Paradiso via penguin on a bike

Bus up to Paris tonight, Naren is finally done with exams in t-minus 2 hours.

Carl brings a couple huge beers to my room before we head over to this church-converted-into-club, Paradiso. Pregaming is another thing that is universal. Though this was my first time drinking while biking to a club, plus I haven't biked in years. Silly Amsterdam.

My Team Your Team International Edition: Red Light District♦

James is this British guy from Canterbury who lives upstairs. He is tall like Ransom and reminds me of him with his witty humor and mannerisms. Tall, lanky, sprouting some long hair, amazing accent, excellent replacement. I want him to read me bedtimes stories at night. Definite man crush on this guy. He used to write sketch comedy and knows his stuff about British humor, even told me about Hugh Laurie’s comedy work before House.

Naren, Carl, and I hit the town. We learn about Carl’s hometown and French culture. He lives in Le Mans, yes home to Le Mans 24 hour race. Walk around, start going around the bar area, but no one is in any of them really. Walk down to the red light district and I explain Carl the game. Mind you this has got to be the best venue for My Team, Your Team. Walk down the canal and we are yelling out MY TEAM as girls pop in and out of windows and as the windows come into our vision. There is a big advantage going first in the alleyways as you have first dibs to spot the next target. Having exhausted the selection of girls of boxes, we decide to walk back through some historic sites to the night bus station. There is an old church at one end of the red light district and there’s a part in the ground where it’s a breast with a hand groping it. I hear we all like to do fun things behind churches.

On the walk back we meet Elenia, a Dutch UVA (naw, university of Amsterdam here, not Virginia) student, who is the quintessential dutch girl at probably 6’3’’ and 150lbs. Dutch women are more powerful than men in society. Naren says this power comes from their long legs. I convince her that her name originated from Elaine in Seinfeld and somehow we end up arm wrestling. She’s at some bar for a student association meeting, which seems a lot funner than our SA meetings. All the Dutch guys are cute and dressed spiffy in their suits, complete with slicked back hair. Naren says it’s the look in Holland. Go for my first Dutch girl number close to no avail.

Carl is laughing, having a blast. I’m always here to entertain myself and others =]. We continue our walk on a kind of dead Tuesday night. Stumble across a black building with loud commotion and I try to go in, “Sorry, this is private.” End up chatting with the people outside, they are interesting to say the least. One of the blonde Dutch girls is talking like Lauren Conrad in The Hills, with every other statement being “LIKE TOTALLY, AWESOME”. I ignored it, but I hope she was just mocking me, otherwise I bet her friends are annoyed by taking a big blonde Dutch French Horn around that you just want to take care of like it’s the copier in Office Space while you are listening to the Geto Boys in the background.

Damn It Feels Good To Be A Gangsta

One of the Dutch guys is pretty cool, genuinely normal comparatively, and likes Family Guy, which is key in my book. I tell them about the Lady and the Tramp, and Michael Vick and the guy and the brunette Dutch girl laugh, while the Dutch Horn is still blaring in the corner. Another Dutch guy comes by in a bike, and Dutch Horn says, that is Dice, he is the coolest kid in school, TOTALLY, AWESOME. Nice to meet you Dice, I wish you hadn’t been introduced as a badass, because you can only be so badass when you roll up on a bike with greased back hair. Lot’s o bikes in Amsterdam. Go Figure. End up talking about more random stuff, but Dice is still in the corner of the group, being all silent mysterious badass on his bicycle. Badass on a Bicycle, they should make a superlative or some sort of award for that. Best Badass on a Bicycle Award Goes To: DICE! YES DICE YOU WIN AGAIN THIS YEAR! THANKS FOR COMING OUT OF THE WOMB WITH A BICYCLE! Naren says Dutch people keep to themselves… well this is kinda true but again, we are using our Cornering Powers to get people to talk to us in this trip. Naren and Carl are talking to part of the group and I still have the Dutch Horn blowing counts out of her mouth right next to me which is causing my ears to bleed. All’s good class, I have some SOS Insurance thanks to GW if I ever need to get evac’ed. Two more Dutch girls join our group and one asks me where I’m from. Little place called Washington, DC. Don’t know if you’ve heard of it. While this may not be the case when we get to Paris, but it seems like Dutch people like DC! Swivel over out of spitting distance of the Dutch horn and talk to this girl about D.C. for a while before her friend dragged her inside. Say Bye to them and decide it’s a good time to continue our journey, say bye to the normal Dutch kids, as well as the Dutch Horn and Dice, Badass on a Bike, Esquire.

