Rocks. Croatian Rocks.

In Croatia there were rocks. Lots and lots of rocks. Rocky beaches, bluffs, cliffs, boulders and pieces of ragged concrete, all making up not only a country, but an experience. Two rocks in particular have insinuated themselves into my memory and will, with any luck, always be able to pull me back into those times, those little slices of life.

The first is the jumping rock we found at the beach in Lokva Rogoznica, the one we had to climb, crawl, and swim to reach. We stood at the top of what had to be seven or so feet above the sea, and took deep breaths, and when we leapt, it was free fall for a blissful moment, before the slightly stingy portion of the dive. The current was strong, the water crisp, the air turning cold as the sun disappeared behind clouds and a mountain. We went up and down that rock a dozen times at least, though it was always a little different. I managed some flips and Air even got some back-flip air action. We climbed and scrabbled and swam, shoes in hand and the underwater camera ready to shoot.

I can feel the cold spray of the ocean, smell the salty tang in the air, can feel that thrum of adrenaline telling you, you’re alive! Alive! A precious memory, a feeling of contentment and joy, and perhaps some exasperation about the climbing bit.

The second rock is what we termed our “couch” rock. One night we were walking along the beach, talking about everything and nothing, observations on the clear sky, the bad music from the bar down the way, and the happiness we had at just being in such a beautiful place. We wanted to find a perching place to sit and watch the stars for a while, so we clambered up some boulders and lo and behold, the biggest rock had what seemed to be the perfect couch indentation taken out of it. I remember my feet dangling over the water and looking at that inky darkness below, amazed by the transformation from the bright, sunny shore we had been to just that morning.

We spent a good hour or two on that rock that night, and came back several times before we left Lokva for good. That rock, the couch rock, is cold beneath my imaginary hands, but firm and solid and real, it was slick from the slight mist, and the full moon above gave the shadows deeper recesses. I guess you could say that Croatia is one of my favorite places we visited not only for the fun and sun, the beaches and the people. Lokva and Dubrovnik were both wonderful places filled with pains and gains, friends well met and friends reaffirmed.

Some of Croatia was not too awesome, (though we really made some interesting food while we were there, poor though it was nutritionally, I’m sure) but overall, I think it is a place I would visit again in a heartbeat, if only to see the rocky beaches and breathtaking beauty of the place.

Thank you, couch- and jumping-rocks, for making a great trip even greater.

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There will be time, there will be time.

I remember things in snapshots of time; not just flashes of places, disconnected and disjointed, but pieces of emotion, of sensations.

I remember clearly in some places, hazily in others. I can barely remember what we did in Cork, but I remember clearly the way that Salzburg felt, how it tasted and smelled. I remember the nights from traveler’s hell, remember the heat, the cold. I remember the crazy showers and disgusting toilets; the smell of Paris and the grit of Prague. I remember the name of the hostel where we stayed in Berlin. I remember watching the World Cup in Germany and Ireland; Paris, Brussels, Bruges, Amsterdam. I remember crowded pubs and long lines.

Not only do I remember these things from these past travels but when one thought leads to another, I remember other dreams and half-imagined fantasies. My two trips to Italy, the trip to the UK. I wonder, sometimes, as I go through everyday life, whether or not the traveling was real. It seems a fanciful dream at times, so achingly real and yet so distant and dreamlike. In a heartbeat, though, I would give up every possession I have except what I carry with me. I would, in a heartbeat, drop everything and go.

Some of you might think that’s crazy and half-cocked and that I should probably get my head checked. Others might think, “Sounds like fun, but the logistics would be a nightmare…” All I know is that for a taste of what I had these past few summers, I would gladly and readily set aside “normal” life for a wandering one.

For the moment, at least, I would get up and go back. Back to shitty hostels and bad food; pasta and bread and not enough protein or green veg. Back to a different city every week, a different language, a different culture. The chance to see what I only dream of, what I’ve already dreamt that I’ve seen.

I remember Versailles with its oppressive heat and crowds, and I remember a night in the Brigg train station, freezing and hungry and tired. I remember anger and frustration and sheer panic at times. I remember running harder and faster than ever in my life whilst carrying 50 pounds of kit. I remember sketchy busses and awkward seat-mates. Trying to figure out what the label on the can says in the grocery store. Figuring out what money you need today, and whether or not you’ll be coming back to spend any extra. Nights in and nights out, pub crawls and concerts. I remember new friends and fast enemies. I remember long waits and longer trains. Kotna Hora and the Eiffel tower. The cliffs of Moher and the beauty of the Spanish countryside. A Spanish hospital and Dachau camp.

I’ve not gotten to all the adventures we had, and I hate having to pick and choose what to talk about, what to leave behind. I know you’re waiting for the rest of the trip, but so am I. Writing about what happened this summer, this adventure into the great wide world, is both pleasure and pain. I love to tell the stories, but it hurts to think of them for too long because I know that, at least at the moment, there are only the adventures I can write about. There are plenty of them awaiting me, out there somewhere. Until then, I only have the wonderful and painful memories of good times, and those not-so-great ones too. Here in my blog I can relate to you stories of only the good, or selective pieces of the bad. I can leave you with any story and leave out all the rest; in my mind, though, I replay each moment to its end, following the narrative as only a dreamer, a writer, an artist can.

So pardon me as I step back into the various pieces of my travels, as I relate to you the echoes of those masterpieces. There will be more to read, I promise. I just ask that you be patient, and that you read and enjoy these posts as much as I love to write them and to share my experiences.

Aaah, back to England. I love this rather dismal, rainy land. We're in Bath for tomorrow, and then London for the last 4 days of the trip. I can't even believe that it has come to an end so fast... I can't imagine the world outside of this trip, but I also can't wait to get home to the new kittens, my sweet kitties, and as ever, the family.

I have a song to polish, and I'll post it here for your amusement.

A little bit of Barcelona

My favorite thing of the day was listening to a street performer singing "The Girl from Ipanema" and watching Air and Danielle's faces as they looked at the staggering view afforded those who take the time to get to Gaudi Parc. Otherwise, I manages to sprain my knee and we've collected Air's cousin for the next week and a half. She's so excited it just becomes infectious! I'll post more later, and I know that in my neglect of my blog I've let you all down a bit, but it's my vacation and I'll do as I please ;P

the first two weeks of August are Europe's vacation weeks. There are just so many people travelling right now that it boggles the mind.

Dubrovnik again

Well, back to Dobrovnik and then off to Spain tomorrow. It is nice to be moving once more, I think we got a bit stir crazy at the end, despite a desire to kick back and relax. But now we will have Danielle to shake things up, and only 20 more days. How did the time pass by as fast as it did? I seem to not remember the days just whizzing by, but that is how it seems now. I can look back at all the crazy things we have done and said and eaten and laugh and sigh and I can already feel myself missing all this. Maybe I can come out again next year (but I wont hold my breath...)

I know, I know....

How rude of me to be so spotty and inconsistent with my postings, but it can not be helped. And this kezboard is so strange, the z is a y and the y a z. Oi. But, mine followers, I just wanted to update you in the affairs of CroatiaČ mostly, reading. Reading and lazing about on the beaches. Wećve gone snorkeling and found some interesting seashells and such. Even an urchin shell!

As for updates, I have a few I have written up but I need to get wireless to get them to you, so donćt hold your breath for it. I think the next place with wireless is Barcelone, another 5 days out. However, dont despair! I will drown your sorrows with a flood of information you never knew you wanted!

Now, there is a pizza with my name on it...

More Croatia

Well, we decided to stay in Croatia instead of going to Greece- slightly a travesty, but honestly, more beach time is probably going to be more fun and better for us than the stress of hopping around Greece. And cheaper. We're planning on stocking green stuff for the next week, real food and good for us, as opposed to the rather thin fare we've had as of late. Or as of most of the trip, really.

It'll be nice, I think. Give me time to write and we'll probably read till our eyes bleed! I think it'll be fantastic.

