We're Working On It!

We made it home last Thursday much to the relief of our parents and friends who worried that we would either be "taken" by crazy foreign men or decide to find jobs or husbands abroad and never return. We were a little relieved ourselves that we actually made it home on time with no volcanic interruptions.

Caitlin is off working at a camp for the summer (she'll have to tell you how that one is going), and I'm, well, looking for a job or in other words, soul-searching. I feel like every time I enter this process, I have loads of questions to ask myself. What am I good at? What do I see myself doing? Where do I see myself living? What makes me happy? If these questions were on an exam, I would probably fail. I have no idea or at least not a specific enough one to point me to a specific job. So, I apply to anything and everything I can find and hope for the best.

Well, we all know how that ended up last time...photography studio, screaming children, long retail hours, quitting, and then going to Europe. On the plus side I can now tell a child's age down to the month and make him or her laugh (granted I have a stuffed puppy dog or a ball). I also met some great people, and learned a bit about sales and photography. I knew it wasn't a long term career from the beginning, and this fact along with the screaming children and long hours prompted me to take this trip to Europe.

Moral: Take the best from a bad situation and run with it...to Europe/(insert your dream destination here).

At the beginning of this blog I admitted that I wasn't really expecting to gain anything substantial on this Europe trip: "Unlike my experience in China, I have no illusions that I will emerge from this trip a more job-worthy person or that my life will have changed in any significant way, but I do know that I will be fulfilling a lifelong dream…and since when do dreams count for nothing?" Well, this trip did fulfill a lifelong dream, but I think I underestimated my probable growth a little in this sentence. However trivial it may seem to those who haven't experienced it, traveling abroad is one of the best ways to grow as a person. You are forced to constantly step out of your comfort zone, and in the process you not only learn about other cultures, you learn about yourself. You quickly learn more about your strengths and weaknesses and how to navigate between the two so that you can survive. Traveling is part history class, part language class, part communications class, and part survival class. There is research, listening, observation, navigation, and experimentation involved. Traveling is the ultimate class and you emerge with more knowledge, more confidence, and more memories. This is my fourth time abroad, and I hope it will not be my last.

All that said and my chances for finding a job still haven't really improved, but if there is anything my travels have taught me, it's that worrying won't get you to your next destination...and never throw all your jeans in one German dryer...and never go to Charles de Gaulle airport if avoidable...and never make a mistake on your Eurail pass...and never buy souvenirs in Italy...and never, ever plan on going to one Irish pub for a quick pint...won't happen.

Ok, that's enough traveler's wisdom for one entry. Now, let me apologize for our tardiness in picture sharing. We're working on it! Between camp and job searching, it will take time to go through thousands of pictures, but you will see them. In the meantime, here are a few to wet your appetite. Consider this the salad.

Eiffel Tower, Paris, France

Lady Gaga concert, Berlin

Piazza San Marco, Venice, Italy

Basilica San Marco, Venice, Italy

Piazza San Marco, Doges Place, Venice, Italy

Burano Island, Venice

Santa Maria del Fiore, Florence, Italy

St. Patrick's Cathedral, Dublin, Ireland

Vineyards,  Greve in Chianti, Italy

Sunset, Florence, Italy

Ponte Vecchio, Florence, Italy

Boboli Gardens, Florence, Italy

Park Guell, Barcelona, Spain

Loch Tay/Guinness Lake, Ireland

Monastery in Glendalough, Ireland

Gleann Dá Loch, Upper Lake, Ireland

Cliffs of Moher, County Clare, Ireland

Michelangelo's David, Accademia Gallery, Florence, Italy

East Side Gallery, Berlin, Germany

East Side Gallery, Berlin, Germany

~Lori

Best of the Best

What's a good whirlwind trip through Europe without a methodical comparison of the cities and countries visited? Well, it may not be so methodical, but we would like to write a list for our own sanity. We visited 7 countries (France, Ireland, Belgium, The Netherlands, Germany, Italy, and Spain) and 12 cities  (Paris, Dublin, Brussels, Bruges, Amsterdam, Berlin, Munich, Fussen, Venice, Florence, Chianti, and Barcelona--maybe a few more on day tours) in 23 days. Let's just say that our first day feels like a year from our last day, yet at the same time it all seems to run together. Also, this might prove helpful for anyone else planning to run away to Europe for a bit. We want to keep this positive, so here are all the bests of the best:

Best city to get stuck in due to a volcanic eruption: Paris, FranceBest people: Ireland (so friendly, humourous, and helpful)
Best landscapes: Ireland (Glendalough, Wicklow, County Clare)/ Italy (Chianti-Tuscany)
Best architecture: Barcelona, Spain
Best nightlife: tie between Munich, Germany and Dublin, Ireland
Best beer: Germany--Austinger beer (sorry Ireland, you are a close second)
Best wine: Chianti, Italy
Best chocolate: Belgium
Best ice cream: Italy (gelato!)
Best public transportation: Barcelona (you can take the metro anywhere and they sell multiple day passes)
Best city to get lost in: Venice (every turn has something interesting)
Best tour guide: Seany (hillarious Irish tour guide for Paddy wagon tours)
Best hostel: Happy Sleep House, Fussen, Germany
Best art museums: Amsterdam, The Netherlands
Best naked sculpture: David, Florence
Best city to witness naked people: Barcelona (see previous blog entry)
Best random city icon--Mannekin Pis, Brussels
Best country for wasting money on tourist gifts: Italy
Best sense of history: Berlin, Germany
Best weather: Barcelona, Spain
Best skyline at sunset: Florence, Italy
Best farm animal: Irish sheep
Best music: Ireland (amazing folk music and pub song tradition)
Best dancing: Barcelona, Spain (Flamenco!)
Best tourist trap: Bruges, Belgium (touristy but amazing)
Best country to live in some day: Ireland
Best...

Ok, I could go on forever, but you get the picture. Keep in mind that we only spent a few days in most of these places, and these are just our personal impressions. We found something interesting and amazing about every place we visited. We may have liked certain countries and cities better than others, but every single one them was worth a visit and many of them are worth a second or third visit in the future. We leave for the States tomorrow morning, and, as with every trip, it is bittersweet. It will be nice to come home to friends and family. It is nice to know that we saw, experienced, and accomplished so much in the past 23 days, and that we can now check backpacking across Europe off of our life's checklist. At the same time, however, it is a little sad to leave knowing that there is so much more we could see. It's also sad that we will go back to "real" life when we return home as if this amazing experience never happened. Luckily, we have all of you to pinch us and let us know that it did happen. We have you to thank for forcing us to record our experience, and we have the loads of pictures that we will do our best to post as soon as possible when we get back.

You haven't heard the last of us yet...

Lori

The Final Stop: Ireland

Top Ten Reasons We Love Ireland:

10. They have a female President. And she isn't the first woman to accomplish this.
9. (The obvious) They speak English. Not that other languauges are inferior...We just don't understand them (our own shortcomings) and therefore Ireland is perfect for us.
8. There is a pub on every corner and a sign for Guinness in every window.
7. It is a beautiful country. There are mountains and valleys and volcanoes and lakes and city lights. It's outstanding.
6. It is easy to navigate. The street signs are clearly marked and the tourist sights are always noted. Even if you do get lost any Irishman will stop and give you directions.
5. The Irish men are quite good looking. (One of them will be my husband one day.)
4. Instead of saying "thirty-three"...they say "turty tree". Also "Tanks-a-mil". Hilarious.
3. They've got old stuff. Lots and lots of history. Irish people are really proud of their country, their history and their heritage.
2. They play "Sweet Home Alabama" all the time. We heard it in two pubs and on one of our countryside tours. Guess who rocked out those vocals!
1. And the number one reason we love Ireland...the Irish people are so friendly! They stop and help you when you need something. They are hilarious. Drinking is their favorite hobby. They make fun of themselves and other people. They are so laid back and think life should be simple. We heart Ireland!

