Letters From Abroad, Part One

First in a series of publishing old emails I've sent to my family and friends since the beginning of my travels.
This one is about some trouble I ran into upon landing in Scandinavia for the first time.

hey hey, im in the dark grey north now, just got some time to sendyou an email. SO, heres the scoop. The trip started out well enough, i got to london at around 11 or 12, thanks to a delayed flight from Zoom. Got there with a positive attitude, because as you know i would have to wait in englands airport there for around 8 hours so it wasnt a big deal. but as you know, the universe has a strange way to balance itself out for better or worse, and discovered that my flight to stockholm was ALSO delayed. So i still had to wait for 8 or 9 hours. Bah.
The flight was thankfully uneventful in both instances, and it was of course great to see Yvonne again. We boarded an Airport coach towards the Hotel, at around 1am, both pretty tired (the last time i slept was at grandma and grampas) but nevertheless happy. about 30 minutes later we were dropped off at our stop, which looked in the middle of nowhere, but in realiy was just on the outskirts of a bad part of town. According to hostelbookers.com, this particular Hotel, Vanadis Hotel&Bad (bath) was 500m away from the bus stop. In which direction, no one knew, but we figured it had to be towards the town so we began walking. After a while, we thought it best to find a map, so when i started looking for it, i came to a shite realisation... "Wheres my passports?"
So as i tore apart all of my carefully packed things in the middle of an intersection at 1.45am in a bad part of town, trying to find the case containing both my canadian and british passports and my address book, i couldnt help but think CEST LA VIE...
After a while with no luck on the search, it hit us that i most likely left it on the Coach, because Yvonne was admiring my impressive new passport photos, and we had been ushered off the bus in a bit of a hurry, and hadnt the presence of mind to do a inventory check... IMAGINE ME, FORGETTING MY SCOUTS TRAINING!
Anyways, after the cursing and kicking had subsided, we decided it was best to find the hotel, THEN the passport, as we had about 150 lbs of luggage with us, and to any clever bandit we were EASY PICKINS!
Regardless.
We lugged on, trying to find the address 142 Sveavagen. So we walked. And walked. And walked... Strange thing about Swedish roads, is just because 140 Sveavagen is in a certain spot, doesnt mean at ALL that 142 will be close by. 143 is, sure, but 142 is nowhere to be found. Whats more, its not on the map. So in a moment of personal weakeness, coupled with my passport woes, i picked up a phone and called the hostel. The conversation went a little something, like this....
"Ya?"
"Hey hello, is this the Hotel Vanadis?"
"Vanadis, yes"
"K man maybe you can help me, i cant find where the hotel is. We`ve been walking for like an hour and cant find 142 Sveavagen"
"142 Sveavagen"
"No no, i know, but i cant find where it is. I found 143 and 140 but not 142"
"Not 143, 142"
"No, yes, i mean dude can you like tell me where to find this place, we`ve been looking forever, can you tell me like if there are any landmarks i should be looking for or..."
"142 Sveavagen"
*click* RETARD...

Ok so fast foward another half hour, and we`ve found the hotel... THANKFULLY, after this complete lack of sleep and walking around for an insane amount of time trying to find this place, it turns out Vanadis Hotel & Bad is on the top of this very tall hill. HOORAY!
We check in, and my first impression of the place is, Prison. The rooms are all about a foot apart, and theres about 4 hallways with about 50-100 rooms in each... The rooms themselves, were equally flattering... 6 by 12 feet of white, windowless glory. Yay.
Now at this point, i would have liked to go right to sleep, but i was not so lucky... Somewhere in this cold scandinavian capital, my two innocent, very expensive passports were riding off to new, strange places. Using the ticket for the bus, we tracked down the companys website, Flygbussarna. We called a few times, but no luck, they were closed till 9. Against my best judgement, we decided that it would be the best thing to go to the city center bus terminal, get the first ticket we can get back to the airport, and hopefully we can catch the passports before some young bastards sell my identity for 50 kronors. it was about 2.30 by this point, and the next bus wasnt coming until about 5 or 5.30, and we didnt even know if they would have it yet. it was all very disappointing. So we wandered and wandered around this area, called the City Center Station, and i couldnt help but notice that there was a whole bunch of shady characters wandering around, and for the middle of the night, it was fairly crowded. At about 4.30, i had a revelation... It was pointless to stick around and then go to the aiport again... If they found it, they will have it, and if it was stolen, it was stolen... It will either be in the Lost and Found and I can get it back, or it wont be turned up and ill buy new ones from the British Embassy in Stockholm.

