Travels

Rafting Pictures

2006-10-07T15:50:00.000-05:00

Costa Rica: Pacuare White Water Rafting and a few Notes (8/23/06-9/1/06)

So I never got around to expounding on my Cliffs Notes version of my Costa Rican vacation. I did, however (and contrary to Sir Charles’ advice), spring for the professional pictures from the rafting trip and I recently received those in the mail. There are pictures from the rafting trip, then a few generic pictures from Costa Rica. Unfortunately I cannot claim having taken any of these:

http://www.imagestation.com/album/pictures.html?id=2101264329&code=24435469&mode=invite&DCMP=isc-email-AlbumInvite

A few more comments to add to my rather scanty first blog:

One of the best things I did was snorkeling in Tamarindo. On the boat trip to the snorkeling areas, but saw the first dolphins our guides had seen in a couple months. We were a very small group, so our guides we really good about pointing out all the sea life for us. I was usually the first out of the boat and in both locations I was paid off, once with a good look at mating sea turtles and the other time with a glimpse of four stingrays. I saw and handled blow fish (they feel like the rough side of Velcro), porcupine blowfish, starfish and all sorts of colorful fish.

Other than seeing lots of great places and some really cool animals, I think the people I met made my trip. For better or worse, it was the low travel season because it is the rainy time of year. There are not as many travelers to meet in the hostels, but I was thankful for the friends I made. The first night I met an… interesting tree hugger from Phoenix. She was headed to one of two communes to work, despite her trepidation that they sounded slightly like cults.

The second day, near Arenal Volcano, I met the group I just could not shake. Or maybe they could not shake me. I was the one who caught up to them a couple times. I ran into Cam and Connie, my Canadian buddies, at breakfast in La Fortuna, then again a couple days later at a treetop café for lunch in Monteverde. I went out one night with Daniel, my Swiss friend, as we talked about the places I visited and remembered in Zurich, where he lives and where I studied last year. Then there was Rita and Sir Charles. He was from Austin and she from Houston, but they now live in southern California. After running into them a couple times in Fortuna, I met up with these last three for dinner in Monteverde. They tried to run away, but I hunted them down and made them go to dinner with me. Like I said, maybe I was the stalker.

I did not meet many people at the beach. I do not think I fit in with the surfer crowd. That was quite a surprise for a hard core skater dude like me.

The last three nights I spent in San Jose and managed to meet some interesting people. There were a couple British girls headed to the Caribbean coast to work at one of the sea turtle preserves for a few weeks. There was a teacher from New York whose flight was cancelled and he was hanging around the hostel until he received the call telling him he could leave. Then there was an interesting Swedish guy who went on the same rafting trip as I did. He is a self proclaimed capitalist living in a half-socialist country. I would claim that they are fully socialistic, but that was only the beginning of a long, interesting conversation about economics and politics.

And last, but not least, a bit of travel advice for those of you who managed to finish reading this blog entry. When you are in Costa Rica, drink Café con Leche: coffee with milk. Or, to stay healthy, wealthy and wise, try my morning cocktail to keep you… regular: café con leche con multivitamin con pepto-bismol. Sure, it makes the coffee a little pink, but I think the end result is worthwhile.

Costa Rica Pictures

2006-09-11T21:07:00.000-05:00

Costa Rica: Cliffs Notes Version (8/23/06-9/1/06)

For those of you who wish to simply skip to the pictures and would rather not waste time reading through my blathering, here is the short version of my Costa Rican holiday… but with as long as it’s taken to produce this, there may not be a longer version:

8/23/06: Arrive in San Jose. First installment of Arroz con Pollo (rice with chicken). Another dirty city. Friendly hostel. Pleasant weather.

8/24/06: Public bus to La Fortuna. Short hike to volcano; saw monkeys and sloth at a distance. Watched active Arenal Volcano. Sat in Tabacon Hot Springs. Ate buffet, first of many meals with the gang: 1 Switzerlander, 2 Canucks, 2 Texans turned Californians. Arroz con pollo.

Arenal Volcano tour: http://www.imagestation.com/album/pictures.html?id=2102250027&code=23974772&mode=invite&DCMP=isc-email-AlbumInvite

8/25/06: Hiked down to Fortuna Waterfall. Cool. Hiked alone to dormant volcano Cerro Chato: stupid. Fair weather. Met turncoat Californians for dinner. Arroz con pollo.

Waterfall: http://www.imagestation.com/album/pictures.html?id=2102157403&code=24063312&mode=invite&DCMP=isc-email-AlbumInvite

Dormant volcano hike: http://www.imagestation.com/album/pictures.html?id=2102157949&code=24063322&mode=invite&DCMP=isc-email-AlbumInvite

8/26/06: Cano Negro wildlife tour. Lots of monkeys. Illegal trespassing in Nicaragua. Arroz con siempre (rice with always).

Wildlife: http://www.imagestation.com/album/pictures.html?id=2102153147&code=24063308&mode=invite&DCMP=isc-email-AlbumInvite

8/27/06: A bumpy road to Monteverde. Very bumpy. Indiana Jones bridges. Canopy tours: zip-lines through the jungle. No rice: just beans.

8/28/06: Another bumpy road, to Tamarindo. As advertised, an amazing sunset. Arroz con siempre.

Tamarindo: http://www.imagestation.com/album/pictures.html?id=2102153665&code=24063309&mode=invite&DCMP=isc-email-AlbumInvite

8/29/06: Snorkeling: stupendous… dolphins, sea turtles, blowfish, stingrays and tropical fish. Another long shuttle trip, to San Jose. Arroz con siempre.

8/30/06: 4-in-1 Best of Costa Rica Tour. A coffee plantation, waterfalls, a butterfly farm, a sulphurous, steaming volcano. Arroz con siempre.

La Paz Waterfall:
http://www.imagestation.com/album/pictures.html?id=2102260401&code=23974770&mode=invite&DCMP=isc-email-AlbumInvite

Paos Volcano:
http://www.imagestation.com/album/pictures.html?id=2102260289&code=23974771&mode=invite&DCMP=isc-email-AlbumInvite

8/31/06: White-water rafting. The best ever. Drank lots of water and was blinking sediment out of my eyes for two days. Pictures should be arriving soon.

9/1/06: The trip home.

Blog #14: It's Like ManyFaces from He-Man

2005-07-10T17:15:00.000-05:00

Blog #14: The Many Facets (and Titles) of My Weekend In Italy

This is the blog of many titles. The Italians deserve it, for better or worse. I have taken the liberty to divide the trip up into cities, then I have given an appropriate title to each of the three days.

Blog #14a: Florence, Italy (6/25/2005 to 6/27/2005)

Day 1: It’s Not a Purse; It’s a European Carry-All!

I arrived in Florence thinking that I would have a nightmarish time getting into the more popular museums and I would pay exorbitant prices for everything. While the latter is true, the former was not. I thought I would need to make reservations for the museums on Saturday to see them on Sunday, but it did not work out that way. The first order of duty was to check into a hostel. The suggested place, Ostello Archi Rossi, did not have a dorm bed open, so I sprang for the extra 6 euros and got a single. While the privacy was nice, I hate not having opportunities to meet people, so I only stayed one night there and one in another hostel.

The first place I visited was the Duomo. This is the dome of some big church there in Florence. It is a quite impressive ceiling and I have posted pictures. The view from the top was great, but, as I have found with most tower views, the pictures do not do it justice. However, this was 6 euros ($7-8) and about 45 minutes of my day spent.

The next stop was the Uffizi. This means office in Italian and was once the offices for some famous rulers. When I thought I was waiting in line to make a reservation for a Sunday viewing, I was actually in line to see the museum. I talked with an American mother and son in line from the Ohio area. It is always nice to run into other travelers who have found out the tricks of the city. I was happy to only wait a little over an hour in line—after hearing horror stories of 2-3 hours. Now the Uffizi is a museum covered with expensive paintings and statues. My main motivation for going there was that Dana had told me there are so many statues there and I have become a real fan of statues in the last few years. I was quite impressed. Yet again, about $10 and two and a half hours spent.

One of the tips these Ohioans gave me was for lunch. Good old Rick Steves suggested a small restaurant just south of Duomo. It was absolutely amazing. I had a great gnocchi with blue cheese and pistachios. It would be hard to find a better combination. Their other tip was to see Accademia in the evening. Uffizi and Accademia are probably the most popular attractions. I arrived about an hour before it closed, waited in line 20 minutes and had more than enough time to see everything. Just about the only thing to see at Accademia is Michelangelo’s David. It is truly impressive. He stands about 25 feet tall, by my guess, then is raised on an 8-10 foot base in a vaulted room built especially to hold David. As everyone says, and I agree, Michelangelo’s attention to detail was incredible. I managed a few pictures (even though I was not supposed to take one) and have posted one—you will probably recognize it. This one hour excursion set me back about $10.

That evening I took Cho’s (one of the other Americans from TU) advice and saw the sunset from Piazzale Michelangelo. This area is now a parking lot on a hill with a great view of the city, its river and the sunset. Also in this area is another of the Davids on display in Florence. All in all, it was a relaxing end to a museum-filled day. I broke my own rule of visiting no more than two museums in a given day, but my average over Saturday and Sunday was only two, so I do not feel so bad.

Day 2: Calcio Storico: As If Italian Men Need An Excuse To Let Testosterone Flair

The day started with a train reservation and me being suckered into the European Carry-All. I did it to myself. I know that was the title of Day 1, but it was too good of a title to pass up. I was simply tired of carrying my water bottle and stuffing my pockets with maps. Do not be deceived: this is most definitely not a fanny pack! This goes over the shoulder. I would rather be accused of carrying a purse than a fanny pack.

Then I wandered around trying to find this ancient history museum, Museo Archeologico. After figuring out how to read a map and road signs, I found this gem. I was enthralled by the ancient Egyptian and Greek relics. I saw part of the Book of the Dead, which I know nothing about, but it is in The Mummy and a couple other bad semi-horror movies, so it must be important. I was particularly impressed with the number of actual Egyptian artifacts they are hiding in this tourist-free museum.

This was the day for not finding what I wanted. I looked for a hostel and found nothing. Apparently the little slip of paper that had been taped on the buzzer had been removed. Has anyone there ever heard of a sign? Then I walked about a mile too far in my attempt to find a restaurant, La Magniatoia, suggested by on of my Romanian friends in Zurich. After sweating like a mad beast and nearly dehydrating because it was just plain hot in Italy, I found this place. Lunch is the biggest meal of the day in Italy and I took advantage of it. I loved my food and went into a food coma promptly afterwards.

I went back to find that the hostel sticky-note had been reattached, so I was able to check in. I asked about Calcio Storico, a sporting event purported to be a precursor to soccer. The guys at the hostel said it is basically soccer for convicts. They were right. This “sport” is played on a sand court only slightly larger than a basketball court. This is 27 on 27. The ball is supposed to be wooden—not a good sign. The travel guide said this would be half soccer, half riot. I beg to differ. When they threw the ball in the air, about 1/3 of the guys started to play, the remaining “players” just started brawling. I saw blood, players being carted off the field on stretchers and seemingly useless referees trying to bring order to this mayhem.

And I repeat: do we really need to give Italian men another excuse to let their testosterone flair? I will let you draw the only humane conclusion that exists. Feel free to talk amongst yourselves.

Once I finally found this fabled hostel, the Firenze Inn, I was glad I did. I met some people and they took us out to dinner (for free!) that night. It was quite nice. I met some nice people… OK, nice girls. Like I said, I was the only guy in sight! My life is so hard. At this pub where we got dinner, there was an interesting poster on the wall. It took a while for it to register, but there was a series of posters from famous Native American chiefs. As I read one, I remembered what I have been thinking since my arrival in Europe. It strikes me that, whatever other people think or whatever Americans may think, America is the place where people can achieve their dreams and live (within some bounds) with freedom and possibilities unsurpassed in history. And yet look at who else has been a proponent of such ideas. While I have always heard about the tragedies inflicted up the Native Americans, it took a smoky, dingy pub in the middle of Italy to really touch me.

Chief Joseph, 1879: “Let me be a free man, free to travel, free to stop, free to work, free to trade where I choose, free to choose my own teachers, free to follow the religion of my fathers, free to think and talk and act for myself….”

