You’re The Voice

There are a lot of ways in which the word voice is defined. 

Some take the word literally. In that case, the official definition of the word, so far as Google’s dictionary has decided, is the sound produced in a person's larynx and uttered through the mouth, as speech or song. That’s the definition I’ll largely go with during this essay, so keep that in mind to the greatest extent possible.

Some would point to voice as meaning a particular person’s opinion, such as a “dissenting voice” within the HHS department, which would currently advocate for vaccines and argue that they do not cause autism. It’s pretty depressing that we’re still debating this in 2025, but here we are.

And then others talk about one’s voice as a platform to push for a given agenda. The song “You’re The Voice” by John Farnham, from which this article gets its title, uses this definition. It’s quite a powerful tune that has been used to advocate for progressive causes, perhaps most notably the unsuccessful 2023 “Voice to Parliament” referendum in Australia. But let’s talk about the literal voice.

I’ve already said this a handful of times, but I am on the autism spectrum. I make no secret of this, least of all on The Mane Course. We’re quite transparent here, the fairest blog in America. But in all seriousness, we’ve established that.

During the course of my childhood, I had a great deal of speech and occupational therapy, some of which I’ve talked about here. This included some fun activities, such as the ball pit and hammock. Supposedly, the latter is referred to as a “sensory swing,” and is used to calm neurodivergent children down. My mother cannot remember precisely what purpose it served, just that I loved it.

There were also some less fun activities, however. And the nature of my anxiety as a child was that it was hard for anyone to know in advance what would stress me out. Even now, my moods are unpredictable and don’t always make sense according to the actual situation at hand. 

One of these activities involved listening to a recording of my speech. Now, I cannot remember exactly what this activity was, or why it entailed hearing myself talk. But I do recall that when my therapist pressed a button to replay the recording, I recoiled at the sound of my voice. It wasn’t what I was expecting!

On some level, I believe my voice sounded childish to my own ears. Considering I was probably 8 or 9 years old at the time and wanted to prove that I was a Big Kid™ (aided by the fact that I was among the tallest in my class), this struck a nerve with me. I could not understand why my voice was so…odd.

To be fair, from what I’ve heard, lots of people don’t like hearing their own voice on a recording. It disarms plenty of them, and there’s actually a scientific reason for that. This article from a university in Tokyo delves into why. 

The “TL;DR” is that we hear both the vibrations in the air reaching the eardrum, as well as the vibrations within our own body that produce the voice. Apparently, when we listen to a recording of our voice, we only hear the former, which is the same as what other people hear when we speak. And I have no reason to doubt this, given the amount of research that seems to have gone into it.

Which means that this whole time, both when I was a child and as an adult now, other people have experienced my voice a different way from how I had. I still remember being arrested by my tone at age 8 or 9 - it sounded so childish and monotone, not necessarily like a robot, but like I didn’t know how to speak the way a regular person would. Well, my parents and peers had heard said voice and made a decision, whether actively or passively, not to tell me that it was different. For the record, I don’t begrudge them for that. Maybe I’d have had a hard time accepting it.

And honestly? I don’t mind being different. Normal is for squares. I will never be a square, even if a lot of dwellings here in the United States look just the same as any other from the outside. 

This sense of my vocal tone being different from other peoples’ has followed me into adulthood. Back in 2022 I called in to the David Pakman Show, a progressive political podcast that I listen to on occasion. I’m not going to link to the specific segment here, but my recorded voice was obviously the version tens of thousands of YouTube viewers heard. And my tone did not go entirely unnoticed, with one commenter saying “caller sounds like Nate Silver.”

That’s right. Apparently my vocal tone resembles that of Nate Silver, the guy who ran that website FiveThirtyEight in which they made forecast models of US elections. For the record, I’ve listened to Silver speak on a few videos, and I don’t think our voices sound at all alike. While I’m not one to speculate on Silver’s medical history, I won’t deny that it’s possible he might be autistic; people who crunch numbers to that extreme extent very often are. But his voice didn’t sound as monotone as mine.

In addition to that appearance on the David Pakman Show, I’ve sent voice messages to many of my friends on Discord. Many such people have said that they don’t see anything abnormal about my voice, but it’s of course possible that many of my Discord friends are autistic themselves and are therefore accustomed to hearing voices like that. Maybe we should think more critically about what it means to be normal.

Of course, “many” is not the same as “all”, and some people have told me, upon listening to such a message, there was a certain inflection in my speech that they couldn’t quite place. But these people have invariably told me that my voice is sweet, cute, and/or soothing - which, of course, feels immensely gratifying. 

When I heard my voice as a kid, I might have wanted to run away or sink into the floor. Unlike some other embarrassing situations, there’s no way whatsoever to hide your tone or make it sound different - that’s what many autistic people refer to as “masking.” But when it comes to my tone of voice, I don’t mask whatsoever, and that’s for two reasons.

One, I have little or no control over how my voice sounds. As stated above, I had speech therapy from sometime before I turned 2 to sometime after I turned 10. At least, that’s my memory of it. If the goal was at any point to make me speak like a normal person, all those years of therapy could not make that happen. They could correct my inability to properly make the R sound all day long, but they couldn’t mold my tone into something that sounded “average.”

Naturally, my speech patterns come with their own challenges. Today I still struggle with talking too fast and failing to enunciate, particularly when I'm very excited about whatever it is I’m talking about. I've compared it to running down a steep hill and feeling like you're unable to slow down, no matter how hard you try. And if I'm amused by whatever I'm talking about, people tell me I sound drunk. Literally: I remember riding a ski resort gondola with a stranger, shooting my mouth off about a really cool experience I’d had the other day, and the stranger asking if I’d been drinking. And I think I was like 17 at the time!

As I write this, I am a 25-year-old man. I am six feet, three inches tall and broad-shouldered. I’ve done a number of things that 9-year-old me would not have been able to imagine, and that even now feel like something a stunt double would have done. To paraphrase that hilarious “billionaire’s son” Bobby Misner, if your life is a movie and you’re the main character, you might as well make it count!

I think that’s why I’ve grown to like my voice, maybe even be proud of it. It shows how far I’ve come, the obstacles that have stood in my way and that I’ve conquered, but at the same time, it’s still my voice. I’m still the kid who was scared to sled down what was probably a small hill, as well as the FOMO-afflicted youth who begged his parents to let him ski down a mountain while wearing a parachute. 

Both of those people are me, and I am them. I am a bundle of contradictions, as they say. But aren’t we all? And that’s not even strictly related to autism, but I want to be the best version of myself no matter what. Shouldn’t we all? 

Yes, I’m not normal. But I don’t want to be. 

Workin’ On It

I’ve written about my weight loss journey on this blog before. 

For those who don’t know, I was never obese by any means. Relative to many of the people in this country who struggle with their weight (and there are many of them, because this is America after all), I didn’t have a drastic amount of weight to lose. 

Following a sobering diagnosis a few months ago, no pun intended, my doctor advised me to lose about 10 pounds. Again, it’s not an insane amount - it wasn’t even five percent of my body weight at the time. But it would still require some lifestyle changes as any weight loss does.

Over the last few months, I’ve been learning new things about my body and weight loss more generally. For instance, most people do not see results from their new lifestyle for the first several weeks of it. That was me. And then one fine morning, I stepped on the scale to find that I’d lost nearly 4 pounds in the previous week. Needless to say, that’s when I first knew I was making progress.

There have been setbacks along the way. It’s important to view it as a lifestyle, not a diet, even though those words were actually interchangeable in Ancient Greece. (That is not, of course, the way most people think about them today.) Most notably, even if I’ve committed to a new lifestyle, I still have my weaknesses when it comes to temptation. Cheese and crackers are possibly the most difficult such weakness for me to overcome.

I’ve also grown more grateful for the air fryer that sits in my pantry. That thing is pretty amazing, and my father loves it the most. He loves sweet potato fries, but for health-related reasons, he doesn’t want to eat them from a restaurant anymore. There are other ways to make them, however.

All you have to do is take a sweet potato, peel it, and then cut it into your desired shapes and sizes. You can sprinkle them with salt and pepper, then douse them in olive oil. You throw them into the air fryer for anywhere from 10 to 15 minutes, depending on how crispy you like your fries. And then you’ve got a healthier alternative to one of the most common problem foods.

To be clear, nutrition is not the only reason an air fryer is valuable. It used to be the case that people overlooked the abysmal quality of food at McDonald’s because it was at least cheap and convenient. But it’s no longer cheap, as The Damage Report poked fun at in the funniest way possible. Fast food prices have gone up, while fast food quality has, if anything, gone down. Eventually, the air fryer will pay for itself, and depending on how much you like fries, eventually might come sooner than you think. Especially since these days, you can often get one for under $100 USD!

Yesterday I decided to step on the scale first thing in the morning. I can’t tell you precisely what possessed me to do that. Maybe it was a sign from the universe. But I stepped on the scale, and for the first time in about three years, the number that greeted me began with a “1” rather than a “2”. In other words, I am once again under 200 pounds! I’m in what they call Onederland!

Now, I’m not naïve to the fact that my weight loss journey is not over. If I were to go back to eating the same way I did during college, I would almost assuredly gain that weight back, quite possibly more. I will need to maintain this lifestyle for, well, life if I want to keep the weight off. And that’s why it’s important to find a regiment that works for you, that you can maintain in the long term. That’s why those “fad diets” are generally to be avoided.

One thing I didn’t fully appreciate until I needed to lose weight was the fact that it’s difficult in this country. Yes, there are plenty of fat people elsewhere, but it’s particularly challenging when, thanks to the lack of mixed-use zoning, grocery shopping is often done in bulk once a week as opposed to a little every day. This puts pressure on meal planners to think many days in advance, and, all else being equal, more people will decide to get fast food or takeout because it’s more convenient. That is to say nothing about all the additives in American food that are banned in the EU.

Additionally, I am lucky to live in a part of the country where there’s ample access to grocery stores. Don’t get me wrong; there are plenty of unhealthy things at my nearest store if you want them, and nobody, including your doctor, is going to physically force you not to buy them. There are plenty of affluent Americans who struggle with their weight, and there are some poor Americans who maintain a healthy BMI.

But there’s a reason why the term food desert gained popularity in recent decades. Even so, many food justice activists no longer use that term. For one, “desert” implies a geographical location, but the average person’s ability to purchase plenty of nutritious food can vary wildly even within the same city. More importantly, deserts occur naturally, even if climate change risks expanding their reach. The inability of some people to acquire healthy food was and is a result of policy choices.

It’s for that reason that food apartheid has become a preferred term among many of today’s food justice advocates. Yes, it’s got a pretty extreme connotation, but this systemic inequity is very often based on class, which is very often based on race in the United States. If I were on the wrong side of this food apartheid through the cosmic lottery, it might have been far more difficult for me to shed the weight I have.

Of course, I don’t mean to sell myself short too much. Even if you have the means at which purchasing healthy food is trivial, there are still mental barriers one must overcome. As stated above, you need to accept that you’re going to have setbacks. And when they occur, you need to learn from them so that you don’t make the same mistake again, but also be kind to yourself so you don’t get demoralized.

The anthem for my weight loss journey, to the extent that it has a “theme song” , has been “Workin’ On It” by Andy Grammer. The song is about overcoming bad habits. As corny as Andy Grammer’s music can get, it very much works in this case. It might be takin’ forever, but it’s better than never!

