I’ve long accepted the fact that the job I go to everyday shouldn’t be the primary place to go searching for self-worth and fulfillment in my life. Don’t get me wrong. That’s in no way meant to disparage any circumstance or person in my career, past or present. I’ve enjoyed my gigs fondly enough. It’s just a philosophical truism I’ve taken to believing, which helps me categorize my day-to-day activities into a larger picture.

I don’t expect that I’ll be the most recognized customer experience designer this side of the Atlantic any time soon–but those cards could be in the picture one day. Nor am I particularly motivated by the thought of making enough money for a three-story house with a four-car garage overlooking the valley (technically, I’m halfway there anyway). And don’t get me wrong again; I fully expect to be rewarded for my talent and skills.

It’s just that what’s important to my life legacy and what gives me purpose, especially given the way the cards have been dealt to me so far, doesn’t have a lot to do with the clout I may or may not gain in the professional arena.

Rather, it’s the efforts I give daily to shape meaning into this abstract thing called fatherhood. I was reminded of the simplicity of this the other day as I was trying to brighten my son’s spirits, while he was in the midst of a 2-year-old mood swing from the outer-depths of toddler hell.

Somehow, in some magical way I can’t recall nor describe, I made him do a complete mood turn-around. This must have seemed like some kind of spiritual voodoo to him. I know it certainly did to me. But I remember paying attention to my own careful orchestration of his cognitive experience and how it elicited a desired effect – much like designers across different industries get paid to do.

(Okay, I was probably making fart noises with the side of my mouth, but that’s not really the point here.)

In a few short seconds, I affected his perception, transforming his willful defiance into an involuntary smile. Cool, I thought, if only I could accomplish this long term. And then, I thought, why couldn’t I? Why can’t my role as a parent emulate some of the things I do in my profession?

It occurred to me then that something of the opposite in my secret theory of life might also hold true. Perhaps the thing that’s intended to bring me the most joy may resemble certain aspects of my professional routine. And, yes, maybe even the two can occasionally even inform each other.

Surely, the commitment I’ve made to nurture, protect, and prepare a human being for a world full of uncertainty is not so unlike my job to provide a satisfying experience to the users of [insert product with hence-forth still fuzzy requirements here].

Discovering and creating values, trust, and loyalty–these are all things that I intend to master in my role as a father. And humbling to the academic state of user experience and product design as it may sound, I think these positive attributes may also be transferred into a more practical application.

I think they may also apply to life.

There’s no shortage of days to remind me that my industry, with all of its accompanying challenges and headaches, is that much removed from the work of an intelligent creator or benevolent watchmaker, if you will. But if even a minuscule fraction of the values I strive to build can be absorbed into the work I do to live, and the life I try to shape for my child as a father, I think fulfillment and true purpose may get a run for their money on two fronts.

Because to me, that’s what true purpose is all about. And in the grand scheme of things, that’s how a legacy should be defined.

I know absolutely nothing about Ryan Adams. Well, apart from the ramblings on his website. Like I know he used to work at Hardee’s and that he’s originally from North Carolina and apparently he ‘s proud of the fact that he’s a bad dresser (cool through disassociation of fashion is still cool, no doubt). And from listening to the lyrics of his songs I can surmise that he likes two things—bars and Friday nights—or maybe he was just reminding me too much of myself at 22.

But my unfamiliarity with his personal biography hasn’t stopped me from coming to an obvious conclusion about him either. Ryan Adams is an absolutely brilliant and rare artist, capable of passionate introspection and really rocking guitar riffs in the same breath. One of his latest releases (and that’s not meant to flatter his apparent prolific nature, just a natural fact) is called Rock N Roll—a fitting title if ever there was one. It rocks inside and out with copious amounts of back-beat guitar noise and cathartic relationship angst.

The single So Alive may stand out as one of the exceptions in the mix—sounding at times more like a twangy falsetto tribute to the late great Jeff Buckley (leanings toward the androgyny of Morrissey not also withstanding). The great mystery, though, is that it doesn’t sound anything like his earlier stuff, which leads me to wonder—how many sounds does this guy have in him anyway?

Only a lesser critic (and I’ve read a few) would try to encapsulate his sound by making predictably passing-off statements or mundanely echoing that he’s the birth child of, say, Everclear at their best (okay that one album) and the Goo Goo Dolls when their ballad serenades still worked. But me, I’m not gonna do that. For one thing, at various times he’s reminiscent of too many different people (T.Rex, The Smithereens, and Wilco are just a few that spring to mind). He’s also just too cool and aloof (yet approachably pop) for such crass comparisons. My feeling is that somewhere in there, despite what those other critics say, lies the heart of real integrity.

Oh no, I’m certainly not being suckered by a charlatan, even if no one else in the world “gets” him.

Actually, the first album of his that I’ve listened to is Demolition, which is his second as a solo artist as far as I can tell. This album alternates almost like clockwork between upbeat rock rhythm and acoustic melodrama. It’s an easy listen on a moody fall day.

So, here I am listening to it in my car for nearly a week. Getting to the point where I just want to hear another sound, I put in some G. Love and the Special Sauce. Now, in some weird, unexplainable way—through the cosmic empathy I had been feeling prior, I guess—I turned against G. I became convinced that he was a complete and utterly emotional, I’ll say it here… pussy. I mean, after going through the roller coaster ride that was Ryan Adams I had to wonder, “Has anything tragic ever happened to G. Love? Has his pretty boy heart ever really been broken? Is he gonna just keep singing about basketball? How shallow can this guy be!” There I was turning (and undeservingly so) against someone on an entirely different plane of existence. And not trying to sound like I’ve turned into too much of a fan of Ryan Adams, I’ll get back to the point.

Love is Hell, Pt 1, his other latest release from this year, appears to be a consolidation of his somber, more folk-ish tunes, or more accurately—Ryan during the lower side of his manic state. “I’m really dying in here” he mutters on Afraid Not Scared. It’s a testament to his jarring emotional range. It’s anybody’s guess what Part 2 will sound like, but I think it’s safe to say that this tune-churner has already started his next metamorphosis.

