the Jewish Cemetery, a hillside vista that will forever be marred by the atrocities of the snipers that camped out there for four years, picking off civilians on the streets of the city from about 1000 yards away. All told, 11,000 Sarajevans were killed during the siege, including some 1600 children, many of them victims of sniper and mortar fire from a hallowed place of rest. The complete disregard and genocide is unbelievable, but so little removed from history for these people. Walking past tombstones riddled with bullet holes, tombs desecrated and destroyed by the violence; it is all we could do to keep moving in spite of a tragedy of only 15 years ago.

The overcast clouds that seemed to cast a pall on the day soon became embraced by all of us. It seemed to be the only way to learn and discuss such appalling circumstances. We talked about it, stood speechless, tried to process it. All we could come to was the fact that this terror is so outside our narrow worldview. It is hard, nay impossible, to comprehend the thoughtless killings that is so fresh in this city.

Sarajevo is tragically beautiful. It is a stunning city of immeasurable strength and resilience, while remaining astonishingly clean, friendly, accessible, and lovely. We managed to pick up an extra day here. And that is quite the boon. Day three will be a happier day, so I hope.

Operation: EuroDomination

Sunday, July 24, 4:36 am: The coup of the summer has arrived. We got picked up to head to the San Francisco airport. Final destination: Sarajevo, Bosnia.

Monday, July 25, 12:02 pm: The eagle has landed.

We flew into Sarajevo through the rain, but as soon as we parted the clouds, I was so glad to have the first window seat I have had in a very long time. Sarajevo is immediately striking. It is nestled in the mountains, this bastion of glory in a beautiful valley.

Connor, Wendy, and I hailed a cab and began our sojourn into this city, and another quick thing to just jump out and grab you is the architecture. It is very interesting, but it is also riddled with bullet holes, scars from mortars, and rockets, and evidence of engulfing flames that wreaked havoc on the city for 4 long years of siege from 1992-1995 as the Serbian forces engaged the Bosnians in an atrocious ethnic cleansing war. Our cabbie, who spoke about three words of English, pointed out all the shrapnel and devastation he could, and we sat speechless as we weaved our way to the hostel. He also gave us a sense of the life of the times, ending it with the proclamation: ˝Clinton! Super!˝

The Residence Rooms hostel is buried in an alley in one of the busier areas of the city, right across the street from the Cheers bar. No one yelling NORM! but the influence is still here.

Sarajevo proved to be an immensely travel-friendly city from the start. The people running the hostel are gracious and accommodating, English is very prevalent (even though we would prefer to have a modicum of the native language outside of being able to say Thank You to our waiters), and the city is just downright gorgeous. We explored the neighborhoods around for about an hour before deciding that any sense of accomplishment could only be reached with naps under our belts.

Three hours later, dazed and drowsy, an old friend from grade school, Joe, wanders into the hostel, and the four of us again go about the exploration. First stop, food. The BBQ veal caught several eyes and fulfilled numerous taste buds, and refueled, we set upon a nighttime constitutional of the city. We walked up and down the main drags for a couple hours, stumbling across the first McDonald`s to open in the country, having just served up their first Royale`s with Cheese but 5 days prior. It was a sight for sure. Also a highlight was, for the first time, hearing the Muslim call to prayer as the sun set into the mountains. Sarajevo has a high Muslim population, and it would be a difficult endeavor to avoid finding a mosque in this city. The minarets tower over the neighborhoods and can be seen for blocks, a sight that is truly interesting and beautiful.

Day one was exhausting. Little sleep on the plane means little adventuring aside from the walking tour, but even that was an outstanding adventure.

Tourist trappings and buffalo droppings

Running through the maze of my brain is tonight's soundtrack:

Whether it's the rhythm on Lounge (Closing Time) or the riff in Doin' The Cockroach, I will always enjoy this album. And it's playing in the car and running through my head.

