A Midsummer Night's Dream - Day 1 - Athens 2004

5/28/16, “Athens 2004”

Athens, Greece

I’m home.  No, I’m not at my apartment in Manhattan.  I’m not at my parents’ house in Scarsdale.  I’m home.  I did it.  I found my way into the Athens 2004 Olympic Stadium.  The main purpose of this trip.  “There’s always a way in,” I kept telling myself, and there was one.  I’m home.  Of all the 26 Olympic Stadiums, this one, perhaps, means the most.  I saw it being built in 2004.  I practiced all the events in Scarsdale.  I watched every event I could.  The Olympics had come home, and, now, so have I.  I’m home.  There’s no other word to describe it.

How long I will be able to stay before I get kicked out, I have no idea, but, for now, I’m home.  This was the main purpose of the trip.  I am staying at a hotel less than a mile away.  I was prepared to do almost anything necessary to get inside this Stadium, and I had planned it to be an all-day event.  It took me thirty minutes from the time I left the hotel to get inside.  Now, I’m home.  No Olympics meant more to me than the 2004 Games.  The security guard who let me in to take a photo for “just one minute” has no idea how much this means to me.  No one, not even my readers can fully comprehend just how much this means to me.  There is only one person in the world who does: my mother.  It is 7 AM on the East Coast of the United States, 4 AM on the Pacific Coast, so there is no one I can call to share my joy.  Instead, I will write this entry for as long as I’m allowed.  Actually, I think I have to leave now, so I’ll finish outside.

I am calling this trip “A Midsummer Night’s Dream” in honor of the ballet we saw on Wednesday, based on the Shakespearean play set in Athens.  However, “A Comedy of Errors” would be a more fitting title for today.  Before I address the comedy of errors that was my check-in at the hotel and the journey from EWR to ATH, I will tease out a little more of the adventure that was got me inside the Stadium.  A year ago this very day, I snuck into the Stockholm 1912 Stadium, where King Gustav so famously called Jim Thorpe the greatest athlete in the world.  I will excerpt a passage from that entry: “It was not the first Olympic Stadium I’ve snuck into, and it might not be the last, either (Melbourne, Athens, I’m talking about you).”

The Melbource Cricket Ground is actually open to the public, but the Athens stadium not so much, and the Rome 1960 Stadium not so much either.  When I took my ceremonial picture inside the Stadium, I announced, “Rome, I’m looking at you.”  There’s always a way in.  This was the most challenging, since, as far as I knew, it was completely out of use.  I was not willing to risk being arrested to sneak in, but anything short of that was fair game.  It turns out that they are in the process of repurposing it to serve as a football stadium, which meant that there was some staff on-site, much like how I entered the Seoul 1988 Stadium.

As I wandered the perimeter, much as I did in Seoul, I considered my options.  The outer fence was easy enough to climb, but the adjoining park had people walking around.  Even if I managed to climb the outer fence, the inner fence looked impenetrable.  I continued walking, looking for a way in, any way in.  That is where I will leave the adventure and return to it in its proper chronological order after I light up another cigar, the very cigar I had brought for this celebratory occasion.

Okay, so what happened after I closed at Newark and published my entry?  My co-worker was also flying out of Newark out around the same time, so I tried to find him at his gate.  No luck.  I got back to my gate at the time they were supposed to start boarding, only to hear a final boarding announcement.  Huhhh???  Well, I got on the plane and got situated.  The in-flight movie selection was pretty great, and I opted for “The Lady in the Van”, for which Maggie Smith was nominated for a Golden Globe.  The movie was kind of boring and we were still on the ground an hour past our scheduled take-off time.  I was almost done with the movie by the time we were in the air.  I was also regretting not finishing my lunch, as I was absolutely starving.

For round two, I opted for the 1980s classic, “The Breakfast Club”.   They served dinner during that movie, some kind of teriyaki chicken.  The movie was amazing, and, after I was done, I messaged my friend, debating if John Hughes needed to be considered the GOAT (Greatest of All Time).  We agreed that he was the GOAT for teen/kids/family comedies, and the greatest comedic director of the past 70 years.  That’s high praise.  I then went to sleep, waking up when they served breakfast, which was a croissant with jam.  I was starving, but it was pure carbs, so I took a pass.

We soon landed.  As always, Schengen border control was lax for me with my American passport.  They just swiped it and stamped it, no questions.  There wasn’t even an agent at customs.  I took a taxi to the hotel, and I could see the structure from the Olympic Stadium from the lobby.  They even had the Olympic Rings on the wall.  I was home.  I just needed to change and head to the Stadium.

My room wasn’t ready yet.  It was 11:50 AM, but they said it would be ready in 40 minutes.  That was when the comedy of errors began.  I was starving, so I figured some coffee and food would kill the 40 minutes.  I got two cups of Greek coffee and a cold cuts platter.  That did the trick.  It was 12:30 PM when I was done, the 40 minutes had passed.  Of course, my room was not ready, and they apologized profusely.  They said 15 more minutes.  Well, 15 minutes later, it was not ready.  Now, I was angry.  If they had told me an hour from the beginning, I might have just changed in the bathroom and headed out.

I asked, very firmly, honestly, how much longer it would be.  15 more minutes.  I waited until they called me.  It was about 10 minutes.  They pulled out my file.  It was the wrong name.  Embarrassed and confused, they realized their mistake.  Perhaps my actual room had been ready on time, and it was this other room that was not ready?  Then there was paperwork to fill out.  Seriously?!?  I had told them that I was in a hurry, why could I not have filled out this paperwork while we were waiting for the room!?!  I went up to the room they assigned me, only to find someone else’s suitcase was there.

I called downstairs, and they upgraded me to another room, which had a better view of the Olympic Stadium.  Okay, that was good, one problem, though.  This was not a smoking room.  She told me to just open the windows, and she’d bring me an ashtray.  Okay then.  I changed and got ready to head out, for whatever adventure this entailed.  I lit up a Padron Damaso, and it was a bit of a maze to find the Stadium, but I was there in about 15 minutes.

