As you can see, I like being able to spell the local spelling. It makes me happy.
Anyways, I left Berlin mid-afternoon to make my way to Copenhagen. I had a stop over in Hamburg, and it presented me with an excellent way to illustrate a bit of what you sometimes experience on trains.
When people buy a ticket, they really only buy passage on the train. They are not always guaranteed a seat. The same goes for me. Since I have an unlimited pass, it does not always mean I will get a seat. I often times have had to sit on the floor for the first hour of the train ride until some people get off and some seats open up. Well, I shouldn't say often, it really has only happened once. I am pretty good at getting myself a seat. You have to be ruthless, cunning and cut-throat. Are you making a child and mother stand up for two hours? Too bad. Is an old person too feeble to stand and must sit down on the floor amongst the acculated filth of a hundred train rides for five hours? It is of no consequence. It's every man for himself on a train. There's no time to consider how your actions will affect others. The seat is your priority, your livelihood, your desinty.
I am perhaps exaggerating a bit, but when that train for Copenhagen pulled up to the station and a crowd of people began shoving onboard to get a seat, that thought process kicked in. That purpose that proceeds thought and consequence.
I was sitting too far back at the platform, so instantly I was at a disadvantage. This was no matter, for I squeezed my way on to the train with the prowess and grace of a gizelle. I was standing, looking down the carriage for an open seat, when a short, elderly man carrying a cello in a case pushed, and I mean pushed, his way ahead of a few people, me included. This would not stand.
As the man pushed his way through the crowd of anxious travelers, I was right behind him, taking advantage of the unnaturally large gap he was creating behind himself. He was my shield. He was my guide to a free seat for a seven hour train ride. He was my savior. We both break free of the crowd and stare down at two chairs. One is at the very back, roomy and spacious, without a seat to it. The other is right beside us, vacant, but surrounded by three other people, one of whom had the BIGGEST LIPS I HAVE EVER SEEN and was drinking liquor straight from a bottle. She only had a few teeth and she made a loud wheezing sound every time she breathed. I weighed by options, and within a split second I had decided. My guitar was set down firmly next to the wheezing woman as the man with the cello made his way to the back of the train to the spacious seat.
The problem with not having a reservation means that you play the lottery every time you sit in a seat, because just because it's free now, does not mean that the person who reserved the seat will show up within the next fives minutes and render your quest for a seat a failure. The trick is sitting in a seat that is not reserved. In Swiss trains it will tell you which ones are reserved and which ones are not, but not with these trains. Each time you sit you play a dangerous game of roulette.
The chances that the glorious spacious seat in the back was unreserved were slim. The old man, in his greed, made a foolish decision. As soon as he sat down, a woman came to ursurp his seat. A look of panic spread across his face as he rose from the chair. He looked sharply to my chair and waddled up to ask me if it was free. "I am afraid this is my chair" I said. The panic that had briefly dissapeared came back, and he grabbed his cello and started to push his way back through the crowd. His efforts were thwarted, though, when he ran straight into the conductor who obviously succeeded him in rank and therefore made the rest of the crowd move away from him, including cello man.
I sat in my chair, watching this and all the time hoping that no one would take my seat. Every person that passed by looking at the seat numbers was an enemy. A horrible enemy who was coming to make my train ride as miserable as the cello mans was going to be. A woman and her child pass by. I remind myself to be cold as ice. Not to let myself feel pity for these travelers without reservations. People continute to pass and the woman next to me continues to drink her alcohol with those HUGE FREAKING LIPS and I sit, cold and calculating, planning my next move in case I was to be removed from my seat.
But then the whistle blew. The train doors slammed shut and the cello man blinked his eyes rapidly, unable to fathom what was happening to him. I looked around once more to see that I was in the clear. Everyone was standing. The woman with her child - standing. The cello man - standing, blinking his eyes still. The other travelers who probably needed to seat more than I did - standing. No one was moving. Translation: No one had anywhere to go. I had just won the seat lottery.
It was at this moment that I allowed guilt to enter my head once more. I stood there, looking at the child who was sucking her thumb and holding her mother's hand with the other hand and felt like a criminal. Like a scrooge. Like I did when I watched those boys from inside my carriage in Italy. An image of myself asking the conductor to move these people from my eyesight entered my mind once again, and I started to laugh. I sat there, chuckling to myself about what had just happened. In complete honesty, the fact that all these people were standing when I was sitting was absolutely hilarious to me. It was hilariously unfair.
And then I noticed the woman next to me, taking a swig from her giant bottle of alcohol, wheezing and coughing amidst her swigs. Perhaps I wasn´t so lucky after all...I turned my head away and slowly remembered that I had a lot more Harry Potter to read and a big fluffy chair to read it in.
Victory was mine.
DISCLAIMER: I am not a horrible person. After an hour (maybe two...just kidding) enough people left the train so that everyone had a seat. I wouldn´t have been able to stand seeing the woman and her child stand for that long. They had a seat within twenty minutes, OK? Plus, it's their own fault for not buying a reservation. And don't tell me you didn't enjoy the story.
Tuesday, July 31, 2007
Saturday, July 28, 2007
Berlin
Well, after writing that last post Stefan, Tobias, his two cousins and I went to the TV Tower in Düsseldorf. We were going to go to Köln and see the famous Cathedral, but we woke up a bit too late for that. After checking out the view and getting the aerial tour from Stefan (and taking a few photos) we all left to go to the train station. Stefan´s mom packed me an entire bag full of goodies, complete with a signed bag and note. Now THAT is hospitality.
I arrived in Berlin late at night (seems to be a habit of mine) and tried to follow the instructions that told me to go North out of the train station, as if I carried a compass on me at all time. I eventually found North (and the hostel) and slept for a few hours before I was awoken by my roommates.
At about sunrise four drunken English people (some kind of trend, I think) stumble into the room, making a ton of noise. Now, I don´t mind if you come into the room drunk and make noise, just get into bed a be quiet in the next few minutes, alright? But no, they continued to drink, smoke, talk, joke and spill drinks (which they wiped up with a pillow case) for another hour. Luckily I had some ear plugs, but they did little for me once two of them decided to have sex and pass out mid way through.
Ah, hostel life.
The next day I planned on going on an eight hour walking tour of Berlin, but it did not quite go as planned. I got up early and left (not before taking a picture of the trashed room) to go to the meeting point. I arrive there ten minutes early and wait. And wait. And wait. And wait. For an hour and a half, no one shows up. And don´t tell me I was standing in the wrong place because I was standing next to a "Brewer´s Berlin Tours Meets Here at 10:30 AM Daily!" sign.
So I went on a four hour tour of Berlin instead (through another company of course). It didn't start until 2:30, so it gave me time to explore an old abandoned department store that some artists turned into a squat/art gallery full of mostly graffiti. It was several stories and the amount of art (if you can call it that) crammed on the wall was astounding.
I walked into one gallery with about four inspiring paintings of women cutting themselves and noticed a guy (I assume the artist) sitting in a chair by an easel the entire time watching me. I spent about thirty seconds in there and decided to leave when he spoke up and said "donation please".
Me: What?
Artist: Donation required.
Me: What?
Artist: We perform a service here and require a donation.
Me: Why didn't it say that before I walked in?
Artist: It didn't need to, because I am telling you now.
(Now there is no way I am paying this guy)
Me: I didn't bring any money.
Artist: Bye.
The tour was great and informative. Berlin is so packed full of history it's almost overwhelming. It's cool seeing the sights as well as learning about them, instead of just walking by something and taking a picture. Our tour included the Reichstagg, the Brandenburg Gate, the Berlin Wall, the Holocaust memorial, the site of Hitler's bunker, the East Berlin TV tower (ask me about the Pope's Revenge), the demolition site of the former communist parliament building, and the memorial to those who died in war, just to name a few. They have been undergoing a massive rebuilding project since the Battle of Berlin, but you can still see bullet holes in the buildings.
Besides being serious about rebuilding their city, Berliners are serious about their meat, as you can see from this grill apparatus attached to this man's body. Don't tell me that doesn't get a little hot.
I met a guy named Chris (from Fairfax county) who was on the tour with me and we decided that after the tour we were going to go see the new Simpsons movie. So we checked out the giant dome at the top of the Reichstagg, got some curry wurst, and then headed to the giant Sony Center to see the movie. It was pretty fun to enjoy a movie with people from a different country. It sounds odd, but it was pretty cool.
After the movie I went to bed pretty early, because I didn't get much sleep the night before...Luckily my old roommates moved out.
Today I went to Potsdam, an old royalty retreat near Berlin. It had a bunch of cool buildings and beautiful gardens. I don't know what all of them were, but they were pretty extravagant. It is also famous for the Potsdam Conference held there with Stalin and Truman in 1945.
That night I went out with some guys I met from the hostel, but by the time they got their luggage from the train station, got ready, etc., it kind of turned into a bum night. We met some people on the street and tried to take a picture (I'm not sure why exactly...) and as we stood there the guy with the camera kept telling everyone who walked by to get in the photo until we were a huge group of strangers posing for a photograph for no reason.
So I eventually split from the guys I met originally and headed home, passing no less than twenty hookers all wearing white leather skirts and white leather boots. In case you didn't know, prostitution is very legal in Berlin and it makes for an interesting time walking home. They are quite...forward (especially if you are by yourself).
This morning I woke up and took it easy. I didn't do much because it was raining for the first half of the day, but I eventually made my way to the outdoor Berlin Wall exhibit, which explains the history of Berlin in detail from 1945 on. I also walked by the "Topography of Terror", another outdoor exhibit about the Gestapo. Appartently they ran out of money for the building, so they just stuck the displays outside for the time being, right below the Berlin Wall.
Just as a side note, being able to see the wall and walk on the path where it once was is very cool. Very cool indeed.
After that I went back to the Sony Center, got some Chinese Food and saw the new Harry Potter movie. I'm reading the new book right now, but I have to discipline myself by only reading it on the trains, otherwise I would finish it in a day. The movie was good, though. The dueling scene at the end between Voldemort and Dumbledore was incredible. Sorry, I'll stop now...
On the walk home I passed a bus station and these two guys all of a sudden jumped up and started shaking my hand and taking my picture. I suppose they thought I was someone famous, because they couldn't get enough of me. They kept asking me questions in German, and I just kept saying "ja", lest I give away my true identity. They especially loved the fact that I had gone to a movie (I had some left over popcorn with me). After a minute or two of taking pictures with me, I kept saying the only German words I know, "guten abent" and "gut nacht" (good evening and good night) and pointed to my watch as if I had somewhere important to go (I'm famous, after all). Coincidently, those words are the first words of the German lullaby I sang for my voice recital...
Even though it's Saturday night in Berlin (this city is incredibly vibrant at night) I think I am just going to head off to bed. Tomorrow I am going to Copenhagen where I will be staying with some extended Wasli family members.
I'll leave you with a picture of the hottest show in Berlin right now...
I arrived in Berlin late at night (seems to be a habit of mine) and tried to follow the instructions that told me to go North out of the train station, as if I carried a compass on me at all time. I eventually found North (and the hostel) and slept for a few hours before I was awoken by my roommates.
At about sunrise four drunken English people (some kind of trend, I think) stumble into the room, making a ton of noise. Now, I don´t mind if you come into the room drunk and make noise, just get into bed a be quiet in the next few minutes, alright? But no, they continued to drink, smoke, talk, joke and spill drinks (which they wiped up with a pillow case) for another hour. Luckily I had some ear plugs, but they did little for me once two of them decided to have sex and pass out mid way through.
