-- Drink it up

This ones for you

It's been a lovely cruise

I'm sorry it's ended

It's so sad but it's true, Honey

it's been a lovely cruise

These moments were left with

May you always remember

These moments are shared by few

There's wind in our hair

And there's water in our shoes

Honey, it's been a lovely cruise

These moments we're left with

May you always remember

These moments are shared by few

And those harbor lights

Aw they're coming into view

We bid our farwell much too soon

So drink it up

This one's for you

Honey, it's been a lovely cruise

Yeah baby, it's been a lovely cruise

Oh darlin' it's been a lovely cruise --

Jimmy Buffett, Lovely Cruise

It's my last night in Paris and I'm sad to see it go. Long day of traveling tomorrow, but I'll be home in my own bed tomorrow night. See you stateside.

-- You love this town

Even if that doesnt ring true

Youve been all over

And its been all over you

Its a beautiful day --

U2, Beautiful Day

I couldn't get U2 songs out of my head when I spent a weekend in Dublin, Ireland two weekends ago. Since this is like the busiest week ever for me with finals, papers, and presentations, I've not much time to post.

I flew the discount airline Ryanair to Ireland, which was a new experience for me. We had to take a bus about an hour outside Paris to Beauvais, which was like the Hyannis Airport, except with 8,000 foot runways. The terminal may have been smaller than Hyannis'. The flight over was uneventful and we arrived in Dublin about noontime. We headed to the Brewery Hostel, which was the place where we were staying for Friday night. The deal was that not everyone on this trip was able to book the place for the second night, so the few of us opted out of the second night to get our money back and decided to stay out all night and get on the 6am flight back to Paris on Sunday morning. We were ambitious..

As soon as we checked into this place, which wasnt much of a place at all, we headed down the street to the the Guinness Storehouse (which is under a 9000 year lease from what I learned), of course. After the tour, which was pretty insteresting, we headed to this circular bar on top of the Guinness Building to get our complimentary pint of the "black stuff." The sun was very yellow, peeking underneath a deck of clouds off behind the hills and lit up the bar in a great light. The rest of the city was lit up as well, which made for a stunning panoramic view of "Publin." We all slowly downed our pints and headed down to the gift shop to poke around. I ended up getting a couple postcards and a shirt. Definitely a fun hour or two there!

That night we ate at a buffet style place called JP Rielly's I believe. Ladies and gentleman, it was there that I ate my best meal of Europe. And I ate way more than I should have. I had beef stew with mashed potatoes, green beans, stuffing, carrots, and gravy. A huge bowl of it, which I mixed up thoroughly. It was amazing. It was like a dream meal almost. I was so full that I opted out of beer that night, especially Guinness or Beamish because they are like a meal in themselves. That night, we carried onto a nice little pub, where I was introduced to my new friend Bailey's Irish Cream. Like egg nog with a touch of alcohol...it soothes the soul! We took it easy that night because we had plans spend Saturday outside the city and we knew Saturday night would be a long one. So we headed back to the hostel, and crashed. By the morning, I realized the weird smell in the air was coming from Guinness! It smelled like a lot of barley..

Saturday, we got up and headed to the train station down by the river Liffey. Thirty minutes later, we found ourselves in a town called Howth. We were very much out of a city setting, and into the type of Ireland we were all hoping to encounter. It was a small fishing town, much like the North Shore of Boston actually. There were fishing boats in the small harbor, and a quaint town nearby. We walked out to the end of a huge breakwater and hung out there for a bit...the wind was blowing and it was bitterly cold. But the sun was shining, without a cloud in sight. A beautiful day. We went down to the water and put our feet in the Irish Sea. It might have well been the water off of Consitution Ave that I know so well. Cold. Then, out of nowhere, a Golden Retriever strolls up to us looking for some attention. Of course, I gave him a good rub...he looked just like Pasta. Same light color, same snout,same personality...theyre all the same, which is a funny thing. Also nearby Howth, were some magnificent bliffs that dropped off into the Sea. We walked up there, and were taken aback by the beauty of the place. Just incredible...if you've been there you know. We spend a good 3 hours walking the cliffs and throwing rocks down, etc. Totally carefree...it was awesome!! A few more meetings with the same Golden as well, which was pleasant. We got a delicious Irish mean in a small restaraunt in town, and hit the train back to Dublin.

