Thursday, July 22, 2010
Paris
Sam and I left alpine air for the bright lights of Paris and were excited about touring the French capital.
Paris is a beautiful city, but more beautiful from afar than up close.
The architecture and main tourist sites, like the Eiffel Tower and the Louvre, are stunning.
But to be honest, the streets in Paris are quite dirty and smell like piss. It seems that Parisians would rather throw trash on the ground than put it in a trashcan and urinate under a bridge or side street than find a toilet.
Despite the lack of cleanliness of the city, we really enjoyed our five nights in Paris.
We chose a hotel pretty close to the Gare de Nord train station and the Montmartre district in Paris, which turned out to be really good decisions.
Montmartre, like our tour guide said during our free walking tour, is almost like its own little village in the city of nine million. There is little traffic on the winding roads in the area, so walking isn’t a chore at all.
There are also a variety of reasonably priced restaurants in Montmartre, so we never had a problem choosing where to eat.
We only overpaid once for a meal, and that was in a place a couple of doors down from the Moulin Rouge.
Sam and I picked this joint because we were desperate to find somewhere to watch the final match of the World Cup.
The day before we decided to go to an Australian bar close by, but when we arrived there about an hour for the game started, we realized that they didn’t serve dinner, only drinks.
So we chose the place by the Moulin Rouge and ended up paying nearly 11 bucks for a pint of beer. Our bill at the end of the night was around $100 for drinks and dinner, and although the atmosphere was superb, the bill was outrageous.
It took us another three dinners to reach $100, which just goes to show you that you’ll pay top dollar for food and beverages if you decided to eat next to main tourist sites.
Eating and drinking weren’t our only activities in Paris, of course.
We toured the palace at Versailles, the Louvre, the Eiffel Tower, a museum called the Orangerie that housed paintings by Claude Monet and other Impressionist painters and a Salvador Dali museum in Montmartre.
We also walked under the Arc de Triomphe and down the Champs Elysees.
Our favorite museum was the Dali museum because it was the most different from any museum that we’ve ever been, too.
We didn’t know before walking into the museum that Dali was a sculptor as well as an artist.
The Dali museum housed several of his sculptures and some lesser-known paintings. In all, there were more than 300 pieces at the museum, definitely worth the $11.60 we paid to get in.
The painting sets we liked the best were Dali’s take on different stories from the Bible, his depiction of Alice in Wonderland and his interpretation of the legend Tristan and Isolde.
The art in the Louvre and the Orangerie was impressive, but Dali’s work was much more interesting for Sam and me.
We also saw our first celebrity in Paris, Karl Lagerfeld, a famous fashion designer for Chanel.
We saw him outside of a bookstore and weren’t sure who he was at all. Several people around us were taking pictures, so Sam snapped a few as well. Once he took off in his Bentley, we asked a guy next to us who he was. In a flamboyant English accent he replied that it was Karl Lagerfeld, of course.
After five nights in Paris, Sam and I were ready for the less touristy and final destination on our European Tour, Bruges, Belgium.
Paris is a beautiful city, but more beautiful from afar than up close.
The architecture and main tourist sites, like the Eiffel Tower and the Louvre, are stunning.
But to be honest, the streets in Paris are quite dirty and smell like piss. It seems that Parisians would rather throw trash on the ground than put it in a trashcan and urinate under a bridge or side street than find a toilet.
Despite the lack of cleanliness of the city, we really enjoyed our five nights in Paris.
We chose a hotel pretty close to the Gare de Nord train station and the Montmartre district in Paris, which turned out to be really good decisions.
Montmartre, like our tour guide said during our free walking tour, is almost like its own little village in the city of nine million. There is little traffic on the winding roads in the area, so walking isn’t a chore at all.
There are also a variety of reasonably priced restaurants in Montmartre, so we never had a problem choosing where to eat.
We only overpaid once for a meal, and that was in a place a couple of doors down from the Moulin Rouge.
Sam and I picked this joint because we were desperate to find somewhere to watch the final match of the World Cup.
The day before we decided to go to an Australian bar close by, but when we arrived there about an hour for the game started, we realized that they didn’t serve dinner, only drinks.
So we chose the place by the Moulin Rouge and ended up paying nearly 11 bucks for a pint of beer. Our bill at the end of the night was around $100 for drinks and dinner, and although the atmosphere was superb, the bill was outrageous.
It took us another three dinners to reach $100, which just goes to show you that you’ll pay top dollar for food and beverages if you decided to eat next to main tourist sites.
Eating and drinking weren’t our only activities in Paris, of course.
We toured the palace at Versailles, the Louvre, the Eiffel Tower, a museum called the Orangerie that housed paintings by Claude Monet and other Impressionist painters and a Salvador Dali museum in Montmartre.
We also walked under the Arc de Triomphe and down the Champs Elysees.
Our favorite museum was the Dali museum because it was the most different from any museum that we’ve ever been, too.
We didn’t know before walking into the museum that Dali was a sculptor as well as an artist.
The Dali museum housed several of his sculptures and some lesser-known paintings. In all, there were more than 300 pieces at the museum, definitely worth the $11.60 we paid to get in.
The painting sets we liked the best were Dali’s take on different stories from the Bible, his depiction of Alice in Wonderland and his interpretation of the legend Tristan and Isolde.
The art in the Louvre and the Orangerie was impressive, but Dali’s work was much more interesting for Sam and me.
We also saw our first celebrity in Paris, Karl Lagerfeld, a famous fashion designer for Chanel.
We saw him outside of a bookstore and weren’t sure who he was at all. Several people around us were taking pictures, so Sam snapped a few as well. Once he took off in his Bentley, we asked a guy next to us who he was. In a flamboyant English accent he replied that it was Karl Lagerfeld, of course.
After five nights in Paris, Sam and I were ready for the less touristy and final destination on our European Tour, Bruges, Belgium.
Monday, July 19, 2010
Interlaken
There’s just something about forest-covered mountains and snow-capped peaks that takes your breath away. It’s a feeling the beach, however beautiful, just can’t seem to duplicate.
Interlaken, Switzerland, situated between two ice-blue lakes in a valley surrounded by mountains, was the most serene destination of our trip.
After stepping out of the train station, you’re greeted by wooded mountains and by such blue-white water that it looks as if someone added a chemical to make it appear that color.
Sam and I decided simply looking at the mountains wouldn’t be enough, so we did two hikes during our two and a half days in Interlaken.
The first hike started from the train station and climbed the adjacent mountain to a restaurant and hotel perched on top, overlooking Interlaken and the valley below.
Interlaken sits at about 1,870 feet above sea level, but the restaurant we were hiking to is about 4,400 feet.
So, naturally, we were walking uphill most of the way.
The views down below were worth every step, as was the tranquil feeling that comes with traipsing in woods.
We weren’t just looking down, but up as well.
Interlaken is known for adventure sports, and we saw at least a dozen paragliders overhead during our two and a half hour climb to the summit.
In fact, some paragliders were only 20 feet above us at the restaurant, although their views of the valley cost at least 200 dollars.
The views we enjoyed, thankfully, were free.
The second hike was much more strenuous, but the scenery was even more spectacular.
We took a train to up into the mountains to a town called Lauterbrunnen and then embarked on another two and a half hour hike up to a small mountain village called Murren, which sits about 8,500 feet among the mountains.
Since Lauterbrunnen’s elevation is about 6,000 feet, we climbed another 2,500 feet on that hike.
On that trail we hiked by numerous mountain streams that were supplied by the mountain snow above.
The water couldn’t have been more than 40 degrees, and although I didn’t drink from the streams, the icy water felt refreshing on my head and neck during the climb.
We also saw the beautiful peaks of the tallest mountains in Europe.
The tallest mountain is called Jungfrau, which is more than 13,000 feet high.
Once we reached Murren, we had lunch on a terrace with a mountain peak backdrop.
From Murren, we took a short, 30-minute hike downhill to a small hamlet named Gimmelwald.
Only about 200 people called Gimmelwald home, as its nestled in a small valley where the main activity is cow farming. A close second is probably sitting on the porch looking at those wondrous mountaintops.
From Gimmelwald we took a large gondola back to Murren, then a combination of a train, gondola, train back to Interlaken.
You couldn’t have a bigger contrast between those peaceful mountain hikes and the atmosphere at our hostel.
Throughout our trip we’ve been staying in hostels and budget hotels, always with our own private room.
Interlaken was our first “hostel experience” with tons of young, American kids roaming around the grounds of our establishment, Balmer’s Herberge.
Our guidebook said that Balmer’s had a frat-house vibe, and it couldn’t be more true.
We weren’t impressed.
It seems like all pompous, arrogant, too-cool-for-you frat boys from American universities all converge on Balmer’s during the summer months.
The place is made for them.
There’s an open beer garden in the back that serves almost exclusively American food and two different happy hours where you can get two beers for the price of one — believe me, I’m not complaining about that aspect one bit.
Once the beer garden shuts down, a downstairs nightclub opens where there are theme parties complete a guy whose job it is to be the life of the party. There was a beach-themed party and an old school hip-hop party while we were there.
I might have had a better feeling about the place if there were more locals there, but it was almost entirely full of American college kids.
Isn’t the point of going to Europe to experience other cultures and do something that you can’t do back in the United States?
When you’re down in that nightclub listening to American hip-hop surrounded by fellow Americans in swim trunks and Hawaiian shirts, couldn’t you be at any college party in America?
It’s a comfort thing really. Going to places where you don’t speak the language can be difficult and unsettling at times. When everyone speaks English, you don’t have to worry about a thing.
With all that being said, though, Interlaken was still a great place to visit because the scenery is incomparable to anywhere else.
Interlaken, Switzerland, situated between two ice-blue lakes in a valley surrounded by mountains, was the most serene destination of our trip.
After stepping out of the train station, you’re greeted by wooded mountains and by such blue-white water that it looks as if someone added a chemical to make it appear that color.
Sam and I decided simply looking at the mountains wouldn’t be enough, so we did two hikes during our two and a half days in Interlaken.
The first hike started from the train station and climbed the adjacent mountain to a restaurant and hotel perched on top, overlooking Interlaken and the valley below.
Interlaken sits at about 1,870 feet above sea level, but the restaurant we were hiking to is about 4,400 feet.
So, naturally, we were walking uphill most of the way.
The views down below were worth every step, as was the tranquil feeling that comes with traipsing in woods.
We weren’t just looking down, but up as well.
Interlaken is known for adventure sports, and we saw at least a dozen paragliders overhead during our two and a half hour climb to the summit.
In fact, some paragliders were only 20 feet above us at the restaurant, although their views of the valley cost at least 200 dollars.
The views we enjoyed, thankfully, were free.
The second hike was much more strenuous, but the scenery was even more spectacular.
We took a train to up into the mountains to a town called Lauterbrunnen and then embarked on another two and a half hour hike up to a small mountain village called Murren, which sits about 8,500 feet among the mountains.
Since Lauterbrunnen’s elevation is about 6,000 feet, we climbed another 2,500 feet on that hike.
On that trail we hiked by numerous mountain streams that were supplied by the mountain snow above.
The water couldn’t have been more than 40 degrees, and although I didn’t drink from the streams, the icy water felt refreshing on my head and neck during the climb.
We also saw the beautiful peaks of the tallest mountains in Europe.
The tallest mountain is called Jungfrau, which is more than 13,000 feet high.
Once we reached Murren, we had lunch on a terrace with a mountain peak backdrop.
From Murren, we took a short, 30-minute hike downhill to a small hamlet named Gimmelwald.
Only about 200 people called Gimmelwald home, as its nestled in a small valley where the main activity is cow farming. A close second is probably sitting on the porch looking at those wondrous mountaintops.
From Gimmelwald we took a large gondola back to Murren, then a combination of a train, gondola, train back to Interlaken.
You couldn’t have a bigger contrast between those peaceful mountain hikes and the atmosphere at our hostel.
Throughout our trip we’ve been staying in hostels and budget hotels, always with our own private room.
Interlaken was our first “hostel experience” with tons of young, American kids roaming around the grounds of our establishment, Balmer’s Herberge.
Our guidebook said that Balmer’s had a frat-house vibe, and it couldn’t be more true.
We weren’t impressed.
It seems like all pompous, arrogant, too-cool-for-you frat boys from American universities all converge on Balmer’s during the summer months.
The place is made for them.
There’s an open beer garden in the back that serves almost exclusively American food and two different happy hours where you can get two beers for the price of one — believe me, I’m not complaining about that aspect one bit.
Once the beer garden shuts down, a downstairs nightclub opens where there are theme parties complete a guy whose job it is to be the life of the party. There was a beach-themed party and an old school hip-hop party while we were there.
I might have had a better feeling about the place if there were more locals there, but it was almost entirely full of American college kids.
Isn’t the point of going to Europe to experience other cultures and do something that you can’t do back in the United States?
When you’re down in that nightclub listening to American hip-hop surrounded by fellow Americans in swim trunks and Hawaiian shirts, couldn’t you be at any college party in America?
It’s a comfort thing really. Going to places where you don’t speak the language can be difficult and unsettling at times. When everyone speaks English, you don’t have to worry about a thing.
With all that being said, though, Interlaken was still a great place to visit because the scenery is incomparable to anywhere else.
Tuesday, July 13, 2010
Saint Raphael
One stop on the Mediterranean wasn’t enough for Sam and me, so we decided to try out the French Riviera after Italy’s Cinque Terre.
It wasn’t a spontaneous decision, obviously, since I’d already booked every place we were staying in Europe before boarding the plane in Kansas City.
But it turned out to be the right decision, even though it took more than seven hours to get from Italy to France.
We had to change trains four times, but we had the Mediterranean coast out of hour window most the time, so who could complain?
The beautiful beaches of Saint Raphael and its adjacent sister city Frejus were absolutely gorgeous.
We chose Saint Raphael based on the recommendation from travel guru Rick Steves’ staff, who also sold us our rail pass at a discount.
They said Saint Raphael, which is about 38 miles down the coast from Nice, is similar to Cinque Terre in that it isn’t a place frequented by tourists.
Well, foreign tourists that is.
In the two and a half days we were in Saint Raphael, we only saw, well, heard one other American couple.
Apparently Saint Raphael is where the French come for a beach vacation.
It’s easy to understand why.
The water was quite a bit warmer than Cinque Terre, and the weather was much hotter.
In other words, perfect beach weather.
Because it was late in the day when we arrived, we simply walked to the beach to take in the beautiful setting and put our feet in the warm water.
That night, we had a traditional French galettes for dinner. Galettes are like heartier crepes that are served open-face style with various fillings. Sam had chicken, crème fraiche, mushrooms and melted cheese, and I had ham, crème fraiche, mushrooms and melted cheese.
After getting some bamboo mats from a nearby supermarket, Sam and I headed to the beach and simply relaxed, alternating between sunbathing and swimming for the first full day we were there.
We tried an Indian restaurant that night and weren’t disappointed.
After dinner, we walked down the beach promenade and found a free concert happening on the pier.
Our final day in Saint Raphael was a mirror image of the first — waking up late, putting on some sunscreen and heading down to the beach.
It was heaven.
That night we dined at a restaurant right next to the Indian place, which were both just down the street from our hotel.
The only drawback about Saint Raphael was our hotel room.
We didn’t spend too much time there, but it reeked of cigarette smoke and the bathroom was so small you could barely get to the toilet.
Once you squeezed by the sink, you’d have to sit sideways on the seat because it was so close to the wall.
On the other hand, it wasn’t expensive and the owner looked like Brendan Gleeson, the British actor. He sat behind the desk sweating with his shirt half-buttoned when he checked us in.
It wasn’t a great room, but it still wasn’t as bad as the hotel room we booked in London.
For our next stop we were leaving the beach and heading to the mountains of Switzerland.
It wasn’t a spontaneous decision, obviously, since I’d already booked every place we were staying in Europe before boarding the plane in Kansas City.
But it turned out to be the right decision, even though it took more than seven hours to get from Italy to France.
We had to change trains four times, but we had the Mediterranean coast out of hour window most the time, so who could complain?
The beautiful beaches of Saint Raphael and its adjacent sister city Frejus were absolutely gorgeous.
We chose Saint Raphael based on the recommendation from travel guru Rick Steves’ staff, who also sold us our rail pass at a discount.
They said Saint Raphael, which is about 38 miles down the coast from Nice, is similar to Cinque Terre in that it isn’t a place frequented by tourists.
Well, foreign tourists that is.
In the two and a half days we were in Saint Raphael, we only saw, well, heard one other American couple.
Apparently Saint Raphael is where the French come for a beach vacation.
It’s easy to understand why.
The water was quite a bit warmer than Cinque Terre, and the weather was much hotter.
In other words, perfect beach weather.
Because it was late in the day when we arrived, we simply walked to the beach to take in the beautiful setting and put our feet in the warm water.
That night, we had a traditional French galettes for dinner. Galettes are like heartier crepes that are served open-face style with various fillings. Sam had chicken, crème fraiche, mushrooms and melted cheese, and I had ham, crème fraiche, mushrooms and melted cheese.
After getting some bamboo mats from a nearby supermarket, Sam and I headed to the beach and simply relaxed, alternating between sunbathing and swimming for the first full day we were there.
We tried an Indian restaurant that night and weren’t disappointed.
After dinner, we walked down the beach promenade and found a free concert happening on the pier.
Our final day in Saint Raphael was a mirror image of the first — waking up late, putting on some sunscreen and heading down to the beach.
It was heaven.
That night we dined at a restaurant right next to the Indian place, which were both just down the street from our hotel.
The only drawback about Saint Raphael was our hotel room.
We didn’t spend too much time there, but it reeked of cigarette smoke and the bathroom was so small you could barely get to the toilet.
Once you squeezed by the sink, you’d have to sit sideways on the seat because it was so close to the wall.
On the other hand, it wasn’t expensive and the owner looked like Brendan Gleeson, the British actor. He sat behind the desk sweating with his shirt half-buttoned when he checked us in.
It wasn’t a great room, but it still wasn’t as bad as the hotel room we booked in London.
