My two months in Paris.

A saga concludes.

The epiphany has landed.

This isn’t going how I wanted.

Things are about to get bumpy.

This is the Life of Matt.

Crap. I just passed the point of no return.

Would you like a psychic lap-dance for $60?

Sleeplessness. Saunas. And a message from a kindred spirit.

A journey concludes.

I finally meet the fishermen.

Vegan Bifanas and a crash course in communism.

Honoring the patron saint of fishing—and getting my views warped.

A bromance blooms.

A weekend in the middle of nowhere. Plus, gentrification.

Stories of wine, trains, and an unexpected feast.

A story of insomnia.

“I’m a big believer in signs and omens. So you can imagine my concern when, just days before boarding a plane for Copenhagen, I bought a book about Denmark and opened up to this…”

This isn’t a bathroom, I thought. It’s Shangri-La.

This was my first time in Quebec City. I was born and raised in Florida, then spent three years in Thailand. I don’t do single-digit degrees. I can’t ski, I don’t sled, and I certainly don’t spend time frolicking in the snow. I don’t even know how to layer.

In other words, I don’t do winter.