Austria, Slovakia, and The Czech Republic

Breaking borders, shifting alliances. But if borders are only political to begin with, is anything ever really broken? One could suppose that depends on perspective.

It had been eight years since I last had been on the continent. Continents shift too, albeit more slowly. It was unplanned, insofar as I could see, though according to my perspective, everything is predetermined, at least to the extent that the present is comprised solely of reactions that already have been determined by past events and carry forward to a future that is contingent on a present we can’t control. Therefore, I no longer believe in “free will,” because no one thing is fully independent of anything else, but this is not to say there isn’t will. There is will.

The occasion lasted for the better part of the summer. Based in Vienna, the days were characterized by a considerable degree of inertia, which is an accomplishment in itself in a world that is continually changing. The sluggishness matched the season, particularly as the days became warmer. In “The City of Pools,” as I would call it if I were ever in a position to coin a quoted phrase under its name on a roadside sign, the Laaerbergbad provided reprieve from this inertia, and came to be a constant in my life. Complete with diving boards, a wave pool, and a mushroom, as well as a large park, a cafe, and various food vendors, going there was a vacation in its own right. Immaculately maintained, as is nearly everything in this pristine country, it serves as a reminder of what we can accomplish together.

Further to the East, I was welcomed as a guest in Turčianske Teplice, where I would spend five nights with a family that lives like more should. With a home adjacent to a garden filled with red currants and gooseberries, and watched over by gnomes, I never had seen such fresh abundance. On a day trip to Banská Štiavnica, the morning was spent at a “tajchy,” or one of the remaining manmade lakes constructed for a historical mine, and now used for recreation, and the afternoon at an outdoor museum dedicated to the memory of those mines, followed by pizza and “kofola,” or Slovak cola, and a stroll around the city center. On the way back to Turčianske Teplice, a visit was made to the Hronsek Wooden Church. Upon unlocking the doors of the entrance and entering, the stairs collapsed under the weight of the elderly attendant; fortunately, she was a sturdy woman and unharmed, made her way into the church all the same, giving a tour. A final stop was then made in Banská Bystrica, where a visit was paid to Vilo’s place.

Once back in “The City of Pools,” a spontaneous day trip was taken to Brno. Following the advice of an Internet acquaintance, it was begun with a delicious lunch at U Caipla before an afternoon of exploration. A few days later I finally made it to the Grüner See, which was breathtaking. Emerald in color and true to its name, it was the most beautiful lake I have seen. Sometimes I wonder if the world’s beauty merely serves as a mask to hide its horrible nature and distracted by the former, we have evolved to overlook the latter. Or is it vice versa?

Over the course of my last two weeks in Vienna, I reconnected with an old friend, as well as made a new one. While the old one is still young, and the new one is already old, and both have lived vastly different lives, we all had something in common. I also made a couple of furry friends along the way, one of whom convinced me to reconsider cats. My last weekend was spent along the Danube just outside of the city. During this time, I sampled the best grapes I have tasted, enjoyed one of the best meals I have had, and learned something new about myself. Though fall was still awhile away, I found myself changing anyway. People say people don’t change but oh, we do.

And we don’t take as long as continents.

Nicaragua

I thought it was Nicaragua, but when I finally awoke in the late morning, I was no longer sure- it’s hard to know when you’ve never been.

Getting out of the car, I spotted a colorful village on a hilltop not too far in the distance and wanted to take a picture of it with my phone, only to realize I had left it charging at home. Anyway, it was too risky to take out, so I turned and ran over to the restaurant you were entering up a ramp, cutting through a slope of hedges, and meeting you halfway. You didn’t recognize me at first- I had recently had my hair cut and dyed, and didn’t look like the version of myself with which you were familiar in life.

You had let him walk ahead, which you often did, even though we all know you were always the one to lead. Entering together, we were approached by a woman whose teenage son had also had his hair cut and dyed, and had frosted tips.

With a start I became conscious, the only real separation between our existences. We never did get to have dinner in that unknown place and time. If we could, I’d want our consciousness’s to cross paths again tonight. You might suggest Vincentown Diner. It was one of your favorites.

And I never did get around to taking any pictures last night, but the image of that colorful hilltop village is still ablaze in my mind. I wonder if you saw it, too.

Colorado

“Colorado” means “colored red” in Spanish. A once vast expanse of blue has since given way to the red sandstone soil of the region, and a river that has transported it down from the mountains and over into the present day.