The song resonates with me to no small extent. After all, we’re all “workin’ on it” to some extent. We’re trying to be the best versions of ourselves we could be.

How often have I thought, I could be so much more productive if I didn’t spend all damn day doomscrolling? To be fair, I haven’t been able to make much progress in that regard, mainly because I can’t convince myself that I shouldn’t spend every waking hour on Reddit. And I have to stay informed, no matter how painful it might be, because as they always say, the German people were probably completely sick of politics in 1938. But that didn’t mean politics were sick of them, and we all know what happened next.

More to the point, weight loss is something that’s within my control. At least, to some extent. And amidst a world that seems like it’s crumbling all around me thanks to my country’s actions, this is one thing that’s actually gone right in my personal life.

In terms of eating healthily, I have not given up the fight; I’m in control. I can manage my lifestyle from the inside out. And unlike the insanely creepy song that the previous sentence is paraphrased from, I don’t mind having this mantra stuck in my head. 

Bonnie The Vampire Slayer

A photo my mother sent me of our new Bouvier des Flanders smiling at the camera.

There’s a song titled “If We Were Vampires.” It’s by country artist Jason Isbell.

The song argues that the existence of death is a good thing, that our days on this planet are finite for a good reason. If all of us knew we had forever to do what we wanted, we wouldn’t feel motivated to do it today.

Isbell suggests that if we were immortal, life would be cheap and ultimately meaningless. On a very basic level, that makes sense, because the less you have of something, the more valuable (and, if it’s a commodity to be bought and sold, expensive) that something will become. That’s Economics 101.

Allow me to paint a picture for you. I’m sitting on my couch, in a position that’s admittedly closer to lying supine on it. I’ve got battle music from EarthBound in my headphones, entering my ears to help me keep my “writing rhythm.” And on the floor, a handful of feet from me, lies a black ball of fluff.

Of course, she isn’t merely a black ball of fluff. She’s a Belgian sheepdog, a breed by the name of Bouvier des Flanders. And she’s the new family pet.

Her name is Bonnie. For months, my family debated about whether we would be wise to take on another dog. On the one hand, it might feel too soon after we put our last dog down this past July. And then there’s the fact that my parents are getting older. If Bonnie lives to or past the average lifespan of this breed, my parents will be in their seventies by the time the Bouvier reaches the end of the road. That’s why we chose a female this time, because they don’t get quite as massive. 

In the end, the desire for a furry companion led us to get another dog. Of course, it is very important not to frame it as a replacement for Padfoot. No dog can truly replace Padfoot. Rather, Bonnie will supplement our life.

We took her home yesterday from a breeder in Connecticut. After less than twenty-four hours with her, I’m starting to wonder if I truly understand the meaning of the term puppy love. At a minimum, I see why people use this saying.

According to my mother and sister, Bonnie lived the first few months of her life in a very confined environment. It was not a prison, of course - even in the United States, there are certain ethical standards for the treatment of animals we’re allowed to keep as pets. But now she can get more individual attention, and she’s basking in it.

When I say basking, I do mean that. Every so often, she’ll walk over to me while I’m on my computer, and I’ll take my headphones off and give her some pets. She’ll invariably make an expression that I assume is the canine equivalent of a smile. And, much like Padfoot, she appreciates it when I scratch her behind the ears. Apparently that’s heaven for almost all dogs.

My favorite thing about Bonnie the Bouvier so far is her curiosity. As stated above, the place she grew up was quite restricted, and she had very little ability to explore. That’s no longer the case here. We have a playpen in the house, but we also have a decent yard that she can run around in. Admittedly, she isn’t running yet.

That’s the other thing. Watching her waddle unevenly on the linoleum floor, as though she’s just finding her footing, is one of the most adorable things ever. I’m not a human dad yet, and I don’t really want to be, but I’m starting to wonder if this is how parents feel watching their human children take their first steps as toddlers. Perhaps it’s a sense of pride. 

Now, I’m not going to wave away the fact that being a dog owner is a lot of work. A pet is not merely your property. They’re a living being that has needs both physical and emotional. If you have a dog, you’ll need to feed them regularly and pay attention to their dietary requirements. You’ll go to Petco frequently, and there’s also a vet. As confusing as the health insurance system in this country might be for humans, a pet adds another layer to this mess.

And of course, sometimes there’s a literal mess. Come to think of it, I don’t fully understand why the term for toilet training a dog is “housebreaking”, but I didn’t make the rules of the English language. We can talk all day long about how the English language makes very little sense, but enough about that. The house is going to smell like dog shit sometimes, as will the yard, and it adds some unpleasant work, but that’s just what you sign up for. It’s involved when you’re a human parent too.

It’s not just the physical needs of a pet that one must address, however, but also the emotional needs. Whenever Bonnie comes close to me, I put my computer down and take my headphones off so that, at least for a brief moment, I can give her my undivided attention. I want Bonnie to believe that I love her and care about her, because it’s true. Animals are more perceptive than we give them credit for.

Now, I’m not an overly spiritual person. My feelings about religion in general are complicated. One issue that’s often been raised by detractors of the Abrahamic faiths, one reason why It Makes No Sense And Is Arrogant™, is that it’s very human-centered. For instance, Genetically Modified Skeptic, a prominent atheist YouTuber, has released a video about why he doesn’t consider himself a humanist.

For the record, I agree that this is a major problem for anyone who wants to argue in favor of those beliefs being true. If you’re going to posit that dogs, for instance, have thoughts and feelings (and they do), then that opens a Pandora’s Box worth of questions. To paraphrase a famous ‘90s song, the questions start coming and they don’t stop coming.

Do dogs have souls? If so, is there a heaven and hell for dogs? If so, how does a dog get to either one? Is this the same heaven that humans go to? If not, how will the human owner be happy in heaven without their Earthly pet for all eternity? If so, is that human really them or some automaton blindly praising the Lord? If not, and the human is distraught without their dog, are they really in heaven? Why would God create different standards for humans and dogs, anyway? 

We can list these questions until the cows come home, but my point is that a religious person might twist themselves into a pretzel trying to answer all or even any of them. One answer might spawn two more questions, just like the Hydra from Greek mythology. And for the record, not all Christians believe in hell, and their answers to these questions will vary greatly. I don’t want to paint all Christians (or Muslims, for that matter) with a broad brush. Some things just don’t make sense, and “things that don’t make sense” are hardly exclusive to religious claims. 

Just because something sounds crazy doesn’t mean it can’t possibly be true. Yes, Wikipedia states that Gavin Newsom was once married to Kimberly Guilfoyle. That Wikipedia page cites civic records indicating that Gavin Newsom tied the knot with Kimberly Guilfoyle. There might even be archived footage of them as a couple, or news reports about their divorce. We have very strong evidence that Newsom and Guilfoyle were once married to each other.

And yet, if I told you that for the first time, you’d think I was insane. We all remember that video of Guilfoyle at the 2020 RNC, smiling like Cruella De Vil and screaming “THE BEST…IS YET…TO COME!” Some of us even remember the drag queen parody that was somehow less insane than the actual speech. Given that Guilfoyle is a major Trump ally and his nominee for Ambassador to Greece, whereas Newsom is the Governor of the state Republicans love to vilify, it just seems insane that they ever thought of one another as suitable partners in life. But it’s true.

Let’s go back to Bonnie for a moment. I know right now that I’ll give her as much affection as I can bear. That I’ll pet her when I get the chance, give her scratches behind the ears, and whatever else she enjoys. If she craves attention, she will get attention. I’m going to make the most of every day I have with her.

I’m also well aware that these days are limited. That’s why I make the most of them. If we were vampires and death was a joke, as Jason Isbell reminds us, would we feel the need to milk everything we could out of our time? Not likely. 

That being said, I harbor some hope - not faith, but hope - that the indigenous peoples who lived on this land (and elsewhere) thousands of years ago were onto something. The aforementioned Genetically Modified Skeptic rebutted the claim that “religion was invented when the first con man met the first fool”. He basically said that while it’s easy for the more cynical among us to feel that way, there are very real reasons (including from an evolutionary standpoint) why so many ancient cultures came up with what we might call religion today. And yet, part of me feels like if it was so ubiquitous at a time when these societies rarely interacted unless they were at war, it’s at least conceivable that there’s something to it.

If this is true (or maybe even if it isn’t), I like to think of my trip to Ireland last month. I like to think of that mountainous area in Connemara with those impossibly verdant peaks. Sheepdogs roamed more or less freely, getting plenty of exercise and eating grass to their heart’s content. Unlike Padfoot, who only ate grass when his stomach was upset, grazing was an important part of life for these creatures. Although Ireland is not Costa Rica, it might as well be pura vida for these dogs.

If I think hard enough, I can picture one of those hyperactive fluffy sheepdogs, seemingly in heaven on Earth, and wonder if heaven on Earth is literal in this case. 

Could one of those sheepdogs be Padfoot? Could his soul be in one of their bodies? Through being a Good Dog™ in his last life from 2012 to 2024, could he have earned an upgrade to the Emerald Isle in his next life?

Sure, it sounds crazy. I probably sound like one of those crazy New Age people who sells crystals in a run-down building beneath the red rocks of Sedona, Arizona. And that may be true. Or I’ve simply let my imagination run wild, and I’m reading too much into this. I don’t know.

What I do know is that the next time Bonnie comes over to my spot, she’ll get more scratches. She’ll get as much affection as I can give her. And she’ll be loved in a way that wouldn’t be plausible if we were vampires.

Smells Like Autistic Spirit

Infinity symbol sometimes used by autistic people. Image taken from Brainwave.

Autism. I have it.

That’s no secret. I don’t pretend otherwise. That’s just the way it is. And on some level, I like to feel special, because if all of us were the same on any level, it’d be a pretty boring world. It is hard to quantify why I like being one of the special ones. It’s complicated.

Recently I was on a Discord server. That’s pretty common for me, given that I spend hours there a day, certainly more time than I should. But I mentioned that I adored geography, because I genuinely do. That’s one of my bona fide “special interests” to no small degree. 

Seconds later, the server owner responded to me with the words “I smell autism.” And look, there are plenty of autistic people on Discord, particularly in the servers I happen to make myself part of. Half of my online friends have it, at least. I realize that “autistic” has become a highly offensive slur some terminally online people use on 4chan and whatnot, but I want to say that this quote felt pretty flattering.

After I confirmed that the server owner “smelled” correctly, the owner replied that he knew it. 

There are the stereotypes, of course, that autistic people love talking about certain topics. The classic one is trains, whether that be the mechanics of how locomotives work or rail schedules in general. And there are lots of other special interests autistic people have, and I’m not even saying that every person who’s just deeply fascinated by a certain thing is on the autism spectrum. That’s not true at all.

But I’ll share an anecdote from my own life, because I might as well.

When I was about ten years old, I remember seeing the word “autism” on a medical form about myself. Yes, even though I’d been attending speech and occupational therapy since age 2 or so, I wasn’t quite sure why, nor am I sure exactly what I thought. I guess I just figured that every child went to these forms of therapy. 

In any case, I remember freaking out about the word on the form, and my parents had to assure me that it was okay. My brain just worked differently from most other peoples’. I was different, but not deficient. I know this now to be the case, but I didn’t understand it quite as well as a kid.

