VANCOUVER, CANADA

 Have you ever seen "Ocean's 12"? The movie seemed like it could do no wrong: great cast (George Clooney, Brad Pitt, Julia Roberts, etc.), interesting story line, awesome director in Steven Soderbergh, etc. Yet, it somehow it sucked. It was like watching paint dry while getting oral sex from a shark. 

  Vancouver is kinda like that movie. It's a city that seems to have everything going for it: mild weather all-year round, the ocean, mountains, rolling forests, laid back people, etc. Yet, it's so fucking boring. It's been dubbed "The City That Fun Forgot" and that is putting it lightly.

  Aside from daylight activities like climbing  mountains, hiking and skiing, there's fuck all to do in Vancouver once the sun goes down. It's damn lucky that it's a port city, because drugs are easy to come by and you may as well get a heroin addiction to pass the time.

 You'd think that Vancouverites would compensate for the city's shitty fun factor, but no. Vancouver is full of hipster douchebags, meat heads and tree huggers. Remember the Stanley Cup Riots in 2010 when the Canucks lost in Game 7 to the Bruins in the final? (jog your memory here: http://www.youtube.com/watch?v=4VzOUKODdZ4).

  Only complete idiots would smash up their own city and think it was an appropriate response. Yes, you can argue that Montreal did the same thing back when they lost in the Stanley Cup final a few years back. But that's a different kind of stupidity. They're Quebecois!

MAGDEBURG, GERMANY

  “Magdeburg is the best example of the worst communism has to offer in the realm of architecture.” This was a quote I read in a travel book about Magdeburg just before visiting. After reading that I was truly excited for what lay in store and I wasn’t at all disappointed upon my arrival. Bleak, desolate, grey and hopeless are the adjectives that immediately come to mind once stepping off the bus. I never thought it possible, but I actually felt as if I was transported back to the 1950s.

  I had my worst hotel experience there with a hotel that rated itself as 7-star. Wow! If this was 7-star, then I can only imagine what budget accommodation must feel like. The hotel room consisted of two single beds in a giant room with a tiny television in the corner. Aside from the beds, there was absolutely no furniture in the room. A giant window led to a wondrous view; dilapidated concrete mills and factories that had not been used in what seemed like 40 years. I remember a bum struggling with a shopping cart full of empty beer bottles, no doubt attempting to return them for a refund that would be reinvested in yet more beer. I watched him for nearly 30 minutes and he never did make it. Was I an asshole for laughing at him? In hindsight I think he had the last laugh. After all, he actually had something to do in Magdeburg.

  For all of its architectural and ambianic faults, the locals more than make up for the city’s shortcomings. Cool isn’t even a word to describe them. I suppose for living in such a depressing city you’d have to compensate in some way or other. I never thought it possible, but the people of Magdeburg are quite fashionable, friendly and have an unbelievably wonderful sense of humour. (Note: I’ve noticed that East German cities have far friendlier people than its Western counterparts. They also have a really good sense of humour. I guess when drunk Russians occupy you for decades one must have a sense of humour about it).

  I never thought I’d say this, but of all the cities I’ve been to, Magdeburg definitely had the most beautiful girls and they were all more than accommodating (friendly I mean, not sexually … although, I never stuck around long enough to find out if the latter was true).

  I won’t even begin to try to explain what to see in Magdeburg as a tourist because I haven’t the slightest clue. I would recommend going to Projekt 7 on a Saturday night, though. Some great music, some hot dance moves, some great fashion and lots of German lager flowing until who knows when. I left at 6 a.m. and the club was still packed.

PARIS, FRANCE

  The main problem with Paris is that it's filled with far too many French people. It could be worse, though. France could be Quebec.
  That being said, I must admit that I’ve fought the lure of Paris for many years. It’s like that movie everyone tells you is great but you don’t want to see because you’re sure that all the people who told you are full of shit.
  The city is huge, beautiful, ridiculously expensive and filled with beautiful people. And as you'd expect, fashion rules. Walking down any of Paris’ winding streets you come to realize why it is the fashion hub of the world. Though, you get a sense that no one really gives a shit about what you're wearing because in Paris anything goes.
  Like all things in Europe, visiting certain cities can be quite a comedic experience as certain stereotypes come to fruition. For one, French people are, indeed, rude and impatient. Moreover, French people HATE English and they hate hearing it spoken on their streets.

