Great Success in Apartments

So, we left Cinque Terre, and I have many beautiful pictures to post.  I will eventually post them. We stayed longer than we planned, partly because of the great accommodations we got there.  How we got the accommodations a bit of a story.

We arrived in the southernmost village, Riomaggiore, and after taking care of the essentials like getting gelato and cash, we asked around for a hostel.  We were directed to the next town, a beautiful 1km walk up the coast that took us about 15 minutes.  We were slogging up a hill in town to the hostel's alleged location when we saw another backpacker coming down the hill towards us.  She advised us that the hostel was closed for the next two hours, but that she was going to drop her bags at the rail station and do some exploring.  We thought this sounded like a fine idea, so we followed her.  We were shortly standing again, still harnessed to our bags, outside the Riomaggiore train station as our new New Zealander backpacker friend stood in line outside the luggage drop office when we were approached by a large older Italian man.  Evidently attracted by us standing under our bags looking bewildered, he said "You want room?"
The conversation went a bit like this:
Us: "...." (Slightly worried)
Him: "I have lovely apartment in town...you want to see?"
Us, more worried: "We have room in hostel...ostello!"
Him: "Nice room, bathroom, kitchen, only 30 euros per night each."
Us, relieved for having a good reason for turning him down: "We can't afford it, the hostel is cheaper, 22 euros per night."
Him, drooping slightly: "Too expensive? But we have kitchen, is lovely room. OK, 25 euros each."
Us, still dubious: "Well...we'll take a look.  But only a look."

So, we followed him about 100 yards into town to an apartment building where a cute, grandmotherly old woman (his wife we assume) met us on the stairs and showed us an apartment that was, well, it was lovely, just as the man had said.  We had a big bedroom, French windows throughout, a bathroom to ourselves with all the hot water we wanted, a kitchen, a washing machine, and the prospect of roommates with their own self-contained suite.  As a bonus, the apartment key is probably the coolest key known to man, and clearly opens a vault in Gringotts or some object that Dan Brown seeks in addition to the apartment's front door.

In what seems to be our regular patten, we booked two nights, and stayed for five.  On our last night, the man was again waiting by the rail station to pounce upon unsuspecting travelers with his wonderful offer for a great room.  He asked us hopefully if we wanted to stay for one more night again, which we had to decline.  The way we figure it, his wife doesn't give him dinner until he comes home with tenants for the rental apartment in tow.

We also made it our mission to consume gelato in all five towns, and we did.  In fact, we probably had gelato ten times in our five days there.

On the 20th, we met with our landlord in Intra, Verbania, Italy.  Sometime, I'll have to tell you the story of the hostel there, but for now the good news shall suffice.  We met Jon and his wife Julie, saw the apartment, (Jonsplace) and learned all we shall need to run it for a month.  We gave them a stack of cash we'd been nervously carrying around as we accumulated it from the ATMs, and he gave us a key.  The place is small, but in a lovely part of town and quite functional.  Emily is especially excited that there is a gelato shop straight across the street. I was very glad that negotiations had successfully concluded, and just like that we have a cheap place to sleep for November in a scenic part of northern Italy.  The high life shall be ours: gelato, handmade pasta, steaming around to islands, and rich gardens for promenading in.

Another Tasting Note

Another tasting note for Neile, and proof we've been enjoying ourselves in Europe.

Luins, 2008 Berner Geschichte, Rott (Red), 12.5%
From  Canton Vaud, Switzerland

Setting: Mountain Hostel Common room on a cold, rainy evening.  Eating pasta, plain for Emily, spicy sauce for Ian. Enjoyed alone after dinner, and with dark chocolate.

Aroma: Ian: Dark, predominantly raspberry.  Acidic and moist at first, but mellows to sweet and lush.  Suggests a hefty wine.
Emily: Slight raspberry, smells piney.  Smells like a dark red.

Color: Ian: Deep blackcurrant purple.  Very dark.
Emily: Beautiful, beautiful ruby.

Taste: Ian: Hint of pepper at first, with notes of strawberry.  Some tannins, but brought out more when eaten with food; stays sweet when unaccompanied.   Generally, tastes of its dark coloring.

Body: Hefty and dry with food, lighter and wetter when taken alone.  Nice full body, but not overpowering.  Could probably go with most anything.

Finish: Little aftertaste, but a lingering berry aroma.