Despite the somber tone and difference in musical treatments, though, most of the stuff on both albums just plain works. His music is heart-wrenchingly profound when he’s wearing it on his sleeve and positively mature when he rocks it on out. And I’m just a sucker for the guitar and vocal nuisances that he probably knows come dirt cheap but are so satisfying to listen to.

But I guess when all is said and done, I’m just glad to see that there are artists like Ryan Adams still around. It’s uncommon these days that a musician can still remind us that The Smiths and Nirvana actually happened. Simultaneously, for me anyway, he’s proof of music’s ability to transcend heavy highs and lows, which I think leads to the true spirit of rock’n'roll. For many, it leads to an unlikely turning point—opening up the possibility of finding empathy within ourselves.

Okay, well, now after putting it like that, I guess I can finally call myself a fan.

Love is Rock N Roll: Part 2 Addendum

“Hi, Axl! Hi, Axl! Hi, Axl!”

There’s an early 90′s flashback going on in my head.

Those words catapulted out in perfect mocking overtone from the mouth of a babe ready to eat up the tiredly pathetic and overly commercialized music scene known at the time as Heavy Metal.

I’m talking about Nirvana at the MTV Music Awards circa 1992. It was Kurt Cobain, or maybe Dave Grohl, or maybe the other oafish-looking guy who came up to the microphone half-loaded and giddy with his own well-deserved cockiness to harken in the new, albeit short-lived, era of grunge. My memory lapses for the exact details (I think I remember reading that it had something to do with a backstage fight between Kurt and Axl) but the incident has a meaning to me that is nothing short of microscopic in its clarity.

That night the false pretense of bands such as Poison and Warrant was forever being exposed for what it was — crap. Not because journalists, rock critics, or the listening public had come to any kind of epiphany — but because something arose from the underbelly of culture to counter it. And it was infinitely more interesting than the smell of hair spray.

Now that I think about it, that awards show must have seemed like a farewell party for most of the aging metal stars, only they didn’t quite know it walking in. But from my recollection, by the night’s end, Poison called it quits (after publicly fighting during their performance) and G’n'R went into permanent hibernation. By next year the awards show became an entirely different scene and different invitations were being sent out from the headquarters of cool.

The imprint of this dramatic occurrence has lasted with me for ten years, only to find resonance once again in the work of Ryan Adams — only this time, I hope it’s the young who get eaten.

Having a chance to listen to Love is Hell, Part 2, it’s becoming clear to me that this 29 year old harbors a bottomless reservoir of emotional baggage. And like Martha Stewart getting felt up by a federal court judge, I call this a good thing. Why?

Because in addition to some very crafty, well structured songs, the emotional character of Ryan’s music stands in undeniable contrast to all of the Mickey Mouseketeers turned serious adult “artists” turned yet another shaved-pubed idiot sporting bling bling on MTV’s Cribs.  That’s why.

For the moment, Ryan Adams is epitomizing a movement of singer/songwriters who want to return to music in all of its power and glory. It’s a call to immediacy, be it with love, tenderness, or rage — anything that can be internalized, bottled up, or spit back out as real.

Of course, naming a song “Fuck the Universe” can do absolutely nothing else for my mindset but catch a ride on the far-and-away wave of grunge pathos. Kinda reminds me of the first time I ever heard the chunky opening guitar in “Smells Like Teen Spirit.” At the time, it had me thinking of the Velvet Undergound, which only made my appreciation for Nirvana escalate (along with the grunge movement as a whole, if you could call it a movement).

So, I think there’s hope at the end of 2003, that artists like Ryan Adams, Beth Orton, and David Gray to name just a few might soon be called to the podium in some honorary venue somewhere. Just once more, I’d love to see it all happen again.

“Hi, Justin! Hi, Justin! Hi, Justin!”

Well, that’s how it plays out in my head.

Still, that didn’t stop my new acquaintance from asking me during a well-placed ad for Dell computer who my choice of PC (that’s personal computer) was at the time. Having introduced myself as a web designer earlier, he probably thought it was the polite thing to do. But when I responded simply, “I’ve always been a Macintosh man, myself” an unexpected look of perplexity struck his face. I could almost see him searching for a way to escape his next offense. Then, with an instinctual knee-jerk reaction, he let it slip.

“That’s pretty much un-American these days, isn’t it?”

Now, I could speculate what would make someone say something so off base, but instead I think I’ll focus on the reverse, for there are a number of reasons that I believe Apple represents certain core values that are, in fact, quintessentially American.

In fact, it’s almost so obvious to me that I hardly find it necessary to write about. However, as I’ve learned, what is obvious to me is not necessarily the norm in this society, nor has it become quite well known or popularized into a larger train of thought.

So here are few facts worth noting.

Apple is all about innovation. Simply put, no other company innovates like Apple because no other company has to like Apple. The company survives today because it puts innovation first. From FireWire to Rendezvous, from ditching outdated floppies to designing candy plastic works of desktop art, no company strives to bring out as much innovation in a year as Apple. While not an overt American value, I believe that the same can be said about America and Americans in general—that we strive to make innovation happen, through technology, hard work, and diligence in design, engineering, and production. That’s something of an American heritage.

Apple is all about competition. Well, sort of… Let’s just face the fact that the computer desktop is in dire need of competition and that Gates and company have held off the opposition through some questionable means, even the government agrees. By providing a desktop interface in Mac OS X that is on par (and far exceeding, IMHO) the desktop environment of Windows, Apple is giving Americans the benefits of our free market—at least as long as that market is safe from monopolistic misuse of power. That’s an American value I want to see a lot more of in the future.

Apple is all about creativity. There’s no question that the Califorinia based computer maker is a big hit among creative types. In fact, they’re so popular among the creative crowd, they’re almost synonymous with computing in industries such as desktop publishing, video, and music production. Again, while not an inherent national value, I believe creativity in general is growing into something of an American truism. Modern scholars already see a “creative class” emerging into a dominant position in America. If that happens, I see Apple playing a pivotal role to that realization.

Apple is all about standards. Hard to believe given their proprietary legacy, but under the hood of Mac OS X lies Free BSD, a POSIX (Portable Operating System Interface) UNIX system. What that means to American businesses and casual users in general is that the Operating System meets certain standards in accordance with the National Institute of Standards and Technology. In other words, Mac OS X does its best to be a good operating (and network) citizen. Porting software from similarly standard systems and having devices interface with other hardware and software components in predictable ways is usually possible. Again, while not an American value per se, this point underscores the power and wisdom that true competition brings to any capitalist society. In short, we all benefit when standards are used.

