We arrived in Córdoba at around 5 in the morning and sat in the uncomfortable station chairs to wait for the locker service to be available. In the meantime, we slept as best as we could (not well). After a few hours, the rest of the stations seemed operational, but the lockers were still roped off, so I asked the security guard about it. He told me that we had to scan our luggage (as if going onto the train at gate 1 - no other gates required a scan) and then he'd open the lockers for us. The lockers were all numbered 2 or 5 (nice) and did not provide a key, but rather a 5-digit code to open them with. Room for confusion? Oh yes.
After locking up our larger bag, we made our way into the city center, along a boulevard of fountains that culminated in a metal (bronze?) statue labeled"Viento de cambio" (winds of change). The statue was a giant leading a small child, as a guide. Jay liked the statue a lot.
We were tempted into one of the many candy stores (Tutti Frutti, I believe) in our walk through town - It's surprisingly common to see these shops filled with bins of gummy candies and hard candies. Unfortunately, the ropes of color filled with white, though identical in appearance, tasted nothing like the delicious Fiesta candy I found in Austria. Live and learn, I suppose.
The city of Córdoba is split between the old city and the new city. The whole place was hot and dusty and seemed strongly influenced by muslim architecture. I took a nap in a plaza by a fountain while Jay read. Apparently someone mistook him for a local Spaniard and started asking him for directions, at which point I had to wake up and translate.
A random note: Most of the pigeons here were white. One of the larger parks we walked through (decorated with lush vegetation) was filled with white pigeons sleeping in the grass - cute.
After a delicious meal of Chinese food, we made our way back to the station for a night train to Valencia. Now, we have to question the competence of the security system when, if boarding a train from gate 1, you must scan your luggage, but all other gates have free access to the tracks. Once at the tracks, you can easily cross to any other track without returning to the gates where they scanned luggage. So basically, you would have to be very, very stupid to get caught with a weapon in Córdoba.
31 March 2006
30 March 2006
JJ Conquers Europe Part XIX
Toledo, Spain
Although the Toledo train station is a beautiful building decorated with stained glass and tiles, it lacks a left-luggage facility. To locate a suitable replacement, we had to lug our large backpack (well, Jay had to) up a large hill to the tourist information center, whereupon we were told to go down the hill to the bus station (neighboring the train station) to find lockers. Should the train station personnel have told this to us when I asked? Probably. A hike is a nice way to start the morning, though.
Once we returned to the top of the hill, luggage safely stowed at the bottom, we purchased bread and cheese (and fanta and aquarius - a watery orange soda that I thought was wonderful) for a mini-picnic in the park just outside the castle/city walls. Proceeding into the city proper, we were met with many winding streets, narrow enough that pedestrians had to cling to the walls at any time a car wanted to pass.
In our journey through these streets, we found bad gazpacho, pretty residential alleyways barely large enough to walk through, many churches, and far more tourists than strictly necessary. For the midday heat, I napped on a bench near a church as Jay transcribed music. After a bit, I was awoken and displaced by a large group of disinterested Spanish students visiting, whose group leader seemed determine that if she yelled and clapped loud enough, her high school students would suddenly take interest in the unique history of the third statue carved into the western facade of such-and-such church, rather than talking amongst themselves. We didn't stay to see if it worked.
The sun was setting as we returned to the station, and it was quite beautiful -- many people waited outside the train station to watch it, and others (we'll call him Jason Gutiérrez Marrone) felt the inexplicable need to go running as the sun set.
Sun down, running-urges satisfied, we made our way to Córdoba.
Once we returned to the top of the hill, luggage safely stowed at the bottom, we purchased bread and cheese (and fanta and aquarius - a watery orange soda that I thought was wonderful) for a mini-picnic in the park just outside the castle/city walls. Proceeding into the city proper, we were met with many winding streets, narrow enough that pedestrians had to cling to the walls at any time a car wanted to pass.
In our journey through these streets, we found bad gazpacho, pretty residential alleyways barely large enough to walk through, many churches, and far more tourists than strictly necessary. For the midday heat, I napped on a bench near a church as Jay transcribed music. After a bit, I was awoken and displaced by a large group of disinterested Spanish students visiting, whose group leader seemed determine that if she yelled and clapped loud enough, her high school students would suddenly take interest in the unique history of the third statue carved into the western facade of such-and-such church, rather than talking amongst themselves. We didn't stay to see if it worked.
The sun was setting as we returned to the station, and it was quite beautiful -- many people waited outside the train station to watch it, and others (we'll call him Jason Gutiérrez Marrone) felt the inexplicable need to go running as the sun set.
Sun down, running-urges satisfied, we made our way to Córdoba.
29 March 2006
JJ Conquers Europe Part XVIII
Barcelona, Spain
I had reserved a hostel bed for the evening I arrived in Barcelona - INOUT Hostal, quoted on Hostelworld as being a 5-minute walk from Plaça Catalonia. However, when I asked for directions at a tourist office in the train station, I received a different story. The hostel was off the map, and a 20-minute walk from the nearest metro station, up a huge hill, to get there. Perhaps with a jet plane I could have made it there from the Plaza in 5 minutes, but as I was provided no such mode of transportation, it was a 40-minute metro ride. The unpleasant surprises didn't end there. The "10-bed dorm" housed in actuality 16-20 people in one room, and although the door was locked, the electronic key opens it with a loud and abrasive buzz, to which I woke up at all hours as new-comers came in and then shone flashlights in the faces of the sleepers in their search for a bed. Pleasant. I guess that 10-pm curfew was inaccurate as well.
So I got nearly no sleep on the hard, thin mattress, woken often by the door and then the noise of the newcomers, and I had to leave at 6:40 in the morning to try to intercept Jay on what I hoped to find him on -- the 8:24 train from Paris. I had asked the night before whether I could check out at any time, specifically at 6:30 AM, and they said yes. This is not to pay, mind you, but to return the key in exchange for my 10-euro deposit; I'd paid for the room already. Given that I'd already paid and was owed money back, it is perhaps not surprising that there was no one to be found at 6:30 in the morning. Frustrated, furious, and out of time, I was forced to leave the key and a furious Spanish note expressing my displeasure at the situation and requesting that they send me my deposit. We'll see how that goes.... Frankly, I've no such expectations.
Getting to Estacio França was a mini-adventure in itself. Upon exiting the metro station, I saw no obvious indication of the train station, so I asked a man walking nearby. He gave some complicated and detailed instructions, but after following them for a few minutes I realized I didn't feel like it was the correct way to the station. I asked again, to a woman this time, who gave completely different directions, but thought it was cute that I'd trusted a male in such matters (I now remember being told in Chile that a latino will lie and send you halfway to Timbuktu before admitting that he doesn't know where something is. Ah, machismo).
The sweet woman walked most of the way there with me, chatting like crazy. Cute. With her help, I successfully found the station from her directions and Jay was on the train I'd guessed, so much relief and rejoicing ensued. See, I'd run out of minutes on my German cell phone and couldn't add minutes from Spain. As Jay and I had planned to meet up by using my phone, I was a little worried. I'd not been able to e-mail him in time to confirm which train (or station, for that matter) he would be coming in on, so... I was a bit worried that we wouldn't be able to find each other.
We walked around for a bit, ate Paella (amazing food), and settled under a few palm trees to read/write in the sun there.
While walking around, we noticed a lot of interesting graffiti and murals, as well as an intriguing boulevard aimed (presumably) at tourists, with stands selling portraits, statue-performers, flower/jewelry/souvenir shops, and, rather inappropriately, pet stores. Just in case, on your trip to Barcelona you decide you just cannot do without a terrified caged squirrel.
So I got nearly no sleep on the hard, thin mattress, woken often by the door and then the noise of the newcomers, and I had to leave at 6:40 in the morning to try to intercept Jay on what I hoped to find him on -- the 8:24 train from Paris. I had asked the night before whether I could check out at any time, specifically at 6:30 AM, and they said yes. This is not to pay, mind you, but to return the key in exchange for my 10-euro deposit; I'd paid for the room already. Given that I'd already paid and was owed money back, it is perhaps not surprising that there was no one to be found at 6:30 in the morning. Frustrated, furious, and out of time, I was forced to leave the key and a furious Spanish note expressing my displeasure at the situation and requesting that they send me my deposit. We'll see how that goes.... Frankly, I've no such expectations.
Getting to Estacio França was a mini-adventure in itself. Upon exiting the metro station, I saw no obvious indication of the train station, so I asked a man walking nearby. He gave some complicated and detailed instructions, but after following them for a few minutes I realized I didn't feel like it was the correct way to the station. I asked again, to a woman this time, who gave completely different directions, but thought it was cute that I'd trusted a male in such matters (I now remember being told in Chile that a latino will lie and send you halfway to Timbuktu before admitting that he doesn't know where something is. Ah, machismo).
The sweet woman walked most of the way there with me, chatting like crazy. Cute. With her help, I successfully found the station from her directions and Jay was on the train I'd guessed, so much relief and rejoicing ensued. See, I'd run out of minutes on my German cell phone and couldn't add minutes from Spain. As Jay and I had planned to meet up by using my phone, I was a little worried. I'd not been able to e-mail him in time to confirm which train (or station, for that matter) he would be coming in on, so... I was a bit worried that we wouldn't be able to find each other.
We walked around for a bit, ate Paella (amazing food), and settled under a few palm trees to read/write in the sun there.
While walking around, we noticed a lot of interesting graffiti and murals, as well as an intriguing boulevard aimed (presumably) at tourists, with stands selling portraits, statue-performers, flower/jewelry/souvenir shops, and, rather inappropriately, pet stores. Just in case, on your trip to Barcelona you decide you just cannot do without a terrified caged squirrel.
28 March 2006
GJEE Part VI
Mérida, Spain
I'll admit right now: I didn't really read much about Mérida before arriving, so I was more than a bit surprised to see a statue of Romulus and Remus feeding from the mother she-wolf on our way into town.
Mérida, part of the old Roman Empire, it seems, holds many ruins from this time - a Roman amphitheater and famous temples. There are also various comfortable plazas, with fountains and benches to relax at.
Our hotel was gorgeous - it reminded me of the hotel my family stayed at in Guadalajara, Mexico -- they both had colorful, open-air tiled patios in the center. This one served gazpacho too. (Finally, a taste of the real thing! Still though, I prefer my dad's version - the hotel put sausage on top of the soup.)
Mérida, part of the old Roman Empire, it seems, holds many ruins from this time - a Roman amphitheater and famous temples. There are also various comfortable plazas, with fountains and benches to relax at.
Our hotel was gorgeous - it reminded me of the hotel my family stayed at in Guadalajara, Mexico -- they both had colorful, open-air tiled patios in the center. This one served gazpacho too. (Finally, a taste of the real thing! Still though, I prefer my dad's version - the hotel put sausage on top of the soup.)
26 March 2006
GJEE Part V
Segovia, Spain
Segovia is a beautiful town, with gorgeous buildings (especially churches), weather, and an impressive Roman aqueduct. It's small enough to be easily experienced on foot, yet large enough to demand that it take more than a few hours to do so. If you look in the right direction, you can see beautiful, snow-capped mountains, but I'm not sure which range they belong to.
Segovia is the site of two of my failures with Spanish: first, I missed out on gazpacho (not my fault, they were just out of it) and second, i had the lovely experience of describing bumps as "erm... como cerritos muy pequeños... no, mas bien, puntos elevados." Ah, how my Chileans would respond if they could see me now.
Segovia is the site of two of my failures with Spanish: first, I missed out on gazpacho (not my fault, they were just out of it) and second, i had the lovely experience of describing bumps as "erm... como cerritos muy pequeños... no, mas bien, puntos elevados." Ah, how my Chileans would respond if they could see me now.
23 March 2006
GJEE part IV
La Rochelle, France
I'm afraid there's not a whole lot I can say about La Rochelle, as I got sick on the train ride there and spent most of the time in bed. It is a port town, with 3 landmark towers (we saw one, but didn't go up), and a lovely aquarium where I took more photos than by any account could be construed as reasonable. Ah well. Frustratingly, there was a couple (French) who kept using flash, even thought it was posted all over that flash was not allowed, as it is dangerous to the fish. I got it. The much-too-loud group of German students got it. Any 2-year-old with the ability to recognize pictures should have gotten it. What is the excuse of a native speaker, I wonder... Illiteracy and an inexplicable inability to decode explicit signs? Bah. I did glare at them disapprovingly though, so I'm sure that showed them.
Getting to Segovia was yet another unwanted adventure - the train to Irún was delayed by over two hours, guaranteeing that we would miss the only connection to Madrid. THey ended up changing that train's route and then adding/rerouting another train to take people to Madrid - free upgrade to beds, so I'm not complaining. After arriving in Madrid, it was just a short train ride to Segovia, but what a hassle.
Getting to Segovia was yet another unwanted adventure - the train to Irún was delayed by over two hours, guaranteeing that we would miss the only connection to Madrid. THey ended up changing that train's route and then adding/rerouting another train to take people to Madrid - free upgrade to beds, so I'm not complaining. After arriving in Madrid, it was just a short train ride to Segovia, but what a hassle.
