Orienting to Shanghai Part 1: I Make Things difficult

It has been far too long since I updated this. Seriously, the last three weeks have felt like years, I just have been doing too much to sit and write about it. Lets start from the top:

- After one of the worst travel days ever (as I mentioned earlier), I rolled into Beijing completely delirious. Turns out that after spending a night barely asleep on a train that should have been moving, failing at paying for a taxi, taking another train, metroing to the airport, and taking two flights totaling 19 hours, I gave the wrong passport to customs in Beijing before traveling to Shanghai. They gave me a temporary 1-day travel visa... which was about 299 days too short. I've heard there will be days like these, I'll take them if they only come once every 23 years.

(Sidenote: I can’t give my dad enough props for actually getting me to Shanghai. I thought I could get by without calling him and without any money [dumb] so by the time I called him it was about 3:00AM in Sudbury. And even though he was probably 90% asleep, he still got me a better deal than the 343€ cab ride I couldn’t afford. I consider myself pretty resourceful, but it doesn’t hurt that I share genes with the best resource in the world. Love you dad [oh yeah and I still messed it up...])

At the airport, I meet Sean and Andy, who will be working with me at Shanghai Foreign Language School (SFLS). Sean is from Rome, NY; Andy’s from Western Virginia (not to be confused with West Virginia). We’ve created a triumvirate of sorts to conquer this city, the language, and the women (just kidding... but seriously).

So I got there, but the hotel notified me that I could be deported if I didn’t do anything about my situation. Crap.

- QingQing Zhao became my Guardian Angel in China. As the leader of the Marshall TEFL course, she took it upon herself to legalize my stay in this country. We traveled by Metro, bus, taxi, and even motorcycle taxi (don't worry mom they provided helmets) to travel throughout Shanghai to talk to various officials, who would tell me to leave the country and re-enter instead of taking any reasonable course of action. After much ado, we're finally given the perfectly bureaucratic compromise of "you don't need to leave the country, but you do need to go to Beijing to sort things out - and no we're not going to pay for it for you." Without QingQing, I'd probably have had to pull an all-nighter flying out to Korea/Vietnam/Hong Kong and right back in, which would have been costly on two levels: monetarily and it would've added two more airline food meals to my diet (and there's only so many of those you're body is allowed each lifetime). On the plus side I got to go to Beijing!

- On the downside, I got to see Beijing. Before then, I kept catching myself comparing Shanghai to my Beijing experience: i.e. "that's cool/fun/sweet/interesting, but when I was in Beijing... it was so much better/bigger/tastier/awesomer!" So I needed to go back to revisit, see how it was holding up.

The trip really ended up being a breakup between me and the city. The smog was lighter than I remembered, but the sun was still very hazy. The traffic was awful and the streets were filthy. All the little things that I was willing to brush under the rug to have one of the best experiences of my life (and a pinnacle moment for Beijing as well). But the worst part was while I moved on with my life, it was still clinging to the past. The trains still showed re-runs of old Olympic events and the announcements on the trains still reminded volunteers where to get off. People still watered the flowers and kept up the stadiums. The carnival fled town, but left behind the ferris wheel and the merry-go-round. The people didn't excitedly talk to me on the train when I got on (to be fair I wasn't wearing my Beijing jersey, and it was rush hour on a Monday afternoon). We did relive the old times though. I had noodles from Master Kong's Soup Kitchen, with Tongue, Tripe, and Tendon. I remembered all the fantastic times I had there. Someday I'll go back, but hopefully in a few years after things have finally passed.

At least the breakup allowed me to move on. I'm a Shanghai man now and I can now fully focus on the present without comparing it too much with what was really a surreal once-in-a-lifetime opportunity. And I got my visa fixed, which I guess was important too.

...

So this entry was a little negative, but I feel that it was necessary to endure some pain and hardships to fully initiate into Shanghai. This all basically happened within the first week, I'll try to have another post or two up about my first three weeks while I'm on this three day weekend (from Wednesday-Friday, I'll cover that in a future post).

I've received a tremendous amount of support from people about the blog, many of whom I had no idea read it! I added a followers tab to the right, please sign up for that. Not only because I love knowing who actually reads the blog, but also because if I know who I'm letting down, I'm more likely to post more often. Thanks everybody!

Culinary Adventures

I had some tremendous meals in Barcelona, let me tell you about them:

Friday (13/8): After ambling around the Gothic district for a few hours, Lauriane and Elise broke off to meet a friend, leaving Dave, Ryan, and I to fend for ourselves for dinner. I checked my treasure map and found that La Lonja de Tapas (big props to Dot Kelleher) was right around the corner. Our palates had no idea what was about to hit them. My first night, I had some tapas at a bar near Las Ramblas and overpaid for what I later learned were pretty subpar tapas. Dave and Ryan had a similar experience in their first day and, after a later experience never to be described, we vowed never to eat anywhere near Las Ramblas – the restaurants know they will be getting tourist customers who will eat there once and move on, the food is terrible and expensive, not too mention the obnoxious street vendors interrupting your meal.

