7/8/12
Journaling the previous 2-3 days have proved difficult in Berlin. I shall now try and recap the occurrences of the past 48 hours.
7/6/12
Alright so the sun got me up pretty early this morning. Wait, no it didn't. On this day I was able to sleep until 11 albeit when I woke my sheets were completely soaked. In sweat, I swear.
Sightseeing was the main activity for today. First I cruised on over to Museum Island which houses exhibits the Germans basically looted from all over the world. Using Tyler Rush's guide to Berlin as a reference I went to the Pergamon Museum first. I bought a three day pass figuring I would take full advantage of it during my three night stay. More on that later.
The Pergamon museum is named after its main exhibit, The Pergamon Altar. My history might be slightly off but the Germans excavated this altar from an ancient Greek city in what is today modern Turkey. Archaeologists speculate it was used for sacrificial offerings to the Gods, of the human kind. The museum reconstructed parts of it because it is mostly in fragments today. This museum temple is housed inside of a museum. It's freaking ridiculous. Seriously, google it.
The rest of the museum housed a ton of other German loot. I don't know how they did it because they have priceless artifacts from all over the world. I'm thinking it played out like this. Some ministry archaeologist probably went to these middle east countries and did some swindling to dig up and export the artifacts. Money and/or weapons had to be involved.
The rest of the museum was awesome as well. I saw the Ishtar Gate which I learned about in my one semester of art history. That was pretty gnar up close, very blue too.
All of the mid east artifacts were thoroughly covered in the Pergamon, but I had a 4 pm Fat Tire Bike Tour to catch.
If you're ever in a squeeze to cram as much history of a city in 5 hours, Fat Tire is the company to do it. On the tour, our guide Nile took us and taugh us about so much of Berlin's history. I saw the TV tower, Reichstag, a spot where a book burning took place, check point Charlie, the Berlin Wall, Victory Circle, Brandenburg Gate, and stopped off at a Beer Garden for dinner. It was a very good way to see the city, even if the guide was a complete fruit and emphasized the city's gay culture multiple times.
My Fat Tire journey ended later than expected and forced me to miss the pub crawl for that night. Whatever, the lobby of One80 is always poppin' at night. None of the Aussie blokes wanted to go out after their epic night before. So I'm flying solo tonight.
Walking back into the lobby, I spy of group of guys ordering Jager bombs. Not taking them for the Jersey shore type, I strike up a conversation with them. Turns out they are British troopers on leave from their base in southern Germany. One even happend to live in Texas for a while. I'll talk more about him later.
We all hit it off just fine and next thing I know I'm slamming bombs with them. A real class act these guys. Looks like I found my crew for tonight.
Soon enough the conversation gets interesting. Very freaking interesting. The bloke who said he had lived in Texas, lets call him Paco, starts talking about a very interesting subject. He asks me if I ever drove on I-35. Of course, it runs through the heart of Austin. Paco did too, when he was trafficking illegals. I didn't believe him at first, but then he starts providing very particular details about the whole ordeal.
Paco's mother is Honduran yet his father is from the UK. He looks South American, but holds a British passportl. A cousin on his mom's side of the family realized this and offered him a deal he couldn't refuse.
He was given a suburban, the 90s model, with a spacious trunk and told to go to a particular spot in Nuevo Laredo. Once there he had his car packed full of Mexicans and would drive them to Austin with nothing more than a blanket to hide them. His alibi was solid he told me. Whenever he was stopped, he explained to the border patrol he was a student and normally had a computer or backpack to add credibility to his story. Not once was he second guessed. And for each illegal he successfully delivered, Paco was paid two thousand dollars per person.So he did this a couple times, made about 64k, and then joined the British army. Paco will most likely never return to the U.S. because he obviously can face some kind of prosecution.
So this is the guy I hung out with the entire night. Around one we made moves and went to a club. The first place said we had too many guys. Our response: fuck you. Talking shit is easy when you're surrounded by jacked soldiers.
Next we went to a club one of the Irish guys recommended. Our cabbie dropped the lot of us in front of a warehouse with a queue outside. No, no, no we wanted to go to a club. Little did we know, but we were about to be intorduced to the underground Berlin scene.
We wait in line and pay cover to get in. Once inside the supposed warehouse is a full on club blasting underground house music. It was dark, it was loud, and it was jam packed with dudes. This is when we decide to go to one of the clubs on the Rush guide.
Club der Visionar is another nondescript establishment that has a massive queue to get in. We went in line but got shot down again. No chicas, no club. Outside we buy a pizza and start munching. Eventually some sketch German talks to us, and ends up vouching for us to the bouncer. This gets us in and the next thing I know I'm dancing my pants off. It was all loads of fun. The club is situated on the bank of some river. At one point it started raining. Watching the rain hit the water was cool, but seeing the sunrise as this happened was even cooler.
Six am cam a lot sooner than expected. It was still raining and we couldn't hail a cab to save our lives. This is when we decided to job back to east Berlin from west Berlin. All we had to do was get to the TV tower and it was straight. The troops looked at it as morning PT. What a bunch of loons. Regardless, I kept pace with them and even outpaced a few. At one point Ashly told me I looked like the late Ryan Dunn from Jackass. Not cool bro.
At 7 am I finally made it back to the hostel and right on time for the continental breakfast. Hoarse, drunk, and breathless, I was a sight to behold. The receptionist could barely hold back her laughter.
7/7/12
I'm changing dates now because at this point it's morning time. I ate more than my fill of breakfast and was ready to hibernate in my sauna of a room.
8 am would be a safe assumption as to when I physically made it to my room. The rest of the roommates were sound asleep, rightfully so. Bruno happened to open his eyes as I was coming in the room. Noticing I was still in the clothes from the night before, he burst out laughing and went back to sleep. Soon enough I followed suit.
My plan was to awake at a reasonable hour and see one or two museums in order to get my money's worth with the museum pass. However, it was raining and I sleep sooo well when it rains. Even if my room is a sauna.
The aussie blokes walked into the room and I inquired as to the time. They're response, "You've been asleep this whole time?" It was 4:30 pm.
Refreshed and out of hibernation, it was time to grub. Feeling homesick, I set out for another Rush recommendation. White Trash Fast Food serves American food and it's damn good. Outside of the state of Texas this joint serves the best tasting brisket I've ever had.
Afterwards it was time to party again. Pat, Bruno, and Max were going on another pub crawl and I decided to join them. It was a good time but not exactly what I expected. Every bar we went to was tiny, and no more than 3/4 of our group could fit inside. Pretty lame, but it was the only thing I had going that night. These aussies were a great lot though. Max and Pat snuck off somewhere so Bruno and I cruised back to the hostel. Once there we ran into Paco and some of the other British troops from the prior night. We all agreed to go back and rage at W.T.F.F. since they had some kind of DJ playing. Much to our dismay we got the typical Berlin answer. Too many guys. Dammit, whatever I'm done clubbing here, the scene is too weird for me.
7/9/12
Yesterday I intended to make my way to Brussels. Instead I booked another night at one80. The hostel draws its name from the average room temperature. So I had to check out at 10 am and could not check back in until after 3. There wasn't any better way to spend my afternoon tired and hungover than visiting Museum island.
Throughout the day I saw The Atles, Neues, and Bode Museums. The best part of all these places definitely was the benches I saw on in the exhibits.
Three finally rolled around but the check in line was out the door. Craving a sweet, I headed over to the mall. Everything save the food court was closed and a McDonald's looked mighty tasty. Chocolate Magnum Brownie McFlurry satiated my homesick blues. I cannot wait to get back to the U.S. and talk to Americans again. Traveling alone is fun, but now it is time to get back. Also I think I messed my shoulder up again and want to see a doctor.
Last night was very low key. Dinner was at Hofbrauhaus where I drank a liter and ate pork knuckle. It was tasty, but very fatty. Afterwards I chilled at the hostel, journaled, and drank some beers.
Today is a long travel day. My train ride is a shade under 7 hours, but I am closer to the U.K., and ultimately home. I have three nights in Brussels and no definitive plan afterwards. Amsterdam is too tempting and I do not want to risk sliding down that slippery slope. Rather, I may just go back to London and chill before I fly back.
Friday, July 27, 2012
The American Security Apparatus
Loud American rock and roll music overpowered the faint smell of cigarette smoke inside the pub. Locals and tourists mingled amongst each other in the jovial atmosphere. Somehow I found myself at a table with some Virginia natives, a local, Canadians, and some Brazilians. We all toasted to America and the particular local brew which we were consuming at the time.
A few British girls I met the night before showed back up at the pub with a few new friends. One of them was a tall African-American named Mike. Mike is a cool dude. I came to know him pretty well over a couple drinks, or so I thought. Large in stature, I asked if he had played football. Indeed he had. He attended a Pac-10 school and even sacked an old teammate of mine who is now in the NFL. He was even on the field for A.J. Green's coming out game in 2008. After a brief two year stint in the NFL Mike got a job with a ubiquitous newspaper syndicated worldwide. He wrote for the leisure and sports section which allowed him to travel all over the world. At some point he was going back to London where he would cover the Olympics with his all access media pass. Unfortunately, Mike couldn't hook a brother up.
Mike turned away from the bar, spoke a few words to the British girls, and then darted up the stairs. One of them came up to me and said he just showed them his Secret Service badge. Thinking this guy bought some plastic toy badge to pick up chicks, I decided to call him out.
Those girls weren't playing and Mike wasn't a writer. Sure enough when I asked him if it was true he discreetly opened his wallet and before my eyes was a genuine United States Secret Service badge. It was unreal. I immediately felt ten times safer in his presence. He asked me to help keep his cover and not reveal to the other agents in the pub that I knew who they were. One even introduced himself and when I asked him what he did for a living, he said he was a flight attendant. Not a good cover story considering this guy was about 6' 3" and jacked. Walking up and down the aisle of an airplane cabin would be a nightmare for this guy.
Turning back to Mike I asked if this outing was for leisure or work. Work, he said, always for work. Pretty good answer when work entails protecting American interests. His colleagues and him were traveling to cities in Europe where some anti-american activities were rumored to be culminating. It was their duty to investigate and report, all the while keep their true identities concealed. Mike was indeed going to the Olympics but would be carrying an all-access security card which he said was basically a key to the city. I suppose working for the government does have its benefits.
And like that the agents were gone. My previous encounters with Secret Service was at my brothers graduation from Air Force. They were in suits with ear pieces and MP5s bulging from their coats. This lot were more unassuming. The exact opposite of the stereotype but then again that was the whole point. Duty called for them to observe and report inconspicuously. I have been shown a tiny facet of the American security apparatus and it was amazing. There's a reason why we are the world's foremost superpower and it's because Americans such as the ones I met dedicate their lives to protecting the homeland.
A few British girls I met the night before showed back up at the pub with a few new friends. One of them was a tall African-American named Mike. Mike is a cool dude. I came to know him pretty well over a couple drinks, or so I thought. Large in stature, I asked if he had played football. Indeed he had. He attended a Pac-10 school and even sacked an old teammate of mine who is now in the NFL. He was even on the field for A.J. Green's coming out game in 2008. After a brief two year stint in the NFL Mike got a job with a ubiquitous newspaper syndicated worldwide. He wrote for the leisure and sports section which allowed him to travel all over the world. At some point he was going back to London where he would cover the Olympics with his all access media pass. Unfortunately, Mike couldn't hook a brother up.
Mike turned away from the bar, spoke a few words to the British girls, and then darted up the stairs. One of them came up to me and said he just showed them his Secret Service badge. Thinking this guy bought some plastic toy badge to pick up chicks, I decided to call him out.
Those girls weren't playing and Mike wasn't a writer. Sure enough when I asked him if it was true he discreetly opened his wallet and before my eyes was a genuine United States Secret Service badge. It was unreal. I immediately felt ten times safer in his presence. He asked me to help keep his cover and not reveal to the other agents in the pub that I knew who they were. One even introduced himself and when I asked him what he did for a living, he said he was a flight attendant. Not a good cover story considering this guy was about 6' 3" and jacked. Walking up and down the aisle of an airplane cabin would be a nightmare for this guy.
Turning back to Mike I asked if this outing was for leisure or work. Work, he said, always for work. Pretty good answer when work entails protecting American interests. His colleagues and him were traveling to cities in Europe where some anti-american activities were rumored to be culminating. It was their duty to investigate and report, all the while keep their true identities concealed. Mike was indeed going to the Olympics but would be carrying an all-access security card which he said was basically a key to the city. I suppose working for the government does have its benefits.
