Madrid

Hello to all of our followers. Now, I know many people who were reading this blog consistently will not have hung around to see this final blog on Madrid. The fact of the matter is that after so many weeks of non-stop traveling, we were exhausted. So when we returned, we allowed a few weeks to go by before feeling that nagging urge to finish what we started. This blog will do just that.
I, Whitney, didn't have very high expectations for Madrid. We heard it was going to be outrageously hot, very touristy, and lacking in things to keep us busy with. So when we arrived in the capital of Spain on the 11th and final leg of our Busabout trip, we weren't terribly excited to be there. Too, we had just left our favorite city on the trip, Barcelona, and it would be hard for Madrid to beat that.
The first night, we got to our terribly cramped hostel and set up camp, but we soon found that there were somewhat upscale hotel rooms available for the same price, so we quickly made reservations and planned to end our stay at Mad Hostel in Madrid as soon as possible. We ate a cheap dinner at a pizza place down the street from the hostel and went upstairs to the terrace atop the hostel to see what and whom we would find. To our happy surprise, we met our roommate Kevin with whom we shared 5 nights in Nice. He and acquired a few other friends along the way, and after chatting a while about our pets back home, he told us that he and his friends were on their way to see the Red Light District in Madrid.
Well, Collin and I never pass up an opportunity to take a look-see at scantily clad femmes, so we invited ourselves to tag along, which was met with a hearty "of course!"
We wandered the well-lit streets after night had fallen in the busy capital city. We wandered, picked up a few souvenirs, and tried to find the right street.
In Madrid, the Red Light District is poorly named. It should really be called the Lamp Post District because the ladies are lined up by trees and lamp posts and any other vertical object until they find another that better suits their needs.
Unfortunately for us, it was a Sunday, and heaven knows that even working girls need to observe the sabbath. So we went home only having seen a few girls in sky-high heels and barely-there skirts. But we knew that that night would be the last we spent in a hostel and the last we would be able to connect with other travelers our age--especially those with whom we had developed a friendship. We meandered down the city streets until we found ourselves back at the ranch. We parted ways and vowed to keep up on Facebook, which we made sure to do.
Collin and I went upstairs and held a conversation in both French and Spanish with our French roommate before climbing into our tiny bunks and sleeping in a hostel for the last time.
In the morning, we checked out and devised a transit plan to get to our hotel. After a few minutes on the internet, Collin, yet again, whisked us down the metro routes and landed us at the nicest place we'd stayed all summer.

Finale De Barcelona

During our travels throughout Europe, we have experienced the beautiful, the romantic, the historical and the artistic, but there are experiences that deserve their own special label: the "Wow" category. The Eiffel Tower at sunset, walking through the Holocaust Memorial, and seeing the Colloseum in person were all experiences that made an impression that will last a lifetime. Our last night in Barcelona deserves to be in that category.
We had put off going to the Magic Fountain for reasons of fatigue or convenience so that we had only our last night to go see it. The fountain is not so magical most of the week, but on Thrusday through Sunday nights, starting at 9:30 p.m. the fountain gives a "performance" coreographed with colored lights and classical music. The fountain is situated between the end of a main street and the National Palace (which also has a fountain in front of it, about 200 metres from the Magic Fountain). We approached the end of said main street just at 9:30 so we got to walk towards it as it was changing from blood red to lemon yellow, all the while feeling like moths heading towards some hypnotic bright light.
There are five shows lasting a half hour each and ending at midnight. We thought we would stay for maybe two shows, but because they kept changing the music and colors, we stayed until around 11:30. The evening began to feel even more like the culmination of our trip when we met friends that we had been travelling with since Paris. We had planned to meet them at the fountain but after seeing that roughly 1-2,00 people were gathered around, we quickly gave up hope. The crescendo of sound and light and saying goodbye to our friends for the last time felt like the capstone to an absolutely incredible and unforgettable experience.
We ended the night by returning to our new "hostel" that we got for the last night because the hostel we had been staying at was all booked up. Hostel is in quotations because it was basically just a large apartment; but it was comfortable and centrally located. Another bonus was that the owner was from Rosario, Argentina, where I spent five weeks last summer. We happened to support the same Rosario soccer team so we got along just fine. After a brief passport scare in the morning, we got on the bus to go to Madrid.
After that last night, along with a relaxed and fun-filled week, we both agreed Barcelona was our favorite city. As for now, we travel to the true Spain, the heart of the country in Madrid. Although we won't go to a bullfight or drink sangria, we will be sure to take in the spirit of Spain as much as possible.

The Catalan Heartbeat

Ah Barcelona! What a beautiful city. Not necessarily because of its colorful, dramatic, and untraditional Gaudi architecture, nor its breezy mediterranean coastline--the beauty of Barcelona may be best described as intangible. The passion of the Catalan culture blows through the narrow streets that, although filled with tourists, maintain a very authentic ambiance. At every turn, a street musician is playing classical music on a cello or a violin. Impoverished locals engage the people around them and speak a language that is foreign even to the Spanish.

Bullet holes litter the sides of buildings from a time when Catalan culture was oppressed by Francisco Franco, the fascist dictator who ruled Spain from the 1930s until the 1970s. For the Catalunyans, his dictatiorship represents a tragic time in their history, a time when, despite their best efforts, their intense, passionate, and distinct way of life was threatened with extinction. The holes on the bulidings' walls remain to remind the Catalan people of the resistance leaders who were peppered with bullets for fighting to keep their culutre alive. In 1975, Franco died, and Catalan culture rose--bringing us the very distinct Catalan capital city: Barcelona. Today, children of Barcelona play in squares with bullet-chipped walls, but it is said that their laughter, happiness, and freedom to live as Catalunyans show that the Catalan leaders did not die in vain.

After Franco's death, King Juan Carlos liberated the Catalan people. In celebration of this monumental time in Catalan history, Barcelona submitted a bid for the 1992 Olympics and won. Much of the city's charm comes from vast renovations that were initiated in order to present the best Barcelonian face to the world after such a long, painful part of their history. Palm trees were shipped from Hawaii and began to fill the city's squares, sidewalks, and beaches. Buildings and monuments were erected, and a beautiful Olympic park still stands as a symbol of Barcelona's rise to the status of an internationally significant city--as well as the Catalan people's ability to overcome.

Tonight, we had the privilege of eating tapas and enjoying a Flamenco show. Tapas is a very general term that could mean sauteed chicken livers to potato wedges with garlic fry sauce--luckily, they saw us coming and turned on the deep-fryer. Our first dish was a plate of meats, cheeses, olives, and "tortilla," which is a potato omlette in Spain, and was by far the tastiest part of that dish. Next came the potato wedges, and it was to our pleasant surprise that the sauce was pungent with garlic and made the dish seem slightly more sophisticated than it was. Finally, the most authentic Catalan tapas were served. In one dish, we had a whole baby octopus, which was terrible and felt like rubber. The second was a set of two sausage meatballs covered in a sweet and mildly spicy sauce. The third: two flame-grilled peppers with a hint of spice, a deep smoky flavor, and lightly covered in olive oil. And finally, paella. Paella is a dish whose name comes from the Spanish phrase "para ella" or "for her." It is said that one evening, a gentleman was supposed to serve his lady a meal, but hadn't prepared. The moment of truth arrived, and as a last resort, he pulled together everything he had on-hand, and created the most famous Barcelonian dish: paella. It was served as yellow rice with various chopped and grilled vegetables, tossed with various shellfish and shrimp. It was pretty underwhelming. The shrimp had its legs and three-inch tentacles, and the mussel shells were cracked into the undercooked rice. This platter of four dishes was distinct because the food was unpolished--and thus, probably most authentic. The shellfish still had barnacles, and no one bothered to pick out the tentacles. It was very different, and we tried it all, but sometimes you can't be as cultured as you would like to be.

But that wasn't our last opportunity to take in Catalan culture for the evening. After the four other people at our table finished the second pitcher of Sangria, we were led down the streets of Barcelona at sunset until we arrived at the Flamenco club.

