After a two hour exploration of Teufelsberg, a former US listening station turned artist haven (more next week), I ventured into the Grunewald forest. My destination was a meadow-like area known as Teufelssee about 1.1km away. The spot was recommended by fellow Toronto journalist who visited the spot earlier in the week.

After doing research and asking local queers about the spot, I learned it was frequented by gay men. Many called it a perfect spot to have a ‘merry gay ‘ol time in the sun.’

My journey to Teufelssee took me along a dirt path through the lush green trees of the forest that only permitted slivers of sunshine through. The weather that week in Berlin had been chilly. Though it was summer, locals expressed it was one the worst in recent memory with below seasonal temperatures and constant downpours. While the shade would be welcomed on a sweltering day, I found the lack of light sent the occasional quiver through my body. Each ray I could catch, sneaking between the leaves, provided a pleasant warmth.

I also kept my eyes open for wild boars. Yes, wild boars are known to live in Grunewald. In fact, a series of photos from Teufelssee of a naked man chasing a boar who had stolen his laptop went viral in 2020. Sadly, I didn’t see any that day.

I eventually arrived at a parking lot that led to a main road. I consulted Google Maps to confirm whether I turned left or right at the crossroads — the answer was left. As I neared my destination, something about its name dawned on me.

At Teufelsberg, I learned the English translation was Devil’s Mountain (Teufels = Devil’s and Berg = Mountain). I realized the first seven letters of the Teufelssee also translated to Devil’s. Opening Google Translate, I typed in the full name. Teufelssee in English is Devil’s Lake (Teufels = Devil’s and See = Lake).

As I write this, I haven’t found a concrete explanation about the name’s origin. However, some questionable sources suggest it got its satanic name because conservatives saw nudism as a devil’s activity. Others have accused the devil of actually bathing in the lake. I began to wonder if a gay crowd was attracted to the spot because of its sinful name.

However, when I arrived, I found the spot to be absolutely heavenly.

Naked Men In a Meadow | Nackte Männer auf einer Wiese

I stopped to absorb this magical place. It had grass of various heights, though some may have been weeds. The landscape was a mix of lush green and yellow grass spots either standing erect, flowing with the light breeze or flattened by bodies previously laying on top. In between was the occasional dirt patch.

Some trees soared to the sky and others remained close to the ground, used to hang wet clothing on. Some portions had slopes, but the land closer to the lake was flat. Naked men grazed the field, with the occasional topless woman present.

As I walked into the grassy patch, I was transported to Oslo, Norway - more specifically the Munch Museum. In the museum, dedicated to artist Edvard Munch, is a painting titled Naked Men in Birch Forest (1940-1942). Teufelssee had no birch trees - that I noticed - but what harkened this memory was the scene.

The positions of the men at Teufelssee were reminiscent of the tableaus featured in the artwork. The painting featured faceless men huddled together, sitting on the ground or hiding by trees.

In front of me, I saw older men huddled in a circle. A majority had their hands on their hips, listening to one man using expressive hand gestures to tell a story in German.

In other parts, groups of young men sat together in the grass. Some hugged their knees into their chest and others laid their legs out flat. Their penises were either tucked between their legs to avoid the sun’s rays or positioned on the left or right inner thigh - hopefully being repositioned from time to time to avoid a penis tan line. Some even aligned their crotches with tall blades of grass to block any view of their crown jewels.

Unlike the painting there was a diversity of bodies. Men of all sizes, hairy and smooth, and with marks on their bodies whether birthmarks or scars. Obviously, there were various penis lengths as well - which was very noticeable when two nude men would walk next to each other. It reminded me of the older portion of Toronto’s Hanlan’s Point — not the new beach, which makes me feel insecure. It is a space where bodies are not judged or where certain body types create dissatisfaction with one’s own. All bodies were accepted and celebrated.

It was a sanctuary in a way. Maybe that feeling comes from the fact Germans have grown up with “free body culture,” or Freikörperkultur, which promotes the health benefits of nudity. Regardless, whenever I am in Europe I embrace and love my body.

Call me by your name | Ruf mich bei deinem Namen

I opted for a patch of land by the water where the grass was relatively short. Positioning myself by the water allowed me to see hot naked men exit and walk back to their towel. Their bodies wet with droplets dripping off, their cocks flopping back and forth slapping their upper thighs.

I made the decision to get naked, leaving my bathing suit in my backpack. However, a triggering memory of nude tanning at Hanlan’s Point popped into my head as I dropped my boxer briefs. Not wanting to get another awful sunburn on cock, I decided to occasionally cover myself with my underwear and apply a lot of sunscreen.

After settling into my space, I wandered towards the water. The trees created a canopy over the sandy entrance to the lake. I didn’t think I’d venture in too far as whenever my testicles touch the water, I get a sharp chilling sensation through my body that makes me quickly retreat. Surprisingly, I walked right in and glided through the water, flipping over to back stroke towards the centre.

When I stopped, my legs automatically became like egg beaters to help tread the water. I tread in a circle to observe my surroundings. Luckily I had left my glasses on, so the memory is clear. The lake was encircled by a series of large trees, their leaves still bright green. Peaking above the treetops were a few noticeable structures. The white silo-shaped tower of the Teufelsberg, which from an areial view looks like a penis with two testicles next to it. The white canvas structure was giving swimmers a glimpse of the tip.

To its right was a brick chimney stack of Naturschutzzentrum Ökowerk Berlin e.V., a 19th century water supply facility turned environmental educational centre.

In the middle of the lake was a dock, where people collapsed their naked bodies on the wood. Many slept, reminding me of the tired seals in the San Francisco marina. Peacefully in their own world, surrounded by water and absorbing the sun.

After about 10 minutes, I headed back. Exiting the water, I noticed a group of mid-20 year olds occupying the patch a few metres from my belongings. The group came prepared, laying blankets down with snacks and packs of cigarettes.

As I adjusted my towel, a majority of them went in, but one. He was a 23 year old from Spain. He had a skinny hairless twink body that had no definition to it whatsoever, but that made the thin gold chain hugging his neck stand out. His dark curly hair was in the popular broccoli style. Full and curly on the top and short on the sides.

He wore blue and white patterned shorts and lay on a dark toned towel. He reclined on his elbows making a slope with his body. His one leg lay flat as his other was bent. His eyes were closed as he basked in the sun.

I was enamoured by his handsome presence. It felt like it was a moment out of Call Me By Your Name. Based on our ages, I would be Oliver and he would be Elio. However, I felt more like Elio. The emotions I imagined Elio feeling for Oliver was how I felt for this man - curious, enchanted, willing to do anything for him to notice - whereas he just acted nonchalant as if I didn’t exist.

My gaze broke as his eyes opened. I searched for my underwear to cover my crotch, even though he would have likely clocked my bare cock exiting the water. From the corner of my eye, I notice him staring at me. Curious, I repositioned my gaze to meet his. A smile emerged from his lips and while I’d like to think it was because he had the same epiphany Oliver did with Elio, I know deep down it was either out of politeness or confusion. Nonetheless I smiled back.

His friends eventually returned and engaged in conversation. I lay my head on my backpack. I closed my eyes and let the chorus of languages, the splashes of the water, the wooshing of the trees in the wind and the soft sounds of music playing through a bluetooth speaker, sing me into a midsummer day’s nap. Where my only wish was to dream of him.

Previous Post — Chapter 27: Thank you nape

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There is something magical about the Toronto food landscape that I missed while while living in Lisbon. In Toronto, if I was craving food from a particular region of the world, then chances were I could find multiple options across the city and a spot within walking distance. The search for international flavours was a little more difficult in Lisbon. If I was craving one type of cuisine it was either at a high end and super expensive fusion spot, far from where I lived or had bizarre hours.

When I first travelled to Berlin in October 2024, I felt at home with its food scene. It had restaurants I imagined lining Toronto’s Ossington Strip or even Kensington Market. The variety was also so plentiful as well. It had cuisine from parts of the world I don’t think Toronto even has - or if it does has a limited number. Picking a place to eat proved difficult for Richard and I that we ended up just choosing a spot based on vibes.

When I went back in 2025, I discovered even more restaurants where the aromas and flavours created a sensory experience like no other. In the end, my stomach was not only full of beer, but a lot of great food.

So here are nine spots that I enjoyed most on my trips to Berlin.

7 Mares*

📍Heimstraße 3

You cannot tear me away from my adopted country of Portugal. 7 Mares, which means seven seas, is run by a Portuguese native, Tiago, who moved to Germany for his masters. Opening this wine bar allowed him to bring Portuguese wine to the city for locals to experience.

Tiago handpicks and imports only the finest wines from across Portugal, working closely with winemakers. You can try the bold reds of the Douro Valley or the crisp whites of Vinho Verde. Patrons will also have the most divine tapas that are paired perfectly with each glass. The environment is super cozy and it’s in a peaceful and charming neighbourhood.

You can visit the spot on your own or take a Fork & Walk Tour to discover it.

Bertie

📍Schwedter Str. 13

For my Toronto followers, Bertie gives off major Ossington Strip vibes. The people behind this New York style bistro and diner are also the minds behind Annelies (which the locals raved about to me). The interior is sleek, but honestly the food was the absolute highlight.

Richard and I shared a bunch of things including the Buffalo chicken wings, chicken caesar schnitzel, deviled eggs (my favourite ), fried potatoes and banana pudding. The servers were also all so nice, constantly check in to make sure all was well. We couldn’t have asked for a better meal on our trip.

BRLO*

📍Schöneberger Str. 16

This brewery originated from a 2014 conversation with its founders Katharina Kurz, Michael Lembke and Ben Pommer. Its BRLO BRWHOUSE opened in 2017, and is made of 38 converted overseas shipping containers. It is home to the brewery and has a lovely beer garden — at least that what locals have told me.

I didn’t have the chance to visit the BRWHOUSE, but instead went to BRLO Charlottenburg. The gastropub, a few blocks from my hotel, had these vine like lights illuminating the length of the restaurant that I still dream about. It has a shuffleboard in the back and is a go-to for sporting events (there was an intense football match on when I went that had people on the edge of their seats). The spot has so much amazing food that I would recommend, if in a group, doing their family style meal option to taste a bit of everything. I’d also recommend the Queer Beer. It’s their brew with a portion of the sales going to a local LGBTQ+ organization.

Oh…and for those wondering about its name. BRLO is an old Slavic name for Berlin.

Doyum Restaurant*

📍Admiralstraße 36-37

This Turkish grill house is one of the many spots in Berlin serving doner kebabs and durum wraps. However, when I did the Fork & Walk Tour, we stopped here for a very specific dish…well dessert. The Künefe is a thread pastry with cheese filling drenched in syrup sprinkled with nuts. The circular dessert automatically made me think of a pancake. I can’t quite describe the taste, but the sweet and salty fusion was well balanced.

Sadly, I was so full by the time we arrived that I only had a few bites of it. Though it clearly had a very lasting impression on me as it made it onto this list. It also helped me impress this Turkish man I met at a bar a few days later.

Elefant*

📍Fuggerstraße 18

This restaurant gives old school German vibes. Elefant flies the Pride flag out front as it is right in the gay neighbourhood of Schöneberg. Its yellow sign features the business name in cursive with the curve at the bottom of the letter “t” becoming the trunk of and elephant.

The venue serves authentic German and European food and is known for its home-style cooking and schnitzel. However, if you thought, “hey I’ll just get a schnitzel,” not so fast…they have 20 types to choose from. They’re usually pork or veal schnitzel, but it’s the variety of sauces and trimmings that will leave you stumped. Luckily, I had my tour guide make the decision for me.

Golden Fleece

📍Torstraße 69

This Georgian restaurant, in Mitte, originally started as a delivery spot during the pandemic. Today, it is a cozy-sized restaurant. The eatery serves authentic Georgian cuisine made from the freshest ingredients and has in-house wine you should try.

I’ve never been to Georgia, but the spot has been praised for capturing the vibe. When Richard and I dined here we sat on this platform next to a hallway - so it was busy and had some congestion. We only noticed the bottlenecking when we were not stuffing our faces because there was no way we could draw our attention away from the food. While we typically get a variety of things to share in order to try everything, we decided to share only the Badrijani Nigvist (fried eggplants with walnut paste, onion, pomegranate seeds, fresh coriander and Georgian spices). Then we got our own plates — which happened to be the same. We ordered the Acharuli Khachapuri which is a stone oven baked yeast dough boat filled with soft cheese and garnished with a fried egg.

Monsieur Vuong

📍Alte Schönhauser Str. 46

When Richard and I arrived in Berlin in October we checked into our Airbnb in Mitte and were starving. Our hosts said the area was filled with restaurants and without a plan we headed out on the town. As we walked the streets peeking into restaurants, we noticed a red glow emanating from a storefront. As we got closer, a black and white photo of a buff Asian man crossing his arms in a striped polo and braided belt caught our attention. It was almost as if he was hypnotizing us to come in…well he must have been because next thing we know we were sitting down.

Monsieur Vuong is a family run Vietnamese restaurant with the menu changing twice a week. The reason, according the restaurant, is to “enable you to try a new amazing delicacy every time you visit.” The dishes are super delicious and it has a fun vibe any day of the week. Also I was really into the dishes they served it in.

Onette

📍Grunewaldstraße 11

It was a beautiful sunny day, when I headed to Onette. I don’t know how I discovered the spot, but learning it had this American diner style vibe instantly attracted me.

The interior is pristine, which is what I expect since it just opened a few months prior, and chic. It has a checkered tile floor and a wood bar with stools lining it. There are booths lining the window with light wooden benches and white tables. At the end of each table is a stainless steel serviette dispenser with a metal holder housing salt, pepper and sugar. Above is a stained glass pendant lamp (or Tiffany-style lamp) that reminded me of the grandmother’s kitchen. The windows are lined with crocheted lace-style curtains, hung at the lower half of the window. As I sat in the back in my booth, I admired the privacy the curtains provided from the patio and appreciated shining sun and the view of Apostel-Paulus-Kirchengemeinde (Evangelical church).

I was not able to try their breakfast, as I came late after a tour, but was able to grab a few snacks and a beer. I ordered a pickled egg, potato salad and bread with butter - the butter was so fluffy and divine, I could have just eaten it by the spoonful.

Toms Wurst*

📍Motzstraße 19

In the heart of Berlin’s gay village is a small currywurst shop bursting with Pride. Its hard to miss Toms Wurst with its logo placed dead centre of the Pride flag as well as a series of rainbow sling chairs for patrons to relax in as they wait for their orders with a beer.

The food is reasonably priced starting at 3.50 euro. You can either order the traditional Berliner Currywurst with or without Darm (casing) or the Vegane Currywurst, which was quite the surprise. A vegetarian I was with really enjoyed the vegan option saying it was the best he’d had yet. Also make sure to grab some fries with mayo to go with the currywurst.

This post pulls from experiences I had during an independent trip in 2024 and a press trip courtesy of Air Transat and visitBerlin in 2025. Any post with a * was part of the experience provided on the press trip (including the Fork & Walk Tour). This list does not represent every place I ate at on the press trip, but rather are selections that resonated with me.

Air Transat recently introduced new seasonal direct flights in the summer from Toronto to Berlin. The carrier has been voted the World's Best Leisure Airline several times by its passengers. It is another great option for those flying from Canada to one of Europe’s most inclusive cities.

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Matt and I spent a stunning April day at Malta’s Blue Lagoon. After taking a chartered boat from the main island, that I surprisingly did not get sick on, we relaxed on the rock formations of Comino. We absorbed the sun’s rays and tip toed into the freezing cold water that sent shivers through our body.

We then explored the island. We hiked it desert like terrain, checked out abandoned buildings and witnessed hues of blue I don’t think we’ve ever seen before in our lives. I may have started singing Holly McNarland’s Beautiful Blue at some point even if it didn’t fit the vibe, other than the lyric ”Waking up to all this beautiful blue, beautiful you.”

Before we continue, take a look at these photos.

Fifty Shades of Red | Ħamsin Sfumatura ta' Aħmar

It was nearing 16:00, when we decided to catch a boat to visit nearby Gozo Island. The dock for the competing boat companies was located at the end of Triq Kemmuneti. While the island had food trucks, they only served snacky foods and given it was close to dinner hour we imagined most people were departing to head back to their respective accommodations and freshen up before exploring either Gozo or Malta Island for dinner.

Matt and I entered a sea of people as we waited for the boat. As we found our spot and dropped our bags filled with beach towels, books, portable charges and swimwear, I began to notice a new prominent colour on the island. The predominant colours we had seen on our adventure were blue, courtesy of the water, and a sandy brown tone with hints of greenery thanks the island’s earthy composition. This new colour, that overwhelmed our sense of sight, was not part of the natural surroundings. The colour was red, painted on the napes of the people waiting for the chartered boats. There were so many shades of red in front of us that it was like looking at a paint swatch.

For those who don’t know the nape is the back part of the neck. It is the spot below the skull and above the shoulders. For many of us it starts where the hairline ends. For most women this area is protected, their long hair acting as a curtain. For those who choose to put their hair up or for men, it’s a fleshy area that is constantly exposed to a sun.

While dermatologists say the nose is one of the most common spots to get a sunburn as it protrudes from the body, PBS Newshour places the nape in the Top 5 spots to get a sunburn. Based on the people in line, it was obvious they had forgotten to apply sunscreen on their napes.

Some of the burns were mild. Others looked painful. As Matt and I walked around the island, I could feel the sun’s rays burning the back of neck. As he took photos of the water, I searched my bag for sunscreen to avoid it getting burned. When I asked Matt if I’d fit the human colour swatch of red we were looking at, he said it looked like I would, but that it wasn’t as red.

A Poem For The Nape | Poeżija għall-Għonq

That scene I saw waiting for our boat on Comino, made me feel sorry for the nape. In fact, one morning when Matt slept in, I sat on the back patio of our Airbnb and scribbled a small poem in my journal.

Here is that poem, I wrote over a year ago as an ode to the nape.

An Ode To The Nape

Forgive us nape, we’ve neglected you for too long.

Exposed to the world, as you watch our backs.

We think of you as a strong capable warrior, always standing on guard.

You fight the strong UV rays of the sun, you’re sworn life enemy.

You’re a brave fighter, ready to protect us without any armour.

The sunscreen that protects the rest of the body is seldom applied to you.

While you endure the pain of the sun in silence, you’ll sometimes scream.

You’ll beg for gentle application of that photo protective lotion, but are denied

We inflict unintentional pain on thee, and it is not deserved.

When the sun wins, you take it in stride.

You wear that red burn as a battle scar. Showing that star it is no match for thee.

Luckily, the summers are short and the sun’s harsh kisses will wane.

Then when winter comes, we place you into hibernation.

Covering you with scarves and turtlenecks, allowing you to recharge for the next summer.

When you next battle your foe.

Read the previous post — Chapter 26: A tale of Lisbon’s queer scene, decades apart

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Palácio do Grilo in Lisbon’s Beato neighbourhood has been privy to royal figures. However, I doubt its former owner, the first Duke of Lafões, could have ever imagined the Queen of Pop gracing the palace.

In 2023, Madonna hosted her 65th birthday at the royal abode. Celebrating the milestone in Portugal was not a shock. The singer lived in the country from 2017 to 2020, recording her album Madame X there. It explains why the pop star sings in Portuguese on the album, like on her rendition of Faz Gostoso (Make it Tasty) with Anitta.

For her party at the palace, Madonna arrived on horseback according to an unidentified source who spoke to the Observador. I have found no photos to prove this though.

If you’re a mega Madonna fan you’ll know the significance of the horse, which is a bit of a retaliatory move by the singer after a debacle with the Mayor of Sintra. In 2019, she requested to ride a horse into Sintra’s Quinta Nova da Assunção for a music video. She was denied by the mayor who told Expresso, "There are things you can't buy. Under no circumstances will a horse be allowed into the palace. It makes no sense! Madonna is an artist, but the palace belongs to everyone, and must not be damaged."

The incident made international headlines with a Vanity Fair article titled Madonna, the horse and the “ingratitude” of the Portuguese. But I digress.

Madonna had never been to Palácio do Grilo beforehand, but the venue came highly recommended by a someone close to her who she trusted. The party was extravagant. She held an inmate dinner for close friends and family and was presented with a cake that resembled the sacred heart in the palace chapel, where a choir also serenaded her. After eating, Madonna and her distinguished guests danced through the palace halls surrounded by historic frescos.

