After 3500 views and counting, I decided to make a second part to an American moves to Poland. I decided to share it here for anyone who finds it appealing. On the non Polish front, I continue to travel and explore new worlds, I mean places. :) That was a Star Trek reference for those that didn't know. My first of three Malta vlogs went live tonight and next week Lithuania is on deck. With almost every weekend traveling, I have been vlogging constantly but no new writing to report. Hopefully, with my school vacation starting this Friday in Montenegro we will turn the tide in that area.
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I had been thinking about this vlog ever since I arrived in Poland. Almost six months in and after a subscribers comment on YouTube it seemed like the ideal time to share some of my expectations versus reality of life for me in this country. I can't stress it enough, while I'm sure some have similar experiences, this is my personal journey and reflection for my time in Poland. I don't claim to be an American with all the answers and I'm the first to say that growing up in the USA has given me a sheltered life in many ways. There is most definitely a bias.

​Feel free to have a listen and hear what I have to share. If you like the vlog, give me a like or better yet a share or a subscribe. I hope to be back sharing my regular travel vlogs later this week. 

2023 has come and with it much anticipation and expectation as to what that means in the months ahead. 

Writing has taken a back seat of late, from a lack of motivation and the shiny new ball that is vlogging. Still, the storyteller in me knows there must be a novel or two ready to be told. 

The challenge is maintaining a balance and expending enough energy to do both successfully. That’s the caveat in my non-writing fun of late. 

Vlogging is more than just pointing a camera and talking. There is an interactive component that when ignored makes for a mindless walk through city streets. And yes there is a delicate thread of talking too much or not at all. Every location tells a different story and every viewer is looking for something specific. 

In a way, this is similar to writing a good story. The characters, the setting, and the conflict must all work or the story is trash. Even if all those pieces are in sync, it doesn’t mean in a world of millions of books that the right set of eyes will find and resonate with your tale. The same can be said with any vlog. The thumbnail, SEO, description, what others have watched previously all come into play.


This is why my favorite vlog about a hike along the Irish Sea limps along with a hundred plus views, but a Gdansk old town tour and Christmas market vlog has 17 times the views. Part of this is luck, proximity, and well algorithms. 

After years of independent publishing, I know this well. Rejection is part of the game as are dealing with readers who are not as enthused with the final product as the creator. While I have learned to accept this in a literary sense, the lesson is repeating itself in the vlogging world. 

With that written, I’m putting all of my creative endeavors in perspective. That’s what my 2023 focus will be. Don’t let the numbers dictate what I write or film. Genres, topics, whatever I need to find passion in is what I must do to fully enjoy the creative process. That is far more important than anything else. It’s also why I will write a sequel to Rusty Star this year. The Marcus Files should also have another addition, time willing as well. 

I have a few others writing goals that could be in play, but another lesson for 2023 is to focus on one goal at a time. Like a marathon runner, let’s put in the mileage first and see what develops and how the body responds. Here’s to a new month and a new year. 

May your writing, vlogging, whatever your creative goals, be successful for you in the year ahead.
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Growing up just an hour north of Boston, I considered myself Irish even if my bloodlines said otherwise. I know many from my youth that feet the same. My family was quick to frequent local watering holes such as Master McGrath’s and Patricks. We appreciated the food, the atmosphere, and of course the music. 

I may have been a bit envious of one local family, immigrants from the Emerald Isle, whose boys sported tattoos of their beloved Irish flag. While my family never took us across the pond to visit, we still felt a kinship, a closeness to all that was Irish.

Being raised Catholic magnified our inner Irish spirit especially upon learning about Saint Patrick and how he kicked all the snakes out of Ireland while converting the locals to Christianity. In my late teens and early twenties, I found a love for Irish theme movies from The Matchmaker to The Quiet Man.

After my mother relocated to Annapolis, my twin and I found ourselves journeying with her many times to the Killarney House for some traditional Irish folk singing and food. While the years have passed and our family dynamic has shifted, mainly with the passing of my twin, those bonds we shared over Irish meals and songs never changed and surely are to be never forgotten.

I’m not sure when I first planned to visit the country. I know I had seriously considered as much when I left to teach in Italy. The budget airlines made it more than affordable, but for whatever reason logistically I wasn’t able to pull it off. Fast forward to four years ago and I booked tickets to travel during a long April weekend. I intended to go around the time of Stephen’s anniversary, to celebrate the island with him if you will. 