As we are walking back to Ledseplein for the night bus, I notice these three dutch guys just oogling over this poster of a cute brunette modeling a swimsuit with a 17.99 price tag. “Totally wish she was in a window for 17.99.” There are some things that are universal, staring at girls, and 2 donkeys and 1 cup. Sorry, entrenching on Naren’s poop territory, I’ll keep stepping lightly. Anyways these Dutch guys are pretty cool and we end up chatting with them for a good 20 minutes as we talk about how they like DC more now with Obama, which is pretty sweet in my opinion, Thanks BO (that’s what I call Barack when we chill) for taking care of my on my Eurotrip. Goodness gracious if I had to pretend I was *GASP*, CANADIAN?!?!?!? But apparently most of the Dutch food you can’t buy here or in restaurants, you either have to make yourself or in my case, I said I would try to find a Dutch girl to make it for me. This guy’s favorite food is this cauliflower potato concoction with gravy served in a meatball cup sort of thing. Sounds pretty good to me, I don’t know why there’s no Dutch food and everyone hates on it. One of the Dutch guys, who looks exactly like Ryan Considine and even has his mannerisms and whatnot, comes up with a typical response to finding a Dutch girl to cook: “Ay! you can fuck her while she cooks!” Love these Dutch guys.

Get some food at this schwarma place. Pretty good, Shiva gets in trouble when he goes to get onions for his Schwarma, “Amigo, please”. Apparently this isn’t like a salad bar, and I get chewed out a bit for trying to eat my schwarma with more than just meat and pita and sauce. I can get the toppings with the falafel. Okay, well now I know how it works. I try to talk to Naren in Telugu about this, but it’s like trying to fly a kite while swimming with only one autistic ear.

Get to the night bus station, but we still have some time as the bus runs only every hour after 12:30am. Check out a few of the clubs, pass on the ones that have cover, and decide to go in a bar. Infinity starts playing, and I take it as a sign to dance like a fool on the dance floor that is currently filled to the brim with 3 people. We take a seat and enjoy the view and the music. We went from electronic, to r&b, to rock/rap in a period of 5 minutes. I love how in Amsterdam though I will hear music from all time periods, going from Pink Floyd, to Mo Money Mo Problems. Throwback, but love it nonetheless. Me and Naren talk about how the European way of dancing for girls to electronic music is really not attractive. One of the girls is dancing like she is having seizures while flailing her arms around like she is being dragged by a shark under the tide. Yeah, comparatively at this point, hefers in America dance more attractively than this flailing around motion.

Wednesday in the city

I’ll keep the details short of today. Leave guesthouse at 5pm with Will and Quentin. Meet this girl Natalie and her friends at a coffee shop, totally reminds me of Harold and Kumar girl. She is from Philly, goes to Princeton. Surprise, Surprise…

Talk to will about my allergies, Oddly, they disappeared when I went to India. I must be allergic to America.

Will: Move to France, there are a lot of people there with that allergy.

Have my first Heinekin Extra Cold. Get to check off, watch a European Football game at a bar in Europe. Go with Will and Quentin to a bar and meet up with their friends to watch the UFA championship game between Manchester and Barcelona.

Dutch girl: Dutch has a lot of throat sounds; we like to use our throat.
Shiva: That’s What She Said.

International Bum

I arrived at the train station Naren told me to go to… after taking the wrong train first. Out of all the friends that have gotten there successfully, of course I am the one to get a little lost. However I ingeniously got some Euros by buying a girl a croissant at the café and getting the 3 Euros in cash. Capitol One No Foreign Transaction Fee, this is a free plug for you.