Ah, hostel life.
The next day I planned on going on an eight hour walking tour of Berlin, but it did not quite go as planned. I got up early and left (not before taking a picture of the trashed room) to go to the meeting point. I arrive there ten minutes early and wait. And wait. And wait. And wait. For an hour and a half, no one shows up. And don´t tell me I was standing in the wrong place because I was standing next to a "Brewer´s Berlin Tours Meets Here at 10:30 AM Daily!" sign.
So I went on a four hour tour of Berlin instead (through another company of course). It didn't start until 2:30, so it gave me time to explore an old abandoned department store that some artists turned into a squat/art gallery full of mostly graffiti. It was several stories and the amount of art (if you can call it that) crammed on the wall was astounding.
I walked into one gallery with about four inspiring paintings of women cutting themselves and noticed a guy (I assume the artist) sitting in a chair by an easel the entire time watching me. I spent about thirty seconds in there and decided to leave when he spoke up and said "donation please".
Me: What?
Artist: Donation required.
Me: What?
Artist: We perform a service here and require a donation.
Me: Why didn't it say that before I walked in?
Artist: It didn't need to, because I am telling you now.
(Now there is no way I am paying this guy)
Me: I didn't bring any money.
Artist: Bye.
The tour was great and informative. Berlin is so packed full of history it's almost overwhelming. It's cool seeing the sights as well as learning about them, instead of just walking by something and taking a picture. Our tour included the Reichstagg, the Brandenburg Gate, the Berlin Wall, the Holocaust memorial, the site of Hitler's bunker, the East Berlin TV tower (ask me about the Pope's Revenge), the demolition site of the former communist parliament building, and the memorial to those who died in war, just to name a few. They have been undergoing a massive rebuilding project since the Battle of Berlin, but you can still see bullet holes in the buildings.
Besides being serious about rebuilding their city, Berliners are serious about their meat, as you can see from this grill apparatus attached to this man's body. Don't tell me that doesn't get a little hot.
I met a guy named Chris (from Fairfax county) who was on the tour with me and we decided that after the tour we were going to go see the new Simpsons movie. So we checked out the giant dome at the top of the Reichstagg, got some curry wurst, and then headed to the giant Sony Center to see the movie. It was pretty fun to enjoy a movie with people from a different country. It sounds odd, but it was pretty cool.
After the movie I went to bed pretty early, because I didn't get much sleep the night before...Luckily my old roommates moved out.
Today I went to Potsdam, an old royalty retreat near Berlin. It had a bunch of cool buildings and beautiful gardens. I don't know what all of them were, but they were pretty extravagant. It is also famous for the Potsdam Conference held there with Stalin and Truman in 1945.
That night I went out with some guys I met from the hostel, but by the time they got their luggage from the train station, got ready, etc., it kind of turned into a bum night. We met some people on the street and tried to take a picture (I'm not sure why exactly...) and as we stood there the guy with the camera kept telling everyone who walked by to get in the photo until we were a huge group of strangers posing for a photograph for no reason.
So I eventually split from the guys I met originally and headed home, passing no less than twenty hookers all wearing white leather skirts and white leather boots. In case you didn't know, prostitution is very legal in Berlin and it makes for an interesting time walking home. They are quite...forward (especially if you are by yourself).
This morning I woke up and took it easy. I didn't do much because it was raining for the first half of the day, but I eventually made my way to the outdoor Berlin Wall exhibit, which explains the history of Berlin in detail from 1945 on. I also walked by the "Topography of Terror", another outdoor exhibit about the Gestapo. Appartently they ran out of money for the building, so they just stuck the displays outside for the time being, right below the Berlin Wall.
Just as a side note, being able to see the wall and walk on the path where it once was is very cool. Very cool indeed.
After that I went back to the Sony Center, got some Chinese Food and saw the new Harry Potter movie. I'm reading the new book right now, but I have to discipline myself by only reading it on the trains, otherwise I would finish it in a day. The movie was good, though. The dueling scene at the end between Voldemort and Dumbledore was incredible. Sorry, I'll stop now...
On the walk home I passed a bus station and these two guys all of a sudden jumped up and started shaking my hand and taking my picture. I suppose they thought I was someone famous, because they couldn't get enough of me. They kept asking me questions in German, and I just kept saying "ja", lest I give away my true identity. They especially loved the fact that I had gone to a movie (I had some left over popcorn with me). After a minute or two of taking pictures with me, I kept saying the only German words I know, "guten abent" and "gut nacht" (good evening and good night) and pointed to my watch as if I had somewhere important to go (I'm famous, after all). Coincidently, those words are the first words of the German lullaby I sang for my voice recital...
Even though it's Saturday night in Berlin (this city is incredibly vibrant at night) I think I am just going to head off to bed. Tomorrow I am going to Copenhagen where I will be staying with some extended Wasli family members.
I'll leave you with a picture of the hottest show in Berlin right now...
Wednesday, July 25, 2007
München and Düsseldorf
So I ran into some more Terps in Switwerland...
When I got to the station I asked the receptionist if a reservation was required for the train to München (German spelling for Munich - just for educational purposes) and she told me no, but that it was "highly reccomended". But when I went to buy one the ticket manager told me the train was booked, and that I would have to travel standby (That means I stand or I sit on the floor with the bicycles).
The train arrived and I clammered inside and to my luck there were about 20 seats that were not reserved (no name tag), so I got a free seat all the way to Munich. Unforunately about twenty people didn´t get those seats and had to stand with the bicycles the entire time. I felt bad for a minute, and then I remembered the time I had to pay 28 Euros to sit on the floor for two hours and I stopped feeling sorry.
When I arrived in Munich is was pouring rain, of course. My hostel was supposed to be close to the station, so I got out my poncho and went out to find it. In retrospect, the hostel was easy to find, just not in the pouring rain at midnight. The instructions told me to go right on Grasserstraße, but emmerging from the Metro I never saw a sign or anything. When you come up from the Hackerbrükke station, you arrive on a bridge. You can come up on either side of the bridge, so if the bridge is in fact Grasserstraße street, than going "right" or "left" would be pretty much impossible since it is relative to which side of the bridge you emerge from. So I walked to one end, then back to the other, then back to the other, realized that the bridge was in fact Grasserstraße street, and then proceeded to find Arnulstaße, which took me to my hostel.
I arrived pissed, cold, wet but with another interesting story to tell.
The next day I went to Nuremburg with a guy I met from Penn State named Eric (I asked - he thinks Ian´s name is familiar...). Nuremburg is famous for two reasons. One, the famous Nuremburg war-crime trials. And two, it was the central rallying point for the Nazi Party. Hitler planned a massive development with several buildings and fields to host Nazi events, but only a few of the buildings were ever created. Congress Hall was only half-finished, and is where the the Nazi Documentation Center is housed. The Documentation Center is a musuem that displays Hitler´s rise to power and how is happened, and how Nuremburg played an important part. We spent about five hours there and left to go see Zeppelin Field.
Zeppelin Field is where everyone gathered to watch the troops march through the city. There is a stadium-like seating structure, and a special platform where Hitler stood to watch the marches. Standing on that platform was incredible. Knowing you are standing in the exact place where Hitler watched his armies march past is haunting.
After Zeppelin Field, Eric and I split up and I went off to explore the old-town before taking a train back to Munich. There were powerful storms through the region again, so it delayed my train quite a bit, but I had an entire train car to myself and the new Harry Potter, so I did not mind one bit. The train also gave out free drinks, too.
The next morning Eric told me that he had gotten on a train about an hour after me, and he didn´t get home until three in the morning. He said that trees had fallen all over the tracks, so the train he was on had to backtrack and pick up all the stranded passengers. He told me he stood in the train car for hours. When I told him I had a car to myself and was served free, cold drinks because of the slight delay, he was needless to say a little upset at my luck.
The next day I went to Dachau. I really wanted to go to Hitler´s Eagle´s Nest at the reccomendation of my grandmother, but they were both closed the following day, so I had to choose between one and the other. I will be back to see that hide-out, though.
Dachau was what you would expect when you visit a concentration camp. Sombering, moving and packed with history. The most interesting part was the gate to the camp (still the original) which read "Abeit macht frei" (Work makes you free) that you walked through when you entered the camp.
The film and personal stories on the audio guide were chilling, but the gas chambers and crematorium really made you sit back and realize that it all really happened. The Nazi´s would tell the prisoners that they would be getting a "de-lousing" treatment, so they would instruct the prisoners to remove their closing and enter the "brausebad" (German for bath-house) for cleaning. This of course wasn´t a cleaning and gas would proceed to enter the chambers. Because of this, Germans no longer use the term brausebad for the bathroom, but instead the French word "doucher". Although the gas chamber existed in Dachau, historians do not believe it was ever put in use like the ones in Auschwitz.
The next day I slept in (ask me about my free breakfasts at A&O hostel...) and then got on the train to Düsseldorf. Why Düsseldorf?
Well, when I was in Napoli you probably remember me hanging out with Stefan for a few days. The last day I was in Napoli, Stefan invited me and some other people to come stay at his house in Düsseldorf and then take a road-trip to Berlin. And I have to admit, German hospitality has trumped the rest...
I arrived in Düsseldorf and was greeted by my friend at the platform. His brother drove us back to his house and showed me to my room and bed, which was actually his room and bed (I told you). He told me that we were going to a friend´s birthday party. He told me that in Germany, you celebrate the person´s birthday the night before and party throughout the night.
I then asked if I could take a nap.
So after a good nap and shower, we left for the party. It was nothing crazy, just a good cookout with some good German meat and good German beer. Only a few people spoke English, but we had fun all the same.
The next day Stefan, his brother Tobias and his girlfriend went to the German mining museum. They replicated an entire mine underneath the ground, complete with all the machinery for mining for iron and coal. It was incredibly detailed. Up above there was a giant exhibit on everything mining. It was all in German, but Stefan assured me that even he did not understand what he was looking at. It had huge collections of mining equipment as well as an exhibit dedicated entirely to a mining disaster in France near the turn of the century.
When we got back his mother made us an authentic meal from Düsseldorf - Reibekuchen. Potatos onions cooked together into pancake-like patties. They were served with apple sauce, a sweet sugar spread and sugar. They were delicious. Tobias says I had twelve, but Stefan puts the number somewhere around ten.
After that we headed out to the "Old Town", a part of downton Düsseldorf filled with restaurants, cafès and bars. We met some cousins of his and had a great night around town. It was a pretty wild time, and I think this picture (which was the last picture taken of the night) will speak for itself. If you want to hear some of the stories (the crude bartender, the mess in the street, "pfeife für pfeife", the amazing Donald Duck, the fake Canadian, the virgin paper doll, the pipi joke, and the missing taxi, Stichpimppullibockforcelorum, STRESS, the €115 bill, etc.) you´ll just have to ask me sometime...
Today I (needless to say) slept in late and had a great breakfast with Tobias and Stefan. They bought some fresh bread from the baker as well as some mett, which is raw ground pork. It sounds different, if not gross, but once you spread some on some bread and sprinkle some salt and pepper on it with freshly cut onions, it is delicious. Stefan warned me that if you leave it out for more than four hours it will develop Salmonella, so it must be fresh (which it was).