And like that the agents were gone. My previous encounters with Secret Service was at my brothers graduation from Air Force. They were in suits with ear pieces and MP5s bulging from their coats. This lot were more unassuming. The exact opposite of the stereotype but then again that was the whole point. Duty called for them to observe and report inconspicuously. I have been shown a tiny facet of the American security apparatus and it was amazing. There's a reason why we are the world's foremost superpower and it's because Americans such as the ones I met dedicate their lives to protecting the homeland.
Prague and Pearl Jam
7/5/12
I should have come to this realization on Day One but a smartphone or any piece of technology really is essential for traveling around Europe. It is quite depressing how pathetic my existence is right now. When I explain my situation to others they more or less stare at me in disbelief. More often than not they ask the same question in one way, shape, or form: How do you do it? Easy. I transform my mindset to that of 15 years ago. A time where cell phones were scarce and computers were cumbersome objects best left at home. I am the technology anarchist. If you're rubbing screens, you're rubbing away the experience.
This trip has transformed me in a good way. For the first time in history I might be the first Daniel to have successfully grown a beard. My attitude is more active than passive. I'm not afraid, yet I'm weary of greasy foreigners. My trip has become more or less a soul search in which I am coming to understand the definition of me.
Every day it is coming clearer than the previous. The hedonistic lifestyle which consumed me for the previous four years turned me into something I was not. I became complacent with the monster I had become and allowed it to do everything against my credo. That however has flown out the window on this trip and it is a wonderful change in my life.
Now that's off my chest I ought to surmise my three nights in this hooker of a city known as Prague.
My arrival into the city was on time into the station yet Matt Kelly was nowhere to be seen. An hour was spent waiting for him but no show. Finally I paid to use a computer and signed into Facebook. Sure enough a message from Matt was waiting for me. Tomorrow he had finals, his place was far from the city center, and it was probably best if I stayed in the city tonight then meet up with him tomorrow. Our meeting point was to be in the Old Town Square at 4 pm, after his exams or something. It was not what I had planned for but I've come to expect the unexpected in this place.
With time to spare in the train station I reserved a bed at the place I originally had booked, The Mosaic hostel. It cost me about 25 bucks for a bed in a six person room.
Tired of traveling, I just wanted to take a cab to the place, yet when I was told it would cost 29 euro I opted for the metro instead. A bunch of schemers these Europeans are.
I found the place and checked in around 9:30. there was a pub crawl starting at 9:45 so I hurried up to my room to shower and change. The room was nice. Plush comfy beds, A/C, and a bathroom en suite. Much better than other hostels I have occupied on this trip.
Showered, feeling, and looking fresh I went down to the lobby for the pregame. A Brazilian from Sao Paolo and I had a good long conversation. Then I met a guy from Buffalo and another Austinite. She went to Westwood and had recently graduated from UT. Can't remember much about those people once the crawl started.
We went to a pub that was a solid 30 feet underground. It smelled like poo and people were ripping indoor cigs. In there I met a couple dudes who graduated from Oregon and two Brazilian girls. Using my ever suave Portuguese we had a conversation consisting of English, Portuguese, and some Spanish.
We went to some more pubs and ended the night at a club. Unexpected rain soaked me at some point in the night. Thoroughly drunk and tired the Buffalo guy and myself cruised back to The Mosaic. It surprised me to discover the sun breaking upon the horizon. I wasn't alone to see the awesome glory of a new day. Clutched in my left hand was a tasty Doner kebap.
The rude reality of an 11 am check out sucked. I stashed my bag in a locker and thought I could get in a good power nap on the lobby couch. Two girls must had the same idea. They were curled up in their PJs with luggage nearby. Jealous and pissed, the notion of giving them a hard kick in the ribcage did cross my mind.
Instead I opted to go to the Franz Kafka Museum. It was cool and all and inspired me to read some of his work. Afterwards I walked up to the Prague Castle and across the Charles Bridge. The sky was looking grim and it was about 3 o' clock.
I metro'd it back to the hostel, grabbed an umbrella, and went to Old Town Square. At 4 on the dot I appeared in the square. No sign of Matt. An hour passed and I grew concerned, found an internet point with a phone, and gave him a call.
He told me how he really didn't want to stay in his dorm for another night and would rather split a hotel room. Fair enough, get your shit together and meet me in Old Town. I waited, it rained, I waited some more, and the next thing I knew another hour had passed. Went back to the internet point and called him again. I don't know what Matt's though process is like but for some reason he was at The Mosaic. Jesus, this is like trying to find Ross in Barca all over again.
So I finally met up with him at The Mosaic, but the place was completely booked. Instead we found an apartment near the Charles Bridge called Royal Residence for $40/p/night.
The place was a palace. It had 3 beds, a huge living room area with couches, and a tv with English speaking channels. Otto Swingler and his girlfriend Callie Kimbell were in town and we tried to sneak them into our apartment but we got caught. So we had to pay a little extra but with those two is ended up being cheaper still.
That night, July 3, we had dinner at a Mexican restaurant and met up with some of the UT people on study abroad. They were pretty cool and we decided to celebrate the 4th at a "beach" on the river. We went home early and got some much needed sleep.
We woke up pretty early yesterday. The bright sunlight and noise of Prague kept sleep and I at a distance. Otto, Matt, and I went to Bohemia bagel and ate some delicious breakfast sandwiches. We then made a stop at a world famous museum.
The sex machine museum of Prague is a must on the to do list when visiting the city. Some of the displays were so absurd it was hilarious. I couldn't stop giggling the whole time. Every imaginable object and machine derived from the human mind was there. We even watched a silent film porno. That was weird.
Otto forgot to buy Callie breakfast so I recommended the ham in Old Town that I ate yesterday during my 2 hour ordeal. Otto got ripped off and was pissed.
We then bought some booze and went to the beach. The rest of the UT folk were there save a few who went sky diving. The weather was nice and made for some good sand volleyball. My team won 2 of 3 matches and afterwards we celebrated by jumping into the cold, most likely polluted river. Matt had told some kid he could make a drink with our rum and when I returned the booze had been completely drunk. Greg was placed on my shit list for that stunt.
Towards the end of the day we packed it in and went back to the flat. That evening we had everybody over for a pregame. It was a really good time and I became jealous of everyone talking about going back home. There was still plenty of time remaining in my trip and lots of sights to see. Much of that night was a blur, but if I recall correctly we spent quite a bit of time searching for a good bar to post up at. Ultimately Matt, Leigh, and I wound up at the famed 5 story club. Leigh and I were dancing with drinks in our hands when hers slipped and shattered on the dance floor. I was laughing at him and not even ten seconds went by when the glass in my hand fell to the floor as well. Perhaps we were a tad drunker than we thought. By now people are pissed and glass is all over the place thanks to us. Time to bounce.
I awoke this morning and was running late for my train. However, I made it to the station on time for the 5 hour haul to Berlin. Talk about a miserable journey. Train cars in Europe make for great saunas. The cabin I was assigned turned into a sweat box the moment we started rolling. My seat was located next to the window, but more importantly next to the A/C vent. With such a primo seat I reasoned that, for the 5 hour train ride, I would stay cool. Au contraire, I sweated for the entire time. What little breeze which escaped from the vent was no stronger than me lightly exhaling. Then to make matters worse an old German woman boards the train and starts speaking to me, in German. No matter how many times I said, "nein spreckenzie deutsche", she kept on talking to me. Finally I threw my ear buds in and drowned her out for the rest of the ride. I'm sorry, the lady was probably being uber kind, but I was in no mood for conversation, especially in German.
The train arrived on time, the only positive comment on DB, the german train company, and I inevitably became lost looking for Hostel One80. However once I did find it I checked in, said, "hey" to the Aussies Max, Bruno, and Pat who were staying in the same room as I, and walked out the door for Pearl Jam.
En route to the o2 arena where the concert was held I met some other PJ'ers. They were from Newfoundland, Canada and had been to three other PJ concerts in Europe. We did some boozing outside the venue which also involved kebap. That delicious meat has easily been in over half of my meals.
Concert time was fast approaching so I split from the Canadians and made my way inside. Thinking ahead I used an old play out of the college tailgating book and smuggled in a vodka fanta mixer to save some money at the concert. Somehow I stilled ended up spending 18 euros on beer.
The concert was awesome. They played most of Ten, and plenty of old and new tracks as well. Eddie came out beforehand and even played a song with the opener. They played two encores in which "Alive", "Yellow Ledbetter", and Pink Floyd's "Mother" were all played exceptionally well.
Setlist: http://www.setlist.fm/setlist/pearl-jam/2012/o2-world-berlin-germany-13df5955.html
As the concert drew to an end, the house lights came on and an arena full of stunned fans stood before me. Bravo Pearl Jam, bravo. The place started to clear out and I made moves towards the souvenir stand. My purchase included a tour t-shirt, sticker, and limited edition poster created specifically for that night.
With swag in hand, I walked through the rain along with the other concert goers. My voice was hoarse and after such a long journey I was ready for bed. For some reason the window in my room did not open completely and so I spent the night in a sweaty, delirious slumber. By now if the recurring theme of this trip isn't evident then you're not looking close enough.
I should have come to this realization on Day One but a smartphone or any piece of technology really is essential for traveling around Europe. It is quite depressing how pathetic my existence is right now. When I explain my situation to others they more or less stare at me in disbelief. More often than not they ask the same question in one way, shape, or form: How do you do it? Easy. I transform my mindset to that of 15 years ago. A time where cell phones were scarce and computers were cumbersome objects best left at home. I am the technology anarchist. If you're rubbing screens, you're rubbing away the experience.
This trip has transformed me in a good way. For the first time in history I might be the first Daniel to have successfully grown a beard. My attitude is more active than passive. I'm not afraid, yet I'm weary of greasy foreigners. My trip has become more or less a soul search in which I am coming to understand the definition of me.
Every day it is coming clearer than the previous. The hedonistic lifestyle which consumed me for the previous four years turned me into something I was not. I became complacent with the monster I had become and allowed it to do everything against my credo. That however has flown out the window on this trip and it is a wonderful change in my life.
Now that's off my chest I ought to surmise my three nights in this hooker of a city known as Prague.
My arrival into the city was on time into the station yet Matt Kelly was nowhere to be seen. An hour was spent waiting for him but no show. Finally I paid to use a computer and signed into Facebook. Sure enough a message from Matt was waiting for me. Tomorrow he had finals, his place was far from the city center, and it was probably best if I stayed in the city tonight then meet up with him tomorrow. Our meeting point was to be in the Old Town Square at 4 pm, after his exams or something. It was not what I had planned for but I've come to expect the unexpected in this place.
With time to spare in the train station I reserved a bed at the place I originally had booked, The Mosaic hostel. It cost me about 25 bucks for a bed in a six person room.
Tired of traveling, I just wanted to take a cab to the place, yet when I was told it would cost 29 euro I opted for the metro instead. A bunch of schemers these Europeans are.
I found the place and checked in around 9:30. there was a pub crawl starting at 9:45 so I hurried up to my room to shower and change. The room was nice. Plush comfy beds, A/C, and a bathroom en suite. Much better than other hostels I have occupied on this trip.
Showered, feeling, and looking fresh I went down to the lobby for the pregame. A Brazilian from Sao Paolo and I had a good long conversation. Then I met a guy from Buffalo and another Austinite. She went to Westwood and had recently graduated from UT. Can't remember much about those people once the crawl started.
We went to a pub that was a solid 30 feet underground. It smelled like poo and people were ripping indoor cigs. In there I met a couple dudes who graduated from Oregon and two Brazilian girls. Using my ever suave Portuguese we had a conversation consisting of English, Portuguese, and some Spanish.
We went to some more pubs and ended the night at a club. Unexpected rain soaked me at some point in the night. Thoroughly drunk and tired the Buffalo guy and myself cruised back to The Mosaic. It surprised me to discover the sun breaking upon the horizon. I wasn't alone to see the awesome glory of a new day. Clutched in my left hand was a tasty Doner kebap.
The rude reality of an 11 am check out sucked. I stashed my bag in a locker and thought I could get in a good power nap on the lobby couch. Two girls must had the same idea. They were curled up in their PJs with luggage nearby. Jealous and pissed, the notion of giving them a hard kick in the ribcage did cross my mind.
Instead I opted to go to the Franz Kafka Museum. It was cool and all and inspired me to read some of his work. Afterwards I walked up to the Prague Castle and across the Charles Bridge. The sky was looking grim and it was about 3 o' clock.
I metro'd it back to the hostel, grabbed an umbrella, and went to Old Town Square. At 4 on the dot I appeared in the square. No sign of Matt. An hour passed and I grew concerned, found an internet point with a phone, and gave him a call.
He told me how he really didn't want to stay in his dorm for another night and would rather split a hotel room. Fair enough, get your shit together and meet me in Old Town. I waited, it rained, I waited some more, and the next thing I knew another hour had passed. Went back to the internet point and called him again. I don't know what Matt's though process is like but for some reason he was at The Mosaic. Jesus, this is like trying to find Ross in Barca all over again.