For our next stop we were leaving the beach and heading to the mountains of Switzerland.
Monday, July 12, 2010
Cinque Terre
After spending a week weaving through the sea of tourists in Venice, Florence and Rome, the peaceful, remote cities in the Cinque Terre National Park were exactly what we needed.
Cinque Terre is situated about four hours by train north of Rome on Italy’s western coast.
The five towns that make up Cinque Terre — Riomaggiore, Manarola, Corniglia, Vernazza and Monterrosso — sit right along the shores of the Mediterranean Sea among the most dramatic coastline Sam and I have ever seen.
Huge mountains and rock cliffs ascend from the shores and the Mediterranean’s blue, crystal clear water.
The towns are connected by a trail that is 9 kilometers (about 5 miles) long and takes roughly five hours to walk.
Cinque Terre is a tourist destination, so we didn’t have the area all to ourselves.
But we did get a reprieve from big city life for a while, especially on the trail.
For our first full day, we decided to get up early and walk the trail.
Because we were staying in Riomaggiore, the southern-most village, we had an easy walk to the next town over, Manarola.
The stretch between the two towns is called the Via dell’Amore, or the lover’s walk, because of its breathtaking views.
As far as Sam and I are concerned, it’s aptly named.
The views are spectacular and you never get tired of looking out over that blue, blue water.
The road to Corniglia was a pretty easy walk, until you get to the 385 steps that lead up to the city.
Corniglia is the only town in Cinque Terre not located directly on the beach. Instead, it’s perched on nearby mountains overlooking the sea.
Little did Sam and I know that those 385 steps would be a piece of cake compared to the rest of the trail.
We stopped briefly in Corniglia to snap some photos and then headed for Vernazza, four kilometers away.
Until the arrival of the train in the early 20th century, Vernazza and Corniglia were only connected by paths, so the trail we took to the fourth town was the most remote of our entire journey.
We walked away from the water and ascended into the mountainous forests, where residents have long built terraces to grow grapes that eventually become white wine.
The views of the sea from high above in the mountains weren’t the only things that stimulated our senses.
It smelled absolutely wonderful on that mountain path.
Wild olive trees could be found everywhere, as well as wild lavender and rosemary.
We were dripping with sweat when we made it to Vernazza, so we found a nice, big rock in the town’s tiny harbor and went for a swim.
The water was refreshing cold after an hour and a half on the trail.
After lying out in the sun and having a simple pizza lunch, we hit the trail again for our final destination, Monterrosso.
This last stretch of trail was only three kilometers, but it was definitely the most challenging.
You must make a long, slow climb away from Vernazza up several hundred steps and then make an equally steep descent before coming to Monterrosso.
Monterrosso has the most “resort-like” feel and the best beaches of the five towns.
After the long trek there, Sam and I found a spot on the beach and jumped into the cold water. The beaches here are not your typical white sand, but instead consist of many smooth, grey stones. And damn do they get hot.
Instead of taking a train back to Riomaggiore that evening, we decided to board a ferry that would have us back in our home village in 40 minutes. But not before enjoying some gelato. It was a fitting way to end the day. Sam and I could feel the cool sea air on our faces while looking at people on the path we had traversed earlier that day.
Because my birthday fell on the day after our trek, we decided to sleep in and spend a leisurely day on the beach. (We also decided that would be our activity for the day because we were pretty tired and sore from our hike.)
That night, we dined on typical Cinque Terre dishes.
Sam had spaghetti pomodora with prawns while I had fish cooked in a spicy, red sauce with potatoes.
It was a little odd dismantling the fish and prawns, which both came whole, but both dishes were delicious.
What an excellent birthday. In fact, what a great relaxing few days away from the city.
Cinque Terre is situated about four hours by train north of Rome on Italy’s western coast.
The five towns that make up Cinque Terre — Riomaggiore, Manarola, Corniglia, Vernazza and Monterrosso — sit right along the shores of the Mediterranean Sea among the most dramatic coastline Sam and I have ever seen.
Huge mountains and rock cliffs ascend from the shores and the Mediterranean’s blue, crystal clear water.
The towns are connected by a trail that is 9 kilometers (about 5 miles) long and takes roughly five hours to walk.
Cinque Terre is a tourist destination, so we didn’t have the area all to ourselves.
But we did get a reprieve from big city life for a while, especially on the trail.
For our first full day, we decided to get up early and walk the trail.
Because we were staying in Riomaggiore, the southern-most village, we had an easy walk to the next town over, Manarola.
The stretch between the two towns is called the Via dell’Amore, or the lover’s walk, because of its breathtaking views.
As far as Sam and I are concerned, it’s aptly named.
The views are spectacular and you never get tired of looking out over that blue, blue water.
The road to Corniglia was a pretty easy walk, until you get to the 385 steps that lead up to the city.
Corniglia is the only town in Cinque Terre not located directly on the beach. Instead, it’s perched on nearby mountains overlooking the sea.
Little did Sam and I know that those 385 steps would be a piece of cake compared to the rest of the trail.
We stopped briefly in Corniglia to snap some photos and then headed for Vernazza, four kilometers away.
Until the arrival of the train in the early 20th century, Vernazza and Corniglia were only connected by paths, so the trail we took to the fourth town was the most remote of our entire journey.
We walked away from the water and ascended into the mountainous forests, where residents have long built terraces to grow grapes that eventually become white wine.
The views of the sea from high above in the mountains weren’t the only things that stimulated our senses.
It smelled absolutely wonderful on that mountain path.
Wild olive trees could be found everywhere, as well as wild lavender and rosemary.
We were dripping with sweat when we made it to Vernazza, so we found a nice, big rock in the town’s tiny harbor and went for a swim.
The water was refreshing cold after an hour and a half on the trail.
After lying out in the sun and having a simple pizza lunch, we hit the trail again for our final destination, Monterrosso.
This last stretch of trail was only three kilometers, but it was definitely the most challenging.
You must make a long, slow climb away from Vernazza up several hundred steps and then make an equally steep descent before coming to Monterrosso.
Monterrosso has the most “resort-like” feel and the best beaches of the five towns.
After the long trek there, Sam and I found a spot on the beach and jumped into the cold water. The beaches here are not your typical white sand, but instead consist of many smooth, grey stones. And damn do they get hot.
Instead of taking a train back to Riomaggiore that evening, we decided to board a ferry that would have us back in our home village in 40 minutes. But not before enjoying some gelato. It was a fitting way to end the day. Sam and I could feel the cool sea air on our faces while looking at people on the path we had traversed earlier that day.
Because my birthday fell on the day after our trek, we decided to sleep in and spend a leisurely day on the beach. (We also decided that would be our activity for the day because we were pretty tired and sore from our hike.)
That night, we dined on typical Cinque Terre dishes.
Sam had spaghetti pomodora with prawns while I had fish cooked in a spicy, red sauce with potatoes.
It was a little odd dismantling the fish and prawns, which both came whole, but both dishes were delicious.
What an excellent birthday. In fact, what a great relaxing few days away from the city.
Wednesday, July 7, 2010
Rome
The Eternal City has the most startling contrast of the ancient coexisting with the modern.
And how could it not?
Rome was the center of the world for hundreds of years, so it wasn’t surprising for Sam and me to pass contemporary street shops on our way to the massive Coliseum.
Rome has shown how to tastefully incorporate old with new.
Because we were staying in Rome for four days, Sam and I bought a Roma pass for 25 euros apiece that allowed us to get free entry into the Coliseum, the Palantine Hill ruins (where the Roman emperors lived), and museums along the Appian Way (one of the first roads built by the Romans leading north from the main city), as well as free travel on the subway and city bus system.
Since we had the Roma pass, we dodged the long line to get into the Coliseum and headed straight in.
It’s not that hard to imagine streams of Romans walking up to the Coliseum like today’s football fans heading to watch an NFL game.
Like those NFL games, Roman attendees were assigned to specific sections to watch the action. The rich and affluent enjoyed seats closest to the ground while the poorer and lower classes got stuck in the nosebleed sections.
The similarities end there.
Even though class and social status divided the Coliseum seating sections, all tickets were free.
And the events being held weren’t merely games, but life and death situations for the enslaved gladiators.
We discovered through information posts inside the Coliseum that the nosebleed sections could get almost as rowdy as the main event taking place far below.
Ancient dice were found that people used for betting on which gladiator would prevail, and graffiti found on upper portions of the Coliseum steps suggested fights would break out during betting sessions.
Walking in and around the Coliseum was surreal, but how incredible it would be to go back in time and attend one of the events during the height of the Roman Empire.
The Palantine Ruins were astonishing, too.
Some buildings were dug at least 10 feet into the ground, making enough room for a four-story home.
Nothing was too extravagant for the Roman emperors I guess.
Sam and I also visited the other main sites in Rome: the Trevi Fountain, Spanish Steps and the Pantheon, though we didn’t stay long because the crowds of other tourists were overwhelming.
We also were a little put off by the number of street vendors at the Spanish Steps.
An old guy tried shoving a rose at Sam while she was taking a picture, and wouldn’t leave us alone until we headed up the steps.
I’d forgotten my sunglasses and mistakenly made eye contact (the cardinal sin when it comes to street vendors) with a guy selling purses. He started speaking English instantly, asked where I was from and then tried to do a “magic trick” with a piece of string meant for my finger.
We left the Spanish Steps as soon as possible.
The Vatican Museums and the Sistine Chapel was a much better experience.
Because we happened to be in Rome on the last Sunday of the month, the Vatican Museums and the Sistine Chapel were free to the public instead of the normal 15 euro fee.
The museum is only open from 9 a.m. to 12:30 p.m., and we weren’t the only ones who knew about the free Sunday.
We arrived at the entrance, or the line stretching from the entrance, at 7:30 a.m. and were still 200 yards from the door. We found out that the American couple, who were first in line, arrived at 5:30 a.m.
We waited two hours to get in, but it was well worth the wait.
The Vatican Museums house much more than the Sistine Chapel, although that is its crown jewel.
They also have numerous artifacts from ancient Egypt, Greece and Rome that bygone popes demanded be housed within their confines.
It’s probably debatable who had more power, the ancient Roman emperors or the Roman Catholic popes.
The Sistine Chapel is a breathtaking sight.
Since we got in free, Sam and I purchased audio guides for the Vatican Museums and Sistine Chapel.
Despite the mass of people mostly standing shoulder to shoulder looking in wonder at Michelangelo’s masterpiece, Sam and I found a seat along a wall, sat for 20 minutes and really examined the Sistine Chapel paintings while listening to the audio guide.
You always hear about what Michelangelo had endure while he painted the ceiling and later the back wall. But you can’t get a real appreciation for his work unless you are standing directly under it.
As remarkable as the Sistine Chapel was, though, our most peaceful experience came during our trek up the Appian Way.
The Appian Way is removed from Rome’s city center and not directly next to a subway stop, which means that the place is relatively free from the throngs of tourists.
It appealed to us instantly.
Along the way, there are two churches that provide entrance to the nearly seven miles of catacombs that exists underneath the Appian Way.
We picked the Church of Saint Sebastian and delved deep underground to see the ancient Roman turned Christian tombs. The Romans first used this site to house the cremated remains of their dead. Later, the Christians came and buried their dead here because the Roman Emperors wouldn’t allow them to bury their dead inside the inner city walls.
You must go on a guided tour to see the catacombs, which is a good thing because it’s truly a maze underground.
From the catacombs we walked a newly discovered Roman bathhouse along the road.
Two men were still performing excavation work on the structure, which had black and white mosaics on the floor. The Appian Way took us on a 3-mile walk back in time.
The last site we visited was St. Peter’s Basilica, the largest and most grandiose cathedral in Italy. The day we visited was the feast of St. Peter and St. Paul. At the entrance to the Basilica a couple of men greeted us and asked for donations. It was for the Pope for his charitable works.
It almost seemed like a slap in the face to be presented by so much gold and marble and then asked for money to help the poor. As much as the Basilica is the most gorgeous and ornate church in the word, we still couldn’t help but leave wondering how a pope, who’s supposed to emulate Jesus and live a life of poverty, can reside in the Vatican and worship in the gold-plated St. Peter’s Basilica.
It seems a little contradictory.
And how could it not?
Rome was the center of the world for hundreds of years, so it wasn’t surprising for Sam and me to pass contemporary street shops on our way to the massive Coliseum.
Rome has shown how to tastefully incorporate old with new.
Because we were staying in Rome for four days, Sam and I bought a Roma pass for 25 euros apiece that allowed us to get free entry into the Coliseum, the Palantine Hill ruins (where the Roman emperors lived), and museums along the Appian Way (one of the first roads built by the Romans leading north from the main city), as well as free travel on the subway and city bus system.
Since we had the Roma pass, we dodged the long line to get into the Coliseum and headed straight in.
It’s not that hard to imagine streams of Romans walking up to the Coliseum like today’s football fans heading to watch an NFL game.
Like those NFL games, Roman attendees were assigned to specific sections to watch the action. The rich and affluent enjoyed seats closest to the ground while the poorer and lower classes got stuck in the nosebleed sections.
The similarities end there.
Even though class and social status divided the Coliseum seating sections, all tickets were free.
And the events being held weren’t merely games, but life and death situations for the enslaved gladiators.
We discovered through information posts inside the Coliseum that the nosebleed sections could get almost as rowdy as the main event taking place far below.
Ancient dice were found that people used for betting on which gladiator would prevail, and graffiti found on upper portions of the Coliseum steps suggested fights would break out during betting sessions.
Walking in and around the Coliseum was surreal, but how incredible it would be to go back in time and attend one of the events during the height of the Roman Empire.
The Palantine Ruins were astonishing, too.
Some buildings were dug at least 10 feet into the ground, making enough room for a four-story home.
Nothing was too extravagant for the Roman emperors I guess.
Sam and I also visited the other main sites in Rome: the Trevi Fountain, Spanish Steps and the Pantheon, though we didn’t stay long because the crowds of other tourists were overwhelming.
We also were a little put off by the number of street vendors at the Spanish Steps.
An old guy tried shoving a rose at Sam while she was taking a picture, and wouldn’t leave us alone until we headed up the steps.
I’d forgotten my sunglasses and mistakenly made eye contact (the cardinal sin when it comes to street vendors) with a guy selling purses. He started speaking English instantly, asked where I was from and then tried to do a “magic trick” with a piece of string meant for my finger.
We left the Spanish Steps as soon as possible.
The Vatican Museums and the Sistine Chapel was a much better experience.
Because we happened to be in Rome on the last Sunday of the month, the Vatican Museums and the Sistine Chapel were free to the public instead of the normal 15 euro fee.
The museum is only open from 9 a.m. to 12:30 p.m., and we weren’t the only ones who knew about the free Sunday.
We arrived at the entrance, or the line stretching from the entrance, at 7:30 a.m. and were still 200 yards from the door. We found out that the American couple, who were first in line, arrived at 5:30 a.m.
We waited two hours to get in, but it was well worth the wait.
The Vatican Museums house much more than the Sistine Chapel, although that is its crown jewel.
They also have numerous artifacts from ancient Egypt, Greece and Rome that bygone popes demanded be housed within their confines.
It’s probably debatable who had more power, the ancient Roman emperors or the Roman Catholic popes.
The Sistine Chapel is a breathtaking sight.
Since we got in free, Sam and I purchased audio guides for the Vatican Museums and Sistine Chapel.
Despite the mass of people mostly standing shoulder to shoulder looking in wonder at Michelangelo’s masterpiece, Sam and I found a seat along a wall, sat for 20 minutes and really examined the Sistine Chapel paintings while listening to the audio guide.
You always hear about what Michelangelo had endure while he painted the ceiling and later the back wall. But you can’t get a real appreciation for his work unless you are standing directly under it.
As remarkable as the Sistine Chapel was, though, our most peaceful experience came during our trek up the Appian Way.
The Appian Way is removed from Rome’s city center and not directly next to a subway stop, which means that the place is relatively free from the throngs of tourists.
It appealed to us instantly.
Along the way, there are two churches that provide entrance to the nearly seven miles of catacombs that exists underneath the Appian Way.
We picked the Church of Saint Sebastian and delved deep underground to see the ancient Roman turned Christian tombs. The Romans first used this site to house the cremated remains of their dead. Later, the Christians came and buried their dead here because the Roman Emperors wouldn’t allow them to bury their dead inside the inner city walls.
You must go on a guided tour to see the catacombs, which is a good thing because it’s truly a maze underground.
From the catacombs we walked a newly discovered Roman bathhouse along the road.
Two men were still performing excavation work on the structure, which had black and white mosaics on the floor. The Appian Way took us on a 3-mile walk back in time.
The last site we visited was St. Peter’s Basilica, the largest and most grandiose cathedral in Italy. The day we visited was the feast of St. Peter and St. Paul. At the entrance to the Basilica a couple of men greeted us and asked for donations. It was for the Pope for his charitable works.
It almost seemed like a slap in the face to be presented by so much gold and marble and then asked for money to help the poor. As much as the Basilica is the most gorgeous and ornate church in the word, we still couldn’t help but leave wondering how a pope, who’s supposed to emulate Jesus and live a life of poverty, can reside in the Vatican and worship in the gold-plated St. Peter’s Basilica.
It seems a little contradictory.
Friday, July 2, 2010
Beggars…a compilation
Before we get to the highlights of Rome, let’s discuss the many types of beggars we’ve encountered on our journey.
It’s no secret, of course, that everyone, except for the other tourists, wants some of the money I’ve got in my pocket.
That goes for churches — free entry in a lot of places but fees do apply to “special sites,” like the altar in Venice’s Basilica de San Marco, once you get inside — ancient relics like the ones found in Rome, souvenirs vendors, restaurants, ice cream shops and street merchants.
But beggars are a different breed entirely.
Here’s a compilation:
- We passed many women in gypsy-type clothing while in Berlin. Each was holding a two-sided card with a sob story (I’m guessing here since I didn’t ever read one) in English and in German that was meant to make you give them some spare change. They’d come up to you, ask if you speak English and then try to get some money.