Well we are coming to the end of our journey through Europe. Our last two days were spent touring the countryside of Ireland. Let me give you a brief synopsis...

Day #1 Take a tour of the Moher Cliffs with a company called Paddy Wagon. No seriously...that is the name. We woke up at 7 a.m. and waited for the bus to arrive. And of course we were early and it was late. Finally we see the huge, green tour bus with a leprechan and sheep plastered on the side of it. Nothing screams tourist like a giant green bus with sheep. We hop on and hope for the best. Our tour guides name was Shaunie and he was freaking hilarious. The whole trip he was singing Irish tunes and telling really bad jokes. It was quite a long trip but he kept us entertained. Once we reached the cliffs, we were blown away. The view was breathtaking. We stopped at a few castles and little towns along the way. Overall, the day was a success.

Day #2 Take a tour to Brun a Boine. Unfortunately, Lori and I were the only ones who wanted to see this historic site so our tour was canceled. Glendalough it was! We headed through the countryside. Our tour guide had a different kind of humor than Shaunie but still witty nonetheless. We saw bogs, glacial lakes, a monastery, and so much more. I cannot even describe the views we got to see. It was beautiful. We also got to see where they filmed Braveheart, P.S. I Love You and Leap Year. While we were walking through the monastery I had a "War Eagle" moment. There was a guy wearing an AU hat and of course I had to yell it! Come on ya'll. It's tradition!

So we spent the final two days of our trip seeing maybe some of the most beautiful spots in the world. The weather was amazing and the food was good. Not a bad way to end this whirlwind flight through Europe. Of course the night is young and I think we may be headed in the direction of one last authentic Irish pub. Maybe we will enjoy a pint of Guinness and rehash the events of the past few weeks. It's been a short ride but it was a hell of a good time.

- Caitlin

Anything Goes But Clothes

We had come to expect the unexpected over our first two days in Barcelona's vibrant streets. Between Gaudi's free-form modernista influence on the architecture, and the liberal, laid-back attitude that gave it a hippie beach town vibe, we soon had the notion that anything could happen. This cultural intuition was reinforced over and over again as we walked down the famous La Rambla street and saw the muriad of creative ways people had devised to make a living here. Every few feet was a street performer dressed in his best grotesque costume from grim reapers to severed heads hoping sensationalism would draw attention, a desire for a picture, and a few coins in his tip hat. Others sat in chairs, on steps, and in the metro playing music ranging from Spanish guitar to reggae--cases open awaiting some euros of appreciation. As in Italy and France, African men with portable bundles of fake designer purses, sunglasses, and watches moved with the crowds and kept a wary eye out for the police as they peddled their wares. There were even random guys doing acrobatics near the outdoor restaurants while people munched on tapas for what we assumed was money, although they never stopped flipping enough for us to tell.

We decided to spend our third day in Barcelona relaxing on the nearby beach, and we were not surprised when we found men building sand sculptures near the boardwalks, a few coins already tossed in the sand-carved bowls in front of their creations. Embarassingly, we were surprised, however, by the amount of nudity on the beach. I have heard of topless beaches in Europe, but growing up in the conservative American South never quite prepares you for hundreds of topless women--young and old, but mostly old (the younger women seemed to coverup more)--laying out and walking around without their bathing suit tops on. Tops for them are like bathing suit cover-ups for Americans--only to be worn on the walk to and from the beach. Laying on the beach, listening to our iPods, and soaking up the sun, we would almost forget we were in Spain until we opened our eyes and saw naked breasts everywhere on the extremely crowded beach. It did start to grow on us the longer we stayed on the beach. Afterall, we spent a lot of time staring at naked statues in Italy, so this was just the next step up. However, Caitlin and I soon both decided that breasts have more allure in their tops--less is more people!

After about three and a half hours on the beach, our skin was beginning to fry, so we packed our bags and headed back to the hostel to change (after stopping for yet another gelato of course). We then headed along the beach to the other side of the bay where we had seen an advertisement the day before for an hour and a half sail boat tour. Along the way, just as we thought we had reconciled our minds to the sight of naked breasts, we came across a fully naked man sitting on the edge of the boardwalk. A few steps later another man was laying spread eagle on his towel in the sand in his birthday suit. Even that wasn't really shocking at this point, and then while walking through a crowded pedestrian street lined with cafes along the harbor, a man exited a restaurant buck naked except for his glasses and his backpack and squeezed by as if on a normal stroll through the street. Here we did gasp and eye bulge. We never really figured that one out. He obviously wasn't trying to get a tan--a nudist maybe? Even so, is that allowed on the street? We just had to shrug; it's Barcelona.

The shock wore off as we walked by more and more clothed people and approached the dock where we soon became the awkward owners of two tickets on a romantic sunset jazz tour of the bay via sail boat. Ok, so romantic wasn't in the title, but we feared it would be us and all couples. We had already seen enough PDA in Spain to last a lifetime, so we were relieved to see a good mixture of families, single people, and couples board our boat. We managed to secure a spot on the coveted, comfortable nylon netting at the front of the sail boat. Lounging in the cool sea breeze to the sounds of lapping water and a saxophone and catching the last few rays of evening sunlight, we forgot to care how single we were or how random this outing was.

Random and spontaneous are words to live by in Barcelona, and who better to exemplify this than Modernisme's prolific and eccentric architect, Antoni Gaudi (1852-1926). We decided to spend our last day in Barcelona visiting one of his masterpieces, Park Gruell. This city park sits atop a hill overlooking the city and is filled with winding paths, mosaic tiles, and buildings/structures like something out of a Dr. Suess book. Nothing that Gaudi did was geometrical, and the curves and imaginitive patterns are spellbinding. It was a perfect end to our Barcelona trip. Sitting on the late afternoon bus to Girona to catch our evening Dublin flight, watching the rolling hills, distant mountains, and unknown towns pass by, I knew that Spain would have to make it back onto my intinerary one day--although it's probably best if I don't expect it.

Spain: Sun, Tapas and Flamingo Dancing?

Let me just preface this blog about Spain by telling you that the flight attendants were selling lottery tickets on our flight from Pisa to Barcelona. That was my first impression of the country. Turns out first impressions sometime hold true.

Lori and I got off our plane around 9 p.m. The flight had been short but annoying due to a screaming Italian baby whose parents did nothing to shut her up. But we were in Spain! Yeah! Warm weather, hot beaches and cold drinks here we come! We followed the flow of people from our flight and ended up on a mysterious bus labeled "Barcelona". Apparently we weren´t the only ones unsure of our destination since two other girls backpacking and a couple sitting behind us were all questioning their decision to hop on the first bus we saw. Turns out it was the right bus but it took us 45 minutes to get into the city. Lori and I weren´t expecting this and weren´t exactly sure if our hostel had 24 hour reception. What if we get there and we are locked out? Sleeping on the street/beach didn´t seem like a probable option with all of our luggage. So once the bus dropped us off we frantically set off in search of the metro. Once we failed at that we decided to try a cab. Maybe the driver would know where we wanted to go. No such luck. He barely spoke English and neither Lori nor I are fluent at the whole Spanish thing. So with his little understanding of English and our little understanding of Spanish we met somewhere in the middle and managed to find our destination. The door was locked but luckily there was a night guard who let us in.