So I finally met up with him at The Mosaic, but the place was completely booked. Instead we found an apartment near the Charles Bridge called Royal Residence for $40/p/night.
The place was a palace. It had 3 beds, a huge living room area with couches, and a tv with English speaking channels. Otto Swingler and his girlfriend Callie Kimbell were in town and we tried to sneak them into our apartment but we got caught. So we had to pay a little extra but with those two is ended up being cheaper still.
That night, July 3, we had dinner at a Mexican restaurant and met up with some of the UT people on study abroad. They were pretty cool and we decided to celebrate the 4th at a "beach" on the river. We went home early and got some much needed sleep.
We woke up pretty early yesterday. The bright sunlight and noise of Prague kept sleep and I at a distance. Otto, Matt, and I went to Bohemia bagel and ate some delicious breakfast sandwiches. We then made a stop at a world famous museum.
The sex machine museum of Prague is a must on the to do list when visiting the city. Some of the displays were so absurd it was hilarious. I couldn't stop giggling the whole time. Every imaginable object and machine derived from the human mind was there. We even watched a silent film porno. That was weird.
Otto forgot to buy Callie breakfast so I recommended the ham in Old Town that I ate yesterday during my 2 hour ordeal. Otto got ripped off and was pissed.
We then bought some booze and went to the beach. The rest of the UT folk were there save a few who went sky diving. The weather was nice and made for some good sand volleyball. My team won 2 of 3 matches and afterwards we celebrated by jumping into the cold, most likely polluted river. Matt had told some kid he could make a drink with our rum and when I returned the booze had been completely drunk. Greg was placed on my shit list for that stunt.
Towards the end of the day we packed it in and went back to the flat. That evening we had everybody over for a pregame. It was a really good time and I became jealous of everyone talking about going back home. There was still plenty of time remaining in my trip and lots of sights to see. Much of that night was a blur, but if I recall correctly we spent quite a bit of time searching for a good bar to post up at. Ultimately Matt, Leigh, and I wound up at the famed 5 story club. Leigh and I were dancing with drinks in our hands when hers slipped and shattered on the dance floor. I was laughing at him and not even ten seconds went by when the glass in my hand fell to the floor as well. Perhaps we were a tad drunker than we thought. By now people are pissed and glass is all over the place thanks to us. Time to bounce.
I awoke this morning and was running late for my train. However, I made it to the station on time for the 5 hour haul to Berlin. Talk about a miserable journey. Train cars in Europe make for great saunas. The cabin I was assigned turned into a sweat box the moment we started rolling. My seat was located next to the window, but more importantly next to the A/C vent. With such a primo seat I reasoned that, for the 5 hour train ride, I would stay cool. Au contraire, I sweated for the entire time. What little breeze which escaped from the vent was no stronger than me lightly exhaling. Then to make matters worse an old German woman boards the train and starts speaking to me, in German. No matter how many times I said, "nein spreckenzie deutsche", she kept on talking to me. Finally I threw my ear buds in and drowned her out for the rest of the ride. I'm sorry, the lady was probably being uber kind, but I was in no mood for conversation, especially in German.
The train arrived on time, the only positive comment on DB, the german train company, and I inevitably became lost looking for Hostel One80. However once I did find it I checked in, said, "hey" to the Aussies Max, Bruno, and Pat who were staying in the same room as I, and walked out the door for Pearl Jam.
En route to the o2 arena where the concert was held I met some other PJ'ers. They were from Newfoundland, Canada and had been to three other PJ concerts in Europe. We did some boozing outside the venue which also involved kebap. That delicious meat has easily been in over half of my meals.
Concert time was fast approaching so I split from the Canadians and made my way inside. Thinking ahead I used an old play out of the college tailgating book and smuggled in a vodka fanta mixer to save some money at the concert. Somehow I stilled ended up spending 18 euros on beer.
The concert was awesome. They played most of Ten, and plenty of old and new tracks as well. Eddie came out beforehand and even played a song with the opener. They played two encores in which "Alive", "Yellow Ledbetter", and Pink Floyd's "Mother" were all played exceptionally well.
Setlist: http://www.setlist.fm/setlist/pearl-jam/2012/o2-world-berlin-germany-13df5955.html
As the concert drew to an end, the house lights came on and an arena full of stunned fans stood before me. Bravo Pearl Jam, bravo. The place started to clear out and I made moves towards the souvenir stand. My purchase included a tour t-shirt, sticker, and limited edition poster created specifically for that night.
With swag in hand, I walked through the rain along with the other concert goers. My voice was hoarse and after such a long journey I was ready for bed. For some reason the window in my room did not open completely and so I spent the night in a sweaty, delirious slumber. By now if the recurring theme of this trip isn't evident then you're not looking close enough.
Tuesday, July 24, 2012
Vienna: The Schnitzel Challenge, My Impression of Sisi, and a Conversation with an Egyptian
7/2/12
The best food in Europe at the moment has got to be in Vienna. Nothing that I have eaten so far can be compared to the cuisine I experienced in this city.
Yesterday morning the train from Zurich arrived into Wien Westbahnhof station at 7:32 am. This time I slept in a six person couchette cabin. Luckily there were only three other inhabitants. An older German woman and two British girls backpacking across Europe. The train was a lot better than the overnighter I took from Rome. The a/c was colder and the bed was a tad better. Perpetual swaying of the train car did some to put me to sleep so I spent most of the ride sliding in and out of consciousness. At 6:30 this morning I was woken by the rough German voice of the train porter waving my Eurail pass in my face. Still groggy, tired, and pissed off that I was woken in such a manner I grudgingly waited for my complimentary breakfast.
Train companies can take a note or two from the customer service of airlines. The complimentary breakfast consisted of coffee and a roll with butter and jam. After consuming everything on the platter, my stomach desired more.
I mentioned something about the hearty meal to the hungarian woman in our car. Earlier I wrote that she was German, but actually she is from Hungary and works in Switzerland. Anyways we got to talking about absolutely nothing at all. She was visiting a long time friend in Vienna I was told, and I told her that I was only going to be there for one night. I asked her recommendation on place I must visit while I was in the city. She rattled off a dozen places or so, that I immediately forgot about, that's why I have "Europe on a Shoe String" as my companion. What type of food is really good to eat in the city?, I asked. Her eyes lit up and a single familiar word escaped between her lips: schnitzel. Ahh yes the famous deep fried concoction. I was saving my schnitzel tasting for Germany but she was so animated about this one particular type of schnitzel that I felt almost obligated to try it. There was only one problem, she couldn't remember the name of the restaurant which served it. That did not deter her from finding out the name of it though. This lady went up and down the car asking everybody in German if they knew the name until she returned with it. On a scrap of paper she had one word written down, Fieglmuller.
Our train arrived on time, something that starkly differentiates the Swiss trains from that of Italy and France. The Do Step In Hostel was a short two blocks from the train station. I was excited to check in and catch up on some sleep, and then do a little bit of sightseeing.
Sleep would have to wait until after 3 pm however. The mid afternoon check in was a real Debbie downer considering I have a blister developing on my foot that might be infected. It just hurts really bad to walk around on it for extended periods of time, which is what i was doing for the rest of the day. Great.
Thankfully I was able to store my bag in the luggage locker. Also the hostel had computers with free internet use. I read up on Isaiah's gun charge, the medicare Supreme Court decision, and checked my email. It felt good to be in touch with the outside world once again.
The roll for breakfast did not suffice and my belly was once again begging for some hearty goodness. Fieglmuller, I must taste your sumptuous schnitzel. The restaurant was a decent walk from the hostel and it seemed like a great way to work up an ever craving appetite.
On the way into town I cruised by the Museum Quartier, Hapsburg Palace and gardens, and the Stephansdom. A religious service was occurring when I walked into the Stephansdom. Oh yeah, it was Sunday. From the back of the church everything looked cool. I would have stuck arouind for longer but I had a date with destiny.
My arrival at Fieglmuller was before the proper opening time of 11, yet one other pilgrim was outside the Mecca of Schnitzel. Eyeing the man, he appeared slender and of some Asian race, yet a determination burned in his eyes for a taste of the schnitzel. I gave him a short, polite not. Each knew the other meant business.
Being the first two patrons on a beautiful Sunday before the church crowd was dismissed we had top picks on seating, yet both sat in the same room. The waiter handed me a menu but I already knew what I wanted. The world famous Fieglmuller Schnitzel was all that was on my mind. Although I did take the waiter's recommendation and ordered a side of potato salad. The pilgrim had only the schnitzel.
A short while later the waiter appeared with what I had been hoping to consume for the past 4 hours. The schnitzel was unlike anything I had ever seen before. The thin, fried patty was spilling over the plate it sat atop, bending but never touching the table. It's diameter alone had to be ten plus inches. A quarter lemon wedge lay on top of the world renown dish, complimented by a hearty bowl of potato salad with greens on top.
For a moment I sat in awe and disbelief. Looked over at the pilgrim, gave him another nod, and went to work. The lemon wedge helped moisten the dry, fried patty but it was the potato salad that really saved me from cotton mouth.
Slow and steady was the strategy for tackling what I dubbed the Schnitzel Challenge. Using the potato salad, my technique involved layering a piece of green on top of some potato, and using a slice of schnitzel to support the structure. Every bite was an orgasmic explosion of schnitzel complimented with the vinegar based flavor of the salad. Not having potato salad, my nameless pilgrim took to cutting pizza shaped slices and shoveling them into his mouth. Poor guy, his stomach will never expand at that kind of consumption rate.
Alas, all good things must come to an end. Save for the lemon wedge, the place and salad bowl were laying on the table clean of any remnant of a meal. I glanced over at the pilgrim still working to finish his schnitzel. Do not stop my friend, the end is near, and soon you shall feel the satisfaction of completing the Schnitzel Challenge!
With a solid three more hours to kill I perused through "Shoe String" for things to do. The Hapsburg Palace was the book's top choice. As the seat of the Austria-Hungary empire the palace consisted of over 1400 rooms and rivaled the Versailles in Paris.
My student ID bought me a ticket to the silver room, Sisi museum, and royal apartments, for 9.50 euro with an audio guide included. 26 is the age I figure when my student ID will become obsolete. Until then I will milk it for every discount possible.
The silver room displayed the dishware the royal family used for every occasion during their rule. It was interesting to see how tastes changed over time and what the royal family favored. A set of dishes existed for every occasion, formal or informal. Much of the gold and silver dishware no longer existed because it was melted at some point to pay for a war. The most spectacular item was the gold centerpiece used for formal affairs. It must have been over 30 feet long, gilt in gold with ornate metal work performed by Vienna's best smiths.
The next feature of my Hapsburg visit was the Sisi Museum. Sisi was the nickname of Empress Elizabeth, wife of Emperor Franz Joseph. She was later assassinated by an Italian anarchist.
Elizabeth was betrothed to Joseph at a very early age in her life. She came from a well to do family and it was a bit of a surprise when the Emperor asked for her hand in marriage. In today's terms, it would be like if a young billionaire mogul proposed to an Atlanta private school girl. At least that's what I have in mind. Which goes along with my impression of Elizabeth as her story unfolds to me via audio guide.
So Elizabeth marries Joseph in a royal fancy wedding, but Sisi is unhappy. She's not used to all the pomp associated with being royalty. Tough life she has being the first woman of an empire. Her poems reflect how she doesn't want all the attention and her desire to be someone else. Eventually she comes down with these "illnesses" that force her to relocate to different palaces all over the empire. Madeira, Budapest, Florence, and Prague just to name a few are places she built palaces so as to recover from her "illnesses". Prozac and barbiturates did not exist at this time so I suppose these vacations are the next best alternative.
Over time she becomes more distant with her hubby and they eventually live in separate apartments inside the Hapsburg. She spends 2 to 3 hours each day having her ankle length hair did and then another two hours exercising. I don't want to call her self absorbed, but I am. Sisi couldn't have it any better yet she was always unhappy or so that's what the museum implied.
The royal apartments were a walk through of where the separated couple lived. It was nice and all, very...royal. At that point i was ready to check in to my room and as luck would have it, it was 3 pm.
The six bed room had no a/c and a single fan which sat on a desk and oscillated to provide circulation of still air. I fell asleep in a sweaty mess and dreamed of strange, forgettable instances.
I awoke in the evening with some time to kill before the Spain/Italy final. The receptionist circled the Bermuda Triangle on my map as a good place to watch the game. I consumed a kabap box on my way down to find a spot. Kebap has run its course in my diet and I will not be sad to say goodbye to it once I return to the States.
