Where in the World is Markmen Radtkiego?

In Europe, the government has taken more drastic steps to curb smoking. Packages of cigarrettes, signs advertising tabacco shops, and every other reference to tabacco that I’ve seen all contain large, very blunt warnings about what tabacco will do to you. Not the “The Surgeon General thinks smoking might contribute to lung cancer, but our official policy is highly influenced by Big Tabacco and so we’ll take as soft as stance as we can” warnings that you see if you squint to read the fine print in magazine ads in the states. No, one common warning in Britain is (if I’m remembering correctly) “Smoking will kill you and those around you.” In addition to these warnings, I understand that there are big taxes and tariffs on tabacco, comparable to New York City. And yet everyone, everywhere seems to be smoking.

Anyway, the reason I mention all this is because I find the warning in Dutch to be very funny. It’s something like “Roken es derbonden,” which I guess means “Smoking is deadly.” I think it would be great on t-shirts. White text on a black field. Sherwin, do you want to draw up some prototypes?

Today I’m making plans to leave Amsterdam. I’m in a hostel for the next two nights, then I’m going to head to south-west Germany. I’d like to go to Constantine, which shares a lake with Switzerland. I could ferry across the lake and be a short train ride from Zurich. Now I’ve just got to find a place to stay.

One thing that bugs me about Amsterdam: you almost always have to be paying to sit down. There are very few benches in public areas. Right now, behind my monitor, is a sign that says “Notice: It is not allowed to bring your own drinks. Drinks are compulsory. Management” (emphasis in original). My tea’s almost done, so I’m off to the train station to reserve my ticket.

Walked from Gosvenor Sq to my hostel. The hostel’s near Paddington Circus. Very nice place (the internet area’s not nearly as sketchy as the place I was last time; no fleas). Spent the evening with a friend of Lindsay’s named Amy. Nice girl, but a little blonde for my type (Har!). Either way, tonight was spent at a pub near the hostel; I learned the rules of cricket from a very, very drunk local named Chris.

Tomorrow, it’s on to Paris on the Eurostar. It’s my first time on a European train, and I hope that I’m not taken advantage of (a la EuroTrip). I’m pretty sure that a day or two is all I can handle in Paris.