Come to think of it, there were a few moments as a child when I probably should have put two and two together and thought maybe I’m different from most people.

I’ll provide you with an example. I live in Greater Boston, where there are a surprising number of museums given that it’s an American city, a country that’s supposedly a cultural wasteland. (I’m not even saying I totally disagree with that claim, but it’s not terribly relevant here.) One such museum is the Museum of Science, which is located by the Charles River. 

As a child, I visited the museum quite a few times with some combination of my parents and siblings. There was one particular exhibit that I was drawn to.

Alamy stock image of the “Archimedean Excogitation” sculpture.

It was an audiokinetic marvel officially called Archimedean Excogitation, but that me and my family just referred to as the “ball sculpture.” This sculpture stands more than two stories high and contains a veritable maze of ramps, gears, drums, and chimes that a plethora of billiard balls navigate in perpetuity. A switch will send one ball to the left, the next to the right, and so on. 

Even now, not having been there in person for several years, I can still hear the sound of the billiard balls sliding down that xylophone ramp. I still hear the gears turning. And I can still feel the excitement now - I can induce that childlike wonder in myself even at my current age, even when nothing auditory is happening besides my fingers dancing around on the keyboard.

You can probably guess where I’m going with this: I was obsessed with that thing. I would stand in front of it for at least twenty minutes, and for that period of time, the rest of the world didn’t matter. My “interoception”, a fancy word describing one’s awareness of one’s bodily sensations indicating that you’re hungry or hot or whatever, was likely impaired significantly. I didn’t care what was happening in the outside world as long as I could stare at the exhibit and watch those billiard balls make their way to their destinations, then back to the same ramp so that they can keep going around and around in that circle game. It never ended, and I never wanted to walk away.

My school had field trips once or twice to the Museum of Science, and on both occasions I was allowed extra time in front of Archimedean Excogitation. And I now have a better idea of why I was so entranced by the ball sculpture. The term “sensory heaven” might be almost cliché at this point, but it literally was one of the closest things I’ve had to a spiritual experience.

Another time I should have realized I was autistic was early in elementary school. I remember that in each of my classes, there was an assistant teacher in the room who seemed friendlier with me than with the other students. Or at least, she spent more time with me than with the other students. At the time, I didn’t realize exactly why this was.

But I’ll share a story from this anyway. When I was in transitional kindergarten, which would have been when I was 5 years old or so, the assistant teacher (who I now know was a special education aide) wrote a picture book about me that depicted me and my friends at the time. Sadly, I can’t say I remember the other children shown in the book, and I only have vague memories of the woman who wrote it. However, I still have the book itself in the bedroom of my childhood home.

The book follows me and my fellow TKers as we took part in age-appropriate adventures such as sledding in the abundant New England snow of twenty years ago. Interestingly enough, in that story I’m depicted as being afraid of heights, which isn’t really the case anymore. Nor is it still the case that children can frequently go sledding in my state, as sad as that is. Some things change, but some stay the same.

I remember that at one point, I was depicted swinging my legs beneath the breakfast table while eating, and I didn’t think much of it at the time. After all, that’s just what I did. Had I been old enough to understand my condition, I would have realized that lots of people on the autism spectrum engage in repetitive actions, referred to as “stimming.” Given the context of that scene, I would have been excited to play with my fellow TKer in the attic, so the stimming makes even more sense when you put it together.

It’s also mentioned that I loved to swing, and spent much of recess doing that. Really, I’ve always loved such motions. There was a rocking chair in the corner of my fifth-grade classroom, and I hogged it like nobody’s business, reading a book while using my legs to swing the chair back and forth. I also couldn’t sit still during “morning meeting” on the rug; I’d often curl up in a ball and, again, rock a few inches back and forth. But even with all that motion, I was always the worst in my class at anything involving lots of coordination - case in point, being told to stand on one foot for thirty seconds and requiring many attempts to succeed.

This desire for motion has followed me into my twenties. I still love hammocks and swing gently back and forth, though not with the reckless abandon that many fearless children have. And, though this activity is far from synonymous, I tried paragliding as an adult and found it to be a wonderful sensory experience that defies clean categorization. It helped, of course, to be harnessed to a professional whom I could communicate with, and to know what to expect.

The third and final moment I’ll bring up, which, again, wasn’t exactly a particular moment, is related to the aforementioned topic of special interests.

Again, special interests. A lot of us have them. A lot of us are very proud of them. But mine have evolved considerably during my lifetime so far.

As one example, it was around the time that I first saw the medical form mentioning autism that I became very fascinated by diseases. These included those maladies that had largely been wiped out as of circa 2010 (including those that are sadly making a resurgence such as measles - vaccines truly are a victim of their own success). But then there are plenty of diseases we still have today, and I remember asking my mother if I’d ever had anything serious. That’s when I learned I had viral meningitis when I was less than two months old, sending me down another rabbit hole.

In all fairness, I think part of the reason I found it intriguing is because ever since I was born, I have never had to spend more than a few hours in a hospital. At least, that’s what I believed until I asked my mother that question. The point is, I have no memory of the illness, and even now I only know the sanitized version. I’ll only ever know the sanitized version of what viral meningitis is like unless the disease comes back for round two. If so, I take comfort in the knowledge that my immune system will likely be better prepared the second time.

Anyway, I wanted to know everything about the disease that had made me so sick when I was so small. And from what I’ve read, it’s not pretty. Supposedly I would have screamed myself raw from the agony and my eyelids would be so irritated they’d need to darken the room. I would have been dosed to the gills to various extremely powerful antibiotics, possibly tearing my stomach to shreds. And supposedly, according to a semi-funny part of this story my mother later shared with me, the headaches would have persisted for several weeks after I was healthy enough to no longer be hospitalized. 

And to think…the pathogen responsible for crossing between my blood and my brain, the very unique brain that makes me who I am, would have caused little more than a cold in someone my current age. It was only such an ordeal because of my very young age at the time and the fact that my immature immune system couldn’t cope as well as that of an otherwise healthy adult. (According to some more medically-inclined people than myself, the heavy-duty antibiotics might also have been to protect me from secondary infection, important since a secondary infection would have been very dangerous for someone who’s already seriously ill.)

Now, at one time, I wondered if the meningitis was the reason I later became autistic. Maybe it had cooked my brain or whatever. Knowing what I know now, this is of course totally not true. It’s as much a fiction as the notion that vaccines cause autism, even if not nearly as dangerous. But it would have been an interesting “head canon” for my life.

These days I understand that my brain was already laced with autism by the time I got sick. It had been that way as soon as I’d been cut from my mother’s womb, and probably before that too. Indeed, it’s pretty fascinating how a soul, for lack of a better word, is matched with a body. None of us, whether you’re religious, superstitious, spiritual, or none of the above, has any idea how or why this cosmic lottery works. It just does.

Anyway, that was almost a quarter of a century ago. It’ll be twenty-five years later this summer. So why am I bringing it up now?

Well, combined with the other factors I’ve mentioned in this essay, it was a moment that should have raised a red flag. Or maybe it would have been a green flag because, again, I like feeling as though I’m different. This isn’t even unique to autistic people; the more cynical among us talk about how humans invented religion so that they could think they were unique. That God had chosen them as opposed to any other nation, or any other species. And for the record, I don’t normally love thinking about the veracity (or lack thereof) of any religious claims because it stresses me out. 

These days, I might not be as obsessed with diseases anymore. At a solid 200 pounds, I might be too big for your average swing set. And I haven’t been to the Museum of Science in several years. But that doesn’t negate any of the things I’ve already said.

A while back, my mother confided in me that she’d been told I might one day lose my diagnosis. In other words, it could eventually be determined that I no longer met the criteria by which I’d been labeled autistic. And honestly, that thought depresses me more than I can say.

Don’t get me wrong: If I could be more adaptable to when things don’t go my way, or I could have more social stamina and/or know how to hold an ideal conversation face-to-face with a friend or acquaintance, if that’s why I “lost my diagnosis”, then that’s one thing. In a perfect world, I could be a version of myself with all my good qualities and none of the bad. Leave aside the fact that we don’t live in a perfect world, as well as the notion that, arguably, we shouldn’t want to live in one.

Imagine if I received a lamp and could call a genie. This genie, rather than providing me with the standard three wishes, instead gave me a deal. (Maybe then it’d be a devil instead of a genie, but you get the point). The terms of this deal (whether with a genie or a devil) would be as follows:

Saclux, would you give up your passion and feeling special in exchange for not talking too fast and having no social difficulties?

I’ll admit that I would think about the real challenges I’ve experienced in life. Whether it’s being burned out socially within an hour of joining a party, or my mother constantly asking me to speak more slowly, or my difficulty talking about anything else besides my preferred special interests, I’m not going to deny that it’s not all a bed of roses. Indeed, there’s usually a thorn or two, and sometimes there’s a whole mattress worth of them.

But then, if I could overcome the impulsivity, I would consider the time I’ve spent gazing at a certain site called PlonkIt. I’d consider the time I’ve spent learning the difference between American and Canadian speed signs, or the way you tell Almaty and Aktobe apart based on the bus color, or admiring some of the world’s most unique styles of architecture. 

I’d consider the fact that obsessing over these variations makes me feel like a kid again. It’s the sort of sensation that “Disney adults” crave when they go ape-shit over the live action remakes of their favorite animated classics. And I’d remember the way that, according to my friends and family, my eyes light up when I’m talking about stop signs around the world. The way that they can hear the excitement in my voice. And the way that my evident exhilaration makes them, too, exhilarated. It’s said that emotions are contagious, after all, and people saying that are one hundred percent.

And I would tell that devil to pound sand.

Birthday Musings

Today is my 25th birthday, and I’m lost in a cascade of emotions, to say the least.

Some of the facts are clear. I am now closer to thirty than I am to twenty. That is a sobering thought, to be sure. From here on out my metabolism is going to slow down, if it hasn’t done so already. Eventually, once I reach my forties, my 6’3” frame is going to gradually shrink and my posture will get worse. Supposedly my frontal lobe is now fully developed, but people don’t have to stop learning once they reach twenty-five.

I’m going to get a handful of presents. I didn’t request anything in particular besides a cake; once you attain a certain age, birthdays don’t feel as monumental. But this one, my “silver birthday”, is somewhat different.

When I woke up this morning at about 5:30 AM, still recovering from the jet lag I experienced upon my return from Ireland, I came across the horrific news about Air India Flight 171. And I want to be careful talking about this, because it’s a horrendous tragedy. But hundreds of people have been confirmed dead, including all of the 242 passengers and crew. The Boeing 787-8 Dreamliner, which was scheduled to fly from Ahmedabad to London-Gatwick, crashed shortly after takeoff. 

At time of writing, we don’t know precisely why this crash happened. Transportation safety boards will review the circumstances and come to their conclusion, and hopefully changes will be made to ensure this doesn’t happen again. 

More importantly for the purposes of this post, it’s made me think about how fragile life can be. One day, you’re here - the next day, you aren’t. 

If you’re lucky, it’ll be after a long life, with loved ones by your bed, passing peacefully in your sleep. Maybe you’ll go quietly with very little pain - to the extent that there can be a “good” way to die, it’s something like that.