There was a park, if I could call it that, outside the Stadium, where people walk and bike, which limited my options.  The “park” was all rundown and there was precious little grass, most of it dead.  I expected this.  I had done my homework.  I did not, however, know how I would be able to get inside, but, “There’s always a way in,” I reassured myself.  I left off earlier, describing how I was contemplating every fence, looking for an unlocked gate.

I kept walking, and, halfway around, I saw some maintenance equipment, and there was a garage gate that was ajar next to a fenced door.  That looked promising.  It was all locked.  I then heard someone yelling at me, a maintenance worker in a golf cart.  He looked like the kind of person I could bribe to let me in, if he spoke English.  He did not.  He gestured for me to leave.  I kept walking, not away from the Stadium, but alongside it.  I then found an open door that led straight to the inside of the Stadium.  I left my cigar outside and walked in.

I was approached by someone from facilities.  He spoke English.  I didn’t even have to offer a bribe.  I just asked if I could take a picture “just for one minute”.  I told him I had come all the way from New York for this.  He let me in.  I walked in.  I was home.  I took my ceremonial pictures and got ready to leave.

Wait, why did I have to leave?  Until and unless he chased me out, I was home.  I sat in the stands and proceeded to write my entry.  Eventually, the guy from the golf cart came and chased me out.  He talked to the guy who let me in, who said something about me wanting to take a picture.  I was clearly no longer just taking a picture.  I retrieved my cigar just kept walking, until I got to the other side of the Stadium, the public park area.

I uploaded my photos and sat down on some kind of planter/bench hybrid, where I proceeded to write this entry, lighting up an El Rey del Mundo cigar, truly feeling like the king of the world.  I will now head back to the hotel so that I can take a nap before my evening activities, whatever they may be.  Maybe I’ll find a cigar shop on the way back to the hotel.  On that note, I’ll close so that I can get out of here.

There are far too many similarities between today’s entry and the one I wrote from Stockholm a year ago today.  After I closed from the 1912 Stadium in Stockholm, I went out to dinner for some local cuisine and then went back to my hotel.  That was what I did today, in Athens.  In Stockholm, I had some sightseeing to do, but, here in Athens, I used that time to take a nap instead.  I headed back to my hotel with remainder of my cigar, taking my nap as almost as soon as I finished the cigar.

After my nap, I worked on picking out a restaurant, opting for a nice Greek restaurant about a mile away.  I went to the front desk and asked that they inquire about the dress code and if there was a smoking section available.  The questions turned out to be moot, as the restaurant was fully booked for a wedding party.  After some back and forth, he recommended a nice restaurant called Arismari, so I got my water bottle, lit up a Cabaiguan and walked to the restaurant, noting how rundown the whole city was.

I was about halfway done with my cigar when I got there and I had another cigar in my pocket.  I looked at Arismari, and there was not a single diner in the restaurant.  Directly across the street was a taverna called Iordanis, which was positively lit.  I looked it up, and it turned out it was the oldest tavern in Chalandri, dating back to 1928.  It had great reviews.  I went there instead.  I had been planning an epic evening for myself, trying to recreate the evening from 2004 in Greece, the first time I ever got drunk.

The evening was certainly epic, but it didn’t play out the way I expected.  The taverna was such a charming place, that I didn’t want to leave.  I just wanted to spend the whole night there, soaking it all in, and that’s exactly what happened.  I ordered three dishes, which came out as three courses: baked cheese, fried calamari, and house sausage.  Each course was better than the last.  To drink, I ordered a Coca Cola Light and an ouzo that was priced at less than I would pay for one drink at my favorite Greek restaurant by my office, the place I commonly frequent with my grandfather.

It turned out that it wasn’t one shot of ouzo, instead it was a 200 mL bottle, the equivalent of four shots.  Yes, the fact that I had to drink four shots of ouzo contributed to why I wound up spending three hours at that taverna, but I was happy the way it turned out.  I finished my cigar with my third course, and I lit up a VSG as I nursed the rest of my ouzo.  At no point did they come to clear away my plates, which irked me very much.  Reader, if you have done the calculation, you will realize that they left the dirty plates on the table for over an hour as I smoked my VSG and drank my ouzo.

After I finished my cigar, I asked for three things: a Greek coffee, the check, and a taxi to my hotel.  If I had had a third cigar on me, I might have walked back, but I did not.  When the coffee came, I poured the rest of my ouzo into the cup, which was an interesting combination.  He brought the check and gave me a 20% discount for being so slow to clear the plates and ask if I wanted coffee.  That was very generous.

I took the taxi back to the hotel and moved the seat in view of the Olympic Stadium from the window, I lit up an Ardor, and sat down, where I proceeded to write this entry, which I will now close so that I can publish and get to sleep.  I have to be up early tomorrow morning to catch my flight to Rhodes.  Today was a booming success, and tomorrow, I get to check another one of my 17 Goals off from my list.

A Midsummer Night’s Dream - Day 0 - "In Summer"

“A Midsummer Night’s Dream”

5/27/16, “In Summer”

Newark Liberty International Airport, New Jersey (EWR)

This is the twelfth entry I have written from this airport.  When I set out to see the world, it was the Summer of 2012, before I even began this Travelogue, and that summer, over the course of two months, I found myself at this airport eight times.  It was the summer of the London 2012 Olympics, the stadium of which I will be visiting in two more weeks.  That trip will be called “Harry Potter: The Experience”, and I will be meeting one of my dearest friends there, whom I actually first met that summer, but setting foot inside the London 2012 Stadium, the Stadium I tried so hard to visit in January 2014, is as big of a draw.

Returning to the Summer of 2012, it was epic Summer of Travel, and I visited Kentucky and Tennessee with my immediate family, Missouri and Kansas and Oklahoma with my friend Stu, I took 17 days off from everything to watch the London Games, then Florida and Georgia and South Carolina, and then I went to a sci-fi convention in Atlanta.  It was an epic Summer of Travel.