One thing you'll have to understand about French people, and not Parisiens in particular, is that they love talking about how awesome their language is. This is, one of many reasons, why everyone hates the French.
  I found the Arab youth in Paris to be quite confrontational and annoying. I remember being surrounded by about 10 of them in the metro and being laughed at. Maybe it was my ’70s mullet and moose knuckle (my balls are huge by the way) that caused the ire. Doesn’t really matter I suppose.

  Everyone says Paris is romantic. But I'm sure some bored American housewife who's never stepped on a plane in her life invented that catchphrase after having watched "Irreversible" for the first time. (Note: For normal people not living in the backwoods of the American Mid-West, rape is not romance).
   So then ... what do I recommend in Paris? Walk. Well, the obvious choice is the Eiffel Tower. Although it is perhaps the most recognized Parisian symbol of all that is tourist it is still a sight to behold. One must also take a walk down the Champs de Elysses toward the Arc de Triomphe.

  Roaming is wonderful, but at some point you will no longer be able to avoid the Paris underground. I’ve always been told about, and experienced first-hand, the complex undergrounds of London and Berlin, but what everyone failed to tell me was how confusing the one in Paris is. Simply buying a ticket to board was difficult because I couldn’t find a single “Information” kiosk that could give me any information in English. Also, none of the ticket machines had English as a language option.

  I had to dig deep and attempt to recall all those silly French classes I was forced to take in grade school (strangely, I remember my French teacher in grade school telling me I’d need it one day. Much like my calculus teacher, I thought she was full of shit).

  French lessons aside, Paris is still a must-see.

TORONTO, CANADA

  Toronto was a great city to grow up in, but it has changed a lot in the last five years. I love the city because it's always seemed to be the friendliest metropolis on earth. Of course, things never stay the same.
  For one, Torontonians, in general, are too concerned with what’s going on in other parts of the world. I think it might have something to do with the fact that Canadians happen to suffer from an inferiority complex. So concerned are we, that we’ve failed to really realize the opportunity we have of making our own mark on the world of fashion and music.
  Toronto thinks it’s a European city, yet it thinks this way with a completely North American mindset; a contradictory mix and quite telling. If only the city would realize that it is simply a cool place and doesn’t have to emulate and follow trends by cities that aren’t nearly as cool.

  Everything has turned into a competition in Toronto and I, for one, no longer have the energy to partake in such silliness. Who wears the best clothes? Who is listening to the coolest music? Who is doing the best blow? Does it really matter? I’ve never understood the idea behind reminding people how cool you are. To me, cool has always been about forging your own path and doing your own thing. If you’re cool, you just are. ‘Cool’ is not something you have to prove to someone.

Enough about that though, let’s get back to Toronto the city.

  I have never found a lack of things to do in Toronto and I definitely think it’s one of the top cities when it comes to nightlife and entertainment. Toronto is a sports mad city. Its hockey fans are the most dedicated in the world and you’d be very hard pressed to get your hands on a ticket to any Toronto Maple Leafs game. Even if you did, you’ll feel your wallet has lost a few pounds. Then there is the NBA’s Toronto Raptors and our football team, Toronto FC.

  The city also boasts the second-largest film festival in the world, right behind Cannes with the annual Toronto International Film Festival. Movie stars flock to the city in droves when it comes around and is the ticket to get.

Music? Toronto has music all right. Pretty much everyone you meet is in a band and international acts make a concerted effort to play here. The Rolling Stones, for one, regard Toronto as its favorite city. The band even spends a few months here to rehearse for every world tour.

  Fashion has become paramount to everything else over the past few years, but unlike Stockholm, Paris or London, Toronto tries far too hard.

