Radio! Radio was a great invention. I'm only just starting to appreciate how wonderful it really is - especially here. BBC does several radio stations with no commercials, which is akin to heaven in my opinion. We have the radio on basically all the time. We are awoken by it in the morning (very loudly, I might add - my first morning here it scared me senseless, I almost fell out of the bed), we leave it on whenever we happen to be around it (which is most of the time) and we make a special effort to be next to it when a particularly sounding special is going to be on.
We like channel 6, which "brings together the cutting edge music of today and the iconic and groundbreaking music of the past 40 years" according their website. I guess that's as good a description as any. One of the DJs says that he tries to play music people like, and if you don't like what's on just wait for the next song. The sheer variety they play is mind-boggling (although there are a handful they play ad nauseam, like any radio station worth it's salt), and the specials they do are entertaining and wacky. One Sunday they did a show about casette tapes, and on Christmas night they did a dinner-themed show, which was thorough to the point of being organized by courses. One song was all about onions. I have no idea where they get this stuff, but it's pretty amazing.
Oh, and a little side note for everyone - when I say "we", I am referring to myself and my beau, who I am currently living with. I haven't done much with the codenames lately, but here's another one - he will be dubbed Bo.
Thursday, December 27, 2012
Wednesday, December 12, 2012
English gardens
Have you ever seen the movie Greenfingers? It's a pretty good one, especially if you like Clive Owen and/or Helen Mirren. It's set in England and features a lot of gardening. I have rapidly come to the conclusion that this is representational of how the English feel about gardening. If you haven't seen the movie, I'll fill you in a little: they love it.
There are garden stores everywhere. Massive ones, tiny ones, even ones with attached stonecutters for fountains and pond installers with huge koi fish swimming around and big heavy machinery you can rent. Why do I know this? Well, when the weather is nice, a garden store is a great place to stroll around. Particularly if you're holding hands and being all lovey-dovey. Oh, and did I mention they all have cafes attached? All of them. Every single one. And some even have drip coffee! The last one, which had the drip coffee, also had massive portions of baked goods, including a particularly tempting bread pudding the size of a brick.
I have also observed an abundance of greenhouses in backyards. They're lovely little things, about the size of the self-assebled garden sheds you see sometimes in the parking lot of Home Depot. We have one here, although it's been abandoned for quite a few years now. I really like them, and there are so many that it seems they've just popped up out of the ground. I suppose they're particularly useful given the combination of local climate and inclination for growing things, but I think they're just beautiful as well, especially when glimpsed behind hedges and across fields while driving along the little windy roads.
There are garden stores everywhere. Massive ones, tiny ones, even ones with attached stonecutters for fountains and pond installers with huge koi fish swimming around and big heavy machinery you can rent. Why do I know this? Well, when the weather is nice, a garden store is a great place to stroll around. Particularly if you're holding hands and being all lovey-dovey. Oh, and did I mention they all have cafes attached? All of them. Every single one. And some even have drip coffee! The last one, which had the drip coffee, also had massive portions of baked goods, including a particularly tempting bread pudding the size of a brick.
I have also observed an abundance of greenhouses in backyards. They're lovely little things, about the size of the self-assebled garden sheds you see sometimes in the parking lot of Home Depot. We have one here, although it's been abandoned for quite a few years now. I really like them, and there are so many that it seems they've just popped up out of the ground. I suppose they're particularly useful given the combination of local climate and inclination for growing things, but I think they're just beautiful as well, especially when glimpsed behind hedges and across fields while driving along the little windy roads.
Sunday, December 9, 2012
The sky is falling! Oh wait, that was just a tree.
The other day it got really windy and nasty out. Kind of like a blizzard, but with rain instead of snow. It was one of those days that makes you glad to be warm and cozy inside and thankful to have a warm cozy inside to be in.
The next morning, we got a phone call. Turns out a tree in the back yard was damaged by the wind. A massive branch snapped mostly off a big cedar pine and hit the branch of another tree on the way down, breaking it too, and ending up in a big tangled heap over the fence and in a farmer's field. Thankfully it didn't hit a house or person or anything particularly damageable, but it seems like the neighbor (who may or may not actually have anything to do with this field besides also living beside it) took it personally and was very insistent it be taken care of immediately. So today I learned when not to ask about neighborly tiffs, and that sawing through a tree trunk is a lot more difficult to actually do than to watch being done while standing around trying to look helpful. Shocking, I know.
I also made friends with a dog who was just loving the abundance of branches being thrown around. He picked up the end of a particularly long and muddy one and tried to convince me to play with him by winding slowly around my legs like a cat. This had the side effect of smearing my jeans very thoroughly with mud. Had it been butter, I would be convinced the dog was preparing to eat me.
Once all the branches were sawed through and heaped into a massive pile (that would have made a highly dangerous but incredibly impressive bonfire), I observed the muddy, churned up section of the field. Impossibly, beautifully, it still had little spears of bright, beautiful green poking up from the mucky sludge. I find it extraordinary that such a delicate little bit of life is able to survive a storm that blows down half a tree taller than a house, a storm that would possibly have killed me if I had stood out in it all night and all day.
The next morning, we got a phone call. Turns out a tree in the back yard was damaged by the wind. A massive branch snapped mostly off a big cedar pine and hit the branch of another tree on the way down, breaking it too, and ending up in a big tangled heap over the fence and in a farmer's field. Thankfully it didn't hit a house or person or anything particularly damageable, but it seems like the neighbor (who may or may not actually have anything to do with this field besides also living beside it) took it personally and was very insistent it be taken care of immediately. So today I learned when not to ask about neighborly tiffs, and that sawing through a tree trunk is a lot more difficult to actually do than to watch being done while standing around trying to look helpful. Shocking, I know.
I also made friends with a dog who was just loving the abundance of branches being thrown around. He picked up the end of a particularly long and muddy one and tried to convince me to play with him by winding slowly around my legs like a cat. This had the side effect of smearing my jeans very thoroughly with mud. Had it been butter, I would be convinced the dog was preparing to eat me.
Once all the branches were sawed through and heaped into a massive pile (that would have made a highly dangerous but incredibly impressive bonfire), I observed the muddy, churned up section of the field. Impossibly, beautifully, it still had little spears of bright, beautiful green poking up from the mucky sludge. I find it extraordinary that such a delicate little bit of life is able to survive a storm that blows down half a tree taller than a house, a storm that would possibly have killed me if I had stood out in it all night and all day.
Saturday, December 8, 2012
Follow me by email!
A little logistic side-note: my blog has a new feature! You can now follow me via email! Just enter your address in the little box on the right hand side of the page, and every time I post something new it will show up in your inbox.
Friday, December 7, 2012
Weather!
Well guys, I've been in England for a week and a half, and
let me tell you - the weather is really something. I had been living in
beautiful, basically unchanging sunny weather for over two years, pining for
changing seasons and snow. I didn't realize those years were making me soft and
vulnerable to the cold and accustomed to t-shirts and ballet flats. Now I'm
finally in the kind of
wet/cold/windy/frosty/snowy/drippy/slippy/breath-catching weather I missed and
I'm glad I saved all those woolly socks from my skiing days.
The key to enjoying bad weather (as I am prone to do) is to
be prepared for it and to dress appropriately. It's a lot easier to be happy if
you're cozy in a fuzzy sweater under a down jacket with a soft scarf all tucked
in and up around your chin and a thick hat protecting your ears and your feet
encased in wool and waterproof (key) boots. Oh, and it also helps if your
mittens are decorated like little bow-tied penguins. All these things combine
to make a walk about the village a very pleasant experience, the cold making
your nose run and the breath stream away from your mouth like hurried smoke.
The fact that I also have to wear the sweater, scarf, hat
and gloves indoors is something I blame on LA and the Pacific Ocean.
I do find it endlessly funny that although constant
cloud-cover and rain present zero transportational difficulties (except in the
case of severe flooding, which, unfortunately is a big problem farther north
right now), it only takes a tiny bit of snow to shut down airports for a
morning.
Saturday, November 24, 2012
REWIND: Everything up till now.
Ok, so clearly my commitment to blogging has waned since the initial conception. Nonetheless, I haven't given up quite yet, so prepare for one long REWIND and a little current information.
Kutna Hora:
I returned once again to Czech Republic after my jaunt to Romania, and took a day trip with a friend to Kutna Hora, a beautiful little town with a gorgeous cathedral and the fascinating though potentially morbid Sedlec Ossuary. This Catholic chapel is situated next to a cemetery that was used for the many victims of the black plague. Years later, when they wanted to expand the chapel, they dug up the mass graves and chose to use the basement as an ossuary to store the skeletons. Years later, a woodcarver was hired to organize the heaps of bone, and made some rather interesting artistic decisions about how to do so, resulting not only in large heaps of neatly-stacked skulls, but slightly grim decorations like coats of arms pieced together from femurs and phalanges.
The chapel is on the outskirts of town, so after staying in the crowded basement long enough to realize I would never be able to decide whether it was really cool or just morbid, we strolled into the city center, which was delightful and charming, and made our way up the hill to St. Barbara's, a beautiful church with delightful stained glass and an intricate organ on the upper level.
England:
I then went to England for a week, where I experienced unseasonably good weather, tromped through some fields in search of beer (and found it!), saw how different the English sea-side is from a California beach, and drank a lot of tea. It was a nice time in a small town, and I was glad to skip London during the Olympics.
My flight back home was, at this point, only about a week and a half away, departing from Glasgow, Scotland. I was in England. But, of course, with a couple extra days, I just had to go back to beloved Olomouc one last time before heading home.
Olomouc (for the 7th time):
I only had a couple days in my favorite city of the trip, and I had a particular purpose in returning when I did - a good friend who I met there was leaving town, and being much beloved by everyone (and rightly so), had a nice going-away party. Although I am certain we will see each other again, I just couldn't miss it. It was fantastic fun that included a luncheon feast, chocolate pie, single-malt scotch and intense foosball competition.
It was pretty tough to leave, but Edinburgh and the Fringe Festival were calling, so off I went.
Edinburgh:
The Fringe was pretty amazing, and Edinburgh is a great city. I was very lucky to be put up for the week by a lovely friend I met earlier in the trip, who was not only incredibly hospitable but also has impressive knowledge of the city and was kind enough to show me around.
As part of the festival I watched a few free comedy shows, one of which was fun, the other not so much. I saw a blues guitar duo and then a Duke Ellington themed vocal show, both in the same venue (Jazz Bar). There was a comedy show by a blind man called "Not Blind Enough" and a hilarious sketch by the Beta Males about the (fictional) role of the UK in the space race. The strangest was an outdoor sci-fi performance with no words that made little sense until the end, when it all clicked and was rather depressing. My favorite? A tie. Bill Clinton the musical, featuring two actors to portray the two Bills - Billy, the ne'er-do-well womanizer, and William, the responsible leader who only wants what's best for his country and loves his wife. Or the all-in-one-hour Gilbert and Sullivan production, which was wonderful despite the very conspicuous lack of "Modern Major General". Clearly musical theater is a particular joy of mine, and patter songs are pure heaven.
In addition to the Fringe shows, I spent some quality time in various pubs and cafes (including one where JK Rowling wrote much of the early Harry Potter books, and I understand why, it was lovely).
My favorite was the Royal Oak, where local musicians perform in a cramped corner of the tiny pub year round, not just during the festival, and patrons sitting on the sidelines are at home enough to be backed up by the band in an impromptu solo. It was sweet, lively, get-in-your-blood-and-make-you-stomp-your-feet kind of music, naturally accompanied by laughter and a frothy pint and the wagging tail of the dog at your feet.
Back in California:
I got back to the States 3 months ago. In many ways it was nice to be back - a lot of my family and friends live here in SoCal, the weather was pleasant, the beach was wonderful, the Mexican food was delicious. But I didn't stay too long before I took off on another little trip to visit my lovely friend Blythe again.
Seattle:
If you recall from my Seattle posting in May, Blythe and I have a marvelous time together, doing fun things like decorating pizza with plastic figurines and visiting trolls under bridges.
This time we went to an island. On a ferry. This was very exciting for me. And on that island we found... a farmer's market! And a winery! And a lighthouse! And an apple tree whose fruit I tried unsuccessfully to pilfer. I did, however, succeed in getting tangled in the thorny bush below said fruit.
We ate paella and grilled cheese sandwiches and sushi and CRUMPETS, we made a completely locally sourced luncheon (with delicious poached eggs), we went tidepooling and spray-painted a poodle and went to the Chihuly glass museum.
The museum, I have to say, is one of the coolest I have EVER been to. It was absolutely stunning. I took about 300 pictures. Here are some samples:
More visits followed. I went to Tucson, as I mentioned before, and to San Diego at least 3 times. One of those visits was for Halloween. I had a marvelous time, being an ardent lover of Halloween and the crazy makeup opportunities it provides, but learned that in the future I should tone back panther-inspired looks; several people asked me why I was in blackface.
San Francisco:
I returned to SF to visit a friend who has officially moved there and was kind enough to put me up and also take me to a bar that serves the BEST nachos I've ever had, no contest. For all of you wondering, yes, they are indeed superior to those at Walnut Brewery. The place is called Fly Bar. Go there.
We continued my dedication to epicurean tourism by walking down Valencia in The Mission and stopping in several cafes to procure pastries and other baked delights. The best was at the creatively named Craftsman and Wolves. The treat is called the Rebel Within. It's like a cheesy biscuit with chives and sausage bits and goodness, wrapped around a soft-boiled egg. One of the most delicious eggy concoctions I've ever had the pleasure of biting into. Behold:
Denver:
I went onward to Colorado, where I spent a lovely week with my Mom, making puzzles, listening to music, hiking, drinking wine etc. I got to stomp around in some snow, which excited me immensely. Basically a relaxing time with lots of chatting.