To get them to walk away immediately, all you’d have to do is answer “no” to the “do you speak English question.”
We even practiced with our guide George on the free walking tour.
- The guy we saw on the Berlin city metro was probably the best.
Instead of using his arm-cuffed crutches, he was carrying them in one hand and was walking through the train cars loudly demanding alcohol from anyone who happens to make eye contact.
He apparently had gotten fed up with the “I’m handicapped and need money to live” routine and cut straight to the chase, in the typical, rigid German style.
“Forget about this stupid game I’ve been playing,” he seemed to be saying. “Let’s forget about your change and cut out the middle man. I just want alcohol. Now reach into your plastic grocery bag and hand it over.”
- The beggars in Prague were much less direct.
Instead of actively working the crowds at the main tourist sites, they would simply kneel and bow until their heads touched the ground. They’d clasp their hands and put a hat in front of them where people could drop loose change.
The pose almost looked like the way Muslims bow for daily prayers.
In fact, that was what I thought of when I first saw this type of beggar in Prague.
I saw him and thought, “Oh, this must be a Muslim doing his daily prayer ritual. We’re in Eastern Europe, so they’re must be more Muslims here than in Western Europe. Is that east he’s facing? It seems like more west to me. Wait, is he sleeping?”
Then it hit me. He wants my spare change.
- The beggars in Venice and Florence took a different approach.
Why not sit outside of a church and see if you can conjure up enough guilt from the tourists entering houses of God to fork over some change?
And having a child on your arm always helps to tug further on those heartstrings.
One women played up the “I’m injured” card by walking with a cane while being bent over almost 90 degrees at the waist.
This method obviously wasn’t achieving the desired results because we saw her later in the day lying on the ground with the cane strategically placed in front of her to make it look like she’d fallen and couldn’t get up. She also threw in a quivering hand, the one holding her Styrofoam cup, for added effect.
Her back, however, was straight.
Now not all beggars are trying to scam tourists, and there are many who genuinely need help.
The ones we just described, though, don’t fall into this category. The people we saw are often chased off by the police, but soon return after the authorities are out of sight.
It’s no secret, of course, that everyone, except for the other tourists, wants some of the money I’ve got in my pocket.
That goes for churches — free entry in a lot of places but fees do apply to “special sites,” like the altar in Venice’s Basilica de San Marco, once you get inside — ancient relics like the ones found in Rome, souvenirs vendors, restaurants, ice cream shops and street merchants.
But beggars are a different breed entirely.
Here’s a compilation:
- We passed many women in gypsy-type clothing while in Berlin. Each was holding a two-sided card with a sob story (I’m guessing here since I didn’t ever read one) in English and in German that was meant to make you give them some spare change. They’d come up to you, ask if you speak English and then try to get some money.
To get them to walk away immediately, all you’d have to do is answer “no” to the “do you speak English question.”
We even practiced with our guide George on the free walking tour.
- The guy we saw on the Berlin city metro was probably the best.
Instead of using his arm-cuffed crutches, he was carrying them in one hand and was walking through the train cars loudly demanding alcohol from anyone who happens to make eye contact.
He apparently had gotten fed up with the “I’m handicapped and need money to live” routine and cut straight to the chase, in the typical, rigid German style.
“Forget about this stupid game I’ve been playing,” he seemed to be saying. “Let’s forget about your change and cut out the middle man. I just want alcohol. Now reach into your plastic grocery bag and hand it over.”
- The beggars in Prague were much less direct.
Instead of actively working the crowds at the main tourist sites, they would simply kneel and bow until their heads touched the ground. They’d clasp their hands and put a hat in front of them where people could drop loose change.
The pose almost looked like the way Muslims bow for daily prayers.
In fact, that was what I thought of when I first saw this type of beggar in Prague.
I saw him and thought, “Oh, this must be a Muslim doing his daily prayer ritual. We’re in Eastern Europe, so they’re must be more Muslims here than in Western Europe. Is that east he’s facing? It seems like more west to me. Wait, is he sleeping?”
Then it hit me. He wants my spare change.
- The beggars in Venice and Florence took a different approach.
Why not sit outside of a church and see if you can conjure up enough guilt from the tourists entering houses of God to fork over some change?
And having a child on your arm always helps to tug further on those heartstrings.
One women played up the “I’m injured” card by walking with a cane while being bent over almost 90 degrees at the waist.
This method obviously wasn’t achieving the desired results because we saw her later in the day lying on the ground with the cane strategically placed in front of her to make it look like she’d fallen and couldn’t get up. She also threw in a quivering hand, the one holding her Styrofoam cup, for added effect.
Her back, however, was straight.
Now not all beggars are trying to scam tourists, and there are many who genuinely need help.
The ones we just described, though, don’t fall into this category. The people we saw are often chased off by the police, but soon return after the authorities are out of sight.
Florence
After two days in traffic-free Venice, it took some time getting used the buzzing traffic of Florence.
Unfortunately, we were already used to the masses of people moving around the inner city, many of whom were speaking American English. We probably encountered more Americans in Florence than any other place on our trip thus far.
Those were the only negatives in Florence, however.
First of all, we basically got our hotel room free for two nights. When I booked all of our hostels and budget hotels, I had to pay 10 percent to reserve the room and pay the balance upon arrival.
In Florence, the hotel staff marked that it had already charged my debit card before we arrived, but no charge could be found online.
The staff also recommended a great restaurant not far from the hotel.
It was located just down the street in what appeared to be an Indian or Middle Eastern neighborhood, not exactly the type of street you’d normally walk down to find a traditional Italian meal.
But we’ve found that those are exactly the sorts of streets that have the best local food enjoyed by local people.
For 12 euros apiece, Sam and I had a traditional Italian meal that included a first course of pasta, a second meat course, an accompanying vegetable side, bread and a quarter liter of wine each.
Sam had tortellini with tomato cream sauce, chicken breast pieces with a rosemary butter sauce, green beans and white wine. I had penne arribbiata (a tomato sauce with spicy red peppers), marinated steak strips with green lettuce and shaved Parmesan cheese, mixed, butter-boiled vegetables and red wine.
It was excellent, and was, by far, our best meal in Italy.
At least until the next night, where we dined just down the street at another trattoria, or Italian restaurant serving simple food.
This place didn’t even have a menu. The waiter, an older gentleman who looked like the owner, just described the first, second and vegetable courses in simple English from memory.
Sam had spinach and cheese filled ravioli with pesto, braised chicken on the bone with an onion and beer sauce, French fries (she mistakenly thought they’d be boiled potatoes) and white wine.
I had linguine with a meat tomato sauce, roasted rabbit on the bone with rosemary, a mixed salad and red wine.
We ate very well for pretty cheap in Florence.
As for sightseeing, we toured the gigantic Duomo, or cathedral, that sits in the heart of old Florence.
This was actually the first church we’ve seen that’s more impressive outside than in.
The outside is adorned with green and white marble, a red dome and dozens of statues. We spent a good amount of time walking around the outside of the church.
Inside, however, is a bit disappointing.
The walls are fairly plain and there are only a handful of marble statues. Frescoes were painted on the inside of the dome, but the extravagance ended there.
From the church we walked across the city’s main bridge and up to the Pitti Palace where we toured the huge gardens of the Medici residence.
It was a nice reprieve from the hordes of people on the main city streets.
Unfortunately, we were already used to the masses of people moving around the inner city, many of whom were speaking American English. We probably encountered more Americans in Florence than any other place on our trip thus far.
Those were the only negatives in Florence, however.
First of all, we basically got our hotel room free for two nights. When I booked all of our hostels and budget hotels, I had to pay 10 percent to reserve the room and pay the balance upon arrival.
In Florence, the hotel staff marked that it had already charged my debit card before we arrived, but no charge could be found online.
The staff also recommended a great restaurant not far from the hotel.
It was located just down the street in what appeared to be an Indian or Middle Eastern neighborhood, not exactly the type of street you’d normally walk down to find a traditional Italian meal.
But we’ve found that those are exactly the sorts of streets that have the best local food enjoyed by local people.
For 12 euros apiece, Sam and I had a traditional Italian meal that included a first course of pasta, a second meat course, an accompanying vegetable side, bread and a quarter liter of wine each.
Sam had tortellini with tomato cream sauce, chicken breast pieces with a rosemary butter sauce, green beans and white wine. I had penne arribbiata (a tomato sauce with spicy red peppers), marinated steak strips with green lettuce and shaved Parmesan cheese, mixed, butter-boiled vegetables and red wine.
It was excellent, and was, by far, our best meal in Italy.
At least until the next night, where we dined just down the street at another trattoria, or Italian restaurant serving simple food.
This place didn’t even have a menu. The waiter, an older gentleman who looked like the owner, just described the first, second and vegetable courses in simple English from memory.
Sam had spinach and cheese filled ravioli with pesto, braised chicken on the bone with an onion and beer sauce, French fries (she mistakenly thought they’d be boiled potatoes) and white wine.
I had linguine with a meat tomato sauce, roasted rabbit on the bone with rosemary, a mixed salad and red wine.
We ate very well for pretty cheap in Florence.
As for sightseeing, we toured the gigantic Duomo, or cathedral, that sits in the heart of old Florence.
This was actually the first church we’ve seen that’s more impressive outside than in.
The outside is adorned with green and white marble, a red dome and dozens of statues. We spent a good amount of time walking around the outside of the church.
Inside, however, is a bit disappointing.
The walls are fairly plain and there are only a handful of marble statues. Frescoes were painted on the inside of the dome, but the extravagance ended there.
From the church we walked across the city’s main bridge and up to the Pitti Palace where we toured the huge gardens of the Medici residence.
It was a nice reprieve from the hordes of people on the main city streets.
Venice
The salty air from the sea and canals blowing through the streets of Venice is very refreshing after a six-hour train ride, especially one that takes place overnight.
Sam and I took a night train from Salzburg to Venice to maximize our time in Italian city and also save a little money by not spending the night in a hostel or hotel.
We definitely increased our time in Venice, arriving into the Santa Lucia train station at 8:30 a.m., but slept very little on the train and still had to spend 74 euros to reserve two beds.
Thankfully that was our one and only night train scheduled for this trip.
Despite the lack of sleep, arriving into Venice early is the only way to see the city for the first time.
That’s because the crowds of people — tourists, vendors, and souvenir salesman — along the main streets are simply overwhelming from about 11 a.m. to 5 p.m.
If you’re not bumping into loud, obnoxious American tourists, you’re trying to avoid eye contact with the myriad street merchants, who see the move as an open invitation to hassle you about buying an “I (heart) Venice” t-shirt or a Gucci handbag that looks real but in reality is probably fake.
But Venice in the early morning is a dream.
The streets are charming, as are the canal bridges and tiny, narrow passageways that curve and bend around the entire island city.
Sam and I had a fantastic time just seeing where the small streets would take us. Many times, we’d walk down narrow lanes for five to 10 minutes and then arrive in a huge square with an old, weathered church as its centerpiece.
Navigating Venice takes some getting used to because of the many turns you’ll inevitably take, but also because the map proportions in European cities are much smaller than maps in the United States.
What looks like a 30-minute walk according to a European map will, in reality, only take 15 minutes.
(I say this because of the map, but it could be because I’m my father’s son, and I inherited my dad’s swift walking pace.)
Sam and I had been walking for a couple of hours when we came upon Venice’s most famous square, the Piazza San Marco.
It’s an impressive sight, with it’s red tower on one side and the enormous Basilica de San Marco on the other.
The basilica was constructed in order to house the remains of St. Mark, and the builders left no doubt about the wealth the city of Venice possessed at the time of its construction.
Statues adorn the outside of the basilica and what looks like gold painting fills in the background of the religious drawings that are displayed above the archways that lead into the church.
Entrance to the main part of the basilica is free, but the line at 11 a.m. was already hundreds deep. So Sam and I decided to get up early the next day and come to the church just as it was opening.
We exited the piazza and made our way back to our hotel near the train station.
Since we got little sleep the night before, we turned in for a three-hour nap.
After our much-needed nap, Sam and I did some more walking before having a delicious pizza for dinner. Well away from the main tourists areas.
People advised us not to eat near the main sites in Venice, and we’re glad we heeded that advice.
Places in the central tourist spots will not only make you pay a cover charge just to sit down, but will also include a hefty tip in the price as well.
The next day Sam and I got up early to try and beat the crowds that would inevitably arrive at the Piazza San Marco.
This is a theme that would repeat itself several times over the next several days, although it never entirely worked.
Because for every couple that vows to beat the rush by arriving early, there are at least 20 more with the same idea.
Weaving through the narrow alleys of Venice was nice that morning, and even though we arrived at the square just as the basilica was opening, we only had to wait in line for 15 minutes before entering the church.
It was definitely worth that modest wait, as the Basilica de San Marco was more impressive inside than it was outside.
Gold painting and frescoes adorns every inch of the basilica’s interior. There are also several alter pieces with beautiful statues.
After touring the through the basilica, we walked out of the now jam-packed square and found a small park for a sit and a rest.
From there we did some more walking, bought lunch at a local grocery store and then found a restaurant that was showing the U.S./Algeria soccer match.
It’s too bad that win was the high point of the Yanks’ 2010 World Cup.
Sam and I loved our time in Venice, especially the times when the crowds weren’t so thick.
Sam and I took a night train from Salzburg to Venice to maximize our time in Italian city and also save a little money by not spending the night in a hostel or hotel.
We definitely increased our time in Venice, arriving into the Santa Lucia train station at 8:30 a.m., but slept very little on the train and still had to spend 74 euros to reserve two beds.
Thankfully that was our one and only night train scheduled for this trip.
Despite the lack of sleep, arriving into Venice early is the only way to see the city for the first time.
That’s because the crowds of people — tourists, vendors, and souvenir salesman — along the main streets are simply overwhelming from about 11 a.m. to 5 p.m.
If you’re not bumping into loud, obnoxious American tourists, you’re trying to avoid eye contact with the myriad street merchants, who see the move as an open invitation to hassle you about buying an “I (heart) Venice” t-shirt or a Gucci handbag that looks real but in reality is probably fake.
But Venice in the early morning is a dream.
The streets are charming, as are the canal bridges and tiny, narrow passageways that curve and bend around the entire island city.
Sam and I had a fantastic time just seeing where the small streets would take us. Many times, we’d walk down narrow lanes for five to 10 minutes and then arrive in a huge square with an old, weathered church as its centerpiece.
Navigating Venice takes some getting used to because of the many turns you’ll inevitably take, but also because the map proportions in European cities are much smaller than maps in the United States.
What looks like a 30-minute walk according to a European map will, in reality, only take 15 minutes.
(I say this because of the map, but it could be because I’m my father’s son, and I inherited my dad’s swift walking pace.)
Sam and I had been walking for a couple of hours when we came upon Venice’s most famous square, the Piazza San Marco.
It’s an impressive sight, with it’s red tower on one side and the enormous Basilica de San Marco on the other.
The basilica was constructed in order to house the remains of St. Mark, and the builders left no doubt about the wealth the city of Venice possessed at the time of its construction.
Statues adorn the outside of the basilica and what looks like gold painting fills in the background of the religious drawings that are displayed above the archways that lead into the church.
Entrance to the main part of the basilica is free, but the line at 11 a.m. was already hundreds deep. So Sam and I decided to get up early the next day and come to the church just as it was opening.
We exited the piazza and made our way back to our hotel near the train station.
Since we got little sleep the night before, we turned in for a three-hour nap.
After our much-needed nap, Sam and I did some more walking before having a delicious pizza for dinner. Well away from the main tourists areas.
People advised us not to eat near the main sites in Venice, and we’re glad we heeded that advice.
Places in the central tourist spots will not only make you pay a cover charge just to sit down, but will also include a hefty tip in the price as well.
The next day Sam and I got up early to try and beat the crowds that would inevitably arrive at the Piazza San Marco.
This is a theme that would repeat itself several times over the next several days, although it never entirely worked.
Because for every couple that vows to beat the rush by arriving early, there are at least 20 more with the same idea.
Weaving through the narrow alleys of Venice was nice that morning, and even though we arrived at the square just as the basilica was opening, we only had to wait in line for 15 minutes before entering the church.
It was definitely worth that modest wait, as the Basilica de San Marco was more impressive inside than it was outside.
Gold painting and frescoes adorns every inch of the basilica’s interior. There are also several alter pieces with beautiful statues.
After touring the through the basilica, we walked out of the now jam-packed square and found a small park for a sit and a rest.
From there we did some more walking, bought lunch at a local grocery store and then found a restaurant that was showing the U.S./Algeria soccer match.
It’s too bad that win was the high point of the Yanks’ 2010 World Cup.
Sam and I loved our time in Venice, especially the times when the crowds weren’t so thick.
Saturday, June 26, 2010
Budapest
Sam and I visited Budapest between our stays in Vienna and Salzburg, and we both count the Hungarian capital as our favorite stop on our trek so far.
The food was outstanding, the architecture was old as always yet different and the people were friendly.
After arriving in the main train station, Sam and I had to take the subway to get to our hostel but couldn’t find where to purchase a couple of one-way tickets.
We were standing at the top of a long escalator and thought we needed a ticket before going down. In London, for example, you have to have a ticket validated before going on any escalators.
So as Sam and I were staring at a subway map trying to decipher Hungarian, a young man walked up to us and simply asked if we needed help.
We explained that we wanted to buy subway tickets, and he told us there would be a ticket counter at the bottom of the escalator.
At first glance we wondered why this guy was approaching two obviously lost Americans, but he just wanted to help.
We probably would have gone down the escalator at some point, but it was nice that the guy helped us out.
Once we checked into our hostel and got a map, we walked down a main boulevard and found a small square with several outdoor cafés.
We chose one on the end and had some traditional Hungarian fare. I had Hungarian goulash and Sam had a Hungarian mushroom soup, both of which had a healthy dose of paprika.