Now, I want to make one thing clear: I’m not a particularly philosophical person. I don’t spend a lot of time pondering the secrets of the universe beyond what science can reveal. Perhaps I’m a science enthusiast, because it’s always cool to discover what innovations will be unleashed as long as RFK Jr. doesn’t take them away from us. Even with the increase in obesity (which isn’t exclusive to the United States, even if it’s worse here), it’s not like a third of the population dies before age 5 anymore. 

I’m not particularly spiritual either. That’s not to say I haven’t considered questions of faith and similar matters, what in more technical terms is called philosophy of religion. I’m well aware of the problem of evil, and I have at least passing knowledge of theodicy, the subset of philosophy and/or religious apologetics used to explain away said problem of evil. I do not personally pray or go to church, and in general I live my life as though God’s not real. At least, I’d like to think I live to the fullest.

 Truth be told, I don’t pay as much attention to arguments for and against the truth of religious claims as I used to. I find I’m happier when I don’t give it much thought. 

But this milestone, the twenty-fifth anniversary of the day I was cut from my mother’s womb, has forced my hand.

There is what some call the “genetic lottery of birth.” I’m not talking about how where, when, and to whom you are born plays a role in your life’s circumstances. That’s obviously a factor, but it’s not the only factor, particularly in an age when the world is more connected than ever.

Rather, I’m referring to how our personalities end up in bodies. How is a “soul”, for lack of a better word, matched with a body and brain? Even if all that I am, all that might be called a soul, is ultimately a product of this meat computer we call a brain, none of us are privy to how this process works. Does the universe have its own Random Number Generator? Is there any order in all this chaos?

I don’t know. In all probability, none of us on Earth will figure it out in my lifetime. I’m not going to parrot one of those arrogant religious activists who say science can’t answer that, because maybe it can one day. I just don’t know when that day will come. I likely won’t be around to see it.

There’s another matter, which is that of the afterlife. 

I don’t mean to wave away the legitimate reasons many people think there probably isn’t one. Often they point to how traumatic brain injuries can radically change a person’s personality, or how there’s no activity in the brain upon a person’s death. Personally, in the latter case, I don’t see how the absence of evidence is necessarily evidence of absence. Why would a person’s soul have to be physically within their body?

Personally, I don’t know what to believe, or even what I want to believe, with regards to what happens after you die. I’m aware that from a scientific standpoint, it’s very difficult to justify a belief in heaven on empirical evidence alone. And we can have a conversation about whether even eternal bliss would ultimately be less than ideal. Anyone who’s watched The Good Place all the way through (spoiler alert) has probably considered that forever is an unimaginably long time, even if you spend it in the titular paradise.

If I end up in an afterlife, I want something to work toward. It’s said that death is the ultimate motivator; we are incentivized to do whatever we need or want to do now, or at least soon, because one fine morning we won’t be able to. And the world will move on without us, and the people we loved most won’t have been able to hear I love you one last time. 

Again, empirical evidence for an afterlife is incredibly spotty at best. I do not deny that. But there are two reasons I hold out some hope.

One reason is because pretty much every ancient culture came up with something we might consider a religion. Of course, given the many differences between each form of mythology, they can’t all be right about every detail. For all I know, none of them were right about any details. Still, there were plenty of commonalities between many of these belief systems, such as ideas about how the world was created and what happened after you died. And this happened at a time when these civilizations rarely if ever interacted with one another except maybe to go to war. If prehistoric cultures agreed on some spiritual matters, then I think it’s at least conceivable there’s something to it. 

The other reason is because I feel I have to.

I live in the United States, a country where a disproportionate number of people die young. Gun violence in particular is an enormous injustice, a stain on this nation, and even if we were to pass gun control (which I have no serious expectation will ever happen), the children at Sandy Hook Elementary, Marjory Stoneman Douglas High, Robb Elementary, Apalachee High, and so many others aren’t coming back. 

A lot of the media coverage around school shootings centers around the gun control debate (as it should, even if that debate is pretty much over), but what many people don’t fully appreciate is how much these kids missed out on. Their lives were cut incredibly short. In the case of Sandy Hook, it took just minutes of a mentally ill young man’s time to take the lives of twenty literal children, and that just feels so profoundly unfair.

And look: I realize that the world has no obligation to be perfectly fair to us, not remotely. Put more bluntly, wishing it doesn’t make it so. This “argument” for an afterlife isn’t exactly philosophically satisfying, let alone scientifically rigorous. It’s not going to convince any logically mindful person who doesn’t already fervently want to believe. And honestly, I’m not sure I believe it. 

But with how fucked up the world has been lately, particularly the United States, I really hope there’s something else out there. Maybe not eternal paradise, because that might well have its own problems. I just really hope there’s a possibility that somehow, somewhere, things can be made right.

Happy birthday to me, huh?

Destination X: What I Needed

Promotional image for NBC’s “Destination X.” Image taken from IMDB.

Now, I’m not normally the type to watch a lot of TV. Usually, I don’t have the attention span for such shows, a consequence of how much time I’ve spent scrolling through social media. It’s affected all of us, and not in a good way.

That being said, one show seemed like it might be an exception. I received an ad for it on Paramount Plus yesterday, which serves as evidence that the advertisers know, by and large, who I am and what I’m interested in. Of course, that’s not a conspiracy theory - it’s public information. Anyone who pays attention to current events knows how these algorithms work. And yesterday I submitted to them.

At any rate, as soon as I saw a commercial for NBC’s Destination X, I knew I had to give it a watch. I am, after all, an avid GeoGuessr player and geography fanatic. 

The premise of the show is what I’d describe as a combination between Big Brother and GeoGuessr. Basically, ten strangers (though two more contestants are apparently added in the third episode, which doesn’t seem fair) are on this giant bus where the windows are all blacked out. In other words, the contestants have little to no way to tell where they are going. And guess what?

Meme from iFunny with the caption “THAT’S THE POINT!”

The show is hosted by a guy named Jeffrey Dean Morgan. Apparently he was an actor on this obscure show called The Walking Dead. I doubt you’ve heard of it. Anyway, he’s still quite an engaging presence on Destination X, though more on that later.

Now, the first thing I noticed upon searching for this show on Google was that the reviews were pretty middling. As of the moment I searched for it, only about half of Google users liked the show. I’ll admit that at first, I was fairly skeptical that I’d enjoy a TV series that had received such mediocre feedback.

After a few minutes, though, I was in full-on “fuck the haters” mode. Like, seriously. I couldn’t believe so many people disliked Destination X. It’s the perfect show for me, though I’ll acknowledge it might not be perfect for everyone. You need to go into it with a certain mindset.

The cast consists of twelve strangers, all but one of whom live in the United States. There’s one guy, Rick, who lives in Ontario, but he’s apparently originally from Seattle. If he’s one of the people who moved to Canada to escape Trump, I don’t blame him. In all seriousness, of the original ten players, only one could be considered previously famous - Josh Martinez, a former winner of Big Brother.

As an avid, longtime viewer of The Amazing Race, I was eager to check out this travel competition series. That’s a genre I need to search for more members of. According to their cast bios, the contestants are quite well-traveled with the exception of “Biggy”, a dad-gum likable fish out of water from Tennessee. Lots of them have been as far afield as Australia. And you know why I found that shocking upon reading these bios?

These contestants are idiots.

Okay, I’ll admit that’s not the kindest framing. Even if network TV ratings are a fraction of what they used to be, the fact remains that lots of people are watching. The contestants are quite brave for putting themselves out there and exposing their actions (and knowledge, or lack thereof, of European geography) to public scrutiny. I don’t mean to imply that being a public figure in this capacity doesn’t take guts. It does.

If the Facepalm subreddit wasn’t 85% Donald Trump these days, Destination X would be a perfect exhibit for it. I don’t want to spoil too much for readers who might watch, but for people who are as well-traveled as their bios say they are, the contestants sure seem to know very little about what’s almost certainly the world’s most tourist-friendly continent. 

And I know: It’s easy for me to say that, given that I’m obsessed with geography to possibly an unhealthy extent. Maybe I should give these players the benefit of the doubt given that there’s lots of pressure being in front of a camera, not to mention the isolation of being on that blacked-out bus for so long with only each other for company. I don’t want to minimize the fact that reality TV sets are built to break people (again, that’s the point), but I can’t tell you how many times I cringed during the first episode.

Like, it’s no wonder I wasn’t recruited for Destination X. I’d win every single season, and I hope to Arceus that there will be more seasons, because it’s entertaining as hell. I love watching these surprisingly ignorant recruits, including a Coachella grandma, a professional bird-watcher, and an aww-shucks sports bettor, clash over who got which clues to their destination. And yes, I’d bet 100 to 1 that the majority of these players are recruits. 

I guess I should explain how you get eliminated from this show. Well, at the end of every episode, after some people earn clues through challenges and some do not, five players are sent to the dreaded Map Room. As far as I can tell, the Map Room is on the same bus as the contestants’ living quarters. I’ll probably get cancelled for the Harry Potter reference, but this bus must have an Undetectable Extension Charm or whatever it was called in the books. There’s no way the Map Room could fit on it normally.

Each player sent to the Map Room has two minutes to place an X on a map of Europe in a specific location. Ultimately, in the words of the host, they’ve only got to answer one question: Where the hell am I? And whoever “plonks” their X furthest from the actual location must get off the bus, which means they’re eliminated from the competition.

Now, as stated above, this show’s reviews on Google did not inspire the most confidence. But again, fuck the haters. This is amazing.

Seriously, this is the show I needed. After several months spent doomscrolling for hours a day, I could really use a show that’s just intellectually stimulating enough to pay attention to while also being a total hot mess from the standpoint of trashy reality TV drama. Like, it’s a total fever dream. 

The contestants aren’t the only characters here. As stated above, Destination X is hosted by Jeffrey Dean Morgan, a man I’d never seen on TV prior to yesterday, but who ends up being an amazing host. NBC chose perfectly for the role, and I couldn’t laugh harder at how playfully sadistic Morgan sounds when conversing with the contestants. He’s turned Europe into a giant game board, and the players only see what I want them to see. Those are his words, not mine.

Another factor that made me snort was how this show is put together. The production value is through the roof, but not in a way that makes Destination X feel refined or scripted. Rather, the production value is so over-the-top that it loops around to being cartoonish. Whether it’s the host riding in on a motorcycle, or the montages of people donning their high-tech VR goggles and having their vision switched off, it feels so excessive. But again, it’s so breathtakingly entertaining that you won’t care how cheesy it is. I promise.

I can’t tell you how much I needed Destination X. Twenty-four hours ago, I didn’t even know this series existed, and now I’m obsessed. New episodes drop Tuesday evenings (in EST) on NBC, but you can also watch it on several streaming platforms including YouTube TV and Peacock. 

At time of writing, two episodes are available for your viewing pleasure. And I highly recommend you take advantage of them. If you want to watch something related to geography (or just love looking at European scenery in both highly populated and pastoral regions), Destination X is for you. Even if you’re not in the mood for something incredibly intellectual, this is one of the messiest shows I’ve ever seen, in a good way. It’s such a train wreck that you might just love it.

Ireland Impressions

NOTE: If this essay feels disjointed, that’s because it was written over a three-day period and not in one sitting. My apologies.

Hello. Again, it’s been a while. Far longer than it should have been since I wrote one of these up. And there really is no excuse for this - rather, there is a reason.

The way I see it, an “excuse” and a “reason” are two different things. An excuse means you’re trying to dodge responsibility for what happened, whereas a reason means you’re admitting what you did was wrong, you’re just explaining why you did it. But that’s beside the point.