So we returned to the hotel, defeated, and went to sleep. Woke up at around 11, called the place again, and wouldnt you know it, they had turned up! Good times indeed, and the relaxation returned once more.
Oh yes, and a little tidbit, as we were reading the Wikipedia Travel guide, about what to do in stockholm, it strongly suggested against hanging in the very dangerous area around the City Center Station after dark, as it is covered in gangs, dealers and drunks...
Shit!

Ok thats enough typing for now, and this ends chapter one. Chapter two, the boat cruiiise....

Send everyone my love,
JEM

my very first strip-search

This post is a very special one, and will document the night of Sept 2, 2008, and Jerebear's run-in with 3 Swiss Polizei, whom will be known as Shorty, Ugly and Dumb, because they refused to give me their names.

Act I: Trouble in Paradise

I was spending this night like many others, out and about, enjoying Berns nightlife. I had split off from my friends an hour or so earlier, and had taken it upon myself to make some new friends whom I was hanging with at this particular moment. The venue, a late night café, close to the notorious Reitschule ( http://www.reitschule.ch ). Let me give you a quick history on this place, because I'm quite sure that none of you reading this can speak German. Reitschule is a very big, old schoolhouse right on the edge of downtown Bern, which around 40 or 50 years ago was taken over by squatters. The squatters have since run the place, with few problems except for some problems with police. It's hard to miss, the train passes it as you enter Bern, and it is just this massive, completely graffiti covered place, filled with lefties and punks and dreads, and most of Berns junkie population likes to shoot up under the streetlights in the parking lot. There have been some killer concerts there, and for me, it is just a great escape from the arrogance that can be found in most other places in Bern. Anyways, back to my story. I wasnt actually hanging out in the main Reitschule, but rather the café owned by the reitschule down the street. Technically its part of the same building, but not exactly close. The night was going great so far, I hadnt had any run-ins with the 031 streetgang which have given me problems in the past (see later posts), and this homeless dude in a tophat had actually played me some blues in exchange for a beer, the video of which I will also put up here.
Then, as I'm stepping outside for a cigarette, I hear *Pop!* *Pop!* *Pop!* which definitely sounded a bit like rifle fire, the breaking of bottles, and something in the air that was really biting my throat. 'Get inside,' my new friend tells me, 'Its the staff from the Reitschule duking it out with police again, and the cops have shot teargas'.
Ok, so, no problems, I go inside, and he begins to explain to me that from time to time, things like this happen. The staff will go on the roof, start throwing bottles and calling them pigs, and the pigs will then respond by firing rubber bullets and shooting teargas, but usually it ends with no harm done. Alright fine, its the punks at it again. 'Beer please!'
About an hour later as I'm leaving the cafè, I manage to walk around 5 feet when a police van screeches to a halt behind me, and this big dude, who we will call Dumb, grabs me by the coat and forces me inside the van, which is being driven by Ugly.
'Whoa whoa whoa,' I say, 'What did I do? I'm going home!'
'This is a control,' Barks Dumb
'You're coming from the Reitschule?' Asks Ugly
'No man I'm coming from the café, you just saw me leave!'
At this point they are not responding to me, and place me in handcuffs as we begin to speed off.

Act II: Bare-Assed in Bern

Now readers, this isnt Ottawa that I'm living in right now... There is no such thing as a public drunkeness charge, or a drinking in public charge, or that shit about having open bottles. Drinking in public places is perfectly acceptable and many people feel free to sleep drunk on the ground mid-day. So at this point I'm really asking, what the fuck is going on here?

Dumb grabs me by my handcuffs and yanks me out of the backseat, which made my wrists fucking burn like hellfire. Ugly leads, while Dumb has me practically dragging behind him as they lead me into the police station, and at this stage I'm fairly certain that they are not just driving this confused tourist home.

Ugly walks off into an little computer room, while Ugly brings me into a small room with a table, chair, and garbage bin. He tells me to sit down, and he takes off my handcuffs. 'Empty your pockets,' he tells me. 'Fuck, yeah sure, ok no problem,' I say, because as far as I know, I havent done anything illegal and I'm not holding any controlled substances except for two innocent bottles of beer. He looks through my wallet, emptys it out, and all that jazz, then he says. 'Take off your shoes.' So I do. Next comes socks, belt, pants, jacket, shirt, and then at this point I'm down to my underwear. 'Take them off' he tells me. 'DUDE I HAVENT FUCKING DONE ANYTHING!' Now, at this point you should realize that Dumb didnt get to where he is right now for his quick-thinking. He's a big fucking dude, maybe 6 foot 5, and built like a, well, hes built like a big fuckin asshole cop. I'm trying to protest, and the guy shoves me so I slam against the wall, and he says, take them off NOW.