Deep red lights filled the otherwise dark space with a romantic, sexy air. People had filled the seats in front of the stage, and there was just enough space between the hypnotized audience that stood around the bar that we felt like intimate strangers maintaining a mysterious distance in the shadows. A band of five men filled the chairs on stage and began to play, and the red lights went down. Their soulful, emotional voices silenced the whispering crowd. Spanish men began to lightly clap their hands to the rapid beat of the music, surrounding us with a rich sense of their connection to the music.

As we celebrated their performance, a large, sensual woman came out from behind a black curtain, silouetted by the red light from backstage. She was followed by a man whose presence just couldn't compete with her. She filled the stage. Her face sharp and deep with emotion, she began to tap her heels against the floor; leading with her wrists, she slowly drew her arms toward the ceiling. Then, she began to swing them, pulling the rest of her body around with them--now, clapping her heels. Her expression intensified, and she began to throw her large frame around the stage until it was all she could do to keep herself upright, all the while stomping her feet with fierce precision.

When the man performed, it seemed to only serve as a moment's rest for the star performer. After he finished his short, skilled, yet relatively unimpressive performance, the woman took her position at center-stage. She began to move again, this time with more intricate foot work. The tapping, clapping, and stomping created a rhythmic beat that ebbed and flowed with the emotion that contorted her ethnic face. Finally, after touring the stage, craning the curves of her hips and thighs, and powerfully capturing the audience with demanding armwork, she slammed to a stop. Her chest heaved while she proudly breathed through her nose. Her chin was pointed at the audience in an indignant expression that we couldn't help but admire. The crowd got to their feet and praised her wildly; the men around us said, under their breath, "estupendo!" As the red lights came up again, Collin and I agreed that we couldn't have spent a better evening in Barcelona and cherished the exquisitely authentic experience we were so lucky to have.

After the show, we went back out to the Plaza Reial.

Although every European city we've been to has numerous squares, it seems that each of Barcelona's is buzzing with life. Although most people are smoking, sitting, and enjoying conversation, the deep Catalan heartbeat feels electric. As night falls, the beat becomes stronger, faster, and almost audible. While we were walking around the plaza, I could hardly move my feet. Our business was done there, and we weren't interested in the bars or clubs, nor the trinkets being sold by street vendors, but there was a magnetism that drew me into the center of the square. We sat at the fountain in the middle that is surrounded by imported palms, and just felt the life eminate from the cafes, bars, clubs, restaurants, and most of all, the people, humming around the square like slow, yet sharp bumblebees. That's it. The pace is slow, the people mellow, but simmering beneath the surface is always that pounding Catalan heartbeat that shakes and awakens the spirits.

When we finally began to make our way home, we crossed the familiar Ramblas. Las Ramblas is a large boulevard that is lined with street vendors and performers day and night. The feeling down this enormous street was the same as those in the squares. All of the people move slowly, but have never been more alert. Although we've all seen a "tin-man" and portrait artists, something about Barcelona slows you down and lets you soak in the electricity flowing through the streets. At the end of Las Ramblas, when we came to the monument to Christopher Columbus, we reluctantly turned around and headed back toward our hostel.

After feeling like a slug in Nice, I thought that I was done traveling, that I was exhausted with Europe, that I was burnt out. I was wrong. All I needed was a dose of Barcelona to reawaken my spirits, enliven my interest in different cultures and foreign histories, and sharpen my desire for more. More time, more knowlege, more flavor, more Barcelona.

Barthelona!

Hello from Barcelona! Our first day in Barcelona was as fact-filled and interesting as we could've hoped for. We've learned through our travels to do the walking tour first when we get to a city and we are certainly glad we did that in Barcelona. Our guide was a master's student in urban development and what he lacked in charisma he made up for with history and education.

First of all, Barcelona is not in Spain; most people think it is, I know I did, but it is in fact in Catalunya. They have their own flag, their own language, a distinct culture and a dislike for Spain that stretches from rivalry to hatred. The most recent World Cup was, as our guide told us, one of the first times the Catalan people rooted for a Spanish national team and it was only because the team had so many Catalan players. They have fought wars against the Spanish, they have their own parliament and they fly the Catalan flag of independence (different than the Catalan flag) even though it is illegal to do so. They even chose the donkey as their national animal instead of the bull, and one of the more popular T-shirts is one depicting a donkey doing indecent things to a bull, representing just how they feel about the Spanish.

The Catalan pride is even more distinct because it was banned until 1975 when Francisco Franco died. They were not allowed to fly their flag or speak their language for so long that now they celebrate their freedom like a 21 year-old celebrates drinking after waiting so long to do so legally.

People told us that Barcelona is "such a vibrant city", and "Barcelona is so alive!" After assuming that meant colorful food and late-night parties I now know what they mean. It starts with the art and architecture. Gaudi's unorthodox, surreal, and even dark style is seen on churches and houses throughout the city. Picasso, Dali and Miró have their work displayed throughout the city and people draw (well, I might add) on everything from Gelatto shops to sidewalks. All sorts of ethnic groups can be found and all types of cuisine can be sampled, making Barcelona 'colorful' and 'vibrant' in other ways as well.

On the walking tour, we saw some old churches (I don't think you can take a walking tour in Europe without seeing at least one), some cool Plazas, incluiding Plaza de George Orwell, and a statue of everyone's favorite mass-murdering discoverer who didn't actually discover anything, Christopher Columbus. There are nice sandy beaches and palm trees, but both are imported. We are a 5 minute walk from Las Ramblas which is the city's main market, essentially a mile long street of Saturday-market style shops.

We are going to see the museums, beaches and churches on a bike tour soon, so I will have more to report then, but check back for more from the most non-Spanish city in Spain.

Well, Whitney's last blog about Nice is pretty much where the action ended for the two of us. I got pretty sick and didn't feel like getting out of bed the last two days. However, I can definitively say that I liked Nice better than Paris. The scenery was incredible and the whole feel was much more relaxed and friendly than the big-city vibe we got in Paris. Hiking to the top of the Colline du Chateau and looking down at the city was truly breathtaking. I know Whitney already described that day but I wanted to reiterate just how beautiful it was.

Our second to last night was spent watching Twilight 3, and our last night was spent relaxing/recovering before making the longest leg of our journey from Nice to Barcelona. For those of you waiting for more, there truly isn't any. I should mention that we found the most delicious pastry of all time. It is a donut called a "Chichi" (pronounced sheeshee) and it looks like an ordinary cinnamon twist, but it is so much more. The donut was cooked/fried in such a way so that when you bit in, it wasn't so much moist as almost wet with grease. Coated in cinnamon-sugar, the Chichi proved to be the single most irresistable food item in all of Europe (so far).

Now, we have a full week in Barcelona and we expect to enjoy this vibrant city in the most leisurely of fashions. Thanks for reading and tune in for more.

Bonjour de Nice!

Hello from Nice!

Collin and I got here a few days ago, and we've been taking it pretty slowly. Coming in, we knew that there was nothing important to see while we are here. True, they do have a few museums, but they're almost just for good measure. Nice is really just about tropical flora and the cote d'azur.

Our hostel is not as nice as the one we had in Florence, which has been a little hard to get used to now that we've been in what would stand for a 5 star hostel. But at the end of the day, all that matters is that we have a personal bathroom and air-con (as our Aussie and Kiwi tripmates call it). The neighborhood we're in is filled with cheap ethnic food and trash in the streets, but just 10 minutes down the main street is the gorgeous bright blue Mediterannean Sea. Just before you hit the stoney beach (which is a pain in the ass) there are beautiful pastel colored buildings with typical French architecture--intricate details around the windows and tiny iron balconies. The last two days, Collin and I have laid on the beach and swam in the cool water and tried to relax on the stones. Afterward, we come back to the hotel and read our books in the air conditioning.

Yesterday, we walked through Old Nice, which is filled with tons of little shops along streets that are about ten feet wide. The buildings have old shutters and pastel paints, and everything is expensive. It was a charming walk through a typical old district of a European town. But today we were treated to a climb up the Colline du Chateau, which is a butte at the east end of the Nice beaches that is covered with tropical flowers and trees. It was hot but there were water fountains sporadically along the trail along with charming viewpoints that overlook the miles of beach that curve toward Cannes, the site of the international film festival, where we will venture tomorrow!