So I need to unload myself of blogging burden before heading west. Tomorrow morning, I mount the friendly skies, traveling to sunny San Francisco for a week before the ultimate adventure: Operation EuroDomination begins next Sunday. So let's explore that land of the billboard, that wonderful tourist trap that sends two Senators to Washington like any other blue-blooded state: South Dakota.

All jabs aside, South Dakota does have some very interesting things to see. I was looking forward very much to the Badlands, Mt. Rushmore, and visiting my little sister who is spending her summer behind one of the counters at Wall Drug.

The journey began on a side trip to lovely Sidney, Nebraska. I'd never been to the birthplace of Cabela's, but it's a nice little town with good folks and at least one decent Mexican restaurant. I spent the evening with a dear friend from med school and got up bright-eyed and bushy-tailed, ready to take on the panhandle of my fair state. I know I haven't included many of my own photos here because I usually find better ones online. But I have to share my own wondrous experience with Chimney Rock. Mere words cannot describe the majesty:

Ok, so it was 8 in the morning and I shouda known I wouldn't see it. But I had to try. Next time, we'll do  better.

But then I proceeded through Rapid City, South Dakota, and onto Wall to meet up with my little sister so we could drive through the Badlands:

and then head out to lovely Mt. Rushmore (my first sighting, at the young age of 26):

All very cool. Quite the day. And I was tired. I spent a lot of time in the car over a couple days and was ready to chill. So we took the night easy and I explored Wall Drug the next morning:

I'm not much of one for souvenirs, so I managed to pick up a book of Kakuro number puzzles...because that's just who I am. Don't judge.

Well, I went all of 4 days before returning to lovely South Dakota. My grandparents have a nice little trailer in Yankton and it was high time a visit was in order. We took the trek up on perhaps the hottest day of the year, the heat index hitting 116, according to one of the locals. It was hot. I stayed inside and watched team USA put up a valiant effort and fall just short in the Women's World Cup. Congrats to the Japanese and American sides for a great match and all their accomplishments.

And then we went to Gavins Point Dam to check out the Missouri River raging like a disgraced athlete getting called out on his steroid habit:

I must say that I want to challenge someone to come up with something interesting that matches flooding with a name for the end times. Everything else gets this distinction (remember Snowmageddon?) but the devastation we've been living with for months has yet to get something of note (Floodpacalyse...Floodmageddon...something...). Damn liberal media.

That is the South Dakota ramblings. Tomorrow begins a new chapter, one with a west coast bent. Wine country, dear old friends, and plenty of time at the Jack London Lodge. This is shaping up...

A day of final expectations

The FINAL DAY had one mission, and one mission only. To find Robert Plant and the Band Of Joy and listen to them with all my being. I am very glad to say that the FINAL DAY was a complete success.

1) The Head & The Heart
I thoroughly enjoyed their stuff. We saw about half of their set before moseying on, but they played some fun music that was highly enjoyable. I would check out Lost In My Mind for sure. They also referred to slowing it down in the afternoon at a music festival as "not super kosher." Needless to say, I dug.

2) Mavis Staples
I was really looking forward to this one. I remember listening to an episode of "Wait Wait...Don't Tell Me" where they interviewed her, and she told a story about when she was singing with her family in the Staple Singers. People would often ask who the guy was singing the baritone parts and they'd be shocked to find that it was Mavis instead of a man. She tells the story much better and much funnier. But you get the idea. Anyways, she belted some wonderful gospel music, prefacing it by saying, "I know it's Sunday but Bonnaroo is the closest you're gonna get to church." She had a couple members of Robert Plant's aforementioned Band Of Joy perform The Band's The Weight. Extraordinary doesn't do that justice in the slightest. And we may have missed Buffalo Springfield performing For What It's Worth on Saturday night of the festival, but we sure heard Mavis rock it.