Today, if you ask a local Lisbon resident about Palácio do Grilo, they’ll immediately tell you it’s the palace where Madonna’s birthday party was — sorry Duke of Lafões.

So it’s no surprise that when I lived in Lisbon, Brazilian queer collective duo, and Madonna fans, Venga Venga held an event to commemorate the one year anniversary of the pop stars birthday party in the palace. And let me tell you, it got us all Into The Groove.

‘Get Together’ and ‘Express Yourself’ | ‘Junte-se’ e ‘Expresse-se’

For those in Lisbon this Saturday (August 16, 2025) you need to grab tickets to Venga Venga’s Madonna themed Gala Cricri party. The pair hold events regularly at the palace described as an immersive, eccentric, futuristic and queer experience. This week’s party is all about the Material Girl and celebrating two years since Madonna held her birthday at the palace.

“How one birthday became ritual at Palácio do Grilo,” is how Venga Venga advertises the now annual event.

When I attended in 2024, for the first edition, the dress code was “your own Madonna.” Some people came in t-shirts bearing the icon’s face and other recreated her most famed outfits. I went in cropped dress pants wearing a purple mesh shirt that showed a little nipple.

The event had Venga Venga spinning hits from Madonna’s vast catalogue and drag performances. It was truly a pop experience like no other.

Entering the palace grounds that night was magical. As Andrei and I walked up the long driveway, it truly felt like we were about to partake in a royal affair.

The palace exterior is pink, meaning it is always dressed as Madonna emulating Marilyn Monroe in the Material Girl music video.

The interior is beautiful. Murals by Cyrillo Volkmar Machado from the 18th and 19th centuries still adorn the walls and ceilings. There are also some original tiles that can still found throughout. In the main Academy Room, these Lady Gaga Bad Romance-esque sculptures sit in the corner, towering over dancers like a boogeyman in one’s bedroom.

The back garden is sprawling. Ground lights illuminate a walkway that acts as a green catwalk with tables and chairs lining it. People come out to cool off after dancing during one of the hot summer nights, break for a smoke or to make out. At the very end of the garden is a grotto, where sinful acts happen.

Dancing underneath and surrounded by frescos was something I didn’t have on my Year Abroad Bingo Card. The characters in the murals around the dance floor were likely used to witnessing regal events in the space, but were now exposed to an atmosphere of queer euphoric joy and love. I can only imagine what the angelic harp playing figure and the small cherub children floating around her must have thought as some “unholy” acts were taking place. Though there are some horny images around like one of a women being adorned by nude men.

I participated in one of these acts. I began making out with a cute man on the dance floor while Andrei went to the bathroom to the song Hung Up. Our lip locked state was interrupted as I was compelled to whisper “I’m hung up on you.” I redirected my stare up at the frescos giving him access to my neck…which he left a hickey on. I made eye contact with one of the disapproving, and maybe homophobic, frescos who stared into my soul at that moment.

‘Dress You Up’ | ‘Veste-te’

A Public Interest Monument since 2011, Palácio do Grilo is also known as Palácio dos Duques de Lafões after its owner the first Duke of Lafões. The palace was built a year after the devastating earthquake of 1755 that levelled most of Lisbon - well the tsunami that followed the earth shaking event also played a role.

It’s a neoclassical structure with baroque expressions based on the family’s summer residence. The original plans for the palace were never completed.

In 2022 it was transformed by French millionaire Julien Labrousse. After purchasing the palace, he discovered a notebook written by the Duke. In it was his wishes for the palace. He imagined it would be “a place that is also not a place and that can allow the soul to take light that best suits it.”

Labrousse brought the Duke’s wishes to life. Combing through the notebook he found descriptions of each room and tried his best to recreate them in that manner. One wish the Duke had was that “all rooms, both in decoration and function, be set up for us, for us to be languid and dream better than anywhere else in the world.” The reinvention of the palace would go on to win the Versailles Prize for architecture and design.

Today, the palace hosts several events. It is also an alternative museum and restaurant. Trust me its worth coming here for a party and a bite. It’s truly magical.

Read the previous post - Chapter 24: An Ode For The Gabriel To My Emily (in Paris).

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There are two letters you’ve read over and over again. You’ve read them in Chapter 8: The Italian Bella Notte, Chapter 9: Six times an influencer “read” my Portuguese lifestyle based on my zodiac, Chapter 10: How a street artist helped me fit in, Chapter 22: How to lose an Aussie in 10 minutes and more. Those letters are LS.

LS was my Lisbon flatmate. We lived on the ground floor of a beautifully curved blue tiled apartment building in Graça, which gave lowkey Melrose Place vibes. I subleased a room from his flatmates who were travelling through Asia and Brazil for six months. I hadn’t anticipated living with him, but when my original flat fell through at the last minute I messaged him desperately asking if he knew anyone looking for a flatmate or travelling for the holidays. He responded with…”well actually.”

That moment changed my life. This post is an ode to my former flatmate. It’s also a look at how he was essentially the Gabriel to my Emily - an Emily in Paris reference – and helped me live my European dream with joy and adventure.

Before we get into all that, we have to go back to Belgium 2018 where our story begins. And like most gay friendships these days…it started with a distinctive notification ping.

The Man Who Loves TinTin | L'homme qui aime Tintin

In 2018, I travelled to The Netherlands and Belgium for a little over a week. I dreamed of cycling parts of The Netherlands to see windmills and having little breaks by the canals. In Belgium, I wanted to eat my way through their famed waffles, fries and chocolate.

The itinerary was to spend time in Amsterdam and hop over to Brussels with day trips to Antwerp and Bruges - the latter to find Colin Farrell because according to the movie In Bruges, he is “In Bruges.” Terrible joke. I am aware.

When travelling I engage in Grindr tourism - I’ve written about it for IN Magazine. I search for local men on the hook-up app and ask them to take me for a drink. If sex happens it is a bonus. Really I use it to get those insider tips and to better understand queer life in that city.

As a tourist it’s not hard to get a gay man’s attention. All those TikTok’s about opening Grindr in another country and having notifications floor in are true.

As I was scrolling around the app in the Jette area where I was staying, I found LS - whose name I will never share. I don’t remember who messaged or tapped first - or if tap was a thing then - but an hour later I was on the metro about to meet a man who was going to show me his version of Brussels.

I will never forget when I first saw him in real life. He had perfectly predicted the train car I was in and was standing in front of the door I was about to exit in order to find him. He was tall, had facial hair, was blonde and wore a thick sweater. I think the sweater was red, but that may be because that was his go to colour when we lived together.

I had no clue where he was taking me, but he took me to the system map on the train and pointed his finger at the station we were at. He then ran it along the line we were on stopping at the station we were to exit at.

That night, we sat on patios. The temperature began to dip and I remember being somewhat cold in my denim coat. We got to know each other over waffles, fries and beer - well I ate and he watched. We walked around and he pointed out specific murals and statues, showed me the queer area and told me which attractions were a scam.

He told me to rethink going to Bruges and go to Ghent instead. I even told him my Colin Farrell joke, which barely got a chuckle. I wrote his lack of laughter off as a translation and pop culture disconnect - years later he just told me it was terrible. His recommendation to visit Ghent is one he constantly pestered me about and lovingly guilted me about for years to come. I did go in 2024, which gave him the biggest smile. Lo and behold during my time there I met a man named Pieter who emulated my experience with LS six years prior in Brussels.

That night he invited me to his stunning three-storey house, with this staircase that looked never ending. It was my dream home, decorated with antique furniture and a collection of TinTin books. He was very into greenery and the home had plants galore, which I could have done without.

After that night we added each other on Instagram. I had no expectations to speak to him after leaving Belgium. I thought he’d disappear, becoming one of those so-called “mini-travel romances.” Little did I know, that moment was the beginning of my first international friendship. One that saw us road trip Denmark and Sweden and have an impromptu meeting at Clara Clara Cafe in Lisbon’s Jardim Botto Machado in 2022.

The Gabriel To My Emily | Le Gabriel à mon Emily

I don’t think I would have survived those first few weeks in Lisbon without LS. The weather was rainy and grey. I had no friends and I struggled to watch my friends immediately go on without me – though in all fairness they invited me to those events and I had to decline because I moved. Nevertheless, having LS in the room next to mine and going to his cafe almost daily for those first few weeks helped ease me in.

He helped me navigate Lisbon life. He threw a dinner party that first week to help me meet people. He stocked the fridge with leftovers from the cafe at the end of the week. He taught me how to light the gas stove that I feared. He even told me where to get an STI test after I started showing mysterious symptoms.

He was just so loving and kind. A quality not exclusive to me, but extended to everyone he meets. His friendship is one I will forever hold dear to my heart.

Before moving to Lisbon, everyone started telling me I was about to live my Emily in Paris life – but Stephan in Lisbon and minus the work. The biggest similarity was my relationship with LS, which almost mirrored that of Gabriel and Emily. Here is why:

* French Speakers: Gabriel and LS both speak French. Gabriel speaks French from France and LS French from Belgium. Plus I was that North American who forced him to speak English. Luckily he never blew up at me like when Gabriel freaked out at Emily - for good reason though.

* They’re Both In The Food Business: Gabriel runs a Michelin star Paris restaurant and LS a cafe in Lisbon!

* Both Honour Their Grandmothers: Gabriel and LS both named their establishments after their grandmothers. Plus, the dishes they serve are based on their grandmother’s recipes! Who doesn’t love a man who adores their grandmother! Seriously the sign of a solid man.

* They Both Have To Deal With Annoying, Peppy North Americans in Marketing/Public Relations: While Emily was assigned to Americanize her company’s acquisition of the Paris agency Savoir, I quit my job to live – though I consulted on the side. Nevertheless, I never took my PR hat off. I cannot count the amount of times I invited myself to give LS advice on how to promote his cafe…exactly like how Emily spewed out ideas for Gabriel.

* They’re Both Tall And Blonde And Dreamy: Enough said. The description says it all. Next…

* There Was A Kiss: Yes, that night in Brussels we kissed. However, our relationship never became a complicated will-they-won’t-they situation spread across four seasons, nor was he dating a person who’d become my best friend. Nevertheless, our friendship means the world to me and as much as Emily proclaims a similar sentiment to Gabriel, I know ours will never become romantic. But if LS did ever go to my friend Emily’s house after I ran away with a cute Italian - maybe the one from the Italian Bella Notte - and asked her “where exactly in Rome,” I was — I’d maybe reconsider.

So, yes. Life can emulate art. I mean these ideas have to come from somewhere - right?

Read The Previous Post: Chapter 23: Finding my Pink Friday Girl in Toulouse

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Industriemuseum Gent (Museum of Industry Ghent)

📍Minnemeers 10, Gent

Located in an old cotton-spinning mill, this museum tells the story of Ghent’s industrial past. It was the first city “where the industrial revolution took hold on the continent, after the United Kingdom.” Ghent’s skyline was populated with chimney stacks, which the museum brings to life on the top floor via a device that allows you to scan the view to discover the industrial past of the buildings still standing. What makes this museum cool, in my opinion, are two exhibition spaces that feature working machines - a working printing press and a textile machine. You’ll get to see craftspeople work them as if you are in that time - minus the fashion.

MAS | Museum aan de Stroom

📍Hanzestedenplaats 1, Antwerpen

This vertically rectangular building describes itself as a “huge modern warehouse.” It is a mix of red sandstone and glass that has this wavey feature to it. At the top, standing at 10 storeys high, is a rooftop with wonderful panoramic views of Antwerp.

The museum carries over 600,000 pieces telling tales about Antwerp, the river and the port. My favourite section was “Visible Storage.” With so many items and not enough room to display them in exhibitions, this space allows you to peek behind the scenes of where the artifacts are stored.

Museum Vleeshuis

📍Vleeshouwersstraat 38/40, Antwerpen

Sadly this museum just closed for an extensive restoration project, but the building is still stellar to view (until exterior work begins). The interactive museum featured stories of Antwerp's dance and music history, stimulating the sense of sound with music clips and multimedia displays.

Housed in an early-1500s guildhall for butchers - a place to buy and sell meat - it is one of the oldest buildings in the city and an example of Brabantine Gothic architecture. The restoration will tackle the interior and exterior to include a new staircase, reception area and new music museum. I am particularly excited for the mezzanine in the Great Hall that will allow for an up close look at the stained glass windows. Its last major restoration, according to its website, was over a century ago. Needless to the say the project is well needed. Watch the below video for a great recap of what it will become.

STAM - Ghent City Museum

📍Godshuizenlaan 2, Gent

My roommate LS raves about Ghent and to better understand why, I decided to experience the city’s present and explore its past in the city museum. Through objects and multimedia, the museum presents the story of the city. I personally love the mixture of buildings that form the institution. They are each from different periods and are joined together to create the floor plan. The structures include a 14th century abbey, 17th century convent and 21st century modern structure.

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So when I went to Greece, I made it my mission not only to see all the historic sites I’d read about and studied, but to also focus on food tourism. I ate so many amazing things on this trip. Some were recommended by men I met on Grindr, others were from celebrities I follow on Instagram. Regardless of where the recommendations came from, here are eight must eat spots in Athens for you to try.

Avli (Εστιατόριο Αυλή)

📍Ag. Dimitriou 12

This recommendation was courtesy of two Austrian men I met on Grindr, who heard about it from a local. The restaurant is hard to find at night as it’s down a graffiti tagged alleyway and has a very unassuming door. I won’t lie, my first thought was the Austrians were trying to kill me, but once you locate the door and enter you’re stepping into a hidden food gem.

Avli translates to courtyard, which is literally what this place is. They put a roof on top of a courtyard between two buildings and called it a restaurant. You can even see vegetation growing from the eavestroughs and shingles of one of the buildings and there is a cat that roams around in need of pets - maybe food. The ground is uneven, the tables and chairs are not fancy and the table clothes are cheap, but the vibe and the food are too die for.

I had a Greek Salad with this massive piece of feta topped with capers, followed by a Medium Variety Plate with deep fried cheese, various meats, egg, yogurt, veggies and fries. I’d recommend skipping the bread because there is so much great food. Honestly, the best meal I had in Athens - not to deter you from the rest of the list.

I also picked up and Aussie guy at this restaurant, which you can read about in How to lose an Aussie in 10 minutes.

Blue Parrot (Ble Papagalos)

📍 Leonidou 31

This spot came highly recommended by a Grindr hookup and it did not disappoint. I never went inside because the patio is this beautiful oasis I couldn't resist. With light green Parisian style chairs and glass-top tables scattered throughout, the spot is eye-catching. Situated in a calm square, diners are surrounded by lush trees and Athenian life. Stray cats sit on empty chairs resting, dogs weave in and out of the table maze and families watch their kids roam around as they eat or have a drink. It’s an easy going spot, perfect for writers who want to capture a scene. I got a delicious bowl with yogurt, egg, tomato, avocado and toast. It is also apparently a fun cocktail bar at night with music.

Elvis (Ελβις Σουβλακια)

📍Archimidous 1-5

With a few locations across Athens this spot is great for a late night eat after the bar. If you haven’t guessed, it’s Elvis themed with photos of the rock star on its menu and scattered throughout the small space. It has a small menu, but the meat skewers hit the spot after a night of drinking. My Big Fat Greek Wedding star, and my Canadian homegirl, Nia Vardalos calls them “delicious, hot and salted.” And don’t forget to get a side of country chips.

Just Pita

📍Athinas 18

Honestly it’s your simple traditional pita that really hits the spot after a late night. Looks sketchy, but I went twice. That’s all you need to know.

LUKUMAΔEΣ

📍Eolou 21, & Aghias Irinis Str

You can’t go to Greece and not have a lukumáde, a dough ball served with warm honey and cinnamon. It is one of the oldest recorded pastries, possibly in the world.

This is one of the more popular spots to grab the tasty treat. This brand gets a lot of attention not only from people, but international publications. This location is the spot that started it all. The brand is known for getting a little experimental with its lukumádes. You can get its “famous injected lukumádes” with fillings, but I’m a classic guy.

Picky

📍Χριστοκοπίδου 14 &, Ναυάρχου Αποστόλη

Located in the famed Psyri district, this spot has been called the best brunch spot in the city. I had brunch here with a very cute Swiss man - you can read more about that in Chapter 16: Washing my doubts away in Lake Geneva. It’s a cute corner spot that puts you in the action of the bustling neighbourhood. People and cars travel right by you and at one point this tiny blue car with chairs stacked on top of its roof, glided by.

I recommend trying the Koulouri, a popular Greek sesame-crusted bread ring - basically a bagel, but never call it a bagel. For this dish, an egg is usually placed in the massive middle hole, with a sauce drizzled on top. It’s a common dish at many local area restaurants, but differs in how it is served at each place.

Τα Κανάρια

📍Keramikou 88

I wanted a bite before heading back to Lisbon, so I stopped at this adorable spot serving tapas style food. Considering it was 14:00 in the day, the small patio was bustling. It’s in a neoclassical building that dates back to 1938 and its exterior is covered with art in various mediums. I cannot find a menu for this place online, but had this leaf wrapped rice dish and some baked cheese with warm honey and seeds on top. It was a great way to end the trip.

The Underdog

📍Iraklidon 8

The moment I read ‘dog friendly,’ I had to go and of course as soon as I arrived I was placed in the middle of a dog feud. It made me miss my two boys, Sam and Remy, and the fights they’d have over a doll named Stanley they both loved. An underdog is a person who is expected to lose and that is how the owners felt all their life until they began killing it at coffee competitions. The place, at its core, is a specialty coffee roasting company that also has a great brunch menu that reminded me of Toronto spot. I had the Eggs Benedict with bacon. I can’t remember the type of coffee I had, but it was one of the best cups I had all trip.

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In Scandinavia, the city’s of Aarhus, Mydral, Bergen and Oslo offer various views. From soaring fjords to a multi-colour skylines to water views obstructed by century old trees, its a mix of nature and man-made structures.

So let’s visits Denmark and Norway for some of my favourite viewpoints.

ARoS Aarhus Art Museum

📍 Aros Allé 2, Aarhus, Denmark

This viewpoint is a technicolour dream. Sitting atop the museum is “Your Rainbow Panorama” by Danish-Icelandic artist Olafur Eliasson. The 150-metre long circular walkway allows guests to imagine the Danish city through different colours. Below the rainbow is a rooftop deck, with wood flooring and seating if you want to relax and see all the various hues the city has to offer. The museum itself has a collection of over 8,000 pieces from national and international artists.

Flåm Railway

📍 From Myrdal Station, Myrdal, Norway

This is one of the most beautiful train rides in the world - and that’s according to Lonely Planet and a statement I concur with! The railway is a popular tourist attraction that is well worth the cost. I did it via the Norway in a Nutshell day tour, but I recommend splitting it between two days because one is super tiring.

To catch this view you need to hop on a train named the Flåmsbana. Its forest green exterior blends well with the lush surroundings in the summer months and pop against the snow in the winter. The train’s interior is old school with a domed wooden ceiling, orange folding seats and teal and reddish vinyl flooring.

For the best place to sit? Well, the train attendant I spoke to before said there is no bad choice. However, she did whisper that she liked the left side facing the direction of the train’s journey.

Once the ride commences, the train spirals around the steep Flåm valley passing roaring waterfalls, going through mountains, passing villages dwarfed by the mountains with slim waterfalls trickling down and more. In terms of when to go, that's up to you! The train operates year round, so it depends whether you like greenery or snow covered peaks. Moral of the story, don’t skip this view.

Fløyen Panorama

📍 Fløyfjellet 1, Bergen, Norway

Starting in Bergen City Centre, take a six minute funicular ride up a mountain to the last stop for spectacular views. Watch clouds cut through mountaintops, massive ships glide through the water and identify the local landmarks below.

While at the top say ‘hi’ to the goats of Mount Fløyen named “Pippi”, “Fløydis”, “Waldemar”, “Spot”, “Trym”, “Gucci”, “Stjerna”, “Frøya”, “Ferdinand” and “Alex.” Be careful though, some of them get jealous when you take a selfie with only one of them - I’m speaking from experience.

Tip: The first few hours in the morning seem to be the busiest time.

Moesgaard Museum

📍 Moesgård Allé 15, Højbjerg, Denmark

You won’t see any colourful rooftops or various sized structures here, but rather a serene scenescape of green and blue courtesy of the treetops and sea. Located in the middle of a forest, Moesgaard Museum emerges from the ground to display an impressive modern structure. To experience the view, climb up the sloping green roof where you might see people reading or enjoying a bite while immersing themselves in the soundtrack provided by nature. Inside, check out exhibits related to humans and their ancestors.