So I do. What else could I do in this position? I'm an english-speaking seasonal worker in a building filled with notoriously-violent swiss police with guns. So I fuckin oblige. Off with the boxers, and here I am, in a strange country with strange people, completely naked, covering my junk with my hands and just thinking why the fuck...

Thank God, he checks my underwear first, and gives them back to me, but ya know, what happened happened, and even as he tears through my shirt, jacket, shorts and shoes (sorry mom, those were the ones you gave me and yes he ripped them apart), giving them each back to me one by one, when youve been nude in front of a big dude against your will, its strange but even with my clothes back on it still felt like they were off.

He stands me against the wall and gets me ready for getting my mugshot taken. He says, stand still, and when I put my hands in my pockets he slaps them away.

'What the fuck am i going to do to you man, youre like 2 feet fucking taller than me!'

He looks confused by the question, but I'm sure this isnt new to him. He raises the camera, presses the button.

Nothing.

He looks at the camera.

Tries pushing a few different buttons, then tries to take my picture again.

Nothing.

He gives the same confused look to the camera, and then i look at the blinking red Battery light.

What a fucking retard, I think to myself.

'Look, man' I say 'Plug the camera into the wall when you take the picture of me.'

He tries to take the photo again. Nothing.

'No no dude, take the battery cord for the camera and plug it into the wall, its just out of Accu.'

'SHUT UP!'

(A few minutes later he leaves the room, comes back with a new camera and takes the picture. Yay...)

So I'm clothed again, feeling numb, and Dumb pushes me into the room where Ugly is typing and they start asking me questions.

Act III: Switzerlands Finest

The following are excerpts of conversation between me and Ugly

(1)

'You were throwing bottles at us.'

'What?'

'You were inside the Reitschule, and you were throwing bottles at us, you were attacking the police.'

'Why the fuck would I attack you?! I'm a fucking tourist!'

'We saw you do it.'

'You're lying, because I DIDNT FUCKING DO IT!'

'Why were you at the Reitschule?'

'I already told you I wasnt AT the Reitschule, I was at the fucking CAFE!'

'These beer bottles we found on you, are the same kind that were thrown at us.'

'ITS THE SAME PEOPLE WHO OWN REITSCHULE AND THE CAFE!'

Dumb:'You know we've collected the glass that was thrown! Our CSI guys will fingerprint you and if you dont tell us now, your DNA will be found on the bottles and you'll get an even worse charge!'

(Now at this point, I really had to laugh... CSI guys, he must think I'm fuckin mental... So I call his bluff..)

'Yes! Good! Perfect! Ok, bring them in right now, take my fingerprints, take the fingerprints off the bottles, and then it can prove that I'm innocent!'

'No, if we get them it will take a few days and you will have to spend that time in prison.

(Right...)

(2)

'Ok, man, look, this is ridiculous, I didnt do anything, I want to talk to a lawyer or something.'

'No.'

'What the fuck do you mean, no?'

'In Switzerland you dont have the right to talk to a lawyer before the police.'

'What...?'

(Now, by this point I had around 5 or 6 beers in my system, and at this exact moment I was ready to believe this.)

(3)

'So you're an English tourist? How long have you been here?'

'I'm Canadian. And I've been here since April.'

'Dont lie to us, you're English, you're in the computer!'

'I'm CANADIAN dude I was born in CANADA! My father Edward is from England, which enables me to have dual citizenship and work here!'

'Oh so you work here.'

'YES man read the fucking T-Shirt!' (I was wearing a black t-shirt which had my restaurants name on it)

'Working illegally right?'

'I'm legal, I have my fucking working permit at home!'

'Which permit?'

'Its an L, for seasonal work.'

'Well 5 months is kind of long for a seasonal worker isnt it?'

'My girlfriend is swiss.'

'Do you have Canadian ID?'

'You've got my fucking wallet man you tell me.'

(right now, Dumb tries to chime in again, to try and call MY bluff... Fucking idiot.)

'So do they have beer in Canada?', asks Dumb

'Best in the world, man.'

'What are the names?'

'What? I dunno, Molson Canadian, Labatt Blue, Moosehead all come to mind.'

'Uh huh.'

Act IV: Enter Shorty

At this point, I've been in holding being questioned for about 2 hours, when in walks a short, young cop with a couple of tattoos on his arm. He seems to know english better than them and is actually my favorite of the three cops... He seemed to be the only one who saw what was going on, and also the one with the worst poker-face. Here is some excerpts out of my conversation with him.

'So did you throw those bottles?'

'I DIDNT THROW FUCKING ANYTHING MAN, this guy told me he could get some fucking CSI guys down here who could prove that I didnt do anything and that I could go!'

'So why are you at the Reitschule anyway?'