Moving on, we find a major intersection and track down La Lonja de Tapas, which just looks like any old hole-in-the-wall restaurant. However, once you head in to use el baño, the inside has the décor of a 5-star restaurant. We take seats at a table outside and are given a saliva-inducing menu. For the first round, Ryan orders a goat cheese and tomato salad and Dave orders meatballs. I was a little incredulous that one would order meatballs at a classy restaurant in Barcelona, but the dish quickly arrives and exposing my misguided notions. The meatballs are breaded and topped with an exquisite sauce; these are not meatballs, American staple/comfort food, this are Gourmet Meatballs. Touché Dave. As soon as we finish the first course, our plates are replaced by the main meal: Dave gets chicken skewers marinated in soy sauce and sesame seeds, Ryan has an amazing diced salmon dish seasoned in dill and sesame, and I have a grilled steak topped with duck foie gras. The foie gras just melts in my mouth while I chew on the well-cooked steak. Each stolen bite of Ryan’s salmon forces me to drop my fork and knife and savor the moment before starting the next delectable taste.

We leave the table perfectly sated. This was the lightest of our fantastic meals, which is probably for the best, considering our meal the next night.

Saturday (14/8): Ryan and I had heard of a local delicacy called paella and we vowed to find out exactly what that was. Fortunately, I had received a primo recommendation by Alex Baddock, to go to La Fonda. Again, from the outside it just looked like a little restaurant on the corner, but when we enter it appears to be a two-story eating palace. It was a bit empty, but we realized that 19:30 (7:30PM for y’all in the States) is a little early for dinner in Barcelona.

We literally have no idea what paella is, so we order appetizers figuring that the Spanish are staying true to their tapa-sized portions. Our starters are all larger than we expected: Dave’s macaroni with Bolognese sauce alone was as filling as the meal the night before (so Ryan and I helped him out), Ryan had a large-yet-intricate salad, and I had a stellar gazpacho (I polished off the bowl with my bread to get every last drop). I also had my first real sangria in Spain. Dave and Ryan are sober, so I ordered the smallest quantity I could – a ½ liter pitcher full of fruit, rose wine, and a hard liquor of some sort (presumably brandy?). Before it came out, we debated how large we thought our 3-person paella would be. Were the appetizers large because paella is small or would the entrée be proportionally larger than the appetizer like at most restaurants?

When the paella pan (literally a steel pan) took up the vast majority of our table, we had our answer. A rice base was filled with mussels, squid, fully shelled prawn, as well as bits of sausage, beef, and pork. Dave didn’t want any mussels, so Ryan and I divided those up; they didn’t look like they had any sauce, but they were delicious, I have no idea what they did to them. Turns out prawn is much like miniature lobsters, so I gave a lesson in getting the meat out of the torso. Everything mixed with the rice, which was friggin’ good, but so filling compared to every other meal we had in Spain thus far. Dave and Ryan threw in the towel heading into the fourth quarter of the dish. Fueled by my sangria, I channeled my inner Joey Chestnut (or Kobayashi, whoever eats paella better) to clean that pan off. Honest to goodness, I wasn’t hungry until 14:30 the next day. We weren’t the least bit surprised that La Fonda was packed with a line stretching down the street when we left. I’ve never had another paella to compare this to, but I have a hunch this was the good stuff. I can’t imagine eating it anywhere else.

Just when we thought we reached the summit of Barcelona culinary greatness, we found an entirely new plateau of excellence the next night.

Sunday (15/8): This is meal/adventure is so epic I have to preface it by introducing the characters involved:

Dave and Ryan: As individuals, they are funny, witty, smart gentlemen. But together, they are a force to be reckoned with. Their personalities and opinions clash and complement for clever banter, funny stories, and well-taken jabs all around. Dave is a health-minded individual looking to major in economics at UCLA and Ryan is chasing his life dream of becoming a professional photographer. However, the one subject they are most passionate about is food. They breakdown and analyze food with the same intensity that I reserve for sports (that's a serious compliment). I don't watch the Food Network or food shows anywhere, but if they were to start a culinary critique show, I would watch that every night. And if they need someone to find restaurants to eat at in cities around the world (and polish off any dish they don't finish), I would do that in a heartbeat - for free. I never thought I'd ever get along with anyone from Los Angeles, now I've met two and they're convincing me to even come out and visit (and it's working).

Mira: A girl we met on Saturday, who is on the craziest journey of anyone I've ever heard of (perhaps including Bilbo Baggins). Once working in San Francisco's financial district, she decided in a single day to travel Europe for 6 weeks... taking off five days later. Two-and-a-half months later, she's still overseas with no return in sight. She's been to dozens (exaggeration?) of cities in a myriad of countries and having incredible experiences at every stop. After hearing us rave about our last two dinners, she decided to come along for our third and greatest excursion.

The Adventure: What ensued played out like an episode of Seinfeld (with Dave/Ryan as Jerry/George [not sure which is which], Mira as Elaine, and me as Kramer [I'll take it]). We began by setting off for a tapas place called Txapela (which I still have no idea how to pronounce) around 9 o'clock. It was listed as across the street from the Pg de Gracia metro station, but finding which direction across puzzled us. After, no joke, half an hour of searching and a couple of useless directions by local restaurant owners - who didn't even know which road they were on, what? - we ran into a man with many words about Txapela. I don't speak Spanish, which is really crucial in Spain it turns out, but Mira is fluent and Dave can get by, so they did the interpreting. He believed that Txapela was just a tourist place with expensive low quality tapas, but that there was another place seven streets up and four streets over with far superior tapas. Not knowing what to believe and not wanting to give up on Txapela, we went around the corner to find our destination closed, so we decided to follow the stranger's advice.

