I saw Tibi Dabo, which means in Latin "All this I give to you", the mountain in Barcelona where Jesus was tempted with all the kingdoms of the world and still told Satan to kiss his ass,

        I saw the Mannequin Pis, the most famous monument in Brussels, which is the eternally urinating statue of a boy who once defused a bomb in a novel and inventive fashion.

        I saw the Dom Köln on Easter Sunday, the final resting place of the Three Wise Men that took eight hundred years to build, in which you could cram six Notre Dame de Parises if it struck your fancy,

        I saw Italy but I didn't get off the train,

        I saw the Pyranees, the Catalonian skyscrapers that kept the Moors from obliterating the Western World, or at least from teaching the French a decent language,

        I saw Tower Bridge, which a rich American once mistook for London Bridge and offered to buy, and so the British sold him the real London Bridge which fell a long time ago, and is now the most useless pile of Celtic rocks in all of Arizona,

        I saw Caernarfon, Edward's most impressive castle, to which all Welshmen pledge allegiance and visit yearly to see the museum dedicated to the Royal Welch Fusiliers, the cannon fodder of the British Empire, who had the uncanny ability to be wiped out whenever and wherever it was needed most,

        I saw Beaumaris, the castle built in Nowhere, Anglesey to protect a swamp nobody cared about from rebels that didn't exist in a country that was conquered, bought, and sold three centuries before the first stones were laid,

        I saw Caer Idris, Mount Snowden, the king who lorded over Wales for three billion years before some Neanderthal thought it might be cool to climb him,

        I saw Montserrat, a home for bandits until one saw the Virgin Mary up there and decided to build the third holiest shrine in Spain and sell chocolate and schnapps to the faithful,

        I saw Rothenburg ob der Tauber, the one Lutheran stronghold not burned by Tilly's Catholics in the Thirty Years' War, because its burgomeister won a bet with the great general by drinking three gallons of wine in one draught,

        I saw Steinbach, the tiny Frankish village that raised me, even though I've only been there three times.