Notes on watching the World Cup in an airport bar

I am a soccer nerd. As a player, I am merely semi-competent, although I do have precisely one good move--the step-over turn--and will totally burn you with it, at least until you catch up two seconds later. As a fan, I am somewhat less than a European hooligan, but decidedly more enthusiastic than the average American. Our national attitude toward the beautiful game is pretty well summed up by the header at the top of The Onion's sports section, which has links to the site's sub-sections, in this order and with this wording: baseball, basketball, football, hockey, motorsports, women's sports/soccer.

But it's amazing what a little bit of success in a major international competition can do, at least temporarily. Last year, when the American men's team made a minor run in the World Cup in South Africa, the zeitgeist briefly made room for terms like offside trap, back-heel pass, vuvuzela, and What the hell are you doing, Landon Donovan? And in 1999, famously, the Women's World Cup had its fleeting but bright moment in the national spotlight, with Brandi Chastain's screaming celebration, after making the winning penalty kick in the shoot-out against China, becoming an iconic photo, gracing the covers of Time, Newsweek, and Sports Illustrated.

Still, few Americans this year seemed to realize that the Women's World Cup was underway. I'll confess that although I read game re-caps, I didn't actually see a single group-stage game aside from a couple of YouTube highlights.

And then came The Goal. Abby Wambach's laser-precise header off a brilliant cross from Megan Rapinoe in the game against Brazil. (Sadly, I can't find any videos of it--they've all been taken down for copyright violations. If you haven't seen it, though, know that it is bona fide gorgeous). Suddenly, the nation awoke. Abby Wambach became a trending topic on Twitter. Lil' Wayne tweeted his congrats, as did, well, seemingly everyone. (My favorite part of this, by the way, was that Rapinoe also got her due. Americans love the goal-scorers--in any sport--but have a tendency to overlook the people who do all the set-up work. It was nice to see an outside midfielder--my old position--get her richly-deserved praise for the phenomenal service.)

There was no way I was going to miss the final, not as a confirmed soccer nut but also, suddenly, not as an American with even a passing interest in sports. Just one problem: I was going to be on an airplane, coming back from my cousin's wedding in Philadelphia (mazel tov, Jason and Emily!). My plane would arrive at MSP midway through the second half. If I planned right, I could find a television and watch the end.

When I left MSP on Friday, I grabbed an airport map so I could plan a route to a bar at the airport. I packed lightly so that I could carry on my bag and sprint of the airplane. And when I landed on Sunday, that's what I did--I ran off the plane and straight to the French Meadow.

Which was packed. I mean, packed. All the seats at the bar counter were taken, as well as all the tables with even a partial view of the restaurant's two small-ish screens. A low fence separated the restaurant from the concourse, where another two dozen or so people stood staring, rapt. I joined them.

Really crappy phone-camera image of the scene.
But you get the idea.

Eight reactions to getting galleys from your publisher

1. Initial anticipation
The UPS guy delivers a large parcel for you. From Penguin. Admire the packaging. Never before has bubble wrap looked, to your eyes, so much like a Fabergé Egg. (What, you don’t see it?) But now the anticipation is killing you—stop gazing and open the dang thing already.  

2. Wild-eyed, kid-on-Christmas-morning glee
Get a knife. Slice carefully, trying very hard, in your shaky-handed giddiness, not to lop off a finger—or, worse, even slightly knick those precious, precious galleys.

3. Cinematic moment of discovery and triumph
Open the bubble wrap and pull out a galley like Indiana Jones unearthing an ancient, possibly-magical relic. Listen for the John Williams soundtrack soaring in the background.

 

4. Savor
Stare. For a good long time.

 

5. High-five Mary Tyler Moore.

6. A Toast!
Introduce your new friend Galley to your dear old pal Vintage Frommer’s Guidebook, the book your book is basically all about. Buy them each a drink. Let the conversation flow.

7. Back To Work
Realize you still have to review the galleys and make some last-minute updates and corrections and fix that one really awkward paragraph that has been confounding you for months.