'You know Bern better than me man, tell me another area where there are bars open past midnight?'

'Its a bad area, filled with junkies and people who want to cause trouble with the police!'

Dumb: 'Are you a junkie?!'

'Do I look like a fucking junkie to you?!'

(Dumb seems taken back by this comment, makes me stand up, and checks my arms and feet for needle-track. WOW DODGED A BULLET THERE!)

Shorty: 'So why are you out here in these black clothes?'

(Note, yes, i was wearing black clothes... Lets go down the list of my black clothes... Black Nike Trackpants - 90 Dollars. Black with White Pinstripe Hoodie - 100 dollars. Black Tshirt - 25 dollars. Black skater-shoes - 130 dollars. Black adidas socks - 20 dollars.... All in all, I'm wearing a 365 dollar outfit, it was actually my clubbing clothes.)

'My girlfriend says I look good in black, maybe? And I do!'

'Kid, only punks and anarchists wear all black. This is why you get singled out.'

'So youre telling me the reason I got picked up tonight is because I'm wearing all black?'

'Yes.'

(Wow...)

'Well fuck man its a good thing my skins white or else I'd have real trouble huh?'

(I get a look from each of the cops at this point. Hahah bastards...)

Later... Still talking with shorty.

'Man we know that you were one of the ones throwing bottles. People on the street said it was you.'

'Oh the people on the street said it? What people? How is it there are people telling you things that didnt happen huh?'

'They said they saw you in the reitschule and that you were throwing bottles at us.'

'Youre lying.'

'No I'm not, we arrested them and they said it was you.'

'So how many other people did you arrest besides me then?'

'Around 5...'

'Then how come all the other rooms were empty when I came in?!'

(No answer. at this point, its real easy to tell when Shorty is lying... I guess its because hes new?)

Jeremy:'Alright man i have a question for you. This guy over here told me that I cant call a lawyer. is that true?'

'What?'

'I asked to talk to a lawyer, and he told me that I cant until you all were done with me. He said that was swiss law. is that true?'

(No answer from Shorty, or any of the cops at this point... I just hang my head, pissed.)

Final Act: A Woman, Enraged

So now, they are telling me that since I was being held under suspicion of a crime by them, and since I was interrogated and took up these nice officers time, I had to pay a charge of 300 swiss francs, which was essentially paying for their time. Wow what a dumb mistake by me to make these police officers think I was worth investigating. D'oh!

They start to tell me they need the money, or else I need to spend the night in prison until I can get it... I had no money until the next day, I realized, and there was only one chance.

'I can pay this charge tonight, but... its from my girlfriend.'

'Whats her name? Where does she live?'

(noooo way am I letting a couple cops wake up my baby, not unless I'm there too)

'Her name is Yvonne, theres a picture of her in my wallet.'

'Whats her last name?'

'HER NAME IS YVONNE'

'Where does she live?'

'I'm not telling you that unless you assure me that I'm coming too.'

'That depends if you cooperate.'

'Man I'm only cooperating if you tell me that I'm gonna be the one at her door!'

'Whats her number?'

'I dunno.'

'Tell us.'

'Give my the phone and I'll call her myself man.'

Shorty: 'Ok come with me, we'll let you talk to her.'

We walk to a different room with a phone. I dial... Straight to her voicemail. Oh fuck she has her phone off, like she does every night.... FUUUUCK....

'Uhh... We can only go there man her phone is off.'

'No,' Says shorty, 'Only if they say you can go.'

'Well I'm not giving you the address unless you say I can come too!'

Enter Ugly....

Ugly: '123 Something St.?' (not her real address obviously, I changed it because you never know whos reading and she wouldnt appreciate me putting it up there.. But yes, he told me her real address... I guess they found her on the computer)

J: 'Yeah...'

'Ok' They say, as they cuff me again, 'Lets go'

Well thank God they at least brought me.

As we are sitting in the awesome cop van that started my whole super-sweet ride, they tell me,

'We're going to the bank, you withdraw the money and then give it to us.'

'No, dude, i dont have any money in any bank, I handle cash only.'

'We go to the bank. You have a credit card and many bank cards.'

'Yeah I have the cards but I dont have any money in them'

'Dont lie to us.'

'DO YOU THINK I WANT TO GO TO PRISON MAN, IM NOT LYING! Lets just go to mein freundin's house!'

So, we drive to the bank, apparently playing by house rules, the whole time with me telling them its not going to work.

We get to the atm.

'Man I have no money in here.'

'Put in the card!'

So I try. Then I try another. then another. Each time I tell them what the outcome will be and each time they tell me to try again, and that its because im apparently typing in the wrong PIN, and blah blah blah...

So, after all the cards were done around 3 times, they say, 'Fine. Youre going to prison.'

