
Obligatory Travel Update #2
Yet, again I have been absolutely terrible at updating my travel journal. Here’s another stab and the final portion of my European travels.
Poland
I arrived in Poland in the early afternoon and immediately took a nap in my hostel. My sister arrived right around the time I woke up, so my cousin Clayton, her, and I rendezvoused at her AirBnB just before dinner time. We spent the evening walking around Krakow, catching up, and eating a glorious Polish dinner (thanks for hooking it up Gma!).

After 2 liters of beer and more food than we knew what to do with, there was only really one thing left to do: continue drinking. What was supposed to be a “chill night” turned into a sloppy escapade complete with fake Australian accents. “I just got in from Melbourne. I’m just gettin’ amongst it.” The people loved it. Against all odds we ended up in a proper “clurb” and danced. Good times.
The next day my sister barely made her early ass bus to Auschwitz, my cousin went to work really hungover, and I slept like the degenerate I am. With my family gone all day, I explored Krakow alone, eating more traditional Polish food and trying not to die from the lack of rest and excess booze.
That afternoon, my friend Carol arrived to join in the chaos. Carol is a legend I first met at U of I and is currently teaching English in Poland as a Fulbright grantee. We caught up for a bit, ate some ice cream, and then met my cousin and sister for some pre-dinner beers.
At dinner, we were joined by a larger group of Fulbrighters and had a fun time eating Italian food and sharing travel stories. Afterward, we made our way out for some more drinks and conversation. Due to the rather big night prior though, we ended up checking in fairly early to get some rest in preparation for our last go in Krakow.

We met up with the Fulbright squad the next morning for a solid American breakfast: ridiculously favored pancakes and burgers with a zillion toppings including a syringe of hot sauce. The overload of carbs put me straight into a food coma and I went back to the hostel to enjoy a nap while Amanda and Clayton courageously explored the city.
They returned in the late afternoon, so we Skyped our family back home. The conversation was filled with insults towards my unkempt beard and overall lifelessness from the week-long bender I was on: pretty typical stuff. That night we made our way to a traditional Polish milk bar — a remnant of communist times when food was super cheap and not too elegant — and ate like kings for $4 a person.
Afterwards, we headed back to our hostel to begin the shenanigans: the pub crawl. We played drinking games with some Canadians and some Italian guy who didn’t really understand or care that he was double our age. Greg and Tom’s hostel is unlike any other I’ve ever seen: they literally pay someone to make you free shots, drink with you, and take you from bar to bar, literally just making sure you have fun. We obliged and had a wild night. There are pictures to prove it.

The next morning Amanda and I made our way to Warsaw, but were struggling hard. We spent most of the day commuting up north via plane, which in retrospect was probably a bad idea. I’d recommend the train from Krakow to Warsaw for any future travelers. We arrived around dinner time and ate at some trendy place up the street. The hangover was still in full effect so we spent the remainder of our night watching Netflix and catching up on sleep.
The next day we grabbed an early walking tour around Warsaw’s “old town”. Luckily, we had a pretty solid tour guide who kept things light and even passed out some chocolate. Amanda and I got into a heated debate about whether or not the old communist restaurants were named “meal bars” or “milk bars”. I, being the idiot I am, was certain that the former was the correct nomenclature, only to be sorely disappointed when our tour guide clarified at the end. Consequently, I paid for lunch.
We spent most of the rest of the day relaxing and walking around Warsaw, having a few beers on the river and hitting up a milk bar for dinner. We chilled back at the hostel for the remainder of the night as I had an early flight and Amanda was heading back to Krakow the next day. We parted ways as she made her way back to (the overrated) reality.
Belgium
I had an extremely early flight the next morning and grabbed a cab from the hostel before the sun came up. On this day I would fly from Warsaw to Brussels, have an 8 hour layover, and then fly to Copenhagen. I planned the layover strategically so I could stop into the Growth of a Game office and see the whole team.
Travis and Rita picked me up from the airport immediately upon my arrival and we got to work catching up on travels, business, and life. I spent the entire day working on the Growth of a Game shop and talking football with the guys. The day flew by and, before I knew it, I was back in the car on the way to the airport for my evening flight.
Denmark
I had a quick flight from Brussels to Copenhagen that night. I spent a majority of my time on the plane snoozing, desperately trying to catch up on lost sleep from the night before. I awoke groggily and took the train downtown to my hostel.
Upon arriving to the hostel, I was impressed with the overall setup: the lounges were spacious, the bar seemed busy, and the entire check-in process was completely automated. I checked in and took a much-needed shower. Afterwards I headed down to the bar to grab a beer and some food. I sat next to a friendly American dude around my age who grew up in the Bay area. We bonded over SF life and I spent a majority of my energy dissing Steph Curry and KD.
After a while two other American girls joined us and we went off exploring the Copenhagen nightlife. Our first stop brought us to an absurdly over-priced speakeasy ($16 a drink). Naturally, we bounced quickly and made our way to a local brewery down the street. There, we met up with a Kiwi who was also staying at our hostel and talked and drank until the place shut down.
At this point, I still hadn’t eaten — I had gotten too emotional about basketball and forgot to order food — so I was getting pretty tipsy. We kept wandering the streets of Copenhagen, doing anything in our power to find a spot that would serve us some form of alcohol on a random Tuesday evening. Luckily a group of Danes pointed us in the direction of a grungey pub up the street that served drinks until well into the morning.
War Pigs by Black Sabbath blared over the loud speakers as we walked in and I think I was literally the only person there who didn’t have at least one visible tattoo. Our crew certainly stuck out like a sore thumb, but we didn’t mind. Most of the people in the bar seemed welcoming anyhow. I stayed for an undetermined amount of time (2 beers?) when my hunger finally got the best of me.
I tried to snag a kebab from the place across the street of the bar, only to fail miserably when his credit card machine malfunctioned. I settled on a below average pizza from the place next door and made my way back to the hostel. I was hounded by prostitutes of all shapes and sizes on my walk home; apparently our hostel was in the heart of the red-light district. I just put in my headphones and laughed at their aggressiveness.