Including a trip to Mexico, my epic Eurotrip, another epic trip to Minnesota and Montana and the Dakotas, two trips to Northern Canada to see two World Heritage Sites and the Northern Lights, and Bermuda The Summer of 2013 was even more epic, and I thought surely I would never have a more epic Summer of Travel.

I was wrong, the Summer of 2014 was just as epic, with trips to Japan, Alaska and Yukon, Washington and British Columbia, Colorado, and Barcelona and Andorra, and again, I thought no Summer of Travel could ever again possibly be so epic.

I’m sure my reader can guess that the Summer of 2015 was just as epic as the ones that preceded it.  It begin in Stockholm and Helsinki, then Maine (for the third year in a row), then the Last Great Summer Road Trip Adventure with my mother to Yellowstone and Glacier National Parks and the Canadian Prairie on my own, Ohio and Kentucky with some friends on a roadtrip, my friend’s bachelor party in Cuba, back to Mexico to see the Guadalajara region, and, of course, spending my birthday at Victoria Falls in Africa.  Yeah, that was just as epic.

However, when I closed out my Summer of Travel for 2015, I knew that 2016 promised to be even more epic, and now it begins.  It is starting now.  Over the course of this weekend and the following four, I will be revisiting places from when I was growing up, even staying in some of the exact same hotels.  Monday night I will be staying at the same hotel in Athens we stayed at in 2004, next Saturday we will be staying at a hotel by Penn I stayed at with my mother when I was considering applying there, so I suppose that was 2005.  The next weekend, in London, I will be staying at the Savoy, which we stayed at when we visited London in 2000 (and again when I visited in 2014), the weekend after, well, my parent’s house, the same I house I lived in those years, then, the weekend after, I will be going to Maine and staying in the same hotel we did the first time I visited Maine.

The weekend after that, Nova Scotia and Prince Edwards Island.  A couple of weeks after that, I’ll be going to Pittsburgh and West Virginia on another roadtrip with my friend Stu.  After that, I’ll be going to Rio, for the Olympics, and I could not possibly imagine a more epic trip.  For Labor Day, I’m contemplating a return to Mexico.  Then, for my birthday, a “Roman Holiday”.  Yeah, this Summer of Travel might be my most epic one yet, but my reader would be making a safe bet if he or she thinks the Summer of 2017 will be even more epic.

What is it about summer that makes for such epic travel?  Why are those three and a half months from Memorial Day to my birthday such a special time?  The weather, of course, is warmer, and, in the North, the days are long, really long, 24 hours long if you go far enough worth and are close enough to the solstice.  It is such a wonderful time to visit the North, and while I will not being as far north this summer as I have the past three years, I will be visiting Wales and Nova Scotia (and Prince Edward Islands).  Next summer will take me very far north, to Iceland and Greenland, where I will have 24 hours of sunlight.  Places stay open later and have better visiting hours in summer.  There’s no school in summer.  Everything about summer just makes me want to enjoy the outdoors as much as possible and in as many places as possible.

There are no trips to beach for me in summer.  Instead, it about exploring and taking advantage of the nice weather to explore the great outdoors.  In about 12 hours, I will be attempting to visit the 2004 Olympic Stadium in Athens, 24 hours after that, the site of the Colossus of Rhodes, which will mark the last site of the Wonders of the Ancient World I have to visit, another 24 hours after that, the 1896 Stadium in Athens, and then flying home 24 hours later.  24 hours after that, I’ll be back at the office.  That’s the whole trip.

So, what happened during Day 0?  Well, last night I saw the new X-Men movie, which was pretty bad, and the laundromat was closed when I got out.  I lit up a Juan Lopez and backed up my data and packed my computer bag.  I had to wake up early this morning to pick up my laundry, finish packing, and get ready, and I had an inspection, too.  I got back to the office, finished some stuff up, and then there was a street fair on 43^rd Street, so that’s where I got my lunch, which was delicious, but I bought too much food, and I couldn’t finish it.  I it up a Cohiba while I was finishing my food and headed to the cigar shop, where I awaited my car.

The car picked me up, and I was busy on my phone, so I didn’t realize where she was taking me until I saw the Freedom Tower.  Wait, no, why wasn’t she taking me to the Lincoln Tunnel?!?  Why were we south of the Holland Tunnel?!?  She had taken the FDR drive all the way down and looped around to the West Side Highway!!! No, no, no.  She said cross-town traffic was 40 minutes.  Yeah, well, this “shortcut” of hers took 45 minutes, and it was another 45 minutes to get to the airport.  She cost herself her tip with that “shortcut”, and I was fuming.  I still had plenty of time, though, and it was over three hours before my flight.

I had been dreading the TSA line, but I think they had managed to ameliorate the problems, and I also think I was in some kind of Premiere Access line.  The whole process took 10 minutes, and I headed to my gate, stopping for a cup of coffee.  I sat down, realizing it was the same gate (or adjacent gate) from which I had flown to Belize last year, and I found a seat by the outlets, where I proceeded to write this entry, which I will now close so that I can publish before my flight.

Passover 2016 - Day 2 - Famous, Historic Philadelphia

4/24/16, "Famous, Historic Philadelphia"
Philadelphia, Pennsylvania

Well, here I am back at Independence Hall, finishing up my time in Philadelphia.  My friend Roberto and I will be coming back here, to this exact same spot, in six weeks.  Raymond and I spent almost the entire day walking around Philadelphia, taking pictures at a dozen of Philadelphia's most famous and historic sites.  There are 67 such sites in Philadelphia, and I will check even more off of my list when I return in six weeks.  Only New York, Boston, and DC are in the same league when it comes to such sites.

My parents will be picking us up here in about 20 minutes, so I will be brief, as I would like to formally close this trip out from here, rather than doing a Return Journey entry from Scarsdale.  It was a little after 3 AM by the time I got to sleep last night, and I woke up a little after 9 AM, unable to get back to sleep due to all the commotion.  I did not think I would have an appetite, but I did, and I soon met Raymond down for breakfast.  Keeping Kosher for Passover, but not Kosher in general, I got some grits, bacon, sausage, potatoes, and an omelet with mushrooms, onions, and sausage.  All good, no chamatz.