Florence (Firenze), Italy: http://www.imagestation.com/album/pictures.html?id=2124420182&code=16912609&mode=invite&DCMP=isc-email-AlbumInvite

Blog #14b: Venice, Italy (6/27/2005 to 6/28/2005)

Day 3: If You Have Not Been Lost in Venice, You Have Not Been to Venice; or, Italy: Haven of the Euro-Mullet

First of all, there is a God and he likes air conditioning. Second, I think the signature picture for this trip is of the Departures board at the Milan train station. It should read “Ritardo? Is it anything else?” In other words: Late? Absolutely. Instead, the answer to the question was 40 minutes, but quickly became 55. Some other backpackers were telling stories that they were worried because the Italian train employees were on strike sometime last week. On a very normal basis, Italians are late. On the other hand, I was talking with friends last week and we were joking about the Swiss. We came to the conclusion that when they go on strike they are five minutes late. If they ever did it, the entire country would be in turmoil.

Venezia was a nice city. Although I was unable to see inside any of the churches or museums, I was able to see a good amount of the city and squeezed in a boat ride, as well. After taking the Let’s Go travel guide advice, I simply started wandering in the right direction and was not too concerned about making it to the hostel in an efficient manner. After about a half hour of wandering around with my 40 pound pack, I decided it would probably be a good idea to start actually looking for my hostel. A sweaty half hour later, I stumbled up the stairs and was able to drop my pack. Upon receiving directions from a couple of Canadians sitting around, I found my way back to the station in 10 minutes.

As for my hostel, I met some interesting characters. First of all, I do not know where all the guys have been of late, but I have been in hostels that are absolutely chalk full of girls. I am not complaining, per say, but allow me to give you an example of what I have been facing…..

Other than being traumatized by meeting seven different Canadians in one day, one was extremely tortuous. She considers herself an actress. If she means she is a bleeding heart, loud, obnoxious attention whore, she must be the best actress who has ever walked the face of this earth. One of the Texan girls I ran into made a flippant comment about being glad that at least we have the U.S. dollar and it is usually strong enough, but it could suck to be an Australian or Canadian because their dollars are weaker. Reasonable comment. Unreasonable response from the Canadian flake: Tell that to my friend Poombi in Thailand who has no arms. Alex, I will take Overkill for $800, please. Yes, Poombi, we do feel bad for you. If she considers you a friend, having no arms is the least of your worries.

I walked around the city quite a bit in my day there. I must have walked for miles, although that has become the norm, of late. I heard that a great way to see the city from the canals was to just get the public transportation boats. For about $6, a reasonable price for such a touristy place, I was able to take a boat almost all the way around the city. It was a nice change from walking. So I did not do a romantic gondola ride around the canals… but you all know me better than that.

Venice (Venezia), Italy: http://www.imagestation.com/album/pictures.html?id=2124416339&code=16914513&mode=invite&DCMP=isc-email-AlbumInvite

Blog #15: Last Details and a Little Fun

2005-07-03T07:47:00.000-05:00

Blog #15: Finals Week in Zurich (6/28/2005 to 7/3/2005)

The last few days have been fun and good. I have actually studied… I think for the first time all semester. I have a few more days of that and then no more for quite a while! I still do not know how I feel about actually finishing school. I have already started a list of things that I may want to take as night classes, namely, I have developed quite a need to know more languages than English in the last few months. German, French, Spanish and Australian are currently on the list. Maybe I will take a cooking class, too. We shall see.

The first final and the first last class were not the best I have ever had. Our presentation could have been better and the final exam… you guessed it: it could have been better. It is, however, over. That is important. I ran down to the Hauptbahnhof, Zurich’s train station, to meet Alex. If you remember from Blog #13, she is the Aussie girl I met in Munich. I had finally suckered someone into visiting me in Zurich! Actually, it was quite nice to repay the backpacking community by hosting someone with a free floor to sleep on since I have crashed at other people’s places for so many nights. In fact, Alex was great. We had a lot of fun and I had the opportunity to see some things in Zurich that I would not have, otherwise.

The first thing to know about Alex is that she is Australian, but Greek by heritage. I actually asked her if her life is like My Big Fat Greek Wedding and she had to admit that, while the movie was a bit extreme, there was a nugget of truth in it. The second thing is that she is serious about food. She worked at a food magazine in Australia for five years. Now while I may have been able to fool some of you out there into thinking that I know what I am doing in the kitchen, I knew that this young lady would see right through my home-grown knowledge. As a matter of fact, my strange tuna pasta leftovers that I had just thrown together did receive accolades, but that does not mean that I was not on my toes in the kitchen around this professional. The other night we made some really good pork with green salad. All in all, I managed to not land flat on my face in the kitchen, so I was happy.

We went out for a walk in the city to see all the popular stuff. We strolled the Bahnhofstrasse, the street where you can buy your Rolex and Armani, down to the Lake of Zurich and up through the residential areas. This is where my excellent tour guide skills failed me. My excuse is that I did not have my compass with me. I think it was a latent desire to prove to Alex that compasses are good companions for travelers. So we were walking, and walking, and walking. Finally, not willing to admit that I was tired of walking, Alex suggested we catch the tram. We found the next tram station, I deciphered the map and judged that we could actually walk uphill faster than we could take the tram back to town, since the tram did not go straight uphill. So this was a failed attempt to reach home, as well. One thing this venture proved to both of us is that you do not have to go very far in Zurich before you are in the wilderness. After thinking we had reached our destination, we had actually reached the end of the line for the tram we had decided to not take because it would take so long. We finally found a grocery store so we could eat that night and made it home, weary from a good day of walking.

On Thursday we experienced the great Lindt Let-Down. Lindt is a very popular Swiss chocolate made here in Zurich. While we were told we could not see the factory, we made it to the headquarters so we could see the one-room museum and hope to taste some of the chocolate. After about an hour of travel time, we arrived at Lindt. The construction was a foreboding clue, but… you guessed it… the museum was closed. It was quite appropriate since it was the only thing Alex actually wanted to do in Zurich, other than visit yours truly. We were given some excellent (chocolate) parting gifts that all but appeased our sense of loss. It was really funny, though, because Alex has an old family friend who works in marketing at Lindt. OK, this is a chocolate factory… his name is John Candy. That is funny. Admit it. He was in a meeting and we were unable to meet him, but we left a note and headed back to Zurich for lunch.

As we waited in the train station for our train to Zurich, we inspected a particularly sketchy (that’s Australian for “questionable”) looking vending machine. Other than selling AA batteries, this machine contained iced tea. This was not just any iced tea. No, no, you couldn’t have that in Switzerland. It was flavored with Swiss cannabis. Yeah. This stuff came in a cardboard “can” and we had to get a picture of Alex posing with the drink and vending machine. Alex claims she could not tell the difference in taste, but she did not grow up near the South where people know how to make iced tea. Imagine iced tea that had been used to wash your dirty socks. I do not suggest this: it does not clean the socks and does not help the tea.

To continue in theme that this was a day for drinks, we found a shop later in the day that actually sold Dr. Pepper! Alex spotted it because we had talked about how I had been unable to find it in Europe and she thinks it tastes like medicine. I do not understand why people say that—it must be psychological because of the name. I paid about $2.50 for a 12-oz can, but it was worth it. It’s Dr. Pepper! I even posed for a picture in front of the store with my prize. Just when I thought Europe was uncivilized, they surprise me yet again.

We met up with Cho in Zurich for lunch. We were in search of Thai food, but we (and by “we” I mean Cho) did not know exactly where this place was located. After searching and asking, then asking again, we found a Thai place that was, by Zurich’s standards, reasonably priced and very tasty. We then wandered around this great walking district and hit a couple second-hand stores. As with most things in Zurich, these stores are amazing, albeit exorbitantly priced.

My second last class was good. It was short. There was one group presentation and our professor wrapped up with a few short lecture notes and closing statements. I really enjoyed this class… I just hope it likes me back!

After spending Saturday packing and wrapping up some loose ends, I went with Cho and Ben, our German friend, so see War of the Worlds. Not a bad movie, but I do not see it winning a Movie of the Year award. Just call it a hunch. There was a narration by Morgan Freeman and a really creepy, short part by Tim Robbins. We wrapped up the evening with more Thai food at the place we had discovered with Alex on Thursday.

Now we come to the end. I am turning in my key to my dorm room today. I have two more weeks to jaunt around Europe before I head home to the good old U.S. of A. I have loved my time here, have met some great people and learned quite a lot, but I will not regret returning home. I have learned the value of being able to buy whatever I want, at anytime of the day, at Walmart. I will probably stand speechless for 5 minutes in front of the first clothes dryer I see. A tear may even form in my eye. I will eat more Mexican food than should be humanly possible. I will buy Dr. Pepper because it is cheaper than water or beer. I will turn the air conditioning on full-blast and freeze my fingers and toes, just because I can. I will go to a restaurant, drink a coffee and talk as loudly as I want because there is no touchy Viennese lady at the next table who can “hear everything I am saying.” And if there is: we are in America and you can move to another table, thank you very much. I will not pay to use a toilet. Period.

In the next couple weeks I will try to make the most of my time in Europe. I leave Zurich today and will fart around in Switzerland for a couple days before I have to be in Geneva for a final I am taking early. Here is my schedule (subject to some change) for the last couple weeks before I return home.

Sunday 7/3 leave Zurich, Lucern
Monday 7/4 To Lugano
Tuesday 7/5 Lausanne
Wednesday 7/6 Geneva (exam at 3:15)
Thursday 7/7 Berlin
Friday 7/8 Berlin
Saturday 7/9 Berlin
Sunday 7/10 Brugge, Belgium
Monday 7/11 Brugge
Tuesday 7/12 Paris
Wednesday 7/13 Paris
Thursday 7/14 Paris
Friday 7/15 Normandy
Saturday 7/16 London
Sunday 7/17 London
Monday 7/18 London
Tuesday 7/19 fly to KC
Wednesday 7/20 Home

Feel free to email me while I am on the road. I have a tentative schedule for my trip to Oklahoma and Texas at the end of July. Here it is…..

Location To Do
Tuesday 7/19 Missouri Arrive late
Wednesday 7/20 Springfield Crash
Thursday 7/21 Springfield
Friday 7/22 Springfield
Saturday 7/23 Springfield
Sunday 7/24 To DFW
Monday 7/25 San Antonio Dr. Ingram
Tuesday 7/26 Houston
Wednesday 7/27 Houston Big get-together at Wen's
Thursday 7/28 Houston
Friday 7/29 Houston
Saturday 7/30 Houston/Conroe
Sunday 7/31 Tulsa Libby
Monday 8/1 Tulsa Around town, Andrew
Tuesday 8/2 Springfield
Wednesday 8/3 Springfield Pack to move
Thursday 8/4 Rolla Dan, Wilsons
Friday 8/5 Chicago
Saturday 8/6 Chicago Find Apartment
Sunday 8/7 Chicago
Monday 8/8 Chicago
Tuesday 8/9 Chicago
Wednesday 8/10 Chicago Work

Pictures from Finals Week in Zurich: http://www.imagestation.com/album/pictures.html?id=2124410263&code=16919216&mode=invite&DCMP=isc-email-AlbumInvite

Blog #13: Everything in Temperance

2005-07-02T16:20:00.000-05:00

Blog #13: Munich and Dachau, Germany (6/21/2005 to 6/23/2005)

Just when I thought I was really getting the hang of these night trains, I went to Munich. Maybe I had slept too well the night before and I was just not tired, but I could not get to sleep. I arrived in Salzburg at 4:28 to catch a connection to Munich, so it was a short night, regardless. It may have simply been a nightmare, but I think I woke up at one point to a group of 5-6 guys walking around without their shirts off. Maybe they were drunk and got hot. It is an unpleasant memory.

I arrived to Munich early and had to shoot some time before my bike tour. I took the advice of a friend and decided to do a bike tour of the city so I could get a quick overview and decide what to do from there. To pass the time I went into the trendiest McDonald’s I have ever seen. They even had a Big Eggs & Bacon. Not having actually seen real bacon in Europe before, I partook. I have yet to see real bacon in Europe. There is something they do not understand about smoking the meat. It is a simple concept. Since no one else in his or her right mind would order such a breakfast, I had to wait a while to get it and was repaid with an extra coffee and an OJ. I needed the coffee.

I took a short walk around the city and took a few pictures. I saw the Glockenspiel, but not in motion. Then it was off to Mike’s Bike Tour. At first it was funny because I was playing the same “Lost” game in my head that Dana was at the Pilsner Urquell Brewery in Plzen. I picked out the slightly dysfunctional dating couple. The rather clueless young college girls out “doing” Europe. The bashful guys over in the corner looking like scared rabbits. The cynical, half delirious marathon runner. That was me. I was half delirious from lack of sleep, cynical because of it, and you know I am not a marathoner but I was sweating like one. I have probably said this many times before, but if sweating becomes an Olympic sport, I would be in the running for the bronze. I would say the gold, but I never like to set my sights too high.

