The (Mis)Adventures of Matt Lyon

Took a train to Luxembourg that night, which was probably not the best call ever. We a arrived in L'burg and went straight to a map to find our hotel's street. Sex shop ads all around the map, so we knew we were in a classy place. The hotel was 5 mins from the station and was surrounded by either sex or booze shops. Augusine being the hard ass, walks straight into the sex shop next to our hotel. We walk down a flight of stairs and walk into what is basically a small strip club with no strippers in sight--only two fully dressed women at the end of the bar. After we order our drinks, they immediately come over. I had a Spanish girl who had her thigh between my legs before she said a word. (Un)fortunately she didn't speak a lick of English so all I had to do was nod or shake my head, based on her inflection. Finally she realized I couldn't make small talk, so she kinda moved toward my uh.....self but I was quick to turn her down. After Augustine found out how much a bottle of champagne cost (I think it was about 100 Euro), we left. Sorry guys, no all night brothel stories just yet. Went to a semi-regular bar and got drunk and walked around the block once. The people on the street reminded me of the kind of people you would meet at 4 am after a Widespread show. Custie as fuck.

We wake up and one of us asks the receptionist if 'there is anything cool to do in Luxembourg', to which the receptionist gave us an evil look and handed us a tourist map. Walked around and ate fast food like the tourists we are. WHile looking at a memorial for all those brave Luxembourgians that died in battle the fast food hit me like a bowling ball through kleenex.. I had to scurry my clenched ass to a pay toile which was, of course, occupado. After trying a couple of places with no success, mostly because of the language barrier, I finally snuck into a nice restaurant and bolted for the toilette. When I got back the boys were trying to figure out where the police stations and hospitals were. Thankful I had returned unharmed and unsoiled, we wander a little more before our train leaves for Basel.

The trip through the southeast border of France was just gorgeous. Little villages dotting the hillside. When got off the train in Basel, we step outside for a cigarette and see this weird little sight: commerce and transportation happening with no horns or bells, no yelling or screeching of tires. Just many people coming and going peacefully. Not bizarre so much as off kilter. Felt like it was how things should work. Off to Interlacken.

We get off the train and ask the nearest cabbie where Hotel Mattenhof is and he actually points us in the right direction without selling his service AT ALL! We stumble across the whole city, luggage in tow and come upon a woman (that could have been any of our mothers) walking a dog at 11.30 at night. "Mattenhof?" "Ah yes, zat vay" with a smile. We get to the hotel and pass it looking for the hostel, Funny Farm. We ask a guy who had just parked his car, "Funny Farm?" "You're here, man! Welcome!" We walk inside to see people gathered around a bar and two enormous dogs (one being the famed St. Bernard) chilling on the floor. "Hello boys!" says the manager. His name is Tito, late 20s with shoulder length curly black hair. "Velcome to the Funny Farm!" hard to tell whether it was "I'm excited to see you" or "I can't wait to steal you wallet". Alas no wallet stolen, so there is hope for humanity after all.

Anyways, we fwet our room and are out on the balcony when we notice that what we thought were clouds was actually snow on the mountain! It completely blew my perspective on on the mountain from a rolling hill miles away to a towering giant right on top of us. I just giggled and laughed and ran around excited for a good ten minutes. We go down to the bar and meet some other travellers and fulltime ex-pats which is really interesting because the expats seem to be pretty pissed off at the way things are going, while the travellers are not even talking about it. I'm not sure which category I fall into. One expat in particular is Mark, a half-Swiss in his late thirties and a complete boozehound. One of those guys who gets completely drunk and gets up real close to your ear and talks to you like youre 50m away and deaf. Then argues to the death that he's not drunk and the world is coming to an end, so fuck it and move to Switzerland. Nihilism ahoy.

Interlacken is like stepping into a dream where everyone is nice and shit turns into flowers the moment it hits the ground. Blossoms everywhere, Fantastique. We hike up a little hill and get a good view of the city and one of the most startling things about it is the river. Apparently it is created by glacier water. Completely clear on shore, the most beautiful blue in the middle. Me, I don't buy it. They've got to have enslaved more than a thousand gnomes to keep the water blue and the city clean. There's some underground slave cave with little gnomes suffering miserably so that all the Swiss can have clean water and flowers. One day I will expose the truth.