The next day marked the start of Distortion Fest. It was a matter of sheer luck that happened to be in Copenhagen at the time of this magical festival: I was made aware of its existence less than 24 hours before it began. In a nutshell, it is one of the largest festivals in Europe, drawing approximately 100k attendees each day over the course of 5 days. Blocks upon blocks of the city are shut down to make way for the 8–10 individual stages that blast live electronic music for 4p to 10p. The kicker? It’s all free. You don’t pay a penny to get in and the drinks were even reasonably priced.
Me, my American buddy, and the New Zealander made our way to the festival around 3p with beers in hand. I was immediately blown away at the magnitude of the event. By 5p it was apparent that everyone and their mothers was drinking and dancing on the Danish streets.
Me and the boys moseyed around, exploring the various stages. We stumbled upon a smaller stage near the outskirts of the festival that was playing some stuff with intense drops (I literally can’t tell the difference between sub genres of electronic music). As a natural reaction, I beelined to the mosh pits and started dancing like I was back at a Dopamines concert.
After about three songs worth of moshing like a teenager, I came to the realization that I was actually an out-of-shape 24-year-old and needed a break. As I made my way out of the mosh pit, I unexpectedly saw a familiar face. There, in the flesh, were two of my college buddies: Matt McClone and Carson Masterson. In a strange twist of fate, they had made their way to Denmark to partake in the festivities over the long weekend.

Needless to say, we spent the next 30–45 minutes freaking out about how random it was to cross paths in a mosh pit on another continent. When we were done screaming like little girls, we made our way to the main stage and danced until they shut the party down. We parted ways, as I had an early bus the next morning, but overall were still in awe of how small the world really is.
Germany
The next morning, I drug my hungover butt out of bed and caught a bus to Hamburg, Germany. Despite sitting next to the most annoying English person I think I have ever shared my presence with, I had a decent ride to Deutschland. The ride was broken up by a ferry ride across the Fehmarn Belt and got me into Hamburg around lunch time.
It was a beautifully sunny day, so I decided to walk from the bus station to my hostel, about an hour away on foot. I walked around in a Space Jam bro tank and khaki shorts, so it came as no surprise when some teenager took a photo of me walking down the street (the idiot left his flash on). I just smiled and laughed at him while he was clearly embarrassed of his error.
I checked into my hostel, showered, and explored the city some more. Hamburg was known for its nightlife and the pub scene looked promising. I got a quick dinner and went back to the hostel to call some friends and catch up on reading.

The next day I was awoken early by an alarm in the hostel. Some drunkard next to me passed out with his phone in his hand, so the phone erupted from the palm of his hand. After about 30 seconds of this blasphemy, I started shouting at the passed-out man to turn it off before I came over and laid down the hammer. No response.
For a brief moment, I feared the dude could actually be dead because I had never seen anyone move so little considering the circumstances. I finally went over to his bed and wrestled the phone from his tight grip and silenced it. He mumbled some curse words and rolled over. The room rejoiced.
I spent the day touring Hamburg on foot, walking close to 8 miles in the hot sun. I listened to podcasts, stopped inside museums and drank coffee at local cafes. Overall, it was a pretty chill day and I soon realized that Hamburg didn’t have a ton of tourist attractions during the day.
I went back to the hostel that afternoon and relaxed before heading out to a fat dinner of currywurst and bratwurst. As I sipped on a beer in the hostel lounge, I was approached by a creepy German of approximately 19 years of age. He began giving unsolicited advice and anecdotes on the Hamburg prostitution scene. I could not get out of the conversation fast enough.
I met some seemingly normal Brits and enjoyed one too many beers with them speaking of robust topics ranging from Leonardo DiCaprio movies to English patriotism to police brutality. Still recovering from the prior week’s debauchery, I elected to stay in and get some more sleep.
The next morning, I awoke early and worked on some writing, emails, and school work. I headed out in the early afternoon to attend a Hamburg Huskies vs Berlin Rebels American football game. I took the metro to Hammer park, arriving about one hour early for the contest. I walked around the grounds, spoke with some of the coaches, and took in the atmosphere of a standard GFL game.
Needless to say, the environment was intriguing. The setup was similar to that of a high school football game back in the U.S. and was played on a Saturday afternoon. Slowly but surely, fans piled in, some even dawning Huskies and Rebels jerseys on their backs. One of out of three people wore NFL hats of their favorite teams.