We got ready, and we needed to meet my parents at 11:30 AM at their hotel to drop off our bags.  We lit up cigars, me opting for a different Surrogate than last night, but just as good, and we headed back to Holt's after we dropped off our bags.  One of the guys there, whom we had actually bumped into last night, instantly recognized me, for my Trump hat possibly more than anything else, and we smoked in the lounge for a bit.  I got a few more cigars to take home, and we planned our afternoon.

There were 11 National Historic Landmarks to see in Center City, including City Hall, and I wanted to see all 11.  I will not go into detail about each site, instead just listing them and providing a few highlights.  The first site was St. Mark's Episocal Church, then the Academy of Music, which is the oldest opera house in the country.  That was where I finished my first cigar.  From there, we headed to the New Century Guild, where I lit up a L'Atelier.  From there it was the old John Wanamaker store, now a Macy's, then the Philadelphia Savings Fund Society, now a Loew's Hotel, which was considered the first International-style skyscraper.

The next stop was the Reading Terminal Headhouse, which was actually right across the street, but I got a little confused and thought it was Reading Terminal Market, so we wound up having to double back.  Next came the Philadelphia Masonic Temple, followed by Philadelphia Academy of Fine Arts, which is the oldest art school in the country.  From there it was the Arch Street Friends Meeting House, and old Quaker Meeting House, then the Insurance Company of North America building, which is now a hotel, too, I believe.  That just left City Hall, which used to be the tallest building of the world.  We took our ceremonial picture, and I announced, "Center City Complete."

That was that.  We headed back to the Reading Terminal market for lunch, and they had a grilled cheese stand, which offered to make sandwiches on matzah.  I got one with brisket and three chesees, again, Kosher for Passover, but not Kosher.  I lit up a VSG, and we walked towards Independence Hall, with Raymond trying in vain to find a single-serve ice cream.

We passed by the Federal Court of Appeals for the Third Circuit, and I took a ceremonial picture, wondering if I would try to visit all 12 of them.  I have actually been to the each of the 12 cities that house a Court of Appeals, but I believe I have only been to 3 or 4 of the 12 courthouses.  We were soon at Independence Mall, and we sat on a bench in the shade while I finished my cigar.  I then lit up a Cohiba, my customary cigar to smoke in front of Independence Hall, and we took a ceremonial picture.

I then sat in my same spot from yesterday evening, where I, with some difficulty, created a montage of our 12 sites from today to post to social media and proceeded to write this entry, which I will now close so that we can find my parents and drive home.  Philadelphia is one of my favorite cities in the world.  It is the Birthplace of Independence and full of so much history.  I was glad to have been able to check off 12 NHLs from the list, and I will be glad to return here in six weeks.  Next stop: Athens and Rhodes for Memorial Day Weekend to see the 1896 and 2004 Olympic Stadiums and the site of the Colossus of Rhodes (the last of the Wonders of the Ancient World for me), which will Officially begin an Epic Summer of Travel.

Passover 2016 - Day 1 - "Why Is This Night Different From All Other Nights?"

"Passover 2016: The Experience"

4/23/16, "Why Is This Night Different From All Other Nights?"
Philadelphia, Pennsylvania

It is the question we ask ourselves every year on Passover, but it is actually merely a prodding for four more questions, whereby the youngest member of the family asks the eldest the reason for four of our most important passover traditions.  The four traditions, of course, are eating matzah instead of leavened bread (because we didn't have time to wait for the yeast to rise), reclining in our seats during dinner (to celebrate our freedom), eating bitter herbs (to remind ourselves of the bitterness of slavery in Egypt), and dipping our vegetables in salt water (to represent our tears).  However, for me, this Passover is quite different than my previous celebrations of Passover.

For starters, note that dateline.  It is not, as it has been for as long as I've maintained this Travelogue, "Boynton Beach, Florida (Hunter's Run)".  Instead, it is a place I have visited dozens of times but never had a chance to include a Travelogue entry.  Instead of visiting Florida this year, as we usually do, we will be spending Passover entirely in the Northeast.  There will be no trip for me to Central America (a region I have Officially Completed) or the Caribbean (just two more countries left there), as in past years.  No, instead, I will spend the next week in New York.  Passover began last night with a seder at my parents' friends house with their family.  It was the same location and people I shared Thanksgiving with five months ago.

There are two interesting things about that.  First, I was on my way to Egypt then, taking a taxi straight from their house to the airport.  Well, Passover is a celebration of our Exodus from Egypt.  Second, I had just gotten my new computer, the one that was damaged in Antwerp.  Well, it came back from repairs this week, and this is the first chance I have had to use it.  All my data had been wiped, which meant that my Travelogue entry from Antwerp was lost, and I will have to recreate it best I can.

Okay, the seder was fun, and the food was good.  It was the most appetite I had had in weeks.  We went home, and my father and I watched a wonderful British comedy called "Hot Fuzz".  We both loved it.  I slept in this morning and went to get my haircut and then pick up coffee and lunch.  For lunch, I got a matzah sandwich, since bread was off the table (pun intended) for the next week.  I ate half of my sandwich and went up to my parents' room to ask my father something.  I had my coffee with me.  The lid from the coffee separated from the cup, which spilled all over their pristine white carpet.

There was a lot of screaming and racing around to find things to clean it.  Nothing worked.  In the process my pants get bleached by the Fantastik, which set off another frenzy, as they were the pants I had intended to wear to the seder tonight.  A miscommunication between me and my mother, whereby I said that I didn't have any other khakis, caused her to head out to buy a new pair.  I did, unbeknownst to her, have slacks I could wear.  More chaos ensued.  Meanwhile, I went outside to smoke a Montecristo.

After I was done, we got in the car and drove to Philadelphia.  My parents and I had been planning to stay at the Doubletree, which we later learned would be blocked off due to a street fair, so they took a room at the Ritz Carlton, while I kept my room at the Doubletree.  We parted ways at the Ritz, and I walked through the street fair to the Doubletree.  I relaxed for a bit before heading out.  Philadelphia might have 100 NHLs, so my day tomorrow will be jam-packed, but I didn't want to start hunting NHLs this evening before the seder.