Apple is all about good karma. Perhaps the biggest stretch here but what else would you expect from someone crowing on and on about a company lead by Steve Jobs. Apple brings good karma, nowadays especially, with the advent of things like the iTunes Music Store. Certain peer to peer file sharing networks provide unlimited access to music, video, and software, regardless of copy protection or royalty rights. Apple, however, has provided an ingenious way to purchase music in a cost-effective, totally legal means that’s user friendly and easy to do. This capitalizes on something that’s been sorely missing in the recording industry. It may be premature to make a call on this one, but I think it bears mentioning as I define what makes Apple such a great American company.

Apple is all about individuality. If you haven’t been following along, you’ve probably missed what Apple stands for. If the motto “Think Different” doesn’t spell it out for you clear enough, then maybe you should get on over to Circuit City and start pricing out a PC clone. Apple represents individuality—in thought, promotion, mindshare, and just about everything else they approach. This is unquestionably an American value. Our country was founded on principles such as liberty and freedom of expression. The fact that we still have choice as consumers today should be celebrated.

Apple is all about empowerment. Suffice to say, all of these things combined make for a pretty convincing argument that Apple computer is quite possibly a unique American value, which couldn’t have happened anywhere else. Over the years, the company has empowered the little guy—the independent artist, the publisher, the business person, the lawyer, and a slew of other smart minded individuals—people who have realized success when success wasn’t possible by any other means.

And this brings me to my last point.

Apple is indeed American. Let’s look at the cold, hard facts. The company was started in a garage by a couple of entrepreneurs with nothing more than a few bucks, a can-do attitude, and an American dream. Over time they have inspired industry leaders, sparked a few million followers, educated countless children, and created some great (and great looking) tools for everyday people like you and me to achieve great things. Apple has changed, shaped, and given benefits to our country in extraordinary ways.

It’s really just as simple as that.

Touché, Matt Murdock, you’ve read my mind again.

You see, I don’t consider myself a casual appreciator of this character so anything you read here is likely to be laced with blatant favoritism.

Let’s just get that out of the way.

During the commencement of my teens, DD was one of the people I somehow felt a connection with, however oddly those prepubescent times implanted such a thought in me. Anyway, credit that to the marvelous writing style of one Frank Miller. He would soon take some of that realistic, yet still fantastic, grittiness and put it into Batman: the Dark Knight Returns, making him a legend upon legends in the comic book genre. And rightly so.

But I don’t want to drift off there. Heaven knows that Daredevil has already developed an inferiority complex with that so often recited comparison. Daredevil was Marvel’s wannabe Batman—an “anti-hero” without super-powers, per se, and deeply darkened by a penchant for vengeance.

And maybe the film suffers the same fate too.. for now.

Hold on. Let me back up the bus and explain.

What I’ve noticed about every movie based on a Marvel comic book lately is that they’ve all been fighting an uphill battle with character development. True to the form that I appreciated when I was so much younger, the Marvel universe is proving to be complex, almost in detriment to the way it plays out on screen. The characters created by Stan Lee, et al are often deeply wounded individuals, who try (often failingly so) to sort out the complexities of their situations and look for a deeper meaning beyond themselves.

As a consequence, Daredevil, more so than Batman, is vulnerable and therefore human.

Of course, this kind of drama can be accomplished in film, but it’s hard to pull off when the basic storyline requires a simultaneous introduction of several, equally complicated characters, all interacting with each other in well-choreographed ninja fight scenes intermingled with comic relief segues and romantic interest sub plots.

So, while I had some basic problems with the film, chief among them a scattering of scenes that should have never made their way into the final production, I also understand the impossibility of the task at hand.

That’s why some of the movie’s dramatic peaks, for lack of a better word, simply work. There are a few moments that give true pause to a bigger picture.

And ultimately I think that should be the yardstick with which to measure Daredevil. I’m betting that this movie, which took some tremendous risks trying to tell a story so complex, is going to seem better after the sequels and spin offs have had their chance to shine.

Why Daredevil was a Good Movie

I suspect Elektra, despite her demise in this movie, will live on in her own. And DD will undoubtedly grow into maturity once the burden of origin has already been settled. I have high hopes for the sum of this series being greater than the size of its parts.

It’s just too early too tell.

I know I sound like a biased apologist, to which I can only agree, but I still have hope that the Daredevil franchise, if indeed there ever is one, will flourish critically after the dust settles from this initial release.

Until then, it will have to be a split decision with this humble appreciator remaining nothing more than a…

Dare I say it?

Devil’s advocate.

Please don’t hate us.

It seems, after all is said and done, that Generation X has finally grown up, and we’re finding our childhood memories foisted into a giant Jungian collective and marketed back to us in a time-honored Capitalist right of passage. At the onset of this passing of the torch, the one where the ex-ruling Baby Boomers, known in certain circles as Mom and Dad, pass to our generation the proverbial ball of marketing demographics and subtle sale techniques, there seems to be little we can do but graciously accept.

Here I am at the not-so-tender age of 28. I’m sitting in a restaurant and eating lunch with my wife on her birthday. Billy Ocean vibes across the atmosphere of the faux art deco architecture. It’s actually more a la Miami Vice than the art deco I’ve learned about in Art School, but I’m not really thinking about that. I’m listening to the 80′s music that’s playing from a specially burned CD or perhaps piping in from the outer reaches of space via satellite. It’s maybe the third place I’ve been in this week that seems incapable of playing any music outside the recorded realm of 1987 and 1991. Overnight, it appears to me, the 70′s Classic rock that was once the ubiquitous norm has been instantly and unceremoniously replaced with music from my generation.

“Good,” I told myself, “Elton John is so overrated.”

Until I stopped to realize that my generation did absolutely no better. In fact, we surely did far, far worse. We gave popularity to the most uninspired music next to the Backstreet Boys (we called them the New Kids on the Block back then), thereby laying down an unthinkable and unbearable karma-packed responsibility. The reality, unfortunately for my friends and me, is that our generation’s youth culture sucked big hard ass.