Overall:  This is a very nuanced and diverse wine that shows different characteristics with every sip, and even varies its taste with the size of drink taken.  It paired well with a spicy pasta sauce -- seeming to step up the tannins and body to match the spice--was mellow and satisfying when drank alone, and delicious with dark Swiss chocolate.  Would go well with an entire meal.  It is worth pairing this wine with diverse foods just to see how it copes, and it always seems to cope well.

The Internet is Expensive

Quick update:
Still alive, in Cinque Terra National Park, Italy, which is fantastic and beautiful and charges by the minute for the internet.  So much I want so say that will have to wait until I have ready internet again.  Here's hoping I'll get to write more soon!

Leaving Gimmelwald (and Jumping Off Cliffs)

We're leaving Gimmelwald tomorrow, which makes me sort of sad. I'm also more than half way through the Europe part of my trip. Luckily, we've found a place to rent in Italy starting on the 1st of November, so we'll be nomadic for a few weeks, then be able to settle down and have a home base again. I believe the plan of record is to spend the night in Zurich, then a few days in Amsterdam, then all the way down into Italy with a probably overnight stop in France. Sometime after the 18th, we'll be meeting with the landlord of the apartment we'll be renting. The landlord is a friend of my Aunt Carol's, speaks English, and is giving us a big discount on the posted weekly price, so we're quite pleased.


I've quite enjoyed my time here, and hope to come back in the near future. Unfortunately, the owner already has someone lined up to work for room for next summer. I like the idea of staying here for a while, cleaning for a free bed, and doing some oddjob software contracting for food money. This has been by far the cheapest place we've stayed so far; the food, wine, and beer we've consumed here has probably averaged out to around $10/day. We would have spent about $100 for our latter 10 days here were it not for our splurge on Wednesday.


Wednesday was a gorgeous day. As we finished washing some windows, struggling to dry them before the hot sun did it for us and left streaks, the owner of the hostel remarked that it was the last nice day for a while. Emily had been talking about paragliding, and hostel reception makes reservations so we decided to go for it. Petra, the owner, called the paragliding place and arranged for us to meet the pilots at noon in Murren. Remember, Murren is posted as a 50 minute walk, and it is now 11:15. In a textbook case of being penny-wise, pound-stupid, Emily and I decided to save the 8 francs or so it costs to ride the cablecar up to Murren, opting instead to throw on shoes and socks and dash out of the hostel without even grabbing a water bottle. 35 sweaty minutes later, I was pulling cash out of the ATM in Murren, and we managed to get to the cable car station with ten minutes to spare, though still to cheap to buy a bottle of water. We found two men in large backpacks, introduced ourselves, and shortly thereafter attached ourselves to these men and ran off a cliff with them. Like this:


Emily and her pilot are the first off the cliff, followed by me and my pilot. The third guy, who also does tricks at the end of the video, is neither of us. We were lucky to have this video; we opted not to pay an extra 30 francs each for the provided in-flight pics and video, but when we got back to the hostel we were telling a local British ex-pat paraglider that we finally went, and he mentioned that he'd earlier filmed a takeoff in Murren from his office window "because something often goes wrong at that takeoff...people getting stuck in trees and the like." Despite his disappointment at the lack of person-tree interaction, he was kind enough to bring me a copy. So, Tim, if you're reading this, thanks!


Paragliding was excellent. Not at all like skydiving, which is very fast and thrilling. Paragliding was more like being an autumn leave drifting serenely down to the ground. It's almost silent, and you're moving slow enough forward that you can have a quiet conversation over the breeze with your pilot strapped behind you over. It's also much more comfortable than having your weight supported by straps around your thighs, as in skydiving. Instead, once your in the air you move into a sitting position on the rigid back of your harness, and the pilot provided a nice backrest. Really my only complaint is that the twenty-ish minutes to the valley floor was far too short.


Pilot is indeed the correct term. As far as I can tell, the paragliding company is basically an airline under Swiss law and even has a special disclaimer on the back of their ticket discussing the applicability of air travel legislation to them. As the pilot said, "the only airline where you get to choose your pilot." Of course, Emily chose the younger, cuter one.

We picked the right day to go. Temperatures have dropped, leaves have yellowed, and there's been rain every day since then. Gimmelwald is sad to see me go too.

