Beer, Beer and More Beer (European Vacation, part two)

Welcome back, and all aboard for part two of my European vacation. If you're lost on when, where and why I am traveling, read this first.

I hope you brought your Passport and it is tucked away in that dorky little flat fanny pack someone talked you into buying, snuggling in there with your Eurorail pass and student travel ID that makes you look OH SO AMERICAN and really, quite young and naive.

After Prague, the journey continued...

Vienna
Taking a much needed break from alcohol, we decided to veer off course and go to Vienna without our new friends. We rented yet another amazing apartment from Frau Gajdo, who cooked us breakfast the next morning and threw in a side of grandma talk in broken English. It felt good to be in a home. Needing some nightlife that we could enjoy without the bubbly, we visited Prater, a huge amusement park. Thrill rides are different there, and we seated ourselves in the "Slingshot" ready for an adventure. The ride operator was giving everyone instructions, but we clearly didn't speak the language, so it was clear when everyone was raising their arms and obeying his rules that we were the American Idiots. He laughed, pointed, and made us the butt of the jokes. We didn't mind, but buddy, can you still come over here and buckle us in before you shoot us 200 feet into the sky? Great, thanks.


The vending machines in Austria were amazing, enormous refrigerated mini-stores operated by the long arm of a fancy robot. Really fun—we ate stuff we couldn't identify JUST to see the thing in action. Touring the Schonbrunn palace (home of the Hapsburgs during their rule), we worked off the vending machine delights wandering the mansion and the gardens. I recall getting lost several times in Vienna, and even have photos of Anna and Mandi carefully studying a map (with clenched brows and no clue). Time to head on. So long, farewell, Vienna. The 9-hour overnight train with the sleeping cars was fun and interesting, but being awoken in the middle of the night by a train guard demanding your Passport and shining a flashlight in your face wasn't so nice. Those Germans can be a bit brash, you see.

Munich
Our arrival in Munich meant a return to the beer. And lots of it. Those Germans really do knock them back. We started our time there with a visit to the Hofbrauhas, the world's largest beer garden. Alas, who is there tipping back the 1-litre beer steins but The Michigan Boys! We dragged them with us the next day on the traditional Munchen Bike Tour, which included a ride through the English Gardens where adults like to sunbathe naked. Trust me, German men should NOT do that. I am pretty sure it frightens children. Bavarian lions were everywhere, and I'm pretty sure this induced some "Wizard of Oz" singing.


We took a bus ride out to Dachau, one of the biggest concentration camps during the Nazi regime, and were moved to tears, and definitely were the quietest we'd been since landing in Europe. To uplift, we watched the Glockenspiel in the Marienplatz do its little dance, and made it back to the beer garden. I am pretty sure I barfed up my sausage dinner on the way back to our hostel, but can you blame a girl? The beer steins took two hands to hold, and the alcohol levels are not even close to Bud Light.

Interlaken
Switzerland looks like a postcard, the entire time. It was colder here than we expected, and our traveler's outfits got more and more ridiculous. Shorts with a sweatshirt? Sure! I recall buying some warmer items, and a Swiss Army watch that is still on my wrist today. The architecture of the houses tucked into the mountains, complete with the window boxes, flags and pitched roofs, made me feel like Maria Von Trapp yet again. Or Heidi. I think we yodeled. Our first bar experience included a man stamping a huge black circle on your cheek (before you even realized what's happening) and him promising if "you come back tomorrow with that on your face you get a free beer!" Uh, thanks buddy.


Mandi convinced us to go Canyoning. I had no idea what this meant, but the brochure made me nervous. I'm much more content in a museum or picnicking in the park, but this involved rock climbing, rock sliding, cliff jumping and rappelling. For three and a half hours. In the Swiss Alps. Yeah, and I paid for it. Our group consisted of 9 guys and us. Putting on the cold, damp, skintight wet-suits was interesting, and Mandi's zipper was a stubborn little sucker, to say the least. POP! As we neared the top of the Gorge, the guys were just as scared, and I begged them to fake it, to put on a brave face for us. Crossing myself with the Sign of the Cross, we went. I hated it the whole time, but was pretty proud of myself afterwards. The scariest part was the jump off a cliff, between two rocks, out above a whirlpool, and into water that was fast-moving and only about 5 feet deep. SOMEHOW we didn't drown. Sadly, when I arrived back in the US, my mom found an article in the USA Today that revealed that 19 travelers in the EXACT SAME GORGE with the EXACT SAME CREW as us had perished due to flash floods. We are lucky. And, drank beer to celebrate.