Our first day in Spain we walked around the city. Since we had four full days here there was no pressure to fit everything in or go at a fast pace. So we wandered around the city in search of the famous places. We found the pedestrian street La Rambla where you can buy anything from post cards to necklaces to live chickens. We fumbled into the Mercat Boqueria which sold fresh fruits, meats, chocolates, candies, etc. There were people sitting down for drinks while others were bargaining over prices. It was wonderful and exciting so Lori and I decided we would eventually make a quick trip back for some provisions. We then toured the gothic area where we saw churches, palaces and columns erected for some reason or other. They all start to run together eventually and most of them are usually under construction. Old stuff tends to fall down I guess.

Later that afternoon we decided to visit the Barcelona Zoo. It was something different and less stressful than fighting the tourists. So we followed the hoards of screaming school children and spent the afternoon staring at animals from all over the world. One of the highlights was the dolphin show. Standing in line for 30 minutes we had high hopes of watching these fun loving creatures jump and flip and do all sorts of tricks. We weren´t disappointed. Of course we couldn´t understand anything that was going on because the dolphin trainers were speaking Spanish but we enjoyed it well enough. After the zoo, we headed back to the hostel to attempt to do laundry. Getting down to your last pair of undies is a scary thing when you are travelling and all of the washer/dryer directions are in a foreign language. After three hours, we finally had fresh clothes and hit the sack.

The next day we planned on going to the beach but much to our dismay, it was cloudy. So museums were plan B. Our first stop was the Picasso museum. This was one of my favorite museums so far. Picasso´s work is revered yet it is so elementary. You look at it and think "Hey, I could probably paint that." That´s what I love about his work. It seems more relateable. After the Picasso museum we ventured over to the Temple of the Sagrada Family. We literally spent ten minutes here. Not that it wasn´t amazing architecture or anything. Don´t get me wrong, it was beautiful. It was just too expensive to go into and it was under construction. So we went on a search for Caso Batilo. I am not going to lie...I have no idea what this place even is. It is a pretty cool looking building but once again too expensive to go in to. I should probably google that. Next we stopped at a tapas bar for some tasty appetizers and traditional Spainish food.

That evening we saw a flamingo (flamenco? ha!) dancing show. It is amazing how fast the dancers could move their legs. I was sore after just watching it. They would bend and tap their feet to the music like it was no big thing. I would be on the floor crying after two minutes of movement like that and they did it for a solid fifteen minutes at least. Bravo crazy Spanish dancing people! More power to you. After the show of amazing calf muscles we went back to the Mercat Boqueria and spent a heinous amount of money. Everything just looked so good that we had to sample it all. We bought fruit (which was reasonably priced) and candy (which was ridiculously overpriced). Once the shock set in over how much money we had just spent on perishables, we needed a drink. Sangria it was! We were in Spain after all. So we sat down and enjoyed a nice pitcher (or what seemed like a pitcher it was so big) of Sangria. Later we strolled down to the beach to check it out. I seem to be spoiled by Florida beaches because the one we were on just didn´t measure up. But we headed to the hostel with thoughts of spending the next day lying on the sand and soaking up the sun...little did we know what we were getting into...

The Great Italian Robbery

Our first view of Florence is the graffiti covered walls leading from the train station to our hostel a few blocks away. Is this a joke, we think as we wonder how some urban montrosity has managed to swallow what we had envisioned as an artistic and grandiose Italian relic to the Renaissance. We soon discover that the streets are narrow and maze-like, much like Venice, but with more layers of old and new. The old doesn´t seem as well preserved as we had imagined, and the new is like any other big city--glass-fronted, over-priced shops and concrete walls without distinction. As you walk through Florence you do come to the light at the end of the tunnel when you emerge into the various piazzas filled with buildings from a time when efficiency and the economy didn´t matter as much as art and expression. The best of these piazzas is the Piazza San Giovanno containing the famous Duomo and the Cattedrale di Santa Maria. The buildings are both pieces of exquisite architecture and the facades, containing paintings, sculptures, and intricate detailings, are works of art. If you can ignore the hordes of tourists crawling like ants around these buildings like they are giant cupcakes, then you can see some breathtaking art for free.

Free is not a word I would often use to describe our experience in Florence, or Italy for that matter. We felt robbed at every museum. We would blindly shell out 10 and 12 euros a piece without really knowing what to expect inside. We only had two days in Florence so we prebooked tickets to the two most famous museums, the Uffizi and the Accademia. Wittnessing the lines that snaked around the buildings and hearing the stories of tourists waiting for hours, we assumed the 10 euros must be worth it, right? Well, the Uffizi has quite a collection thanks to the Medici family, but it is small in comparison to, say, the Louvre in Paris, which costs much less and has smaller lines, and the Smithsonian in Washington D.C., which is free.

Apparently the Italians think very highly of their art or they´ve discovered a way to sucker us all into thinking very highly of their art. I will admit Le Primavera by Botticelli, which resides in the Uffizi, is a beautiful piece of art that I´ve always wanted to see, but I didn´t like the smugness that surrounded my experience there. If we were hoping for more at the Accademia, we were soon sorely disappointed. Accademia is home to Michelangelo´s David, and not much else. David is one magnificent and large and largely endowed sculpture...but that was no secret from the magnets, t-shirts, boxers, postcards, and everything else that can be screen printed that we saw in numerous shops in town. There were several other sculptures, but not enough to fill the 2 hours we had planned for the museum.

After about 45 minutes in the museum, probably half spent admiring David, we left to catch an earlier train to Pisa where we hoped to absorb as much tourist cheesiness as possible by visiting the leaning tower of Pisa and taking an obligatory photo holding it up. Pisa did come through for us, and we had a good laugh watching tourists from all over the world, old and young, smiling at cameras while holding their hands up to an invisible wall like a loosely instructed Tai Chi class. A friendly chat with some fellow American tourists over a pizza, and a gelato to wash it all down did us some good as well.

The hour and a half train ride from Florence to Pisa, however, was not so satisfying. For all of those out there with Eurail passes, do not under any circumstance scratch out or try to change a date. Caitlin and I were under the impression that we had somehow paid for our train from Venice to Florence since we had to pay a reservation fee and they didn´t stamp our pass, which they had done in every other country. So we changed our last entry date to the current date to Pisa so as not to waste a day. Subsequently the rude Italian train attendent yelled at us in badly broken English as we stared blankly at him until the words "100 euro fine" came out of his mouth. We tried to argue that we would just write in another day and pled ignorance and innocence, but it was to no avail. Italy once again robbed us of 50 euros a piece.

Our budget suffered more in Italy than any other country we visited combined, and we could not wait to leave. We constanlty felt suckered and cheated and taken advantage of by the Italians, but what can you expect from a country that thrives on tourism and has to contantly deal with ignorant tourists. Luckily we bought a plane ticket to Spain a day earlier than expected due to the cheaper price on flights. To give Italy credit, we really enjoyed our time in Venice even if it was expensive, and our two day whirlwind in Florence wasn´t all bad. Even if we felt that the museums were overrated, the same cannot be said for the Tuscan countryside.