MUNCH Museum

📍 Edvard Munchs Plass 1, Oslo, Norway

According to my tour guide, this building was very controversial when it was originally built. Some have called it ugly and others a modern delight. The viewpoint is higher than the Oslo Opera House, meaning you get to see much further. You’ll also get a unique POV of the city’s modern part with buildings for work and living.

Inside, explore Munch’s life and learn about his various artworks. The museum houses three different versions of his Scream, though they’re never on display at the same time. They rotate every 30 minutes to limit their light exposure as they are fragile pieces of art. They also host talks and musical performances on occasion.

Tip: Free admission every Wednesday from 18:00 to 21:00 - except in July and August.

Oslo Opera House (Operahuset)

📍Kirsten Flagstads plass 1, Oslo, Norway

Described as emerging from the Oslo Fjord, the opera house resembles an iceberg. It is one of many modern structures populating the city centre that not only wows tourists with its design, but offers them unique views. Walk on the rooftop to see the fjord archipelago, city centre as well as hills and mountains. Browse around inside and take note of the massive oak wood wall that hides the performance hall. If you want the full experience, take a guided tour.

Stalheim Panoramic Terrace

📍 Stalheimsvegen 131, Vossestrand, Norway

Walk through the Stalheim Hotel for a view of the Nærøy Valley like no other. The valley will take your breath away - and not because you’re so high up! See mountains with snow capped peaks and rivers cascading down its side. You can hear water rushing below you and observe the winding road you likely took to get there. There is even a moment when the sun aligns itself perfectly in between the mountains.

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From traditional cafes to tourists traps that surprisingly have charm to those created by expats building a life in the city, the options are endless.

So to start…I’m sharing the cafes I found visually and aesthetically pleasing and took videos of. Enjoy!

Amelia Lisboa

📍R. Ferreira Borges 101

The charming terrace at Amelia Lisboa became my writing oasis, decorated with plants and large beach umbrellas. The cafe is a visual overload with a handwritten neon sign, a punk-rock portrait of a poodle (that’s Amelia), cozy dining room space and a retro front nook perfect for people watching as the plants in front give it a sense of privacy. It is well known for its pancakes, which seems to be a theme amongst many of the cafes on this list…I guess I missed my Canadian maple syrup.

Avó Yvonne

📍Avenida Ressano Garcia 43A

There is nothing more nostalgic and homey than a grandmother’s cooking, which is why a visit to Belgian coffee and pastry shop Avó Yvonne is a must. Its owner serves recipes by his grandmother, Yvonne, who amalgamated her delicacies into a cookbook for her family to enjoy and share. Try one of the cakes, pies, sweets and Belgian waffles – made on site, by hand and with ingredients from Belgium – with a coffee on the side. For a lovely and unexpected surprise, pair it with one of the may Belgian beers on display. They are also beginning to serve lunch. If its on the lunch menu, I highly recommend trying the peaches with tuna - a bizarre combination, but a tasty delight for the pallet. Oh, and the owner is super cute.

Comobå Cafe

📍Rua da Boavista 90

Its storefront has massive windows, which open in the summer to let the Lisbon sun and fresh air in. It’s a fabulous spot to co-work with high ceilings, curved entryways and a minimal design to avoid distraction. I highly recommend the pancakes (again what is it with me and pancakes) as they are fluffy and sweet. They also have house-made milks (almond, coconut and rice) that you have to try!

Curva

📍Rua Damasceno Monteiro 108D

At first glance this café looks super narrow and small, but walk all the way to the back and you’ll be in awe of its footprint. With tables for groups or pairs, stunning circular lights and a gallery space/shop, Curva has a stunning aesthetic that is more like a gallery. It’s also a great co-working space, but there are limited tables allowing computers. The brunch is amazing and they have free tap water - which is rare in Europe.

Hello, Kristof

📍Rua de São Bento 15 + Rua do Poço dos Negros 103 + Campo de Santa Clara 79

When I first moved to Lisbon, this coffee shop had one location. Over the year they added two more! The interior design at each location is breathtaking. The cups are branded making them perfect for that “tortured poet” picture you might want to take for your Instagram, and it has a wall of magazines you’re more than welcome to pick up and read. It has coffee, food, great views (and each location) and friendly vibes. My notebooks are covered in stickers from them and the staff let me practice my Portuguese - thank you for your patience. My food pick would be anything with avocado and one of the delicious croissants.

Kossie’s

📍Largo do Terreirinho 21

This cafe is at a fork in the road - literally. Run by two Australian men, the café combines the warmth of Melbourne with the magic of Lisbon. The two best friends were drawn together by a love of food, coffee and adventure, which took them 5,000 miles away from home. Kossie’s has these large welcoming blue doors with a mish-mash of colourful chairs and decor inside. It’s the perfect place to co-work and just as I was leaving the country they began hosting open mic nights, poetry slams and concerts on the weekend. I personally like their Tosta Mistas with a cappuccino and at night they have a lovely selection of wine or beer.

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I just arrived in France’s La Villa Rose (the Pink City), more commonly known as Toulouse, and instantly began exploring its dreamy streets as I waited to check-in to my Airbnb. The French city’s nickname comes from the pink hue of the terracotta bricks on the buildings in its Old Town, which make it look like a princess fairytale land or where Glinda from Wicked would reside. It is a stunning, historical and relaxing place that Lonely Planet named the top city to visit in 2025.

I wandered around checking out its stores and monuments like the Basilique Saint-Sernin de Toulouse, Le Capitole, Le Donjon du Capitole ou Tour des Archivs, Basilique Notre-Dame de la Daurade, Galerie Le Château d’Eau, Ponte Neuf and Chapelle Saint-Joseph de la Grave. Almost three hours later, my shoulders began to ache from the weight of my backpack. Needing a place to rest, I headed to the Garonne River to sit on its banks and free myself from the clothes, toiletries and electronics that weighed me down.

After finding my spot on these wooden stairs that also act as benches, I lay back and basked in the sun, which I later learned had not been out for weeks. I closed my eyes and tried to tune out the children playing behind me, focusing on the rushing water in front. Then, I felt my phone buzz. I pulled it out of my tight skinny jeans and saw a notification from my Airbnb host. As I unlocked my phone, a number of Grindr messages flooded in. I guess the app was glitching because I didn’t receive any notifications on my lock screen. I had opened the app as soon as I landed, as I always do, to see if any of the local boys would want to be my friend…with benefits. Tempted to see who messaged me, I ignored my host and scrolled through all the chats until I found one that interested me.

Him: "Hi. How are you? Enjoying Toulouse?"

Me: “I just arrived. Maybe 3 hours ago, haha. Are you visiting or do you live here?

From there I learned about him from both our ongoing conversation and his profile. He was visiting from the Netherlands, was tall (197 cm or 6 feet 4 inches), slender (85 kg or 187 lbs), two years older than me, dark hair, glasses and very handsome - in my humble opinion.

Interrupting my investigation of this tall man was another message from the host. I explained to him that I needed to check-in to my Airbnb and asked if he had plans that night. He said he wanted to experience Toulouse nightlife, but debated cooking dinner at his Airbnb or eating at a restaurant. I said to keep in touch.

A pink Friday night with a Dutch man | Un vendredi soir rose avec un Néerlandais

After settling into my room and asking my host for recommendations, I noticed a message from him agreeing to dinner. We went to Petit Voyage, which my host raved about, to grab food (main course and dessert) and beer. We sat at a very small high top and got to know each other in real life.

Afterwards, we hit the town, but to our surprise the Old Town was relatively dead for Friday night. Stores were closed, restaurants closing and the carousel at a standstill letting the animals sleep. I guess the historic centre was a place to be during the day and not past 22:00.

We stopped to make a plan and to get a vibe check. We both agreed to wanting to drink more and do something gay. I had done my queer nightlife research earlier, polling the locals on Grindr and searching Google for recommendations. I told him of this local gay bar, Le Bear’s Bar, and we agreed to check it out. It was about a 30 minute walk to the venue from our location and one that would take us outside the Old Town borders.

Once we left the historic pink bricked streets, we stumbled upon a bustling Toulouse. Cars honking, people cheering and chanting on patios at whatever sports game was playing, sleepy kids in the arms of parents heading to bed and women in heels and flashy dresses ready to dance the night away.

Entering the bear’s den | Entrer dans la tanière de l'ours

After a half-hour walk passing office buildings and fancy restaurants, we arrived at the bar’s rather plain facade where lights illuminated the windowless door. We gave the handle a tug and…it was locked. We immediately thought it was closed, but Google said it was open and we heard the music of powerhouse female vocalists blaring from inside along with the vibrations it produced. Eventually, he noticed a doorbell and I clocked a camera. We rang the bell and the door unlocked - it must have either been a security thing or the venue may host naked parties and didn’t want people to stumble in.

We entered the bar, cutting through a wall of fog only to be greeted by a pretty empty room - though we were early by European standards. The space looked run down and reminded me of bars in Etobicoke that were on their last legs, but were holding out on doing renovations knowing they’d soon be bought out by a condo developer. Needless to say, it was nothing spectacular. It was all wood, and not the type the Dutch man or I wanted, and some tiles seemed better suited for a bathroom than the bar dance floor. It was so dated that not even the flashing rainbow strobe light could make it look youthful - but it tried really hard to.

The crowd was an older demographic of bears, which by the name we should have guessed, with a few women who were either lesbians or straight friends. All eyes were on us as soon as we arrived because we were obviously the hottest b*****s in the room - kidding we’re not that vain. All eyes were on us as soon as we arrived, likely because we were the youngest ones in the bar and fresh gay blood.

With no one ‘dancing’ yet, we grabbed a drink, commenced people watching and acted out their conversations. First we acted out a scenario for a chaotic twink, the only other young person there, who was throwing himself on everyone. Then we moved our attention to a man with a carabiner with a ring full of keys. It was way too many keys for one person to have unless they were a janitor, so we made up a story that his pick up strategy was pretending to have the key to someone's heart - cheesy I know.

A younger crowd did end up coming and we started dancing, but stayed close by our table as the older daddy bears were getting territorial over who they were grinding with. Though now I feel I missed an opportunity to get a sugar daddy.

Goodnight Pink City | Bonne nuit La Villa Rose

Song: Pink Friday Girls - Nicki Minaj

As closing time neared we bowed out and headed back to our respective Airbnb apartments. You were the first stop with a place that had a stunning view of the Basilique Saint-Sernin de Toulouse all lit up at night. We spoke a little more, our voices getting slower and lower either from sexual tension or exhaustion.

I hugged him, getting up on my tippy toes as he was a full 17 centimetres taller. I wouldn’t realize until later that I was disappointed in not kissing him, but this wouldn’t be the last time I saw him - #SpolierAlert, #Foreshadow.

I ended that Friday night in the Pink City with my new Dutch gay. To be honest, we were kind of like Nicki Minaj’s Pink Friday Girls. We just wanted to have fun…and we did.

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Read the previous post - Chapter 22: How to Lose and Aussie in 10 Minutes

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This story starts with two Austrian doctors I met on Grindr who invited me out for drinks at The Place by COCO-MAT in Athens. During our conversation, in what we thought was a gay bar, I asked if they had any recommendations for places to eat. In unison they recommended Avli, a restaurant which they heard about from a local. They said it was the best food they had eaten so far and prefaced it was a little hard to find and at first glance might seem sketchy.

The next day I ventured to find the restaurant on Ag. Dimitriou 12. The street it was located on was more of an alleyway - dark, narrow and tagged with graffiti. As I counted down the building numbers, I eventually reached an unassuming white door with a metal grill sandwiched between two structures with the number 12 on it. I won’t lie, my first thought was the Austrians were trying to kill me. When I opened door and entered I was surprised by the hidden gem it revealed.

Avli translates to courtyard, which is literally what this place is. It seems the owners put a roof on top of a courtyard between two buildings and called it a restaurant. There was vegetation growing from the eavestroughs and shingles of one of the buildings and a cat roaming around in need of pets - and possibly scraps. The stone ground was uneven meaning tables were balanced with pieces of cardboard to keep them stable and the dining furniture was nothing fancy. However, I really resonated with the vibe and the food was to die for.

I had a Greek Salad with this massive piece of feta with capers sprinkled on top followed by a Medium Variety Plate that had deep fried cheese, various meats, egg, yogurt, veggies and fries along with local beer. I’d personally recommend skipping the bread basket because there is so much great food that bread is a waste of stomach space. Honestly, the best meal I had in Athens.

Operation Down Under

When I arrived at Avli, the waiter sat me at the front of the establishment centred with the entranceway. I chose to sit facing the door with my back towards the rest of the diners to avoid seeing them discuss my single dining status.

Diagonal from me there was an intriguing man. He was tall, had blonde hair and a moustache. He reminded me a lot of my roommate in Lisbon, LS, who I always had a crush on. We started smiling at each other and I kind of got a vibe.

Up until this point I had been very lucky with the men in Athens and was on a confident streak thinking I could pick him up. The difference though was this was in a restaurant and not a bar or on Grindr. Therefore, I was going to have to devise a plan.

Since I was alone with nothing to occupy my waiting time, I started to strategize how I would get his attention. According to my journal entry for that day these were some of the plans…

* Ask what he ordered. A basic first plan and not the smartest since he saw me order.

* Find him on the apps. Open Grindr, Scruff or Sniffies to set my location with the hopes he would also log on, see me and message me. An easy solution, but there was a chance he wasn’t on the apps or was straight.

* Fake a call. Pretend to talk on the phone about my plans in Athens, in the hopes he’d overhear and give his recommendations.

* Ask my waiter a hard question. My waiter, and pretty much every staff member at Avli, only spoke Greek. I could try to ask the waiter a difficult question about the food, cause confusion and have the man swoop in. Though there was no guarantee he spoke Greek and I didn’t want to get a weird order or cancel it by mistake.

My food arrived quickly and as I was about to dig in we made contact again. He smiled as if to say “enjoy” and pulled a book from his bag. This led to plan five.

* Fake knowing the book. Learn everything about what he is reading make a general comment and/or ask a question about the text to engage him in conversation and then ask if he wants to continue the conversation elsewhere.

The plan was flawless and I knew I could learn everything about the book by asking my AI wingman, ChatGPT.

I worked to identify green, yellow and pink covered book, which haD various faces on it. I couldn’t take a photo of the cover and throw it into Google without him seeing, so I squinted until I read Detransition Baby by Torrey Peters.

I asked ChatGPT about the book, and told me it was published in 2021. Its plot centres around three women—transgender and cisgender—whose lives collide after an unexpected pregnancy forces them to confront their deepest desires around gender, motherhood, and sex.

I then prompted AI for questions to potentially ask to stimulate conversation about the book. While it provided several, I chose “What are your views on the character’s plan for an unconventional family?” The question felt broad enough that I could pull real life scenarios into my answers.

The mysterious man finished his meal, placed his book down and headed to the bathroom. My time was running out and I was getting nervous. I needed advice from my main human confidant. My hype man! My roommate LS.

Me: I need some of your rizz. A guy across from me at this restaurant keeps smiling at me.

LS: Smile back

Me: 😑. I did. He went to the bathroom. Maybe he’ll accidentally bump into me cock first on the way back.

LS: Go to the bathroom too. You never know.

Me: I’ve already been, you can barely fit yourself in it.

LS: And did he fit?

Me: I didn’t turn around.

LS: Write your number on a napkin and leave it on the table. Or your IG?

Me: I searched for the book he was reading. I think I know enough about it to strike a conversation.

LS: Ahaha

During our tex exchange, I finished my food and the man was in the process of paying. He was packing his bag and turned towards the door. My time was now. I waved him down.

Me: I saw you reading Detransition, Baby

Him: Yes, I’m almost half-way through.

The moment he spoke, I instantly clocked a melt-worthy Australian accent. This man could take me now.

Me: How are you finding the book? It’s an interesting take on family dynamics and detransitioning.

I chickened out from asking the unconventional family question. His accent made me weak and I began to almost word vomit like Cady Heron in Mean Girls. I’m surprised I didn’t ask every question ChatGPT proposed.

Him: So far it’s been interesting. Insightful.

Me: I’m about to pay, how about we get a drink and you tell me more?

Him: I’ll wait outside.

IT WORKED! He exited the restaurant and I eagerly flagged down the waiter for my bill. As I waited for my cheque I messaged LS back.

Me: AHHHHHHHHHH

He didn’t need me to follow-up as he knew my gay text scream was explanation enough.

LS: Enjoy my little Canadian 😀 You’re so smart.

Outback, Out of Luck

The Aussie and I wandered the streets observing Athenian nightlife. We settled at Barrett, a coffee and liquor superstore housed in the 1900 built two-story structure and open daily from 11:00 to 04:00. Its walls were covered with the art by local artists and on occasion they have DJ sets.

When we arrived the bar was dark and smooth sounds were playing. The only place we could be seated was a couch next to these large plants that offered privacy. A perfect spot for us to court each other.

After sitting down and ordering, he told me about his life. Born in Australia, he moved to the UK where he works at Ernst & Young (EY). We talked more about the book, what else he likes to read and his interest, but as we chatted we both noticed their was no vibe or spark. Maybe the music was too loud or my breath smelled from the onions I ate, but the “date” was painful and lasted all of 45 minutes, though it as dead within the first 10.

After going our separate ways, I opened Grindr and saw him. He was on 20 minutes ago, about The same time he went to the bathroom. His profile had the 👀 emoji indicating he was looking for sex. His profile noted his position was versatile, so it could have worked out sexually. While I’ve slept with many guys I haven’t vibed with before, I was okay with the loss.

If I Was Invisible…

The next day, we ended up taking the same walking tour and it was VERY awkward. I attempted conversation, but His responses were short and closed ended. When a British woman introduced herself and asked how we knew each other, he said we didn’t.

Then just as the tour started a hunky Italian geologist joined the group. He immediately went to greet the Aussie and the two of them flirted the entire time. Maybe they fucked last night after he left me or they were going to later today. Regardless, he kept his distance from me and we didn’t even exchange goodbyes at the end of the tour.

Sad that he ignored me, I wandered Keramikos (Κεραμεικός), where a Greek man who works in luxury fashion messaged me on Grindr. We had a passionate love affair that afternoon. I describe the interaction as high-end fashion hooking-up with thrift-store vintage (which is my aesthetic).

While the vibes with EY Aussie were not there, I was proud of many things that night. My problem solving skills and ability to pick up a man at a restaurant - which I had never done before. As I’ve said before, 2024 was a year of growth and this was another example.

Oh - and I also had the most amazing food, so honestly no regrets. Avli still gets 5/5 star on Google Reviews from me.

Read The Previous Post - Chapter 21: Checked in and Turned on in Hamburg

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As I travelled Germany, I stopped in Hamburg to visit RC who was in town for work. He kindly offered me to stay with him at his hotel for a few days before our adventure to Berlin.

RC departed early every morning to attend meetings, while I explored Hamburg. My impression of the city was that it was having an identity crisis. I felt like a mishmash of other European cities I had visited. The Alsterfontäne reminded me of the Jet d'eau de Genève in Switzerland the buildings along Nikolaifleet were reminiscent of those in Holland in terms of architecture and backing onto a canal.

While it “borrowed” ideas from other countries, its ability to reinvigorate old structures impressed me. The Elbphilharmonie Hamburg concert hall blends tradition and modernity. The bottom was a former warehouse for tea, tobacco and cocoa beans and above is a glass structure that includes three concert halls, a hotel, apartments and a great panoramic viewpoint.

Additionally, Hamburg Bunker St. Pauli is a former Nazi bunker. The bottom portion is a massive air raid shelter, with impenetrable walls due the thick concrete, making it basically impossible to deconstruct. It now has various businesses inside, a nightclub and on top its modern structure features a restaurant, hotel and rooftop garden proving new life can be born from past horrors.

I also appreciated the Portugiesenviertel, a district populated with Portuguese establishments that felt like Lisbon - even Little Portugal in Toronto - and allowed me to continue practicing the language.

The Mysterious Hotel Employee | Der mysteriöse Hotelangestellte

From this point on the post is NSFW

One night, as I recharged before a show at Elbphilharmonie Hamburg, I popped onto Grindr to see what boys were around.

About 10 metres away from me was a blank profile with the name BJ Fun. Intrigued by how close he was, I broke my rule and messaged the blank profile.

Me: Hey

BJ Fun: Hey. What’s up?

Me: Eating, you?

BJ Fun: Working Haha

Me: At the ______ Hotel?

