Brock { Abroad }

Perhaps the best way to describe this city is like Amsterdam’s bitchier sister who is just as hot, but more in the ‘I can kick your ass’ kind of way. Rotterdam has chewed me up and spit me out, yet I still keep coming back for more. With gusts of salty wind, huge skyscrapers, and an impossible grind of cars, trams, and bicycles, she doesn’t give you the time to think. People aren’t strolling canals in circles, but crossing bridges with a direct destination in mind. Here, you work hard and you play hard. Any questions? If so, catch the nearest train back to Amsterdam; maybe someone up there will give you the time of day.

I was already nodding off as I waited in the crowded one-room airport even smaller than my hometown. As we all walked out to the plane, I momentarily woke up, but then took an unassigned uncomfortable seat on the discount air carrier and soon fell asleep. Ears popping, I awoke and my arrival in London seemed to come almost out of thin air. It was a much colder air than the south of France. Ears still aching from the altitude, I endured a long speech from customs about not having an address upon arrival. Luckily, she told me, I had a return flight and I assured her I had enough money. This wouldn’t be my first mistake to make that night… Read the rest of this entry »

Reykjavik was a long, rainy, fairly cold, and very expensive 24 hour visit. (even though it’s a recession there, I still have the dollar…) I instantly made a friend from my friendly neighboring province of Ontario who I spent the day with wandering around the provincial city that 60% of Iceland’s 300,000 people inhabit.  After warming up in one of the many geothermal pools located in Iceland and getting a shower, we made plans to go to the Reykjavik International Film Festival opening night, still currently taking place. It was difficult to make a connection with the contact I’d made from couch surfing, but by six p.m. I was contacted by his roommate to inform me that Asgeir had fallen in love and was currently touring the ring of Iceland with his new girl. Nonetheless, the invitation still stood and I arrived to their home after the film, Another Planet, based on the hardships of youth in developing countries; instantly I was offered a beer by a fellow couch surfer, a girl from Rome, who had been staying with the four boys for a week. What ensued was a broad conversation around world politics, hypocrisy, mushroom cultivation in Iceland, psychology, and more topics so off-topic that they ended up relevant. I didn’t go to bed until one or two in the morning and had to leave by four to catch an early flight. But, thank you Oskar for the bed and for killing your television to silence the mass media hysteria; it’s what makes my mother think the Middle East is somehow more dangerous than anywhere else in the world.

There’s something very thrilling about arriving in a city; whether it’s a city you know and love, would love to know, or somewhere in between. I knew I loved Amsterdam after a brief visit here back in 2006, but was excited about coming back. My first plan of action was to call Bobby, my Bulgarian host.  I took a moment to listen to a street musician, or “busker”, and even stopped to smell the tulips! I was unsuccessful. There was a coffee shop next door that wafted out the delicious aroma of a plant that may not have been as pretty as those tulips, but definitely had its own charms. I looked down to my watch. I was in complete disbelief! Three hours had passed since I began staring down all the slim buildings that graced the canals lined with bicycles, bikes, bars, babes, and boys alike.
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