Our first full day in Florence we took an afternoon trip to Chianti about 45 minutes outside of the city. Of course we had to shell out 42 euros for the tour, but it was the one thing that we later felt was worth the price. We weren´t so optimistic at the outset because it was raining, but the rain did cause our tour group to be small--Caitlin, me, and two girls from Mexico in a van with a driver. The driver was friendly, and as we drove to the edge of the city along the winding road to the wine country of Chianti, Florence´s city walls and narrow streets finally gave way to a relief of open, rolling hills textured with the deep greens of the tall cypress trees and peppered with terracotta, cream, and sunburnt villas. Even in the rain the Tuscan countryside was everything I had dreamed it would be. It is not overrated in any way, and seeing its colors and inhaling its vastness is something that must be done in person.

The actual town of Chianti was quaint but touristy. We only stayed an hour before heading to Vicchiomaggio, a castle and vineyard, for a tour of the winery and a wine tasting. The view from the castle was spectacular, and the castle, it turns out, is actually more of a resort complete with pool, hotel, restaurant, and church. As you can imagine it is a popular place for weddings. With some wine, bread, salami, and olive oil in our stomachs, we thoroughly enjoyed the afternoon drive through the countryside back to Florence.

That night in Florence we did see the best thing that Florence has to offer, and it was free. The view from Piazzale Michelangelo is probably the most reproduced photo of Florence, and we made it just in time to watch the sunset. From the Piazza you can see the whole city and the Duomo sits prominently near the center reminding you why so many people come to see Florence. We sat on the steps of the Piazza watching the sun, observing the other tourists, taking pictures, and absorbing this confluence of cultures that only a tourist attraction can unite.

Gelato Crazy In Venice!

We stepped off the train into the warm, sunny Venetian air and practically jumped for joy. Finally we found sunlight! I was beginning to think Europe was a cold, depressing wasteland void of anything involving light. It had literally been eleven days since we had seen sun. So after traveling by night train from Germany, Venice felt like a breath of fresh air.

Our first stop was our hostel. It was 7 a.m. and we weren't exactly bright-eyed since our sleeping quarters had been cramped couchettes on a train. We dropped off our bags and headed into the city. Of course the first thing we do is get lost. That is an easy task to accomplish in Venice. The streets twist and turn and just when you think you are headed in the right direction you hit a dead end. So we stood in a remote corner reading our giant tourist map that was in Italian and no help whatsoever. We roamed around the city for an hour while Italians stared at us and wondered why tourists were awake so early. Eventually we gave up and hopped on a boat.

The public transportation in Venice may be the slowest and most expensive mode of travel I have ever experienced. For one hour of travel by boat it costs you a whopping six and a half euros. That is about eight U.S. dollars. Of course, it is by boat through a canal filled with a thousand other boats so needless to say it takes you at least an hour to reach your destination. The maximum capacity of these boats is about 200 smelly Italians. I'm pretty sure they crammed at least 250 on there. To give the Venetians some credit, the view was beautiful and the wind in my face was a nice change.

Anyway, once we were robbed by the transport people, we headed to the tourist spots. Our first stop was the Piazza San Marco, which is the biggest square in Venice and home to the Basilica di San Marco and the Palazzo Ducale. We walked around enjoying the shops and tourist traps. We decided to stand in the mile long line to get into the Basilica which was extremely ornate. We then ventured into the Piazza Ducale which housed an old prison and some former government rooms. After this brief history lesson, we walked across the street for a ridiculously overpriced piece of pizza and bottle of water. Apparently the Italians think alot of their precious water. We also stopped for a nice gelato because that is the one food in Italy that is affordable and on every corner.

Our next task was a gondola ride. We knew the price was going to be astronomical so we went over there with our bargaining hats on...and we got suckered. Eighty euros for a 45 minute ride through canals with five million other tourists. The gondola rower even stopped the boat so Lori could get money out of the ATM to pay him! He did sing a little and he showed us some of the hidden sights. He pointed out the former home of Casanova and the birth place of Marco Polo while Lori and I sat back like celebrities and tourists on bridges took our picture. At least now I can say I have ridden a gondola in Venice. Was it worth 80 euros? Questionable.

Once we were on land again, I snapped a picture of our gondola rower and we headed in the direction of the Venetian artists. We bought paintings of city scenes and tucked them away for a later day. We yet again bought a gelato (it's so freaking tempting!) and soaked up the sun while we soaked up the best tasting calories in Italy. We decided to head to the hostel to shower and get ready for dinner.

That evening, we ventured back into the city in search for pasta. Restaurants in Italy are abundant and competetive. They station hosts at the door to cajole you into eating at their restaurant because it is so much better than the others when in reality most of them are exactly the same. We picked the least annoying with the cheapest price. We enjoyed a glass of wine and discussed our next stop which was Florence. A nice Australian couple overheard us and told us about the trip they just came from in Tuscany. We in turn warned them about the evil gondola rowers. When dinner was over, we headed back to our hostel...but not before stopping for a gelato.

The next day we decided to take a tour of the neighboring islands of Murano and Burano. Murano, which is famous for its glass blowing, was only about twenty minutes by boat. We took a tour through a glass blowing factory and watched as one of the craftsmen created a small glass horse. We stopped by the factory shop and bought a few overpriced trinkets. Burano, which is famous for its lace anf fishing industry, was just a short ride from Murano. We watched a woman make lace and then roamed through the brightly colored city. Fisherman paint their houses bright colors so incoming boats will know which building to look for. This was my favorite island. It made for a beautiful picture.

After our tour, we ate lunch at a little place named Gino's. We enjoyed our pizza and beer in the true Italian fashion. Gino himself was there talking to patrons and enjoying the day. Afterwards, we browsed some more shops just wasting time before our train departed. Venice was a quick but enjoyable stop. The city was beautiful (and so were its men). We enjoyed the nice weather and the friendly people. Overall, it was a great two days. We departed feeling refreshed and hopped on a train to Florence...but not before we stopped for a gelato of course...

- Caitlin

Peace and Slumber in Fussen

Once upon a time in a land far, far away, there lived a tormented king who loved music, spent way too much money on his fantasy castle, was declared insane, and died a questionable death (suicide or murder?). No, I'm not talking about Michael Jackson, but King Ludwig II of Bavaria. I think the two kings would have gotten along well, but that is beside the point. Ludwig's taste in music leaned more towards opera--Wagner's to be exact. Ludwig was eccentric and most likely a homosexual (not that the two are related), and he wanted a home to escape to where he could fulfill all of his fantasies away from the demands of kingship.

For the purpose of this escape, he began to build Neuschwanstein castle in the Southern Bavarian town of Fussen next door to his childhood home/castle, Hohenschwangau. The castle took 17 years to build and only one-third of it was complete upon Ludwig's supposed suicide via drowning in 2ft. of water. He was 6 foot 4 inches tall. You decide whether you believe that or not. He only lived in Neuschwanstein for a total of 6 months before his suicide/murder, and 6 weeks after his death the castle was opened as a museum to the public in order to begin making money to pay back the huge dept he had incurred while building the castle.

Now, in case you are envisioning medieval castles, knights and lords--stop--this castle was built in the late 19th century. Ludwig even had an early telephone in the castle that he used to send telegrams into town. However, the decor and paintings throughout the castle do evoke every medieval fairytale imaginable. There's even a fake cave near Ludwig's bedroom on one of the upper floors that he had made out of plaster. Neuschwanstein was built as a fantasy castle, much of it inspired by Wagner's operas, and it appears that his fantasy has been channeled down through the years and has become the same fantasy as children today--aka Disney World. Take a look at Cinderella's castle in the magic kingdom, and you'll know what I'm talking about.

