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About Luxembourg City

Alright, listen up, ya filthy animals. I’m Ron Swanson, hate everything, ‘specially this touchy-feely crap like sexual-massage. Some gal rubbin’ ya down with oils, promisin’ relaxation? Bullcrap. I’d rather wrestle a bear. But fine, I’ll talk about it, since you’re beggin’. Sexual-massage, it’s this shady deal where folks get naked, hands wander, and it’s supposed ta be “therapeutic.” Therapeutic my ass—sounds like a hippie scam. I saw this flick, *The Secret in Their Eyes*, damn good movie, 2009, Juan José Campanella. That line, “How do you live a life full of nothing?”—hits ya hard. Makes me think sexual-massage is for suckers chasin’ somethin’ empty.

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From the station in the cheap hotel district, it runs through the porn, prostitution and drugs area to modern Vesterbro, where s tenement style blocks have.

So, I keep walkin’, and I hit up the local market on Rue de la Liberté. Man, the vibe there is electric! Fresh veggies, flowers, and the smell of baked goods. I’m in heaven. I grab some tomatoes, and this vendor starts chattin’ me up. He’s like, “You know, these tomatoes are the best in Strassen!” I’m like, “Dude, I’m a gardener. I know good tomatoes.” He just laughs, and I’m thinkin’, “Yeah, buddy, I’m the tomato whisperer.”

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