Stefan´s original plan of taking a road trip to Berlin did not work out, so I will be heading there today by myself. I have only spent two nights here, and I could not have asked to stay with a nicer family. They have cooked for me, cleaned my clothes, let me sleep in their bed, and everything else a wonderful host does. I told Stefan that if he ever comes to the States, I will show him such a good time it will blow his mind. I told him I would take him to Red, Hot and Blue (He says he has always wanted a good American BBQ), Krispy Kreme (Germany has a lot of Dunkin Donuts, but none of the good stuff), Sakura (Japanese steakhouse - just for entertainment´s sake) and the Oceanaire (he loves seafood) and do some UMD tailgating, skeet-shooting, quad riding, and horseback riding if he comes to the farm.
Off to Berlin. Maybe I will meet Quentin Tarantino. If only I was as lucky as Stefan´s cousin Tanja...(A whole other story)
.
When I got to the station I asked the receptionist if a reservation was required for the train to München (German spelling for Munich - just for educational purposes) and she told me no, but that it was "highly reccomended". But when I went to buy one the ticket manager told me the train was booked, and that I would have to travel standby (That means I stand or I sit on the floor with the bicycles).
The train arrived and I clammered inside and to my luck there were about 20 seats that were not reserved (no name tag), so I got a free seat all the way to Munich. Unforunately about twenty people didn´t get those seats and had to stand with the bicycles the entire time. I felt bad for a minute, and then I remembered the time I had to pay 28 Euros to sit on the floor for two hours and I stopped feeling sorry.
When I arrived in Munich is was pouring rain, of course. My hostel was supposed to be close to the station, so I got out my poncho and went out to find it. In retrospect, the hostel was easy to find, just not in the pouring rain at midnight. The instructions told me to go right on Grasserstraße, but emmerging from the Metro I never saw a sign or anything. When you come up from the Hackerbrükke station, you arrive on a bridge. You can come up on either side of the bridge, so if the bridge is in fact Grasserstraße street, than going "right" or "left" would be pretty much impossible since it is relative to which side of the bridge you emerge from. So I walked to one end, then back to the other, then back to the other, realized that the bridge was in fact Grasserstraße street, and then proceeded to find Arnulstaße, which took me to my hostel.
I arrived pissed, cold, wet but with another interesting story to tell.
The next day I went to Nuremburg with a guy I met from Penn State named Eric (I asked - he thinks Ian´s name is familiar...). Nuremburg is famous for two reasons. One, the famous Nuremburg war-crime trials. And two, it was the central rallying point for the Nazi Party. Hitler planned a massive development with several buildings and fields to host Nazi events, but only a few of the buildings were ever created. Congress Hall was only half-finished, and is where the the Nazi Documentation Center is housed. The Documentation Center is a musuem that displays Hitler´s rise to power and how is happened, and how Nuremburg played an important part. We spent about five hours there and left to go see Zeppelin Field.
Zeppelin Field is where everyone gathered to watch the troops march through the city. There is a stadium-like seating structure, and a special platform where Hitler stood to watch the marches. Standing on that platform was incredible. Knowing you are standing in the exact place where Hitler watched his armies march past is haunting.
After Zeppelin Field, Eric and I split up and I went off to explore the old-town before taking a train back to Munich. There were powerful storms through the region again, so it delayed my train quite a bit, but I had an entire train car to myself and the new Harry Potter, so I did not mind one bit. The train also gave out free drinks, too.
The next morning Eric told me that he had gotten on a train about an hour after me, and he didn´t get home until three in the morning. He said that trees had fallen all over the tracks, so the train he was on had to backtrack and pick up all the stranded passengers. He told me he stood in the train car for hours. When I told him I had a car to myself and was served free, cold drinks because of the slight delay, he was needless to say a little upset at my luck.
The next day I went to Dachau. I really wanted to go to Hitler´s Eagle´s Nest at the reccomendation of my grandmother, but they were both closed the following day, so I had to choose between one and the other. I will be back to see that hide-out, though.
Dachau was what you would expect when you visit a concentration camp. Sombering, moving and packed with history. The most interesting part was the gate to the camp (still the original) which read "Abeit macht frei" (Work makes you free) that you walked through when you entered the camp.
The film and personal stories on the audio guide were chilling, but the gas chambers and crematorium really made you sit back and realize that it all really happened. The Nazi´s would tell the prisoners that they would be getting a "de-lousing" treatment, so they would instruct the prisoners to remove their closing and enter the "brausebad" (German for bath-house) for cleaning. This of course wasn´t a cleaning and gas would proceed to enter the chambers. Because of this, Germans no longer use the term brausebad for the bathroom, but instead the French word "doucher". Although the gas chamber existed in Dachau, historians do not believe it was ever put in use like the ones in Auschwitz.
The next day I slept in (ask me about my free breakfasts at A&O hostel...) and then got on the train to Düsseldorf. Why Düsseldorf?
Well, when I was in Napoli you probably remember me hanging out with Stefan for a few days. The last day I was in Napoli, Stefan invited me and some other people to come stay at his house in Düsseldorf and then take a road-trip to Berlin. And I have to admit, German hospitality has trumped the rest...
I arrived in Düsseldorf and was greeted by my friend at the platform. His brother drove us back to his house and showed me to my room and bed, which was actually his room and bed (I told you). He told me that we were going to a friend´s birthday party. He told me that in Germany, you celebrate the person´s birthday the night before and party throughout the night.
I then asked if I could take a nap.
So after a good nap and shower, we left for the party. It was nothing crazy, just a good cookout with some good German meat and good German beer. Only a few people spoke English, but we had fun all the same.
The next day Stefan, his brother Tobias and his girlfriend went to the German mining museum. They replicated an entire mine underneath the ground, complete with all the machinery for mining for iron and coal. It was incredibly detailed. Up above there was a giant exhibit on everything mining. It was all in German, but Stefan assured me that even he did not understand what he was looking at. It had huge collections of mining equipment as well as an exhibit dedicated entirely to a mining disaster in France near the turn of the century.
When we got back his mother made us an authentic meal from Düsseldorf - Reibekuchen. Potatos onions cooked together into pancake-like patties. They were served with apple sauce, a sweet sugar spread and sugar. They were delicious. Tobias says I had twelve, but Stefan puts the number somewhere around ten.
After that we headed out to the "Old Town", a part of downton Düsseldorf filled with restaurants, cafès and bars. We met some cousins of his and had a great night around town. It was a pretty wild time, and I think this picture (which was the last picture taken of the night) will speak for itself. If you want to hear some of the stories (the crude bartender, the mess in the street, "pfeife für pfeife", the amazing Donald Duck, the fake Canadian, the virgin paper doll, the pipi joke, and the missing taxi, Stichpimppullibockforcelorum, STRESS, the €115 bill, etc.) you´ll just have to ask me sometime...
Today I (needless to say) slept in late and had a great breakfast with Tobias and Stefan. They bought some fresh bread from the baker as well as some mett, which is raw ground pork. It sounds different, if not gross, but once you spread some on some bread and sprinkle some salt and pepper on it with freshly cut onions, it is delicious. Stefan warned me that if you leave it out for more than four hours it will develop Salmonella, so it must be fresh (which it was).
Stefan´s original plan of taking a road trip to Berlin did not work out, so I will be heading there today by myself. I have only spent two nights here, and I could not have asked to stay with a nicer family. They have cooked for me, cleaned my clothes, let me sleep in their bed, and everything else a wonderful host does. I told Stefan that if he ever comes to the States, I will show him such a good time it will blow his mind. I told him I would take him to Red, Hot and Blue (He says he has always wanted a good American BBQ), Krispy Kreme (Germany has a lot of Dunkin Donuts, but none of the good stuff), Sakura (Japanese steakhouse - just for entertainment´s sake) and the Oceanaire (he loves seafood) and do some UMD tailgating, skeet-shooting, quad riding, and horseback riding if he comes to the farm.
Off to Berlin. Maybe I will meet Quentin Tarantino. If only I was as lucky as Stefan´s cousin Tanja...(A whole other story)
.
Friday, July 20, 2007
Grindelwald Continued
Well, I've spent two days here and it is absolutely the best place I have been to. Most people here are tourists, and those that aren't keep to themselves, but I am not here to socialize. I haven't felt the need to really make friends here. The mountains and the scenery are enough to keep me happy.
Every Wednesday night there is apparently a street festival here in Grindelwald. All the bars, stores and shops stay open to accomodate all the locals and tourists who flood the streets looking for a good time. It's pretty tame - it started off with a girl's dance team doing a few numbers for Jazzercise (no joke), but then it started to rain to all the action moved under canopies.
At one end of the street were the local Swiss performers. They had a quartet playing accordions and bass, as well as a horn group. They played music while the locals enjoyed Jägerkaffee (cherry liqour and dark, hot coffee brewed from a kettle) and Chäsbrätel(bread with melted Swiss Cheese on top). Both were very good.
After listening to the local music for a while I bought some authentic Swiss Cheese (Muschitel, or something like that) and some dried sausage.
I found my way down to the other end of the street where a local band was covering classic rock. They were pretty good for a cover band. I met up with two American guys I had met earlier that day and we pretty much chilled around the bar/stage for the rest of the night.
Today I went to a canyon with a river running through it. I don't remember the exact name, but it's something German and hard to pronounce. I went with a guy I met named Peter who had the same idea I did about going to see it. It was really awesome - it seemed right out of Lord of the Rings. After walking through the canyon, we both had coffee at the cafe outside and talked about how we missed home. Peter has five kids back in Australia, so it was interesting to meet someone who actually missed their kids instead of their parents.
For the rest of the day I have been organizing my pack, schedueling my trip, eating on and off, and just tidying up some loose ends with post cards and such.
Sorry for the lack of interesting stories in this post. It's almost two and the hostel if full of incredibly loud, drunk Germans. The internet is not free at the next place so I don't want to get behind.
Off to Munich tomorrow...
Every Wednesday night there is apparently a street festival here in Grindelwald. All the bars, stores and shops stay open to accomodate all the locals and tourists who flood the streets looking for a good time. It's pretty tame - it started off with a girl's dance team doing a few numbers for Jazzercise (no joke), but then it started to rain to all the action moved under canopies.
At one end of the street were the local Swiss performers. They had a quartet playing accordions and bass, as well as a horn group. They played music while the locals enjoyed Jägerkaffee (cherry liqour and dark, hot coffee brewed from a kettle) and Chäsbrätel(bread with melted Swiss Cheese on top). Both were very good.
After listening to the local music for a while I bought some authentic Swiss Cheese (Muschitel, or something like that) and some dried sausage.
I found my way down to the other end of the street where a local band was covering classic rock. They were pretty good for a cover band. I met up with two American guys I had met earlier that day and we pretty much chilled around the bar/stage for the rest of the night.
Today I went to a canyon with a river running through it. I don't remember the exact name, but it's something German and hard to pronounce. I went with a guy I met named Peter who had the same idea I did about going to see it. It was really awesome - it seemed right out of Lord of the Rings. After walking through the canyon, we both had coffee at the cafe outside and talked about how we missed home. Peter has five kids back in Australia, so it was interesting to meet someone who actually missed their kids instead of their parents.
For the rest of the day I have been organizing my pack, schedueling my trip, eating on and off, and just tidying up some loose ends with post cards and such.
Sorry for the lack of interesting stories in this post. It's almost two and the hostel if full of incredibly loud, drunk Germans. The internet is not free at the next place so I don't want to get behind.
Off to Munich tomorrow...