One of the funniest things that our humorous tour guides said was in reference to Canadians. As they were giving introductions to the bike tour and the city, Frankie asks if there are any Canadians in the group. When no one replied, he just said, “Oh, good.” I do not know what it is about Canadians… maybe we just like to make fun of them. Then again, Blog #14 (arriving soon) has some Canadian references and I think I understand Frankie a little more. The second funniest thing he asked was, “Who here has seen the Glockenspiel?” A few people hesitantly raised their hands. The reply to which was, “Well, for most of you, that’s good: it is something you can never un-see.” After witnessing a similar clock tower in Prague… I understand. My question was: And people wait around to see this?

The bike tour was fun and informative. We road for a couple hours and saw a good bit of the old town. We stopped for lunch at China Garden, one of the largest beer gardens in Munich, the home of beer gardens. For those of you planning to visit Munich, beer gardens have some of the best local foods at reasonable prices. The beer isn’t so bad, either. After an hour break from riding in the warm weather, we hopped back on our bikes. I have neglected to mention that this beer garden is in the middle of the largest inner city park in the world. Once upon a time it was the royal hunting grounds, but in an effort to win the people over it was donated to the city. Like most things royal, I do not think the gesture worked. Now the park is treated as a nude “beach.” There is even surfing on the river. Check out the pictures. Fortunately for you and me, I did not take pictures of the nudes at the “beach.” Let me reiterate my rule of thumb for Europe: if it is nude, there is an extremely good chance you do not want to see it. This particular park is the favorite gay hangout.

That first night I was rather out of it because of my short night and profuse sweating. I was dehydrated all day long. Despite this, I went out with some friends and got back to the hostel late. Have I mentioned yet that it was hot in Munich? The hostels do not like air conditioning, either.

After sleeping in, I decided to go to Dachau for the day. If you do not remember it off the top of your head, Dachau was one of the infamous work camps in WWII. It was not like Auschwitz, an extermination camp, although it did have a gas chamber and crematorium facilities. While the Nazis claimed that these facilities were unused, many people were still executed or died from starvation. This was quite a sobering experience. As a history buff and eternal student (c’mon people! I’ve been at it for 13 + 8 = 21 years! Half the travelers I meet aren’t this old.), I think it is valuable to have a first-hand account of this particular darker side of humanity. While I normally shy away from such abject atrocities on any level, I think it is important to remind future generations what can happen to us. It was one of those days where I stared at the pictures and soaked it in very quietly because it felt like a place where reverence was prerequisite. It is, quite literally, the death place of thousands of people and witness to some of man’s worst accomplishments.

On a lighter note, back at the hostel I met one of the girls in my dorm room. This Aussie was meeting some other Australian friends for dinner and invited me along. I was glad she did, for meeting people and/or making friends at a hostel can make or break the backpacking experience. Thus far, I have been fortunate to meet friendly people in my travels. While I was the guide for the group because I asked where the best local cuisine restaurant was located, I was the only non-Aussie in this group of 12. Most of the group knew each other because they are traveling on the same route at roughly the same time. They all use this guide company called BusAbout, a hop-on, hop-off bus tour spanning Europe.

My tour guide from Mike’s Bike Tour, Sigi (pronounced Ziggy), works at the hostel where we all stayed. He suggested this restaurant called Lamm’s. It provides excellent Bavarian cuisine at decent prices. Much of the group went for the special: knee of pig. Although I heard it was quite good and I am always up for some good swine, I passed. This waitress, very good for putting up with and having patience for a large group of non-German speaking tourists, actually answered the question(s) I always like to ask: “What is the best? What do you like?” I have been surprised because only two Europeans have actually answered that question. It is quite strange. However, #454 was an absolutely amazing dish. There were three meats (chicken, pork and beef) in a creamy mushroom sauce, with Bavarian-style gnocci. I was in pain from stuffing myself with this wonderful concoction.

The most fortunate result of this evening, other than some amazing food, was that I met Alex. She was serious when she said she is passionate about food. She worked at a food magazine for five years and knows more about food than I do. I rarely run across a person like this. It was also nice to run across someone else who is traveling Europe, for the most part, just to experience the different foods. After Lamm’s, we visited the famous Hofbrauhaus. This was a really funny place. Inside it was quite nice… and then there were all the drunks and the Bavarian band. We had been told by the tour guides that you can pay something like 10 or 20 euros to actually conduct the band. That could be a fun picture, if it weren’t so expensive. They also said that the Asian tourists have a great affinity for this experience. Our experience confirms this: of all 6 people that conducted the German band, all of them were Asian tourists. Now that is just funny. Picture the lederhosen and the hats, the brass instruments… and the Japanese tourist, without a clue, attempting to conduct. Funny.

My last day I spent at the Deutsches Museum. This is Munich’s science and technology museum. While I only spent a little over two hours there and literally flew threw what I saw, I still did not see everything. If you can imagine it, they had it: music, airplanes, ships, submarines, atomic physics, medicine, Einstein, electrical tools, steam engines, mining, oil drilling, math, computers, and the list goes on. It was, by far, the best 3 euros I have spent in Western Europe. It would have been nice to spend more time, but I needed to catch a train and after about two hours at any museum I start going wall-eyed, anyway.

Now comes the part where Chad justifies his assertion that he has yet to miss a train. I returned to the hostel to pick up my pack when I remembered that Wendy (my middle sis, for those who do not know her) told me I had to try “café and kuchen,” or coffee and cake, while in Munich. Well, after the receptionists at the hostel stopped laughing at my reprehensible German, they told me about a great place to find genuine, homemade kuchen. I dash back across town on the subway and am unable to find this place. I actually walked by it about 5 times before I saw the minute sign. On my last attempt, just before I called it quits, I found the place and bought coffee and cake. Now it was time for a mad dash back across town with my pack, sweating in the heat and spilling hot coffee on myself.

As I said, I did not miss the train. There was not a train to miss, but if there had been a train, I probably could have jumped on as it was pulling out of the station. If I only knew how to read a train schedule, I would have known this. Now, with two hours to kill before the next train, I could eat my café and kuchen in peace.

On the train from Munich to Zurich, I was in a compartment with a Swiss guy named Chris. He commutes to Munich every week. We spent nearly two hours talking about the European Union and Switzerland. What I took away from the conversation was that the EU is even more screwed up and has fewer hopes for success than I had formerly believed. In an effort to create a market competitive with the U.S., they have imposed a ridiculous amount of quotas and restrictions on agriculture and industry. Forgive me for playing the fool, but aren’t they trying to catch up to the U.S. because we have encouraged competition and hard work? I don’t understand. Socialism makes no sense to this simple Midwestern boy.

Check out pictures from Munich: http://www.imagestation.com/album/pictures.html?id=2124754754&code=16786449&mode=invite&DCMP=isc-email-AlbumInvite

Blog #11: Finally in France

2005-06-28T13:33:00.000-05:00

Blog #11: Montpellier, France (6/14/2005 to 6/16/2005)

This was my first trip into France. It occurred to me that, although I live in Switzerland, that as of two weeks ago I had yet to visit France, Germany or Italy, all less than 4 hours away by train, while I have visited countries 36 hours away by train. I guess some of the reason is that I very quickly realized there are too many things to see in Europe in four months, so I started writing some destinations off. Paris, London, Rome, Ireland: they can wait for their own trips when I can find a cheap flight out of Chicago O’Hare. That list of destinations is also growing. From the people I have met on the road, Australia and Thailand have definitely been added to the list with India. Ah, so many places to see….

To start, the whole reason I went to Montpellier was to visit a girl I had met in Salzburg. We were staying at the same hostel there and ran into each other the night I was leaving. I said that I had yet to make it to France and she said her exchange student roommates had just left, so she had a couple extra beds free. It was a good enough invitation for me!

My visit to Montpellier was a nice little trip. There are not many tourist attractions in Montpellier so Caitlin, doubling as my tour guide, showed me the town in just a couple hours. I took some pictures of the cool areas in the center of town, where everyone hangs out and drinks coffee, and some old aqueduct. We spent a lot of time here in the next couple days because we would visit the cafés or run errands. We rode a few trams because Caitlin’s apartment was about a 20-30 minute walk from the middle of town. I have to admit that those trams were the nicest I have yet ridden. They are new, relatively clean, there are seats and some of these leaning areas that are a great idea and, most importantly, they are air conditioned. Other cities need to follow suit. It is about time Europe has discovered air conditioning on a larger scale. And they wonder why something like a thousand people died from heat exhaustion in Paris a couple years ago!

Since it was the end of the semester for them there were, on average, two people leaving every day. This meant going-away parties and last trips to the beach. By the way, what people say is true about European beaches: the ones who are going nude are the ones you definitely do not want to see. At least the only distinctly homosexual nude area I have had to misfortune of visiting was a park in Munich. Since all of Caitlin’s friends are Americans studying French, I was able to brush up on my own French. Now my rusty, embarrassing French is only slightly less atrocious. At least my French is better than my German.

One of the fun, new things I have learned from Caitlin’s friend John is guerilla photography. What is that? It is easiest with a digital camera, but with a little good aim and auto focus you can capture people in their natural states. It is a little like those guys who photograph gorillas eating ants off each other, except you will not catch me photographing people eating off of other people. My friend from Tulsa, Jason, tries to catch people in their natural habits, but he has a camera the size of a small dog and he is Korean. He has a knack for standing out in Europe.

Pictures from Montpellier, France: http://www.imagestation.com/album/pictures.html?id=2124947408&code=16710374&mode=invite&DCMP=isc-email-AlbumInvite

Blog #10: Closer to Heaven… the Swiss Alps

2005-06-28T13:24:00.000-05:00

Blog #10: Gimmelwald, Switzerland. (6/11/2005 to 6/13/2005)

I was headed to the little town of Gimmelwald (population about 150) and I knew I was in for a treat. Other than being high in the Swiss Alps, it comes highly recommended by my onetime travel partner Dana, as well as her hero and travel guide, Rick Steves. Two trains, a bus and a quick ascent on a lift deposited me on the doorstep of… something close to heaven. I actually gave into my tourist urge and bought a T-shirt that says, “If heaven isn’t what it’s cracked up to be, send me back to Gimmelwald.”

I arrived in the afternoon, ditched my backpack and started stomping around the Alps. A quick hike up to the larger town of Mürren provided me with a hiking map. Now I was set. They pointed me in the right direction and I was off. I took the North Face Trail, a loop around one mountain that provides some great views of some of the highest mountains in the Alps: Eiger, Monch and Jungfrau. If you have seen the popular winter-wear brand North Face, this is where they got the name. It is worth a line of clothing and then some. There are more pictures of flowers and cows and mountains than I care to wade through, but I pared it down to the essentials. Interestingly, the mountains are named The Ogre, The Monk and the Young Woman. I think the monk is supposed to be keeping the ogre away, so there is probably some interesting Swiss mythology behind that.

When I stumbled back down the hill a few hours later, slightly more sun burnt than when I went up, I checked in to my hostel. The Mountain Hostel is where Dana spent nearly two weeks soaking in the glow of the Swiss Alps… and the hot tub. I was unable to indulge in the hot tub because in the evenings it was almost always overrun by drunken Canadians. Those drunk Canadians, however, have provided an ample supply of Canadian T-shirts to Petra, Mountain Hostel’s owner, manager and resident smart ass. I cannot figure her out, though, because I heard stories from Dana and people I met there about her making fun of everyone, but she simply did not waste the effort on me. I have two theories: she did not like me and did not want deem me worth the effort, or she felt sorry for me for having spent two weeks with Dana. I am still recovering my self esteem.

At the hostel I met a crowd of Americans traveling in Europe. The group that I ended up spending a lot of time with was the UVA crew. There was a group of seven, six of whom had just graduated from University of Virginia and decided to treat themselves to three weeks backpacking in Europe. One of their group left town and went his own way, and two of them (Benton and Martha) went paragliding, but I spent the second day with the rest of the group.

Jack, Will, Elizabeth, Megan and I went up to the top of this lifts to Schilthorn. This is where they filmed one of the 007 movies, back in 1968 or 1969. What was a home in the movie is now a revolving restaurant with a 360° view. If you happen to make it up there, splurge on the 22 CHF (about $18) James Bond breakfast. They do not tell you this, but eat as much as you want because it is all-you-can-eat. It should be for as much as it costs to get up there. The trip up yielded a great view and I have posted a few of the pictures, including one of the UVA crew.