'WHAT! You told me youd bring me to my girlfriends house!'

'We are not a taxi.'

'No youre fucking cops who want this charge payed so bring me to my girlfriends house so we can pay it!'

'Does it say Taxi on my back? No it says Polizei. You go to prison now'

So I protest, they repeat more of the same, and I find myself hopelessly driving in the back of this car, thinking about how I just seem to be drowning in shit creek...

After 15 minutes of them telling me I'm going to prison, I notice the surroundings are very familiar.. Huh. It seems the prison is in my neighborhood...

'Wheres your girlfriends house?' Ugly asks

Ah. So I wasnt going to prison. They just wanted to intimidate me and make me feel scared. Well it worked, I felt like pissing myself. big fuckin cops eh?

'Up this street...'

So we reach her apartment, and you know, i think i was almost more scared at this moment than any other. We get to the panel of doorbells in front of the main door, and I ring hers.

'Ok' I say, 'Just a few minutes.' It was around 3 or 4am at this point.

A few SECONDS later Dumb punches the doorbell with his finger about 20 times in a row. A few seconds later, the same thing.

After a while, Yvonnes at the door, and I look at her with fear.

'Yvonne,' I say 'You need to help me out right now, you need to come with us to get 300 francs.'

'GOD JEREMY, WHAT DID YOU DO?! CAN I AT LEAST GO UPSTAIRS TO GET SOME FUCKNIG CLOTHES ON?!?'

'Yes sure baby, of course, go'

She slams the door, and I look at the cops like, man what did you do...

We all get in the car, and Yvonne starts talking to the police officers in Schweizer-Deustch. Apparently as she recalls, she was asking what I had done, and they wouldnt say, they were just saying I was lucky and they think I was doing alot more.

We get to the ATM, she gets out the money, gives it to them, they hand me back my things.

'Ok, we'll drive you back to your home now.' says Dumb, after giving me my ticket.

'No, I dont want a drive,' I say, 'Cmon yvonne...'

I start walking, and yvonne is walking behind me and I can feel her angry stare, and can feel that shes waiting for me to tell her what I did, what car i broke into, or what fight i started...

'Baby,' I say, 'I think something illegal just happened to me...'

At this stage in the night, I am angry, frustrated, upset and completely exhausted, and Yvonne picks up on this right away... I begin to tell her the story as I've just told you, and over the next couple days shes been trying to cheer me up about it... Shes talked to some of her friends and they say this isnt the first time something like this has happened. So what now? Nothing. I'm completely convinced of what these guys would have done to me if I hadnt cooperated, as in what point in the night, when Ugly had me in the interrogation room and pulled out a 5.gram bag of weed and said, 'What else do you think we'll find on you eh?'. I just looked to shorty and said, 'Man, what the fuck you know thats not mine!'

'I know' He said, 'Theyre just joking with you'

But at that point I realized, I guess even when youve dont nothing wrong, a determined cop can find something youve done wrong.

So I'll leave it alone, and just am completely thankful that this didnt affect my trip to Canada...

Anyways.

Recycled Garbage

Dumping all the old stuff out of my cell phone, decided to post some of the keepers.

The View From My Outside my Work

The River Aare

Nuff Said

Feldschlossen - Next Best Thing To Molson Canadian

Jirka And Michu Playing Chess at 5AM

Giving some Love to the Lass

Some European Cup Madness... The whole city was like this every single day of June, and yes, youre listening to about 2000+ people singing I Will Survive.

Vespas, Espressos and Gelled Hair

I've weighed myself for the first time since leaving London, and since I've worked in Switzerland I've lost around 7 or 8 lbs. I did it. I lost the fat. I'm a Fat Loser. And the Jeremy in Canada would have had a problem with this, because he in fact liked the pudge, and always tried to GAIN weight, to add that little extra bigness... When I try to explain this to anybody in this country, and probably the four countries surrounding this country, I'm met by stupified looks. In fact, when I told a coworker that I always like to have a little bit of a belly, she said it was the first time she had ever heard that in her life. Well if cultureshock was made out of lobsters, we would all be enjoying a fine bowl of bisque. And thats no joke.
And wouldnt you know it, body shape isnt the only thing seen differently here. Take modes of transportation. A german womens magazine recently did a poll to find out the sexiest vehicle a man can use. You know what it was? Vespa. The f*ckin Faggio. This thing, in a Canadians eyes, is probably the single gayest thing a dude can ride around on, besides the seatless bicycle. But to women here, they connect it to easy, summer attitudes, clubs, and general breezy surfer bullshit. And of course, the longer I live with these people, the more I want to drive a Vespa. I mean damn theyre like a quarter of the price of a regular motorcycle innit?
You know what else? I drink ESPRESSOS now. And wine! Wine, which to me, all used to taste like crappy cheese or old french toilet water! I can tell if its corked, the varying tastes and smells, and I even have a favorite. Amarone. Its very exquisite, Italian, made from dried grapes and YOU probably cant afford it.
So is this bad? I think if Jeremy from 3 years ago saw me gelling my hair and having shoes specifically for the club, he would laugh. But then again, that Jeremy wasnt getting many girls' numbers, was he?
Anyhow, when in Rome. Ciao.