That night we signed up for a pub crawl. By the way, "we" was the 8 of us that came on this trip. Anyways we signed up for the pub crawl that was supposed to take us to 4 or 5 bars that Dubliners go to, not tourists. We went to a couple really cool places which was a lot of fun. That ended about midnight and we still had about 4 hours to kill before heading to the airport. So we found more bars to go to, nothing too exciting there. But fun still.

So then it was time to figure out how to get to the airport, and most of us were not working to full capacity if you get my drift. Ok, we get to the airport, check in, and have an hour or so to sleep before the flight starts boarding. We all fall asleep in awkward positions in those made-to-be-uncomfortable airport terminal seats pretty quickly after about 7 hours of bar hopping. It comes time to board, next take off. I had to put as much concentration as I could muster into not losing my lunch during take off. My stomach was not sitting well as a result from the night, and I was not about to break a streak of 20 years of flying barf-free. A little blue in the face, I made it to the cruise portion of the flight, and I wasnt took concerned about the landing. Except for the fact that I was unaware of the 30 knot direct crosswind that was waiting for our 737-800 at Beauvais airport. The approach to landing was with, I'd say moderate to severe turbulence. Many of the passengers started to freak out a little, which didn't help my stomach. But I wasn't nervous for the same reason they were. As the plane went up and down, left and right, I looked out at the winglets on the tips bouncing up and down. Thats cool, I thought. We crossed the threshold, and I looked at the ailerons; they were moving from all the way up to all the way down. Definitely a landing for the captain to handle. We slammed down with a lateral skid on the wet runway and came to a stop with less than a thousand feet left of runway.

Turns out the captain of the plane was next to me in line for customs, and I looked at him and said "Hell of a crosswind, huh?" He said "For sure."

Thus is the end of my weekend in Ireland. It is strange yet true: I was the only one out of the 8 kids on our trip that had any amount of Irish in me. In fact, at one of the many pubs we visited, an Irish kid got talking to us and asked our names and where we were from. I said Michael Patrick (yes, I played up the 75% of Irish in me that weekend..) and I'm from Boston area. He says to me, You've finally come home! I thought that was pretty funny, he said I looked like I was born in Ireland. I said Boston is the U.S. equivalent. Also, in one of the pubs, was a map of Ireland with family names on it. Fahey was on there (minus the E) in Galway, and DeCourcy was on there in Cork. It was definitely very cool to go and experience where my family comes from before America. It didn't feel strange at all, I think because of the many Irish traditions we still celebrate in South Boston. I grew up with many of the same things they did in Ireland.

Next will be about Amsterdam and Brussels, which I experienced last weekend. I will get to it next time I have time free...until then, Slainte.

As I type this, I'm sitting in a cafe in Amsterdam (No, not one of those types of cafes..) sipping a hot chocolate and munching on a croissant. Amsterdam is really beautiful, I had no idea. Quite a place too...

This week I'll post about my Ireland trip then after that, the current Brussels/A'Dam trip.

Home in 13 days...

-- When I step into the light my arms open wide

When I step into the light, my eyes searching wild

Would you not like to be

Sitting on top of the world with your legs hanging free --

Dave Matthews Band, Lie In Our Graves

I feel like no matter what I do from here on out, my trip abroad is complete. This weekend was nothing other than an adventure. As I sit here munching on Swiss milk chocolate, here's the story.

I started my weekend out at Gare de Lyon in Paris, waiting to board the TGV (Train Grand Vitesse - super fast train). Gare de Lyon is Paris's largest train station, with 40-odd tracks. After deciphering the huge departure board, I found my train. Trains in Europe work a little differently than one might think. The procedure is this, if you have never experienced it: you find what you think is your train, get on without being checked by anyone, sit down in what you think is your seat, and then wait an hour after the train leaves the station to have your ticket checked. If by some reason you get on the wrong train...pardon my French, but you're effed. Anyways, I got on the right train.

Fast forward almost four hours, and I'm getting off the bullet train in Geneva, Switzerland, where it was a little chillier than Paris, but not bad. I would say about 40 degrees. One of my best college buddies, Aaron, is there to meet me outside customs and we headed to his dorm. From there, he and I went out to walk around the small city of Genève. We had planned to see the newest Bond movie en Anglais, but it was sold out. So he gave me a short tour of the city and the lake, which turns into the Rhone river. The water there was so clear, that I could see the bottom at night. We made our way around town and after walking around the church that John Calvin himself started Calvanism, we ended up in a cozy little bar. After a Kilkenny there, we headed back to his dorm to sleep, because we had a 5:50am train to Zermatt in the morning.