  So what’s there to see in Toronto? Well, it’s quite easy to be a tourist in Toronto because there are only a few streets where stuff actually happens. Start with the trendy Queen Street, the birthplace of hipster Toronto. Then move on to College Street in the heart of Little Italy for some great dining and clubbing. If you’re a Top-40 kind of person, you might want to visit the Club District on Richmond and King streets. It has not really been my scene, but I’ve been there enough times to avoid it.

  For the true tourist in you, make your way to Yonge and Dundas Square. It has been transformed the past few years to a Tokyo-meets-New York City kinda neon vibe. It can only be described as Canada’s version of Times Square. It’s a little cheesy, but still a pretty amazing thing to see.

  And, when in Toronto, how could one avoid the CN Tower? It — for now at least — is the world’s tallest freestanding structure and the epitome of inferior thinking. Like a giant penis, it jettisons out of the city’s Business District. You know those guys with small cocks that buy really nice cars to compensate? Yeah, the CN Tower is Toronto’s nice car. This is the part where I would like to say it’s stupid and cheesy, but I can’t because the CN Tower really is an awe-inspiring piece of 1970s architecture.

  For a bustling metropolis, Toronto is quite a bargain — but that is changing with the ever-rising Canadian dollar!

PRAGUE, CZECH REPUBLIC

  I wish I'd discovered Prague 10 years earlier than I did when I moved there. It is easily the most breathtaking city I've ever come across. It’s visually overwhelming, cheap and full of babes. I lived in Prague for almost three years and I never stopped looking wide-eyed at the city while I rode in to work every morning on the tram.
  Before moving to Prague, my Swedish friend Martin, who often visited the city, told me this: “Prague is like living in a museum.” One sentence summed up my life in Prague exactly. I realized then that Swedish people are fucking smart.

  It sometimes makes me sad to think about what could have become of Prague had it not been invaded by the Russians in the late ’60s. I can only imagine that it would have become a cosmopolitan city with a thriving fashion and art scene — something like Central Europe’s version of Paris. Unfortunately, the Russians did invade and Prague has become what it has become.
  Fashion is pretty much non-existent and exactly what you’d expect. The "I-will-have-sex-with-you-in-your-car-for-$10"  look is the ‘it’ thing right now. As it has been for a while. As a man, I can’t really complain about short skirts, knee-high boots and big tits tightly packed into much-too-small tank tops. As a dedicated follower of fashion, the city leaves me depressed. The man, though, in me usually wins the debate.

  Although being an old city, it has all the hallmarks of youth. It almost seemed as if communism stunted the city’s growth and when the Russians finally left in 1989 the city was left wondering what to do next. Even today, I think it’s a very accurate statement to say that the city is stuck in 1991. How else can you explain Czechs’ love of Bruce Willis, Red Hot Chilli Peppers and (gulp) Steven Segal. That being said, there is a certain irony in knowing that Prague's population is the oldest age average in all of Europe.

  Of course, all of this is forgiven because the city is visually heart-stopping and dirt cheap. It also helps that in Prague, and the Czech Republic as a whole, the beer flows like wine.

  Before I came to Prague I was quite convinced English would be more prevalent considering the amount of tourists packing the city year-round. Not so, of course. You’d be hard-pressed to find anyone over the age of 30 speaking English, and even if you do find someone, their English is terrible. I have, though, found that women are far more likely to speak English. Though, I chalk this up to Czech women having a hell-bent desire to marry foreigners in a bid to avoid marrying anyone resembling their asshole Czech fathers.

  Must-sees in Prague include an off-the-beaten jaunt to Vyšehrad (Prague’s other castle). It’s a very romantic setting overlooking the Vltava river and it doesn’t hurt that tourists here are scarce. I also recommend setting a day aside for the Prague Zoo. Nestled into the side of one of Prague’s many hills, the zoo is one of the more interesting ones I’ve ever visited. It almost didn’t feel like a zoo (if that makes any sense) and it felt very interactive. Walking around the grounds didn’t seem as laborious as most zoos, mostly because there was so much to see (aside from animals).