A fast food Asian restaurant was showing the match and they had outside seating too. A table cleared up and I immediately snagged it. Some time after Spain's first goal a man walked up and asked if he could sit with me.
Omar is an Egyptian from Cairo studying business at American University in Cairo. He was on vacation with his family and needed some time away from them to enjoy the game, I know how that goes at times.
Having recently read Egypt elected a new president, I was curious to hear his opinion. Egypt is fucked, or so he surmised. He fears the Muslim Brotherhood backed Mosni will make things worse for his country and dreads the day Shariah law is imposed. Omar is a practicing Muslim, but not devout. He prays and reads the Koran, yet likes to drink alcohol when he can. Oh yeah, and he loves drugs too. Hash is his primary choice when it comes to dabbling, but if he's going clubbing then ecstasy pills are a must. Besides cigarettes, hash is widely smoked throughout Egypt. His parents do not know that he drinks and if they found out they would be pissed off big time. That's why he likes hanging out with his uncle, the party animal. Uncle likes to go to the clubs and party hard. Although he doesn't drink because of his faith, he still smokes hash and pops E. To each their own vice I suppose.
Omar does not wish to live in Egypt after he finishes college. The protests which toppled the regime of Hosni Mubarak led to the election of a man who represents interests which are contradictory to the genesis of the situation. In his opinion, the Muslim Brotherhood took advantage of the power vacuum and stepped in to further their own agenda. He also thinks the naqib is a stupid and cruel custom and is adamantly opposed to Shariah. I respect his liberal, progressive thinking in a society deeply rooted in religious tradition.
We parted ways after Spain's victory. I told him to call me if he ever visited the U.S. Likewise, he said the same. With my skin color, not anytime soon, I said. We both had a good hard laugh.
7/3/12
This morning I planned on sleeping in and giving my feet a rest. The alarm of the Chinese guest said otherwise. At 6 am one of the more annoying alarms I have heard went off. Everyone in the room except the person who set it was awake. When she finally did awake, she got the stink eye from several people before figuring out how to turn it off.
My mom sent me an email mentioning a dessert she ate when she was visiting Europe in the 80s. Sucre torte she thought it was called, but it was world famous at the time and her sister and she had to wait a solid 30 to taste it. "Shoe String" had recommended trying Sacher Torte at Cafe Sacher. Famous for over 175 years for their apricot based chocolate delight, I was thinking this had to be the place.
Cafe Sacher was a short 30 minute walk away, across from the Albertina Museum. On the way I grabbed a slice of 'zza for 3 euro. The massive piece slaked my hunger for the moment but it was dessert I truly desired. And it did not disappoint.
You know you are in a good restaurant when everybody has the same thing on their table. Sacher Torte with whipped cream on the side with a glass of water to wash it down. It was a good way to end a short trip to Vienna.
I caught the 2:33 train out of Vienna to Prague, landing me in the city sometime around 7:30. The time of raging with Matt Kelly is near.
The best food in Europe at the moment has got to be in Vienna. Nothing that I have eaten so far can be compared to the cuisine I experienced in this city.
Yesterday morning the train from Zurich arrived into Wien Westbahnhof station at 7:32 am. This time I slept in a six person couchette cabin. Luckily there were only three other inhabitants. An older German woman and two British girls backpacking across Europe. The train was a lot better than the overnighter I took from Rome. The a/c was colder and the bed was a tad better. Perpetual swaying of the train car did some to put me to sleep so I spent most of the ride sliding in and out of consciousness. At 6:30 this morning I was woken by the rough German voice of the train porter waving my Eurail pass in my face. Still groggy, tired, and pissed off that I was woken in such a manner I grudgingly waited for my complimentary breakfast.
Train companies can take a note or two from the customer service of airlines. The complimentary breakfast consisted of coffee and a roll with butter and jam. After consuming everything on the platter, my stomach desired more.
I mentioned something about the hearty meal to the hungarian woman in our car. Earlier I wrote that she was German, but actually she is from Hungary and works in Switzerland. Anyways we got to talking about absolutely nothing at all. She was visiting a long time friend in Vienna I was told, and I told her that I was only going to be there for one night. I asked her recommendation on place I must visit while I was in the city. She rattled off a dozen places or so, that I immediately forgot about, that's why I have "Europe on a Shoe String" as my companion. What type of food is really good to eat in the city?, I asked. Her eyes lit up and a single familiar word escaped between her lips: schnitzel. Ahh yes the famous deep fried concoction. I was saving my schnitzel tasting for Germany but she was so animated about this one particular type of schnitzel that I felt almost obligated to try it. There was only one problem, she couldn't remember the name of the restaurant which served it. That did not deter her from finding out the name of it though. This lady went up and down the car asking everybody in German if they knew the name until she returned with it. On a scrap of paper she had one word written down, Fieglmuller.
Our train arrived on time, something that starkly differentiates the Swiss trains from that of Italy and France. The Do Step In Hostel was a short two blocks from the train station. I was excited to check in and catch up on some sleep, and then do a little bit of sightseeing.
Sleep would have to wait until after 3 pm however. The mid afternoon check in was a real Debbie downer considering I have a blister developing on my foot that might be infected. It just hurts really bad to walk around on it for extended periods of time, which is what i was doing for the rest of the day. Great.
Thankfully I was able to store my bag in the luggage locker. Also the hostel had computers with free internet use. I read up on Isaiah's gun charge, the medicare Supreme Court decision, and checked my email. It felt good to be in touch with the outside world once again.
The roll for breakfast did not suffice and my belly was once again begging for some hearty goodness. Fieglmuller, I must taste your sumptuous schnitzel. The restaurant was a decent walk from the hostel and it seemed like a great way to work up an ever craving appetite.
On the way into town I cruised by the Museum Quartier, Hapsburg Palace and gardens, and the Stephansdom. A religious service was occurring when I walked into the Stephansdom. Oh yeah, it was Sunday. From the back of the church everything looked cool. I would have stuck arouind for longer but I had a date with destiny.
My arrival at Fieglmuller was before the proper opening time of 11, yet one other pilgrim was outside the Mecca of Schnitzel. Eyeing the man, he appeared slender and of some Asian race, yet a determination burned in his eyes for a taste of the schnitzel. I gave him a short, polite not. Each knew the other meant business.
Being the first two patrons on a beautiful Sunday before the church crowd was dismissed we had top picks on seating, yet both sat in the same room. The waiter handed me a menu but I already knew what I wanted. The world famous Fieglmuller Schnitzel was all that was on my mind. Although I did take the waiter's recommendation and ordered a side of potato salad. The pilgrim had only the schnitzel.
A short while later the waiter appeared with what I had been hoping to consume for the past 4 hours. The schnitzel was unlike anything I had ever seen before. The thin, fried patty was spilling over the plate it sat atop, bending but never touching the table. It's diameter alone had to be ten plus inches. A quarter lemon wedge lay on top of the world renown dish, complimented by a hearty bowl of potato salad with greens on top.
For a moment I sat in awe and disbelief. Looked over at the pilgrim, gave him another nod, and went to work. The lemon wedge helped moisten the dry, fried patty but it was the potato salad that really saved me from cotton mouth.
Slow and steady was the strategy for tackling what I dubbed the Schnitzel Challenge. Using the potato salad, my technique involved layering a piece of green on top of some potato, and using a slice of schnitzel to support the structure. Every bite was an orgasmic explosion of schnitzel complimented with the vinegar based flavor of the salad. Not having potato salad, my nameless pilgrim took to cutting pizza shaped slices and shoveling them into his mouth. Poor guy, his stomach will never expand at that kind of consumption rate.
Alas, all good things must come to an end. Save for the lemon wedge, the place and salad bowl were laying on the table clean of any remnant of a meal. I glanced over at the pilgrim still working to finish his schnitzel. Do not stop my friend, the end is near, and soon you shall feel the satisfaction of completing the Schnitzel Challenge!
With a solid three more hours to kill I perused through "Shoe String" for things to do. The Hapsburg Palace was the book's top choice. As the seat of the Austria-Hungary empire the palace consisted of over 1400 rooms and rivaled the Versailles in Paris.
My student ID bought me a ticket to the silver room, Sisi museum, and royal apartments, for 9.50 euro with an audio guide included. 26 is the age I figure when my student ID will become obsolete. Until then I will milk it for every discount possible.
The silver room displayed the dishware the royal family used for every occasion during their rule. It was interesting to see how tastes changed over time and what the royal family favored. A set of dishes existed for every occasion, formal or informal. Much of the gold and silver dishware no longer existed because it was melted at some point to pay for a war. The most spectacular item was the gold centerpiece used for formal affairs. It must have been over 30 feet long, gilt in gold with ornate metal work performed by Vienna's best smiths.
The next feature of my Hapsburg visit was the Sisi Museum. Sisi was the nickname of Empress Elizabeth, wife of Emperor Franz Joseph. She was later assassinated by an Italian anarchist.
Elizabeth was betrothed to Joseph at a very early age in her life. She came from a well to do family and it was a bit of a surprise when the Emperor asked for her hand in marriage. In today's terms, it would be like if a young billionaire mogul proposed to an Atlanta private school girl. At least that's what I have in mind. Which goes along with my impression of Elizabeth as her story unfolds to me via audio guide.
So Elizabeth marries Joseph in a royal fancy wedding, but Sisi is unhappy. She's not used to all the pomp associated with being royalty. Tough life she has being the first woman of an empire. Her poems reflect how she doesn't want all the attention and her desire to be someone else. Eventually she comes down with these "illnesses" that force her to relocate to different palaces all over the empire. Madeira, Budapest, Florence, and Prague just to name a few are places she built palaces so as to recover from her "illnesses". Prozac and barbiturates did not exist at this time so I suppose these vacations are the next best alternative.
Over time she becomes more distant with her hubby and they eventually live in separate apartments inside the Hapsburg. She spends 2 to 3 hours each day having her ankle length hair did and then another two hours exercising. I don't want to call her self absorbed, but I am. Sisi couldn't have it any better yet she was always unhappy or so that's what the museum implied.
The royal apartments were a walk through of where the separated couple lived. It was nice and all, very...royal. At that point i was ready to check in to my room and as luck would have it, it was 3 pm.
The six bed room had no a/c and a single fan which sat on a desk and oscillated to provide circulation of still air. I fell asleep in a sweaty mess and dreamed of strange, forgettable instances.
I awoke in the evening with some time to kill before the Spain/Italy final. The receptionist circled the Bermuda Triangle on my map as a good place to watch the game. I consumed a kabap box on my way down to find a spot. Kebap has run its course in my diet and I will not be sad to say goodbye to it once I return to the States.
A fast food Asian restaurant was showing the match and they had outside seating too. A table cleared up and I immediately snagged it. Some time after Spain's first goal a man walked up and asked if he could sit with me.
Omar is an Egyptian from Cairo studying business at American University in Cairo. He was on vacation with his family and needed some time away from them to enjoy the game, I know how that goes at times.
Having recently read Egypt elected a new president, I was curious to hear his opinion. Egypt is fucked, or so he surmised. He fears the Muslim Brotherhood backed Mosni will make things worse for his country and dreads the day Shariah law is imposed. Omar is a practicing Muslim, but not devout. He prays and reads the Koran, yet likes to drink alcohol when he can. Oh yeah, and he loves drugs too. Hash is his primary choice when it comes to dabbling, but if he's going clubbing then ecstasy pills are a must. Besides cigarettes, hash is widely smoked throughout Egypt. His parents do not know that he drinks and if they found out they would be pissed off big time. That's why he likes hanging out with his uncle, the party animal. Uncle likes to go to the clubs and party hard. Although he doesn't drink because of his faith, he still smokes hash and pops E. To each their own vice I suppose.
Omar does not wish to live in Egypt after he finishes college. The protests which toppled the regime of Hosni Mubarak led to the election of a man who represents interests which are contradictory to the genesis of the situation. In his opinion, the Muslim Brotherhood took advantage of the power vacuum and stepped in to further their own agenda. He also thinks the naqib is a stupid and cruel custom and is adamantly opposed to Shariah. I respect his liberal, progressive thinking in a society deeply rooted in religious tradition.
We parted ways after Spain's victory. I told him to call me if he ever visited the U.S. Likewise, he said the same. With my skin color, not anytime soon, I said. We both had a good hard laugh.
7/3/12
This morning I planned on sleeping in and giving my feet a rest. The alarm of the Chinese guest said otherwise. At 6 am one of the more annoying alarms I have heard went off. Everyone in the room except the person who set it was awake. When she finally did awake, she got the stink eye from several people before figuring out how to turn it off.