Thursday, July 19, 2007
Interlaken and Grindelwald
Make sure you read the previous post about Roma, I've been updating like a fiend! Also, all the pictures are up, so head all the way back to the entry after Barcelona to see the new ones. Some of them are unlabeled and sideways. I cannot fix that right now because this computer crashes everytime I try. Sorry some of them are blurry/grainy, primarily the pizza pictures...
I arrived in Interlaken late at night. Not too late, because the Chinese food place was still open. I hadn't seen Chinese food in about a month, so I walked straight in. "Mr. Chong" was very nice and charged me a boatload for some sweet and sour chicken. I went back to my hostel and ate it while overlooking a river 20 feet from me and mountains all around me, their snow reflecting in the moonlight.
Interlaken lies between two lakes (hence the name) and has a river running straight through it. My hotel was right on the river. At night time I would open the windows and doors as far as they could go and listen to the rushing river and feel the cool mountain air on my face all night. I'm not trying to exagerate or make you jealous, it was just that good.
The next day I walked around the lake and found a nice little place to sit and read my book for a while. I was going to go hiking, but it took me two hours to find the trail and by then I did not feel like going on a three hour hike. That night I booked a canyoning trip for the next day.
Every backpacker has a splurge. A trip or purchase that greatly exceeds their normal budget. Mine was canyoning in Switzerland at the Chli Schliere canyon. The "most extreme" according to the brochure. Go big or go home, you know?
You can read about Canyoning here. OK, now that you've read that, I'll tell you how it went down. First, they fit us for wetsuits and helmets and such. We then take a long car ride with our two entertaining guides (think Van Ray with a Swiss accent...) and had some funny discussions, none of which I will repeat here.
We drive all the way up and get out, get our wet suits on and start hiking down into the canyon. Once we're down there, they explain the basic techniques for jumping from large heights and sliding down rock slides.
"These rocks are not made by Disney. They're hard, ya know?"
Any other instructions they would give us at each obstacle. The first jump was the biggest, about 30 feet.
"There's no place to stand, so you have to run up to the rock and jump straight off with one foot otherwise you'll slip and well, you know".
You're with a team, and you have to keep moving, so there is no time to think about it. You get to the edge of 40 foot rock slide or a 30 foot jump and there's no time to sit there and think about it. They tell you quickly how to do it while yelling over the rushing water, and then they count. Three. Two. One.
Don't choke. Not with the team watching...
So you do it before you even have a chance to think about it. It's the most intense thing you'll ever do. It's like jumping out of an airplane twenty times in a row.
There were about twenty different obstacles. Some included simple jumping, some were simple sliding and others were more complicated like holding on to a rope while they lower you down the first half of the slide and then you let go when you see the guy at the very bottom waving his hands. You can't hear him say let go because water is constantly beating in your face.
I am going to order pictures, but for now you can see the low quality samples the photographer took of me yesterday. She was only at about five of the last obstacles, but some of those were the most intense.
I emerged injury free and with a good sense of accomplishment. I'll explain the entire story to you in person if I see you, it's really only something I can explain orally.
Here are the canyoning pictures of me.
Later that day I went to a classical piano concert at the church there called Unterseen. A piansist named Fred Snoek was playing a concert of Beethoven, Chopin, Lizst and Debussy. The concert was a wonderful to relax after a very crazy day. Right after that I went to bed early with the windows and doors wide open again. I slept hard.
Today I got up and updated this blog for about five hours and headed to Grindelwald, the town overlooking Interlaken. So instead of looking up at the mountains, I am looking down from them. It's the most beautiful place I have ever been and beats any man made monument in a crowded city any day. Here's my hostel.
Oh yea, the fruit here is amazing, too. I'm sitting here eating a box of blueberries, each one the size of your thumbnail.
I arrived in Interlaken late at night. Not too late, because the Chinese food place was still open. I hadn't seen Chinese food in about a month, so I walked straight in. "Mr. Chong" was very nice and charged me a boatload for some sweet and sour chicken. I went back to my hostel and ate it while overlooking a river 20 feet from me and mountains all around me, their snow reflecting in the moonlight.
Interlaken lies between two lakes (hence the name) and has a river running straight through it. My hotel was right on the river. At night time I would open the windows and doors as far as they could go and listen to the rushing river and feel the cool mountain air on my face all night. I'm not trying to exagerate or make you jealous, it was just that good.
The next day I walked around the lake and found a nice little place to sit and read my book for a while. I was going to go hiking, but it took me two hours to find the trail and by then I did not feel like going on a three hour hike. That night I booked a canyoning trip for the next day.
Every backpacker has a splurge. A trip or purchase that greatly exceeds their normal budget. Mine was canyoning in Switzerland at the Chli Schliere canyon. The "most extreme" according to the brochure. Go big or go home, you know?
You can read about Canyoning here. OK, now that you've read that, I'll tell you how it went down. First, they fit us for wetsuits and helmets and such. We then take a long car ride with our two entertaining guides (think Van Ray with a Swiss accent...) and had some funny discussions, none of which I will repeat here.
We drive all the way up and get out, get our wet suits on and start hiking down into the canyon. Once we're down there, they explain the basic techniques for jumping from large heights and sliding down rock slides.
"These rocks are not made by Disney. They're hard, ya know?"
Any other instructions they would give us at each obstacle. The first jump was the biggest, about 30 feet.
"There's no place to stand, so you have to run up to the rock and jump straight off with one foot otherwise you'll slip and well, you know".
You're with a team, and you have to keep moving, so there is no time to think about it. You get to the edge of 40 foot rock slide or a 30 foot jump and there's no time to sit there and think about it. They tell you quickly how to do it while yelling over the rushing water, and then they count. Three. Two. One.
Don't choke. Not with the team watching...
So you do it before you even have a chance to think about it. It's the most intense thing you'll ever do. It's like jumping out of an airplane twenty times in a row.
There were about twenty different obstacles. Some included simple jumping, some were simple sliding and others were more complicated like holding on to a rope while they lower you down the first half of the slide and then you let go when you see the guy at the very bottom waving his hands. You can't hear him say let go because water is constantly beating in your face.
I am going to order pictures, but for now you can see the low quality samples the photographer took of me yesterday. She was only at about five of the last obstacles, but some of those were the most intense.
I emerged injury free and with a good sense of accomplishment. I'll explain the entire story to you in person if I see you, it's really only something I can explain orally.
Here are the canyoning pictures of me.
Later that day I went to a classical piano concert at the church there called Unterseen. A piansist named Fred Snoek was playing a concert of Beethoven, Chopin, Lizst and Debussy. The concert was a wonderful to relax after a very crazy day. Right after that I went to bed early with the windows and doors wide open again. I slept hard.
Today I got up and updated this blog for about five hours and headed to Grindelwald, the town overlooking Interlaken. So instead of looking up at the mountains, I am looking down from them. It's the most beautiful place I have ever been and beats any man made monument in a crowded city any day. Here's my hostel.
Oh yea, the fruit here is amazing, too. I'm sitting here eating a box of blueberries, each one the size of your thumbnail.
Wednesday, July 18, 2007
Roma
I arrived in Rome feeling horrible. I was feverish, sweating, chilled and exhausted all at once. I had to find my way from Termini station all the way to some camping site on the other side of Rome, which I was kicking myself for.
I had to get off the train, get on to the metro, get off the metro, walk to the bus stop and wait for the right bus to come. The bus did come, and it was packed. More packed than you would think is possible. I pushed my way on there and stood, feverish and dizzy, crammed against other hot, sweaty, bothered bodies for a half an hour on the bus. It was terrible.
I arrived at the camp site and sat down to eat at the first restuarant I see. I'm shivering in the heat and I order a meat and cheese calzone. The calzone was gross, filled with only cheese and speckles of meat. It was overpriced and nasty and I was pissed. So I left to find my tent to sleep for the rest of the night.
My poor roomate, who was sleeping less than six inches from me, must have hated the fact that he was laying next to a very ill person who wouldn't stop blowing his nose every two minutes and leaving his nasty tissues all over the ground. I went to bed early that night, but not before I ran into Adam from Indiana.
Adam is a guy I roomed with in Paris, stayed at the same hotel with in Nice (without knowing beforehand), and then ran into again here. I couldn't believe this was the third time we ran into eachother over an entire continent. I spent the entire day at the pool with him and a guy I met named Tom from the UK. I just wanted to relax and read my book to get well, so that's what I did.
The next day I did the same thing. I never left the campsite. I met some nice Canadian guys and some girls from the UK and we had a cookout. We had heard about a free Genesis concert downton in Rome, so I convinced everyone to go (this was going to be my first time leaving the campsite in Rome). What a mistake that was going to be.
I'm very particular about my concerts. I like to be there early, see the opening act, be there for hte opening, get a good seat, prepare myself, etc. The other people I was with didn't have this same attitude. In fact, I couldn't get them to leave until 45 minutes before the concert started. That may sound like decent time, but not with Rome's public transportation. So we wait 20 minutes to get the bus, and then get off at the metro, but find the metro closes at 9 (when the concert started) so we had to take a bus. Two buses, and then walk. For every minute that passed, I was getting more and more angry. Genesis, in Rome, for free, and I'm missing it. Everyone else is having a jolly old time walking around two hours after it started...
We finally get there and it's so packed you can't even see the stage. Luckily they had video screens so I just sat down and watched the last few songs. I pretty much missed it and I was pretty much as pissed off as you can get about a concert.
It takes us even longer to get back, so the whole trip was a complete waste. I get back and go straight to bed, regretting I ever attempted to be sociable.
Later that night, I am awoken. Adam tells me that he checked out the day before, and that he needs to sleep on my floor. I told him it was OK, as long as my roomate didn't freak out. So he crawls on the 6 inch space between the beds and falls asleep. I thought that after that I would at least have a good nights sleep...
I am awoken at 3 AM by a loud noise. I listen for a few minutes and determine that it's a group of people making noise. I lay there for a while listening to see if it is going to way and I realize that it's about thirty feet behind me and not going anywhere. I sit up in bed and look out my tent window and see a group of British guys horsing around a picnic table, drunk, being unbelievable obnoxiously loud for three in the morning. I keep watching for a while, waiting for security to show up. It didn't show, so I started to feel like I needed to do something. Just then I hear some girls telling them to stop, and I look again to see guys throwing sheets up on top of a tent. This is bad, I thought. I keep watching and I see a girl walk from down the row past their tents. As she walks by, all the guys start harassing her, calling her some of the worst things you can call a woman. By now, I'm starting to get really bothered by this. They keep getting louder and I keep hearing girls scream at them to stop. Then I see a girl run from a tent, wrapped in a sheet, past all the guys down the road as the guys called her names and taunted her. After she runs down the street, they all start chanting "USA, USA, USA" just to be funny, even though they are from England. That was it. All the anger from the concert comes flooding back and in a rage I grab a sandal and tell Adam "We've got to do something. Now." So I run out of my tent, barefooted, and start yelling at these guys while Adam stands behind me a few feet back, still drowsy. I won't repeat what I said here, but it was about as rough language as you can get. I went on for about thirty seconds before I stopped and waited for them to do something. Half of them stood there, almost dazed by what had just happened, and the other half start laughing. It's one on eight, and I'm obviously not going to physically force them to go to bed. So I just stand there, with my shoe in my hand, ready for action. As I stand there, they all join in taunting me, but at the same time they are all slowly retreating to their tents. I continue just to stand in the road staring at them until the girl in the sheet returns.
"Did you find security?"
"No, I cannot find them." (She has a heavy Dutch accent)
"What happened?"