I headed to Holt's Cigar Shop and picked up a bunch of cigars.  Pennsylvania doesn't charge an excise tax on cigars, so they are much cheaper than in New York.  I lit up a Surrogate Bone Crusher, took my ceremonial picture, and talked politics with the guys there.  I then walked towards Independence Hall, stopping by the famous, historic Walnut Street Theatre (a National Historic Landmark), now in its 207th Season and the oldest continuously operating theatre in the country.  I got to Independence Mall and sat down in the grass opposite Independence Hall, where I proceeded to write this entry, which I will now close so that I can make my way over to the seder.

"We've been walking around in circles all night," I announced as we headed to the Wawa at 2 AM, only slightly out of the way back to our hotel.  We had done it up right, the evening was Epic and Official in every way, and, like everyone else our age in Philadelphia, all of whom seemed to be congregating at the Wawa, we were certainly utterly and royally toasted by the time we arrived at the Wawa.  Now, back in our hotel room, I can reflect on our evening (and night).

After I closed at Independence Mall, I headed over to the Union League, where my extended family was gathered.  For whatever reason, once again breaking with my traditions from Passovers of late, I decided I would keep Kosher for Passover, at least for the first two Days.  That meant, despite the open bar and copious selections of alcohol, whiskey was off the table (pun intended).  I opted for a Hennessy, and indulged in the matzah and assorted spreads they had.  Meanwhile, I was forced to mingle with my mother's cousins, all of whom recognized me, and none of whom I recognized.   I had the exact same conversation at least two or three times.

Of the 40 or so people there, I recognized 7 of them: my parents, my grandfather and his wife, my aunt and uncle, and my second cousin Isaac.  The rest were as strangers to me, even if they knew me.  When it was time to sit down to dinner, my father said he would help me find the people my age to sit, so I could sit with them.  My mother and I, at the same time, vehemently objected to that plan, which would have been one of my own personal circles of hell.  "No!" I exclaimed, "I want to sit with people I know."

I sat next to my father, my mother to his right, her father and his wife to her right.  We had a seder that was longer than expected, and we drank more wine, and I also had more brandy.  By the end of dinner, I had had two large glasses of brandy and two glasses of wine.  The meal was far better than expected, and the desserts even better, so good in fact that I took a small bag of them home.  We then said our goodbyes, which took quite some time, as would be expected, and my grandfather said he'd call me in the morning to see if he could take me out to lunch tomorrow.

Meanwhile, my friend Raymond was waiting for me back at the hotel, so I headed back.  He was ready and rearing to go.  My friend Holland and her boyfriend were in the city for a soccer match, too, so I suggested that the four of us all hang out.  I lit up an ESG, and they met us at Broad and Walnut a little after 10 AM.  By the time we parted ways four hours later, we had crossed Broad Street three times and Walnut another time as well.  I wanted to go to the Ashton Cigar bar, but it was loud and crowded, and there was a long wait.

Instead, we found a bar with outdoor seating on 16th Street, called The Happy Rooster.  Having had enough brandy for the night, I got a glass of rum.  We all sat outside and drank and smoked as the passersby provided us with interesting experiences.  There were the beggars and the hookers and the drunkards.  People complimented my Trump hat, but one person said, "America's already great, home boy."  Holland became enamored with a guy with a Scottish accent.  After I finished the ESG, Raymond and I lit up a pair of Juan Lopez Benelux exclusivo cigars.

We then headed back across Broad Street, and that was when the night started to get interesting.  I wanted to go to another place where we could smoke and drink outside, but that didn't work out.  Instead, we overheard a group of four people trying to figure out where they wanted to go, one of them yelling at another person in the group, "Nice job, Magellan!"  Holland and Fred wanted to go to a place called The Good Dog.  I suggested we follow the group of four people and see where "Magellan" took us.  My idea won out.  For about 20 minutes, we surreptitiously followed the other group of four people.  Reader, guess where the group wound up?  The Good Dog.

We followed them in, and I got another rum.  I suggested that we buy them a round and see if they realized we followed them.  No one in my group was going to be my backup for that idea, so we just sat down.  In New York, the bars close at 4 AM.  In Philadelphia, they close at 2 AM.  And people are as rowdy at 2 AM here as they are at 4 AM in New York.  During the course of all of those, we accidentally invented what might be the perfect pick-up line.  "Can I take a picture with you?"  "Why?"  "So we can show our children the night we first met."  Holland did not think it was the best idea, but I did.  Unfortunately, I did not get a chance to use that line.  We also talked about our celebrity crushes, and I was personally hurt when no one else was willing to show any love for Daisy Ridley or Saoirse Ronan.

At around 2 AM, we left the bar and all said our goodbyes.  Well, Raymond and I said our goodbyes to Holland and Fred.  They went back to their hotel, and we went to the Wawa, which was absolutely lit.  It was as if every drunk kid in Center City wound up there.  I opted for a milkshake, while Raymond overdid it on snacks.  I was done with the milkshake by the time we got to the hotel.  After I changed, I got into bed, where I proceeded to write this entry, which I will now close so that I can get to sleep.  Busy day tomorrow, but, how was this night different from all other nights?  In, oh, so many ways.

Flanders - Day 2 - "In Bruges" (and The Return Journey)

4/10/16, "In Bruges"

Bruges, Belgium

In case anyone is wondering why I've been tagging all of my photos #InBruges this morning, it is of course a reference to the title of the 2008 movie.  A few weeks ago, I was having a debate with my friend about the tourist increases a location experiences when a popular movie or TV series is filmed.  I said that that doesn't interest me.  King's Landing is not a real place, so why should I care about visiting the city In Croatia where it was filmed.

However, I continued, real locations from movies do interest me.  "In Bruges" probably wouldn't even rank in my top 100 movies of all time, but Bruges is a very real place, and I enjoyed the movie well enough.  Now, here I am, in Bruges, sitting in front of the Belfry in Markt Square, a central location from the film, smoking a Churchill, just having finished a Belgian waffle.

