I wrote this piece at Weill Cornell/New York Presbyterian back in 2017 and promptly forgot about it. I just came across it tonight while looking for something else. I don't recall what I had planned to do with it, but Ebony and I loved travel shows, especially Anthony Bourdain and Rick Steves. Though both are quite knowledgeable, the two men were such opposites. Bourdain was world-weary and droll, so authoritative and candid; while Steves was so pleasant and happy-go-lucky. In the darkness of the time I was writing this, I wondered what Rick Steves would be like if he had Bourdain's misanthropic disdain for just about everything. Ebony and I watched a couple of back to back episodes of Rick Steves in the hospital together, and after she went to sleep, I was inspired.
The Unexpurgated Rick Steves' Europe
IRELAND
Ireland is a magical land of lush emerald fields where moss and heather fill the air with a quaint mix of woodsy and floral scents after a morning rain. The Irish are an enchanting congregation of loquacious alcoholics with xenophobic tendencies who have spent centuries emotionally arrested in self-pitying hangovers. The long history of the Gaelic people dates back some 10,000 years BC, and yet after centuries of tribal infighting, Viking battles and English conquest, the only lasting testament to these recalcitrant stubborn Celts is an island dotted with crumbling castles and sheep meadows lined with meandering stone walls. As depicted in novels and modern film, the abstruse constant of modern Hibernia is that the island is abundant with pubs, taverns and public houses. From Dublin to Galway to the Aran Islands, drunks of all ages may be found tipping elbows with a pint of plain or heroically retching in the toilets, all while a local group of musicians fills the rooms with grating songs of drinking and rebellion. In the countryside, you can take a walking tour of the mostly empty yet quaint village inns; while in the capitol of Dublin, you can join a literary walking tour and see the birth places of famous writers you reluctantly read in college, all of whom moved away and died abroad. There is also plenty of shopping as the Irish are matchless haberdashers with so much to offer. You can buy yourself an authentic Irish-knit sweater, a hand-made Tam o’shanter or any item of clothing colored green and decorated with shamrocks. Whatever your pleasure, Ireland is a colorful key with beautiful sweeping vistas where you will find no end to the suffocating jingoism of these lovable Leprechauns and dipsomaniacs. Find a pub, order a Guinness and prepare to argue with strangers about “the Troubles” and the last decent U2 album until you fall over.
PARIS
France is the number one tourist destination in the world. You may prefer to visit its many wine regions, but no trip to France is complete without visiting Paris. The City of Lights may now be known as “the Beirut of Western Europe,” but it is still a romantic place. Filled with museums, frighteningly expensive brasseries and chic boutiques for women who wear scarves all year long, it is celebrated for its contradictory whimsy and decadence. Wherever you go, someone will be singing Edith Piaf on one side of the street while men publicly urinate on the other. To really appreciate the grand architecture and history of Paris, there is nothing more exhilarating than strolling along the feculent Seine, which inspired artists such as Matisse, Pissarro and Monet and remains a popular site for murders. The majestic capitol city was made for walking, which will save you money on taxis and keep you safe from the pickpockets on the overcrowded Metro. Other points of interest include the apartment where Doors singer Jim Morrison choked on his own vomit, located at 17 rue Beautreillis, in the Bastille district. The Père Lachaise cemetery, where Morisson is buried, is also the resting place of noted Irish writer Oscar Wilde and celebrated French writers like Marcel Proust, Honore De Balzac and Jean de Brunhoff, the creator of Françafrique neocolonialist, Babar the Elephant. Paris is a city with notoriously Pecksniffian waiters, so avoid touristy landmarks like the Eiffel Tower and look for smaller bistros where you can sit on the terrace and enjoy un délicieux Bourgogne. Drinking wine by yourself is the best thing to do in Paris because it’s the only thing you won’t have to stand on line for. It’s great for people-watching, which will be about all you will be able to afford to do after three days here.
SWEDEN
Historically regarded as an undesirable frozen wasteland populated by Viking savages and their yodeling women, this modern nation is at the forefront of progressive ideas and complicated furniture design. Sweden has given so much to the world, from Volvos and Saabs to Stieg Larsson and dynamite, yet it remains a country of mystery. Sweden is a constitutional monarchy ruled by King Carl Gustaf and Queen Silvia, though their roles are largely ceremonial. Now in their 70s, the King and Queen often appear at charity events, though King Carl annually declares war on Norway after a few drinks on New Year’s Eve. Actual governing in Sweden is done by the Prime Minister and the legislative Riksdag, who are charged with making laws and preserving the integrity of their incomprehensible chefs. There are many cities in Sweden, but the sophisticated capitol of Stockholm is the only place worth visiting. One of the first things you’ll notice about Sweden is the punishing stench of herring, which you will never get used to. Swedes spend most of their time indoors because the winters are long, but when the frost melts people gather outside and the summer is filled with festivals. May Day and Midsommer are important holidays with weeklong celebrations where beautiful blondes dance around the Maypole then gather at the edge of the forest for Kulning, or the traditional yelling at cows. Swedes love to celebrate Christmas and the holiday is marked by drinking astonishing amounts of Akvavit, the root beer-like Julmust spiked with vodka and a powerfully potent Glogg. Adults get Rund under fötterna as the entire nation curiously gathers around their televisions to watch a Donald Duck marathon on Christmas Eve. January is Suicide Month, when daylight lasts five hours and brings seasonal affective disorder. It is also when the biennial Ingmar Bergman film festival takes place. February brings relief in the form of Melodifestivalen, which is a national event that determines which Abba clone will represent the country at the Eurovision Song Contest. When visiting Sweden, be sure to indulge in a traditional smorgasbord and sample classic Swedish dishes like reindeer face, moose sausage and pickled elk with lingonberries. If you can bear it, taste a variety of their grievous seafood delicacies, like the toxic lutfisk and their strange tubes of Mackerel paste. Whatever your proclivities, Sweden is a marvelous country steeped in antiquity and alive in modernity. So when you come to Stockholm, bundle up and try to remain calm, because wherever you go there will be hordes of tourists drunkenly singing Abba classics, badly.
“Thanks for joining us. I’m Rick Steves. Until next time, keep on travelin’.”