21 March 2006
GJEE Part III
Bayeux, France
Our primary reaction to Bayeux could be most easily summed up as "that's it?" It is a city of approximately 4 non-residential blocks, and very few residential homes as well. The cathedral, the center of the town, can be seen from anywhere within Bayeux, and we crossed most of the town in our 15-minute walk from the train station to the hotel.
Located near the northern coast of France, Bayeux was a very cold and rather foggy. It also seemed to be filled with elderly American tourists who spoke no French, but who worked under the theory that as long as you raise your voice loudly enough, French people will understand English. Ugh.
There are, however, some impressive and historical sights in and around Bayeux. The Bayeux Tapestry is, of course, one of the first to spring to mind. 70 meters of embroidery, narrating the history of William the Conqueror, focusing on Harold's betrayal to him, leading to the Norman Invasion. This stitched narration is amazingly intricate, both in handiwork and in the story it tells, and an audio guide (provided) explains the work part-by-part, drawing attention to some of the smaller, easier-to-miss details (i.e."you can tell Harold was caught by surprise when he came off the boat because he hasn't had time to put his shoes on yet"). Oh, of course.
Another well-known draw to the area is the group of D-Day beaches and cemeteries to soldiers of WWII. We visited the American cemetery and the Omaha Beach, though nearly knocked over by the wind in the latter. It's hard to imagine an army (or many in this case) trying to mobilize itself here, let alone fight the decisive battle of a war.
Located near the northern coast of France, Bayeux was a very cold and rather foggy. It also seemed to be filled with elderly American tourists who spoke no French, but who worked under the theory that as long as you raise your voice loudly enough, French people will understand English. Ugh.
There are, however, some impressive and historical sights in and around Bayeux. The Bayeux Tapestry is, of course, one of the first to spring to mind. 70 meters of embroidery, narrating the history of William the Conqueror, focusing on Harold's betrayal to him, leading to the Norman Invasion. This stitched narration is amazingly intricate, both in handiwork and in the story it tells, and an audio guide (provided) explains the work part-by-part, drawing attention to some of the smaller, easier-to-miss details (i.e."you can tell Harold was caught by surprise when he came off the boat because he hasn't had time to put his shoes on yet"). Oh, of course.
Another well-known draw to the area is the group of D-Day beaches and cemeteries to soldiers of WWII. We visited the American cemetery and the Omaha Beach, though nearly knocked over by the wind in the latter. It's hard to imagine an army (or many in this case) trying to mobilize itself here, let alone fight the decisive battle of a war.
19 March 2006
GJEE Part II
Strasbourg, France
After settling into our room in Strasbourg, we walked to Eglese St. Paul, a gorgeous church viewable from our hotel room. We couldn't get in, but we walked around it and then wandered for a bit, seeing another church and the small botanic gardens on our way. Strasbourg is very similar to Palo Alto in many ways - the weather, the general calm and seemingly small size of the city (though Strasbourg is in fact one of the larger cities in France), and the kids roller-blading or biking around...
We went to a cafe for dinner, in which the waitress did not speak English, so we had a difficult time communicating until I finally thought to ask if she spoke German (which she did). It turns out that the restaurant was technically closing, but they'd let us order anyway. Once we were able to communicate, the waitress was really sweet and talkative, so that was nice.
The next day we saw the cathedral and an unexpected parade -- on our way to Petit France we were blocked by a Carnival celebration (two weeks late by regular Carnival/Fasching standards, but oh well), so we sat by the river and watched the floats and crowds pass on the other side, leaving much confetti in their wake.
We went to three museums in the Palais Rohan as well, and archeological museum, a painting museum, and an interior tour of the palace.
That evening, as we had a 7:54 train departure the next morning, Grandma slept nervously. At 0:23, I awoke to her shaking my knee frantically, saying "We have to get up!" I informed her of the time, rolled over, and went back to sleep. An hour or so later, the same thing again, and then I woke up multiple times in the night to see her slip into the lit bathroom to check the time.
We got to the train with time to spare, but just as we were scheduled to leave, and announcement was played in French and everyone started getting back off the train. Unsure of what was going on, I leaned across to the man sitting across from me, "Parlez-vous Aleman, Espagnol, o Anglais?"
"Whichever you want."
"Do you understand what just happened? I'm confused..."
"Everyone has to leave the station while they search for a bomb."
"...Ah."
What?! Well, that's new. We filed out of the train and down from the platform, moving extremely slowly due to all the people in the corridor. Our train platform was furthest from the main station building, so we were at the back. Just as we started to see the main building, another announcement was made and everyone started returning to the trains. All was settled, apparently.
When we returned to our seats, the man across from me asked if I was English, "Yes - American," I amended, and the woman sitting across the aisle voiced her surprise. I repressed the urge to apologize for my nationality, and in a bit we were on our way, just under an hour behind schedule.
Around the midway-stop of Nancy, a woman got on and displaced the nice old man (who'd explained the announcement to me) to a seat across the aisle, just before taking up all my foot room and talking on her cell phone for the duration of the trip (sighing loudly and exaggeratedly at the delay when she was not occupied with the phone). It's nice to be reminded that other countries pump out their share of inconsiderate travelers too, but must they be in my immediate vicinity? Oh well; c'est la vie.
On the second train, from Paris to La Rochelle, we were in a crowded compartment of 8 seats, four of us had filled most of the overhead storage space, and then 2 more people came in, both with very large suitcases. The other three immediately jumped up to move stuff around, often relocating their own luggage to the space under the seats in order to provide space to the newcomers. This was a shocking difference from the behavior Jay and I encountered in Italy, where a group of 4 had filled the overhead storage with small bags and made not the slightest move to accommodate our large backpack (which we then had to struggle to affix to the rack in the aisle, which, though perfectly suited to the handbags of the other 4, was far too narrow to comfortably hold the backpack.
And people complain that the French are unfriendly?
We went to a cafe for dinner, in which the waitress did not speak English, so we had a difficult time communicating until I finally thought to ask if she spoke German (which she did). It turns out that the restaurant was technically closing, but they'd let us order anyway. Once we were able to communicate, the waitress was really sweet and talkative, so that was nice.
The next day we saw the cathedral and an unexpected parade -- on our way to Petit France we were blocked by a Carnival celebration (two weeks late by regular Carnival/Fasching standards, but oh well), so we sat by the river and watched the floats and crowds pass on the other side, leaving much confetti in their wake.
We went to three museums in the Palais Rohan as well, and archeological museum, a painting museum, and an interior tour of the palace.
That evening, as we had a 7:54 train departure the next morning, Grandma slept nervously. At 0:23, I awoke to her shaking my knee frantically, saying "We have to get up!" I informed her of the time, rolled over, and went back to sleep. An hour or so later, the same thing again, and then I woke up multiple times in the night to see her slip into the lit bathroom to check the time.
We got to the train with time to spare, but just as we were scheduled to leave, and announcement was played in French and everyone started getting back off the train. Unsure of what was going on, I leaned across to the man sitting across from me, "Parlez-vous Aleman, Espagnol, o Anglais?"
"Whichever you want."
"Do you understand what just happened? I'm confused..."
"Everyone has to leave the station while they search for a bomb."
"...Ah."
What?! Well, that's new. We filed out of the train and down from the platform, moving extremely slowly due to all the people in the corridor. Our train platform was furthest from the main station building, so we were at the back. Just as we started to see the main building, another announcement was made and everyone started returning to the trains. All was settled, apparently.
When we returned to our seats, the man across from me asked if I was English, "Yes - American," I amended, and the woman sitting across the aisle voiced her surprise. I repressed the urge to apologize for my nationality, and in a bit we were on our way, just under an hour behind schedule.
Around the midway-stop of Nancy, a woman got on and displaced the nice old man (who'd explained the announcement to me) to a seat across the aisle, just before taking up all my foot room and talking on her cell phone for the duration of the trip (sighing loudly and exaggeratedly at the delay when she was not occupied with the phone). It's nice to be reminded that other countries pump out their share of inconsiderate travelers too, but must they be in my immediate vicinity? Oh well; c'est la vie.
On the second train, from Paris to La Rochelle, we were in a crowded compartment of 8 seats, four of us had filled most of the overhead storage space, and then 2 more people came in, both with very large suitcases. The other three immediately jumped up to move stuff around, often relocating their own luggage to the space under the seats in order to provide space to the newcomers. This was a shocking difference from the behavior Jay and I encountered in Italy, where a group of 4 had filled the overhead storage with small bags and made not the slightest move to accommodate our large backpack (which we then had to struggle to affix to the rack in the aisle, which, though perfectly suited to the handbags of the other 4, was far too narrow to comfortably hold the backpack.
And people complain that the French are unfriendly?
18 March 2006
Reflections
Train to Strasbourg, France
As luck would (and did) have it, my car on the train was filled by a high school group of Germans, who were loud, and my seat was only two rows away from the smoking section, with 2 panels of glass between the seats as separation, but an entirely open aisle way (not even the option of a glass door) -- how this keeps smoke out from the non-smoking seats with no windows that can be opened, you ask? Oh, it doesn't. Not remotely. Thanks, team. The German students took frequent trips past me to the smoking section to lighten their suitcases a pack or two at a time, and I wrapped my scarf around my nose and eyes, and tried to go to sleep.
..."Tried" being the operative word. The students had decided to play Taboo - across the entire car, so it was a loud game. Although it was the German version, many of the words thrown out were in English - it always surprised me how English words have been assimilated into other languages. It also made me start considering my German: namely, that it's not good enough.
If we had host families instead of single rooms, it would be easier to learn German, but there are always drawbacks to that as well -- namely privacy, personal freedom, and the chance that you don't get along with your family.
Regardless, I find myself considering changes for the remaining semester - reading in German, taking more LMU courses, not speaking English... I'm sure Jay'd be happy with the last one, he's probably just as frustrated as I am. But whether I actually follow through is another matter entirely. We shall see.
On a different note, I love French. I loved Paris. French came more easily than I thought it would (sort of like Spanish with a German "r", except not quite), and I didn't get the same responses as I do when I ask for directions (or food in a bakery) in Munich (What? I can't understand you... indications of my horrid accent), so that is encouraging. As the metro to the Eiffel Tower went above ground and we were afforded views of the city, I felt an attachment to the city - a pull, a longing. I could love this place, given the time to know it better. I wonder if this reaction was a result, in part, of my dad's love for Paris. Regardless, i want to learn French - maybe I can find time to audit a class at some point. And Italian. And Greek and Russian and Chinese and Japanese and Arabic... Really I just need a way to retain these languages at the same time as I learn more. Despite the strong urge I have to learn more and more languages, I know the frustration involved with the more advanced study (past the introductory grammar stages), and the ease with which languages can slip away.
..."Tried" being the operative word. The students had decided to play Taboo - across the entire car, so it was a loud game. Although it was the German version, many of the words thrown out were in English - it always surprised me how English words have been assimilated into other languages. It also made me start considering my German: namely, that it's not good enough.
If we had host families instead of single rooms, it would be easier to learn German, but there are always drawbacks to that as well -- namely privacy, personal freedom, and the chance that you don't get along with your family.
Regardless, I find myself considering changes for the remaining semester - reading in German, taking more LMU courses, not speaking English... I'm sure Jay'd be happy with the last one, he's probably just as frustrated as I am. But whether I actually follow through is another matter entirely. We shall see.
On a different note, I love French. I loved Paris. French came more easily than I thought it would (sort of like Spanish with a German "r", except not quite), and I didn't get the same responses as I do when I ask for directions (or food in a bakery) in Munich (What? I can't understand you... indications of my horrid accent), so that is encouraging. As the metro to the Eiffel Tower went above ground and we were afforded views of the city, I felt an attachment to the city - a pull, a longing. I could love this place, given the time to know it better. I wonder if this reaction was a result, in part, of my dad's love for Paris. Regardless, i want to learn French - maybe I can find time to audit a class at some point. And Italian. And Greek and Russian and Chinese and Japanese and Arabic... Really I just need a way to retain these languages at the same time as I learn more. Despite the strong urge I have to learn more and more languages, I know the frustration involved with the more advanced study (past the introductory grammar stages), and the ease with which languages can slip away.
17 March 2006
Grandma and Jessie Explore Europe Part I
Paris, France
The evening that Grandma arrived, we took the metro to the Arc de Triomphe and walked back from there along the Avenue des Champs Elysees. We ate at a small cafe (Jessie had snails! Delicious!) and then returned home, owing the short day to Grandma's delayed flight and Jessie's small nap.
The next day we'd intended to see the palaces in daylight (we'd seen them during our walk the night before), but ended up devoting a considerable amount of time to a last-minute scramble, on my part, to secure a location in the on-campus apartments for senior year, an endeavor that involved much internet, faxing, printing, and fare too much money expended in order to do so. At least it worked (I don't know any of my 3 roommates very well, but hey - we've got a year).