Of course as Caitlin and I arrived at the Fussen train station, Disney World did not exactly come to mind. The station and town were quaint to be sure, but there was no magical awe or sparkle due to the steady drizzle and bone chilling cold. If anything there was dark magic afoot in the form of the evil witch, Mother Nature. There was also the mind-numbing, practical fact that we had to wander around in this weather for an interminable amount of time until we found our hostel--a family-owned place known as Happy Sleep House. Trudging through the rain, Caitlin and I pictured an irony in titles as Happy Sleep House turned out to be run by some not-so-happy, crazy German woman who scowled at us as we entered and showed us to a basement room with rats and a leaking ceiling. Ok, maybe it wouldn't be that bad, but we dared not hope for more. I joked with Caitlin as we walked away from the station that the name actually reminded me of a Chinese "chinglish" translation from my time living in China.

Crazy German or random Chinese hostel--we would only have to wait a few more steps to find out. Luckily the place was only a few blocks from the train station and even had a visible sign. The door was locked and appeared dark inside, so we rang the bell and hoped for the best. Our anticipation turned into a bit of a panic as we waited for what seemed like an enternity. Oh no, we thought, there is no one here...where are we going to go...must we wander Fussen all night through rain and cold, fighting fatigue and hunger and ...wolves...and then the door cracked open.

"Ah, hello?" A small Chinese woman peeped her head outside the door. Aha! Random Chinese hostel--I was surprisingly and oddly right. We muttered something about our reservation on hostelworld.com.
"Ah, yes. Come, come."
She opened the door to reveal a staircase in front of us with a little four-year-old boy standing timidly in his blue and gray pajamas. To our left was a shelf to place our shoes to avoid soiling the house floor--so Chinese--I felt instantly at home.After checking in, she showed us to our second floor room with a nice sized, blue-stained, wood framed bed with two twin mattresses. We were to share the downstairs bathroom with the other guests, which we never really saw but at the most were 2 or 4 persons since there were only two other rooms.

The whole place had a bed and breakfast feel and felt wonderful after staying in busy hostel chains with tour groups in Berlin and Munich. That night we were less asleep and more in a coma. We reluctantly got up the next morning to prepare for our visit to Neuschwanstein and Hohenschwangau castles, which are the main reasons tourists come to this town. Before we left, however, breakfast awaited us in our host's table nook in her kitchen. She had a spread of cereal,yogurt, breads, cheese, cold meats, jam, butter, hard boiled eggs, juice, tea, and coffee laid out on the table along with dishes set out just for us. We felt like Bell in Beauty and the Beast during the "Be Our Guest" song minus the singing dishes and beast.

No beast, no witch, no crazy German woman--this town wasn't so evil after all. Although the evil side of Mother Nature did hang around, and the rain and cold continued most of the day. In the late afternoon, the rain finally stopped. Even in spite of the rain, Fussen did reveal its magical fairytale qualities as we walked by its storybook pastry shops and visited its enchanting castles all backdropped by the breathtaking Alps and woven together with lakes and vast, green fields. Like most fairytales, our visit was short, but we felt one night was enough to satisfy our childhood need for castles and kings.

Next we are off to Venice with dreams of warm weather, gelato, and gondola rides. Let's hope our dreams come true!

Lori

Dachau: A Difficult History Lesson

Warning: This is not my sterotypical blog. Serious content may make for a depressing read. But alas! Sometimes life isn't all laughs and giggles.

Lori and I decided to spend our last day in Munich visiting the Dachau Concentration Camp Memorial. In 1933, Dachau became home to the first Nazi camp. Over the course of twelve years, 206,206 people were imprisoned there and over 30,000 of them died. Dachau became the prototype and model camp for hundreds of other camps across Europe.

It's hard to describe your thoughts and feelings when you pass through a gate to a place where such horrible things happened. When I hear the words "concentration camp" thoughts of disease, starvation, death, hate and slavery come to mind. The events of World War II were regularly taught in history classes. Hitler's reign is something everyone knows about. But it is a completely different kind of education when you are standing in the spot some of the events took place. Walking across the central square, where roll call determined the fate of thousands, you kind of stop in shock and awe. Looking to the right, you see the building where prisoners were first taken upon arrival. In this building they were stripped of their "possessions, rights and dignity". Looking to the left, you see the barracks where thousands were forced to sleep practically in piles on top of each other. Standing there in the center, you can't help but think of the two hundred thousand people who shed sweat, blood and tears right there only 65 years before.

In the building on the right (which is now a museum) there were items that were taken from prisoners on display. One photograph caught my attention. It was of a man and a woman embracing and laughing. I couldn't help but wonder if they ever saw each other again. We watched a brief video about life in Dachau. The images of starvation, disease, cruelty and death were overwhelming. Looking across the grounds I saw the guard towers, I can only imagine the sick feeling of fear they must have evoked. They stood ominously lurking above the prisoners like hawks poised to strike.

Our last stop on the tour was at a place known as "Barrack X". It was a building composed of a creamatorium and a gas chamber. As our tour guide told us about the history of the building, I heard birds chirping and wondered to myself if the prisoners walking the same path felt a sense of hope or a reconnection to humanity when they heard the sound. Did they know it may have been the last pleasant sound they would ever hear? The Nazi guards tricked the prisoners into the gas chambers by telling them the room was for showers. When they thought they were being shown an ounce of decency it was all a facade. Walking through the gas chamber, I could almost hear the screams echoing through the small, dark room. It was terrifying. There was a bland, empty room next to the gas chamber. On the wall there was a small plaque stating the room was used to store the bodies before creamation.

Sometimes I think mankind will never learn its lesson. Things like concentration camps, apartheid, and ethnic cleansing will never cease because we keep breeding hate. We have to all take a look within and realize that humans are humans no matter what race, religion, sexuality, gender, etc. (Sorry about my soapbox...)

After leaving the memorial site we boarded a bus back to Munich. Standing there staring out the window I realized how easy it was to leave and how so many people used to crave that same chance to escape. I saw three boys playing soccer in the park and wondered if they knew just how close they were to one of the darkest parts of their nation's history. Listening to three different languages spoken around me, I jumped back into the present and escaped the terrors of the past. It's hard to think of such a beautiful country as having such a morbid history.

Dachau was just one stop on our journey, but it may have been the most important one. We are lucky to be able to visit the site when for so many people so many years ago it was their final destination.

- Caitlin

Beer, Beer, and More Beer

This early train business was starting to get to us as we downed our Starbuck's coffee and blueberry muffins hoping for a surge of energy. It was 6:50am and our train for Munich was leaving in two minutes. The coffee barely made a dent in our exhaustion so about an hour in to the ride Caitlin and I both were out for the count. I think Caitlin was a little more successful than I was in catching up on sleep, but drifting in and out of sleep wasn't so bad either considering the views of the German countryside consisting of aged farmhouses and rolling fields of bright yellow and lush green.

Sadly, Munich itself was not so beautiful when we arrived. It was cold and rainy, and my annoying runny nose and progressively worse cough weren't making it any better. We didn't arrive until late afternoon/early evening, so we headed straight for our hostel to crash and recover in order to prepare ourselves for the next day's tour of Munich.