We were promised a misty waterfall when we arrived at the top, but when we got there, there were two man-made holes about two-feet in diameter in some rock with water trickling from it. It was pretty, but small and unimpressive after being promised a cool, misty waterfall. Having seen the "cascade," we sat on a ledge that overlooked the sea and picnicked on baguettes, brie, and salami that we had picked up from a grocery store on our way to the butte. After that, we had spent so much time in the sun that we were ready to jump into the cool, turquoise waves, so we descended the hundreds of stairs that led down to the shore and looked into some of the private beaches because there were chairs instead of stones and umbrellas that wouldn't blow away in the wind. After looking into three different private beaches, we realized that we would have to pay between 30 and 40 euros, which was out of our budget to say the least, so we decided that we would spend another afternoon enduring the stones and the sun. But when we got to the beach, I asked the lifeguards about getting "un parasol," and we realized that we could rent one for 5 euros! So we enjoyed another warm afternoon on the Cote d'Azur. When we got home, our Kiwi roommate Kevin was euphoric after an afternoon driving a Ferrari in Monaco. Apparently, for 90 euros, you can, with a trained driver as a passenger, drive a 300,000 euro vehicle for 15 minutes going 120 kilometers per hour along the roads that line the Cote d'Azur in Monaco! Something only for car enthusiasts or men in their 60s (yes Dad, I thought of you and thought that you might enjoy such an experience). But even our roommate in his early 20s got a bang for all those bucks he spent on it. He was still swooning after coming back to Nice and talking about it for three hours.

Tonight, we plan to read ourselves into a comfortable night's sleep in the air-con, but we're planning to go to Monaco and Cannes in the next two days before we head to Barcelona for 7 nights!

Farewell to Florence

Tonight we are reluctantly getting ready to leave Florence in the morning. Collin and I have agreed that Florence may very well sit as number 2 on our list of favorite places we've seen while in Europe--second to Amsterdam, which still seems like the most surprisingly impressive city and interesting culture we've seen so far.

Today, we wanted to see the Boboli Gardens, which were one the private gardens to the Pitti family, but has become public. Unfortunately, again, we tourists weren't given quite enough information, and when we trekked as far as we have since we arrived in Florence to go see what promised to be a beautiful, natural break from even a mellow city life, we found that (according to our luck) the gardens are closed the last Monday of every month... So we turned right around, and strolled back through the city, where I had a date with a leather salesman.

After going through the leather market yesterday, I realized how badly I would like to have a nice Italian leather bag, but most of the things I liked were way out of what I considered reasonable on a backpacker's budget. But after talking it over with a few concerned parties (i.e. those who are acutally paying for everything) it was decided that having a very nice souvenier that would always represent one of my favorite destinations on a trip that I would remember forever was not such a frivilous purchase.

I spent a long time looking at as many leather booths in the market as I could--trying to find just the right bag at a price that made me feel as though I was getting a relatively good deal. After nearly an hour of searching and scrutinizing numerous handbags, having to set a back back in a kiosk that a man wouldn't take back from me--convinced that it would force me to buy it, I decided on the smaller of two bags of the same style. While I was looking, I found that I was most attracted to two-toned leather bags, so I chose a black leather bag with light brown straps and details. It is fashionable, which if you know me very intimately, you know that I carry quite the utilitarian purse while at home, and having something fashionable for once made me feel special. Ah the power of the handbag. For the rest of the walk home, and actually for the rest of the evening, I've been giddy with the thought of my new Italian leather bag. To whom it may concern: thank you so much, and I hope you know how much I will always cherish it!

The day was not even close to finished because after skipping the last two tours, Collin and I had a walking tour with a leather factory tour and a four course meal paid-in-full, and this was the last night to do it.

But as we have found througout the trip, it doesn't take much to tucker a traveler out, so we planned for a little siesta between outings. We headed back to the hostel and did a little laundry, a little reading, and a little napping before getting dressed and ready to go learn a few things about our beloved Florence.

We went down and found one of our familiar tour guides from Busabout, whom we've had on a few of the legs of our journey. She was going on the walking tour too; the tour was quick and easy and taught us a few facts about the beautiful buildings and sights we've been taking in for the last four days.

Then we went to the leather shop and saw a faux demonstration of how Italian leather goods are made. It was a mock presentation because for every one layer of leather used on an item, the leathersmith needs one week to prepare it. The demonstrator had a New York accent, so when we got a chance we prodded him into telling us that his mother is from Buffalo but married an Italian--thus our demonstrator was born and raised in Florence, but his English is plainly 'New York.'

After a few minutes of poking around the leather shop, we headed to "The House of Sizzle," which worried us because all we heard when we were told the name was "Applebees." But! EUR 20 had covered our walking tour, the leather factory tour, and a four course meal, and we were not going to complain about such a good deal.

We walked the block to the "Sizzler" and were enormously surprised to find our good friend Kendel, whom we had traveled from Paris to Amsterdam to Berlin to Prague with. She had gone off to the Greek islands, and we weren't expecting to see her again, but there she was, in the Italian version of an Applebees. Because she had already finishedd her meal, we quickly hugged and planned to meet back at the hostel for an evening of catching up on the terrace.

Collin and I sat down and were immediately served our appetizer, which was a nice slice of bread with fresh tomatoes and basil on top. Then came out a serving of rottini pasta--half with pesto (which was better) and the other half with marinara. As we waited for the "secondi," we chatted with the girls at our table and compared our experiences with the Busabout destinations. The main course was also good. The fries were seasoned with garlic, and Collin had a beef goulash, and I had a chicken leg and thigh. The only let down of the whole experience is when they served what we supposed was Dryer's chocolate ice cream....hello? We know better than that now...that's almost unacceptable in a place that is the Mecca for all ice cream connaisseurs.

Anyway, we quickly picked up and went back to the hostel. We took a few streets that we hadn't walked down before and enjoyed another fresh look at Florence at dusk.

When we got to the hostel, we changed and met Kendel and her friends on the terrace and caught up on all of the shenanigans we'd all had since we'd seen each other last.

Finally, the sun had set, the lights had come up to illuminate the Duomo, the mosquitos had started to bite like crazy, and we had to pack before our 8 a.m. bus. We said our goodbyes, promising to see Kendel again in Barcelona. And headed into our glorious hostel room with more air conditioning than one summer traveler could want.

I could have spent two weeks here, relaxing and enjoying this very important, yet surprisingly mellow Tuscan city. We've loved it, and we hate to go. On the other hand, perhaps a more relaxing destination rests on the horizon. Tomorrow, we head for Nice.

Experiencing Florence

Florence is famous for art, leather (or as our New Zealand guide called it "leeeethah"), gelato, and the Ponte Vecchio; today we experienced all four. Our day started off with a trip through one of Florence's many leather markets. We had briefed the night before on how to spot fake leather by an Australian who was in the know and we felt prepared to haggle our way to a deal. Whitney found a purse she liked and the vendor told her "45 Euros", so she responded with "25 Euros" and after he pretended to recover from the insult, we got him down to 35 but we didn't have the money on us and because he was the first vendor we moved on. Oddly enough, that ended up being the best deal we found.
Next on our to-do list was the Galleria degli Uffizi, or the Uffizi Museum. We had been told by one of the receptionists at our hostel that the best time to go was around one p.m. because people leave the museum around lunch time. Well, I don't know if we would've waited longer at another time in the day but we did stand there for over an hour waiting to see the premier Rennaissance museum in the world. Unfortunately, neither one of us is an art-buff so we didn't know too much about what we were seeing, but we did recognize a few paintings like The Adoration of the Magi by Leonardo da Vinci and The Birth of Venus by Botticelli.They didn't allow photographs in the museum, but you can google the important items and probably see them in better detail than we did. While in line, we met Jorge, a fellow North American from Mexico who was travelling by himself and with whom we had a tepid interest in art in common.
Afterwards, the three of us walked to the Ponte Vecchio, which was not as magical as I remember. Perhaps Sunday at 4:30 p.m. is not the best time to visit any tourist attraction, especially in a Catholic country like Italy, but the gold/jewelry shops were identical all along the bridge and all equally overpriced. The light at the end of the tunnel was the "Gelatteria PonteVecchio" which Jorge had read was a top-notch gelatteria. The ice cream was delicious but Whitney's coffee flavor was far and away the best coffee-flavored anything I have ever tasted. We walked back by an international bookstore because Jorge had been having trouble finding books in Spanish, and I needed a book to replace the Dan Brown thriller that took me two days to finish (the literary equivalent of crack cocaine). Unfortunately, it was closed and we parted ways with Jorge on our trip home.
Tomorrow, we will see the previously private gardens of the Medici family and continue our haggling with the leeethah vendors while finishing up our stay with a nighttime tour of the city.