  The last thing to do is walk across Charles Bridge — from the Old Town side — towards Prague Castle. Do this at night. Stop and stand off to the right, and look out across the Vltava to take in the Little Quarter and the awe-inspiring and precariously perched Prague Castle. Complete the walk by ascending the Prague castle steps. It’s a hard walk, but well worth it once you reach the top and look out at Prague’s clay rooftops.

GUAYMAS, MEXICO

  Nothing says Mexico like seeing a dude chilling out in the middle of the highway on a lawn chair with an AK-47 laying across his knees. That's the last thing I remember as I drove out of Guaymas on my way back to California a few years back. Not surprising, considering the first thing I remember about driving in to Guaymas was having a dude walk up to me with an AK-47 in his hands. I had stupidly decided to park our rented minivan behind a dilapidated grocery store so I could make my friend take over driving duties at 2 in the morning. The Mexican and I locked eyes. With mouth agape, I stood like a deer in headlights as he cheerily offered me a hello in Spanish as he passed. If ever there was a time that I could say I almost shit the fuck out of my pants, that was it.
  Anyway, Guaymas is not the sort of place you'd find any tourists. I ended up in Guaymas as a guest for a good friend’s wedding. His friend’s mother owned a private villa there and that was that.

  It is about as Mexican as you can get and about as out of the way as could be. I remember the nearest hospital being some three hours away.

  We drove here from San Diego and what one friend described as being “just a few hours away” but was, in fact, 13 hours away. I learned a lot about that friend during that trip. Mostly I learned that an hour to him actually meant four to me. But he’s a dick and we won’t talk about that.

  There were a lot of stray dogs that people said I shouldn’t pet, but I did because that’s what kind of humanitarian I am. Is that the term? Humanitarian? Anyway, they were shaggy and dirty but I can’t help petting strange furry things that run at me.

  The beaches were fantastic, mostly because there were no tourists around to ruin them.

  I also made a note of buying and wearing a pair of red Speedos at ALL times. You know that saying; when in Mexico…?

Of course, with private beaches comes a lack of safety precautions to alleviate chance encounters with dangerous sea creatures. Locals told us there weren’t too many sharks in the area so we shouldn’t be too worried about them. What they didn’t tell us was that August was the beginning of Portuguese Manowaur season in Mexico. During all our frolicking in the water we failed to realize we were wading amongst thousands of floating “bubbles” which turned out to be the heads of the sea creature. In a matter of 20 minutes all seven of us were stung by their ridiculously long tails, which dangle beneath the water. I was the last to get stung, and on what I thought was the safety of shore. One happened to be carried in by the waves and wrapped around my ankle. Who knew something so small could cause so much pain. Next to my appendix nearly rupturing when I was 17, the pain of being stung by these little bastards was a close second. I have heard horror stories of these things growing to the size of Buick Trucks so I count myself lucky that it was only the “beginning” of Manowaur season.

  There is only one thing to do in Guymas and that is to sit on the beach and swim its waters. There are many mountains surrounding the entire area and lots of tiny islands dotting the shoreline. Beer is cheap and no one speaks a word of English. It is very much a shantytown filled with many poor people and ridiculously large insects, snakes and lizards. I was warned that many of Mexico’s smallest creatures were among the most dangerous, especially the brown scorpion. Many days I woke up to find this very scorpion in my bathroom sink.

  I’ll add my own warning here; don’t EVER visit Mexico in August. I have never been so hot in my life and the nights seemed hotter than the days. At one point the thermometer in our kitchen read an appalling 51 degrees Centigrade!

MALMö, SWEDEN

  It was sometime around my 10th trip to Malmö that I decided I was going to take an entire day to walk around and discover the city. I had been preoccupied with business during my previous visits, but the time had finally come to discover this little gem in southwestern Sweden. Sightseeing in Malmö was kind of like this girl Jenna I'd always pined to have sex with. We had flirted back and forth for years and when we finally did have sex it was over in less than 10 minutes. After, I'd laid on the foot of the bed in the fetal position and felt empty, lost and utterly disappointed. It was then that I realized some things are better to be pined over than to be had.
  That being said, Malmö is a great city, but I would never want to live there or visit there for anything other than business. Not really sure how that qualifies it as a great city, but there's something about it. Anyway, my friend Petra once told me that on first (or second ... or third ... or fourth) visit, the city seems to be quite boring. She said that eventually you find your place. I tend to believe that if you spend enough time in any place — even wintertime in Auschwitz 1943 — you eventually find your place, but that doesn’t mean it’s fun.

