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.

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.

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.

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.

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.

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.

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.