BJ Fun: 🙂 I’m super discreet cuz of the work.

I wondered if I had interacted with him already. Was he the tall brunette with glasses at the front desk? Was he one of the construction workers renovating the wing next to us? Was he the waiter that was heading towards the restaurant?

BJ Fun: What are u into?

I told him my position preference, how I only used condoms because I was not on PrEP anymore and made it clear I didn’t do drugs as chem sex is big in Europe. We then swapped intimate photos and after complimenting our dicks, I decided to take a guess at his identity.

Me: I bet you’re the cutie at the front desk.

BJ Fun: I can give u a hint. I’m 180+ high 🙂

I assumed 180+ was his height in centimetres, which is how Europeans express it. I converted that to about 5 feet 9 inches. I determined it couldn’t have been the man at the front desk as he was about my height at 6 feet.

Me: You the blonde server? In the restaurant?

BJ Fun: We don’t have a blonde server in the restaurant haha. But u saw me today I believe 🙂

The thing with blank profiles that bothers me is you don’t know their face, but they know yours. If I did see him, I was likely zoned out or focused on something other than him.

BJ Fun: Do u cum fast? I’m horny to suck tonight? For how long are u here?

While I viewed his message, I realized I was running late and left his message unanswered until I returned at around 01:00.

The German Foreplay | Das deutsche Vorspiel

I hadn’t figured out who the mysterious man was, but wanted him even more. I started thinking of the Grindr screen grabs on X and porn about gay men checking into hotels, clocking the homosexual employee and them having passionate sex on the premises. I never realized this fantasy until I started interacting with BJ Fun. My year of “firsts and growth” wouldn’t be complete without this hook-up.

Me: Working?

BJ Fun: Yep?

Me: Also I can cum fast FYI.

I never answered his original question, plus I felt recalling our initial conversation would remind him of my intention.

BJ Fun: Horny? Up for a BJ?

Me: I’m eating right now. When you done work?

BJ Fun: At 01:00 or something. But it’s not really busy so I could come over.

While I was horny, it occurred to me I couldn’t host. RC and I were sharing a bed and I didn’t want to disrespect his kind offer to stay by having sex on it. I explained this and told BJ Fun I’d respond when I returned.

I arrived back two hours later and got a drink with RC at the hotel restaurant/bar, where we were served by a man whom we both thought was gay. RC then clocked an employee glancing at me from the bar who was in an endless conversation with a man. We both assumed he was BJ Fun.

RC and I eventually headed back to our room. In the elevator, I checked my phone and saw a message from BJ Fun.

BJ Fun: Found a date?

He must have seen me leave with RC and assumed we were going to fuck in the room and that I was lying.

Me: No. I’m with my friend.

BJ Fun: Now u saw me 😛

Me: Did you serve me?

BJ Fun: No, I was talking to an American at the bar.

RC was right, the cute guy behind the bar was BJ Fun. Knowing it was near the end of his shift and there was now an expiry on my fantasy, I made my move.

Me: So is there a public bathroom down there we can hook up in?

BJ Fun: I mean there is, but it’s kinda my workplace.

Me: That is fair.

BJ Fun: I know some discrete places here though. I’m pretty fucking horny and u look hot.

Me: Where should we meet?

BJ Fun: I want to close the bar and then I’ll text you in like 30 mins?

I was close to living my XXX rated dream. Not wanting to be suspicious and sneak out, I told RC the plan. He gave me some encouragement and went to bed.

The ambiance is giving murder | Die Atmosphäre ist mörderisch.

Almost exactly 30 minutes later, he messaged me.

BJ Fun: What floor are you on?

Me: Top

BJ Fun: We have construction at the left side, so this area is restricted and only coworkers can be there. No cameras.

Me: Is it safe?

BJ Fun: Yes. The rooms are not done. Meet at the 4th floor.

I tiptoed in the dark, trying not to wake RC. As I exited the room, I looked to the left towards the construction wing on our floor. I had asked if it was safe because I tend to hurt myself. Cutting my knuckles on rusty locks or stepping on nails. I didn’t want to end up in a German hospital needing a tetanus shot. Knowing BJ Fun would likely be on his knees reassured me the site would be clean and not littered with debris.

Stepping out to the fourth floor, I saw him waiting. He was wearing a white dress shirt, wrinkled black dress pants, suspenders and had a small towel stuffed in his pocket. His face was handsome and he had beard stubble that I couldn’t see in the low-lighting of the restaurant/bar.

He led the way, but given the floors were identical I knew where to go. We arrived at the door to the construction wing and I noticed a sign in German with an image of a man in a hard hat. I assumed it was communicating the site was an active construction zone, to take precaution and/or to wear a hard hat.

I thought the door would be locked and opened with a special keycard, but BJ Fun simply turned the handle and we entered.

Taking my first step into the unfinished wing, I felt plastic underneath my feet. The clear covering protected the blue, purple and yellow carpet that resembled a Van Gogh. I could taste the dust in the air and felt it flood my nostrils with each breath. The smell was a mix of wood and that chemical aroma of newly unwrapped furniture.

Wires stuck out of sockets, door handles had yet to be installed, lights were missing fixtures and there were tools lying around - hammers, screwdrivers. The walls were not painted and some had dings that required patching.

He led me to the second room to the left completely covered in plastic. It was basically complete minus the missing glass for the shower door, the TV and some furniture.

He guided me to the bed, where he lowered my pants and underwear and told me to sit. My bare ass felt uncomfortable rubbing against the plastic, but I knew the pleasure that was about to come. He got on his knees, causing the plastic to shift and make an unattractive sound.

He serviced me as I grabbed his suspenders sliding them off his shoulder one by one. He pushed me back and I leaned on my elbows looking at the ceiling. As his tongue did magical things, the plastic-covered room started to remind me of the show Dexter. Then I started to think about the scattered tools I saw and wondered if there were any nearby. Then I realized how easy it would be to commit a murder here. You could easily kill someone with a tool, wrap the body in plastic and not worry about leaving a DNA trace behind - an easy cleanup.

As I pondered this, I could feel myself close to climaxing. This would either be a euphoric high or a horror movie plot twist. I told him I was coming and not wanting to swallow he removed his mouth. I ejaculated over his face and some of my cum hit the plastic on the floor, which I heard.

He grabbed the towel from his uniform, wiped his face and then the plastic on the floor - see easy clean up!

I composed myself, borrowing the towel to clean off - sorry laundry staff. He went to the door to make sure the coast was still clear as I pulled my pants up. He waved me over like in a heist film indicating we could exit.

We left the unfinished wing and went our separate ways in silence. He took the stairs and I took the elevator. I was relieved that I lived my fantasy and didn’t get murdered.

Read the previous post - Chapter 20: The Santos Populares Diaries

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Across Lisbon, neighbourhoods like Alfama, Graça, Bica and more, will host parties, known as Arraiais. These areas will be decked out in decorations with vibrant colours, stages for DJs and live performance and pop-up beer and food tents. Party-goers will dance, sing classic songs like Para Ti Maria by Xutos e Pontapés, wear ridiculous hats and chow down on bifanas and grilled sardines right in front of you.

Last year, I made several memories and friends during Santos. In today’s post, I asked my friend Emily to share a Santos Populares memory in addition to mine. Enjoy.

The Brazilian in the Window | O Brasileiro na Janela

By Stephan Petar

The atmosphere on Vila Berta was electric. People were crammed like sardines. Music was blaring. A sea of conversations in various languages could be heard. Smoke from the grills billowed in the air, emitting smells of fish or meat mixed with charcoal that attached itself to clothing fibres, leaving party goers with a unique scent they’d carry all night.

The crowd donned peculiar hats. A red cap with a green dice and a flag on top. The hats read BetClic, an online gambling company and sponsor of the event.

Em, Jess and I agreed that we needed one. We knew our Santos would not be complete without the ridiculous hat that we’d likely never wear again. We also knew that to secure one, we’d have to maneuver our way through the crowd.

Entwining our hands, we plunged into the swarm of people. We choreographed our moves like contemporary dancers. We weaved between bodies avoiding cups filled to the brim with beer or sangria from spilling on us.

The crowd became suffocating at points that I had to lift my face up for air. Above me, banners criss-crossed attaching themselves to the second-floor windows or the iron balconies of the homes along the street - some which dated back to 1902, built by Joaquim Francisco Togal.

We emerged from the sea of bodies into a gap where the crowd thinned. As we collected ourselves, I caught a glimpse of him. A Brazilian man with glasses and curly hair I met weeks earlier in sexual capacity.

He leaned out his window with an alcoholic beverage, chatting with a group. His curly hair bounced as the light night breeze touched it. His smile, that had lured me into his bed weeks ago, once again entranced me. He was a siren. His presence so irresistible that it pulled me towards him.

I stood outside his window ignoring the group around him. While we were at eye level with each other, I felt I was staring up at him like Romeo did to Juliet. His smile grew in my presence and we chatted briefly. His voice higher than mine, his English broken.

He introduced me to his friends and I realized I interrupted them, lost Em and Jess and was distracted from the mission - the cap. I apologized and told him about the hat we were in search of. He pointed in the direction of where the volunteers were distributing them. They were hidden underneath the northern passageway.

I grabbed his hand and said “Obrigado. Boa Noite.”

“De nada,” he responded. “Boa Noite.”

I let go of him and rejoined Em and Jess. We linked hands and were swallowed by the crowd again.

Shopping Cart 28 | Carrinho de compras 28

By Emily of the Substack “To What End This Flowering Abyss”

I am, for the most part, a vegetarian. I will cave and eat a twice-yearly smoked chouriço, especially if it's paired with fado, sheep's cheese, and vinho verde. Last year, during Santos, I had a drunk bite of someone's bifana.

At the time I thought it was beef. I only recently learned that a bifana is actually pork, when I pointed out an ad for the McBifana as a great example of localization. I haven't tried the McBifana, but I have not heard anyone recommend it.

After Santos ferver-fueled bifana bite, a group of us decided to push through throngs of sweaty bodies screaming pimba music in Graça to explore the scene down the hill. We made our way via a cobblestoned alley to escape the crowds. At the top of the descent, we found an abandoned shopping cart. I looked at my friend and she looked back at me. She is the kind of friend I would follow anywhere— my tacit trust in her has led us places I can barely describe.

I tucked myself into the little shopping cart and she started pushing as our friends watched in concern from behind. It was one of those moves that’s definitely “Not a Good Idea,” but somehow it worked out. My jaw vibrated as the metal cart shook over the stones. She was a conscientious driver and even managed to parallel park the shopping cart in front of someone’s house before we made our way towards the bright lights of yet another arraial (party or fair).

So American | Tão Americano

By Stephan Petar

Our nights are fragments. We drank too much. Our justification was that it was for religion. For Saint Anthony. Yet these pieces are memories that I cherish from our time together.

Memory 1: We danced on the steps next to Igreja Paroquial de São Miguel in Alfama. Our limbs bumped into each other, unsure if it was from our dancing or being shoved by people. We made our way off the steps, plunging ourselves into the crowd. We screamed “Maria, oh, woah, oh” at the top of our lungs. Our voices became part of a collective of drunken screams.

Memory 2: You sat on a bench, holding my beer as I emptied my bladder of alcohol somewhere along Rua Norberto de Araújo. You were supposed to watch for any Donna Maria’s who would scold me. I wondered if you tried to catch a glimpse of my penis.

Memory 3: We stumbled on the cobblestone streets. Our balance distorted from the alcohol, trash on the ground and uneven stones. We kept upright by placing our arms around each other's shoulders. I couldn’t help thinking there was an element of romance in our embrace.

Memory 4: We ordered food from a street vendor that would break every North American health code. The cashier took our Euros, picked up a raw piece of meat and handed it to another man who had just scratched himself. The man slapped the meat a few times before grilling it. He handed us the food and we ate it without question.

Memory 5: We chased after Em as her friend pushed her down a cobblestone hill in a mysterious shopping cart we somehow acquired. We worried a wheel would dislodge. It didn’t.

Memory 6: You said I could kiss you. I waited all night for the moment. You reminded me of the song So American by Olivia Rodrigo. "You were like a poem, I wish I wrote. It wasn’t fair of you, to make me feel this much. I’d go anywhere you’d go - and I did throughout Santos. I wish I had the balls to be the man you wanted.

Read the previous post - Chapter 19: The unbreakable Maltese

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Valletta was the most bombed place during World War II with somewhere between 15,000 and 17,000 tonnes falling on it due to its position between Europe and Africa. The surface became so uninhabitable and dangerous that a series of tunnels underneath the city were repurposed into an underground shelter for residents.

The idea of living underground was something I’ve only seen in The Hunger Games and on the Apple TV+ show Silo. Through the tour Underground Valletta, I saw how many locals lived during the war as their homes above were destroyed. Today, the underground city is home to spiders, rodents and cockroaches, but peering into the small individual rooms, you could see how people lived and converted this underground network into homes.

Passing the many rooms, one could see colourful tiled floors, metal brackets on walls likely to hold bunk beds and shrines dedicated to religious figures. Children were born in this dark underground cavern and some people never recovered psychologically after leaving, developing fears of the dark and tight spaces. There were even residents who lived underground for years after the war as they had nowhere to go.

To her brave people | Lil nies kuraġġużi tagħha

While they lived underground, the Maltese defended their nation. Their bravery resulted in the small nation being awarded The George Cross, the highest award given by the British government. King George VI said “To honour her brave people, I award the George Cross to the island fortress of Malta, to bear witness to a heroism and devotion that will long be famous in history”.

This is one reason I associate Rachel Platten’s Fight Song with the city. As the lyrics say…

This is my fight song.

Take back my life song.

Prove I'm alright song.

While the bravery of the nation is a powerful story, there is another that lives with me. Our Underground Valletta tour guide told us the story of his mother, who would sit on the roof of a building and watch enemy planes fly over and drop bombs on the harbour. This image of this woman watching this terror unfold to me personifies the bravery and courage of the people as she could have retreated, but didn’t.

I imagine her wanting to fight, take back her city, her country and just staring evil in its face without so much as a flinch. We'll never know what she felt at that moment, her son admitted he would never know, but for me she was a symbol of a civilian showing nothing can scare the Maltese.

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Read the previous post - Chapter 18: Daring influencers, mama bears and earthquakes

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Now, I’m a massive Eurovision fan. I watched the 2019 edition (winner Duncan Laurence from Netherlands) on a boat in Stockholm and in 2024 (winner Nemo from Switzerland) I watched it at The Late Birds in Lisbon. The other editions I’ve watched either at home or with friends.

Since COVID-19, multiple Eurovision songs have made my Spotify Wrapped list. For the last two years, my most played song was a Eurovision entrant - Cha Cha Cha by Käärijä (2023) and La Noia by Angelina Mango (2024).

I have even written two posts dedicated to the impact Eurovision has had on my journey. You can read Chapter 1: La Noia or Chapter 16: The Not So EasyJet to Mahmood.

This post is unlike my others, it’s purely just a fun, stupid piece about my favourite songs at the 2025 contest and a photo journey of my travels that dates back to 2015.

We’ll be back to regular programming next week, but I hope you enjoy this.

Czechia

Entry: Kiss Kiss Goodbye by ADONXS

Status: Did not advance

I love ADONXS. He is a queer activist who rose to fame after winning the Czech-Slovak version of Idol called SuperStar. He was the face of a campaign that challenged the definition of the word “love” in the Slovak dictionary, which defines the word as affection between two opposite genders only.

The artist says his song is “the story of a flawed, wounded hero who, at a crucial moment, is willing to sacrifice a great leap for humanity in the hope of healing a painful wound in his heart. It’s about how love drives and shapes us—but so does its absence.” I personally love when he staccatos the words “kiss” and then holds the word “goodbye,” which is followed by a choir chanting the three words.

Germany

Entry: Baller by Abor & Tynna

Status: Automatically advanced to the Grand Finale

Germany has sent some awful songs over the last few years - not as bad as the UK though. My Eurovision hot-take has always been that this “Big Five” country (one of the biggest financial supporters to the song contest and therefore gets to skip the semi-finals) should be punished for their choices by participating in a semi to get a reality check on how unlikeable their songs are.

Then they selected this banger, the first song fully sung in German since 2007. It’s a song I imagine people dancing to at Berghain…actually I don’t know what people dance to in Berghain, because I’ve never made it in. Regardless, it is a certified hit that could resonate on charts across Europe - a rare feat for Eurovision entrants. I can imagine the brother and sister duo turning the arena in Basel into a nightclub and this song being a public favourite during voting.

Iceland

Entry: RÓA by VÆB

Status: Advanced to Grand Finale

These Icelandic twinks in their shiny silver cheesy-futuristic Back to the Future-esque jumpsuits are hilarious and their song is literally all about rowing a boat. The chorus is “Rowing today, rowing tonight. Rowing to where the stars are bright. And nothing's ever stopping me now…”

Brothers Matthías Davíð Matthíasson and Hálfdán Helgi Matthíasson are from a musical family and in 2022, formed VÆB after posting a comedy song on TikTok that went viral in their homeland.

My favourite part of the song is the use of the violin/fiddle, especially at the end as it makes me want to link arms with someone and spin around. Also their is something in the way they sing “Það getur ekkert stoppað mig af” (or “And nothing's ever stopping me now”) at the very end of the song that to me really embodies the drive to win. It’s for sure an ear-worm.

Ireland

Entry: Laika Party by EMMY

Status: Did not advance

This song is very bubblegum pop and complete departure from last year’s demonic (and amazing) entry Doomsday Blue by Bambie Thug. EMMY is a Norwegian artist representing Ireland with a song about a Russian dog sent to space named Laika.

In 1957, Laika became the first creature launched into orbit. She was a stray dog from the streets of Moscow, who became a cosmic pioneer. Sadly, she never returned to earth nor was she ever meant to. Re-entry technology was not yet developed and she passed hours into the flight from hypothermia.

While the story is sad, EMMY turns the moment into a “tearjerker with beat” as described by people. The lyrics imagine Laika surviving in space and throwing a party in the sky happy as can be. Honestly, anything that has to do with dogs wins my heart.

Malta

Entry: Serving by Miriana Conte

Status: Advance to Grand Finale

When this song won the Malta national it was called Kant, which in English means “Singing.” However, the BBC complained to the EBU that “Kant” sounded too much like “C*nt.” Conte had to rename the song to Serving and removed the word “Kant” from her lyrics - though I am hoping, praying and wishing the audience will just scream “Kant” when the time comes.

In an interview with a UK television outlet, the artist said her intention was never to offend anyone as she was only trying to say “I’m Serving Singing.” Leave it to the UK to ruin all the fun at Eurovision 69 and to have a problem with a foreign language.

Netherlands

Entry: C’est La Vie by Claude

Status: Advanced to Grande Finale

If the stage performance is choreographed like the music video we are in for quite treat. I love this English-French song from Congo-born Claude, who says the song is a tribute to a parent - in this case is his mother. The beat gives the song a dance vibe, while fusing elements of a French ballad I’d expect to hear from France.

Norway

Entry: Lighter by Kyle Alessandro

Status: Advanced to Grande Finale

Norway always delivers solid Eurovision entries and Kyle Alessandro is no exception. . Kyle got his start when he received the Golden Buzzer on Norway’s Got Talent at 10. I think Eurovision will catapult him onto the wider European stage.

His song has a mix of baroque and medieval elements with Norwegian folk - which after being told this, I can definitely hear. The song is about the singer’s mom, who was diagnosed with cancer and how she told him to never lose his light.

Sweden

Entry: Bara Bada Bastu by KAJ

Status: Advanced to Grande Finale

This group is known for having comedic songs and stage performances and they didn’t dial it down for their Eurovision entry, which is considered the front runner. While the jury is typically not a fan of comedic tunes, this might be the song that unites the jury and public votes.

The group, that is actually from Finland, is entering with a song about going to the sauna. The lyrics include “We’re gonna sauna, sauna. Steam it up and let go of all stress today. Sauna brothers, we’re the ones who glow…”

Switzerland

Entry: Voyage by Zoë Më

Status: Automatically advanced

While it doesn’t compare to last year’s winner, this is probably the only ballad this year that really resonated with me - which is surprising. Plus, I thought I looked cute in this photo and felt you all needed to see it.

Other songs I like from countries I have yet to visit include: Milkshake Man by Go-Jo (Australia, Did not advance), Espresso Macchiato by Tommy Cash (Estonia, Advanced to Grande Finale) and Tutta L’Italia by Garby Ponte (San Marino, Advanced to Grande Finale).