Random, Useless Observations from the Author

Money RECIEVED - A penny for my thoughts, to be collected from EACH of you when I see you next.

I'm trying to convince myself that this blog wont be another one of my ADHD-fueled, impulse-ambitions, so today I'm going to do TWO posts. Arent you the lucky one!
Ya know, I'm settled in Switzerland now, I have my own place, a steady job, a girlfriend, and things are starting to look alot more balanced in my life.
But the good feelings cant last forever, and I for one am sick of being content. So here, just for you, are a list of things that are pissing me at this moment.
Number one, SWISS ATTITUDES. Dont get me wrong, I love Switzerland, my girlfriend is Swiss, there is mountains and chocolates and yodelling, but I tell you there is an epidemic here. Arguing. They love to argue. They shout alot, about little things, and it always seems whenever I am having a 'small debate' between either my boss, my girlfriend, the public transportation police, bouncers, they are just so gung-ho to win the argument at any cost, its not even funny. I ask myself, why do they do this? Cant they relax a little bit? Take a lesson from Canada or the Caribbean and not take life so seriously? Then the answer came to me... Switzerland has been a neutral country for hundreds of years, one of the ONLY such countries in the world. For generations, the Swiss have never experienced the bloody, messy, gut-splattering satisfaction of war. They want to, sure. The Swiss nation has a military service which all men must join, or pay a fee. They go out, play war games, do some pretend-shootin' and pretend-killin', and get paid something like $35,000 to do this. At the end of it all, they get to take home a AR-15 Fully Automatic Rifle with live ammunition, which for most people stays dormant in the closet, for others helps bump up the statistics that puts Switzerland at one of the highest rates of suicide in europe, and every few years a guy will go postal on some random people at a bus stop. Great. Where was I going with this? Ah yes, well, I mean its a proven fact that even monkey and baboons are constantly in a state of war, and from the dawn of time man had epic warfare against the dinosaurs, the sea, orcs, warlocks and finally, himself. To do something like claim you are a neutral country simply goes against human nature, and just seeing them now constantly, subconsciously, striving for warfare in any form they can merely reinforces this fact. So there you have it. Swiss people always argue because they are missing out on battle, and well folks, you can take the Swiss out of the war but you cant take the war out of the Swiss. Case closed.

And another thing, has anyone ever been inside a club, and then people just start piling in, and you realize it is just like a massive game of tetris? As more and more people cram in, you need to turn to fit the nooks depending on the size of the person. A girl comes by. no problem, shes just a couple blocks. Dude with a skateboard, gotta nudge yourself past your buddy to make room, hes about 4 blocks. Uh oh, fat dude with a hiking bag, everybody needs to make way to ensure maximum comfort and before you know it, your hip is locked between the bar and a stool being used by a behemoth, and your oxygene supply is depleteing fast. Then you realize, why am I even here? I hate jazz fusion, man. I'm out. Game over.

Man oh man, have you ever watched women grooming themselves in the mirror before? Whats going on there?? Ever seen a woman try to pop a zit? Talk about a joke. When women pop zits, its like theyre trying to coax a sick puppy out of its bed. Slowly slowly, bit by bit, whispering little words of encouragement. I feel embarassed for the little guy when he finally does leave the face, to the super-non-astounding 'pop', and then its over. When I pop a zit, its like a highly trained mercenary force showering a civilian village in machine gun fire before dropping a series of carpet bombs, taking out the schools and hospitals, and then finally the ruthless commando leader whips a concussion grenade into the city square for one final show of fireworks. POW, BANG! It hits the mirror with such force it nearly breaks the the damn thing, ricochets off and just about puts a 3 inch exit wound through the back of your head! Its no mercy for my acne, I always use every muscle in my upper body to destroy the little bastard! I wont stop until I see BLOOD!
Sweeet...

Ok thats all for now folks, take care.