And now:
At this point you're probably thinking "so, do you, like, actually do anything besides travel around and eat?" Nope. I don't. Not for the moment, anyways. And let me tell you why.
I have been scurrying all over the place, spending time with friends and family, because in a couple days I am moving to England, and I have no idea when I'll be back. And I eat delicious things because, really, why would you not?
Without going into all the mushy details, let's just say I met someone pretty special this summer. Someone worth moving to England for. It helps that I really like England, and Europe in general, so I don't consider this to be much of a sacrifice. I don't really know what the future will bring - hopefully graduate school will make an appearance in the near future, but beyond that I really can't say! But all you lucky ducks get to find out with me.
Kutna Hora:
I returned once again to Czech Republic after my jaunt to Romania, and took a day trip with a friend to Kutna Hora, a beautiful little town with a gorgeous cathedral and the fascinating though potentially morbid Sedlec Ossuary. This Catholic chapel is situated next to a cemetery that was used for the many victims of the black plague. Years later, when they wanted to expand the chapel, they dug up the mass graves and chose to use the basement as an ossuary to store the skeletons. Years later, a woodcarver was hired to organize the heaps of bone, and made some rather interesting artistic decisions about how to do so, resulting not only in large heaps of neatly-stacked skulls, but slightly grim decorations like coats of arms pieced together from femurs and phalanges.
The chapel is on the outskirts of town, so after staying in the crowded basement long enough to realize I would never be able to decide whether it was really cool or just morbid, we strolled into the city center, which was delightful and charming, and made our way up the hill to St. Barbara's, a beautiful church with delightful stained glass and an intricate organ on the upper level.
England:
I then went to England for a week, where I experienced unseasonably good weather, tromped through some fields in search of beer (and found it!), saw how different the English sea-side is from a California beach, and drank a lot of tea. It was a nice time in a small town, and I was glad to skip London during the Olympics.
My flight back home was, at this point, only about a week and a half away, departing from Glasgow, Scotland. I was in England. But, of course, with a couple extra days, I just had to go back to beloved Olomouc one last time before heading home.
Olomouc (for the 7th time):
I only had a couple days in my favorite city of the trip, and I had a particular purpose in returning when I did - a good friend who I met there was leaving town, and being much beloved by everyone (and rightly so), had a nice going-away party. Although I am certain we will see each other again, I just couldn't miss it. It was fantastic fun that included a luncheon feast, chocolate pie, single-malt scotch and intense foosball competition.
It was pretty tough to leave, but Edinburgh and the Fringe Festival were calling, so off I went.
Edinburgh:
The Fringe was pretty amazing, and Edinburgh is a great city. I was very lucky to be put up for the week by a lovely friend I met earlier in the trip, who was not only incredibly hospitable but also has impressive knowledge of the city and was kind enough to show me around.
As part of the festival I watched a few free comedy shows, one of which was fun, the other not so much. I saw a blues guitar duo and then a Duke Ellington themed vocal show, both in the same venue (Jazz Bar). There was a comedy show by a blind man called "Not Blind Enough" and a hilarious sketch by the Beta Males about the (fictional) role of the UK in the space race. The strangest was an outdoor sci-fi performance with no words that made little sense until the end, when it all clicked and was rather depressing. My favorite? A tie. Bill Clinton the musical, featuring two actors to portray the two Bills - Billy, the ne'er-do-well womanizer, and William, the responsible leader who only wants what's best for his country and loves his wife. Or the all-in-one-hour Gilbert and Sullivan production, which was wonderful despite the very conspicuous lack of "Modern Major General". Clearly musical theater is a particular joy of mine, and patter songs are pure heaven.
In addition to the Fringe shows, I spent some quality time in various pubs and cafes (including one where JK Rowling wrote much of the early Harry Potter books, and I understand why, it was lovely).
My favorite was the Royal Oak, where local musicians perform in a cramped corner of the tiny pub year round, not just during the festival, and patrons sitting on the sidelines are at home enough to be backed up by the band in an impromptu solo. It was sweet, lively, get-in-your-blood-and-make-you-stomp-your-feet kind of music, naturally accompanied by laughter and a frothy pint and the wagging tail of the dog at your feet.
Back in California:
I got back to the States 3 months ago. In many ways it was nice to be back - a lot of my family and friends live here in SoCal, the weather was pleasant, the beach was wonderful, the Mexican food was delicious. But I didn't stay too long before I took off on another little trip to visit my lovely friend Blythe again.
Seattle:
If you recall from my Seattle posting in May, Blythe and I have a marvelous time together, doing fun things like decorating pizza with plastic figurines and visiting trolls under bridges.
This time we went to an island. On a ferry. This was very exciting for me. And on that island we found... a farmer's market! And a winery! And a lighthouse! And an apple tree whose fruit I tried unsuccessfully to pilfer. I did, however, succeed in getting tangled in the thorny bush below said fruit.
We ate paella and grilled cheese sandwiches and sushi and CRUMPETS, we made a completely locally sourced luncheon (with delicious poached eggs), we went tidepooling and spray-painted a poodle and went to the Chihuly glass museum.
The museum, I have to say, is one of the coolest I have EVER been to. It was absolutely stunning. I took about 300 pictures. Here are some samples:
 |
| This ocean-themed tower was at least 3 times taller than me. |
 |
| here's a close up |
 |
| This was part of Chihuly's Persian series. |
 |
| It was the ceiling. |
 |
| This Burton-worthy creation was inspired by his mother's garden |
 |
| The boats were my favorite |
 |
| To give you a sense of scale, they were big enough for an NBA player to lie down in. |
 |
| These beautiful glass flowers the size of serving platters were hanging from the ceiling, right below the needle. |
More visits followed. I went to Tucson, as I mentioned before, and to San Diego at least 3 times. One of those visits was for Halloween. I had a marvelous time, being an ardent lover of Halloween and the crazy makeup opportunities it provides, but learned that in the future I should tone back panther-inspired looks; several people asked me why I was in blackface.
San Francisco:
I returned to SF to visit a friend who has officially moved there and was kind enough to put me up and also take me to a bar that serves the BEST nachos I've ever had, no contest. For all of you wondering, yes, they are indeed superior to those at Walnut Brewery. The place is called Fly Bar. Go there.
We continued my dedication to epicurean tourism by walking down Valencia in The Mission and stopping in several cafes to procure pastries and other baked delights. The best was at the creatively named Craftsman and Wolves. The treat is called the Rebel Within. It's like a cheesy biscuit with chives and sausage bits and goodness, wrapped around a soft-boiled egg. One of the most delicious eggy concoctions I've ever had the pleasure of biting into. Behold:
Denver:
I went onward to Colorado, where I spent a lovely week with my Mom, making puzzles, listening to music, hiking, drinking wine etc. I got to stomp around in some snow, which excited me immensely. Basically a relaxing time with lots of chatting.
And now:
At this point you're probably thinking "so, do you, like, actually do anything besides travel around and eat?" Nope. I don't. Not for the moment, anyways. And let me tell you why.
I have been scurrying all over the place, spending time with friends and family, because in a couple days I am moving to England, and I have no idea when I'll be back. And I eat delicious things because, really, why would you not?
Without going into all the mushy details, let's just say I met someone pretty special this summer. Someone worth moving to England for. It helps that I really like England, and Europe in general, so I don't consider this to be much of a sacrifice. I don't really know what the future will bring - hopefully graduate school will make an appearance in the near future, but beyond that I really can't say! But all you lucky ducks get to find out with me.
Friday, October 5, 2012
REWIND: Romania
Romania was an unexpected stop on my trip. Getting there involved a night of sleeping in trains and train stations on my way to the Vienna airport, then a hectic taxi ride and super delayed train from Bucharest to Constanta, then a couple buses and an unexpected 6km trek in the dark to the tiny beach side town of 2 Mai, where a friend and I were staying in a hard-to-find pension.
Thankfully, we found the people in town to be incredibly friendly and helpful. A lovely lady at a gas station on the edge of town, who wasn't phased at all by our complete inability to speak Romanian even though she didn't speak English, called the pension for us on her cell phone and found us the English-speaking owner, who gave us directions. We were far enough away still that we got lost again. Of course. At this point we were pretty tired and sweaty and done with carrying our backpacks around, so we decided to hail a cab. The driver was so kind, he pointed out to us with many hand signals and imaginary diagrams drawn on the hood of his taxi, that we were only a couple blocks away and it would be kind of silly to pay him to take us there.
The lovely kindness of strangers was the perfect start to a super-relaxing week on the beach. This wasn't travel, this was vacation, no doubt about it. The nearby town of Vama Veche was the epitome of a beach-bum village, with patio-ed restaurants leading out onto the sand lined up one right after the other, serving cheap, cold beer by the pint.
I found Romanian, of course, to be a beautiful language, and completely fell in love with it. It helped that it's a romance language, so the Spanish I know made reading signs and menus a little bit easier (especially compared to reading them in any Slavic language, which was absolutely impossible for me). It seemed to draw from so many places, I am completely turned around as to when and how this language originated - but they say "da" for "yes" (Russian), and "merci" for "thank you" (French). Embarrassingly, and with no excuse whatsoever, I had a really difficult time remembering merci. I didn't get it down until the last couple days. I kept wanting to throw some Italian out there - oops.
I was too busy actually laying in the sun to take any pictures, so here's what the internet had to offer in that department. Yup, that was basically my week in Vama Veche.
Thankfully, we found the people in town to be incredibly friendly and helpful. A lovely lady at a gas station on the edge of town, who wasn't phased at all by our complete inability to speak Romanian even though she didn't speak English, called the pension for us on her cell phone and found us the English-speaking owner, who gave us directions. We were far enough away still that we got lost again. Of course. At this point we were pretty tired and sweaty and done with carrying our backpacks around, so we decided to hail a cab. The driver was so kind, he pointed out to us with many hand signals and imaginary diagrams drawn on the hood of his taxi, that we were only a couple blocks away and it would be kind of silly to pay him to take us there.
The lovely kindness of strangers was the perfect start to a super-relaxing week on the beach. This wasn't travel, this was vacation, no doubt about it. The nearby town of Vama Veche was the epitome of a beach-bum village, with patio-ed restaurants leading out onto the sand lined up one right after the other, serving cheap, cold beer by the pint.
I found Romanian, of course, to be a beautiful language, and completely fell in love with it. It helped that it's a romance language, so the Spanish I know made reading signs and menus a little bit easier (especially compared to reading them in any Slavic language, which was absolutely impossible for me). It seemed to draw from so many places, I am completely turned around as to when and how this language originated - but they say "da" for "yes" (Russian), and "merci" for "thank you" (French). Embarrassingly, and with no excuse whatsoever, I had a really difficult time remembering merci. I didn't get it down until the last couple days. I kept wanting to throw some Italian out there - oops.
I was too busy actually laying in the sun to take any pictures, so here's what the internet had to offer in that department. Yup, that was basically my week in Vama Veche.
REWIND: A meeting of poets and monkeys
Let's pick the story back up in mid July. I've just left Dresden and gone back to Olomouc to meet up with the wonderful friends I made at Poet's Corner. They had planned a group trip to visit the Ginger Monkey hostel in Ždiar, and I jumped eagerly on board. When you get so many great people together in one place, you just know it's going to be a good time.
The night we arrived there was a hostel-wide dinner of homemade goulash, which was the most delicious, flavorful bowl of soup I had my entire trip, and we were such a big group that someone had to eat directly from the pot with a ladle due to a lack of flatware.
I had only spent one day at the Ginger Money before, and did a really wonderful day hike called the saddle trail. This time we tackled it as a huge group, and it was even more fun than the last time - and everything looked so different! There were fewer flowers and everything green was taller, and even that last persistent patch of snow was almost gone (but there was enough left for me to bury my hands in it).
It was, once again, breathtakingly beautiful at the top, and worth the long slog upwards, but by the time we finished and were waiting for the bus, we were knackered (one of my favorite words I've picked up, just go with it).
We did a day trip to a nearby castle, Spišský hrad, one of the largest in central Europe and very impressive.
This photo basically sums up our day.
Some other memorable events of the trip include the XXL Pizza Challenge at Rustika, a local institution and favorite amongst Monkey guests. This pizza is 1.5 kg (3.3 lbs), and one must finish it in one sitting to be put up on the scoreboard at the Monkey. The record is something like 6 minutes, which just boggles my mind.
And, best of all, the onesie party. I don't know if you're familiar with the 80's era one-piece ski suits, but let's refresh your memory with a picture.
We took the dog, Wally, the BEST and probably the happiest dog in the entire world, out for a walk, of course wearing onesies because it gets quite cold in the mountains at night. And they turn out to be perfect party wear, especially when you have cowboy hats and silver tinsel wigs and pink-rimmed sombreros to add to the equation.
The night we arrived there was a hostel-wide dinner of homemade goulash, which was the most delicious, flavorful bowl of soup I had my entire trip, and we were such a big group that someone had to eat directly from the pot with a ladle due to a lack of flatware.
I had only spent one day at the Ginger Money before, and did a really wonderful day hike called the saddle trail. This time we tackled it as a huge group, and it was even more fun than the last time - and everything looked so different! There were fewer flowers and everything green was taller, and even that last persistent patch of snow was almost gone (but there was enough left for me to bury my hands in it).
