THE WORLD OF SWILL

It strikes me that the Great Outdoors could be vastly improved by pleasant inns every two or three miles, so that there is an actual point to trekking throught the wilderness. One could say to one's family "hey, I'm going to commune with nature, hey hey hey" then get on one's bike and speed off to Café De Molen (bar and coffeeshop 'the mill'), sit down at a long table with one or two friends in the middle of the afternoon, and enjoy some croquettes (kroketten), after which a pint of trappist beer (Trappisteiner) would be splendid, and a pipeful of tobacco. Maybe 'Troost Slices (a Dutch style "cooked" flake, concocted by Van Rossem originally, or, if one was not dabbling in horrid native vices, something like Balkan Sobranie, though not containing bright Virginias but red. Like Arango Balkan Supreme.

Especially in the United States. Where nature has Poison Ivy, Poison Oak, Poison Sumac, rattlesnakes, vipers, and feral trailer parkers shooting guns at tin cans, varmints, and their mother-in-law.

Who needs nature, with its sand and rain storms, dangerous animals and plants, and repulsive human inhabitants, anyway?


On the other hand, fried snacks and trappist beer are darn good things.
Since returning to the United States beer has been a disaster.
There was Anchor Steam, which was pretty good.
Now there's only Guinness.

And I don't drink, so you can just imagine.

TRAPPIST BEER

A friend likes to on occassion hike on Mount Tam. Which, given that he is nearly my age, is commendable. But sadly there is no hospitable country auberge at the end of the trail, so it seems kind of pointless. Also, he doesn't smoke a pipe, so if for whatever berserk reason I decided to embrace my goofy side and head off into the bloody moors of Marin County, he might not enjoy it. Plus nature freaks in Northern California are well known for screaming at smokers, because their purebred doggies are traumatized by nicotine and gluten, it's a private trail for them and people they approve of only, and you're wearing polyester!

In any case, Northern California is known for artisanal craft beer, so you can't drink it unless you are intellectually prepared. Which neither he nor I are.


We still haven't recovered from the yuppie colonialization of coffee.
Espresso, Cappucino, or Latte, only! And no whipped cream.
No decaf, syrups, or dairy substitutes.
And NO bloody sprinkles.


The last time I was in a Starbucks, I left.
And I only like sane quiet bars.



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