Croatia, July 20-26

I like Croatia, as I might have said in a previous post. The people are, for the most part, fairly friendly and helpful, the air is clear and the weather is fantastic. We flew from Amsterdam to Split, a much easier way to get here than our previous ideas (some of which involved two to four hops). Our plane was supposed to leave at 6:40, but as per EasyJet (and the massive storm system over London) that was a joke. We ended up sitting in the waiting area for two hours longer than we expected, just sat there, staring at the board. We even had to get food while we were there, expensive airport McDonalds. The burger was eh (there was something I can only describe as bacon-flavored mayonnaise/thousand island weird sauce on it) but the fries were hot and delicious, and I got a coke with (gasp!) ice in it. *Ice*. Like heaven in a cup. So we waited and waited and waited, and finally we got to our gate and then we waited some more. The flight was about two hours, and I mostly slept for that time, but the lady next to me ordered a coffee, and Air was listening to music on the other side of me, so it might have been more of a "don't talk to me, I'm not happy right now" thing than sleeping...
We got in at 11pm, and we tried to figure out if there was a late bus headed out to the place we needed to go. First though, was the Croatian passport control. Now, for the most part (unless you're France, see the France post) this takes a little patience, but it goes pretty quick. This went quick as well, but it was kind of scary to be stared down by a very large Croatian woman in uniform. I shudder to think of what a Croatian jail would be like if they all looked as intimidating as that one woman. Anywho, Air and I were happy to get more passport stamps (which you only get by flying nowadays, they don't even check your passport on pan-EU trains) and we hauled butt to get our bags and find a bus. It turns out that there's only one bus that runs at that hour from the airport to Split proper, and from there only one bus that passes through Split headed in the right direction. The first bus had us in Split by 12, and the next one wasn't until 1:30, so we killed time staring at the harbor and plotting out some more of the trip. When the bus came by, it was a real hassle trying to figure it out. The bus was headed (fairly non-stop) to Dubrovnik or somewhere, and we had to pay a little extra to have it stop in the pipqueak place we needed, but it was well worth the 25 kuna to not pay for a taxi ride out. Interestingly, there are generally two operators on the bus: the driver and the ticket guy. Now, it was 1:30 am and the ticket guy took our money and bid the driver goodnight, while we were moving. Then he took off his shoes and disappeared. Turns out there's a tiny berth under the seats for long hauls like that, and they take turns getting sleep while they drive through. That was entertaining though, trying to figure out where the tiny man had stashed himself. The driver was nice, though, and made sure we got off in the right place, even got our bags out for us. By then it was 2:30ish and we had to find our hostel in this tiny place in the dark. The most amazing sky was overhead, though, you could even see the milky way it was so dark and clear out that night.
We ended up finding the place, but (as seems to be the trend here) there wasn't any type of reception, and we were unsure as to where to find someone to let us in. The doors to the floors of rooms were open, and the kitchen was too (the kitchen was on the bottom floor, and there were two stories of rooms) but no sign of anyone to greet us. Just as we were resigning ourselves to a night in the yard, the woman came out and greeted us, and showed us the facilities and told us to check in properly in the morning. So, exhausted by then, we fell into the king-size bed in our private room (a huge, wonderful bonus) and slept like the dead until 11. Then we checked in and went to the beach! We stayed there for hours, soaking up the sun and swimming until we felt ready to collapse from exhaustion. The beaches here are rocky, not sandy, but the water is clear and there were fewer people in Lokva Rogoznica than there were on the beaches of Split. The next day we went to Split to use the interwebs to book flights and hostels and such, and we wandered around Diocletian's palace- a place that is now mostly little shops and a few museum bits. We didn't take any tours or pay to see the museum bits, but we did look around and wander through the winding nooks and crannies. We bought masks and a snorkel for the beach, and then spent the rest of the evening reading and relaxing by the beach. We spent the next two days doing much the same, and it was just an absolutely gorgeous, wonderful time.
The trip to Dubrovnik, however, sucked. I woke up sick (Air had done the same two days before that) and was all sorts of not happy to be stuck on buses for 5 hours. Thankfully it was mostly just a headache by that point and the rest of me was fine, but it made for snappish times trying to find our hostel. The directions to it were bad, and when we got here we were not too impressed. Mattresses on the floor and a single bathroom for the lot of us, but there's a pool and the beach is just a few minutes walk away. It rained something fierce last night (apparently; I slept straight through, after the long day of being sick on the bus) and it's kinda cloudy and chilly today, but we're headed to Old Town and whatnot in a bit.

There's still some catching up to do, but I think that I've gotten you caught up for the most part ;)

Amsterdam, July 11-20

I know, what a long time in Amsterdam. To be fair, we had to extend our stay because our flight wasn't on the 17th like we thought it was, it was the 20th. Great job, EasyJet. So, Amsterdam.
Our train was PACKED to the brim going to Amsterdam. Everyone wanted to get there for the finals, and there were many a vuvuzela blast to be heard, and there were even guys dressed in milkmaid outfits drawing flags on everyone's cheeks. The city was just one big, happy, excited party. It was also wall-to-wall orange, and as we walked around trying to find the right trams and our hostel, we agreed that we needed to find something orange and quick! The tram ride into the outskirts, where our hostel was, was absolutely horrendously packed. There were so many people on the trams that we, with our big bags and lack of pride colors, were very much unwelcome for the time being. We got lost, got on and off trams, and finally, as we were really losing our tempers at each other, a nice random Netherlander biker gave us directions to the road our hostel was on. The two obviously lost backpackers we were, it was so nice of him to stop and help, especially on such a big day.
We wandered into the city for the game, and food. Every bar, every house, even the boats in the canals had tvs on and people crowded around in a sea of Orange. We found some food and wandered around from tv to tv. We couldn't understand the language, so it was more the people we wanted to watch than the game. Our hostel was just seconds away from the main showing, Museumplein, where they had six screens and over 20,000 people crammed into every available space. We wandered that was towards the end of the game, but we left pretty quick when the mood turned sour, hoofing it back to the safety of the hostel. There was a balcony in our room, so we watched the people stream away after their defeat, and the sirens and shouting carried on well into the night.
The next day, when we wandered past the now-empty square, we found it piled high with rows and rows of trash. People were using leaf blowers to pile it up for cleaning, just so much trash. We were over there for the grocery store, which was hilariously hidden underground, but it was one of the better grocers we'd been to in a long time.
Not that day but the next they had the screens still up, and we found out that the team was coming home, so the whole city was pretty much shutdown and back at museumplein to welcome their team back. The mood was happy, even through defeat, because hey, how can you be mad you lost when at least you made it to the final? That party lasted well into the evening as well.
The next few days were spent wandering the city from museums to parks to interesting little eccentric shops. We had fun trying to take a nap in every park in Amsterdam, it was like a game. There were three days of rain, cold, grey, heavy rain which had us inside reading or playing cards with the hostel people. We had a lot of fun wandering around with the people we met as well; we went to museums and churches, and we even had fun going to chip shops and falafel.
We visited the Van Gogh museum (crowded but cool) and walked past the Anne Frank house (too crowded and expensive for us to go into, but it was so small to see, and it really struck a chord in everyone, I think, to see how small a space it really was for them to be hiding in). There were huge cathedrals as well, most of which were free to enter.
The best (and most frustrating) part of Amsterdam were the canals. Great because they're so beautiful (for the most part) especially the ones in the outer city. Quiet little residential "streets", they had ducks and geese and lots of families who took evening boat trips just like evening car trips. The real setback to the canals is that you could so easily get lost because they all look the same! All the architecture resembles itself, so finding your way was really more like discovering a place you'd been lost in before.
Only once did we have anything big happen, that was when clumsy Air decided to bite it on a tram track. We were walking past this tram stop, and a biker(the bikers in Amsterdam are vicious, vicious creatures who take pleasure in knocking over tourists and unwary locals alike) whizzed past us too close, tripping up Air and knocking her over. She kissed the bike curb with both knees, skinned 'em up good. But otherwise we cam out with no injuries. We lost the only other platypus water bottle, though. Someone stole it when we accidentally walked out of the kitchen without it. I cam back down not 30 minutes later and it had disappeared. I was pissed, asked the reception guy if he had it, or who took it, and to no avail. I'm really unhappy about losing that bottle! Three of them, all int his trip!
And then came the flight to Croatia...

Bruges, and the Cactus Festival, July 9 and 10

Bruges was, if anything, tinier and hotter than Brussels, which is saying a lot because Brussels isn't exactly large, though it was extremely toasty there. We took the train to Bruges from Brussels, all of 45 minutes, and we had a fun time hauling ourselves through the heat with our packs on. Sweating, stinking and sore, we finally found our hostel (conveniently located in the heart of Bruges, but still hot, and without good facilities, oi). We set up and set out fairly immediately, because we had to be at the festival by 5 and we got in around 2, so we wanted to catch a quick nap and some food. We made sandwiches by a canal and fed some ducks, then wandered our way to the main gates. Now, Bruges being so small this wasn't too hard, but the vistas while we were walking were fantastic. Green was everywhere, and the windmills were hilariously Dutch.
We ended up at the festival a little early, but we got in and (now we're legit euro-travelers) got our wrist bands. Now, I know most of you have seen the paper bands you get at concerts sometimes, but these are heavy-duty bands. Cloth bands that are crimped with metal and cut off to fit your wrist. Efficient and useful for the people who are there for the whole fest (3 days) and camping, but also a great memento. We still have them on :)
We got to see Air's band (the entire reason we even went to Belgium, let's be honest) "I Am Kloot" and they were actually pretty good. THree middle aged men singing as a kind of side0gig, they had a good set even though it was the first set of all. As they said, "Usually being the first to play at a festival is kind of crap, but we like to think of it as starting it off right." The only other band we wanted to hear was one I liked (and had no idea was going to be there) Regina Spektor. Unfortunately Regina's friend had died a day or two before that, so her set was short because she didn't really have the heart to sing, which I can understand. We left after her set, and wandered our way through the dark streets of Bruges, where you could see the stars really well.
The next morning Air was having a lazy day of talking to her family and friends and whatnot, but I wanted to go see stuff, so we parted ways for the day. I set off with no plan, a map, and a bottle of water, and found myself wandering all over the city. I found a great gelato shop, and wandered through many a store and even through a few free museum-esque places. The best parts were the parks and canals, places where I just sat and listen to music or wrote in my journal, taking time off from our usual ten-foot proximity. It was nice, and I hardly wanted to go back.
When I did head back, though, I got caught up in some kind of parade, and I followed it as it wound it's way towards the city center, and thus the hostel. When I got back, Air had a surprise for me, it was a birthday present! It was a box she decorated herself, and filled with puddings and a can of mixed fruit cocktail, and we sat in our room having desert and we watched a movie and just relaxed.
Every now and again, you just have to separate.
The next morning we set out for Amsterdam, and it was the day of the WC finals, in which the Netherlands were up against spain, and we were headed straight into Orange territory!