My goulash wasn’t like the Hungarian goulash that’s served outside of Hungary’s borders. That dish is more like a stew with a thick, opaque broth.
The goulash I had was a soup with a thin broth that had chunks of potatoes and beef. It’s not the Hungarian goulash I’m used to, but it was delicious nonetheless.
Sam’s mushroom soup also was exceptional as well. Mushrooms and paprika definitely make a good combination.
After lunch we strolled around the city and found a huge cathedral and a large open square. We snapped a few photos and continued our walk.
Not far from the cathedral we discovered another large square with a large park.
The park wasn’t empty, though, because the city had set up World Cup fan park with a giant television screen and several food and beer vendors.
We got a couple of beers, 0.5 liters apiece that were selling for 400 Hungarian forint — or about $1.80 — and watched the first half of the Mexico-France match that had just started.
We only stayed for a half since there was nowhere to sit on the huge lawn, but it looked as though there were more Mexican fans than French ones in the crowd.
I, of course, can’t root for Mexico being a U.S. soccer fan, but it would have been cool to see the place erupt when Mexico finally scored in the second half.
The next day there was a light drizzle, so we bought two 24-hour subway tickets and took the subway to Budapest great market.
The market sits next to the Danube in an enormous old building that has two floors.
The bottom floor’s vendors sell mostly produce, meats and cheeses while the second floor is reserved for souvenirs, clothing and food stands.
We ate lunch there — more goulash, only this time served over barley-shaped pasta, and a sausage — and then walked down a pedestrian-only street lined with more souvenirs stores.
Because it was still raining, we walked across the city’s main bridge and took pictures of Parliament and the Budapest castle.
The weather was perfect the next day, so we took a subway to the castle.
Budapest is actually two cities — Buda and Pest — that are separated by the Danube. The castle is located in older Buda whereas most of the city’s sights are in Pest, which is also where we were staying.
The castle area in Buda is extremely large and is encompassed by a medieval wall. It also contains one of the most beautiful churches we’ve seen on our trip.
In most churches we’ve seen up to that point, the actual stone walls and spires were left bare.
That’s not the case in Matthias Church.
Every inch of that church is painted, creating an interior that is more stunning than the impressive exterior.
Old flags from the 1800s were also part of the décor of the church, which was the site of the crowning of the Hungarian kings.
It was like stepping back in time, something we’ve felt often on this trip, but never more than walking through that church.
From the church we gazed out over the Pest skyline and then walked to the palace part of the castle grounds.
Budapest was a special place for me to visit because my Grandma Draper was 100 percent Hungarian, making me a quarter Hungarian. Her relatives came from Budapest, so it was doubly interesting walking the same streets my relatives likely walked.
The palace in the castle also was called Sandor Palace, which happens to be my grandma’s maiden name.
Who knows, maybe we are royalty.
The food was outstanding, the architecture was old as always yet different and the people were friendly.
After arriving in the main train station, Sam and I had to take the subway to get to our hostel but couldn’t find where to purchase a couple of one-way tickets.
We were standing at the top of a long escalator and thought we needed a ticket before going down. In London, for example, you have to have a ticket validated before going on any escalators.
So as Sam and I were staring at a subway map trying to decipher Hungarian, a young man walked up to us and simply asked if we needed help.
We explained that we wanted to buy subway tickets, and he told us there would be a ticket counter at the bottom of the escalator.
At first glance we wondered why this guy was approaching two obviously lost Americans, but he just wanted to help.
We probably would have gone down the escalator at some point, but it was nice that the guy helped us out.
Once we checked into our hostel and got a map, we walked down a main boulevard and found a small square with several outdoor cafés.
We chose one on the end and had some traditional Hungarian fare. I had Hungarian goulash and Sam had a Hungarian mushroom soup, both of which had a healthy dose of paprika.
My goulash wasn’t like the Hungarian goulash that’s served outside of Hungary’s borders. That dish is more like a stew with a thick, opaque broth.
The goulash I had was a soup with a thin broth that had chunks of potatoes and beef. It’s not the Hungarian goulash I’m used to, but it was delicious nonetheless.
Sam’s mushroom soup also was exceptional as well. Mushrooms and paprika definitely make a good combination.
After lunch we strolled around the city and found a huge cathedral and a large open square. We snapped a few photos and continued our walk.
Not far from the cathedral we discovered another large square with a large park.
The park wasn’t empty, though, because the city had set up World Cup fan park with a giant television screen and several food and beer vendors.
We got a couple of beers, 0.5 liters apiece that were selling for 400 Hungarian forint — or about $1.80 — and watched the first half of the Mexico-France match that had just started.
We only stayed for a half since there was nowhere to sit on the huge lawn, but it looked as though there were more Mexican fans than French ones in the crowd.
I, of course, can’t root for Mexico being a U.S. soccer fan, but it would have been cool to see the place erupt when Mexico finally scored in the second half.
The next day there was a light drizzle, so we bought two 24-hour subway tickets and took the subway to Budapest great market.
The market sits next to the Danube in an enormous old building that has two floors.
The bottom floor’s vendors sell mostly produce, meats and cheeses while the second floor is reserved for souvenirs, clothing and food stands.
We ate lunch there — more goulash, only this time served over barley-shaped pasta, and a sausage — and then walked down a pedestrian-only street lined with more souvenirs stores.
Because it was still raining, we walked across the city’s main bridge and took pictures of Parliament and the Budapest castle.
The weather was perfect the next day, so we took a subway to the castle.
Budapest is actually two cities — Buda and Pest — that are separated by the Danube. The castle is located in older Buda whereas most of the city’s sights are in Pest, which is also where we were staying.
The castle area in Buda is extremely large and is encompassed by a medieval wall. It also contains one of the most beautiful churches we’ve seen on our trip.
In most churches we’ve seen up to that point, the actual stone walls and spires were left bare.
That’s not the case in Matthias Church.
Every inch of that church is painted, creating an interior that is more stunning than the impressive exterior.
Old flags from the 1800s were also part of the décor of the church, which was the site of the crowning of the Hungarian kings.
It was like stepping back in time, something we’ve felt often on this trip, but never more than walking through that church.
From the church we gazed out over the Pest skyline and then walked to the palace part of the castle grounds.
Budapest was a special place for me to visit because my Grandma Draper was 100 percent Hungarian, making me a quarter Hungarian. Her relatives came from Budapest, so it was doubly interesting walking the same streets my relatives likely walked.
The palace in the castle also was called Sandor Palace, which happens to be my grandma’s maiden name.
Who knows, maybe we are royalty.
Wednesday, June 23, 2010
Vienna and Salzburg
To save some time and to hopefully get this blog more up to date, I’m combining Vienna and Salzburg into one post even though we didn’t visit the two cities back to back.
They’re both Austrian cities, though, so it works.
Sam and I instantly loved the architecture in Vienna, but we hated the rain.
In fact, we hated the rain in Salzburg, too.
We’ve had really great weather up until Vienna, but then our luck ran out. The rain didn’t stop for the two days, June 16-17, that we were there.
Because of that, Sam and I feel like we missed out on really walking around Vienna’s city center.
We weren’t, however, stuck in our hotel room both days.
When we arrived, we took a subway to the museum area and saw the natural history museum and the art museum, two gigantic buildings that face one another and are separated by a monument of Maria Theresia, a figurehead of the Hapsburg dynasty.
From the museums we walked by the Austrian Parliament building and then came up to the massive Vienna Rathaus, or city hall.
In German, Rathaus is the name for the city hall.
What a perfect name for the place where politicians meet—Rathaus.
After the Rathaus, we strolled to a former Hapsburg Palace that has now been turned into a library and museum.
With the rain still pouring the next day, we picked some inside activities and took a subway to the middle of town to see the Gothic-styleed Stephansdom, or St. Stephan’s Cathedral, which was built in the 13th century.
The stained-glass windows were stunning, as were the numerous sculptures that lined the hallways of the cathedral.
From there, we took a subway to Schloss Schonbrunn, the summer palace of the Hapsburgs.
The palace has 1,441 rooms, but tours only go through 40 rooms or 22 rooms, depending on how much you want to pay.
We did the 22-room tour and could only imagine what it must have been like to live in a place so big.
After the palace, we went back to the museum area and spent a few hours inside the museum of natural history.
The museum had a very interesting interactive display about how the earth was formed and an impressive rock collection, which included a golden nugget the size of a footstool. There also were numerous rooms full of stuffed animals, though not the cuddly kind. From monkeys and gorillas to birds and reptiles, the museum displayed thousands of animal species.
That night we ate at a Pakistani place frequented by college students—probably because there was no set price, just pay what you want—and then indulged on some sweets from a corner bakery.
Sam ordered a piece of chocolate cake and I had a Napoleon with banana and vanilla crème.
We both concluded the Napoleon was the best.
***
Salzburg is a beautiful city in the Alps, and luckily we got a glimpse of them the second day we were there as the rain finally let up.
We toured the ancient castle that overlooks the city and went into a couple of the many churches that dot the town.
Sam and I both had a better feeling about Salzburg than Vienna, probably because we got to spend some time actually walking the streets of Salzburg.
Even though it’s only a town of about 160,000, there are two large pedestrian-only areas where you’re free to stroll without worrying about oncoming traffic. Small shops and cafes lined the pedestrian-only streets. Some shops were full of jewelry and clothes while others were full of specialty stores selling “Motzart chocolate.” Sam and I didn’t try the chocolate, but figured it tasted the same as all the others… great.
Large parks are everywhere, too, including a nice flower garden surrounding Schloss Mirabell, a former palace that now houses the city’s administrative offices. We walked through the city all day and decided to eat at a Chinese restaurant for dinner. You don’t think of Chinese in a place like Vienna, but we had had enough of Schnitzel.
Because Sam and I were taking the night train to Venice, which left at 1:34 a.m., we spent a couple of hours in a place called Afro Café, which is decked out in retro furniture and has, you guessed it, afros everywhere.
In the city of Mozart’s birthplace, the Afro Café is the last thing you’d expect in Salzburg.
But the service was great, as was the wine, coffee and tea.
Sam and I were glad we came upon it.
They’re both Austrian cities, though, so it works.
Sam and I instantly loved the architecture in Vienna, but we hated the rain.
In fact, we hated the rain in Salzburg, too.
We’ve had really great weather up until Vienna, but then our luck ran out. The rain didn’t stop for the two days, June 16-17, that we were there.
Because of that, Sam and I feel like we missed out on really walking around Vienna’s city center.
We weren’t, however, stuck in our hotel room both days.
When we arrived, we took a subway to the museum area and saw the natural history museum and the art museum, two gigantic buildings that face one another and are separated by a monument of Maria Theresia, a figurehead of the Hapsburg dynasty.
From the museums we walked by the Austrian Parliament building and then came up to the massive Vienna Rathaus, or city hall.
In German, Rathaus is the name for the city hall.
What a perfect name for the place where politicians meet—Rathaus.
After the Rathaus, we strolled to a former Hapsburg Palace that has now been turned into a library and museum.
With the rain still pouring the next day, we picked some inside activities and took a subway to the middle of town to see the Gothic-styleed Stephansdom, or St. Stephan’s Cathedral, which was built in the 13th century.
The stained-glass windows were stunning, as were the numerous sculptures that lined the hallways of the cathedral.
From there, we took a subway to Schloss Schonbrunn, the summer palace of the Hapsburgs.
The palace has 1,441 rooms, but tours only go through 40 rooms or 22 rooms, depending on how much you want to pay.
We did the 22-room tour and could only imagine what it must have been like to live in a place so big.
After the palace, we went back to the museum area and spent a few hours inside the museum of natural history.
The museum had a very interesting interactive display about how the earth was formed and an impressive rock collection, which included a golden nugget the size of a footstool. There also were numerous rooms full of stuffed animals, though not the cuddly kind. From monkeys and gorillas to birds and reptiles, the museum displayed thousands of animal species.
That night we ate at a Pakistani place frequented by college students—probably because there was no set price, just pay what you want—and then indulged on some sweets from a corner bakery.
Sam ordered a piece of chocolate cake and I had a Napoleon with banana and vanilla crème.
We both concluded the Napoleon was the best.
***
Salzburg is a beautiful city in the Alps, and luckily we got a glimpse of them the second day we were there as the rain finally let up.
We toured the ancient castle that overlooks the city and went into a couple of the many churches that dot the town.
Sam and I both had a better feeling about Salzburg than Vienna, probably because we got to spend some time actually walking the streets of Salzburg.
Even though it’s only a town of about 160,000, there are two large pedestrian-only areas where you’re free to stroll without worrying about oncoming traffic. Small shops and cafes lined the pedestrian-only streets. Some shops were full of jewelry and clothes while others were full of specialty stores selling “Motzart chocolate.” Sam and I didn’t try the chocolate, but figured it tasted the same as all the others… great.
Large parks are everywhere, too, including a nice flower garden surrounding Schloss Mirabell, a former palace that now houses the city’s administrative offices. We walked through the city all day and decided to eat at a Chinese restaurant for dinner. You don’t think of Chinese in a place like Vienna, but we had had enough of Schnitzel.
Because Sam and I were taking the night train to Venice, which left at 1:34 a.m., we spent a couple of hours in a place called Afro Café, which is decked out in retro furniture and has, you guessed it, afros everywhere.
In the city of Mozart’s birthplace, the Afro Café is the last thing you’d expect in Salzburg.
But the service was great, as was the wine, coffee and tea.
Sam and I were glad we came upon it.
Monday, June 21, 2010
Prague
I’ve only heard glowing reviews from people who have visited Prague, so my expectations were high as Sam and I boarded a train for the Czech Republic capital.
Those expectations were met, although not at first.
The main train station in Prague, a gorgeous old building with twin towers, is being renovated, so passengers exit from the rear to a small park.
It’s a bit run-down looking and kind of dirty, so my initial impression was “welcome to eastern Europe.”
Once you walk away from the train station, though, and into the heart of the old city, everything changes.
Streets wind and curve down narrow passageways and there are seemingly gigantic churches with tall steeples everywhere you turn.
And those are just the normal streets in the city’s “Old Town” area.
When you make it to the Vltava River, the enormous Prague castle with its huge gothic cathedral looms on a hill overlooking the city.
What a view.
Sam and I did another free walking tour that took us all through the city and included the following sites: the Tyn Church, Jan Hus Monument and the Old Town Hall with it’s astronomical clock, which are all located in Staromestke nam, or the Old Town Square. We also saw Wenceslas Square, the Prague Opera House, the last remaining gate of the old circular wall that used to surround the city and a basilica that had the most ornate altars Sam and I had ever seen.
We also were told about the Charles Bridge, the oldest of Prague’s bridges, and the thinking behind the construction of its many statues.
Since we were in Prague from June 19-21, Sam and I did a lot of walking and even more backtracking, as I could never quite get my bearings.
I’m fairly good with directions and knowing which way to turn — thanks Domino’s — but Prague proved very difficult for me to navigate. Sam on the other hand, strangely, knew roughly where we were. She joked it was because this is where her family is from. She did in fact find some Zvolanek’s in the phonebook. As soon as we passed a Phone booth she was in there thumbing through the pages.
We never got totally lost, but we rarely walked straight to our destination.
There are worse places than Prague to take a detour.
Along with the local culture, Sam and I made a point to sample the local cuisine as well.
The Czechs know what they’re doing when it comes to beer and goulash.
We found a restaurant off the beaten path and had traditional Czech garlic soup, goulash and beer for dinner.
It was fantastic.
Those expectations were met, although not at first.
The main train station in Prague, a gorgeous old building with twin towers, is being renovated, so passengers exit from the rear to a small park.
It’s a bit run-down looking and kind of dirty, so my initial impression was “welcome to eastern Europe.”
Once you walk away from the train station, though, and into the heart of the old city, everything changes.
Streets wind and curve down narrow passageways and there are seemingly gigantic churches with tall steeples everywhere you turn.
And those are just the normal streets in the city’s “Old Town” area.
When you make it to the Vltava River, the enormous Prague castle with its huge gothic cathedral looms on a hill overlooking the city.
What a view.
Sam and I did another free walking tour that took us all through the city and included the following sites: the Tyn Church, Jan Hus Monument and the Old Town Hall with it’s astronomical clock, which are all located in Staromestke nam, or the Old Town Square. We also saw Wenceslas Square, the Prague Opera House, the last remaining gate of the old circular wall that used to surround the city and a basilica that had the most ornate altars Sam and I had ever seen.
We also were told about the Charles Bridge, the oldest of Prague’s bridges, and the thinking behind the construction of its many statues.
Since we were in Prague from June 19-21, Sam and I did a lot of walking and even more backtracking, as I could never quite get my bearings.
I’m fairly good with directions and knowing which way to turn — thanks Domino’s — but Prague proved very difficult for me to navigate. Sam on the other hand, strangely, knew roughly where we were. She joked it was because this is where her family is from. She did in fact find some Zvolanek’s in the phonebook. As soon as we passed a Phone booth she was in there thumbing through the pages.
We never got totally lost, but we rarely walked straight to our destination.
There are worse places than Prague to take a detour.
Along with the local culture, Sam and I made a point to sample the local cuisine as well.
The Czechs know what they’re doing when it comes to beer and goulash.
We found a restaurant off the beaten path and had traditional Czech garlic soup, goulash and beer for dinner.
It was fantastic.
Berlin
After being in the countryside of eastern Germany for a few days, Berlin felt gigantic and a little overwhelming at first.
It is a huge city, after all, with more than 3 million inhabitants. But Sam and I quickly felt at ease since Steph speaks fluent German. Deanna came with us too, so we had a pack of Americans touring Berlin. Plus we were meeting up with some of Steph’s friends to make a total of 7.
We arrived at the main train station in Berlin and easily found a connecting train to the Charlottenburg area where we were staying.
After settling in to our hostel and taking a rest for a couple of hours, the four of us went back to the main train station and then walked toward the Reichstag, which houses the German Parliament.
At the Reichstag, we took an elevator up to the top of the building where there are great views of Berlin as well as a free audio tour describing the various buildings and monuments seen in the distance.
