Utz! Banzai!

Location: Brussels, Belgium
Stomach Condition: Rumbly

It's easy to forget how often and how long I've wanted to go to Europe.

You contemplate it and plan it and hope for it, and then suddenly you're off the plane hearing a French guy yell at you in his native tongue, and you realize you're there. It's extremely strange.

September 28

Moved into new hostel, auspiciously named "Sleep Well." Furnishings nice, but took 6 hours to get into my fucking room. Stupid desk clerk must be fired. Also, showers require one hand to be constantly pressing "on" switch. Truly the devil's hand at work. Wondering what kind of diabolical mastermind they are attempting to foil with this particular item. Probably won't work.

Church of Land's End (cool ass name, true) very pretty. Do people really make pilgrimages to see a two-foot tall stature of Mary in white stone? So she's God's mom, all right... this isn't really her. You can worship in your hometown, you know. Either way, quite well made. Why do all paintings of Jesus make him look like Paul Giamatti in "Sideways"? You're suffering, yes, I get it... could you maybe grimace or something, instead of just staring into the distance? Battery running low on camera now. Still no sign of voltage adapter.

Try to find good place to eat. Don't manage it until 10:30 PM. Very hungry all day. Kebap shops awesome.

Signed up for L5R World Championships at night. Looks like fun. Unfortunately, tournament location in dodgy-looking part of town. Large population of shifty-eyed Muslims.

It's amazing to me the kind of culture of fear that I've been living in. These are just normal people. There aren't many white people around, but that doesn't mean I'm going to be fucking killed. By most indications, this is a run-of-the-mill peaceful neighborhood. Must stop being set on edge by nothing.

September 29

The sky is a veritable tic-tac-toe board of contrails. Seriously, the density of low-flying planes over Belgium is enormous. It's really very pretty against a bright blue autumn sky.

Looking for something to flip off. Nothing presents self.

Head to first day of L5R qualifying matches for World Championships. Doesn't go well. Quite depressed. Have sexy picture of Jenny sitting next to me at all matches, for good luck. Miss her very much. On plus side, very neat meeting people from all over Europe, however briefly. Like speed dating for foreign friends. Spanish guys really are batshit loco. Especially this one tiny guy named Pedro. Like them. Hetrosexually.

Not much to eat while in tournament. Grab plums at open air market on way home. Delicious, but not filling enough. Stop at kebap shop again. Haven't had same thing twice, always great.

September 30

Secondary tournament at L5R World Championships begins today. Goes much better this time, both in the game and socially. Make 'friends' with a number of people, including Canadian named Adrien and Englishman named Alex. Very fun conversations. Tournament is hilarious fun. I place into top 32 for elimination round tomorrow. Very happy. One of the tournament organizers buys drinks for all Crab players (of which I am one). After tournaments end for night, party begins. I have several beers by the end of the night, none of which I pay for.

Talk to American-born Canterbury Social Psychology professor named Roger (part-time employee of tournament organizers). Very interesting views on education.

Talk to Swedish ex-ne'er-do-well named Robert. Big guy with facial hair (succesfully) modeled on Lemi, from Motorhead. Not sure what he does now. Apparently, he used to be a criminal delinquent. Good advice on bar-fighting. Suspect lots of inner pain. Very pleasant, forthright person. Invites to crash at his place in southern Sweden if I'm ever there. Awesome.

American army guy named Walt stationed near Frankfurt makes same offer. He's a bit awkward in a "I'm in puberty, love me" kind of way, but very nice and enthusiastic. Badass.

Reaching point of trip where I question my purpose in traveling and my purpose in life. So soon? Helps to be having fun with folk. Must keep doing that.

Three years of Italian classes finally pay off! Italian man needs help getting around malfunctioning locks in hostel, speaks no English. I actually manage to communicate with him, sound like two year-old, I'm sure. All works out. First major step in learning foreign language(s). Very good. He is funny, bows dramatically upon learning that I'm from United States.

1:00 AM. Bed time.

Progress thus far:
Countries visited: 1
Stupid tourist moments: 4
Monuments flipped off: 3
Free food ganked: 2
Free booze ganked: 5




he which hath no stomach to this fight,
let him depart; his passport shall be made
and crowns for convoy be put into his purse:
we would not die in that man's company
that fears his fellowship to die with us.

-Shakespeare, Henry V

Waffles and Chocolate

Date: September 27, 2006
Location: Brussels, Belgium
Hygiene Condition: Pleasantly ripe

Left for Brussels 2 days ago, Sept. 25. Good flights. United Airlines good. Two-leg journey: Raleigh-Washington D.C.-Brussels. Total flight time: 9 hours. Both flights take off on time, land early. Planes really time machines? Likely. Hope for Delorean next time. Or phone booth.