After the trip to the top of the mountain by lift, we decided we needed some exercise. There was a medium-difficulty hike up to a waterfall called Sprutz. This was a fun hike and well worth it. There is a rock shelf under the fall where the trail winds behind the fall. I also hiked downstream a little, slipping and sliding on rocks the whole way, to snap a few pictures. We were all a bit winded, but we came to the conclusion that it was the thin air and could not be blamed on our poor physical conditions.

We hiked further up this valley and made a picnic. Two of our group were nursing ankles and knees, so they stayed behind with three of us hiked up this small mountain. About halfway up we ran into this nice couple from Tennessee who warned us that we would have to go off-trail to make it to the top because the trail went away from the peak. He told us for this steep grassy area where would could go on all-fours almost to the top. He, however, did not scale the 15-foot cliff face to the actual top. This crazy-steep grass slope is where my hiking boots came in handy. Jack’s and Elizabeth’s street shoes did not like the rocks and slippery grass, but we all made it. We almost gave up a couple times, but we kept on and succeeded.

After having made it so far, Jack determined that he would make it to the top. I did not want to be air-lifted off the mountain, so we let him go it alone. A few minutes later we hear, “Hey guys, you are not going to like this.” I was afraid of that. I was certain there would be some old couple or a cow up there chewing his cud, wondering why we came the hard way. Well there was a path, thank you very much. Picking our way around the cliff face, we made it to the path and the top. There is a really great picture posted of the three of us at the top of this 2025 meter mountain. We signed a little book they keep in a box for people who make it. It took us probably over two hours, albeit lazy ones, to reach the summit from the town, but that did not match some Aussie who managed it in 54 minutes. Those crazy Aussies.

Needless to say, we were tired that night and lazed about the hostel that night. The next morning I headed down the mountain with the UVA crew. It was nice to have some travel buddies for the couple days I was in Gimmelwald. After lunch I was off to Zurich and they were headed to Florence and Rome.

Check out the pictures from Gimmelwald, Switzerland: http://www.imagestation.com/album/pictures.html?id=2124938273&code=16784023&mode=invite&DCMP=isc-email-AlbumInvite

Blog #8: Chillin’ in Plzen

2005-06-28T13:22:00.000-05:00

Blog #8: Plzen, Czech Republic (5/31/2005 to 6/2/2005)

Plsen was a great little town to visit. At this point, I was near the end of my two weeks with Dana, the traveling guru. After over-touristy Prague, it was a good change. The central town area is small and can be completely explored in under an hour. We discovered this when we continued to search for places to eat and we were continually coming up to the same choices. The first day we unwound over some good food and a few beers. As we were warned in Prague by our host Pavel, the Czech Republic really likes pork. Every menu asked you: would you like pork... or something else? Usually, pork was the right answer. If you know me, you know I will rarely turn down a good taste of pig, but I think even I reached my limit in Plsen.

Plsen was unusual in that it was very friendly, at least ostensibly, to Americans. Most places I have visited tolerate Americans and show very little ill will toward them, but I cannot help but believe that some of it is because we are there spending money. Plsen, however, remembers WWII. Patton’s troops actually liberated Plsen back in 1945. I had forgotten that it was recently Memorial Day, but Plsen dedicated a statue and memorial to Patton and his troops just a few weeks before we arrived.

The second day we visited the world famous Pilsener Urquell brewery. This was quite a fun tour. Not only did they show us the new brewing technology (i.e., big metal tanks), they showed us the cellars and old oak barrels that had been used since the 1840s. The coolest part was that they still brew some of the beer in oak barrels, the old-fashioned way. For a tour it was a nice attraction, but it also makes sense because they use the authentic, oak barrel method for quality control with the mass-produced product. The funny part of the tour was doing it with Dana. She was over there playing an episode of Lost in her head. I have never seen it, but it is the popular show where the plane crashes on a remote island and everyone is surviving, blah, blah. It has been done before. However, this was funny because Dana was picking people out: the group leader (the cocky Italian-looking guy), the first person to be eaten (the obnoxious Aussie with all the questions and socks pulled up to his knees), the cynics (that was us).

The major reason that we went to Plsen, other than to get out of big, touristy cities, was because Dana has a connection in the town. Her grandmother has had a pen-pal in Plsen for about 20 years and they have never met. Since Dana was in the area, she decided she had to meet this friend. Since I was only in Plsen for a couple days, she waited until I was gone to contact Blaza. I wish I had been there when she did, though. From what I hear, Blaza showed her pictures and told stories about when the troops liberated Plsen so long ago. She actually stayed in contact via letters with one of the GIs she met. What an amazing perspective!

So getting OUT of Plsen was one of the bigger adventures I have had thus far. The people at the train station in Plsen did not speak English, but I was able to understand enough that I was to buy a ticket to the next big town, then I would have to buy a ticket from there, and so forth. Not a problem. I get to the next big town and it is too late to make reservations for the night train back to Zurich. Same story, second verse: buy a ticket to the next town and deal with it from there. This is a problem. I buy the ticket and hop on the train to Linz, in hopes that I will be able to weasel my way onto the train. You see, sometimes train schedules are not the most helpful things in the world… and sometimes ticket agents are nigh the most useless things in the world. In the end, I obtained a seat on the train, although from my train schedule I was uncertain if there would be any seats on the night train. You see, with my Eurail I can take a seat on a night train for free, but the beds require reservations. Then I found $5. Yeah, that story went nowhere.

Again, it was not until I left that Dana found the Patton Memorial we had searched for. Apparently it was outside of town a little way, not where we had expected it. I enjoyed the town, but apparently not as much as Dana. She was tired of traveling after three months constantly on the road, so this was as good a place as any to hang out for nine or ten days. She made friends, stayed in somebody’s apartment for free and met up with Blaza a couple times. Meanwhile, I was returning to Zurich for class. Poor me.

Pictures of Plsen are in Blog #7.

Blog #7: Fun & Heat in Praha

2005-06-28T13:15:00.000-05:00

Blog #7: Prague, Czech Republic (5/28/2005 to 5/31/2005)

So this has been my most delayed blog. I like to say that I am just relaxing and really getting into this European, laidback attitude. To be honest, I am just getting lazy. There is a reason why they call it “good old American work ethic.” The rest of the world, for better or worse, does not share our pace of life.

I was still traveling with Dana when in the Czech Republic. We arrived on the night train at about 5:30 on Saturday morning. What a glorious train ride it was! If those engineers ever figure out how to drive a train, it will be a cold day in hell. They have verily mastered the art of the five-meter stop. At least I was only thrown into the wall instead of onto the floor as I lay trying to sleep. One thing I will give to Prague is that it is still awake at 5:30 a.m. The down side is that it is far easier to find a beer than a coffee at that time of morning. We were surrounded by two groups of people, all of whom looked and smelled surprisingly similar: the drunk homeless and the drunk Limeys.

Visiting Prague was an unusual change from my other travels in April and May. I had been out of the States for two months and was unaccustomed to hearing English. Everywhere I went in Prague, I heard English. At first it was surprising, then it just got annoying. I do not know how I will cope when I get home… it will feel like I am eavesdropping on everyone. I know the first person I see in the States I am going to ask, “Sprechen Sie Englisch?” Prague is the first of the cities I visited that is quite touristy.

In Prague we stayed with a friend named Pavel. He had just graduated from high school, so he had some free time to show us around. He cooked some interesting, authentic Czech dishes for us, so that was quite a treat. The first night Pavel gave us a guided tour around the city. The castle and the city lights were nice because we were able to see quite a bit without being surrounded by tourists. The castle was great at night. I was most impressed by the church in the castle because the mosaics and stained glass are only about 70 years old, were recently restored and have retained much of their color.

On Sunday and Monday we actually toured the different parts of the castle, visited the National Museum and walked across the Charles’ Bridge. All of these were worthwhile sights, even if we were tripping over tourists at every turn. I have since grown accustomed to that. On Monday we were forced to seek shelter because of a storm that came in quickly. There was hail like I have not seen since living in Texas. It was bouncing all over the place, quite a welcome sight after the 90 degree days, the hottest weather Prague had yet seen.

On our last night we went out to a student bar with Pavel and we met a few of his friends. First of all, they the Czechs obviously do not have as many puritanical hang-ups that most of us Americans retain. There was a large party at the bar for some guy’s birthday and his friends got him a stripper. This was a regular bar. You have to go to special places for this kind of entertainment in the States and, from what I have heard, most places will not let it go this far. Anyway… the more interesting part of the night were Pavel’s pictures of his trip to eastern Czech Republic. Get this: he read a survival book and decided that he needed to “do some of that stuff.” On his Christmas break he and two friends went hiking and camping up in some snowy mountains for 8 days. Actually, one of the friends gave up after just a couple days. Now this was a hard-core holiday. They made it to the top of the mountain and had a great, unbearably miserable time, I am sure. What Pavel tried to brush under the carpet was that, after this 8 day trip, he spent 9 days in the hospital thawing various of his body parts. Now that is a bit too far for me. If it were only 7 days, that would be a little better because at least the vacation was longer, but 9….

Prague and Plzen, Czech Republic: http://www.imagestation.com/album/pictures.html?id=2125794135&code=16383471&mode=invite&DCMP=isc-email-AlbumInvite

Blog #6: Parasliding, A Sport For All Ages

2005-06-23T17:47:00.000-05:00

Blog #6: Pécs, Hungary (5/25/2005 to 5/27/2005)

Pécs was a nice side trip after Budapest. And it is not pronounced PEKS, it is PAYCH. It is about two hours south of Budapest on the Inter City train. Interesting point of fact: yes, there are ostriches near the tracks between Budapest and Pécs. Dana may still be crazy, but at least she was not imagining the large, flightless birds.

We were having a hard time finding our host because, yet again, European phones are counterintuitive to us Americans. However, Maria spoke English and was very nice both times we mistakenly called her. So we just start wandering toward the town center in hopes that we can find a nice rubbish heap to sleep in for the night. Matters did not deteriorate to quite this level because, as we are just walking along, this guy comes up and asks, “Are you Dana?” No, I reply, I’m not: but she is. Luckily, Szilard decided to ask the two clueless looking backpackers who we were. He had been following us for a few blocks, so we knew that he was either our host or our stocker. He ended up being our host.

Szilard and his friends were really great. He showed us around Pécs over the next couple days. We were sitting around talking the first night and I was asking about his hobby, paragliding. I have never known a paraglider before. So he responded to my interest with, “So do you think you are man enough to paraglide?” How could I say no?

At our picnic brunch the second day, he also introduced us to my new favorite traveling sandwich. First of all, Hungarian bread is a nice change from Swiss bread. Don’t get me wrong, I like their hearty, crusty, semi-dry loaves, but they are better for dipping in soup than making sandwiches that you do not have to choke down. Hungarian bread is soft and white, but a few significant steps above Wonder Bread. Next comes the standard meat and cheese, choices vary by country and region. The topper, though, is the slice of paprika. Not only do Hungarians love their dried, ground paprika, they exploit the wonderful, fresh, sweet paprika. I like it.

After breakfast we went for a drive. It was fun to get out into the countryside and see the terrain. We visited a small castle in a town called Siklos, maybe a half hour from Pécs. I posted some pictures.

Next came the exciting part. Szilard took us out paragliding. We had to find the right hill with the right wind, but when he found it we had fun. Since I was the one opening my big yap the night before, I was the first guinea pig. I must say that I took to it rather well: three runs and I made it into the air twice. This was a small hill and I was going solo. This was not a tandem run. I was pretty happy with myself. Then came Dana. To her credit, the wind was not helping her and she is nowhere near as fat as me. My body is heavier so it was easier to just barrel down the hill and get enough speed to get into the air. I think I actually stopped counting around five attempts, but when I tell the story I always say that Dana was 0 for 7. She tried hard. In trying, however, she invented a new sport we dubbed “paraSLIDING.” I actually have a picture with her at the bottom of the hill… and a trail of mowed-down grass where her butt just scooted all the way down the hillside. It was funny. Then there was the time she pushed Szilard over, hurtled him and kept on running, only to reach her own demise about two steps later.

All in all, it was a great time. This was another one of those times when I was excited to get out of the big capital city and into the countryside. I have enjoyed seeing the smaller, slower-paced towns. I don’t feel bad about not making it to all the museums because there are no museums. My only real goal is to find the best regional food. It takes devotion.