I don’t remember what canceled this trip. I think it was food poisoning or some other mean bug that roared its ugly head just a day or two before I was to depart. Like everyone else that has put their life on hold due to the pandemic, I decided once I moved to Europe I couldn’t wait any longer. 

Veteran’s Day this year fell on a Friday, which coincided with Polish Independence Day and a long weekend from work. Knowing I had the time, I bought the ticket in early September and made the plan to travel to Dublin. There were other places on the island I wanted to see and visit, especially with my desire to find the town where they filmed the matchmaking festival in Janeane Garofalo’s romantic comedy. Still, I had to be reasonable. Dublin was the most direct flight and for $70.00 I wasn’t going to fight that price.

I could hear my brother whispering in my ear about visiting the Guinness factory and getting our official perfect pour certificate as well as our fill of that liquid brew. I shudder at the idea of wasting time drinking what I considered a beer that tasted more like crappy coffee, even though I knew if he was alive this would have been a prerequisite to any trip. 

There was a compromise in my planning to visit the downtown area. I know there didn’t need to be one, but I still thought of his wants and desires when making this pilgrimage. To begin I made it a point to stay outside the center, close to parks and decent running. Clontarf seemed and was the perfect spot. I knew the cliffs of Howth were within range and Bull Island was less than forty minutes by foot. 

Knowing I had preplanned nature I wondered where Stephen would have liked to venture to  save the beer factory. Always amused by his name on signs and venues, St. Stephen’s Green was nonnegotiable. While Stephen wasn’t overly religious, I knew he wouldn’t turn away from a brief tour of Saint Patrick’s Cathedral as long as he wasn’t paying and we did a Kuiper Twin driveby. If you don’t know what that entails, let’s just pretend you have the attention span of a gnat and walk through every room and fixture without reading a thing. 

Other than those two spots, the rest was open to whatever whim we wanted to follow. There were no serious restaurants I had to visit. Whatever looked cute and not packed was the order of the day. For myself and Stephen we had to have mussels in some form and there had to be a true hiking trip along the cliffs of the Irish Sea.

I thought any other additional planned venues would be too ambitious and for someone that hasn’t traveled with much frequency these past three years not reasonable, especially after my recent trip to Estonia and Latvia. While Estonia had been a reprieve, the congested feelings of Riga lingered and was a recent reminder of what I didn’t want to experience anytime soon. 

I do find the irony, now living in a city frequented by crowds and tourists galore. And yet, where I live aside from Sunday afternoon where families go for their strolls with kids and dogs in tow, my section of the city is a quieter place with refuge from the masses. 

Downtown Dublin at night wasn’t even an option. The idea of being around crowds and droves of tourists was not on my agenda; add in toasted ones and that would make a heck of an evening. I could see Stephen having a few shots of Jager to cope with his own anxiety in such circles even though I’m sure he would have managed with a few bar hops of his own if in proper company.

Taking all these things into account, I planned for a low key Dublin trip with a little city action and some country viewing as well. While I wish the trip had been longer, those three days were enough to embrace the spirit of Ireland and what it meant to my family growing up. For the second week in a row, I was able to reconnect with the water and feel closer to the memory of my twin. Whether it was the stress of moving and switching jobs, getting that connection back, one that I felt in a way I had lost, made the trip even more worthwhile.

Join me if you would like for the four videos I made vlogging this Ireland based retreat. The first two videos focus on the city of Dublin and the longer than expected walk to St. Stephen’s Green. Whether it was a bad case of ADHD, I stopped too many times to count. Between looking at signs and street corners, for what I’m sure was all the right reasons, a three hour round trip walk was a grand undertaking. Thank goodness I was alone. 

The second set of videos focus on nature, specifically Bull Island and the hike from Bray to Greystones. Let me know in the comments if you’ve ever been to either spot, let alone Ireland.
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The uneasiness I felt in Riga dissipated the moment I got on the bus for Estonia. Within minutes of leaving the city center and getting out into the countryside, I wondered if I was making a mistake leaving early. Truly, I knew it was the right call. These lakes and wooded vistas of Latvia were nothing more than a tease of what I thought I was getting myself into. Instead, I was plagued by city life and all that comes with. 