Read Chapter 16: Washing my doubts away in Lake Geneva

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I was in my early ‘20s when I visited Geneva last. It was a quick day trip from France since the Swiss Franc was, and still is, absurdly high compared to the Canadian Dollar. Plus, my friends and I were broke university students, who just wanted to say we went to two countries on our two week adventure. When I visited in 2024, I was no longer a university student, despite always using my student card with no expiry date to get discounts, and I was not as broke.

I travelled to Geneva to experience Pride in the small town of Martigny, but also to see a handsome Swiss man (we’ll call him LA) that I met in Athens for a few hours.

He offered me to stay with him and to be frank, I didn’t know what to expect. Would we get along or would the extended period of time show we were not compatible. Little did I know, this trip would impact me significantly, especially in regards to my views of companionship.

A quick detour to 1997 | Un petit détour vers 1997

To understand my views on companionship/love we have to go back to when I was seven or eight. At my cousin’s birthday party, we decided to play with a Spirit Board (mistake one). When it was my turn to ask the board a question (mistake two), I asked if I would ever get married. To my shock the planchette rushed to the word “no.” I took the message the spirits bestowed on me to heart and it might be the reason I have never full-heartedly committed to a relationship.

Many have analyzed what the Spirit Board said to me. Some pointed out that the spirits were telling me of my homosexual future. To be fair, I never asked “what gender I would marry,” but everyone assumed since I was “straight” at the time it would be a woman. Another friend suggested the spirits were from a different time when same-sex marriage was illegal and therefore, had to assume I was talking about a woman. These were some great arguments, but deep down I believed the spirits did not see me as marriage material. Someone worthy enough to find a life companion.

When I arrived in Lisbon, one of the first dinner parties I attended was with a drag queen Lady Irina who read my tarot cards. I asked her to do a reading about my love life and the first card pulled was the death card. She informed me that it was usually a sign of transformation, which was what the whole year was meant to be about, but I doubted the power of the card knowing my love fate was sealed by the Spirit Board.

Back to Geneva (2024) | Retour à Genève (2024)

On my first day in Switzerland, LA and I swam in Lake Geneva. We set our towels on the rocky beach and went into the water. We splashed around for a while before he decided to get out. I stayed, dipping my whole body into the lake - something I'd never do in Lake Ontario and true locals know why. When I emerged to the surface, the beautiful clear water that submerged me cascaded down my body as I looked around blindly - from both water in my eyes and the fact I wasn’t wearing glasses. While I couldn’t see much, I felt the sun trying to poke through the clouds and did see the outline of the stunning alps. As I walked towards the shore, I had this off feeling take over my body that I couldn’t explain and wrote off as muscle tiredness from the swim.

LA and I spent the night grabbing fondue at Bains des Pâquis and met his friends at Bisou Bar and then Le Phare. We ended my first day making out on his couch, later migrating to his bed, where he fastened my arm to tightly secure his body into mine. I nuzzled my head in that spot between the neck and shoulder and we fell asleep.

I awoke before him and not wanting to disturb him, I stared out the window watching the rising sun reflect on the windows and listened to the birds singing. Then the great Elphaba from Wicked entered my mind with the words “something has changed within, something is not the same.”

In that moment, I realized I didn’t want to be some f**k boy. I wanted to wake up with the warmth of someone connecting to my body, to me. I started to think maybe I was worthy of that. Maybe the death card was right and it took eight months to realize the transformation it had predicted. I also realized, I never asked the Spirit Board if I'd find companionship or love. I asked about marriage, which at the time, my seven-or-eight-year-old brain assumed was a packaged deal.

The song | La chanson

When I left Geneva the song Wash Me Clean by Younger Sun played after hitting shuffle on my Heartbreak Hotel playlist - heartbroken to leave such a beautiful city and an unexpectedly romantic weekend. As I passed the water and mountains on the train, I realized that maybe dipping into Lake Geneva and emerging from it was a rebirth and that my blurry eyes fixated on the mountains not because they were there, but because they represented new heights.

The water washed me clean of this cursed thinking I had carried for over two decades. It was like a baptism, purifying me from the Spirit Board that made me doubt myself. A hilarious revelation to have in a country where many identify as non-religious.

Here are some of the lyrics that resonated with me:

* Cold bitter hands, Cold bitter night. I see the cold bitter hands as those of the spirits we summoned from the Spirit Board. It was also a cold bitter night when we summoned them as it was in January.

* A split in the skies, I can feel a new tide rising. When I emerged from Lake Geneva, the sky was clearing from the overcast day and little did I know that a new tide would rise as I made my way back to the beach.

* Ran after wrong, but wrong isn’t right. I ran away from companionship because I listened to the spirits trapped in the board. Running towards a life of loneliness was wrong. Something I see now.

* Will it wash me clean? This lyric is repeated 10 times throughout the song. It’s a question I asked myself as I put the song on repeat and made my way to Bern. At the end of my journey, I gained a new perspective about my worth and have carried it ever since.

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Read the previous post - Chapter 15: The not so EasyJet to Mahmood

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I’m a massive Eurovision fan. Each year I fall in love with the artists and their songs that are sent to represent their country in the contest.

Artists like ABBA (Sweden), Käärijä (Norway), Silvester Belt (Lithuania), Carola (Sweden), Angelina Mango (Italy), Måneskin (Italy), Senhit (San Marino), Herreys (Sweden), Baby Lasagna (Croatia) and Go_A (Ukraine) can be found on multiple playlists of mine, with a song catalogue beyond their Eurovision entry. They have charted on my Spotify Wrapped and taught me how to sing in a foreign language. However, one artist has stolen my heart for the last six years and that is Italy’s 2019 entrant Mahmood.

Born in Milan, Mahmood, whose full name is Alessandro Mahmoud, is the son of an Egyptian father and Italian mother. At age five, his father abandoned him, which he reflects on in songs like Soldi and Gioventù Bruta. As a teen he took singing lessons and at 20 was on X Factor Italia, where he was eliminated early on. That moment fuelled him and he began studying musical theory in order to write his own music. Four years later he competed in the “Newcomers” category at the Sanremo Festival, which launched his career.

In 2019, he returned to the Sanremo Festival to compete for the chance to represent Italy in Eurovision with his song Soldi. It was selected to represent the country, but gained anti-immigration pushback with some questioning if the song should be considered “Italian music.” There have also been questions about his sexuality to which the artist has said, “It makes no sense to make distinctions anymore.”

In the end, his infectious song came second at Eurovision with 472 points. Even though he didn’t win, he won my heart. When he announced his 2024 European tour, I had to see him. So, I selected his first show at Rockhal in Esch-sur-Alzette, Luxembourg on April 4, 2024.

The 27 hour journey to Mahmood | Déi 27 Stonne Rees op Mahmood

The road to see Mahmood should have been simple, it was a 2.5 hour flight with EasyJet from Lisbon to Luxembourg. Little did I know a 27 hour ordeal was about to unravel. I have pieced together a timeline from messages with friends, Airbnb hosts, angry DMs and Instagram Stories. This post will now become the 24 of Substack posts.

April 3

* 14:00 - Arrive and breeze through security at Humberto Delgado Airport in Lisbon. Sit at the departure gate. Conduct research for my article. Flight is scheduled for around 16:40.

* 14:30 - Flight delayed to 17:15.

* 15:00 - Flight delayed to 17:45

* 16:00 - Message my Airbnb host. Inform her that my new ETA in Luxembourg is 21:15.

* 17:00 - Haven’t boarded. Departure still at 17:45.

* 17:30 - Everyone is restless. Boarding for those requiring assistance (wheelchairs, young children) begins. Those individuals are in the clearance area waiting to be rolled onto the plane. I’M COMING MAHMOOD!

* 18:00 - Announcement. Flight cancelled. Will be rescheduled on April 4. An uproar begins. People yell at the EasyJet employees. Passengers bound for other flights stare in curiosity as tempers flare. EasyJet directs us to meet in front of Estação Aeroporto (metro station) for next steps. Hands out a sheet informing passengers about potential reimbursement under the EU’s Air Passengers Rights. I grab my information sheet and inquire about the cancellation. EasyJet attendant notes the air crew worked their allotted hours. Fun fact, if you Google “flight cancelled because air crew worked too much” one of the first hits is a forum called EasyJet cancelling a flight when staff is over hours, so it seems common.

* 20:30 - Waited outside Estação Aeroporto for almost two hours. People continue to yell at the staff, which is unfair as they are the middle-people. EasyJet tells us food, transportation and hotel stay (up to a certain amount) can be claimed back if we choose not to stay at the assigned hotel. Employees inform the new flight is at 06:00.

* 20:45 - Receive a confirmation email indicating the flight is at 13:50 on April 4, not 06:00. Staff must have confused the existing flight for ours.

* 21:00 - Conduct #TravelMath on the metro home about my potential schedule in Luxembourg on April 4:

* 13:50 - Depart Lisbon on a 2.5 hour flight to Luxembourg. Luxembourg is one hour ahead.

* 17:20 - Arrive in Luxembourg. Exit the plane. Head to the transit stop (transit is free).

* 17:40 - Estimated arrival time at transit stop.

* 18:10 - Arrive at Airbnb.

* 18:30 - Explore Luxembourg City, visit the Musée National d'Archéologie, d'Histoire et d'Art (Nationalmusée um Fëschmaart) and grab food.

* 19:45 - Take transit to Rockhal.

* 21:15 - Arrive at Rockhal. Mahmood goes on stage. My mind is blown.

* 21:15 - Realization that EasyJet will not cockblock me from Mahmood or Luxembourg City.

* 22:00 - Hangry after all the waiting and math. Grab a pizza at La Matta with Michelle, who is visiting Portugal to meet a man from Luxembourg.

April 4

* 08:00 - Woke up. Flight delayed to 14:50. Confused by the delay as the flight was not an existing one. EasyJet’s only flight out of Lisbon that day was at 06:00 - which I regret not booking. New Airbnb arrival time is 19:10. Would need to sacrifice exploration time for food.

* 09:00 - Flight delayed until 15:50. New Airbnb arrival time is 20:10. Cutting it very close.

* 12:00 - Back at Humberto Delgado Airport. Clear security. Pray flight is early.

* 14:00 - Gate number appears on screen.

* 14:30 - Boarding commences. Shuttle bus takes us to a distant tarmac. Board. Seated next to an elderly couple who only speak Luxembourgish. Debate changing into my sluttier outfit on the plane, and taking a sexy airplane bathroom selfie in the process, so that I had one less thing to do when I arrived.

* 15:00 - Pilot informs us that catering has not arrived. Need to wait. Audible sighs are let out.

* 16:00 - Catering arrives. Captain informs us of departure backlog. Message broadcast in English and Portuguese, but not French. French-only speakers are angered. Confrontation breaks out in front of me between two passengers. Flight crew intervenes. An English speaker says the fighting could lead to more delays. Everyone calms down. I stress out and become upset about missing the concert. Accept I will not see Luxembourg City as my bus to The Netherlands to see tulips was the next day at 10:30.

* 17:00 - Depart. Winds in our favour. Still going to miss part of the show. Made the decision to take a cab vs. transit to my Airbnb and to the venue once I land. EasyJet WILL NOT cockblock me from Mahmood.

* 20:20 - Land. Elderly couple, seeing my panic, let me off first. Run through the airport as if I’m on The Amazing Race, but balanced my franticness to avoid being stopped by airport security.

* 20:30 - Hop in a cab. Driver was a Serbian. He warms up to me once I share my Serbian lineage. Gives me his card in case I needed anything. Cab ride was 60 euros ($92 CDN).

* 21:00 - Airbnb host quickly lays out the rules and gives me the keys. I inquire the price of a 15 minute cab ride to the French border, as transit would take too long. She says it will be over 70 euros (~$108 CDN). I almost cry. I was going to have to spend another $100 CDN or miss half the show. The Airbnb host, seeing my stress, offers to take me. I hug her in tears. She changes out of her pyjamas. I freshen up. We leave.

* 21:30 - Arrive at Rockhal! Thanked Airbnb host profusely. Missed 15 minutes! It was magical. It left me speechless. His presence made me so horny. He was fun and playful.

April 5

* 06:00 to 10:00 - Alarm rings. Starts day with a quick three hour tour of Luxembourg City before my bus. Most attractions are closed, but I see the exteriors of Place Guillaume II, Palais Grand-Ducal, Cathédrale Notre-Dame de Luxembourg, Rocher du Bock viewpoint and more.

* 10:30 - On my Flixbus to The Netherlands. Pass out instantly. Thank God something was on time.

One way or another | Dee Wee oder en aneren

SONG: ONE WAY OR ANOTHER - BLONDIE

Once I woke up on bus to The Netherlands, I filled out EasyJet’s online compensation form (which was a very sketchy system). My expenses amounted to 30 euros, but I asked to be compensated for my cab ride, which EasyJet forced me to take because I was 27 hours late. They only reimbursed the 30 euros, denying me compensation for the cab ride, noting it was after I landed.

Weeks later I received notice saying there would be no compensation for the 27 hour delay as it was an “air traffic issue” beyond their control. I understand that logic for April 4, but there was still the question of April 3, when we were informed it was cancelled due to a staffing issue. Asking this question, EasyJet denied that was the reason - essentially calling me and their staff liars.

It was an annoying experience. I only flew with EasyJet once more after that as I had already booked a flight to the UK in June.

One way or another, I did see Mahmood and explored a small part of Luxembourg City. That is why the Blondie song One Way or Another perfectly represents my time there.

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Previous Post - Chapter 14: Lizzie McGuire You’re an Outfit Repeater

Also read how the Eurovision song “La Noia” played a part in my European journey!

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Engaging in TikTok research of various destinations, I found creators whose goal was to visit every country. I wanted to do the same and ignored the cheap flights to destinations I had already been too.

However, when I began meeting people from these “repeat cities,” I learned there was much more I hadn’t discovered. Not to mention, it had been over a decade since I visited some of them and in that time I changed, as did the cities.

Reflecting on the photos I took at those destinations, I saw how immature I was. I did ridiculous poses in front of monuments, not realizing what they represented. I don’t even remember appreciating or connecting with the history, culture and people of those places.

After this reflection, I decided to become a “Travel Repeater,” a person who visits a place again. I know that isn't a thing as people visit the same city multiple times, but TikTok creators led me to believe that wasn’t cool. They taught me the more you travelled to new places, the more social currency you had.

My first repeat city was Rome, a stop over before Kate and Nick’s wedding in Montingnano. On my way, I watched The Lizzie McGuire Movie and one of the very first scenes was Lizzie’s arch nemesis Kate ripping her graduation gown open to reveal a previously worn outfit. Screaming, Kate said “Lizzie McGuire you are an outfit repeater!” While I didn’t have the outfits I wore to Rome back in 2008, I was still a repeater in the travel sense. Plus, that film represented teenage metamorphosis and I had deemed 2024 my mid-30s metamorphosis - queue the Hilary Duff song.

So let’s visit these repeat places to see what was different this time around. Note I won’t be doing any Portuguese cities, since I lived there.

The Roman repeat | La ripetizione romana (2008 vs. 2024)

I visited Rome on a school trip, like Lizzie, for my 18th birthday and for years it ranked lowest on my list of the cities visited - that honour later went to Naples. This was because I got the flu and was either stuck in bed or very groggy. It was also the first time I left Canada on my own, so the circumstances made me homesick.

As the saying goes, “some things never change.” In 2024, my return was marked with illness once again - luckily, the tail end of food poisoning.

Given I was super ill in 2008, I decided to do a crash course of attractions. The first repeat attraction was the second floor the United Colors of Benetton store in front of the Trevi Fountain, which still has the best view of the lucky monument. While the Trevi Fountain was busy, I managed to sneak in front and make a wish. I will reveal 2008 wish, which was to have the full Lizzie McGuire experience. Instead of being mistaken for a pop star and having a whirlwind romance, I was in bed sick. Technically, Lizzie did pretend to be sick in the film…so maybe the wishing-powers-to-be didn’t realize it was a hoax and therefore made me ill for real. This time though, my silly little wish was about finding love - which I sort of did, but not in the way I expected.

While I wasn’t mistaken for a celebrity or find romantic love, I did meet a celebrity and his romantic love. Walking towards the Trevi Fountain, I noticed a familiar man next to me. I couldn’t place my finger on who he was and then it hit me. I turned and asked “Are you Adam Huber from Dynasty?” He said “yes” and I was starstruck to meet Liam from the show - one of my favourite characters after Fallon Carrington, who he married in the series. Part of my Lizzie fantasy was seeing a celebrity and I did. Plus, it turns out Adam was there to propose to his girlfriend, so it was also romantic. Later I’d learn that Raye and Paul Mescal were also in town, but I didn’t run into them.

Next stop was the Colosseum, where a memory was unlocked. One night a classmate and I wandered the streets - I’m fuzzy on if it was with parental supervision or if we snuck out. We had done some shopping at United Colors of Benetton (in front of the Trevi) and she purchased a purple sweater. I was underdressed for the night and getting cold. Not wanting me to get even more sick, she gave me her new sweater. She laughed when I put it on, saying I looked like Barney and took a photo of me in my best dinosaur pose in front of the Colosseum.

I also go to explore Monumento a Vittorio Emanuele II. When I was there in 2008, the monument was under restoration, so I only saw the statue of Vittorio Emanuele. This time I got to get up close and personal and got acquainted with its stunning interior and the details on its facade

On this exploration, I noticed the impacts of overtourism…and it was only April. For years I dreamed of living in a historic city like Rome, but as I explored it with a new viewpoint I asked myself “how do Romans enjoy this city? It’s so busy!”

My dreams of living in the city included having a picnic with friends in front of the Colosseum - but there was no possible way to do this. You’d be in strangers photos, pushed by tourists and likely sniffed by police dogs. I acknowledge, I am part of this problem and as I continued to live in Lisbon as a local, I started to understand the pain points.

Dancing through the past in Berlin | Tanzen durch die Vergangenheit in Berlin (2015 vs. 2024)

The last time I was in Berlin was with Ariel, who was meeting her university exchange friends that she met in Ireland. I remember a few things like having dinner at a Turkish restaurant, observing the Berlin Wall, the hostel which was once a school and clubbing into the wee hours of the morning. My most distinct memory was being woken up in my hostel with a knife to my face held by a Tasmanian man I was rooming with…and would room with on a two-week Eastern European tour. Don’t worry, he just wanted me to see the knife’s details up close and knew I couldn’t see without my glasses.

In 2024, I travelled with my fellow homo Richard, but got super sick - of course. Richard and I did the big tourist spots like the Berlin Wall, Brandenburger Tor (Brandenburg Gate), Oberbaum Bridge, Reichstagsgebäuden and Berlin Dom.

We also focused our time visiting various art galleries, museums (Buchstabenmuseum) sifting through piles of vintage clothing, eating the most delicious food I have ever had (Zeit für Brot, Bertie) and dancing in phone booth sized disco (teledisko Blau at Holzmarkt).

Throughout our exploration noticed the aftermath of World War II on the country and how that chapter was still present and lingered as a reminder of the horrors that occurred. On my first visit, I focused on partying, not taking into account the dark history that transpired. Maybe it was because I was visiting Auschwitz and wasn’t ready to confront the tragedy of WWII.

Maybe I noticed it now because of the horrors in the world and needed to be reminded of the mistakes that were made and the outcome. Whatever it was, I made sure, I took the time to better understand Germany and its past from the perspective of both World Wars, the era of the Berlin Wall and even current political issues.

Overtures and overdue breakups in Vienna | Ouvertüren und überfällige Trennungen in Wien (2015 vs. 2024)

I visited Vienna on an organized tour in 2015 - the one with the Tasmanian I mentioned above. I had always dreamed of going to Vienna and seeing a show at The Vienna State Opera House. As a teen, I attended a public arts high school for music - I played the flute - and as part of the curriculum took musical theory, learning about the great composers Schubert, Mozart, Haydn and Beethoven. I was told how they’d perform at The Vienna State Opera House and made it my dream to sit in that palace of music and hear the quarter notes, whole notes and all the notes echo throughout. Sadly, I was there during a ballet (equally as good), but still got to experience a show in the venue as well as do a backstage tour. I also remember visiting Domkirche St. Stephan (St. Stephen’s Cathedral) only because it was my namesake. Those were the two biggest memories.