It was, once again, breathtakingly beautiful at the top, and worth the long slog upwards, but by the time we finished and were waiting for the bus, we were knackered (one of my favorite words I've picked up, just go with it).
We did a day trip to a nearby castle, Spišský hrad, one of the largest in central Europe and very impressive.
This photo basically sums up our day.
Some other memorable events of the trip include the XXL Pizza Challenge at Rustika, a local institution and favorite amongst Monkey guests. This pizza is 1.5 kg (3.3 lbs), and one must finish it in one sitting to be put up on the scoreboard at the Monkey. The record is something like 6 minutes, which just boggles my mind.
And, best of all, the onesie party. I don't know if you're familiar with the 80's era one-piece ski suits, but let's refresh your memory with a picture.
We took the dog, Wally, the BEST and probably the happiest dog in the entire world, out for a walk, of course wearing onesies because it gets quite cold in the mountains at night. And they turn out to be perfect party wear, especially when you have cowboy hats and silver tinsel wigs and pink-rimmed sombreros to add to the equation.
Thursday, October 4, 2012
Beaches and deserts, both got sand
After two and a half months, the time has come to write once again about my travels. A lot has happened between Dresden and Today, but I'm going to put a pin in that for now.
Today, I want to talk about sand.
I spent a good few hours last Thursday on the beach in San Diego, California. The sand was soft, dotted with the occasional local sunbather, and the water was surprisingly warm for the Pacific.
There was some pretty interesting people watching on that particular beach, on that particular day. A few guys digging a big hole in the sand. A couple with crayon-bright hair in matching yellow and orange. And... wait, what? A pair of people dragging sacks around on the sand in big circles around a plastic storage tub. Huh? As soon as I saw them, I was mesmerized. What were they doing? I peered at them through my sunglasses, trying to make out what was going on. They had something in these sacks, and were dragging it around on the sand, then carrying the sack with a dark ring on the bottom of it and brushing something off into the tub. Repeat. I decided they were extracting the dark particles from the sand with magnets, possibly as part of some sort of scientific experiment. I was half right - we went to talk to them, and it turns out the sacks were pillow cases, and the fancy equipment in them were just blown out car speakers they got for free from an auto parts store. They were collecting magnetic sand, which they said had iridium and radium attached to it (on this beach) and it could be used to purify water, or smelted to separate the precious metals. I decided to compare it to searching for buried treasure in the sand with a metal detector, only way cooler.
Over the weekend I drove to Tucson for a birthday event, which included towers of beer taller than a toddler and dangerous amounts of bean dip, as well as a visit to the Tucson zoo to feed a giraffe carrot sticks.
The sand-related part happened (get excited) at NIGHT! We went on a night hike in one of the many parks surrounding the city. I consider this to be the "pretty" kind of desert, the kind with rocky hills and canyons and growing things like cacti and mesquite trees and even a little stream. The moon came up and was so bright it outdid my headlamp, and I could see my shadow clearly on the white, white sand. The wash we walked along shone so brightly in the moonlight, and we were surrounded by those great nighttime noises the bugs and the frogs and the air like to make. It was pretty fantastic.
Along the 8 freeway, which connects San Diego and Tucson, there is a section where one is surrounded on both sides by these massive, beautiful sand dunes. I love the way the wind blows little rippling lines down the slopes, visible even from a speeding car.
So, basically, sand not only featured prevalently in my week, it's also kind of awesome.
Tune in again for my REWIND series, where I fill in the big blank of the past few months.
Today, I want to talk about sand.
I spent a good few hours last Thursday on the beach in San Diego, California. The sand was soft, dotted with the occasional local sunbather, and the water was surprisingly warm for the Pacific.
There was some pretty interesting people watching on that particular beach, on that particular day. A few guys digging a big hole in the sand. A couple with crayon-bright hair in matching yellow and orange. And... wait, what? A pair of people dragging sacks around on the sand in big circles around a plastic storage tub. Huh? As soon as I saw them, I was mesmerized. What were they doing? I peered at them through my sunglasses, trying to make out what was going on. They had something in these sacks, and were dragging it around on the sand, then carrying the sack with a dark ring on the bottom of it and brushing something off into the tub. Repeat. I decided they were extracting the dark particles from the sand with magnets, possibly as part of some sort of scientific experiment. I was half right - we went to talk to them, and it turns out the sacks were pillow cases, and the fancy equipment in them were just blown out car speakers they got for free from an auto parts store. They were collecting magnetic sand, which they said had iridium and radium attached to it (on this beach) and it could be used to purify water, or smelted to separate the precious metals. I decided to compare it to searching for buried treasure in the sand with a metal detector, only way cooler.
Over the weekend I drove to Tucson for a birthday event, which included towers of beer taller than a toddler and dangerous amounts of bean dip, as well as a visit to the Tucson zoo to feed a giraffe carrot sticks.
The sand-related part happened (get excited) at NIGHT! We went on a night hike in one of the many parks surrounding the city. I consider this to be the "pretty" kind of desert, the kind with rocky hills and canyons and growing things like cacti and mesquite trees and even a little stream. The moon came up and was so bright it outdid my headlamp, and I could see my shadow clearly on the white, white sand. The wash we walked along shone so brightly in the moonlight, and we were surrounded by those great nighttime noises the bugs and the frogs and the air like to make. It was pretty fantastic.
Along the 8 freeway, which connects San Diego and Tucson, there is a section where one is surrounded on both sides by these massive, beautiful sand dunes. I love the way the wind blows little rippling lines down the slopes, visible even from a speeding car.
So, basically, sand not only featured prevalently in my week, it's also kind of awesome.
Tune in again for my REWIND series, where I fill in the big blank of the past few months.
Saturday, July 14, 2012
What's with that?
There are some things about this continent that are so different from the US, sometimes I just stop and look at something and think "what the heck is up with that?"
The light switches are in weird places. Usually outside of important rooms. Like the bathroom. I don't get it. I have a younger sister, and let me tell you, she would have been all over that light switch at the worst possible moments. She would wait until I was shaving my legs and then plunge me into darkness. Are European children simply better behaved than we are?
The metric system. This one, I like. Why don't we use it? It just makes so much more sense. Temperature, distance, weight. It's all terribly logical. While I generally approve of one's right to stand out from the crowd, I think in this particular case the US needs to get with the program.
Imported American stores/advertisements. What bothers me about this is the fact that a) so many ads are in English (why?) and b) they perpetuate the really stupid stuff that also bugs me at home. If you're trying to sell clothing, why do you have a picture of a shirtless guy in your posters? I mean, I get that sex sells, but is nudity the only way to be sexy? Abercrombie, I'm looking at you here.
A lot of the time when you go to any kind of sit-down cafe or restaurant, you just walk in and sit down and assume someone will come help you. Of course, they do come, because that's how it works here. But it still seems really strange to me.
Black coffee. Why advertise it and then fail to deliver? I know, when in Rome... And I have stuck mostly to the kind of coffee they do well here. Cappuccino, espresso etc. But being away from home for 2 months now, sometimes I just really want a nice cup of black coffee. And when I see it written on a blackboard an uncontrollable hope wells up in me, only to be crushed by yet another Americano.
The light switches are in weird places. Usually outside of important rooms. Like the bathroom. I don't get it. I have a younger sister, and let me tell you, she would have been all over that light switch at the worst possible moments. She would wait until I was shaving my legs and then plunge me into darkness. Are European children simply better behaved than we are?
The metric system. This one, I like. Why don't we use it? It just makes so much more sense. Temperature, distance, weight. It's all terribly logical. While I generally approve of one's right to stand out from the crowd, I think in this particular case the US needs to get with the program.
Imported American stores/advertisements. What bothers me about this is the fact that a) so many ads are in English (why?) and b) they perpetuate the really stupid stuff that also bugs me at home. If you're trying to sell clothing, why do you have a picture of a shirtless guy in your posters? I mean, I get that sex sells, but is nudity the only way to be sexy? Abercrombie, I'm looking at you here.
A lot of the time when you go to any kind of sit-down cafe or restaurant, you just walk in and sit down and assume someone will come help you. Of course, they do come, because that's how it works here. But it still seems really strange to me.
Black coffee. Why advertise it and then fail to deliver? I know, when in Rome... And I have stuck mostly to the kind of coffee they do well here. Cappuccino, espresso etc. But being away from home for 2 months now, sometimes I just really want a nice cup of black coffee. And when I see it written on a blackboard an uncontrollable hope wells up in me, only to be crushed by yet another Americano.
Fire bombed
Today was my one full day in Dresden.
When I left the hostel this morning in search of breakfast, I stumbled on a likely looking bakery and walked in. I was instantly (and pleasantly) assailed by the smell of warm, baked raisins. So it was that I discovered a very particular nostalgia around raisin buns.
In college I lived with my best friends in a total dump, but it was home. It got freezing cold in the winter, and the warmest spot was a nook in the kitchen where we kept the toaster oven. One time, we got a loaf of cinnamon raisin bread, and sat on the counters around the toaster while delicious smells wafted out of it, and spread butter on our toast, and were warm and cozy, and talked, as we often did. It wasn't anything that special in the grand scheme of things, I suppose, but it was a really nice memory as I sat in the park and ate my raisin bun.
I wandered around the flea market for a while. Even though I know it's true, even I find it hard to believe that I've never been to a flea market before. I was surrounded by old buttons, keys, ceramic figurines and tea cups, video games, an old wedding dress, books, records, baby clothes, coins, postage stamps, wooden clocks, silk top hats, typewriters, sets of silver spoons, toy cars, handmade jewelry ranging from incredibly tacky to elegantly lovely, old military badges and medals, tiny cut-crystal glasses, antique spools of thread, a framed painting of a pig, mirrors with beer adverts painted on them, beat-up copper tea kettles and samovars. I even saw one of those special Portuguese guitars used in Fado music. It would take me no time at all to decorate a funky, homey café with items exclusively found at that market.
Then it was time for some quality people-watching. Being a Saturday afternoon in the old town, other tourists were the perfect subjects. I found a spot with an accordion player and singer duo, a cake and coffee special, and a good view of the throngs passing by. Despite the wildly bipolar weather, people were out in droves.
I then went back to the hostel to shower, clean out my bag, and do some laundry. This post is rapidly turning into a play-by-play of my day, but there is a reason I'm writing about this. The thought has crossed my mind that it's a waste of precious time in a city I may never visit again if I spend 2 hours in my hostel rummaging around in my bag. However. When one is on the road, living out of said bag for several months, moving from place to place every few days, and losing one's shampoo in one of those places and failing to replace it for almost a week (FYI face wash makes a very poor substitute for shampoo) there is a lot to be said for having a good long scrub in some relaxing hot water, and throwing away the accumulated maps and pamphlets and trash from one's bag, and telling the receptionist to yes, please, do use hot water on EVERYTHING, and put it ALL in the dryer - even the quick-drying lace underwear, because having all your clothes be clean is so worth some damage done to them (which happens anyways when you're cycling through 4 or 5 days worth).
Is it strange that external cleanliness can make you feel clean on the inside as well? Fresh and new and happy to be alive? Maybe this is an oddity of mine, but I think plenty of you can relate to the feeling.
While walking from the train station to my hostel yesterday, I passed by what appeared to be a wine festival. Stand after stand of wineries selling there wares by the glass or bottle, and plenty of people (mostly ranging from middle-aged to old) sitting and enjoying some nice glasses of wine. I myself am quite partial to wine, and my sister gave me an invaluable piece of advice about restaurants which I assume extends to wine - you know it's good if there are lots of old peoples. So, following that recommendation, feeling fresh and clean, wearing a dress and ready to mingle with an older crowd, I made my way to the wine. Being in Germany, I decided to try a Riesling. Several, in fact. Sweet wine is much better enjoyed on its own, in my opinion, than with any kind of food. Unable to understand any of the German descriptions, I resorted to the point and smile, hoping to encounter another dry Riesling like the amazing one I had in Milan. I ended up with one sparkling Riesling, then a super-sweet one, then one that was professed to be dry by an english-speaking vendor but wasn't at all what I was searching for, at which point I gave up and moved on to my preferred red wine. Even though I didn't find what I was hoping for, all the wines I sampled were quite delightful. There was a consistently generous pouring strategy. 0.1L became 0.15, and this empty-stomached wanderluster soon became even more inclined to see the world through rose-colored glasses.
After more than necessary glasses of wine, I made my way to an art cinema where they showed "The Way", which I had been wanting to see. After that amazing movie experience (seriously, watch this movie), I sat at the bar (inside the cinema) drinking a Spanish wine and reading my newest book-exchange find, when a very interesting German guy struck up a conversation with me. We ended up chatting until almost 4 AM. It's amazing, the fascinating people one meets while traveling.
When I left the hostel this morning in search of breakfast, I stumbled on a likely looking bakery and walked in. I was instantly (and pleasantly) assailed by the smell of warm, baked raisins. So it was that I discovered a very particular nostalgia around raisin buns.
In college I lived with my best friends in a total dump, but it was home. It got freezing cold in the winter, and the warmest spot was a nook in the kitchen where we kept the toaster oven. One time, we got a loaf of cinnamon raisin bread, and sat on the counters around the toaster while delicious smells wafted out of it, and spread butter on our toast, and were warm and cozy, and talked, as we often did. It wasn't anything that special in the grand scheme of things, I suppose, but it was a really nice memory as I sat in the park and ate my raisin bun.
