Travel Tuesday: Mexicans in Germany! - The Honeymoon Part I

It should be known, if it has not been established, that I am in the midst of planning a honeymoon, and the wedding prior to the honeymoon. My goal is to marry the best guy ever. That part is almost to completion. My second goal, is to introduce said best guy to my favorite country outside of Continental America. If this is your first time reading one of my posts, you will have to ask yourself "what country could that be?" Otherwise, from my multiple odes to Alemania, you may already know. The third goal is to have the reader join us on the honeymoon, in a literary manner, not physically. The cynic in me is tamed by contributing to my blog and allowing you to follow my neurotic road to travel bliss, dare I say, it brings me joy. So here it is, the words, the process, the mind behind the decisions we will make on our honeymoon travels.

It is a given that we should spend time in Germany as a post celebration to our union. The honeymoon was booked before the  wedding date was settled. If it was not clear before, I love my travel. I am serious about my travel. Don't fuck with my travel. This had been the dream I would whisper to my love even before we vocally said "this is it, you are the one". I wanted to introduce him to the beauty of Berlin. I wanted him to drink the beer. I wanted a beautiful excuse to return to Germany for the 4th time...this was definitely it... Since we were so close, and because we love our beer, it was only logical that we decided to include a trip to  Belgium...drinking a beer in an Abbey while quoting Colin Farrell is on everyone's bucket list...right?

But the trip can't only be about beer... Well it  can, but I am older than I was the first time I was in Europe and drunkenly kicked a tour bus' glass door in before hauling ass down some alley with a fake sword in tow. Recreating the scene for my love would be awesome. Getting arrested would not. The debauchery that once flooded my excursions can only be allowed to trickle. I can't be continuously drunk, I can't bounce back from an all night drink and dance fest in order to wake and tour the cities. It just does not work like that anymore.

I am unsure of how we will handle the need to be young at a time when we are slowly feeling our age in a country that is woven with interlacing strands of  history and present future. Will we acclimate to a the time  change or sleep though a game of Eisbaren Berlin Hockey? I suppose I will leave that for a later post.

Travel Tuesday - Earl Gray, Germany in Seattle, and a Funeral Home

Travel is not travel without a stop at the local watering holes. An affinity for excellent wine, beer, spirits is more than just a need, a yearn to intoxicate the senses. It's like getting lost on a beaten path of a city, taking the stroll down the avenue natives so often traverse. Sitting at the local tavern allows the traveler, me, to truly appreciate what the current surroundings offer, be it a person, a drink, an atmosphere...It's the moment in which you are able to observe the natural state of some, the uninhibited moments.

In short, I make it a point to visit as many cool drinking establishments in any city I travel, as much as possible. It's not that I am a lush, but yeah, I am a lush. My quest for the coolest of the cools are measured by the following criteria:

Proximity
Distillation
Atmosphere
(PDA)

Proximity is exactly as it is written, the distance from "home base" to the location of the drinking establishment. Proximity is not necessarily essential, but it's convenience can greatly boost the rooting on the PDA scale. Distillation is the ensuing product(s) available to me, the consumer, and the variations available. A previous post on the subject of bars and books would have rated many of the bars with a low Distillation number given the small choices in liquor and brew, therefore, their atmosphere rating was needed to keep them in the running am these two up can ruin the remaining drinking experience. Ultimately, all three categories would reach an absolute 10 for the perfect bar experience. In my recent travel to Seattle, short as it was, I was able to visit 4 bars that embodied the experience of the PDA. This week's Travel Tuesday will break down the PDA of the best bars in Seattle.

