I believe all laundromats are the same, and this is becoming a trend. Not the laundromats. You see, I always pack assuming ideal decision making skills. 1 week of clean clothes. And then I end up defying my own heightened ideals of what I suppose is hygiene and just wear the same pants and over-shirt for 4-5 days. I changed my under garments regularly, but, well, you know. It seems silly having the number of clothing articles I do now in this area, London, Paris, big cities. But I imagine at some point I will be damn glad I brought what I did. No, not the laundromats, but the ‘are the same’ part. Turns out, as many know or have guessed, the world is not all that different from place to place. Laundromats are more or less the same (does everyone get their machines from the same damn guy?!). As are supermarket attendants, shopping centers, subways, etc etc. Sure the language is different, the maps are strange, and they want you to think they’re unique, but really, it’s the same bag.

I think this realization is what separates the world travelers, backpackers, and wanderers from the ones that hide in their houses, never leave their home town, and find the idea of wandering strange cities without their space phone to be frightening. If you are spending all your energy trying to worry about how you will wash your clothes, navigate to the eiffel tower, or order lunch, you end up overlooking the fact that you are, in fact, in a different country. Lets look at that a moment… the world is a big place. The circumference of the globe is 24901.55 miles, which means the surface area is 224.4million square miles (thanks geometry). Now of course 70% of that is water, but we use that a fair bit on the coasts and in boats, so we’ll say 40% is usable space, leaving us with 89.8 million square miles to play in. With all that space, visiting a new country, especially one across the world, is a big deal! It’s way the hell over there! Right now I am 8681 kilometers from my home!

I guess my point is…. I may be an amateur traveler in the international arena, but this isn’t my first rodeo. If we spend so much time trying to worry about whether or not we have enough easy-wash packets for our laundry, how are we ever going to relax enough to realize that my laundry is tumbling in a machine half way across the globe from my home.
-Douglas Cedric

It’s Snowing in Paris now. Though, for those of you in central Oregon, Canada, and Sweden, it isn’t really snow. It’s a frosting. Something a tad more substantial than morning frost, only proven to not be morning frost because there’s stuff falling out of the sky. The seagulls here don’t seem to mind, though I might add that they are a fair bit more irritating than on the West Coast of the America. American gulls: kah-kah-kah…gah-kah gah….. French/British Gulls: Skeeaaa-aw-aw-aw-aw-wa-eeee! This war cry is of course done while flying at or near your fucking head. Thanks sea gulls, why don’t you go back to, oh you know, the sea.

Oh right! I am in the Louve. For those of you that don’t already know, the first Sunday of the month, every museum in paris is free. How cool is that? I woke up at 8am to come wait in like, a little surprised by the snow, and found that it was fast. I got in like and was in the museum in less than 15 minutes. At first, entering the mail room below the pyramid of glass, it’s sort of a, ‘wtf is this place, I have no idea where to go.’ You get a map and it sort of starts to make sense. From there I simply found areas I was interested in and went that way first. By the time I had worked my way through the first (Middle ages, duh), I pretty much had it figured out. There’s a temporary exhibit here right now is the -1 floor of Sully (technically I think it is on the 0 floor, but their idea of floors in this building are a little wacky. The egyptian exhibit, for example, goes up and down stairs nearly an entire ‘floor’ worth of height a few times for ‘affect’). It is a model, map, and HUGE stonework of the original castle Louve that was here before. I am not sure if the stonework that is there is the original stone, but as it is labeled temporary, I can only assume it was assembled for effect. It is pretty cold down there, which, standing next to the wall of massive stones, gives it a good feel.

All in all, I really like this place, it’s fun. I found it to be very interesting to see this famous museum that everyone talks about. Yep. That’s right… ‘found’. For those of you with a high opinion of what you consider ‘proper museum experience’, cover your eyes. I have already gone through the whole museum. I think counting the line outside, and getting back to the center area from the african exhibit (uh, ok, that sucker is buried in the way back up down left right down down up sort of way….), I have walked down every hall in 3 hours 45 minutes. You might have just dropped your jaw and suggested that I didn’t really do it right. I mean, come on, there’s really only one reason to do this whole art thing, aye? Well, I have a bit of a different opinion.