More examples of this are, while I had no interest in visiting whatever hall in Oxford was used as a set for the Harry Potter movies, the first time I went to London, I was sure to visit King's Cross and take my picture between Platforms 9 and 10.  Or the time I waded into the Reflecting Pool in DC (Forrest Gump).  When I wanted to do Argo: The Experience, I didn't go to the locations in Turkey where it was filmed, I went to the actual locations in Tehran.  Likewise, I was eager to visit the Twilight sites in Forks, but I didn't care about the Hunger Games filming locations in Georgia.

More examples?  I won't even count the locations in New York I have visited.  Oh, Big Bang Theory.  I didn't care where they film the show.  I visited Caltech, since that is where it is set.  I'm sure I could list countless more examples of this, but I won't bore my readers.

After I closed last night, I headed upstairs, hoping for a miracle, but no such luck.  Dejected, I published the writing from my phone as a Facebook post and went to sleep.  I woke up about six hours later, packed, got dressed, and headed to the train station.  It a boring and unadventurous train ride to Bruges.  I tried to sleep on the train, but to no avail.  When I got to the train station, I found a taxi outside.

I had planned for him to take me to the beguinage, wait for me to take my ceremonial picture, then drive me to the Belfry, but I had drastically misunderstood the distances.  They were much shorter than I had believed them to be.  I told him to just drop me off at the beguinage, and I would walk to the Belfry from there.  My astute readers will realize that I had my suitcase with me at this point.  I did not worry about leaving my suitcase in the beguinage (basically a convent) while I walked around the garden and took my ceremonial pictures.  I did just that.  I lit up another Juan Lopez Benelux Exclusivo and took my ceremonial pictures.

I then walked to the Belfry, with my suitcase, truly admiring the beauty of the city as I walked around.  I got to the Belfry in short time, noting that all the souvenir shops were closed, being it relatively early Sunday morning.  I then found a good spot for my ceremonial picture and announced, "Flanders Complete.  That just leaves Wallonia.  Now let's see if I can find some of those famous waffles."

I went to a "tea room" in the square and ordered a waffle and some hot chocolate, which I paired with the rest of my cigar.  After I was done, I found a bench with a view of the Belfry, where I sat down, lit my Churchill, the last from the box I got in Cuba, and proceeded to write this entry, which I will now close so that I can begin the Return Journey.

“The Return Journey”

Amsterdam Airport Schiphol, The Netherlands (AMS)

Well, here I am at Schiphol, enjoying one last cigar before I fly home.  My flight is in two hours, and it is just four hours since I entrees the train station in Bruges.  It is pretty remarkable to think I got from the train station on the west coast of Belgium to a city in central Netherlands, and though security at the airport, and bought cigars, and sat down in the smoking lounge all in 4 hours.  It takes me half that time just to get from my office to my gate at Kennedy.  I couldn't imagine getting from like New Haven to Kennedy in 4 hours.

The public transportation in Europe is pretty remarkable.  Nothing in the States comes close.  I relied almost entirely on public transportation when I went to Sweden and Finland, and I did not regret it.  My big Eurotrip from 2013 was way too ambitious to do by public transportation, what with my 7100 miles of driving over 18 Days.  This was less ambitious.  I will wax on about the beauty of Northern Europe when I have access to a working computer and can actually type out my thoughts.  I have a feeling I'll be watching "In Bruges" tonight.  Suffice it to say for now it has some of the most beautiful cultural beauty of any country of the world.

France and Spain are nothing compared to the beauty of the lowlands.  All that remains for me to say "Benelux Complete" is a trip to Wallonia (unless the Netherlands picked up another WHS, can't remember).  I don't think I've been to Wallonia yet, actually, unless I passed through on my way from Brussels to Luxembourg.  Actually, I guess the Battle of the Bulge was in Wallonia.  I don't think I'll make it there next year, but it'll likely be one of the first international trips I take in my 30s.  The return journey so far, from Bruges to Schiphol, has been thankfully unadventurous.

After I closed in Bruges, I found the nearest souvenir shop and got everything I needed.  I then remembered about my sock.  Well, this morning, the bench had been wet, so I dried it off with a sock and left it hanging on the back of the bench to dry.  Of course I had forgotten about it.  When I went back for it, a lady was sitting on the bench.  Without a word, I grabbed the sock and walked away.  I wonder what she thought when she saw a man in a suit walk up to her bench, grab a wet sock, and walk away.  I walked to the train station and ditched my cigar outside the station.

The train was a few minutes late and got delayed en route, but I figured I should be good to make my connection at Antwerp.  I slept (or tried to) for most of the ride, and we got there about 15 minutes late, still plenty of time to get a waffle.  I had one (yes, I know, another one, but they're so good) and bought one to bring back home for my friend.  I went down to the track after I finished my waffle and waited for the train, which soon came.  The conductor said I was on the wrong train.  With confusion, I realized I was showing him my ticket from yesterday.  They served lunch, the best part of which was the bread and beer.  Before long we were at the airport, three hours before my flight.  My grandfather would have been proud.

I got my ticket and was granted access to priority screening due to my frequent flyer status.  The security checkpoint was the most ingenious and technology advanced ones I had ever seen.  Each conveyor belt had three stations with automatically loading bins so that three people at a time could get empty their pockets.  The bins would then load as usually, and you go through the backscanner.  Then came passport control, just one question, where I was going?  New York.  No scanning of my passport.  He stamped it and sent me on my way.  I found a place to buy cigars and opted for a box of my favorites, which were priced insanely cheap.  I then headed to the smoking lounge, which was in view of the fleet of iconic blue KLM planes, and sat down in a chair brought in from the restaurant, where I proceeded to light up one of the Cohiba cigars and write this entry, which I will now close so that I can head to my gate.

