To whom it may concern,
At least once a day for the majority of my adult life, I have faced the Heineken Brewery in Amsterdam and knelt in reverence, no matter my location globally. On this day, my friends, I reached my own Mecca; my Valhalla.
For full effect, watch while listening to music... I wanted to incorporate it, but it tripled the size of the file and I'm far too technologically illiterate (but mostly lazy) to figure out how to compress this piece. Best song to listen to you ask? That's easy.
"Amazing," by Seal.
Dear Heineken,
I Love you.
From Florence, With Love
Erich
Wednesday, July 28, 2010
Life Wasted, Reprisal (Thanks Eddie Vedder)
To whom it may concern,
I assure you that it was not my intention to invoke feelings of neglect on your part for lack of verbal attention over the last week and a half. So, a brief recap of what we've learned today. From the top, shall me?
-Barcelona is the most beautiful city I've seen to date. Dow Jones, you are innovative and imaginative; someday, you will be mine.
-As a sub note, Barcelona's aquarium makes everyone, including myself, feel like a first-rate nature photographer.
-These "academics" are really getting in the way of my travel... Weekend at Bernie's, this is for you.
-Amsterdam is a city where you can ________ and ________ (fill in the blank. It's just like Madlibs, you cannot fail.
For legal reasons, I feel like it would be foolish for me to post a hefty portion of the photos I've taken over the last few weeks, so just use your imaginations.
More to come... probably.
From Florence, With Love
Erich
I assure you that it was not my intention to invoke feelings of neglect on your part for lack of verbal attention over the last week and a half. So, a brief recap of what we've learned today. From the top, shall me?
-Barcelona is the most beautiful city I've seen to date. Dow Jones, you are innovative and imaginative; someday, you will be mine.
-As a sub note, Barcelona's aquarium makes everyone, including myself, feel like a first-rate nature photographer.
-These "academics" are really getting in the way of my travel... Weekend at Bernie's, this is for you.
-Amsterdam is a city where you can ________ and ________ (fill in the blank. It's just like Madlibs, you cannot fail.
For legal reasons, I feel like it would be foolish for me to post a hefty portion of the photos I've taken over the last few weeks, so just use your imaginations.
More to come... probably.
From Florence, With Love
Erich
Wednesday, July 14, 2010
Do not play games with me, gypsy woman
To whom it may concern,
Back to the grind.
Yesterday afternoon, as I so often do (at least once a day), I walked out of Gustapanino, sandwich in hand, and found a quasi-comfortable cement seat near the central fountain of S. Spirito square to enjoy my recently acquired piece of Americana. Anybody who has done the same has surely encountered the perpetual tribe of European homeless that have made this public place their sanctum in which to reside.
While personally experiencing the operatic opus of flavor that is the tacchino, mozzarella, pomadoro, pesto wrap from the aforementioned eatery, I was fortunate enough to play witness to an event often only spoken of in awed whispers: multiple homeless people fighting over some small, indiscernible treasure that culminated in the intervention of the Italian five-0.
On this beautiful Florence day, with the birds singing and the street vendors spewing incoherent drivel as they pedal their cheap wares and trinkets, I watched in fascination as one homeless man hit another, and the two engaged in an epic struggle that seemed bound to determine the fate of all mankind. Like two immortal beings personified as mere men, the two fought for fifteen amazing minutes.
Then some jackass cop came and ruined it.
From Florence, With Love
Erich
Back to the grind.
Yesterday afternoon, as I so often do (at least once a day), I walked out of Gustapanino, sandwich in hand, and found a quasi-comfortable cement seat near the central fountain of S. Spirito square to enjoy my recently acquired piece of Americana. Anybody who has done the same has surely encountered the perpetual tribe of European homeless that have made this public place their sanctum in which to reside.
While personally experiencing the operatic opus of flavor that is the tacchino, mozzarella, pomadoro, pesto wrap from the aforementioned eatery, I was fortunate enough to play witness to an event often only spoken of in awed whispers: multiple homeless people fighting over some small, indiscernible treasure that culminated in the intervention of the Italian five-0.