My reason is that I recently traveled to Ireland. This is my second international trip of the year, which also makes it the second international trip since Donald Trump took office. As I wrote this section, I was scheduled to fly home the following day and I’m thankful the airport has U.S. preclearance. If I’m to be rejected at customs, I’ll be denied boarding rather than detained and possibly sent to El Salvador.

In any case, I think I should talk about my trip. 

The purpose of travel, as the immigration agent asked upon our arrival in Dublin, was tourism. It was to celebrate my sister’s graduation from college, so all four of us went. My sister selected the destination based on its literary history, particularly James Joyce (whose most famous work is perhaps Ulysses. More on that later.)

And let me tell you, Ireland is a special place. From the moment the clouds cleared to reveal the northern suburbs of Dublin that lie in the airport’s flight path, I knew I was going to enjoy this vacation. 

Aerial view of some Irish seaside town on the approach to DUB. OC photo taken June 1, 2025.

One of the obvious differences in Ireland is that they drive on the left side of the road. My mother announced she’d take the passenger seat of our rented car, then opened the front right door to reveal the steering wheel. All four of us burst out laughing at that very moment.

As an avid GeoGuessr player, seeing the Irish road signs was quite a treat. The YIELD signs have thicker text than those in America, and the directional signs are bilingual, featuring Irish Gaelic text in italics beside the standard English text. Another way to tell the UK apart from Ireland, of course, is that British signs say “GIVE WAY” rather than “YIELD”. 

Now I’ll talk about some things I noticed in Ireland that, while not exactly culture shock, qualify as notable societal differences with the United States.

I’ll start with the food. For all the talk about how American restaurant food has massive portion sizes, is massively processed, and is therefore massively bad for you, I think I ate less healthily here than I have at home. Of course, part of that is likely because I was on vacation and therefore saw fit to indulge. Additionally, pubs aren’t the only type of restaurant in Dublin, even if they are what the Irish capital is most famous for.

After nearly a week here, what I crave most of all are vegetables. I’m sure there are plenty of veggies if you actually look for them, but I didn’t have too many this week.

And speaking of the portion sizes, it is true that they don’t give you as many fries with your burger as you’d get in the States. However, the burger itself was bigger than most burgers I’ve had on the other side of the pond. The patty was thicker than a hockey puck, and the bun was taller too. It was rather unwieldy to eat, but still delicious.

Again, I’m not naïve to the fact that American food is still worse for you. I’m well aware that the United States is more obese than Ireland on average. But I’ve lived in the USA for my whole life, and your needs as a tourist are generally different from your needs as a resident. 

Of course, like I said above, Dublin has plenty of other restaurants besides pubs. I just didn’t go to many places that would qualify as “other restaurants besides pubs”.

Another cultural difference I noticed was related to renewable energy.

It’s no secret that the United States is not the most environmentally conscious country in the world. Donald Trump is President, and that’s not something that “happened” to us - we, collectively, chose him. At least at that moment in time, there was a preference for a convicted felon and climate denier against a perfectly qualified black woman with more sensible environmental policy, as sad as that is.

The EU is different. As I’m writing this from my hotel lobby in Dublin, it’s very likely that several of the city’s buses have driven by. A massive percentage of these buses, possibly half or more, advertise themselves as producing zero emissions. And I believe it. In addition, when visiting the village of Cong, I was able to spot a gas station. It was priced at about €1.75 per liter, which, if I’m doing my math correctly, equates to over seven dollars a gallon. In the USA, I’ve rarely seen gasoline cost more than $4/gallon. This of course means that gas is taxed more heavily in Europe than it is on my side of the pond.  

Now, I’ll admit that this isn’t really a “culture shock”. After all, in a perfect world, all of us would care about the climate crisis and protecting the environment. But we don’t live in a perfect world. I was pleased to see that the EU is taking significant measures to make things better. And it’s refreshing to visit a place where every politician treats climate change and humanity’s complicity in it as fact.

Another thing I noticed during my time in Dublin was how much it seems to have changed in recent years. While it was my first visit to Ireland, I still found it notable that there were many ethnic restaurants. 

It may not be quite as multicultural as London, but Ireland, once a country that legions of people emigrated from, has become a popular country for people to move to. One day, they should have an immigration museum in addition to their emigration museum. 

I’m not going to say Ireland is perfect in terms of welcoming foreigners. No country is. But when I visited the Guinness factory in Dublin, the exhibit mentioned how progressive the company has historically been. (Admittedly, since it’s the company museum, one shouldn’t take that uncritically). A contemporary employee was quoted as saying that, while a Korean BBQ joint next to a 200-year-old Irish pub might seem disjointed, it works. 

I think that’s an exhibit in how the components of a national identity can change. For much of the last 200 years Ireland was an unattractive immigration destination, to say the least. But that isn’t really the case anymore. Irish national identity now includes people who are Irish by choice rather than by chance. 

Again, I’m one to talk - I live in the USA. But most Irish people (and Brits) probably do not agree with British Prime Minister Keir Starmer’s controversial “island of strangers” speech. Indeed, the people of Ireland were among the friendliest of any place I’ve visited - more on that later.

Now, in case you didn’t know, there’s quite a lot of interesting places to visit in and around Dublin. One such area is pictured just above - the James Joyce Tower in Sandycove. Admission to the tower is free, though you can purchase souvenirs from the gift shop. The tower is known for being where James Joyce lived for six days, and is the setting for the opening pages of Ulysses. My sister, a major fan of Joyce’s, seemed to be in heaven.

Sandycove, which is not to be confused with one of the most horrific days in American history, reminded me of a combination between Cape Cod and San Francisco based on its geography and architecture. There’s a well-known swimming hole in Sandycove known as Forty Foot, which was featured on The Amazing Race 35. 

While walking around Sandycove and the neighboring town of Dun Laoghaire, I was struck by the realization that if I were ever to move to Ireland, this is the sort of place I’d want to live in. It’s a suburb of Dublin with numerous parks and amenities thanks to its mixed-use zoning. I’m sure it’s among the most expensive places to live in an already high-cost-of-living country, but if you can afford it (a big if), it’s probably amazing. Especially because it’s so close to the city!

Speaking of James Joyce, it was during my visit in Ireland that I learned about Bloomsday. No, that isn’t a typo. Instead, it’s a national (or at least local) holiday held every year on June 16, which is the date on which Ulysses takes place. On that day, particularly devoted Joyce fans partake in celebrations at the novel’s portrayed locations throughout Dublin. Some of the most fanatic Joyce readers even walk the whole way as a form of “pilgrimage”, for lack of a better word.

My main anxiety concerning this trip, other than possibly being detained at customs on the way back into the United States, was the way I would be perceived abroad once people learned what country I lived in. It’s no secret that America’s international reputation is in the shitter, and it’s sadly well-deserved. Domestic issues like expensive health care and gun violence are one thing, but when it comes to threatening Canadian sovereignty and doing nothing about climate change, we had no right to elect Donald Trump. Especially when our economic recovery was pretty good under Joe Biden!

So yeah…considering all that, the Irish people had every right to curse us out at any opportunity. It does not matter that I did not personally vote for Trump - the fact that I still need to pay taxes to his administration is bad enough. 

Fortunately, the anti-American sentiment I anticipated largely did not materialize. As stated above, Ireland’s people are some of the kindest out of the 16 countries I’ve visited. In fact, most of them didn’t even bring up Donald Trump unless I mentioned him first. 

Of course, it needs to be said that I took every measure to preempt any animosity centered around my nationality. For instance, I always said “Boston” before I said “USA” when asked where I was from. It’s my general sense (and a group of Canadian tourists I met in a small yet famous village confirmed) that Boston has a better reputation than most American cities. 

Seriously, even other tourists were quite upbeat. My memory is that I met a group of travelers and asked them where they were from (answer: Ottawa, Canada). I then said I was from Boston and was like, “I don’t know what to say right now…but I hate Trump” or something to  that effect. As I figured, however, they get that a lot whenever encountering American tourists, and one remarked that Boston isn’t a MAGA place. After that, I asked one of them to take my photo in front of the statue of an actor from The Quiet Man.

On the whole, the Golden Rule still applies whenever you’re a tourist, even if you’re an American tourist. You treat locals the way you would like to be treated if the shoe was on the other foot - it’s as simple as that. Don’t tell locals you’re Irish just because your great-great-great-grandfather escaped the country during the potato famine of the late 1840s. In general, Europeans care a lot less about which country’s blood you have, and why shouldn’t they - the last time they got obsessed over that, it didn’t exactly end well.

Oh, and whatever you do, don’t wear a MAGA hat. Truth be told, most Americans who visit Europe probably lean left of center (as the right-wingers tend to think the USA is the best country in the world and why would you visit anywhere else), but if you do support that asshole, you’d be wise to keep it to yourself when you’re in a country that’s far less sympathetic toward Donald Trump. 

If I ever go back to Ireland (and I’m likely to one day), I would want to spend more time on the country’s west coast. I might not visit the Cliffs of Moher, since they’re incredibly touristy (even if it’s for a good reason), but I would always relish the opportunity to drive around those impossibly verdant hills and mountains. Seriously, there’s a reason they call it the Emerald Isle.

If you wish to see photos from this trip, follow me on BlueSky at @snowlabrador.

Lessons From The Scale

Hello again. It’s me. It’s been a while, hasn’t it?

Let me just say that it’s been an eventful few weeks since this blog went offline. I felt like bringing it back, though, so here we are. After a rebrand, I’m going to make The Lion’s Lair better than ever before.

Anyway, the other thing that’s different in my life is that I received a sobering health diagnosis. I’m not an old man by any means, but being slightly pudgy has already started catching up with me. My doctor recommended that I lose about ten pounds.

At first, it was a little hard to accept the news. Most people don’t want to accept that they aren’t as healthy as they thought they were. There’s a reason that Sacha Baron Cohen segment with Bernie Sanders, in which Cohen played a man previously oblivious to his horrendously unhealthy lifestyle, was so funny.

When I told my mother about what the doctor’s note said, she talked to me at first as though I were a sick puppy. I’m sure she didn’t mean it this way, but I wanted my other family members to know that I’d rather not be talked to like I have cancer. The fact is, I do not have cancer - at least, I don’t think I do.

I realize that compared to many people who struggle with the size of their waistline, I had a relatively mild amount of weight to lose. I also realize that I'm not at my goal weight yet.However, I want to share my insights anyway. These aren't necessarily revolutionary conclusions that will put scientists to shame - at least, not for many people who’ve lived this struggle. But here's what has helped me the most.

You Get Used To It:

After a few weeks of not eating excessive portions, I get full a little faster than I used to. Previously I might have eaten two or three large plates of food without hesitation, but now my portions are a decent bit smaller. I don’t know if my stomach has shrunk, or if that only happens to people who have bariatric surgery. And obviously, bariatric surgery isn’t recommended for people who are only moderately overweight - it’s a drastic step that, contrary to popular belief, is not an easy way out. I'm by no means depriving myself, of course; any fad diet suggesting to eat extremely little is not to be trusted. The most important reason is because…

It's Not A Diet, It's A Lifestyle:

The word diet, for many people, has the connotation of a temporary restriction on your caloric intake. For better or worse, it doesn't work that way. If you want to keep the weight off in the long term, you need to view it as a permanent lifestyle change.