Not even forty minutes onto the ride, the farther we drove away, what stress I had felt was all bought gone. Instead, I settled into some journaling and reflected on what had gone wrong for the first part of my trip and with everything else in life. I know that’s a heavy statement and overly dramatic to put out there, but truly I believe when we are faced with adversity other moments of similar angst rise to the forefront. 

When all one can do is sit in their comfy bus seat, play Angry Birds, and ignore the stench of body odor and a clear beer detox episode from my fellow passenger and seat mate, these thoughts force themselves to be processed. I had two hours to kill, to see what I could better understand to make the rest of the trip a more productive one.

Pärnu is a beautiful beach town. While this might be the fourth largest city in Estonia and it’s former capital, to me it’s just a large town of forty thousand souls. For that I was grateful because it was easy to navigate and designed perfectly for walkers, runners, and bikers. Even if I tried, which I did, I couldn’t get lost within the city limits. 

Where with Riga I felt like another body; in this hamlet, I felt more at ease with nature and the beach that beckoned. Still even with this more relaxed atmosphere lingering thoughts came into my head on why this trip had this up/down feeling. Then it struck me over dinner, that I had no one to share this trip with. Aside from my video camera and friends and family I texted, there was no other physical presence to experience this reality. To be frank, that was a challenge. 

This was the first trip I can remember feeling out of sorts with my traveler of one status. I share it freely now, because many people travel alone. We all don’t have the luxury of travel friends or a romantic partner that we can tolerate enough to venture out to other parts of the world. To that end, when any unsettling experiences arise, all one can do is rely on themselves. It’s easier said than done. 

While I loved walking the quiet streets and commenting on the varied buildings and architecture, I would have preferred to have spoken more on the history of the region. Obsessed with all things Estonia since the early 1990s, I was game to share my knowledge of what the transition had been like after the fall of the Soviet Union. Moreover, talking about what life was like as an independent country prior to communism would have been a worthwhile conversation. 

Despite these best intentions, I remained stuck in my head. Having suffered in a way with the city life of Riga, I became that little boy from Brentwood who simply wanted to feel like he was back home riding his bike in the woods. The remainder of the trip was focused on rebooting the system and grounding myself. 

Part of this reboot was a continued connection to the water. It didn’t matter the time of day, the weather, or the temperature; I kept walking the same section of beach waiting for that cosmic wink that things would be okay. 

Some might tell you being alone is a state of mind. Some might even be envious of a trip without any friends or family to consider. And yet standing out on the shoreline looking out at the vastness of the Baltic Sea, I was reminded of how dreams change and in the future it’s better to not force things. 

The fact during my previous teaching stint overseas (five years earlier) led to three canceled trips to this region should have told me something. It’s not necessarily timing, but perhaps divine intervention saying there are other places to be that will resonate more. I laughed thinking back at the previous trip I canceled and how instead of traveling I hunkered down in my Brindisi apartment and wrote most of the first draft to Valo in a one week period.

On this trip, I had intentions to write, to dive into National Novel Writing Month and instead I can report that the journal I wrote in daily, basically to process my thoughts of loneliness and questionable dating past, was left behind on the Lux Express bus I traveled on from Estonia back to Riga. 

Talk about a wink that this wasn’t the area for any writing, let alone for any meaningful writing to remain in my possession. Don’t get me wrong, I enjoyed this portion of my trip. There was peace in the air and even though I didn’t see the sun the entire time, feeling a closeness to the water was all I really needed. 

Returning a few days later, I felt relief that I could finally move forward and check off these Baltic boxes. Neither trip was what I had expected or planned. Then again, I needed downtime to process some deeper thoughts, to move on from loss, and to realize that sometimes the best vacation is either one spent at home or among familiar things. 

Traveling is said for many to be a way to see new locations, try new foods, and experience different cultures. For me, while that might be true at some point, right now it’s about finding that sense of home and familiarity in a toxic world that is continually a challenge to navigate. Here’s to the next trip being a better match for my current state of mind. 

(Note the first two videos of my Estonia trip have been linked below. There are four total so by the time you watch these might very well all be up in the Baltic section of my YouTube channel.)

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