Berlin is an impressive city with so many interesting historical stories everywhere you look.
It’s hard to imagine that the city was divided for so long and that people were forbidden to walk from the Tiergarten under the Brandenburger Tor to the eastern part of Berlin.
We got a full lesson in Berlin history the next day when we participated in a free, three-hour walking tour that led around the main sites in the city.
We saw part of the Berlin Wall and the famous Checkpoint Charlie.
I’m glad we did the walk, mostly because of all the history and the stories we heard about what life was like in a city divided.
The best tale our tour guide, George, from Missouri of all places, told us about was people from the east trying to cross to the west.
A couple of guys from east Berlin dressed up in a cow costume, one as the head and another as the tail, and walked, slowly, across a field in the outskirts of the city to their freedom.
Simplicity usually is the best policy isn’t it?
After the tour we met up with Anna and Felix, who arrived in Berlin a day after we did, and had some lunch while watching the opening match of the 2010 World Cup.
Unlike the U.S., Europeans go crazy for the World Cup.
At the main train station, a couple of nearby restaurants set up huge outdoor screens and offered special drink specials for people who wanted to watch.
And outside of almost every restaurant or café we passed on the street there was a placard with the schedule of the games that day.
It’s awesome.
After our lunch we just strolled around the city and looked at all the old buildings. For dinner that evening Sam and I had a doner kabab and the Berlin staple currywurst, which is a basically a hot dog covered in ketchup with some curry powder sprinkled on top.
We had to try one since we were in Berlin, but I doubt we’d ever get another one.
Since that was the last night in Berlin for all of us, we headed to a riverside bar area where we partied until 2 a.m.
We had a great time, although not as good as a couple of fellows in the same area.
After drinking what appeared to be several beers, two guys walked to the middle of a 20-foot high walking bridge across the Spree River nearby, yelled out loud a few times and then jumped into the river.
Crazy Germans…
It is a huge city, after all, with more than 3 million inhabitants. But Sam and I quickly felt at ease since Steph speaks fluent German. Deanna came with us too, so we had a pack of Americans touring Berlin. Plus we were meeting up with some of Steph’s friends to make a total of 7.
We arrived at the main train station in Berlin and easily found a connecting train to the Charlottenburg area where we were staying.
After settling in to our hostel and taking a rest for a couple of hours, the four of us went back to the main train station and then walked toward the Reichstag, which houses the German Parliament.
At the Reichstag, we took an elevator up to the top of the building where there are great views of Berlin as well as a free audio tour describing the various buildings and monuments seen in the distance.
Berlin is an impressive city with so many interesting historical stories everywhere you look.
It’s hard to imagine that the city was divided for so long and that people were forbidden to walk from the Tiergarten under the Brandenburger Tor to the eastern part of Berlin.
We got a full lesson in Berlin history the next day when we participated in a free, three-hour walking tour that led around the main sites in the city.
We saw part of the Berlin Wall and the famous Checkpoint Charlie.
I’m glad we did the walk, mostly because of all the history and the stories we heard about what life was like in a city divided.
The best tale our tour guide, George, from Missouri of all places, told us about was people from the east trying to cross to the west.
A couple of guys from east Berlin dressed up in a cow costume, one as the head and another as the tail, and walked, slowly, across a field in the outskirts of the city to their freedom.
Simplicity usually is the best policy isn’t it?
After the tour we met up with Anna and Felix, who arrived in Berlin a day after we did, and had some lunch while watching the opening match of the 2010 World Cup.
Unlike the U.S., Europeans go crazy for the World Cup.
At the main train station, a couple of nearby restaurants set up huge outdoor screens and offered special drink specials for people who wanted to watch.
And outside of almost every restaurant or café we passed on the street there was a placard with the schedule of the games that day.
It’s awesome.
After our lunch we just strolled around the city and looked at all the old buildings. For dinner that evening Sam and I had a doner kabab and the Berlin staple currywurst, which is a basically a hot dog covered in ketchup with some curry powder sprinkled on top.
We had to try one since we were in Berlin, but I doubt we’d ever get another one.
Since that was the last night in Berlin for all of us, we headed to a riverside bar area where we partied until 2 a.m.
We had a great time, although not as good as a couple of fellows in the same area.
After drinking what appeared to be several beers, two guys walked to the middle of a 20-foot high walking bridge across the Spree River nearby, yelled out loud a few times and then jumped into the river.
Crazy Germans…
Thursday, June 17, 2010
Eastern Germany
On Monday, June 7, a group of nine piled into two cars and headed east from Nottuln to the remote and sparsely populated eastern Germany.
Sam and I rode with Hubert, Magdelena and Anna’s college friend Steph while Anna, Felix, Anna’s mother Mary Ann and Anna’s other college friend Deanna rode in the second car.
Our destination was the tiny village of Zinzow.
Zinzow is the home of Hubert’s relatives, who turned a castle into a hotel and distillery, and is also near Hubert’s more than 1,000 acres of farmland.
Zinzow is roughly two hours north of Berlin by train and about an hour south of the Baltic Sea.
The trip was about six hours by car, but we got to see a lot of the northern German countryside and ride on the autobahn, where there are no speed limits.
One of the more interesting aspects of the autobahn is that in eastern Germany there are “land bridges” across the highway that link farm fields. The bridges aren’t for farm equipment, but for deer.
The Germans planted trees on the bridges and put food out so the deer would feel comfortable crossing.
Hubert and Magdelena said the bridges have worked great and the number of cars hitting deer has dropped dramatically.
You can definitely see where old West Germany ended and where East Germany started.
There are still remnants of communist-era buildings in eastern Germany. It’s almost impossible to imagine a time when people weren’t allowed to move from one side of the country to the other.
The place we stayed in at Zinzow is called a castle, but it really resembles a great estate with its square shape and four stories.
We stayed on the fourth floor in a suite that could have doubled as a ski lodge. Sam and I shared a room while Steph and Deanna each had their own room. We also had a full kitchen and a living room.
On Tuesday, we set off for another small village nearby for a three and a half hour canoe trip.
Even though it’s June, the water was too cold for swimming. We still had a great time and enjoyed a lazy day on the slow moving river.
The next day we drove an hour north to Usedom, a large island bordering Poland on the Baltic Sea.
Usedom is called the “king’s island” because it’s where Kaiser Wilhelm and other people of that ilk came to vacation.
It truly is a resort area with long, sandy beaches and numerous waterfront shops. Usedom resembled Gulf Shores, Ala., or Pensacola, Fla.
You don’t typically think of sandy beaches in Germany, but we had a wonderful time walking along the sea.
There was no swimming that day either as the Baltic Sea was quite cold.
Sam and I already want to go back to Usedom again someday.
Sam and I rode with Hubert, Magdelena and Anna’s college friend Steph while Anna, Felix, Anna’s mother Mary Ann and Anna’s other college friend Deanna rode in the second car.
Our destination was the tiny village of Zinzow.
Zinzow is the home of Hubert’s relatives, who turned a castle into a hotel and distillery, and is also near Hubert’s more than 1,000 acres of farmland.
Zinzow is roughly two hours north of Berlin by train and about an hour south of the Baltic Sea.
The trip was about six hours by car, but we got to see a lot of the northern German countryside and ride on the autobahn, where there are no speed limits.
One of the more interesting aspects of the autobahn is that in eastern Germany there are “land bridges” across the highway that link farm fields. The bridges aren’t for farm equipment, but for deer.
The Germans planted trees on the bridges and put food out so the deer would feel comfortable crossing.
Hubert and Magdelena said the bridges have worked great and the number of cars hitting deer has dropped dramatically.
You can definitely see where old West Germany ended and where East Germany started.
There are still remnants of communist-era buildings in eastern Germany. It’s almost impossible to imagine a time when people weren’t allowed to move from one side of the country to the other.
The place we stayed in at Zinzow is called a castle, but it really resembles a great estate with its square shape and four stories.
We stayed on the fourth floor in a suite that could have doubled as a ski lodge. Sam and I shared a room while Steph and Deanna each had their own room. We also had a full kitchen and a living room.
On Tuesday, we set off for another small village nearby for a three and a half hour canoe trip.
Even though it’s June, the water was too cold for swimming. We still had a great time and enjoyed a lazy day on the slow moving river.
The next day we drove an hour north to Usedom, a large island bordering Poland on the Baltic Sea.
Usedom is called the “king’s island” because it’s where Kaiser Wilhelm and other people of that ilk came to vacation.
It truly is a resort area with long, sandy beaches and numerous waterfront shops. Usedom resembled Gulf Shores, Ala., or Pensacola, Fla.
You don’t typically think of sandy beaches in Germany, but we had a wonderful time walking along the sea.
There was no swimming that day either as the Baltic Sea was quite cold.
Sam and I already want to go back to Usedom again someday.
Tuesday, June 15, 2010
Germans sure know how to celebrate a wedding
Part of the impetus behind this European journey of ours was to attend the wedding of Sam’s childhood friend Anna.
By Saturday, June 5, that day had finally arrived.
Sam and I traveled north by train from Cologne to Nottuln, a small town next to the city of Munster in western Germany.
Nottuln is the hometown of Anna’s husband-to-be Felix Frie. Since Anna is American and Felix is German, the couple decided to plan two weddings, one in America and one in German, with the German wedding coming first.
German weddings typically consist of two ceremonies, a state ceremony and a church ceremony. Anna and Felix decided they would save the church wedding for Weston, Missouri, in the fall, but their ceremony June 5 didn’t have much of a governmental feel.
The service started at 11 a.m. and lasted an hour and a half, likely due to the English translation of what was being said in German.
The German state marriage officer discussed the importance of marriage, how Anna and Felix met in American and how they moved to Singapore together.
It was a touching service, with Anna crying as the talk turned to love and devotion.
The wedding made me think back nearly a year ago to Sam and my wedding in St. Joseph.
Once the ceremony was over, Anna and Felix were greeted in the town square by dozens of friends and family members. We all drank Champaign to toast the new married couple.
Then we walked a block to Felix’s parent’s house for lunch, where we had open face sandwiches and split-pea soup with sausage.
Anna said she wanted to serve split-pea soup for lunch on the wedding day because that was the first meal she had with Hubert and Magdelena, Felix’s parents, on her first visit to Germany.
With lunch finished, everyone had a couple of hours to kill before the wedding reception started at nice restaurant in another small village about 10 minutes from Nottuln.
Sam and I decided on a nap since Anna informed us that a typical German wedding ends at dawn.
I’m glad we got in that nap.
The wedding reception started at 6 p.m. in the garden area of the restaurant with more champagne, pictures and an ice-breaking game.
Germans love doing games at wedding receptions as a way to get guests into a festive mood.
For the first game, each person was given half of a note card with information about Anna and Felix on it. The idea was to locate the person who had the other half of your card, introduce yourself and make a new friend.
Sam found her partner right, but I never found mine.
The four-course dinner started at 7:15 p.m. and didn’t end until about 11:30 p.m. because a variety of different games and speeches were conducted between courses.
The mean was excellent.
We started with a simple soup, and then had a plate with eight different portions on it. The main was chicken with cheese and spinach wrapped inside, white asparagus and fried potatoes. Several different selections were offered for dessert. I had what I think was huckleberries with vanilla crème.
Then the real party started.
Anna and Felix performed their first dance as man and wife, then the dance music started and didn’t stop until 4 a.m.
Throughout the night we had champagne, wine, pilsner and shots of schnapps, a German favorite.
Sam and I made it back to our hotel room at 6 a.m. the next morning, closed the curtains and didn’t wake up until 1 p.m.
That’s definitely one wedding reception we’ll never forget.
By Saturday, June 5, that day had finally arrived.
Sam and I traveled north by train from Cologne to Nottuln, a small town next to the city of Munster in western Germany.
Nottuln is the hometown of Anna’s husband-to-be Felix Frie. Since Anna is American and Felix is German, the couple decided to plan two weddings, one in America and one in German, with the German wedding coming first.
German weddings typically consist of two ceremonies, a state ceremony and a church ceremony. Anna and Felix decided they would save the church wedding for Weston, Missouri, in the fall, but their ceremony June 5 didn’t have much of a governmental feel.
The service started at 11 a.m. and lasted an hour and a half, likely due to the English translation of what was being said in German.
The German state marriage officer discussed the importance of marriage, how Anna and Felix met in American and how they moved to Singapore together.
It was a touching service, with Anna crying as the talk turned to love and devotion.
The wedding made me think back nearly a year ago to Sam and my wedding in St. Joseph.
Once the ceremony was over, Anna and Felix were greeted in the town square by dozens of friends and family members. We all drank Champaign to toast the new married couple.
Then we walked a block to Felix’s parent’s house for lunch, where we had open face sandwiches and split-pea soup with sausage.
Anna said she wanted to serve split-pea soup for lunch on the wedding day because that was the first meal she had with Hubert and Magdelena, Felix’s parents, on her first visit to Germany.
With lunch finished, everyone had a couple of hours to kill before the wedding reception started at nice restaurant in another small village about 10 minutes from Nottuln.
Sam and I decided on a nap since Anna informed us that a typical German wedding ends at dawn.
I’m glad we got in that nap.
The wedding reception started at 6 p.m. in the garden area of the restaurant with more champagne, pictures and an ice-breaking game.
Germans love doing games at wedding receptions as a way to get guests into a festive mood.
For the first game, each person was given half of a note card with information about Anna and Felix on it. The idea was to locate the person who had the other half of your card, introduce yourself and make a new friend.
Sam found her partner right, but I never found mine.
The four-course dinner started at 7:15 p.m. and didn’t end until about 11:30 p.m. because a variety of different games and speeches were conducted between courses.
The mean was excellent.
We started with a simple soup, and then had a plate with eight different portions on it. The main was chicken with cheese and spinach wrapped inside, white asparagus and fried potatoes. Several different selections were offered for dessert. I had what I think was huckleberries with vanilla crème.
Then the real party started.
Anna and Felix performed their first dance as man and wife, then the dance music started and didn’t stop until 4 a.m.
Throughout the night we had champagne, wine, pilsner and shots of schnapps, a German favorite.
Sam and I made it back to our hotel room at 6 a.m. the next morning, closed the curtains and didn’t wake up until 1 p.m.
That’s definitely one wedding reception we’ll never forget.
Down the Rhine
Even though we were out late in Cologne, we awoke at a reasonable hour, 10 a.m., had breakfast and then set off for Andernach to meet with Heinz-Josef.
From there, we took a regional train along the Rhine and stopped at Marksburg Castle, one of the few castles along the river that is still completely intact.
The castle sits on a high hill overlooking the swiftly moving Rhine.
It’s easy to see why the castle was never damaged by battles in the Middle Ages. The slopes are steep on all sides of the castle and would be a nightmare for opposing to climb, let alone fight.
We took a tour of the castle — thankfully aided by English books since the tour guide only spoke German — then trekked back down the hill for a weisbier from Bavaria.
The pub we chose was erected in the 1500s, and didn’t look like it had changed much since it first opened.
The sheer history of Europe continues to amaze me.
The Germans living near Marksburg Castle think nothing of going to a bar built in the 1500s for an after work drink whereas in the United States, mention a building from the 1880s and the oohs and aahs last for minutes.
After the weisbier, we continued our ride down the Rhine and saw castle after castle along the way.
We probably saw 15 castles from the train during the whole trip.
Our destination that afternoon was Rudesheim, a small town that is the site of a monument commemorating a German victory over France.
The monument sits on a ridge overlooking the Rhine and is accessible by foot, car or chairlift that goes over vineyards.
We decided on the chairlift to get great views of the river and the grape fields, which are used to make Riesling.
But before we did we stopped into a little wine bar to sample some local Riesling. I’ve always liked Riesling, and the wine was excellent.
After touring the memorial we ate dinner at a restaurant to have some famous German white asparagus.
White asparagus, or spargel in German, is only available for a handful of weeks in the late spring.
It was delicious.
From there, we took a regional train along the Rhine and stopped at Marksburg Castle, one of the few castles along the river that is still completely intact.
The castle sits on a high hill overlooking the swiftly moving Rhine.
It’s easy to see why the castle was never damaged by battles in the Middle Ages. The slopes are steep on all sides of the castle and would be a nightmare for opposing to climb, let alone fight.
We took a tour of the castle — thankfully aided by English books since the tour guide only spoke German — then trekked back down the hill for a weisbier from Bavaria.
The pub we chose was erected in the 1500s, and didn’t look like it had changed much since it first opened.
The sheer history of Europe continues to amaze me.
The Germans living near Marksburg Castle think nothing of going to a bar built in the 1500s for an after work drink whereas in the United States, mention a building from the 1880s and the oohs and aahs last for minutes.
After the weisbier, we continued our ride down the Rhine and saw castle after castle along the way.
We probably saw 15 castles from the train during the whole trip.
Our destination that afternoon was Rudesheim, a small town that is the site of a monument commemorating a German victory over France.
The monument sits on a ridge overlooking the Rhine and is accessible by foot, car or chairlift that goes over vineyards.
We decided on the chairlift to get great views of the river and the grape fields, which are used to make Riesling.
But before we did we stopped into a little wine bar to sample some local Riesling. I’ve always liked Riesling, and the wine was excellent.
After touring the memorial we ate dinner at a restaurant to have some famous German white asparagus.
White asparagus, or spargel in German, is only available for a handful of weeks in the late spring.
It was delicious.
Sunday, June 13, 2010
Cologne
After taking an hour-long boat ride through the canals of Amsterdam, we boarded a train destined for Cologne.
The first thing you notice outside of the train station is the massive Cologne Cathedral, which towers over the city with its Gothic-styled twin towers.
The church is humongous.
Because it’s in the center of the city, we passed by it several times, and each time we found something new on the building that we hadn’t seen before.
Another thing we saw a lot of in Cologne is Kolsch-style beer, which is the specific beer brewed in Cologne that comes in 0.2 liter glasses.
In Cologne we met up with Paul’s German friends—Daniella, Bjorn and Heinz-Josef—that were in town to show a couple of Americans a good time in Germany.