But at the same time, the Marketing wizards who study every facet of our spending society know all too well that our time has come. They have decided to start recycling bits of yesteryear, no matter how fraught with mediocrity, for the sake of proper demographic reach. We’re a big sales pitch now and we speak a different vocabulary from our parents, as god awful as it all sounds in hindsight.

Suddenly, the entire phase of our teenage rebellion, if we ever really had such a thing, seems shallow and ineffective. But we can’t stop the bus now. We’re headed for Camp Duran Duran.

With this new status of Gen X “spenders” we get all of the unconscious perks designed to make us feel like we belong. My generation can now walk into open markets with debit cards and PDA’s in hand and rest with the assurance that an uncontrollable impulse to spend money will overtake our better judgments. For it will never be the same again. Fleetwood Mac is now being permanently replaced with Bananarama in restaurants, discount stores, groceries, and shopping plazas all across the country. The zombification process has begun.

Realizing this all at once (still back at the restaurant with my wife), I might have been right to suffer a panic attack. Instead, I start singing along and tapping my fingers to the lackluster beat of Caribbean Queen. In my mind, I’ve already taken the only route possible. I’ve simply given in. This type of denial will go on for the next ten to fifteen years. It’s going to be a long ride and I know it.

I guess when things you made popular in your youth look terribly uncool to you in adulthood, you have a hankering to pass it off as kitsch, thereby elevating it through de-elevation. It’s a complicated move, but one I’m anticipating a lot more of in the future.

But I don’t think it’s all going to be that bad, at least from certain cultural standpoints. There are some attempts to bring about recycled past times that actually make better than the original. Take the Cartoon Network’s Justice League for example. This prime time cartoon is obviously just a recycled version of the after school staple my generation used to know fondly as SuperFriends. Take a look at the old show and you’ll see a weak looking Batman trotting about with a curiously half-naked Robin. However, the new version (sure, I’ll even call it Postmodern) is today being revived into something of integrity. Really, check it out. That gives us, and the generation behind us something that we all can enjoy. And that’s, well, kind of cool and totally un-kitsch.

That’s the kind of cultural afterlife I’m dreaming about.

Arguably, similar behavior is being practiced in music today, with more and more artists sampling old songs for repeat play on the radio and heavy saturation on MTV. But I tend to think of these attempts as cop-outs. I mean, do we really need a millennial remake of “Word Up?” Well, maybe that would be kind of cool, but we definitely don’t need a P Ditty re-mix of “Pac-Man Fever.”

And then there’s the inevitable up-and-coming generation gap smiling upon us, or rather just plain giving us weird looks. They come from ten-year-old boys who today don’t recognize a man as seemingly unforgettable as Mr. T. Well, they couldn’t possibly know who he is because they’ve never seen him before. Their unawareness of him seems as weird to us as his actuality must be to them. But stuff like that is just bound to happen—especially when a career is on hiatus for fifteen years, only to be suddenly yanked back in to active duty for the sake of selling us phone services.

And don’t get me started on that. I have yet to figure out why seemingly millions of advertising dollars get put into collect call promos. Seriously, does anyone make that many collect calls? I could count the amount of collect calls I’ve made in my entire lifetime on my right hand.

Sorry, back to the point.

So it seems our generation is growing up. We watch the Real World battle the Road Rules and it’s a rollicking fun time for us. After all, we’re probably the only ones old enough to remember Eric, Julie, Kevin, Norman, Heather B, and whatever the name was of that really bad-hair metal guy.

Jesus Christ, did I just rattle off five of the six original Real World cast members? Bow down, just in case. I may be the supreme alpha loser.

Anyway, I love a trip down memory lane just as much as the next guy. But the fact that we don’t have as much really good non-kitsch achievements as previous generations kind of bums me out.

But I guess there’s still time.

And besides, maybe future generations could take a helpful tip here and concentrate on making really good artistic contributions in their youth today. Maybe then, they won’t be as inflicted with bad karma when they eventually mature into the hustle.

Oh, that’s right. Oops, they did it again.

Simply put, the Mac is back. I am a web developer and a general Mac enthusiast and I work in a mostly corporate environment. I know all too well the sentiment of disregard the PC hegemony feels towards the Mac platform. Most think of Apple as a company that’s constantly on the verge of distinction, an uttering almost as clichè as the evil empire status begotten Microsoft. But fortunately, years after the personal computer has entered into millions upon millions of homes, only the latter happens to be true. And this time, the Rebel Alliance might stand a fighting chance against the Emperor, er, I mean… Bill Gates.

The reason for this lies in the robust nature of Mac OS X itself, the UNIX-based overhaul of what is arguably the easiest, most gorgeous, and, yes, most advanced computer environment ever conceived. The brothers Ray (no, I’m not sure that they’re related) cover the basic groundwork of Mac OS X with great diligence, spending appropriate time on the more advanced details. They touch on the basics, like working with the Dock, then move their way into the dark cavernous reaches of the sophisticated UNIX underpinning. They do this with a keen awareness, wisely sensing that this is new ground for most Mac users—even self-proclaimed aficionados such as myself.

This book contains answers to nearly every question one might have about the new OS. After hearing David Pogue not too long ago on the Mac Show Live, a net-casted radio broadcast on all things Macintosh, claiming his new book to be the only one on the market covering Mac OS 10.1, I have to wonder if he even knows this book exists. Both books were at my local Borders. Perusing for a second, I could see that Mr. Pogue’s Mac OS X: the Missing Manual does cover 10.1, and I’m certain with great accuracy, but Mac OS X Unleashed seems to cover it much better, spannning a much greater depth and exploring everything, from configuring Apache to providing a Terminal command-line reference for the newly uninitiated who have, up until now, had permanent residence in the land of GUI.

Of course, casual users will probably find David Pogue’s book more in line with the commercial basics of X, and there’s nothing wrong with that. After all, not everybody uses their computer like a developer. Nor do they have to, by any means, with Mac OS X.

I’m certain that this book is destined to become the most dog-eared of my computer manual collection within a few months. The breadth of information provided in it is just outstanding. My urge to explore the new OS, from the top-most layer of GUI goodness to the far reaches of a new command-line interface, has now become almost too impossible to contain.

