(Travel Journal Selections)
By Morgan Fox
July 8, 2014
Prikid Café, 2nd level (Reykjavik, Iceland)
Bus Driver: That’s our opera house. It’s ugly.
Driver: And that’s our main bank. Also ugly.
(after a bit)
Driver: And that’s the most expensive housing in Reykjavik. Also ugly.
July 12, 2014
Hostel Gate common room (Vilnius, Lithuania)
The title of this entry was going to be “How to Fart in Copenhagen,” but is now “Remember That Time You Went to Romania and Were Afraid You Would Lose Your Luggage?”
July 29, 2014
Treptower Park, random restaurant (Berlin, Germany)
I have no idea what I just ordered. Please don’t let there be cheese.
On the other hand, I’m fairly certain I managed to order orange juice.
I’ve made the mistake so far today of forgetting to eat, outside of the croissant for breakfast and a curry wurst while walking. I’m really good at this being human thing. At least it’s not much different from my norm.
It’s kinda weird, readjusting to the solitary roll verses—
Shit. I ordered cheese.
I’m. I don’t even.
Literally. I ordered a cheese plate.
This is my life.
I’m eating a cheese sandwich with butter.
HOW DO I MANAGE THESE THINGS.
Note to self: learn the word for cheese.
I’m trying to make it look like I ate it, without actually eating the grand majority of it. How do people eat this stuff?
Thank you lettuce for your water content.
Dear restaurant, wallet, and stomach: I’m so sorry.
So. That happened. I’m so glad I recorded that moment.
August 9, 2014
Departures terminal, Gdańsk lotnisko (Poland)
So I’m flying with SAS again, in and out of Copenhagen. Let’s see if my luggage makes it to Oslo, because they only have one day to get it right if not.
I’m also interested in my shampoo, what little of it is left, NOT exploding in my bag. Otherwise the first chapter of Norway will be entitled, “A History of Exploded Objects.”
August 11, 2014
Voss train station (Voss, Norway)
I will never cease to be amazed at my almost boundless ability to spend six hours doing absolutely nothing but watch scenery pass.
August 12, 2014
Evangerista Café (Evanger, Norway)
(. . .) they turned on some “mystical” music and two girls in red dresses (I remember them from *pen starts to die* the train in no stop dying really? no? maybe?) (does this one work? maybe? maybe maybe? how have I killed three pens? almost 4 pens fuck).
Okay. We’re not finishing this tonight.
August 15, 2014
Supreme Roasters Works (Oslo, Norway)
First post/entry written with Sigurd’s pen! This entry is entitled, “Either Sheep Poop Pellets, Or There Are a Lot of Really Big Rabbits Up Here.”
(. . .)
Instead of diving pack back into the moment my pen died, I think I will instead describe to you this epic coffee drink.
He put a lime in my espresso.
Let me elaborate.
He put a lime in my espresso.
October 2, 2014
Hostel Alexandrie 3, back dorm (Montréal, Québec)
If I only have time to write one thing on this trip, let it be this.
The moment of arriving at Berri-UQAM and trying to recall the maps in my head, the memory of a place remembered in the daylight. Swimming upstream of the other commuters, determined not to get lost in the University again, and onto the street and the colorful neon that doesn’t look familiar even though I think I know where I am and where I am going and the landmarks seem to be there but is it the corrosion of memory or am I going the wrong way?
July 12, 2015
Zé do Prego (Porto, Portugal)
Starter note: seagulls are dicks.
June 22, 2016
Stalingrad Station, M7 Ivny/Villejuif platform (Paris, France)
I found the Sexodrome
It’s at Pigale
just in case
I need to find it
June 27, 2016
Tarakon patio (Tarragona, Spain)
(. . .) Okay, I have to pause in writing so I can navigate my bread. Maybe I spread the garlic and tomato? The instructions were all in Spanish with some pointing.
(. . .)
Everyone’s taking pictures of the Roman ruins, and I’m taking pictures of stray cats.
July 2, 2016
Vertigo Café (Lisbon, Portugal)
Being back in Lisbon is like finding a beloved pair of pants that have fallen into the back of your dresser, and finding that they still fit. However, because it’s Lisbon, they’re all knotted up in themselves, so you have to untangle the legs but the creases remain.
Which is a pretty way of saying that I got lost on my way to Vertigo.
December 1, 2016
Daleko Blisko (Łódź, Poland)
If I get locked in one more bathroom. . . .
December 4, 2016
Croatia Airlines OU 413, seat 25B (Kraków –> Frankfurt –> Split, Croatia)
One and only Frankfurt entry, done on the plane to Croatia.
(. . .)
Frankfurt downtown was definitely a place. A little seedy, a little gnarly, but with nice architecture. I got into the hostel, got into my room, asked about where to find food. The receptionist said, “Not so much on this street, but if you go one street over you’ll find more options. But go that way, not that way. That way is the red-light district.”
One street up and over (not toward the red-light district) I found a little pita corner shop, which suited my needs perfectly. (Holy shut this is a bumpy plane. Or a bumpy runway.) Knowing that my German isn’t good enough for anything, I proceed in English. “Can I have a merguez in falafel?”
Apparently my English isn’t good enough for anything, either.
December 16, 2016
U Sedliaka, Bratislava
(. . .) I then went on an epic quest of finding things from the map, which resulted in getting turned around more often than I can count, and Bratislava makes almost no sense, geographically, to me. I have, however, in my travels, identified a landmark:
There’s a boobies club near the tram stop for the hostel, so now my entire experience of Bratislava revolves around boobies.
Boobies for Bratislava.
Bratislava for boobies.
Moving on. (. . .)
December 18, 2016
Neko Café (Vienna, Austria)
Cats! Vienna has a cat café! I have pet a cat!
Also I saw some bones.
December 22, 2016
TAP Flight 217, seat 36F (Prague –> Lisbon –>Boston)
*after condensing four days into a tiny notebook on a very bumpy flight*
Any further notes will be suspended until later, if and when necessary, because my hand is shot.
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