Jamaican lady sitting next to me on first flight gets in fight with both flight attendants. Good. She will not stow her purse overhead during landing. Flight attendants scandalized. For people who travel for a living, they really need to get out more. Ensuing argument lasts 20 minutes. Lady threatens to report flight attendents. Flight attendents go tell Captain on her. Flight attendents get "Flight Attendent Manual" to show her just how very officially she is wrong. Will is surprised that there is such a thing as a "Flight Attendent Manual." Effeminate male flight attendent makes various comments about how the purse might become a 'projectile' during an emergency. Despite best efforts, Will breaks into hysterical laughter. Flight attendents not amused.

My first view of Europe: the lights of Dover by night. Very pretty. With old man, swap anecdotes about how Ypres is a funny name for a city. Have now been up for 16 hours.

Land in Brussels at 6:30 AM. Hallway leading away from gate half a mile long with no doors or branching halls. Why so long? Signs insisting that Belgium is the "Heart of Europe" grow increasingly mesmirizing.

Time going through customs: 15 seconds. After weeks of concern and preparation, gathering proper onward/return tickets, proof of financial stability, and talking with Belgian consulate on phone to ensure easy transition, customs officer only looks at passport. "First time in Belgium?" Stupid dumb accent. "Yes." "On vacation?" "Yes." Stamps passport, waves me through. Seriously, is this a fucking joke? These people couldn't keep a cow out of their country. Oh, good... past baggage claim is a second customs area. Surely this will hold dedicated, vigilant lawmen. Untrue. Second customs area is really just a windy hallway, completely unmanned. Not even any questions. Maybe they're just trying to keep out really dizzy people. Can't complain, though... lax border policies mean likelihood of being able to spend more time with Jen in Spring increases. Very good.

Handy dandy Lonely Planet guide says take train to Gare Centrale (Center Station). Do so. Three people on train platform.

In Europe one hour. So far avoided being imprisoned in Russian gulag. Very good.

First view of Belgium very bleak. Dawn cloudy and foggy. Train yard very dingy, in an overgrown-weeds-bad-Flemmish-graffiti-rusty-I-beams-sticking-out-of-the-ground kind of way. Desperately trying to understand French conductor to find when my stop is coming up.

Get off train at correct stop, first try. Handy dandy Lonely Planet guide says "Screw you," refuses to give good directions to hostel. Take best guess, wander down street. Guess turns out to be decent. A little lost in Brussels Park, kindly Belgian woman points me in right direction. Another mile to go. Carrying 54 pounds of stuff on back. Not used to this. Now been up for 19 hours. On good side, park very pretty.

Arrive at hostel, check in. Cannot get into room until 2:00 PM. Stupid cleaning ladies. Oh, well. Room is 13 Euro/night, you get what you pay for. Stow stuff in locker, go for walk.

Hostel is in Turkish quarter of Brussels. Good for many cheap and delicious kebap shops. Local time: 10:30 AM. My body says it is 4:30 AM. Bad juju.

Too tired to do anything. Spend rest of day trying to buy voltage adapter and sleeping. Why does no store sell voltage adapter. Many tourists given proverbial finger. Very happy to pass out after 32 hours awake.

September 26, waken at approximately 7:00. Big German guy walks heavily, shakes beds in shared room. Left watch at home (bad Will), have to tell time by sun. Too early. Go back to sleep. Rewake at 8:00 AM, get up. Go downstairs for measley (but complimentary) continental breakfast. Hot chocolate very good. Eat with two girls: Gabriella (Chilean) and Kat (Australian). Quite entertaining.

Go exploring with Gabriella. She is good company. Brussels weird fucking city. Gold-domed palaces and steepled gothic churches right next to glass skyscraper office buildings along 6-lane boulevards, then immediately turn around to find little alley-streets lined with Mom-and-Pop restaurants. Quite charming. First go through Brussels Park. Much better this time with no heavy backpack. Give finger to central fountain. Right next to park is Royal Palace. Give finger to that one, too. Saying "fuck you" to Europe starting quite well. Gabriella thinks flipping off everything is funny, takes pictures for me.

One overlook of southern Brussels puts us at roof level to the buildings immediately in front of us. I am fairly sure we could make it all the way to the Grand Place hopping only from rooftop to rooftop, Batman style. Decide not to, to avoid death. Very good. Miss Fennell and Ornoff, though. They would jump rooftops with me.

Stop in Belgian chocolatier, eat free samples. Jesus H. Christ in a Chicken Basket, chocolate is good. Very different from American chocolate. Creamier. So many chocolate shops around Grand Place. Good tourist poaching, I suppose.

National icon of Belgium is a statue of a toddler taking a piss. So totally not making this up. Statue about 12 inches tall, pees into a pool. WTF, mate? Statue's name: Mannakin-Pis. So totally not making that up, either. Sensibly, I give statue the finger.

Our Lady of Sanlon Church very beautiful and big. Chairs facing both ways instead of pews, though. Why would people face the back of the church?

Next to church is a park with pretty flowers and statues that honors some guy. Can't read gold memorial plaque (In French and Flemmish), but fairly certain it has something to do with him being condemed and decapticated. Belgians build park to honor decapitated criminal? Liking Belgians more by the minute.

Arcades of Grand Place very intimate and romantic, despite being shopping center. Miss Jenny.