Pitch black outside, the alarm blares and it's time to get up and moving. A taxi ride later we were waiting for our train on platform 3. We had to stop in Brig to change trains, but it was only a 10 minute wait. The train from Brig to Zermatt was a private, scenic cog train, and therefore not covered on my Eurail pass. The Matterhorn Express winded its rickety way up through a valley tucked between the towering Alps, as the sun rose, no less. After stops in Visp and St. Niklaus, we arrived in Zermatt.

I changed some US bucks in for Swiss Francs, which worked out in my favor. Though, Aaron quickly told me not to get excited becuase everything is so outrageously expensive that it compensates for the exchange rate. The hostel were were booked at was a 15 minute walk from the station, which basically covered the whole town. A river ran through town with the same bright clear water. In Zermatt, no cars are allowed to drive on the streets there, in order to preserve the Alpine air. The only vehicles allowed are these little electric things that look like lego people should be driving them. Switzerland is a place full of ideas. They've got public transportation from town to town that is run by the post office. They've got coach buses that carry people, but also the mail. Talk about killing two birds with one stone!

After we checked into the hostel, which was very nice, we went immediately to the base lodge of the mountain, only to discover that the lifts were shut down because the wind was pretty severe at the top. The top of Klein Matterhorn (the area open to skiing) is 3883 meters above sea level. That is 12,739 feet. That's two Mount Washingtons stacked on top of eachother, and a little more. They told us no skiing on Saturday but Sunday's forecast looked great. So we went back to the hostel, got back into normal clothing and strolled the town after some lunch. The town looked like your typical Swiss ski town, with ski shops and chalets everywhere. We took it easy that night, and were ready to get up at 730 the next morning to hit the slopes.

Sunday began with a jaw-dropping view of the Matterhorn, lit up orange as the sun rose over the other lofty peaks.

A quick breakfast and we were off to the rental place, and then the mountain. Yes! The trails were open! The sun was shining, there were almost no clouds, and it was time to start the ascent by getting on the first of 4 gondolas to the top. Forty-Five minutes after we got in at the bottom, we stepped out at the top, and once again my jaw dropped to the floor when I saw my surroundings. If you read the lyrics above from my all-time favorite DMB song, never before has any song dictated, exactly word for word, what I felt at the top of the world, with my legs hangin' free.

I couldn't believe I was back in the saddle again, to quote a certain Aerosmith song. Carving through the wide-open pistes, surrounded by possibly the most beautiful environment I've ever seen, I couldn't help but ski with an ear to ear grin. Aaron and I stopped many times for photos, or to discuss whether or not we were dreaming. Here we were, in Zermatt, Switzerland skiing in November, almost 13,000 feet above sea level, and the sky was deep blue with an almost white sun. It was no Smuggs...JUST KIDDING!

Soon enough, it was time to give the skis back and head to the train station for a long ride back to Paris. Aaron and I couldn't stop talking on the train how we'd never forget that weekend. The train from Zermatt went to Visp, where we had to change trains and get on one to Geneva. Two hours later we pulled into Geneva about 640pm. My TGV back to Paris was leaving at 7:23. That means 7:23, not a minute later! I said goodbye to Aaron with a hug and a handshake, got some food before boarding, flashed my passport and was on the bullet train, ready to settle in for another three and a half hours of speeding through the night. The TGV rides like a dream. It feels as though you are silently gliding on air. I popped Lie In Our Graves in and sat with my head up against the window watching the light of the moon race along the track next to us. Surreal. If you've never heard the song, download it, borrow it...somehow just listen to it.

Thus is the end of my unforgettable weekend. Home in less than a month, still much to do. I could do this forever.

Pics coming on yahoo photos soon, but not yet.

Hello from Geneva, Switzerland! Tomorrow skiing the Matterhorn in Zermatt, Switzerland! Elevation: 12,000 feet!! Aaron says hello!