Now granted I am by no means some sort of art expert nor do I have the credentials to tell you how this work. But bear with me here for a bit. I find art to be an experience. Being one that has a Bahcelur’s Degree in Fine Arts, I think I can at least say with some validity that Art is by no means a one way, one lane road. There is some curvy shit in there, guys. While I respect, understand, and sometimes partake in the ‘stand for 5 hours staring at one painting’ version of art, I find that I don’t need to do that to appreciate it. Especially in a museum setting, where I ahve limited time, I think that it is more valuable to experience the museum than it is to experience the individual pieces. We are, after all, in the information-on-crack age, where I can find about ten thousand photos of neary anything in this museum. If I feel compelled to study a particular piece more later, I have the option to do so. To me, the museum itself, as whole, as a space, and as an experience is more important. The rooms, the space, the flow of the people. The height of the ceilings. This building itself is a complex labrynthe of decorative walls and exceedingly unique architecture, some old, and some more new. There is something to say for sculpture, that has 3d depth and form, and is not entirely experienced until it is seen in person, but that sort of leads to my second point.

I am very much a tactile person, and more specifically to the topic at hand, I am a tactile artist. If you didn’t notice, I make things for a living. So museums and galleries, to me, are partial. I can see them, take photos, ooh and aah, but that is not the sort of experience I value most. IF you would let me put on the white gloves and the clean apron and actually touch the Egyptian sarcophagus, I would probably be so excited and interested that I would giggle and smile the whole time. That is the sort of art I want, and since that’s not exactly how the Louve works, it is more an exircise in witnessing.

Back around again though, it should be clear that I absolutely love this experience and do not discount it one bit. It is simply a different type of thing from that which I prefer to ‘do art’ through. And that is ok. So yes. I did the Louve in 3.75hours, saw everything, and even had time to stop and oogle at some of the things that really interested me. Oh and I stopped for lunch too. 5 minutes to eat my snickers bar and have some water. Nice work. Now, I think, it is time to go find a croissant shop, particularly one that doesn’t sell a cafe creme for 3.8eu. Thanks museum, for attempting to steal all my moneys.

And yes, I did see the Mona Lisa. She is pretty, and the water in the background is most definitely not at the sale level on either side. Byoo-eee-ooo.

-Douglas Cedric

I am sitting in Caroline’s room. She will be home in a bit. It is damn cold outside. London is cold in that ‘the beach is a bit over there, oh and ps, we’re on an island’. Paris is cold in that face numbing sort of way by which all sense of self is put at risk as you attempt to not let the bones in your forehead and skull develop permafrost. Caroline thinks it is because it is flat as hell over here, so the wind swoops in. I suspect she is right. This feels like Bend, OR. Only the chill digs deeper. Either way though, cold is cold, and one must simply adapt. One of the first things that came to mind when the wind kicked up a bit, was that all of those photos with the French folks in their stylish clothes with high collars and multi-layered scarves. We think it looks cool, and some even try to copy it, but what they’re really doing is attempting to create a wind barrier between the vital function of their fucking necks from this chill. I quickly adapted my scarf system to one that is more effective.

The first thing I noticed, of course, was that they’re driving on the correct side of the road again (sorry England)! But I quickly noticed as I was walking towards Notre Dame Cathedral, is that my brain had adapted to the UK extremely quickly. When the French vehicles were approaching from my left, I felt the same awkward sensation that I did when I first crossed a few roads in the UK. Funny that? Turns out my brain likes this travel stuff. Granted, in my frozen-brow state, I did try to pay for groceries with a 10 pound note. Oops, thought those were all tucked away.

