Düsseldorf, Duisburg and Impending Dooseparture

October 1, 2015

Welp. Had to happen at some point. We're midway into the last full day in Europe, working through the administrative tasks associated with coming home. Returning bikes. Booking train tickets. Doing laundry. Cleaning the apartment. Feeling the weight -- both physical and psychological -- of gallons and gallons of beer.

Within this context, Düsseldorf and its surrounding regions have served as maybe the most suitable penultimate stop. A solid, but low-key Altstadt. An unambiguous selection of food and drink. Temperate weather. A generally unharried tempo. Zero complaints, all told.

By the same stroke, it should be noted this portion of the trip has had its own adventures...

A 17-part exploration of how many asshole servers are placed in direct contact with customers at Altbier establishments (hint: all of them).

What would Seattle's well-known Space Needle look like if it was built by the Third Reich?

How are there always Irish bars?

Is it worthwhile to ride 35 miles to explore the curated collision of nature and industrial-era architecture? (Yes. It is. Thank you very, very much, Jesse.)

How an American can leverage Spanish in Germany to get free shots at a Mexican restaurant.

How much free biscotti will Colin eat because he's too lazy to get ready and get real lunch?

It's been an outstanding trip with great food, great company and only one train trip marked by purposefully loud burping by a group of elderly Chinese women.

I'd call that a success.

Catch you guys back in the States tomorrow evening.

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What amSterdam?

September 28, 2015

We R tRapT iN iTErn3t HeLl.

HeRe Is pICtuReS oF aMsTErDam tRiPz?

HeY. H3rE iS m0aR pIcTchURz?

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Baxroads of Bruxelles

September 23, 2015

A groggy 10 a.m start. A finicky water heater. A walk in the rain followed by a culturally tardy breakfast. Thursday's open was perhaps less than auspicious. However, determined to fight through those early doldrums, we set sail for Beersel -- roughly 30 minutes south of Brussels proper -- which serves as home to some highly regarded, smaller scale brewers.

Unfortunately, our early struggles were to continue. Drie Fonteinen, the primary travel objective? Closed. Oud Beersel, another regional favorite? Also closed. Undeterred -- indeed, inspired to press forward -- we wandered over to Brasserie Kasteel Beersel, a small, old restaurant situated next to a small, old castle. And there, soaked in Isaac Hayes, soft candlelight and bottles of Oud Beersel, Tim and I achieved new levels of greatness: we made complete strangers, some of which may not have even spoken English, 78% certain we were a gay couple.

Victory.

Riding the success of an improvised field trip, we blew clean past our central Brussels stop and plowed an equal distance north of the city to visit the Atomium. And while there is limited cause to offset the sense that you're standing in a Cold War time capsule when you finally arrive, that sense does little to undermine the singular nature of the architecture. Six to ten enormous balls -- I didn't count, we had a lot of Oud Beersel -- float at imposing angles that would almost certainly trigger vertigo had we arrived in time to actually enter the facility. All the same, I think we're pretty confident most of the splendor was in viewing the building from the outside.

The linchpin of our final full day in Brussels was owed to Tim's suggestion that we snag a couple of city bikes and cruise downtown for some closing beers and eats. Seeing no reason to decline, we hopped on a couple Panzers masquerading as bicycles -- only with shittier braking -- and set off on the 10 km city sprint back to the Grand Place. Cruising through the twilight hours on the least rainy portion of our brief time in Belgium was freaking spectacular and commanded our full attention in lieu of copious photography.

Also, a broadside crash on these bikes could rend a fucking city bus in half.

Closing at Delirium Cafe for a second time -- Pops, we actually swung through the very same night you mentioned it -- we enjoyed the quieter upstairs space and a crazy good barrel-aged brew. Then, seeing no other clear opportunity to tackle a famed Belgian delight, Tim and I dug deep and snagged a couple french fry cones covered in baby shit.

Or Samurai Sauce.

Which is basically baby shit.

Also: Tom and Crew found and murdered the Predator in Bruges while he carelessly posed for photos, so Tim and I are going to have to come up with a new line of cinematic adventures. Keep you posted...

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Ninja Dojo Safari

September 22, 2015

For the sake of expediency, let's just tackle the only issue people are here to read about: Alien Versus Predator was a cinematic tour de force. A theatrical magnum opus so undeniably peerless -- so pure and true -- Tim burst into tears and went fetal for 13 straight hours and I shaved half my hair off and set it on fire. To Paul Anderson, whatever Arby's you're currently working at: Magnific.

Fortunately, we pulled our collective shit together just fast enough this morning to be both decisively late and unshowered for a walking tour of Brussels with Deb, Tom, Gil and Leanne. By deftly taking position near open waste pits and generally staying downwind, we were able to spare the crew our natural aromatics and, as fate would have it, still learn a good deal about the city and its occasionally sordid past.

A highly public urinal, one of several hastily improvised Ruegsegger/Garcia "stank shields", allowing us to maintain the faintest air of hygiene credibility among our friends.