  Unlike the sprawl of New York City, Malmö isn’t large enough to hide any of its secrets. In many ways, it reminds me of a smaller, less pretentious Toronto. It’s both why I feel so comfortable yet appalled at the same time. For such a boring city, this place is fucking expensive. I judge most cities based on the price of a pint of beer. And a pint of Sweden's finest suds will run you around 50 Swedish Crowns ($9.00). If you've ever tasted Falcon or Spendrups, you'd be pissed off that Sweden didn't pay you to drink that crap.

  Much like that of Stockholm, everyone in Malmö is beautiful, extremely stylish and a bit standoffish.

  There is, though, something special about the fact that everyone seems to know each other there.  It’s kind of like the Swedish version of that TV show Cheers.

  For music fans, Malmö is the Shangri-la of Swedish music. It’s the city in which all the cool bands eventually end up living. It must have something to do with that laid-back feel. Perhaps it’s the dose of reality Malmö provides after months on the road being rock stars and getting fed grapes and eating platters of German cheese, etc.

Members of The Ark, The Sounds, and others can be found wandering its streets almost anytime (whenever they aren’t on tour that is).

  If you happen to find yourself here in August, then you must be sure to catch the city’s annual music festival, Malmöfestivalen. Held in the city’s main square, it is a free event and a great way to see some of Sweden’s biggest acts as well as some of Scandinavia’s up-and-comers.

  Some of the cleanest air you will ever breathe exists in Malmö, due mostly to the city’s lack of motor traffic. There aren’t many cars driving at any time of the day and I certainly didn’t know of a so-called “rush hour.” Instead, locals prefer to ride their bicycles to get from Point A to Point B. To get a gauge on how many people ride bikes in this city just visit the front of Malmo’s central train station. At any given moment there are thousands of bicycles locked up. Those crafty Swedes must have devised a foolproof system for finding their bikes because I’d never be able to.

  There’s some great vintage shopping to be had in the city and, surprisingly, it won’t break your bank account. Unlike vintage shopping in North America where one must wade through mounds and mounds of Hawaiian T-shirts, granny slacks and lumberjack shirts, shopping vintage in Sweden is easy. After all, the Swedes have always been stylish. Even Swedish grandmothers dress cool.

  As far as I can tell there is only one thing to really see in Malmö as a tourist and that is to visit the “Penis” tower (as locals call it). For what it lacks in length it more than makes up for in girth. I’m not exactly what the real name for it is, but I have been told it’s a water tower of some sort.

  Visit only in the spring or summertime, as Malmö’s winters can be quite harsh and ugly. Meaning, cold and slushy. Not much snow falls here, unlike Stockholm, which although colder, still retains its beauty somehow.

NEW YORK CITY, USA

  Oh, the bustling metropolis that is New York. The unofficial capital of the world for all that is fashion, music and art related. New York is not what it seems, though, certainly not to me anyway. I’ve been to New York quite a few times and it’s a city that grows in my heart every time I visit. It reminds me of Toronto, only on a much, much grander scale. And because it’s New York, it doesn’t feel the need to prove it’s a cool city. It just is. Unlike hipsters in Toronto who try far too hard to make you understand they are cool, New Yorkers just are.

  I must admit that when I went to New York the first time I hated it. I’ve never been a fan of large cities and this place is beyond ‘large’. Driving in on the New Jersey turnpike gives you an unabashed view of a sprawling city with an endless sea of skyscrapers. I’m not a fan of people very much and hate big crowds, but this is pretty much impossible to avoid while walking the city’s endless labyrinth of streets. Everything moves very quickly and you have to keep up.