Books like this, with their careful attention to details (the chapter tabbing is a wonderfully useful touch), are testament to the fact that the Mac is quickly becoming a viable competitor to Windows, and even Linux. The system hailing from Cupertino is stable, attractive, easy to use, and expandable to undreamt of capacities by wiser geeks than me out the yin-yang. I am in awe at the nearly Utopian effort Apple has put into making Mac OS X the most open and standards compliant Operating System available — appealing to both die hard developers and everyday consumers. I don’t think it’s any risk at all to say that Mac OS X will be one of the technologies to watch in 2002. The magnitude of its power is just too overwhelming. And I simply can’t wait for whatever announcements are made at the MacWorld Expo in San Francisco this coming January.

With a book as in depth and useful as Mac OS X Unleashed, it’s no surprise that the power can now only be, well… unleashed.

May the Force be with you.

It feels like it’s taken me longer to write about this trip then it has to actually go on it. Planning aside, it has, in fact, proven to do just that. I hope this retains some glimmer of what it was like to be there, although I really can’t expect much. My wife and I traveled through Europe for the very first time ever this year. All I can really say about the experience with great certainty is that traveling together as husband and wife definitely changed our lives and has brought us closer together.

The planning began a few years ago in a tiny flicker of desire, as most vacation plans probably do. Liz and I began saving money for a trip that we hadn’t yet defined, but knew for certain we would one day take. When it came down to it, we decided on cities in Germany, Austria, and Italy (mainly due the fact that the Eurail pass is cheaper to visit 3 adjoining countries). To be honest, most (okay, honestly, all) of the preparation was done by my wife. She began researching travel guides written by Rick Steves, among others. If you haven’t heard of him, suffice to say, he is to travel what Martha Stewart is to décor, or what Bob Vila is to home improvement, or what Thomas Kinkaid is to, uh… crap. Rick Steves is quickly becoming not only a popular and useful travel resource, but also an American institution — a holiday ambassador for the masses.

80% of the American travelers we came across were following Rick Steves’ guidebooks like bibles on a holy pilgrimage. One couple we met in Germany was so into his Europe Through the Back Door, that they both decided to take a sabbatical from their jobs in Texas and do the entire book (which outlines plans for back-packing through nearly all of Europe) over the span of two months. We met them as they made their way into their eighth week and they still had some energy left. God bless ‘em. That kind of dedication can only be the sign of a true demigod.

But anyway, initially shrugging off that geek guide stuff myself, I chose to focus on the entertainment aspects of our trip — mostly art related, but food, drink, and culture related too. I think my wife wrote out a winning trip itinerary by starting in Germany along the Rhine river, then moving into the Alps of Austria, and finishing deep in Italy for a Renaissance awakening. And having not read a single bit of the guidebook beforehand, who was I to argue? I just wanted to make sure we hit some places I remembered hearing about in my Art History classes.

So what I’m trying to do here is write our memoirs, somewhat. While it would probably be best to write while we were on our trip, there just wasn’t time.

To start, we exchanged some U.S. dollars at the airport for Euros, (having cold hard cash is a must, as long as you keep it safely hidden in a money belt). We used cash for the majority of our purchases but occassionally we used our debt/Visa check-cashing card to pay for dinner, shopping and hotels (you get a better exchange rate that way). The Euro really is an amazing convenience for travelers. And the European rail system proved to be the best way to go for visiting numerous cities in one trip. We were able to go everywhere we needed with our easily pre-purchased Eurail tickets (which we were even able to use on bus and boats!).

This is basically how the 16 day trip went chronologically, including the places we stayed, the attractions we saw, the people we met and the little European nuances we will never forget.

Bacharach, Germany

After flying into Frankfurt we hopped a train and started the first leg of our trip in Bacharach, Germany. This is a quaint medieval town located on the southern stretch of the Rhine River. When our plane landed in Frankfurt, it was kind of cold and rainy, but the European railway system got us into some warmer weather in no time.

It was good to relax in a small European town with plenty of restaurants and a spooky Scooby-Doo-like castles around each river bend. Using our Eurail tickets to board, we took a scenic ferry ride up the Rhine. We toured Rheinfel’s Castle, which sits on top of a not-so-easily hiked hill in the town of St. Goar. There were plenty of dark and scary places to explore once we got there and it was easy to get caught up in the wonderment of the ages in the centuries old fortress. The castle is in remarkably good shape in some parts, and completely gutted in others (partly due to war and partly because of it being used as a quarry over time).

Other then that, it was truly a joy to be with some very nice German people in our first town abroad. The locals we spoke to made us feel very “willkommen.” I even had my first tastes of German schnitzel and beer.

Being in a completely tourist friendly town, I wished we had spent a longer time in Bacharach, or perhaps chose it as a place to wind up our journey. True, there wasn’t really a night life (everything mysteriously closed around 8 pm), or much to do beyond the castle and shopping, but the kindness with which we were treated in this quaint town, which looks more like an amusement park or movie set, went unmatched in every other town we visited throughout Europe.

It was a perfect place to start.

Duration of visit: 2 days
Place we stayed: Hotel Kraneturm
Room per night: €80
Best attractions: Rheinfels Castle, boat tour

More Pictures in Bacharach

Munich, Germany

Our second German city was Munich. This looked very much like a typical city when we first got off the train. However, the Munich from the train station can be deceiving. Once we got into the old town square and the Marienplatz, where our pension (aka. scaled-down European lodging) was located, we entered a strictly pedestrian zone, where tourists, business people, and beer drinkers alike wander about aimlessly. To an unntraveled American, this is stereotypical Germany.

Of course, we had to make a stop at the world famous Hofbräuhaus for a German size mug of beer. There, we caught a traditional Polka band playing the song which probably made the place famous, In München Steht Ein Hofbräuhaus. But beer and pretzels weren’t the only food items made readily available to us. There was plenty of ice cream to be had as well. Yuuuuuummmmmeee! Who knew of this secret German skill?

In a more somber unde
rtaking, we took a day trip from Munich to visit Dachau, the first operational Nazi concentration camp, which was later to serve as the model for all others. It was the main holding site for religious clergy during WWII. The reality of what happened in this place is still present, even after all these years, making it a sobering experience to say the least. The tact in which certain monuments and memorials have been erected and preserved in the old camp serve as vehicles of a reserved, yet highly visible, recognition of the horrific events.