Bar: The Pine Box
P: 10
D: 10
A: 10

Our hotel, The Paramount, was located smack in the middle of downtown Seattle; walking distance to Pike Market AND the space needle. It was perfect! But its perfection was only met once we realized how close we were to the Pine Box. It is important to note that my visit to Pine Box was on a night of much drinking. However, a seasoned drinker and Seattle local who hates drinking at bars but loves to discover new beers introduced my traveling troupe to the amazing Pine Box. Previously a funeral home, the bar retains the original wood craft, recycling the pews for seating at side booths. This is a place where the beer snobs take solace in the selection, while maintaining a full bar for those rum and coke lovers. This is also the location where our palettes were introduced to a sour that we (the fiancee and I) can finally appreciate. Rodenbach. If you have not tried Rodenbach, and you previously hated sours, this is the one you need to drink. The servers were helpful, and the food was delicious (albeit drunkenly devoured). The quick cab ride back to the hotel was a mere 10 dollars.

Bar: Rhein Haus
P: 8
D: 10+
A: 7

In fairness, I will preface with the following disclaimer: I FUCKING LOVE GERMANY AND GERMAN TAVERNS...which is why it is hard for me not to give this bar an all around 10. The beer selection was beyond any amazing German beer listing I had ever seen. The actual structure of the bar replicated a traditional beer hall AND included a  bocce ball court in the middle of the bar. All it was missing was sumo wrestling to complete its AXIS Powers ambiance (historian joke...). It was almost perfect...

Located in Capitol Hill, not so far from the Paramount Hotel, but most certainly not within walking distance, the place was ideal for a quick and cheap cab ride. The scene is young, but the beers are in abundance and the location is huge. You can certainly make do with the surrounding ambiance.

Bar: The Diller Room
P: 10
D: 10
A: 9

It would be hard to find anything I didn't like about the Diller Room. I loved it so much I insisted on visiting the place two nights in a row...on a weekend trip! Located on the corner of 1st and University, it is in prime downtown location, literally walking distance from almost every awesome Seattle site, as well as a multitude of restaurants to choose from.

But the best part of the Diller Room are the amazing craft drinks. Have you ever heard of tea infused gin? Bartender by the name of Justin beautifully creates elaborate, tasteful cocktails that at times can be lit on fire. Us non crafty connoisseurs would refer to these as tiki drinks, but they have a names like the Jamaica Barrel or the the Madame Pele (think sparklers a top a daiquiri looking cocktail). They are delicious, they are beautiful, and they are delicious. If you are fortunate enough to have a drink at this place, be sure to order their signature house cocktail "The Earl". It has that tea infused gin I mentioned, whiskey and some other ridiculously yummy spirits all masterfully blended together over ice. Have I said delicious yet?

And lastly, but most certainly importantly...it has little to no douchebags, as well as some awesome seating options. The staff was great, the music was awesome. I sat there with the love of my life, my only brother, my two sisters, and a family friend as we laughed and reminisced to the sounds of Ian Curtis. I do believe the Diller Room provided the most perfect memory.

Travel Tuesday: If you can't Travel, Watch a Movie

Travel and Movies. I can't get geek out any harder than if I was to include reading and travel. Which I can. In the last decade, I have traveled to Italy twice, Germany thrice, Mexico, Czech Republic, Greece, and a multitude of continental U.S. States. I have jumped in a car to vegas and LA, hopped on a plane to San Diego, a train to Oktoberfest in San Francisco. No place has been too close or too far for me to visit. I love to travel. I love to write about my travels. I love to read a book, watch a movie, and dream of the settings of the story, In the following Travel Tuesday segments, I will introduce to you the films that have inspired my lust for world gallivanting. 

Despite my journeys to a number of countries, the vast majority of the world's canvas has yet to carry my foot print. That is not to say that I do not to continue to dream of the day that I bless these locations with my wit and charm. For the moment, however, I have films to fill my head with visions of Spanish threesomes, drunken exploration in tokyo, making friends with a midget in Bruges, and having an affair with Ralph Fiennes in Africa. Sometimes I do it all at once, but then reality slaps me in the face and reminds me to save my money and actually get my ass on a plane. So in the interim, here is a list of the places I plan to visit, and the movies that inspire my dream to travel. 