Seven streets up and four streets over, we were completely lost in an unknown (but beautiful) neighborhood, probably around 10:30 or so. Having had a bite at 7, I was doing fine, but Dave and Ryan were suffering. Mira goes inside a restaurant and asks where to find The Place, the owner says, "two streets down on the left." We walk two streets down, look around, and things don't look open. We ask another local restaurant owner, his reply "two streets down." At this point, we start to get grim, wondering if we were going to get tapas or our kidneys removed. Two streets later, we ask again, they say to go left... two streets down.

Two more streets down and we are in a neighborhood I recognize! I had wandered in L'Exiample after Sagrada Familia to go to a restaurant called Paco Meralgo (a 7-star suggestion by Kip Lange), but didn't stay because there was a 30 minute wait (for one person for lunch) and I was ravenous. We decide to go to The Place or Paco Meralgo, whichever shows up first. Using my map, we stumble around aimlessly for another 10 or 15 minutes. Dave suggests we eat Baby Ruths for dinner from the 7-11-esque convenience store we pass; we consider it. We get to the end of a street and are exhausting fast, when Ryan yells "THAT'S IT!" pointing down the road. He's right, Paco Meralgo stood before us, glowing like a heavenly beacon in the middle of the dark residential neighborhood.

There's a 15 minute wait, which we gladly accept, knowing that if there's a 15 minute wait at 11:30, it has to be good. There are no words to properly describe the experience that follows. And, while I regret not bringing a camera to document the event, the photos wouldn't have done it justice.

Our waiter was the first good one we had in Catalonia; he starts out by making a joke and we immediately like him. At first glimpse at the menu, Dave and Mira realize that this is The Place that The Stranger recommended (from some mixture of words they hadn’t recognized earlier). Dave and Ryan know exactly what they're ordering; Mira and I are overcome by the choices and have the Good Waiter order for us.

First course: a succulent raw tuna for Mira and I, a thinner more flavorful tuna Carpaccio for Ryan, and “La Bomba” meatballs for Dave. Our tuna was great for sinking teeth into and I savored every bite. Ryan’s tuna had such flavor that it worked as a perfect alternative to our dish. Dave’s meatballs lived up to their name, and he even made a face one rarely sees outside of the bedroom, of pure unadulterated ecstasy (apparently they were burning his mouth, but he didn’t want to spit them out or douse them with water so he made an O-face through the pain).

Second dish: Dave had steak sautéed in sliced garlic, Ryan had seasoned red peppers, and Mira and I had a huge seafood platter (which we shared with the LA duo). Dave’s steak was spectacular, as were Ryan’s peppers (which may have been shishito peppers, not sure). But I still dream about the seafood platter we ate, even a week later. The clams, like the mussels the night before, didn’t look specially seasoned in any way, but were at least as delicious (and there were more of them, which doesn’t hurt). The squid looked like it had eyeballs or something looking at us, but I think they were just the suckers on the tentacles – I really have no idea – but those are a vivid part of my dreams. They weren’t fried like most calamari I’ve had, just cooked to perfection. And the prawn! Oh the prawn! Seriously, the prawn were bigger with more spices than the night before… it was as if this seafood platter took our paella as a challenge to their delectable supremacy and surpassed it in every category. There were also these longish shells filled with a squidlike fish; no idea what it was, but it was magnifico! Ryan also got a veal to finish off the second round, but I was already thinking dessert (it looked on par with the rest of the meal though).

Dessert: Dave and Ryan got a Catalan Crème Bruleé, which is slightly gooier than its French cousin and almost as wonderful. The Good Waiter ordered Mira and I something awesome, I forget the exact name. It was this French toast, but almost more fried so it was very crunchy and sweet topped with freaking incredible ice cream. Both were gone within moments of hitting the table.

The tremendous atmosphere of the restaurant, propelled by the Good Waiter, fantastic company, and brilliant food makes this a top 5 meal of my lifetime for sure. I couldn’t even write this post when I was hungry because it seemed like too much of a tease to myself. We’d tell people at the hostel about our meals and they were stupefied by how well we were eating. And we could only shake our heads when they told us about the tapas they had on Las Ramblas that evening…

* * *

Time started sprinting all of a sudden… here’s some quick notes

·         On my last day in Barcelona, I sunbathed. Naked. Every now and then you’ve gotta shed the Puritan values, drop your pants, and lose your tan lines. When’s the next time I get to do that?

·         I got into Munich and immediately had a pork knuckle and a Bavarian beer. I loved the food in Barca, but the pork knuckle filled me up as much as anything aside from the paella. And don’t get me started on the difference between the Spanish beer (only Estrella basically) and any beer in Munich. I came down with a cold and I’m blaming it on too long without soccer or basketball and too much Estrella – I’m never drinking that swill again (until I go back).

·         Matthias and I stayed at his friend Carlo Studtmann’s place. I couldn’t have asked for a better host. He was in the middle of exams, but still took the time to settle me in, show me around, tell me where to go, and even organize my trips. A real class act. And his friends took good care of me at the beer gardens. My only wish is that the time could’ve stretched longer.