This doesn’t mean you can never have pizza again. In fact, I’ve noticed that if you allow yourself to indulge once or twice a week, it’s a lot easier to keep these habits up in the long term. If you crave pizza, maybe make it an occasional treat instead of eating it every other night. I’ve personally started only eating dessert on the weekends, if at all.

That's the main reason why fad diets are to be avoided - the changes they suggest aren't realistic to maintain for life. And you want to maintain this for life, for which it's helpful to realize that…

It's Not About What You're Giving Up:

If you are to maintain your lifestyle changes for, well, life, it's best to have a certain attitude. Don't look at your new lifestyle as giving up what you love. The only thing you're renouncing is the extra pounds (or kilograms for non-Americans). In all seriousness, there are plenty of healthy foods that taste delicious. 

One of the hardest parts of losing weight is finding time to cook for yourself, but if you see this journey as an opportunity to find new recipes with healthier ingredients, it'll be far more enjoyable. Sweet potato fries taste at least as amazing when you cook them in the air fryer, and they're a lot better for you than when you get them at a restaurant. It's not about giving things up; it's about finding better ways.

Don't Obsess Over The Scale:

I know. Ironic, right? Before officially starting my weight loss journey maybe two months ago, I often weighed myself every single day. This made it easy to overreact to what basically amounted to a daily fluctuation. This may be controversial here, but I advocate for weekly weigh-ins rather than daily. This way, I believe you'll have a more accurate view of whether you're on track to meet your goal. I'm the sort of guy who likes instant gratification, but this isn't the sort of process that gets you instant gratification. As mentioned above, the weekly weigh-ins also allow you to treat yourself once or twice a week, which is okay as long as you eat healthily the rest of the week (and also makes it easier to maintain the lifestyle in the long term).

Finally, it's easier to eat zero potato chips than one. This is a lesson many of us have learned the hard way, but it's true. Potato chips, like many junk foods, are designed to be addictive. People don’t always think of unhealthy foods as being akin to drugs, but it can be an addiction just like any other. 

Indeed, the difficult thing about a food addiction as opposed to one for alcohol or nicotine is that you need some amount of food to survive. If you’re trying to quit smoking or conquer alcoholism, you can simply quit. It might not be pleasant, which is why I’m glad I don’t smoke or drink in the first place. But food is a biological necessity that you can’t break up from; forging a healthy relationship with it is essential to success.

Again, I'm not pretending to be an expert on everything to do with weight loss. I’m not naïve to the fact that this is a difficult journey for the vast majority of people who attempt it. But this is my personal blog, and I’m just sharing what I’ve observed over the last few weeks.

As of the day I write this post, I’m about 6 pounds down compared to my weight on the morning of my diagnosis. I’m not at my goal yet, but I’m getting there. Say what you will about Andy Grammer’s musical style, but his song “Workin’ On It” has basically become my anthem over the last couple of weeks. 

Different people have different stumbling blocks on this road. I read this AskReddit thread a while back about the hardest part of eating healthily. While some people gave cynical answers like “living in the USA”, the one I related to most was the difficulty of cooking every single meal. But it’s made me more passionate about food, as I become more intentional about what I use as fuel.

The reward is very handsome indeed. At merely 6 pounds beneath my starting weight, walking long distances already seems to put a little less strain on my knees. Family members and a few friends have also said I look a little leaner. I cannot tell you how gratifying that feels and how fervently I wish to remain on this path toward a healthier body. 

Thank you for reading.

Finding Better Ways

Wouldn’t you love a lawn like this? Image taken from the American Meadows website.

Sometimes I go back to a quote from the Australian and American journalist and novelist Geraldine Brooks. Even if I didn’t finish her novel Horse, I still admire Brooks a great deal, especially for this one quote about climate change. 

I’m not naïve to the fact that climate change is a crisis. I’m well aware that my country’s President is effectively taking a flamethrower to the planet, and will try to cut whatever green energy programs he can. But there’s one answer Geraldine Brooks gave in this 2022 interview with the New York Times that really stuck with me.

Brooks was asked what subject she wished more authors would write about. Her response was as follows: 

We have to reframe the story of climate change so that it is not only about renunciation and loss, but also about possibility and joy. A wild lawn full of bees and wildflowers is more beautiful and less work than a dull expanse of toxic ChemLawn; a sunlight-powered electric car happens to be a more sporty drive than a gas vehicle, and a pre-owned treasure discovered while socializing with neighbors at the local Dumptique brings more satisfaction than a plastic tchotchke one-clicked on the internet. It’s not about giving things up but finding better ways.

There’s something beautiful about this. Whenever we read or listen to news about climate change, we’re confronted with statistics about what we are losing; species are going extinct, glaciers are melting, entire major cities might become borderline uninhabitable by century’s end or sooner. I don’t mean to minimize the tragedy that these losses are, nor do I believe Brooks intended to do so.

In my personal life, I’ve noticed these “better ways” showing up. For instance, my father now drives a Rivian, an electric vehicle he’s a major fan of. If climate change did not exist, there wouldn’t be such a demand for these vehicles. My hometown still holds a weekly farmer’s market during the warmer months, and it’s a popular gathering place at a time when “third places” are receding quickly. Without minimizing the bad things that will happen (and are already happening) as a result of the climate crisis, we can find our silver linings, as small as they may be.

I can connect this to my personal life. Now, I’m not going to get too specific about what prompted this recommendation, but my doctor recently advised me to lose about ten pounds. I’m not obese by any means, but I would likely be healthier if I were about ten pounds lighter. So that’s my new goal.

In an era when many of us spend hours doomscrolling, you might think I’d be panicking about my diagnosis. But I decided early on that I wasn’t going to spend hours and hours researching potential complications of my condition. 

My reasoning is fairly simple: All that’s going to accomplish is stressing me out more. Losing ten pounds is the best way to ensure my condition does not progress, and knowing what might happen if I don’t lose that weight doesn’t change the objective. It would have no bearing on my success or lack thereof. Therefore, I need to have the right attitude toward my goal.

Of course, no conversation about my weight or efforts to lose it would be complete without talking about American cuisine. Honestly, I don’t need to tell you about its reputation. Fast food restaurants and stores like Dollar General have taken over the country, to the point where that’s what most people think when they hear the words “American cuisine.”

And if you ask me, that’s a shame. Indeed, that’s putting it mildly. Obesity has overtaken smoking as the leading cause of preventable death in this country, and our food is to blame. But it’s not just the food itself, but the inequities involved.

You see, Dollar General has a very specific and insidious business model. They build stores in impoverished communities - as the Wendover Productions video linked above mentioned, even many tiny towns with no restaurants have a Dollar General. Their business model is to run local grocery stores out of business by offering low prices. But ultimately, it’s more expensive to be poor. 

Terry Pratchett’s “boot theory” is one of the most prominent examples of this, but it’s also relevant to food, especially in the United States. If you’re affluent, you can afford plenty of fresh, healthy food (and you’re more likely to have time to cook it), a gym membership or home gym, a nutritionist if necessary, Ozempic if absolutely necessary, or bariatric surgery in extreme cases. If you’re poor, that’s much more difficult. Additionally, if you don’t have enough money for healthy food, you might have to purchase food that’s cheap at time of purchase, but in the long run (at least in the USA) you’re likely to incur more health care expenses sooner.

Relevant to the issue of climate change, however, is the amount of carbon emissions that come from transporting food. Some estimates suggest it’s as much as 20 percent of overall food-related emissions globally. That’s why we’re often told we should buy and consume what’s grown locally and in season. But that’s not possible for everyone.

In addition to our reputation for being obese, Americans have a reputation for not caring too much about the environment. In many cases, this reputation is well-earned; we do in fact have a climate denier as President, and he did win a free and fair election. Yes, he really did.

But again: If you’ve got enough money, you can afford to eat expensive, locally-grown food. If you don’t, you can’t, at least not as often. This leads me into my next point, which is that “American cuisine” is a tragedy. Not just because of how famously unhealthy it is, but because of what it could be.

USDA plant hardiness zones in the United States as of 2023. With such a diverse range of climate conditions, shouldn’t we have a more diverse cuisine?

It’s no secret that, as much as many American cities look nearly identical to each other, its natural environment is one of the most varied on Earth. Our national parks, for instance, are famous the world over. And we have nearly every climate type on Earth within our borders.

We probably have the best geography of any country from the standpoint of growing a wide variety of food to feed the population. If you look at the cuisine of many other countries, it’s dictated by the climate, since a country’s climate dictates what can grow naturally there. You can’t grow tomatoes in Norway (at least not outdoors), but you can in California - in fact, they grow in abundance!

With all this variety, with so many climate and soil types that can support so many different delicious, nutritious staple foods, it is criminal that we made ourselves known for McDonald’s. Like, that’s a tragedy.

It didn’t have to be this way, and it doesn’t have to stay this way.

Now, back to my personal life. A few years ago, my family bought an air fryer, and I maintain that’s one of the best three-figure purchases we have ever made. Because we’re all trying to eat more healthily, it’s best to limit our intake of potatoes fried in oil. But lots of us, particularly my father, still crave sweet potato fries.

Here’s the answer: Buy some sweet potatoes. Peel them, then chop them into your preferred size and shape. Put a small amount of olive oil on them, as well as salt and pepper if that’s what you prefer. Toss them in the air fryer for about ten minutes, and voila! They taste at least as amazing (maybe even better with the satisfaction of having made them yourself), and they’re far healthier. 

Incidentally, The Damage Report recently covered a story about how McDonald’s, Donald Trump’s favorite restaurant, has seen a decrease in revenue. Host John Iadarola speculated that this may be because prices at the restaurant have risen. Previously, the main selling point of McDonald’s was that it was cheap (at least, at the point when you eat it), but without that, is it still worth buying Mickey D’s? 

It’s been just under a week since I received my diagnosis and resolved to lose ten pounds, but I already feel like I am more passionate about food than I used to be. Isn’t that funny?

Geraldine Brooks’ quote rings true for me. I’m not giving up oily, greasy sweet potato fries - I’ve found a better way to enjoy them. I’m not giving up the enjoyment of delicious food - I’m becoming more cognizant of what I’m putting into my body. And, though my weight loss journey has only just begun, I think my attitude is important. I’m not naïve to the fact that I should lose weight, far from it. But I’m putting a positive spin on it as much as I can.

It’s not a diet, it’s a lifestyle. The key word there is life. The changes you make to your habits should be things you can change for life. And to accomplish that, it’s ideal if you don’t look at what you’re giving up, but instead think about what you’re getting in return.

Things I’ve Learned From GeoGuessr

I know I’ve been woefully inconsistent on uploading these. There truly is no excuse, not that many people happen to read these posts anyway.

In any case, one reason I’ve been rather sporadic is because I’ve spent a considerable amount of time playing GeoGuessr. And yes, I know that GeoGuessr is sort of old news at this point, but as someone who adores geography and intends to study urban planning in graduate school, the game still holds magic for me.

For those of you who are unaware, the goal of GeoGuessr is to pinpoint as close as possible to the location you’re given on Google Street View. I tend to play duels, meaning that I have to get closer to the location than the other person. In terms of clues to look for, there’s any number of them.

A map of traffic directions by country. Red countries drive on the right, whereas blue countries drive on the left. Image taken from Wikipedia.