-- From earliest infancy it had been a

cherished ambition of mine to be

shaved someday in a palatial barbershop

in Paris --

Mark Twain, The Innocents Abroad

I think my trip is mimicking Mark Twain's novel sentence by sentence. No joke, Mark Twain wrote this in his book, about getting a haircut and a shave in Paris. I did the same, and to my surprise, it may have been the most enjoyable experience I've had in a barber's chair. Except for maybe that one time at Supercuts...just kidding. Supercuts might as well use a meat cleaver to cut hair compared to the place I went to last week. I walked in with my uncharacteristically long and curly hair and the frenchman took one look at me, before a said anything, "Don't talk...I know what you want." So with that, I entrusted mes cheveux with him. Thirty minutes later, the old clean cut Mike appeared out of nowhere. I could go on...but I'll spare you.

So my parents were in town the last ten days and we had a great time together. The highlights include the sweet apartment they rented in Saint-Germain-des-Près, the top of the Eiffel Tower at night, a boat ride down the Seine, Luxembourg Gardens, food, walks around Paris, seeing Sainte Chappelle, dinner with Scottie my roomie and Christine my host lady. The beauty of it all was that both of my parents have previously done most of the touristy stuff, so it was a very relaxing week. There was no reason to feel like we needed to cram as much in as possible. It was truly a vacation, except I did still have class during the week. I think Mom and Dad enjoyed themselves and Dad's French even improved. Check out my pictures!

It is hard to believe that when we said goodbye last night, that I would see them again in only a month (and 4 days). This trip has flown by at warp speed it feels like. And it can only speed up. I will be traveling the next 4 consecutive weekends, so there will be a lot more blogging to come. The agenda is: skiing in Zermatt, Switzerland this weekend (CANNOT wait), drinking Guinness in Dublin, eating chocolate in Brussels, Belgium, admiring Van Gogh's works in Amsterdam, and my last weekend in Europe is still up for grabs. I will be able to do only a day drip to somewhere in France...it is down to Lac D'Annecy, Avignon, or Toulouse to visit the Airbus factory. The pilot in me wants to go to Airbus. However, if you've got a place that I just cannot miss, please tell me. Seriously.

Thanks again for reading, bon courage.

Paix.

-- Here we have been standing for a long, long time

Treadin' trodden trails for a long, long, time, time... --

Dave Matthews Band, So Much To Say

I hope Halloween was pleasant across the pond! When I wander the streets of this city, I often think of the quote above. These streets have been here longer than the United States has existed. Before the Pïlgrims, before Pochahontus, before Columbus. People have been standing here a long time, and treading these very trails for a millenium or more. Crazy.

Halloween here, however, means nothing. I was lucky to find a lone pumpkin (in surprisingly good form...actually it was as close to perfection as I've ever seen a pumpkin), sitting outside an open air market on Rue de Cler. I got excited, and snatched it up. I carried it to the caisse (cash register) and asked the old man what the word was in french: "Pardon, mais, qu'est-ce que sais le mot pour celui-ci?" Sorry, but what's the word for this thing here? He goes: "Ca, c'est un halloween." That's a halloween. And the next thing I see, is the little electronic ticker streams by on the cash registerthat reads..UN HALLOWEEN = 5 €! They actually call pumpkins halloweens here [however the dictionary labels it as 'une citrouille' ..though no one calls it that]. I think thats just hilarious. So I carry it around my arms all the way home on the métro. People looked at me in a way that said, Stupid Americain (they always say american with slight attitude), this isn't America, this is La France! We don't do halloween here.

Once I reach my home stop of Jourdain in the Vigntième, I walk in the door after fumbling around with this weird big orange lumpy thing. My host lady looks at me like I've got 5 heads. "Un halloween!," she says. It took me a few minutes to explain to her that Halloween is not a thing, it's one night a year, etc...you know the rest. She was flabbergasted to hear that. Scottie and I thought it was real funny. We carved it into a Jack-o-lantern ("Jack-o-quoi?" she says...jack-o-what?) and named it Dave. Those of you who know my musical taste know why we named him Dave...if you don't, just look at the top quote. I took the seeds and baked them until they were crispy and brown and served them up..our host was surprised at how good they tasted. As was I, because I've never baked anything before.

Halloween night was extremely uneventful here in Paris. Every so often, one would see an American dressed up making a fool out of themselves. It was fun. Paris is fun.

Parents are coming a week from today! Can't wait! PS. More pics are up under Paris. And more to come soon. I update pictures more than I update this, so check em out!