First Reflections from Florence

Hello there! We've been in Florence for about 2 and a half days now, and I feel like it is time to write again.

Florence may very well be the most amazing city in history. I know that usually that honor is given to Rome, but Rome's history is bloodier, and Florence is much more cultured, artistic, and intellectual.

And although I can appreciate all of the wonderful things that have come from Florence, like the first coin money, the first paved streets, the first banks, and hundreds of other impressive firsts, I adore it now for its slow-paced, mellow yet still full-of-life feeling that this compact city has.

Our hostel is north of all of the main sights, but that isn't saying much. All of the sights are within 5 minutes walk of each other, including the Duomo, which is no more than 5 minutes from our doorstep.

Before we got in, we stopped at a viewpoint above the city and took some photos. At first, I wasn't interested. It was hot, and I was tired after all day on the bus. Little did I know that i was looking on a city scape that would come back to take my breath away.

We are lucky enough to be staying in a hostel with a swimming pool, sauna, steam room, gym, restaurant, bar, terrace bar, and a birdsnest hang out at the very top of the building. It is a 10x10 foot fenced perch that stands higher than almost every other building in the city. Despite all of the other attractions at our hostel, I love the birdsnest the most. This evening, after a day full of sights and walking Florence's tight, charming streets, Collin and I picked up our books and took them to the top of the building. The sun was setting to our right and the moon had risen on our left. Firey orange colors accompanied the setting sun while vibrant lavendars painted the sky behind the moon. Directly before our eyes, the greens, blues, and whites that color the Duomo reflected the evening light. We saw the gorgeous rusty ceramic tiled rooftops and the tan buildings absorb the warmth that hung in the air after another warm, breezy Tuscan July afternoon.

These moments were quickly whisked away when some of our friends from the Busabout tour joined us on the perch. We started talking to a guy from LA, but of course, four cheerful Australians (which comprise almost all of Busabout's customers) followed shortly after. We engaged them all in happy conversation and marveled at the surroundings while discussing all the things we'd seen thus far in Florence. After the sun had set, we were joined by another 15-20 Austrailian travelers. Although I wasn't talking to anyone in particular, I sat and enjoyed the conversations that were going on around us. It dawned on me that it was improtant to be young while on this trip too. For the most part, we have been spending our time doing the tourist thing. We have seen the sights we wanted to see, and eaten at famous restaurants along the way, but every evening, we turn in early and read ourselves to sleep by 11. It was nice to be surrounded by happy people our age while they talked about the wonderful things they were doing with their days. We all sat around and talked while the city lights twinkled over our shoulders. Soon the breeze became too cool--which was a godsend after so many evenings of sweating through our shirts--and we turned in.

Tomorrow, we will set out again to make the short trip to the sights we have left to see. So far we've seen the Plazzo Vecchio, the Piazza San Marco, the Duomo, Piazza della Signora, Piazza della Republica, not to mention all of the leather markets and the gelateria with "best ice cream in the world" (still not as good as in Vienna, sorry Italy).

We have yet to see the Galleria della Accademia, where David is on display, and the Uffizi, which houses SO many amazing works of art including the Birth of Venus. We are able to pre-book it through our hostel so that we can skip the "queue."

The thing I am looking most forward to, though, is the Ponte Vecchio. We'll post again with more wonderful reflections from Florence.

The Bizzare Last Day in Rome

We should have had more time in Rome. We knew that when we got there. Little did we know just how true that would be, but, when we arrived at the Vatican, we found that the Sistine Chapel had closed at 1 p.m.--we were about three hours late.
The second day in Rome was all kind of like that. We woke up dreading the heat that lied beyond our air-conditioned cabin. Rome, though I hadn't realized it until I arrived, is tropical. In the summer, it is excruciating. But despite the heat, I was able to appreciate the beautiful flora that comes with it. There are cyprus trees all over Rome. They are tall, skinny trees with big tufts of rough greet leaves at the top. They are just beautiful and cover the city and surrounding areas. Below the canopy of cyprus trees, there are tons of oleander bushes that line every street and passage that still has room for life (almost every square inch of the city is concrete or stone). Not only do oleander blossoms paint the view, but other flowers too, including ones that smell somewhat like chocolate even though they are a bright fushia.
There are lizzards climbing the trees and scurrying around the pebbled streets, and either birds or bugs in the trees making the most obnoxious racket that I resolved to appreciate because it lent more to the tropical atmosphere.
My favorite part of Rome, however, might have been the kitties! Back in the day (sorry I heard too much history to keep it all straight) an emporer brought cats over to help fight the rat problem. Now, hundreds of years later, there is an ENORMOUS cat population in Rome, which was once viewed as a problem, but eventually, ruins were sectioned off as cat sanctuaries and one leader made all cats official citizens of Rome.
Around our campsite, there were at least two resident kitties, both of which Collin and I happily made friends with.
So, in this steaming, tropical cat-haven, we decided that we needed to get going and make the most of our time in Rome, which was of course, the most powerful empire that the world has ever and probably will ever see. At one point, it spanned from the middle east to the Atlantic ocean, and into what is now northern Germany and down into Egypt. It is amazing to think that a place with that much power is just one city in Italy now. By the way! Did you know that Italy only became a country in the 1860s?! That blows my mind! Originally, it was just a bunch of separate regions that only became a solid country around the time of Napoleon.
Anyway, after our lousy tour the day before, we still had a few very important sights to see: the Trevi Fountain, the Spanish Steps, and of course, the Vatican and all that goes with it.
Our first stop was the Trevi Fountain and it was absolutely beautiful. It is HUGE, which is a little strange because shops and other buildings are crammed so close to it that it is hard to get a good picture of the whole thing. But it is magnificent and the water is a crystal blue (probably because of chlorine). Collin and I each threw a penny over our shoulders into the fountain, meaning that we would some day return to Rome, which is going to come in handy given that we missed the Sistine Chapel.
We left that beautiful place because no matter how amazing a sight is to see, it is very hard to appreciate for very long in throngs of other tourists. So we made our way toward the Spanish Steps.
Another of my favorite things about Italy will have been the slushies that they sell. We got our first one in Venice, and I thought it would be better than a warm Coke. Little did I know that the MOST relieving thing in the blistering sun is sitting on a shaded step--slushy in-hand. We had two that day because of their powerful cooling abilities! So when I saw people walking around Rome with slushies (mostly little kids, but hey! if it works it works!) I knew the only way to make myself more comfortable was to get my paws on one of those puppies. we searched and searched for the best deal, passed it looking for a better one, and got a mediocre deal on a small slushy, but as I have said, it was worth the chill that comes with losing two euros for three tablespoons of slushy.
We headed out and made our way to the Spanish Steps, which Collin said were beautiful when he saw them last. However, when we got there, there were boards covering what we assumed were windows, but they were oddly placed if they were. Collin mentioned something about flowers, but the only ones we saw were the ones that rose peddlers were pushing into our hands. After a good 20 seconds of fending off one of these salesmen, we both had to shout "NO!" at him, and he got defensive. We exchanged some grimmaces and moved on, only to find three more in our faces, pushing the roses against my body in an attempt to get me to grab one. Again, we shouted "NO!" They started calling us stupid bastards...which I didn't much apprecite--to say the least. I stepped closer and asked "what?!" And they repeated the two or three insults they knew in English until I threatened to call the police, who were standing just a few meters away. Finally I opened my arms, and raised my voice for them to get out of my way. I formed a space around myself so that they would move from it. They did, still murmuring "...stupid..." among other things, but they had moved, and I got to take my pictures of the Spanish Steps. Collin and I stood our ground until we got all the pictures we wanted, and finally moved on toward the Vatican.
Another thing we've picked up along our journey is an intimate knowledge and understanding of public transportation. I have never taken so much public transit before in my life! But Collin is the lead, and I the understudy on the Metro stage! We can easily and cheaply get anywhere in any city we visit. Getting around Rome was no different. We hopped right on the Metro and made our way to the Vatican City, which is technically not even part of Italy--one leader along the way (post reformation I assume) made it it's own "country" so that the Pope could still be the head of church and state.
We got off and followed the signs and the slew of people heading toward the capital of Catholicism. We saw a sign and decided that it was good enough for us, and as we headed in, we were stopped by a guard, whom we asked where to find the Sistine Chapel. After providing a detailed set of directions, he said, "but it is closed." What? "It closed at 1 today."....What? "You can come back tomorrow at 9 a.m." Um...no we can't--we're leaving. THIS IS THE SISTINE CHAPEL! What!? How, how, HOW can you close at 1 p.m. without making sure every single tourist knew it so well that even their grandmothers had planned ahead?
There was nothing we could do. One of the most amazing things in all the world was closed the only day we had to see it. So, baffled, we walked on toward St. Peter's Basilica, in a dehydrated and disappointed stupor.
Despite our dejection, we had to appreciate one of the best features in Italy--free, ice-cold, ever-flowing, public drinking fountains. Anne, thank you for reminding us to get a water bottle because we filled that thing tons of times during our trip but especially in Italy.
After filling our bottle, we walked into the center of the Vatican City, where the Pope addresses the people seated below the balcony twice a week (this week, however, the Pope was on vacation...yes...vacation...). Then, "queued" for the basilica, which didn't take long--thank God.
Once we passed through security and the dress code, which requires shoulders and knees covered before entering, we saw the beautiful ceiling of what might be called the porch. It is an pillared entry way with ornate, gold-painted, and layered ceiling patterns that were so intricate that I forced myself to stare for at least a full minute so as not to miss the beautiful intricacies.
Then, we moved into the cathedral, whose ceiling was even more ornate than the previous one. Through Sistine-esque painted domes in the ceiling were cyllindrical extensions to even higher gold and blue painted domes with windows letting in enough light for you to see the art without compromising that holy ambiance they were going for.