Head back to hostel, grabbing donor pita for lunch on the way. Cheap, hot, filling, tasty. Kebap shops have tendency to put fries on the sandwich/wrap itself, not on the side. And corn on hamburgers. Delicious.

Take shower and spend rest of evening drinking and talking with Kat and Gabriella. Buy 4 Euro bottle of champagne and drink it all my self. Delicious. Must be careful, though. Almost hit self in eye with flying cork. Champagne very dangerous. Joined by Canadian guys (Francisco and Tim). Very good guys. Nice discussion about what it means to travel. Tim recommends JET program to teach English in Japan. Sounds like excellent idea even sober. Must convince Jen to go to Japan after law school.

Kat and Tim are first interviewees for "The Suitcase Life." Very enthused. No experience making documentaries, but since when did not knowing what the hell I'm doing stop me?

Battery on camera dangerously low. Must find voltage adapter, or all is lost. Also, can't tell precise time without watch. All watches in Belgium extremely expensive. Solution: theft?

Bed time now. Early day tomorrow.

Progress thus far:
Countries visited: 1
Stupid tourist moments: 2
Monuments flipped off: 3
Free food ganked: 2



the past is gone, but something might be found to take its place.
-gin blossoms

A Magical World

I'm outta here.

For those of you who may not know, I am leaving the country tomorrow. I will not be back for a good long time. Well over a year. On this trip I plan to see most or all of the continent of Europe. I will see sights, taste delicacies, meet interesting people, learn languages, drink heavily, and give the finger to pretty much everything in sight, figuratively and literally.

All of this, I know, is pretty odd.

It seems appropriate that, since I am leaving behind pretty much everything and everyone I care about, I need a vehicle by which I might stay in touch with those I love and keep them informed of my progress through this fool's journey. It is in that light that I present to you my travel blog: "Where in the World is Will?"

This will differ from most other blogs, including my own, in a number of ways. One, it will be entertaining. Two, I will update it often (Monday, Wednesday, and Friday, if possible). Three, it will be a completely open and honest record of my time abroad. This is both for my own spiritual health and to keep you people interested enough to keep coming back. If you see or suspect that I have failed in any of these things, please do not hesitate to let me know (privately; the comments page is not an opportunity to explore the joys of public flogging).

The vast majority of the entries in this record will be quite humorous. However, I have a number of things about the trip that I need to get off my chest, and I feel like we'll all be better off if I say them all at once, right up front. Please bear with me.

I have, like many people, often thought about various places and things and wanted to experience them. I hear about the Autobahn and want to speed down it in a BMW blasting bad techno. I see the Winter Olympics and want to try my hand skiing in the Alps. I read about Swedish Midsummer reveling and want to join in the commotion. We all do it, this kind of fantasizing.

I refuse to sit back and live my life without exploring these things. I simply cannot do it in good conscience, and I have trouble fathoming the mind that forms a desire, has the means to achieve it, and will not take the leap to do so.

When asked about why I am doing this, as I often am, my most frequent response is "Because I can." More often than not, people are taken aback by this. Why? I am not anyone special. I am not particularly wealthy or lucky or even good with money. What I am is dedicated. I do not buy drinks in bars. I do not own a video game system. I do not own a car. Not because I cannot afford to, but because when I look at the Playstation that I would love to have, I think about whether I would rather have that, or an extra week in Europe. It's the same price. What do you spend your money on?

There is something... out there. Out THERE, in the great big wide world. I do not know what it is, but I know that I have to find it, and I know that I will not find it at home. Call it life or happiness or enlightenment or whatever you want. All I know is that I need to learn it, and I need to start soon, before my body is too weak and my spirit too settled to look for it. I have caught glimpses of it before, in the greatest and in the least of all places, and I yearn to see it again.

Make no mistake; this present sojurn is not my one-stop shop for inner-peace. It is the first leg on what I hope will be a lifelong journey around the world and into the hearts of many. If you are reading this, it is because you have been one of the many who has touched my life and help make it what it is. I hope that I have done the same for you. And I hope you will enjoy being along for the ride on this, the most dynamic of roads.

A very dear friend of mine asked me if this trip is in some way born out of my fear of growing up. The answer? Absolutely. I fear being still and sober for longer than a day. I fear growing slow and dull. And I fear the increasing difficulty of feeling the wind in my hair and of saying 'yes' to something that most would say 'no' to. In these things, I am proud to be a child at heart, and may maturity be damned for all of it.

Only a few hours ago I was in a discussion of this childlike spirit that lead to one of our favorite comic strips, one that is beloved by millions and that has reflected and characterized my thoughts of childhood probably more than any other. In the midst of our reminiscing, we recalled the last strip that the comic's creator wrote before retirement. The last lines, in fact, that he wrote, that may better sum up my feelings on life than any other. He said it well. If I could offer one thought before I leave my home to help you understand, it would be this, the last words of Bill Waterson's iconic Calvin:

"It's a magical world, ol' buddy. Let's go exploring."




it's time to try defying gravity
-wicked