Brussels, July 7 and 8

Well, after our first few days alone in Paris, we took the train to Brussels, which, being very near the border of Belgium, was only about an hour away. Shortest train to another country we've taken yet. We had little trouble navigating our way to the hostel, and though it wasn't in the center of everything, it was a splendid little place, quiet and right next to a metro station, so easy to find our way home. Air and I had a four bed dorm to ourselves for the most part, and there was *space*, such a novel concept in hostels. We set out right after showers and food to see the sights. Brussels, whilst being the center of the EU inner workings, is a remarkably small and vaguely uninteresting place. We got lost everywhere we tried to go because the maps we had, while free, were utter shite about actual distances and where the things they were trying to point you to were. Eventually we gave up the ghost and settled down in the pub we were going to watch the game in (Germany v. Spain!). We wanted to watch downtown because it would be a lot more fun than the hostel would be. We met some interesting German girls who are interning in Brussels for school, and we had a long talk about the unfairness of their ability to just take an internship in another country so easily. Their schools and governments make it easy, they WANT them to get out and be socially and culturally aware, and to have better international skills. Whereas we don't really like to send our people out into the big wide world without no small hassle. Oh well.
Anywho, Germany supporters were on the bottom floor of the pub, and Spain on the top. It was a tense game, and while we were rooting for Germany, we were just as well with Spain winning. In the end of the game, things got ugly and we scarpered quick from the downtown area. We got turned around in the subway, and ended up coming out of the wrong station entrance. Air got us to the hostel though, she's like a homing pigeon when it comes to getting home.
As for what we saw while in Brussels, mostly we just walked around looking at the architecture. Though the Mr Falafel was a favorite, I must say. We visited twice because it was good, and because it was cheap. For 3.50 euro you got 3 balls of falafel and all the salad you wanted. OM NOM. The second day we went for falafel, he gave us an extra ball! I think it was a combination of our obvious enjoyment and praise the day before, and the fact that we were more than willing to come visit his shop again. We saw a lot of chocolatiers, and we even stopped in a few for free samples. We bought a couple of delicious truffles and savored them for desert over the two nights.
For my birthday we mostly stayed in, but there was a Moroccan market that was interesting and we had kebap for dinner along with waffles (yummy, yummy waffles) for desert. We wanted to do more, but we were broke and exhausted, so we figured we would do more later. After all, we went to the Cactus festival the day after, so I considered that to be a good way to celebrate.
That was Brussels, really.

Paris, 4-6 July

Paris!

Well, the French are, in a word, French. Spiky, annoying and, well, very French. We flew into Paris (Beauville, not De Gaulle) arriving (as seems to be our trend) late.

First, we left Galway on the 3.30am bus. Sounds like it should have been a quiet trip, about an hour or so long at 3 in the a.m. Seems like it wouldn't be that bad, right? It was interesting, that's a good way to put it. It was Saturday night in Galway, the largest small city in the area, and all the locals from the itty bitty towns in the vicinity came out to party in Galway. Well, we took the last bus out, and so did they. A drunken, singing, stinking bus that echoed with pub songs and laughter. As the drunks slowly filtered out, it got quiet and we fell back into standby mode, but it was an interesting start to our journey. We got to Shannon airport around 5, and said our goodbyes to C, he was headed home and Air and I were off to our last half of the trip. Hard to believe it went by so fast! Well, as per our usual, the flight (a 6-something travesty) didn't leave the ground till like 8 or 9, and we got into Paris about noon.
(Funny sidestory: We fly into Paris and the first thing we have to do is passport control, just like every other country we've flown into. Sometimes, like Italy, they just wave you past. Others, like Ireland, they question you about what you're there for and how long. Or, if you're Parisian, you make the non-EU line wait 20 minutes while you finish your cell phone conversation, without even acknowledging the 70 people waiting for you to hurry up and let us go. Thanks, French border patrolman.) We managed the metro and even made it to the hostel with little harm. We were exhausted from no sleep, and all we wanted was a shower, but we got into the hostel before check in. So, being that it was France and all, we had to drop our bags and wander about until after 3. We decided to walk to the Lourve (not all that far, but a healthy hike) and when we got there, we were confused for a few minutes as to how to get in, and how to get tickets. We tried to ask the guy standing at the tours entrance (for the huge guided tours), and he just told us to go on in. We were baffled, but pleased. And then we found out that entrance was free that day. We were no longer confused! The first Sunday of the month? Why, the museums are free on that one day! Yay!

So we toured the Lourve. We made mistake numero uno by not grabbing a map, and the next one was not planning what we wanted to see at all. We got lost in the Medieval Lourve exhibit for a while, and then we got turned around in Dutch Painters. Oh, and Napolean's rooms. Those were about as opulent as it gets, and we were so hot and lost that we just kind of stormed through. It was kind of like Howth last year, where the heat had us all going around taking half hearted pics saying "It's fucking beautiful, can we go yet?" In the end, at the end of our endurance at any rate, we picked up a guide and found our way to the only two things I had really wanted to see. "Winged Victory" and the Mona Lisa (we *were* in the Lourve after all). We even took funny photos. Probably I should have been more, "oooh, art!" but after a while you look at museums in the same way: ooh, ahh, that's artsy. Unless you have an art fetish, museums can be the bane of your travels, they can bog you down in groups and they can set friend against freind when it comes to lines and waiting. It was pretty awesome none the less.

After we found our tired way to the hostel, got a room and took showers, we had to wander back out for food. Always an interesting conundrum in foreign cities: how late are your stores open, and can we actually buy food there? In small places things usually close around 6. Larger cities, 8. And in some urban ceters, a whopping 9pm is the limit. Sometimes I miss my consumerist identity.

With food in hand we went to find the advertised "guest kitchen" which included a vending machine for coffee, one for pastries, and a microwave. Oh, and a tiny sink. Unimpressed, we took our sandwich makings upstairs and had a slightly less than glamorous meal. We did find out that breakfast was included, and that you got tokens for the vending machines for that breakfast. Actually, it was better than some we've run across, but overall that hostel was about the WORST we'd had to stay in. In a six bed female dorm we had one window, a shower and sink. One toilet, ONE, for the whole floor. That was about 7 rooms, and at, say, 4-6 per room? Yeah. You do the math. We ran into a few cool people there though, so not a total loss.

Day two had us taking a walking tour of Paris, New Europe again, and it was fabulous. We spent the morning wandering all over Paris learning tidbits of history and getting oriented. We walked from Notre Dame to Champs-Elysse, then after that Air and I went on our own tour/adventure. We started somewhere below the Arc d'triumph, and we walked up the Champs-Elysse to the Arc. It was, as far as Arcs go, fairly impressive. Though the more entertaining (and impressive) thing was the eight lane roundabout that goes around the base of the Arc. An accident occurs there (on average) every twenty minutes, and your collision insurance doesn't apply if you get in an accident there. Oh, you Frenchie French people. We saw a fender bender, but nothing crazy. After that we wandered over to the Eiffel Tower (which is painted in three different colors so that it always appears against any backdrop) and did the tourist pictures and gawping. We also took pictured of the guys who were painting the tower-- they had to hang off of it in harnesses and swab paint on with long poles.

(As I am writing this, there is a cat caterwaling outside another apartment, and I am being laughed at for replying. I'm just being polite, the poor thing wants attention.)

After the Tower, we got lost. Very hot, sweaty, hungry and painfully lost. We persevered though, and after lunch (a box of profiteroles om nom delicious nom) we managed to find Notre Dame again. We hadn't actually seen it at all, aside from afar and even then it was misty and early. So, it's about 5 and we get in line to go inside the church. Let me tell you about Notre Dame. When you walk up to it, at first you think two things: how small it seems from the ground, and how detailed and absolutely impressive it is anyways. Notre Dame was constucted to hold the entriety of Paris' population (standing) when it was built in the 1200s. The statues look down at you from their pedestals, long necked and stern, they seem to point at you and reproach you for not grovelling in abject fear and awe. They aren't kind faces, but they do seem to have a kind of stern honor and, in the right light, they almost look like they could smile. The gargoyles, a notable feature, are entertaining. They have different faces, each a little comical or frightening in their own ways. We stood in the shadow of her towers, and Notre Dame, Our Lady, gave us sweet, blessed relief from the sun and heat. We walked inside and tried to find the best vantage point to see the rosette windows, but there were seats roped off at the best point, so we had to make do with what we got. Still, what an impressive sight, the eveining light filtering through the rosy glass. The other windows aren't to be laughed at, the artwork and detail on them is exquisite.

Thus ended that day, and we made a feast of baguette and leftover penaut butter and honey. Mmm.

The next morning we set out for Versailles, and it was FANTABULOUS. We set out to the trains, and had to switch twice, buy new tickets, and it was a royal wank. We found a whole gaggle of people, though, who, like us, were waiting for the train at the wrong binario. We managed to catch the train and, frankly, when we got off the train I kind of went, "well, where is this awesomeness?" We wandered, looking for an atm of all things, and just stumbled on a view of Versailles. Opulent isn't enough to describe this palace. Pictures do it justice, to a degree, but we stood in the courtyard for two hours for tickets, and believe you me, the thing is just impressive. For a crazy king, the guy certainly had no taste and was all for the over-indulgence form of decor.

It was probably 100 degrees in the brick-lined courtyard, and only about 87 in the rest of the area. Hot, hot, and more hot. Air and I weren't really prepared for the wait in the shadeless nightmare of the line. I took my scarf and wrapped my head with it, and Air took her overshirt and did the same. We have pictures. We were hungry, and didn't have anything with us to eat, so I volunteered to go scouting. It took about 40 minutes to scramble to the city center and back, and I never once saw a grocery store. But there was a fresh market closing up in the streets, so I bought a bunch of apples and some bread and hoofed it back. Also, I ordered in Italian, and the guy talked to me in French, but we both knew what was being said. Weird.

I got back and Air hadn't moved too far in the line, so I switched, put the scarf (which I had taken off and given to her for the wait) on my head and set about eating an apple and waiting. And waiting. And some more waiting. It took almost two hours to get tickets, and then another few minutes to get through the line to get in. Once we were in though, it was like a whole new experience. The Hall of Mirrors, the King's and Queen's chambers... "When in doubt," said Air, "gold gilt. It brightens anything." That's a good summation of the decor. It *was* beautiful though, and after a few hours of wandering, we finally made it to the gardens. Which, if anything, were more amazing than the palace itself. Acres of sweeping green, a canal and plenty of side gardens for all your royal shenanigan needs. We ended up slumbering for a bit under the cool shade of the trees planted along the Grand Canal. Then we watched people throw other people into the canal and laughed. It took almost a half an hour to walk the two miles, TWO MILES, of gardens back to the Palace. After that we managed to get seats on the train headed back to Paris (as all the signs say in English, all trains go to Paris from here, just take any of them!) which was fortunate because it was packed. We had to decide between going home and seeing Monmarte after dark, or going to Montmartre and not eating until we got back. We chose Montmartre before dark... The red-light in Paris is kind of scary, even in the daylight.