I wandered around the flea market for a while. Even though I know it's true, even I find it hard to believe that I've never been to a flea market before. I was surrounded by old buttons, keys, ceramic figurines and tea cups, video games, an old wedding dress, books, records, baby clothes, coins, postage stamps, wooden clocks, silk top hats, typewriters, sets of silver spoons, toy cars, handmade jewelry ranging from incredibly tacky to elegantly lovely, old military badges and medals, tiny cut-crystal glasses, antique spools of thread, a framed painting of a pig, mirrors with beer adverts painted on them, beat-up copper tea kettles and samovars. I even saw one of those special Portuguese guitars used in Fado music. It would take me no time at all to decorate a funky, homey café with items exclusively found at that market.
Then it was time for some quality people-watching. Being a Saturday afternoon in the old town, other tourists were the perfect subjects. I found a spot with an accordion player and singer duo, a cake and coffee special, and a good view of the throngs passing by. Despite the wildly bipolar weather, people were out in droves.
I then went back to the hostel to shower, clean out my bag, and do some laundry. This post is rapidly turning into a play-by-play of my day, but there is a reason I'm writing about this. The thought has crossed my mind that it's a waste of precious time in a city I may never visit again if I spend 2 hours in my hostel rummaging around in my bag. However. When one is on the road, living out of said bag for several months, moving from place to place every few days, and losing one's shampoo in one of those places and failing to replace it for almost a week (FYI face wash makes a very poor substitute for shampoo) there is a lot to be said for having a good long scrub in some relaxing hot water, and throwing away the accumulated maps and pamphlets and trash from one's bag, and telling the receptionist to yes, please, do use hot water on EVERYTHING, and put it ALL in the dryer - even the quick-drying lace underwear, because having all your clothes be clean is so worth some damage done to them (which happens anyways when you're cycling through 4 or 5 days worth).
Is it strange that external cleanliness can make you feel clean on the inside as well? Fresh and new and happy to be alive? Maybe this is an oddity of mine, but I think plenty of you can relate to the feeling.
While walking from the train station to my hostel yesterday, I passed by what appeared to be a wine festival. Stand after stand of wineries selling there wares by the glass or bottle, and plenty of people (mostly ranging from middle-aged to old) sitting and enjoying some nice glasses of wine. I myself am quite partial to wine, and my sister gave me an invaluable piece of advice about restaurants which I assume extends to wine - you know it's good if there are lots of old peoples. So, following that recommendation, feeling fresh and clean, wearing a dress and ready to mingle with an older crowd, I made my way to the wine. Being in Germany, I decided to try a Riesling. Several, in fact. Sweet wine is much better enjoyed on its own, in my opinion, than with any kind of food. Unable to understand any of the German descriptions, I resorted to the point and smile, hoping to encounter another dry Riesling like the amazing one I had in Milan. I ended up with one sparkling Riesling, then a super-sweet one, then one that was professed to be dry by an english-speaking vendor but wasn't at all what I was searching for, at which point I gave up and moved on to my preferred red wine. Even though I didn't find what I was hoping for, all the wines I sampled were quite delightful. There was a consistently generous pouring strategy. 0.1L became 0.15, and this empty-stomached wanderluster soon became even more inclined to see the world through rose-colored glasses.
After more than necessary glasses of wine, I made my way to an art cinema where they showed "The Way", which I had been wanting to see. After that amazing movie experience (seriously, watch this movie), I sat at the bar (inside the cinema) drinking a Spanish wine and reading my newest book-exchange find, when a very interesting German guy struck up a conversation with me. We ended up chatting until almost 4 AM. It's amazing, the fascinating people one meets while traveling.
Thursday, July 12, 2012
The largest Turkish population outside of Turkey is in...
Berlin
Which means they make a mean döner kebap.
The difference between Berlin and the last few places I've been was almost shocking to me - it seems so... developed? Is that the right word? It's modern, but not in a shiny, new way. In a dirty, grungy, industrial, young way.
Let me start by saying that I absolutely loved the city of Berlin. I was there for 4 days, and I left this afternoon for Dresden (should I be walking around feeling guilty about the firebombing?).
There are several sides to the city that I noticed and experienced. Let's start with the more mainstream touristy stuff:
MUSEUMS
I am a museum person. I have been to so many on this trip so far, and keep thinking I'm going to get tired of them. And I do. But not for long. So, when I say that Berlin had some of the best museums I've seen, I am really saying something. And there are SO MANY of them! There is an entire island with nothing BUT museums on it! Well, there's a cathedral. And a fountain. But that's it.
Let me tell you about the single best deal I have encountered on this trip (an this is including the €40 music festival ticket that should have been almost €100). The Berlin Museum Pass. With a student ID it costs €9.50, and gets you into over 50 museums for 3 days. And not just the crappy museums that nobody has heard of or wants to go to. We're talking top-notch stuff.
Let's work backwards. Today I went to the Jewish museum. Someone opined that it is the best of its kind in all of Europe. I have no objection to this conclusion. This place was awesome - from the architecture of the building to the permanent exhibits to the gardens, it was fantastic. I am comparing it to the House of Terror in Budapest, only because they were so different. House of Terror was essentially just reading a textbook while surrounded with wall-sized images, some video clips, very few physical things. It was certainly am experience, and the atmosphere and music made the information much more poignant, but it really was just a lot of reading and not much else. The Jewish museum, on the other hand, would appeal to anyone who likes museums. It was fantastic. There were many media used, interactive displays and sound bits, artifacts, stories told, photographs displayed, short but interesting plaques (or pull-out drawers or lift-up flaps) about religion, secular Jewish life, how Jewish culture influenced German culture. When you first walk in to the permanent exhibit you can write a wish on a paper pomegranate and hang it from a life-sized tree. There is a vending machine halfway through with kosher Haribo gummy bears. This is a really, truly well-done museum.
I also went to the modern art museum this morning. This is more of a matter of personal taste, but as I often appreciate modern art it was fun for me. There was an interesting exhibit tracing the evolution of art (painting, sculpture and architecture) in Berlin from 1880-1980. Prominently featured was a Chilean artist, Alfredo Jaar, who did some really interesting pieces using light.
Yesterday I poked my head into the Pergamon museum - with my pass I got to skip the outrageously long line, which was an amazing perk, and get straight to the massive stuff inside. This museum was built to house huge altar-pieces and gates and friezes that were dug up in Turkey. We're talking full-sized buildings inside of a building. It was quite strange to see, and while it was all quite beautiful, I couldn't help thinking that even though a German found it, shouldn't they have left it in Turkey?
The Bode museum was my favorite on museum island - it's not one of the big tourist destinations, falling decidedly in the shadows of the Pergamon and the Neues, but I really enjoyed it. Mainly because of one statue (see the photo at the end again) of a dancer. I couldn't actually believe that this girl had been carved. She looks like she grew, already dancing, right out of the marble. I wasn't the only one stopped in my tracks by this dancer. I sat, gazing at her, next to a man doing the same, for a long time.
On my first day I stumbled on this tiny but fascinating exhibit based on found objects in certain sites. The picture doesn't do it any kind of justice, but it was really cool.
Some other classically tourist things I did include climbing 300+ stairs to the top of the cathedral on museum island, which resulted in the best views around, a (very short) visit to the famous (and overly crowded and not at all worth it) Checkpoint Charlie, and a stroll along the longest surviving section of the wall, the East Side Gallery.
The other side of Berlin, which I was incredibly eager to experience, has been labelled "alternative". I can't say I really like that word, but I'll go with it until I think of something better (don't hold your breath). This is the world of the young, lively, vibrant, street-art viewing, squat-house dwelling, pierced and tattooed Berliner, possibly from somewhere else entirely, probably upset about gentrification, and definitely making their presence felt in the city.
"ALTERNATIVE" BERLIN
These aren't the kind of things that are outlined in my guidebook, so I took a walking tour. Yes, this stuff is so important that it has its own walking tour. I would highly recommend it, alternativeberlin.com.
We started (and continued) with a lot of street art. I am really into street art. I believe I've mentioned this before. And probably also told you to watch the movie "Exit Through the Gift Shop" if you have any interest in it whatsoever, because it's really good. Good enough for me to repeatedly tell you about it. Anyways, this is important because Berlin is one of the best cities around for street art. There are whole books full of it. There is an entire memory card in my backpack full of it. Because the city is full of it.
Let me be clear about the difference between street art and graffiti. What one normally thinks of as graffiti, the ugly scrawls, the big letters that are impossible to read, the gang signs etc... that is, in fact, graffiti. Street art is something a little different. It's art that just happens to be in a public place. It also happens to be illegal. But you can find it anywhere - on a wall, the pavement, the back of a road sign. It turns entire cities into public art galleries. And it's always changing.
We went by some former squat houses (I will explain, shortly, the need for the "former"qualifier), a community of people living in caravans and running an urban farm, complete with ponies and goats, and the tree house of an adorable old Turkish man. His story was lovely, so I'm going to share it. When they were building the wall, at some point there was meant to be a corner, but someone decided to save money by building it curved, which left this bit of land that belonged to one side but was actually walled off to the other side. So this patch, which no one could officially use or even set foot on, became a trash heap. Until this guy showed up, and started clearing it out. He planted a garden, and built a little house from found scraps, right around a tree. When the wall came down, a church across the street laid claim to the land so that no one could remove him. And there he stays, to this day, tending his garden and sitting in a lawn chair in the back (sleeping soundly, when we saw him).
I liked the walking tour so much that I decided to do the "anti-pub crawl" hosted by the same group. It was a lot of fun, 6 places, all quite different, none at all like your standard bar/club, not a one playing house music. The first was a 60s bar called yesterday, which just made me think of the Beatles all night. There were stuffed flowers and mushrooms on the ceiling with lady-bug foil-wrapped chocolates attached to them, and multi-colored lights all around. The next bar was a goth/punk place, with skulls for beer taps, red lighting, and cobwebs in the corners. This sounds way cheesier than it was - it was actually pretty cool. But my favorite place we went was a ping pong bar. What the heck is that? one may ask. Well, it's basically just a room with a ping pong table in it. You rent a paddle, and participate in a sort of musical-chairs-esque elimination round where players just circle the table, trying to hit the ball until they miss and are out. This whittles the participants down to 2 very good players who are great fun to watch, until someone wins and the whole thing starts all over again.
Now we get to the sad part. The part where I tell you that if you want to see this awesome, "alternative" Berlin, you better hurry up and do it. Because it probably won't exist for too much longer.
The problem is gentrification. An area becomes popular with young, poor, super cool (in my opinion) people. People with more money see it as a good investment. They buy real estate. Prices go up. More affluent people start to move into the area. They start complaining about noisy clubs, spray-painted walls, people squatting illegally in abandoned buildings. So, gradually, all those things disappear. The funky bars and restaurants become homogenized, the artists camping out in that condemned building get forcibly evicted, more people leave because they can't afford to live there any more. And then it becomes kind of the same as everywhere else.
At first this made me really mad. But then I realized, change just happens. You can't stop it, and you shouldn't really want to - you should just enjoy what's there while it lasts. Make some memories, so when all that's left of those times are photographs and stories we can tell our grandchildren about the good ol' days. And keep an open mind, so you can enjoy the next cool thing, which won't last forever either.
Which means they make a mean döner kebap.
The difference between Berlin and the last few places I've been was almost shocking to me - it seems so... developed? Is that the right word? It's modern, but not in a shiny, new way. In a dirty, grungy, industrial, young way.
Let me start by saying that I absolutely loved the city of Berlin. I was there for 4 days, and I left this afternoon for Dresden (should I be walking around feeling guilty about the firebombing?).
There are several sides to the city that I noticed and experienced. Let's start with the more mainstream touristy stuff:
MUSEUMS
I am a museum person. I have been to so many on this trip so far, and keep thinking I'm going to get tired of them. And I do. But not for long. So, when I say that Berlin had some of the best museums I've seen, I am really saying something. And there are SO MANY of them! There is an entire island with nothing BUT museums on it! Well, there's a cathedral. And a fountain. But that's it.
Let me tell you about the single best deal I have encountered on this trip (an this is including the €40 music festival ticket that should have been almost €100). The Berlin Museum Pass. With a student ID it costs €9.50, and gets you into over 50 museums for 3 days. And not just the crappy museums that nobody has heard of or wants to go to. We're talking top-notch stuff.
Let's work backwards. Today I went to the Jewish museum. Someone opined that it is the best of its kind in all of Europe. I have no objection to this conclusion. This place was awesome - from the architecture of the building to the permanent exhibits to the gardens, it was fantastic. I am comparing it to the House of Terror in Budapest, only because they were so different. House of Terror was essentially just reading a textbook while surrounded with wall-sized images, some video clips, very few physical things. It was certainly am experience, and the atmosphere and music made the information much more poignant, but it really was just a lot of reading and not much else. The Jewish museum, on the other hand, would appeal to anyone who likes museums. It was fantastic. There were many media used, interactive displays and sound bits, artifacts, stories told, photographs displayed, short but interesting plaques (or pull-out drawers or lift-up flaps) about religion, secular Jewish life, how Jewish culture influenced German culture. When you first walk in to the permanent exhibit you can write a wish on a paper pomegranate and hang it from a life-sized tree. There is a vending machine halfway through with kosher Haribo gummy bears. This is a really, truly well-done museum.
I also went to the modern art museum this morning. This is more of a matter of personal taste, but as I often appreciate modern art it was fun for me. There was an interesting exhibit tracing the evolution of art (painting, sculpture and architecture) in Berlin from 1880-1980. Prominently featured was a Chilean artist, Alfredo Jaar, who did some really interesting pieces using light.