The map above is the most obvious one. If you’ve got English signage and notice cars driving on the left, do not guess the United States or Canada. It is true, however, that many countries that drive on the left were former British colonies. But then, lots of countries, period, are former British colonies. Nigeria, for instance, drives on the right, which has tripped me up numerous times when I thought it might be Ghana.

Another thing I’ve learned while playing GeoGuessr is that lots of important things are standardized between countries. The ISO (International Standardization Organization) exists to enforce such standards, including the two-letter country codes that are found on many Internet domains. And speaking of Internet domains, that’s another clue you need to be on the lookout for when playing this game.

A map of top-level Internet domains by country. Image taken from IONOS.

I will say that when looking at these codes, it reminds me of how much we’ve become a global society. Yes, we in the United States have “leaders” like Donald Trump who are trying to rip us apart and tear up alliances with other countries. And I don’t mean to minimize how serious things are when he’s literally called Canada the “51st state” and has referred to their former Prime Minister as “Governor Trudeau.”

But back to these codes. It maybe, just maybe, gives me the tiniest shred of hope for global unity. Like we all agree on one thing, even if Trump is sabotaging things as best he can.

Speaking of these Internet codes, it serves as a reminder of how rapidly the world has changed in just the last few decades. During my last semester at university, I was honored to take a course in Internet Geography in which the professor illustrated the numerous ways in which this technology has fundamentally altered the way we live our lives. I’d imagine that for anyone under a certain age, it’s nearly impossible to imagine a world without websites and information that can be at your fingertips within seconds.

It’s not just the societal impacts of the Internet that have struck me, but also the absurd amount of infrastructure that has been put in place to keep it running. As of 2015, which is admittedly a lifetime ago in today’s world, the Internet still relied upon undersea cables to transmit data signals. How the hell were they set up?

Speaking of this standardization, every country (or at least, almost every country I’ve played on GeoGuessr) has stop signs and those red triangular signs that tell you to look for oncoming traffic. The latter signs are a key element of the game’s “meta” that might tell you where you are.

For instance, say you have a “50/50” between the United Kingdom and the Republic of Ireland. Since these two countries’ pastoral landscapes are fairly similar outside cities, one key difference is those red triangular signs that say “Yield” in the USA. If that sign also says “Yield”, then you’re in Ireland - the Republic of Ireland, that is. (The British ones tell you to “Give Way”, which I unironically find rather amusing). 

The obvious thing to look for are road signs. The language on said signs can narrow the country down, but once you get to the higher rankings of the game and they start giving you more difficult locations, you can’t count on having very many road signs. That’s when you start looking for other clues, such as the color of the bollards. (And seriously - prior to playing GeoGuessr, I didn’t even know what a bollard was).

When all else fails, it helps to consider the vegetation and how well-kept the road seems to be. I’ll provide an in-game screenshot.

A screenshot I took from a GeoGuessr game. The location was somewhere in South Ostrobothnia, Finland.

Take this round as an example. Based on reading a few websites dedicated to the game’s meta (such as GeoMetas and PlonkIt), I knew that within the Nordic nations of northern Europe, if you saw a gravel road with lots of pine trees on either side, you would most likely be in Finland. It probably makes me a huge nerd to be 85% sure of the country without even seeing a road sign, but it’s true.

Speaking of Finland, the Finnish language is relatively easily recognizable. It’s considered one of the most difficult languages to learn for a native English speaker, because it’s not related to most other European languages. Nope, not even Swedish. That being said, you don’t really need to know what the sign says to be able to tell languages apart. For instance, the Finnish language has lots of double vowels and very long words, so you can tell it apart from Swedish fairly easily.

That being said, there is a sizable Swedish-speaking minority in Finland, most of whom live along the west coast of the country in the Ostrobothnia region. Therefore, if you see Swedish signage in an otherwise Finnish setting, you would be wise to guess around the west coast.

Another screenshot from a GeoGuessr game I played. The location was on the island of Samar in the Philippines.

Here’s another example. This round felt Southeast Asian with all the coconut trees, rice fields, and motorcycles. Seeing that the people drove on the right eliminated Thailand, Malaysia, and Indonesia, and this area seems too rural to be Singapore. Vietnam is not on Google Street View and therefore will not show up on a GeoGuessr duel. Finally, the signage was in the Latin alphabet, ruling out Cambodia and Laos. 

The only remaining option was the Philippines, which I guessed here. I thought the location would be in northeastern Mindanao, near the popular surfing island of Siargao (which was the subject of the Red Hot Chili Peppers song “The Longest Wave”). For the record, the location was actually in the Eastern Visayas island of Samar, though I still guessed closer than my opponent. If you see brightly colored minibuses known as jeepneys, you’re in the Philippines. 

A third screenshot from a GeoGuessr game I played. The location was eastern Colorado, USA.

Finally, when all else fails, you should hope you’ve spent enough time looking at atlases. Given how spread-out everything was, the green street signs, and the grain elevators, I had reason to believe this location was in the Midwestern United States or the High Plains within the same country. But that doesn’t narrow it down much; due to its geographic area and relative homogeneity in its built environment, the USA is the second-worst country to get in GeoGuessr after Russia, which is difficult for similar reasons.

That green sign pictured above saved my sorry ass. I happened to know that there was a place called Kit Carson County in eastern Colorado. Colorado, of course, is well-known for its mountain scenery, but the eastern part of the state is largely on the Great Plains and very agricultural. That’s not the part most visitors go to. 

When I guessed this location, I was only 24 kilometers (about 15 miles) away from the goal. Like I said earlier, you cannot rely on signage to rescue you. But when it shows up, it can indeed be your salvation.

If you’ve read this far, I would like to thank you for doing so. I’m aware that it reads like the transcript of one of my hyperfixations…which, to be fair, it pretty much is. 

As of the time I write this, I am in the Gold II division in GeoGuessr with an Elo of 600 that keeps fluctuating up and down. I’m pretty good at the game, but I’m a world away from Trevor Rainbolt. The thought of playing the game while skydiving hasn’t really crossed my mind. But it has crossed his.

Reflections on Europe

I apologize for my absence. The three regular readers of this blog are most likely wondering where the hell I went after being so faithful for…a week or two.

Well, now I’m answering that question. I was on vacation. In fact, as I write this post, I’m on a trans-Atlantic flight back home. It’s an eight-hour haul with a little over six hours to go, and the Wi-Fi is out. But that’s okay. We human beings weren’t meant to be plugged into the algorithm 24/7.

The reason for my trip was to celebrate my graduation from college. I was allowed to select a destination within reason, and the country I had wanted to visit ever since seeing it on The Amazing Race in 2023 was…Slovenia. 

I traveled with both of my parents. Maybe I’m a little old for that, but whatever. It was and is my first trip abroad since Donald Trump was reelected President in 2024, so I felt rather wary of how I would be perceived. After all, it’s no secret that Americans are persona non grata all over the world, but particularly in Canada and Europe. In specific terms, I don’t know exactly what I should have been afraid of given that Europe has far fewer firearms than my own country.

Even so, I bought a backpack with the Canadian flag on it and used it on this trip. This is a practice known as “flag-jacking” that originated during the George W. Bush presidency after he invaded Iraq. Canadian tourists, after all, have much better reputations abroad than Americans. I did not exactly pretend to be Canadian; when pressed I told people the truth. I just wanted to send a message that I do not approve of my country’s administration.

As it turns out, I may have been overthinking this all along. Most people I met didn’t ask me about my country’s politics. It turns out that Reddit is not real life - who would have thought?

There was one exception. While I was touring the Postojna Caves (more on that later), one of the people beside me asked me if I liked Trump. Needless to say, I gave him a resounding no and asserted that Americans who support Trump generally don’t travel to Europe very much.

So I visited two countries on this trip, Italy and Slovenia. We flew into Venice, which is not worth it. It might be the closest major airport to our next destination, but the city itself is basically a floating souvenir shop. Except that it’s not floating at all, instead slowly sinking into the Adriatic Sea. 

It’s been said before, but very few people actually live in Venice these days. The detractors who refer to the city as “Veniceland” have a point. Once upon a time, it must have been amazing given how much history is in that place. Nowadays, it feels like a Disney version of Italy. In early spring it was already a zoo, and in midsummer it’s probably as crowded as a pandemic-inducing factory farm. The locals would be fed up if there were any locals to begin with. 

After two days in Venice, my parents and I rented a car and drove a few hours northward. The first thing I noticed was just how much less traffic there was. According to urbanist YouTuber Not Just Bikes, countries with robust public transit and walkable cities are (perhaps ironically) also ideal for drivers. The reason is because not as many people there need to drive, therefore those people who do drive want to drive. 

This stands in stark contrast to us Americans, who mostly get our licenses at age 16. In America driving is seen as a right and necessity rather than a privilege. But that’s a subject for another day.

I also noticed that the roads in Italy were in far better condition than those at home. Seriously - I live in one of the most affluent parts of the United States and potholes are common. Even when there aren’t potholes, major roads are still far from even much of the time. The Italian motorways were almost spotless. 

We stayed in the ski town of Cortina d’Ampezzo. I am in fact an avid skier, having partaken in the sport since I was six years old. And let me tell you, it was the polar opposite of Venice.

Despite Cortina’s reputation as a glitzy resort that attracts tons of visitors from all around the world, the town felt virtually free of tourists. There were some, yes, but I saw plenty of locals around too. I even bought a new pair of sneakers at a department store where the employees spoke lackluster English (though it was admittedly still far better than my Italian). There’s something immensely gratifying about going somewhere locals or domestic tourists visit.

The skiing was, in absolute terms, not ideal. At lower elevations of the resort, it was very much slush season. In late March, of course, this was hardly unexpected. In fact, relative to what time of year it was, the upper part of the mountain might as well have been Hakuba. All of this, with minimal crowds!

My favorite memory from this part of the trip will likely always be the cooking class my mother and I signed up for. One of the hotel’s chefs walked us through the process of making ravioli with beet filling. Even if we paid good money to take part in it, the activity still felt like an honor.

Think about it. All of us live in a world of vastly increased globalization relative to how it was thirty, even twenty years ago. It’s a lot more common for Americans to watch Indian movies or South Korean TV shows. Conversely, American retail chains can be found all over many European cities despite some Europeans’ best efforts to boycott them.

Italy is another example of a “cultural superpower.” There’s a reason Italian restaurants can be found all over the world. There’s a reason the peninsula received more visitors in 2023 than all but four other countries. Thanks in part to mass media, most people have at least a cursory understanding of why someone would want to visit Italy. 

There is something almost spiritual about this globalization, and yet it has its downsides as well. Indigenous languages are declining, as are some languages that have official status in one or more nations as many people turn to English as a “default” lingua Franca. Some people say that cultures are all becoming the same…

…which is one reason why the cooking class felt incredibly special. At a time when some restaurants are chastised for mass-producing their food, at a time when much of the produce at my local grocery store was sourced from other countries, the people in and around Cortina have been using fresh ingredients to make their ravioli for hundreds of years. The chef aims to keep this practice alive even in an age when that might become more difficult. 

While many of us rely on AI to do simple tasks, the chef who taught the cooking class did not. My mother and I tried to revel in the manual task of rolling out the dough and painting the edges of each dough circle with water. (That is one reason my mother took up ceramics). What dough could not be used was put in a bowl, where it would be used to make pasta in the near future. No ingredients would go to waste. 