I was not happy with the walk up the hill, which was more of a trudge really. Monmarte is the artist's sector at the top of the tallest bit of Paris they could find. Air postulates that it was because they wanted to be left alone; I say that they were a bunch of drugies and drunks, and just wanted to be left alone from the coppers, so they took the bit no one wanted. Then it became artsy, and we all know the eventual progression of any art movement is that it starts off shunned, then it gets noticed by the "cool" people, then it gets noticed for being noticed, then it's all so old and uncool that everyone who wasn't ever even related to the word "cool" goes there now and the "cool" people have buggered off. Whew.

The very top of the hill is the church, the Sacre Cuore (Sacred Heart?) and it, for all it's odd architecture, is fairly amazing when the sunset hits the white marble. It lights up a dimly reflective pink and the whole square is left in a dim twilight as the sun sinks. The stairs of Montmartre are popular venues for street performers, hawkers, and the occasional wedding proposal. We sat there at the top of Paris, eating ice cream and watching the sun dip below Paris. You could see Notre Dame in the distance, and if you looked just right, the Eiffel Tower as well. A good ending to a whirlwind trip through Paris.

Croatia and backlog

So, Croatia. Aside from the usual (read: prickly) people, the place is fantastic. These last two nights have been super windy though, so sleep is kinda hard when doors and windows keep slamming all over the place. The beaches are so worth it though. Clear blue waters with visibility to 50-70 feet. Air and I bought masks and a snorkle, and we've had a great time exploring the marine life out here.
We went from Lokva Rognovika (however it's spelt) to Dubrovnik today, a grueling, unpleasant day of buses. I woke up sick this morning, but I think it was the seawater I swalled yesterday, Air had the same thing happen to her the day before. Yay bugs! Anywho, 5 hours of travel has us in a weird little hostel, but the people are nice. Finally have the Internet again, so hopefully I'll steal some time to upload my backlog. Headed to Greece in two days! I can't wait for that.
Signing out.

Croatian Postal Service?

Hum, I wonder what the chances are of getting a package home from Croatia... Air says wait till Athens, but that's 3 weeks away, and I can't keep dragging unnecessary weight around. I don't want to, but I guess if Croatian post is too weird, I'll just throw away the shoes and purse.

What a waste.

The fun of Dormitories

If you have ever traveled budget (aka gone for the dorm rooms and not the private suites) then you would know how important it is, for everyone, to have a little bit of space for your own. Your bed is your sanctuary, your bag is all you own. "This is my backpack. There are many like it, but this one is mine. My backpack is my best friend. It is my life. I must master it as I must master my life. My pack, without me, is useless. Without my pack, I am useless." We kind of have a certain nonchalance about our baggage at the same time. You carry the valuables with you-- you never leave them in plain sight for sure, but you leave everything else to fate. You know that if someone wants something from your bag bad enough to dig thru smelly clothes and disorganized junk, then they deserve that whatever they grabbed. What are you going to take? My underwear? The soap? Shoes, perhaps?

I guess what I'm saying is that no matter that none of the places we've stayed in the last few weeks have had storage of any kind for baggage, you can't really get too worked up about it because you know you only have a few things worth stealing, and you never let those go.

As for the unsettled feeling that comes from switching rooms, throwing an unorganized bag around, sleeping in a different bed each night... it wears on you, just that tiny bit that makes you feel like you've never known what it was to shuffle in your sleep without fearing to wake the person above or below you. Or to shower without having someone barge in or turn out the lights (these silly Europeans have the lightswitches for their baths outside the bathrooms, highly inconvenient.)

It wears at you, but it can also be kind of fun, like a big, long sleepover; without friends though.

Munich June 12-16

Ah, of all the cities we've been to, I think Munich was a favorite. Maybe it was that we did more, maybe it was the fantastic people we met (and have continued to be friends with-- Mike and Sarah took us out in Dublin when we visited!) but I feel like Munich was almost a highlight. The hostel was not good but not bad, and the Germany-Australia opening game was the first night we were there, so a good start to the stay.

We got to Munich in the afternoon, and had to contend with colder weather than we expected (welcome to Germany) and the usual confusion of trying to find the hostel in a new city. But we found it easily, and then found out that they had the wrong booking for us, but the guy was nice and helped us out by correcting the mistake. Starting on a good foot, Germany! Then Air and I had to go back to the station to get tickets for Berlin while C tried to organize what we were going to do while we were in Munich.

We took some tours (The Neuschwanstein and the walking tour) and had some festival food (brats and bretzels) and thoroughly enjoyed ourselves. We tend to skip the "pubcrawls" that most hostels host or try to get you to go on, mostly because they aren't much fun and they're expensive. But we heard great things about Munich, so we took the "Munich New Europe Beer Challenge" which was entertaining, to say the least. When beer is served in liter steins, it's a sure challenge going to five bars and not dropping like flies. There was a lot of fun and laughter, and of course, plenty of friends made.

I think that makes a city memorable-- the people you meet. Locals or foreigners, men or women, old or young, they all have a lasting impression, they leave you with a sense of the city you visited more than the empty photos of old buildings and fountains. I think that in order to truly enjoy a city, you have to have a good time with the people around you. If you don't find great people (like in Prague) then the city seems lifeless and shabbier than it needs to. Munich is a beautiful city filled with old-looking buildings (painstakingly rebuilt after being destroyed in WWII) but it is also a city that works, a well-lived in city that, while filled with visitors, is very much a home to the people there, and it shows in the pride of the people who live there.

I enjoyed Munich, and I would tell anyone to go. Many of the people we've encountered who went there didn't enjoy it as much as we did-- but I think it's down to the whole people thing, and that we don't party and club hop and all that.

Prague, June 9-12

Ah, Praha. After all the heinousness of getting to you, you weren't too bad, but for the heat. It was SO. FREAKING. HOT. All the time, everywhere we were, inside and out, it was hot. The city itself was not too much to look at for the most part, old buildings in need of repair and new buildings in need of repair... The historic quarter is better taken care of, but more out of a renewed interest in the revenue of tourism than any real desire on the Czech's part to beautify their city.

We walked (a bad idea, but doable) from our hostel on the outskirts of Prague proper to the center of town, and then back. I say bad idea because of the heat and the length more than anything, though there were certainly times when the sketch-o-meter found itself wigging out. We went to Prague Castle, an interesting place but there isn't much open to see right now. We wandered through some cathedrals and over to the Charles Bridge, which lies next to Bohemia. Looking back, I wish we had explored that portion of town more, but we were very fed up with the weather and at the point of our trip where we were all annoyed at each other for something or other. We got over it pretty quick, though, so that didn't follow us past Praha really.

What else to say about Prague? We spent three days there, met a lot of interesting people and had a generally good time going out and about, but there wasn't too much memorable about the city proper. We had more fun talking to the hostel people and wandering the area nearby than we did in the city. Air says that of all the places we've been, she liked Prague the least. I thought it was nice, a little dirty and rough around the edges, but what city isn't at some level? Through the dirt and smell, I'm sure that, given more time and a better mood, Prague would be a wonderful place to be.

Dingle! June 30

Dingle June 30

Ahh, a cold, dark and dreary day here in Dingle. With gray clouds and spits of rain, the average tourist might be deterred. But now we, silly things we are. We went out earlier for some shopping, then, when the rain really started we turned tail and scampered back to some warm tea and good books. As it is, I'm under a warm duvet, sipping tea and debating a good nap. I debate because I slept in already, till almost 11, and it's only half three now. But my head is hurting and the cold is most unpleasant today.

Yesterday was beautiful, though. Absolutely gorgeous. We rented bikes from this tiny man here in Dingle, and then rode them forever and a day to beautiful sights. Well, we rode them for about four hours, including the one and a half hour stop for sandwiches and naps. Still! We made the first five or so miles pretty quick, stopping at a nice beach to rest a few minutes and take pictures of the view. There were families there with their children, all happily splashing about in the cold water. Well, it's comparable to the Pacific temperatures, but still, the wind was brisk and the sea was cold. We had a quick snack and water and then were at it again, with a quick detour at "The Prehistoric Celtic Museum" which turned out to be a tiny house with a man charging entry to see some various artifacts upstairs. We passed, but toodled about in the little shop for a while. The next few miles were harder, mostly uphill, and I fell off once when my bag unseated and took me into some brambles. No harm done, but it *was* embarrassing. When we stopped for lunch, around 1, we didn't expect to be stopping for lunch. It was more one of those "let's take some pictures, then hit the next town to kip for a bit" which turned into "wow what a breathtakingly beautiful view, let's stay here for a bit."

There was a couple already there, bikers as well, and we didn't really want to butt in on their lunch, so we wandered just a bit (because there wasn't much to wander to) and sat down on the side of our little precipice, a rock to our backs, moss under our butts, and a spectacular view of the rocks below us. The seagulls were very cheeky though, they did several dive-bomb attempts to grab our meals. Basic fare, we brought a loaf of bread and peanut butter and jelly, made our sandwiches there and then took a light siesta before we left. Many a tourist stopped to take pictures, as we had intended, and found us lounging about, and they laughed and took some pictures. We packed up about an hour after that and set off once more. Our plan had been to do the 4-hour route, but life has a way of laughing at plans.

So, earlier the day before, Air and C had been talking about renting bikes and doing a good trail out there. I laughed at Air and tried to tell her that 20 miles on a standing bike in a gym was absolutely different that doing even 10 miles up and down on pavement. She insisted that it wouldn't be that bad, something to the tune of "You can do what, 20 miles or so in about an hour at the gym?" I told her that if she did 20 miles the next day and felt as if she'd just "gone to the gym" that she's far more of an athlete than she thinks. And boy I was right. I bike a bit at home, not as much as I'd like, but there ya go. At the beginning she tells us that she hasn't really been on a bike in a long time; not really a problem, she and I could hang at the back of the class and make our way slowly to the end. We were both unhappily sore by the time we got to lunch; afterward was just unpleasant. The views were astonishing, but the pain (and my need to breathe) were outweighing our contentment. After I started walking the bike up most of the hills, we decided to not take the longer route (which, in reality, was one of the shorter ones) and cut off quick.