The players warmed up and the disparity was quite evident. Hamburg’s squad was approximately half the size of Berlin’s. Berlin also possessed almost double the number of Americans on their final roster. Even though only two Americans can be on the field at any given time, there is a huge advantage to having experienced players when it comes time for preparations and practice.
The game started off in Berlin’s favor. They scored on a busted coverage during their first drive, but Hamburg kept the game close, tying the game a few possessions later on an amazing over-the-shoulder toe-tapping touchdown reception. Berlin added another touchdown late in the half on a bogus trick play to take a lead into the half.
The second half was largely back and forth. The Huskies continued to shoot themselves in the foot with boneheaded penalties at inopportune times. After blocking a field goal attempt and driving well into the Rebels territory, the Huskies’ drive stalled and the game was seemingly over. The Rebels added a late field goal and touchdown to increase the margin and leave town with a win.
Overall, it was mind blowing to see my favorite sport be played abroad and to witness the intersection of German and American culture. The fans ranged from diehards with jerseys and drums to the novice fan who clearly was watching a game for the first time and everywhere in between. At times, I felt as if I was the most animated in attendance, even screaming at referees for blown calls from time to time.
I caught a ride home with one of the coaches I knew and chatted with some of the assistants. Funny enough, the Huskies’ Defensive Coordinator was a UMass graduate who had spent time as a GA for the Minutemen football team. Small world.
They dropped me off and I grabbed dinner just before the start of the Champions League final. I watched the match at my hostel bar and kept things pretty low key. I watched some Netflix, called a friend, and hit the hay.
Denmark (part 2)
The next day, I had an early bus back to Copenhagen for another night. The bus ride was mostly uneventful and I arrived back in Copenhagen around dusk. It was a rather chilly night, so I went to a Chinese restaurant close by my hostel after checking in. I made my bed in the dorm, grabbed my laptop and headed down to the lobby to working on some things for the evening.

When I came back to my room to head to sleep, I started to climb onto the top bunk that belonged to me only to have some Asian woman start to scream bloody murder. Apparently, a group of Singaporeans came in earlier that night and were too exhausted to make their own beds so one of them stole mine. I was not happy. The woman refused to leave my bed, so I was forced to make up another one and then head to sleep.
I awoke and the Singaporeans and any evidence of their existence was gone. I headed downstairs to check out and do some much-needed laundry. Afterwards, I explored Copenhagen further, making my way to the hippy commune known as Christiania and generally walking around near the canal. It was pretty chill day overall and I headed back mid-afternoon to catch a train to the airport.
England
My original plan for this trip included a two-week trip to Sri Lanka, which I was totally stoked for. Unfortunately for the Sri Lankan people and me, massive floods pummeled the small island right around the time I would have ventured in. This meant I had to change my route and find a cheap place to enter Asia.
Luckily, London is a cheap place to fly from and I already had a layover in Heathrow. Thus, the plan was to spend a quick night in London and head to Malaysia the next day. I got into England late in the evening and took a shuttle to my hotel (gotta splurge every once in a while). I checked in, ate dinner, took a warm bath and passed out. After a month staying in noisy dorms, the hotel life was recharging.
I spent the next day lounging in preparation for my long flight to Kuala Lumpur. My day mostly consisted of reorganizing my bag and reading books. I headed to the airport early started psyching myself up for the flight with a couple of beers and Tylenol PM. I boarded the flight and next thing I knew I was in Oman for my layover.

When I booked my ticket, I was a little suspicious about the 45-minute layover in the Middle Eastern country, considering how tight it was. My fear was validated when we landed 20 minutes late. I panicked. There was no way in hell I was going to spend all day stuck in this airport. I got off on the first shuttle bus from the tarmac and started sprinting through the airport when we got up to the door.
Keep in mind, I had just woken up from an eight-hour slumber and was faced with some of the brightest sunlight I’ve ever seen. I was I running into people and missed my turn-off at least a couple of times. Nevertheless, I made my connection with 5 minutes to spare.
Of course, my fuss was completely unnecessary as they ended up holding our flight for 20 minutes to accommodate all of the other folks from my previous flight who weren’t as legendary as me, but hey that’s life. I sunk into my seat and watch a bunch of movies before finally arriving in Southeast Asia.