After that hassle, we went to the Louvre, starting from the bottom floor at a leisurely pace, viewing all the displays, but soon getting tired partway through the 2nd floor, changing course to hit the Venus d'Milo, the Mona Lisa, and then hurrying up, away from the crowds.
Having no interest in the portraits upstairs (and feeling a strong urge to write and rest my feet), I sat and wrote while Grandma saw a few rooms in this section.
After the Louvre, we ate at a restaurant near our hotel, and I received a phone call from my parents. Although I had to yell over the noise of traffic (I'd left the restaurant to take the call), it was nice to chat with them. It also made me a bit homesick... But hey, nothing half a day on a train through the French countryside won't cure, right?
Before that though, we had one more night to sleep in Paris. Apparently we had neighbors who came home late and then ordered room service, because I woke up in the middle of the night to Grandma sitting straight up and calling "Who is it?! Who's there?!" before turning to me and asking if I'd heard the knocking - someone was trying to get in! In actuality, the knocking was at our neighbor's door, but it sounded like it was at ours. I don't remember my half-awake response; I believe it was something along the lines of mfmslflllmsl. Apparently it happened again an hour later (waiter coming to pick up the tray?), but that time I slept through it.
The next day we'd intended to see the palaces in daylight (we'd seen them during our walk the night before), but ended up devoting a considerable amount of time to a last-minute scramble, on my part, to secure a location in the on-campus apartments for senior year, an endeavor that involved much internet, faxing, printing, and fare too much money expended in order to do so. At least it worked (I don't know any of my 3 roommates very well, but hey - we've got a year).
After that hassle, we went to the Louvre, starting from the bottom floor at a leisurely pace, viewing all the displays, but soon getting tired partway through the 2nd floor, changing course to hit the Venus d'Milo, the Mona Lisa, and then hurrying up, away from the crowds.
Having no interest in the portraits upstairs (and feeling a strong urge to write and rest my feet), I sat and wrote while Grandma saw a few rooms in this section.
After the Louvre, we ate at a restaurant near our hotel, and I received a phone call from my parents. Although I had to yell over the noise of traffic (I'd left the restaurant to take the call), it was nice to chat with them. It also made me a bit homesick... But hey, nothing half a day on a train through the French countryside won't cure, right?
Before that though, we had one more night to sleep in Paris. Apparently we had neighbors who came home late and then ordered room service, because I woke up in the middle of the night to Grandma sitting straight up and calling "Who is it?! Who's there?!" before turning to me and asking if I'd heard the knocking - someone was trying to get in! In actuality, the knocking was at our neighbor's door, but it sounded like it was at ours. I don't remember my half-awake response; I believe it was something along the lines of mfmslflllmsl. Apparently it happened again an hour later (waiter coming to pick up the tray?), but that time I slept through it.
15 March 2006
JJ Conquers Europe Part XVII
Paris, France
Contrary to the train schedules provided by DeutscheBahn, the ride from Geneva to Paris is 3 hours long and only offered during the day (hence our short stay in Geneva). We therefore booked a last-minute hostel from Geneva and arrived in Paris at around 8 pm. We figured out the metro system (not without some confusion as to which giant posted map displayed the metro system). En route, we picked up 2 samosas and 2 plastic mini-bottles of wine (one red, one white) and made our way to our very temporary home.
Thankfully, we not only had a clean room, but also a heater and, best of all, a private bathroom/shower. After showering, Jay ran off in search of more food for dinner, and I washed clothes and my hair (both the first time in nearly a week).
Jay returned with Adana Kebabs (go figure) and we ate dinner. The plastic-enclosed wine was not a huge success - although the white was drinkable, the red most closely resembled rancid vinegar. Oh well, it happens. Serves us right for being cheap.
We slept nearly all the way to check-out time, then left to relocated to our previously-reserved room for the next night. Although the new location (Young and Happy Hostel - terrible, I know) had no private bathroom or shower, it was on Mouffetard Blvd. in the middle of a long string of cafes and affordable restaurants in easy walking distance from Notre Dame and the Pantheon.
After dropping off our stuff, we made our way to the Pantheon, viewing St. Etienne du Mont on the way. There was a large group of protesters near the Pantheon, with the sign "Lassaiz-nous en cours" (I apologize if I butchered that spelling), so we assumed it was a student protest. Jay looked up information on this later, from London, though. Apparently it was a protest against a new job contract by the government, and included 120,000 students in Paris and 250,000 total in France.
We then walked along the river Seine to Notre Dame before returning to the hostel to find food (crêpes avec nutella et banane? Mais oui) and unpack/start charging our camera batteries and cell phone, now that our room was accessible.
That evening was devoted to Jay's primary interest in France: the Eiffel Tower. Getting there, however, proved a formidable task. Intending to walk, we went for about 30 minutes until we realized that (A) it was getting dark and (B) we'd been walking in the wrong direction. Deciding that it would be best to just take the metro, we checked its nearest stop on our map (only a block or so away) and proceeded in that direction. After doubling back a few times and still no metro, I decided to ask *gasp* a Parisian. She was very nice, understood (surprisingly) my attempt at French (Perdón, ou est le metro?) and pointed us in the correct direction. We walked for 2 blocks, asked again, and soon were on our way to the Tour Eiffel.
It was easy enough to find, just follow the tourists. Or, hey, maybe that big lit up thing? Yeah, that would be it. Appropriately, we made it our biatch, photographically speaking, and then went to the summit (only 11 euros on the elevator, but I would have preferred the availability of stairs to allow more vantage points).
Jay's French tourist needs satisfied, we returned to the area around our hostel and had dinner - it was a lovely restaurant with a really sweet, adorable waitress, and we had the place entirely to ourselves for the whole 2 hours we were there. The food was delicious too - a greek salad, with the freshest feta cheese I've ever tasted, veal with pasta and roasted veggies, pasta and a cheese cream sauce and salmon for Jay, fabulous fresh bread, and a delicious white wine. As mentioned before, a lovely dinner.
The next morning, Jay accompanied me to the hotel my dad reserved for my grandma and me for the next two nights, the Normandy Hotel. Jay was going to leave that evening to meet Katy in London. The Normandy Hotel is about 500 steps above the hostels that Jay and I had been using. I wonder what went through the receptionist's well-groomed head when 2 somewhat scruffy-looking college students marched in wearing jeans, fleece, and backpacks - probably that we needed directions.
But no, I marched up, introduced myself, and stated that I had a reservation. Receptionist guy (we'll call him Michel; anyone who has watched Gilmore Girls should appreciate the reference - any who spoke with this receptionist would believe him to be the character's inspiration) looked me up and down, pursed his lips a bit, then checked for my name on his list. Finding it (to his surprise, I'm sure), he replied "Oui, but I'm afraid we could only book you for the one night."
"Mm. We received an e-mail confirmation for the two nights."
"Two nights were requested, but I'm afraid we are full."
"We have an e-mail confirmation from the hotel for both nights."
(He checks the folder) "Mm. But of course." And hands over the room key. i bid farewell and good train-sailing (the Eurostar train under the channel) to Jay, then make my way to my room to nap until Grandma arrives.
This was interrupted only when the TV turned itself on to greet me, "Mr/Ms. JESSICA BLACK, we would like to welcome you to the Normandy Hotel..." displayed in a dark menu-style square on top of the program running at the same time - a Spanish woman with fake neon pink nails and a pink apron, and eye shadow from her eyelashes to well into her forehead, telling us how to make spring rolls. I went back to sleep, but I'm sure my dreams were unpleasantly effected.
So ends the first part of JJCE. To be continued in Barcelona. Until then, Jessie and Grandma Explore Europe...
Thankfully, we not only had a clean room, but also a heater and, best of all, a private bathroom/shower. After showering, Jay ran off in search of more food for dinner, and I washed clothes and my hair (both the first time in nearly a week).
Jay returned with Adana Kebabs (go figure) and we ate dinner. The plastic-enclosed wine was not a huge success - although the white was drinkable, the red most closely resembled rancid vinegar. Oh well, it happens. Serves us right for being cheap.
We slept nearly all the way to check-out time, then left to relocated to our previously-reserved room for the next night. Although the new location (Young and Happy Hostel - terrible, I know) had no private bathroom or shower, it was on Mouffetard Blvd. in the middle of a long string of cafes and affordable restaurants in easy walking distance from Notre Dame and the Pantheon.
After dropping off our stuff, we made our way to the Pantheon, viewing St. Etienne du Mont on the way. There was a large group of protesters near the Pantheon, with the sign "Lassaiz-nous en cours" (I apologize if I butchered that spelling), so we assumed it was a student protest. Jay looked up information on this later, from London, though. Apparently it was a protest against a new job contract by the government, and included 120,000 students in Paris and 250,000 total in France.
We then walked along the river Seine to Notre Dame before returning to the hostel to find food (crêpes avec nutella et banane? Mais oui) and unpack/start charging our camera batteries and cell phone, now that our room was accessible.
That evening was devoted to Jay's primary interest in France: the Eiffel Tower. Getting there, however, proved a formidable task. Intending to walk, we went for about 30 minutes until we realized that (A) it was getting dark and (B) we'd been walking in the wrong direction. Deciding that it would be best to just take the metro, we checked its nearest stop on our map (only a block or so away) and proceeded in that direction. After doubling back a few times and still no metro, I decided to ask *gasp* a Parisian. She was very nice, understood (surprisingly) my attempt at French (Perdón, ou est le metro?) and pointed us in the correct direction. We walked for 2 blocks, asked again, and soon were on our way to the Tour Eiffel.
It was easy enough to find, just follow the tourists. Or, hey, maybe that big lit up thing? Yeah, that would be it. Appropriately, we made it our biatch, photographically speaking, and then went to the summit (only 11 euros on the elevator, but I would have preferred the availability of stairs to allow more vantage points).
Jay's French tourist needs satisfied, we returned to the area around our hostel and had dinner - it was a lovely restaurant with a really sweet, adorable waitress, and we had the place entirely to ourselves for the whole 2 hours we were there. The food was delicious too - a greek salad, with the freshest feta cheese I've ever tasted, veal with pasta and roasted veggies, pasta and a cheese cream sauce and salmon for Jay, fabulous fresh bread, and a delicious white wine. As mentioned before, a lovely dinner.
The next morning, Jay accompanied me to the hotel my dad reserved for my grandma and me for the next two nights, the Normandy Hotel. Jay was going to leave that evening to meet Katy in London. The Normandy Hotel is about 500 steps above the hostels that Jay and I had been using. I wonder what went through the receptionist's well-groomed head when 2 somewhat scruffy-looking college students marched in wearing jeans, fleece, and backpacks - probably that we needed directions.
But no, I marched up, introduced myself, and stated that I had a reservation. Receptionist guy (we'll call him Michel; anyone who has watched Gilmore Girls should appreciate the reference - any who spoke with this receptionist would believe him to be the character's inspiration) looked me up and down, pursed his lips a bit, then checked for my name on his list. Finding it (to his surprise, I'm sure), he replied "Oui, but I'm afraid we could only book you for the one night."
"Mm. We received an e-mail confirmation for the two nights."
"Two nights were requested, but I'm afraid we are full."
"We have an e-mail confirmation from the hotel for both nights."
(He checks the folder) "Mm. But of course." And hands over the room key. i bid farewell and good train-sailing (the Eurostar train under the channel) to Jay, then make my way to my room to nap until Grandma arrives.
This was interrupted only when the TV turned itself on to greet me, "Mr/Ms. JESSICA BLACK, we would like to welcome you to the Normandy Hotel..." displayed in a dark menu-style square on top of the program running at the same time - a Spanish woman with fake neon pink nails and a pink apron, and eye shadow from her eyelashes to well into her forehead, telling us how to make spring rolls. I went back to sleep, but I'm sure my dreams were unpleasantly effected.
So ends the first part of JJCE. To be continued in Barcelona. Until then, Jessie and Grandma Explore Europe...
14 March 2006
JJ Conquers Europe Part XVI
Geneva, Switzerland
Oh Geneva... E.U. and yet not, lovely and yet unaffordable, Switzerland and yet French... Whatever will we do with you?
Well, the answer for any traveler on any sort of a budget is RUN. Run away and don't look back, this place will rob your wallet, mortgage your home, and slap you in the ass with a wet towel on the way out. Geneva is dangerous.
The Swiss Franc is the currency, as the Swiss prefer it to the weaker Euro, so you lose money by exchanging between currencies right off the bat. Then, restrooms cost 2 SwFr (about 1.4 euros for those keeping score, twice what Greece or Italy could get away with), internet use is 2 SwFr for 20 minutes (again, more than Switzerland's neighbors), and our lunch of cheese, a small baguette, some salami, and cheap wine cost the equivalent of 20 Euros, when the same items cost less than 8 euros in France and Italy. Mailing a small package took almost all of the money we had after converting 20 euros, the rest was drained by *gasp* a whopping 30 minutes of internet use.