First Tasting Note

Emily and I have agreed to try different wines around Europe and write tasting notes on them for Neile, Emily's dad.  Here's our first attempt:

Name, Producer, Region: Berner Geshcichte, Luins, Appelation D'Origine Controlee Grand Vin Vaudois. 2008.  11.5% alcohol.  We're not really sure what's what from the label.
Cost: 7.90 CHF (About $7.69)
Circumstances: Rain Storm in the Swiss Alps, outside on a covered porch, strong smell of rain and wet wood in the clean air.

Color: Pale, nearly clear with a golden tint.

Aroma: Ian: A bit tangy, woody undertone, faintly crisp green apple.  Very light.
Emily: Sweet (slightly sugary), fresh green apple, pencil shavings, very fresh

Taste:
 Emily: Not much of a taste until the end, when it is a little bit sour but not a vinagery taste.  Cantaloupe/honeydew possibly a little bit of mustard (I think).
Ian: Not much taste, moves from virtually tasteless to sour apple as it warms on the tongue; hints of green wood.

Body:
Ian: Very light opening, tends towards sourness and dry.  Tends to pucker the mouth towards the end, but no lasting bite. More heft than the scent would suggest, but not a strong white.
Emily: Seconded.

Finish:
Ian: Warm, dry finish, leaves a lasting hint of green apple with less sourness than during drinking.
Emily: Warm, dry.  Leaves a dancing flavor on your tongue as a calling card.

Overall Impression:
Emily: Not a good dinner party wine, but nice for family dinners especially with light fish.  Would pair well with a mildly sweet fruity dessert, perhaps as simple as a cup of fruit.  Not very grapey.  Should be drank cold and soon after opening, breathing does not benefit the wine.  Doesn't taste much like grape.  Not what I would have expected from a cheaper white wine.
Ian: easy drinking wine that stays quite light, but with surprising complexity and variability during the drinking experience.  Remains sweet and delicate if swallowed quickly, but builds in sourness and dryness if left on the tongue. Satisfying, lingering aftertaste.  I would prefer to enjoy it alone, or perhaps with a very light fish dish or to complement a light dessert such as fruit salad or fruit mousse. Could also be good salty dish such as miso soup or milder sushi.  Avoids tasting like grape juice or vinegar like many budget whites.

The People You Meet On Planes

Random Retrospective:
On the flight from Chicago to Dublin, Emily and I had two of the three seats in the middle part of the row.  We were sitting next to an Irishman.  We knew he was Irish because of his pre-takeoff cell conversation describing the terrible experience he'd had getting a flight out of LA, complete with authentically-accented swear words.

Later in the flight, Emily started looking at the book he was reading, which appeared interesting.  I'm glad she started the conversation, because it turns out he was Keith Barry, a professional magician of some note.  He's done a show on MTV, some talk shows (check out his video page), lots of Irish television and is working on a new series for what I think was Discovery Channel.  He'd just finished a Vegas gig, and has even given a TED talk.  We had some fun conversations about hypnosis, guided imagery, and NLP.  He also recommended the town of Dingle to us, which is where we spent most of our time in Ireland and really liked.  All in all, a really cool and interesting guy.

One trick he does in shows involves inviting three audience members on stage and having each pick one of four envelopes.  One envelope contains $10,000 (or euros, depending on the country), and if a volunteer picks the correct envelope, they keep the money.  It's his job to convince them by whatever means he has to not pick the correct envelope, including swearing on his son's life that the money is not in whatever envelope actually contains the money(Keith only has a daughter).  He told me the secret to the trick--allegedly.  Because I know he cheats and lies to get the envelope with the money, I'm forced to wonder if he told me the real envelope, or a decoy.  Or, if he told me the real envelope in hopes that I'd think it was a decoy and therefore pick a different envelope?  After all, he makes his living manipulating people's minds.  He says he's only lost the money once.

Stop reading, right now, and watch that TED talk before going any further.

Watched it?  OK, good.

So, the trick he does where he touches the guy and the girl feels it?  He did that one with Emily and I on the plane.  I have no idea how, and I was right there, and she really felt it.  Also, I think the trick with the spike is one of the most intense illusions I've ever seen.  He does it with many more people on his video page, including Samuel L. Jackson and Ellen DeGeneres.  He even told us to email him for some free tickets to one of his Return from Vegas shows in Ireland, but we sadly never got a reply.