Yesterday I poked my head into the Pergamon museum - with my pass I got to skip the outrageously long line, which was an amazing perk, and get straight to the massive stuff inside. This museum was built to house huge altar-pieces and gates and friezes that were dug up in Turkey. We're talking full-sized buildings inside of a building. It was quite strange to see, and while it was all quite beautiful, I couldn't help thinking that even though a German found it, shouldn't they have left it in Turkey?
The Bode museum was my favorite on museum island - it's not one of the big tourist destinations, falling decidedly in the shadows of the Pergamon and the Neues, but I really enjoyed it. Mainly because of one statue (see the photo at the end again) of a dancer. I couldn't actually believe that this girl had been carved. She looks like she grew, already dancing, right out of the marble. I wasn't the only one stopped in my tracks by this dancer. I sat, gazing at her, next to a man doing the same, for a long time.
On my first day I stumbled on this tiny but fascinating exhibit based on found objects in certain sites. The picture doesn't do it any kind of justice, but it was really cool.
Some other classically tourist things I did include climbing 300+ stairs to the top of the cathedral on museum island, which resulted in the best views around, a (very short) visit to the famous (and overly crowded and not at all worth it) Checkpoint Charlie, and a stroll along the longest surviving section of the wall, the East Side Gallery.
The other side of Berlin, which I was incredibly eager to experience, has been labelled "alternative". I can't say I really like that word, but I'll go with it until I think of something better (don't hold your breath). This is the world of the young, lively, vibrant, street-art viewing, squat-house dwelling, pierced and tattooed Berliner, possibly from somewhere else entirely, probably upset about gentrification, and definitely making their presence felt in the city.
"ALTERNATIVE" BERLIN
These aren't the kind of things that are outlined in my guidebook, so I took a walking tour. Yes, this stuff is so important that it has its own walking tour. I would highly recommend it, alternativeberlin.com.
We started (and continued) with a lot of street art. I am really into street art. I believe I've mentioned this before. And probably also told you to watch the movie "Exit Through the Gift Shop" if you have any interest in it whatsoever, because it's really good. Good enough for me to repeatedly tell you about it. Anyways, this is important because Berlin is one of the best cities around for street art. There are whole books full of it. There is an entire memory card in my backpack full of it. Because the city is full of it.
Let me be clear about the difference between street art and graffiti. What one normally thinks of as graffiti, the ugly scrawls, the big letters that are impossible to read, the gang signs etc... that is, in fact, graffiti. Street art is something a little different. It's art that just happens to be in a public place. It also happens to be illegal. But you can find it anywhere - on a wall, the pavement, the back of a road sign. It turns entire cities into public art galleries. And it's always changing.
We went by some former squat houses (I will explain, shortly, the need for the "former"qualifier), a community of people living in caravans and running an urban farm, complete with ponies and goats, and the tree house of an adorable old Turkish man. His story was lovely, so I'm going to share it. When they were building the wall, at some point there was meant to be a corner, but someone decided to save money by building it curved, which left this bit of land that belonged to one side but was actually walled off to the other side. So this patch, which no one could officially use or even set foot on, became a trash heap. Until this guy showed up, and started clearing it out. He planted a garden, and built a little house from found scraps, right around a tree. When the wall came down, a church across the street laid claim to the land so that no one could remove him. And there he stays, to this day, tending his garden and sitting in a lawn chair in the back (sleeping soundly, when we saw him).
I liked the walking tour so much that I decided to do the "anti-pub crawl" hosted by the same group. It was a lot of fun, 6 places, all quite different, none at all like your standard bar/club, not a one playing house music. The first was a 60s bar called yesterday, which just made me think of the Beatles all night. There were stuffed flowers and mushrooms on the ceiling with lady-bug foil-wrapped chocolates attached to them, and multi-colored lights all around. The next bar was a goth/punk place, with skulls for beer taps, red lighting, and cobwebs in the corners. This sounds way cheesier than it was - it was actually pretty cool. But my favorite place we went was a ping pong bar. What the heck is that? one may ask. Well, it's basically just a room with a ping pong table in it. You rent a paddle, and participate in a sort of musical-chairs-esque elimination round where players just circle the table, trying to hit the ball until they miss and are out. This whittles the participants down to 2 very good players who are great fun to watch, until someone wins and the whole thing starts all over again.
Now we get to the sad part. The part where I tell you that if you want to see this awesome, "alternative" Berlin, you better hurry up and do it. Because it probably won't exist for too much longer.
The problem is gentrification. An area becomes popular with young, poor, super cool (in my opinion) people. People with more money see it as a good investment. They buy real estate. Prices go up. More affluent people start to move into the area. They start complaining about noisy clubs, spray-painted walls, people squatting illegally in abandoned buildings. So, gradually, all those things disappear. The funky bars and restaurants become homogenized, the artists camping out in that condemned building get forcibly evicted, more people leave because they can't afford to live there any more. And then it becomes kind of the same as everywhere else.
At first this made me really mad. But then I realized, change just happens. You can't stop it, and you shouldn't really want to - you should just enjoy what's there while it lasts. Make some memories, so when all that's left of those times are photographs and stories we can tell our grandchildren about the good ol' days. And keep an open mind, so you can enjoy the next cool thing, which won't last forever either.
Tuesday, July 10, 2012
My two cents
As I travel, I'm learning all sorts of things I wish I had known before I left, and forming some opinions about how best to enjoy life on the road. I thought I'd share some with you all (these stem from a backpacking through Europe experience, so are accordingly applicable):
Pack way less than you think you need. Enough clothes for 3 days is enough clothes for 3 months. Remember that you have to haul it all around with you.
Unless you are one of those rare people who doesn't sweat and never manages to get dirty, don't pack white clothes.
If you are planning on washing your own clothes, take a sink stopper - or be prepared to pay outrageous sums of money to use a washing machine.
Don't drink a lot of water and 3 cups of coffee first thing in the morning when you're in a city that charges € 1 to use the bathroom.
Be open minded. Try not to have specific expectations. Go with the flow. You'll be much happier.
If you're a girl thinking of traveling alone for the first time, let me tell you - it's not as big a deal as you might think. Just do it.
Often, if you need to pay to use a bathroom, you also need to grab toilet paper in advance.
When buying produce in grocery stores you often have to weigh it yourself unless it's packaged. If you see a number next to the labels, look around for a scale - put in the appropriate number, and it will print a price sticker for you.
Walk. Take a comfortable pair of shoes, and walk whenever possible. It's the best way to get to know a city, and it will allow you to eat delicious local food and drink beer without needing to buy new clothes.
Bring a student ID if you have one. Even if you're not a student, an old card will still work quite often - I've gotten great discounts at hostels and museums with my (expired) ID.
If you're into museums, it's worth looking at hours etc. ahead of time - many have free entry one or more days of the week or after a certain time, and some multi-museum passes (especially the one in Berlin) are really worth it, particularly when combined with a student discount.
While you're walking, stay out of the bike lane. There are lanes for a reason. It's just better for everyone.
Unless you're really pressed for time, don't take night trains. Train travel is a pleasure, and looking out the window in the daytime affords beautiful views and a good look at what goes in-between cities.
If you love to read, take one book and trade it out at book exchanges in hostels. It's a great way to keep your packing light and potentially discover something great you didn't know about before (I read my first Salman Rushdie novel as a result of a book exchange).
Avoid wearing obviously brand-name clothing (especially guys) as in some countries or cities certain brands are akin to gang signs or sandwich boards reading "I'm a hooligan". This goes for sports brands and the fancier stuff - check out what happened with Burberry in the UK.
A few thoughts about hostels:
The variety of hostels out there is huge, so it's really important to know what you're looking for and to be careful when booking. In my opinion, there are two broad hostel categories: small and personal, or large and commercial. If what you're interested is a cheap version of a hotel, go for the large-scale hostels. If you want more of a community backpacker feel, definitely aim for smaller places.
I am personally a fan of the small hostels. 30 beds or less, with a good common room, kitchen, and nice staff.
In my opinion, where you stay is just as important as what you see and what you eat while traveling, because it has the potential to introduce you to some amazing people and a lot of fun you may not otherwise have had. Some personal hostel recommendations I have are: Poet's Corner in Olomouc, Czech Republic; Ginger Monkey in Ždiar, Slovakia; and Elephant's Castle in Trenčin, Slovakia. The beautiful thing about finding one great hostel is that you start hearing about others from your fellow guests and from the staff. I take these recommendations seriously, and I haven't been disappointed yet.
Pack way less than you think you need. Enough clothes for 3 days is enough clothes for 3 months. Remember that you have to haul it all around with you.
Unless you are one of those rare people who doesn't sweat and never manages to get dirty, don't pack white clothes.
If you are planning on washing your own clothes, take a sink stopper - or be prepared to pay outrageous sums of money to use a washing machine.
Don't drink a lot of water and 3 cups of coffee first thing in the morning when you're in a city that charges € 1 to use the bathroom.
Be open minded. Try not to have specific expectations. Go with the flow. You'll be much happier.
If you're a girl thinking of traveling alone for the first time, let me tell you - it's not as big a deal as you might think. Just do it.
Often, if you need to pay to use a bathroom, you also need to grab toilet paper in advance.
When buying produce in grocery stores you often have to weigh it yourself unless it's packaged. If you see a number next to the labels, look around for a scale - put in the appropriate number, and it will print a price sticker for you.
Walk. Take a comfortable pair of shoes, and walk whenever possible. It's the best way to get to know a city, and it will allow you to eat delicious local food and drink beer without needing to buy new clothes.
Bring a student ID if you have one. Even if you're not a student, an old card will still work quite often - I've gotten great discounts at hostels and museums with my (expired) ID.
If you're into museums, it's worth looking at hours etc. ahead of time - many have free entry one or more days of the week or after a certain time, and some multi-museum passes (especially the one in Berlin) are really worth it, particularly when combined with a student discount.
While you're walking, stay out of the bike lane. There are lanes for a reason. It's just better for everyone.
Unless you're really pressed for time, don't take night trains. Train travel is a pleasure, and looking out the window in the daytime affords beautiful views and a good look at what goes in-between cities.
If you love to read, take one book and trade it out at book exchanges in hostels. It's a great way to keep your packing light and potentially discover something great you didn't know about before (I read my first Salman Rushdie novel as a result of a book exchange).
Avoid wearing obviously brand-name clothing (especially guys) as in some countries or cities certain brands are akin to gang signs or sandwich boards reading "I'm a hooligan". This goes for sports brands and the fancier stuff - check out what happened with Burberry in the UK.
A few thoughts about hostels:
The variety of hostels out there is huge, so it's really important to know what you're looking for and to be careful when booking. In my opinion, there are two broad hostel categories: small and personal, or large and commercial. If what you're interested is a cheap version of a hotel, go for the large-scale hostels. If you want more of a community backpacker feel, definitely aim for smaller places.
I am personally a fan of the small hostels. 30 beds or less, with a good common room, kitchen, and nice staff.
In my opinion, where you stay is just as important as what you see and what you eat while traveling, because it has the potential to introduce you to some amazing people and a lot of fun you may not otherwise have had. Some personal hostel recommendations I have are: Poet's Corner in Olomouc, Czech Republic; Ginger Monkey in Ždiar, Slovakia; and Elephant's Castle in Trenčin, Slovakia. The beautiful thing about finding one great hostel is that you start hearing about others from your fellow guests and from the staff. I take these recommendations seriously, and I haven't been disappointed yet.
Slovenska
I have been spending much more time than I initially anticipated in Slovakia - and it has all been marvelous fun.
I went to a tiny town called Banská Štiavnica (home of ERB beer and pickled cheese), and enjoyed the beautiful views and the hourly music-box-esque concert emanating from one of the church steeples. It was very relaxing. One of my favorite moments was sitting on an obliging wall for several hours, just soaking it all in.
Then I went to Ždiar, a village in the High Tatras mountains of Slovakia, right next to the Polish border. The Ginger Monkey hostel there was absolutely fantastic, full of fun people, beer taken straight from the fridge and tallied up on an honor system, a hammock with a perfect view of the mountains, and a happy dog named Wally. The main attraction here is the hiking, so I did a 7-hour trek up the saddle trail, into a (literally) breathtaking alpine meadow, then down to some gorgeous lakes and a forest that could have sprouted overnight from the pages of a fairy tale.
*I am writing this from my phone and formatting options are limited, so please find photos at the end of the post*
The best part of the hike, for me, was the abundance of wildflowers. I can confidently say, without the slightest whisper of hyperbole, that I saw over 100 species throughout the day. It was the most spectacular sight, the rolling grass peppered with thousands of tiny, perfect specimens of every different color. There were even multiple shades of blue represented, which blew my mind since true blue is not an easy color to find in vegetation.
The variety of fly species present was also quite stunning - high altitude ecosystems often rely on Diptera as pollinators, and it was fascinating to witness that first hand. Also expletive-inducing at times, as some of those flies have a mighty painful bite.
My next foray into Slovakia was to Trenčin, to see the town and Bažant Pohoda, a music festival. I stayed at a new hostel there called Elephant's Castle - my friend and I were the very first guests, and I have to say it was quite an honor. The individuals running it have worked at and stayed in hostels for years, and they really are doing it right. None of this industrial, impersonal crap that so many places have become. They know that it's all about community and meeting new people, sharing experiences and enjoying travel. Our first night they cooked us dinner and we ate on the terrace with a view looking right up to the castle - the terrace is the best feature of the premises.
The town of Trenčin is quite lovely, nice and small and quiet, watched over by the huge castle, right next to a river where you can go swimming (at night, even, which is what we did to celebrate the hostel's opening). And, for 3 days every year, it is home to a sweet music festival.