Imagining how it would have been to have existed as in the present in a past nearly washed away by the passage of time, my mind swiftly shuttled me back 100 million years[1], and suddenly I was laying alone on a beach in a bikini, atop a bright pink towel. Dinosaurs were slowly moving around me, as though they were in a dream-like state, until I realized it was me who was dreaming. I was invisible to them.

I wondered how it would be in another 100 million years. Or even just 100. Change is upon us.

We are conditioned to believe that nothing will change around us, even as it continues to change within us. Without exception, I soon forgot about my fantasy as a group of friends and I made plans for dinner in Denver. Dinosaur Ridge already fading in the distance, we made our way to a restaurant called Linger, and recounted the past few days.

From Mile High Flea Market to Palombo Farms Market to a backyard barbecue, we had filled ourselves up with enough fuel for a trip to Rocky Mountain National Park, which was breathtaking. Spotting prairie dogs en route, we later spotted pica and elk. Over the course of our evolution, we have caused so much change that now it is easy to forget about other species. While holding ourselves accountable, let’s take that into account.

I wonder how the earth will be without us.

[1] For further information on how to measure time, please refer to “Measuring in Marthas.”

Peru and Chile

Two countries, six cities, and a fortnight plus one of design, Peru and Chile were first woven together in my mind sometime before I came to be. Imagined from afar, the days disappeared in another season before we could digest their beauty. Memories change perception of moments, but feelings last forever.

I wanted to travel with you before I knew who you were. Our trajectories were nearing, but we still needed time. We first met straddling two seasons, but we couldn’t slip between them as we did when we went south.

Brushing territory we could not enter, we spent a few days in Lima before ascending onward toward Cusco. Merely a point of passage on the way to Machu Picchu, we later spent a couple of days there. Slowly winding our way by train through the most beautiful country I have seen, I never could have imagined a more magnificent landscape.

At an altitude lower than that of Cusco, we soon found ourselves at the top of the world. A llama showed us the way. It wasn’t familiar but it wasn’t foreign, either. I wondered what it would have been like to live there.

It was my pot of gold.

We followed the rainbow back to the center, stopping to spend a night in Ollantaytambo. It was there that we had the best meal of our culinary adventure at a place called El Albergue. Later we looked at the stars. They never have been clearer.

On a sunny morning three days later, we flew to the land of make-believe memories. Anchored in Santiago, we took a day trip the port city of Valparaiso. As reflected in the pictures, sometimes imagery can be deceptive, and sometimes make-believe memories are best kept fiction. But sometimes things should be seen for what they are.

At times it was hard to see Santiago for what it was since it was covered in smog. A vibrant city nevertheless, the only gray day was the day we visited the Museo de la Memoria, or the Museum of Memory and Human Rights, dedicated to the victims of the Pinochet regime. Thousands of silent voices can become deafening if you listen closely enough. Please listen closely enough.

Crossing the Andes on our way back, we spent part of the night in El Dorado. Sleeping for most of the final flight, I only awoke shortly before landing. I didn’t dream of anything.

Stowe

Last week, a friend and I took the train up to Vermont to spend a long weekend. Staying in the town of Stowe, we made it there in time to enjoy the first substantial snowfall of the season.

The journey itself took up a large part of the trip. Intermittent cell phone service and spotty wifi meant that we sought much of our entertainment in books and passing scenery. Winter of the World felt appropriate for a number of reasons, and I periodically found myself lost in thought. Though the words were written to reflect a dark era of 20th Century history, they seemed all too relevant to our current one. And in the Northern Hemisphere at least, it is winter.

Our first stop was Big Picture Theater and Cafe in Waitsfield. Entering the alluringly ephemeral realm of local legends Bruce Sklar and Jeremy Hill's jazz duo, the music momentarily paused as Bruce came to the door to greet his daughter. Over dinner, I took in the singularity of the space. Tripling as a cafe, bar, and theater, it is truly unique.

The following morning, we wandered down to Stowe, re-charging at Black Cap Coffee & Beer (on coffee; beer to-go). We then meandered over to Cafe on Main for a delicious lunch before heading back. A lazy afternoon led to another evening of live music at Tap 25 Craft Beer, and a phenomenal meal at Plate. Live music in Vermont seems to be a thing.

On our last day there, we drove out to Morse Farm Ski Touring Center to cross-country ski. Although I hadn't been in over 20 years, I still vividly remembered a similar trip taken with my parents and brother. It's days like these I never forget.