8. Share the Moment
Also realize you should remind people of some important info, because after all that work, you think you've actually maybe done an okay-pretty-good job (especially once that paragraph is fixed) and it would really be pretty sweet if people, you know, actually bought it, read it, enjoyed it.

Pre-order links:

• IndieBound (consortium of independent booksellers; it's also the best place to find your local indie store): http://bit.ly/E5WT_Indie
• Amazon: http://amzn.to/E5WT_Amazon
• Or just give your friendly local bookseller the ISBN: 0399537325. 

Also, please keep in touch!

Sign up for the e-newsletter to get updates on book launch events and info. (Two options: you can sign up for semi-regular updates from me or, if you prefer, just a reminder when the book comes out. I promise to keep it short, sweet, and sporadic--no spam.)

And! Andand. To keep in touch the old-fashioned, pen-and-paper way, send me a real letter/postcard/aerogram (template! over! here!). I promise to write back and I just might feature it in my Postcard Gallery. You can write to me at:

Doug Mack
PO Box 1922
Minneapolis, MN 55458-1922

Guidebooks of doom and the new Chinese Grand Tourists

These links are a bit old, but still of note: 

1. Guidebooks to Risky Attractions Stir Up Trouble in Paradise

The Wall Street Journal reports that in Hawaii, too many tourists are doing dangerous-slash-stupid things based on guidebook recommendations. So many, in fact, that the state legislature is considering a law to "hold Hawaii guidebook writers personally liable for deaths or accidents at spots they recommend."

I think it bears repeating: the best guide is some common sense. 

2. The Grand Tour: Europe on fifteen hundred yuan a day (from The New Yorker)

There's that old headline trope again: Europe on [monetary amount] a day, the cheap journalism cliche that originated with, of course, Europe on Five Dollars a Day, and now just won't stop. In any case, though, this article offers an interesting insight into the newest generation of Grand Tourists. Many of the points and anecdotes are similar to those in the Economist article from last year about Chinese Grand Tourists, although it's still fertile ground for storytelling. 

In the front row of the bus, Li stood facing the group with a microphone in hand, a posture he would retain for most of our waking hours in the days ahead. In the life of a Chinese tourist, guides play an especially prominent role—translator, raconteur, and field marshal—and Li projected a calm, seasoned air. He often referred to himself in the third person—Guide Li—and he prided himself on efficiency. “Everyone, our watches should be synchronized,” he said. “It is now 7:16 p.m.” He implored us to be five minutes early for every departure. “We flew all the way here,” he said. “Let’s make the most of it.”

As long as the demographics of tourists keep changing--that is, as long as more people from more places and more backgrounds start traveling--the tourist trail will continue to evolve, to have fresh stories, to retain an intrinsic newness and intrigue. Each person, each culture passing through, leaves its own mark.  

An Amsterdam pirate speaks

So back in Amsterdam, on our first night together, Lee and I went to a pirate bar. You can guess whose idea this was--and which of us was somewhat convinced that he was about to inadvertently donate his skeleton to the  decor of the place. For the full story, go back and read my post "Scenes from a pirate bar in Amsterdam."

You know who else read it? Pirates. Amsterdam canal pirates. Apparently pirates read blogs. Apparently pirates, like the rest of us, like to search for themselves on the internet. (For that reason, allow me to state: Blackbeard, if you ever decide to start plundering bakeries, I'd be happy to help. Yo, ho, ho and a barrel of pain au chocolat.) Because a couple of days ago, I got a comment on that year-old post. It's disappointingly free of piratese and seafarer lingo--nary an "Aaarrr" or "Matey" or the Dutch equivalent, whatever that may be--but it's still pretty interesting. Quoth the pirate:

As one of the people working in the pirates bar, I have to comment on this, as I see it, funny post. It sounds like you entered pirates at about 10.30 pm, if at that time it was your fourth bar, you just started too early, mostly all parties start after 11 pm. I think you witnessed a pub-crawl comming every night around 10.45 pm, after that, the night starts. Yeah, there are a lot of english people on the pub-crawl, but you should have been there after 12.30, when most dutch people come to town...

Still hope you enjoyed our bar, and maybe see you another time...