Thereafter, the Garcia/Hubbell quad broke off to visit Waterloo while we took a brief Uber ride over to Cantillon, home of some Lambic legends. Or so I'm told. My self-assigned responsibility is to be quiet and not look like a complete philistine while Tim speaks knowledgeably about the beers. Or the brewing process. Or the bottling style? Is bottling style a thing? This is why I don't speak.

The greater consideration is that, despite not knowing a gueuze from a kriek from a sarlacc, it's fairly self evident that the beers on offer are top notch, varied and spectacular. So spectacular, in fact, that our lengthy tasting could not be meaningfully marred by the tech douche braying into his cell phone in a rather confined seating area.

"No... Did you.... have you talked to Ryan? No, he can't go."

"Because he'll ruin the trip!"

"THIS IS A DOJO SAFARI!"

"I'm in Belgium, this is very expensive."

"No, dude, it's all DOJO!"

I'll give readers a full five minutes to surreptitiously google every old school permutation of "Dojo Safari" they can think of (e.g. dojo safari, dojo+safari, "dojo" and "safari", etc). There's no rush. We'd prefer you slowly come to the realization that "dojo safari" is not, in fact, a thing, which means this particular clown instantiated the phrase just for us. For all of us to have. Forever. You're never going to forget it now.

And while I apologize for forcing that knowledge to replace some important memory, like a child's birthday or the basic process that allows you to put on pants without assistance, allow me to shove it right back out by offering you the magical image -- taped amidst an array of photos intended to entice you to enter a restaurant -- that brought joy back to Tim and myself.

This man did things... non-culinary things... to that basil.

You're welcome.

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Transfer to Brussels: Platform Surprise

September 21, 2015

While offering no shortage of positive things to say about Köln, it is safe to say Kölsch has been substantively completed. Kölsch is over. Forever.

In seeking substantive support for this assertion, one need look no further than the sad state of affairs on Genter Strasse, Cologne, circa 9:18 a.m. Two humans. Zero physical movement. The distinct mouthfeel of sand and silica packets. And more sand.

Naturally, the solution was a couple quick showers, a brisk cup of coffee and a cultural/lingual misunderstanding leading to two grown men sharing a single small bowl of Müsli at a streetside cafe, after which we dadded it on down to the tracks to catch our transfer to Brussels. And running alongside the Paris Nord-bound train, who do we run into? Tom, Deb, Gil and Leanne, heading to what we would later learn was a highly exclusive "business class" cabin, which we have to assume was a complete shitbox. Because we were not allowed in. Because smelled like proletariat.

A quick zip through the countryside later, we arrived at the land of waffles and people that sell waffles because waffles. Seeing an opportunity to dodge that most trite of treats, we dipped into Belgium's lesser known, highly secretive and heretofore completely underground movement of wildly famous and ludicrously well known/highly regarded beers all over the place on every corner always.

The first night in Belgium ended much like all evenings in Belgium: Dinner and drinks among friends and family, followed by two women snorkeling into a flotilla of Dorito barf.

What Stupid Movie are Tim and Colin Falling Asleep To: Alien Versus Predator. Starring Sanaa Lathan and Raoul Bova, who questionably mortgaged the remainder of their careers to act alongside 230 pounds of foam rubber and what I'll preemptively estimate are some less-than-special effects. May their sacrifice always be remembered

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Koln Day 2: 8 x F.G. = 16 Beers, [Where F.G. = Finger Guns]

September 20, 2015

On a well rested day two, we learned a number of important things:

1) Kase Fruhstuck is, in fact, cheese breakfast. So literally that Tim is still, in fact, eating cheese.

2) When Germans count to two, they use a thumb and index finger, rather than the classic Korean index finger + middle finger. This looks like a gun. Which is also suspiciously German. Wave it around a lot. You'll either be asked to leave. Or you'll get more beer.

3) Getting locked in a room to solve puzzles when you need to pee -- so very badly -- actually turns out to be pretty awesome.

Kolner Dom is enormous and impressive, Kolsch is outstanding and nothing washes down a 49ers blowout better than playing fussball with some German pseudo-maffioso.

Catch you babes in Brussels.

What Stupid Movie are Tim and Colin Falling Asleep To: Predator, starring two future governors and Cornhusk Beadblanket

Tim and Colin

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Arrival

September 19, 2015

We must ask ourselves: what day are all the days that being it is? And the answer is: All of them.

We've made it to Cologne safely. We've tackled some exploring and a good amount of Kolsch.

We also had schnitzel, which, if we're all honest, is just a gigantic flattened chicken nugget.

And, maybe most importantly: we ti' ti'.

Tune back in tomorrow when there will be more stories to tell, including a voluntary prison experience and trying to watch American football at James Jimford Jimmy Chimps House of Sport and Piss 2: Still Pissin', D.B.A. "Joe Champs".

There will also be beer.

xoxo

Colin 'n' Tim

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Is this Europes, guys??