But yes, Geneva is pretty. We took our mini-picnic (the one that cost more than most of our sit-down meals) down to the water and sat on a bench in the park there, in the sun, until we became too cold and had to run back to the train station, Italian-weather-spoiled tails between our legs.
Well, the answer for any traveler on any sort of a budget is RUN. Run away and don't look back, this place will rob your wallet, mortgage your home, and slap you in the ass with a wet towel on the way out. Geneva is dangerous.
The Swiss Franc is the currency, as the Swiss prefer it to the weaker Euro, so you lose money by exchanging between currencies right off the bat. Then, restrooms cost 2 SwFr (about 1.4 euros for those keeping score, twice what Greece or Italy could get away with), internet use is 2 SwFr for 20 minutes (again, more than Switzerland's neighbors), and our lunch of cheese, a small baguette, some salami, and cheap wine cost the equivalent of 20 Euros, when the same items cost less than 8 euros in France and Italy. Mailing a small package took almost all of the money we had after converting 20 euros, the rest was drained by *gasp* a whopping 30 minutes of internet use.
But yes, Geneva is pretty. We took our mini-picnic (the one that cost more than most of our sit-down meals) down to the water and sat on a bench in the park there, in the sun, until we became too cold and had to run back to the train station, Italian-weather-spoiled tails between our legs.
13 March 2006
An Evaluation of Italian Cioccolata
Italy
After being informed by a Stansted Airport cafe (expert on Italian cuisine) that the Italian style of hot chocolate is bland, watery, and tastes vaguely of dirt (See old entry here), I decided to investigate the matter myself. following somewhat extensive field research in Rome, Naples, Venice, and Florence, I am prepared to reveal my findings.
In Rome I sampled a type of hot chocolate that must be eaten (not drank) with a spoon. With numerous varieties ranging form the basic milk chocolate to dark chocolate-chili pepper to white chocolate with lemon and pine nuts, served in a large mug, this chocolate was way too thick to drink -- the consistency resembled pudding more closely than it resembled a drink. This thick consistency, along with the strong flavors allow this cioccolata to stand far apart from its Stansted representatives.
In Naples, the hot chocolate returned to a more familiar liquid form, though very hot and quite rich in chocolate. Venetian chocolate held true to this form - drinkable straight from the cup, yet very flavorful (that flavor being of chocolate, not of mud).
Florence was an interesting new style, and quite possibly my favorite. The hot chocolate was melted pure dark chocolate, with no more than the tiniest possible amount of milk to allow it to keep a semi-liquid form as it cooled. Still, the liquid thickly coated the spoon, and did harden somewhat upon cooling. The color was the same as one would see upon unwrapping a good bar of chocolate - rich, dark brown.
In summary, italian-style chocolate is being misrepresented in Stansted Airport. Lawyers should be dispatched to London to clear up this misunderstanding (nay - slander) as soon as possible. Also, to any mothers who argue that a shade of chocolate milk darker than the standard milk-carton version is too chocolaty -- take a trip to Italy and see how the masters do it!
In Rome I sampled a type of hot chocolate that must be eaten (not drank) with a spoon. With numerous varieties ranging form the basic milk chocolate to dark chocolate-chili pepper to white chocolate with lemon and pine nuts, served in a large mug, this chocolate was way too thick to drink -- the consistency resembled pudding more closely than it resembled a drink. This thick consistency, along with the strong flavors allow this cioccolata to stand far apart from its Stansted representatives.
In Naples, the hot chocolate returned to a more familiar liquid form, though very hot and quite rich in chocolate. Venetian chocolate held true to this form - drinkable straight from the cup, yet very flavorful (that flavor being of chocolate, not of mud).
Florence was an interesting new style, and quite possibly my favorite. The hot chocolate was melted pure dark chocolate, with no more than the tiniest possible amount of milk to allow it to keep a semi-liquid form as it cooled. Still, the liquid thickly coated the spoon, and did harden somewhat upon cooling. The color was the same as one would see upon unwrapping a good bar of chocolate - rich, dark brown.
In summary, italian-style chocolate is being misrepresented in Stansted Airport. Lawyers should be dispatched to London to clear up this misunderstanding (nay - slander) as soon as possible. Also, to any mothers who argue that a shade of chocolate milk darker than the standard milk-carton version is too chocolaty -- take a trip to Italy and see how the masters do it!
JJ Conquers Europe Part XV
Firenze, Italy
Our train arrived at 6:17 and the first order of business was to reserve seats for the overnight train to Geneva, which turned out to have a supplement charge (on top of our InterRail passes) of 25 euros apiece! Gah! Not a good way to start the day, but we walked around the city and soon felt less shocked, as our surroundings were rather distracting. I'm sure Florence has lovely museums and churches -- Uffizi Gallery, the Duomo... - these are two items that would be first on most visitors' itineraries. I hope I don't unduly appall anyone by saying we weren't particularly interested in entering either (but yes, the Duomo is very... unique looking from the outside).
After wandering around the center a bit, we headed for the river, buying sandwiches and miniature wine bottles on the way. In this manner we had a lovely picnic in the grass by the river, with the sun warm and bright overhead. Afterwards, we strolled along the river, pausing to observe pigeons, an impromptu soccer game, and a crew team practicing on the Arno.
In a rather unhurried search for a new sunny spot or a cafe to sit and read in, we ran across an English-language used bookstore, or rather, the remains of one. The one that had been there had moved in December, but left up a map of how to walk to its new location. We wasted no time in making a confused-ADD-beeline there (lots of turns and little side streets). When we arrived... Wow. Used, cheap English-language books lined shelf upon shelf... we were in heaven. We stayed for over an hour, finally emerging with just under 10 books. Had i not limited myself to books under 3.50 euros, it would have been much worse.
Toting our valuable finds, we made our way to a nice looking cafe (with, surprisingly, no smokers) and sat down. The English-speaking waiter, though very friendly, seemed as though he'd had far too much coffee. We ordered a bit of food (pasta and a salad), and a bottle of water. I also ventured to try a floral tea, which was incredibly good. We stayed there for a few hours, trying a few teas and reading, and finally ordered a piece of chocolate cake to split, which was covered in chili powder! Interesting, but yummy. When the cafe started to fill up, we went back to the train station to wait for our train to Geneva.
After wandering around the center a bit, we headed for the river, buying sandwiches and miniature wine bottles on the way. In this manner we had a lovely picnic in the grass by the river, with the sun warm and bright overhead. Afterwards, we strolled along the river, pausing to observe pigeons, an impromptu soccer game, and a crew team practicing on the Arno.
In a rather unhurried search for a new sunny spot or a cafe to sit and read in, we ran across an English-language used bookstore, or rather, the remains of one. The one that had been there had moved in December, but left up a map of how to walk to its new location. We wasted no time in making a confused-ADD-beeline there (lots of turns and little side streets). When we arrived... Wow. Used, cheap English-language books lined shelf upon shelf... we were in heaven. We stayed for over an hour, finally emerging with just under 10 books. Had i not limited myself to books under 3.50 euros, it would have been much worse.
Toting our valuable finds, we made our way to a nice looking cafe (with, surprisingly, no smokers) and sat down. The English-speaking waiter, though very friendly, seemed as though he'd had far too much coffee. We ordered a bit of food (pasta and a salad), and a bottle of water. I also ventured to try a floral tea, which was incredibly good. We stayed there for a few hours, trying a few teas and reading, and finally ordered a piece of chocolate cake to split, which was covered in chili powder! Interesting, but yummy. When the cafe started to fill up, we went back to the train station to wait for our train to Geneva.
12 March 2006
JJ Conquers Europe Part XIV
Ljubljana, Slovenia
Upon our arrival in Ljubljana (Slovenia, if you were lost), we were greeted by a cold and snow-covered city, a rather surprising change after so many days in Italy, Greece, and Turkey in the sun.
Another regional... let's call it a quirk, that we'd become unaccustomed to after leaving Germany was that all the stores are closed on Sundays. In Germany, this is indeed the case, but all restaurants are still open (this is also the case in Austria). Not so in Slovenia. After 30 minutes or so of strolling through the snowy, empty streets, we started to get hungry.
Every cafe, it seemed, was closed. Signs pointed to a restaurant "200 meters away", but when we followed these signs, there was not only no open restaurant, but no establishment by that name at all. Stranger still was a sign for a restaurant on a small building, but no door through which to enter. We started to wonder if this wasn't a prank played on tourists by the locals -- fabricating names of cafes and moving the signs around. "Döner kebab, just 30 meters down this block..." Maybe they had a tally for how many we'd follow before getting wise to the system; a pool amongst the locals (how many steps out of her way will that one go? 300? No, at least 500 meters - just look at that determination!).
We did give up, pulling out my map and info from a guidebook and making a beeline for the one restaurant it listed as being open on Sundays -- a pleasant surprise, this shop not only existed and was open, but served delicious sandwiches and hot chocolate.
From there, the center of the town near the river, we were able to orient ourselves as well as find a block of cafes/restaurants open on Sundays (for later reference). Warm, fed, and less frustrated, we made our way up the big hill leading to the castle.
As castles in this region go, it wasn't particularly impressive. It's location, however, afforded a lovely view of the city and of the Ljubljanian Alps in the background. it was also a nice walk to stretch out legs that had spent too much time on trains. On our way back down we passed a beautiful black cat who, upon sighting us, ran over and, purring, proceeded to climb into my lap and lay down. I love the animals here!
We spent the rest of the day cafe-hopping as it was rather cold to try to sit still outside. We had drinks (hot cocoa, orangina, white wine) and snacks (calamari, gelato, and gyros), spread along a 5-hour time period as we read, wrote and people-watched and switched locations when we got bored. Al in all, a good day once we found the food.
Another regional... let's call it a quirk, that we'd become unaccustomed to after leaving Germany was that all the stores are closed on Sundays. In Germany, this is indeed the case, but all restaurants are still open (this is also the case in Austria). Not so in Slovenia. After 30 minutes or so of strolling through the snowy, empty streets, we started to get hungry.
Every cafe, it seemed, was closed. Signs pointed to a restaurant "200 meters away", but when we followed these signs, there was not only no open restaurant, but no establishment by that name at all. Stranger still was a sign for a restaurant on a small building, but no door through which to enter. We started to wonder if this wasn't a prank played on tourists by the locals -- fabricating names of cafes and moving the signs around. "Döner kebab, just 30 meters down this block..." Maybe they had a tally for how many we'd follow before getting wise to the system; a pool amongst the locals (how many steps out of her way will that one go? 300? No, at least 500 meters - just look at that determination!).
We did give up, pulling out my map and info from a guidebook and making a beeline for the one restaurant it listed as being open on Sundays -- a pleasant surprise, this shop not only existed and was open, but served delicious sandwiches and hot chocolate.
From there, the center of the town near the river, we were able to orient ourselves as well as find a block of cafes/restaurants open on Sundays (for later reference). Warm, fed, and less frustrated, we made our way up the big hill leading to the castle.
As castles in this region go, it wasn't particularly impressive. It's location, however, afforded a lovely view of the city and of the Ljubljanian Alps in the background. it was also a nice walk to stretch out legs that had spent too much time on trains. On our way back down we passed a beautiful black cat who, upon sighting us, ran over and, purring, proceeded to climb into my lap and lay down. I love the animals here!
We spent the rest of the day cafe-hopping as it was rather cold to try to sit still outside. We had drinks (hot cocoa, orangina, white wine) and snacks (calamari, gelato, and gyros), spread along a 5-hour time period as we read, wrote and people-watched and switched locations when we got bored. Al in all, a good day once we found the food.
JJ Conquers Europe Part XIII
Way to Ljubljana, Slovenia
Our trip to Slovenia had a bad start, as our tickets had been scheduled (mistakenly) for the previous evening and we had not caught the mistake while we were still at the Deutsche Bahn office. Luckily, we were able to ride anyway to Villach, the Austrian station in which we were to switch trains, and the trip from there to Ljubljana was in fact free with our InterRail passes (although Deutsche Bahn had sold us reservations for both legs of the trip under the pretense that they were required).
The wait in Austria sucked - the waiting room was comfortable, warm, and quiet until other people came in. First, a rather sketchy character who kept making beepy noises while playing with his cellphone (a beep for every keystroke seemed to be the setup. Why any cellphone owner would do this to his fellow human beings is beyond me). Then an older man that was drunk and talking to himself, and then, worst of all, a group of local teens (obviously not waiting for a train), came in and started talking - nay, closer to yelling - amongst each other... This was around 2 in the morning! We just wanted to sleep and stay warm for the two hours between our trains! We ended up spending the remainder of the night in the women's bathroom, which was heated, clean, and empty. Additionally, we could brush our teeth and charge our camera batteries.
Also, on the way out, I bought "sour apple" candy, made by Fiesta, a Spanish company - delicious!! It pretty much redeemed the entire two hours in Villach. On to the next train.