"Well, they are drunk and our zipper is broken so when we told them to be quiet the came over, threw porn in our tent and peed all over and inside our tent."
"They what? OK. Let's go. We're getting security."
We both walk past the remaining few as they call her a c*** and laugh hysterically. We walk all the way down to the entrance of the camp and I find a security guard and fill him in on what's happening.
"I suppose you're not aware of this, or of what is going on in the camp in general, but some drunken Englishmen decided to urinate all over this girls tent in a drunken stupor"
So he calls for backup and me, the girl, and four security gaurds go up to the tents. Funny thing is, when we get there, they're all quiet in bed. The tents are locked and silent.
"What tent was it?"
The girls says she doesn't know.
"Well, you need to know"
"It's a little tough, you know, when you're getting peed on" I say.
"We cannot do anything unless we have a tent number"
I point to about five tents and say, "all of these".
"Are you sure?"
"Well, it wasn't like I, being one person, could approach eight drunk idiots and ask them what exact tent they are staying in - Perhaps the tents that are locked shut with people in them are it? We all know the coward aren't going to come out now..."
So they tell me they cannot do anything tonight, but that in the morning it will all be resolved. I made sure that the two girls in the tent got a new place to stay for the night, and I helped them pack up all of their things (some soaked in urine) so they could move to a new place.
I gave them my tent number and told them that in the morning they should come get me so we can go to talk to the management. They thanked me and I went back to bed, too pumped full of adrenaline and anger to sleep.
The next morning the two girls that were in the tent, along with the manager, knocked on my tent and told me to follow them. They led me to the tents, and I saw all my old friends from the night before, standing in a line, looking pissed, hungover and confused. The manager turns to me and asks,
"What it these boys"
"Yes"
"You are sure?"
"No doubt"
At this point the coach comes up to me and says,
"I don't mean to call you a liar, but my boys said they didn't do it. They said that they were being loud and someone came out and yelled at them to go to bed and they did."
"Was that before or after these boys decided to take a piss all over their tent?"
"Well, they said it wasn't them."
Can you believe that? Blatant liars. Ugh. What is worse? So I replied,
"So you mean while these boys were horsing around drunk, some stranger just happened to come by and take a pee all over the tent for a good laugh and no one noticed? Do you really believe that?"
"Well, they said they didn't do it."
The manager intervenes and now asks the girls if they are sure if it was the same boys in front of them that peed on their tent and harassed them. They say yes without missing a beat and the manager instantly declares,
"You're out. You're all out. Get out."
The look on all their faces was priceless. A mixture of shock and anger and disbelief all melted together to form an expression that will be forever burned in my mind. Victory.
"All of us? Even those who didn't pee on the tents?" (Now she admits it)
"Yes."
So later that day, the girls bring me a gift for helping them out (some cookies and fizzy water - a backpackers gift for sure) and thank me. They tell me that management upgraded them to a bungalo (that's a house with AC) for free for the rest of their stay (Two weeks!). I told them that it was nothing and that I hoped they enjoyed the rest of their stay.
As I left that day for the train station (to go to Switzerland), I saw them all loading solemnly into the team bus, carrying all their junk.
I couldn't help but grin.
I had to get off the train, get on to the metro, get off the metro, walk to the bus stop and wait for the right bus to come. The bus did come, and it was packed. More packed than you would think is possible. I pushed my way on there and stood, feverish and dizzy, crammed against other hot, sweaty, bothered bodies for a half an hour on the bus. It was terrible.
I arrived at the camp site and sat down to eat at the first restuarant I see. I'm shivering in the heat and I order a meat and cheese calzone. The calzone was gross, filled with only cheese and speckles of meat. It was overpriced and nasty and I was pissed. So I left to find my tent to sleep for the rest of the night.
My poor roomate, who was sleeping less than six inches from me, must have hated the fact that he was laying next to a very ill person who wouldn't stop blowing his nose every two minutes and leaving his nasty tissues all over the ground. I went to bed early that night, but not before I ran into Adam from Indiana.
Adam is a guy I roomed with in Paris, stayed at the same hotel with in Nice (without knowing beforehand), and then ran into again here. I couldn't believe this was the third time we ran into eachother over an entire continent. I spent the entire day at the pool with him and a guy I met named Tom from the UK. I just wanted to relax and read my book to get well, so that's what I did.
The next day I did the same thing. I never left the campsite. I met some nice Canadian guys and some girls from the UK and we had a cookout. We had heard about a free Genesis concert downton in Rome, so I convinced everyone to go (this was going to be my first time leaving the campsite in Rome). What a mistake that was going to be.
I'm very particular about my concerts. I like to be there early, see the opening act, be there for hte opening, get a good seat, prepare myself, etc. The other people I was with didn't have this same attitude. In fact, I couldn't get them to leave until 45 minutes before the concert started. That may sound like decent time, but not with Rome's public transportation. So we wait 20 minutes to get the bus, and then get off at the metro, but find the metro closes at 9 (when the concert started) so we had to take a bus. Two buses, and then walk. For every minute that passed, I was getting more and more angry. Genesis, in Rome, for free, and I'm missing it. Everyone else is having a jolly old time walking around two hours after it started...
We finally get there and it's so packed you can't even see the stage. Luckily they had video screens so I just sat down and watched the last few songs. I pretty much missed it and I was pretty much as pissed off as you can get about a concert.
It takes us even longer to get back, so the whole trip was a complete waste. I get back and go straight to bed, regretting I ever attempted to be sociable.
Later that night, I am awoken. Adam tells me that he checked out the day before, and that he needs to sleep on my floor. I told him it was OK, as long as my roomate didn't freak out. So he crawls on the 6 inch space between the beds and falls asleep. I thought that after that I would at least have a good nights sleep...
I am awoken at 3 AM by a loud noise. I listen for a few minutes and determine that it's a group of people making noise. I lay there for a while listening to see if it is going to way and I realize that it's about thirty feet behind me and not going anywhere. I sit up in bed and look out my tent window and see a group of British guys horsing around a picnic table, drunk, being unbelievable obnoxiously loud for three in the morning. I keep watching for a while, waiting for security to show up. It didn't show, so I started to feel like I needed to do something. Just then I hear some girls telling them to stop, and I look again to see guys throwing sheets up on top of a tent. This is bad, I thought. I keep watching and I see a girl walk from down the row past their tents. As she walks by, all the guys start harassing her, calling her some of the worst things you can call a woman. By now, I'm starting to get really bothered by this. They keep getting louder and I keep hearing girls scream at them to stop. Then I see a girl run from a tent, wrapped in a sheet, past all the guys down the road as the guys called her names and taunted her. After she runs down the street, they all start chanting "USA, USA, USA" just to be funny, even though they are from England. That was it. All the anger from the concert comes flooding back and in a rage I grab a sandal and tell Adam "We've got to do something. Now." So I run out of my tent, barefooted, and start yelling at these guys while Adam stands behind me a few feet back, still drowsy. I won't repeat what I said here, but it was about as rough language as you can get. I went on for about thirty seconds before I stopped and waited for them to do something. Half of them stood there, almost dazed by what had just happened, and the other half start laughing. It's one on eight, and I'm obviously not going to physically force them to go to bed. So I just stand there, with my shoe in my hand, ready for action. As I stand there, they all join in taunting me, but at the same time they are all slowly retreating to their tents. I continue just to stand in the road staring at them until the girl in the sheet returns.
"Did you find security?"
"No, I cannot find them." (She has a heavy Dutch accent)
"What happened?"
"Well, they are drunk and our zipper is broken so when we told them to be quiet the came over, threw porn in our tent and peed all over and inside our tent."
"They what? OK. Let's go. We're getting security."
We both walk past the remaining few as they call her a c*** and laugh hysterically. We walk all the way down to the entrance of the camp and I find a security guard and fill him in on what's happening.
"I suppose you're not aware of this, or of what is going on in the camp in general, but some drunken Englishmen decided to urinate all over this girls tent in a drunken stupor"
So he calls for backup and me, the girl, and four security gaurds go up to the tents. Funny thing is, when we get there, they're all quiet in bed. The tents are locked and silent.
"What tent was it?"
The girls says she doesn't know.
"Well, you need to know"
"It's a little tough, you know, when you're getting peed on" I say.
"We cannot do anything unless we have a tent number"
I point to about five tents and say, "all of these".
"Are you sure?"
"Well, it wasn't like I, being one person, could approach eight drunk idiots and ask them what exact tent they are staying in - Perhaps the tents that are locked shut with people in them are it? We all know the coward aren't going to come out now..."
So they tell me they cannot do anything tonight, but that in the morning it will all be resolved. I made sure that the two girls in the tent got a new place to stay for the night, and I helped them pack up all of their things (some soaked in urine) so they could move to a new place.
I gave them my tent number and told them that in the morning they should come get me so we can go to talk to the management. They thanked me and I went back to bed, too pumped full of adrenaline and anger to sleep.
The next morning the two girls that were in the tent, along with the manager, knocked on my tent and told me to follow them. They led me to the tents, and I saw all my old friends from the night before, standing in a line, looking pissed, hungover and confused. The manager turns to me and asks,
"What it these boys"
"Yes"
"You are sure?"
"No doubt"
At this point the coach comes up to me and says,
"I don't mean to call you a liar, but my boys said they didn't do it. They said that they were being loud and someone came out and yelled at them to go to bed and they did."
"Was that before or after these boys decided to take a piss all over their tent?"
"Well, they said it wasn't them."
Can you believe that? Blatant liars. Ugh. What is worse? So I replied,
"So you mean while these boys were horsing around drunk, some stranger just happened to come by and take a pee all over the tent for a good laugh and no one noticed? Do you really believe that?"
"Well, they said they didn't do it."
The manager intervenes and now asks the girls if they are sure if it was the same boys in front of them that peed on their tent and harassed them. They say yes without missing a beat and the manager instantly declares,
"You're out. You're all out. Get out."
The look on all their faces was priceless. A mixture of shock and anger and disbelief all melted together to form an expression that will be forever burned in my mind. Victory.
"All of us? Even those who didn't pee on the tents?" (Now she admits it)
"Yes."
So later that day, the girls bring me a gift for helping them out (some cookies and fizzy water - a backpackers gift for sure) and thank me. They tell me that management upgraded them to a bungalo (that's a house with AC) for free for the rest of their stay (Two weeks!). I told them that it was nothing and that I hoped they enjoyed the rest of their stay.
As I left that day for the train station (to go to Switzerland), I saw them all loading solemnly into the team bus, carrying all their junk.
I couldn't help but grin.
Monday, July 16, 2007
Napoli
OK, there is another new post below this one, so make sure you read that one as well. I apologize for the backup, but it's been hard to find time to do a proper update. I am in Interlaken, Switzerland now and I have yet to write about traveling to/from Rome, so bear with me. Pictures will be coming soon. Finding internet cafes that allow you to upload pictures are rare, I am afraid. Sorry if it's a lot to read!
Whenever told someone I was going to Napoli, the reply I would almost always get was "Why?" or "By yourself"? This is perfectly understandable as Napoli is the filthiest, crowded and most crime-infested city of Italia. So why did I want to go there? People told me that if you can somehow get in with the Italians, spend a few days there and wait out the initial fear it can become a really incredible place. I really think that would had happened if I hadn't spent two nights on a train.
I arrived in Napoli and begin the hardest part of the trips - finding the hostel from the train station. I had written the directions down in Barcelona so I knew how to get there, but it's not always that easy. People word things differently then you would and before you know it you're lost in the middle of a fish district.
