London & Paris: The Adventures of Chien Fou

The elderly couple sitting in front of me weren't even going to try to make the connection. There was no chance that they would be able to cross LAX in the 15 minutes that we had before the Air New Zealand flight took off for London Heathrow. The three hour delay leaving San Francisco was proving to be the first adventure of my 7 week journey across Europe and Morocco.

I sprinted out of the plane wearing my camping backpack behind me and daypack in front. Had I checked in my bag, I would have gone at least a week without it. I left terminal 2, crossed the central parking lot, and made my way back through security in terminal 7 stopping every few minutes to catch my breath and readjust my bags.  I pulled up to the gate five minutes after our departure time and raised my arms in victory realizing that the flight was still boarding. Success. 

Now, it's nine days later and I've concluded the London and Paris portions of my trip. I write this on my first of many train rides. Outside my window I see the Brussels skyline as we make our way to Amsterdam. Then it's off to Berlin, Prague, Budapest, Croatia, Barcelona (via Italy), Madrid, Morocco, Cordoba, and Sevilla. I don't know how often I'm going to be able to write. At least I hope to capture a few of the stories, thoughts, feelings, impressions, challenges, and transcendent moments for you.

London was tough. In my patently naive and optimistic way, I did very little advance planning prior to the trip. I had a pretty good idea of where I wanted to go but hadn't booked any hostels or trains. I'll figure it out when I get there, I thought. Easier said then done when you're traveling at the absolute busiest time of year. Even the crappy hostels, let alone the really great ones (and believe me, there is a HUGE variance), were totally booked. Each morning in London I woke up hoping that someone who made a reservation wasn't going to show up. Luckily, it worked out, and my worst fear of having to sleep on a bench in Hyde Park never realized. Tip for all you future backpackers: At the very least, book yourself a bed for your first week on the road. It will save you a lot of anxiety.

Maybe it was this stress of not knowing where I was going to sleep or maybe just the transitionary shock of being on the road, but London didn't really do it for me. I know that a lot of you have lived there and swear by it. Who am I to criticize?  I was only there for three days, hardly enough time to make an educated opinion. Don't expect those from this travel log. 

A funny moment which may or may not represent my disconnection was during a stand up comedy show when a Brit admitted that he was 3 months sober. When the audience didn't react he said, "If I were to say that in the States I would have gotten a round of applause. Here you all are thinking, QUITER!" In fact, I was going to applaud him prior to witnessing the audience's silence. I'm not saying that the Brits are wrong, just that I had a hard time relating.

I admit, I did have an awesome time hanging out on Brick Lane in Shoreditch, which is kinda like the Mission District in San Francisco. At least from a bohemian hipster perspective. We went to a number of open art galleries that were serving free bear to entice potential buyers. I didn't buy anything, but I did appreciate their beer. This area also has some of the greatest street art (artistic graffiti) in the world. If you haven't seen the Oscar nominated documentary Exit Through the Gift Shop, immediately put it on your Netflix queue. It profiles the most famous street artists, many of which have their roots in London and Paris. Seeing the urban environment as their canvas, these artists go to great risk (doing dangerous and illegal things) to provide us with their inspiration. I plan to continue to explore this artistic medium throughout the trip. Expect a lot of photos.

Of course there is more that I could say about London (e.g. It was great to see an old friend from high school, Jon Kluger, and a new friend from the AIDS Lifecycle, Grahaeme Hesp), but let's move on to Paris!

Upon arrival, I absolutely fell in love with this city. It's odd: the streets smell like piss, the pretentious Parisians correct you when you ask them a question without saying bonjour, and I happened to be there during a heat wave that had temperatures soaring in the 90s with severe humidity.  And yet, the people are so unbelievably friendly, the city is stunning, the women are beautiful, and the culture and language are imbued with a rich passion. I climbed the Eiffel Tour, explored the Pantheon, went to mass at Notre Dame, and each experience brought tears to my eyes. (The hostel lifestyle must be catching up with me; I get emotional when I don't sleep.)

The most important takeaway from my time in Paris, however, is the generous hospitality shown by some of my future UCLA Anderson classmates who gave me a place to stay and took me out at night. I had only connected with Clement and Annabelle through the admitted students' online forum, and yet Clement hooked me up with his sister's apartment while she was out of town and Annabelle offered to sleep at a friend's place if I needed to crash in her studio. I don't know if their good nature and general coolness is more a reflection on them as Parisians or as Anderson students, but suffice to say I am so excited to spend the next few years with them!

On my first night in Paris, we went to a club called Wagg in Odeon.  This underground club looks like you're in Roman catacombs with chiseled brick walls.  Despite the fact I couldn't speak any French, I felt totally in my element talking and dancing with everyone who was willing. By the end of the night Clement had bestowed upon me a new nickname: Chien Fou, meaning Crazy Dog. It's a French expression for that person at the party who is really enthusiastic and energetic.  Yeah, I think it fits. 

Shall I continue or leave you wanting more? (I'm hoping that if you've actually read this far, you might be enjoying yourself.) This was just the first week and already I'm starting to get into a groove. Traveling is a skill that takes practice. It's more about what you do than what you see, and I know I have not yet fully achieved the balance that I'm looking for yet. At least I've used the past week to chart out most of the rest of my trip so that early anxiety won't cripple me in the future. Please write comments, tell your own stories, or ask questions. Thank you for joining me on this adventure!

Love,
Danny