Yes, Amsterdam Pirate, if Lee and I are ever in Amsterdam together again, we will definitely have to stop by and say hi. Or "Aaarrr." And, truly, thanks for clearing up the mystery of the sudden influx of Brits. We did ask a random person if it was a pub crawl, and he said no, but perhaps we just happened to ask the one person who happened to have wandered in on his own.

Also, let it be noted that the International Talk Like a Pirate Day web site has an entire page of Dutch translations of pirate vocabulary and expressions. Like:

Buit / scheepsbuit  booty, swag

Kielhalen  to drag someone along the keel of the ship

Schatkist  treasure chest

AND that same page has Dutch pirate songs. Seriously. Amsterdam Pirates Bar employee, if you're listening: mass pirate song sing-alongs would really enhance the spirit of your bar. You know those carousing Brits would love it. 

I've got mail

As noted recently, as part of my campaign to bring back the handwritten letter/postcard/aerogram, I now have an official post office box. Write to me! And I'll write back and/or, if you don't mind, put your postcard here on the blog.

Like these wonderful pieces of correspondence, which were waiting for me when I did my inaugural mail run a few days ago. Thanks to the two mystery correspondents! 

First, a postcard (with an Eiffel Tower design on the front) from someone in San Francisco: 

And! This letter from none other than Oracle CEO Larry Ellison*:

* Or perhaps--just maybe--an imposter with a sense of humor and access to Oracle letterhead. 

Keep 'em coming, please! Postcards, fake CEO notes, silly tourist photos, aerograms (template! over! here!), pastry tips, anything you've got! Long live the handwritten letter.

Doug Mack
PO Box 1922
Minneapolis, MN 55458-1922

Live and in concert! One night only! (Kinda)

Don't worry--you don't actually have to hear me sing. I've just always wanted to type that headline.

But! If you're in the Twin Cities next week, you can, in fact, see me live and in conversation with Mr. Breakaway, Kirk Horsted. Please join us on Thursday for an informal EuroTravelTalk about, well, European travel and my own experiences with same--in particular, my Not-So-Grand Tour with a 45-year-old guidebook.

When: Thursday, June 23rd, 7-9pm
Where: Ginger Hop in Nordeast Minneapolis
Featuring: Travel! Humor! Pathos! More travel! Etc.! Also: cheap beer.

Kirk's official event description:

Greetings Dreamers & Schemers!
Sweet summer has finally arrived in Minnesota, but that doesn't mean we can't break away for a few hours to ponder more exotic places...

On Thursday, June 23, from 7 – 9p, please join us for an informal Meetup to talk travels, BreakAways, and ???. We’ll have a light agenda, serious $4 beers & $5 wines, and face-to-face fun & chat. (Food menu also available.) 

You can RSVP on the event pages at MeetPlanGo or Meetup ... or just show up! I'd love to see you there, answer some questions, and hear your travel stories.

Special Super Awesome Added Bonus: free stuff! I'll be giving out some aerograms and postcards and maybe even a travel book or two. 

Send me a letter! The real, old-fashioned, dead-tree kind!

I believe I'm on the record as something of a social media skeptic and fan of the old-school ink-and-paper correspondence. Well, I thought it might be time to put those ideas into action and put out a call for letters.

So I went down to the post office. Got a box. A lonely box. Forlorn. Empty inside. But not for long, I hope.

Write to me, willya? I promise to write back, if you include a return address. I'll also scan the best postcards and letters and post them here, on this site, as a sort of newfangled celebration-slash-portfolio of an oldfangled form of communication, a dying art.

I'd love to hear your tourism stories and travel tales, and whatever other musings you care to share. Please send letters, postcards, pastry tips, what-have-you, to:

Doug Mack

PO Box 1922

Minneapolis, MN 55458-1922

Blog comments are great (seriously, if you've ever chimed in on the conversation here, or sent me an e-mail, I'm genuinely grateful), but nothing thrills me like a rambling letter or pithy postcard full of doodles and indecipherable handwriting and notes in the margins. My lonely mailbox and I can't wait to hear from you.

And if you write me an aerogram (template right over here!), I'll think up some Ultra-Excellent Bonus Prize for you.