·         Also Matt and I rode bikes over to the BMW Museum. His cars are my sports, so he proved to be a great tour guide as expected. What I didn’t expect was to re-fall in love with motorcycles. The K1300 is one of the best motorcycles in the world and it can be bought in Germany for €13,000! The dealer even said it’s probably cheaper in $’s in the US than it is in €’s out here. One of the best motorcycles in the world or a really crappy car for the same price… and the motorcycle will have better gas milage… hmmmmm. Also, I could just feel the power in the bike when I got on it and just got this feeling, like I need to tame it. Maybe I’ll get a license out in Shanghai (I’m just kidding mom [or am I?])

·         I literally had the worst travel day in the history of travel days. I set off to get to the airport at 8:00 for a 13:30 flight and my train was delayed by 3 hours at the first station. Then it didn’t go to the right place so I had to transfer and I missed my flight. Re-booked and had to take 3 flights instead of one direct flight. Then they lost one of my bags… which they fortunately found about 30 minutes later. I know I’m an optimist when I’ve had the past two days I’ve had and think, “if I only have to do this once every 23 years, I should be in good shape.”

·         Now I’m sitting in my hotel in Shanghai, the skyline is lit up a mile away out our window. This is ridiculous, I can’t wait to get started.

Ballin and Barcelona (or My Experience with Genius) [Updated]

Hola Amigos,

Here's what I've been up to the last few days:

Monday (9/8): Played basketball less than a quarter mile from the Eiffel Tower. I was just going for the ball, so I didn't bring my camera, biggest regret from Europe so far. It becomes part of the background when you're playing, but every now and then I'd look up and just be in awe. And the competition was good and fun as hell to play with. Every drive to the hoop contained about 4, 5, or 27 fakes before a behind-the-back or between-the-legs pass. When I did a behind-the-back and the recipient didn't see it coming, he apologized for missing it rather than asking me what the hell I was doing. A few funny notes too. While they had a boombox with Dr. Dre playing, a couple of differences from the US were that they smoked cigarettes between games and all brought their purses with them. So while we were playing there were about 10 or 12 purses on the sideline and not a single girl amongst us, that will never cease to amuse me. (Side note: I feel like this trend in Europe may originate with the heavy usage of coins. I hate them rattling around in my pockets, so a purse may be handy; but I don't think I could ever bring myself to buy one).

That night at L'Antidote, I had a surreal moment. There were a bunch of French lads and ladies my age at the bar, a handful of whom were rather sloppy (to put it nicely). When ordering their final round of shots, they asked where I was from. When I answered, they gave me a shot and hummed the first part of the national anthem before regaling me with their stories of their time in the USA. I've heard stories and rumors about how the French are rude to travelers, especially those from America, but my experience couldn't be more of the opposite. Many people in Paris went the extra mile to make my stay as good as possible. After I live in Shanghai for a few years, I'll probably have to live here and learn French. (Also, I'll have to learn their anthem so that I can hum it to the first French person I meet in a bar back home)

Tuesday (10/8): I went to Napoleon's tomb, a massive monument to a tiny man. Afterwards, I chilled at a cafe for a couple hours arranging travel and the like. Pretty slow day. I ate at a North African restaurant around the corner from my hostel, which was delicious and the host was stellar in guiding me through my options; there was food from Senegal, Cameroon, and Madagascar, all tres bon. If I can find the name I'll pass it forward for future travelers. In my last night at the Young and Happy Hostel in the Latin Quartier (can't say enough good things about it, great staff, clean rooms, always felt my possessions were secure), a bunch of new travelers just got in. I took them over to L'Antidote to hopefully continue traditions after I leave. I'm gonna miss that place, it was a chill bar to start the night and Will is a cool bartender, always talking with the folks and providing quality service/music (really good music actually).

Wednesday (11/8): Spent 6 hours in the airport due to delays, let's not talk about it. It was late, but I got to Barcelona.

Thursday (12/8): Wandered around Las Ramblas before heading over to Picasso museum. Talk about mind blowing, I think I got an aneurysm. I spent 3.5 hours looking at the over 300 paintings there and they have over 700 more in the vault (Picasso liked the idea of a museum in his hometown and just up and donated 1000 paintings that were "laying around his house"! What!?!). Genius doesn't have an off switch, and it showed. It started with paintings when he was 12 and he died with a brush in his hand. I could look at his works all day. My favorite was his interpretations of a Velazquez piece. When I see a picture, I try to come up with two or three ideas of what is going on in it before moving on. Picasso put his own spin on fellow Spanish painter Velazquez's "Las Meninas"... 60 times. 60. All cubist, but all different, with the colors perhaps conveying the souls/emotions/true intentions of the main characters. Mindblowing. Loved it.

That night, I met Lauriane, Elise, Dave, and Ryan who explored the streets of Barcelona with me. We punctuated the night with my first dip into the Mediterranean Sea around 3AM. The perfect way to start my time in Spain

Friday/Saturday (13-4/8): When I first posted this I got the days off by one, now I can't differentiate these two (Barcelona will do that to you). I did a Gaudi tour, went to Casa Milla (a house designed by him), Sagrada Familia, and Parc Gaülle (a community designed by him). He's definitely a genius too, just centuries ahead of his time. He was an architect, sculptor, and an engineer, his buildings are all twisted and crazy (I'm standing on the roof of Casa Milla in the photo above). I wish he didn't die, I definitely would've commissioned him to design the future Lauer Mansion.