Belgium - In Bruges

If you have not watched "In Bruges" then you have not lived. I don't care what you think about Colin Farrell, this movie far beyond redeems any reservation held against him in any way. He's a genius in an awesome movie that is set in the city of Bruges. For the readers that are well acquainted with me, you will already know that I love my beer. Not shit water beer, I mean good beer. The kind that leaves morsels of flavor on your pallette long after the beer has retreated from your tulip glass and settled in your bowels. PLenty of beer drinking is done in this movie, and plenty of the drinking is done in a setting of medieval buildings in a place that is often described as "the Venice of the North". Colin Farrell's character hates this beautiful place. He spends his nights wandering the cobble stone streets wishing he could get the fuck out of there. So he distracts himself by keeping the company of a drug dealer and midget. Now I might be a little naive, but I seriously want to meet a midget in Bruges. When I travel to Bruges, it will be with the hope that I am going to share a beer with a midget. A midget in town for the filming of a movie. It has to happen, or Bruges is going to fucking suck just like Colin Farrell said. 

Spain - Vicky Cristina Barcelona

Besides the fact that Barcelona is beautiful and rich in architecture and history, you have a threesome with Penelope Cruz and Javier Bardem. I don't know about you, but those two are the hottest Spaniards ever. Sure, I want to visit Barcelona, drink wine and immerse in the culture. But I really really want to be the turkey in the Javier Bardem/Penelope Cruz sandwich. According to this movie, a girl eager to find herself and develop her passions can get scooped up by a world renowned artist and his super hot, albeit, bat shit wife. Sign me the fuck up.  

Japan - Lost in Translation

Tokyo is the back drop for what is easily one of my favorite Sofia Coppola films. She managed to capture the a beauty that is often lost in a modern metropolitan setting, and create a world of wonder. while still allowing for the traditional aspect of the culture to inspire your absolute nee to travel to Japan. In an attempt to create transperancy, I will tell you that the prospect of traveling to somewhere like Japan terrifies me. Not so in the sense that my life would be in danger, or that Japanese people are a violent. It is quite the contrary. My fear is that in being raised here in the States, my manners and loss of my own culture at times, may contribute to an act that may be viewed as a rude American. Never has this thought been more apparent than in the prospect of traveling to Japan. What if I did something to offend them? What if I come off as an animal? What if I can't hide the "what the fuck is that on my plate" face when they bring me what I thought was going to be chicken katsu?

Africa - The English Patient

I have an obsession with Ralph Fiennes. I also have an obsession with Egypt. Egypt is in Africa. I want to go. Maybe I will run in to Ralph Fiennes, maybe it will happen in a pyramid. Who knows, but maybe. 

Travel Tuesday: Freak out on Route 99

The travel part isn't so hard. I consider myself a master of the basics: shoe and belt removal at TSA check points, essentials in your personal item bag while the rest is checked in, no large liquids in your carry on. I know to not show up to the gate smashed, and to try and stick to the present time zone schedule to minimize jet lag. I walk the blocks to absorb the scenery and adapt to the locale. I check out downtown and then head to the smaller neighborhoods. I've got this shit down.

A recent trip to Seattle was no exception. It was 4 in this party of awesome, and a hotel would simply not do, not for space and not for the budget. Seattle is gorgeous, and with its beauty comes its inflated costs. A decent hotel guaranteeing non Heroin injecting inhabitants on the stair landing started at a minimum of $200.00 a night, and that was just for a room. And for as much as I love my family, I really had no desire to share one room with three other adults. I rented a studio on West Seattle from a young couple who were nauseatingly enthusiastic on Airbnb. What can I say, I like being buttered up with free beer and sea salt hand soaps after handing over my money. 420 bucks for 3 nights, two rooms, and all night binge drinking...yeah, I will fucking take it! Didn't even dawn on me that the short "10" minute drive to downtown would be an impediment...amateur fucking move on my part! Of course it was an impediment. We either relied on cabs or car2go. But car2go is a 2 seat smart car. So unless we wanted to split up in to teams, we were shelling out for cabs.