After thoroughly enjoying the ease, company, and informative nature of our free walking tour of Berlin, we decided to go on the same company's free tour of Munich as well. Our guide this time was Irish (we loved every minute of his accent), and he did just as admirably, if not more so, as our last tour guide in Berlin. With numb toes and jacket hoods pulled tightly to our faces, we shuffled through the drizzle to the main historical and cultural monuments in Munich. We also had to deal with a few extra thousand people in Munich for some religious holiday that only occurs every 5 years. We still aren't clear on the name of this festival, but it definitely brought out all the festive Catholics in Germany.

I could bore you with all of the names of these places that you did not see and probably have very little meaning to you, but I'll spare you and just mention some of my favorites.
1.) The Glockenspiel: This is the place we started our tour, and it has to go on the list because as our guide mentioned, "it is the 2nd most overrated tourist attraction in Europe." Basically it is a giant clock on a really old building that chimes at 11am everyday. Just under the clock are a bunch of life-size figurines in lederhosen and medieval garb that dance and joust around in a circle at snails pace in a celebratory beating of the French while terribly out of tune bells chime. Who couldn't resist seeing that?!
2.) The Hofbrauhaus: This is the oldest beer hall in Bavaria, which interestingly or disgustingly did not originally have any bathrooms but troughs that ran underneath the tables that men could easily urinate in without leaving the table. I was very disturbed at this thought especially when considering the smell and splash factor, but also a little impressed by the efficiency. Luckily for us women, they now have bathrooms and actually allow us in for a drink. It is also the beer hall frequented by Hitler, although that is definitely not the reason it is revered so much here.
3.The Viktualienmarkt: This is a famous market in the middle of the city with stalls selling everything from pickles to potpourri. Apparently it is asparagus season since every stall had the popular thick, white stalks that  Germans love to eat like candy. Of course having no way to cook said asparagus, Caitlin and I had a go at a good old bratwurst and mustard, and it was delicious.
4. Memorial to the German Resistance: Memorials to the Holocaust and Nazi era are minimalist here. They are hardly noticable unless you know where to look, and that is how Munich wants it. They don't want WWII to define the city, but thez want reminders for those who need it and those who deserve it.  One such monument is a narrow, meandering path of gold bricks about a foot wide that runs down the length of the alleyway. In short, some Germans who needed to get between the two main squares would take this alleyway in order to avoid saluting the SS officers stationed at a plaque memorilizing the Nazis and Hitler's "successful" Beer Hall Putsch near the entrance to one of the main squares. Germans would purposefully take this alleyway as a sort of passive resistance to Hitler. Hitler soon caught on, however, and began stationing secret SS officers in the alleyway to arrest those trying to avoid the salute. Many of these people were thrown into Dachau for this simple act of resistance.

There were many more sites I could mention, but even I can't remember them all...mostly because they are in German. After our day tour, we decided to take a few hours break and then join another tour with the same company called the "beer challenge." Basically they take you to some of the local beer gardens and beer halls, which are not only a part of the culture, but THE culture in Munich. They are very proud of their beer here, and it wouldn't be right for us to leave this city without sampling a few steins of beer. Where else can you go and find a church built entirely with the proceeds from beer? Munich, of course. As a city, Munich has a happy-go-lucky exterior, but its deep scars left by the third reich are never far from your mind.

Schnitzel and Augustiner

So after an amazing night jamming with Gaga, Lori and I decided to spend the next day experiencing the historical side of Berlin. Our hostel provided us with a free walking tour throughout the city. Yeah! Free! We met Dave (a Canadian guy who was staying at the same place) on our way to the starting point of the tour. Once we lined up outside of the Starbucks (ha!) they split us into groups. We got the pleasure of being in a group led by Chris (an English guy who spat when he spoke). He told us all about the history of the city and showed us all of the highlights.

The tour lasted about four hours and took us throughout most of East Berlin. We saw the Brandenburg Gate, the Reichstag, Checkpoint Charlie, the Berlin Wall, the Holocaust Memorial and so much more. It was incredible walking through a city with so much history. Crossing the street and stepping over the line on which the Berlin Wall once stood was a humbling experience. It was so easy to cross yet so many people lost their lives trying to do exactly that. Seeing the actual remaining pieces of the Berlin Wall was pretty anticlimactic. But I guess that is fitting. The wall should be sad and deteriorating because that part of German history is depressing. We also stood over the bunker in which Hitler committed suicide. It is now a parking lot. This is also fitting. No memorial or honor is given to the man who ruined so many lives.

Once the tour was over, a group of us decided to head to a local restaurant for schnitzel and augustiner. Schnitzel is a fabulous German delicacy composed of pork that is breaded and pressed thin. Augustiner is apparently the best German beer available. While we were sitting there enjoying our meal, I looked around and realized seven different countries were represented at that one table: USA, Canada, China, Australia, Italy and the UK. We all got to know each other over schnitzel and beer in the true German fashion.

After our authentic German meal, we began a search for the East Side Gallery. There were about ten of us wondering through Berlin with this one goal in mind. One train going the wrong way and several blocks later, we stumbled upon it. The East Side Gallery stretched before us for about a mile and was full of murals painted by artists from all over the world. We stopped to take a group photo to commemorate our free tour group fun. The Gallery was one of my favorite sites in Berlin. A wall which stood for hate is now covered with paintings of unity and hope. It was beautiful. We all got our pens out and signed this piece of history not knowing if it was legal or not.

After we said our goodbyes, Lori, Dave, Emily (a nice girl from Australia who was also staying at our hotel) and I decided to head back to our hostel. We shared a pizza and talked about our travels. Overall, it was a wonderful day in Berlin. It was not like going to the principal's office as I once imagined. Germans are friendly and very proud of their beer. They are also very open and repentant of their past. Berlin was a small but pleasant taste of history. We have so much more of Germany to explore. Now we are in Munich and I have high hopes for this city too...well other than the fact that it is raining!

~ Caitlin

From Hitler to GaGa

Some how over the past 70 years Berlin has managed to make the jump from electing a conservative fascist dictator whose mission was to destroy all "freaks" to hosting a Lady Gaga concert which celebrates being a "freak." Hitler put homosexuals in concentration camps. Lady Gaga dedicated one of her songs to gay men. Over the span of just one lifetime, Berlin has managed a transformation so radical that seeing it still leaves you dumbstruck. Berlin's graffiti covered streets and free spirit remind you constantly that it is now the most anti-fascist place in the world.

Little did we know on our first night in Berlin as we rushed to the Gaga concert that we would be attending an event that would set the perfect counter-culture mood for the next day's tour of the city. Of course we weren't even considering the concert's abstract implications as we got off at the train station that the front-desk-girl at our hostel directed us to. We were already running 30 minutes late because of some laundry mishaps at our hostel with the unfortunately small and confusingly German washer and dryer that turned our quick load of laundry into a three hour ordeal. So a little flustered already, we had no idea what to do once we got off the train.

As usual, we picked a random exit, clutched our maps, and hoped for the best. Luckily the concert was at a huge stadium and we soon spotted it rising in the distance. Excited that we weren't lost after all, we started speed walking in what looked like the most direct route to the stadium. We walked 400 meters or so in anticipation, another 400 meters in indecision, and a final 200 meters in stubborn despair as we realized that the train track/brick wall between us and the stadium was showing no signs of a viable pedestrian cross-over. We reluctantly turned around and began the embarrassing trek back to the train station so that we could walk the exact same distance on the other side of the train track.