The wait in Austria sucked - the waiting room was comfortable, warm, and quiet until other people came in. First, a rather sketchy character who kept making beepy noises while playing with his cellphone (a beep for every keystroke seemed to be the setup. Why any cellphone owner would do this to his fellow human beings is beyond me). Then an older man that was drunk and talking to himself, and then, worst of all, a group of local teens (obviously not waiting for a train), came in and started talking - nay, closer to yelling - amongst each other... This was around 2 in the morning! We just wanted to sleep and stay warm for the two hours between our trains! We ended up spending the remainder of the night in the women's bathroom, which was heated, clean, and empty. Additionally, we could brush our teeth and charge our camera batteries.
Also, on the way out, I bought "sour apple" candy, made by Fiesta, a Spanish company - delicious!! It pretty much redeemed the entire two hours in Villach. On to the next train.
11 March 2006
JJ Conquers Europe Part XII
Venezia, Italy
Venice, upon first leaving the train station, is surprisingly touristy as compared to Rome. For a while we explored the streets near the station - filled with mask shops and other souvenir stands. We also went into a lot of the (many) churches, which were gorgeous.
After a few hours though, all the shops and churches started to close -- apparently it was time for siesta. Hungry at this point, we stopped at a restaurant bordering one of the many rivers. As we were not extremely hungry at that point and the prices were rather outrageous, we ordered a plate of pasta and clams to split, as we'd seen a couple do at another table. At this request the waiter informed us that it could not be done; we must order two separate dishes. As the other table in the same restaurant was doing this, we were pretty sure that the waiter's response was not a result of the request, but of our attire. That is to say, he knew we were not going to spend as much money as other, richer tourists would given the newly freed table. Irritated at this attitude, we left.
We continued to wander, waiting for the city to come off of break so we could visit more of the many lovely churches. In the meantime, we found a nice cafe to sit at, drink hot chocolate, and read for a bit before proceeding to San Marco Basilica, where Jay and I fed pigeons with a bag of corn kernels purchased for 1 euro. They ate right out of our hands, landing on our arms, and one or two confused newbies landing on our heads (presumably our hats look like food). Afterwards we walked to a nearby port and I read my book while Jay people-watched and tried to read over my shoulder. (He's now reading that book, "The Blind Assassin", now that I've finished it -- no way to get a boy to read a book than to sit and read it in front of him while telling him not to read ahead).
After a restful hour or so spent in this manner, we walked along the coast, through another touristy area, and purchased gelato. We were apprehensive since the prices were higher here than in the outskirts of the city, so I was the only one willing to buy some... at first. The woman working there was so sweet and amazingly adorable, I told Jay that he had to go buy one too. He did, and then agreed. We pretty much wanted to adopt that sweetie, but oh well. We turned inwards towards the less-crowded streets and were met with the labyrinth of tiny, winding side streets and rivers. Clothes lines crisscrossed all the miniature streets - too small for cars, as they didn't exist in Venice... just boats (and gondolas) and the occasional bike.
We saw a couple of friendly cats along our way, as well as a dog that was just chilling out in a tied-up boat. As the sun started to set, we ran back to the dock, chasing the setting sun for a gorgeous view over the water. For dinner we found a lovely Chinese food restaurant (still irritated by the snooty, expensive Italian restaurant from that afternoon), and then made our way slowly back to the train station. Just outside, we got some more gelato and sat outside in an enclave of the station building, me reading, Jay watching the tourists and passing boats.
Venice was, all-in-all, lovely. Jay and I have difficulty deciding on the best single descriptive word, but "sexy", "alluring", "enchanting", and "seductive" are all candidates. Given that our pass to get into the churches is valid for a year, we may try to return for a weekend during the summer semester.
After a few hours though, all the shops and churches started to close -- apparently it was time for siesta. Hungry at this point, we stopped at a restaurant bordering one of the many rivers. As we were not extremely hungry at that point and the prices were rather outrageous, we ordered a plate of pasta and clams to split, as we'd seen a couple do at another table. At this request the waiter informed us that it could not be done; we must order two separate dishes. As the other table in the same restaurant was doing this, we were pretty sure that the waiter's response was not a result of the request, but of our attire. That is to say, he knew we were not going to spend as much money as other, richer tourists would given the newly freed table. Irritated at this attitude, we left.
We continued to wander, waiting for the city to come off of break so we could visit more of the many lovely churches. In the meantime, we found a nice cafe to sit at, drink hot chocolate, and read for a bit before proceeding to San Marco Basilica, where Jay and I fed pigeons with a bag of corn kernels purchased for 1 euro. They ate right out of our hands, landing on our arms, and one or two confused newbies landing on our heads (presumably our hats look like food). Afterwards we walked to a nearby port and I read my book while Jay people-watched and tried to read over my shoulder. (He's now reading that book, "The Blind Assassin", now that I've finished it -- no way to get a boy to read a book than to sit and read it in front of him while telling him not to read ahead).
After a restful hour or so spent in this manner, we walked along the coast, through another touristy area, and purchased gelato. We were apprehensive since the prices were higher here than in the outskirts of the city, so I was the only one willing to buy some... at first. The woman working there was so sweet and amazingly adorable, I told Jay that he had to go buy one too. He did, and then agreed. We pretty much wanted to adopt that sweetie, but oh well. We turned inwards towards the less-crowded streets and were met with the labyrinth of tiny, winding side streets and rivers. Clothes lines crisscrossed all the miniature streets - too small for cars, as they didn't exist in Venice... just boats (and gondolas) and the occasional bike.
We saw a couple of friendly cats along our way, as well as a dog that was just chilling out in a tied-up boat. As the sun started to set, we ran back to the dock, chasing the setting sun for a gorgeous view over the water. For dinner we found a lovely Chinese food restaurant (still irritated by the snooty, expensive Italian restaurant from that afternoon), and then made our way slowly back to the train station. Just outside, we got some more gelato and sat outside in an enclave of the station building, me reading, Jay watching the tourists and passing boats.
Venice was, all-in-all, lovely. Jay and I have difficulty deciding on the best single descriptive word, but "sexy", "alluring", "enchanting", and "seductive" are all candidates. Given that our pass to get into the churches is valid for a year, we may try to return for a weekend during the summer semester.
10 March 2006
JJ Conquers Europe Part XI
Napoli, Italy
Following our half-day sojourn to Pompeii, we returned to Naples for the afternoon to await the night train to Venice. First and foremost on our itenerary was food, as we were both rather ravenous. We ate at pretty much the first restaurant we found. As it turned out, either we were very lucky in our selection, or Naples is one of the best places to yeat - the food was amazing. We had a seafood salad (cold squid, octopus, shrimps, and mussles on lettuce with lemon), which was delicious, followed by an octopus (for Jay) and pasta with clams (for me). We were also served delicious bread (great for soaking up those last bits of delectible sauce). Also, in retrospect this was the most friendly Italian restaurant we've patronized, as the staff was not at all snooty regarding our attire (grubby jeans and jackets - the same thing we've been wearing for two weeks straight).
After dinner, sufficiently bloated, we wandered around in search of an internet cafe. We only found a regular cafe, and Jay ordered a coffee and received a tiny cup with about an ounce of liquid in it. After he'd poured in all the sugar he could without causing it to overflow, it was more a liquid sugar than coffee. We still found no internet cafe after we returned outside, and there were so many street vendors and dangerous umbrella-weilders that we ended up going back to the train station. One thing that must be said in favor of the vendors is that Jay purchased his new hat from one. Why a new hat? The boy left his old one on the train from Pompeii. Disheartened by the lame actuality of this event, he's working on a tale of daring escape and mafia mix-ups in its stead, so just appease the man, if you will. Anyway, new hat, great food, back to the station.
Sadly, we had to hide out in the McDonalds (free restrooms and heating), and when Jay got up to purchase an unrecognized Fanta, some sketchy guy sat at the table next to me and started talking at me in Italian. He left when Jay returned and Jay is henceforth forbidden from going in search of new Fanta flavors. There are two reasons for this: one, the sketchy guy, and two, that Fanta was vile. Really, really vile. We think they were going for coke-flavor, but the result was closer to earwax-tea tree oil. Icky. (Jay wishes to add "licorice bile" to that description).
The rest of our evening would have been spent waiting for our 11-o'clock train in the waiting room, but the waiting room actually closed at around 9 pm, so we were left huddling outside for two hours to await our train. That train also switched tracks 4 times in the 2 hours we waited, helping to aleve the cold by forcing us to run around the station to the newly designated track every few minutes. As this was the second time this had been the situation in Italy (same on our way to Pompeii), we would have liked to consult Information. Unfortunately, just as every time we had checked earlier, Information was closed. Gah. Luckily, we found our train successfully and settled in to wake up in Venice.
After dinner, sufficiently bloated, we wandered around in search of an internet cafe. We only found a regular cafe, and Jay ordered a coffee and received a tiny cup with about an ounce of liquid in it. After he'd poured in all the sugar he could without causing it to overflow, it was more a liquid sugar than coffee. We still found no internet cafe after we returned outside, and there were so many street vendors and dangerous umbrella-weilders that we ended up going back to the train station. One thing that must be said in favor of the vendors is that Jay purchased his new hat from one. Why a new hat? The boy left his old one on the train from Pompeii. Disheartened by the lame actuality of this event, he's working on a tale of daring escape and mafia mix-ups in its stead, so just appease the man, if you will. Anyway, new hat, great food, back to the station.
Sadly, we had to hide out in the McDonalds (free restrooms and heating), and when Jay got up to purchase an unrecognized Fanta, some sketchy guy sat at the table next to me and started talking at me in Italian. He left when Jay returned and Jay is henceforth forbidden from going in search of new Fanta flavors. There are two reasons for this: one, the sketchy guy, and two, that Fanta was vile. Really, really vile. We think they were going for coke-flavor, but the result was closer to earwax-tea tree oil. Icky. (Jay wishes to add "licorice bile" to that description).
The rest of our evening would have been spent waiting for our 11-o'clock train in the waiting room, but the waiting room actually closed at around 9 pm, so we were left huddling outside for two hours to await our train. That train also switched tracks 4 times in the 2 hours we waited, helping to aleve the cold by forcing us to run around the station to the newly designated track every few minutes. As this was the second time this had been the situation in Italy (same on our way to Pompeii), we would have liked to consult Information. Unfortunately, just as every time we had checked earlier, Information was closed. Gah. Luckily, we found our train successfully and settled in to wake up in Venice.
JJ Conquers Europe Part X
Pompeii, Italy
Our arrival in Pompeii was not as pleasant as I would have liked. In trying to cross the street from the train station, we were harassed by two taxi drivers, the second having actually physically pulled me back from crossing the street to offer a tour/taxi. He refused to take (a very loud and emphatic) "no" as an answer, and we had to walk up the street rather than wait for a clearing to cross because he was so insistent. Due to this unwanted detour, we effectively had to circle the city due to a lack of through streets in the direction we wanted to go-- what a way to start the day!
The ruins, when we finally reached them, were much more expansive than I would have expected -- an entire city, it really seemed. (In case you aren't aware, Pompeii was a Roman city near a volcano that exploded and covered the city in lava. This effectively preserved the city as it was at that time, including some disturbingly recognizable bodies of victims caught in the lava.) Some sections of the site were rather unimpressive once we grew accustomed to the style of the preserved walls: these alone held a significant portion of our attention, with rocks ranging from ordinary to a sheer dark, slate-like rock, to a cement-colored type or rock that had many holes in it and looked as if it were formed from penne pasta and paper mache.
There were other sections of the site that were more impressive: A section of the site held bodies preserved perfectly by the lava of the volcano, ancient murals and paintings, intricate mosaic floors, auditoriums, and a waterway crossable by large blocks of stone.
Unavoidably, it began to rain as we were there and the site was filled with tour groups. One aspect that could have been different, however, was the upkeep and preservation of the site. Both Jay and I were disappointed in the protection of the site. Some of the paintings and writings were not protected by a plastic pane and those that were were still susceptible to wind and water from the sides of the plastic panel (which also could have done with a cleaning).
Worse, the glass case holding the preserved bodies (possibly the most well-known section of the site) was filthy; again had many gaps, exposing the interior to wind and rain; and was protected only by a small, easily breakable lock. In the absence of security cameras or guards, we would have preferred to see these ancient relics a bit better protected from vandalism and weather. If no effort is put into this, where do the 10 euros we paid for admission go?
Regardless, Pompeii's archaeological site was fascinating and made up for the obnoxious start to the day... Too bad the taxi driver accosted us again on our return to the train station. Jay and I spent the 30-minute ride to Naples contemplating painful and creative hypothetical responses that we could have given (Jay favored a swift knee to the groin).
The ruins, when we finally reached them, were much more expansive than I would have expected -- an entire city, it really seemed. (In case you aren't aware, Pompeii was a Roman city near a volcano that exploded and covered the city in lava. This effectively preserved the city as it was at that time, including some disturbingly recognizable bodies of victims caught in the lava.) Some sections of the site were rather unimpressive once we grew accustomed to the style of the preserved walls: these alone held a significant portion of our attention, with rocks ranging from ordinary to a sheer dark, slate-like rock, to a cement-colored type or rock that had many holes in it and looked as if it were formed from penne pasta and paper mache.
