While admiring the grandeur of Neuschwanstein Castle I meet up with an American GI based in Kaiserslautern off on a bit of Bavarian R&R. He introduces himself as Joe, of all things, GI Joe, and we both have a chuckle. We get to talking then sneak off around the corner of the castle keep to a remote spot for a joint followed by a pint of lager at a nearby bistro. He’s on his way to Garmisch-Partenkirchen, a gorgeous alpine resort nestled at the base of the Zugspitze,

Back to Amsterdam, I bid my two compatriot cohorts adios and start hitching my way south toward the nearest Alp. Not far out of Amsterdam, I get a lift with a middle aged couple on their way home to Scheveningen. They’re telling me a story about how Nazi infiltrators, during the Second World War, could be identified, no matter how fluent they may have been in the Dutch language, by their pronunciation of their town's name.

I finish my smoke, drink my beer, read the last page of the chapter on Luxembourg in Arthur Frommer's "Europe on 5 Dollars a Day" (trust me, it’s not that long) and wave to the waitress for the bill. I give her the 50 centimes for the beer with the money I had just exchanged from the currency counter next door, hoist my pack on my back and attempt to locate the next bus into Luxembourg City.

Out of Paradise - Ch. 6 - Europe, Now What? Pt. 1 Can’t thank Avi enough as he drops me at the curb under the departures sign of JFK...

Out of Paradise - Ch. 5 - New York, New York, Or Joey Gutierez Revisited Pt. 2

Out of Paradise - Ch. 5 - New York, New York, Or Joey Gutierez Revisited Pt.1 "So, where 'bouts you going?" the driver asks. "New York," I say. "We've been in New York for the past hour," he counters. "Er, I dunno. New York. I'm on my way to Europe. Gotta get me a ticket." With that, he drops me at Grand Central Station and with a menacing shrug and a worrisome grin, bids me, "Good luck."

Kansas City Here I Come I spend the rest of the afternoon and into the night cruising down Interstate 70, past farmland after farmland after silo after barn, Country Western radio stations fading in and out of range, towering across Kansas in my regal shotgun perch atop Bob's 18 wheel Kenworth and over the miniature sedans and station wagons we pass along the way.

Majestic view of the Rocky Mountains towering over a turquoise lake, surrounded by lush pine forests, capturing the serene beauty of...

Out of Paradise - Ch. 4 - Viva Las Vegas Pt. 1 The last time I was in Las Vegas was a couple of years earlier with my folks on a summer camping and water skiing trip to Lake Meade and the surrounding areas. A couple of years prior to that, I had met this cute little Vegas chickette while on another summer camping trip with my folks through western Canada following Highway 101 back down the Washington, Oregon and Northern California coastlines (we did a lot of camping when

My next destination is San Diego to see my grandparents in Pacific Beach before setting off on my mission to the Matterhorn. I bid farewell to my grandmother in Goleta and make my way south down 101 through Santa Barbara and on to Los Angeles. My step-brother, John Balzar, a career journalist with the L. A. Times, acclaimed author of "Yukon Alone" - a compelling account of the Yukon Quest dog sled race across the northern wilderness of Alaska - and future Senior Vice Presiden

My first destination is actually Lompoc, along the California coast about 50 miles northwest of Santa Barbara. I'm on my way to see my father, an amateur Jazz musician, professional photographer and high school math teacher turned vice-principal, before setting off on my epic journey to Europe. I can still remember, as a toddler, toddling 'round behind him to smoke infused Jazz clubs around Tucson, Arizona listening to him belting out jazz classics on the trumpet. As you can

Ah, yes, near death experiences. If it's true what they say that "what doesn't kill you makes you stronger," I must be more invincible than the entire cast incarnate of The Expendables rolled into one. Like, just the other day, I'm reading in the news about a 3 year old toddler in Thailand who, while playing with a set of his father's car keys, attempts to unlock the electric socket with them on the baseboard of the wall where he's playing. Yup, that's me. Same, 3 years old,

“Where are you going?” the driver asks. “Uh, Europe?" I say. "Don’t suppose you’re going that far?” “Europe? That’s ambitious,” he says with a chuckle. “How ‘bout Marysville?” “Marysville it is.” The drive south through the Northern California Sacramento River valley is dotted with small towns and farms, mostly farms. Big farms, small farms, dairy farms, cattle farms, pistachio groves (in fact, my brother Gary, a bearded, rodeo supplies dealer following horse shows arou

1972 was the longest year in the history of man. It was a leap year and the Coordinated Universal Time committee added 2 leap seconds to the clock. It was a time of bell bottom pants and drive-in movies. A time of vinyl LPs, 8 track tapes and pet rocks. A time of Monty Python, Led Zeppelin and digital watches. It was also a time of war. The 1972 Vietnam draft nominees are about to be called and I’m not about to take any chances.

It’s 1972 - The Vietnam War is all but a bad blotch etched in the depth of the American psyche – Richard Nixon has just ordered the break in of the Watergate complex and Jimi Hendrix has drowned in a pool of his own vomit – But, hey, Kurt Cobain’s only 5 years old – and Dark Side of the Moon has yet to be conceived – And me, I’m standing at the on ramp of California State Highway 99, knapsack on my back, thumb pointing south…

It's 1972 - The Vietnam War remains a haunting memory deeply ingrained in the American psyche. Richard Nixon has just orchestrated the Watergate break-in, and Jimi Hendrix has tragically passed away. Meanwhile, Kurt Cobain is just five years old, and Dark Side of the Moon is yet to be born. At this moment, I'm standing at the on-ramp of California State Highway 99, backpack over my shoulder, thumb pointing south...