Boy did they ever.
Heinz-Josef took us to a traditional German restaurant where we got our first taste of German food.
For starters, we ordered the following appetizers: blood sausage, liver pate, aged gouda cheese, a huge semi-sweet pickle and raw pork sausage topped with onions served on a halved roll.
What you’re thinking now is exactly what Sam and I were thinking when the raw, open-faced sausage sandwiches arrived.
Raw sausage for an appetizer? There’s no way we’re eating that.
But when three Germans tell you it’s OK and nothing bad will happen to you later, you have to try it.
The verdict: delicious.
I never thought I’d eat raw pork, but I’m glad I did in Cologne.
Our main course was even better though.
Because the plate was so big, Sam and I shared an oven roasted, 4-inch thick pork chop covered in sautéed onions with a huge helping of French fries.
That also was superb, though not a meal you’d want to eat while on a diet.
I’d shutter to think how many calories were in that main dish.
After dinner, we walked back to the main part of Cologne, and entered another couple of bars for some more Kolsch beer.
The night ended at about 2 a.m. back at our hotel, which doubled as a bar on the ground floor.
What a night.
The first thing you notice outside of the train station is the massive Cologne Cathedral, which towers over the city with its Gothic-styled twin towers.
The church is humongous.
Because it’s in the center of the city, we passed by it several times, and each time we found something new on the building that we hadn’t seen before.
Another thing we saw a lot of in Cologne is Kolsch-style beer, which is the specific beer brewed in Cologne that comes in 0.2 liter glasses.
In Cologne we met up with Paul’s German friends—Daniella, Bjorn and Heinz-Josef—that were in town to show a couple of Americans a good time in Germany.
Boy did they ever.
Heinz-Josef took us to a traditional German restaurant where we got our first taste of German food.
For starters, we ordered the following appetizers: blood sausage, liver pate, aged gouda cheese, a huge semi-sweet pickle and raw pork sausage topped with onions served on a halved roll.
What you’re thinking now is exactly what Sam and I were thinking when the raw, open-faced sausage sandwiches arrived.
Raw sausage for an appetizer? There’s no way we’re eating that.
But when three Germans tell you it’s OK and nothing bad will happen to you later, you have to try it.
The verdict: delicious.
I never thought I’d eat raw pork, but I’m glad I did in Cologne.
Our main course was even better though.
Because the plate was so big, Sam and I shared an oven roasted, 4-inch thick pork chop covered in sautéed onions with a huge helping of French fries.
That also was superb, though not a meal you’d want to eat while on a diet.
I’d shutter to think how many calories were in that main dish.
After dinner, we walked back to the main part of Cologne, and entered another couple of bars for some more Kolsch beer.
The night ended at about 2 a.m. back at our hotel, which doubled as a bar on the ground floor.
What a night.
Amsterdam
I didn’t quite believe the story about a Heineken tasting different in Amsterdam than anywhere else, but it’s definitely true.
When I had my first Heineken in the U.S., I decided not to have another because I really didn’t care for the taste.
Not so in Amsterdam.
After Sam, Paul and I arrived in the capital city, we took a cab to our hotel, dropped off our luggage and took a cab back to the main train station. Then we walked around for a bit to get a feel for the city and eventually stopped at one of the many canal-side cafés.
A tall glass of Heineken hit the spot.
We also indulged on some chicken satay, French fries and salad.
Paul said the chicken satay would be superb because of the long-standing Indonesian influence in Amsterdam, and it didn’t disappoint.
After we finished eating and had a couple more beers, we started walking along streets and canals of the central city.
The architecture is quaint and gives off a relaxed vibe, which is very similar to the mood of the people. In all likelihood a majority of them are walking around high anyway, so anything different would seem strange.
Amsterdam, of course, has a reputation as a sex and drug capital. The sex part isn’t readily apparent, but the marijuana part definitely is.
As soon as you step out of the train station and begin walking, the smell of dope is everywhere. The signs for “coffeeshops,” or places where you can buy weed, are all around, too.
The most notable aspect of Amsterdam, however, is the number of bicycles, both those parked along the canals and others moving swiftly up and down streets.
Our cab driver told us that in a city of about 750,000 people, there are more than 1 million bicycles. And about 80,000 of those bikes are stolen each year.
On the main roads close to the main train station and the café where we decided to eat for dinner, there is a flurry of activity, with people, cars, buses and bikes zooming along in several different directions.
So we decided to walk away from the busy thoroughfares and found peaceful, homely neighborhoods that would be a joy to live in.
We stopped at a bar for a couple more drinks, caught the last half of a World Cup warm up game for The Netherlands and then headed back to the busy streets.
During our walk we noticed the sex aspect of Amsterdam.
Some apartments used by prostitutes exist along the main roads on the outskirts of the red light district, identified by the trademark red light outside the door and a scantily clad woman sitting patiently in front of a basement window.
But if you look down a side street, you’ll see rows of red lights.
We took a walk down one of those streets and found that there’s not a whole lot to the entire red light district operation.
The women in the windows don’t show any nudity and don’t point or wave at you when you walk by. They just sit on a stool and look out the window, patiently waiting, it seems, for their next customer to walk in.
After the red light stroll it was about 11:30 p.m., so we headed into another bar for a last couple of beers.
You can’t visit Amsterdam and head home before midnight.
At that bar we met a local named David who was really into 70s rock music.
After talking for a few minutes and explaining to David how we were only going to be in Amsterdam for one night, he tried to come up with a few late night things to do.
But when he realized it was Tuesday night, here was his assessment of our prospects for the night: “You’re f*cked.”
Well then.
If a local says there’s nothing to do in Amsterdam on a Tuesday night, why argue, especially when you have a trip to Cologne, Germany scheduled for the next day?
So we finished our beers and went back to the hotel.
When I had my first Heineken in the U.S., I decided not to have another because I really didn’t care for the taste.
Not so in Amsterdam.
After Sam, Paul and I arrived in the capital city, we took a cab to our hotel, dropped off our luggage and took a cab back to the main train station. Then we walked around for a bit to get a feel for the city and eventually stopped at one of the many canal-side cafés.
A tall glass of Heineken hit the spot.
We also indulged on some chicken satay, French fries and salad.
Paul said the chicken satay would be superb because of the long-standing Indonesian influence in Amsterdam, and it didn’t disappoint.
After we finished eating and had a couple more beers, we started walking along streets and canals of the central city.
The architecture is quaint and gives off a relaxed vibe, which is very similar to the mood of the people. In all likelihood a majority of them are walking around high anyway, so anything different would seem strange.
Amsterdam, of course, has a reputation as a sex and drug capital. The sex part isn’t readily apparent, but the marijuana part definitely is.
As soon as you step out of the train station and begin walking, the smell of dope is everywhere. The signs for “coffeeshops,” or places where you can buy weed, are all around, too.
The most notable aspect of Amsterdam, however, is the number of bicycles, both those parked along the canals and others moving swiftly up and down streets.
Our cab driver told us that in a city of about 750,000 people, there are more than 1 million bicycles. And about 80,000 of those bikes are stolen each year.
On the main roads close to the main train station and the café where we decided to eat for dinner, there is a flurry of activity, with people, cars, buses and bikes zooming along in several different directions.
So we decided to walk away from the busy thoroughfares and found peaceful, homely neighborhoods that would be a joy to live in.
We stopped at a bar for a couple more drinks, caught the last half of a World Cup warm up game for The Netherlands and then headed back to the busy streets.
During our walk we noticed the sex aspect of Amsterdam.
Some apartments used by prostitutes exist along the main roads on the outskirts of the red light district, identified by the trademark red light outside the door and a scantily clad woman sitting patiently in front of a basement window.
But if you look down a side street, you’ll see rows of red lights.
We took a walk down one of those streets and found that there’s not a whole lot to the entire red light district operation.
The women in the windows don’t show any nudity and don’t point or wave at you when you walk by. They just sit on a stool and look out the window, patiently waiting, it seems, for their next customer to walk in.
After the red light stroll it was about 11:30 p.m., so we headed into another bar for a last couple of beers.
You can’t visit Amsterdam and head home before midnight.
At that bar we met a local named David who was really into 70s rock music.
After talking for a few minutes and explaining to David how we were only going to be in Amsterdam for one night, he tried to come up with a few late night things to do.
But when he realized it was Tuesday night, here was his assessment of our prospects for the night: “You’re f*cked.”
Well then.
If a local says there’s nothing to do in Amsterdam on a Tuesday night, why argue, especially when you have a trip to Cologne, Germany scheduled for the next day?
So we finished our beers and went back to the hotel.
Thursday, June 10, 2010
We’re back online
We’ve been without the Internet so long it’s hard to know where to begin.
The hotel we stayed at in Amsterdam for one night charged for Internet access, as did the one in Cologne, so we planned on hitting a coffee shop or bar to update this blog.
We were so busy, though, that it didn’t happen.
Even though this blog has been stuck at a standstill for the past week and a half, we have been on the go each.
We’ve taken a stroll through Amsterdam’s red light district, experienced some classic German food and drink in Cologne, partied all night at a traditional German wedding reception, driven from western Germany to eastern Germany on the autobahn and wandered along the white sandy beaches of Usedom, or the King’s Island.
We’ve had an outstanding trip so far, and it’s hard to believe we’ve been out of the United States for a month.
With us back online, here are a couple of posts I did at the beginning of this month that I wasn’t able to get online.
I plan on getting up to date later…
The hotel we stayed at in Amsterdam for one night charged for Internet access, as did the one in Cologne, so we planned on hitting a coffee shop or bar to update this blog.
We were so busy, though, that it didn’t happen.
Even though this blog has been stuck at a standstill for the past week and a half, we have been on the go each.
We’ve taken a stroll through Amsterdam’s red light district, experienced some classic German food and drink in Cologne, partied all night at a traditional German wedding reception, driven from western Germany to eastern Germany on the autobahn and wandered along the white sandy beaches of Usedom, or the King’s Island.
We’ve had an outstanding trip so far, and it’s hard to believe we’ve been out of the United States for a month.
With us back online, here are a couple of posts I did at the beginning of this month that I wasn’t able to get online.
I plan on getting up to date later…
England impressions
Maybe it’s the similar language, the northern location or Sam’s wonderful family and friends, but you can’t say enough about how nice everyone is in England.
I say similar language because even though Americans and the English share the same language, the vocabulary is much different in Britain.
There are, of course, the easily understandable words like “mate,” but others like “nackered” and “mucked” take a bit of getting used to.
For example, nackered could mean extremely tired — “I’m nackered after that trip to York” — or destroyed — “I nackered that tire (or tyre in England) after running into the curb.”
Getting used to the language is just part of the fun and makes for a more enjoyable trip.
Another reason why our trip has been more than we could have hoped for so far is because the English love to laugh.
Whether it’s making jokes or poking fun at one another, the mood is usually relaxed and amiable.
Who wouldn’t love that?
The mood is a little less relaxed on England’s motorways. Not for the English drivers, but the Americans in the passenger seats.
It’s pretty disorienting with everyone driving on the left side of the road, especially coming around corners and approaching oncoming cars.
For the first few trips in a car, my first instinct was shock and a little fear as approaching cars look like, at least to me, to be driving on the wrong side of the road.
Speed probably has a lot to do with it.
The English drive fast.
I thought the fastest drivers were either Texans or Nebraskans driving as fast as they can out of Missouri.
But they have nothing on the English.
The posted speed limited on regular roads is 60 mph and 70 mph on motorways or “dual carriageways.” It’s pretty common, though, to go 85 to 90 mph on the expressways and 75 mph on smaller, tighter roads.
Passing is pretty much allowed on any stretch of road, so you constantly have to look out for oncoming traffic all the time.
You get used to that after a while though.
I say similar language because even though Americans and the English share the same language, the vocabulary is much different in Britain.
There are, of course, the easily understandable words like “mate,” but others like “nackered” and “mucked” take a bit of getting used to.
For example, nackered could mean extremely tired — “I’m nackered after that trip to York” — or destroyed — “I nackered that tire (or tyre in England) after running into the curb.”
Getting used to the language is just part of the fun and makes for a more enjoyable trip.
Another reason why our trip has been more than we could have hoped for so far is because the English love to laugh.
Whether it’s making jokes or poking fun at one another, the mood is usually relaxed and amiable.
Who wouldn’t love that?
The mood is a little less relaxed on England’s motorways. Not for the English drivers, but the Americans in the passenger seats.
It’s pretty disorienting with everyone driving on the left side of the road, especially coming around corners and approaching oncoming cars.
For the first few trips in a car, my first instinct was shock and a little fear as approaching cars look like, at least to me, to be driving on the wrong side of the road.
Speed probably has a lot to do with it.
The English drive fast.
I thought the fastest drivers were either Texans or Nebraskans driving as fast as they can out of Missouri.
But they have nothing on the English.
The posted speed limited on regular roads is 60 mph and 70 mph on motorways or “dual carriageways.” It’s pretty common, though, to go 85 to 90 mph on the expressways and 75 mph on smaller, tighter roads.
Passing is pretty much allowed on any stretch of road, so you constantly have to look out for oncoming traffic all the time.
You get used to that after a while though.
We’re off
Tuesday, June 1 marked the second leg of our journey.
We drove from Paul’s house in Caistor to the Doncaster airport to board a plane bound for Amsterdam.
Amsterdam is the first stop of a nearly 20-city tour Sam and I are taking around Europe.
We’re going to Cologne, Frankfurt, Munster, Berlin, Prague, Vienna, Budapest, Salzburg, Venice, Florence, Rome, Cinque Terre in Italy, St. Raphael in France, Interlaken in Switzerland, Paris, Angers, Bruges and Antwerp.
It’s exciting and very surreal at the same time.
A year ago Sam and I were making the final preparations for our wedding. Little did we know a year later we’d be spending our first anniversary in Europe.
To get around, we purchased a train pass that’s called a Eurail Global Flexi Pass.
The pass allows us to travel during any 15 days within two months, all in the first class cabin. So, for example, when we take our first train to Cologne, we will have used up one day of our 15.
We could have spent a little more and purchased a two-month pass that would have allowed us to travel any day within a two-month period, but those passes are meant for people traveling everyday.
That’s not us.
We’ve scheduled our trip to take a train to a city, stay there at least two nights and then leave for the next one.
This strategy will allow us to spend more of our time in various cities and less time on trains.
That’s not to say that the trains in Europe aren’t nice.
They definitely are.
As I’m writing this blog post, I’m sitting on a German Intercity Express train in a nice leather chair with acres of leg room.
You can’t beat that, especially if you’re used to the cramped space that comes with coach air travel.
We drove from Paul’s house in Caistor to the Doncaster airport to board a plane bound for Amsterdam.
Amsterdam is the first stop of a nearly 20-city tour Sam and I are taking around Europe.
We’re going to Cologne, Frankfurt, Munster, Berlin, Prague, Vienna, Budapest, Salzburg, Venice, Florence, Rome, Cinque Terre in Italy, St. Raphael in France, Interlaken in Switzerland, Paris, Angers, Bruges and Antwerp.
It’s exciting and very surreal at the same time.
A year ago Sam and I were making the final preparations for our wedding. Little did we know a year later we’d be spending our first anniversary in Europe.
To get around, we purchased a train pass that’s called a Eurail Global Flexi Pass.
The pass allows us to travel during any 15 days within two months, all in the first class cabin. So, for example, when we take our first train to Cologne, we will have used up one day of our 15.
We could have spent a little more and purchased a two-month pass that would have allowed us to travel any day within a two-month period, but those passes are meant for people traveling everyday.
That’s not us.
We’ve scheduled our trip to take a train to a city, stay there at least two nights and then leave for the next one.
This strategy will allow us to spend more of our time in various cities and less time on trains.
That’s not to say that the trains in Europe aren’t nice.
They definitely are.
As I’m writing this blog post, I’m sitting on a German Intercity Express train in a nice leather chair with acres of leg room.
You can’t beat that, especially if you’re used to the cramped space that comes with coach air travel.
Sunday, May 30, 2010
A Steel’s slideshow
Along with going to Lincoln, Neill, Linda, Sam and I also took a day trip to Louth, which I described in an earlier post.
They treated Sam and I to a truly superb fish and chips meal at Steel’s restaurant, too.
At Steel’s, the fish and chips cover your entire plate.
As you’ll see in the slideshow, it takes a big appetite to finish a plate.
They treated Sam and I to a truly superb fish and chips meal at Steel’s restaurant, too.
At Steel’s, the fish and chips cover your entire plate.
As you’ll see in the slideshow, it takes a big appetite to finish a plate.
Lincoln slideshow
When Sam and I were staying with Neill and Linda last week, we took a day trip to Lincoln.
We had a great time walking the cobbled streets of the old city and looking at the ancient castle and cathedral.
We had a flat tire on our way out, which is why that picture is first. Sam thought she’d get a couple of action shots.
But the rest of the pictures are us in Lincoln.
Take a look…
We had a great time walking the cobbled streets of the old city and looking at the ancient castle and cathedral.
We had a flat tire on our way out, which is why that picture is first. Sam thought she’d get a couple of action shots.
But the rest of the pictures are us in Lincoln.
Take a look…
Saturday, May 29, 2010
A long time without blogging…
The days keep flying by as Sam and I keep exploring the English Midlands with various friends and family, although I haven’t been keeping up to date on this blog.
I apologize for that.
Since my last post Tuesday Sam and I have spent a few days with Mo and John Macintyre and their humongous home in Goxhill, a small village a few miles outside of Barton.
We packed in a lot of sites—and a significant amount of wedding dress shopping—in those few days, hence the lack of blog post.
Sam and I are going to a wedding in Munster Germany the first week of June, which is why Sam wanted to make sure she had a great dress for the ceremony.
Her best friend Anna is getting married June 5th, so Sam wanted to look her best.
I won’t go into too much detail since I’m not a big “dress shopper,” but it’s safe to say after two half days of shopping and about 50 potential dresses later, Sam found the perfect dress, both for Anna’s wedding next month and my brother Seth’s wedding in November.