Miami

The tradition of “t’s” has come to an end as we near the conclusion of 2016. The year has brought an end to a lot, including the passing of many people, both close and not so far away.

My final trip of the year was to Miami. From Rijsttafel Sumatra to Cuban cuisine to local brews, both caffeinated and not, the city cooked up the colors of ever-changing cultures, splashing them on whoever passed by. Compared to what it had looked like in my imagination, Calle Ocho was barren, not at all a re-creation of pre-Castro Cuba. But yet we can’t re-create the past in another setting- we can only look to the future in our current one.

Filled with water and art, Miami is a city full of life. Distinct districts give way to arteries flowing out to beaches lining the bow of the ocean, and a seemingly infinite expanse of shades of blue. Similar shades- and many more- could also be found in neighborhoods like Wynwood, where works of art often seem as alive as their natural surroundings. Over 1,000 miles from home, we discovered the corner where we met on our second date.

We saw more of the city’s natural surroundings on a morning visit to the Everglades, and met some descendants of the area’s early inhabitants- alligators. We wondered when the city would return to the water.

On our last night there we watched as a super moon rose over the Atlantic, in awe of the sheer size of our angle. And as we bent with it, we realized that our perception is contingent upon the Earth’s inclination. So we bowed like the beach to the ocean, and acknowledged the unknown.

Toronto

Topics that start with the letter “t” seem to be the trend on Travelhogue. By pure coincidence, the two cities to which I have travelled in the past year both start with the letter “t,” as does the word “trains.” I also take a lot of trains. I took one to return from Toronto.

I hadn’t been to Toronto in over twenty years, but one memory remained intact. The Toronto Star. Upon spotting it, I smiled. I had wanted to work there.

Toronto is known for its diversity, which is reflected in its distinct districts, dining options, and outdoor spaces. I saw a lot of Baltimore in Toronto, particularly in places such as Evergreen Brickworks, the Distillery District, and Kensington Market.

Now that I have been to both Tulum and Toronto in the past twelve months, marking two of the total of three countries in North America, I am ready to make the trek further south again, this time to Peru and Chile. With both Machu Picchu and Valparaiso on my list of places to visit, I plan to find paradise in make-believe memories.

The imagery tells the tale.

Trains

My last train ride was to talk to you. I wanted to say adios, and to see you in my dreams. To share with you a future wish, one I wish you could have seen.

You asked if there was love, and I said yes. You set a great example, at that you were the best.

You asked what you would do, come the beginning of spring. I told you everything would change, knowing I could no longer give you a ring.

I told you not to be scared, not to be afraid. I said you are always in us and we are always in you; we are that which you have made.

You finally said you weren’t, and I hoped you were at peace. You were nearing your destination, when all you knew would come to cease.

My wish once said to me “Sometimes I am so comfortable I don’t want to reach my destination.” But then a bird came to my mother’s window, and she knew you had reached your station.

Your station had come, on this first day of spring. You were surrounded by love, as you took to your wing.

And later snow began to fall, and our memories momentarily froze. And home became a place in my mind, a place that still grows.

Tulum

Last month, a friend and I went to Tulum. Located on Mexico's Yucatan Peninsula, it is among one of the most beautiful places I have seen.

Staying at a boutique resort carved into the jungle and facing the Caribbean Sea, we spent a week in repose. Far from the cacophony of the city that has somehow encapsulated us for years, we were still. Time seemed to pass more slowly, leaving us with the feeling that if we stayed longer, we would live forever.

Over the course of the week we visited Tulum Archeological Site, ruins of an ancient Mayan city that remain present in a past not so long ago. We also explored Cenote Sac Actun, an enchanting source of life for so many, and stared into the faces of mammals that could not stare back. On several occasions we made trips to the town, either to go to bars or restaurants or any number of shops that lined the main street. We got lost in a live music performance that we had all to ourselves, overcome by emotion by the Mana cover that was sung upon request. We tipped excessively.

We discovered that by doing less, we experienced more. Afternoons spent on an uncrowded public beach faded into evenings at the resort's pool. One day, we stopped for lunch at a cabana. Once seated under the thatched roof, a massive downpour began. We were quickly joined by two German tourists, and a French woman staying at the hotel. Ordering the shrimp and fish tacos, we watched as the sky darkened and opened and cried and became light once again. With the light the tears gradually subsided, and everything appeared to be a bit brighter. The contrast was breathtaking.

The contrast was breathtaking.