Let me lead you to the main reason we are here. I know that at some point in your history with me, you have read previous posts. Maybe you know me in real life. I am cute. But I am also a borderline nervous wreck that trips on her own feet with the occasional seasonal snot in her hair. I have a car,  I drive the car, but I am not a lover of driving. I get nervous, I get angry, I get antsy. I yell at inanimate objects and threaten to burn down a city. This is just a few of the occurrences that happen in a familiar place. Driving to a new location creates a completely different experience.

The Seattle trip was coming to a conclusion. In our  quest to be the coolest kids on the block, we ventured to Sonic Boom in NW Seattle. We were scheduled to be on a flight to San Jose at 8 pm that night. I love to be early. And it was only three in the afternoon. There was just enough time to shop, get a bite and catch a cab back to SW Seattle, roughtly a 20 minute drive. It was all timed perfectly. I called the cab company at 4:30 pm. When able, I tend  to contribute to the under dog establishments. I prefer small owned companies who could potentially benefit from my patronage. I decide to call Orange Cab Company. The dispatcher was abrupt, but assured me that the cab would be at the restaurant in 20 minutes. Wonderful! We concluded the final meal of the trip and headed to the street awaiting our ride. We allow the five minutes to pass the pick up time...not a thing. I try not to panic but I begin to call the cab company. The phone dies. My future sister in law passes me her phone. I call, I wade through the ridiculously long prompt for such a small company, it rings. It rings. And it keeps fucking ringing. Mother Fuckers. Followed by an audible, "mother fuckers". The panic begins to set in. I call again. It rings and continually rings. We walk to the corner hoping to catch a glimpse of some god awful prius with a terrible orange glow. Nothing. My boyfriend dials Yellow Cab. They tell me that because I am in Ballard (NW Seattle) it will take 30 minutes to arrive to our location. This is not including the traffic we will have to sift through to get down to SW Seattle and then to the airport. Suddenly the ugly troll of anxiety is tip toeing on my chest. That bitch. My boyfriend quickly locates two Car2Go cars right next to each other. He turns to me and says "you take my sister, I will follow you. Call the yellow cab and tell him to meet us at the house." Bless his heart for entrusting me with his sister in my car, or entrusting me with the ability to navigate a mobile sardine can in to unknown waves of what is considered the worst traffic north of San Luis Obispo.

We begin navigatgion from the phone. From the multiple cab rides, I am well aware that I need to get to the 99 and on to the bridge. But machines are assholes. It gives us directions to First, and then gives us directions to Fifthe Avenue where it will eventually lead us to Highway 5. The difference of taking 99 and Highway 5 is 30 minutes. The troll is now tap dancing on my chest and this shoe box with a motor has suddenly shrunken down to a pill box. I can't breathe. I make a rash turn right. I don't know where I am. The navigation is continually re-routing. I am screaming at inanimate lights and threatening to perform crude painful acts upon the participants of normal rush hour traffic. "Oh my God, what have I done! We aren't going to make it on the plane." I am almost crying, but the fact that I am hyperventilating stops the tears and has me clutching at my chest. My saint of an almost sister in law continually tells me we will be ok, that the worst that can happen is that I will pull over and she will drive. I want to believe her, I am listening to it all and apologizing for her witnessing what can be considered a full blown anxiety attack. The signs for 99 are a quarter of a mile away, and there, I see the turn right. AND I FUCKING MISSED IT. There are tears, but I just want to get to the 99. We turn the block, I am on the 99...and then I realize, I am about to piss my pants. I peddle my go cart hard enough to reach 80 miles, I am flying and I need to pee. Once I am on the bridge, the panic has subsided but the reality of pissing catastrophe is eminent. For the first time since 2nd grade, pissing my pants while sober, is a mother fucking reality.

We make it to SW Seattle. I scramble out of the car where my boyfriend was already waiting. He found the 99 much sooner than I. I let him finish the Car2Go session, or rather, he tells me he is ending the session as I rush in to the house and expel sheer relief that I have not had an accident. I am sailing in to relaxation. Only I begin to cry and become embarrassed. Fuck. The anxiety regarding anxiety is now toying with my chest, lightly but with a perserverance. Fuck you anxiety. And fuck you Seattle traffic.

I can't wait to visit Seattle again.