Earlier, I had wondered if the cut through was really going to be any easier due to the fact that any cut through would have to go over a mountain. I was not incorrect in my assumption. Air and C both started up the path and I walked my bike up behind them. Air lasted all of two minutes on the uphill before she got off; C was about four. The grade was steeper than we thought, and even pushing the bikes up was hard. We passed a house near the bottom and the occupants were all on the porch having tea or something. We smiled and panted, red-faced from sun- and wind-burn, as well as exertion and heat. They told us that once we got to the top, it was free-pedaling down again, which was nice to hear, and kept us going up that long, steep haul. C made it up in record time, in fact he waited at the bottom of the mountain for us about 20 minutes. Air and I took our time, and were waylaid several times by having to stand to the side for cars-- it was a one lane road. When we got to flat sections we rode, but they were few and far between. At last we topped the rise and were so incredibly relieved. We thought that at the end of the road here we were pretty much done-- not so, but that comes later.

We got on the bikes, set off on the last of the pedaling for a while, and coasted down about 3 miles of road. At first it was almost terrifying how fast you'd get going if you weren't careful, but Air was scared to go too fast, and after my own accident as a kid, I had a healthy appreciation for how easy it is to lose control at speed. So we went a little slower than C, who told us later that he'd just flown down the path without brakes and without meeting any cars. We did both, having to skid to a halt to let them pass was annoying at best, but it gave me time to snap a few pictures on the way down. The coasting was amazing, it made us feel like we could do this, get the bikes back and be happily on our way. What we forgot was that the cut through didn't take us to Dingle, it took us part of the way back to Dingle. We back-tracked our way to Dingle, much of it a scant uphill grade, but enough to hurt like hell. So, another half hour or so tacked on, we got back to Dingle, sweaty and sunburnt and proud of ourselves. When we turned in the bikes (10 euros for the day, and a 10 euro deposit for the return of the bike) the man laughed and said that the only reason people return the bikes is to feel like they're being rewarded for doing it. We certainly did! We stopped by the grocery store and picked up popsicles (well, ice cream bars for them, I got a popsicle) and we trudged up to the hostel. After taking turns for the shower, we made food and watched TV until we felt okay enough to head out again. We played hackey sack in the dying light of day and just enjoyed ourselves and our accomplishments. A wonderful end to our day.

Tonight we plan on going down to one of the pubs for traditional Irish music and dancing, so hopefully the pubs won't be too packed tonight, what with the rain and all.

Train to Munich, June 13

To begin with, the train from Prague left at about 8.30, so we had to leave the hostel before breakfast. We had bought the breakfast tokens (non-refundable) before we knew that we wouldn't be there for the last one, so we asked at the front desk if there was any way to grab just a roll and cheese or something to go, since we'd paid for it already. They said to ask the girl downstairs who was making breakfast, so Air and I went down (this was back when C's stomach was still cranky) to see if we could score some food for our train. The girl was wonderful, I explained that we had the breakfast tokens and all we were wondering was if we could grab something small to go. She took me to the kitchen and was so concerned that she didn't have much to give us because she'd only started making the food. She wrapped up cheese and rolls, and gave us freshly boiled eggs, so that we could have a good breakfast for our trip, she said. Wonderful girl. We put the food in the (now lost) food bag and took turns hauling it about. It was early on a Saturday, so the trolleys ran late, but we made it to the train station with little fuss, and got a train straight to Munich, no changes or anything. It was about 7 hours, and we found a compartment with one little old(er) lady, so we took over. When she laft, about an hour or two in, we just spread out to encompass the whole compartment. The best thing about the train was that it got almost cold at times because of the air conditioning! Blessed relief from the heat of Prague. I spent a good three hours writing up blogs on the train, until the laptop died on me, and then the next four hours was taken up by music, and then by reading.

So, unlike the journey to Prague, Prague let us go without any fuss at all.

Train to Prague June 9

Train to Prague June 9

So, to describe the horror of the train to Prague, I must balance it out later with the description of our train to Munich from Prague. Also, I am describing this weeks later, so the details have become fuzzy for the most part, bear with me.

The train to Prague started out alright, an old German train with no air conditioning, so it was muggy inside, and the windows didn't come down at all. It was the kind of hot and muggy you assume India feels like in monsoon season. It was a miserable two hours, and as early as it was we were not happy at all with the conditions. When we got to our changeover at the Austrian border, we had about ten minutes to enjoy the crisp, fresh air before we hopped on the next train, where were subjected to another round of air-free heat. We sat in a compartment with only one other person, and they soon left, so at least we could put the window down and breathe for part of the 2 hour ride. So, mark up 4 hours of hot, muggy, stale smelling train travel. We can deal with it, it wasn't SO bad. Had we but known that those two trains would be the best part of the trip, we wouldn't have complained at all.

We knew about when to get off the train (European time tables are precise, however the trains aren't always so...punctual) so we were keeping one eye on the time, and one eye on the place names. Well, we saw the name of the place we had to get off, Cesky, and we rushed to get off, knowing that we had a quick changeover. As soon as we got off we realized that this was not Cesky, and we couldn't get back on for the one stop we had to go. The train left us, three hot, rumpled backpackers gazing off into the distance as the enormity of being stuck in a nondescript tiny little Czech town started to hit us. Now, we know how to deal with train oopsies. You wait for the next train and tell the ticket man what happened, use the dumb American look if required. We searched for the timetable (there was no one in the 'ticket' office, it looked like there hadn't been anyone in there since they posted the new timetable.) and found out that the next train was at least an hour wait. So, we set our stuff down in the shade, which was infinitesimally cooler than the sunshine.

Let me set the stage for you now, a description of not-Cesky: imagine now a little one-stop village more than town, where the train passes through instead of a bus. A place on the map that only those who live there know about. Very 1950's communist style architecture in the one building large enough to be seen; otherwise the houses were all in classic Czech village theme, small, squat and rugged. Everything was run-down looking, but in a well-worn way; slightly grown over but well taken care of (aside from the big building). The stop was nothing more than three walls to keep out of the elements, and inside of it there was no place to sit, nothing but black footmarks on the wall from countless days of waiting for the train by countless feet. Air added her own to the wall. We were all in different spirits: Air was perky still, trying (or perhaps just not at all worried) to be cheerful about it all. C was his usual self, a bit more biting sarcasm than usual, and I was probably the only one concerned at all with the idea that we might be stuck in nowheresville Czech. Not to say I was more than passably worried, it was the kind of "Well great, now how are we going to get to Prague" kind of thing. We'd undoubtedly missed our connection, and I had no idea if there were more that day or not.

I have a compass/thermometer that I like to have on the outside of my bag so that we can know where we are or figure out where we're going, as well as for the fun factoids like how it was 95+ outside, and that was in the shade. We were melting, pretty much, and there was nothing we could do about it. We had limited water, and Air managed to spill some of it on herself instead of drinking it. (She has a drinking problem ;]) We set out to stay as cool as possible in our little oven-shade, and we talked and bickered and were generally miserable for the most part. As soon as the next train came through (well, the next one headed in the correct direction) we got on board. Nothing would have stopped us come hell or high water, we were getting out of there. It turned out to be the "bus" for the region, and the conductor took pity on us and let us ride without fare. It was all of 5 minutes down the line, and we got off wondering when the next train to Prague left. We were pleasantly surprised when one of the guys on the platform went "Going to Praha? Praha?" We nodded and he pointed, with a "quickly!", so we ran and just barely managed to catch the last train out for the day.

Now this train, if the others were miserable, was fiery hell. We managed to get ourselves into two different compartments for the two and a half hour ride to Prague. There was no air. The compartment Air and I were in had two other occupants: a girl with track marks and hollow face, and a man doing his best to sleep with his head crammed into the corner of the window and seat. In the sticky, hot, miserable heat, Air and I managed to get some fitful dozing done. There was no way to do anything else; it was like those hot summer days in the South where every movement is slow and conservative to keep from overheating. After an hour or so, the girl left the compartment, and Air and I spread out a little more, trying to get as much air between us as possible. The next hour was just as hellish, and I can't really remember much of it, but I do remember being so relieved to get off of it that we almost shouted for joy, had we not been quite grumpy by that point.

Now we were in Prague, but we had no Crowns, so no way to pay for anything. We pull out money (the money there is sort of like Monopoly money, it seems absurd and unreal, as if the numbers have no actual meaning) and then Air goes ballistic on C and I as we try to not piss her off further. Now, Air has an addiction to being well hydrated, the girl drinks so much water that we have a hard time rationing water for trains, especially murderously hot ones. We were out of water before we got on the last train, and all of us were desperately thirsty, but it showed more on Air than either C or myself. So she goes supernova on us, and stalks off to buy water and figure out the underground system. She comes back later with water, except it's peach flavored and fizzy. She HATES fizzy water. Cue another blow up. C and I, cowed and desperately trying not to argue back, tell her that we can just walk to our hostel, it shouldn't be that far. She starts to stalk off at a good clip, and C (still sick) and myself are just not going to practically run with 40 pounds of gear.

We leave the train station with a map and a good idea of where we're going, and Air just moves ever onward, silent and fuming. We let her. After a while I ran to catch up and ask her why she's doing double time. Easy enough to ask, and she said that she didn't want to get caught outside with our packs after dark and in the rain (it was black and rainy behind us, and we were trying to outrun the storm). Valid point, and we were fine with it, so we kept going. Blisters and painfully weary, thirsty bodies were forced to the background as we trudged onwards. It turned out to be a mile or more to the hostel, and we were absolutely exhausted by the time we found it.

That, my friends, is the story of our journey to Praha, and I will describe to you our actually quite interesting stay in Prague later.

Up to date infos:

For those who need to know info on whether or not we've died inbetween my (rather infrequent) posts, follow my twitter feed at www.twitter.com/ashesabroad. It will give you the "we landed blah blah blah 160 character limit" but it keeps us from texting too much.

