Is Not Chicago

I successfully survived the climb to Uhuru Peak, the highest point in Africa, rising 5,893 meters (19,334 feet) above sea level. As the internet is kind of dodgy here in Africa, photos and stories must wait until I return to the states, but know that I have returned from the adventure!

Now after my first shower and first time on the internet in 8 days, it’s time for a celebratory beer. The tagline of Kilimanjaro Beer is “If you can’t climb it, drink it,” but I think they need a slogan for those that do climb it drink it.

Note: I originally wrote this on July 4, shortly before flying to Tanzania. I’m back in the country now, but I’ll be posting more stories and photos over the next few days.

As some of you may know, I’m a [ed: giant dork] huge fan of Joseph Campbell and his thoughts on the Hero’s Journey. And, as most of you know, I’m a huge stickler for the proper use of the word “literally.”

In a few short days I will literally climb a mountain to the metaphorical Realm of the Gods, but before that I must make my Decent into the Underworld.

I started off my first full day in Paris with a trip to the a literal World of the Dead, the Catacombes de Paris. Located below even the sewers and the Metro, this ossuary is like a decent into Hades. The bones of thousands of dead Parisians line the walls. The creepiest parts is just how many femurs and skulls are stacked upon each other. The catacombes go on for far longer than you expect or are comfortable with, but that only reinforces just how many people have lived in paris through the ages. And these bones were just moved there in the 1800s when the cemeteries were causing health problems.

After resurfacing, it was time for something a little less macabre. I moved on to the Musée Art et Métiers. The museum plays a major role in the book I’m currently reading, Foucault’s Pendulum, so I figured I should see it. It houses all kinds of old scientific instruments and traces the history of mechanics, transportation, communications, and energy. Pretty much anything from the history of technology and science. The most important artifact is Foucault’s pendulum hanging X meters from the vaulted ceiling of the church. It was used in the first public proof that the earth is in fact rotating around an axis, the same heretical idea that caused many great minds to be burned at the stake. They also had a great exhibit on the history of video games, and had playable consoles of everything from Pong to Atari to NES to Xbox. I wish they had had a Virtual Boy, just to remember how bad it was.

My plan was to hit another museum, but when I had come out of the museum it was raining. It was World Cup time, so I just found a nearby pub to watch the game. I found a great place called FrogPubs, with their own brewery in the basement. My favorite beer is the Maison Blanche (White House). The logo is a drawing of Obama as a frog toasting a beer. My photo is a little blurry, but you should be able to get the idea.

By the time the game ended the rain had stopped. To close out my day, Lara got back in town from her consulting gig in Geneva, and I finally got my picnic.

More underground adventures tomorrow…

After arriving several hours later than planned into Paris, it was too late for any museums or things like that so I figured I’d just walk around for a bit. Lara’s place is about a 10 minute walk from Invalides, the home of Napoleon’s tomb, which is about 10 minutes from the Eiffel Tower, so I figures that would be a good direction to start.

It was Thursday night, and the people were out in full force. The park leading to the Eiffel Tower was packed with picnickers. The signs said no alcohol, but that rule was most definitely not enforced.

Then I walked up to the Arc de Triomphe and down the Champs Élysées. From there along the Seine over to the Louvre and then across the Pont des Arts. The Pont des Arts is a pedestrian bridge, that was packed with people eating and drinking wine. At this point I was craving a picnic, partly because it looked really fun, and partly because it was now 11pm and I hadn’t eaten dinner.

While my initial goal was to go to a jazz club in the Saint Michel area, I ended up with a couple beers, sitting for a while in front of Notre Dame and then watching a couple street musicians on the quai by the seine before finally walking home around 2am. I’ve never seen so many people out that late on a Thursday. I love Paris.

To close, here are a couple tweets I wrote over the course of the night:

11pm: Not sure how much is jet lag and how much is the fact it doesn’t get dark until 10:30pm but I’m wide awake

11:30pm: I think Budapest wins at density of people making out, but Paris destroys everywhere else at people drinking directly from the wine bottle.
(see post from last year about Budapest)

11:45pm: I hope my stuffing my face with gyros doesn’t ruin your stuffing your faces with each others’ faces. #frontofnotredame

11:50pm: I’m not really concerned with the legality, but is drinking beer in front of Notre Dame a sin? #paris

12:15am: That thing about more people making out in Budapest than Paris, I wrote that around 11pm. After midnight Paris came from behind for the win

12:45am: Didn’t realize how unfunky the French were until tonight #clappingononeandthree #youtrdoingitwrong #streetperformeraudience

I’m pretty sure in all of my travels I’ve never missed a flight. A missed connection, sure, but never because I got to the airport late. That all changed today.

After some dinner at the pub we decided the easy thing to to do would be to buy some wine at the Tesco and go back to Yari’s place. What we arrived to, however was quite unexpected. They have an awesome patio area for all the flats in the complex. At midnight we were expecting to have it to ourselves. But instead there’s a gaggle of college girls from Florida State and a shirtless resident (it was a dude, don’t get too excited) telling them to be quiet. After a minor confrontation, involving him calling one of us a c**t and then a maybe 19 year old kid, who obviously wanted to get into a fight, jumping in with “don’t call him a c***, call me a c***”. (normally I wounding shy away from profanity when it suits the story, but even I think that word is offensive).

After quieting down for a while, a huge group of kids showed up. They’re actually pretty quiet considering there are 15 of them. As they drink more, naturally, their volume goes up with their BAC. Then another angry resident showed up on the phone with the cops. That gets them to leave really quickly.

The bobbies show up and find four 27-30 year olds quietly enjoying some wine. We joke with the cops briefly before they leave, which as it is 2am becomes our cue to head home to bed. I love when the cops show up and then side with you.

Then the next morning, with a surprisingly mild hangover, I left Mickey’s place. About three stops into the Piccadilly Line, find out it’s broken. No trains going to Heathrow. Finally, after several transfers I made it to Heathrow, but 10 minutes before my plane was to take off. Fortunately, they didn’t charge me to get on the next flight, but it still came at the cost of several lost hours in Paris. More on Paris soon.

Creepiest street performer I’ve ever seen.

After a wonderful weekend in the Florida Keys, I have just arrived in London. I have a couple pictures I’ve taken on my phone, and I’m uploading them here and to my flickr (see the photo bar across the the top of the blog). Once I get to an actual computer, I’ll load some vastly superior pics off my camera.

The Keys are pretty amazing. It blows my mind how thin many of them are. After watching the sun set on the west coast, just walk across the street and watch the moon rise in the east. While it was no Kho Panang, we did get to go to a full moon party (many more children, and far fewer buckets than a Thai full moon party) but there was a pretty cool band, fire spinners, and fireworks.

Other than that a lot of sleeping in and swimming in the ocean. My back is pretty sunburnt, and I’m thankful I have a few days to recover before I have to carry a backpack around.

To London, I was fortunate to get to fly first class. Because I was waiting on my friend Sarah’s work schedule, I wasn’t sure what we would be doing so so I didn’t know what airport I would be flying out of. But a few days ago, a bunch of first class seats opened up at a lower milage rate (using frequent flyer miles to get to and from Europe was the only way I could afford the airfare for this trip). It’s the best way to fly overseas. Got a couple glasses of wine (I’m still pissed American charges for booze in coach on international flights) then a fulling reclining seat made for a great overnight sleep here.

Time to head out to grab some lunch and meet up with my buddy Mickey and my friend Yari once they’re done with work.

Tomorrow: onward to Paris!

I think the oil got to this sad specimen

Smallest bar in the world (or at least in Key West)

First class!