We finally arrived at the stadium gates 45 minutes late, flustered and winded from our 20 minute speed-walking escapade to find that our worrying was for nothing because there were still hundreds of other concert goers still arriving and wandering about because Gaga had not started yet. We passed through bag security after we handed over our tickets. I passed through with no problem, but Caitlin was not so lucky. Apparently her new Nikon D5000 camera was a little too good, so the security guard confiscated it until the end of the concert. Although Caitlin made the security guard promise to guard her camera with his life, she still walked away reluctantly towards the stage. We found our seats just below the nosebleed section squeezed between two awkward categories of Gaga fans--an overly excited teenage girl and a creepy single man with binoculars. Tired from our speed-walking, worried about Caitlin's camera, annoyed by the teenage girl that kept dancing into Caitlin's small area of personal space, and a little disturbed by the guy sitting next to me hugging his binoculars and side-staring at us every few minutes, we couldn't wait another minute for Gaga to start and show us that it was worth all the pain.

Just as I was about to get us a beer to alleviate the pain, it started. The crowd went wild as a giant screen showed Gaga's shadow as she started to sing and dance to the first song. Finally the screen lifted to reveal an extremely fit Lady Gaga scantily clad in what amounted to a leopard print, thong, swim suit. The entire show was dramatic, over the top, and something akin to a Vegas show, a burlesque, and a Madonna concert. It was exactly what we expected from a Lady Gaga concert, and it had a message--embrace yourself as you are, the good and the bad. It was nothing profound or new as a statement, but it was oddly comforting even coming from a woman dressed in fish nets with yellow-dyed hair.

We enjoyed every insane, dramatic moment of the concert and after the last song headed straight to the security guard to claim Caitlin's camera, which he did indeed guard with his life and safely return to its owner. Walking back into the brisk night air towards the train station we passed an assortment of people--punk, goth, preppy, glamorous, and even a transvestite dressed in his/her best blonde wig. skin-tight teal dress, and three inch heels. If only Hitler could see Berlin now! What a ideological slap in the face.

Love it.

Lori

Amsterdam: The City of Trash?

My first thought when we stepped out of the train station into Amsterdam was "Wow! This city is disgusting!" There was trash everywhere. Piles and piles just lying on the street and people walking through it like it was normal. I knew the people of Amsterdam were laid back and had a "do what you want" kind of attitude but this was ridiculous. Little did I know that the sanitation employees were on strike and Queen's Day celebrations had happened only a week before. It was kind of like Mardi Gras without a clean up crew. That was pretty bad timing for us. Lori and I waded through the trash in hopes of finding our hostel. We hopped on a tram and prayed we were going in the right direction (Dutch isn't an easy language to understand and the tram driver was more interested in chatting about women than helping two desperate tourist).

Walking from our tram to our hostel was yet another defeating attempt for the directionally challenged backpackers. Lori stopped to ask for directions and we were yet again close enough to spit on our destination. Embarrassing. My initial reaction to the "Flying Pig" hostel was that we were not going to get any sleep. We checked in at the reception desk which is also the bar. Yes there was a bar in our hostel. Welcome to Amsterdam. The lounge was crowded with people from every corner of the world. Most were drunk or high or partaking in substances not exactly legal in the States. Oh no! What have we gotten ourselves into? We headed up to our room which was shared by 12 other people and smelled like sweaty boy. I don't know why guys that travel think it is unnecessary to shower. Hello. You smell like butt. Of course I don't blame them for not wanting to brave the terrifying, one stall, broken shower head provided by our hostel. Anyway, Lori and I had to sleep together in a "queen" sized bunk and it turned out to be the worst nights sleep of my life. Not only was it uncomfortable and freezing, but there was also an Australian girl snoring as loud as a train.

We woke up exhausted and headed into the city anyway. It was no surprise that there were no magic trash fairies who cleaned up the street during the night. It was just as gruesome in the morning. But we trekked on to the Rijks Museum where they practically worship Rembrandt and then meandered through the Van Gogh Museum were we studied the works of an amazingly demented artist. It seems to me that most artists were tortured and insane. Van Gogh cut his own ear off and then shot himself. He didn't become famous until after his death and therefore could not enjoy it. No wonder he committed suicide. Depressing yet brilliant.

We stopped for lunch at a little cafe. Dutch food is a lot like American. Eclectic and from other countries. It was hard to find authentic Dutch cuisine. So we settled for some tasty sandwiches. After lunch, we decided to enjoy a canal tour. We traveled the city by boat and were amazed by the number of bicycles and house boats. Apparently, if you live in the Netherlands and you don't have a bike, you are an oddity. The streets were full of brave people fighting off taxis and trams to make the country more eco-friendly. The house boats were another strange sight. They lined every canal in the city. Some were nice while others were falling apart. They fit into the Amsterdam mentality. Relax and have a good time.

Once we were back on land, Lori and I made our way to the Anne Frank Museum. It's amazing to me that such a young girl could write such a powerful diary. Walking through the rooms in which the Franks hid from the Germans; you feel a sense of fear and despair for the family that was seperated by the illogical hate of a population.

After we left the museum, we headed to the central station where we met our Dutch friends Kirsten and Sten. Lori met Kirsten while she was backpacking through Asia and I met Sten while volunteering at an orphanage in Malawi, Africa. So we met our old friends at the Starbucks (Yes. They are everywhere) and then headed to dinner. Lori and I thought it would be a nice change of pace walking around a foreign country with locals who knew where they were going. But alas! Neither Kirsten nor Sten are from Amsterdam but rather small towns outside the city. So once again we were stopping to ask for directions. At least this time we had people with us who spoke Dutch. We found ourselves at a small Mexican restaurant talking about travel, religion and popular music. Then we headed to a local pub for an after dinner drink. Kirsten and Sten walked us to our hostel and we said goodbye not knowing if we would meet again.

Now I'm sitting on the train to Berlin. We left Amsterdam at 6:57 this morning. It is a long 7 hour ride, but it is almost over. I'm staring at the woman across the aisle; envying her the sandwich she is eating and wondering what Berlin has in store for two American backpackers. The Germans get a bad rap for the whole world war thing. No idea why. Hopefully they have gotten friendlier over the years. For some reason I feel like I am leaving recess (Amsterdam) and headed to the principal's office (Berlin). Who knows what will happen. All I know is that I have a Lady Gaga ticket in my notebook and it is going to be a really fun night!

- Caitlin

P.S. We made it to Berlin! We also may have added Switzerland and the Czech Republic to the itinerary!

So Little Time, So Much Belgium

Sitting on the evening train to Amsterdam and watching Belgium pass me by, I can't help but regret that I only had two days to get a taste of the country. We arrived to Brussels by 11 on Saturday to find the city dozing in complacency. As we walked with our heavy backpacks down a wide-laned, shop-filled street there were very few people walking about under the overcast late-morning sky. Of course, we were extremely languid ourselves having left our hostel at 4 to catch the 6:50am flight from Dublin.

After dropping our bags at our hostel and in spite of our exhaustion, we headed back out to see the Grand Place--a 15th century market square. I knew little about the Grand Place and hadn't really thought much about it except that is was a market and it was somehow "grand." As we rounded the corner down the narrow lane that led to the center square, I had no choice but to wake up as that word came to life. It is indeed "grand" and probably the most ornate concentration of architecture I have ever seen. There were more statues on the buildings' facades than Notre Dame and Westminster combined, and more spires than you can imagine. After staring in awe for several minutes we ventured down some of the cobblestone sidestreets with the hundreds of other tourists (ahh--here are all the people) and stared longingly at the chocolate and waffle shops and admired the lace shops and comic strip murals. I finally gave in and bought a few bonbons at the famous Neuhaus chocolate shop right next to the Mannekin Pis fountain, the unexplained national symbol--a statue of a little boy peeing into a fountain.