Made it to Brussels, and hopefully will catch up on posting. Tonight is the Spain v Germany game, so no guarantees, and tomorrow is my birthday, so we'll be out and about (in Brussels, apparently a lot of things happen on Thursday nights!)

And remember folks, the French are very, well, FRENCH.

Biking

Oi, I hurt more *now* than I did yesterday. I'm all stiff and painful after biking 20-odd miles yesterday. Now, I bike around at home (in the heat and up all those freaking hills!) but yesterday was brutal. Beautiful and oh so painful. We started off at Dingle and went about a fourth (third? I don't have the map readily available) of the way around the pennensula. The sights were breathtaking (and the hills were too, I wheezed up most of them). We ate lunch on a jutting bit of rock on a clifface which had been occupied for at least 2500 years. Weird. The blue sea was bashing against the rocks, even the foam was blue-tinged. The best and most fantastic part was sailing down the other side of the mountain we pushed the bikes up to the top of. Exhileration at it's best.

BLARNEY!

Ah, I have kissed the Blarney stone, perhaps I shall gain from it the eloquence of speech granted to Walter Scott, or to Churchill? Or just the gift of gab? Whatever it is, it was so worth dangling upside down to kiss a random stone in a crumbling castle. C and I had a ball wandering the premises and crawling around smelly, dank corners of the castle Blarney. I've some breathtaking photos (to be posted later... I've got to get a flikr account set up!) of the scenery, and a few hilarious ones of C and I goofing off in tiny doorways and on outdoor installations. There was a tire swing at one point...

Blarney is about 20 minutes bus ride (6.20 euro for a student return journey, about 10 for an adult) from Cork, and not too shabby either. Fairly normal and industrial for a while, but there are some nice, picturesque Irish plots along the way. You get off the bus in a tiny little plot of a town with only a few shops and a pub or two. Follow the signs to the castle, and I recommend taking the long route-- the gardens are beautiful in the early summer.

The first thing you can see is green, just an explosion of greens. Kelly, Fern, Jungle, Forest, Pine, Hunter, Emerald, Teal, Moss... All the variegato Try here for ideas! It was a riot of green, and even the abundance of tourists couldn't ruin such splendor. If anything, they serve to point out how large and magnificent this estate really is. You'll walk around this huge, rather imposing castle, where the walls seem to grow out of the living rock, which they actually do because the architects used the large natural rock outcropping to their advantage.The castle itself is impressive, but yet more impressive is the view from the ramparts as you await your turn to dangle, the manicured gardens turn slowly into farmland and cultured forests. The town of Blarney is tiny and very tourism driven, but worth a bit of a walk through as you wait for the bus to pick you back up. C and I spent about three hours total there and back, so a nice quick jaunt.

Afterwards, we made burritos. Because I miss Mexican sooooo much. NACHOS. It must have been hilarious to see the three of us struggling in this industrial size kitchen to make half-hearted burritos. They were delicious nonetheless

World Cup

I know that I've waxed, if not poetic at least in earnest, about the WC on my twitter (www.twitter.com/ashesabroad) but I think that the time has come to wonder WHY I continue to talk about it. To be honest, I never follow football/futbal/fussbal/soccer during the year. Heck, hardly even during the four years between cups. But I love the solidarity that comes from the warring teams, the commiseration of defeat and the absolute devotion of even the least interested parties. In Germany we saw all shapes and sizes of people with flags on their faces, their backs. We were there in Munich as the opener game (Germany v. Australia) commenced, and oh the absolute air of excitement was wonderful. We had Aussies on one hand and Germans on the other, and as Americans we rooted for them both. I've heard hedonistic tales of that night, and some like it, where the bars, filled to the brim with supporters, had free shots or beers, and the song of the vuvuzela was heard all through the night. I remember the Bavaria game had supporters shouting and honking horns into the wee hours of the morning, especially funny given that the game ended at like 4 pm.

I've watched many a game now, and I still can't say that I'm anything of an expert on things, but I do know good playing when I see it. While I agree that today England deserved that goal (REALLY, REF? REALLY??) they wouldn't have won at all the way they were playing. Germany DANCED around them, literally.

But that's besides the point. Honestly. The point here is that I wax romantic on it because of the feeling of unity it inspires, despite the warring factions. You might be in Germany and rooting for Ghana, but you will find that the Germans, while not rooting for Ghana, will support your enthusiasm with their own. We were on the U-Bahn on a German game-day, and I ended up; listening to the wild call of the Drunken German Supporter, complete with bad lyrics. It was all in good fun, though.

I'm sure there are bad sides of it, but for the most part what we have come across, especially in hostels and the like, is a general air of expectancy and delight. Almost childlike, the people wait to see. Well, very rowdy children with horns like a buzzing hornet's nest, but none the less.

I love it.

Florid: a word not used enough in relation to the Irish and English peoples. The Germans, while red and drunken, tend to be uniformly so. In comparison, the UK lot tend to be florid and blotchy.

Both are great fun when you're watching the World Cup.

Dublin, Ah Dublin

So, the day from hell hath ended and I have seen the gloriousness of human kindness embodied in this hostel, Camden Place. Everything from the friendly reception (they give free hugs!) to the free tea in the kitchen. The shower was fabulous and, though the dorm is a bit cramped, the beds are so much better than the line of bench I pseudo-slept on last night.

We spent 21 hours at Gatwick airport in London. 21 tedious, obnoxious, hideous hours waiting for the next plane to Dublin that didn't cost an actual body part. And after all the hassle of getting from Hamburg airport (where they had only one strip open for both landings and takeoffs, pushing our flight 2 hours behind schedule) to the Ryanair counter, ryanair went belly up on us and the fun began. I almost cried at the airport, like, wander around and pretend you aren't leaking at the eyeballs kind of frustrated with all of this. Turns out the ryanair booked me for the 10am flight even though I bought my ticket at the same time as Air and C, and double checked as I went. That was fun to find out. So, due to an error probably made by yours truly, I had to buy 3 new tickets for us to get to Dublin because Air and C wouldn't just head to Dublin without me (which I really am greatful for). Well, even when expecting the unexpected you can get hit with travel fees you just never expected.

So, between the landing and the frustrating news there was actual sprinting from one end of Gatwick to the other. I have excersize enduced asthma, so trying to haul ass and not have an asthma attack at the same time was interesting and very painful. But I survived to tell the tale ;)

Feeling a little under the weather today, so it's relax and do laundry day, hopefully catch up on posting as well...

Dear Berlin,
Please die in a(nother) fire.
Respectfully yours,
Ashes

I think that there are some days, some times, where you need the space you just can't seem to find, the understanding you don't want to have to ask for. Times where you just want to be able to feel bad or sad or angry, or even to just sit and not feel anything at all for a while, no pressure to be anything you don't want to be.

And then there are those times you just want to be happy in the group and where getting out is the cure, or at least the bandaid over, what ails you.

For now, though, a cup of tea and a good book are all I need. Happy Sunday to everyone.

A list of things we have lost...

The food bag (!) with one (maybe two) of my platypus bottles. NOT. HAPPY.
The lower half of my toothbrush.
Ariel's first aid kit.
My converter's adapter piece, small but really freaking important!
One sock. Huh.
Ariel's bodywash and a shampoo bottle...

When you live out of a bag for a long time, sure you expect to lose some things along the way, but I feel this is a bit excessive for 4 weeks!

I'm really displeased with the water bottles, and the converter piece. However, I can buy a new toothbrush ;)

Berlin, ah Berlin...

A wonderful evening, filled with friends and food. Nothing better, in fact, for travelers but the making of friends, and of course the making of food! The best one can hope for is to form bonds that will follow past the city they're made in, into the future travels perhaps, or into the heart as friendships thousands of miles apart.
This, the people, is my favorite part of travel.

Feet

Something that most people give little thought to or care much about, just like any footsoldier would tell you, feet are important on long marches. Which is pretty much exactly what we're on, a long march with heavy packs and weary muscles, aching feet and even blisters at times. The idea of breaking in a pair of shoes on the go is pretty hideous for anyone with a brain, and the idea of wearing the same pair of footwear through a whole trip is more than some can bear.
I've got what we call 'hippie feet' going on. Wearing my birkenstocks 80% of the trip so far has left me with feet many people I know would cringe at. Calluses, sunburnt at times, strap tan and the ever present black bottom soles... My feet are travel worn and battered. They ache after three hour walking tours, they look bad at times, but they've yet to balk at a task. Seldom will I say no to a walk because my feet hurt, far fewer when i'll refuse to go out because of them. When I get blisters they hurt, of course, but you switch shoes and keep walking.
Here, if you mess up your feet you're as good as dead, travel wise. I bring nice travel socks and comfy shoes, I try to pamper my feet when I can, but few and far between are the days when we take time off completely. So how do we keep up, feet up when you sit when you can, lots of no-shoe time for blisters, and of course, a nice scrub in the showers never hurt.
Feet, thank you for all you do.

Neuschwanstein Castle

Here we have a nice picture of the castle taken (most likely) from Mary'sBridge. A few things about Neuschwanstein : It is called the castle of the Fairytale king because Ludwig II built it due to his desire to escape reality and live in the worlds he read about in fairy tales. Now, if you've ever read a real German fairy tale, they all end in death and unhappiness, so it's no small wonder that he did too. Next, this is the major inspiration for Disney's Sleeping Beauty castle, and traveling through the wooded areas of Czech and Germany, I can see where the dancing scene was born as well. Lastly, this is an incomplete castle, all work was stopped on it when Ludwig suddenly, and mysteriously, died. 6 weeks after his death, to pay their massive debts, the government of Bavaria made it a tourist spot. Ironically, Ludwig would have hated that; he wanted no one else to live in his little world.
Crazy guy.
Now, there's a picture of Ludwig for you, at 18 when he became Kind of Bavaria. What a looker, eh? Google him and you'll see that he wasn't too much of one later, oi.
So, our tour was interesting, cost about 32 euro and we took two trains and a bus to get there, but we learned a lot about Ludwig, his life and death and all that jazz. Our tourguid was really well versed (she LOVES Ludwig) and her studies into his life are really apparent in the little details we got from her.