My mom sent me an email mentioning a dessert she ate when she was visiting Europe in the 80s. Sucre torte she thought it was called, but it was world famous at the time and her sister and she had to wait a solid 30 to taste it. "Shoe String" had recommended trying Sacher Torte at Cafe Sacher. Famous for over 175 years for their apricot based chocolate delight, I was thinking this had to be the place.
Cafe Sacher was a short 30 minute walk away, across from the Albertina Museum. On the way I grabbed a slice of 'zza for 3 euro. The massive piece slaked my hunger for the moment but it was dessert I truly desired. And it did not disappoint.
You know you are in a good restaurant when everybody has the same thing on their table. Sacher Torte with whipped cream on the side with a glass of water to wash it down. It was a good way to end a short trip to Vienna.
I caught the 2:33 train out of Vienna to Prague, landing me in the city sometime around 7:30. The time of raging with Matt Kelly is near.
Thursday, July 19, 2012
Bern and Getting my Can-yon in Switzerland
6/30/12
Yesterday morning around 10:30 I arrived in Bern. The directions to the hostel were confusing and took me over an hour to find the place when it really would have been 15 if I knew where I was going.
The culture shock of northern Europe has arrived. Before Switzerland, I was able to get by in the previous countries with my knowledge of Spanish. Here it is a completely different game. Part of the reason why I was so lost was because all the street names end in -gasse, with a prefix that is just as confusing. Luckily most Swiss know English and are willing to help out. Yes! America triumphs again.
Check in was not until 3 pm. With a solid three and a half hours to kill I set out on a mission to explore the city. Food came as first priority though. The problem I have with Switzerland is it is so expensive. Everything is twice as much as elsewhere in Europe. How do these people afford to live here? Later I found out that minimum wage is 20 Swiss francs/hr.
A supermarket has carry out sandwiches and wurst. I ate a smoked ham on pretzel bread and a Swiss pig in a blanket. Those items and a coke were over 15 Sfr.
Afterwards I was really in the mood to find a park along the River Taene to sit and read. My city map had a botanical garden outlined on the other side of the River, so I headed that way. Crossing the bridge I looked down at the ice cold, fast moving water and noticed people floating in it. Alright, reading can wait. It's hot, I'm sweaty and haven't showered in about two days. Time to take a dip.
I made my way down to the riverside, hid my pack in some bushes, and found a lower bridge people were jumping into the water from. The great thing about the Taene is that the city of Bern built concrete steps in to the shoreline every 200 meters so you can float for as long as you wish, swim over, and hop out. I jumped in and floated about half a kilometer three times, then decided to move on.
Feeling refreshed and somewhat less smelly I continued on the hike and bike trail along the river which led me to the bear garden. Along the Taene, the city of Bern has two large pens with two bears in each. When I arrived the bears were chilling in their ponds cooling down. Great minds tend to think alike.
It was three o'clock by now so I went back to the hostel and checked in. Once inside my four bed room, I met a New Zealander named Nick. He was using the washing machine so I waited for him to finish before I did a load. While we waited on our stuff we had a beer at a cafe and got to know each other.
Later that night we ended up getting dinner. The choice: Kebap. We paid about three times as much for kebap as we would have in any other country. Afterwards I was full and ready to call it a night. Nick however had different ideas. I think I was one of the few English speakers he has met on his trip, who also liked to party. So we walked around town and drank a couple beers while searching for a pub. Find a pub proved difficult in this UNESCO World Heritage Site city. Eventually we settled on a pub he had previously been to. The place sucked though. The patrons were all male ages 15-20, and the bar was playing some kind of German deathmetal screamo music. We each had a couple of beers then called it a night.
Canyon Time
This morning I woke early and caught the 7:34 train to Interlaken. Nick was heading to Zurich for the day so we both walked to the train station. Once there he asked if I wanted to meet up in Brussels later on in the trip. Sounded like a plan to me, then I set off for my train. I arrived in Interlaken West 30 minutes before the scheduled pick up. Once there I met a couple from Zurich who were doing the same thing. The van arrived a little after nine and whisked us over to the canyoning tours shop. Inside I was fitted for a wet suit, jacket, shoes, life vest, harness, and helmet. At some point in this process our tour guide informed us that canyoning was in fact illegal in the U.S.A. Liability coverage must have been out the wazoo.
Our group consisted of the Swiss couple, 4 people from New York, 4 LSU law students, the tour guide Mustard, and myself. The helmets we wore all had nick names written on them for the guide to call us by. Mine was Bandit.
Bandit and the ten desperadoes loaded into a van and rode up a winding road into the Swiss Alps. About halfway up we stopped, got out, and hiked our way to the starting point of our three hour canyoning adventure.
Once we were at the top of the canyon our guide went through the usual when it comes to safety talks. Keep you helmet on. Follow my footsteps. Do exactly as I say. Blah, blah, blah. Bandit was ready to get is canyon on.
We started out hiking back and forth across the stream we were to follow on our experience and climbing over some boulders. The air was warming up and the neoprene suit had me sweating bullets. This is no surprise since I have been sweating nonstop on the mainland continent. I needed to get wet quickly.
Our first slice of action was rappelling down a 30-40 foot ledge. The guide had control of the descent and speed of the descent too, yet it was still exhilarating going down the side of a cliff next to a waterfall. I waited in some wading water for the remainder of our group to come down. As I am wading one of the girls going to LSU law breaks some terrible news to me.
She attended UGA for her undergrad, therefore she was a bulldog at heart. The news was shocking yet came as no surprise. Isaiah Crowell has been kicked off the football team. Our Heisman hopeful apparently got in a bit of nasty trouble warranting his expulsion from the team. Dawg girl wasn't exactly sure what he was charged with but something along the lines of weapons charge or domestic dispute/violence. Why are our athletes stupid enough to pull these kinds of stunts every single year? Something about their obliviousness for the law or sense of entitlement tells me that there is an environment which nourishes this bad behavior. I do not doubt the headlines blew up when the story broke. Could the education system be blamed for this atmosphere? Man I wish I could check the fake Isaiah Crow twitter account right now.
Back to canyoning. Next we rode down a chute for a brief moment before gathering once more and heading to our first jump. Mustard was really stressing the proper technique and form for cliff jumping while canyoning. Legs bent, arms across the chest, and you wanted to land on your back. If you jumped feet first then you could really injure yourself. Quite a lot to remember when thousands of gallons of snow melted water are gushing past you. The adrenaline was already pumping and then went into overdrive when Mustard informed me that I would be the first to make the jump. I suppose he thought I was a confident swimmer and responsible person because he tasked me with the duty of pulling the other participants out of the water and directing them to a safe spot. No problem, it seemed like a pretty cool job. After the third person jumped, the cold water began to get to my lower extremities. Whatever, this is still an awesome trip.
Everyone made the jump safely without any mishaps. Next we were doing the big jump. Our group was to be the first ones of the season to do it now that the water was at a safe enough level. From 20 feet above we were jumping into a V-shaped chasm pool with a very deep bottom. This jump was a little more tricky because if you did not jump out far enough, the backwash of the waterfall would sweep you into an underwater cave. A tad scary, but another guide was below to prevent that from happening. Once again I as chosen to go first.
The jump was intense and I landed correctly, then I got to do what I know best when canyoning, fish the rest of the group out of the torrential waters. On this jump the water was moving much quick and one could easily have been swept down a nearby chute. Once I was at the bottom I held onto a hanging rope with one hand and used the other to shag the other desperadoes out of the swirling stream. A couple of the girls wussed out and opted for the rappelling alternative.
Once more assembled we hiked a hundred meters or so through water and over rocks. Our trip was nearing its end. The guide yelled at a girl for not following him and getting herself stuck in a pool. Then some guy tried to go a separate route, and slipped and fell. He seemed to be alright but that ticked off the guide even more. Mustard stopped and gave us his he-is-the-boss spiel and told us to do exactly what he commanded. Gotcha bro, that set everyone straight and nothing bad happened for the rest of the trip.
To top off our Outdoor Interlaken adventure we slid down another chute into a backwash. Adjacent to it was an awesome waterfall that was dumping tons of water into the pool we were standing in. Walking behind the waterfall was fun. Walking through it, on the other hand, was a beat down. Good thing I had a helmet on or else it would have been super painful. One thing I forgot about waterfalls is that beneath the water in the pool there are boulders. Very large boulders. When I walked through it the force of the water pushed me into one of the boulders and tweaked my knee. It felt funny and sore immediately but not it's fine. That would have sucked to get airlifted out of that canyon.
Next we floated through a couple more chutes and our trip effectively came to an end. It was a short three hours but fun for every minute of it. It was good timing too because the cold water was beginning to give me a headache. The van arrived and we rode back down the mountain to base camp.
A hot shower was in due order and it was the cure for my shivers. The rest of the afternoon was mine to kill since my train out of Zurich didn't leave until 10:40. Lunch consisted of a cheap, hearty Thai plate of noodles. Cheap by Swiss standards is less than 20 francs. The guide told us about a festival happening today. Interlaken's Truck and Country Festival was happening right outside the town. I had time to kill and figured why not.
Setting off on foot, I soon became disoriented by the signs pointing me to "Festival". Somehow I wound up in another village and explored the town and gazed in awe at the mountainscape.
After buying a miniature Swiss flag and an Interlaken sticker for my water bottle I caught the earlier train to Bern. One last walk around the town was in order before moving on to Austria. With 7.65 Swiss francs in my pocket I wanted to make my meal stretch a long way. This meant hitting up the Migros carry out. To my shock, Migros was closed. I forgot it was Saturday and they closed at five. Instead I ate a curry chicken salad sandwich and a chocolate bar. The sandwich has inspired me to create a curry chicken salad of my own except make it spicy.
My feet took a pounding today. A nice long soak in the Taene did them proper. As I sat gazing into the sun, enjoying my chocolate bar, and watching the occasional raft float by; the reality of being in Europe was finally sinking in. An opportunity such as this will not be available for quite some time. Certainly not in the next two or three years. Its been an odyssey for sure so far. Obstacles have gotten in my way but I have figures a way around them. Traveling alone has taught me to be weary, but it has also introduced new people into my life. If I traveled with a group or someone else those individuals may have just been another stranger on the street. The halfway point of my trip is here. With the next eight or so days planned it's about time to decide what to do with the remaining nince. Brussels and Amsterdam seem like cool places to check out.
To sum up the rest of my day, I watched the Bernstein bears for one last time, got rained on a little, and caught the earlier train to Zurich. I have one more hour to kill before my train departs overnight for Vienna. Tomorrow may be a chill out day, if the hostel has A/C. Two more days and I will be in Prague with Ratboy having a helluva time for the 4th.
Time seems to be going slower as I wait. I'm done spending cash in this country, it's too rich for my blood. Being back in the Eurozone will be nice. One of the things I keep putting off is asking my rents for more dinero. It is inevitable. Europe has cut my femoral and I'm dying at a quickening pace. Tomorrow will be a super cheap day for sure.
Yesterday morning around 10:30 I arrived in Bern. The directions to the hostel were confusing and took me over an hour to find the place when it really would have been 15 if I knew where I was going.
The culture shock of northern Europe has arrived. Before Switzerland, I was able to get by in the previous countries with my knowledge of Spanish. Here it is a completely different game. Part of the reason why I was so lost was because all the street names end in -gasse, with a prefix that is just as confusing. Luckily most Swiss know English and are willing to help out. Yes! America triumphs again.
Check in was not until 3 pm. With a solid three and a half hours to kill I set out on a mission to explore the city. Food came as first priority though. The problem I have with Switzerland is it is so expensive. Everything is twice as much as elsewhere in Europe. How do these people afford to live here? Later I found out that minimum wage is 20 Swiss francs/hr.
A supermarket has carry out sandwiches and wurst. I ate a smoked ham on pretzel bread and a Swiss pig in a blanket. Those items and a coke were over 15 Sfr.
Afterwards I was really in the mood to find a park along the River Taene to sit and read. My city map had a botanical garden outlined on the other side of the River, so I headed that way. Crossing the bridge I looked down at the ice cold, fast moving water and noticed people floating in it. Alright, reading can wait. It's hot, I'm sweaty and haven't showered in about two days. Time to take a dip.
I made my way down to the riverside, hid my pack in some bushes, and found a lower bridge people were jumping into the water from. The great thing about the Taene is that the city of Bern built concrete steps in to the shoreline every 200 meters so you can float for as long as you wish, swim over, and hop out. I jumped in and floated about half a kilometer three times, then decided to move on.
 |
| Ice cold swim in the River Taene |
Later that night we ended up getting dinner. The choice: Kebap. We paid about three times as much for kebap as we would have in any other country. Afterwards I was full and ready to call it a night. Nick however had different ideas. I think I was one of the few English speakers he has met on his trip, who also liked to party. So we walked around town and drank a couple beers while searching for a pub. Find a pub proved difficult in this UNESCO World Heritage Site city. Eventually we settled on a pub he had previously been to. The place sucked though. The patrons were all male ages 15-20, and the bar was playing some kind of German deathmetal screamo music. We each had a couple of beers then called it a night.