  During my first visit, trying to navigate the streets with my rental car, we took a wrong turn and actually stumbled upon a Karl Lagerfeld photo shoot. The amazing thing is that Karl, with his long silver locks, was actually behind the lens shooting some supermodel. Things of this sort happen in New York and you’ve got to be ready for them.

  One thing I soon realized about New York is that you have to find your place. Some find it quickly, and some — like me — find it after a couple visits. There are so many parts to Manhattan and every part fills a certain niche. You just have to find yours.

  My place is the Lower East Side, in the Bowery District. I feel really at home there mostly because it reminds me of Kensington market in Toronto (again, on a larger scale). It is quiet and a bit slower than that of Soho or Upper Manhattan. With its laid-back feel, it is the epitome of cool.

  So then, what to see and do in New York? Well, to be honest, the best way to discover New York is to walk around. You may have to do some training before your visit to get your heart rate up. You definitely have to have endurance for a full day’s worth of walking the streets. You may even become afflicted with what one of my friends refers to as ‘New York Knee.’ Of course, it will all be worth it in the end.

  One myth about New York that was quickly quashed is the myth of taxis being a difficult thing to wave down. Bullshit. Taxis are easy to find and surprisingly cheap. Yet, because there are so many operating at any given time, it’s no wonder. You can easily get from mid-town to the Lower East Side for about $9. Taxis, though, are about the only cheap thing available.

MILAN, ITALY

  I once lived in Milan for about a year back in 2002. The two things I remember most about it was my 17-year-old goth-punk girlfriend (I was 26 at the time. High five!) and some gay dude named Luca who stalked me the entire time I lived there.
  Milan is a city of contradictions. For one, it’s in the heart of Italy, yet, it is not what I would consider Italian by any means. It is a financial and fashion hub. Unlike an outsiders’ view of Italians, the Milanese are a hard working people and the bottom line to them ultimately is about money.

  The city is also full of beautiful, sexy people — but in a matter of days these people seem rather ugly due to their inability to smile. They are very cold people and you never quite feel as if you can trust them fully. What are they trying to hide? I’ve never been able to figure that one out.

  Although, I must admit, strangely, that some of the architectural reasons I hate London actually make this city interesting to me. Have you ever seen the first Batman movie? You know, the one directed by Tim Burton? Well, this is Europe’s version of Gotham City and it works so well. It is about as grey and depressing as any city could possibly be, yet, it makes sense.

  There isn’t a terribly abundant amount of things to do as a tourist, but I would suggest first and foremost visiting the Duomo (church/cathedral) in the center of town. The church is the single most amazing piece of architecture I have ever seen in my life. It is the epitome of gothic architecture and you could spend an entire day alone looking at statues and statuettes carved into the stone on the outside of the building. To see the cathedral from the inside will also leave you with mouth agape.

  I have found Milan to be a ridiculously expensive city for tourists, especially those going the route of staying in a hotel. I would suggest a hostel, but there were only two in the city at the time I was there. I suppose I was under the impression Milan was a tourist destination, but truth be told, I didn’t run into too many tourists and if they were around it was for fashion week. That said, English is not a strong point for the Milanese so brush up on your Italian before you go.

  Something else that must be noted about Milan, and Italy in general, is that its transit system is solely based on the honour system. Of course, if you have no honour like I then it is the devil’s playground. Tickets go for around 1 euro, but you can take your chances and ride for free. Although you’ll get away with bunking the system for a while, you will eventually come across the dreaded transit police. Like everything Italian, these boys in uniform travel in packs of 10 to 15. They’ll try to make you pay a hefty fine, but as long as you maintain the air of idiocy and have conspicuously hidden your passport, they will eventually get bored and let you go.

  Another ploy the transit police use is fear. They know you’re a tourist and hope the mention of calling the police will get you to empty your wallet, but don’t fret. Be strong. I quickly learned that in Italy there is no one lazier than a policeman. And, even if the police are called, the chances of an officer actually showing up to confront you are pretty much nil. After all, why the hell would the Polizei bother with yet another dumb tourist when there are so many Italian girls to accost and so many cigarettes to be smoked?