In getting addresses for links for this post, I just learned that Keith's grandfather was recently assaulted in his home and died of his injuries.  Keith is now spearheading a campaign for stiffer sentencing for burglars, and debate seems to have been raised on home protection laws.  Both Emily and I feel for Keith, and with him the best on his efforts to secure safety for Irish in their homes, and the elderly in particular.

Gimmelwald Adventures

It is very easy to let the days slide by here in Gimmelwald.  So easy it's now been five days since I promised an update "tomorrow".  So easy that our original 3-night reservation here at Mountain Hostel has turned into a two week stay ending October 11th.  I honestly wouldn't be surprised if it ended up getting longer; planning the next leg of the journey is so much work, and staying here is so easy.

So, the update:

We hopped on the gondola, and just four minutes and a birds-eye view of the Lauterbrunnen valley we pulled into Gimmelwald.

  

The hostel couldn't have been easier to find, it's about 20 yards from the gondola station.  Even if it was it,  we wouldn't have had a hard time finding it as the town provides sign posts at every intersection pointing the direction to anywhere one would want to go.  Not that a sign would even be necessary, everything of interest in Gimmelwald is within sight of anything else in town.  The hostel itself is warm and welcoming.  The kitchen is large, clean, and well-equipped.  There's a large common area with many tables for eating and socializing.  Better yet, there's a free pool table and free internet.  I still wonder at the fact that a tiny town in the Alps with no road connection manages to have much better internet connectivity than the place in California where I grew up!

On our first day, we wandered the town some.  Gimmelwald's main industries are tourism, small-scale dairy farming, and tourism, so town consists of a mix of houses, pastures, and barns.  Walking down the road, we encountered many four-legged locals: cows wearing the traditional trychel, formidable-looking sheep relaxing in the shade, and many cats.  I imagine the cats are very useful for controlling rodents in the hay lofts, but the ones we saw were off-duty or something.  Two appeared to be herding chickens, and two more, pictured, competed for our attention as we went down the road.  We later found the black one asleep on my bed, happy to snuggle.  It turns out his name is Shadow, and he owns the people that own the hostel.  When they're out of town, as they have been since we got here, he tends to hang out at the hostel.  So far, he's been warming the bed every night but one.

As previously mentioned, the nearest grocery store is some 50 minutes away in Murren.  The walk, while not easy, is certainly worthwhile for the views and for the food I get for completing it.  It's funny how the thought of not having dinner can motivate one to slog up a hill at high altitude.  The mountain living is good for us though; I've shed absolutely all the bodyfat I built up with the help of sleep deprivation, stress and gym abandment over the last semester, and every time we go to Murren we get there just a bit faster.

On our first Murren run, we stopped to look at a small waterfall some distance below the path.  Seeing how it sprayed out from the rock wall to form a rather inviting shower, and having already discovered that the hostel charges for showers --not much, but it's about the principle--commented that I'd like to jump in it.  Emily agreed, so after some brief route planning we were scrambling cross-country to reach what we now call "our waterfall".

By the end of our third, and ostensibly last, day here, we both agreed that we'd barely scratched the surface of what this place has to offer, so we booked a fourth night.  We ended up meeting some folks who've been coming here for years, and told them that we might stay longer, so they suggested we ask about getting a longer-term rate.  We simply asked at reception what they could do if we wanted to stay until October 11th, and Veronika at reception told us we could take over cleaning from the regulars we'd talked to, starting tomorrow, and that beds would be free.  So there you have it, we clean from 9:30 - 11:00 every morning in return for free lodging and even a hefty discount on draft beers.  At 2 francs for .4L of delicious dunkel I have a viable backup source of calories if we ever don't manage to make it up to Murren for my dinner.

Coming soon eventually: tales of hay production, midnight hikes, and maybe even specific people we've met.  I still need to fill in the last several months too, but blogging is just less fun than the alternative activities, so I tend to put it off and do it when I'm about to fall asleep. It's now 2:34am here, and the hostel won't be vacuuming itself in 7 hours.

Alps Day 1 (or: On the Dangers of Trusting Google)

Despite my best efforts to lead us to "Mountain Hostel" in a nearby, similarly named town (Grindelwald) we successfully found Mountain Hostel in the tiny Alp town of Gimmelwald.  The trip was amazingly scenic, if somewhat complex to execute.  It also covered some impressive terrain and nearly the entire breadth of Switzerland, as evidenced by the map approximating our route.