We've seen a lot of churches in Europe--all of them enromous, ornate, and a little rediculous. But St. Peter's has something more. I can't quite put my finger on it, but it seems more pulled together. The architectural and artistic styles and the way they used the gold to embellish each item seemed to be done in a very consistent and pleasing fashion. The ceilings were so detailed and beautiful. I was captivated by the textures that delicately covered every surface.

We weren't there long. Even though we'd only seen three sights, it had been a long day already, and of course, the sun was barely tolerable. We headed to another convenient Metro stop and headed to our campsite.

I left Venice wishing that I had taken more time to relax by the pool, so even though I was digesting our picnic-in-the-air-conditioned-cabin dinner, I decided that it was important to me to go sit by the pool at least one more time.

So the loving Collin came with me despite his aversion to heat and bugs, and we sat at the pool reading. Well. I sat at the pool reading. Collin has been miserable for the last week and a half without something to read, so he blogged about the daybefore while I sat and read my book. Before I left, I bought myself a summer read for the trip. I am not much of a reader, but something told me that I would want something to preoccupy myself with. So I bought "Love in Excess, or The Fatal Inquiry" by Eliza Haywood. It is kind of a Crusoe-era soap opera romance with a theme of female freedom versus virtue and love versus "ambition," which refers to people marrying for social or finanacial gains. I have been glued to it for the last few weeks and am about to finish. So at the end of the day, with the smell of tropical flowers in the warm evening air, the sun setting over the cyprus-covered Roman hills, and a Diet Coke in my hand, we whiled away an hour or two just relaxing before heading on to Florence.

Roma Daya Una

Today was our first full day in Rome and we made good use of it. We had signed up for a walking tour that cost $36 for the two of us, but was supposed to be the best thing we could do in Rome. We saw much of Rome but certainly felt like we didn't get our money's worth. The tour started at the Circo Massimo, which was a chariot-racing track with a 300,00 person capacity. We then heard a little bit of history about the founding and history of Rome, including Romulus and Remus and their wolf-suckling childhood. Next, we walked over to the Mouth of Truth which was the central drain for Rome's sewage but when dug up in the middle ages, was used as a truth-teller for the Chruch where people would put their hand in and tell their side of the story and if they were lying the "mouth" would bite them. The trouble was that a bunch of rats lived in the mouth and they almost always bit the person, so if you got as far as the Mouth of Truth, you were as good as executed.
I have to stop here and briefly describe our tour guide (the reason I said I didn't feel we got our money's worth). He was from Toronto, but was a caricature of the American stereotype: foul-mouthed, self-important, a poor grasp of the English language, rude and generally thought he was God's gift to whomever was on HIS tour that day. He described the Pantheon as a "big-ass, damn dome," (the main alter of which is pictured to the right) used words like "misconstrueded", didn't know the difference between suffering and suffrage (apparently the Jews had a rough time in Rome AND didn't have the right to vote: although probably true, definitely unintentional), and informed us that Octavian was "banging Marc Anthony's ex-girlfriend." He dropped F-bombs like they were going out of style and called anyone who stuck their hand in the Mouth of Truth (most tourists do this) an asshole. Worse than all that was just the way he carried himself. Enough of that, now more of Rome.
We went to some ruins that were now filled with stray cats and learned that Mussolini granted the cats of Rome full Roman citizenship. We walked from there to the Pantheon, where some Emperor had the bright idea to put all the Pagan Gods in one place to cut down on worship-time traffic. The Pantheon was stunning and we were surprised to learn that the engineering in Rome was so advanced that to this day, noone has been able to re-create its construction, and that the entire dome was one single piece of poured, un-reinforced concrete. We got a break there and had some delicious gelatto before continuing our tour.
Next was the Piazza di Venezia, a mediocre piazza with an absolutely stunning palace that looks like the White House with huge, awesome statues in front. Italians don't actually like the structure because it is so opulent and at the time many Italians were below the poverty line. They actually call it the "Wedding Cake" in Rome as a derogatory term. The buildings on the sides of the piazza served as Mussolini's headquarters as well as the Venetian Embassy for when Italy was not a country (Italy is actually "younger" than us, gaining nationhood in 1871) but just a collection of city-states.
The Roman Forum was next and the guide actually did a decent job painting a picture of how grand Rome must have looked in its prime. The Forum had enough marble to build 12 Westminster Abbeys, and when generals came back to Rome after a triumph (not just a win, but having met a certain set of requirements guaranteed total obliteration) they would march the conquered general up to the top of the Forum and slit his throat or strangle him to death with a mechanized noose in front of all the citizens and soldiers. Also, the Forum served as a marketplace and a podium for officials to disseminate information to the citizens.
Our last stop was the Colloseum, whose real name is the Flavian Amphitheater. It took only 8 years to build and served to entertain 65,000 Roman citizens at a time for free! Unfortunately as most of you know, the entertainment was quite gruesome. Anyone who is reading this who has a weak stomach or a fondness for animals should skip to the next paragraph (especially you Mom). The good news is that 90 percent of gladitorial battles ended without death. The bad news is that in a one week period, 9,000 animals were slaughtered and in another 100 day period, 5,000 animals and 10,000 men were slaughtered. They held public executions and mock naval battles in the Colloseum, but the worst part was the slaughter of animals. They killed all sorts of animals from all parts of Asia and Africa, but their favorite animal to kill was the giraffe (they defend themselves by swinging their necks at the aggresor, who in this case happens to be wielding a sword, I'll let you do the math). Whitney and I both came away shocked by the amount of blood spilled in Ancient Rome, and wondering how desensitized the people of the time were to violence, gore and death.
After contemplating how to let Busabout, who reccomended the tour, and the tour company know how dissatisfied we were with the guide, we headed back to our room that has air-conditioning and a shower. We had a nice dinner of salami, cheese and bread, which has become our standby. Just as we tried to use the internet to get in touch with everyone, the internet went out on us for the second night in a row. We met our roommate Brett, a young high school math teacher from South Dakota who teaches and lives in Alaska.
Tomorrow, we will attempt to see the Trevi Fountain, Spanish Steps and the Vatican. Thanks for reading and enjoy the photos, with many more on Facebook!