Bažant Pohoda means chilled-out pheasant in Slovak. I suppose it depends on how one approaches these sorts of things, but I found it to be an apt name. I had so much fun, discovered some new bands, and was generally chill and relaxed.
To give you an idea of the eclectic mix of music at this festival, here is a list of the groups/people I saw:
Plastic People of the Universe (a Czech group)
Lou Reed
Caribou
Two Door Cinema Club
The Heavy
Villagers
Eskmo (this guy was a human personification of the essence of LA)
Kasabian
Orbital
Anna Calvi
Emiliana Torrini (my single favorite act, she was incredible)
Warpaint
The Kooks
Public Enemy (to be fair, I only saw a couple songs before I laid down in the grass outside the open-sided tent with the intention of listening but the result of sleeping soundly through the entire set (which went an hour over schedule).)
Some things that really surprised me about the festival were how relatively clean it was (they had a slew of volunteers in orange vests picking up trash and a deal with the beer stands that anyone who brought in half a meter of stacked cups could get half a liter of beer in exchange) and how on-time everything was. Public Enemy was the only group I saw that went over their slot by more than a minute or two, and everyone started right on time as well.
There was so much more going on in addition to the music.
There was a silent disco every night, which I had never heard of before but enjoyed thoroughly. No music is playing inside - instead, you're handed a pair of huge headphones with two channels when you walk in. There are two DJs playing, and you can switch between them at your leisure. This leads to everyone listening to, dancing to, and singing along to different music - which is incredibly entertaining to see. I took of my headphones several times to listen to the crowd singing along and dancing in the music-less dome, it was quite a sight.
They had movies projected onto a makeshift sheet-screen late at night (Midnight in Paris was awesome), tents set up for poetry and literary discussions, classical music concerts, tea-houses with carpets and cushions and low tables to set a hookah pipe on, showers for those camping out, a communal art station with paint and canvases available to anyone walking by, a massive row of foosball tables and, of course, massive amounts of festival food.
When I left Sunday morning the train station looked a bit like a refugee camp - hungover festival goers, looking miserable in the heat, curled up on any available patch of platform, some laying on sleeping mats, some sprawled out on top of backpacks and camping equipment, and so many of them that they spilled out the door and down the street to the park. My train was so crowded that I couldn't get a seat and ended up crouched next to the WC for my 2 hour ride. It was, all in all, a fantastic weekend, marred only by the sadness of saying goodbye to Monica and Viktor of Elephant's Castle.
I went to a tiny town called Banská Štiavnica (home of ERB beer and pickled cheese), and enjoyed the beautiful views and the hourly music-box-esque concert emanating from one of the church steeples. It was very relaxing. One of my favorite moments was sitting on an obliging wall for several hours, just soaking it all in.
Then I went to Ždiar, a village in the High Tatras mountains of Slovakia, right next to the Polish border. The Ginger Monkey hostel there was absolutely fantastic, full of fun people, beer taken straight from the fridge and tallied up on an honor system, a hammock with a perfect view of the mountains, and a happy dog named Wally. The main attraction here is the hiking, so I did a 7-hour trek up the saddle trail, into a (literally) breathtaking alpine meadow, then down to some gorgeous lakes and a forest that could have sprouted overnight from the pages of a fairy tale.
*I am writing this from my phone and formatting options are limited, so please find photos at the end of the post*
The best part of the hike, for me, was the abundance of wildflowers. I can confidently say, without the slightest whisper of hyperbole, that I saw over 100 species throughout the day. It was the most spectacular sight, the rolling grass peppered with thousands of tiny, perfect specimens of every different color. There were even multiple shades of blue represented, which blew my mind since true blue is not an easy color to find in vegetation.
The variety of fly species present was also quite stunning - high altitude ecosystems often rely on Diptera as pollinators, and it was fascinating to witness that first hand. Also expletive-inducing at times, as some of those flies have a mighty painful bite.
My next foray into Slovakia was to Trenčin, to see the town and Bažant Pohoda, a music festival. I stayed at a new hostel there called Elephant's Castle - my friend and I were the very first guests, and I have to say it was quite an honor. The individuals running it have worked at and stayed in hostels for years, and they really are doing it right. None of this industrial, impersonal crap that so many places have become. They know that it's all about community and meeting new people, sharing experiences and enjoying travel. Our first night they cooked us dinner and we ate on the terrace with a view looking right up to the castle - the terrace is the best feature of the premises.
The town of Trenčin is quite lovely, nice and small and quiet, watched over by the huge castle, right next to a river where you can go swimming (at night, even, which is what we did to celebrate the hostel's opening). And, for 3 days every year, it is home to a sweet music festival.
Bažant Pohoda means chilled-out pheasant in Slovak. I suppose it depends on how one approaches these sorts of things, but I found it to be an apt name. I had so much fun, discovered some new bands, and was generally chill and relaxed.
To give you an idea of the eclectic mix of music at this festival, here is a list of the groups/people I saw:
Plastic People of the Universe (a Czech group)
Lou Reed
Caribou
Two Door Cinema Club
The Heavy
Villagers
Eskmo (this guy was a human personification of the essence of LA)
Kasabian
Orbital
Anna Calvi
Emiliana Torrini (my single favorite act, she was incredible)
Warpaint
The Kooks
Public Enemy (to be fair, I only saw a couple songs before I laid down in the grass outside the open-sided tent with the intention of listening but the result of sleeping soundly through the entire set (which went an hour over schedule).)
Some things that really surprised me about the festival were how relatively clean it was (they had a slew of volunteers in orange vests picking up trash and a deal with the beer stands that anyone who brought in half a meter of stacked cups could get half a liter of beer in exchange) and how on-time everything was. Public Enemy was the only group I saw that went over their slot by more than a minute or two, and everyone started right on time as well.
There was so much more going on in addition to the music.
There was a silent disco every night, which I had never heard of before but enjoyed thoroughly. No music is playing inside - instead, you're handed a pair of huge headphones with two channels when you walk in. There are two DJs playing, and you can switch between them at your leisure. This leads to everyone listening to, dancing to, and singing along to different music - which is incredibly entertaining to see. I took of my headphones several times to listen to the crowd singing along and dancing in the music-less dome, it was quite a sight.
They had movies projected onto a makeshift sheet-screen late at night (Midnight in Paris was awesome), tents set up for poetry and literary discussions, classical music concerts, tea-houses with carpets and cushions and low tables to set a hookah pipe on, showers for those camping out, a communal art station with paint and canvases available to anyone walking by, a massive row of foosball tables and, of course, massive amounts of festival food.
When I left Sunday morning the train station looked a bit like a refugee camp - hungover festival goers, looking miserable in the heat, curled up on any available patch of platform, some laying on sleeping mats, some sprawled out on top of backpacks and camping equipment, and so many of them that they spilled out the door and down the street to the park. My train was so crowded that I couldn't get a seat and ended up crouched next to the WC for my 2 hour ride. It was, all in all, a fantastic weekend, marred only by the sadness of saying goodbye to Monica and Viktor of Elephant's Castle.
Thursday, June 28, 2012
Beer, glorious beer
I think there are two kinds of people in the world when it comes to food, and I have found the perfect way to distinguish between them.
Tonight I ate at a fantastic brewery called ERB. I started with a cheese dish recommended to me by the lovely owner of Hostel 6, where I'm staying. Google translated it as pickled, the menu as "spicy", but it is some sort of marinated cheese, covered in pickled onions and marinated peppers and served on a bed of oily goodness.
This, my friends, is pickled Camembert:
Now, when it comes to food, you are either the kind of person to whom that sounds delicious, or not. That's it.
In case you couldn't tell, I thought it was magnificent. And that was just the start.
I had 3 courses and 3 beers. Big time splurging going on over here, but oh man was it worth it (especially at less than 2€ a beer).
First, the basic lager with the pickled cheese.
Next, the dark, smokey stout, with garlic soup and croutons (described on the menu as fried bread, which I suppose is quite accurate).
And finally, the dessert - "pancakes" with warm raspberry sauce and whipped cream, and a Weizen beer, which the waiter kindly suggested to me several times as a beer very good for women. I didn't have the heart to tell his smiling, eager face that I will take a stout over a hefeweizen any day.
This is hardly the first time I've encountered this opinion either - people seem to think that women don't like beer, or if they do they prefer blonde beers. I went on a date once when I ordered a dark beer, and the guy ordered a Riesling. For those who don't know, that's a generally very sweet white wine. The server who brought the drinks gave me the wine and he the beer. What's with the assumptions? I know plenty of girls who like beer as much as I do.
To be fair, the Weizen was particularly wonderful for a beer of its type. It was subtle without being boring, with a light and refreshing flavor and a very slight sweetness reminiscent of citrus (but not oozing that lemony, orangey taste like some beers do).
But, back to the point (which is the description of this experience, in great detail, so you can understand exactly why I have devoted an entire post to one meal).
Shiny, massive copper devices used in the production of beer and warm wooden tables filled the room, with little vases of tiny purple flowers, which make me happy both because they remind me of lavender and because this is a plant that bees flock to, and walking by a bush of it in Boulder in the summer sounds like walking by a beehive. There were sconces lining the walls with little likenesses of men, and a flared metal piece above, covered in 3D etchings of the town.
I immediately noticed the music. First, "Love Walked In", followed by "Jeepers Creepers". At one point the DJ bellowed "Radio Swing Worldwide! Hits from the 30s and 40s! Listeners in over 100 countries!" but even his overly chipper voice just made me glad that there was more of the same coming up. And I wasn't disappointed, as next came a rendition by Bing Crosby and the Andrews Sisters (I believe) of "Is You Is or Is You Ain't My Baby" which I loved and had never heard before.
I was so perfectly content in this place.
Tonight I ate at a fantastic brewery called ERB. I started with a cheese dish recommended to me by the lovely owner of Hostel 6, where I'm staying. Google translated it as pickled, the menu as "spicy", but it is some sort of marinated cheese, covered in pickled onions and marinated peppers and served on a bed of oily goodness.
This, my friends, is pickled Camembert:
Now, when it comes to food, you are either the kind of person to whom that sounds delicious, or not. That's it.
In case you couldn't tell, I thought it was magnificent. And that was just the start.
I had 3 courses and 3 beers. Big time splurging going on over here, but oh man was it worth it (especially at less than 2€ a beer).
First, the basic lager with the pickled cheese.
Next, the dark, smokey stout, with garlic soup and croutons (described on the menu as fried bread, which I suppose is quite accurate).
And finally, the dessert - "pancakes" with warm raspberry sauce and whipped cream, and a Weizen beer, which the waiter kindly suggested to me several times as a beer very good for women. I didn't have the heart to tell his smiling, eager face that I will take a stout over a hefeweizen any day.
This is hardly the first time I've encountered this opinion either - people seem to think that women don't like beer, or if they do they prefer blonde beers. I went on a date once when I ordered a dark beer, and the guy ordered a Riesling. For those who don't know, that's a generally very sweet white wine. The server who brought the drinks gave me the wine and he the beer. What's with the assumptions? I know plenty of girls who like beer as much as I do.
To be fair, the Weizen was particularly wonderful for a beer of its type. It was subtle without being boring, with a light and refreshing flavor and a very slight sweetness reminiscent of citrus (but not oozing that lemony, orangey taste like some beers do).
But, back to the point (which is the description of this experience, in great detail, so you can understand exactly why I have devoted an entire post to one meal).
Shiny, massive copper devices used in the production of beer and warm wooden tables filled the room, with little vases of tiny purple flowers, which make me happy both because they remind me of lavender and because this is a plant that bees flock to, and walking by a bush of it in Boulder in the summer sounds like walking by a beehive. There were sconces lining the walls with little likenesses of men, and a flared metal piece above, covered in 3D etchings of the town.
I immediately noticed the music. First, "Love Walked In", followed by "Jeepers Creepers". At one point the DJ bellowed "Radio Swing Worldwide! Hits from the 30s and 40s! Listeners in over 100 countries!" but even his overly chipper voice just made me glad that there was more of the same coming up. And I wasn't disappointed, as next came a rendition by Bing Crosby and the Andrews Sisters (I believe) of "Is You Is or Is You Ain't My Baby" which I loved and had never heard before.
I was so perfectly content in this place.
Wednesday, June 27, 2012
actually *gulp* leave Olomouc?
Well, I did it, but I didn't like it. I left Olomouc. Yesterday afternoon. I waited until the last train that would get me to Banská Štiavnica (in Slovakia) at a reasonable hour. I waited until the last reasonable minute to leave the hostel and head towards the tram that would take me to train station. I had bad timing, and had to wait 10 minutes for the next tram, every one of which I used gazing longingly towards the hostel (which I knew had available beds that night) and waging an internal war. But I forced myself to get on the tram. Then the train. Then another train, and another one. And it was beautiful out the windows, I listened to some great podcasts and looked at the scenery and chatted with a nice guy who I had met at the hostel and happened to be going my direction for a while. But it wasn't nearly as pleasant as other train rides have been. Not even a juicy apple could sweeten my mood. Nope, there was nothing for it. I would have to go back, I decided. Leaving just felt wrong, no two way about it. So I booked a couple more nights, and after I romp around the high and low Tatras for a bit I will return! The feeling of relief is quite tangible. Now I can really enjoy my next train ride.
I really wonder at this, because I had no trouble at all leaving San Francisco. I think it's because, financial considerations aside, it will be leaps and bounds easier to move there than to a city none of my friends or family have ever heard of in Czech Republic. There is nothing in the way of San Francisco, no chance it won't happen for logistical reasons (again, we're ignoring money matters for the moment). But moving to Europe is another story - while I know I will make it happen, it simultaneously seems so much more likely to not happen. What if leaving is for good? Or what if I end up waiting 3, 4, 5 years to come back?