The second thing I notices is more profound, thankfully. It came to me as I was crossing the bridge over the river. Paris is quiet. Very calm and quiet. Sure, it was about 1800hr, but still, even when 20-30 cars passed me on the bigger roads, it was simply more quiet. I realized that in the hub-bub that is starting a long trip, I didn’t even realize how chaotic and busy London is. engines reving up as drivers attempt to get to the next car’s bumper before the person behind gets to theirs. Horns going off at other cars, pedestrians, and the weather. Police vehicles racing around. When Marcus and I were walking out in Shepherd’s Bush looking at apartments, a fellow pedestrian even took the time to snap at us. ‘Why the fuck a’ you hoggin the whole road, this i’nt your driveway’. Oh, yeah? Oops. The whole city is alive, bustling and go-go-go-ing. Meanwhile, paris seems to be relaxed and calm. It is a nice change of pace.

Tata for now!

-Douglas Cedric

I am taking a quick stop in the Cafe to charge my camera, and as luck would have it, they have free WiFi. Surprisingly less free WiFi than I expected, but still many places that do have it. I am a tad bit surprised that they do not have the sort of WiFi infrastructure that Portland does, given the size, tourist draw, and “dynamic growth” London experiences, but then, Portland is ahead in the “hipsters need internet” category, so I suppose there is additional pressure there.

Short detour from London to Wall Street for a moment. I saw a post today that equated OWS (Occupy Wall Street) to a medical condition. I want it to be known that, if you are not aware of this fact already, every right and privilege you have access to today in the modern world was earned or established because someone, or a group of someones, was willing to stick their necks out to bring about the conversation that would bring about change in that area, resulting in a greater movement and thus the establishment of that privilege or right. You may be one of those many folk that look at the occupy camps with dislike. It’s dirty, messy, and apparently unorganized as far as you know. They just want free handouts and drugs, right? They’re just bitching about being overworked while you, and ‘the rest’ of society actually makes a living, yeah? Well, hey, who am I to question your misguided beliefs? Who am I to say that your perspective is founded in laziness within yourself, at not doing your research? Is it my place to tell you that you are in fact the one that has looked at the mess we are facing today and put your ‘nose to the grind’ expecting your avoidance and naivety to pay off? The answers are a resounding: I am Douglas Cedric, a citizen of the world, I am a member of the human race, and yes, it is in fact, most definitely, my place. I have heard both sides, I have seen the camps, I have read the statistics and talked to the people (and police). I have done my fucking homework. You see, the great thing about the free world, for now anyways, is freedom of speech. So you are most definitely free to avoid all honest understanding of the situation and voice your opinions, and it is my right to tell you that you are, in fact, an idiot.

This is absolutely NOT to say that I support the way the camps function in most cases. This is not to say that I find the drug use or party scene in some of the Occupy groups to be idoneous. Nor do I think the disorganization that IS present is helpful. I think there is a more productive way to do it. But, these things do not discount the hard work and positive effort that IS present, and they do not, contrary to your ‘truth’ represent what the movement is about, nor belie the actual organization and direction present.

If you don’t like the way they protest, that is fine. This is the spark to the fire, the hop to the step, and the ambient light before the sunrise (hopefully). It cannot be considered the entire movement, but more so one facet of a very complex polygon. Your response should not be to say that it is wrong, broken, and stupid, but to think to yourself, ‘I see the point, I am aware of the problem. I don’t like your method, so I am going to try my own’. Until you step up and get involved in the flow of progress, you will find that the protest is not so much ‘the wrong way’ but simply another way.

I mean, hell, I do not, by a long stretch, consider krumping and a proper form of dance… but I will not discount that it is a tight community of young folk doing their own thing, making friends (and enemies) and getting together for a good time.

Back to London. I am sitting in a strange location by which I am being warmed from a heater vent above me at the same time that the window to my right bleeds of an impressive amount of cold air. Or, to be more physically correct, it bleeds off heat to the outside and I am in fact experiencing the thermal flow out of the building. I might go so far as to suggest that I am sitting on the precipice of a thermocline, if you’ll allow me the leeway of using the less common material reference to air. Needless to say. My elbow is cold.

As a last remark, or possibly an aside, I would have it be known that the ‘idoneous’ you may have caught earlier, is in fact a gift for one David Clemmer, and a concession that, yes, those big words are kinda fun sometimes.

-Douglas Cedric

First off, that stuffed Baguette sustained me through breakfast and lunch, along with some free tea at the hostel, a gifted apple from a new Ausie friend, and some biscuits.