Hiking up to Lauterbrunnen with a riverside picnic was more my style, and riding the cable car up to Gimmewald was nothing short of spectacular. No cars, no noise, just you and the Alps. And a handful of goats. We said goodbye to the Michigan Boys, whom we'd re-encountered here, and were on our way. This overnight train experience was so much better than the first, and included a handsome Italian man waking us up with tea, fruit and hot cloths. I love Italy already.

Florence
This city is incredible, and it was just such a dream to finally be in Italy. ITALY! So romantic. Hey girlfriends, come on, there's sightseeing to do. Michelangelo was one talented man, and we sure did soak up his greatness. Mandi, while standing in front of the David, said loudly, "He's so huge!" The already quiet room went totally silent. I don't think THAT is what you say when standing in front of a naked male form. Or maybe you do? The pink, green and white tiles of the Duomo are so ornate and it makes this whole post-modern architecture seem sort-of, well, lazy. These guys tiled and tiled and tiled and painted and painted and sculpted. The buildings may have taken 100 years to build, but man, are they worth it. Firenze brought us gelato, and for that I will forever be thankful. We had it three times a day, and that was just for snacks. Touring the piazzas was never quite as good without a cup of gelato in your hand.


While in the train station in Interlaken we read that the Festival of San Giovanni was being held while we were in town, and we wanted to be a part of it. Whatever IT was. Turns out the festival means closing off a huge piazza, filling it with sand and bleachers and gates and nets and crowds, and hosting a village vs. village grudge match that was a cross between rugby and wrestling, with the crowds shouting Green Team or Red Team the whole time. I am pretty sure it was an Italian version of Medieval Times. We didn't have tickets, and I only knew the word for ticket in Spanish, so I wandered around saying it with an Italian lilt at the end to see what happened. I was handed 2 tickets by some guy. We had run into 2 American guys so we needed 5 total tickets. So, we scalped our freebies, and drank the profits, which totaled about the equivalent of $350 in lire. Who knew? After drinking all day at the bar nearby, our liquid courage pushed us through the gates, over a fence and into the crowd, sans ticket. I'm so lucky I didn't end up in Italian prison, as that would have been one phone call my parents wouldn't have liked receiving. Fireworks over the Arno River that night capped off a fabulous day. Bella!

Rome
Riding through Tuscany on the train, we planned the rest of our Italian adventures. Arriving in Roma, we hit all the usual spots. The Spanish Steps (don't try to negotiate with an artist about price, it offends their delicate personalities), the Colosseum (so gross when you think about how many people perished there, for sport) and the Roman Forum. We conquered it all again on a night walking tour, and tossed in our coins to the Trevi Fountain, wishing to return to Rome again someday, in love. The sheer antiquity of the city and the life that bustles above ground, nestled ever so gently among the ruins of a lost era, is extremely cinematic. "Roman Holiday" is a favorite, and I loved seeing the spots Audrey toured on her motorbike. Which, incidentally, are EVERYWHERE. Somehow, we managed not to get run over. Piedro sure wasn't slowing down for us, bella or no.


We happened upon the Vatican on the day when the Pope was giving his blessings to the people, so after touring the Vatican Museum (AMAZING), and experiencing spiritual centered-ness (for me) and the incredible St. Peter's Basilica, we stood among thousands to hear the Pope speak from his quarters. Mandi was starting to feel ill, but the good sport that she was suffered through the 99 degree temps, the black dresses and cardigans (had to cover the knees and the shoulders) and trudged along. The photos capture her uneasiness, though, and the LONG train ride to Vernazza, in the Cinque Terra, was nothing short of miserable for her. Anna and I, however, didn't get a seat, so we had to STAND in the aisles near the W.C. smelling like sweat and urine for something like 7 hours. It was awful, but the result was worth it.

Vernazza
We didn't have reservations for a hostel, plans of what to see or do, when we arrived in this cliffside Mediterranean town. The laundry hanging from the windows fluttered, and the sun bounced off the brightly colored stucco houses, all set into the face of the hill. The water glistened at the bottom of the steep cobblestone street, and the sailboats masts rocked gently in the wind. THIS was a vacation from our vacation, and we milked it. Because you may have not had the luxury or privilege to go, here's a scene from our window:


Eating fresh pasta and drinking red wine down on the rocks by the water at sunset, listening to local musicians play quietly as you walk past their cafe, enjoying the lilting sound of the locals talking to one another in the early hours of the morning, all of it was postcard worthy.