Life Lessons On The Loo

Money Spent - 2$ (for the jukebox)

There I was, using the urinal in a very, very sleezy bar when I notice there is a dude, also using the urinal, looking at me, obviously quite drunk by the way he is squinting. I nod to him. He slurs to me, 'Sind Sie herum Zwanzig Jahre alt?'. I say back to him, 'Sprechen Sie english?' (I will say this around 30 times a day to people who talk to me in Swiss-German, and at this point my prononciation is almost perfect).
'A little bit...' He says, 'Are you 20 years old??'
'Close,' I respond, 'I'm 19.' He looks at me, nodding, gathering his thoughts. He says to me, 'You know Kinder, you need to be careful when you are 19.'
'Careful? Why?'
'Because,' he says 'You live your life and live your life and then maybe one day you wake up and you are 51 living like you are 19.'
'Oh... How old are you?'
'51...' He manages to slur, 'I'm a grandfather.' At this point I'm trying to lighten the guys spirits.
'Hey but you know,' I tell him, 'I cant wait to be a grandfather. I'm really looking forward to it.'
'No no no.... I hate my life... I hate the way I live and the person I am.'
I blink a couple times... 'Uhh, well, yeah but man I mean, when you are a grandfather, its really not about YOUR life anymore, its about the lives of your grandchildren and your children, you know?'
He kinda nods sadly. 'Yeah... I think I could learn alot from you, but Ive just smoked a pack of zigarretten and I am very much drunk, so, goodbye.'

He leaves the bathroom, and I walk back to the table to my friend Saskia, stunned... You know, somehow that really struck home for me, and as me and her were sitting there drinking beer, surrounded by every form of crackhead, junkie and drunk, I'm somehow relieved that every so often one of them can walk up to you and sort of give you what little advice they can, and offer a sort of candid view of what my, your, or anyones life could be if you don't make the right choices.

Wow.. Deep.

And to think by the time he had finished talking I hadnt even finished my piss.

A Truly Dirty Night

Money spent - 10.00

I have this friend named Ben, he is from Tunisia. He's a cool dude, black belt in muay thai, professional salsa dancer, good heart, its all good. But man, this guy thinks with his dick so much its ridickulous - last night for example.
I'll set the scene for you....
It was around 2 in the morning, and I've been trying to tell the guy for the last hour and a half that I need to scoot home, and who knows how he keeps convincing me to come with him. We walk out of Tournhäler (very cool club, made out of an old Gymnasium - top part is a bar, bottom part still has the gym floor and basketball nets and shit, locker rooms are made into the toilets, sweet), and theres this rotund, pretty un-pretty middle aged chick with her knockers practically hanging out of her shirt... MY first reaction was to think she was a prostitute, BENS first reaction, was to walk up and start hitting on her... 'Heeeey Habibi, you so beautiful!' he goes, and starts chatting with her, I just chill back and let him do his thing - he does this about 20 times a night at least. Anyhow, he starts sharing his beer with her (I make sure to drink mine real quick so the saliva doesnt pass my way) and the chick drops it. Ohhhh shes all sorry and oooooohhh she wants to pay us back, Ben goes, oh just buy us a round at this other bar. Scheisse Ben I'm trying to get home!
But whatever, its all good, the night is young.
So we step into this bar, I've never been there before. Its called Aarebär, predominately blue lighting, older crowd, shit music, and fuck its pretty empty for a saturday night... The air is shockingly clean and smoke free, whats going on here? So we have a beer. Ben starts chatting with me about how hes going to totally bed this broad next to him, and he tells me in a mix of english and german, and at this point in the night I rarely understand what he is saying. So I tell him flat out, in french because it is his mother language. 'Yo Ben' I say, 'Je pence le femme est une prostitute, mon ami'. He just laughs, 'Not with me, Jeremy! I fuck all!' (this is his catchphrase, he says it alot.... 'Tonight, Jeremy, we fuck all!' is usually what he says before we go clubbing.)
Ok so now we're nursing our expensive, 9.00 franc beers, and wondering where the hell this hooker got off to, and shes been in the friggin can for 20 mins. I'm getting bored so I try telling Ben that I'm leaving again. 'No no no, Jeremy' he says 'We go downstairs to club, then, we leave together.' ---- Downstairs? I look to the stairs, theres a TOILET sign. Hm. I must have misheard him. So he says, 'Ok, now, we go. We go to the club.' Hmm. We're walking to the stairs marked bathroom. Fuck Ben if you all-of-a-sudden turn gay right now, I'm going to smoke you in the face with my boot, but of course youre a muay-thai blackbelt, so I guess I would have to get the shit kicked out of me before taken advantage of.... Fuck man I just want to go home, I work at 11.30!
So we walk down the stairs, and go into a door marked Private. ---- Well I'll be damned, its a secret fucking strip club! THERES all the people! THERES all the smokey air! And shit look! Strippers! So all was right in the land of Jeremy again, paranoia, kaput, and Ben buys us a round. After around 15 mins, these two blonde eastern european bombshells walk up to us and start chatting, fuck am I attractive or what, I didnt even look at them! Then I say something like, yeah you know I like Switzerland, its ok but maybe not as good as London... She laughs a fake laugh and starts rubbing my chest... Ahhh shes a hooker too! Ben is totally digging his blonde, but I'm in no mood to cheat on my girl tonight, so I try to ignore her...