Pictures of Pécs, Hungary: http://www.imagestation.com/album/pictures.html?id=2125794520&code=16383146&mode=invite&DCMP=isc-email-AlbumInvite

Blog #12: Weekend with Jamison

2005-06-23T17:16:00.000-05:00

Blog #12: Zurich, Schaffhausen, Basel and Glarus, Switzerland (6/17/2005 to 6/19/2005)

For those of you who do not know Jamison, he is a friend from school in Tulsa who is finishing an internship in London. I actually met up with Jamison in London in March, on my way to Zurich for a weekend in Edinburgh, Scotland. This last weekend he came to Zurich to hang out. I was just arriving on a night train from France when I went to pick up Jamison at the airport on Friday. After running home for a shower, I made him wander around Zurich for a few hours while I went to class. I know: I had a friend in town, it would only be logical to skip class… but when you only have class one day a week it is a little hard to justify skipping.

Friday night we met up with Sulley, one of the other guys from TU studying with me in Zurich, and Jacqueline, our Swiss friend who studied in Tulsa last fall. We went to dinner at an outdoor place on the Lake of Zurich. The weather was pleasant, the food was great and at a surprisingly reasonable price. Being the wimp that I am, I hit the sack early and let all the other boys and girls stay out all night partying. I think Jamison said he slept better on the bench at the Central Tram Stop than he did on my floor.

The next morning came too early for some of us, but we finally made it out the door to Schaffhausen. We went to the waterfall I visited last month with a group from Vinzenz, the place where I live. I took a few more pictures because, if you remember a previous blog, this was when my camera died and I could not take all the pictures I wanted. We enjoyed the excursion and, being the efficient guys we are, were done in less than two hours and headed back to Zurich.

Jamison and I headed from Zurich to Basel, a city situated in Switzerland and on the borders of both Germany and France. After a short walk around the city, we met up with Yves, a friend from one of my classes. He was home for the weekend to visit his parents, who live in a small town outside of Basel, Liestal. Yves picked us up and we went to the Novartis Family Day. Granted, none of us work for the pharmaceutical giant Novartis, but Yves scored some free passes because his sister works there. She even has a chauffeur for work… she may share him with others, though. Anyway, these people blew massive amounts of money for this event. They had a few different themed tents with free food and drinks, as well as bands and other sorts of entertainment. In the first tent we had schnitzel and pommes frites (French fries), the second had a Latin American theme and we ate Chili con Carne. Along the way we had Cokes, Rivella (an excellent Swiss drink with milk serum…), some Elmer Fudd drink reminiscent of Sprite, and a beer or two.

We spent the night at Yves’ parents’ house. It is a really nice place and has a great backyard patio area where we ate breakfast on Sunday. Of course we had two things to see when we were at his place: his Porsche and his gun. Yves has apparently done well for himself in a little website design company he had after high school and decided to indulge in his dream car. Unfortunately, his cherry red beauty was side-swiped by some guy and has just been repaired. Jamison and I were also interested in Switzerland’s compulsory military service and were talking about it over dinner. After one year of service, all Swiss men keep their rifles and have about three weeks of training every year, in addition to their marksmanship qualifications. This was no ordinary pellet gun. Although we were informed that this is not a fully automatic rifle, it still fires off 20 rounds a minute. Next time I get the urge to invade a country, somebody out there please remind me to cross Switzerland off the list.

After our outstanding breakfast, of course with a healthy selection of cheese, we headed to Jacqueline’s house in a town southeast of Zurich. We saw her home and met her parents while waiting for Sulley to meet up with us. They also had a really nice balcony garden area with a great view. I am beginning to think that is a prerequisite for houses in Switzerland. The interesting thing we learned about, however, was this milk serum (milchserum in German) in Rivella. I always thought it was whey, the leftovers when making cheese. It just sounds like a non-wasteful, European thing to do. And, if you learn nothing else about Switzerland, know that they take their dairy products very seriously. When one of our TU professors, Dr. Burgess, visited last week to treat the three of us exchange students to dinner, he said he would not drink Rivella until someone could finally tell him what milchserum is. After searching far and wide, I finally found a Swiss person with our answer. I was right. Of course the whey is filtered a little bit, but I was still right.

An interjection from our dinner with Dr. Burgess and his wife, Ellen. We had a great dinner in Zurich at the end of their European vacation. They had been traveling for about four weeks around Switzerland and Greece. I can think of worse ways to spend my summer. Here is a bit of advice, straight from me to you, that I received from these experienced travelers: “The clothes don’t change, the people do.” I think the only implied constraint is the sniff test. If you wear it too long, you must decide to burn it or wash it.

Back to the afternoon with Jacqueline. Sulley finally caught up to us and we headed to the lake. I have posted some great pictures from our trip out there. We roasted some bratwursts and laid out in the sun at the side of this beautiful lake for a couple hours before we had to head for the train station. We were back to Zurich in plenty of time for Jamison’s flight and our whirlwind tour of Switzerland was over.

Pictures of the weekend: http://www.imagestation.com/album/pictures.html?id=2124952532&code=16706575&mode=invite&DCMP=isc-email-AlbumInvite

Blog #5: Hungry in Hungary

2005-06-09T04:46:00.000-05:00

Blog #5: Budapest, Hungary (5/22/2005 to 5/25/2005)

I loved Hungary. Maybe it was my predisposition to like a country of my ancestors, but even an unbiased eye could enjoy this place. I did not eat a single dish of food that I did not absolutely love. I cannot even remember everything I ate, but from the goulash to the pork, turkey and chicken, I was in heaven.

At this point, I had met back up with Dana in Vienna because she, after two real attempts, had been unable to leave Vienna. With some prompting from me, we made it to Budapest. Of course my motivation was the deposit I put down for the hostel I reserved, but we all need to find motivation somewhere. Dana and I traveled together for a couple weeks, hitting Budapest and Pécs, Hungary, as well as Prague and Plzen, Czech Republic. We arrived early afternoon and wandered about the city, getting our bearings. My first impression of Budapest was similar to many of the other former communist cities I have visited. There is some beautiful architecture, but half of it is covered in about 60 years of dirt and grime. There is something inviting about Budapest, however, that I really like.

After passing a few churches and a multitude of cafés, we strolled down Andrassy ut, one of the main drags on the Pest side of the river, ending at Heroes’ Square. On this road is the opera house, some museums and, guess what: more cafés. In Heroes’ Square are statues and art museums which we did not patronize. On Tuesday, we actually visited a museum/memorial on this street called The House of Terror, or the Terror Museum. This was more of a memorial giving insight into the communist rule in Hungary post-WWII. Growing up on the side of the Iron Curtain that I did, I had not realized how communism affected the everyday lives of citizens. If we heard of anything in school, it was the facts about the end of WWII, the theory of communism, and maybe a smidgeon of information about the Soviet Union. There were, however, other communist countries out there, Hungary, Romania and the Czech Republic are outstanding examples.

On Monday we visited all of the big tourist sites on the Buda side of the river, interjecting cafés into our diet between every event. We walked up Gellért Hill, strewn with statues and monuments celebrating communism and the Habsburgs… not necessarily in that order. At the base of Gellért Hill is Gellért Hotel and Baths, the most popular of Budapest’s thermal baths. On Tuesday, after our somber visit to the Terror House, we relaxed for a couple hours in some warm water and scorching steam baths. Two hours of that and I was the most relaxed raisin in all of Hungary.

Continuing Monday’s journey, we walked up Castle Hill. Here is, you guessed it, Buda’s castle. We managed to see all of these great buildings without actually stepping foot inside any of them. Maybe we had already had a bit too much of museums. You will probably enjoy some of the pictures from up on the hill, however. Most of my pictures from Budapest are, as Dana was so nice to point out, inexplicable random buildings I was just too trigger happy to not capture. For the lack of captions and explanations I apologize, but I was just trying to get a feel for the city and not too worried about writing down all the names.

Pictures of Budapest, Hungary: http://www.imagestation.com/album/pictures.html?id=2125795451&code=16382916&mode=invite&DCMP=isc-email-AlbumInvite

One place we visited was the underground Labyrinth on Castle Hill. This was quite an amazing network of passages and tunnels. It was also a nice break from the increasingly warm weather of Budapest. Of course as I sit here writing this in Zurich, it is a toasty 43 degrees F (about 5 degrees C). Among other things, the labyrinth included a fountain flowing with wine, some creepy music, and some fabricated remains of a former people group of the planet earth… including a nine foot tall Coke bottle. They must have been really bored to even take the time.

The only place I have yet to mention is the local restaurant we found near our hostel. I never quite understood the name because the sign looked like a jumbled mess of letters. We were there at least twice and absolutely loved it. The first time I just got a goulash and Dana had some really great chicken with an amazing sauce. The second time around we did it right. We started with an appetizer. Since I had eaten horse schnitzel in Vienna, I had to do something special for Budapest. The battered brains seemed to fill the bill. After I saw it, I could not allow myself to pass it up. I am not sure that I would place fried brains high on the list of attractions in Hungary, but they were not bad. The texture was peculiar, but maybe there is a brain connoisseur out there who can explain it to me. After the starter, I enjoyed Gypsy-style pork and sampled Dana’s stuffed turkey. One of my first goals after returning home will be to find a comprehensive Hungarian cookbook. Yummy.

After our two days down in Pécs, we returned for an afternoon to Budapest before catching a night train to Prague. We were fortunate enough to meet a couple friends who go to university in Budapest, Tivadar and Levente. We went for a coffee and I tried some gyümölesleves, Hungarian fruit soup. We went to the supermarket for sandwich supplies. Down in Pécs, our friend Szilard got us hooked on these simple Hungarian sandwiches of meat, cheese and sweet paprikas. I am definitely a fan. I have been making them all over Europe since then.

Blog #9: How I Stopped Worrying and Wrote My Name in the Snow at Eagle’s Nest

2005-06-09T03:39:00.000-05:00

Blog #9: Salzburg, Austria (6/6/2005 to 6/7/2005), or, How I Wrote My Name in the Snow at Eagle’s Nest

So I didn’t really spend much time in Salzburg. From what I saw, it is a great town.

My first day “in” Salzburg I went to Hallstatt to visit the oldest salt mines in the world. They claim that these have been worked for about 7000 years. Apparently salt meant wealth back in the day. Now those people knew good currency when they tasted it! In the tour there are of number of humorous films, slide shows and a talking plastic miner who looked like he escaped from the Showbiz Pizza Palace talking animal show. Cue the clapping hands on the wall. In these presentations they explain that the mine’s discovery was quite by accident. The theory goes that there was this hunter who saw a deer sucking on the biggest salt lick in the world. Being a stone age man and unable to pass up a good chance to lick a rock (not that the “stone age” part of that description narrows down the field of guys who will lick rocks), he gave it a shot. The rest, as they say, is history.

After the ride to Hallstatt, the train dumped me off on the opposite side of the lake from the town. The boat ride across provided some nice pictures of the valley and town. Hallstatt is a nice, quiet town. The pictures are posted. I wandered around to find the funicular (code word for really steep train ride) and to buy an entrance ticket. At the top of the mountain is a 15 minute hike to the mine tour. We walked into the mountain about a quarter mile, then rode down some man-sized slides. Sorry, I refused to pay the five euros to buy the picture of me sliding down. Inside we saw some ancient and modern examples of salt mining, an overdramatic film about salt, and some pretty ponds of trapped water. Our guide was quite good—she was most impressive as she was constantly switching from English to German.

I took a leisurely stroll down the mountain: this is not suggested for those who are weak-kneed. I do not mean faint of heart, I mean weak-kneed. It was quite a decent… and an ascent I am glad I did not make. Feeling my four-hour belly calling out for food, I decided I had time to wander down to the supermarket for some meat and bread. I did not count on the gang of little kids who were lucky enough to be in front of me in line. Please remind me to, if and when I have them, keep my kids on leashes until they can drive. Better yet: maybe they should not leave the basement. So at this point I’m thinking that maybe it would be a good idea to run back to the boat. There I am, intermittently jogging down the street and trying not to push my lazy, out-of-shape self too hard. Wow, am I good. After this 5 minute period of overexertion, I pulled a dramatic “Wait for meeee!” and a leap onto the boat as it was pushing away from the dock. It was planned from the very beginning….

That night I was tired and smelly from the day of traveling. I think I spent about 14 hours on trains that day and had about four fitful hours of sleep on the train. I have never looked forward to showers so much as when I have been traveling. In the hostel lounge that night I met a few Americans and we talked about our travels. There was the philosopher from Arkansas and two nurses from San Francisco. It was quite a good time. I the winner for the interesting story for the night was about one of the nurse’s patients. This guy was in the emergency room vomiting white stuff all over the place and his chart, seriously, said, “Poisoned with marijuana.” It just goes to show how many brain cells drugs can kill. Who in their right mind would believe that this guy was poisoned by marijuana? This girl starts pestering the patient, “C’mon, man, what really happened? What did you do? You were so NOT poisoned with marijuana.” After trading appropriate hand signals to ensure her coolness, he confessed. Apparently this guy was out of brownie mix and decided to improvise. Angel food cake, anyone?