Anyways, I know I'll have to leave Olomouc again, and it will most likely be very difficult again, but there are still other places to go and things to be seen, and the whole town isn't going to grow legs and walk away any time soon.
I really wonder at this, because I had no trouble at all leaving San Francisco. I think it's because, financial considerations aside, it will be leaps and bounds easier to move there than to a city none of my friends or family have ever heard of in Czech Republic. There is nothing in the way of San Francisco, no chance it won't happen for logistical reasons (again, we're ignoring money matters for the moment). But moving to Europe is another story - while I know I will make it happen, it simultaneously seems so much more likely to not happen. What if leaving is for good? Or what if I end up waiting 3, 4, 5 years to come back?
Anyways, I know I'll have to leave Olomouc again, and it will most likely be very difficult again, but there are still other places to go and things to be seen, and the whole town isn't going to grow legs and walk away any time soon.
What did the tomato say to the hot dog?
Part I: Ketchup with you later!
So this blogging thing isn't going quite how I thought it would. I feel a bit like I'm playing catch-up all the time. So, no more of that. There's no need for me to write a whole post about every single place I go.
Right now I'm in Olomouc, Czech Republic. I came here from Kraków kind of randomly. The friend I was traveling with decided to head home early and skip Prague, so on our last day he was figuring out his flight and I was browsing the wall of hostel pamphlets, looking for a fun place to stay in Prague. One caught my eye because of the name - Poet's Corner Hostel. It was in Czech Republic, which was the right direction, and I really liked the name. So, why not? I booked a few nights and headed here on Friday. After 24 hours, I extended my booking. And today, my last day, I don't want to leave.
Part II: A Sunday Kind of Love
You know that person - everyone knew one, maybe in high school - who is constantly fickle in love, enamored with someon new every week? I'm like that. Only with cities. And languages. Everywhere I go, I say "oh yeah, I could live here." I fell madly in love with Portugal and Portuguese, Italian, Vienna and (amazingly) German, Ljubljana and ALL the Slavic languages, Budapest and Hungarian (the difficulty of learning Hungarian just makes it more appealing). The problem is that I fall in love with these places, decide I want to live there and learn the language, but fail to fall out of love with any of them.
I considered this to be both a good and bad thing - can't have it all, but making at least one work is more likely. So I figured I could find a job in my field after grad school and, depending where one was available, live somewhere in Europe for a couple years. Perfect.
But then I came to Olomouc. Have you heard the song Sunday Kind of Love? It goes like this (hear Etta James singing it, if at all possible):
"I want a Sunday kind of love
A love to last past Saturday night
And I'd like to know it's more than love at first sight
And I want a Sunday kind of love"
Olomouc is my Sunday. I don't know how exactly it's going to happen yet, but I am doggedly determined to live here.
Part III: Scavenger Hunt
I can't explain to you why Olomouc is so special to me. I don't suppose very many other people would have the reaction I did, but it really is a nice place to visit by anybody's standards, and deserves a detour if one is going to Prague or another famous city in the environs.
The hostel I stayed at is the only one in the city. Called Poet's Corner, it is geared towards individuals who would rather read a book in one of the many very comfortable chairs than stumble in at 5AM and vomit on one of them. And they have been quite successful in attracting those calmer types of people. I can very confidently say that it is the best hostel I have ever stayed in. Very clean, cozy, full of interesting and considerate guests, and amazing staff. Their book exchange library is the best I've encountered, and they have several large books of staff-compiled information on places to eat and drink, things to see and do, daytrips to take, cycling routes to consider etc. They also have a local scavenger hunt. 9 things around the historic center that, if you can find and identify them, will earn you a free night. Which of course means it's very difficult. I found 2. But, in the searching, I noticed many lovely things I would otherwise have missed. The staff are (I cannot overstate this) absolutley incredible, really nice and interesting people who often say "I'm going out for a drink after the last check-in arrives, would anyone like to join?" This is how I managed to "go out" for a few relaxed drinks every single night I stayed, and get to know some pretty incredible individuals. If you are ever heading towards the Czech Republic, you should definitely pay this place a visit.
Beyond the wonderful hostel, Olomouc is a great place. It's a university town, 25% of the population is students, and there's a very charming and laid-back historic center surrounded by equally fascinating and even LESS touristy bits. There are a lot of gorgeous parks (or maybe few but large and meandering?), one of which runs along the old city walls and feels a bit wild and unkept (a bit, mind you, but enough to make it really delightful).
There are quite a lot of churches and towers and fountains and monuments and statues and lovely things like that - and they're all free, which is nice. One fountain in patricular, Arion fountain in the main square, is absolutely enchanting. I literally could not take enough photos of it. I also wound up with dozens of pictures of street art, of which there are many great examples in Olomouc.
The cafes (and food in general) are delicious, and several microbreweries produce some very tasty beers. A fairly extensive selection of teahouses, where one can sit on comfy cushions on the floor and drink tea or smoke hookah for hours, provide an excellent place to relax with friends or read a book.
There are several museums, which are free on Sundays and Wednesdays, and the Modern Art Museum is quite nice, with frequently rotating exhibits. I went to see the František Skála exhibit they had, and was just blown away. This guy is super creative, I couldn't believe the kind of materials he worked with, and I really enjoyed it all.
This is kind of frustrating because I can't adequately describe how great this place is - I think you're going to have to trust me on this one.
Part IV: Sponteneity Revealed
It dawned on me that going to Olomouc was the first really spontaneous thing I've done on this trip. I guess I'm kind of growing into my title in more ways than one. I guess when I thought of it, it was more that the feeling of wanderlust had spontaneously hit me, sort of out of the blue. But now I'm actually being more spontaneous in my travels, which, I am discovering, just makes everything better.
Thanks to some of the marvelous people I met, I found out about two towns (perhaps one could even call them villages) in Slovakia, where I am going next. It's fairly liberating to just decide one morning you're going to another country and be there that night.
Part V: Wait, didn't you go to Poland?
Why yes, I did! And, interestingly enough, it was the one city I've been so far that I had absolutely no desire to live in. I did like it, however, very much. There were a lot of beautiful things to look at and delicious food to eat. But the gem of Krakow, in my opinion, was the people watching. It was, far and away, the best I've ever experienced. Poland and Ukraine are co-hosting the EuroCup games (semi-finals coming up!) and there was a lot of general revelry surrounding the games, though none were actually played in Krakow. The huge main square was the highlight of my experience - all the restaurants ringing it have large outdoor seating areas, so it was very pleasant to just pick one with a good view, get a beer, and watch the people go by for an hour or two. Another highlight was St. Francis church, which features quite a lot of art from a particular Polish art movement called Moda Polska (apparently the local answer to art deco?). I really enjoyed the stained glass windows, and the entire interior was just beautiful. It was also blissfully empty and cool on a sweltering day, so it was doubly enjoyable to sit and soak in the surroundings for a while.
So this blogging thing isn't going quite how I thought it would. I feel a bit like I'm playing catch-up all the time. So, no more of that. There's no need for me to write a whole post about every single place I go.
Right now I'm in Olomouc, Czech Republic. I came here from Kraków kind of randomly. The friend I was traveling with decided to head home early and skip Prague, so on our last day he was figuring out his flight and I was browsing the wall of hostel pamphlets, looking for a fun place to stay in Prague. One caught my eye because of the name - Poet's Corner Hostel. It was in Czech Republic, which was the right direction, and I really liked the name. So, why not? I booked a few nights and headed here on Friday. After 24 hours, I extended my booking. And today, my last day, I don't want to leave.
Part II: A Sunday Kind of Love
You know that person - everyone knew one, maybe in high school - who is constantly fickle in love, enamored with someon new every week? I'm like that. Only with cities. And languages. Everywhere I go, I say "oh yeah, I could live here." I fell madly in love with Portugal and Portuguese, Italian, Vienna and (amazingly) German, Ljubljana and ALL the Slavic languages, Budapest and Hungarian (the difficulty of learning Hungarian just makes it more appealing). The problem is that I fall in love with these places, decide I want to live there and learn the language, but fail to fall out of love with any of them.
I considered this to be both a good and bad thing - can't have it all, but making at least one work is more likely. So I figured I could find a job in my field after grad school and, depending where one was available, live somewhere in Europe for a couple years. Perfect.
But then I came to Olomouc. Have you heard the song Sunday Kind of Love? It goes like this (hear Etta James singing it, if at all possible):
"I want a Sunday kind of love
A love to last past Saturday night
And I'd like to know it's more than love at first sight
And I want a Sunday kind of love"
Olomouc is my Sunday. I don't know how exactly it's going to happen yet, but I am doggedly determined to live here.
Part III: Scavenger Hunt
I can't explain to you why Olomouc is so special to me. I don't suppose very many other people would have the reaction I did, but it really is a nice place to visit by anybody's standards, and deserves a detour if one is going to Prague or another famous city in the environs.
The hostel I stayed at is the only one in the city. Called Poet's Corner, it is geared towards individuals who would rather read a book in one of the many very comfortable chairs than stumble in at 5AM and vomit on one of them. And they have been quite successful in attracting those calmer types of people. I can very confidently say that it is the best hostel I have ever stayed in. Very clean, cozy, full of interesting and considerate guests, and amazing staff. Their book exchange library is the best I've encountered, and they have several large books of staff-compiled information on places to eat and drink, things to see and do, daytrips to take, cycling routes to consider etc. They also have a local scavenger hunt. 9 things around the historic center that, if you can find and identify them, will earn you a free night. Which of course means it's very difficult. I found 2. But, in the searching, I noticed many lovely things I would otherwise have missed. The staff are (I cannot overstate this) absolutley incredible, really nice and interesting people who often say "I'm going out for a drink after the last check-in arrives, would anyone like to join?" This is how I managed to "go out" for a few relaxed drinks every single night I stayed, and get to know some pretty incredible individuals. If you are ever heading towards the Czech Republic, you should definitely pay this place a visit.
Beyond the wonderful hostel, Olomouc is a great place. It's a university town, 25% of the population is students, and there's a very charming and laid-back historic center surrounded by equally fascinating and even LESS touristy bits. There are a lot of gorgeous parks (or maybe few but large and meandering?), one of which runs along the old city walls and feels a bit wild and unkept (a bit, mind you, but enough to make it really delightful).
There are quite a lot of churches and towers and fountains and monuments and statues and lovely things like that - and they're all free, which is nice. One fountain in patricular, Arion fountain in the main square, is absolutely enchanting. I literally could not take enough photos of it. I also wound up with dozens of pictures of street art, of which there are many great examples in Olomouc.
The cafes (and food in general) are delicious, and several microbreweries produce some very tasty beers. A fairly extensive selection of teahouses, where one can sit on comfy cushions on the floor and drink tea or smoke hookah for hours, provide an excellent place to relax with friends or read a book.
There are several museums, which are free on Sundays and Wednesdays, and the Modern Art Museum is quite nice, with frequently rotating exhibits. I went to see the František Skála exhibit they had, and was just blown away. This guy is super creative, I couldn't believe the kind of materials he worked with, and I really enjoyed it all.
This is kind of frustrating because I can't adequately describe how great this place is - I think you're going to have to trust me on this one.
Part IV: Sponteneity Revealed
It dawned on me that going to Olomouc was the first really spontaneous thing I've done on this trip. I guess I'm kind of growing into my title in more ways than one. I guess when I thought of it, it was more that the feeling of wanderlust had spontaneously hit me, sort of out of the blue. But now I'm actually being more spontaneous in my travels, which, I am discovering, just makes everything better.
Thanks to some of the marvelous people I met, I found out about two towns (perhaps one could even call them villages) in Slovakia, where I am going next. It's fairly liberating to just decide one morning you're going to another country and be there that night.
Part V: Wait, didn't you go to Poland?
Why yes, I did! And, interestingly enough, it was the one city I've been so far that I had absolutely no desire to live in. I did like it, however, very much. There were a lot of beautiful things to look at and delicious food to eat. But the gem of Krakow, in my opinion, was the people watching. It was, far and away, the best I've ever experienced. Poland and Ukraine are co-hosting the EuroCup games (semi-finals coming up!) and there was a lot of general revelry surrounding the games, though none were actually played in Krakow. The huge main square was the highlight of my experience - all the restaurants ringing it have large outdoor seating areas, so it was very pleasant to just pick one with a good view, get a beer, and watch the people go by for an hour or two. Another highlight was St. Francis church, which features quite a lot of art from a particular Polish art movement called Moda Polska (apparently the local answer to art deco?). I really enjoyed the stained glass windows, and the entire interior was just beautiful. It was also blissfully empty and cool on a sweltering day, so it was doubly enjoyable to sit and soak in the surroundings for a while.
Monday, June 25, 2012
Anatomical Amazement
One of the things I've been doing on this trip is learning a bit about photography. I had never before taken a class or anything like that - all I could do was point a little digital camera (or cell phone) at something and push a button and voila! There you have a photograph!
But with the knowledge that I would be alone for most of my trip and there would be no one there to snap shots of me holding up the tower of Pisa (yes, I confess to such levels of cheesiness, but really, you kind of have to do it) I decided to focus on taking beautiful pictures of non-human subjects. And for that, I reasoned, I would need a better camera.
So I've been running around with an intro-level dSLR in my purse, trying to grow into it and make the most of it, and having a grand old time in the process.