Dress shopping wasn’t the only thing we did with Mo and John.
We visited an underwater aquarium in Hull called “The Deep” with Mo on Tuesday.
On Wednesday, we went back to Hull to take in the maritime museum there, as Hull was and still is a major shipping locale in England, and visit William Wilberforce’s house.
Wilberforce was a key player in abolishing slavery in Great Britain.
Britain, through Wilberforce’s persistence, abolished the slave trade in 1807.
In 1833, Great Britain passed the Slavery Abolition Act, outlawing slavery in the country for good.
Wilberforce died in 1833, three days after the Slavery Abolition Act’s passage was assured.
On Thursday, the four of us traveled north to the seaside town of Whitby and the nearby village called Robin Hood’s Bay.
No one could tell me why it was called Robin Hood’s Bay, so we just figured Robin Hood must have vacationed there when making mischief for the Sheriff of Nottingham became too much.
Whitby is home to the looming ruins of Whitby Abbey and a famous church that is quoted in Bram Stoker’s “Dracula.”
Stoker lived near Whitby and used to visit the area often during his life, which is why, a museum worker told me, the town in mentioned in his book.
The worker said in Stoker’s novel, Dracula arrives in Whitby in the form of a dog, changes into his human form in the church graveyard and then is mentioned in Whitby again.
The connection is loose to be sure, but that hasn’t stopped the Whitby Abbey museum from trying to make a pound or two off the mention in the novel.
As the museum worker said: “The connection to Dracula is tenuous, but we sell the book in the gift shop.”
You can’t beat commercialism.
I apologize for that.
Since my last post Tuesday Sam and I have spent a few days with Mo and John Macintyre and their humongous home in Goxhill, a small village a few miles outside of Barton.
We packed in a lot of sites—and a significant amount of wedding dress shopping—in those few days, hence the lack of blog post.
Sam and I are going to a wedding in Munster Germany the first week of June, which is why Sam wanted to make sure she had a great dress for the ceremony.
Her best friend Anna is getting married June 5th, so Sam wanted to look her best.
I won’t go into too much detail since I’m not a big “dress shopper,” but it’s safe to say after two half days of shopping and about 50 potential dresses later, Sam found the perfect dress, both for Anna’s wedding next month and my brother Seth’s wedding in November.
Dress shopping wasn’t the only thing we did with Mo and John.
We visited an underwater aquarium in Hull called “The Deep” with Mo on Tuesday.
On Wednesday, we went back to Hull to take in the maritime museum there, as Hull was and still is a major shipping locale in England, and visit William Wilberforce’s house.
Wilberforce was a key player in abolishing slavery in Great Britain.
Britain, through Wilberforce’s persistence, abolished the slave trade in 1807.
In 1833, Great Britain passed the Slavery Abolition Act, outlawing slavery in the country for good.
Wilberforce died in 1833, three days after the Slavery Abolition Act’s passage was assured.
On Thursday, the four of us traveled north to the seaside town of Whitby and the nearby village called Robin Hood’s Bay.
No one could tell me why it was called Robin Hood’s Bay, so we just figured Robin Hood must have vacationed there when making mischief for the Sheriff of Nottingham became too much.
Whitby is home to the looming ruins of Whitby Abbey and a famous church that is quoted in Bram Stoker’s “Dracula.”
Stoker lived near Whitby and used to visit the area often during his life, which is why, a museum worker told me, the town in mentioned in his book.
The worker said in Stoker’s novel, Dracula arrives in Whitby in the form of a dog, changes into his human form in the church graveyard and then is mentioned in Whitby again.
The connection is loose to be sure, but that hasn’t stopped the Whitby Abbey museum from trying to make a pound or two off the mention in the novel.
As the museum worker said: “The connection to Dracula is tenuous, but we sell the book in the gift shop.”
You can’t beat commercialism.
Tuesday, May 25, 2010
Pictures...finally
You wouldn't know it by reading the blog posts up to this point, but Sam and I actually did bring a camera with us and have been taking pictures since we've been in England.
It's just taken us a while to download them and figure out how to post them on this blog.
Yes, it's not rocket science and we should have posted pictures earlier. But we've been seeing the sites and enjoying ourselves with Sam's family and friends, not worrying about posting our pictures.
Can you blame us?
Well, at long last, here's a slideshow of London.
More will follow, though I can't say when...
It's just taken us a while to download them and figure out how to post them on this blog.
Yes, it's not rocket science and we should have posted pictures earlier. But we've been seeing the sites and enjoying ourselves with Sam's family and friends, not worrying about posting our pictures.
Can you blame us?
Well, at long last, here's a slideshow of London.
More will follow, though I can't say when...
Monday, May 24, 2010
Lazy days in Barton
Sam and I have been taking it pretty easy in Barton the last few days.
As Sam has recovered from a nasty bug she picked up recently, we've been sleeping in and experiencing the nightlife in Barton.
With Sam in bed early Friday night, I went out with Sandra and Vern's youngest son Ian to a handful of pubs in Barton.
Going out on the town in England isn't much different than going out in the United States.
Since it was Friday night, many of the pubs had DJs with dance music playing, mostly by American artists. In fact, if you glanced into a pub on Friday night in Barton you could have mistaken the pub for any number of bars in the U.S.
There are some differences though.
For one, when you order a beer in England, it will, of course, come in a 20-ounce pint glass. You can't go wrong with the size of the drink that you get in England, especially if you're a fast drinker like me.
With a 20 ounce glass, there's enough beer to steadily enjoy yourself but not too much that the beer is warm by the time you get to the bottom.
The second noticable difference on a Friday night out in England is the dress, or lack thereof, of the local girls.
I'm not sure the word skimpy is in the English vocabulary.
Granted, not all the girls out on the town last Friday were wearing next to nothing. But a vast majority left little to the imagination.
Ian and I stayed out pretty late Friday and we really enjoyed ourselves. We met up with some of his friends, who were more than happy to have a conversation with an American.
The English are a very friendly people that try to make you feel right at home.
I never had my doubts, but it's always nice to feel welcome.
With Sam feeling better on Saturday, she joined me, Ian and his girlfriend Beth, Ian's brother Kirk and his fiancee Tracy and their family friend Luke for a couple of pints after dinner at a local pub, the Wheatsheaf.
The scene that night was much more laid back.
As we found out, Friday night is the big "going out" night in Barton while Saturday is a much more subdued "couples night." That was fine with me as I was still feeling the after effects of a late Friday night.
Sam got to catch up with Ian and Kirk, who she's known since childhood, while I discussed the differences between English and American colleges.
For instance, graduates of English universities don't have to start paying back their student loans until they make a certain amount of money. In the United States, of course, students typically have to start paying off their student loans six months after graduation whether they're employed or not.
Since I'm looking at three years' worth of loans to pay for law school, I'm a little envious of the British way of dealing with student loans.
The highlight on Sunday was going out to dinner at one of the local Indian restaurants. Sam and I both love Indian food and are quite jealous that Barton, a town of about 9,300 people, has three sit-down Indian restaurants and two take-out only places.
You have to drive to Kansas City from St. Joseph to get to the nearest Indian restaurant.
We'd be pretty spoiled if we lived in Barton.
As Sam has recovered from a nasty bug she picked up recently, we've been sleeping in and experiencing the nightlife in Barton.
With Sam in bed early Friday night, I went out with Sandra and Vern's youngest son Ian to a handful of pubs in Barton.
Going out on the town in England isn't much different than going out in the United States.
Since it was Friday night, many of the pubs had DJs with dance music playing, mostly by American artists. In fact, if you glanced into a pub on Friday night in Barton you could have mistaken the pub for any number of bars in the U.S.
There are some differences though.
For one, when you order a beer in England, it will, of course, come in a 20-ounce pint glass. You can't go wrong with the size of the drink that you get in England, especially if you're a fast drinker like me.
With a 20 ounce glass, there's enough beer to steadily enjoy yourself but not too much that the beer is warm by the time you get to the bottom.
The second noticable difference on a Friday night out in England is the dress, or lack thereof, of the local girls.
I'm not sure the word skimpy is in the English vocabulary.
Granted, not all the girls out on the town last Friday were wearing next to nothing. But a vast majority left little to the imagination.
Ian and I stayed out pretty late Friday and we really enjoyed ourselves. We met up with some of his friends, who were more than happy to have a conversation with an American.
The English are a very friendly people that try to make you feel right at home.
I never had my doubts, but it's always nice to feel welcome.
With Sam feeling better on Saturday, she joined me, Ian and his girlfriend Beth, Ian's brother Kirk and his fiancee Tracy and their family friend Luke for a couple of pints after dinner at a local pub, the Wheatsheaf.
The scene that night was much more laid back.
As we found out, Friday night is the big "going out" night in Barton while Saturday is a much more subdued "couples night." That was fine with me as I was still feeling the after effects of a late Friday night.
Sam got to catch up with Ian and Kirk, who she's known since childhood, while I discussed the differences between English and American colleges.
For instance, graduates of English universities don't have to start paying back their student loans until they make a certain amount of money. In the United States, of course, students typically have to start paying off their student loans six months after graduation whether they're employed or not.
Since I'm looking at three years' worth of loans to pay for law school, I'm a little envious of the British way of dealing with student loans.
The highlight on Sunday was going out to dinner at one of the local Indian restaurants. Sam and I both love Indian food and are quite jealous that Barton, a town of about 9,300 people, has three sit-down Indian restaurants and two take-out only places.
You have to drive to Kansas City from St. Joseph to get to the nearest Indian restaurant.
We'd be pretty spoiled if we lived in Barton.
Friday, May 21, 2010
Markets and castles
For Wednesday's trek, Sam and I headed to the small village of Louth with Neil and Linda.
Louth is a market town of about 16,000 that lies south of Waltham where Neil and Linda live. The name Louth is derived from an ancient word meaning loud because year's ago the River Lud that flows through the city was quite noisy.
The river must have been raging centuries ago because today the River is no more than a small, gently flowing stream.
Since we arrived on a Wednesday, we were lucky enough to experience a market day.
Vendors were camped in the middle of the town square selling a variety of items, from clothes to produce to used books and magazines.
We browsed for a while and didn't buy anything except for two pieces of homemade cake, one white and pink and another Belgian chocolate.
Examining wares in markets and shops is a different experience in England than it is in the United States.
In England, vendors don't try to sell you anything or ask you what you're looking for. They simply sit back and smile.
If Sam and I had been at the farmer's market in Idaho Falls or anywhere else in the U.S., many vendors would have definitely asked if they could help.
In England, I think, vendors are more than willing to do the same. The main difference is the potential buyer has to make the first move.
It's interesting to note the little quirks of each culture.
After we finished at the market, we bought some sandwiches and headed for the local park, called Hubbard's Hills, for a picnic.
The park is called Hubbard's Hills because long ago, a glacier cut a small valley (or what Southern Missourians might call a holler) where the River Lud flows today. On either side of the river are steep, wooded ridges that, at their peak, stand about 125 feet overlooking the stream and parts of Louth.
Visitors to the park can climb the 54 steeps to get on top of the ridge and can traverse a shaded path.
It was a nice walk and the end of a great day in Louth.
Louth is a market town of about 16,000 that lies south of Waltham where Neil and Linda live. The name Louth is derived from an ancient word meaning loud because year's ago the River Lud that flows through the city was quite noisy.
The river must have been raging centuries ago because today the River is no more than a small, gently flowing stream.
Since we arrived on a Wednesday, we were lucky enough to experience a market day.
Vendors were camped in the middle of the town square selling a variety of items, from clothes to produce to used books and magazines.
We browsed for a while and didn't buy anything except for two pieces of homemade cake, one white and pink and another Belgian chocolate.
Examining wares in markets and shops is a different experience in England than it is in the United States.
In England, vendors don't try to sell you anything or ask you what you're looking for. They simply sit back and smile.
If Sam and I had been at the farmer's market in Idaho Falls or anywhere else in the U.S., many vendors would have definitely asked if they could help.
In England, I think, vendors are more than willing to do the same. The main difference is the potential buyer has to make the first move.
It's interesting to note the little quirks of each culture.
After we finished at the market, we bought some sandwiches and headed for the local park, called Hubbard's Hills, for a picnic.
The park is called Hubbard's Hills because long ago, a glacier cut a small valley (or what Southern Missourians might call a holler) where the River Lud flows today. On either side of the river are steep, wooded ridges that, at their peak, stand about 125 feet overlooking the stream and parts of Louth.
Visitors to the park can climb the 54 steeps to get on top of the ridge and can traverse a shaded path.
It was a nice walk and the end of a great day in Louth.
we're still here...
Time really does fly when you're having fun.
Sam and I have been just going, going, going everyday that I haven't had time to update the blog in a while. I can't believe it's Friday afternoon already and I haven't written anything since Tuesday.
We've done a lot in the past few days, which I how to recap in separate posts later on.
We're now in Barton staying with Sandra and Vern, Sam's mother's good friends. We had another day trip planned today, but Sam fell ill. So while she's been sleeping adn recovering, Sandra, Vern and I went to a local nature preserve to do some bird watching.
It was a good day to go out because we saw a deer run across along a field and down a road, something Sandra and Vern have never experienced before and they've go to the nature preserve about once a week.
After the hourlong walk, we came back to their house, had a cold drink and some lunch and then lazed around, hoping Sam might start feeling better.
She appears to be feeling a bit better, but she won't be staying up late tonight.
I, on the other hand, am going out to some local pubs with Sandra and Vern's youngest son, Ian, to get a taste of how the English handle a Friday night out.
It should be a great time.
Sam and I have been just going, going, going everyday that I haven't had time to update the blog in a while. I can't believe it's Friday afternoon already and I haven't written anything since Tuesday.
We've done a lot in the past few days, which I how to recap in separate posts later on.
We're now in Barton staying with Sandra and Vern, Sam's mother's good friends. We had another day trip planned today, but Sam fell ill. So while she's been sleeping adn recovering, Sandra, Vern and I went to a local nature preserve to do some bird watching.
It was a good day to go out because we saw a deer run across along a field and down a road, something Sandra and Vern have never experienced before and they've go to the nature preserve about once a week.
After the hourlong walk, we came back to their house, had a cold drink and some lunch and then lazed around, hoping Sam might start feeling better.
She appears to be feeling a bit better, but she won't be staying up late tonight.
I, on the other hand, am going out to some local pubs with Sandra and Vern's youngest son, Ian, to get a taste of how the English handle a Friday night out.
It should be a great time.
Tuesday, May 18, 2010
A Crossland switcheroo
We've swapped one uncle's house for another in the English midlands.
Today we packed up a couple of bags and headed to Sam's uncle Neil's house in Waltham, a small village just on the outskirts of the season town of Cleethorpes. Neil, his wife Linda and his two kids, 13-year-old Chantelle and nine-year-old Mitchell live in a beautiful home about a 20-minute drive from Paul and Bernie's house in Caistor.
Along with playing golf with Paul on Sunday, he and Bernie took Sam and I to York for a day out on Saturday.
We walked passed the Yorkminster, a huge, triple-towered cathedral that is the largest in northern Europe and also has the deepest sounding bell in all of Europe.
The sheer size of the building was impressive and I'm sure the inside is equally dramatic, although I can't say for sure because there was a wedding happening while we were there.
Next to the cathedral in the center of York is a pedestrian-only area with dozens of small shops and pubs.
We walked along a street called "the shambles," which is where butchers used to hang and sell their fresh-cut pork. The buildings along that road were even built with an outward tilt so that the meat would be kept in the shade and out of the rain.
The almost look like they're going to fall over.
We also took a 50-minute tour on a bus throughout the city to learn about York's history and how it was a Roman stronghold long ago.
We had a great time.
After Neil and Linda picked us up at about 11:20 a.m. Tuesday, we drove to Cleethorpes to take a walk on the beach and see some of the small shops in the seaside town.
Since is was a little cold and rainy, we went back to Neil and Linda's house to have barbeque.
Before that, though, we walked down to The Tilted Barrel pub to have a couple of pints before their kids got home from school.
Neil and I had pints of Guiness, served extra cold of course, my first in England.
You can't beat a Guiness before a barbeque.
Today we packed up a couple of bags and headed to Sam's uncle Neil's house in Waltham, a small village just on the outskirts of the season town of Cleethorpes. Neil, his wife Linda and his two kids, 13-year-old Chantelle and nine-year-old Mitchell live in a beautiful home about a 20-minute drive from Paul and Bernie's house in Caistor.
Along with playing golf with Paul on Sunday, he and Bernie took Sam and I to York for a day out on Saturday.
We walked passed the Yorkminster, a huge, triple-towered cathedral that is the largest in northern Europe and also has the deepest sounding bell in all of Europe.
The sheer size of the building was impressive and I'm sure the inside is equally dramatic, although I can't say for sure because there was a wedding happening while we were there.
Next to the cathedral in the center of York is a pedestrian-only area with dozens of small shops and pubs.
We walked along a street called "the shambles," which is where butchers used to hang and sell their fresh-cut pork. The buildings along that road were even built with an outward tilt so that the meat would be kept in the shade and out of the rain.
The almost look like they're going to fall over.
We also took a 50-minute tour on a bus throughout the city to learn about York's history and how it was a Roman stronghold long ago.
We had a great time.
After Neil and Linda picked us up at about 11:20 a.m. Tuesday, we drove to Cleethorpes to take a walk on the beach and see some of the small shops in the seaside town.
Since is was a little cold and rainy, we went back to Neil and Linda's house to have barbeque.
Before that, though, we walked down to The Tilted Barrel pub to have a couple of pints before their kids got home from school.
Neil and I had pints of Guiness, served extra cold of course, my first in England.
You can't beat a Guiness before a barbeque.
At least there was a birdie…
Sam and I played our first rounds of golf in England on Sunday afternoon.
We borrowed two sets of clubs and went with Paul to play at his home course, Elsham Golf Club.
The course was great, although my play was not.