Second off. Biscuits Make Friends. Oh, you meant the humans? Yeah yeah, they like biscuits too.

Secret exposition for the day: There’s a swiss white chocolate bar and an energy drink in my bag that I got at a discount street market for 90p. Take that spit in the wind, dollar to pound currency exchange. I was worried I was melting away the last half of my trip just trying to survive in London, but as it turns out, I am currently 50usd under my budget for the week. Kapow! To top that off, I, being both a ranger and a “rooty” (read organic food and wilderness hikes) chap with a passive-radar for certain things, ran across some familiar faces in the midst of my wandering. As you’ll see in the photos, I managed to find the London Occupy Camp. (Read: hehehe. Read again:I told him I was a Medic for OPDX. He found the idea that we even needed Medics frightening. Welcome to world, chap.) I also managed to find the Tate Britain Gallery, which two info desks and a baguette salesman (whom were British) didn’t know existed. 1500s to modern, a collection of art. Very interesting. Lastly, while managing to get turned around in the tube stations (Thank gods for my phone’s compass), I can apparently find things using pure voodoo if I am on foot. Example: the only “organic” grocery store in town. Dinner, Breakfast, Lunch, Dinner, and Breakfast from here on out until I leave for Paris will consist of organic naan, peanut butter, chocolate bar, grapefruit, apple, carrots, and biscuits. All for a total of 6pounds. Not bad. This is of course not to mention the highly crucial beer allowance, but all in all, I will still be under budget for the week. Success!

I find that being in an English speaking country is not hard, but it is a good introduction to the international scene. No sense in working myself to death trying to decipher french right off the bat, better this chance to get used to it. With that said, I have made a French friend, Zoua, and she is not terribly impressed with her own people. This is not to say that she harbor any ill will, but more so that she finds the international scene as a whole more inviting and becoming of what she would expect of a community. Combined with the fact that it is rumored they “don’t do” other languages (this from the mouth of a French girl), Paris should be interesting. More or less inferring that if I am to expect to get any positive response I will need to be brave, bold, respectful, and at least give a few poorly pronounced phrases out to get their respect. Luckily, I have a friend in town that will save me from getting too confused… hopefully.

Oh right, that bit about the humans and the biscuits. Turns out the birds here know the sound of a roll of biscuits being opened. I found this out in Hyde park, thinking they might be tired of the things, they instead flocked to me like my many wayward children after I have returned from a great Odyssian Journey (Dare I say they call that an Odyssey?). I find the ones with the funny lobed toe-pads and white-forehead plates to be my favorite. I believe John said it was a Coot. I would like to have one please, to take home, k thanks. Along the way I found one of the great white swans floating about ih Hyde Park with one leg sticking far out over it’s back. I think it was injured that way because the fellow didn’t seem to care that it was goofy anymore. I made sure to set a big piece of biscuit on the edge of the cement walk so that he might snag a bite without getting hassled by the other birds. I think he liked me. In the end though, it would seem a lot of folks like biscuits. A German couple was trying to get the geese to come closer for a photo. Biscuit to the rescue! Maybe a tad too close? Dare I say park birds do not have a sense of personal space.

On the other hand, I find the seagulls, which are much smaller in stature and with pointier beaks than the American west coast seagulls, are both endearing and quite irritating all at once. Their antics are amusing, especially amongst each other, but they have a very shrill voice and have come to find that fly-by squawkings seem to get the job done. This did not, however, work with me, as I appreciate a tad more respect than that. I almost managed to catch one out of the air that came particularly close, but again, they’re pretty good at this tourist business. Still and yet, they are interesting creatures.

Otherwise, the crows are more or less the same, and I found them to be very intelligent chaps, as would be expected from a crow living in such a large place as London.

All in all, if you come to London, there are two things which you should procure very soon in your trip. Soon being, directly after passing customs. 1: get biscuits. 2: Get an oyster card. You may think you’re saving money by not doing so, but believe me, that 5 pounds you put into getting your very own public transport card pays off quickly as it at least halves your fares, and is terribly convenient. Better yet, whatever money you charge to the card and do not use, can in fact be reclaimed at the end of your stay. London transit may not have managed to figure out that rail-gap issue they keep hassling us about, but they sure did get the public transit payment process down nicely.