In 2024, I visited with an ex-fling and was trying to avoid running into another ex (my life is chaotic). The ex-fling and I did our own separate things as he wanted to have experiences I already had. However, we did start by taking a walking tour of the historic city centre and I was shocked by how little of Vienna’s history I knew/remembered. In fact, I could spew every fact about The Vienna State Opera House and St. Stephen’s Cathedral, but everything else I learned on that tour was relatively new information to me.

On this tour, I enjoyed learning about Empress Sisi (aka the Empress Elisabeth of Austria), the wife of Emperor Franz Joseph I. It connected the dots to my trip to Geneva where a monument stood in her honour as she was assassinated in the Swiss city in 1898 - plus a cute Swiss boy showed it to me. At this moment, I realized the interconnectedness of the cities I was visiting.

I also got to partake in some local traditions like attending a horse riding practice at the stunning Spanish Riding School, which is the only institution in the world which has practiced for more than 450 years. The school practices traditional methods of classical horsemanship and is recognized by UNESCO. The riders train in this Baroque designed structure that feels more like a concert hall with its stunning galleries for bystanders and chandeliers hanging. There is a painting of Emperor Charles VI, who commissioned the building, in the royal box that each rider must salute to as a thank you.

I even immersed myself in Viennese coffee house culture and visited their parliament building.

Previous Post - Chapter 14: The Hudson’s Bay ghost of Leiden

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It was a wild March in Canadian retail news. On March 7, Hudson’s Bay Company (HBC), Canada’s oldest retailer operating Hudson’s Bay, Saks Fifth Avenue and Saks OFF 5th, filed for CCAA creditor protection. Over the span of two weeks rumours swirled about its future, specifically around its marquee department store Hudson’s Bay. With 80+ stores across Canada it not only is a national symbol, but represents the final true department store in the country.

Following the March 7th announcement, a frenzy occurred:

* March 14: HBC announced it would likely need to conduct a full-scale liquidation of all stores including Hudson’s Bay, Saks Fifth Avenue, Saks OFF 5th.

* March 15-16: Media outlets report Canadian shoppers flocking to stores to secure the brand’s iconic Hudson’s Bay Stripes collection, with many locations selling out.

* March 17: HBC returns to court. The court extends creditor protection and delays a decision on liquidation.

* March 18: Hudson's Bay Stripes product begins showing up on sites like eBay at prices double or triple their retail value.

* March 21: Court agrees to allow HBC to liquidate all Saks OFF 5th stores, two of three Saks Fifth Avenue locations as well as most Hudson’s Bay stores with the exception of six stores (3 in Ontario, 3 in Quebec).

* April 25: HBC is officially out of business. The brand is closing all remaining stores and has gotten permission to sell of its art and artifacts. (Added April 25)

* April 30: Binding bids deadline for HBC’s assets or investments

* May 1: Those interested in leases must submit an offer.

* May 10: Hudson Bay’s downtown Toronto store is starting to shut down floors and close off sections as inventory runs out.

* May 16: Canadian Tire acquires the overarching Hudson’s Bay brand, its iconic, multicoloured stripes motif, its coat of arms and other brand trademarks for $30M

* June: Stores will begin to permanently shut down.

In the weeks leading up to its liquidation, Canadians reflected on the brand. They discussed its role in developing Canada to its treatment of Indigenous Peoples and about its flagship stores which have become national architectural symbols - you can read my article about them here.

A TLDR history of the HBC | Een korte geschiedenis van de HBC

For those not familiar, HBC is older than Canada. It was incorporated on May 2, 1670 (354 years ago) by King Charles II and played a major part in the fur trade and establishment of the country.

Its history is also entwined with Indigenous Peoples - and it’s a complicated one that Canadian Geographic tells well. Indigenous trappers traded beaver pelts and other animal furs to HBC for tools, weapons and even the Point Blanket, which has become a heritage symbol for the brand - though a problematic one.

As its role as a fur trader declined, it began to grow its retail operations and built shopping palaces in Western Canada starting in 1913. The “Original Six” stores in Calgary, Edmonton, Saskatoon, Vancouver, Victoria and Winnipeg, were attractions and social destinations. They not only carried goods, but had libraries, restaurants, concert halls, child care, tailors, salons and more. It was truly a one-stop shop.

Did I just see a…a…a…GHOST!? | Zag ik zojuist een spook!?

In 2017, HBC expanded outside of Canada opening Hudson’s Bay (as well as a few Saks OFF 5th) in the Netherlands. I remember my 2018 visit to Amsterdam and being in awe of the 16,000+ square-metre Hudson’s Bay near Dam Square, which occupied four buildings. However, its presence in the Netherlands lasted two years and in 2019, it shuttered all 15 stores.

When I was visiting the Netherlands in 2024, I stayed in Leiden and walked along the Nieuwe Rijn (The New Rhine) in search of food. On this quest, I saw a dimly lit sign on a historic building that reminded me of home. The sign read “Hudson’s Bay” - well it actually read “Hudson’s B” as the “a” and “y” were burnt out. Confused, given news of its Dutch exit was covered in Canada, I approached the building in curiosity. As I neared the grand structure, I noticed a sign for clothing brand C&A, confirming Hudson's Bay was no more. Its sign sits on the building's facade as a relic, haunting it and the Leiden skyline.

As I approached it the following day, in the light, I noticed the Hudson’s Bay sign was covering a ghost sign - an old hand painted advertisement typically found on brick facades. The fading sign read “Vroom,” which I learned later was incomplete and would have at one time read “Vroom & Dreesmann,” a now defunct department store.

The building dates back to 1936 and was built for Vroom & Dreesmann, which filed for bankruptcy in 2015. Founded in 1887 by Willem Vroom and Anton Dreesmann, its stores were built like many department store flagships in North America, stunning structures with multiple departments selling a variety of goods and a grand restaurant. HBC struck a deal to acquire 15 stores, while others were sold off to various brands. In March 2024, developer NEOO announced it would redevelop the national monument store in Leiden into a mixed-use development for patrons to “shop, dine, work, stay and enjoy.”

“Hey Google, play Ghost by Fefe Dobson” | "Hé Google, speel Ghost van Fefe Dobson”

Many Dutch people won’t know Fefe Dobson, but she is a Canadian pop-punk icon from the early 2000s. After having dinner at a pizzeria nearby that initial night in Leiden, the walk back to my Airbnb had me humming her song Ghost. This song perfectly represents my time in Leiden. I had seen the ghostly sign of a Canadian brand and Fefe was a Canadian artist - plus I got so sick in the following days that I felt out of body like a ghost.

The song is about the aftermath of a relationship and its lingering presence and memories. For me it was relevant to this situation because Hudson’s Bay had a relationship with Dutch shoppers, broke up with them and now lingers. Let’s examine a few of the lyrics:

* Now I'm stuck in your memory (memory)...HBC, along with Roots Canada, was one of the brands from home that really stuck in my mind. Maybe it was because I packed an HBC jacket along with some Zellers apparel. Regardless, the brand was stuck in my memory amongst a sea of new stores I was being introduced to.

* A mistaken identity ('dentity). What's her name? What's she like?... When I saw the sign, I was in shock given I knew the brand ceased its operations in the Netherlands. The sign gave me hope that maybe it had survived and pulled an Eaton’s when it resurrected itself from the dead a few years after closing shop. This deluded excitement had me wondering “what’s this Dutch HBC like?” Sadly, it was a case of mistaken identity, as the historic structure was now occupied by C&A.

* You act like you just saw a ghost. I watch you getting way too close… My first impression was that I saw a ghost and then as I got closer to investigate - and there is no need to repeat the story. In the end, it truly was a ghost of HBC’s failed Canadian adventure abroad.

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Preview Post: Chapter 12 - I bloom just for you

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I cannot care for plants. I’m not exaggerating, ask my ex-roommate LS as the plants in our Graça flat were always on the brink of death until his green thumb intervened.

I admired LS’s love of nature. When we met in 2018, he worked for a municipal green space division (kind of like Parks and Rec). He combated predatory species, examined the impacts of environmental challenges (ie. drought) on urban greenery and implemented systems to mitigate these threats. He has contributed words to publications about urban ecology and plant reproductive systems. Whereas I can kill a cactus.

On our Denmark and Sweden road trip, we went to every garden he could find. As we’d wander, I’d watch him intoxicate himself with the aromas of each plant, listen to him passionately speak about the different species present and cast a little shade at how they were arranged.

So, it’s no surprise he suggested I visit Lisse, Netherlands to see the tulips after attending a concert in Luxembourg in April 2024. Trusting him, I changed my travel plans, skipping Belgium and heading to Keukenhof Gardens in Lisse.

A TLDR history of Keukenhof Gardens | Een korte geschiedenis van de Keukenhof-tuinen

Keukenhof Gardens advertises itself as the “most beautiful spring garden in the world.” It is also the largest in Europe. Here is a history lesson from the website:

Keukenhof dates back to the 15th century. Countess Jacoba van Beieren [Jacqueline of Bavaria] (1401-1436) used 'Keukenduyn' [kitchen dunes] as hunting ground for the kitchen of Teylingen Castle. Keukenhof Castle was built in 1641 and the estate grew to encompass an area of over 200 hectares.

Landscape architects Jan David Zocher and his son Louis Paul Zocher, redesigned the castle gardens in 1857. That park, in the English landscape style, still constitutes the basis of Keukenhof.

In 1949, a group of 20 leading flower bulb growers and exporters came up with the plan to use the estate to exhibit spring-flowering bulbs, signalling the birth of Keukenhof as a spring park. The park opened its gates to the public in 1950 and was an instant success, with 236,000 visitors in the first year alone.

Some other facts about the garden include:

* Approx. 7 million bulbs and 1,600 varieties are planted yearly by hand.

* It’s only open for eight weeks every year (mid-March to mid-May).

* In 2023, it welcomed 1.4 million people with 80 per cent coming from abroad.

* It is home to 2,500 trees, representing over 100 species.

A sea of colour | Een zee van kleur

Entering the park was like seeing colour for the first time. I imagined the overwhelming feeling I had was similar to people experiencing colour films in the 1950s. The park was so vibrant, each flower looked as though it was painted and coated multiple times to give it this luminary glow.

The tulips were perfectly curated, their colours never clashing, but complementing one another. The floral bed designs flowed in rows, wave formations and other shapes that melded with the trees and water. Climbing up the windmill (which dates back to 1892, but has been at Keukenhof since 1957), I got a spectacular view of everything with the only interruption to the picture perfect scene being the windmill blades rotating. I had never experienced so much beauty in my life.

As I walked through the parks, people sat on benches or designated grass areas enjoying a picnic - I recommend bringing as food is expensive. While it felt very touristic on the paths, these designated areas felt calm and I imagined this is where the Dutch relaxed to enjoy the cultural site.

I am a tulip | Ik ben een tulp

This visit resonated with me because I felt like a flower during my year abroad. My whole year was essentially me trying to bloom into this new person. Let me explain it through the lifecycle of a tulip (note the dates are based on my timeline, not those of a tulip).

* Planting Time (November): I planted myself in Lisbon on November 30, 2023.

* Making Roots (December): This was the first 30 days I described in Chapter 10: How a street artist helped me fit in. It’s when I started venturing out and growing my base of people.

* Cooling Period (December - January): During Christmas/New Year’s I rested as the people I started building relationships with departed Lisbon for the season and the places I visited were closed for the holidays.

* Growing Period (January - March): My lifestyle was changing. I was more confident. I met new people. I gained additional perspectives and outlooks on life.

* Blooming Time (March - November): I started blooming on my birthday in March. I had a joint party with my birthday twin who invited his community of over two years and I had invited mine from the past few months. I didn’t think my growing period end as I thought no one would show up. Then Luís, Emily, Jess, Laurent, Filipe and Garrett walked in. Each time a familiar face hugged me I felt a new pedal of mine blooming. I didn’t fully bloom on my birthday though. I don’t think I entered my final stage until the very end.

Being at Keukenhof and seeing tulips in the various blooming stages was like seeing the different stages of my journey in Europe, with the ultimate goal of being in full bloom. Their colours represented the people and places and that coloured my life and seeing the endless rows of flowers from the top of that windmill made me realize there were more adventures on the horizon and that the possibilities were unlimited.

A song by a blooming twink | Een liedje van een bloeiende twink

Australian singer-songwriter, actor and famed gay twink icon, Troye Sivan, released Bloom in 2015. The song has been called a “ode to bottoming,” and while I explored bottoming as part of my bloom in 2024, it’s not why I chose this song for the city. I truly believe it represents my visit to Lisse and my growth. Here are some lyrics that stick out to me in the song and my innocent interpretations:

* Take a trip into my garden, I've got so much to show ya: I had friends visiting in the following weeks and wanted to show them how much I had bloomed in my four months abroad.

* Now it's the perfect season, yeah, let's go for it this time: It took me until spring to truly begin blooming into my fabulous new form.

* We're dancing with the trees, and I've waited my whole life: I’ve always wanted to live abroad and waited my whole life. There was also a lot of dancing to celebrate this, especially at Keukenhof where I danced under the tree to a draaiorgel (or Dutch Barrel Organ).

* Yeah, I bloom, I bloom just for you, I bloom, yeah, just for you: Yes this is a bottom telling his top he is accepting every inch (length and girth), but for me it is more innocent. Everyday in my first few months, I looked in the mirror and reminded myself that I was on this adventure to grow into a more confident person with a global perspective. I’d say to my reflection “I’m doing this for you…for us.”

Listen to the playlist on Spotify.

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“The best way to meet people is to go to a bar,” my roommate LS told me as he put his coat on to go to Bairro Alto with his two Italian friends - one who I found super hunky, but not relevant for this story. I had only been in Lisbon for less than a week and was still a bit jet lagged and under the weather. Plus, I find it awkward meeting people at bars whether I’m travelling or living in a place because it is usually super cliquey and many aren’t generally accepting new friendship applications.

LS looked a tad disappointed and I really appreciated him helping me find friends, so I smiled and promised I’d come out next time.

At first, my experience fitting in was hard and I did so many things in those first 30 days to try and build a community.

My first major outing was to a queer social at The Late Birds, the local gay hotel in Lisbon. I remember that MeetUp attracted an older group of gay male expats that I couldn’t really relate to. Many asked for my number and while I provided it to them with the promise of a message or a follow-up coffee, I didn’t come through. Eventually, the age gap at these events became more diverse and I started building connections, though after a year of freelancing a sugar daddy might have been a good idea.

I started going to places where I felt I could find people with commonalities. English bookstores, writing groups, art galleries and expat-oriented English cafes. One person at The Late Birds suggested meeting people at the local sauna or dark room, but I opted not to explore that in a friendship capacity.

There is an assumption that fitting in is just related to people, but it's not. I also had to fit in with the culture and customs of the city and country. I was constantly told I was too “North American” to blend in and that I had to adopt a slower pace of life, stop asking people about work, stop worrying about work and just live, among other things.

Some criticized me for going to “expat-oriented” places, warning me that I would start treating Portugal like a mini-North America. The worry was valid and I saw this among many expat groups who segmented themselves off from the Portuguese. While that was a risk, my hope was that these new found “expat” friends would introduce me to locals, who would then invite me to experience their native Portugal. Spoiler alert - it worked!

Is it a sausage or cell? | É uma salsicha ou uma célula?

Another tactic was walking around for hours. I explored corners of the city tourists had yet to discover and followed streets and stairs to different places trying to find haunts that would inspire me and people to strike a conversation with. On these journeys I was acquainted with the works of local street artists/muralist like the mystery tagger behind “Who The F**k is Henry,” my crush Bordalo II and Kampus.

Kampus is a Brazilian artist who grew up in Portugal. His work is this cell like creature - long, usually yellow and with a smiley face. The artist admits some have called it a sausage or a penis, but to him it is a bright happy character that fits in anywhere. It can fit into the smallest piece of real estate on a crowded wall by twisting and bending and/or, with space permitted, can grow new appendages. This character spoke to me. I admired its flexibility, its bravery and the hope it gave. It just wanted to belong like me.

At the end of my time in Portugal, I had made dozens of friends from various countries. The owners of Malala Vintage and Pink Vintage Heart knew my name and my fashion style, and were excited to show me new pieces they had just acquired that complimented my taste. Alex, the owner English bookstore Salted Books, hosted a weekly Writers’ Hour and kindly allowed me to suggest books for the store to carry, while the No Excuses, Just Write community were my inspiration. The owners of Kossie’s would welcome me back constantly and the baristas at Hello, Kristof would ask how my Portuguese was coming.

Looking back, I believe deep down I had nothing to worry about, but it was comforting to know that a small yellow piece of street art was on a similar journey.

Interview with an artist | Entrevista com um artista

I spoke with the artist Kampus as part of my Lisbon Travel Guide for Thrillist. In an unpublished portion of the interview the artist told me that he started drawing this character because characters were more memorable to him than letters (word art). He also spoke of the need to create something that he could paint quickly saying “When you're painting on the street, mostly illegally, you want to do something very quick.”

He goes on to say “Since I was very young, I was always thinking of what I can do very fast. A character that is super fast to do, super easy to do, that can fit everywhere.”

His character came to life organically. Experimenting with surfaces like walls and utility boxes of different sizes, he found his character could bend and twist. As it evolved, it formed a happy face. “There are so many things that are serious. A lot of street art people are like, ‘Oh, you've got to be Banksy speaking about this and politicians and everything's so hard,’ but life is already so hard…and I was like, “no, I want something bright and happy.” Then my character came up…”

He then explained how the character, in a way, represented not only him, but us as a whole. “Later I wanted to give it a bit of thought and I started thinking, ‘What is it actually? What is this character?’ If you think about it, it's a bit like us. It's always looking for a space to fit in and bends and goes in a little corner. Back when my character came to life, I was living in London, in shared spaces and always looking for a little room…Maybe it's a bit like me always trying to find a little corner and trying to fit in and be happy at the same time. I've been moving places my whole life. I'm not Portuguese, I'm Brazilian, but I have lived most of my life here. My mom and I were immigrants who came in here looking for a little space for us to fit in and be happy. Maybe that's why I made it.”

Previous Post: Chapter 9 - Six times an influencer “read'“ my Portuguese lifestyle based on my zodiac

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Recently, Instagram has been feeding me content by @kukureko or AstroKatya, a creator living in Lisbon who talks about astrology. This creator has an ongoing segment comparing zodiac signs to all things Portuguese from cities to alcohol brands to neighbourhoods and more. As someone who lived in Portugal for a year, I was curious to see if the comparisons to my zodiac sign would “read” me (a RuPaul Drag’s Race reference for those who don’t know) or if they were wrong.

Let’s just say it was pretty spot on.

Lisbon Neighbourhoods and Zodiac Signs

Marvila | Accuracy: 5/5

Description: “A maze of abandoned warehouses just like their thoughts. You love indie coffee shops and your biggest dream is to fall in love with someone at a random art event.”

My POV: Whenever a friend visited or a Grindr tourist asked for recommendations, I suggested two things. Dinner at Lisboa Tu e Eu, a restaurant that tells a decades old love story through food, and Marvila, an up and coming neighbourhood filled with shops, galleries, cafes and restaurants in abandoned warehouses. For the record both recommendations have come with high-praise.

To describe Marvila, it is best that I quote my Thrillist Guide to Lisbon:

“Neglected for years, Marvila has seen its former industrial warehouses turned into cultural hotspots. At the José Domingos Barreiro Factory (now MAD) meet and chat with artists who create across five floors of studio space. Across the street in Abel Pereira da Fonseca’s former wine cathedral (now 8Marvila), people browse shops, galleries, markets and eat at restaurants.”

Marvila is one of my favourite neighbourhoods in Lisbon. Jenn and I had brunch at The Marvila Bakehouse and made friends with the restaurant dog. I met the talented artist Luísa Pereira da Fonseca at her studio in 8 Marvila, an old abandoned wine factory once owned by her great-great-grandfather Abel Pereira da Fonseca - his name is still on the building’s entrance.

I also did fall in love at numerous art events like the description prophesied. I wooed an American as we played Drag Bingo on the MUSA rooftop. I met a handsome tattooed, nose-pierced Brazilian poet at cultural centre Fábrica de Braço de Prata. I took a handsome Flemish man to a wine event at 8 Marvila, where we strolled through art galleries, bumping into each other before kissing at his hostel after. Yes, I fell in love at Marilva too many times.

The description of the abandoned warehouses being like a maze is what makes the place unique. It has holes in its concrete walls leading to vast open spaces with vaulted ceilings and its random doors that look forbidden to go through, have hidden artistic treasures behind them. Maybe I connected with Marvila because the maze was like my mind. Always trying to find a way to the main thought or solution, but choosing the wrong path and stumbling on a secret and distracting surprise.