  Someone once told me that Italians who are lazy and don’t want to work become a police officer.
  One other thing to mention; there is nothing sexier than seeing a policewoman holding a sub-machinegun firmly in her tender fingers. Italians really do it better!

DETROIT, USA

  Detroit is the asshole of the world … or wait; maybe that was Windsor, Ontario. I can’t quite remember. Either way, one of them is the asshole and the other is the armpit.

  I do remember someone telling me that Detroit was just like “hell on earth.” I tend to believe that assertion. The city is certainly one of the strangest I’ve ever come across. After the black riots in the 1960s, businesses and people in general ditched the downtown for better and safer digs in the suburbs. Over 40 years later the Michigan city is still trying to draw businesses back to the centre with not much luck.

  I had a friend who lived in a big mansion in one of the most dangerous parts of Detroit. To hear the word ‘mansion’ you’d think he’s rich, but he was just a lonely design student paying around $300 rent a month. Wow, what a deal right? Sure the place was nice, but it was the only occupied house for three blocks. This kind of made it a prime target for the roaming bums, drug addicts and assorted criminals passing by.

  Many a night my friend would wake up to the sound of crackling. He’d wake up in a panic to notice that someone had set a car on fire outside his house. Fortunately, his little Volkswagen escaped the arsonists’ wrath.

  I remember the last words I heard my first night sleeping in that house. They went something like this, “If you hear something that sounds like a zipper being undone, don’t worry. It’s just machine gun fire.” I thought it was a joke, but low and behold, the sound of zippers being undone somewhere on the Detroit streets wafted through my window.

  Maybe it’s a testament to my bad luck, but I can’t recall a single time I’d been to Detroit without seeing a gun. I’ve never been robbed, beaten or murdered there, but I have seen some really bad dudes.

  Being white, or blackly challenged as I call it, I’ve found that I was always treated very well. There is even the recollection of waiting at a red light and having a police car pull up beside us to tell us that because we were white we shouldn’t stop. And, by no means should we ever drive without our doors locked. It seems that traffic lights in some parts are known as prime targets for bandits robbing motorists and the ever-prevalent carjacking phenomenon.

Aside from that, it’s still an interesting experience and quite amazing to see abandoned buildings in what should be a bustling downtown core. It’s quite surreal, albeit creepy, to sometimes walk down the street in broad daylight and not see motorists or any other people.

  One thing that must be noted, and I’ve been warned about this many times, is to avoid riding public transit. It is yet another means for robbery.

NICE, FRANCE

  I drove to Nice via a winding mountain one-lane highway through the Alps from a town in Italy named Cuneo. The drive was both exhilarating and completely horrifying. It must have had something to do with an Italian at the wheel and resigning my fate to his lack of caution. We drove through Monaco, but I blinked and missed it.

  Nice is Southern France at its finest, albeit with more tourists than one would like. It has been a French city for quite some time, but it still holds its Italian roots firmly in hand. I had a crazy bout of diarrhea here (a true code-red), but that’s another story altogether.

  I’ve always heard that the beaches in Nice are unparalleled, but that couldn’t be further from the truth. For one, sandy beaches are a figment of a drug-fuelled imagination. Nice beaches are made up of little stones (and sometimes big ones). Lounging on the little bastards is a true art. Some advice given to me by my travel mate Fulvio went something like this; “The way Italians relax in Nice is to just lie down. If there’s a stone poking in your back, remove it. Simple.” Duh … fucking Italians and their wisdom.

  Get past the rocks and you can truly enjoy the sights. Beautiful bikini clad, topless women and hairy, Speedo-wearing European men. I didn’t know what I wanted to do more — masturbate or puke?

  Nice is, though, quite a beautiful sight. It’s slinking streets and narrow staircases are a true art form and make walking the city effortless. Although it isn’t a large city, it’s easy to get lost (which I managed to do a few times). It took quite a while to finally find a restaurant worth eating at. Though it wasn’t because there was a lack of good restaurants. It mostly had to do with the wait staff I’d encountered until that point as being complete assholes.