3) Galactic
Some guy from Curb Your Enthusiasm, someone I couldn't quite figure out who it was, introduced this New Orleans band of wonderment, letting the crowd know that "we have to get intergalactic. But before we get intergalactic, we have to get Galactic." It started off a sweet jam session. My friend, Andrew, had informed me that I would really enjoy them. He hedged a little bit and said he used to like them more than he does now, but I was having a blast. Their trombone player got off the stage and went down into the pit and walked around playing his 'bone while walking amongst the Bonnaroovians. It was outstanding. They had Corey Glover from Living Colour come out on stage and he sang along with about half the set. They killed Heart Of Steel. The drummer later pulled his snare off and had a couple techies come to the front of the stage holding drums for him and one holding a guitar. He then played a wicked drum solo for about 5 minutes, banging on several drums and whacking the guitar as well. By far the best drum solo of the festival. To end it all, Corey Glover announced a dedication to the next man to grace the stage, Robert Plant. It has always been beyond a dream, fantasy, or death wish to see Led Zeppelin perform live and in form. And seeing Galactic cover How Many More Times may be the closest I get. It was amazing, in every way. Truly phenomenal.

4) Robert Plant and the Band Of Joy
There was little I could ask for to end four amazing days than to be 200 feet from my favorite male vocalist of all time, no matter who he plays with. I would prefer Page and Jones and Bonham, like any red-blooded music lover, but this is a wonderful close second. Most of his new band is from Nashville, and they play Zeppelin with that feel to it. They began their set with a bluesgrass-twinged Black Dog. Some of their music lends itself very well to the new style. What Is And What Should Never Be fits better than Black Dog with the new aesthetic, but nothing fits with it as well as Gallows Pole. I highly recommend checking out the Bonnaroo version here. They also played plenty of their non-Zep stuff, such as In The Mood (which is a solidly wonderful '80s video) and Angel Dance. But I'd be lying if I said I went there to for the music post-1979.

Well. I must say it's a wrap. Bonnaroo 2011 was an immense success of music and fun. THE OFFICIAL WINNER, with all apologies to the Decemberists and Matt Damon, was most definitely My Morning Jacket. Although they get nothing official for such an honor, I will attend every show of theirs humanly possible from now until the heavens collapse on me out of jealousy for witnessing such wonderful music.

A day of altered expectations

Whoo. Been too long. I need to be better about posting these in a timely manner. Especially considering Bonnaroo was over a month ago and I'm finally getting around to posting about it. But time does not matter when you have awesome things to write about, such as The Black Keys:

 They were the must-see of DAY THREE, thanks in large part to their wonderful album, Brothers.

But first, the introductory acts:

1) Old Crow Medicine Show

Very cool to listen to them for awhile. They had some technical difficulties with the guitar but the show was still solid. At this point, it was early afternoon and we were boiling. There were people already camping out for Mumford & Sons five hours before they went on, so it was an interesting vibe there. In the interest of not dying of heat exhaustion, Andrew and I moved on early from that show. We did have the pleasure of hearing Wagon Wheel from a distance. But moving around and not letting the moss grow on our rolling stone became the theme of the day. The heat just got to you, so we kept moving.

2) Deer Tick

This was another short show. It was enjoyable, a band I was looking forward to hearing a little bit of, but nothing much needed to happen. The good thing about the Saturday afternoon ramblings was that it was easy to keep moving because there were no shows that we were clamoring to see in a bad way. We could just soak in a bit, get slightly overwhelmed by the heat and the humanity, and then find a tree to nap under. It was a nice little cycle that repeated itself a few times that day.

3) Portugal. The Man.

This was a show that came highly recommended by pretty much every passer-by and random conversationalist. While waiting in line for water, I was told on several occasions that this was a show to see. So we stopped by for a bit and caught the end of their set. This was another one of those "if I had the time/energy..." sets. Enjoyed what I heard, wanted to hear more. But about the coolest thing about this band is that they hail from Wasilla, Alaska, home to our dear Sarah Palin. So they can see Russia from where they practice their music.