All in all, we’re glad we went to the lively city of Munich, if not only to witness the unique paradox of history and feeling that resonates there today. But honestly, neither one of us are really big drinkers, nor did we have a lot of money (or extra space) to take part in the large amount of shopping in the Marienplatz district.

Moving on.

Duration of visit: 2 days
Place we stayed: Pension Seibel
Room per night: €130
Best attractions: Glockenspiel, Dachau, Hofbräuhaus

More Pictures in Munich | More Pictures in Dachau

Saltzburg, Austria

Saltzburg just happens to be my wife’s favorite city of the entire trip. If you’ve ever seen The Sound of Music, you know exactly what to expect of the surrounding hillside. The Alps dominate the foreground in this haven of Austrian towns.

We took a four hour bus tour of some of the hillside’s best lake towns and scenery. It was amazing — rolling hills that look like green carpet with the Austrian Alps rising in the background, still with some snow on the caps. In the middle of each valley there is a lake (some are quite large), clear and icy blue green from all the salt in the land. I can’t believe that some minty gum manufacture hasn’t latched on to this as an ad campaign. The lakes make you feel refreshed just looking at them.

The Austrians themselves are quite friendly. I expected a general attitude might have developed over time, with tourists singing show tunes form The Sound of Music everywhere they go. Not a sour note was found. In fact, Salzburg’s musical history goes even further as it is the birthplace of Amadeus Mozart. His name adorns everything from streets, to buildings, to the main square, Mozartplatz. Take that Julie Andrews!

One evening, we went to an Austrian beer garden, located some distance from the tourist district, and let loose a bit with the natives. This particular brewery, Augustiner Bräustübl, was located on the grounds of a monk monastery which runs the operation. The consumption part of the monastery is an actual garden with seating for up to 1,000. One night there we met an Austrian couple about our age and got caught up in conversation. As the night grew near and it was time to leave, they assured us that Salzburg was “very safe” to walk around. Taking their advice, we ended up circling the perimeter of the old city in near pitch black up a very steep and surreal forest hill. Not a soul bothered us, though, and it turned out to be quite an adventure.

Austria brought us more than great sights, it also turned out to be the town that we meet some great new friends. Christy and Kar Lok. They shared a train compartment with us on the way to Venice. We talked and talked like we were old friends and we made instant dinner buddies for the next town.

Duration of visit: 2 days
Place we stayed: Gasthaus zur Goldenen Ente
Room per night: €83
Best attractions: Sound of Music Tour, The Fortress

More Pictures in Salzburg

Venice, Italy

Venice is a culmination of so many things which gives it its uniqueness — beauty, romance, history, and culture. Yet, the age old Italian city is clearly in decay. But there is no place on earth like Venice—that’s for certain. It’s the one city we stayed at in Europe where we ended up being lost most of the time, even with a clearly labeled map. With canals running into alleys, and alleys turning into bridges over canals, it’s easy to get mixed up in this tourist infested hot spot.

But being on an island, and not being in any particular rush to be anywhere at any one time made things a little easier. We couldn’t have been given a heavier contrast of Italian culture from the subtlety of Austria. From shopping, to eating, to general overall tourist trapping, Venice is a place that thrives on tourists passing through and spending money. Anyway, anyhow.

It’s funny how the old bells probably used to wake up feudal-time workers from their slumber to begin a day’s labor. Now, they clang as if only to sound off a daily shallow memory, designed more for the corralling of tourist pocketbooks. This daily ritual starts around 7 in the morning from what I presume is the bell tower of St. Mark’s square, Venice’s definitive landmark.

Recently, Liz and I were watching a James Bond film, Moonraker, on TV. In the movie, 007 is zipping about the Venetian Grand Canal in a souped up gondola. When it finally seems that the bad guys have caught up to him, he presses a surprise button and the gondola turns into a car, speeding a fast getaway through the streets.

Well, I must know what fiction is now. In reality, the spy would have run into one of two likely scenarios. Either he would have discovered the impossibility of turning a speeding and quite lengthy gondola in Venice’s infamously narrow canals and pedestrian streets, or he would have gotten hopelessly lost on his way back to headquarters (because even the locals don’t know where they are).

My money’s on the latter.

All complaints aside, though, Venice was a stand out city on our trip, offering a memorable visit to a city immersed in time.

Duration of visit: 2 days
Place we stayed: Hotel Astoria
Room per night: €103
Best attractions: St. Mark’s Square and Cathedral, Doge’s Palace, Gondola Ride

More Pictures in Venice

Florence, Italy

Making our way down into our second city in Italy, we decided it only fitting to squeeze in some time in a true Renaissance city. I have no doubt if we planned ou
t our trip differently, we would have put in more time for Florence. Unfortunately for us, we had to settle for running around just to see as much as we could in the hour lay over we had between trains.

The city has a feeling all of its own. From the outside, all of the structures look as refined as anything human hands could possibly make. I’m sure, the insides were just the same.

Still, if you only have an hour in between trains, like we did, you can make your way up to Giotto’s Tower and see more in twenty minutes then most people see in their whole lives. It sounds stupid but I will never forget the hour we spent in Florence. Giotto’s Tower may not possess the widest stairway a structure could have, but it is a quick way to catch a glimpse the entire city, long famous as a cultural and artistic center.

We should have stayed longer, but alas, our next Italian city was waiting.

Duration of visit: 1 hour
Place we stayed: Just passing through
Best attractions: Giotto’s Tower, Baptistery

More Pictures in Florence

Siena, Italy

There’s no doubt that Siena was my favorite city, even in our exhausted state.

Getting to Siena was a wonderful experience. We took a bus for hours through Tuscany and saw what must have been the most exquisite parts of Italy — the kind of settings that fill the backdrop of every Renaissance painting. It’s no wonder that Siena is the first city mentioned in every Art History book covering the Italian Renaissance. It’s not hard to imagine the inspiration that this countryside must have instilled in its artists.