Aboard KL 643, En route AMS-JFK

I suppose it is a good thing that the Olympics always occur during the Presidential election years.  While the election season divides us, nothing more brings us together as a nation, whether we be white or black, red or blue, male or female, than the Olympics, and our country loves to unite behind Team USA, and it is one of the reasons I so love the Olympics.  The Ancient Games brought about a three-month cessation of fighting throughout all of Greece.  While we cannot expect to see an Olympic Truce this year, especially with what is going on in the Middle East, it will be nice to see our country unite for a few weeks.

I just finished watching the movie Invictus, and I cannot praise it enough.  It should have won the Best Picture.  It's Clint Eastwood directing Morgan Freeman at their finest.  It was a movie about uniting a divided country over sport.  By bringing the South African rugby team from worst to best, newly elected President Nelson Mandela got his entire "rainbow nation" to cheer together for the Springbucks, a team that had previously symbolized white oppression.  By the end of the movie, the team had instead come to represent unity.  We are in for a nasty presidential race this year.  The primaries (on both sides) have been a nasty as I can recall.  The general election will be even nastier.  I can only hope that we can unite for 17 days in Rio and stop our county from becoming morr divided than it has been in my entire lifetime.

On another note, that dateline is a pretty significant one.  I have flown on most of the world's major airlines, but none is iconic as KLM, with their unmistakable light blue.  Established on 1916, it is celebrating its 100th year.  No other current airline has been operating longer under the same name.  Everything speaks to its history, and iconic shade of blue cannot be missed, nor the experience of flying Royal Dutch Airlines forgotten.  After I closed, I made my way to the gate, and my priority status got me to the front of the line, though being selected for random screening offset that.  I sat down, enjoying the elegance of the flight and texted with my friend until we took off.  I chose Invictus for the in-flight movie, and the headphones they have us were fantastic and in their iconic blue and white.

They soon brought the drinks, and the cabin attendant greeted me something like, "Good to have you back, Mr. Margolin" and asked me about my trip.  My reader will note three things.  First, I had my headphones on and was clearly watching a movie.  Second, I have SkyTeam Silver, I'm not a Prince.  Third, I've never flown KLM before.  I got my Diet Coke and dinner was served soon, which was much the same as lunch on the train.

I want to note how short this trip has been.  I cleared border control at Schiphol after 10 AM yesterday.  I was back at the airport at 3:30 PM today.  That is less than 30 hours.  I have, much more than once, spent 30 consecutive hours awake.  This is everything I ate:  fries, a small currywurst, a small grilled meat sandwich, eight small chocolate candies, two small waffles, two slices of chicken breast, a macaron, and a bread roll, along with Diet Coke, coffee, and 18 ounces of beer.  I'm sure my reader has faith in my ability to consume that much food in a single meal.  This was a very short trip, possibly my shortest yet.  Other than the laptop, everything went perfectly, though, and I will reflect on details later.  Anyway, after I finished the movie, I took out my phone and proceeded to write this entry, which I will now close so that I can watch another movie or maybe take a nap.

New York, New York

The Warriors and Spurs are tied at the half.  Either outcome will lead to an historic record-setting season for the winning team.  I will certainly not be leaving my apartment again until this game is over, which might mean it's too late to try and get my computer fixed tonight.  After I closed on the plane, I read the in-flight magazine and passed out.  The rest of the flight was unadventurous, and we soon landed a bit ahead of time.  My phone lit up with notifications, and I sorted through them as I made my way to border control.

I passed through with no event and was approached by some drivers offering me a ride home.  One of them offered me a price close to that of a taxi and let me smoke in the car, so I was happy.  Once we left the airport, I lit up a Ramon Allones, and I was soon home.  I recorded the MTV Movie Awards, where my friend had been in attendance during the taping last night, and turned to the basketball game, in time to watch the last 5 seconds of the half.  The score remained tied.  I then sat down in my chair, where I proceeded to write this entry, which I will close, along with closing out this trip, after I use the balance of halftime to do my reflections.

I don't have much more to say, other than reaffirming the cultural beauty of Northern Europe.  There is a reason I love it so much.  It is ironic, Flanders has more in common with Sweden than it does with Wallonia.  Actually, I've never been to Wallonia, but Bruges is certainly much more similar to Stockholm than it is to Paris.  It is a cultural thing borne from the language.  The Germanic countries (Scandinavia, Germany, The Netherlands, Flanders, Austria) have much more in common with each other than they do with the Romantic countries (France, Spain, Portugal, Andorra, Luxemborg, Wallonia, etc.).  Meanwhile, the entire Mediterranean shares a culture, too, that transcends the language and religious barriers there.

I prefer the beauty of the Germanic countries the most and look forward very much to my trip to Iceland an Greenland next summer, along with future returns to the Fennoscandia peninsula.  The second half has just begun, and the Spurs have scored 6 unanswered points, so I will close and close out the trip, as well.  Next stop: Philadelphia for Passover.

Flanders - Day 0 - Knowledge versus Realization

“Flanders”

4/8/15, “Knowledge versus Realization”

Aboard DL 48, En route JFK-AMS

This trip will be the shortest overseas (outside of the Americas) trip I will have ever taken.  I knew this.  Until today, I did not realize this.  It will be the first time I have been travelled to mainland Europe since I was 26, over a year and a half ago.  I knew this.  Until today, I did not realize this.  Two weeks ago, when I first wrote from Columbia, South Carolina, I noted in passing this theme, the difference between knowledge and realization.  Two days ago, I discussed this idea over dinner with my grandfather, almost to the point where it became a gag between us to joke whether we merely did not know something or didn’t realize it.  Now, en route to Antwerp, a trip designed around setting foot inside the home of the Games of the VI Olympiad, and reliving the title of the movie “In Bruges”, I want to focus more on that theme.

It was either Ayn Rand or Aristotle who said something to the effect of, “Do not accept as true that which you cannot incorporate into your existing knowledge set without contradiction.”  That is a great quote, and it opens the door to this theme.  Your incorporated existing knowledge set are all the things that you have realized as true.  The new piece of information, yes, you know it, but you do not realize it until you have incorporated into your existing knowledge set.  Reader, just think how much floating knowledge you must have in your mind, all the things that you know but do not fully realize as true.