4) Wiz Khalifa

If you know anything about my musical tastes, you may be shocked to learn that I went to see Mr. Khalifa. I was there for one reason only, and that was to get as close as possible to the railing for The Black Keys set. So we sat through 45 minutes of "music", and I can't stress those air quotes enough. Sorry, just not my style. At all.

5) The Black Keys

The must-see of DAY THREE was no disappointment at all. It began when comedian Aziz Ansari came out and introduced himself as Ken Bonnaroo and then led the crowd in a chant to welcome the "Black-Eyed Keys" to the stage. It was quite entertaining. I was actually expecting some comedic bantering with the crowd from the band, especially considering the introduction and their videos. Howlin' For You, Tighten Up, and most certainly Next Girl are very entertaining videos. But they just start rockin' and bluesin' your face off, and do a damn fine job of it. Their drummer, Patrick Carney, seems very angry, like he's constantly talking to his drums and getting very upset with them for not playing properly. And then he sweats more than I've ever seen anyone sweat onstage before in my life. It was ridiculous. They played some outstanding stuff and finished with about 15 minutes to spare on their set. I think everyone was expecting an encore but none came. I've never been so disappointed to hear the Killers on the PA system, truly signaling that the set was done.

And rather than witness some Eminem excellence, I thought it was time for my first shower since Tuesday. Best $7 shower. Ever.

A day of exceeded expectations

As it goes playing through my head, the soundtrack of the night:

My Morning Jacket was simply amazing. Gushing to happen in 5...4...3...

1) Matt & Kim

Ok, so we're still going in order of shows seen. Another show I was looking forward to very much. I've enjoyed their music, rather tongue in cheek as it is, for awhile. Something about hearing their album made me think they would be a fun live band. And that instinct was dead on. They mixed some very interesting pop rip offs with their outstanding music. Such as Biz Markie's Just A Friend (and the video is hilarious; highly recommend watching it and wondering how it ever became popular) or Europe's Final Countdown. But definitely worth checking out are their own songs such as Northeast and Daylight.

2) The Decemberists

This is the third time I've seen The Decemberists live, #2 being back in April of this year. I always enjoy their shows because I love their music. Unfortunately, they were sans their normal keyboardist and accordionist, Jenny Conlee, who is fighting breast cancer. Special thoughts for a wonderful musician as she fights this. But they were still wonderful. I'm a particularly big fan of The Hazards Of Love album, especially when they get to rocking out. The Rake's Song and The Queen's Rebuke have a special place for me. The Queen's Rebuke is awesome to me, especially live, when song sultry vixen starts vocalizing that blues-y sauciness. On a separate note, Shara Worden is the singer on the album version of The Hazards Of Love, and her band, My Brightest Diamond is solid as well.

3) My Morning Jacket

I've been a fan, but they were honestly not on my "must-see" list. By the end of the first song, I was completely dumbfounded as to why they were not at the very top of the list. Victory Dance was amazing (and this video link is actually from probably just about 20 feet in front of where I was standing). Amazing is the word. There are few others to describe how outstanding their set was. Jim James is a true rock star. Hopefully you can see the white fur Ugg boots he's wearing. This was another show where I periodically turned to my friends and was simply speechless as to how amazing it was. They played some stuff I'd never heard before, as well as some of my favorites, such as Off The Record. My favorite moment was definitely when the Preservation Hall Jazz Band came on stage for a couple licks, including the phenomenal rendition of Highly Suspicious. I was ecstatic. This was by far, without comparison, incomparably, without a doubt, decidedly the best live show I've ever seen in my life. Period.

4) Arcade Fire (the must-see for DAY TWO)

So there was only about one band that in my mind could have followed My Morning Jacket effectively. And that band was my "must-see" for DAY TWO, Arcade Fire. This was yet another show I had been anticipating with baited breath. They did not disappoint. They are outstanding live. The band obviously just flat-out has fun playing their music. There's no sense of pretension or haughtiness to their performance and they are there to entertain and provide a wonderful concert experience, something they definitely deliver. I've thoroughly enjoyed all their albums, but hearing some favorites live was just icing on a delicious musical cake. Rococo and Intervention were great to hear. And then they ended the set with Rebellion (Lies), which meant death and heaven. That is, until the encore of Wake Up and Sprawl II (Mountains Beyond Mountains). Fork stuck in me. Done.