On this beautiful Florence day, with the birds singing and the street vendors spewing incoherent drivel as they pedal their cheap wares and trinkets, I watched in fascination as one homeless man hit another, and the two engaged in an epic struggle that seemed bound to determine the fate of all mankind. Like two immortal beings personified as mere men, the two fought for fifteen amazing minutes.
Then some jackass cop came and ruined it.
From Florence, With Love
Erich
Tuesday, July 13, 2010
Pilgrimage to the Motherland (Munich, Germany)
To whom it may concern,
Freedom of speech/expression/choice is tragically restricted on this study program. So, as is the case with any oppressed writer, I have found an alternate outlet in which I can pour my creative soul without fear of retribution. Look here for the cookie cutout, prefigured answers to the questions placed before me; For the true account of a once in a lifetime experience that has throw my entire life into a beautifully chaotic whirlwind of cultural odysseys, you know where to find me.
From Florence, With Love
Erich
Freedom of speech/expression/choice is tragically restricted on this study program. So, as is the case with any oppressed writer, I have found an alternate outlet in which I can pour my creative soul without fear of retribution. Look here for the cookie cutout, prefigured answers to the questions placed before me; For the true account of a once in a lifetime experience that has throw my entire life into a beautifully chaotic whirlwind of cultural odysseys, you know where to find me.
From Florence, With Love
Erich
Wednesday, July 7, 2010
The Venetian Odyssey, Part 3 (Hell on Earth)
To whom it may concern,
To the best of my knowledge, Burano is a small Venetian island specializing in lace production. In truth though, it's little more than a hellish pressure cooker constructed for the lone purpose of housing the souls of wicked men and the eternally damned. Dante could probably go into better detail, but here's an example:
That is an ass print of human sweat which took only a few short minutes to accumulate.
The houses and their opulent colors and designs are either reminiscent of Sea Side,
On the bright side, Justin found this cool hat.
This is him showing
From Florence, With Love
Erich
The Venetian Odyssey, Part 2 (The unofficial sequel)
To whom it may concern,
I read my earlier post and just wanted to clarify: Venice good, field trips bad. So there.
As with any of the European cities I've visited, the way of life is so different. One thing that could not be any more different than in the US is the lack of air conditioning. It's 2010, you have running water and electricity, and I've spotted at least seven iPads since I've been here, so there really is no excuse in my mind. You want to be a world superpower? Let's start there.
At the risk of sounding like a sociopath, I find myself instinctively trying to listen to other people's conversations when I hear English being spoken. While in a bar in Venice, I observed an Italian man/student/probable sex offender, as he attempted to pick up an American girl.
It started with him saying something to her in Italian, then switching to some broken English after realizing she didn't understand his initial one-line pickup. He said "I hear American girls like to party," or something to that nature. Her response was what kept me listening to the exchange.
It was at this point that she pretends not to speak English either. With the hopes of fooling the greasy-haired predator, she actually says "no hablo ingles." Our subject however pulls an ace out of his sleeve by responding "No problema, hablo espanol."
What does our heroine say to this?
"Listen you slimy prick, get the hell away from me before I get a cop."
I love Americans.
From Florence, With Love
Erich
I read my earlier post and just wanted to clarify: Venice good, field trips bad. So there.
As with any of the European cities I've visited, the way of life is so different. One thing that could not be any more different than in the US is the lack of air conditioning. It's 2010, you have running water and electricity, and I've spotted at least seven iPads since I've been here, so there really is no excuse in my mind. You want to be a world superpower? Let's start there.
At the risk of sounding like a sociopath, I find myself instinctively trying to listen to other people's conversations when I hear English being spoken. While in a bar in Venice, I observed an Italian man/student/probable sex offender, as he attempted to pick up an American girl.
It started with him saying something to her in Italian, then switching to some broken English after realizing she didn't understand his initial one-line pickup. He said "I hear American girls like to party," or something to that nature. Her response was what kept me listening to the exchange.