A side effect of my new hobby is a heightened appreciation of photography in general. Now that I've tried to do it, I get how much work and knowledge goes into getting some of those great shots I've looked at in the past and thought "that's nice". Note that I'm not professing some sort of great technical or artistic understanding of photography here, just that by trying to do it myself I appreciate it so much more.
Another result of trying to take better photos is an appreciation of human anatomy. I can look at something incredibly beautiful that just takes my breath away, but when I take a photo it just won't look the way I see it. I took dozens and dozens of photos with varying settings trying to capture the slanting sunlight through the trees in the evening that was illuminating (almost to the point of making them sparkle) hundreds of tiny flies. Now, I have seen things like that presented on film before. I know it's possible to capture it adequately with a camera. But my relatively sophisticated (for a complete amateur like me) lens etc. was still having trouble with it.
It may sound like I'm complaining about the failings of my camera here - I assure you I'm not. I fully know it's my inability to use it properly that leads to these difficulties. What I really want to point out is how effing amazing it is what we can see, and how quickly we see it. Our eyes and our brains are so perfectly evolved to convert the world around us to images, essentially changing settings automatically so we can see in different amounts and types of light. This, to me, is incredible.
So, I conclude, to have a broader and deeper appreciation of the world both around and (sometimes) within you, you have to try new things! Or, as Ms. Frizzle says, "take chances, get messy, make mistakes!"
But with the knowledge that I would be alone for most of my trip and there would be no one there to snap shots of me holding up the tower of Pisa (yes, I confess to such levels of cheesiness, but really, you kind of have to do it) I decided to focus on taking beautiful pictures of non-human subjects. And for that, I reasoned, I would need a better camera.
So I've been running around with an intro-level dSLR in my purse, trying to grow into it and make the most of it, and having a grand old time in the process.
A side effect of my new hobby is a heightened appreciation of photography in general. Now that I've tried to do it, I get how much work and knowledge goes into getting some of those great shots I've looked at in the past and thought "that's nice". Note that I'm not professing some sort of great technical or artistic understanding of photography here, just that by trying to do it myself I appreciate it so much more.
Another result of trying to take better photos is an appreciation of human anatomy. I can look at something incredibly beautiful that just takes my breath away, but when I take a photo it just won't look the way I see it. I took dozens and dozens of photos with varying settings trying to capture the slanting sunlight through the trees in the evening that was illuminating (almost to the point of making them sparkle) hundreds of tiny flies. Now, I have seen things like that presented on film before. I know it's possible to capture it adequately with a camera. But my relatively sophisticated (for a complete amateur like me) lens etc. was still having trouble with it.
It may sound like I'm complaining about the failings of my camera here - I assure you I'm not. I fully know it's my inability to use it properly that leads to these difficulties. What I really want to point out is how effing amazing it is what we can see, and how quickly we see it. Our eyes and our brains are so perfectly evolved to convert the world around us to images, essentially changing settings automatically so we can see in different amounts and types of light. This, to me, is incredible.
So, I conclude, to have a broader and deeper appreciation of the world both around and (sometimes) within you, you have to try new things! Or, as Ms. Frizzle says, "take chances, get messy, make mistakes!"
Monday, June 18, 2012
Unexpected adventures
Being in transit is an interesting sensation. It's not quite like anything else - you've left where you're coming from but you've yet to get where you're going.
Yesterday morning I left Budapest, intending to spend 10 hours on trains getting to Krakow, just in time to eat some dinner and go to sleep. But that's not how things worked out. The first train I got on managed to get 20 minutes behind schedule, causing me to miss my next train. I was hustled by some railway employees into another train, taking me via 4 transfers and 7 hours to the destination of the train I had missed (which was not Krakow, by the way, but another transfer station).
At one transfer point there was an hour between trains, so we took the opportunity to ask at the information booth if there was a faster way to Krakow. Turns out there was - arriving at 5am the next day. At this point we were faced with a choice. Spend the night changing trains and waiting for hours in dark stations? Or take our chances finding a bed in an unknown border town and getting to Krakow later in the morning, potentially wasting half a day? Well, we decided to power through the night. Sleep a bit on the last train, which is a good 4 hours, then catch a few more hours at the hostel before starting the day.
I decided this would be an adventure. And it kind of was. We were on several old-school, local trains, looking at gorgeous landscapes and picturesque little towns, not to mention the perfect sunset that flooded the car with perfectly orange, glowing light that made everyone and everything look breathtakingly beautiful. Sitting in the train, watching the sun sink lower, feeling the breeze through the windows, finally refreshing and cool after a hot day - that was just perfect. And it didn't matter at all to me that we should have been in Krakow hours earlier.
We reached the stop from which we had to catch the train to Krakow (at 1am) and decided to while away a few of the waiting hours by getting dinner. As we exited the train, it hit me that I only had Hungarian money, and I had no idea what kind of money I needed. What country were we in? I knew we had passed for a long time through the Czech Republic - but had we made it to Poland? Turns out we had. It also turns out it's less disorienting than one might expect to not know which country you're in.
We walked around looking for food, and decided to sit outside at a place where a EuroCup game was showing (Portugal vs Netherlands, Portugal was up when we left), and it turned out to be a Thai restaurant - not what I would have expected my first meal in Poland to be, but it was delicious nonetheless.
Unfortunately the train car was quite full and the seats uncomfortable, but I slept anyways. And I don't regret it a all, because walking to the hostel from the train station at 5am was a lovely experience I otherwise wouldn't otherwise have had.
The streets were essentially deserted, except by the occasional shopkeeper spraying down the sidewalk or the few youths still out from the night before. And the pigeons, of course. Upon entering the main market square we were greeted by the most beautiful sight - the square was deserted and still in shadow, but St. Mary's church on the edge was bathed in rosy-colored morning light, and hundreds of swallows wheeled about in the air around the tower. It was so terrifically beautiful, I couldn't believe I was actually seeing it.
After a few hours of sleep in a real bed we were ready to start the day, and it was a marvelous end to our train adventure.
Yesterday morning I left Budapest, intending to spend 10 hours on trains getting to Krakow, just in time to eat some dinner and go to sleep. But that's not how things worked out. The first train I got on managed to get 20 minutes behind schedule, causing me to miss my next train. I was hustled by some railway employees into another train, taking me via 4 transfers and 7 hours to the destination of the train I had missed (which was not Krakow, by the way, but another transfer station).
At one transfer point there was an hour between trains, so we took the opportunity to ask at the information booth if there was a faster way to Krakow. Turns out there was - arriving at 5am the next day. At this point we were faced with a choice. Spend the night changing trains and waiting for hours in dark stations? Or take our chances finding a bed in an unknown border town and getting to Krakow later in the morning, potentially wasting half a day? Well, we decided to power through the night. Sleep a bit on the last train, which is a good 4 hours, then catch a few more hours at the hostel before starting the day.
I decided this would be an adventure. And it kind of was. We were on several old-school, local trains, looking at gorgeous landscapes and picturesque little towns, not to mention the perfect sunset that flooded the car with perfectly orange, glowing light that made everyone and everything look breathtakingly beautiful. Sitting in the train, watching the sun sink lower, feeling the breeze through the windows, finally refreshing and cool after a hot day - that was just perfect. And it didn't matter at all to me that we should have been in Krakow hours earlier.
We reached the stop from which we had to catch the train to Krakow (at 1am) and decided to while away a few of the waiting hours by getting dinner. As we exited the train, it hit me that I only had Hungarian money, and I had no idea what kind of money I needed. What country were we in? I knew we had passed for a long time through the Czech Republic - but had we made it to Poland? Turns out we had. It also turns out it's less disorienting than one might expect to not know which country you're in.
We walked around looking for food, and decided to sit outside at a place where a EuroCup game was showing (Portugal vs Netherlands, Portugal was up when we left), and it turned out to be a Thai restaurant - not what I would have expected my first meal in Poland to be, but it was delicious nonetheless.
Unfortunately the train car was quite full and the seats uncomfortable, but I slept anyways. And I don't regret it a all, because walking to the hostel from the train station at 5am was a lovely experience I otherwise wouldn't otherwise have had.
The streets were essentially deserted, except by the occasional shopkeeper spraying down the sidewalk or the few youths still out from the night before. And the pigeons, of course. Upon entering the main market square we were greeted by the most beautiful sight - the square was deserted and still in shadow, but St. Mary's church on the edge was bathed in rosy-colored morning light, and hundreds of swallows wheeled about in the air around the tower. It was so terrifically beautiful, I couldn't believe I was actually seeing it.
After a few hours of sleep in a real bed we were ready to start the day, and it was a marvelous end to our train adventure.
Cafés and other lovely things
So I have a thing for coffee and the places that serve it - cafés. Not to mention pastries. And it turns out that a lot of the cities I'm visiting have a thriving café culture. Vienna was chock full of them, and I enjoyed my fair share. Budapest was another great café city.
The first was Café Callas, which we visited right before seeing Snow White at the opera house. It was right next door, and I like to think it was name for Maria Callas, a wonderful singer. But I have no real idea. The interior was beautiful - Art Nouveau, apparently.
If what I've seen of this style is a good indicator, I like it very much. It reminds me a bit of steam-punk style, but decidedly more elegant. The decor was the main attraction of this café, but the pastry was delicious as well. We ordered a hazelnut cake
and the classic Viennese (yes, wrong city, but ok) Sacher Torte.
They were both quite nice, although the coffee I ordered out of curiosity was far to sweet to be a good pairing. Observe:
You're looking at equal parts espresso and honey, with heaps of whipped cream on top. Delicious? Certainly. Dessert worthy on its own? Absolutely.
Next up was the New York Café. Before I describe this place to you, let me say that I love words, and finding new adjectives to adequately describe things. I like to use the kinds of words you don't hear every day for the kind of things you don't see every day. But in this case, I am forced to abandon any attempt at eloquence and just say this: it was super fancy. The bathrooms smelled like strawberries. That's how Fancy this place was. It's touted as the most beautiful café in the world, and I can't argue.
I got a Hungarian pastry sampler, which was beyond amazing - although I'm not sure what it all was. The two cakes on the right were my favorites.
My friend got a nutty cake of some kind, which was the most delicious of all - not to mention beautiful.
But, this was not the kind of café where you sit and soak in the comfortable, living-room atmosphere. This was the kind of place where you buy something so you can take pictures without them kicking you out.
Spinoza, the next place we went, had more of a living-room feel. There were cute little tables with yellow cloths on them, a tiny second floor that hung over the small main room, and a pleasant piano player squeeze between the tables, bar and door. Vintage advertisements and old photos of the neighborhood and people. It was the kind of place I would frequent, were I a local. And the chestnut cream dessert was delightful, especially on a hot day.
Last but not least, Céntral Kávéház, which had the best pastries by far, and also a nice, slightly grand but not overwhelming interior. It was here that i finally tried Dobos Torte, the quintessential Budapest pastry, and it was absolutely fantastic. Layers of cake and chocolate, topped with burnt caramel. We also tried flódni here, a delicious and traditionally Jewish dessert featuring apple and raisins between layers of pastry.
All this decadence seemed very apropos, simply because Budapest is such a gorgeous city. I doesn't take fancy gilded interiors for you to appreciate that beauty.
The first was Café Callas, which we visited right before seeing Snow White at the opera house. It was right next door, and I like to think it was name for Maria Callas, a wonderful singer. But I have no real idea. The interior was beautiful - Art Nouveau, apparently.
If what I've seen of this style is a good indicator, I like it very much. It reminds me a bit of steam-punk style, but decidedly more elegant. The decor was the main attraction of this café, but the pastry was delicious as well. We ordered a hazelnut cake
and the classic Viennese (yes, wrong city, but ok) Sacher Torte.
They were both quite nice, although the coffee I ordered out of curiosity was far to sweet to be a good pairing. Observe:
You're looking at equal parts espresso and honey, with heaps of whipped cream on top. Delicious? Certainly. Dessert worthy on its own? Absolutely.
Next up was the New York Café. Before I describe this place to you, let me say that I love words, and finding new adjectives to adequately describe things. I like to use the kinds of words you don't hear every day for the kind of things you don't see every day. But in this case, I am forced to abandon any attempt at eloquence and just say this: it was super fancy. The bathrooms smelled like strawberries. That's how Fancy this place was. It's touted as the most beautiful café in the world, and I can't argue.
I got a Hungarian pastry sampler, which was beyond amazing - although I'm not sure what it all was. The two cakes on the right were my favorites.
My friend got a nutty cake of some kind, which was the most delicious of all - not to mention beautiful.
But, this was not the kind of café where you sit and soak in the comfortable, living-room atmosphere. This was the kind of place where you buy something so you can take pictures without them kicking you out.
Spinoza, the next place we went, had more of a living-room feel. There were cute little tables with yellow cloths on them, a tiny second floor that hung over the small main room, and a pleasant piano player squeeze between the tables, bar and door. Vintage advertisements and old photos of the neighborhood and people. It was the kind of place I would frequent, were I a local. And the chestnut cream dessert was delightful, especially on a hot day.
Last but not least, Céntral Kávéház, which had the best pastries by far, and also a nice, slightly grand but not overwhelming interior. It was here that i finally tried Dobos Torte, the quintessential Budapest pastry, and it was absolutely fantastic. Layers of cake and chocolate, topped with burnt caramel. We also tried flódni here, a delicious and traditionally Jewish dessert featuring apple and raisins between layers of pastry.
All this decadence seemed very apropos, simply because Budapest is such a gorgeous city. I doesn't take fancy gilded interiors for you to appreciate that beauty.
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