Pictures of Hallstatt, Austria: http://www.imagestation.com/album/pictures.html?id=2125519070&code=16488610&mode=invite&DCMP=isc-email-AlbumInvite

My second day was almost entirely spent visiting Hitler’s Eagle’s Nest. I saved about 30 euros ($40) and spent a couple more hours by piecing the trip together myself over using a travel guide. I consider that two hours well spent. I trust from the panoramic picture I saw that there are some great views from the top of this mountain retreat to one of the century’s most psychopathic leaders. As you will see from the pictures I posted, it was a bit hard to see anything. It was June 7, people, and it was snowing!

I think the best summary to the trip was when a German man came up to me and asked, “Where is the Eagle’s Nest?” You’re looking at it, big guy. There is a building with about four rooms at the top of this mountain. That’s it. I think they ran out of money, because of all the effort to build the roads to and the elevator inside the mountain, to make it the grand place we expect it to be. It would have been nice to get some good pictures of the view, but I was content to visit a historically important site.

Pictures of Eagle’s Nest, in Germany: http://www.imagestation.com/album/pictures.html?id=2125524131&code=16485348&mode=invite&DCMP=isc-email-AlbumInvite

After returning I wandered about Salzburg. There are a few pictures of Mirabellgarten, a great garden in the middle of the new town (the Neustadt). I also got a few pictures of the churches and the fortress up on the hill. Unfortunately, I never made it around to St. Peter’s Stiftskeller, supposedly the oldest restaurant in central Europe. It has been in business for over 1100 years. Now that is a good business. Since it was a bit pricey, however, I think that I was better off not going to eat there.

As I was wrapping up my trip around the town, I ran into an Irish pub called O’Malley’s. As it was mentioned in my Let’s Go travel guide as a great place to visit, I stopped in. It was a bit early and the only customer for a while, so I got the low-down from my waiter, Max. He told me about this really great restaurant down the street named Humboldt. The next people to show up were three American ladies. We all started talking and, before I knew it, I became their date for the girls’ night out on the town. Before you get too carried away with your imagination, Lisa, Denise and Gertrude were all about 50 and either married, divorced or have kids. That said: they were a blast. They were cracking me up.

As I had already asked Max about great dinner places, I led us down to Humboldt. I was informed that I could not order the goulash because Denise had already claimed it. So that was how it was going to work. With this group, your food was not your own. There would be sharing, no bones about it. Fair enough: I always enjoy trying different foods. Appetizers included bread, tomatoes and cheese doused in oil and vinegar, and a beef broth soup with sliced pancakes. This soup looked like a broth-based tortilla soup. Strange, but not bad. My pork schnitzel and potatoes were excellent, as was Gertrude’s Asian Chicken, Denise’s goulash and Lisa’s goulash soup. For dessert we had bite-sized pancakes with fruit chutney and an apple strudel with vanilla ice cream.

At the end of a fun evening, I still had a couple hours to kill. My night train back to Zurich did not leave the station until 12:45. Oh, what fun. I was able to sleep about 4-5 hours, which is good for me on a train, before I got back for my all morning class in Zurich. My life is so hard.

Pictures of Salzburg, Austria: http://www.imagestation.com/album/pictures.html?id=2125509984&code=16495009&mode=invite&DCMP=isc-email-AlbumInvite

Blog #2: And You Thought Quiktrip was Cheap. Romania and Bulgaria.

2005-06-08T11:30:00.000-05:00

Blog #2: Romania & Bulgaria (4/29/2005 to 5/11/2005)

This trip had good intentions for being a whirlwind tour of Eastern Europe, Turkey and Greece. That did not quite work out. The further I went, the more I wanted to slow my trip down. First, Istanbul was abandoned, then Greece was pitched. I stayed in Bulgaria and retreated back to Zurich.

Cluj-Napoca. It was a long trip from Zurich to Romania, so I was glad to be outside walking. It took a little wandering around Cluj, but I found my hostel. Already there was an older guy, Bob, from Oregon who travels a few months a year. In a short while, two girls teaching English in Bucharest arrived, one was Aussie and the other Kiwi. The biggest thing about Romania on that particular weekend is that it was Orthodox Easter and some other national holiday, as well, so everything was closed and all of the university students in Cluj were away.

The three people I mentioned from the hostel and I went to midnight mass at the large church in Cluj-Napoca. We showed up at about 11:15 to ensure we were in time. This meant we were just about the first ones there. We got a few candles for some ceremony they were having later and stood around to wait. Despite my best intentions to branch out and experience a different Easter ceremony and run away, we were trapped inside the church. They started singing and chanting and we were like sardines in a can. This church was standing room only.

We were really trying to be polite and courteous, but when all the locals starting flashing their pictures, that was all the permission we needed to be tourists. And, yes, it was very difficult to be good and somber and all that when we are standing for 45 minutes with all these people chanting in Romanian. My attention span did not serve to keep me grounded. The real challenge was not burning the hair of the person in front of me. I was only hoping that some of the ladies did not have as much hair spray working for them as it looked. I will let your own imagination draw conclusions on that one.

So then we thought we were in the clear. The priests were leaving the church and we were being nice, slow Americans and letting everyone stream past us. We were so close to squeezing to the edge of the crowd. So close. Instead, near success was stamped out by the fortune of the best standing room in the house. We were walking cluelessly along when we almost ran into the back of the priests. We were like deer in headlights. The priests in front of us, a crowd pressing all around us, and an audience (not to mention the floodlights and TV cameras) filling the entire courtyard. Facing us. Hi, mom, I’m on Romanian TV!

And does Chad bring his jacket to warm Eastern Europe? No. I was fine for the first 30 minutes in the sub-40 degree weather and my short sleeve shirt. Then this nuclear power plant shut down and I was just freezing. The next half hour was spent shuddering from the cold. And, yet again, you would think we could escape. Maybe… if it weren’t for the old ladies literally pushing us from behind, scowling the whole way. They needed a good view. I think at this point I just laid down and let everyone step on me. I was so tired and so cold. We escaped, but I was an incoherent mess.

The next day I visited the botanical gardens. I have some nice pictures posted. I also did a good bit of wandering around town to take pictures. I went to parks, walked up a hill with a great view of the city, and enjoyed some of the architectures and statues scattered everywhere. Here is the link to my pictures….

Cluj-Napoca, Romania: http://www.imagestation.com/album/pictures.html?id=2126847047&code=15975730&mode=invite&DCMP=isc-email-AlbumInvite

Sighisoara. Unfortunately I was unable to spend more than an afternoon in this rustic little town, but I enjoyed it and have a few trophy pictures to show for it. This is one of the only, and best preserved, medieval towns in Romania. Sighisoara is situated in the mountains separating Transylvania from the rest of Romania. On the top of the hill is a citadel enclosing the old town. True to form, there were plenty of vendors selling souvenirs to the tourists. You cannot walk more than five steps in Romania without someone trying to sell you something about Vlad Tepes, Romania’s very real Dracula. From the stories you can read in the history books about this Transylvanian ruler in the century, nicknamed Vlad Dracul (for dragon), performed much more horrible atrocities than any movies we have created. The name of the territory was actually called Wallachia and stood between the growing Ottoman and Hungarian Empires.

Inside the walls of the city are the square, an interesting clock tower and a church or two. Even further up the hill, up this long, 17th century covered staircase, is the citadel’s church. It was interesting enough and held some old stones inscribed with Latin, but no pictures were allowed. Outside of the church, however, was a cool old cemetery. I am not a huge cemetery person, but I went in to explore because I knew it would be of interest to my mom. Some of the headstones are really quite interesting. Some of the oldest that were still readable were about a hundred years old, but it looked like the really old ones had been recycled as the stones forming the walkways, as I think some of the pictures show.

Sighisoara, Romania: http://www.imagestation.com/album/pictures.html?id=2126845913&code=15991963&mode=invite&DCMP=isc-email-AlbumInvite

Brasov, Bran and Risnov. This was a lightning tour, but I really did not want it to last longer. In the tour guides they warn about this lady named Maria. I wish they had included something to the effect of, “Never, under any circumstances, let yourself be caught up in the whirlwind of fast-talking in the form of Maria.” She could make used car salesmen cry. At first I thought it could be interesting to experience this Brasov phenomenon. I quickly became thoroughly annoyed. This chic assaults you as you are disembarking the train and acts like a duty-bound sheepdog thenceforth.

Despite that, I saw a couple cool sights in and around Brasov. I saw the Black Church in Brasov itself, so named because of its charred exterior from some fire. From there I took a taxi a few miles to the towns of Bran and Risnov. Castle Bran is one of the supposed Dracula castles, but I am fairly certain that he had nothing to do with this place. A story from one of my Romanian friends here in Zurich says that there is very little left from that age in Romania. Apparently most things that old are in ruins or nonexistent. The castle in Bran is interesting, nonetheless. It was small for a castle—more like a very solid palace. In the town of Risnov there is another citadel, although this one is in ruins. It is from the 13th century and acted as protection to local inhabitants from the encroaching empires.

Brasov, Bran and Risnov, Romania: http://www.imagestation.com/album/pictures.html?id=2126846704&code=15976032&mode=invite&DCMP=isc-email-AlbumInvite

Plovdiv/ПЛОВДИВ. So this is about where I had a reality check. Bulgaria uses Cyrillic? That’s a big yup. So this map in my hand that uses the Roman alphabet is completely and utterly useless? Again: yup. Huh. So even if they used street signs here, I probably would not be able to read them? That is affirmative. All those symbols (something I normally refer to as wingdings) actually say “Plovdiv” to those out there fortunate enough to read Cyrillic. Now you have a good idea what I was facing. No tour guide, a map in English and a second century Roman amphitheater waiting to be found. Time to start walking.

So the first day was consumed looking for a camera. I have utterly lost my mind since I came to Europe. Maybe it was gone before, but now it is confirmed. I was on the train to Bucharest, where I would catch the night train to Bulgaria, downloading pictures from my camera to my laptop. So when Chad got up did he look under the seat to find the camera that fell out of his lap? No. Chad is an utter and complete idiot. I really wanted to cry when I discovered this monster feat in Sofia, Bulgaria, the next morning. After much looking in Plovdiv and learning the area, I bought a camera. You see, at this point I was still planning to head on to Istanbul and Greece. That plan did not last long.

The first thing I noticed, of course after the whole Cyrillic alphabet thing, was that Plovdiv is clean and full of pretty girls. That was almost enough to make me stay longer. My second day was spent searching out all of the tourist sites. This consisted of trying to use my nearly useless Let’s Go guide for streets and directions, then actually finding these locations on my Cyrillic map. I quickly realized that I would do far better to not worry about seeing all the sights and just try to see what I could see. There are more old churches in this small area than you can shake a stick at. After nearly giving up, I did find the second century Roman amphitheatre. It took even longer to find the entrance, but it was well worth it. The negligible entrance fee allowed me to wander around and take as many pictures as I wanted. I have posted a few of the better ones.

Just as I was winding up the self tour of Plovdiv, taking a picture of the last church before I wandered back to my hostel, I met an American expatriate. He saw me taking the picture and said something in English. I was so blown away. It had been a few days since I had a conversation with a native English speaker and the withdrawal was in full swing. This was a really nice guy originally from Texas, so we hit it off. He took me out to a really great restaurant and it took very little effort to convince me to not get on that night bus for Istanbul. Long story short, I ended up staying another two and a half days. He showed me around town, introduced me to some friends and took me to a name day party for one of his friends. Name day is sort of like a second birthday in the Orthodox Church. If you are named after a saint, everybody with that name has a party on a certain day of the year. Apparently half of Bulgaria is named George, so that Friday was a national holiday.

Varna/ВАРНА. I only stayed in Varna for a day, but it was fun. Varna is the third largest town in Bulgaria and situated on the Black Sea. I even have one picture of my pale legs, with pant legs up, in the Black Sea. Check another item off the to-do list.