My biggest takeaway from the cooking class was this: Just because something is a tradition doesn’t always mean it’s bad. 

At the end of the class, we got to keep our aprons and were given the recipe to make the dumplings at home. We’ve promised my father that we will make them in the near future. 

We drove to Bled, Slovenia the next day. Now, believe it or not, you can’t drive directly from Italy to Slovenia. Or at least, it takes a lot longer to. The reason for this, I presume, is the mountain range along the border. Unlike the Americans who built I-70 in Colorado, Europeans were unwilling to “pave paradise and put up a parking lot”. But whatever - three countries for the price of two.

Bled is best known for sitting on the shore of the lake of the same name. The lake is probably Slovenia’s best-known tourist attraction; acccording to photos, it’s bright blue whenever it’s sunny out. Of course, the keywords are when it’s sunny out - we hardly got any sun when we were there.

Our hotel, the Rikki Balance, at least had a wonderful view of the lake even without the sun. Supposedly the hotel was named after a Swiss doctor who helped discover the health benefits of the area’s mineral resorts. Lake Bled was a pleasant place to walk around, and we even took a pletna boat to the island in the lake’s center because that’s what you do when you’re a tourist there.

That’s the other thing: Sometimes a tourist activity is popular for a reason. It doesn’t have to be undiscovered to be worthwhile. The place reminded me of Lake Winnepesaukee in New Hampshire, except that the mountains surrounding Lake Bled are much higher.

While Bled isn’t suffering from overtourism nearly to the degree of Venice, I couldn’t help but observe that it wasn’t a place where many people actually lived. Most residents were probably employed in hospitality. 

The other minor gripe I have with Bled is that for a place with as many tourists as it gets, there weren’t too many restaurants. Yes, I understand that might make me sound like an Ugly American™ - and in fact, most US towns of this size have mostly fast food joints. But we had only two days there and ate at the same restaurant twice. Indeed, if you count the hotel’s buffet as a restaurant, there were two such cases in Bled.

Bled does, however, have that famous cream cake. I’m not normally one for whipped cream, but when it was on the menu, my diet went out the window. And it was on the menu everywhere in Bled. (Why shouldn’t it be? It’s a local culinary specialty.) Even if food in Europe is generally healthier than it is in America, I still won’t be surprised if I’ve put on weight this trip.

We spent two days in Bled before driving to the capital city of Ljubljana. Now, in case you didn’t know, there’s a well-known town called Postojna that’s home to some caves. One of the longest cave systems in Europe, in fact! It’s no wonder that plenty of people were there, such an international crowd that the tour guides don’t bother speaking to the guests - instead, we were given audio guides programmed to the language of our choice.

Let me tell you: The caves are well worth visiting. The karst limestone caverns formed over a period of millions of years. When people say they travel to Europe for history, that’s not generally the type of history they think of. And yet it’s somehow even more spectacular than the cathedrals. In the time it took to build the Sagrada Familia, each stalactite and stalagmite grew about a centimeter at most. It really brings to mind how minuscule our existence on this planet is by comparison.

In the grand scheme of things, it was not that long ago that spelunkers risked life and limb to dig some of these tunnels through pitch-blackness. Nowadays, tourists from all over the world can pay to take a train down and safely explore this underrated natural wonder. There was a gift shop at the end, which had a selection of children’s books like The Dragon In Postojna Caves. I bought a sweater that I intend to wear decently frequently.

Finally we reached Ljubljana, our final stop on the trip. As European capitals go, it’s relatively small, with only about 300,000 people living there. The old town, where we stayed, is centered around the Ljubljanica River. And let me tell you: It’s hard to overstate how excellent the location of the hotel was. Thanks, Dad.

Ljubljana is known as the City of Dragons - one of the most notable bridges over the river is called the Dragon Bridge due to the green statues on all four corners of it. Legend has it that the hero Jason of Greek mythology slayed a dragon there. 

Although I’d imagine very few present-day Slovenes actually believe in dragons, the mythical fire-breathing creature still holds significant sway over the capital city’s history and culture. Dragons feature prominently on Ljubljana’s capital and coat of arms. Most of the souvenir shops dotting the old town sell dragon plushies, dragon sweaters, dragon pendants, or even dragon-themed chocolate. I’m not kidding about that last one.

Ljubljana, in my mind, isn’t “becoming” the next big thing in Europe. It’s already there. While it wasn’t nearly the zoo that Venice may have been, early spring is not peak tourist season in the Slovenian capital. According to a waiter at one of the restaurants we ate at twice (which my father claims made the best hamburger he’s ever eaten), in the summer Ljubljana is like Venice. Given that he spends orders of magnitude more time there than I do, I’m inclined to trust his word on that.

In my experience, Ljubljana was somewhat touristy. There’s a dedicated Tourist Information Center near the Dragon Bridge, and many people were taking selfies in front of a cathedral. I even saw some graffiti telling tourists to go home. 

While I’m not trying to minimize the very real negative impacts that mass tourism can have, I will say that I felt welcome. Even when people found out I was American, they treated me well. 

Now that I have a little over an hour before I land at Boston Logan, I want to gather my final thoughts about Europe and Slovenia in particular.

First of all, the café/restaurant culture is very different from what I’m used to. In the United States, many people get coffee at a drive-thru. It’s physically, environmentally, and emotionally unhealthy - that’s no secret. Everyone is in a hurry at restaurants in America. This isn’t the case in Europe, where cafés are a very common “third place” for people to hang out and linger over drinks.

Part of this is because most American cities are not remotely walkable. And even in the more walkable ones like my beloved Boston, restaurants seldom have much outdoor seating. When my local “Irish pub” reopened during the initial deployment of COVID vaccines in the spring of 2021, all the seating was outside. Yes, it was in a former and future parking lot, but I miss outdoor dining in the States. I wish that feature had continued. 

Another thing I noticed was just how green everything was. At the end of March, some buds were poking out, and I can only imagine how colorful Ljubljana must be in May or June. And it’s not just green in terms of vegetation, but also in terms of infrastructure.

You see, every year a city in the European Union is awarded the title of “European Green Capital” for their efforts against the climate crisis. Ljubljana won this award in 2016, and the locals are quite proud of it, as they should be. In the absence of an Internet connection, I can’t tell you precisely how the winner is determined, but I saw very little trash on the streets. And of course, it’s very easy to walk around the compact city - the only vehicles allowed in most of the old town seemed to be the police, presumably other emergency vehicles, and the electric tourist train. 

This extends to the country’s natural heritage. Slovenia’s coat of arms contains the country’s highest mountain, Triglav, and waves to represent its short coastline. Every sane person on this Earth understands that we must protect the environment, but this need feels especially prescient in a country with such natural beauty in such a small expanse. I mean, the place is smaller than the Netherlands, yet it has mountains that were once glaciated, evergreen forests, bright green fields as far as the eye can see, and an Instagram-worthy coastline on the Adriatic. 

As much acclaim as the nature in the United States gets, it’s a lot less accessible to the average resident. America  is massive, and internal transportation is in a sorry state indeed. It’s only likely to get worse under the Trump administration, but it wasn’t great to begin with. Slovenia is far more friendly to people with a limited amount of time - I was only there for four days and feel like I did the country right.

My last observation is that the flag of Slovenia, (which is roughly the same colors as the Russian flag except for the coat of arms in the upper left part of it) was seen frequently. Of the fifteen countries I’ve visited besides my own, Slovenes probably flew their flag more than anywhere but the USA. 

In the US, flying the flag on your property is coded as right-wing. The patriotism, nationalism, or whatever you want to call it is constantly in your face. It’s like people think you’ll otherwise forget what country you’re in. 

By contrast, Slovenia has a lot more things to be proud of. It’s a much smaller country (population only 2.1 million) that’s often overshadowed by its neighbors. They don’t bully people around like America does. Their patriotism is a lot gentler and honestly simpler. I’d even say it’s better. They’re not saying they’re better than anyone else, after all.

I’m sure that Slovenia isn’t a perfect place. If you live in Ljubljana or Bled, I have to imagine that tourism has driven your cost of living skyward. Inflation is probably higher than in the US (for now) thanks to the major war a mere two countries away. 

And yet, as I take myself back to the very pedestrian-friendly streets of Ljubljana, which have been there under several empires prior to the modern-day Republic of Slovenia, I’m convinced that you could do a lot worse.

Overall, I’m very glad I made the trip. As convinced as I am that the contestants on The Amazing Race 35 were paid to remark on how beautiful Slovenia is, that really wasn’t necessary. The scenery speaks for itself, as do the 2.1 million people who are lucky enough to call the country home. As long as you are willing to be a respectful visitor and don’t mind a connecting flight if you’re not from Europe or Dubai, I can’t recommend Slovenia enough. I might describe it as a more budget-friendly version of Switzerland.

All the photos below were taken by yours truly.

Blog Post Title One

It all begins with an idea. Maybe you want to launch a business. Maybe you want to turn a hobby into something more. Or maybe you have a creative project to share with the world. Whatever it is, the way you tell your story online can make all the difference.

Don’t worry about sounding professional. Sound like you. There are over 1.5 billion websites out there, but your story is what’s going to separate this one from the rest. If you read the words back and don’t hear your own voice in your head, that’s a good sign you still have more work to do.

Be clear, be confident and don’t overthink it. The beauty of your story is that it’s going to continue to evolve and your site can evolve with it. Your goal should be to make it feel right for right now. Later will take care of itself. It always does.

Blog Post Title Two

It all begins with an idea. Maybe you want to launch a business. Maybe you want to turn a hobby into something more. Or maybe you have a creative project to share with the world. Whatever it is, the way you tell your story online can make all the difference.

Don’t worry about sounding professional. Sound like you. There are over 1.5 billion websites out there, but your story is what’s going to separate this one from the rest. If you read the words back and don’t hear your own voice in your head, that’s a good sign you still have more work to do.

Be clear, be confident and don’t overthink it. The beauty of your story is that it’s going to continue to evolve and your site can evolve with it. Your goal should be to make it feel right for right now. Later will take care of itself. It always does.

Blog Post Title Three

It all begins with an idea. Maybe you want to launch a business. Maybe you want to turn a hobby into something more. Or maybe you have a creative project to share with the world. Whatever it is, the way you tell your story online can make all the difference.

Don’t worry about sounding professional. Sound like you. There are over 1.5 billion websites out there, but your story is what’s going to separate this one from the rest. If you read the words back and don’t hear your own voice in your head, that’s a good sign you still have more work to do.

Be clear, be confident and don’t overthink it. The beauty of your story is that it’s going to continue to evolve and your site can evolve with it. Your goal should be to make it feel right for right now. Later will take care of itself. It always does.

Blog Post Title Four

It all begins with an idea. Maybe you want to launch a business. Maybe you want to turn a hobby into something more. Or maybe you have a creative project to share with the world. Whatever it is, the way you tell your story online can make all the difference.

Don’t worry about sounding professional. Sound like you. There are over 1.5 billion websites out there, but your story is what’s going to separate this one from the rest. If you read the words back and don’t hear your own voice in your head, that’s a good sign you still have more work to do.

Be clear, be confident and don’t overthink it. The beauty of your story is that it’s going to continue to evolve and your site can evolve with it. Your goal should be to make it feel right for right now. Later will take care of itself. It always does.