Now let me tell you a bit of background... When you go into a strip-club in Canada, its good, its fun, the girls are there by choice and half of them are people you know and are just paying for their student loans in a very extroverted fashion. No problems. But when you're in europe, all day on the news, in commercials, its telling about all the women forcibly sold into the sex industry from eastern europe and the middle east, white-slavery which is so very affluent in Europe of course, and just generally depressing things. So here I am, in Switzerland, one of the capitals for this such trade (London, Amsterdam are others), sitting next to a chick with an Eastern European accent who looks like shes trying really hard to earn her money. So I try small talk, the conversation went like this...

(Girl) 'So sexy do you like me?'
(The dude) 'Uhh yeah, you're alright... So um, how long have you been in Switzerland?'
'Hmm, uhh, 7 monat (months)?'
'And do you like it here? Where are you from originally?'
'I am from Ukraine, yes Switzerland, it good. Where are you from?'
'Canada. Yeah I'm pretty rare, ha-ha (I say this to every girl who asks me where I'm from, fuck I'm pathetic)'
'Ohh Canada, do you have working permits'
'Yeah, yeah I do, I'm a bartender. Do you have a working permit, how did you get here?'
'Errr ehh, hmm...' She makes the little zipper motion over her lips and laughs nervously. Great Jerebear youve got a real catch here.
She says, 'So do you want company?'
'Ah well no, Ich haben ein freundin...'
'Well, if we want to talk, I need to ask you to buy me a drink, its my job.'
'Yeah alright, what do you want, Beer?'
'No, no, Champagne. See, champagne is 25.00 a glass, 100.00 a bottle.'
'Uhhh, thats pretty expensive.'
'Noo, its just 25.00 a glass!'
'You dont want a beer or, redbull or something?'
'No just champagne.'
Hmm.... 'Do you only drink champagne?' I ask.
'Yes just champagne.'

And at that, we bid farewell... You know guys, she might have been a slightly worn, slightly rude, pushy, slutty, possibly enslaved slavic prostitute, but I will remember her always.
Then I look at the drink menu... Fuck 25.00 for a champagne... 18.00 for a half pint of beer...? 16.00 for a coke?! Dude what the fuck is going on here?! I try to warn Ben, but he is busy feeling up his blonde. SHE is busy trying to explain to him that he cant squeeze her breasts or her ass, and trying unsuccessfully I may add. Ben looks to me, with that huge dopey Ben grin, he looks on top of the world. I look at the bar in front of them... Shiet. Ben has bought the chick 2 glasses of champagne already, and between tushey squeezes she is trying to convince him to buy another. He does. He tries and tries to get her to leave with him, and for a 36 year old pervert he seems really ignorant to the stripper-customer relationship. After a bit more of Ben and her chatting, she leaves to pole-dance. 'Ben...' I say, 'I really really got to leave... Its 3, I work at 11.30, dude I need to go chat with my buds online and pass out!' Ben gives a sad nod, I think he too realizes its time to leave.
We gather our things, and pay the bill. Ben is dumbstruck, its almost 150 bucks. He doesnt seem upset about it though, he did what he came to do.
Then BAM, two asian girls creep up behind us and start feeling our asses and asking us if we want company, I'll be damned if they werent twice as hardworking as the eastern european girls! You know I bet theres got to be some sort of bad blood between those two factions. I've got no patience for talking to this broad, so I say, 'Im not interested, Ive got no money and a girlfriend, sorry.' She says, 'Gay?' VERDAMMT! 'No, I have a girlfriend.' She laughs 'Gay!' and walks off.
That... that fucking bitch! That fucking asian bitch! Go back to a 1980s blackmarket Hong Kong film, you goddamn stereotype! Schlampe!
I look to Ben, hes not going anywhere, hes totally immersed with this asian girl now. I say alright man, I need to go, I'm cereal. He understands and goes to shake my hand.... through the legs of this oriental woman. Ahahaha, Ben, du bist eine crasse mann... you know through it all I can never be pissed at this dude, hes harmless, just wants the ladies, through and through.
So I bounce, scoot home on my kickboard, and arrive at home, my body sweaty, and my mind feeling quite dirtied by the entire night.
So there it is. Now I need to go to work, I feel like shit, but whatevers.
Enough typing.

-The Jerebear