On Friday afternoon, I explored the Gothic district with Lauriane, Elise, Dave, and Ryan. Then I had the first of my Culinary Adventures (coming next post).

Sunday (15/8): Very lazy day today, just laying low after some late nights partying this weekend.

Tomorrow I head out to Figueres for another of my favorite geniuses, Salvador Dali.

Shameless Plugs: I've eaten like a king every night in Barcelona thanks to Kip Lange, Dot Kelleher, Alex Baddock, and Jeff Devine. My map, which is peppered with their recommendations, is treated like a holy relic. So far they're batting 1.000 (knock on wood), I have no doubt it'll keep up. I will tell you all about it in the next post.

Also to the Young and Happy Hostel. I wish I could remember the manager's name, he learned mine on the first day and made sure that my experience was as pleasurable as possible. Either he does that for everybody there or the Scublog has gained popularity faster than I expected. He's a real class act.

Finally, to Gabi, Olivier, and Will for being excellent people to talk with, learn about Paris from, and for making an American feel comfortable abroad.

Ici C'est Paris!

Lots going on over here, and there's even more to come so I actually will make this brief.

Thursday (5/8 [Euro Style]): I went to the Pantheon after arriving in Paris. Ate my first Parisian crepe, drank my first Parisian café, and nearly melted with my first Parisian crème brûlée (which reminds me that I still haven't eaten Parisian escargot, what's wrong with me!). I met my temporary roommate Javiera, who is from Bilbao of the Basque country (not part of Spain [but it kinda is]). Discovered the bar L'Antidote and befriended the bartender William from Monaco.

Friday (6/8): I wake up early for the last time, it's much more fun to stay out until 5 than it is to wake up at 8. Jav is a fine arts major, so we head to the Louvre, where we act like tourists, get ridiculously lost, make fun of the Mona Lisa, etc. After spending 45 minutes recovering in a cafe, we get lost trying to find a flea market that doesn't actually exist out in the suburbs. We go back to L'Antidote and party la nuit away.

Saturday (7/8): Jav leaves for London, I act like I live here. I spend a couple hours in a cafe before heading to an artists apartment that Jav and I passed by on the way to the Louvre. Seriously, David, if you're reading this check out some of the photos on the side. If your apartment in Berkeley is anything like this (painted walls and art coming out of the woodwork) then please take some pictures and I'll definitely come over after China - living with an artist would be a fantastic experience.

I went to the inside out building and bought a Paris St. Germaine kit before heading to the game. I could write a million words about this experience. The fans are crazy, there are two rival sections, the fascists and the socialists who used to fight after games - even though they root for the same team! Last year was a brutal year for PSG who finished 10th, so the fans cared less about the soccer and more about the fighting. It escalated until one fanatic got killed. To get into the stadium, I had to pass by security guards with machine guns (I still get chills thinking about it). The game was alright, but much lower quality than the HSV-Chelsea match. I got along well with Pierre and Isabella who sat next to me and spoke enough English to commentate on the game. Pierre rooted for both teams, growing up rooting for Sainte Ettiene who were a powerhouse in his youth and now living in Paris. Like the rest of our section, they hated the fascists and just loved the game. The atmosphere was pretty intense, the crowd did little whistles every time they didn't like something or to mock the other team and at times was as ambient as vuvuzelas. The crowd had dozens of chants (which you can hear here), most of which are simple like "Ici C'est Paris" ("This is Paris"). I could go on forever. There was a bicycle kick for a goal, ridiculous. I probably will write more on this later.

Sunday (8/8): I finally visited the Eiffel Tower, which is essentially a tourist trap (trés bourgeois haha); I fulfilled my required attendance and headed to Sacre Coeur... another tourist trap. I came back exhausted, but went to L'Antidote and met up with Will and his friends. I asked them about what French music is best and had a great ongoing conversation that lasted the whole night. Also this was the first time I did the kiss on both cheeks thing as a goodbye (basically they're converting me, I'll probably arrive in Barcelona wearing a beret - which I haven't actually seen yet).

Today (9/8): Whoa, that's now. Last night at 5:30AM I came back to the hostel and chilled with Olivier, one of the guys working the desk. We got off well right off the bat (on the first day) as he is from Paris and loves PSG. He added a few bands to the music list and we started talking about basketball - which he also loves - and told me the location of a bunch of the courts around town. A couple are in shady areas, which I may stay away from, and one for elite players (you can only play if you have a strong reputation), which I may stop by just to watch. There is one that is safe to be at, which is where I'll play this afternoon if the players there are legit. Afterwards, I'll head to Musee D'Orsay (if it's open today, Mondays can be off days for museums).

I love Paris. The people here have been so helpful and nice; the opposite of the stereotypes in my experience. There are enough tourist activities to occupy me for decades, but I've had more fun conversing with locals and chilling at cafes. I could write a bajillion words about the culture here and the differences/hidden similarities with America, which I may yet do. But for now, I've got to get back out there. I only have two days before set off for Barcelona!