But Siena is full of neat little surprises too. For instance, I knew that for centuries, Florence and Siena have shared a rivalry. However, I did not know that the different neighborhoods in Siena share a rivalry as well. Twice a year, the seventeen Sienese districts, or contrades, compete in the main square of Il Campo in what can only be described as a religious frenzy of a horse race. We were not there during the Palio, but we did catch a movie played specifically for off-season tourists. And, man, am I glad we weren’t there for the race. The fervor in the town is probably too instense for a tourist. Still, I can’t help but feel deeply for this tradition, which moves the Sienese people tremendously and fills them with great pride, especially when their neighborhood’s horse wins.

The town of Siena, while very quaint and filled to the brim with many great places to shop and eat, was a bit more “hilly” then we expected. Also, our hotel, while situated on the outskirts of a lovely Tuscan landscape, was bit of a walking distance from the main city. And by day ten, this was becoming something an issue. (I will skip the part about being lost at night, way off the beaten path, to save my mother from an early heart attack).

But with no time to rest, we moved on. Lucky us.

Duration of visit: 2 days
Place we stayed: Santa Caterina
Room per night: €130
Best attractions: Tuscan countryside, Il Campo, Torre Mangia

More Pictures in Siena

Rome, Italy & Vatican City

Rome wasn’t built in a day, true. But we wanted to see if we could visit it (or at least the major parts) in the better part of a day and a morning. It is possible.

If I had only one goal in Rome, it was to stand in the Sistine Chapel. That goal, originally planned for the second after we checked into our hotel, got quickly dismissed after touring St. Peter’s, that vastly decadent, immensely wondrous, pinnacle of art and human spiritualism. Standouts included, of course, Michelangelo’s Pieta and Donatello’s John the Baptist. We were ready for more. However, after our tour of St. Peter’s, we heard from Vatican City sources (a.k.a. the nun at the Vatican Post Office) that the chapel closes after 12:00 — too late for us on this day. Not worried, though, we decided to visit it first thing in the morning.

So, we went on exploring everything else in Rome. And how much there was. The coliseum stop from Rome’s fairly straight forward Metropolitana subway station takes you right smack in front of the age-old arena. Young men dressed as Roman gladiators will pose with you forpictures, while stray cats slink about the decaying structure’s every crevice. It’s also a great vantage of the Forum and Contantine’s Arch, once you’re inside looking out from the stands.

Sneaking around behind tour guides, we even got into the prison where St. Peter
was supposedly held until his death. Afterwards, we sought out the Pantheon and the Trevi Fountain.

On the following morning, we got up early to wait in line for the Vatican Museum. As one can imagine, after a while the line starts to wrap seemingly all the way around the city. But the security system was top notch, and had everyone moving fast. Within minutes we were safe, secure, and on our way. There’s really no avoiding the Vatican Museum portion to get to the Sistine Chapel. Being on a rush, though, we moved as fast as possible and followed signs for the chapel. There are three ways to go, all ending at the chapel and all designated by different colored lines that you’re supposed to follow. We just went, passing most of the fine religious paintings, tapestries, and sculptures. Until we happened upon a room of paintings imbued with the unmistakable stroke of Ben Shahn. I had to make Liz stop there for a few minutes. Seeing one of my favorite artists unexpectedly was a great treat for me.

And then it was on to the Sistine Chapel, where Michelangelo’s masterpiece awaited.

Rome was an excellent city, but full of swindlers and beggars. One vendor tried to charge us €5 for a cold drink, after seeing it plainly in Liz’s hand. Luckily, I hadn’t opened it yet and gave it right back to him. I can imagine that Rome has been behaving like that for centuries, so our only recommendation is, when in Rome do as you would in the states and try not to get ripped-off.

Anyway, it was time to call an end to our artistic pleasantry.

Duration of visit: 1.5 days
Place we stayed: Hotel Spring House
Room per night: €130
Best attractions: Coliseum, Forum, Pantheon, Vatican Meuseum, St. Peter’s, Sistine Chapel, Trevi Fountain

More Pictures in Rome

Naples, Pompeii, & the Amalfi Coast

On to Naples. If ever there was a disappointment on our trip, it had to be Naples. But I’m getting ahead of myself.

The last place we expected to spend quality time in was Sorrento, a beautiful seaside town located on the Amalfi Coast, just a short stretch of water from the famous island of Capri. Our hotel room in Sorrento had a lovely view, and that was about it. However an evening shower which turned into a waterfall the next day left us in a dirty, water drenched room with nothing to do but think about how nice it would be to be back home. So, with some leeway in our plans for the last day, we decided to check out and head to neighboring Naples, where we could be closer to the airport.

It seems as you go further south through Italy, that people tend to speak less English, streets become more crowded and hazardously driven by vehicles, and general neatness, well… just gets thrown out the window. That was Naples. I would never have a reason to go back to Naples, although there is a pretty interesting museum there. And it served as a good home base for our last daytrip.

Pompeii, as anyone who’s seen In Search Of with Leonard Nimoy knows, is an ancient Roman province that was destroyed in a volcanic blast from Mount Vesuvius. The entire town, including the remains of individuals, their housing, and their belongings were preserved under a thick layer of ash, until it was discovered and excavated in the 1700′s. In fact, there are still large portions of the city that remain unexcavated to this day.

We took the Circumvesuviana to see these ancient ruins that time and misfortune had hermetically sealed. We were taken aback by the level of preservation, especially in the paintings and mosaics in each house. Pompeii must have employed an army of artists and craftsmen to do the kind of work that at one time covered each and every inch of that amazing place. Now, much of it is lost, but so much still exists that being there is like traveling back in time.

To cap off our last daytrip, we decided it would be nice to go back to Sorrento when it wasn’t raining and try and catch what we had missed the first time around. This simple and beautiful town really is something to see. Much of the street’s merchandise centers on food—mainly the lemons that grow in large numbers in the surrounding orchards. There were also many herbs, spices, and pastas to choose from. It was a great place to pick up last minute gift items.

Duration of visit: 2 days
Place we stayed: Hotel Siri
Room per night: €80
Best attractions: Ruins of Pompeii, Streets of Sorrento, Pizzerias of Naples

More Pictures in Pompeii

Conclusion

As exhausting as all of the running around really was and despite U.S. government warnings against American travel abroad, it was just too much fun to be out and experiencing life with our neighbors of the world. I know that our stops were mostly tourist and were, by virtue, designed to give us an unquestionable good time.