My hostel was in a town a little east of Napoli called Portici. Don't be confused, though. It is very much a part of Napoli. After about a half an hour of wandering I stumble upon a guy cleaning his car with a co-worker. He asked me if I was lost and I told him that I was looking for a hostel.
Him: Hoss-tel?
Me: Yes. A Hostel.
Him: What is the name?
Me: Well, let me see....Well, I actually don't know the name.
Him: What is the address?
Me: Well, I actually only have the directions, no address. I think it was an old fabric factory or something.
Him: (Thinks for a minute) Ahh! Ostello! Yes, yes Fabric! Get in, get in. (He points to the car)
At this point all the years of hearing "don't take rides from strangers" echoes in my head as I ponder letting this man take me to my hostel. I only had 20 Euro on me, so if I got a gun pointed to my head I would have to trade my camera and cell phone and 20 Euro for one hell of a story. I chose the story (or so I thought at the time).
Luckily for me, he was just a generally nice guy and he dropped me off in front of a one way street and said "Go straight! Viva United States, eh?". So I start walking down the street looking for my hostel. His instructions were clear enough, but my head was not, so again I became lost (It's hard to go "straight" when a road divides into two identical angles). So there I am, wondering through tiny little cobblestone allies full of barrels of fish, getting the strangest looks one can imagine.
I ask a random man if he speaks English and he says he does, so I ask him for directions to "Fabrique" (How they pronounce it). He starts to tell me but he is interrupted when a man on a moped with his son comes up and asks what's going on. The guy tells him he's trying to tell me how to get to fabric and they end up getting into a small argument (or as the Italians call it - a friendly discussion) about where exactly it is. They apparently agreed that it was the 4th street on the right and wished me luck.
So by this time I am getting a little tired from carrying all my junk to and fro, and I really wishing I could just hop on a moped and zip right to my hostel. And then my wish was granted. The guy on the moped pulls up next to me, this time without his son, and shouts accompagnare over the noise of the traffic. So I hop on the back of his bike, guitar, backpack and all, and he takes my straight to my hostel (Not bad for a hostel bar, huh?)
That day I remembered the words of a traveler I met in Paris: "The Italians will make you feel incredibly small. But if you can get in with the Italians, you'll be set. You'll be a king". For a long time I wondered how to do that, but it was something I found that just happens with a little bit of luck and time.
I walked around looking for a place to get some pizza (Napoli is, after all, the birthplace of Pizza) and found a quiet little joint near the hostel. I pop in and order some pizza from an extremely large chef (That's a good sign, I thought). The pizza was amazing, and I'm not just saying that. The pizza in Milan was not too bad, but it was nothing you couldn't get in the states. The pizza I had in Napoli was delicious. What really made it was the freshness of the ingredients, especially the fresh basil leaves on top. When I had walked in there I knew I had ten Euros on me, so I you can imagine my surprise when I searched all my pockets to find nothing. I tried to give him my cellphone and tell him that I would be back, but he just said "No problem" and gave the phone back to me. I went back to the hostel and searched everything, and I still couldn't find the missing ten. It drove me absolutely insane. I ended up borrowing ten Euros from the hotel and ran back to pay him. He told me to come back tonight for more and I said I would.
About three hours later I show up again and this time order some pasta. Just plain pasta with tomato sauce, but again, it was the best I've ever had.
The next day I headed to Pompei with some guys I met from the hostel. It was expensive, but it really was interesting. Some of the murals have been restored, and I think they were the best part. And yes, I did see the famous plaster casts of the bodies. The view overlooking Pompei was pretty fantastic, too. Afterwards, I took the guys out to that same Pizzeria as the day before. That makes three times in two days.
But each day I was there I was feeling worse and worse, like my head was too small for everything inside of it. I was hoping it was just from the heat. How wrong I would be. I awoke that night so incredibly hot that I couldn't stand it. I waddled to the bathroom and just ran my head under the faucet. That earned me about an hour of sleep before I had to wake up (because it gets hotter as the day goes on).
The next day I went out looking for a National Museum of Archeaology, where all the Pompei stuff is displayed, with my buddy Stefan from Germany. It took us about two hours to get there (Italian public transportation is the worst I have ever encountered) and then we found out it was closed. So we decided we would go to an art museum instead, which was appartly only a km away. Again, we walked for another hour in the heat to find it. By now, I was really starting not to feel well.
The art museum was nice, but it was just picture after picture of the Virgin Mary and Jesus, so after a while it got a little old. The museum was in the middle of a nice park, though. Stefan and I found some pizza (which was not as good as the one in Portici) and wandered back to the metro to get back.
I went to bed early that night, but not before meeting a group of people who were all going to Capri the next day. I decided I would go with them, hoping I would feel a little better, but I barely slept that nght. Despite the heat, I covered myself in three blankets and shivered the entire night. My illness had reached it's peak.
We all got up to go to Capri the next day (after popping about 4 Advil) and found at the ferry was 25 Euro round trip, so we decided to just chill around Sorrento for the day instead. We explored some Roman ruins on the water, which were absolutely beautiful. We spent the morning there, and got a late lunch at a small bar on the water. The water was really, really rough so you couldn't get in the bay, but you could lay on the rocks and feel the mist from the water hitting the rocks on you.
We left that afternoon and headed back to the hostel for dinner. I told them all about the place that I had been going, and they all agreed to go with me there for dinner.
Needless to say they were thrilled to see me bring in eight people, and they instantly brought out a complimentary tray of mussles for us to enjoy. Everyone else was slightly finicky about shellfish except for me and my German friend who devoured them like potato chips. It was just us and the family that owned the place in there, so I knew it was going to be great.
And it was. I had white pasta with mussels with Stefan (the mussels would melt in your mouth. You wouldn't even chew them, you would just taste them) and everyone else had penne with tomato sauce and beef. After a while, the grandmother and her granddaughter (I think) brought out a free bottle of wine and did an Italian toast with us. She had to stand on a chair because she was so short (her family had a good laugh about this) but she was a good teacher of Italian toasts. Before we knew it, she brought out another bottle of wine and did another toast with us. Ten minutes later she brings out another bottle and this time I give a toast to "Italia, Napoli, and the best Pizzeria in Napoli". Just when I think the complimentary food and drink is finished, she brings out a final plate of mussels for us to enjoy before we leave. In with the Italians? I think so!
The next day I left for Rome, feeling absolutely awful.
Whenever told someone I was going to Napoli, the reply I would almost always get was "Why?" or "By yourself"? This is perfectly understandable as Napoli is the filthiest, crowded and most crime-infested city of Italia. So why did I want to go there? People told me that if you can somehow get in with the Italians, spend a few days there and wait out the initial fear it can become a really incredible place. I really think that would had happened if I hadn't spent two nights on a train.
I arrived in Napoli and begin the hardest part of the trips - finding the hostel from the train station. I had written the directions down in Barcelona so I knew how to get there, but it's not always that easy. People word things differently then you would and before you know it you're lost in the middle of a fish district.
My hostel was in a town a little east of Napoli called Portici. Don't be confused, though. It is very much a part of Napoli. After about a half an hour of wandering I stumble upon a guy cleaning his car with a co-worker. He asked me if I was lost and I told him that I was looking for a hostel.
Him: Hoss-tel?
Me: Yes. A Hostel.
Him: What is the name?
Me: Well, let me see....Well, I actually don't know the name.
Him: What is the address?
Me: Well, I actually only have the directions, no address. I think it was an old fabric factory or something.
Him: (Thinks for a minute) Ahh! Ostello! Yes, yes Fabric! Get in, get in. (He points to the car)
At this point all the years of hearing "don't take rides from strangers" echoes in my head as I ponder letting this man take me to my hostel. I only had 20 Euro on me, so if I got a gun pointed to my head I would have to trade my camera and cell phone and 20 Euro for one hell of a story. I chose the story (or so I thought at the time).
Luckily for me, he was just a generally nice guy and he dropped me off in front of a one way street and said "Go straight! Viva United States, eh?". So I start walking down the street looking for my hostel. His instructions were clear enough, but my head was not, so again I became lost (It's hard to go "straight" when a road divides into two identical angles). So there I am, wondering through tiny little cobblestone allies full of barrels of fish, getting the strangest looks one can imagine.
I ask a random man if he speaks English and he says he does, so I ask him for directions to "Fabrique" (How they pronounce it). He starts to tell me but he is interrupted when a man on a moped with his son comes up and asks what's going on. The guy tells him he's trying to tell me how to get to fabric and they end up getting into a small argument (or as the Italians call it - a friendly discussion) about where exactly it is. They apparently agreed that it was the 4th street on the right and wished me luck.
So by this time I am getting a little tired from carrying all my junk to and fro, and I really wishing I could just hop on a moped and zip right to my hostel. And then my wish was granted. The guy on the moped pulls up next to me, this time without his son, and shouts accompagnare over the noise of the traffic. So I hop on the back of his bike, guitar, backpack and all, and he takes my straight to my hostel (Not bad for a hostel bar, huh?)
That day I remembered the words of a traveler I met in Paris: "The Italians will make you feel incredibly small. But if you can get in with the Italians, you'll be set. You'll be a king". For a long time I wondered how to do that, but it was something I found that just happens with a little bit of luck and time.
I walked around looking for a place to get some pizza (Napoli is, after all, the birthplace of Pizza) and found a quiet little joint near the hostel. I pop in and order some pizza from an extremely large chef (That's a good sign, I thought). The pizza was amazing, and I'm not just saying that. The pizza in Milan was not too bad, but it was nothing you couldn't get in the states. The pizza I had in Napoli was delicious. What really made it was the freshness of the ingredients, especially the fresh basil leaves on top. When I had walked in there I knew I had ten Euros on me, so I you can imagine my surprise when I searched all my pockets to find nothing. I tried to give him my cellphone and tell him that I would be back, but he just said "No problem" and gave the phone back to me. I went back to the hostel and searched everything, and I still couldn't find the missing ten. It drove me absolutely insane. I ended up borrowing ten Euros from the hotel and ran back to pay him. He told me to come back tonight for more and I said I would.
About three hours later I show up again and this time order some pasta. Just plain pasta with tomato sauce, but again, it was the best I've ever had.
The next day I headed to Pompei with some guys I met from the hostel. It was expensive, but it really was interesting. Some of the murals have been restored, and I think they were the best part. And yes, I did see the famous plaster casts of the bodies. The view overlooking Pompei was pretty fantastic, too. Afterwards, I took the guys out to that same Pizzeria as the day before. That makes three times in two days.
But each day I was there I was feeling worse and worse, like my head was too small for everything inside of it. I was hoping it was just from the heat. How wrong I would be. I awoke that night so incredibly hot that I couldn't stand it. I waddled to the bathroom and just ran my head under the faucet. That earned me about an hour of sleep before I had to wake up (because it gets hotter as the day goes on).
The next day I went out looking for a National Museum of Archeaology, where all the Pompei stuff is displayed, with my buddy Stefan from Germany. It took us about two hours to get there (Italian public transportation is the worst I have ever encountered) and then we found out it was closed. So we decided we would go to an art museum instead, which was appartly only a km away. Again, we walked for another hour in the heat to find it. By now, I was really starting not to feel well.
The art museum was nice, but it was just picture after picture of the Virgin Mary and Jesus, so after a while it got a little old. The museum was in the middle of a nice park, though. Stefan and I found some pizza (which was not as good as the one in Portici) and wandered back to the metro to get back.