5) Ratatat

One of the few bands I was willing to stay up late to see. They went on at 2:30 and did a 90-minute set. And it was so worth it. It was my late night show, but truly outstanding. They put up rear projectors to shine onto fiberglass sheets and projected videos to accompany their music. Thoroughly enjoyed such great ones as Wildcat and Gettysburg. But the awesome part was when they returned for the encore, hearing those first strains of Seventeen Years come in. "I've been rapping for about seventeen years..." and the tent goes straight-up berserk at 3:50 am.

Tomorrow, I'll sleep. Today, we rock.

A day of unknown expectations

Perhaps it's time to blog about Bonnaroo. Don't worry. I took copious notes, so even though it's over two weeks removed, it'll be like I was just there. Praise be for car phone chargers so that you can carry around your iPhone and take said notes on said phone. So, an event that needs no introduction, DAY ONE of Bonnaroo:

The blogging soundtrack:

Freelance Whales. Best surprise of DAY ONE. More on that in a bit.

Arrival and campsite set-up went a bit smoother than expected. A friend had told us that we could expect to spend upwards of 7 hours trying to get to the campsite and getting set up.  And it took all of 2 hours. So the good thing was that we set out to get to Centeroo, where all the music is, and stake out some spots for the sweet shows. And so it begins:

1) Futurebirds

I was unaware of this band. They came well-recommended, and I thoroughly enjoyed their set. I don't see them as a new favorite, but a fun show for sure. They were quite the decent alt country band, but with plenty of rockin'. They're from Athens, Georgia, which isn't too surprising for indie rockdom. We saw a 45 minute set from them, but my personal highlight was a cover of Stevie Nicks' "Wild Heart", which is apparently a staple of their live set, and definitely should be.

2) Freelance Whales

Another new-to-me-band. One of my fellow Bonnaroovians that made the trek from Omaha is a fan, so I had a good feeling about that one. They were outstanding, in my humble opinion. They had several quite versatile members, all of whom are quality musicians with range playing some interesting instrumentation. I couldn't even tell you what they were playing at times. Two songs particularly stood out from their set. Generator 2nd Floor and Hannah were definitely memorable. We also listened to the entire album, Weathervanes, on the ride home, and it is quite good throughout. Freelance Whales are on my list of bands to listen to from now on. So there's that.

3) School Of Seven Bells

I was looking forward very much to this show. Windstorm has been a favorite of mine for some time, and hearing a favorite song live is truly one of my favorite things. After hearing Windstorm, I was torn. Either I could sit around for the rest of this show or I could not starve. Food won out, so I only saw about half of their set before heading back to the campsite for peanut butter sandwiches and recuperation for the evening.

4) Sleigh Bells

For me, Sleigh Bells was the must-see of DAY ONE. The only problem was that there were way too many people who agreed with me. We were a long ways from the stage and seeing much of anything was out of the question. Hearing wasn't all that much better. Carving a path towards the tent, I got decently close to hear/rock out well. But by that point, they had played my favorites and I was ready to not be scrunched in a sea of humanity, so we headed out of the crowd. They only played one new song, which I dug, but I wanted more new stuff. It's a shame that the must-see of DAY ONE was the only bust. But everything else was outstanding. DAY ONE was already a raving success even with this set back.

5) Deerhunter

This was a band I was somewhat familiar with before walking in, but one of those bands I wanted to know better. And they rocked from the start. Their first song, Wash Off, was killer. They destroyed in the best way possible. Words do not describe with any degree of accuracy. After this song, I turned to my friend and we were too blown away to say how awesome it was. Don't Cry was also amazing. The only problem here was shear exhaustion. We had driven from Omaha to Nashville the day before and then set up tents and a canopy in heat and humidity, and now it was past midnight. We were flat-out exhausted. It was time for bed before Deerhunter was done, which was sad.