I recommend the tour (though maybe a skip on the inside of the castle, except for the random man-made GROTTO. Seriously, weirdness abounds) and felt like it was worth the money we spent on it.

New Europe Tours

The New Europe company, started somewhere around 2003, has suddenly risen to great heights as walking tours are on the rise, especially in the eco-conscious major cities. There are two types of tours, and all the tour guides have to do the free one and train on at least one other type. The first type is their highly popular "Free walking tour of (whatever city)" which caters to a crowd of about 16-20 people on average.
These tours cover the big bases in these cities and last between 3 and 4 hours, most starting between 10 and 11 am. They take you past the major sites, those that are standard fare for tourists, but they also give you the history of wherever it is, as well as little known facts etc. They study and/or live in the city they guide, so they really do know their way around. THey'll also show you some little-known places, or the best restaurants to go to, the little "human" touches that are usually omitted from big tours.
The other type of tour is the paid tour, generally a reasonable rate, in which the tours tend to top out at 25 people and are a little more rushed. We did the free tour of Munich (a wonderful, very educational tour we enjoyed a lot) and two paid tours, Dachau and Neuschwanstein, and both were excellent. The guides know there info, and they are pretty good at giving you enough hints at the big mysteries atthe end to keep you wanting to stick around.
Normally, tours are overly expensive and not much fun, but these were good. I'll talk about each one in more detail, aside from the free tours because really, they're free so you can do them to your heart's content.

More Berlin!

So, yesterday was actually pretty fabulous after we got the grumping over and got out of the hostel. We took our time walking through what had to be most of East Berlin trying to find a park to play about it. We found what we THOUGHT was a park, but it was really just a parking place for dead people. A really, really big parking spot, to be fair. We must have walked a half mile or more trying to get out of it. Luckily the park was only another jaunt away so we just hopped over (well, half a mile hopped but what is that when you've already gone two or so miles?) and found a place to park it in the shade.
Get it? Park it? I'm killing myself laughing here. (Chirp chirp, I know)
So, we had a good time playing hackey sack, or footbag or whatever you want to call it, and then we had siesta time. We spread out underneath a big tree and just lay there, some sleeping (Air) and others dozing or just cloud watching (C and I). I listened to some nice music, watched the clouds drift past the trees, and generally had a good time of it. Then we came back, checked in, and then got ready to wander about outside again to find this supposedly really awesome beergarten in what we think is Berlin's Little 5. Well, we found it but it was a little too hipster/hippie/alternative/whatever for us then, so we scarpered and found another little park to play hack in. However, we did come across very heavily armed and protected German polizei wandering the streets after 8, 8:30 so we ambled back. A successful day, all in all.
Today (the 18th) we went out for one of the new europe free walking tours, because the tours in Munich were awesome (I'll talk about those later!) and were slightly disappointed by it here. Firstly, though, I'll set the scene. We are situated in an eight bed dorm and the sun comes up around 5 here, so people start just getting restless about then. Our room is directly across from the kitchen, which means that it can get a little loud as people start to meander to breakfast. Otherwise it's a fairly quiet little hostel. Well, breakfast was actually pretty good, we bought eggs yesterday and we scrambled those and had watermelon. So, fed and water(meloned) we moved out. I'm not sure when Air started the "eeerrrggghhhh" mood, but she was in full-on don't talk to me, I've got earbuds and a frown mode by the time we made it to the Sbahn (the overground trains, the underground ones are the Ubahn, creative little Germans, huh?). So, we amble the kilometer to the meeting point to find that this tour is over a hundred people, granted they do separate out but still, that's a lot of people. So we made the choice to o anyways and, being free, we could always leave if we didn't like it.
Our guide was nice, but you could tell he'd been too long in the job: he knew his stuff but wasn't really excited about it at all. His presentation made all the Nazi and Soviet talk more boring that it needed to be. Berlin was 95% rubble at the end of WWII, so there wasn't much of the 700-odd year history left to stare at, so all we saw and heard about what the post war era. Fair, but kinda got old. We made it to the Wall and Checkpoint Charlie (over commercialized and not at all what it was 20 years ago) but after that we decided it was too hot (and boring) to keep going. So, here we are, catching up on football and writing blogs :)

Happy travels, I has them.

Berlin!

It is SO NICE to use a real computer, even with the strange placement of keys (sillz german keyboards!)
The overnighter was hideously uncomfortable, essentially just big chairs that sort of leaned back a bit. We each had a two row to ourself, but since the armrests don't go down at all, it was still hellish sleeping. It got cold, too, because that's how it would have to be, right? So about two hours before we stop, I realiye 'Duh, I have a silk sleep sack!' so I grabbed it and was wrapped in a warm little silk cocoon for the last two hours. I didn't really sleep much at all, none of us did, but I think C and I are being better sports about it.
We spent ALL DAY yesterday sitting at the hostel and reading or napping because it was gross outside. So, in this beautiful weather here we, or at least C and I (maybe just me at this rate) are going to go grab some food for the real kitchen, make some food and find a park to play about in. Possibly, that would be wonderful but if one person in the group is contrary, then the whole day starts to suck a bit.
That is what we get for travelling together, though, and we knew that from the outset. Well, I am off to change and head out, if Air wants to be lazy she can, if C wants to come then he can, but I want to move today, to see and feel and do and play. I havenät even had coffee, or breakfast of any type (and we left our foodstuffs bag on the train, so go us!) but I am willing to make my day better, damnit, so they come or they don't, their choices.

Laundry in Europe

Ah, how we love to "live the dream." Smelling your clothes through your bag and not wanting to put them back on because you haven't washed them in two weeks is so dreamy, let me tell you. Here the washers are itty bitty teensy weensy, so for three people we have to prioritize if we want to consolidate and not spend anywhere between 1 and 4 euro a person washing clothes. Sometimes they'll even have a dryer! What a novel concept. In Prague we literally sweated so much that our clothes stuck to our skin and dried in all that smelly, salty glory. So we said to ourselves, let's do the wash before we leave. Well, they didn't have driers in Prague, and we didn't have time to wait for air dry, so we decided to bring them to Munich and wash here. Then you have to decide: what to wear on the train that won't offend your nose or other people's either. You sniff check, you spray perfume or cologne or, my personal savior, febreeze.
You can try to wash in sinks, but most hostels don't have big sinks, or if they do you can never find something to stop it up with unless you though ahead and brought a sink stop (we didn't, unfortunately.) I have a travel clothesline which is amazingly handy for more than just clothes: it can help dry towels or swimsuits, it can be a divider for beds, used to make a curtain or door, and can even be used as a rope-type thing to strap things together.
Even if you washed your clothes at every hostel, aside from costing a fortune, you'd still never have something completely clean to wear because everything mingles in the pack (even if you have separate compartments or what have you) so the best you can hope for it really delicious smelling laundry detergent that makes everything smell better.
But the smell/feel of freshly laundered clothes can make all the difference in your mood, in how you feel about the world in general as well.

More Foodage and Train Thoughts, June 12

Sitting on the train from Prague to Munich at 9:30 and we've been awake since 7. Air woke up at 5:30 this morning because she thought that I had yelled at her for not getting up on time (not true at all) and so I have no doubt that on this 6 hour ride she'll pass out sooner than later. C is already doing the nod, but then we've had to acclimate to the general pattern of train travel: up early or out late, sleep when you can and, if you can sleep, you'll pass the time faster. This works especially well on long hauls because, like flights, the short hops are just more stressful that the long ones because you're always worrying about the connection.
Our last night in Prague we went out for dinner-- we make a point of eating the local cusine at least once in every city/country we go to-- of real Czech food. Rude though it may seem, we shared our food with each other, and it was delicious. Air had some type of pork-cut in whipped cream and cranberry sauce (yes, as sweet as it sounds) with plain dumplings that seemed more like someone had cut a loaf of really thick and moist bread than the American idea of dumplings (or is it Asiatic?). C, whose stomach is still not 100%, had a dish of chicken pieces cooked in a garlic-ginger sauce. I had veal goulash, which I always thought was more of a really thick stew, but it turned out to be really thick veal gravy with absolutely wonderful, tender veal cuts. My dumpling was made with bacon fat cut into the dough, which strange as it might sound was absolutely fabulous. Thick and rich and a delight to eat. We also shared a dish that, on the menu, was called "Chicken Sticks in Honey Sauce" that turned out to be tender, fall-off-the-bone drumsticks in a nice sauce of honey and spices. C about died of happiness at it (he loves chicken). I loved the roasted potatoes that came with it, which I dipped in the sauce and enjoyed thoroughly.
Not only was it the first real MEAL we've had since Gaeta, it was the best one. Even the wursts in Salzburg were really more like fast food; this food took about 30-45 minutes to cook and come out to us, nicely presented and all. I can understand now why the Czech Republic has the highest rate of alcohol consumption in the world-- beer is cheaper than water, soda, or coffee. Air and I had the local brew with dinner, which wasn't too bad. Most of the people we met who talked about Czech beer said it was awful piss, but then again these are mostly younger travelers who tell their drinking stories around the table at night. To be fair, we all trade stories about train mishaps, drinking woes, the interesting ways one can get their stuff stolen... As well as the best hostel to stay at in so-and-so city, or the best place for cheap, good eats. As a group, we like to spend our time at night in the hostel or in a larger group traveling about a city, just because most of the fun of hosteling and traveling is other travelers.
Pub crawls are popular here, almost to the point of ridicule. Way back when (as if I'd actually know when in the dark ages before the dawn of computers or telly) a pub crawl was exactly as it sounds: a group of friends would go down the street to all the bars and have a pint at each. Thus, by the end of the night, it became more of a crawl and stumble than anything. You learn something new every day. Another is that if someone tells you in the summertime (June-August usually) that they have real Sicilian canolis, then they're lying. The goats of Sicily have nothing to eat in the hills during the hottest months, so they stop producing milk, thus no ricotta cheese to fill the canolis. Funny, huh?
Thank goodness that this train is German, not Czech-- the windows don't go down, but there is actual air conditioning. It isn't 93 degrees in here like it was on the way to Prague.
What a hellish trip that was, the train to Prague. I'll save that story for another post.