I went to bed early that night, but not before meeting a group of people who were all going to Capri the next day. I decided I would go with them, hoping I would feel a little better, but I barely slept that nght. Despite the heat, I covered myself in three blankets and shivered the entire night. My illness had reached it's peak.
We all got up to go to Capri the next day (after popping about 4 Advil) and found at the ferry was 25 Euro round trip, so we decided to just chill around Sorrento for the day instead. We explored some Roman ruins on the water, which were absolutely beautiful. We spent the morning there, and got a late lunch at a small bar on the water. The water was really, really rough so you couldn't get in the bay, but you could lay on the rocks and feel the mist from the water hitting the rocks on you.
We left that afternoon and headed back to the hostel for dinner. I told them all about the place that I had been going, and they all agreed to go with me there for dinner.
Needless to say they were thrilled to see me bring in eight people, and they instantly brought out a complimentary tray of mussles for us to enjoy. Everyone else was slightly finicky about shellfish except for me and my German friend who devoured them like potato chips. It was just us and the family that owned the place in there, so I knew it was going to be great.
And it was. I had white pasta with mussels with Stefan (the mussels would melt in your mouth. You wouldn't even chew them, you would just taste them) and everyone else had penne with tomato sauce and beef. After a while, the grandmother and her granddaughter (I think) brought out a free bottle of wine and did an Italian toast with us. She had to stand on a chair because she was so short (her family had a good laugh about this) but she was a good teacher of Italian toasts. Before we knew it, she brought out another bottle of wine and did another toast with us. Ten minutes later she brings out another bottle and this time I give a toast to "Italia, Napoli, and the best Pizzeria in Napoli". Just when I think the complimentary food and drink is finished, she brings out a final plate of mussels for us to enjoy before we leave. In with the Italians? I think so!
The next day I left for Rome, feeling absolutely awful.
Thursday, July 12, 2007
The ongoing story of the night train and it's tragic consequences...
I asked the conductor about the night train and he said that no reservation was neccesary, so that naturally made me think that I was getting a free sleeper bed. How wrong I was. When I arrived at the terminal and showed the conductor my Eurail pass, he made a waving motion with his hand and muttered "last car". The last car of a train never holds anything promising, so my heart sank slightly in fear. As I walked down the platform I gazed longingly at the sleeper cars thinking about the nice sleep I was going to have until all of a sudden the sleeper cars stopped and (shudder) the compartmentalized cars started. No, no, no. I can't do this. Not two nights in a row. No, no no. So I walk in the last car and it's stifling hot. Come on, these train have AC...Why do they wait so long to turn it on? (Just so you know, in compartmentalized trains, you cannot recline the seat without moving directly into the seat across from you. If you're lucky and no one is seated across from you, you can slide both the chairs down to make on long bed.) That was my prayer. I start walking down the train car and every single one is full. Full of sweaty, bothered people looking unhappy. I finally end up gettting in a car with a family that has one seat left and I sit down and stare out the window, already sweating profusely.
The conductor walks by and all of a sudden everyone on the train starts yelling in Italian. I don't know Italian, but I understood enough to know that there was a serious problem. I determined after a few minutes that the AC was broken in the car. Therefore, anyone who knew Italian complained until the conductor moved them. I was not one of those people. I was left in the car with a guy from Romania. The good news was that we were the only two people in the compartment...A semi bed!
So we both extend all six of the chairs and lay down and turn the light off. Once we were trying to go to sleep, we had a conversion that followed thus:
Me: Inglese?
Him: No.
Me: Espanol?
Him: No. Francese?
Me: No.
We both laughed at the hopelessness of the situation and laid down to try to sleep. Now the problem with sleeper cars is that they make a stop about every twenty minutes to pick up more passengers, so it makes sleeping just about impossible. The worst that could happen was that someone could board the train and get in your cabin, sit across from you and make sleep impossible. Apparently the Romanian knew one Enlglish word (shit) and we would both repeat it as people walked by our compartment looking for a seat. Neither of us could communicate to eachother in one language, but we both knew that we didn't want any more people in our compartment. So everytime the train stopped, we would both sit out and I would look out the window to the platform and he would look out the compartment window and we would both sit there and mutter the only English word he knew until we were sure no one was going into our compartment. This went on for about 5 more stops until we realized that we needed sleep.
So we both settle down for good and I look out the compartment window and see two young boys (Zack and Blake's age) sitting outside their compartment because there is apparently no room left. They were sitting there looking into our compartment like they would give anything to be where we are. I look at them for a few moments and started wishing that I had a curtain to draw so I didn't have to look at them anymore. The coldness of that thought struck me as absolutely hilarious, and I just started laughing at how absolutely evil I was being by wishing that I didn't have to see their faces, which were obviously upsetting me. The Romanian wakes up and looks at me like I'm crazy, and I just point to the boys amidst my laughter and he realizes the comedy of it and starts laughing too. So we both are in the compartment laughing hyserically for about ten minutes until we finally settle down. Just as we settle down though, the snack man comes wheeling down the aisle and makes the two boys get up from their seats so he can push the cart through. This brings on another fit of hyseria. So after we die down again, we both remembered that we needed to drift off to sleep and promptly went to bed.
Finally, eleven hours later, the train arrives in Napoli and I don't feel quite right...
The conductor walks by and all of a sudden everyone on the train starts yelling in Italian. I don't know Italian, but I understood enough to know that there was a serious problem. I determined after a few minutes that the AC was broken in the car. Therefore, anyone who knew Italian complained until the conductor moved them. I was not one of those people. I was left in the car with a guy from Romania. The good news was that we were the only two people in the compartment...A semi bed!
So we both extend all six of the chairs and lay down and turn the light off. Once we were trying to go to sleep, we had a conversion that followed thus:
Me: Inglese?
Him: No.
Me: Espanol?
Him: No. Francese?
Me: No.
We both laughed at the hopelessness of the situation and laid down to try to sleep. Now the problem with sleeper cars is that they make a stop about every twenty minutes to pick up more passengers, so it makes sleeping just about impossible. The worst that could happen was that someone could board the train and get in your cabin, sit across from you and make sleep impossible. Apparently the Romanian knew one Enlglish word (shit) and we would both repeat it as people walked by our compartment looking for a seat. Neither of us could communicate to eachother in one language, but we both knew that we didn't want any more people in our compartment. So everytime the train stopped, we would both sit out and I would look out the window to the platform and he would look out the compartment window and we would both sit there and mutter the only English word he knew until we were sure no one was going into our compartment. This went on for about 5 more stops until we realized that we needed sleep.
So we both settle down for good and I look out the compartment window and see two young boys (Zack and Blake's age) sitting outside their compartment because there is apparently no room left. They were sitting there looking into our compartment like they would give anything to be where we are. I look at them for a few moments and started wishing that I had a curtain to draw so I didn't have to look at them anymore. The coldness of that thought struck me as absolutely hilarious, and I just started laughing at how absolutely evil I was being by wishing that I didn't have to see their faces, which were obviously upsetting me. The Romanian wakes up and looks at me like I'm crazy, and I just point to the boys amidst my laughter and he realizes the comedy of it and starts laughing too. So we both are in the compartment laughing hyserically for about ten minutes until we finally settle down. Just as we settle down though, the snack man comes wheeling down the aisle and makes the two boys get up from their seats so he can push the cart through. This brings on another fit of hyseria. So after we die down again, we both remembered that we needed to drift off to sleep and promptly went to bed.
Finally, eleven hours later, the train arrives in Napoli and I don't feel quite right...
Tuesday, July 10, 2007
Barcelona and Traveling Days
Well, I spent my last day in Barcelona alone, unfortunately. I had to check out at 10 AM (which always sucks) and I walked straight to the train station to put my stuff in a locker for the day. First I headed off to the Sagrada Familia, the famous cathedral that Gaudi designed. It's still very much a work in progress and is not set to be completed until 2025. It really does make you appreciate the vastness of such a project when it's taken over two centuries with modern equipment. It was packed full of people but it was interesting to see it all under construction.
After that I headed to Park Guell. Park Guell is a park that Gaudi designed for a rich guy named Guell. The park has a lot of eclectic buildings and fountains, and it's all on top of a giant hill overlooking all of Barcelona. It was a really great view.
After that I headed to the Picasso Museum, but when I got there there was a line and I knew that once I got in I was going to have to rush to get through it, so I didn't want to waste the money. I explored a little bit more of the Gothic Quarter and headed back to the train station. And so begins on of the biggest mistakes of my trip so far.
My original plan was, as you know, to go to Barcelona from Bordeaux and then to Naples. Instead I went to Nice, Barcelona and then Naples. Some serious backtracking. In order to get to Naples by my reservation on the 8th, I had to take two overnight trains and travel continously for three days. Never do this. Ever.
First I had to take a train to Cerbere and then from Cerbere I had to take the overnight train to Nice. I met two girls from England on the train to Cerbere and we stuck together until we reached Nice, where they were headed. I got on the train and the conductor warned everyone on the train that someone gets robbed on this route every night and that we should keep all our money and documents on us. Luckily nothing happened to me and I woke up in Nice having slept slightly better than my last train ride to Barcelona. I'm half done with this excursion.
I arrive in Nice and say farewell to Haley and Jenny (I'm sick with jealously that they get to go to a hotel) and find that I must take a train to Ventmille, Italy in order to take the train to Milan. I wanted a reservation but they accidently sold me a ticket for 6 Euro (which I didn't realize until I was on the train) so I spent that train ride pissed at myself (Plus something smelled like poop the entire ride and that just added to my distress).
On the ride to Milan I met some Russian girls who were on a business trip. The trains in Italy are compartmentalized, meaning that there are two rows of three facing eachother in each compartment. This arrangment forces you to be pretty social, so long story short I ended up being asked to play some Beatles songs on my guitar for them as we rode along.
I had only one day to explore Milan because I had another train that left that night to Napoli (Naples). Milan wasn't that great. I got off the Metro right in front of the Duomo so it gave a good first impression, but it was mostly filled with shops and was quite dirty in some parts. I started wandering around and found myself in a nice residential district with some cool houses, but after a while I had no idea where I was. So after a while I asked a guy where the nearest Metro was and he said "not close". Apparently I had walked about 2km from the nearest Metro stop, so after about an hour of walking I finally got on the Metro and headed back to the city center.
I got my first Italian pizza and a coke and enjoyed it while I watched the sun set over the Duomo. The pizza was quite thick and was cut up into several rectangular pieces (I was too hungry to take pictures). The peaceful feeling didn't last though because I knew I had to spend another night on the train. That's right - my second night on the train.
To be continued...
After that I headed to Park Guell. Park Guell is a park that Gaudi designed for a rich guy named Guell. The park has a lot of eclectic buildings and fountains, and it's all on top of a giant hill overlooking all of Barcelona. It was a really great view.
After that I headed to the Picasso Museum, but when I got there there was a line and I knew that once I got in I was going to have to rush to get through it, so I didn't want to waste the money. I explored a little bit more of the Gothic Quarter and headed back to the train station. And so begins on of the biggest mistakes of my trip so far.
My original plan was, as you know, to go to Barcelona from Bordeaux and then to Naples. Instead I went to Nice, Barcelona and then Naples. Some serious backtracking. In order to get to Naples by my reservation on the 8th, I had to take two overnight trains and travel continously for three days. Never do this. Ever.