-Douglas Cedric

For many of you, traveling may be more familiar. Let me get specific. I have traveled all my life. I had a girlfriend 7 hours away my senior year in highschool. I have friends in Seattle WA, Gig Harbour WA, Portland OR, Eugene OR, Bend OR, Ashland OR. I can’t say I visit everyone regularly, but the sensation and feeling of travel is not unfamiliar.

This is different. And again, I am sure I am, in part, preaching to the choir. I woke up in my 3-seat bed (the flight is very empty, everyone gets their own row) to the cabin lights dinging on. I have, throughout this flight, occupied 6 different seats, including the 3-at-once deal. I am back in my ‘home seat’ and decide to watch a Ted talk during the remaining 90 minutes til we arrive. No a tv show. No a movie. Eh, Ted talks. Ok, no Brad Pitt is cool, Money Ball it is, even if I won’t finish it before we land. Clearly I am still not awake. Before I can pick a movie the flight attendant sets down a tray complete with a banana, orange juice, and some sort of breakfast sandwich. Uh. What is in this? Is that cheese butter? With…. basil? Can I have some sausage on this thing, or at least some ketchup? Whatever, already ate it.

As I am sifting through the heads up display options on this in-seat tv, I find an ‘in flight update’ button. Curiosity. This is of course where I got the time and location. The display flips to a map. You know, with the stupid looking plane logo in the middle the size of Rhode Island? Mind you, still groggy, but very much not asleep. The thought that passes my mind is, ‘Wtf, we’re over Ireland?’ The windows have been closed for 6 hours. Seeing that little plane over Galway, Ireland got me excited. I flip the window open fast and get blinded. The sun is. Really. Bright. Squinty faced, I finally see it. Ireland is below me.

This place has been in my mind, life, and desires for so, so long. I feel like it has always been a ‘part’ of me, despite the fact that I’ve never been there. I mean, hell, I am only about 3% irish. I like to think, and see the proof, that more of my Irish blood represents on the surface. I joke that my celtic blood, despite minority, is definitely in charge here. In my mind. In my heart. Time will tell. You see, the kicker here is, I won’t be in ireland until may. So much to do before that, and right now I just want to parachute out of the plane and hang out in Ireland for, pretty much ever.

Just thought I’d get that out of the way. I may not write another blog for a day or 5. Or maybe tomorrow, who knows.
Take care folks.

-Douglas Cedric

First leg down, PDX to St paul. Lets start with your first concern: Why am I eating Taco Bell? Well my friend, so doth start my diet as a penny pinching traveler. This is not to say that I have not enjoyed my Taco Bell, but I do know what is in this ‘food’. In an airport where the average sushi roll is 9usd, I can hardly stick to my ideal, or even projected budget eating a 40usd meal my first day. Chicken (sort of) burrito, beefy(hardly) burrito, crunchy(I suppose it was when they bought the shells?) taco: 4.10usd. Hot damn, that’s about as cheap as any Taco Bell meal I’ve ever eaten, and I still have a burrito left for second supper!

As for the music, David Clemmer, don’t get too excited, I don’t miss you yet. But I am sure, at some point, I will. This is why you should (probably) come travel with me for a bit. Crowd funding permitting.

There is snow outside, but in that special way in which it is only seen on flat surfaces, and only the un-traversed ones, that suggests it has been there a while, but has not recently fallen. It is pleasantly cold, and even a tad drier, though I can only ascertain that reality from the brief walk up the Gate-ramp from my plane. I will be here, in this singular place that exists all over the world( airports are all, pretty much, the same), for another 3 hours. And no, I will not spell out three unless I so choose.

Now before exposing what the picture of this traveler looks like, I want to let you know that I am not, in fact, a dumbass. Between the systematic way in which my parents travel, making sure all the stuff is in order. I have been a camping type for a long while, and love to carry my things on my back into the untold wilderness… unless I am making my horse do it for me. An aside: she enjoys it, believe me. I spent 8 months in a wilderness immersion program that involved unpacking my gear from a 1970s aluminum frame pack borrowed from my father, cleaning that which was soiled, and re-packing for the next week, based loosely on the curriculum to be covered. I am no stranger to traveling. This time around though, it is a whole new monster.