The funniest thing about Varna was my hostel. I was greeted by a host of Aussies and Limeys. There were only native English speakers in sight. That was a bit unusual in comparison to Plovdiv. I wandered around town a little bit, sort of chuckled to myself at the Bulgarian Navy headquarters building, and ate some good food. It was an uppity restaurant as far as I was concerned, but that still meant that it was amazing food for about the price of a McDonald’s super-sized meal. I spent some time with the other people around the hostel as we traded traveling stories. Those Aussies really like to travel. I have come to the conclusion that it is really a rite of passage for them to travel the world after they finish university. Of course, it only makes sense because it takes so much travel time and money to actually get off that island, they might as well stay gone for a while.

Plovdiv and Varna, Bulgaria: http://www.imagestation.com/album/pictures.html?id=2126867900&code=15974218&mode=invite&DCMP=isc-email-AlbumInvite

Bucharest. I made two stops in Bucharest. On the way to Plovdiv I had about a three hour layover before catching a night train. I and the Japanese girl I was traveling with took advantage of the down time to sample some of Romania’s fine cuisine. Let’s Go recommended a very nice, affordable restaurant that did not appear too hard to reach. Of course “too hard” is relative. We got on the wrong bus… it was actually the right bus, just going in the wrong direction. At least the end of the line was only one stop down the road. Kudos to Chad and his innate sense of direction. No worries: the 40 cents lost has not caused any loss of sleep. During the short walk back to the train station, I remembered how to read a map.

Now that we were on the right bus, we only had to face the cranky Bucharesti natives. Mostly I was keeping my hands on my front pockets because I was paranoid about the gypsies running around everywhere. Remember, too, that I have this large, heavy backpack slung on my back. I think there is a very angry Romanian lady somewhere in Bucharest still upset over the fact that I did not offer my seat. Sorry, mother, you taught me well but these were difficult circumstances. Chivalry? Hmmm….

Needless to say, the misfire and subsequent cramped bus ride were well worth the effort. Not only was the food at Nicoresti extremely reasonable, it was absolutely amazing. On the advice of some of my Romanian friends at school in Zurich, I tried a few different dishes. The soup had a very good broth and I am certain he said it was duck soup, but my friends tell me that does not exist. I really do not think it was chicken. For the main course I had stuffed cabbage with polenta and some tasty friend meatballs. I was blown away. I stuffed myself and still could not eat it all. I may have to hunt down the types of spices they use for these dishes.

Now back to my second stop through Bucharest. On the way to Bucharest while changing trains at the Bulgarian border is when I met the Virginian, Heather. It was quite nice for both of us to finally speak with another native English speaker for a while. It may have been the first time in months she did not have to resort to sign language on a regular basis to convey her meaning. I captivated the whole compartment of girls on the way back to Bucharest with my boring slide show. If any of you at home are having trouble sleeping, just wait until I get back and I can show you all my pictures.

I stayed in a hostel in Bucharest near the restaurant where I ate before. The advantage was I knew how to get to that side of town and, more importantly, it was within walking distance of the restaurant. Thus squared away, I tried another dish at this excellent place. I cannot remember exactly what it was, but it did not let me down. The next day was consumed with a bit of walking. I was able to see a reasonable amount of the city in between checking email and buying a train ticket back to Budapest. The one lowlight of Bucharest was my choice to visit a Pizza Hut for lunch. Not only did I pay the same here as I did at Nicoresti, it was Pizza Hut. Has anyone ever had a delightful gastronomic experience at Pizza Hut? I don’t think so.

As for Bucharest, it is not a bad place. I did not take many pictures and had no time to visit the Parliament building—second in size only to the Pentagon in Washington, D.C. My impression of the city was one that was once very beautiful, but has not had a good white wash in about 75 years. In fact, it is not far from the truth. There are a few remaining buildings from Bucharest’s heyday when it was a stop on the Orient Express. In general, however, Communism left its ugly stamp all over the city. Where once may have been neoclassical columns and statues are now gray, concrete buildings. Again, I was not in the city long, but this is my impression.

For those of you trying to follow my screwy timeline, this was my trip a few weeks ago. For a linear train of thought, for those of you bound to such things, at the tone please turn to the blog entitled “The Longest Train Ride in the World.”

Bong.

Bucharest, Romania: http://www.imagestation.com/album/pictures.html?id=2126849903&code=15975998&mode=invite&DCMP=isc-email-AlbumInvite

Blog #4: A New View of Equestrian Sports.

2005-06-03T11:39:00.000-05:00

Blog #4: Vienna, Austria

--Do you like horses?
++Yeah, I like horses.
--Hmm. How much do you like horses?
++Well, I really like them.
--Let’s see…. We may have to change tonight’s menu.

So went the conversation between Marcus, a Viennese host, and Dana, my new American friend. Horse schnitzel. Say it fast and you have a new curse word. I will return to our horses in a bit.

So I am standing all by my lonesome in this sleeping compartment, waiting to depart Zurich for Vienna. There is room for six and quite a few other people milling around, but none with me. All of the backpackers are streaming down to second class seating whereas I had dished out the extra money to get a night’s sleep. All the people around me were over 50 or had kids. Neither of these prospects was tantalizing.

Then, as I attempt to get out of this girl’s way as she is shuffling down the hall, she follows me inside and says, “Hey, what’s up!” I recognize an American accent when I hear one… unless it’s a Canadian accent, but that most definitely does not count. Then there were two. For those of you who have not traveled on night trains and think this may be a bit strange, read your Rick Steves’ Best of Europe and he will confirm that it is standard to sleep on night trains in your street clothes. So I was awake late talking with Dana until the old Indian guy showed up and we had to hit the sack.

Since we had hit it off, we decided to hang out until Dana met her host for Vienna. There are traveling clubs that are great because they set up networks of people from all over the world who travel and open up their homes to travelers. You may end up in your own room, on a couch, on the floor or in a barn in the backyard. This is free and you can enjoy some of the local culture, so it is a really great way to travel. Dana’s host in Vienna was Marcus, nice despite the fact that he made it nearly impossible to leave Austria.

It was raining in Vienna. After checking into my hostel, we found this really cool café for some coffee and breakfast. As suggested by Let’s Go, we went to the cafés as frequently as possible—at least once a day. With as little sleep as I was getting, coffee more than once a day was not such a bad idea. We also visited the Kunsthistoriche something museum, the historical art museum. It was quite impressive and, as expected, contained a lot of old art. I think I enjoyed the statues most. I have posted pictures of some really interesting Egyptian artifacts, as well. We breezed through the ancient, and most likely priceless, coin section, but I was so wall-eyed and dizzy at that point in the day that I did not really care. So after another coffee and sandwich (something is terribly wrong: Chad has been eating fresh tomatoes in Europe!) and a brisk walk to the train station, we met Marcus.

I was invited along to try this horse schnitzel, especially after it was known that I like to cook and Marcus likes his guests to prepare a meal the next night. Technically, it was “young horse” so, unless my equestrian knowledge is completely erroneous, it was actually colt schnitzel. Yummy. Actually, it was quite good. I had to remind myself that it was not beef. There I am, chewing away, and I remember, “Oh yeah, this is horse. Huh.” I think the winner for the night was the potato salad. I am really loving the potato salads they make in this region. Other than potatoes, there are onions, chives, diced pickles, salt, pepper and this sweet vinegar & olive oil sauce with vegetable stock.

After dinner I made a lame, unsuccessful escape attempt. The choices for evening entertainment were a discussion of American politics or this strange Austrian game that seems to be somewhere between Shoots & Ladders and Risk. Go figure. We pacified our host and spent a few minutes on politics and the death penalty. I should really avoid those conversations. Then we launched into the never-ending game. Chad was tired. By the time it was over, it was nearly midnight and I still had to find my way on the Underground back to my hostel.

Having made it back to the hostel, I discovered that the only real reason I have used my little keychain light is for unpacking in the dark. There I am, completely exhausted, waking everybody up when I trip over a bed or “accidentally” slam the door. I try to be nice, sometimes it just doesn’t work out so well. Who goes to bed before 2:00 AM in Vienna, anyway?

The next morning was an early one. We met early, in the rain, to find another café. After waking up a bit and hoping, vainly, that the rain would stop, it was off to Schonbrunn, the Habsburgs’ palace. Sign me up to be the red-headed step child of the Hapsburgs, ‘cause they had it all. They say Versailles is the only palace to beat this place. I believe them. After wandering around inside with these audio tour handsets up to our ears (and laughing at the most inappropriate places), it was off for a stroll in the garden. The wet garden. Have I mentioned yet that it was raining? You will find some pictures of the garden in the pictures I posted. Apparently the rain was following me because it has been sunny and beautiful in Austria ever since I returned to Zurich.

Here are the posted pictures from Vienna: http://www.imagestation.com/album/pictures.html?id=2126477587&code=16116250&mode=invite&DCMP=isc-email-AlbumInvite

After walking through a marketplace filled with lots of kebab, produce, dessert and spice stands, we headed to the inner city. A note on kebabs: when in Europe, it’s a great way to eat reasonably cheap. These stands are all the rage wherever I have visited. These look a bit like wraps and there is almost always chicken or lamb, but the rest is variable. The meat is turning on a large spit and shaved off for individual kebabs. Other than chicken or lamb, there is often lettuce, tomatoes, cucumber, hot sauce, and one of the common alternative ingredients is chips—french fries.

After a quick swing by the opera house to check the length of the line for standing room tickets, we decided to see the Austrian Treasury. While seeing priceless jewels is fascinating, I must admit that we found it easy to tear ourselves away. I am not the biggest jewelry fan, so I just say “Ooh. Ah. Next.” Now back to the standing room line for a three hour campout.

There is a wonderful way to see a performance at the Vienna opera house. They have performances almost daily with something like 300 in any given year. You could pay about 30 to 75 euros to sit, or you can stand in line for three hours and pay less than 5 euros. This is standing room, but they have rails so you can sort of lean and take the weight off your already tired feet—of course, from the multiple-hour wait in line. Regrettably, we did not see any of the purported old ladies running and throwing elbows to get in the front row. You see, it is like the releasing of the hounds when those doors open. They open the doors, everyone starts moving and you don’t dare fall because those old people will trample you and not think twice. This is life or death, mind you.

The opera was really cool. It was actually the Vienna Philharmonic performing at the Opera House, but it was a special performance. The conductor was this super-crazy haired guy who uses the same hair dresser as Einstein. The singer was a three-foot tall baritone with an absolutely amazing voice. All in all, it was an experience I would repeat.

Thursday was a lazier day. I honestly do not remember what we did for most of the day, but I am certain we visited at least two cafés. There was a theme in Vienna: drink coffee, grab a snack, walk to the next location, take a couple pictures; repeat. It is an altogether lovely way to travel. Ah, I do remember now. We visited a modern art museum. The building was designed by an architect who thinks there are no straight lines in nature, so he built a building with no straight lines. First of all: he is wrong; second: he may not have had parallel lines, but there were definitely straight ones. Despite these disagreements, I enjoyed the place. The art was a bit, OK, a lot risqué, but it was a nice, challenging change from the galleries and galleries of Baroque and Flemish paintings we had been viewing.

The afternoon was spent trying to shop. Our mission was chicken curry and something else, but decisions are hard when you have so little stress in your life. I apologize to all of you out there with responsibilities, but I will be joining you, and then some, in a couple months. After a mad dash to make curry, rice and steamed vegetables, I had to skedaddle. I packed a Tupperware container full of some tasty food and ran to catch the train. Here is a tip: change reservations at least 24 hours in advance for trains in Europe. I would have loved to spend the evening with Dana’s host Marcus and his friends, but it was not to be.

The night train back was uneventful… which, in my book, is an exceptional thing for a night train.

Blog #3: Waterfalls and Castles

2005-05-27T01:38:00.000-05:00

Blog #3: Schaffhausen, Switzerland Day Trip (5/15/2005)

This trip was a nice diversion from Zurich. There is a little town about 40 minutes north of Zurich by train named Schaffhausen. There are a couple neat attractions there: one of the largest waterfalls in Europe and about a 15th century castle. So who went on this trip? So a Romanian guy, a Romanian girl, a Russian-Lithuanian girl, a French girl, a French guy, a Portuguese girl, a Turkish-Swede girl, a Lithuanian guy and three ballerinas (no, I’m not joking): one Japanese, an Aussie and a French-speaking Romanian-Canadian walked into a bar. The bartender says, “Hey, where’s the parrot?” Now that’s the start of a good joke. Anybody have a punch line for me?

It was about a 40 minute walk to the falls, but that was less a function of distance and more a function of girls who whine and walk too slow. It was a nice walk, however, and the sights more than made up for the effort. I was blown away by the view. I’m a picture-taking fool, so I went crazy. So crazy that my battery (on my new camera) died after lunch and I missed some really great pictures.