HSV Forever and Ever

On Wednesday I saw Chelsea visit Hamburger SV in Hamburg with my cousin Johannes. The common nickname for Hamburger is HSV (pronounced in either three syllables as ha-ess-valdt or two highs-valdt, depending on the chant). It was an astonishing game throughout, here's the rundown:


- My uncle, Paul, bought Johannes and I these tickets and they were fantastic! In the last row of the section under the balcony, I was able to stand, jump up-and-down, etc without blocking anyone's view. Plus, they were close enough we could recognize all the players by their faces

- For those of you who don't follow soccer, Chelsea is absolutely loaded. You can see their roster here. Basically they consist of players who started for their national teams and players who captained their national teams. The reaction they received from the strongly HSV dominated crowd was unlike any I've seen in the US: they gave them a rousing ovation when they entered the pitch. I initially started booing, as would be the norm at home, but quickly changed when I realized what was going on. The crowd was excited to see such great players in action on their home pitch, very classy.

- Even in warmups, Chelsea was so nasty. Nicolas Anelka, the striker who was sent home by the French team at the World Cup for being a prima donna, was flicking behind the back passes to teammates in the shootaround, and always hit the lower left side of the net when he decided to fire one home himself (even when the goalie seemed to know exactly where he was shooting). Also there was a juggling circle that consisted of Didier Drogba (my personal favorite), Ashley Cole, Frank Lampard, John Terry, and a few scrubs (term used extremely loosely). They didn't allow the ball to hit the ground for what felt like 3 or 4 minutes by saving the ball with high difficulty maneuvers. Johannes and I stared in amazement, but when I went to record they stopped.

- When the game started, I was disappointed when Drogba wasn't listed in the starting lineup. "Oh well," I thought, "I guess I'll have settle for Anelka and Florent Malouda up front." They both started for the French national team, no big deal.

- Chelsea dominated possession right off the bat, but HSV got a few good looks. There was an audible gasp from the stadium when HSV crossed and John Terry did his patented headfirst dive to clear the ball out - even though he missed. I couldn't tell if the gasp was in appreciation for something that we had only ever witnessed on television, or because he missed it

- The young defenders of HSV had supreme difficulty handling Anelka, Cole, and Malouda; they could get or put the ball wherever they pleased. This climaxed in a poor pass by a defender that was intercepted by Malouda who crossed the ball to Lampard for the easy score in the 24th minute. The air was sucked out of the stadium, even the fans behind HSV's goal who stood all game chanting were silent for a few minutes.

- HSV controlled the ball and was very close to scoring on two corners just before halftime. The crowd was definitely tense, but there was a sense of anticipation; we knew HSV would score soon. Terry helped energize the crowd with a terrible tackle from behind that earned him a Yellow Card.

- Being there live amplified everything. Moves that looked routine on TV during the World Cup were exciting to see live. Live, the degree of difficulty is much more apparent. Dribbles and passes that are made in traffic that seemingly shouldn't work go through and leave everyone breathless.

- At half, many substitutions are made. Because it is a friendly match, there is no limit to the switches a team makes. Chelsea puts in Drogba... I am stoked

- HSV continues to inch closer to scoring a goal in the second half. A funny series of events occurs when Chelsea defender Branislav Ivanovic cuts off HSV striker Jonathan Pitroipa to get to a long ball, but doesn't touch it and continues to block him off as the ball rolls a good 20 yards out of bounds, irritating Pitroipa. Next possession, Pitroipa comes from behind Randy Moss style to beat Ivanovic to the ball, cuts inside turning him around, then dribbles the ball back outside leaving him in the dust for a wide open shot on goal. It's blocked, but Pitroipa got his revenge making Ivanovic look silly to the amusement of the crowd.

- HSV finally pulls through, this time on a bad error by Chelsea's defenders who allow a bounding ball to get behind them just outside of the goal area. This happened a couple times before without consequence, but this time Mladen Petric - who had been going all out all game for HSV - beat the goalie to the ball with a risky high flying kick to put the ball in the back of the net! The crowd goes absolutely bonkers! A split second later and the goalie gets the ball and Petric's cleats in his face, perfectly timed strike. In the 72nd minute, we wonder if the game will end in a draw and how Chelsea will respond.

- Drogba had been playing facilitator since coming in at half. There was a nice behind-the-back pass to Anelka to get by three defenders (before Anelka is called for a questionable handball). But after the score, he goes into kill mode. He's built like a linebacker at 6-2, 220 or 230, but is faster than everyone on the field. He beats one defender to the ball before crossing him up and getting the ball to the goalie, Frank Rost, who smartly was in position to make the stop. More to come from him later.

- HSV deflects a corner twice, missing the goal by inches to the left. I jump up thinking it's in it was so close. It's late, but the crowd can feel another goal coming on.

- HSV gets an unlikely hero in Heung Min Son, a new transfer at only 18 years and one month old (born in 1992, younger than my brother. holy crap) from South Korea. He gets the ball and with apparently the hugest set of cahones ever crosses over Portugese national team starter Ricardo Carvalho and puts the ball past the keeper for the leading goal. Pandemonium! Everyone is hugging and jumping as "HSV Forever and Ever" (the team theme) blares over the loudspeaker. The stadium shifts from Hamburg to Cloud 9.