German/Austrian food

So, we've been in the Austria-Bavaria region of the world, and though we travel on a pretty tight budget, we do make time to sample the local cuisine. I know I talked about the Czech food we had in Prague, but I thought I would take a moment to talk about the wonderful (and sometimes not so wonderful) foods we've eaten in Salzburg and Munich.
In Salzburg we had a few good dishes, most of them at the wonderful Augustinian Brewery Beergarten, where the beer is brewed, as you can tell by the title, by the Augustinian monks in the monastery above the garten. We went there our first night, following our roomies who had been there dozens of times over the course of their study in Salzburg, and tried a dish on the recommendation of one of the guys. It turned out to be a slab of pork that was cooked nicely, but was fattier than I would usually eat. Being hungry though, I ate it regardless and was pleasantly surprised by the flavor, a rich pork roast. The potatoes were a little different, not quite sauerkraut potatoes but they were mixed with what I presume is some kind of mustard. They took a little getting used to, but I ate mine and Air's because I liked them so much. The second time we went to the Augustinian we had several things from the food court. Air got a currywurst, literally a wurst topped with ketchup and curry, as well as something like a meatloaf meatball (we didn't really like that one). I got a kaserkreiner or something like that, it was a regular braut type sausage smothered in two different types of mustard. Mmm. We also got bretzels and different deserts to try.
Being a beergarten, they obviously serve beer. The way you do it is to find a seat out in the shady garden filled with trees and tables (hard to do in the evening when everyone and their kid is out to enjoy the food and friendships), then you have one person stake the table while the other go get the beers. You pay for the beer at the cash register, they hand you a ticket and you grab a freshly washed stein (1 liter or .5 liter sizes) and go wash it in cold water for a minute or two. This chills the stien so that the beer stays colder longer, and gives it a better flavor. Next, you take the cold stein and ticket to the pourer behind the counter, and he pours you your beer, takes you ticket and sends you off.
Fast and efficient: the German way. Interesting tip: There is a line on all the mugs and cups here in Europe, and if your beer isn't poured to the line, or comes out with too much head and not the right amount of beer, you can point it out and get the correct amount. I don't recommend doing it if you don't speak the language, but it's a good tip in case they decide that just because you're a tourist you don't deserve the same treatment as a native.
Here in Munich we ate our first meal at the festival celebrating Munich's founding some 800 years ago, so we ate stall foods of traditional nommage. We had bretzels with mustard, Air got a real brautwurst and I got some kielbasa-type wurst. I didn't like the flavor of hers, but mine was fabulous, especially because the bun for it was a hard, crusty fresh baked thing, full of flavor.
Air tried this thing called a "raddler" which is some kind of fruit drink and light beer mixed. It sounded bad, but it was almost like sprite-flavor, and we saw that they had different fruit flavors, raspberry, strawberry, lemon etc.

Travel Contemplations June 12

Travel planning can be such a pain in the buttinski some days. We spent the first half of the day going over and over and over our plans (which we were making as we went along). We still have 4ish weeks before C leaves, and we have to have him in London by the 4th of July for his flight the 5th. We can honestly look back and wish we had stayed longer in each city so far, but we were terrified from Swizerland, and made hasty plans on sleep-deprived and hungry brains just trying to escape the bloody expensive Swiss towns. We had made tentative plans to go to Innsbrook and another town or two, but we spent over 250 euro just traveling through, so to us even looking at something meant hemorrhaging money. We should have spent another day in Salzburg for sure, and maybe even Prague. But we're on the way to Munich, then Berlin, then Hamburg and then a hop to Ireland for a week and a half or so before cruising to London, where C's flight leaves from. Well, we're mostly sure on that last bit (the Ireland part, not the flight part). Air and I will hop a plane the same day to the Continent again and head to Denmark to meet up with an old school friend, then onwards. After C leaves, we still have a month and a half out here; I'm excited but a little scared of just how much we're spending getting from place to place.
We didn't buy eurorail passes because we were training between 9 countries or so, and the passes are fairly restrictive (and expensive!) but now we've been almost sad we didn't. Almost. I mean, we've spent almost $1000USD on planes and trains alone, not including city transport. But we planned for it, we're budgeting well enough, and we're averaging better cost than we did last year. We figured out that we ate out a lot more in England-- with four people (two boys, and boys are always hungry!) we felt more compelled to eat around. Kebap and food from stalls etc, they all add up fast.This year we've been trying to get hostels with kitchens, cooking our own food for the most part and drinking water that we bottle from taps and drinking fountains wherever we go. It is rare for us to buy anything to drink, and only in desperation will we break down and buy something. With an electric kettle we can have hot water for tea or coffee, we have instant noodles and seasonings to make quick soup. We supplement the noodles with fresh items from wherever we are, fresh breads and cheeses and meats in sandwiches (even sometimes veg!).
We seem to be doing well enough and no one but C has gotten even the sniffles. We take multivitamins most days to get our daily dose of healthy, and we eat a lot of apples and oranges, which are great take along foods. Yay for self contained foodstuffs!

Church of Bones June 11

Remember that Vincent Price quote in "Thriller," the one that goes something like "the funk of 40 thousand years..?" Well we visited a church in Kotna Hora (I think that's how to spell it) that had the funk of 40 thousand corpses. Literally this Ossuary was decorated in human bones. There were these huge pyramids of skulls and bones that were not held together with any bindings, just stacked up twelve or fifteen feet high. The smell was terrible-- and slightly terrifying. How can bones from over 500 years ago still smell so funky? Well, they are still remains and slowly decaying even under the sterilization and whitewash treatments. It smelled like old tapestries and musty, closed off rooms, laced with the smell of sweat and b.o. from everyone there-- the only way to really get there without a car is to walk about a kilometer from the train station; in the 90+ heat, it was like slowly baking in a brick oven, the heat coming off the pavement in waves. It was so freaking hot we actually broke down and bought cold drinks at the station to cool off. By the time we got to the ossuary, we were plastered with sweat, but really that isn't anything new in Prague. We showered twice a day sometimes, just to cool off and de-stinkify. We were happy to get into the shade, and knowing that usually churches and museums are cooler than the out-of-doors, hoping that there would be a breeze or something to cool us down. Well, it cooled us down, but it smelled awful, so it was up in the air as to whether or not it was "better."
As soon as you enter the place you can see the bones, and the absolute shabbiness of the place. One lady at a desk at the front taking money for the tickets and handing out a badly translated history of the chapel. Apparently some half-blind (and in our consensus totally mad) monk set out to honor God by using the bones that were heaped up and mostly forgotten to decorate. These 40,000 corpses are largely unknowns; victims of the bubonic plague and the Turkish wars. There was some famous guy who spread some famous handful of consecrated earth from the crusades over the graveyard there, so lots of people wanted to be buried there. They literally heaped them up inside and out, a pathetic sepulcher for about 200 years or so; then, after a fire destroyed part of (most of?) the chapel, the monk-guy (who apparently had nothing else to do with his time, and had no sense of smell left) took the bones, most of which were heaped up, mouldering outside the walls and started playing kinex with them. Somewhere in the 16-1700's some famous Italian architect dude came along and sterilized and whitewashed the bones before actually creating artworks with them... chandeliers, wall drapes and crucifixes, a coat of arms and heraldry, even candelabras and instruments of the churchly rites.
All in all, it was an interesting place and well worth the 50 cent entry fee, but I wouldn't recommend taking kids there.
The train to Kotna Hora took about an hour, but for the three of us to go and return was 300 crowns, which we earned by having to stand the entire way to Kolin, where we switched trains unnecessarily. Literally the train was packed too tight for us to find seats in second class, so we stuck our heads out the windows in the aisle and just tried not to die of heatstroke. It was like being in an oven-- but we were like marinated chickens: marinading in our own sweat and the stink of hundreds of unwashed bodies. It was probably better than the seats, to tell the truth, no matter how achy and sore our feet, knees, hips got from standing, sitting on the floor was a hard prospect-- not only was it filthy, but people kept coming and going past us, so every time Air would try to sit, a few minutes later she would have to stand again.
It got us out of the hostel and out into the sunshine, so it was worth it.

City Walkabout Tour June 9

Our unofficial "tour guide" in Salzburg was a guy we shared our room with, Wes, who had been in Salzburg studying for 10 weeks and was spending his last week just enjoying the place. He took us to his favorite places, and told us the history of Salzburg inasmuch as he could. We walked up about a million stairs to reach the top of the Cappucinburg (The cappucin mountian/hill) where the views of Salzburg were breathtaking. Then again, so were the stairs: steep and never-ending they went from the street/river level to the top of the mountain, and we were gasping for air by the end of it, calves and thighs trembling and on fire.But the view was worth the pain, and as we took a different set of stairs back down, you could really see how Salzburg had grown from the rocks outward. They built houses and such right into the cliff face, which we found out had caused many a collapse of the mountain sides over the centuries.
He took us to the cathedrals and to the cemetery for the wealthy families of Austria. Apparently, you can be removed from the cemetery if your family doesn't continue to pay your burial taxes! THe city of Salzburg did have some plots for the American troops who died defending Salzburg from the Nazis in WWII, including a memorial to them for their valour. From there we went up the mountain upon which the Fortress, the Festung, was built and the original home and residences of Salzburg princes and arch-bishops. It was never taken by force, apparently, and is an impressive building with a long history back into the Medieval times. We stopped at a beergarten called Stegiel where we tried apfelstrudel and watched the sun slowly sinking down over the city of Salzburg. It was a wonderful impromptu tour of the city, and probably more enjoyable than any pay-tour.