Experiencing Venice

Have you ever had an emotional outburst that was equal parts joy and anger? Today I had one. I woke up early and was about to go to breakfast when I couldn't find the money belt. I looked everywhere and thought I had left it at one of the tables outside the bar where we had dinner the night before. I eventually got Whitney up and we walked to reception to weigh our options. We didn't check the room because I assured her "I literally cavity-searched this whole room!" We were told to wait until Draco the barman woke up and he would probably have it, because people lose their wallets around the bar quite often. Several hours later, I was lying in my bed, mentally reviewing the events of the previous night, when I realized I hadn't left it outside the bar and therefore it must be in the room. It was in my suitcase and we decided to go to Venice.
We met a cool couple on the bus to Venice (our site is 20 minutes outside Venice) who had a little baby Yorkie and taught English in Spain. The guy was Spanish and he asked us if we had been to vegas and seen the fake, indoor, Venetian Casino. We couldn't remember, but we did find some good and bad similarities between Vegas and Venice. Both are beautiful, packed, expensive, hot, materialistic, and seem devoid of locals. Unfortunately, one characteristic of the city dominated all others: The Heat. It was 90 by the time we got up and I wouldn't be surprised if it got over 100 while we were in Venice in the late afternoon. This was not simply summer heat; it was the kind of heat that had us legitimately considering jumping into the filthy Venice canals. It had us pouring straw-fulls of water down our backs, sitting next to trash cans just to get some shade, and rationalizing a $4 slushie.
It is hard to do anything when it is as hot as it was, much less walk around in a foreign city and squint at landmarks. However, we did just that, and some of the sights were well worth it. The Piazza San Marco, which is the city's main tourist attraction, was full of pigeons and tourists and surrounded by high-end shops like Bulgari, Dolce & Gabanna, Chanel, etc. The associated Basillica was also very beautiful, but like most of Europe's sights, it was being renovated. We then turned south, and headed to the boardwalk for some people/boat-watching and some dinner.
We have been pretty frugal this trip, but because we were under-budget by quite a bit for the day, we decided to have a sit-down dinner on the edge of the canal. It was the worst restaurant meal we have had in Europe and the worst $27 we have spent so far. We didn't order sodas because they were $8 each, we ordered the cheapest pasta dishes at $11 each, and they had a $2.50 "cover charge" for a dining experience that was only actually covered by an umbrella, and that charge was per person. The worst part was, we were both dissapointed by traditional Italian dishes (Carbonara for me and Canneloni with ricotta and spinach) that are pretty hard to screw up. Some of my noodles were crunchy like they had been sitting out, and Whitney's was simply flavorless.
During our meal, we were treated to some beautiful views of the sunset, and rich people milling about in thousand-dollar outfits. After our dinner, we were saved by another lemonade slushie, and then took turns pouring cold water down each other's backs. We decided that even though we had planned to stay for the fireworks celebration of the end of the Plague, we didn't want to have to try and kill four and a half hours in what was still 90 degree weather, then make our way back through Venice at midnight while still missing half of the celebration due to our bus schedule. We decided to get home and just relax in our 58 degree cabin and take cold showers. I would like to say that in one of the most confusing cities in the world (very few street signs and no main avenues) I used my skills to get us back through Venice without any wrong turns, partially making up for this morning's debacle. However, it turned out that Venice was so hot and so expensive that we were glad we didn't spend any more time there than we did.
All in all, Venice is a rich, old, beautiful piece of tourist flypaper, and although we're glad we saw it, we are anticipating much more from the rest of Italy. Thanks for reading and look for tales of gladiators, stray cats, gelatto and more from Roma.

Beginning The Last Leg

Today we left Munich, and in my mind, we left the second third of our trip. My mental image of the trip is divided, unevenly, three ways: 1) Ireland, London, and Paris. 2) Amsterdam, Berlin, Prague, Vienna, Munich. 3)Venice, Rome, Florence, Nice, Barcelona, Madrid.
It feels like we are in the home stretch of our tour, even though we are almost exactly 1/2 of the way through as far as weeks go. We have been here four weeks, and we have four weeks left to go.
So today, I felt a little relieved--as though we had made it over the hump as far as "places-left-to-see" goes. We left Munich early in the morning after another hostel breakfast. We went through three countries today, more than any other bus-stint along our journey.
We left Germany and headed back through Vienna, where we stopped for a quick break in Ensbrook, which is a gorgeous town at the foot of the alps. There are tons of wall-to-wall pastel houses along a river with the backdrop of the huge, gorgeous, mountains.
We were told that there was a famous gold roof that we needed to see while we spent 40 minutes walking around the small city. Along that street was a little Christmas shop that housed thousands of ornaments made out of glass, wire, porcelain, but most of all, egg shells. They had hand-painted egg ornaments by the thousands piled lightly in carboard cartons on top of each other. They were all absolutely amazing, and perfect for any one whose family gives ornaments as gifts as a tradition ;)
I realized that it would be the last time we were in Austria, which has turned out to be one of my very favorite countries in Europe. Although Vienna was beautiful, and its elegant history breathtaking, the more impressive parts of Austria were the small towns we stopped in along the way. I would love to come back and spend a month just touring the smaller towns in Austria--not to mention a small-town-tour of Europe as a whole. Anyway, I realized that it would be the last time we were in Austria, and I had learned that Swarkovski Crystals come from Austria, so when I saw the store, I had to go in. There were beautiful trinkets everywhere, as well as some kitchy ones that made my toes curl.
At the end of my spin around the store, however, I wasn't in love with anything and left empty handed.
We got back on the bus, and to get us pumped for our arrival in Venice, we watched "The Italian Job," which i think I saw when it came out, but didn't pay attention to closely enough. This time, I was on the edge of my seat, despite the various corny parts that made me roll my eyes.
We moved on to our third country for the day: Italy. Italy. For so long, Itlay has been a mirage in the distant corners of my imagination--something I thought would only be possible a long, long time from now.
But we're here...in Italy. It is beautiful. For much of the drive into Venice, the enormous alps walled our lush green corridor. We stopped at a pit stop and learned a few necessary words for simple transactions in Italian.
I slept until we arrived at our campsite. Yes, campsite! Now, I know what you are thinking: "That CAN'T be good." I know you're thinking that because I thought the same thing. But I decided that the EUR 15 a night was worth whatever came our way.
I was happily surprised to find a gorgeous swimming pool with lounge chairs, a water spout that pours water from ten feet above the pool, cool showers, two hot tubs, a bar, a market, a restaurant, a pizzeria, and free Wi-fi. Not only that, but after we got checked in, we found that we were actually in little cabins, with conspicuous white machines on the windows--yes...AIR CONDITIONING!!!!!!!