However, the more I think about it, that fountain is a pretty good symbol of the city. It's not that little boys go around cheerfully peeing in fountains, but Brussels, like the statue, seems a bit comical, nonchalant, and a little bit strange. On the surface the city is an eclectic mix of old world, art nouvou architecture, glass-fronted buildings, modern sculpture, and grafitti. The people are also eclectic and seem neither friendly nor rude. Instead there is a kind of sarcasm in the way they respond to you like there is some joke you missed. Maybe that is why the comic strip is such a revered art form in Belgium that Brussels even has a comic strip museum.
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This attitude combined with the perpetual grey skies left Caitlin and I feeling a bit disenchanted. On day two, however, we decided to take a 45 minute train to the ultra-touristy medieval town of Bruges. It was a great decision because although the clouds were still out they gave this city an old world aura. The throngs of other tourists were a lively relief to the empty Saturday streets of Brussels. We even met three other travels from Panama on our train who happened  to be staying at our hostel and going to Bruges at the same time. The five of us clung together for the day admiring the market square, going to a chocolate museum with a life size chocolate Barack Obama among many things, and taking a scenic boat tour down the canal. After a late lunch that included Belgian fries and a momentary distraction by a road race that happened to be going on that day (maybe a marathon—sponsor Carrefour), we said goodbye to our friends and took the train back to Brussels to grab our backpacks and catch the next train to Amsterdam.


Over our two day Belgium experience, we caught ourselves checking off the stereotypical accomplishments--eating Belgian fries, seeing Mannekin Pis and the Grand Place, sampling Belgian chocolate, but the list seems silly now knowing as I ride on this train to Amsterdam that I really experienced very little of the true Belgian culture. For now it will remain a mystery. I've seen the front cover and the the inside flap's synopsis, but I have yet to read the book and understand what it is the Belgian people are hiding beneath their sarcasm and sideways smiles. If it's anything like the cover, it must be good and I can't wait to read it.

~Lori

The Grand Place Market Square

Belgian waffles

Manneken Pis

One of the many comic-strip-like murals

Bruges

Me and our new Panamanian friends

Me and Caitlin with the chocolate Obama in the Chocolate Museum in Bruges

Canal in Bruges

Road race we happened upon in Bruges

Exhausted in Brussels

Well we made it to Belgium! After yet another early morning flight, Lori and I hopped on the metro in Brussels. We were a little exhuasted since our flight was at 7am and we stayed up most of the night hanging out with our roommates. Turns out our two male roomies were from Australia and tons of fun. Anyway, once we got to our hostel and dropped off our bags, Lori and I wandered around the city. Apparently nobody in Brussels wakes up early on Saturday because the streets were practically empty. We walked around the city, grabbed a bite to eat and paid to use a public restroom. Once we had seen most of the major sites we came back to the hostel to take a nap...that turned into 5 hours...Needless to say we are awake now and about to roam the city nightlife. Tomorrow we plan on visiting Bruges which is a small coastal town and then it is on to Amsterdam!

Caitlin

At Home in Ireland

Sitting on the runway in our 6:45 flight to Dublin, Caitlin and I both feel an enormous sense of relief. Two days later than planned, we would finally make it to Dublin. We still don't quite believe that we will be in Dublin in two hours, and then our pilot comes over the intercom, "this is your captain, Sean Flannagan..." That name in that accent--it hit us--we really are going to make it.

We did in fact make it to Dublin that night. Caitlin's friend Caroline who lives in Dublin with her fiance picked us up from the airport, took us to drop off our bags at their apartment, and streamlined us to the nearest pub for a pint of Guinness. The delay, stress, and build-up of trying to get to Dublin made being there that much sweeter. As we sat sipping our pints in the dark mahogony, fire-lit pub humming with Irish accents, Ireland seemed like the best place in the world.

This morning we left Caroline's apartment by 8am, bags in tow, to ride with her into town and leave our bags at her office in the historic Trinity College. Without much of a plan for our only day in Ireland, since we are to leave by 7am for Brussels tomorrow, we headed to the nearby Grafton street--a popular shopping street--to wander around. Being early morning, there wasn't much to do there so we meandered into St. Stephen's Green park--a nice, quiet, inner-city park filled with flowers, birds, and coffee-laden walkers on their way to work. From there we walked to Christ's Church and St. Patrick's Cathedral to admire their impressive facades.

We walked back to Caroline's office to pick up our back packs before we got too far away, and hiked to our hostel tourist style with our backpacks and map. We thought we knew the way to our hostel, but after getting slightly turned around we pulled out the map. We must have looked like a red flag, because within a minute of consulting our map, two older Irish men stopped to see if we needed any help. They jollily pointed us in the right direction, or so we thought, until we couldn't find the street we needed. Pulling out the map yet again to get our bearings, we were immediately accosted by another older Irish gentelman who offered his help. On the right track again, we made it to the street with our elusive hostel, but still could not seem to find it. This time we pulled out the map, not to consult, but to wave it as a white flag of surrender and hope one last Irish man would come to our rescue. And of course, he did and, embarassingly, pointed us to our hostel, which was only 200 feet down the road.

Our shoulders and feet aching, we checked into our hostel and went to our room to drop off our bags only to find that our roommates in our 4 person suite appeared to be two men by the looks of the underwear drying in the window and the shaving kits in the bathroom. Great, that won't be awkward, but we were really too tired to care. We still had the Guinness Storeroom to see, which is a must, so we had to put our sore feet and roommate worries aside and head back out onto the streets of Dublin.

After what seemed like an eternity we made it to the storehouse, which is basically a museum dedicated to Guinness with a well worth it free pint in the rooftop bar at the end of the tour. Tired, but content with our days accomplishments we headed back to the hostel to recuperate, which is where we currently sit now. Our only plan for the night is to head to the famous Temple bar for one last Irish pub experience.

Although, we have only been in Dublin for one day, we are in love with the city and want to see much more of Ireland. Dublin feels like a small village with the convenience of a big city. The people seem like family rather than foreigners. Maybe it's the extensive Irish influence in the United States, but most likely it is the more tangible congeniality and hospitality of the Irish.  All I know is that we are going to do everything possible to make it back to Ireland for a few more days before we leave because we want more of this friendly and beautiful country.

~Lori

Entrance to St. Stephen's Green Park, Dublin

Grafton Street, Dublin

Dublin is famous for its colorful doors

Curious sign...no idea.

St. Patrick's Cathedral, Dublin

We each got a free pint of Guinness at the end of our tour of the Guinness Storehouse Museum.

View of Dublin from the rooftop bar at the Guinness storehouse through the quote-filled window panes...of course I had to put in the James Joyce quote.

Just after our arduous trek to find our hostel and the discovery of our male roommates via drying boxers, we took time to jot down our thoughts about our day in Dublin in our hostel room.

Famous Temple bar confusingly located in the Temple bar district, which is a popular area for nightlife in Dublin. We spent our last few hours in Dublin here before heading back to our hostel to then drag ourselves into a bus at 4am to get to the airport in time for our morning flight.