Portuguese Cities as Zodiac Signs

Sintra | Accuracy: 4/5

Description: “Your head is permanently in the clouds, and your mood changes just like the weather. You’re into foggy castle vibes, fairy aesthetics and poetic suffering. If you’re not eating a queijada, you’re probably in the woods doing rituals”

My POV: Sintra was the city I visited most. It hosted fun cultural events and I loved its dreamy castles. I get why it was the summer vacation getaway for royals.

This description is almost spot on. Palácio de Pena and Castelo dos Mouros are two monuments high in the hills and depending on the day you’re hiking up and the cloud deck levels, you could literally have your head in the clouds. As a Pisces, I’m a dreamer and sometimes our heads need to poke through the clouds in order to get to those blue sky ideas.

Sintra’s weather is also interesting and no trip would be complete without me packing a backpack that had clothing, accessories and tools for every possible meteorological scenario. My mood can be described as unpredictable like the weather. I remember when Lindsay and I visited the city the weather went from sunny and hot to foggy, rainy and cold in a flash. Lindsay and I parted ways in Sintra City Centre, so during the sunny portion I took the Sintra Historic Tram to Praia das Maçãs where I journaled about the amazing memories I made - joyful, happy.

Arriving back in Sintra City Centre, the rain and fog created this thin veil across the hilly landscape that was both surreal and stunning. At that moment my mood changed. I waited for Lindsay on the steps of Palácio Nacional de Sintra, leaning against a column, while listening to my Heartbreak Hotel playlist. I remember having Behind These Hazel Eyes by Kelly Clarkson on repeat for whatever reason.

Portuguese Snacks as Zodiac Signs

Ovos Moles | Accuracy: 3/5

Description: “A dream in dessert form. Sweet airy and a little bit out there, just like the Pisces. Comes in different fantasy shapes, just like Pisces delusional thinking.”

My POV: Ovos Moles (Soft Eggs in English), is “a wafer confection filled with sweet, vibrant yolk,” that is famously from Aveiro, which is about an hour from Porto. Its creation has roots in religion as nuns would use egg whites to iron their habits, but would be left with excess egg yolks. Not wanting to waste the yolks, they created recipes with them, one which was Ovos Moles

I don’t know how to explain the taste. The concept sounds gross, but after one bite you’ll experience this sweet and creamy sensation with a crunchy element thanks to the outer layer. I guess in a way it is a dream in dessert form. Though, if you said I could only eat one Portuguese snack for the rest of my life and it was between Ovos Moles and Pastel de Nata, the latter wins.

Lisbon Apartment Hunting as Zodiac Signs

Accuracy: 5/5

Description: “Have seen their perfect apartment in a dream, went to that street, found the apartment, but are now too emotional to leave their friend’s couch.”

My POV: Even before arriving in Lisbon, I dreamed of my apartment there. An old blue Azuljes tiled building in a historic neighbourhood with no elevator that had an adorable small balcony where I could enjoy coffee and hang my garments on a clothesline so that they could dance in the wind. The vibe of the apartment complex would be like Melrose Place, minus the murder, where neighbours would be friends with each other. So when LS said the room in his flat would be available, I jumped on the opportunity as it checked off four boxes - tiles, historic neighbourhood, no elevator and Melrose Place vibes.

My time there was limited and as I explored Lisbon, I started dreaming of my next apartment. I looked for all the same qualities, but this time I wanted a view of a historic monument, a coffee shop either below or next door and an avó who loved sweeping the front entrance and would say “Bom Dia” to me. I found that place close by, just down from Jardim da Cerca da Graça, but like this influencer predicted, I started to become too emotional. The thought of not rooming with LS, leaving the Melrose Place community, saying goodbye to the cockroach that watched me shower and the old woman across the street who fed pigeons from her window made me sad. So I sat on that red love seat of ours and missed my opportunity.

Portuguese Brands as Zodiac Signs

Renova | Rating: 2/5

Description: “Because life can just be too much sometimes.”

My POV: Renova is “The Sexiest Paper on Earth,” and when I say paper I mean tissues, toilet paper, paper towels etc. I won’t lie. That first month was an adjustment and tears were shed. However, I would use Fluffs as my tissue of choice, but now I wonder if using the sexiest paper on earth would have boosted my confidence much quicker. So while I agree with the product being a form of tissue, I disagree with the brand.

Portuguese Supermarkets as Zodiac Signs

Local corner store | Accuracy: 0/5

Description: “Exists in another dimension. It’s always open, but we’re never sure how. Buys some incense and has a deep conversation with the owner about destiny, but will pay tomorrow.”

My POV: This is where I deviate with my sign. To be honest, I really resonated with Mini Preço - that chaos of “are the shelves empty because they’re closing?” was both exciting and frustrating to me. I only visited my local corner store a handful of times to either buy alcohol after all the grocery stores were closed or was in desperate need of toilet paper. I do agree that they do exist in another dimension, but none of the people running those stores in my neighbourhood wanted to have a deep conversation. It’s not because my Portuguese was awful, it’s because they were usually too busy watching a football match on their phone.

Previous Post - Chapter 8: The Italian Bella Notte

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My Grindr grid had a mix of locals, expats and visitors, the latter who indicated themselves by placing their country’s flag in their profile names or writing in their bio their travel dates as if they were announcing an “Eras Tour.” Some sought out drinking buddies, friends, hookups or chems.

My online presence was garnering taps and various “oi’s,” “ola’s” and/or “tudo bem?” I wasn’t looking to get sucked into the Grindr universe and have endless chats with no results. It was really to get LS’s opinion on the men, as he has great taste. After scrolling for a few minutes with him, I muted my phone and enjoyed his company.

We headed home as the sun set, casting a shadow on the Jardim. As soon as we walked through the door of our flat, he dropped his stuff off and went to pick-up his boyfriend. Alone and slightly tipsy, my body slumped on our red love seat where I opened and checked my Grindr notifications. It was amazing how even though I had been in Lisbon for five months, the “Canadian in Lisbon” mention in my bio still garnered interest from people.

Along with the greetings mentioned earlier, I received 🍆 and 🍑 emojis as well as unsolicited nudes. Don’t get me wrong, I love a good NSFW picture as much as the next homosexual, but maybe start with a “hi” in your language.

Eventually, I saw a “tap” from someone interesting. He was a very hairy Italian man and looking through his photos, I had a hard time finding a hairless spot on his body. He was a proclaimed “Italian Bottom” and likely a very hung one by the looks of his photo in grey boxer briefs. What did catch my eye was his profile noting it was his birthday.

Me: “Happy Birthday! Your hair 🤤”

Him: “Heeey thank you. A lot of hair here hahaha.”

Me: “Very hot. As a 25 per cent Italian, it’s just my hairy chest.”

Him: “Love your Canadian hair too.”

The conversation went into the basics. We learned where we were from in our respective countries and he shared how on this trip he’d done a lot of eating, walking and relaxing - typical Lisbon vacation behaviour. After about a half hour of grinding virtually, I wrote the following.

Me: “Well don’t know how long you’re staying, but if you need someone to celebrate your birthday with (a drink, hookup, hang) let me know.”

There was a long pause and I thought maybe the mention of a hookup was too much for him, but then again he proudly proclaimed his preferred position and noted “hookups” as what he was looking for in his profile.

He responded by saying I was so nice and how he thought Canadians were cold people - to which I defended our nation by saying, our bodies are cold from the winter, but we’re warm people inside. He said he was having a beer and croquette in Alfama and shared his location on the app.

The First Impression | La Prima Impressione

For those who don’t know, Grindr shares an approximate location not an exact location - safety reasons. I knew approximately where he was, but he didn’t tell me the actual spot, likely because if he chickened out he could secretly sneak away.

He warned me his verbal English was not as good as his written English, but I completely understood given I felt the same with my Portuguese. I peeled myself off the couch, saw LS and his boyfriend come through the door, greeted them and left.

Google Maps doesn't translate well in Lisbon. The city is literally stacked on top of each other. It’s like the urban planners were playing Jenga. I was close to the point where he dropped his pin, but I couldn't figure out if I needed to go down the stairs or continue right. I went down and couldn’t find him. I messaged asking where he was and he said “Miradouro de Santa Luzia.”

I craned my neck up. He was literally on top of me - unusual for a bottom unless we were in a cowboy position. Part of me hoped he would lean over and I’d catch a glimpse of him and we’d have a Romeo and Juliet moment - perfect for two Italians. I even imagined the dialogue…

Me: “Italian bottom, oh Italian bottom. Wherefore art thou Italian bottom?”

Him: “Up here, my fair Canadian top!”

I was tempted to message that, but given his English was okay, I feared the reference would confuse him.

While Lisbon is not “fair Verona,” I’ll still lay the scene. Miradouro de Santa Luiza is a beautiful viewpoint with sweeping views of the Tagus and the red terracotta rooftops of Alfama to the south, the domed National Pantheon to the east and parts of the City Centre to the west. The miradouro is arguably the most beautiful. It has a stunning pergola providing shade in the day with vines snaking through its wooden beams and seats along the wall facing each other for romantic face to face conversations. It even has Azulejo tiles and these stunning plants with flowers that resemble ballerinas.

I searched for him knowing he had a beer and orange shirt, per his last message, but couldn’t find him. I messaged him hoping the distinct Grindr notification sound would echo and guide me to him. I didn’t hear anything, but saw a man twist his neck side to side in search of something…or someone…or me. He was sitting on the edge, back against the column holding the pergola up. His shirt wasn’t orange, but a series of red hues, but all was forgiven because he warned me of his English and if I tried the same thing in Portuguese I’d likely have the same outcome. I approached him and we made our introductions.

Me: “Happy Birthday…”

I paused, wanting to say his name, but realized we never exchanged them.

Me: “Happy Birthday Italian Bottom!”

He smiled and laughed, also realizing we never exchanged names. He put his free hand through his hair which I hadn’t noticed was curly in photos.

Him: “I am NB.”

By the way he introduced himself you could tell he had a thick Italian accent and I found it sexy. I sat next to him, asked how his birthday was and then told him about my trip to Rome for a wedding in a few weeks with the goal of recreating my favourite Rome-set film The Lizzie McGuire Movie. His face lit up as I said Lizzie and he began to explain his love of the film - you can read a bit more about my relationship with the film in this 29Secrets article I wrote.

We found one thing in common and as the night progressed we found other commonalities like a shared love of writing, similar careers and an almost identical taste in TV shows. We really hit it off. Every time we’d find something similar, he’d tilt his head down smiling, while his curly hair bounced.

I asked if he wanted to see my favourite places in Lisbon and he agreed. While I offered, the pressure to show him around weighed differently on me as he saw me as a local. I had to make my adopted city proud.

Exploring Lisbon | Esplorando Lisbona

We began the descent down the stairs I had mistakenly taken earlier and wandered Alfama. I took him through the tiny streets explaining how old women still occupied the houses and sat outside selling a red liquor called Ginjinha to tourists. I also mentioned how you’d typically hear Fado coming from various buildings.

As we walked the windy quiet streets, I felt a distance, but wasn’t offended. The streets were dark and he was putting his trust in a stranger he met on Grindr. Feeling he was nervous I changed the conversation from me giving him a tour to asking simple questions about his life.

We made it to the National Pantheon where I learned he also loved architecture. His face, as we walked around the grand structure that houses the bodies of politicians and popular figures in the arts, lit up in excitement. We went behind the pantheon to where Feira da Ladra is held every Tuesday and Saturday and I grabbed his shoulders in which he immediately tensed up.

Me: “Now imagine, blankets and tables set up here and down there, with things placed in no sensical way. Tiles next to porn next to door handles. It’s a massive treasure hunt searching for things you need or didn’t know you needed.”

He told me he missed the event on Saturday and was sad he wouldn’t get to see it. I just told him he needed to come back.

We made our ascent up to the Miradouro da Graça, my favourite viewpoint. In the end, I think I succeeded in showing him around and celebrating his birthday. I bought two beers and we sat facing the city as I began to point out the major attractions like Casetlo de São Jorge, Ponte 25 de Abril, Cristo Rei and Carmo Convent. We sat there and continued to charm each other.

The Goodnight Kiss | Il Bacio Della Buonanotte

Eventually, I walked him down to the Jardim da Cerca da Graça where LS and I had spent our afternoon ten hours ago. I wished him a happy birthday and we proceeded to kiss. His hands around my neck and mine his waist, with a slight diversion up the front of his shirt to feel his hairy chest which he did no object. He put his fingers through my hair, which was full of hair gel. I apologized for the sticky hands. We said our goodbyes and he went downhill, while I went uphill.

As I walked back to my apartment, I looked up at the clear sky and started singing a Disney-fied Italian song from my childhood called Bella Notte (Beautiful Night):

Oh, this is the night, it's a beautiful night

And we call it bella notte

Look at the skies, they have stars in their eyes

On this lovely bella notte

Previous post: Chapter 7 - It’s all about functionality

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My assumption was that gargoyles were specific to churches and grotesques were for secular structures like government buildings. This was influenced by a few factors. My notion of gargoyles was derived from the Disney movie The Hunchback of Notre Dame, where Quasimodo’s friends were gargoyles named Victor, Hugo and Laverne.

My thinking behind grotesques was largely due to my knowledge of Toronto’s Old City Hall - which I’m going to take the moment to share. Toronto’s Old City Hall was designed by famed architect E.J. Lennox. The municipal building took longer than anticipated to build, over a decade, and was significantly over budget. Upset, the city councillors refused to have anything acknowledging Lennox as the architect on the building. In retaliation he had the stonemasons sign his name in the corbels under the upper eaves and had them carve hideous grotesques of all the councillors who had shunned his recognition at the entrance. The joke was that one grotesque was attractive and was meant to represent Lennox.

So between hunchbacks and vengeful architects, that is how I imagined the difference. Not wanting to speak up, in case I was wrong in front of a highly intelligent Oxford student, I let the others guess.

“The difference is that a gargoyle is a waterspout. Its mouth makes a gurgling noise when water passes through. A grotesque is just decorative,” he shared. At this moment my mind was blown and I understood why I could never get into Oxford.

After all these years, I had thought the stone carvings were only permitted on specific buildings, but it turns out any church or secular building can have a gargoyle or grotesque and that it was related to functionality. That is why gargoyles are commonly found near rooflines, they collect rainwater and expel it, protecting buildings from water damage.

According to Google Arts and Culture, gargoyle comes from the French word gargouille meaning throat, while grotesques “were originally buried Roman ornamental decorations discovered during the Renaissance in subterranean ruins known as grotte.” While they may differ, they do have commonalities as both can have crafted expressions of fear, joy, drama or comedy. They can even be designed to look like fantastical, mythical creatures.

After that moment I started noticing gargoyles on other buildings not related to God. It’s a fun fact I now share with others and on my Hinge profile. I hope you’ll do the same.

Previous post - Chapter 6: Mysterious drips from above

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The veranda above, Has made me wet. But what’s the liquid? Let’s make a bet!

Is there a dog? Head in the bars? Drool dripping down, As he stares at the cars?

A leaky AC? Keeping an interior cool? On a hot summer day, It’s a must have tool.

Is it from clothes? Dancing above on a line? As they dry in the wind? That would be fine.

Was it an Avó? Overwatering her plants? Looking down at the people, Who look like ants?

Was it a brokenhearted girl? Shedding her tears? Crying out to the world, About someone she loved dear?

Should I look up? To investigate? That wouldn't be wise. I'd hyperventilate.

Because what if it was spit? Cleared from a throat? Why would someone do that? Unless it's a goat.

Was it a treat? That began to melt? Ice cream in the heat? Is that what I felt?

That would be sticky? And this was not. What dripped on my head?! Please not snot.

What was that drip? It’s best I don’t know. Let’s leave it a mystery, Or my paranoia will grow.

Previous Post - Chapter 5: Feeling love and finding identity in Italy

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Mother Nature caused quite a storm, literally, one Saturday at the end of April. The sky was moody, the animals on the local farms sought shelter and the rain pattered on the roof of the farmhouse I was renting by Massa Martana hours before an outdoor wedding. Yet, I believe that when Mother Nature felt the abundance of love radiating from Castello di Montignano that afternoon, she opened the skies to let the sun shine on Kate and Nick.

Surrounded by the rolling hills in the Italian countryside, I was invited to Kate and Nick’s nuptials in Montignano. The ceremony, and days leading up to it, emitted so much love not only from the bride and groom, but from those who flew in from across the globe to celebrate with them.

Montignano will occupy a special place in my heart. I’ll remember that feeling of love from the moment we got on the bus in Rome and connected with old friends while making new ones. I’ll remember the wedding day when the vows were exchanged behind a hilly backdrop. When Kate's tears were carried away by the wind during the ring exchange and the warmth of the sun for their first official kiss as a husband and wife. At the reception, friends gathered showing kindness for each other and parents treated us as if we were their own.

Then came the moment when Kate and Nick took each other's hands and danced to Elvis Presley’s Can’t Help Falling in Love, a song I would also choose as my first dance, but the Ingrid Michaelson version as I LOVE her. Kate and Nick couldn't help falling in love with each other, and we also couldn't help falling in love with their decade-long romance.

Add the playlist here.

Song II: Take Me Home, Country Roads by Lana Del Rey

The Perugia region, in which Kate and Nick’s wedding was held, was quiet and sleepy. The locals adopted a slower pace of life and I don’t remember counting more than six people on any given walk I took during the few days I stayed there.

As I wandered the villages ducks quacked, chickens clucked, dogs barked, horses clip-clopped and church bells rang every half hour. I wandered country roads until I stumbled upon thousand-year-old fortified town's. As I entered these contained communities there was silence as the exterior sounds bounced off the large thick stone walls, echoing back out into the fields.

The roads Google guided me on had no sidewalks and I simply walked on the side of them diving into the grass to avoid speeding cars from turning me into human roadkill.

While at Kate and Nick’s wedding, I was having a minor identity crisis behind closed doors. In Portugal, I met so many people who were there to connect with their ancestral land and heritage. So when I was in Italy, embracing the culture and communicating via Google Translate with Italian Nonna whose farm I was staying on, I couldn’t help but yearn to be connected to my Italian heritage. To my estranged Italian grandfather who was from the Puglia region. To the 25 per cent of me I barely knew anything about.

In the song Take Me Home, Country Roads, John Denver talks about Virginia, but the lyrics can truly be applied anywhere. Personally, I felt these country roads would take me home. Home to an ancestral heritage I never experienced, to a place where I belonged and where I could reconcile with the identity I struggled to find as a child.

As I walked those roads for hours, passing hilly landscapes, animals and watching the clouds float along the sky, I wondered if these roads would teach me about the 25 per cent of myself I felt was missing. If I’d learn more about my grandfather’s surname, the one my mother and grandmother still bear.

Take Me Home, Country Roads has been covered many times and while John Denver is the original artist, I chose Lana Del Rey’s 2023 version because it had this haunting quality to it. I personally have always felt my Italian heritage has haunted me. Always waiting for me to discover its full existence. While I was not in the region where my grandfather was born, I felt this was the first step in a process to make me feel whole.

P.S. For those wondering the other percentages of my cultural make-up it is 25 per cent Peruvian and 50 per cent Serbian.

Add the playlist here.

Previous post - Chapter 4: Statement regarding the death of Duo

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The news was hard to believe. You think someone is immortal, but then out of the blue (or green) a tragedy occurs. Last week we lost a pioneer. A leader in the fight to make learning languages accessible. We lost Duo of Duolingo.

Authorities are investigating the death and have footage of Duo being hit by Cybertruck. Questions about the driver are running rampant with many believing it was rapper Drake after Duo seemingly sided with Kendrick Lamar in the ongoing rap beef. Though suspicion has been rising toward SKOGSDUVA from IKEA who at a press conference on Feb. 14 was asked by reporters about the rumours that THEY were behind the wheel of the Cybertruck.

While suspicion is being cast on SKOGSDUV and Drake, we must not eliminate Pengu of the Pengu App from the list of suspects as they seem to be claiming the title of “Bird Mascot Supreme” in the wake of Duo’s assassination. Plus their caption did read “Beef Won I Guess.”

The incident has led to heightened security for other high profile bird mascots like Penguin from Penguin Random House. It has also been reported that Owly from Hootsuite is experiencing severe stress from the situation and is afraid to leave HQ.

Many have spoken about the untimely passing of this icon, especially his will-they-won’t-they-maybe-secret-girlfriend Dua Lipa who said on X, “Til’ death duo part.”