  They do exist; rude French waiters! I thought they were mythical creatures in ancient lore passed down from generation to generation. I was truly convinced they were like the Golem or fairies or nymphs — that is until I saw one for myself. If I’d been more on the ball I would have tried to snap a photo of him, you know, for National Geographic or something. Unfortunately, I was too busy imagining my fist repeatedly bouncing off his stupid French forehead.

  As far as sightseeing goes, just walk around. It’s all one can really do and, like always, the best way to see any city. I would suggest going to the eastern part of the main beach and climbing atop the hill. It’s a really wonderful way to see all the way down the coast and get a complete overview of Nice.

BRAMPTON, CANADA

  Have you ever seen “Spinal Tap” the movie? You know that scene when the band is reading reviews about their album Shark Sandwich and they suddenly come across one that simply reads “Shit Sandwich?”

  That’s Brampton. Shit Sandwich.

SAN DIEGO, USA

  I actually think that San Diego might be the cleanest city I’ve ever been to. It’s a surreal city full of blonde babes and surfer dudes, just what you’d expect.

  I’m sure I saw some famous people, but I was too busy getting obliterated by waves while trying my hand at surfing. I learned to say the word “dude” a lot and got acquainted with the century tree and made lots of use of eucalyptus leaves.

  Aside from its beaches, there isn’t too much for a person to see in San Diego. It was a little too low key for me and I didn’t really see a lot of prospects for one looking for something in the way of a party scene. Although, if you’re really looking for some stories to tell then Tijuana, Mexico is only an hour’s drive south.

  In lieu of partying, San Diego is one of the most relaxing places I’ve been to (as far as major cities go). It has a really chill atmosphere about it. Unlike Los Angeles that leaves you not wanting to miss anything, which in turn leaves you constantly on the go (re; not relaxed), there is nothing to miss in San Diego.

  I first visited San Diego in 2001, just before the world was overtaken by the incessant desire to cleanse us of our fellow man’s smoking habits. It was illegal to smoke in public places, inside or out. In that sense, San Diego and California as a whole were ahead of their time and I thought they were out of their fucking minds … but now I get it.

STOCKHOLM, SWEDEN

Upon visiting Stockholm five things become blatantly obvious:

1) It’s expensive as hell.
2) It’s one of the cleanest places you’re probably ever likely to see.
3) The city has the highest concentration of hot people ever! (Straight or gay, this is a sexy paradise and will give you lots of material for your wankadex).
4) Everyone is stylish — perhaps too stylish. It’s like a fashion experiment gone awry. Even 3-year-old children have hipster haircuts and are wearing Cheap Mondays. It’s ridiculous, but utterly cool.
5) Everyone is extremely friendly and the natives are more than happy to speak English — a language the Swedes have come to master thanks to sub-titling their American movies rather than dubbing.

For all of the reasons above (except the expensive part), Stockholm is one of my favorite cities. The city is not nearly as large as I envisioned, but that makes it quite cool as well. It’s an international city with a sort of small-town feel. If you’re into fashion, then Stockholm’s endless shopping options will have you frothing at the mouth. Sweden is, after all, the home of H&M and Cheap Mondays.
It’s also a fantastic city for music and there seems to be a music shop on every corner. Music and fashion; what a paradise!
I visited the city at the beginning of June and the night always seemed as if it would fall, but never quite did. The horizon was always visible and seemed disturbing in a way. Some say New York is the city that never sleeps, but in spring/summer I can only imagine that Stockholm borrows that moniker.
The best time of year to visit, as anyone will tell you, is between June and September. The waterways, flowing in from the Baltic Sea, surrounding and running through the city must be explored. If you get the chance, take a ferry to one of the surrounding islands for lunch or dinner. If you get the chance, visit Debaser for a pint or two. Remember that there are two Debasers in Stockholm, so be sure to visit the one at the Slussen metro station. Nestled underneath a bridge, and beside one of Stockholm’s many lochs it is definitely an interesting take on pub culture. Another must-see is Stockholm’s Old Town. It’s narrow streets and wonderfully maintained buildings are quite romantic, even for someone completely unromantic (like me).