It was at this point that she pretends not to speak English either. With the hopes of fooling the greasy-haired predator, she actually says "no hablo ingles." Our subject however pulls an ace out of his sleeve by responding "No problema, hablo espanol."
What does our heroine say to this?
"Listen you slimy prick, get the hell away from me before I get a cop."
I love Americans.
From Florence, With Love
Erich
The Venetian Odyssey, Part 1
To whom it may concern,
Venice is hands down the most beautiful place I have seen in my life. The culture is rich, the food is delicious, and the architecture epitomizes beauty like only a Swedish model can. Upon first reaching this cultural Mecca, I was stunned by its presence like some Nordic sailor first looking over the precipice of Valhalla.
It's just a shame I had to experience it the way I did.
Three hour walking tours are no way to learn about the history of a city. You need to be immersed in the crowds of people, and I learned infinitely more about the city and its inhabitants from the nightlife than the purgatory-esque dozen-or-so hours spent with a microphone plugged into the side of my head.
So there I am, cheap plastic headset hardwired into my skull, being herded through the streets and structures of one of the most culturally rich places on the planet with the rest of my fellow sheep, and I hate myself for how badly I just wanted it to end.
Structured dinners and activities made it feel like a 7th grade field trip with an overbearing, middle-aged mother leading me here, following me there.
"Be here at this time."
"Go to the bathroom, you'll have to later. No, everyone has to try."
"We are leaving in four minutes; if you're not here, we're leaving without you."
But goddamnit, no matter how badly you want to be left behind, they just won't.
From Florence, With Love
Erich
Venice is hands down the most beautiful place I have seen in my life. The culture is rich, the food is delicious, and the architecture epitomizes beauty like only a Swedish model can. Upon first reaching this cultural Mecca, I was stunned by its presence like some Nordic sailor first looking over the precipice of Valhalla.
It's just a shame I had to experience it the way I did.
Three hour walking tours are no way to learn about the history of a city. You need to be immersed in the crowds of people, and I learned infinitely more about the city and its inhabitants from the nightlife than the purgatory-esque dozen-or-so hours spent with a microphone plugged into the side of my head.
So there I am, cheap plastic headset hardwired into my skull, being herded through the streets and structures of one of the most culturally rich places on the planet with the rest of my fellow sheep, and I hate myself for how badly I just wanted it to end.
Structured dinners and activities made it feel like a 7th grade field trip with an overbearing, middle-aged mother leading me here, following me there.
"Be here at this time."
"Go to the bathroom, you'll have to later. No, everyone has to try."
"We are leaving in four minutes; if you're not here, we're leaving without you."
But goddamnit, no matter how badly you want to be left behind, they just won't.
From Florence, With Love
Erich
An American Gypsy
To whom it may concern,
Having spent upwards of a week here in
1) European culture is nothing like American culture.
2) European culture is American culture.
These dueling, seemingly contradictory statements serve as a self-perpetuating dynamic, but probably warrant further explanation, so allow me to elaborate.
There is literally an infinite number of cultural differences that initially seem to be little more than a senseless diatribe on the American psyche, but this is not so. Despite my best efforts, I simply cannot fathom what long-forgotten grudge these people have with the concept and subsequent usage of ice in beverages. It's just not done, and I am through banging my head against the proverbial wall trying to wrap that same bloodied, beaten cranium of mine around the idea.
That being said, while their day-to-day lifestyles stand in stark contrast to what we view as the American Dream, Uncle Sam’s influence is impossible to ignore. From Jack Daniels to Lady GaGa, it is impossible to overlook the fact that American culture has been absorbed and even proliferated by Europeans. Were any Italian to seek out an Italian-speaking American in the
So here on this digital diary, I will attempt to absorb the European cultures while spreading the good word of capitalism and the Gospel according to Jack Daniels to all the backwards countries of the European Union. Just start accepting the dollar, because I’m not paying for my college education with Euros.
From Florence, With Love
Erich
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