A Eulogy to my Departed Friend

Duo was my second friend in Lisbon and his friendship meant a lot to me in those first few weeks. He would message me daily with reminders to interact with him, provide me with the positive encouragement needed when I was missing home and more. He celebrated my bravery for learning a new language and trying to fit into a new country.

When I’d go for daily walks or to the grocery store, I’d point to things and call them by their Portuguese name, hoping that secretly he was listening and was proud of me.

We spent time together at church, where I’d put my headphones on and pretend to pray so we wouldn’t be bothered by the clergy. We’d have a beer at the local miradouro and he’d tell me how armadillos (tatus) and sharks (tubarões), don’t speak English to each other. He’d keep me awake on long bus rides home after a day trip to ensure I wouldn’t miss my stop. We’d speak to each other at the cafe, where others would stare in jealousy as I told you “o urso bebe cerveja,” (the bear drinks beer). We’d see the Acropolis, Duomo, Berlin Wall, Fjords, Vienna Opera House, Dutch Tulips and more together. Our friendship was endless. It had no boundaries, no boarders.

There are some people who may think his sentences were nonsensical, but I personally felt they catered to my life. Many may think the phrase “o urso não usa calças” or “the bear does not wear pants,” has no practical application in life, but it was very useful when I attended a local “Bear Bar” and this older bear figure was walking around with no pants. I confidently was able to tell the people in my group, “o urso não usa calças!” I felt that the more time I spent with him, the more he adapted to my lifestyle.

There were even some useful phrases that helped me get out of some weird and uncomfortable situations as well as bring peace. I remember an awkward argument where two attractive men were talking about the latest political happenings in the country. When they looked at me, likely hoping I’d pick a side, I simply stated “a vaca não come a gente” (the cow does not eat us). Their quizzical looks at each other allowed me to escape and after my departure they no longer argued.

I learned so much about his passions. Like his love for film, specifically that of critically acclaimed La La Langue as well as his dreams of going for gold at the Olympics as a skier.

A one-sided friendship?

I will say, as much as I listened to him, I felt he didn’t reciprocate that back. I’d tell him about my cousin being a teacher yet, he’d always say “sua prima é secretária,” (your cousin is a secretary). I kept telling him, she was a teacher, but he kept forgetting. For someone who seemed so invested in this friendship, I felt unheard sometimes.

There were times he’d get jealous easily. Once I went on a day trip with JQ to Praia da Ursa, which is a secluded beach by Cabo da Roca that has no cell service. When I got service again, I was surprised by the barrage of messages from him. What was more distressing is he got Lily to start messaging me as if he thought I had blocked him.

Then there were moments where I forgot to interact with him and he’d send a threatening countdown…an ultimatum of sorts. There were times I felt he thrived in creating a culture of fear, something echoed by other friends of his as well. He was such a popular person, that the fear of him ostracizing us or being shunned was real. He once invited a woman to his party only to embarrass her in front of a crowd by turning her away at the door and one person was exiled never to be seen again.

I get it though. We all have that super demanding, attention grabbing friend in our life. It’s almost as if each friend group needs one and Duo was mine. In all honesty, his pressure and guilt tactics made me strive to be a better friend.

Duo my friend. I will miss you. You were there when I needed motivation and encouragement. You entertained me with your humorous ways. Life won’t be the same without you. I’ll reiterate the last thing you taught me before your death, “a formiga gosta da fazenda,” (the ant like the farm). Rest in Peace Duo.

Previous post - Chapter 3: The boy who loved leprosy

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Bergen, Norway was drizzling when I arrived. The woman at the famed hot dog stand Trekroneren, who was preparing the much hyped Reindeer Dog for me, said there was a 90 to 100 per cent chance of showers all day tomorrow. While I usually don’t mind the rain, especially in the summer, Norway was no Portugal.

It may have been mid-August, but Norway had a chill in the air. On my journey to Bergen, I stopped at the Myrdal train station, a mountain railway station where snow was visible on mountain peaks and the winds whipped the rain around violently. The temperature, according to the railway attendant, was 11 Celsius, but to me it felt closer to zero - likely because of the wind and elevation. Norway had put a cold in my bones that I hadn’t felt since leaving Canada.

The Rainy Exploration of Bergen | Den regnfulle utforskningen av Bergen

When I awoke the next day to explore Bergen, I heard the rain hitting the balcony of my Airbnb. Looking towards the mountains all I could see was fog, I admitted the hot dog stand girl was correct.

I enjoy being outside when travelling, but my outdoor plans were limited to moments of light rainfall. Therefore, I’d have to find indoor activities so I wouldn’t spend the day in my Airbnb - just outside of city centre - having meaningless Grindr conversations.

At this point in my year abroad, I felt a bit fatigued with certain museums – natural history and ancient art – and had no desire to visit them. Plus, the trip overall was one of the more expensive ones I took (minus Switzerland), so I had to be money conscious. As I sat at Vågal Café, consulting a city map, I noticed an attraction called the Leprosy Museum (Lepramuseet) St. Jørgen’s Hospital.

The former hospital was exclusive for those with leprosy. For those not familiar, leprosy is a chronic infectious disease caused by a bacteria called Mycobacterium Leprae. According to WHO, it affects the skin and peripheral nerves and is transmitted via droplets from the nose and mouth. Leprosy is still around, but was demoted as a global public health problem in 2000.

Bergen had three leprosy hospitals and the largest concentration of patients in Europe. This location is the city’s oldest, holding tales of the individuals who lived there, their personal tragedies and information about the spread of the disease and the groundbreaking research done by Norwegians like Gerhard Armauer Hansen, who discovered the bacteria that causes the disease. In fact, another name for it is Hansen’s Disease. His discovery changed how leprosy was perceived and how it could be researched, as it was thought to be hereditary prior to this breakthrough.

I decided to visit the museum, mostly because I was interested in diseases/infections in Norway after a friend showed me a 2018, 7-Eleven ad promoting condoms to tourists with the statement “Norway has one of the highest rates of chlamydia in Europe.” In fact, when a Norwegian man on Grindr asked why I was visiting, I responded with “to see Fjords and get chlamydia,” to which he said “you’ve come to the right place then.”

The Leprosy Meet-Cute | Spedalskhet og romantiske møter

When I arrived, the museum was quiet, either because of the rain or a lack of interest in leprosy. The two-storey main structure housed the wards with small rooms where patients lived. The last patient/resident died in 1946. The main floor had rooms and a communal space where benches and tables are now placed, while the second floor just housed rooms with a balcony looking down. The interior was a cream-ish, almost yellow colour, but that could have been due to the low-lighting. The facility also has St. Jørgens Church, which is still consecrated, but barely used for service. While the church exterior is a light green, the interior features various shades of brown in the altar, pulpit and pews.

While the museum is what I expected, based on similar disease oriented ones I’ve visited, the real story is the crush and impending heartbreak I felt for one of its employees.

I don’t remember his name, so I will call him The Boy Who Loved Leprosy. I nicknamed him this as he spoke passionately about the topic to the extent I have never heard someone so excited about a disease who wasn’t a doctor or medical student on a fictional TV show. For the record, he wasn’t even planning on becoming a doctor, he was a literature student.

He was cute, but typically not my type. He was just under six feet, skinny, pale skin and dirty blonde hair that I believe was curled. He dressed like the character Milo in the Disney animated film Atlantis with small circular glasses, bowtie, checkered tweed suit and what I assumed were penny loafers – though it was difficult to tell as we needed to wear foot coverings in the museum.

Him and I spoke about our passion for writing and he gave me local recommendations. His colleague was also present acting as a conduit, taking my information and prompting him to talk about his similar interest or to encourage him to give me suggestions. At some point, he had to take a group to the church, which had a separate entrance leaving me and his colleague. His colleague encouraged me to go over, which I think was a hint.

At the church he was finishing up with the group. I waited making circles with my feet, which were decked out in a fresh pair of those lovely blue foot coverings. Once he was done, I looked up and we smiled. I asked him questions and he answered. At first he answered quickly and then began drawing out the words, placing his hands in his pocket. Eventually, I ran out of questions and he needed to start closing up.

The Norwegian Heartbreak | Det norske hjertesorg

One of his recommendations was Café Opera, where he liked to write. He said, he’d be there after closing and that if I ended up there in an hour I’d see him. Smiling I left, excited for the hour to pass. I set my alarm 15 minutes before the top of the hour and went about my day. I popped into vintage shops, record stores and scored a hot chocolate at Fjåk Chocolate which I’m told usually has long lines (pic below of the hot chocolate).

I arrived a few minutes late to Cafe Opera and didn’t see him yet. Maybe he was late because his colleague chatted him up or there were last-minute visitors they couldn’t say no too. Not wanting to awkwardly wait inside, I stepped under the awning outside pretending to take a phone call. The heat lamps warmed me as it continued to rain.

I waited for about 20 minutes until I called the time of romance death. I felt sad. Did I get stood up? I can’t say for certain because it was not made clear if the suggestion was for a date or him just being kind.

I departed to have dinner at an overpriced pizzeria. As I waited for my food, I edited my photos from the museum and noticed the 15:00 time stamp - I didn’t leave at close, which was 16:00…I left at 15:00.

My fluttering heart and exhaustion, must have led me to misunderstand him. I thought he was closing at that moment, but he still had an hour of work. He was meant to arrive at 17:00 and I arrived at 16:00. By the time I realized my mistake, it was 17:15 and I was 45 minutes away. Here I was thinking he stood me up, but in reality I stood him up!

I immediately looked for the museum on Instagram, only to learn they didn’t have an account. I checked photos with the location tagged, but none had of him in them. I scoured LinkedIn for people who worked there or went to the local university for literature studies, but nothing. I had lost this nerdy tweed-plaid wearing Norwegian boy.

On my train back to Oslo, I couldn’t help but wonder if he was also disappointed that I never showed up and if we were vibing or he was just awkward. I wonder if he told his wing woman/colleague about my absence and what she said to comfort him. Maybe it was something like “it would have been one day, he doesn’t even live here. Probably saved yourself from heartbreak.” I guess we’ll never know, but forever he will be The Boy who Loved Leprosy.

Read the previous post “Chapter 2: Lessons in Friendship featuring Mae Martin and Sabrina Jalees”

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Before we pack up our things and leave for another country, let’s first discuss in general how these relationships change over time. I’ve been blessed to have friendships lasting over two decades, but they have faced some interesting challenges over the years. There are many factors that cause change in a friendship that require re-evaluation and re-negotiation.

A major factor is life transitions that lead to a shifting in priorities. Friends may get married, have kids, move away or become primary caregivers to aging family members. Furthermore, collective interests might change. Those hobbies, passions and activities that once bonded you may no longer be there and or begin to shift.

Another factor, I have witnessed, is the impact of COVID-19. I saw how the pandemic made some friends more nervous, with some no longer enjoying places where overcrowding occurs - like a bar or concert venue.

I have faced many of these changes with friends, but one of the biggest challenges I’d need to learn to navigate was my departure.

Geographical distance, in my opinion, is the biggest friendship test. When you’re in close proximity, it’s easier to get together and also witness these friendship changes in real time clocking tone and body language. This IRL interaction gives you an opportunity to adjust. When you move abroad that becomes more challenging as interactions become more message oriented, which is difficult to decipher.

There is also the feeling that those living elsewhere are deprioritized for those who live nearby. You might experience a decline in communication going from messaging every few hours to once every few days to weekly or biweekly. That diminishing communication can be hurtful, but it’s also important to know people’s lives change and priorities in general shift.

Some will say social media is a perfect way to keep in touch and stay up to date on a friend’s life. I don’t disagree, but there is this weird social media catch 22 that happens. While it’s easier to be present by getting glimpses into one’s life, it also creates an out of body experience. You start to feel like a ghost, haunting your friends as you watch them move on without you, continuing traditions, trying new things and adding new members to that circle. That feeling is especially hard when you’re trying to establish yourself, find new friendships and build new traditions.

There is also the matter of you experiencing growth. This issue made me panic when friends planned visits. I knew we had all respectively changed, but how much change occurred and would we still be compatible? What would that grand friendship reunion look like? Would we be pining for a past selves? Not to mention, travelling with friends is a whole other complex issue - trust me I have friends I adore, but despise their travel personas.

In January 2024, I interviewed Canadian comedians Mae Martin (they/them) and Sabrina Jalees (she/her) for IN Magazine. It was in promotion of their Canadian Audible Original Benefits with Friends, which sees Martin and Jalees dive into must-have conversations that redefine what it means to connect with your best friend. Their friendship started as teenagers and has lasted decades even though their busy work schedules and lives in different countries with different time zones kept them apart. Yet, they’ve managed to make it work.

Here is an exclusive excerpt that never made it to the final publication.

Stephan (SP): I love that you have both lived all over the world and still keep your connection strong. As someone who just moved to a new country, I struggle to understand how to keep that connection with my BFFs. What advice do you have for me about keeping that connection strong when you’re separated?

Sabrina Jalees (SJ):  Oh, we've got good advice. Where's your best friend?

SP: Everyone's in Toronto and I'm in Europe.

SJ: Oh my God. Okay, different time zones.

SP: Different time zones. I'm living a different life. A European life where I just drink at any time of the day.

SJ: Yeah. Yeah Okay. So you're winning and everyone's jealous.

Mae Martin (MM): I think for me living in so many places, the friendships that have really endured are the ones that don't get mad at me, and I don’t get mad at them, when we don't talk for a week or two.

Then you put in focused time…and have a long catch up on FaceTime and then make an effort [to see them] when you're in town. But you can't be like, “Oh, well, I haven't heard from them in a few days. I guess they don't care about me anymore.”

SJ: There's fairy tales that people buy into with friendship that there's going to be some psychic bond or some consistency with the sort of fever dream of what it is when you first connect and collide. When we first met our job was to run around after school and go see comedy together. We had all of this time and now you grow up and there's other jobs and things and relationships…The friendships that have really lasted are built on a foundation where we're not looking for reasons to doubt each other's love, it's there.

And that's the thing. I know if I needed Mae, they would be there. I know there are friendships that have fallen apart because it’s the other way around. I've got a kid or I'm working on a show, I'm not in the same time zone and I can't be there with immediacy. It starts to fall apart when people start questioning the meaning, beyond just the fact that we're all busy.

There like eras, not to bring it back to Taylor, but there's eras.

MM: Yes, there's eras and you have to let people evolve. If you haven't seen someone in a year and you have your big friendship reunion hangout, then you've got to meet them where they are and be excited about where they are and not want an older version of them.

SJ: And luckily…

MM: Luckily, our eras have lined up nicely.

SJ: And you know what two peas in a pod don't do? Turn the eras into errors.

MM: Oh my god…and you can expect more gold like this.

In 2020, Pixie Lott took the top spot with Won’t Forget You. That year, the world went into lockdown as COVID-19 separated us from family and friends. In the year prior, I had seen a flourishing in my queer friendships with regular in-person meet-ups. With lockdown, I was worried those efforts would vanish and I'd be forgotten.

In 2022, Holiday Hills by Canadian boys Loud Luxury was on top. In a release issued by Sony Music the duo stated the EP, by the same name, was meant to “…bring colour to the dull, a party to the boring and chaos to the order.” At this point, society had followed strict lockdown orders for almost two years and in 2022 restrictions were lifted. Many were ready to party, add colour to their lives again and bring a little chaos with this “return to normal.” For me, 2022 saw the return of my adventurous side with trips to Spain and Portugal where party, colour and chaos (the good kind) did ensue.

La Noia, translated from Italian to English, means “The Boredom,” yet the song is anything but boring. It has an upbeat tempo with carefree lyrics that marries my experiences in 2023 and 2024 perfectly.

Stumbling home to my temporary apartment on Lisgar Street in Toronto on New Year’s Day 2023, I began thinking about how boring my resolutions sounded compared to everyone else that night. “Work less.” “Get serious about dating.” “Workout more.” “Buy a condominium.” To be frank, they were resolutions I constantly made and broke. It was that night my boredom for my life in Toronto began.

As the year progressed, I panicked at the thought of my resolutions – minus the workout one. I felt investing in real estate and a committed relationship would tie me down to a repetitive, mundane life. I avoided my parent’s questions about buying property, but diverted their disappointment by placing money into a first-time homebuyer account to give them hope. I sabotaged romantic relationships, especially with this sweet Spanish man who in any other year would have been a match.

In my career, I was on track to achieve the goals I set in 2020, but lost the motivation to develop new ones. I felt my whole identity was becoming my job. At one point when COVID-19 ravaged my immune system I thought, If I were to die, what would my obituary/eulogy be? No one ever says what a hard worker a person is at their funeral. Yes…when I get sick I become one of those overly dramatic men.

I didn’t know what to do, until I was organizing my computer files and found a folder labeled “Youth Mobility.” The Youth Mobility Visa is offered by the Canadian government in partnership with select countries where youth (35 and under) are able to spend a year in another country - a working holiday visa of sorts. My mind immediately went to Portugal, a country whose history, food and culture I’ve always loved. Luckily, it was one of few countries who would take my old ass as most Youth Mobility Visas ended at 30 years old. So, I did the paperwork, applied, got the visa and moved to Lisbon in November of 2023, living there for a full year.

In November 2024, as I waited at Pierre Elliott Trudeau International Airport on a three hour layover for my flight back to Toronto, I decided to translate the lyrics of La Noia. I couldn’t believe how accurately they reflected my evolution from New Year’s Day 2023 to the end of my year abroad. Here are some of the lyrics that stuck out (and apologies for my not so perfect translation):

Quanti disegni ho fatto, Rimango qui e li guardo, Nessuno prende vita // How many drawings have I made? I stay here and look at them. No one comes to life: After discovering that “Youth Mobility” folder, I reviewed its contents. As a researcher and planner, I saw all the dreams and aspirations I had. The folder was created in 2017, with “modified” or “last opened” stamps throughout 2019. These years are significant as I was searching for new employment - a new adventure. This folder containing my research and plans were my “drawings,” that I clearly looked at for years and that never came to life. When I rediscovered the folder, part of me had a now-or-never urge to bring them to life. Plus, I was getting older…it was literally now-or-never.

E mi hanno detto che la vita è preziosa // And they told me that life is precious: As mentioned, no one says you’re a hard worker at your funeral - well not the ones I’ve attended. Many choose obituaries/eulogies about the memories and moments in one’s life. After COVID-19 older family friends mentioned how the pandemic made them realize how precious, short and unpredictable life was and told us youth to live it to the fullest. After my year abroad I now understand the weight of these lyrics and the advice those family friends gave.

Quasi quasi cambio di nuovo città, Che a stare ferma a me mi viene, a me mi viene, La noia. // I almost changed cities again, Because staying still makes me feel bored: In 2021, I moved to Montreal for a time. COVID-19 had ravaged the Toronto I loved and I thought a change of scenery would reignite my love for the city. If anything, it was the beginning of my restlessness and 2023 was the tipping point.

Quanta gente nelle cose vede il male, Viene voglia di scappare come iniziano a parlare, E vorrei dirgli che sto bene ma poi mi guardano male // How many people see the evil in things? It makes you want to run away when they start talking. And I'd like to tell them that I'm fine but then they look at me badly: For me, this evil is personified as the pressure to purchase property, to be in a committed relationship and to work your life away. As an “evil thing” in my eyes, I wanted to run away from it. In return for my views of these perceived evils, others found me suspicious and even sinful for thinking this way and breaking the norm many of us have been taught to achieve. Every time I spoke of this “defiance” I got uncomfortable looks for not conforming.

Se rischio di inciampare almeno fermo la noia // If I risk tripping at least I stop the boredom: My life in Toronto was very sheltered. I never took risks and most things fell into place (sadly, I feel myself falling back into that habit now). I wanted to go out, make mistakes, trip a few times and scrape my knees - but not get them too bloody as blood makes me faint. I wanted to stop the boredom and that is what I did.

In this Substack, I will tell stories about my life abroad, what I learned during my European life about the world and myself. I’ll share things I probably only care about, the soundtrack for each city I visited, the amazing people I became friends with, the ones I had relations with (though I will never reveal their names) and more. Plus, given my year was so unpredictable, I’ll reflect that in the format with short stories, essays and poetry.

I hope you’ll join me on this journey. I’m excited to share my experiences and inspire you to potentially take that risk and trip.

READ CHAPTER 2: LESSON IN FRIENDSHIP FEATURING MAE MARTIN AND SABRINA JALEES

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