- No less than 2 minutes later, Didier "Manimal" "Two-Time EPL Golden Boot Winner" "I made peace in the Ivory Coast, but I will eat your babies" Drogba dribbles into four HSV defenders, leaving two of them on the ground and one of them facing backwards before unleashing a laser-guided rocket-propelled missile at Rost, who gets a finger on it to poke it out of bounds. There are no words to describe the crowds reaction. Some mixture of stunned, astonished, and a collective crapping-of-the-pantalones comes close. The girl next to me, no older than 7 years old sums it up perfectly: silent with hands over her mouth, eyes bulging, folded up on top of her seat with her knees to her chest. Earlier I didn't know if she was much of a fan because she wasn't reacting to some brilliant soccer, but she was completely aware of this moment. Priceless

- The crowd holds its breath through the corner a few more Chelsea strikes until time runs out and the fans go crazy again. Johannes and I go down to the pitch to try and get a HSV jersey from one of the players, but we realize they've all exchanged theirs with Chelsea's and they aren't going to give those up.

Absolutely phenomenal. Recounting this is pumping me up for the Paris St. Germaine match tonight. In other news, I've been to the Pantheon and the Louvre so far in Paris, I'll try and get a post up about that soon. Unfortunately my hostel charges for Wifi access, so I have to chill at cafés to post entries, photos, or even tweets. Not the worst thing in the world, just not convenient for frequent updates.

Cheers!
Stephen "Scuba" Lauer

Ich Bin Ein Berliner

Guten tag y'all,

After spending an enjoyable day in Hamburg and a couple quaint nights in Lüneburg, Johannes, Clara, and I made a trip to Berlin. Hamburg was a great introduction to Germany and Europe with its canals, fancy architecture, and ridiculous cars (seriously, I saw 4 Ferraris, 2 Aston Martins, and 2 Lamborghinis, not to mention countless BMWs and Mercedes), but if Hamburg was a slice of Europe, Berlin was an entire pie. Here are the notes I took about our stay:

- Traveled to Berlin by train from Lüneburg, which took 2.5 hours by train, and found the hostel where we would be spending the night, a nice place called Seven East

- We walk around the corner to rent bikes for a day, which was very crucial. We wouldn't have seen half of what we saw walking or taking the Metro and gave me a real feel for the city, especially as I was the navigator.

- When I asked if I could have a helmet to go along with the bike, the rental lady looked at me as if I asked for training wheels (I know this for a fact because I asked that moments later). So I traveled the city sans helmet hair (sorry mom, at least I tried). The first time I ride a bike for about 7 years, give or take a few instances, and I have to navigate traffic in the third largest city in Europe without a helmet (and later, in the rain)... exciting!

- We started off towards the Berliner Dom, a large cathedral in the East side that's all blinged out in the traditional style. From the rooftop we could see all of Berlin

- We biked up to the Berlin TV Tower, the tallest tower in the city with the intentions of going to the top to see all of Berlin, but then we realized we already did that and decided to go to lunch instead.

- To get to the lunch spot, we rode all the way down (about 3 km) Unter Den Liden - the most famous street in Berlin. There are many government and old-fashioned buildings lining the street until we got to the Brandenburger Gate, which separated East and West Berlin along with the Wall pre-1990. It looks kinda like the Arc d'Triomph and is surrounded by the US, Great Britain, and French embassies, as well as Hotel Adlon, the most famous hotel in Berlin.

- We continued down past the President's house; Johannes and Clara had difficulty describing his position in the country, but I got the sense he wasn't very important - the Chancellor is the top dog in Germany.

- We finally arrived at Weitzman, a hole-in-the-wall restaurant famous for its Schnitzel and Spätzle, which is definitely the name of the German Cheech and Chong in an alternate universe. I had eaten Schnitzel everywhere I went, so I tried the Spätzle. It was freaking fantastic! Noodles with cheese tomatoes and mushrooms all mixed together and cooked in a way that they all stuck to each other and you had to use a fork and knife to cut out bites. Rejuvenated we cycled back up Unter Den Liden.

- When we got back to the Brandenburger Gate, we saw storm clouds rolling in. Johannes suggested that we head to the Sony Center, an open air covered mall that has restaurants and entertainment. With the rain just beginning to fall as we entered we bought tickets for Toy Story 3D in IMAX. Pixar didn't let us down.

- The rain had just stopped when we left, so we biked home and prepared for dinner. Again Johannes came up with a big suggestion: eating out at a Singapore/Malaysian restaurant on a trendy street. The food there was sooo good, cheap, and in huge proportions, I really felt terrible leaving some of my chicken with peanut and coconut milk sauce untouched. The final bill was 40 Euros, but my cousins advised me to tip only 2 euros (5%), because anything more may be taken as an insult?!? Whatever, I guess I'll take it

- We found a bar that Johannes could get into (he's only 16 and can drink in Germany, but not go into clubs, which you must be 18 years old for) and met a kid from Michigan who was visiting a German girl who did an exchange program at his high school. Naturally, with the world being as small as it is, his hometown was five minutes from the place we had the Lauer family reunion 3 years ago. (The night before in Lüneburg, I got a free drink after talking with the bartender, who exchanged in Argus, right outside of South Bend, IN) We stayed until 2 before heading back to the hostel to call it a night.