The first leg of the journey from Geneva to Luassane was not particularly pretty; most of the sites were suburbs or industrial buildings, though there were some vineyards and what appeared to be orchards of tiny lemon trees, though I would not think the climate particularly suited to citrus.  Once passed Luassane, which appeared to be quite an industrial city, the landscape became an almost disgustingly pretty pastoral vista of farmhouses, small fields of wheat and maize, and pastures picturesquely interwoven with woodlands.

Not long after that, we found ourselves looking across a lake at our first Alpine peaks.  Yes, both of us; Emily was awake the entire trip, which I believe is a record for her.  Also interesting to me: when we pulled into Bern the ads in the station where suddenly in German instead of French.  The train announcements where kindly given in French, German and English throughout.

Bern appeared to be a nice town, even if the canals where a color I'd expect of the ocean around a south-Pacific tropical paradise, the kind that only exists in movies and daydreams.  We only had about six minutes to change trains, so I couldn't get a photo that does it justice, but picture the water color around this island on a backdrop of classic Bavarian/Alpine style buildings (down to the window boxes) and cloud-robed jagged peaks and you may understand my confusion.

The Bern-Interlaken train took us by another pristine lake dotted with sailboats and surrounded by increasingly rugged mountains.  The Interlaken train station kindly provided a picturesque map showing just what we were getting ourselves into.  I recommend clicking the photo to see the detail.

The time is ripe to illuminate the subtitle of this post.  Those of you that have looked carefully at the map will notice the town of Grindelwald high in the mountains on the left side, and the town of Gimmelwald high in the mountains on the right side.  When first investigating our current lodging, I googled "mountain hostel gimmelwald", as Gimmelwald is the location on the hostel's website, but at some point was offered by Google directions to Mountain Hostel Grindelwald.  I assumed, as I usually do, that Google knows what I want to ask better than I do and figured that Grimmelwald was probably some local variant of the name Grindelwald. (Perhaps something like Geneva being the foreign name for Geneve, and likewise with us calling Muenchen Munich?)  Well, no sooner had I purchased tickets from Interlaken to Grindelwald than Emily, very fortunately, brought the map and the fact that it contained both a Grindelwald and a Gimmelwald to my attention.  Sure enough, I was wrong and would have taken us at least an hour and a good chunk of Swiss Francs out of our way.  Emily however saw through the decoy mountain town and successfully exchanged our tickets and kept us on track.  Well, not exactly on track.

The train only goes partway to Gimmelwald, taking us across a broad, fertile valley guarded by imposing crags.  I think you can see some imposing crags lurking in the background here.  Before long, the mountain loom closer, and the train leaves us in the tender mercy of a bus (the only bus in the town of Lauterbrunnen, which we are to ride to the end of the line) before beating a hasty retreat from huge piles of rock that could now be called intimidating.  So it was that the cheerfully orange PostAuto bus (apparently associated  with Le Post; I can see how it makes sense to associate mail delivery and public transit in remote places) took us to Stechelberg.

Stechelberg seemed to consist of little other than a name I find amusing to say -- there seems to be an inverse function at work between the size of the peaks and the population of towns.  It could also be that the towns get smaller as the slice of open sky above the valley decreases, as the mountains continued to close as we went up the Lauterbrunnen valley to the point that they cow any form of wheeled transport, so that the final leg of our journey to Gimmelwald consisted of riding a gondola up approximately 1500 feet of cliff.  This is something I consider normal at ski resorts, not as part of a commute.  Unless, you know, you work on the top of a ski resort, but Gimmelwald is a far cry from a resort.

With time to kill before getting on the gondola, we walked over to a small festival happening across from the station.  There was a band in leiderhosen, and quite possibly the coolest way of making a grilled-cheese-esque meal I will ever see.  After a sufficient amount of cheese is softened, the cook simply slide the entire block out from under the heater, scrapes the gooey, melted layer onto a slab of bread with a knife, and pushes the whole block of cheese drawer back under the heat turning a small crank to raise the cheese block closer to the heat as necessary.  All I can say is that I want one.