Athough the rooms are small, there are bathrooms with large showers in each unit, and the air conditioning feels like heaven.
After quickly dropping our stuff off in our cabin, we put on our suits and headed to the pool in our pasty-white, non-Italian glory. There were Italian families who were vacationing here in the pool along with all the traveling 20 somethings. We showered off and got in the slightly warm pool, which was perfect. I hate it when pools are icy cold, even when it is hotter than 100 outside.
After dipping in, Collin and I just sunbathed. I have been waiting to sit by a pool and sunbathe all summer. Don't get me wrong: this journey through Europe is invaluable, and the things I have learned about history and culture will stay with me forever. But it was amazing to finally feel like we are on vacation. As we have found, traveling is more than a full-time job.
We got out and headed toward the market to pick up a few cheap items for dinner, but on the way, we ran into Doug and Katrina who are also on a Busabout tour. On the tour, you see the same people from time to time, but everyone spends either three or five nights in each place, so everyone is on a different schedule. We had met them in Prague, and Collin had sat with them outside the POW camp that I visited because both Collin and Katrina were suffering from foot injuries. Collin had gotten to know them really well and told me all about them afterward.
So for more than an hour, the four of us sat and talked about our travels and our lives at home. Katrina teaches high-school math, and Doug works in building cabinets and other home furnishings. They are living in Scotland on an exchange with a Scottish teacher who wanted to work in Australia, where Doug and Katrina are from. While they are living in Scotland, the couple has been doing numerous trips through the Busabout company--even the Shamrocker Tour like we did.
After talking as much as we could, they headed toward the pool, and Collin and I headed back to our air-conditioned haven. We met our roommate: an Australian girl traveling alone who has a cold, so she decided not to attend the toga pool party that the campsite is offering tonight. We showered and got ready for bed.
We are looking so forward to seeing the beautiful, romantic city of Venice tomorrow, along with the surrounding islands that promise some very special souvenirs!

A Man's Day in Munich

Today was our last day in Munich and we had a busy day planned. We wanted to visit two museums and go to the English Garden for a swim. Dennis was with us for one last day and he was extremely excited for both the BMW museum, which of course focuses on cars, and the Deutsches Museum, which focuses on German contributions to the world (much of which is also engineering/automotive-related).

I thought the BMW Museum would be cool, but I wasn't salivating like Dennis. As we began our self-guided tour through the museum, I really started to enjoy it. I knew BMW started with planes, but I had no idea about their contributions to motorcycles, racing, and engineering in general. Fun fact: when BMW bought the company that would go on to be their automotive division, they modeled their first car after a British car, a fact they certainly don't advertise. Seeing the evolution of the motorcycle and their race cars and the enormous presence of BMW in F-1 and MotoRacing was very interesting. Overall, the museum had a ton of fascinating automotive history and of course some gorgeous cars (for those who care, my favorite was the 507 Roadster from 1956).

Next, we went got a delicious lunch and regrouped and decided that because of all the stuff left to see and the first overcast day in a long while, we didn't have time to go swimming. The Deutsches Museum is a museum of German achievements in a variety of fields including nanotechnology, all types of engines, alternative fuels, locks (actually very cool), sewing machines, boats and many others. The first thing we saw was the evolution of boats from what looked like Viking-style row-boats to modern cruise-liners. What was interesting was to learn how prominent a figure Germany was in building the mega-passenger ships that crossed the Atlantic in the Titanic era. At the door to the next room there was a piston from one of these enormous ships that was at least 20 feet tall. We looked at some really cool, huge truck engines and the evolution of the German truck-making company MAN, like the German version of Mack trucks.

Upstairs we looked at locks from the 18th century from castles and chapels which were very complicated and interesting. We looked at how they build tunnels, including the worlds largest underwater tunnel which stretches only 10 miles from Sweden to Denmark, but houses a four-lane highway and a two-track railway. We explored some newer technology that had to do with advanced microscopes, facial cue interpretation software, nanotechnology, bio-mass conversion and many other technologies that are used every day but not necessarily known as German inventions.

After we waited for Dennis to be kicked out when the museum closed, we got some delicious ice-cream and headed back to the hostel to send Dennis off.

All in all, Munich was a ton of fun and very beautiful. They have some of the beautiful, old buildings common to Europe, but they also have the super-modern architecture and technology that seems to be uniquely German. We got to experience an authentic German meal and Bier Garten, and see some cool museums, but we definitely didn't get all of Munich. I really enjoyed it because it had the feel of cities like Amsterdam and Dublin where it is small enough to get comfortable, but big enough to keep you interested for a lifetime.

Cozy, Museum-Filled Munich

Collin and I arrived in Munich after kicking the pants off of Vienna! While we were there, we saw everything we could and somehow remained in good spirits. But when we got to Munich, I wasn't interested in seeing another palace or another German WWII camp. I just wanted to relax. Luckily, our plan all along had been to meet up with one of our very good friends in Munich because he is studying abroad in Germany (little did we know that he is closer to Paris than to Munich).

So after getting into our overbooked hostel in the evening, we met Dan from Florida in our room, went to have a cheap Italian dinner on the corner, and came back to try to get some sleep. Unfortunately, the front desk was having some difficulties with their bed planning, and roughly 10 people came to our room throughout the evening thinking that they were booked for our room.

Finally, after a single non-English-speaking Korean guy stood perplexed in the middle of our room for about 20 minutes, I decided to go down and get the whole thing worked out. Apparently, one of the guys in our room was booked for another room, but the front desk gave him a key to ours, leaving the guy who was booked in our room bedless. Luckliy, we'd met and remembered all of the names of the people in our room and were able to get to the bottom of it.

The next day, after sleeping in until 12:30, I got up to Collin who was already ready for lunch after having gotten up at 7 am to make sure we had access to the laundry machines. So we mosied to lunch after filling out some postcards we'd been saving. We went to have schnitzel in Germany for the last time. And I suppose the positive way to look at this little anecdote is to call it a lesson-well learned.

We looked at the prices quoted above the cash machine and saw meals for about EUR 6. But as we were ordering, the woman behind the counter reccomended that we sit at a table outside and wait for the waitor. That sounded like a swell idea because we had time to spare before Dennis arrived at the train station from the other side of Germany. After we ate a heaping serving of schnitzel, we left and got back to the hostel only to look nonchalantly at the reciept and find that we spent more than twice what we had expected. We ran back as soon as we could, and the lady explained that the sign above her head refered only to take-away meals. We stood there frustrated and helpless. Although in the states, I would have made a scene, saying that that was false advertising and absolutely unacceptable, I couldn't communicate it effectively enough through our language barrier, and if we had looked at the menu on our table, we would have known better than to sit and eat and expect a fair price.

We walked away with a new lesson learned: always make sure you are ordering from the eat-in menu prices.

After shrugging it off, knowing that there was nothing left to do, Collin went upstairs to take a nap, and I waited in the lobby for Dennis to arrive. It wasn't long before a lean, mean, German exchange student machine was standing at the table where I was sitting. I have never seen Dennis so skinny. I don't know that anyone has ever seen Dennis so trim. He looks INCREDIBLE! He is so thin--like a different person.

We sat in the lobby for a while and caught up our lives past and future. After about an hour, we decided to get Collin up and ready for the Biergartens in the English Garden in Munich. Dennis had just finished telling me that there are TONS of non-alcoholic beers in Germany and that he drinks them all the time. I was so excited and couldn't wait to tell Collin. We had been interested in tasting a German beer, but were so dedicated to our sobrieties that we kept it in our minds as an impossiblity.

After getting Collin out of bed, we went downstairs to meet Dennis' friend Ben, who was his German TA while they were in high school. Ben taught Dennis some of his first German words, and they were best friends while Ben lived in Portland. Ben is in the German military and is stationed in Munich until he moves to Arizona and then Texas in the next few months.

It was lucky for us that Ben lives in Munich because he was able to give us a really relaxed and authentic feel for the city. We left the hostel and headed straight through the center of town, where beautiful music was being played in finely manicured gardens under gorgeous gazebos. He showed us the beautiful Town Hall, Marienplatz (pictured above), and a few car showrooms on the way including Aston Martin and Mercedes Benz.

When we arrived at the doorstep of the English Garden, we anticipated quite a few sights to be seen. The English Garden hosts a few nude sections that we couldn't wait to get our eyes on--despite having been told that the only naked people in them are the ones who shouldn't even be naked in private.