I dipped in and out of a handful of shows over the course of the weekend, and of all the sets I did not see all of, Deerhunter's was by far the biggest regret on that list.

DAY ONE was in the books. DAY TWO tomorrow...

A place where this world and the next meet

To say that today was tough is beyond an understatement.

Chelsey Horne was a young woman of incomparable strength and immeasurable resilience. For over four years, she fought melanoma. I had a front row seat for much of her struggle as her boyfriend, but I know that the most difficult part of her journey occurred in the time since we parted ways. To say that her last year, medically speaking, was hard would be a diservice to the will and determination that she and her family showed to defeating a formidable opponent.

At 1:26 am, on June 13, 2011, Chelsey Horne departed this world.

She left behind a monumental trail of inspiration, hope, and love. Her friends and family are an undying testament to her fight and her strength. She was universally adored by everyone she came into contact with, and I can speak volumes personally to the positive impact she had on my life, as well as the lives of those around her.

Chelsey was a stellar camp counselor to fellow diabetics in the mountains of California. She could tell you what wedding colors would be best when you walked into the Marina Paper Source. She was a sounding board, a confidant, and a treasured ally, a loyal friend to the end. She was a young woman of incomparable talents that could never be boiled down to a few sentences to describe her legacy.

Since the news broke, I have been on a roller coaster. My friends and family have commiserated and sent their condolences and I wish so much to send those along to the people that truly deserve them. Those who were with Chelsey to the end, her friends and family that she cherished SO much, deserve every ounce of sympathy, kind thoughts, and respect that I have gotten. I don't want any of it because it all belongs to them. I deserve none.

I surrounded myself with friends tonight to keep my mind distracted, to talk to people I haven't talked to in awhile, to see how they are doing. All of it in order to not focus on the task at hand. To belay the mourning. To leave it for a day when I can handle it. When I'm not tired, run down, exhausted, and unable to handle the emotions. And that was a fool's errand.

While it is hard to see the positives on such a heart-breaking day, I know that Chelsey's positive energy and indomitable spirit will always be with those she touched, and I know it will always be with me.

I went to hang out with friends tonight, to distract myself and focus on something besides the forefront. And amongst my friends, one of them pulled me aside and related a story about a friend from his past who had also lost a struggle with cancer and the impact this had on his life. He told me that this is the reason we do what we do. As doctors-in-training, we will one day fight this "good fight" and be able to take these negative experiences in our life and use them to do the most benefit. That these moments, as horrible as they are at the time, will one day serve the common good.

While it is hard to see the forest for the trees, so to speak, I stood outside my apartment for some time after I got home tonight. I wanted to be alone with my thoughts and memories. And as I stood outside with no discernable direction or agenda, my friend's words came back to me. I thought about the truth in them and the strength with which Chelsey and all other cancer patients fight day in and day out.

I didn't know what I was doing, particularly. I didn't know what I was waiting for, or if I was even waiting for something. But something happened.

As I stood there, deep in contemplation, a strong wind began to blow through the trees. It was impossible to think of it any other way than I did. I felt her presence in that wind. It was a cool breeze. A breath of fresh air and rejuvenation. As I stood there, I was engulfed in this gentle air. I considered my friend's eyes on the future while being ensnared by the true emotions of the present. And in that moment, I couldn't help but smile. It was the first true smile since...

I smiled because I knew that my friend was right, and Chelsey was agreeing. To me, that wind was Chelsey's approval. It was her telling me that everything was going to be all right, even if it takes a long time. That my future was set and that some day, I would be able to use this pain to help others. And above all, Chelsey would want that. Perhaps this is self-indulgent, even selfish. But I know one thing. That wind was truth, a truth that can never be replicated, never imitated, never bettered.

In a word, that wind was:

REBIRTH