We started with a few pictures of the group and the fall before walking over a bridge to the pay side of the river. Unlike most everything else in Switzerland, this was a rather affordable event. From the people who brought you the 12 Swiss Franc (CHF) side of fried rice, we have a 1 CHF walk down a path taking us in almost direct contact with the fall. Sure it was crowded with tourists, but that is probably why it is so inexpensive. We took a nice path winding back and forth down this cliff, progressively getting closer and closer to the spray and rushing water. It was quite beautiful, really. My pictures cannot do it justice, but you may get an idea.

You can check out the pictures of the falls here: http://www.imagestation.com/album/pictures.html?id=2126663486&code=16043938&mode=invite&DCMP=isc-email-AlbumInvite

From the riverside we paid for a boat across the river. The total price of the rides was 6.50 CHF, another miraculous feat in a country where the minimum wage is 20 CHF (roughly $17) an hour. When I learned about their minimum wage, it was clear why a McDonald’s meal is $10 and any real food is $30 plus. Once across the river, we had a picnic lunch, were assaulted by these crazy picture-takers, listened to the Native Americans playing music who just happened to wander across the pond and end up by this river at the same time we were, and learned that one of the talented members of our group can juggle. All in all, it was an educational lunch experience.

After lunch was the cool part. Let me emphasize, again, that Chad has no camera at this point. We took a boat out to the center of the fall where there is a large rock jutting out of the middle of the river. The boat fights the current, docks, and unloads passengers to trek up the steep stairs for an absolutely amazing view of the fall. It was an awesome, albeit wet, experience.

The climax of our day trip over, we decided to visit this old castle on the top of the hill. Yet again we (by “we” I mean the royal “we”) were amazed at the absolutely free entry into this castle. It was simple, but it has a large hall that you would imagine could be filled with smoke, tables and dogs fighting for dinner scraps. This view was only had after a climb up the hill that quite effectively took the wind out of me. I really need to get in shape.

Instead of stairs there was a spiral ramp to the top of the tower, above the hall. There is a large open area, apparently for performances and entertainment, and spectacular views of the town and up and down the river valley. Again: no camera. I need to go back for a few hours and remedy this miscalculation of battery use.

The Longest Train in the World

2005-05-13T07:03:00.000-05:00

Blog #1: The Longest Train in the World

The only way to really differentiate the segments of such a trip is to identify each with my seat. Some seats are stiff and unforgiving, others are wide and plush. Many should have been burned at the “We Hate Disco” rallies held some twenty years ago. The yellow and brown scheme is frighteningly prevalent all over eastern and central Europe. This brings me to conjecture #1: European countries are required to sell their old train cars east. Much like some of our favorite states (West Virginia, Arkansas, Louisiana, parts of Kentucky and Mexico come to mind), Europe likes to pass on its less attractive modes of transportation in place of the newer and cleaner.

The first leg of the Brobdingnagian trek was in a six-person compartment from Bucharest, Romania to Budapest, Hungary. In a way I should feel very privileged. There were no chickens on my train. I have yet to witness this, but I am told on good authority that this does happen in some parts of the world. Chickens aside, I am specifically referring to the Orient Express. From the travel guides I have read, Bucharest was on the Orient Express—and for good reason. It was sometimes called Little Paris, just a little further east than the, uh, big one. For a few examples of this, take a look at the pictures I took of Bucharest. Wow, that sounded like a commercial. Here is the link:

http://www.imagestation.com/album/pictures.html?id=2126849903&code=15975998&mode=invite&DCMP=isc-email-AlbumInvite

From what you can see, this was once a beautiful place. Unfortunately for the Romanians and the rest of the world, we remember one of the many reasons we did not like the Communists. Beauty was out; drab was in. Bucharest, as the capital of Romania, saw more of this destruction and concrete reinvention than the rest of Romania. The dearth of pictures comes from the fact that I was only stopping for a day on my way back from Bulgaria and did not have much time.

So I was fortunate because I was in a compartment for six people and there were only five of us. It is not uncommon for the train companies to try to fit eight people in these cozy second class compartments. Do not be deceived: in these cases, more is most definitely not better. I was next to an old couple and across from a teenage girl dressed all in pink with her father. The first few hours were uninteresting; the old couple caught a post-dinner nap. The pink girl could manage a little English, but not enough for a conversation.

Whoa, Nelly, when the old couple woke up they were refreshed and ready to go! It was non-stop talking for a couple hours. Every once in a while I heard “American,” or something close, so I can only imagine what the conversation was about. Of course the old lady, through the pink girl, asked where I was from, why I was in Romania and if I was visiting a girlfriend. No, no girlfriend, I replied. And with the eyes I have seen on match makers before, she informs me that Romanian girls are very pretty. I knew there was a bit of mischief going on. Aside: I just ended a sentence with a preposition. Huh. I think she was concerned that I had so little to do and I was just writing away in my little journal. No girlfriend. Poor boy: how does he get out of bed in the morning?

After Chatty Kathy lighted the train, the three of us managed the best we could and caught some shut-eye. This brings me back to the seats. These were a bit stiff, a little too far apart for proper leg-propping, but far enough apart as to provide some breathing room. I have definitely ridden on worse. When I was alone and stretched out on the almost-bench, I had the pleasure of the seat edges digging into my sides. They left an impression, let me tell you.

So I am sending a proposal to the Hungarian train system in which I assert that their new motto should be, “Who stole the toilet paper?!” I was thankful to my Let’s Go travel guide when it warned me to carry your own roll with you. This train was actually quite nice… I have a feeling it actually belongs to Austria. At this point I was able to begin taking advantage of my first-class Eurail pass. You see, those of us unfortunate enough to be age 26 and over have to pay almost double because we are no longer considered “youths.” On the flip side, I had an entire compartment for six to myself, the seats were new and comfortable and the air-conditioner worked. What more could you ask for? Other than a plane, that is. This train took me through Vienna all the way to Nürnberg, Germany. This is where it became, shall I say, interesting?

Power walking. There should be a new game people play—it would have great economic benefit to all of Europe as it would be an excellent new avenue for gambling. Contestants are lined up at the gates, time is running out, the desperation is apparent on faces, mouths are frothing and buckles are screaming against the pressure. No, this is not the race for the bathroom; it’s the no-holds-barred sprint to your connecting train! I think the rail engineers try to see just how far they can push the time limits of these ridiculous schedules they are allegedly keeping. They have cameras with zooming technology, allowing them to see the slipping, sliding, crying passengers dart for the next train. It’s not as if the seven minutes I should have had would have been ample, but cutting that time in half is a good tactic for elevating the blood pressure.

Conjecture #2: The Christmas Party. They must have a Christmas party at the end of each year and give out awards for the engineer who has caused the greatest agony to passengers without actually causing material delay to the train “schedule.” All you are really thinking is, “If I miss this connection I will be stuck in this train station until 8:07 tomorrow morning. My last shower was 36 hours ago and I think I smell myself.” So there I am, running through this train station in Nürnberg with my monstrous 75-pound pack, pushing small children and hip-checking old ladies. We call this power walking. My glutes (or “butt cheeks” for those of you who haven’t lifted weights in a while) are screaming at me today. After repeating this a number of times in my 30-hour journey, I believe I could become a Marine. You always hear those stories about “running in the middle of the night with a 60-pound sack and an ankle broken in three places.” Be real. Whoa: 60 pounds, no little kids, no old ladies and no chickens in the background mocking your failure. Chickens: now that’s pressure. I could be a Marine. If it weren’t for the fact that I am overweight and lazy. And… not brainwashed enough.

As I was waiting for this fated connection, I am in equal agony with a man standing in the exit gates. After misunderstanding his first attempt, I finally made out “Sprechen Sie Englisch?” Why, yes, as a matter of fact I do. This is funny because I find myself asking this question so many times a day that when it is asked of me, I usually sputter something profound like, “Da. Ja. Si. Oui. Yes! D’oh! What country am I in???” At that point the answer is normally clear This particular gentleman is an Englishman living in Boston, traveling the world teaching music seminars. He says that he is able to teach people enough in three to four days that they can go practice 10 minutes a day and become quite proficient in their instruments.

I can see that happening. Not with me, of course, but it may work for others. I would probably last about 3 days and hide said instrument at the bottom of the closet. I think, of all things in my life, I have learned to buy no more instruments. Yes, my family is out there laughing at me right now. Let us count the instruments. There was the clarinet in junior high, the B-flat bass clarinet, the E-flat bass clarinet, the trumpet shortly thereafter, the B-flat bass clarinet in ninth grade, the hammered dulcimer my first year of college, the Celtic “whistle in D” that led up to my dulcimer purchase, there were at least two different recorders between the ages of six and twenty, a kazoo or eight scattered in there, and the fated guitar purchase. I think that was all of them. Ah, no, there was the Jew’s Harp somewhere around twelve. You remember those: the little, twangy metal things that you stick up to your lips, flick the arm and shape your mouth to make the sounds. Caution for those of you with a burning desire to take up the Jew’s Harp: avoid flicking the metal arm straight into your teeth. I have had more pleasant experiences in my life. I count twelve. I’ve been on the wagon for over six years now and maybe I will be a survivor this time.

Back to the globe trotting musician. We were in neighboring compartments on the train from Nürnberg to Stuttgart. I learned that the endless fields of yellow flowers that have suddenly bloomed everywhere in the last two weeks in Bulgaria, Romania, Hungary, Austria, Germany and Switzerland are rape—as in rapeseed oil. When farmers need to let a field lie (lay?) fallow for a year, they plant rape because it helps put nitrogen back in the soil. I learned that the Hungarian language is not derived from Latin, Greek or any of the other Indo-European languages. It is most closely related to Japanese, and that only slightly. Beyond that, it’s a language of metaphors much like an episode of Star Trek: The Next Generation when Captain Picard is stranded on a planet with this alien. From that description, you’re thinking, it could be any of the ST:NG episodes… and you’re right. Our musician had Einstein’s theory of relativity explained to him by a couple of 12-year-old Hungarian girls over dinner, yet again putting the American school system to shame.

Mercifully, the next dash for my last train of the journey was not as mad as the others. I had 10 entire minutes to find my first-class seat. I think there were two of us in the entire car… it’s a good thing I spent that extra money on a reservation. This, however, was the epitome of luxury. It was like a business-class flight, but with more elbow room. There were desks between the facing leather chairs. There was a plug so I could use my computer. There was even a waiter who brought a cart around, selling chips and coffee at Switzerland’s super-inflated prices. A single drink cost about as much as a really good meal, including drinks, in Bulgaria. Welcome home to Switzerland.

One last warning to those of you out there who want to join me in my world travels. When someone, even someone who appears to have good intentions, offers you something that looks like milk and smells like sausage, I would decline. This unmarked plastic bottle was the cause of many tribulations. Silly me: when I was offered a drink, I thought it was one of those, “Wow, this is great, would you like to try?” moments. This was, however, one of those, “Ooh, this smells awful, smell it!” moments. Please do not confuse the two. Thanks, Heather, but no thanks. It probably was not such a good idea to stick that not-so-empty bottle back in your purse as a Bulgarian souvenir. I hope you are not still having nightmares.

What is the moral of this fable? Swiss promptness is a farce. I laugh in the face of Swiss time-keeping perfection. I’ve heard and even told the stories of Swiss timeliness, but I have been unconvinced. Every single Swiss train I have ridden on has been 3-4 minutes late. Yes, there is something to be said for consistency, but there is also something to be said for being on time. This really wouldn’t bother me if it weren’t so blown out of proportion. If some guy based his entire performance on his talking canary, and I paid money to see his talking canary, I would be very upset if his canary did not talk. However, if you have a canary at home and it does not talk, I really do not care because you have not sold me a ticket telling me the silly thing would talk.

On the other hand, while Eastern Europe has a bad rap for awful trains, I think it is undeserved. Of all the trains I rode out there, every single one was within 1-2 minutes of the said arrival time. Of course that one train that was an hour late was probably the Turks fault, so I will ignore the incident. Granted, those trains may take a week and a half to arrive at the next little sheep barn, but it will be very prompt. This was a good thing considering that most stations lacked signs and schedules telling me what train was sitting in front of me. To continue the analogy, this would be the same as if I came to visit you and your canary actually could talk and you hadn’t even charged me admission. I admit, poorly constructed analogy, but it’s my journal and you don’t have a choice. Actually, I am fortunate to be alive. Between the chickens and unlabeled trains, I could have ended up in a small fishing village in Eastern Russia snuggling with some large Eskimo. That would have smelled.