Canyon Time
This morning I woke early and caught the 7:34 train to Interlaken. Nick was heading to Zurich for the day so we both walked to the train station. Once there he asked if I wanted to meet up in Brussels later on in the trip. Sounded like a plan to me, then I set off for my train. I arrived in Interlaken West 30 minutes before the scheduled pick up. Once there I met a couple from Zurich who were doing the same thing. The van arrived a little after nine and whisked us over to the canyoning tours shop. Inside I was fitted for a wet suit, jacket, shoes, life vest, harness, and helmet. At some point in this process our tour guide informed us that canyoning was in fact illegal in the U.S.A. Liability coverage must have been out the wazoo.
Our group consisted of the Swiss couple, 4 people from New York, 4 LSU law students, the tour guide Mustard, and myself. The helmets we wore all had nick names written on them for the guide to call us by. Mine was Bandit.
Bandit and the ten desperadoes loaded into a van and rode up a winding road into the Swiss Alps. About halfway up we stopped, got out, and hiked our way to the starting point of our three hour canyoning adventure.
Once we were at the top of the canyon our guide went through the usual when it comes to safety talks. Keep you helmet on. Follow my footsteps. Do exactly as I say. Blah, blah, blah. Bandit was ready to get is canyon on.
We started out hiking back and forth across the stream we were to follow on our experience and climbing over some boulders. The air was warming up and the neoprene suit had me sweating bullets. This is no surprise since I have been sweating nonstop on the mainland continent. I needed to get wet quickly.
Our first slice of action was rappelling down a 30-40 foot ledge. The guide had control of the descent and speed of the descent too, yet it was still exhilarating going down the side of a cliff next to a waterfall. I waited in some wading water for the remainder of our group to come down. As I am wading one of the girls going to LSU law breaks some terrible news to me.
She attended UGA for her undergrad, therefore she was a bulldog at heart. The news was shocking yet came as no surprise. Isaiah Crowell has been kicked off the football team. Our Heisman hopeful apparently got in a bit of nasty trouble warranting his expulsion from the team. Dawg girl wasn't exactly sure what he was charged with but something along the lines of weapons charge or domestic dispute/violence. Why are our athletes stupid enough to pull these kinds of stunts every single year? Something about their obliviousness for the law or sense of entitlement tells me that there is an environment which nourishes this bad behavior. I do not doubt the headlines blew up when the story broke. Could the education system be blamed for this atmosphere? Man I wish I could check the fake Isaiah Crow twitter account right now.
Back to canyoning. Next we rode down a chute for a brief moment before gathering once more and heading to our first jump. Mustard was really stressing the proper technique and form for cliff jumping while canyoning. Legs bent, arms across the chest, and you wanted to land on your back. If you jumped feet first then you could really injure yourself. Quite a lot to remember when thousands of gallons of snow melted water are gushing past you. The adrenaline was already pumping and then went into overdrive when Mustard informed me that I would be the first to make the jump. I suppose he thought I was a confident swimmer and responsible person because he tasked me with the duty of pulling the other participants out of the water and directing them to a safe spot. No problem, it seemed like a pretty cool job. After the third person jumped, the cold water began to get to my lower extremities. Whatever, this is still an awesome trip.
Everyone made the jump safely without any mishaps. Next we were doing the big jump. Our group was to be the first ones of the season to do it now that the water was at a safe enough level. From 20 feet above we were jumping into a V-shaped chasm pool with a very deep bottom. This jump was a little more tricky because if you did not jump out far enough, the backwash of the waterfall would sweep you into an underwater cave. A tad scary, but another guide was below to prevent that from happening. Once again I as chosen to go first.
The jump was intense and I landed correctly, then I got to do what I know best when canyoning, fish the rest of the group out of the torrential waters. On this jump the water was moving much quick and one could easily have been swept down a nearby chute. Once I was at the bottom I held onto a hanging rope with one hand and used the other to shag the other desperadoes out of the swirling stream. A couple of the girls wussed out and opted for the rappelling alternative.
Once more assembled we hiked a hundred meters or so through water and over rocks. Our trip was nearing its end. The guide yelled at a girl for not following him and getting herself stuck in a pool. Then some guy tried to go a separate route, and slipped and fell. He seemed to be alright but that ticked off the guide even more. Mustard stopped and gave us his he-is-the-boss spiel and told us to do exactly what he commanded. Gotcha bro, that set everyone straight and nothing bad happened for the rest of the trip.
To top off our Outdoor Interlaken adventure we slid down another chute into a backwash. Adjacent to it was an awesome waterfall that was dumping tons of water into the pool we were standing in. Walking behind the waterfall was fun. Walking through it, on the other hand, was a beat down. Good thing I had a helmet on or else it would have been super painful. One thing I forgot about waterfalls is that beneath the water in the pool there are boulders. Very large boulders. When I walked through it the force of the water pushed me into one of the boulders and tweaked my knee. It felt funny and sore immediately but not it's fine. That would have sucked to get airlifted out of that canyon.
Next we floated through a couple more chutes and our trip effectively came to an end. It was a short three hours but fun for every minute of it. It was good timing too because the cold water was beginning to give me a headache. The van arrived and we rode back down the mountain to base camp.
A hot shower was in due order and it was the cure for my shivers. The rest of the afternoon was mine to kill since my train out of Zurich didn't leave until 10:40. Lunch consisted of a cheap, hearty Thai plate of noodles. Cheap by Swiss standards is less than 20 francs. The guide told us about a festival happening today. Interlaken's Truck and Country Festival was happening right outside the town. I had time to kill and figured why not.
Setting off on foot, I soon became disoriented by the signs pointing me to "Festival". Somehow I wound up in another village and explored the town and gazed in awe at the mountainscape.
After buying a miniature Swiss flag and an Interlaken sticker for my water bottle I caught the earlier train to Bern. One last walk around the town was in order before moving on to Austria. With 7.65 Swiss francs in my pocket I wanted to make my meal stretch a long way. This meant hitting up the Migros carry out. To my shock, Migros was closed. I forgot it was Saturday and they closed at five. Instead I ate a curry chicken salad sandwich and a chocolate bar. The sandwich has inspired me to create a curry chicken salad of my own except make it spicy.
My feet took a pounding today. A nice long soak in the Taene did them proper. As I sat gazing into the sun, enjoying my chocolate bar, and watching the occasional raft float by; the reality of being in Europe was finally sinking in. An opportunity such as this will not be available for quite some time. Certainly not in the next two or three years. Its been an odyssey for sure so far. Obstacles have gotten in my way but I have figures a way around them. Traveling alone has taught me to be weary, but it has also introduced new people into my life. If I traveled with a group or someone else those individuals may have just been another stranger on the street. The halfway point of my trip is here. With the next eight or so days planned it's about time to decide what to do with the remaining nince. Brussels and Amsterdam seem like cool places to check out.
To sum up the rest of my day, I watched the Bernstein bears for one last time, got rained on a little, and caught the earlier train to Zurich. I have one more hour to kill before my train departs overnight for Vienna. Tomorrow may be a chill out day, if the hostel has A/C. Two more days and I will be in Prague with Ratboy having a helluva time for the 4th.
Time seems to be going slower as I wait. I'm done spending cash in this country, it's too rich for my blood. Being back in the Eurozone will be nice. One of the things I keep putting off is asking my rents for more dinero. It is inevitable. Europe has cut my femoral and I'm dying at a quickening pace. Tomorrow will be a super cheap day for sure.
Roma
6/27/12
Rome cannot be conquered in two days. It is impossible. Hostel Beautiful is conveniently close to the train station, yet a far walk to the sites of Rome.
In need of some austerity measures I went to the supermarket yesterday and bought food. If I am to continue on with this trip then I need to save money at every possible moment.
As I cooked my pasta in the kitchen I met two girls from Belgium and a Mexican fellow who is now a software engineer in Sweden. Florence, Olivia, and Pablo invited me to join them at 7:30 to go to the Spanish Steps with their group, drink beer, and watch the sunset.
Outside the hostel I met the rest of our group. Two Aussies, named Corey and Tom. A German girl named Sarah from Stuttgart and Eric from Canada. Together we set off for the steps. I was glad I was able to see them last night because there was lots more to do on my trip. As the sun was setting half of our group had signed up for a pub crawl. I abstained from it, but went to the first pub with the group.
I ended up getting way too hosed while we were there. The people that had paid for the crawl were feeding me drinks an by the time Florence, Olivia, and Pablo wanted to leave I was swaying and stumbling out of the door.
We made it back before midnight and that seemed like enough time to get some sleep and wake up at 7 to see the Vatican.
My alarm woke me up, and I proceeded to turn it off and go back to sleep for another 5 hours. At noon I came to my senses and crawled out of bed. Although I may not see the Holy City today, I'll get in some of the other sites.
The Colosseum was closest to the hostel and in turn was my starting point for sightseeing today. As luck may have it I bumped into Sarah and Eric from the night before. Appearing in a condition much worse than my own, we bought tickets to enter the Colosseum.
The inside really was not anything special. It was mostly the underlying structure that remained. I mean it was great seeing a classic structure like that but I almost preferred to have not paid to see it. Afterwards we walked over to the Palantine hill and Roman Forum. Those places were cool, but once again ruins.
By this time Eric had seen enough and parted ways to catch up on some much needed sleep. Sarah and I were determined to see more sights before calling it a day.
First we walked over to the Trevi Fountain. That is an amazing piece of work to behold. It was very crowded, but we managed to take some photos and toss some coins in.
Next we walked to the nearby Parthenon. Since it was a church, admission was free. Gotta love free stuff. I saw Raphael's grave along with the tombs of the first and second kings of Italy. Seeing the dome of the Parthenon is impressive. It's hard to believe that for the longest time it was the largest dome ever built without the use of reinforced steel.
The brutal sun and it's unrelenting heat had sapped the energy out of both of us. Time to head back home. The remaining members of our groups decided to meet back up at 7:30 to eat dinner and watch the Spain/Portugal soccer match.
The hostel I'm staying in is pretty dumpy. One nice thing is that the other bed in my room is unoccupied, thus giving me a room all to myself for my stay.
6/28/12
Whoever said Rome couldn't be conquered in two days obviously hasn't tried it.
After dinner last night the group of travelers assembled once more and went to a pub to watch the Spain/Portugal game. The place was overpriced which seems to be the theme among European bars.
After Spain won in a shootout, I went home earlier than the rest of the group. My determination to see the Vatican today was too strong.
This morning I met Eric and Sarah at the train station at 9 to begin our adventure. Since today was my last day in Rome, I had checked out and stashed my bag behind the counter of the hostel.
We rode the metro to the Vatican and by the time we arrived it was scorching hot. More on the Vatican tomorrow. I have just hopped on my overnight train to Milan and am absolutely exhausted.
6/29/12
The overnight train to Milan probably caused permanent nerve damage to part of my neck. Cramped quarters and the perpetual shift and sway of the coach really did a number on me. It feels like I did not sleep a wink for the entire journey yet I recall a dream that I had, so I must have slept.
In my dream I had contacted my Mother via Skype. I proceeded to fill her in on the details when she surprises me with good news! Our long lost and assumed dead cat Snowball had returned!!! The story in my dream is quite funny because Snowy has been MIA for a solid nine or ten years. How is this possible I ask? Well it turns out, my mom explains, that Snowball ran away because of an ear infection and has been in deteriorating health ever since. Now that she is found, my Mother spared no expense in nursing her back to health. Imagine an all white cat with a white bandage wrapped around its kitty skull, a kitty neckbrace, and what could pass for kitty casts on its front paws. Of course my dream is highly unlikely principally because the amount of time she was gone was equal to the lifetime of an average house car. Also, Sean Grant's dad witnessed a coyote devouring a white furry animal on a jog the morning Snowball disappeared. Connecting the dots on that mystery was a beginner's challenge.
Back to yesterday and my last day in Rome. Of course it was another scorcher in the city. When Sarah, Eric, and I reached our destination west of the Tiber, it was feeling like another toasty day in Rome.
Dress code is strict in the holiest city in the world. Though Mecca is probably stricter. That day we all had to rock pants to enter St. Peter's Basilica and the Sistine Chapel. Thinking ahead I wore my REI pants that also unzipped into shorts.
Crowds were flocking to St. Peter's by the thousands and the queue was growing long by the second. Of course if you wished not to wait in line you could always buy a quick pass from one of the many hustlers hawking tickets in your face. We chose to wait instead and it ended up only being a 20 minute wait, maybe less.