I only saw one old naked guy, and he was facing the wrong way. But what was even more impressive was the beauty in which he was standing. The Garden has a huge network of clear streams that flow through the enormous, lush, green park. There are waterfalls and duck ponds, huge fields and private lawns. There are horse paths and bike paths and hundreds of people gathered around the streams. It was the most magnificent sight.

After we reluctantly passed the inviting waterfalls with people up to their necks in cool water, which we desparately wanted to sooth our sweating selves in, we headed to a big pagoda that stands in front of a large biergarten. On one of the wooden pagoda's balconies, a small band was playing authentic Bavarian drinking music, which lulled us happily into the crowded bier bars where we were determined to find a non-alcoholic beer mixed with lemonade (a staple of the Bavarian biergartens). Finally, guided by our lovely Bavarian guide Ben, we sat down and took a few photos of each other with huge beer mugs that are only used in the part of Germany that is Bavaria.

We slowly finished our beer and kept our eyes peeled for men in leiderhosen (sp). After we sat under trees with some late-afternoon sun shining through the leaves, Ben told us that he was taking us to a Bavarian restaurant that is known across Germany as one of the best! We made our way back through the huge park, and I listened to all three guys restrain their anger as each one of them suggested alternate routes to our destination.

We made it without anyone getting his feelings hurt. There were huge pork knuckles on rotisseries in the windows and white tablecloths and real flowers on the tables. The high cieilings with chandeliers warmed my heart immediately. Although I usually don't complain at all about any sort of food whatsoever, I was dying for something that wasn't wrapped in foil.

The host asked me to choose the table, and I found one that suited me perfectly. After we sat down, we found our waitor to be a charming, chubby fellow who identified himself as a New York-Canadian. I was determined not to pay for another serving of water, so I politely and somewhat coyly asked him "If I buy a Coke, would you let me have some tapwater." It worked! "Only if you give me a smile." I, of course obliged him, and he brought us four glasses with ice water as well as extra ice (you have no idea what a godsend that is after weeks of begging for just a drop of ice to put in the three ounces of soda they give you).

After a small appetizer of coarse mustard cream cheese on bread and pretzels, our food arrived.

Collin and Dennis both got pork knuckle, which is actually just a pig thigh. Collin got a 1/2, but Dennis got ONE WHOLE PORK THIGH! It was huge, it was juicy, it was tender, and it was magnificent! It was so fun to watch them eat it (not to mention to help them finish it). After this great Bavarian meal, the guys and I headed out, and we were on the hunt for some gelato. Now, I know everyone says that even the ice cream we had in Vienna would not compare to gelato, but from what I have had so far doesn't even hold a candle. We are heading to Venice next, though, so maybe I will be happily surprised.

Collin is has already blogged for what we did today, so keep readin'.

Adieu Vienna!

Today we woke up and again had the same delicious but sweat-inducing breakfast. We tried to find the pick-up point for the wine-country tour but our map told us a tram-line ended in one place when it actually ended at the exact place we needed to be; you can see how that could have caused us some problems. After getting off at the wrong stop we walked and asked locals until we found the tram-line that mysteriously had not ended where the map said it did.
The tour was in a bus-like-thing that will can really only be explained with pictures. The guide didn't speak english but the pre-recorded commentary for our route was bilingual and actually quite funny. The bus travels in a loop and the poster said it took 50 minutes but we got to our first destination so quickly that I thought it was a rest-stop. We got out and took some pictures of Vienna from above but for some reason (heat wave?) the city was blanketed with smog so our pictures didn't really come out. We left and drove down the hill past some very scenic and extensive vineyards. The commentary told us that Vienna was the only capital city in the world with vineyards within the city limits, not to mention most of those vineyards are award-winning.
We got to the second and last stop on our tour and it was a small, quiet, up-scale, little town called Grinzing. We found a little Italian place to have lunch because we only had an hour before our next pickup. Whitney got a salad with chicken and I got a spinach, ham, oregano and chevre pizza. Both were delicious (she told me her salad was good, but I wanted no part of it) and for such a nice little place it was pretty reasonably priced. We got back on the train-bus and headed back into town.
Whitney wanted to go to a beach on the Danube that she had heard of and even though I couldn't stand the thought of being in the sun any longer, the thought of taking a book into the shade and seeing a famous river would be relaxing. However, there was no beach, only concrete with a few rocks/brush leading down to the river. Whitney went in the river twice, but like any other in a big city, it wasn't too clean and she was content to sunbathe for another half-hour or so.
For our last outing in Vienna, we decided to go to a different film festival outside yet another glorious building, one showing mostly older movies from around the world. We were all set to see an Austrian movie from 1978 but we were promised subtitles and when they didn't appear, we decided that getting eaten by mosquitoes for 100 minutes to watch a movie we wouldn't understand wasn't worth it, so we took our complimentary glow-in-the-dark stars and left.
Vienna surprised both of us with it's size, history and beauty. We are sad to leave and feel like even though we crammed so much into four and a half days, we left a lot unseen.
We look forward to Bavaria and will try to have a blog up after our first day there. Thanks for reading and we miss you all.

Schonbrunn Palace and Other Sights in Vienna

So, on our second to last day in Vienna, or Wien as it is spelled in German, we had a full day of sightseeing on our schedule. We had breakfast in our hostel for the first time, which was a nice breakfast for three and a half euros, but by the time we ate breakfast at 10:15 it was already over 85 degrees and our habits of drinking coffee and hot tea with no fan or air conditioning resulted in both of us leaving the breakfast table drenched before even starting our day.
From the time I saw it on the map, I knew Schonbrunn Palace was going to be one of my favorite places we visited, and I was not dissapointed. We toured the gardens first and I can't even describe the size of it all. Forests with wide walking paths, perfectly manicured gardens and giant marble fountains (yes, plural) stretched as far as the eye could see. Whitney and I mused about how the occupants probably never made it to all four corners of their estate and how their dinnertime conversation included debating which of their giant marble, classically-themed fountains was their favorite. We made it to the far end of the estate where a pillared structure (purpose unkown) stood atop a hill, facing the palace and providing a spectacular panorama of Vienna. The palace and it's "gardens" knocked me sideways, I've simply never seen anything like them. Imagine the White House being the summer house (yes, this was only a summer house for the Hapsburgs) for only one family and the parks that surround the White House being the private yard for that family. Incredible.
The inside of the palace was equally incredible but because we had just walked through the imperial apartments, we were acclimated to the opulence and extravagance that characterized the Hapsburg dynasty. The "Millions Room" was the most expensive room in the whole palace and it was amazing. The room is made of rare types of imported Rosewood from floor to cieling and collages of centuries-old oriental art are lined with gold. The large gallery was the most impressive "room" in the palace. At 40 meters long and 10 meters wide, with frescos on the ceiling and portraits on the walls, both with the standard gold border, the gallery seemed like the ultimate Baroque-era party room.
Next we went to St. Stephan's Cathedral. After Prague, Paris and London, we have been somewhat desensitized when it comes to enormous, ornately detailed churches, but St. Stephan's was still worth the visit. Because it was Sunday the tours weren't running and we didn't get much history on the place, but we did find out that you have to pay to light a prayer candle and the roof is in a fun, multi-colored, blue and yellow design.
We walked to Mozart's house and stood in the lobby because the tour was 12 dollars per person and we were short on time. We tried to take the tram around the "ring" that goes around Central Vienna, but the suggestion on the map didn't point out that the trams don't go in a continuous ring like the map itself indicated. After getting off and re-boarding in the opposite direction in North Vienna, we got to see the other side of the city (East, if anyone cares) that we would never have gotten to otherwise. We didn't stop and we didn't even get the names of the impressive buildings we saw, but it did reinforce our feeling that Vienna is one of the most beautiful cities we've seen in Europe.
We got home and watched the World Cup final, which I won't go into because I am still furious. All I want to say is that the Spanish play football in a manner that relies equally on their actual football skill and their ability to manipulate the officials. The bar was packed with Spaniards and I left immediately after it ended because of the real possibility of getting into my first fistfight.
Tomorrow we go to wine country because of the spectacular views...Why else would anyone go there?