I know every single trip I have taken, but, until I thought back and really examined what I knew and incorporated it as a knowledge set, I did not come to realize as true the statements in the opening paragraph above.  How many times have you either said or heard something like, “Oh, right, I knew that,” or, “Yeah, I think you might have told me that.”  Both of those statements are a direct admission of something that you knew but did not realize.  There are many reasons why we might absorb a piece of knowledge but not fully incorporate it, whether out of apathy or absentmindedness, but that is a topic I will leave to the psychologists.

My analysis is a philosophical one, borne out of epistemology.  There are so many depths to the epistemological questions, and we can ask ourselves questions about how we know things or question the sources of our knowledge, and I do not intend to write an epistemological thesis.  I wrote one in Junior High, and the points in that thesis still stand.  This is about how we incorporate the knowledge we have obtained, and I do not need to debate synthetic and analytical truths, whether we can have a priori knowledge of synthetic truths, or whether we can ever know Kant’s three basic questions of God, Freedom, and the Immortal Soul.  I have discussed those topics in enough depth in previous entries and essays.

What I am interested in is how we often ignore the knowledge we have legitimately obtained, how we so often don’t know what we know, as it Secretary Rumsfeld might have quipped.  I ask my reader to think of times in their lives when they came to realize that they had known something without realizing and to be mindful of the next time it happened and ask themselves why it happened, why they did not incorporate that particular piece of knowledge into their existing knowledge set.

For me, with these examples, it is because there were so many variables and difference analyses that could be performed on my existing travel set, such as, oh, I haven’t been to a country that begins with the letter bee other than Belgium, and now I’m going back, even though I have never been to Bolivia or Bulgaria or Belarus or Bahrain.  Yes, I am saying that The Bahamas begins with a tee and not a bee.  That is a meaningless piece of information, just a curious fact of travel, so there is no reason I would have incorporated it into my knowledge set, likewise with the statements in my opening paragraph.

Anyway, enough about this topic, and onto Day 0, though, as has become my habit, I will begin with recounting Night -1.  I got home in time for the Warriors game, against the Spurs.  It is entirely possible that the Warriors will end the season with the best record in NBA history, and the Spurs are on track to have the fifth best record in NBA history.  It was truly the clash of the titans, and I stayed up to watch every minute of it.  The Warriors made the Spurs look like a college basketball team, and a low-seeded one at that.  I had done everything required to get ready for the morning, other than actually put my stuff in the suitcase.

I woke up early enough, but I took too long getting ready and was a little late to work.  I didn’t take a real lunch break, and I got everything done for the day that I needed to get done.  I had some pizza in the fridge, so that was my lunch, but I just had one slice, not the roll as well.  At 4 PM, done with my work and rearing to go, I left the office.  I headed to the cigar shop and lit a Perdomo.  It was a good crowd, and I smoked it for an hour before heading to the airport.  It was a bit of a struggle to get a cab, and I wound up sharing a cab with someone who needed to be let off by the bridge.  I would usually take the tunnel, but it didn’t really add much time, certainly less than losing the cab fight and having to take the next cab would have added.

She was actually kinda chatty (and cute), and I told her about my trip, my desire to see every Olympic Stadium.  I always knew that I would be making this trip, I suppose ever since I snuck into the Tokyo Stadium.  It was at that point that setting foot inside every Olympic Stadium became a reality.  I was going to have to bite the bullet and spend an obscene amount of money for a trip to primarily set foot inside a Stadium that I had previously seen from the outside.  Actually, the same could be said about Athens next month, but I will also be going to Rhodes as part of that trip.  I had seen both Athens Stadiums from the outside, but I did not go inside.  We got to the airport at 6:30 PM, which was fine for my 8 PM flight, but it would not give me time to write my entry.  I had PreCheck, so I breezed through security, but I was starving.  I was wondering what I’d do for eats as I headed to my gate.  Then I saw it.

What did I see?  A memory.  A very good memory.  A year and a half ago, on the day of my 27^th Birthday, I had lunch with someone who is very special to me.  At the time, I would have described her something between a crush and an old friend.  Now I consider to be my best friend.  I hadn’t seen her since the summer I had met her two years prior, and we arranged to have lunch together.  My readers will recall my now forgotten tradition of having my pre-departure lunch at Hop Won.  This was a dear friend I hadn’t seen in over two years.  I was not going to take her to Hop Won.  We, instead, had a great meal at Pershing Square Café.  I will refer my reader to the entry “27^th Birthday Bash – Day 0 – Old Friends” for more details.  Anyway, I bring this up not to coo over a friendship that has waxed a great deal since then.  No, I bring it up because, not having had my Chinese food, I wound up getting dinner before my flight to Barcelona at the Panda Express in JFK Terminal 4, Concourse B.  That was the memory I saw this evening.

That was, of course, where I got dinner tonight, in no small part because that trip was the last time I went to mainland Europe.  I could also draw a comparison between Flanders and Catalonia, but suffice it to say, the goal of this trip will be to say, “Flanders Complete,” which requires me, in addition to setting foot inside the Olympic Stadium, to visit sites in Antwerp and in Bruges.  I got to the gate, and scarfed down my meal, not having had a bite to eat (other than the egg roll I ate on the way to the gate) since around 1 PM, six hours past.  I was starving.  The flight was slightly delayed and overbooked.  They offered a very large reward for anyone who wanted to take a later flight.  I would have accepted it, but it would have meant that I didn’t get to set foot inside the Olympic Stadium, so I passed.

Once I got on the plane, I picked out a movie to watch: “Sixteen Candles”.  Molly Ringwald truly was the queen of the 80s.  Who else even came close?  I had never seen the movie before, but I loved it.  It was hilarious, and, well, I won’t give away the ending, but the theme of knowledge versus realization played out.  After the movie was over they were serving dinner, but I was too stuffed from my Panda Express.  I just opted for a Diet Coke and, later, a coffee.  Once the credits were finished, I opted for some light classical music and proceeded to write this entry, which I will now close so that I can publish and get a few hours of sleep before we land in Amsterdam.