Granted, I was playing with borrowed clubs, but an opening 47 didn’t feel that great, especially since I said I was between a 7 and a 10 handicap.
A front nine 47 is more like a 22 handicap.
It took a while to get used to my set and the way my shots were coming off the clubfaces. I normally play a push draw with my set at home, so it’s no wonder that most of my shots stayed right of my target since that’s where I was aiming.
I hadn’t made a par by the seventh hole, although I had just blasted a 330 yard drive.
The seventh is a short, 300-yard par 4 with out of bounds on the right. I hit my drive off the heel a bit but straight down the middle to about 40 yards out.
The green on the seventh has a severe false front which slopes back down the hill. I managed to place my approach shot just over the crest of the slope, about 15 feet away from the hole.
I sank the mostly straight putt for a birdie, my first and hopefully not last overseas.
We could only get in about 13 holes before it started to get dark, but the seventh was the best hole that day for me.
I’d write about the others, but it’s much more fun to talk about making a birdie than describing how I struggled to make bogeys, double bogeys and even a 9 on the other holes.
Sam, who’s just starting to get her swing down, played well for her first round in England and had a lot of shots of which to be proud.
We can’t wait to play again.
We borrowed two sets of clubs and went with Paul to play at his home course, Elsham Golf Club.
The course was great, although my play was not.
Granted, I was playing with borrowed clubs, but an opening 47 didn’t feel that great, especially since I said I was between a 7 and a 10 handicap.
A front nine 47 is more like a 22 handicap.
It took a while to get used to my set and the way my shots were coming off the clubfaces. I normally play a push draw with my set at home, so it’s no wonder that most of my shots stayed right of my target since that’s where I was aiming.
I hadn’t made a par by the seventh hole, although I had just blasted a 330 yard drive.
The seventh is a short, 300-yard par 4 with out of bounds on the right. I hit my drive off the heel a bit but straight down the middle to about 40 yards out.
The green on the seventh has a severe false front which slopes back down the hill. I managed to place my approach shot just over the crest of the slope, about 15 feet away from the hole.
I sank the mostly straight putt for a birdie, my first and hopefully not last overseas.
We could only get in about 13 holes before it started to get dark, but the seventh was the best hole that day for me.
I’d write about the others, but it’s much more fun to talk about making a birdie than describing how I struggled to make bogeys, double bogeys and even a 9 on the other holes.
Sam, who’s just starting to get her swing down, played well for her first round in England and had a lot of shots of which to be proud.
We can’t wait to play again.
Sunday, May 16, 2010
Now for real England
Sorry for no posts the last couple of days, but Sam and I have been quite busy with her aunt and uncle, Paul and Bernie Crossland.
We arrived at the Barnetby train station Friday at about 3:30 p.m. and received a warm welcome from Sam’s other uncle Neil.
Neil drove us to Paul’s house in Caistor, which is about 20 minutes from the train station.
We passed the gently rolling hills and well kept hedges on the way.
The countryside is beautiful, especially the yellow mustard fields that dot the landscape.
Upon arriving at Paul and Bernie’s we had cake and tea with Bernie while waiting for Paul to get home from the golf course.
That night we had Indian “take away,” the English phrase for take out, and talked about our time in London and our upcoming trip to continental Europe.
After having a wonderful dinner — better than any Indian food we’ve had in the United States — we took a little walk around Caistor.
Caistor is now a village of a few thousand people, but it used to be a Roman outpost.
The Romans camped here because of the natural springs that exist around the village. In fact, one such spring is found in Paul and Bernie’s “garden,” or back yard.
Sam and I thoroughly enjoyed London but were glad to be out of the hustle and bustle of the international city of 7.5 million.
As Paul has told us, London is a wonderful city but real England is found in the small villages outside the city. Life, as expected, is much more laid back in Caistor and it’s easy to see why the locals love it.
After our walk around Caistor we stopped into the only local pub, the White Hat, for a couple of pints.
Two Americans in Caistor is pretty big news, especially since Paul and Bernie’s sister in law had relatives from Canada visiting this week as well.
A local Irish gentleman paused to say hello to Paul and Bernie in the pub and mentioned he’d just met some Canadians a few minutes earlier.
Paul laughed a bit, glanced at Sam and me and told him that here were a couple Americans visiting, too.
The Irish man smiled wryly and said in typical British humor: “Oh, it must be an invasion then isn’t it.”
We arrived at the Barnetby train station Friday at about 3:30 p.m. and received a warm welcome from Sam’s other uncle Neil.
Neil drove us to Paul’s house in Caistor, which is about 20 minutes from the train station.
We passed the gently rolling hills and well kept hedges on the way.
The countryside is beautiful, especially the yellow mustard fields that dot the landscape.
Upon arriving at Paul and Bernie’s we had cake and tea with Bernie while waiting for Paul to get home from the golf course.
That night we had Indian “take away,” the English phrase for take out, and talked about our time in London and our upcoming trip to continental Europe.
After having a wonderful dinner — better than any Indian food we’ve had in the United States — we took a little walk around Caistor.
Caistor is now a village of a few thousand people, but it used to be a Roman outpost.
The Romans camped here because of the natural springs that exist around the village. In fact, one such spring is found in Paul and Bernie’s “garden,” or back yard.
Sam and I thoroughly enjoyed London but were glad to be out of the hustle and bustle of the international city of 7.5 million.
As Paul has told us, London is a wonderful city but real England is found in the small villages outside the city. Life, as expected, is much more laid back in Caistor and it’s easy to see why the locals love it.
After our walk around Caistor we stopped into the only local pub, the White Hat, for a couple of pints.
Two Americans in Caistor is pretty big news, especially since Paul and Bernie’s sister in law had relatives from Canada visiting this week as well.
A local Irish gentleman paused to say hello to Paul and Bernie in the pub and mentioned he’d just met some Canadians a few minutes earlier.
Paul laughed a bit, glanced at Sam and me and told him that here were a couple Americans visiting, too.
The Irish man smiled wryly and said in typical British humor: “Oh, it must be an invasion then isn’t it.”
Take your time
We’ve finished our stint in London and are now headed north on a train to Sam’s uncle’s house in Caistor, a small village in Northeast England near Hull.
On Thursday and Friday we saw some top London sites — Stonehenge, the British Museum, Westminster, Tower of London and did a Jack the Ripper walk.
Of all the sites we visited, Stonehenge was the only one that we felt we had enough time to see.
Because of the bus tour we booked, we were allotted an hour and a half to see the mysterious stones.
It was more than enough time to take the full audio tour and listen to a few extra tidbits of commentary available. We were finished with our tour in an hour and were ready to head back to London early, although the cold wind and driving rain probably had a lot to do with that.
At every other site, we saw a great deal and took in a lot of information but felt we could have spent at least a couple more hours at each site.
There’s so much to see in the British Museum, Westminster and at the Tower of London that it’s almost overwhelming.
If I have any advice to future travelers visiting London is take your time when visiting museums and realize you can’t see everything.
I’d meant to post this while on the train to our next stop, but wasn’t finished by the time we had to get off.
The English don’t mess around when it comes to train stops. If your stop is next, you have to get your luggage ready at least five minutes before the train comes to a stop and be prepared to get off once the doors come open.
The passengers leaving get off quickly and the people getting on barely have enough time to set their bags down before the train starts moving again.
It’s a very efficient system and really drives home the packing light mantra espoused by so many authors of travel books.
We’ll definitely heed their advice when we go to mainland Europe the first of June.
On Thursday and Friday we saw some top London sites — Stonehenge, the British Museum, Westminster, Tower of London and did a Jack the Ripper walk.
Of all the sites we visited, Stonehenge was the only one that we felt we had enough time to see.
Because of the bus tour we booked, we were allotted an hour and a half to see the mysterious stones.
It was more than enough time to take the full audio tour and listen to a few extra tidbits of commentary available. We were finished with our tour in an hour and were ready to head back to London early, although the cold wind and driving rain probably had a lot to do with that.
At every other site, we saw a great deal and took in a lot of information but felt we could have spent at least a couple more hours at each site.
There’s so much to see in the British Museum, Westminster and at the Tower of London that it’s almost overwhelming.
If I have any advice to future travelers visiting London is take your time when visiting museums and realize you can’t see everything.
I’d meant to post this while on the train to our next stop, but wasn’t finished by the time we had to get off.
The English don’t mess around when it comes to train stops. If your stop is next, you have to get your luggage ready at least five minutes before the train comes to a stop and be prepared to get off once the doors come open.
The passengers leaving get off quickly and the people getting on barely have enough time to set their bags down before the train starts moving again.
It’s a very efficient system and really drives home the packing light mantra espoused by so many authors of travel books.
We’ll definitely heed their advice when we go to mainland Europe the first of June.
Thursday, May 13, 2010
London…the American way
Typical British names and buildings are everywhere around London, of course, but a large amount of American staples exist as well.
As Sam and I walk down what we’d call the main thoroughfares to take in the city, here’s what we pass.
Burger King…McDonald’s…KFC…TGI Friday’s…Subway…and finally, Starbucks.
Honestly, we’re a bit disappointed.
Maybe we should be proud as we walk by the symbols of American capitalism, which are like fingers enclosing their grip on another culture thousands of miles away from North America.
But we’re not.
Probably the saddest thing about the influx of American fast-food joints on London city streets is that the British seem to love them.
The restaurants are almost always full and people seem to be enjoying themselves.
Who can begrudge them for eating a cheap double whopper. But aren't these fast-food chains taking the place of homegrown eateries created and staffed by local Londoners?
In America, sometimes you have to struggle to find a good mom and pop shop to eat. Hopefully that won’t be the case in London in the future.
Simple prices might be the draw to go to these places.
After two days in London, we’re definitely aware of how expensive a big city can be.
A burger meal with fries for 2.99 starts to sound appealing when you’ve just spent 84 pounds—or about 120 bucks American—to see the Tower of London and book a half-day trip to Stonehenge.
As Sam and I walk down what we’d call the main thoroughfares to take in the city, here’s what we pass.
Burger King…McDonald’s…KFC…TGI Friday’s…Subway…and finally, Starbucks.
Honestly, we’re a bit disappointed.
Maybe we should be proud as we walk by the symbols of American capitalism, which are like fingers enclosing their grip on another culture thousands of miles away from North America.
But we’re not.
Probably the saddest thing about the influx of American fast-food joints on London city streets is that the British seem to love them.
The restaurants are almost always full and people seem to be enjoying themselves.
Who can begrudge them for eating a cheap double whopper. But aren't these fast-food chains taking the place of homegrown eateries created and staffed by local Londoners?
In America, sometimes you have to struggle to find a good mom and pop shop to eat. Hopefully that won’t be the case in London in the future.
Simple prices might be the draw to go to these places.
After two days in London, we’re definitely aware of how expensive a big city can be.
A burger meal with fries for 2.99 starts to sound appealing when you’ve just spent 84 pounds—or about 120 bucks American—to see the Tower of London and book a half-day trip to Stonehenge.
So much for deadlines
It only took one day of vacation to miss my self-imposed deadline of at least one blog post a day.
The hotel we’re staying in is having work done and doesn’t have wireless. If you could see our drab, somewhat run-down hotel room you’d understand why. The only place for free Internet access is in the sister hotel’s lobby, which is where Sam and I are sitting now.
It’s much nicer than where we are at, but with most of the hotels in the King’s Cross area full, at least we have a place to stay and store our bags.
The hotel we’re staying in is having work done and doesn’t have wireless. If you could see our drab, somewhat run-down hotel room you’d understand why. The only place for free Internet access is in the sister hotel’s lobby, which is where Sam and I are sitting now.
It’s much nicer than where we are at, but with most of the hotels in the King’s Cross area full, at least we have a place to stay and store our bags.
Tuesday, May 11, 2010
We're here
You definitely know you’re in England the minute you get on the underground. After we landed at London’s Heathrow Airport at about 12:30 GMT, flew through customs and retrieved our backpacks and one extra bag, we took the elevator down to get on the tube.
To get to the King’s Cross area where we are staying, you take the Piccadilly Line. On the tube the automated constantly lets passenger know which direction they are heading by calling out the last stop of the train.
The last stop on the Piccadilly Line heading east away from Heathrow?
Cockfosters.
What a classic English name that deserves a laugh.
Since our train ride took about an hour from the airport to King’s Cross station, we had quite a few.
At King’s Cross, we walked down a few side streets to find a place to stay for the next three nights.
For some reason, most of the budget hotels had no vacancies because of an influx of American and Canadian travelers. The many hotel managers we spoke with couldn’t explain and we have no idea why. (If you might have a guess, comment at the end of this post.)
We ended up finding a room for tonight easy enough, but have to switch to another hotel down the street for the next two nights. Our rooms are running 70 pounds a night, including breakfast.
Not terrible.
But I’m sure glad I’ve found some cheaper places to stay throughout our journey and that we’ve got free lodging with Sam’s family in May after we leave London.
After dropping our luggage off in our room and sending family a “we made it safe and sound” e-mail, we decided to take a walk around and headed down Euston Road looking for a bite to eat, being close to dinnertime.
We settled on Fuller’s Pub and had a pretty traditional dinner. Sam had bangers and mash and I had fish and chips, complemented by a half-pint and pint of Carlsberg beer.
It hit the spot.
We both probably could have gone to sleep after that, but fought fatigue and went to check out Westminster Abbey, the Houses of Parliament, Big Ben and St. James Park and Piccadilly Circus.
We spent a good two hours strolling down streets and taking a few pictures.
Hopefully that jaunt will get us closer to being on the right sleeping pattern.
We'll see
To get to the King’s Cross area where we are staying, you take the Piccadilly Line. On the tube the automated constantly lets passenger know which direction they are heading by calling out the last stop of the train.
The last stop on the Piccadilly Line heading east away from Heathrow?
Cockfosters.
What a classic English name that deserves a laugh.
Since our train ride took about an hour from the airport to King’s Cross station, we had quite a few.
At King’s Cross, we walked down a few side streets to find a place to stay for the next three nights.
For some reason, most of the budget hotels had no vacancies because of an influx of American and Canadian travelers. The many hotel managers we spoke with couldn’t explain and we have no idea why. (If you might have a guess, comment at the end of this post.)
We ended up finding a room for tonight easy enough, but have to switch to another hotel down the street for the next two nights. Our rooms are running 70 pounds a night, including breakfast.
Not terrible.
But I’m sure glad I’ve found some cheaper places to stay throughout our journey and that we’ve got free lodging with Sam’s family in May after we leave London.
After dropping our luggage off in our room and sending family a “we made it safe and sound” e-mail, we decided to take a walk around and headed down Euston Road looking for a bite to eat, being close to dinnertime.
We settled on Fuller’s Pub and had a pretty traditional dinner. Sam had bangers and mash and I had fish and chips, complemented by a half-pint and pint of Carlsberg beer.
It hit the spot.
We both probably could have gone to sleep after that, but fought fatigue and went to check out Westminster Abbey, the Houses of Parliament, Big Ben and St. James Park and Piccadilly Circus.
We spent a good two hours strolling down streets and taking a few pictures.
Hopefully that jaunt will get us closer to being on the right sleeping pattern.
We'll see
Monday, May 10, 2010
First class…we wish
Here’s a random thought from Sam as we wait to board the plane to Minneapolis.
“These are trips when we wish we could be able to fly first class.”
Oh, here's another one.
"There better not be any crying babies on this thing."
“These are trips when we wish we could be able to fly first class.”
Oh, here's another one.
"There better not be any crying babies on this thing."
A nervous excitement
We probably couldn't have picked a better day to leave the United States.
Rain has been coming down in sheets all morning as Sam and I have finished packing and tying up all the loose ends that come with going on vacation for nearly three months. Disconnect our cell phones (e-mail us if you want to reach us), transfer enough money into our accounts, make copies of all pertinent documents — passports, driver's licenses, hostel/hotel reservations — what a hassle...
But, better to do it now for free at home than regret not doing it later.
Along with the pouring rain outside, our thoughts also are on the erupting volcano in Iceland, whose I probably can't say and definitely can't spell. Our flight leaves Kansas City for Minneapolis at 7 p.m. and then we head off for London at about 10 p.m.
As of this blog post, flights are still arriving in London just fine, although planes are being routed around Greenland to avoid the massive cloud of volcanic ash. Hopefully London remains open the rest of today and tomorrow.
We don't care how the pilots get us there, as long as we arrive relatively on time and safe.
Once we arrive in London, we're staying at a to be determined bed and breakfast in the Kings Cross until Friday, May 14. We plan to see Stonehenge and hit the top tourist spots in London before riding the rails north to stay with Sam's family the rest of May.
We'll update later with our full schedule of our trip, the impetus behind this journey and maybe even some pre-flight pictures with us our backpacks.
That is, if Sam ever finishes packing...
Rain has been coming down in sheets all morning as Sam and I have finished packing and tying up all the loose ends that come with going on vacation for nearly three months. Disconnect our cell phones (e-mail us if you want to reach us), transfer enough money into our accounts, make copies of all pertinent documents — passports, driver's licenses, hostel/hotel reservations — what a hassle...
But, better to do it now for free at home than regret not doing it later.
Along with the pouring rain outside, our thoughts also are on the erupting volcano in Iceland, whose I probably can't say and definitely can't spell. Our flight leaves Kansas City for Minneapolis at 7 p.m. and then we head off for London at about 10 p.m.
As of this blog post, flights are still arriving in London just fine, although planes are being routed around Greenland to avoid the massive cloud of volcanic ash. Hopefully London remains open the rest of today and tomorrow.
We don't care how the pilots get us there, as long as we arrive relatively on time and safe.
Once we arrive in London, we're staying at a to be determined bed and breakfast in the Kings Cross until Friday, May 14. We plan to see Stonehenge and hit the top tourist spots in London before riding the rails north to stay with Sam's family the rest of May.
We'll update later with our full schedule of our trip, the impetus behind this journey and maybe even some pre-flight pictures with us our backpacks.
That is, if Sam ever finishes packing...
Subscribe to:
Posts (Atom)