I will be traveling in the urban wilderness, largely, with my recently purchased REI pack. crestrail 70, if you’re curious. Another aside: while I find black friday to be a corrupt creation of evil corporations trying to hype up the over-blown consumerism in the US, I feel that if I were intent on purchasing something before Black Friday and thus chose to wait until said friday to obtain a deal, am I not in fact hurting their profit margin, at the very least in relation to their expected? They hype Black Friday in hopes of obtaining additional sales to the normal, getting people frantic about spending money on things they probably don’t need. Therefore, they offer then cheaper, thinking to further entice these frantic purchases. If I wait to buy what I was going to buy anyways until I can get 35% off, well…. I may still be fueling the corporations, but at least I didn’t do it the way they wanted. And besides, how evil can REI be?

What was I even talking about? Right, new form of travel. As of leaving the vehicle, so kindly driven by my parents, I left my lifestyle living in the basement and working in the garage, driving a car into town, etc etc, for one that encompasses a much smaller ‘personal space’ that encompasses my person, my pack, and not much more. I connect to my old life only through this electronic device, dealing with remaining tax work for 2011, and whatever other home-side tasks await me. When I return, I will be changed, and therefore as it be an expression of my person, My Life will no longer be as it once was.

Wax poetic; I blame Lovecraft. And I blame Prairie for his presence in my bag. Blame, blame, blame. What was the point in all that? Oh yes. I am not a dumbass. With that clearly established, obviously, I want to let you know that I packed very intentionally, and without unnecessary bits. a single flashlight, the minimal amount of clothing necessary, a single smaller sketchbook, etc etc. All have a place and a purpose in a large portion of my trip. Except one.

I may or may not be wearing my my Mongolian Del. With guidance, I made it myself. Rabbit fur collar (that the dry cleaner lady felt necessary to remove the ragged medieval look from, by resewing it together neatly and stitching it on cleanly, all while reversing the grain on one of the furs… awkward asymmetry is awkward.), navy blue linen lining in a rougher spun brown/beige linen coat. Traditional ties, etc. It’s nice. It’s cozy, and if I need to, it becomes impressively small in one of my travel vacuum bags. But. it still, technically, only applies to a small portion of my trip. That is, lounging, camping, and medieval events. Point is. This thing is a familiar part of my life that I would like to carry over to my new one, and it does, in fact, help define my person a bit more. You thought I was going to just blend in this whole trip? Hardly. Only half of the time…. part of it….. some of it? Worst case, it only costs about 60usd and a few hours to make a new one, so I can always leave it with someone nice that will love it and wear it, and replace it later.

—

Onto other news, I found this awkward little man-bag shoulder-pack thing under the stairs at my parents house. They didn’t care if it got lost in europe forever. But… you know… it’s kinda cool. Excellent travel bag. may attempt to keep it around for a while… but we’ll see.

Otherwise, nothing to report. I have some writing brewing for you as per the amazing view during descent through the cloud-cover. My feet are sweaty, thanks to my wool socks and the well warmed airport, and the TV is playing some Mitt Romney nonsense. I do commend one of the newscasters for saying ‘bullshit’ on tv, though I cannot tell for certain if she is for against Mitt, as I do not, in all honestly, care about Mitt. Or his bullshit.

Ending on a better note: I found that the point at which I crossed the veil and entered into the space that will be here-to defined as ‘my new life’ occurred somewhere above 10k ft elevation, after my gingerale, and somewhere in the middle of ‘Fish Tank’. Welcome to world Douglas, you will hitherto finish the evolution by which you will become Douglas Cedric, in your entirety.
-Douglas Cedric

Patches set, pack filled, ready to go! In case anyone’s wondering, the patches I chose to start are WinterWolfForge/CedricDesigns, Couch Surfing, Society for Creative Anachronism, and Mounted Archery Association of the Americas. Medieval nerd, for the win.

-Douglas Cedric