There were other sections of the site that were more impressive: A section of the site held bodies preserved perfectly by the lava of the volcano, ancient murals and paintings, intricate mosaic floors, auditoriums, and a waterway crossable by large blocks of stone.
Unavoidably, it began to rain as we were there and the site was filled with tour groups. One aspect that could have been different, however, was the upkeep and preservation of the site. Both Jay and I were disappointed in the protection of the site. Some of the paintings and writings were not protected by a plastic pane and those that were were still susceptible to wind and water from the sides of the plastic panel (which also could have done with a cleaning).
Worse, the glass case holding the preserved bodies (possibly the most well-known section of the site) was filthy; again had many gaps, exposing the interior to wind and rain; and was protected only by a small, easily breakable lock. In the absence of security cameras or guards, we would have preferred to see these ancient relics a bit better protected from vandalism and weather. If no effort is put into this, where do the 10 euros we paid for admission go?
Regardless, Pompeii's archaeological site was fascinating and made up for the obnoxious start to the day... Too bad the taxi driver accosted us again on our return to the train station. Jay and I spent the 30-minute ride to Naples contemplating painful and creative hypothetical responses that we could have given (Jay favored a swift knee to the groin).
JJ Conquers Europe Part IX
Rome, Italy
*Jay's only writing => GO TEAM WOOKIE!! FORM THE COUP! K, back to the Jessie.*
(Poor boy thinks he has a say in these things...foolish. Mighty foolish.)
After navigating the craziness that is the metro system, we made our way towards Vatican City. Before exploring, we made two important stops: one for internet, and one for gelato. Correction: the most heavenly concoction ever invented (Gelato, not the internet)...A slight exaggeration perhaps, but the idea is clear enough.
St. Peter's was lovely from the outside, but the huge lines (both for St. Peter's and for the Vatican) proved rather forbidding. After exploring the square, dodging tourists to get photos, and passing the souvenir stands (Who got a shot of St. Peter's square at sunset with NO people in it?! I'm inclined to suspect Photoshopping in these postcards for sale). We then wandered aimlessly within Vatican City before making our way towards the Pantheon, purchasing wine, bread, and cheese on the way. We then got lost on our way to the Trevi Fountain. When we found it, we were hungry and sore, so we ate at a Chinese food restaurant nearby. You may wonder why, in Italy, we would deign to partake of anything other than authentic Italian food. The thing is, Chinese food is absurdly cheap in Europe (well, outside of Germany anyway). Besides, we ate Gelato and drank hot chocolate in every city in Italy, so that should make up for the preference for Chinese food.
After eating and visiting the Trevi Fountain, we saw the Roman Forum and tried to walk to the Coliseum, but somehow got impressively turned around as only JJ can, and ended up in a residential area in the hills -- an interesting and refreshingly tranquil detour, but hard on the already miserable feet and knees.
Giving up, we used the first opportunity to take the metro to the coliseum, and then saw the Arch of Constantine as well. That evening there were two guests in the bedroom across from ours. We spent the time in our room trying to whisper and not move our packs around too much, in case our new neighbors were trying to sleep. We had a quiet dinner consisting of the bread (delicious), cheese (delectable), and wine (eh) that we'd purchased that morning, as well as 2 raspberry jam-covered shortbread cookies and some chocolates we'd purchased from a cafe on the way home.
(Poor boy thinks he has a say in these things...foolish. Mighty foolish.)
After navigating the craziness that is the metro system, we made our way towards Vatican City. Before exploring, we made two important stops: one for internet, and one for gelato. Correction: the most heavenly concoction ever invented (Gelato, not the internet)...A slight exaggeration perhaps, but the idea is clear enough.
St. Peter's was lovely from the outside, but the huge lines (both for St. Peter's and for the Vatican) proved rather forbidding. After exploring the square, dodging tourists to get photos, and passing the souvenir stands (Who got a shot of St. Peter's square at sunset with NO people in it?! I'm inclined to suspect Photoshopping in these postcards for sale). We then wandered aimlessly within Vatican City before making our way towards the Pantheon, purchasing wine, bread, and cheese on the way. We then got lost on our way to the Trevi Fountain. When we found it, we were hungry and sore, so we ate at a Chinese food restaurant nearby. You may wonder why, in Italy, we would deign to partake of anything other than authentic Italian food. The thing is, Chinese food is absurdly cheap in Europe (well, outside of Germany anyway). Besides, we ate Gelato and drank hot chocolate in every city in Italy, so that should make up for the preference for Chinese food.
After eating and visiting the Trevi Fountain, we saw the Roman Forum and tried to walk to the Coliseum, but somehow got impressively turned around as only JJ can, and ended up in a residential area in the hills -- an interesting and refreshingly tranquil detour, but hard on the already miserable feet and knees.
Giving up, we used the first opportunity to take the metro to the coliseum, and then saw the Arch of Constantine as well. That evening there were two guests in the bedroom across from ours. We spent the time in our room trying to whisper and not move our packs around too much, in case our new neighbors were trying to sleep. We had a quiet dinner consisting of the bread (delicious), cheese (delectable), and wine (eh) that we'd purchased that morning, as well as 2 raspberry jam-covered shortbread cookies and some chocolates we'd purchased from a cafe on the way home.
09 March 2006
JJ Conquers Europe Part VIII
Arrival in Rome, Italy
Ah, Rome. We arrived still singing praises to the Italian taxi driver in Bari (and wishing slow painful deaths to the crew of Superfast Ferries), and made our way to our hostel. The metro was crazy - no order, no direction; just hundreds of Italians pushing and shoving and brandishing pokey-ended umbrellas (the better to skewer you with, my dear). It was crazy. We somehow managed to get off at Flaminio station and, deciding the hostel couldn't be that far, opted to walk the street until we hit it. Oops. After the first few blocks, we stopped in an information booth to check how far it was and to make sure we were on the right "via Flaminia". Well, we were on the correct street, but about an hour and a half away by foot. Instead, we had to take Tram 2 (to the end of it's line - we'd started walking at the beginning) and then bus 200 for another half hour or so.
Serendipitously, we did indeed arrive at our "hostel" -- turns out it was a cabin in a mini-camping park -- we had one of two rooms in a cabin the size of a small trailer, joined by a shared bathroom. There was no one in the other room the first night.
Despite the difficulty/delay in finding the place, it was nice to have such a quiet, secluded setting - the trees and critters were a welcome alternative to the city centers.
The village (Flaminio Village) had a small restaurant on the premises, where we ate a delicious dinner before crashing after a long day of hectic travel.
Serendipitously, we did indeed arrive at our "hostel" -- turns out it was a cabin in a mini-camping park -- we had one of two rooms in a cabin the size of a small trailer, joined by a shared bathroom. There was no one in the other room the first night.
Despite the difficulty/delay in finding the place, it was nice to have such a quiet, secluded setting - the trees and critters were a welcome alternative to the city centers.
The village (Flaminio Village) had a small restaurant on the premises, where we ate a delicious dinner before crashing after a long day of hectic travel.
08 March 2006
JJ Conquers Europe Part VII
Bari, Italy
Once the Bari coastline came into view in the morning, an announcement was made regarding a "small delay" (I couldn't say exactly the contents of the message, as the loud tourist teens were yelling over it). Not too worried, as we had 3 hours before our train was leaving from Bari, I proceeded to read and Jay made his way to the men's room. Certainly his time spent embracing the toilet was unaided by the constant turns (ferry for taxiing)... which lasted a considerable amount more than "a small delay". At 9:30, an hour and a half after we should have arrived at port, I went downstairs to speak with one of the crew members.
"Perdón, Deutsch? English? Español?"
"English."
"Do you know how much longer the delay will be?"
"No one knows; it's due to the bad weather."
Now, I looked outside at this point to find not stormy or windy or even mildly cantankerous weather, but rather a sunny, calm, gorgeous morning. Mental response: "I'm sorry, I wasn't aware that 2-inch waves were dangerous, but what do I know about ferrying? The weather's perfect - get your damn boat into port before I miss my train" ...Unfortunately (or perhaps fortuitously), my actual response was significantly calmer:
"Okay... I have an 11-o-clock train reservation that I've already paid for."
"Oh, well it's only 9:30; you should probably make it."
"Indeed. If that is not the case, is Superfast Ferries prepared to reimburse me for missing it due to a 3+ hour delay?"
(Unfortunately, I had neither the attire nor the composure to pull this off in an imposing manner -- my hiking boots-jeans-fleece ensemble could make no strong impression on the elitist crew of Superfast...)
"No one can control the weather."
Irritated (The weather's gorgeous, you wimps! Try Alaska!), tempted to make an indentation in the man's stupid red hat, and worried, as missing that train would mean missing our hostel reservation in Rome, I returned to my seat.
The ferry docked at 10:30, opening its doors 20 minutes later. Furious and rushed, Jay and I raced across the dock and jumped into the first taxi we found.
Just as a reminder, this is in Italy.
We inform the taxi driver of our destination and rush, and he takes his job quite seriously. Ignoring pedestrians, red lights, and lane designations (he spent most of that time driving in the bus lane designated for the opposite direction), the crazy bastard made it. We were on our train a scant 3 minutes before it departed. Go taxi man!
"Perdón, Deutsch? English? Español?"
"English."
"Do you know how much longer the delay will be?"
"No one knows; it's due to the bad weather."
Now, I looked outside at this point to find not stormy or windy or even mildly cantankerous weather, but rather a sunny, calm, gorgeous morning. Mental response: "I'm sorry, I wasn't aware that 2-inch waves were dangerous, but what do I know about ferrying? The weather's perfect - get your damn boat into port before I miss my train" ...Unfortunately (or perhaps fortuitously), my actual response was significantly calmer:
"Okay... I have an 11-o-clock train reservation that I've already paid for."
"Oh, well it's only 9:30; you should probably make it."
"Indeed. If that is not the case, is Superfast Ferries prepared to reimburse me for missing it due to a 3+ hour delay?"
(Unfortunately, I had neither the attire nor the composure to pull this off in an imposing manner -- my hiking boots-jeans-fleece ensemble could make no strong impression on the elitist crew of Superfast...)
"No one can control the weather."
Irritated (The weather's gorgeous, you wimps! Try Alaska!), tempted to make an indentation in the man's stupid red hat, and worried, as missing that train would mean missing our hostel reservation in Rome, I returned to my seat.
The ferry docked at 10:30, opening its doors 20 minutes later. Furious and rushed, Jay and I raced across the dock and jumped into the first taxi we found.
Just as a reminder, this is in Italy.
We inform the taxi driver of our destination and rush, and he takes his job quite seriously. Ignoring pedestrians, red lights, and lane designations (he spent most of that time driving in the bus lane designated for the opposite direction), the crazy bastard made it. We were on our train a scant 3 minutes before it departed. Go taxi man!
07 March 2006
JJ Conquers Europe Part VI
Patras, Greece, and Ferry Ride
I'll start with the ride over: terra cotta tiles covering white buildings, standing out from the bushes and water - the former varying from electric yellows to vibrant variations of green, interspersed with orange trees; the latter a deep turquoise with streaks of bright teal where the sun broke through the clouds. The clouds themselves were a nebulous mixture of grays, alternating from purple to silver, and concealing the tops of the blue-lavender mountains...it's beautiful at the coast, and I'm struck (forcefully) by how much I've missed the ocean. It brings with it peace, passion, inspiration. Remembrances of people, places I once knew - Nova Menco and the sunset on HWY-1 with Jules, both windows down to feel the wind race past our ears, to feel uplifted and spirited away by it, though only our hair moved. Micro rides in Valpo. Photo-taking by Cerro Esperanza with Stephanie, the smell of rain, the life of Chile, romance (failed and otherwise), intensity, salsa, pisco... Pisco itself resembles the ocean - the pale water at the tip of a wave, the white foam as it breaks on the rocks... The sea is a form of deepest nostalgia to me, but also a source of infinite inspiration.
Being on a boat, however, is a different scenario. So, on much less content note, on to the subject of our ferry ride. Well, Jay got motion sickness and we had no cabin, so we are doing the best we could amongst the noise and smoke of one of the lounges -- crowding our two chairs around our bags (well, I did this as Jay was already asleep) and it was alright. I even started to fall asleep and was infinitely encouraged when, at about 1 in the morning, the lights dimmed and more people cleared out... Until a blaring disco broke out beneath us. I could not be more literal if I tried; we are in two chairs by a balcony looking down onto the floor below us (smoky cafe no longer) and my God this music is terrible. There are multicolor strobe lights about 10 feet from my head, a ring of speakers aimed to the lower level (one of which I could touch if I just stretched out my foot), and yet Jay sleeps on.