Anywhoo, on the metro to the correct destination, end up talking to a group of high school kids on the metro and talk about music and stuff, they like reggae, I tell them the Wyclef concert was one of the most amazing concerts I’ve been to, not only did he pull out some reggae, but soul, r&b, alternative rock, hip hop, little electronica, you name it, he covered it. Asked them about food and whatnot, but there isn’t much special food to the area, they were just like Amsterdam is known for weed? food? nah. Naren says it’s because the Dutch have been trading for so long they have just international mix of things. Maybe I’ll get Naren to delve into this later.

Meet up with naren, and tell him the GALAVANTION TOUR has started. Almost walk on horse poop on the way to naren’s dorm but I’ll let naren write the poop rants, that’ll be quite hilarious.

Sunday night end up just passing out while Naren and Vinay study for their test tomorrow.

Sunday morning.. wake up once at 8am when naren wakes up for his exam. He leaves at 1030am for the Univeristy, and I proceed to play around on my computer, pass out at 11am, and wake up again at 2 or so. By the time I worked up the nerve to leave the room and go pee, I walk up to the door and its opening….

Shiva: “Oh, hi!, I was just about to leave the room for the day!”
Naren: Where are you going?
Shiva: Oh, just to go pee

Bum around the rest of the night, there is a pasta party at 7 apparently. Mosy over to the pasta party and meet the people of the “Guesthouse”, the term for this international dorm.
Naren: “Names can be deceiving, Guesthouse sounds nice, but in reality it’s a shithole.”

Of course I rolled up to the pasta party in my pajamas, fulfilling my role of international bum. Met my first dutch guy Mattjas (dutch version of Matthew) . I’m hopefully going to get him to translate these dutch yoga web sites, so I can figure out which yoga studio to go to here. Also ended up talking to this German guy Mattias about cars, beer, and convinced him to do yoga with me. Nicknamed a girl Princess, because.. well now I forget why. Ate some pretty good pasta, care of Eugenio Maccarone, reminds me of Fabio’s pasta parties. Pasta party quieted down and this greek guy Xenophon wanted to check what’s going on upstairs.. Hrm, I’m down for an adventure.

Apparently it’s someone’s birthday out on the balcony/lounge so I dive in and give the birthday girl a hug. It’s this French girl, Morgan’s 21st and she’s not hammered. Something is terribly wrong. On further pondering, I find out I am silly, and have to adjust for the international setting. Drinking in France is legal at 16, and she’s been drinking since 15. At some point I have a multicolored paper flower wreath around my neck and I am acting a fool as usual. I teach one of the guys Quentin the Oompa Loompa song and we make a little dance by bobbing up and down. Yes I am still in my pajamas. It is also this guy Manu’s birthday that is like half British half Italian naren says, so they roll a huge splif (which is tobacco and weed) and celebrate.


I’ve kind of nicknamed part of the upstairs the French Quarter. French people are kind of hard to talk to. Unless you corner them. According to Morgan, there aren’t good crepes in Paris, only in Bretagne. She is from apparently a small town there and there’s a joke about her town, what is the closest big city? New York. I proceeded to ask her if there were cows and if she had fun with the cows there. Next, I started the inquisition on my quest to find amazing food in each city, and when firing off questions about Paris, Morgan said there was good Chinese food there. Hrmm… I can’t go to Paris and tell my friends I ate Chinese food. I’m going to eat crepes anywhoo, and get some advice from Dave and Laura. ahh excited to see CF!

TMI details that I obviously will share is that I finally pooped after 2 days (need to invest in some fiber one), showered and got out of pajamas finally. Still haven’t left the “Guesthouse”. It’s far too kind to me; the bathroom smells like India at times.

venture o'er the ocean

Sitting in this main room at LHR so going to write a little bit, good ol airport with a maserati and a lambo.

Met this British guy Chris on the train over from Penn station. Chill guy, had one suitcase half full of beer, dogfish head and stuff, he is legit in my book. We separate for a bit as he takes the high road at the airport in the business class line, but this takes me to the measly peasants, which include this tall slender gorgeous blonde chick. Going to London on her way from the Grand Cayman, her normal life is a vacation, she goes to London for a break… there goes an auto go eff yourself. After checking in, meet back up with Chris and head over through security, BEEEEP, but what else is new when you have brown balls of steel. Get to the terminal at 7pm, flight is out at 9, perfect time for the airport bar. Option make it an extra “Big Beer” for $1.50, why yes thank you. Sam Adams cherry wheat you are too kind to someone who definitely needs to just stay alive at this point. Chill at the bar, talk about random stuff. Apparently the business class is a sleeper part of the plane, so they don’t get served food, so humbly Chris says he regrets to leave but he has to go catch dinner in the lounge otherwise there’s no food for him on the plane. All’s good, he is going to Australia on business but will be back around the time I’m going to London, so we might meet up there. Thank’s for the beer Chris, will return the favor when I’m in London.