The inside of St. Peter's could be described as humble at best. Grandiose was nonexistent and the Catholics who built the city must have been on a tight budget at the time. Not really though. It was the most lavish display of religious elegance and zeal I have ever seen. Still, it was a sight to behold.
Afterwards we walked over to the Vatican Museums and Sistine Chapel. Walking through those galleries were my favorite part of Rome. The place housed Egyptian artifacts and works of art by ever major artist imaginable. Somewhere I read that it was the largest and longest art gallery in the world, covering seven hectares. We walked through most of it when hunger hit all of our stomachs. We skipped the Raphael apartments and modern art gallery and went straight to the Sistine Chapel.
Michelangelo's masterpiece was great but I guess my mind was expecting something else. Maybe it was the shoulder to shoulder audience that ruined it for me.
We went and ate in the Vatican Pizzeria. Holy pizza! Wanting to see the section of the museum we skipped over, I dragged Sarah and Eric back through the entire place to see the Raphael frescoes. I enjoyed those more so than the Sistine Chapel. Then we walked through the Sistine Chapel, again. Not too many people can say they walked through the Vatican Museum twice in one day, but I can.
After our trip to the Holy City, we walked over to the Piazza Navona. We took some photos of the famous fountain there and ate some much deserved gelato. Then we walked over to the Trevi Fountain and met up with Sarah's cousin and her boyfriend. We walked around some more and decided to meet back up at 7:30 for dinner.
I found an internet point and used it to check my email and financial situation. Luckily, the paragon rep authorized my housing allowance transfer into my bank account. Looks like I'll be able to get by for the rest of the trip. Also, I signed up for a canyoning trip in Interlaken for tomorrow. Cannot wait for that.
The five of us ate dinner at a restaurant where they served a three course meal for 13 euro.It was okay, but very filling. They broadcast the game outside while we ate. The Germans among us were disappointed to see their team go down 2-0 in the first half in part due to some excellent shots by Balotelli. That guy's mohawk grosses me out.
I waked with the group to the Colosseum where they were going to watch the rest of the match. Then I turned right around and went to the train station. My time in Rome was fun. I was very glad to have met the people I did and travel with them while I could. Almost forgot, outside the Vatican I bumped into Dan, Leslie, Pat and Phil, haha. Europe keeps getting smaller and smaller!
I'm glad I moved on yesterday. Any more time in Rome would drive me crazy. Definitely saw the main highlights I wanted to see. Looking forward to cooler climate in Switzerland and northern Europe.
Rome cannot be conquered in two days. It is impossible. Hostel Beautiful is conveniently close to the train station, yet a far walk to the sites of Rome.
In need of some austerity measures I went to the supermarket yesterday and bought food. If I am to continue on with this trip then I need to save money at every possible moment.
As I cooked my pasta in the kitchen I met two girls from Belgium and a Mexican fellow who is now a software engineer in Sweden. Florence, Olivia, and Pablo invited me to join them at 7:30 to go to the Spanish Steps with their group, drink beer, and watch the sunset.
 |
| Spanish Steps |
Outside the hostel I met the rest of our group. Two Aussies, named Corey and Tom. A German girl named Sarah from Stuttgart and Eric from Canada. Together we set off for the steps. I was glad I was able to see them last night because there was lots more to do on my trip. As the sun was setting half of our group had signed up for a pub crawl. I abstained from it, but went to the first pub with the group.
 |
| New friends in Rome: (L to R) Some French guy, Florence, Sarah, Me, Olivia, Pablo, and Tom |
I ended up getting way too hosed while we were there. The people that had paid for the crawl were feeding me drinks an by the time Florence, Olivia, and Pablo wanted to leave I was swaying and stumbling out of the door.
We made it back before midnight and that seemed like enough time to get some sleep and wake up at 7 to see the Vatican.
My alarm woke me up, and I proceeded to turn it off and go back to sleep for another 5 hours. At noon I came to my senses and crawled out of bed. Although I may not see the Holy City today, I'll get in some of the other sites.
The Colosseum was closest to the hostel and in turn was my starting point for sightseeing today. As luck may have it I bumped into Sarah and Eric from the night before. Appearing in a condition much worse than my own, we bought tickets to enter the Colosseum.
The inside really was not anything special. It was mostly the underlying structure that remained. I mean it was great seeing a classic structure like that but I almost preferred to have not paid to see it. Afterwards we walked over to the Palantine hill and Roman Forum. Those places were cool, but once again ruins.
 |
| Me, Eric, and Sarah inside of the Colosseum |
By this time Eric had seen enough and parted ways to catch up on some much needed sleep. Sarah and I were determined to see more sights before calling it a day.
First we walked over to the Trevi Fountain. That is an amazing piece of work to behold. It was very crowded, but we managed to take some photos and toss some coins in.
 |
| Trevi Fountain |
 |
| Raphael's Tomb |
The hostel I'm staying in is pretty dumpy. One nice thing is that the other bed in my room is unoccupied, thus giving me a room all to myself for my stay.
6/28/12
Whoever said Rome couldn't be conquered in two days obviously hasn't tried it.
After dinner last night the group of travelers assembled once more and went to a pub to watch the Spain/Portugal game. The place was overpriced which seems to be the theme among European bars.
After Spain won in a shootout, I went home earlier than the rest of the group. My determination to see the Vatican today was too strong.
This morning I met Eric and Sarah at the train station at 9 to begin our adventure. Since today was my last day in Rome, I had checked out and stashed my bag behind the counter of the hostel.
We rode the metro to the Vatican and by the time we arrived it was scorching hot. More on the Vatican tomorrow. I have just hopped on my overnight train to Milan and am absolutely exhausted.
6/29/12
The overnight train to Milan probably caused permanent nerve damage to part of my neck. Cramped quarters and the perpetual shift and sway of the coach really did a number on me. It feels like I did not sleep a wink for the entire journey yet I recall a dream that I had, so I must have slept.
 |
| My luxurious quarters in the overnight sleeper train |
In my dream I had contacted my Mother via Skype. I proceeded to fill her in on the details when she surprises me with good news! Our long lost and assumed dead cat Snowball had returned!!! The story in my dream is quite funny because Snowy has been MIA for a solid nine or ten years. How is this possible I ask? Well it turns out, my mom explains, that Snowball ran away because of an ear infection and has been in deteriorating health ever since. Now that she is found, my Mother spared no expense in nursing her back to health. Imagine an all white cat with a white bandage wrapped around its kitty skull, a kitty neckbrace, and what could pass for kitty casts on its front paws. Of course my dream is highly unlikely principally because the amount of time she was gone was equal to the lifetime of an average house car. Also, Sean Grant's dad witnessed a coyote devouring a white furry animal on a jog the morning Snowball disappeared. Connecting the dots on that mystery was a beginner's challenge.
Back to yesterday and my last day in Rome. Of course it was another scorcher in the city. When Sarah, Eric, and I reached our destination west of the Tiber, it was feeling like another toasty day in Rome.
Dress code is strict in the holiest city in the world. Though Mecca is probably stricter. That day we all had to rock pants to enter St. Peter's Basilica and the Sistine Chapel. Thinking ahead I wore my REI pants that also unzipped into shorts.
 |
| St. Pete's |
The inside of St. Peter's could be described as humble at best. Grandiose was nonexistent and the Catholics who built the city must have been on a tight budget at the time. Not really though. It was the most lavish display of religious elegance and zeal I have ever seen. Still, it was a sight to behold.
Afterwards we walked over to the Vatican Museums and Sistine Chapel. Walking through those galleries were my favorite part of Rome. The place housed Egyptian artifacts and works of art by ever major artist imaginable. Somewhere I read that it was the largest and longest art gallery in the world, covering seven hectares. We walked through most of it when hunger hit all of our stomachs. We skipped the Raphael apartments and modern art gallery and went straight to the Sistine Chapel.
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| Grizzly Adams |
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| The Thinker |
We went and ate in the Vatican Pizzeria. Holy pizza! Wanting to see the section of the museum we skipped over, I dragged Sarah and Eric back through the entire place to see the Raphael frescoes. I enjoyed those more so than the Sistine Chapel. Then we walked through the Sistine Chapel, again. Not too many people can say they walked through the Vatican Museum twice in one day, but I can.
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| Raphael's School of Athens |
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| Piazza Navona |
The five of us ate dinner at a restaurant where they served a three course meal for 13 euro.It was okay, but very filling. They broadcast the game outside while we ate. The Germans among us were disappointed to see their team go down 2-0 in the first half in part due to some excellent shots by Balotelli. That guy's mohawk grosses me out.
I waked with the group to the Colosseum where they were going to watch the rest of the match. Then I turned right around and went to the train station. My time in Rome was fun. I was very glad to have met the people I did and travel with them while I could. Almost forgot, outside the Vatican I bumped into Dan, Leslie, Pat and Phil, haha. Europe keeps getting smaller and smaller!
I'm glad I moved on yesterday. Any more time in Rome would drive me crazy. Definitely saw the main highlights I wanted to see. Looking forward to cooler climate in Switzerland and northern Europe.
Florence
6/23/12
My stay in Cannes was brief. The place was boring and the French are rude. I will admit though, it is a billionaire's playground. Multimillion dollar yachts graced the bay with the occasional private jet passing by overhead. Monaco was more or less the same, except cooler cars driving by on the city streets.
6/24/12
An early start to my traveling today. Woke up at 6:40 and caught the train to La Spezia Centrale. The thing about riding on regional trains in Europe is that they take forever to get anywhere. From Genoa to Spezia it probably took about an hour and a half and stopped at 20 stations on the way.
As is tradition in Italy our train arrived late and ended up missing my connecting train to Pisa with a solid hour plus to kill, I headed into the station to get something to drink. Missing the train turned out to be not such a bad thing afterall. While waiting in line at the coffee shop I met two Canadian girls named Kailee and Brittany.
They were going to Florence as well. Instead of taking the painstakingly slow regional to Pisa I shelled out three euros and reserved a spot on the same train. Instead of riding the train for an hour 44 minutes, it's going to be a short 45 minute ride.
You only really need two hours max to visit the town of Pisa. That's enough time to arrive, snap some photos in front of the leaning tower, grab some gelato, and be on your jolly way. After doing that we were on our jolly way to Florence.
There is some big celebration of some sort happening in Florence today. I read about it in Shoestring and am lucky to be arriving in the city to experience it. I'm thinking that I will hang with these chicks from Ontario for the day. It's amazing the people you will meet traveling across this continent.
6/25/12
Last night Kailee, Brittany, and I met up to eat dinner. The receptionist in their hostel recommended Gusta Pizza. We met up at 6 and set off for the pizzeria. The place was south of the river so it was a good 20 minute walk, if you knew where you were going. Thirty minutes later and countless wrong turns, we arrived at our destination. Gusta pizza however does not open until 7. We were told this by an old man smoking a cigarette with some of the chefs. He seemed a tad drunk and offered us wine. We began to follow him until the chefs started laughing at us. I got smart and realized this man was nothing but an Italian bum. The worst part about it all was the chefs just stood there and laughed. The homeless bum could have led us into a good old bum booby trap for all we know.
Pissed at the Gusta Pizza pie throwers we didn't want to give them the satisfaction of some travelers getting duped. We decided to eat somewhere else instead. An outdoor Italian cafe served us just fine. I had lasagna which was okay, nothing special though. Afterwards we stopped by a supermarket and bought a couple bottles of wine for the fireworks show. Time to get a little saucy for some explosions.
We staked out a decent spot for the show. The fireworks would wrap up the Festa di San Giovanni, the celebration of Florence's patron stain, Saint John. Our location was directly across from Piazza Michelangelo , on of the highest points in the city and the site where the fireworks would be launched. As we sat in anticipation of the show, it seemed to me that none of us knew when it would start. The occasional roar of locals watching the Italy/UK soccer match would pierce the evening air as more and more people crowded along the banks of the river.
A German couple standing next to us offered to take our picture and we immediately struck up a conversation with them. They were vacationing from Hamburg for two weeks and were making their rounds about Tuscany. Like most conversations do, we eventually ran out of topics to discus and started asking each other about the weather. I tried to explain the type of weather back home in Austin when two ladies and their daughters piped into our conversation.
They had overheard me mention Austin, and as it turns out were from Westlake. One mother and daughter had lived down the street from me on Barton Point Drive. The other was Mrs. Dawkins and her daughter. I had played football with her son Stephen my senior year. Europe keeps getting smaller and smaller I kid you not. The girls and I chitchatted with them while we all waited for the fireworks. Mrs. Dawkins would relay the message to my parents that I was okay and would need money at some point. We all joked that the showed wouldn't begin until after the match but sure enough at 10:30 the booms and crackles of burning gunpowder were greeted by cheers from the onlookers.