Funnier yet (in a sort of "ha ha this sucks, but irony is nice" way), no one seems to be dancing. A staff member is wandering around aimlessly on the floor, lit from above by the multicolor bursts from the strobes -- I can't help but wonder: is he supervising against "freaking"? Too bad there seems to be not much action to glower upon. Rather, the guests, mainly comprised of a tour bus full of loud Italian teens, continue to gather their stuff and make their way elsewhere (presumably to "freak" in private)... This raises the hopeful question: If everyone leaves, can they kill the music?
Let's call it a curve ball; time for some Atwood.
Being on a boat, however, is a different scenario. So, on much less content note, on to the subject of our ferry ride. Well, Jay got motion sickness and we had no cabin, so we are doing the best we could amongst the noise and smoke of one of the lounges -- crowding our two chairs around our bags (well, I did this as Jay was already asleep) and it was alright. I even started to fall asleep and was infinitely encouraged when, at about 1 in the morning, the lights dimmed and more people cleared out... Until a blaring disco broke out beneath us. I could not be more literal if I tried; we are in two chairs by a balcony looking down onto the floor below us (smoky cafe no longer) and my God this music is terrible. There are multicolor strobe lights about 10 feet from my head, a ring of speakers aimed to the lower level (one of which I could touch if I just stretched out my foot), and yet Jay sleeps on.
Funnier yet (in a sort of "ha ha this sucks, but irony is nice" way), no one seems to be dancing. A staff member is wandering around aimlessly on the floor, lit from above by the multicolor bursts from the strobes -- I can't help but wonder: is he supervising against "freaking"? Too bad there seems to be not much action to glower upon. Rather, the guests, mainly comprised of a tour bus full of loud Italian teens, continue to gather their stuff and make their way elsewhere (presumably to "freak" in private)... This raises the hopeful question: If everyone leaves, can they kill the music?
Let's call it a curve ball; time for some Atwood.
06 March 2006
JJ Conquers Europe Part V
Sofia, Bulgaria and Athens, Greece
So, quick recap of Sofia before moving on: We stayed in the train station, as we were only there for a few hours. We drank grapefruit Fanta and ate microwaved bread rolls filled with cheese/hotdog/salami, were annoyed by an obnoxious beggar/con teen and a man running after us offering "information" even though we were AT Information at the time. Back to the Cyrillic alphabet.
Okay, Athens:
Our train was couchette-only - wow, I'm glad we've avoided those. No head room, a tiny space to sleep in, and uncomfortable. Never again if we can avoid it. Also, the 2 other people in our cabin were two women from Spain - we spoke a bit in Spanish and it was an amazingly painful experience to hear myself talk.
In reading "The Genius of Language" (a book of essays written by English-language writers whose first language is not English), I'm being drawn to all sorts of languages to learn - French, Danish, Dutch, Yiddish, Italian, Portuguese, Scotts, Chinese, Japanese, Korean, Greek, Russian, Latin... But if I can't even keep two foreign languages in my head at the same time, how can I begin with the others? I'm very frustrated with my rapidly-declining Spanish; if it's my preferred language and I'm losing it by being here (and my German's not getting much better), why am I here? Hopefully I'll find a decent Spanish-language class next semester and all will be well.
Athens itself has been lovely. The weather was beautiful today, and we got to just walk around and see a lot of ruins, parks, and kite-flying. We had a delicious (yet rather Germanesque) lunch; my potatoes with a wine sauce and cheese were amazing. Thanks to our staying overnight here, we were able to come back and rest our tired knees and feet before dinner (gyros have, by the way, won a permanent place above döners in my heart).
As we wandered around, we saw a huge amount of (possibly stray) cats - but even if they were strays, they were clean, gorgeous, healthy, and very sweet. Possibly due to the novelty of domestic-seeming cats in the streets, both Jay and I were enamored by the little kitties.
In many ways, Athens is very much the quintessential Greek city I'd envisioned: white-washed houses, warm weather, happy people, delicious food, and a relatively laid-back lifestyle. This is definitely a place I'd love to return to.
Okay, Athens:
Our train was couchette-only - wow, I'm glad we've avoided those. No head room, a tiny space to sleep in, and uncomfortable. Never again if we can avoid it. Also, the 2 other people in our cabin were two women from Spain - we spoke a bit in Spanish and it was an amazingly painful experience to hear myself talk.
In reading "The Genius of Language" (a book of essays written by English-language writers whose first language is not English), I'm being drawn to all sorts of languages to learn - French, Danish, Dutch, Yiddish, Italian, Portuguese, Scotts, Chinese, Japanese, Korean, Greek, Russian, Latin... But if I can't even keep two foreign languages in my head at the same time, how can I begin with the others? I'm very frustrated with my rapidly-declining Spanish; if it's my preferred language and I'm losing it by being here (and my German's not getting much better), why am I here? Hopefully I'll find a decent Spanish-language class next semester and all will be well.
Athens itself has been lovely. The weather was beautiful today, and we got to just walk around and see a lot of ruins, parks, and kite-flying. We had a delicious (yet rather Germanesque) lunch; my potatoes with a wine sauce and cheese were amazing. Thanks to our staying overnight here, we were able to come back and rest our tired knees and feet before dinner (gyros have, by the way, won a permanent place above döners in my heart).
As we wandered around, we saw a huge amount of (possibly stray) cats - but even if they were strays, they were clean, gorgeous, healthy, and very sweet. Possibly due to the novelty of domestic-seeming cats in the streets, both Jay and I were enamored by the little kitties.
In many ways, Athens is very much the quintessential Greek city I'd envisioned: white-washed houses, warm weather, happy people, delicious food, and a relatively laid-back lifestyle. This is definitely a place I'd love to return to.
04 March 2006
JJ Conquers Europe Part IV
Istanbul, Turkey
Well, getting into Turkey is a rather tedious and lengthy affair. Coupled with the multiple middle-of-the-night passport checks was a long wait to purchase stickers for our passports, get our passports stamped, and then an additional 3-4 hour wait at that stop (Svilengrad) before we actually left. (I don't know exactly how long that wait was, as Jay and I simply returned to our cabin and went to sleep.
We arrived in Istanbul to an unexpected surprise: nearly everyone we encountered was competent in English or German, often French, Italian, and other languages as well.
We went to find a left-luggage service, but it turned out that no such service existed - at least not in the capacity to which we were accustomed. An old man locked the strap of my bag onto a rolling cart, placed it near the restrooms, and left. Needless to say, we were rather uncomfortable with this system, so we came back periodically to make sure the bag was indeed still there (what we would have been able to accomplish, had the bag in fact been taken, is rather questionable).
In trying to get money from an ATM, my ATM card was rejected. I don't know the reason for this, but if Wells Fargo cut me off for trying to access my account in Turkey (in which case my card MUST have been stolen - why would I go to Turkey of my own free will, let alone want money there?)... I will be unimpressed.
Also, we need to check the transfer rate. If 1 YTL is in fact as close to the euro as the station attendant claimed (about 1.5 TYL in a euro), Turkey was a very expensive country by eastern European standards. This, coupled with the linguistic ability of its citizens and the general cleanliness of its cities (at least Istanbul) as compared to Bulgaria, makes me wonder at how Bulgaria will be joining the EU before Turkey.
On a similar note, the cultural differences were much less noticeable than we had been led to believe. I was not pestered, neither verbally nor visually, at all; women frequently wore jeans and tightly-fitting clothes; and, as it turned out, our luggage remained safe for an entire day, simply tucked into a corner. I defy anyone to try that trick in most American cities.
There were, however, also some noticeable distinctions regarding treatment of women: waiters were obviously more comfortable speaking with Jay and seemed taken aback when I ordered a soda (I'd let Jay order the food). Also, on the subject of food - wow. Apple tea and baklava are pretty much heaven, as are the many forms of kebabs (I prefer a mixed Shish, but the Döner is indeed classic).
After spending some time walking through the touristy area (Aya Sofia, Blue Mosque, Obelisks, and a small market filled with carpets, jewelry, scarves, and various trinkets), Jay was burnt-out by the constant presence of touts. They were everywhere, spouting any of 5-8 languages at us to try to engage us in conversation or to enter a particular shop. We therefore walked towards the water (Golden Horn) and sat people-watching near the ferry docks for a while before returning to the train station.
I have to say, I personally liked Istanbul a whole lot - possibly my favorite city on this trip so far (though Beograd was also quite comfortable). I feel as if Jay would have enjoyed it more too, if he had already been accustomed to touts. I am reminded of our time in Peru -- in Tacna, I believe, where I just broke down in the bus station and started yelling at the people offering taxis, buses, hostels, food, money changing, handmade dolls and whatever other random items. ("Yo NO quiero alojamiento ni comida ni esas muñequitas. No nesesito ningún taxi, ya sé dónde estoy y adónde voy y no, ya tengo mi boleto... Basta ya - ¡que se vayan!.") So, I do understand how Jay must have felt upon first encountering touts. And, it must be said, it's hard to feign ignorance or misunderstanding when they speak pretty much all known languages -- dammit, why did I not learn Swahili?
We arrived in Istanbul to an unexpected surprise: nearly everyone we encountered was competent in English or German, often French, Italian, and other languages as well.
We went to find a left-luggage service, but it turned out that no such service existed - at least not in the capacity to which we were accustomed. An old man locked the strap of my bag onto a rolling cart, placed it near the restrooms, and left. Needless to say, we were rather uncomfortable with this system, so we came back periodically to make sure the bag was indeed still there (what we would have been able to accomplish, had the bag in fact been taken, is rather questionable).
In trying to get money from an ATM, my ATM card was rejected. I don't know the reason for this, but if Wells Fargo cut me off for trying to access my account in Turkey (in which case my card MUST have been stolen - why would I go to Turkey of my own free will, let alone want money there?)... I will be unimpressed.
Also, we need to check the transfer rate. If 1 YTL is in fact as close to the euro as the station attendant claimed (about 1.5 TYL in a euro), Turkey was a very expensive country by eastern European standards. This, coupled with the linguistic ability of its citizens and the general cleanliness of its cities (at least Istanbul) as compared to Bulgaria, makes me wonder at how Bulgaria will be joining the EU before Turkey.
On a similar note, the cultural differences were much less noticeable than we had been led to believe. I was not pestered, neither verbally nor visually, at all; women frequently wore jeans and tightly-fitting clothes; and, as it turned out, our luggage remained safe for an entire day, simply tucked into a corner. I defy anyone to try that trick in most American cities.
There were, however, also some noticeable distinctions regarding treatment of women: waiters were obviously more comfortable speaking with Jay and seemed taken aback when I ordered a soda (I'd let Jay order the food). Also, on the subject of food - wow. Apple tea and baklava are pretty much heaven, as are the many forms of kebabs (I prefer a mixed Shish, but the Döner is indeed classic).
After spending some time walking through the touristy area (Aya Sofia, Blue Mosque, Obelisks, and a small market filled with carpets, jewelry, scarves, and various trinkets), Jay was burnt-out by the constant presence of touts. They were everywhere, spouting any of 5-8 languages at us to try to engage us in conversation or to enter a particular shop. We therefore walked towards the water (Golden Horn) and sat people-watching near the ferry docks for a while before returning to the train station.
I have to say, I personally liked Istanbul a whole lot - possibly my favorite city on this trip so far (though Beograd was also quite comfortable). I feel as if Jay would have enjoyed it more too, if he had already been accustomed to touts. I am reminded of our time in Peru -- in Tacna, I believe, where I just broke down in the bus station and started yelling at the people offering taxis, buses, hostels, food, money changing, handmade dolls and whatever other random items. ("Yo NO quiero alojamiento ni comida ni esas muñequitas. No nesesito ningún taxi, ya sé dónde estoy y adónde voy y no, ya tengo mi boleto... Basta ya - ¡que se vayan!.") So, I do understand how Jay must have felt upon first encountering touts. And, it must be said, it's hard to feign ignorance or misunderstanding when they speak pretty much all known languages -- dammit, why did I not learn Swahili?
03 March 2006
JJ Conquers Europe Part III
Plovdiv, Bulgaria
First off, a random update: Jay wants to revamp the team image, trading the 5-month-old "JJ" for a more explosive, more inclusive "Team Wookie". We shall see. Now, regarding Bulgaria...
Our entry to Plovdiv was not particularly successful, unfortunately. Not only are we useless in any slavic language, but also there seems to be not a single Bulgarian working within the international train station that speaks or understands either English or German. And the signs are misleading, if not completely nonexistent. Once we figured out how to check our luggage and explore the city, we encountered a new difficulty: the street signs (if any) were written in cyrillic, but the ones on my map were not. We quickly gave up on trying to make our way to old town and took a random, quiet side street instead.
In our wanderings, we ended up at the monument to the soviet army, a huge statue on a hill (Bunardjika Park) towering over the city. From it, we saw the mountains, the city, and the sun as its descent into some lower, misty hills. We stayed in the park most of the afternoon, returning towards the train station as it got dark. On the way, we found food (pizza and a spiced-cabbage salad with a flavor resembling that of Doritos nacho cheese chips).
When we returned to the station, with much time to spare, a girl was looking for the lady in charge of left luggage. As we knew the woman left often and had heard this girl speaking English, Jay walked over to explain the delay.