And I guess all we really found out in the sixteen days that we spent abroad is that that’s okay with us.

Maybe I’m thinking more along the lines of anthropology here. Think of early cave dwellers. They had to commit to some basic ideas to make it through the day, right? Hrothgar was probably pretty committed to finding shelter when necessary and hunting game just about every day of his miserable existence in pre-historic hell. And Hrothgar’s wife, Glok-glok too was probably very busy tending to her children, in a life long commitment to continue the species (and did anyone ever stop to say thanks?).

“Hey, thanks Glok-glok.”

But those are really no-brainers. Sure, without those kinds of commitments I wouldn’t be writing this obscure article for anything but personal joy, just as certainly as you wouldn’t be reading it (of course, the latter would come as a shock). So why did Hrothgar and Glok-glok decide to make a commitment that wasn’t a no-brainer, which didn’t directly relate to the prolonging of their kind? Why did they decide to commit to each other? (Admit it. You knew where I was going with this, didn’t you.)

Now, this is the part where I give the disclaimer. I am by no means an anthropologist. I showed up late to that class in college too many times to know that. I have absolutely no idea if the concept of marriage existed as even a thought balloon during the time of Hrothgar and Glok-glok. I’m just going to assume that humankind has always done what it does at present. Besides, I know for a fact Fred and Wilma were hitched.

The point is at some point in time, some couple somewhere decided it would be a good idea to go through life bonded together through something called marriage and it was, for better or worse, an idea that caught on. I don’t need proof for that. The reasoning behind it, though, seems to me to go a little deeper than mere survival. It seems to go beyond Hrothgar’s exclamation overheard during the Ice Age, “Must keep warm. Fire warm.”

“How make fire?”

In fact, I could just as easily be sitting here, writing away in obscurity, if the idea of marriage never occurred. I mean, people can procreate and continue the species without tying the knot (some would argue it already happens too much). So there really isn’t a cultural, biological, or sociological need for it.

Or is there?

Also, bear in mind that I’m talking about more than just sexual commitment or monogamy. I’m talking about the down and dirty, in your face learning one has to do to keep up with a healthy relationship. The kind of stuff that, I’ll admit, was hard for me to commit to in the past. You know, an idea of commitment that goes beyond knowing someone well, but growing together as two unique individuals, learning not to get on each other’s nerves too much and accepting certain things about yourself and the person you’re with.

Compromising. Sacrificing. Trusting one another. Finding the strength to change a few things about yourself, even if you’ve been the same way your whole life.

These kinds of commitments aren’t really necessary in the text book definition of survival of the species. But we wouldn’t have gotten as far without them. In fact, we were smart enough to realize the importance of these mega-commitments by putting them into one institution called marriage. And because of that, my friends, we as a society have grown.

Of course, I say all this like it’s some kind of a revelation. But it’s not. To some societies and cultures, it’s a rite of passage. To others it is simply tradition. More and more, though, I think people, probably even people like me, are finding that marriage is a convention of time, whose ultimate wisdom is to be experienced, and not studied in a college class.

Indeed, it is an age-old idea of love whose time has finally come.

The other day on the way to work I was listening to Howard Stern and realized a peculiar thing about myself. I was laughing hysterically at something that would have irked me in college. Years ago I found his deejay antics as repugnant as three-day-old underwear. I thought he was a mean jerk who hated women. For the most part, that’s still true, but now I listen to him almost everyday with bated ears. I think he’s outrageous, funny, and entertaining and even though his show usually ends around noon I could easily listen to him long into the day when I’m supposed to be doing work.

I guess at some point I lost something in the ideals I once held as sacred. Or I pulled a 180 and just changed completely.

Did I change? I don’t know. But I think I know a way I can find out. To see if I’m really evolving (or devolving) from the person I once was I decided to start a manifesto on this page, a statement of beliefs which will gauge my “progress” in the years to come, for better or worse. Like a diary in a time capsule only more boring.

Humor me. You’ve been an unwilling slave to my haphazard ramblings here before. You may as well know what I really believe in. Here goes…

• I believe in really hot showers
• I believe in learning from our elders
• I believe people are inherently trustworthy until they prove otherwise
• I believe the best decisions are made for the benefit of the self and for other people
• I believe the worst decisions are made for the self
• I believe that status quo thinking must be challenged
• I believe that a certain amount of hypocrisy needs to exist for status quo thinking to be challenged
• I believe in hope and that our children will find a way
• I believe in destiny
• I believe in mysteries
• I believe we could all be more empathetic towards each other
• I believe my cat misses me when I’m away at work
• I believe yesterday and today are intertwined
• I believe tomorrow is a clean slate (yeah, I know what I said about destiny)
• I believe my ideas always look worse in hindsight
• I believe in flawless execution
• I believe that nothing is impossible
• I believe we were born to grow from one another
• I believe technology is a tool and a tool only
• I believe the dominant days of Microsoft and Windows are numbered
• I believe that pro wrestling is homo erotic
• I believe artists hold the keys to our spirits
• I believe that we all live in denial of something
• I believe that Scully and Mulder will hook up and no one will give a damn (lost interest a long time ago)
• I believe that more power abusing less power is a time for less power to fight back
• I believe that a two party election system cannot accurately represent a society of 275 million
• I believe in free speech
• I believe watching someone win a million dollars is a joyous occasion
• I believe winning a million dollars would be even better
• I believe that greed is ugly
• I believe in laughter and going to the movies
• I believe I could listen much, much, much better
• I believe in intimacy
• I believe in sensory experiences
• I believe we have all contributed to the earth’s destruction
• I believe they should have made a sequel to “Running Scared”
• I believe in choice
• I believe in abstinence
• I believe in forgiveness
• I believe in dependency and coexistence in harmony
• I believe in independence and knowing when to challenge authority
• I believe in the freedom to make your own mistakes
• I believe Ponch and John left an indelible mark on my 80′s psyche
• I believe in a multitude of things that haven’t really changed from the time I began critically thinking about the world
• I believe that these things will all hold true until I’m a tired old fart.

Well, I guess we’ll see.