First I had to take a train to Cerbere and then from Cerbere I had to take the overnight train to Nice. I met two girls from England on the train to Cerbere and we stuck together until we reached Nice, where they were headed. I got on the train and the conductor warned everyone on the train that someone gets robbed on this route every night and that we should keep all our money and documents on us. Luckily nothing happened to me and I woke up in Nice having slept slightly better than my last train ride to Barcelona. I'm half done with this excursion.
I arrive in Nice and say farewell to Haley and Jenny (I'm sick with jealously that they get to go to a hotel) and find that I must take a train to Ventmille, Italy in order to take the train to Milan. I wanted a reservation but they accidently sold me a ticket for 6 Euro (which I didn't realize until I was on the train) so I spent that train ride pissed at myself (Plus something smelled like poop the entire ride and that just added to my distress).
On the ride to Milan I met some Russian girls who were on a business trip. The trains in Italy are compartmentalized, meaning that there are two rows of three facing eachother in each compartment. This arrangment forces you to be pretty social, so long story short I ended up being asked to play some Beatles songs on my guitar for them as we rode along.
I had only one day to explore Milan because I had another train that left that night to Napoli (Naples). Milan wasn't that great. I got off the Metro right in front of the Duomo so it gave a good first impression, but it was mostly filled with shops and was quite dirty in some parts. I started wandering around and found myself in a nice residential district with some cool houses, but after a while I had no idea where I was. So after a while I asked a guy where the nearest Metro was and he said "not close". Apparently I had walked about 2km from the nearest Metro stop, so after about an hour of walking I finally got on the Metro and headed back to the city center.
I got my first Italian pizza and a coke and enjoyed it while I watched the sun set over the Duomo. The pizza was quite thick and was cut up into several rectangular pieces (I was too hungry to take pictures). The peaceful feeling didn't last though because I knew I had to spend another night on the train. That's right - my second night on the train.
To be continued...
Friday, July 6, 2007
Nice and Barcelona
Nice turned out to be pretty great. If you were waiting for me to say Nice was nice, I am sorry to dissapoint you. I´m going to warn you now: Nice doesn´t exactly scream ¨culture¨. In fact, it screams party. So the cultural experiences have (for the most part) been put on hold until I depart from the French Riviera. I think you will all understand.
Shortly after writing that last post I met a family of five from North Carolina who were (and still are) traveling all over Europe. I ended up having dinner with them and the guys from Colorado that night. As you can see, pasta seems to be the standard for traveling backpackers.
A lot of people go down to the beach at night to, well, drink as well as enjoy the night. There was a guy who wheeled a piano out from his house and played classical music for about three hours every night. He was a genius. I asked him to play some Chopin and not only did be oblige, but he obliged with my favorite song.
While sitting on the beach you could look out over the Mediteranean Sea and gaze at the bright orange moon reflecting off the water. The beach was also full of fire eaters and other performers, so it just added to the already fantastic ambience of a lit up beach town at night.
I stumbled across some very cool people on the beach including a guy named Osan from Turkey who had an affinity for Americans and a guy named Patrick who lives in Italy. Patrick volunteered to show me a good time when I arrive in Naples on the 8th so I have decided to definately take him up on that. I was also lucky enough to meet two Italian girls (especially the one on the left) who Osan and I skipped around town with for the rest of the night.
The next day was a pretty peaceful day. I went out with the Swiss Family Robinson (as the other people called them in the hostel) and Osan to the beach where I ran into the Italian girls again and was invariably given the cold shoulder (but I´ve heard that´s the norm with Italian girls so I´m not too bothered).
That night we went out to the beach again with the group, plus two guys from Finland and a guy from California. The piano guy was back, and this time he was playing some improv jazz with a guy he had apparently met that night. And just when I thought a night couldn´t get much better, fireworks appeared out of no where and went off for about ten minutes. You can´t ask for much more.
The next day me and the family went to Cannes. We were actually planning on going to Monaco, but we got on the train going the opposite direction and we decided it wasn´t that bad off an alternative. If you remember, there is a film festival there each year and a lot of famous people make their way there for the event. The beach was sandy (which you would think would be a plus) but it was a dirty kind of sand that left a dusty residue on your skin. The view was nice, though.
That night I once again had to say goodbye to all my new friends and got on a night train to Barcelona. Leaving these people has been the hardest part. You spend all this time getting to know people and having fun with them and you ultimately end up leaving them to start all over again in a strange place. It can be hard, but just when you think you´ll never meet people that great again for the rest of your trip, you meet new people that are just as great in completely different ways. It does wonders for your social skills.
Unfortunately, the train from Nice made a stop about every twenty minutes so it made sleeping impossible. Needless to say, I arrived in Spain grumpy. But grumpiness has a habit of disspearing when you make about ten new friends in less than two hours, so the day turned out to be pretty good. The hostel here is really comfy. It´s actually a house that they just let people stay in and you pretty much take care of yourself. That night I met two people from Toronto, two girls from Arizona, a couple from Australia and a couple from Croatia. We all had dinner and then headed out around town for the rest of the night.
The next day I went off on my own and explored the town. It´s quite different than Paris here. It´s much more new and commercial. The art, along with the city, is very bright and optimistic. It´s a very nice place but it does lack a bit of culture when compared with Paris and London. People always say that Paris and London is dirty, but I think Barcelona is much more dirty. None of their fountains work and it makes all of the water in the parks green. The sewer gasses also have a nasty habit of creeping up and smacking you in the face every two minutes when you walk down the street, too. That rarely happened in Paris. So anyways, I ended up in a museum that housed the collection of traveling oddities a man named Frederic Marès collected over fifty years of travel. His collections included everything from ancient religous art to pocketwatches and cigar wrappers. I have a feeling Mom-Mom would really like this musuem full of collectable trinkets and antiques.
Every big city has a tourist strip, and the Las Rambles is the Champs de Elysees of Barcelona. It has enough street performers, tourist traps, mediocre artists, overpriced restuarant, pickpockets and just the plain odd to satisfy anyone´s desires.
Today I checked out the beach and the Gothic Quarter of Barcelona. Gaudí pretty much put Barcelona on the artistic map, and one can see why. His buildings are unmistakable. The Gothic Quarter is basically a maze full of very narrow streets and very eager merchants. The beach in Barcelona has so far followed the pattern of the previous Mediteranean beaches I´ve been to: Full of beautiful women who just happen to be topless. (You were hoping for something to click on weren´t you?)Even the boardwalk is full of art.
Tomorrow I am off to the Picasso museum, as well as the cathedral and the park that Gaudí designed. As of right now the cathedral is set to be completed in 2025, so it´s pretty spectacular from what I have heard.
Oh yes, I enabled anonymous comments so you can now comment without registering. Sorry about that.
Shortly after writing that last post I met a family of five from North Carolina who were (and still are) traveling all over Europe. I ended up having dinner with them and the guys from Colorado that night. As you can see, pasta seems to be the standard for traveling backpackers.
A lot of people go down to the beach at night to, well, drink as well as enjoy the night. There was a guy who wheeled a piano out from his house and played classical music for about three hours every night. He was a genius. I asked him to play some Chopin and not only did be oblige, but he obliged with my favorite song.
While sitting on the beach you could look out over the Mediteranean Sea and gaze at the bright orange moon reflecting off the water. The beach was also full of fire eaters and other performers, so it just added to the already fantastic ambience of a lit up beach town at night.
I stumbled across some very cool people on the beach including a guy named Osan from Turkey who had an affinity for Americans and a guy named Patrick who lives in Italy. Patrick volunteered to show me a good time when I arrive in Naples on the 8th so I have decided to definately take him up on that. I was also lucky enough to meet two Italian girls (especially the one on the left) who Osan and I skipped around town with for the rest of the night.
The next day was a pretty peaceful day. I went out with the Swiss Family Robinson (as the other people called them in the hostel) and Osan to the beach where I ran into the Italian girls again and was invariably given the cold shoulder (but I´ve heard that´s the norm with Italian girls so I´m not too bothered).
That night we went out to the beach again with the group, plus two guys from Finland and a guy from California. The piano guy was back, and this time he was playing some improv jazz with a guy he had apparently met that night. And just when I thought a night couldn´t get much better, fireworks appeared out of no where and went off for about ten minutes. You can´t ask for much more.
The next day me and the family went to Cannes. We were actually planning on going to Monaco, but we got on the train going the opposite direction and we decided it wasn´t that bad off an alternative. If you remember, there is a film festival there each year and a lot of famous people make their way there for the event. The beach was sandy (which you would think would be a plus) but it was a dirty kind of sand that left a dusty residue on your skin. The view was nice, though.
That night I once again had to say goodbye to all my new friends and got on a night train to Barcelona. Leaving these people has been the hardest part. You spend all this time getting to know people and having fun with them and you ultimately end up leaving them to start all over again in a strange place. It can be hard, but just when you think you´ll never meet people that great again for the rest of your trip, you meet new people that are just as great in completely different ways. It does wonders for your social skills.
Unfortunately, the train from Nice made a stop about every twenty minutes so it made sleeping impossible. Needless to say, I arrived in Spain grumpy. But grumpiness has a habit of disspearing when you make about ten new friends in less than two hours, so the day turned out to be pretty good. The hostel here is really comfy. It´s actually a house that they just let people stay in and you pretty much take care of yourself. That night I met two people from Toronto, two girls from Arizona, a couple from Australia and a couple from Croatia. We all had dinner and then headed out around town for the rest of the night.
The next day I went off on my own and explored the town. It´s quite different than Paris here. It´s much more new and commercial. The art, along with the city, is very bright and optimistic. It´s a very nice place but it does lack a bit of culture when compared with Paris and London. People always say that Paris and London is dirty, but I think Barcelona is much more dirty. None of their fountains work and it makes all of the water in the parks green. The sewer gasses also have a nasty habit of creeping up and smacking you in the face every two minutes when you walk down the street, too. That rarely happened in Paris. So anyways, I ended up in a museum that housed the collection of traveling oddities a man named Frederic Marès collected over fifty years of travel. His collections included everything from ancient religous art to pocketwatches and cigar wrappers. I have a feeling Mom-Mom would really like this musuem full of collectable trinkets and antiques.
Every big city has a tourist strip, and the Las Rambles is the Champs de Elysees of Barcelona. It has enough street performers, tourist traps, mediocre artists, overpriced restuarant, pickpockets and just the plain odd to satisfy anyone´s desires.
Today I checked out the beach and the Gothic Quarter of Barcelona. Gaudí pretty much put Barcelona on the artistic map, and one can see why. His buildings are unmistakable. The Gothic Quarter is basically a maze full of very narrow streets and very eager merchants. The beach in Barcelona has so far followed the pattern of the previous Mediteranean beaches I´ve been to: Full of beautiful women who just happen to be topless. (You were hoping for something to click on weren´t you?)Even the boardwalk is full of art.
Tomorrow I am off to the Picasso museum, as well as the cathedral and the park that Gaudí designed. As of right now the cathedral is set to be completed in 2025, so it´s pretty spectacular from what I have heard.
Oh yes, I enabled anonymous comments so you can now comment without registering. Sorry about that.
Sunday, July 1, 2007
Click On 'Em
Just a quite note. I edited and revised some previous entries now that I am in possesion of an English keyboard. I added some new stories and things to old posts as well as pictures. If you see any green, underlined words they are links to pictures.
It took me a while so take a minute and check them out.
It took me a while so take a minute and check them out.
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