As it turned out, this girl had been in Bulgaria for a year, teaching English through the Peace corps. She was very nice, and actually re-piqued my own interest in the Peace corps. Around the same time, an adorable kitty came and chilled near us under our bench. He was irresistible, so, naturally, I fed him cake and named him Georgie. Only later, when I tried a couple different languages to tell him not to jump on my lap, did I discover that he only understands Spanish. So now, due to my lack of earlier consideration, he may have to bear the unfortunate title "hee-or-hee-ay". Oops.
Although there was some confusion regarding the correct train to take, a very nice (and surprisingly English-speaking) guard explained the way to get to Istanbul, and we're on that train now. Although I am a bit nervous about border crossing, I am generally excited to be approaching the eastern-most portion of our journey - presumably also the most difficult in terms of communication and cultural differences. And of course, Jay will get his authentic Turkish Döner.
Our entry to Plovdiv was not particularly successful, unfortunately. Not only are we useless in any slavic language, but also there seems to be not a single Bulgarian working within the international train station that speaks or understands either English or German. And the signs are misleading, if not completely nonexistent. Once we figured out how to check our luggage and explore the city, we encountered a new difficulty: the street signs (if any) were written in cyrillic, but the ones on my map were not. We quickly gave up on trying to make our way to old town and took a random, quiet side street instead.
In our wanderings, we ended up at the monument to the soviet army, a huge statue on a hill (Bunardjika Park) towering over the city. From it, we saw the mountains, the city, and the sun as its descent into some lower, misty hills. We stayed in the park most of the afternoon, returning towards the train station as it got dark. On the way, we found food (pizza and a spiced-cabbage salad with a flavor resembling that of Doritos nacho cheese chips).
When we returned to the station, with much time to spare, a girl was looking for the lady in charge of left luggage. As we knew the woman left often and had heard this girl speaking English, Jay walked over to explain the delay.
As it turned out, this girl had been in Bulgaria for a year, teaching English through the Peace corps. She was very nice, and actually re-piqued my own interest in the Peace corps. Around the same time, an adorable kitty came and chilled near us under our bench. He was irresistible, so, naturally, I fed him cake and named him Georgie. Only later, when I tried a couple different languages to tell him not to jump on my lap, did I discover that he only understands Spanish. So now, due to my lack of earlier consideration, he may have to bear the unfortunate title "hee-or-hee-ay". Oops.
Although there was some confusion regarding the correct train to take, a very nice (and surprisingly English-speaking) guard explained the way to get to Istanbul, and we're on that train now. Although I am a bit nervous about border crossing, I am generally excited to be approaching the eastern-most portion of our journey - presumably also the most difficult in terms of communication and cultural differences. And of course, Jay will get his authentic Turkish Döner.
02 March 2006
JJ Conquers Europe Part II
Beograd, Serbia
So, before I go over our eventual exploration of Beograd, let me backtrack slightly to contemplate. Yesterday (in Budapest) when we attempted to go to the US embassy to get more visa stamp pages, we found it blocked off for approximately 20 feet in all directions. The police officers guarding it said that we could not enter at that time for any reason that was not an emergency. Perhaps there was a threat to that embassy - we aren't sure. Today thought, as we were wandering along in search of a cafe, we noticed a man covered in camouflage (how effective this is when standing in front of a white building, I do not know), holding a huge gun. Confused, we started to cross the street to go around, and saw another similarly dressed (and armed) man nearby. We looked at the building, wondering what the trouble is, and see the American flag. We had stumbled upon the Beograd US embassy by accident. Relieved and immune from the previous fear, we approached one of the soldiers, asking if we could enter. He directed us to a police officer, who told us to go ahead and ring the doorbell. The answering embassy workers replied that visa-additions were over for the day, but that we could return the next day. As we would be in Plovdiv, we could do no such thing, but the curiosity remains as to why the US embassies have such heightened security at the moment.
Other than that our day was spent in a rather relaxed manner, alternating between walking (very slowly) around, sitting/snacking in cafes, and sitting in parks contemplating the meaning of pigeon life. We saw St. Mark's Church, a huge (in height), domed church with a somewhat eastern feel, probably due to the Turkish presence in the 18th century. There were only about 10 chairs and very simple decorations - mainly a large circle of candles from the ceiling and paintings of saints. I wonder how much specific saints play into Yugoslavian christianity/Catholicism.. There was a pine-like incense and along with the old simplicity, the church was at once comforting and awe-inspiring. We spent some time sitting in a nearby park, complete with observations of turf-guarding and mating rituals of pigeons; a dog with a strange attachment and aversion to a bouncy ball; a physics lesson - how fast is too fast for a pigeon to walk on ice before he starts skating; and a re-introduction to the buddy system, courtesy of a huge class of Serbian youngsters crossing in front of us and effectively blocking our path due to the chain they formed. We then sat in a neighboring cafe for a while before wandering off in search of the history museum.
Although we never found the history museum, we stumbled upon a huge church (Sveti Sava) and then headed back north to view the citadel.
The citadel was large and entwined with a park (where we watched a flirty pigeon seduce some food from Jay with his impressive feather-fluffing). There was, strangely enough, an ice-skating rink within the citadel (the walls of which were for the most part, original - complete with cannonballs embedded in the walls and pigeons nesting upon them).
After the citadel, we got a bit lost trying to find the station. it wasn't hard to get back, though, and on the way we found a candy store (irresistible to the otherwise nearly-invincible JJ), where I ordered a Turkish delight and Jay found a fried-bread type of pastry soaked in honey. We soon located the train station and, with 4 hours before out train was to depart, left again to find dinner.
After dinner, we returned to the station, retrieved our checked luggage, and I went to the restroom to change my shoes and re-apply tiger balm and ace bandages my aching knees (I'm so old). Well, the restrooms were certainly an interesting experience. Not only was the floor wet and the stall lacking toilet paper (rather common in a public WC, though I did have to pay to use it), but it also had no toilet. Instead, there was a hole in the ground and a pipe feeding (trickling) water through to it. In essence, the entire stall was an unusually large urinal. A wet one. Without shelves or anywhere to place my clothes/shoes/ace bandages other than juggling them in the bag that could just barely hang on the miniature hook on the door. Needless to say, changing out of my wet socks and shoes into drier alternatives, as well as slathering my knees with tiger balm (which one cannot do by simply pulling jean legs up), all without stepping, falling, or dropping anything onto the wet floor, was a difficult task. To make it a bit more complicated, there was no lock on the door, so every time i put anything into the bag or took anything out, it pulled the door open. Fun.
Our day in Beograd did not have the best of endings. The waiting room in the train station was gross - people were coughing a lot and one woman used a plastic bag of hers as a toilette in the corner -- there was a WC (of sorts) right nearby! Additionally, an "officer" on the train tried to charge us 4 euros to lie down on our seats - - con man! Luckily, we didn't pay anything, but still... sketchy experience. Now we're in Sofia, trying to make our way into Plovdiv, after being harassed by touts. Oh, and I really wish I could read the cyrillic alphabet...
Other than that our day was spent in a rather relaxed manner, alternating between walking (very slowly) around, sitting/snacking in cafes, and sitting in parks contemplating the meaning of pigeon life. We saw St. Mark's Church, a huge (in height), domed church with a somewhat eastern feel, probably due to the Turkish presence in the 18th century. There were only about 10 chairs and very simple decorations - mainly a large circle of candles from the ceiling and paintings of saints. I wonder how much specific saints play into Yugoslavian christianity/Catholicism.. There was a pine-like incense and along with the old simplicity, the church was at once comforting and awe-inspiring. We spent some time sitting in a nearby park, complete with observations of turf-guarding and mating rituals of pigeons; a dog with a strange attachment and aversion to a bouncy ball; a physics lesson - how fast is too fast for a pigeon to walk on ice before he starts skating; and a re-introduction to the buddy system, courtesy of a huge class of Serbian youngsters crossing in front of us and effectively blocking our path due to the chain they formed. We then sat in a neighboring cafe for a while before wandering off in search of the history museum.
Although we never found the history museum, we stumbled upon a huge church (Sveti Sava) and then headed back north to view the citadel.
The citadel was large and entwined with a park (where we watched a flirty pigeon seduce some food from Jay with his impressive feather-fluffing). There was, strangely enough, an ice-skating rink within the citadel (the walls of which were for the most part, original - complete with cannonballs embedded in the walls and pigeons nesting upon them).
After the citadel, we got a bit lost trying to find the station. it wasn't hard to get back, though, and on the way we found a candy store (irresistible to the otherwise nearly-invincible JJ), where I ordered a Turkish delight and Jay found a fried-bread type of pastry soaked in honey. We soon located the train station and, with 4 hours before out train was to depart, left again to find dinner.
After dinner, we returned to the station, retrieved our checked luggage, and I went to the restroom to change my shoes and re-apply tiger balm and ace bandages my aching knees (I'm so old). Well, the restrooms were certainly an interesting experience. Not only was the floor wet and the stall lacking toilet paper (rather common in a public WC, though I did have to pay to use it), but it also had no toilet. Instead, there was a hole in the ground and a pipe feeding (trickling) water through to it. In essence, the entire stall was an unusually large urinal. A wet one. Without shelves or anywhere to place my clothes/shoes/ace bandages other than juggling them in the bag that could just barely hang on the miniature hook on the door. Needless to say, changing out of my wet socks and shoes into drier alternatives, as well as slathering my knees with tiger balm (which one cannot do by simply pulling jean legs up), all without stepping, falling, or dropping anything onto the wet floor, was a difficult task. To make it a bit more complicated, there was no lock on the door, so every time i put anything into the bag or took anything out, it pulled the door open. Fun.
Our day in Beograd did not have the best of endings. The waiting room in the train station was gross - people were coughing a lot and one woman used a plastic bag of hers as a toilette in the corner -- there was a WC (of sorts) right nearby! Additionally, an "officer" on the train tried to charge us 4 euros to lie down on our seats - - con man! Luckily, we didn't pay anything, but still... sketchy experience. Now we're in Sofia, trying to make our way into Plovdiv, after being harassed by touts. Oh, and I really wish I could read the cyrillic alphabet...
01 March 2006
JJ Conquers Europe Part I
Budapest, Hungary
Budapest was, all in all, a very satisfactory beginning to our journey. I would have to voice preference for Buda over Pest - Pest is more city-like, its appeal drawing from the statues and squares and the view along the river. Buda, on the other hand, had not only the larger statues/monuments (which we didn't see up close), but also Castle Hill, with its lovely architecture, old wall/towers, cathedral (that charged entrance fees - boo), and gates, not to mention the views from up so high above the rest of the city.
One of the most pleasant parts of our time there was a break we took on a bench facing the sun (now beginning to set) in order to read and relax. On our way back to Pest we noticed a carved face in the rocks by the river - we are unsure as to whether this was intentional or not.
Unfortunately, we did not know exactly how to get back to Keleti Station, and ended up walking an extra five or so miles that evening in order to find it (about five miles too many for my body, as we'd already covered over fifteen miles on foot). My knees, feet, upper back and hip flexor in pain, we waited four to five hours in the (freezing) station for our train. Fortunately, we were able to try a cheese-like pastry and Jay got a Hungarian gyro,his goal being to try a gyro or doenner in every country.
Additionally, we scored as far as seats go on the way out, getting a cabin to ourselves and therefore both being able to lie down and sleep comfortably most of the night. This is not counting the irritatingly poorly-timed passport/ticket checks at 2 and 3 in the morning. Also, around 4 or 5 our cabin filled up suddenly and a nearby cabin filled with a large group of rowdy (and possibly drunk) travelers, all of whom decided to sing/chant loudly for the duration of the ride. Overall though, we're doing well. Athens will be a luxury in that we'll have a hotel room (without policemen waking us up in the middle of the night).
One of the most pleasant parts of our time there was a break we took on a bench facing the sun (now beginning to set) in order to read and relax. On our way back to Pest we noticed a carved face in the rocks by the river - we are unsure as to whether this was intentional or not.
Unfortunately, we did not know exactly how to get back to Keleti Station, and ended up walking an extra five or so miles that evening in order to find it (about five miles too many for my body, as we'd already covered over fifteen miles on foot). My knees, feet, upper back and hip flexor in pain, we waited four to five hours in the (freezing) station for our train. Fortunately, we were able to try a cheese-like pastry and Jay got a Hungarian gyro,his goal being to try a gyro or doenner in every country.
Additionally, we scored as far as seats go on the way out, getting a cabin to ourselves and therefore both being able to lie down and sleep comfortably most of the night. This is not counting the irritatingly poorly-timed passport/ticket checks at 2 and 3 in the morning. Also, around 4 or 5 our cabin filled up suddenly and a nearby cabin filled with a large group of rowdy (and possibly drunk) travelers, all of whom decided to sing/chant loudly for the duration of the ride. Overall though, we're doing well. Athens will be a luxury in that we'll have a hotel room (without policemen waking us up in the middle of the night).
Subscribe to:
Posts (Atom)