Luxembourg

"Is this... banker humor?" I mutter skeptically at a shirt that says: I'm scared. All my friends got liquidated.

We're in a cafe in Luxembourg, a city and country whose banking and finance services are the majority of its economic output, on our second unsuccessful attempt at finding a hot breakfast.

"What else could it possibly mean? My friends got liquidated like... they're broke? Is this finance humor?"

Is this the finance equivalent of your niche interest going mainstream? When so many people who have similar jobs suddenly become neighbors? I grew up in one of those types of places (scientists, not bankers) and don't remember anything like this when I was a kid.

More importantly, why is it so hard to find a table anywhere? It's a weekday, aren't these people supposed to be doing finance?

We came here today so that Kendon and his family could finalize their citizenship in Luxembourg and get their passports. It was a touching moment to witness, and I'm happy to celebrate with them. We did eventually find a great spot for breakfast, and explored the city.

Before heading back to the Netherlands, we stop at the Eglise Catholicque Archevêché, and I felt a familiar tension as I watch groups of people enter for a few moments, take photos of the stained glass and ornately carved confession booths, and leave without reading any of the signage.

I felt the familiar, "Wait! Don't you want to know why this place is important to the community? Don't you want to know the ways its different from other, similar-looking places? Did you see this cool painting in the corner?"

For as long as I've felt this, I've also seen the differences in condition and upkeep in places that are accessible and regularly used compared to ones where only certain ways of engagement are allowed.

I know this is better than if this cathedral was micromanaged. I just hope more people see these paintings in the back.