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.
Wednesday, July 28, 2010
Monday, July 26, 2010
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 ;)
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...
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!
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.
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.
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.
Sunday, July 25, 2010
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.
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.
Tuesday, July 20, 2010
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.
What a waste.
Monday, July 19, 2010
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.
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.
Thursday, July 8, 2010
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.
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.
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.
Wednesday, July 7, 2010
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.
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.
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.
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.
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.
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