The festival also afforded me an opportunity to buy some local sausage and cheese which will be the entirety of my food supply tomorrow.  You see, Gimmelwald has no grocery store; the nearest is almost an hour's walk, closes early on Saturdays, and is not open Sundays.  The hostel has some basics, like pasta, for purchase, but I need my protein so finding the food was a lucky break.  Emily saved by butt for the second time today by pointing out that this festival was my best chance at dinner.

We also saw some people paragliding, which looks amazing.  We hope to go before we move on if we can find enough slack in our budget to afford it comfortably.  After all, when else can one expect to do aerial acrobatics in the Swiss Alps?

I will leave the details of the hostel itself for tomorrow, but so far I really like it here.  Despite having grown up in the mountains, I find these rather novel.  I think it has to do with the color of the rock, and also the greater intensity and variety of green.  The Eastern Sierras are in a rain shadow, and so where there is forest it tends to be very uniform and coniferous, whereas the Alps' profusion of deciduous trees and impossibly steep verdant meadows gives the mountains colors I've never seen in such a context.

Into the Alps...

We shortly depart for Mountain Hostel in the small mountain town of Grindelwald.  I'm not sure if there will be internet, so don't count on hearing from me for our four night stay.  On the other hand, if there is internet, I should have ample time for updates.

Geneva Photo Selections

I'm tired, but feel as though I should provide an update.  Since a picture is worth a thousand words, I'll dodge by  putting up some photos and save myself a ton of typing.

We took the train from Paris on Thursday, September 24th.  Because we waited until the day before to get reservations, we had only one option to get to Geneva, and that had a connection in Lyon.  The ride from Lyon to Geneva was very pretty, and the terrain began to grow considerably more rugged after the gently-rolling, pastoral Ille-de-France region near Paris.

Here we see Emily engaged in her favorite rail travel activity: sleeping on my knee (or sometimes shoulder) and occasionally being woken by me as I look at or photograph the countryside.

We came to Geneva to visit my friend Greg from Grinnell, who is hear attending graduate school.  He has a nice view from his flat that almost makes climbing the stairs worth it.






He took us out to see the Jet d'Eau, a ridiculously large fountain in Lake Geneva.  Enjoy a few pictures of that.

Prologue

As I write this, I sit in a Geneva flat.  Any logical person who knows the least bit about me would do well to ask how I ended up in Geneva.  That is the story I will attempt to tell.

In May of this year, I graduated from Grinnell College in Iowa with a degree in Computer Science.  The plan of record was to take a job in China that I'd found through a friend.  Originally, I expected to start soon after graduation, but since little progress had been made by the company towards getting me a work visa I planned a month of travelling around the States to visit and farewell friends and family.  July 4th weekend found me in Austin, TX for Austin Blues Party, and for various reasons I decided to extend my Austin weekend by about a week.  During my time in Austin the China job officially fell through, and shortly thereafter one Emily Wolfe, another dancer and recent acquaintance of mine, asked if I would be interesting in travelling to Europe with her.  Emily's theory was that she wanted to go on the trip but did not want to travel alone, and I, being currently unemployed and an all-around friendly-seeming chap, would be an ideal person to accompany her so as to minimize her chances of getting mugged or terribly lost in a far off foreign land.  Having already had over a month of vacation at that point, I decided that signing up to stay on vacation until the end of the year sounded like a fantastic idea, even more so because I was feeling PTSD about my last year at Grinnell to the point that I had a physical aversion to Computer Science and programming.  As an aspiring programmer, my options for employment were thus curtailed.  Well, Emily seemed nice enough, and Europe sounded exciting, so plans were laid to travel starting in late summer.

There's still a lot of room in the story between my first trip to Austin and my first visit to Switzerland, but I fear my writing is already barely coherent so I shall content myself with promising another update after I get some sleep.

The Plan

Ok, so I'm a bit late in starting this, but better late than never. I finally got sick of sending the same one-line updates to friends and family, and I'm sure everyone got sick of getting only one-line updates from me and thus this blog was born. The plan is to provide relatively detailed updates on my travels for all to enjoy as my travels occur while also backfilling all that's happened in the last few months too. Accordingly, expect retrospective posts to be mingled with the newer ones, and also expect an erratic update schedule as internet connectivity is never a guarantee.

Also, I must give credit for the name to www.wherethehellismatt.com. Matt did a better and cooler travel blog than I ever will, and even made some awesome videos everyone should watch. Then got paid to travel around the world again and make more videos of it. Like I said, way cooler.