Few dollars in my pocket, but Euro-less, I go over to the money exchange, but at an 8 dollar fee, it’s definitely not worth the 4 euro I need for the train in Amsterdam. Go over near the gate and sit next to the British chick, “It’s like you’re sitting in a yoga pose”, >> “Haha, well I usually do yoga, back in the grand Cayman, it’s like 95 degrees and I do it in my room or on a rooftop. First girl I’m going to fall in love with, check-. She says “wee bit” also, cute. We talk about random shit, play this passport issue date guessing game that I played with Chris, and then we talk about last names.

Shiva: wait for it…Kambhampati

Sarah: wow, that’s an awesome one, come on party, that’s what I’m hearing

anyways, sarah goes to the bathroom, and they call Mr. Kambhampati up to the gate ironically enough. Uhhhh… go up to the gate.. What trouble did I get myself into already? Oh, they’re upgrading me, nice.

Go back sit down, Sarah comes back a few minutes later. Hey they just said my name pretty well, I just got upgraded apparently. Rub it in her face a bit and call her a peasant. Oh shit I have to eat at the longue if I’m in business class, don’t I? I go up to the terminal and apparently I’m on Traveler plus which is like bigger seats and like a leg rest, not business and premium food. kinda owned. Diff section on plane so can’t talk to Sarah, hopefully my old seat wasn’t right around hers... o well. I need my sleep after not sleeping for 3843 hours.

yoga girl from bikram texts me saying sorry she couldn’t make it out, her friends bday party ran late and that she hopes I am wearing my snazzy blazer. why yes I am, I kinda love this thing, it’s pretty niiiiiiiiice. okay phone is off for two months, no one text me.

Only interesting thing about the plane ride was that I watched this movie with Daniel Craig that was super modern where he was an actor and depressed and just went out into the ocean and just filmed him laying there in the vast ocean. Fade to black; come back with slightly different time period and totally different characters with nothing of the same theme of the previous events. Pass in and out of consciousness, and at the end Daniel Craig is BACK, I am like wtf, this is trippy and I am super confused. Pass in and out of consciousness for the rest of the flight and eat some ginger chicken dinner and have an apple croissant for breakfast. Security checkpoint at LHR, nothing really on me, BEEEP.. free trip to 2^nd base for the guy feeling me up.

Wandered around the airport and stumbled upon a girl making margaritas at the duty free store. Free booze. excellent. The liquor was tequila-like, but Brazilian and sugar cane derived. Margarita maker girl Tasha was kind of insulted that I was using London as a pass through to Amsterdam without spending time there, but I assured her that if I’m alive after Ibiza twice in a Eurotrip still I’d make it to London to spend a few days before I flew out of LHR for home. Might meet up with her in London. Talked about British humor a bit, deciding if I want to make my debut as an International comedian. Maybe will write some stuff that is a bit dry and sarcastic like this British humor supposedly is and of course HIGHLY INAPPROPRIATE. Going to require a bodyguard in London, zach, you need a job still? Rish, bring the blow up doll when you come.

Night before an international flight:

What not to do.

!)Drink after not drinking for a couple months.
2)Decide not to sleep all night.
3) Go for a "sunrise run" at 5:30am around the Lincoln, Reflecting pool, and WWII memorial.
4)Pass out on your bed with your legs hanging off.
5) Have hurricane Ivy call you.
6) Jump off of your bed startled and confused as shit, CRUMPLE to the ground like a ragdoll and have to use your hands to pull your dazed and confused, limp, body up from the ground.

Maybe I'll post pictures of the scratch on my arm. not to mention i have banged up knees and scrapes down to my wrist. love how this shit happens to me. Kamal, you are stealing my mojo for setting off the fire alarm.