Today we biked around a bit in the Medieval section of town before heading to the train back to Hamburg, where I'll be seeing Hamburger SV play Chelsea!

Last note: for whatever reason, my German phone isn't connecting to Twitter. I'll give it another shot, but if this doesn't work I won't be able to post as often as I'd like to up there.

…

I wrote that all a couple days ago when I didn’t have an internet connection. Right now, I am sitting at Crepes A Gogo, a stone’s throw away from the Pantheon, drinking café au lait and eating a lemon crepe. I’ll update about the incredible Chelsea-HSV match and my Paris adventure soon with pictures.

Au Revoir,
Stephen “Scuba” Lauer

World Tour

As you’ve probably heard, I’m going on a little trip. I’m going to try to keep these entries short so that I can update more frequently. So here’s a quick layout of my trip and my preliminary thoughts on each place before I get there:

Luneburg (Aug 1-5): This is where my uncle, Paul (he’s requested not to be called Uncle Paul) and my cousins Johannes and Clara live - I just landed here this afternoon. It’s a suburb of Hamburg and so far it's more of a Framingham than a Sudbury - if Framingham was more of a college town, and less commercialized, so actually more like Concord. Most of you probably don't understand that analogy, don't worry it's not that accurate.

-Hamburg: Surprisingly to me, this is the 7^th largest city in Europe, larger than Munich, Barcelona, Amsterdam, or Athens. It is a port city (sorry Joyce, you were right) and I’m going to be seeing a soccer, er football, match between Chelsea and local team Hamburger SV with Johannes there on August 4^th. This could be the most underrated city on the trip; I’m excited.

-Berlin: One of the six cities in Europe larger than Hamburg, I’m hoping that Clara will show me around for a day. In Beijing, a few Swedes I met called it the most fun city in Europe for their dollar, er Euro. I haven’t heard much about it, but I’m optimistic.

Paris (Aug 5/6-11): I can’t freaking wait to come here! I’ve only heard great things, plus the ultimate compliment to Shanghai that I’ve heard is that it’s the “Paris of the East.” What better way to put that to the test than to visit the Paris of Earth first? I’ve read a fair amount about Paris, but am definitely open to hearing about more fun places to go, especially in young person/nightlife terms. I’ll open up a forum later so that anybody who’s travelled there before as a young lad/lass can give me a few pointers. I can use all the help I can get. (Side note: I’m going to a Paris St. Germaine [PSG] soccer match on the 7^th)

Madrid (Aug 11/12-14): In stark contrast to the next place, I haven’t heard one glowing review of Madrid yet. But everyone says that I should at least go there while I’m in the area. Sounds like a really low bar to get over. I’ve allotted some time here just in case it exceeds expectations and I actually like it. Otherwise I could spend one of these days at Figueres (for the Dali museum) and there’s a soccer tourney in another town in Spain with Atletico Madrid that I may try and catch.

Barcelona (Aug 14/15-18): I’ve only heard gushing reviews of Barcelona and, before I read the guidebook at the airport, couldn’t name one monumental site there. Sounds like a real cultural hub that has places to explore during the day and likes to party all night. While Paris is the best bet to be my favorite destination, I could easily see the Catalonian capitol taking that title. I’ll also start a forum for this as well… it’ll be more important here because it’s such an unknown for me. FC Barcelona will be in America of all places while I’m there, so I may need help finding a soccer match to go to in Spain to complete my football tour of Europe.

Munich (Aug 18/19-21): I went here when I was 12 and I remember loving the weiss wurst (white sausage – no jokes please). I’ll be meeting up with my cousin Matthias here. Every guidebook of Munich I’ve seen so far has entire sections devoted to their beerhalls. Let’s just say I’m giddy. (Potential Bayern Munich game 8/20!)

Brussels (August 23^rd): I stop by in Luneburg to pick up my stuff, shower for the first time in weeks, etc before coming here to launch over to Shanghai. I have a late morning flight, so I’ll only have time for breakfast. Belgian waffles anyone?

So that’s it for my extremely brief introduction to my trip… I guess I rambled a bit. I expect that will be my longest post until I get to Shanghai, but I also know better than to think I know what to expect out of me (what?). To get more frequent updates from me you can follow me on twitter at @s_lauer.

Auf Wiedersehen from Lauer East,

Stephen “Scuba” Lauer

Shameless Plugs:

To my dad, Greg Lauer, who has been invaluable as ever throughout this entire process. He’s at least as excited about this trip as I am and I couldn’t ask for a better #1 fan (or 1b after you mom). I’ll also give him credit ahead of time for helping me survive when I inevitably lose my credit card/phone/passport at some point during this trip.

To my Aunt Laurie for meeting up with me at JFK airport and discussing Shanghai and Paris, somehow getting me even more amped for this trip.

To my uncle, Paul, in advance for not only putting me up at his place in Luneburg but for serving as my European base. Oh and for getting me a ticket to the Hamburger SV game!

And lastly, to the girl who sat next to me on the plane, Maria Metzler of Aldenburg, for being an enjoyable flight companion and especially for telling me that Justin Timberlake/Janet Jackson’s “Wardrobe Malfunction” was called Nippleblitzen in Germany. Awesome.

I'll leave you with this video that I saw when I got off the plane in Dusseldorf.