The show lasted a solid hour. Every time we thought we had seen the finale an even more impressive array would trump the previous. Red, white, and green were the dominant colors of the show. However, blue and gold also had their fair presence too. I'm only assuming those are Florence's city colors or of the Medici.
Once the final finale had occurred we set off back home. A thundering group of spectators blew past us to crowd in front of cafe windows along the street. The soccer match had gone into penalty kicks.
6/26/12
To finish up the night before, Italy won and the town went wild.
Yesterday I woke up around 10 and set off to do some sightseeing. I do not understand why, but all or most museums are closed on Monday throughout Europe. Which basically ruled out me visiting the Uffizi and Michelangelo's David.
Instead I bought a pass for 15 euro which granted me access to the Battistero, Duomo, the Bell tower of the Duomo, and the Museo which houses most of the original sculptures of the Duomo. I did not however pay to see the Dome of the Duomo. Apparently that's the best part of it all, instead I looked at a print of the ceiling. It was pretty cool, but not worth the 8 euro and the queue.
The stairs to the top of the bell tower were a bitch to climb. They were barely wider than my shoulders and things got a tad uncomfortable when someone else was going the opposite direction. Besides the claustrophobic climb, the view of the city from the top was amazing. Afterwards I roamed around the city in search of a gift for Katy.
I found a scarf for her at a stand. It is very beautiful and hope that she likes the color. I can never remember if she hates pink or purple, or maybe both. Later that night I was supposed to meet back up with Kailee and Brittany to try Gusta Pizza one more time. Around late afternoon I went back to the hostel to shower and chill out. At 6:30 I set back out to rendezvous with them once more.
Much to our dismay, the pizza place was closed! Go figure, it was a monday in Europe. Two aussie travelers from their hostel joined up with our group, Phil and Pat were their names. Also a young husband and wife named Dan and Leslie LaVelle came along too. They were from Nashville and were traveling around Europe for two months.
Saddened that Gusta was closed, we set off to find another place to grub. By this time we were starving and would settle for anything.
Circus pizza in the Piazza della Signoria was our final destination. The restaurant was housed in a building designed by Da Vinci or maybe it was Michelangelo. Regardless, the food was a tad pricier than I would have like to have paid.
The food was not 14 euro good and by the time everyone had finished the sun was getting low. Before I go any further, I wanted to mention that there was a protest happening not 20 feet from our table. In the midst of Italy's austerity measures they had shut down several schools in the area. The protesters consisted of children, parents, and teachers playing ring around the rosey. I supposed the cops thought things might get ugly because their presence was definitely visible as well. Although they were not wielding riot shields and batons, the image of a child taking a tear gas canister to the gut was playing out vividly in my mind. I chose not to share my sick inside joke with the rest of the group.
30 minutes eating and a painful sorting of the bill we were on our way. With a bottle of white in my hand, we sipped on wine in front of the Duomo and took in sounds and smells of Florence in the evening time. Two more Canadians and a North Carolinian joined our group.
My heroics came into play when two cockroaches climbed out of the sewer and started to crawl on Kailee's backpack. She leapt up screaming and I proceeded to kick them a good 20 feet from us. However, one came screaming back towards her with a vengeance. A quick stomp of my foot but a kabash on that silly business.
Sometime around midnight we made our way to a bar. The place was full of American students and proved to be a good, slightly overpriced establishment to drink in. I departed from the group around 2 and made the long walk back to my hostel. Tomorrow I would wake early and see the real David.
At 6:15 am I awoke to my alarm, turned it off, and went back to sleep. Sorry, but seeing a copy of the original will have to do. Next time I am in Florence it will be at the top of my list.
My train did not depart until 2:14 and check out was at 11. This gave me ample time to climb the Michelangelo and get in some last snapshots of the city. The climb to the top was steep, hot, sweaty, but worth it. All of Florence presented itself to me in a picturesque setting that screamed Tuscany. The descent from the top felt great. Others were struggling to climb the steps, but they would be rewarded soon enough.
With some time to kill, I paid to check my email and update my status on fb. Also, I checked my bank statements. I am burning through cash at a rate that is unsustainable for the remainder of my trip. I either need to do some serious spending cuts or ask my parents for more money.
I am on the train to Roma now. In 45 minutes I will be in the city. Another 2 day hit the ground running visit to see all that I can manage until off to Switzerland. Time to crush out some Feast for Crows.
My stay in Cannes was brief. The place was boring and the French are rude. I will admit though, it is a billionaire's playground. Multimillion dollar yachts graced the bay with the occasional private jet passing by overhead. Monaco was more or less the same, except cooler cars driving by on the city streets.
6/24/12
An early start to my traveling today. Woke up at 6:40 and caught the train to La Spezia Centrale. The thing about riding on regional trains in Europe is that they take forever to get anywhere. From Genoa to Spezia it probably took about an hour and a half and stopped at 20 stations on the way.
As is tradition in Italy our train arrived late and ended up missing my connecting train to Pisa with a solid hour plus to kill, I headed into the station to get something to drink. Missing the train turned out to be not such a bad thing afterall. While waiting in line at the coffee shop I met two Canadian girls named Kailee and Brittany.
They were going to Florence as well. Instead of taking the painstakingly slow regional to Pisa I shelled out three euros and reserved a spot on the same train. Instead of riding the train for an hour 44 minutes, it's going to be a short 45 minute ride.
You only really need two hours max to visit the town of Pisa. That's enough time to arrive, snap some photos in front of the leaning tower, grab some gelato, and be on your jolly way. After doing that we were on our jolly way to Florence.
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| Gettin' my lean on |
There is some big celebration of some sort happening in Florence today. I read about it in Shoestring and am lucky to be arriving in the city to experience it. I'm thinking that I will hang with these chicks from Ontario for the day. It's amazing the people you will meet traveling across this continent.
6/25/12
Last night Kailee, Brittany, and I met up to eat dinner. The receptionist in their hostel recommended Gusta Pizza. We met up at 6 and set off for the pizzeria. The place was south of the river so it was a good 20 minute walk, if you knew where you were going. Thirty minutes later and countless wrong turns, we arrived at our destination. Gusta pizza however does not open until 7. We were told this by an old man smoking a cigarette with some of the chefs. He seemed a tad drunk and offered us wine. We began to follow him until the chefs started laughing at us. I got smart and realized this man was nothing but an Italian bum. The worst part about it all was the chefs just stood there and laughed. The homeless bum could have led us into a good old bum booby trap for all we know.
Pissed at the Gusta Pizza pie throwers we didn't want to give them the satisfaction of some travelers getting duped. We decided to eat somewhere else instead. An outdoor Italian cafe served us just fine. I had lasagna which was okay, nothing special though. Afterwards we stopped by a supermarket and bought a couple bottles of wine for the fireworks show. Time to get a little saucy for some explosions.
We staked out a decent spot for the show. The fireworks would wrap up the Festa di San Giovanni, the celebration of Florence's patron stain, Saint John. Our location was directly across from Piazza Michelangelo , on of the highest points in the city and the site where the fireworks would be launched. As we sat in anticipation of the show, it seemed to me that none of us knew when it would start. The occasional roar of locals watching the Italy/UK soccer match would pierce the evening air as more and more people crowded along the banks of the river.
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| Brittany, me, and Kailee waiting for the fireworks |
A German couple standing next to us offered to take our picture and we immediately struck up a conversation with them. They were vacationing from Hamburg for two weeks and were making their rounds about Tuscany. Like most conversations do, we eventually ran out of topics to discus and started asking each other about the weather. I tried to explain the type of weather back home in Austin when two ladies and their daughters piped into our conversation.
They had overheard me mention Austin, and as it turns out were from Westlake. One mother and daughter had lived down the street from me on Barton Point Drive. The other was Mrs. Dawkins and her daughter. I had played football with her son Stephen my senior year. Europe keeps getting smaller and smaller I kid you not. The girls and I chitchatted with them while we all waited for the fireworks. Mrs. Dawkins would relay the message to my parents that I was okay and would need money at some point. We all joked that the showed wouldn't begin until after the match but sure enough at 10:30 the booms and crackles of burning gunpowder were greeted by cheers from the onlookers.
The show lasted a solid hour. Every time we thought we had seen the finale an even more impressive array would trump the previous. Red, white, and green were the dominant colors of the show. However, blue and gold also had their fair presence too. I'm only assuming those are Florence's city colors or of the Medici.
Once the final finale had occurred we set off back home. A thundering group of spectators blew past us to crowd in front of cafe windows along the street. The soccer match had gone into penalty kicks.
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| Post firework show. Italians running to catch the shootout |
6/26/12
To finish up the night before, Italy won and the town went wild.
Yesterday I woke up around 10 and set off to do some sightseeing. I do not understand why, but all or most museums are closed on Monday throughout Europe. Which basically ruled out me visiting the Uffizi and Michelangelo's David.
Instead I bought a pass for 15 euro which granted me access to the Battistero, Duomo, the Bell tower of the Duomo, and the Museo which houses most of the original sculptures of the Duomo. I did not however pay to see the Dome of the Duomo. Apparently that's the best part of it all, instead I looked at a print of the ceiling. It was pretty cool, but not worth the 8 euro and the queue.
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| Duomo |
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| Duomo Bell Tower |
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| Inside the Battistero |
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| A top the Bell Tower |
The stairs to the top of the bell tower were a bitch to climb. They were barely wider than my shoulders and things got a tad uncomfortable when someone else was going the opposite direction. Besides the claustrophobic climb, the view of the city from the top was amazing. Afterwards I roamed around the city in search of a gift for Katy.
I found a scarf for her at a stand. It is very beautiful and hope that she likes the color. I can never remember if she hates pink or purple, or maybe both. Later that night I was supposed to meet back up with Kailee and Brittany to try Gusta Pizza one more time. Around late afternoon I went back to the hostel to shower and chill out. At 6:30 I set back out to rendezvous with them once more.
Much to our dismay, the pizza place was closed! Go figure, it was a monday in Europe. Two aussie travelers from their hostel joined up with our group, Phil and Pat were their names. Also a young husband and wife named Dan and Leslie LaVelle came along too. They were from Nashville and were traveling around Europe for two months.
Saddened that Gusta was closed, we set off to find another place to grub. By this time we were starving and would settle for anything.
Circus pizza in the Piazza della Signoria was our final destination. The restaurant was housed in a building designed by Da Vinci or maybe it was Michelangelo. Regardless, the food was a tad pricier than I would have like to have paid.
The food was not 14 euro good and by the time everyone had finished the sun was getting low. Before I go any further, I wanted to mention that there was a protest happening not 20 feet from our table. In the midst of Italy's austerity measures they had shut down several schools in the area. The protesters consisted of children, parents, and teachers playing ring around the rosey. I supposed the cops thought things might get ugly because their presence was definitely visible as well. Although they were not wielding riot shields and batons, the image of a child taking a tear gas canister to the gut was playing out vividly in my mind. I chose not to share my sick inside joke with the rest of the group.
30 minutes eating and a painful sorting of the bill we were on our way. With a bottle of white in my hand, we sipped on wine in front of the Duomo and took in sounds and smells of Florence in the evening time. Two more Canadians and a North Carolinian joined our group.
My heroics came into play when two cockroaches climbed out of the sewer and started to crawl on Kailee's backpack. She leapt up screaming and I proceeded to kick them a good 20 feet from us. However, one came screaming back towards her with a vengeance. A quick stomp of my foot but a kabash on that silly business.
Sometime around midnight we made our way to a bar. The place was full of American students and proved to be a good, slightly overpriced establishment to drink in. I departed from the group around 2 and made the long walk back to my hostel. Tomorrow I would wake early and see the real David.
At 6:15 am I awoke to my alarm, turned it off, and went back to sleep. Sorry, but seeing a copy of the original will have to do. Next time I am in Florence it will be at the top of my list.
My train did not depart until 2:14 and check out was at 11. This gave me ample time to climb the Michelangelo and get in some last snapshots of the city. The climb to the top was steep, hot, sweaty, but worth it. All of Florence presented itself to me in a picturesque setting that screamed Tuscany. The descent from the top felt great. Others were struggling to climb the steps, but they would be rewarded soon enough.
With some time to kill, I paid to check my email and update my status on fb. Also, I checked my bank statements. I am burning through cash at a rate that is unsustainable for the remainder of my trip. I either need to do some serious spending cuts or ask my parents for more money.
I am on the train to Roma now. In 45 minutes I will be in the city. Another 2 day hit the ground running visit to see all that I can manage until off to Switzerland. Time to crush out some Feast for Crows.
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