We rented a small hostel with a lone traveler from Ireland, met a ton of people from all over the world, and together had a wonderful 4 days of nothing. No churches, no museums, no clubs, no palaces, no trains, no crowds. Anna and her friend who was visiting hiked to some of the other cliff towns, but Mandi and were content to don bathing suits, sun on the rocks, and dive into the salty Med when we needed to cool off. The entire experience felt something like being in a movie, where you just don't ever want the credits to roll, you're enjoying it so much. We made friends there, from all over, and everyone felt the same thing: the Cinque Terra is a little slice of heaven.

Nice
Regrettably, we had to depart Italy, but our reward for doing so was a venture along the Mediterranean to Nice. The French Riviera is everything you imagine: spectacular, wealthy, warm, beach-ish, ritzy, electric, tasty, shiny and fun. The beaches aren't made of sand, but small rocks, and when you stand up (without the recommended beach mat) you have little red circles all over your back and legs, but it is worth it. The topless and nude bathers aren't as obvious as you may think, but the sight of a middle-aged mom frolicking topless in the waves with her young son is a little disconcerting at first, but then you shed your American judgments and enjoy the day.


We met some handsome guys in town and dined well with them at Chez Wayne's. Not your classiest name, but we were 22, what'd you expect? Dressing up and experiencing these things made us feel quite classy, and then I scooted back too fast from the table, tipped backwards and my legs went up over my head as I tumbled into the cobblestone street. Oops. Chez Classy.

Monaco
A day trip from Nice, we explored this wealthy little principality, and took photos of and near the casino in Monte Carlo, the flowers, the mansions and the villas. I could live there, just call me Grace Kelly.


Frankly, I don't recall much from this day, but the sun was out, the riches were glittery and the people were friendly. Good enough for me. Next time I go, I'm bringing more diamonds, sequins and a fancy sportscar, because the baseball hat and ponytail didn't quite cut it.

Barcelona
Spain was to be our last country on the trip, and by this time we were ALMOST ready to go back to our regular life and not be an American in Europe any longer. Oh how I wish that I was in that situation now. Barcelona is an exciting city, a blend of the really old with the really new and shiny and we walked and walked and walked. At the base of the Gotic Catedral, in the shadow of the steeple, the flamenco dancers put on quite a show. The Arena de Barcelona, home of many Olympic events, was something to see, and the view from the steps of the Museum laid the city out beneath us. Gaudi's Temple de la Sagrada Familia looks JUST like a drippy castle of sand, and the mosaic tiled park benches proved not only beautiful, but a great spot to rest your legs. Mandi was succumbing to her ever-worsening condition, and we took it easy that night. By easy, I mean we dined on paella and sangria along Las Ramblas and then headed to Maremagnum, the hot spot at night, for some dancing. What a trooper. I recall this being the 4th of July, which clearly had no significance in Spain, but we partied and celebrated on our own. Fiesta!


The next morning, Mandi finally conceded that she needed to see a doctor, so we trudged across town to a hospital. Scary enough at home, this experience was NOT what we'd envisioned for our trip. Using high school Spanish, I communicated Mandi's woes to the doctor, who proceeded to bang on her back, declare her sick with a kidney infection (too much beer, not enough water) and admit her to the hospital for the day. The doctor must have seen the fear on our faces and tried his best to calm us. The second physician looked EXACTLY like John, the man that Mandi was engaged to be married to the following May, and we were comforted by that odd coincidence. Anna and I toured the city some more, after calling Mandi's family in Georgia with the news, and enjoyed what we saw. We brought back postcards, candy and treats for our little invalid, who was laid up with an IV all day. Alas, she was fine, but Anna and I witnessed some gruesome fights and bloody men in the waiting room, who apparently were NOT getting along on the streets so well. I never told Mandi's family about that part.

Departure
Cutting short our trip to spare Mandi any more traveling, we decided not to go on to Madrid. Another time, for certain. Delta changed our flights with no penalty (after a 2 hour conversation where I pretty much begged, cried and pleaded, and threatened to get my Million-Miler Frequent Flier Dad involved) and we boarded a plane the following day.


Heading home to Atlanta, we were all tanner, 10 pounds lighter, exhausted, and happy. Our backpacks were filled with dirty clothes, souvenirs, ticket stubs, napkins and random coins. Our passports were filled with stamps and memories.

I found a cartoon in the paper the next day, while I was sitting at my parents' kitchen table, that says, "Traveling to places like this definitely changes you...always for the better."

I couldn't agree more.

Look Kids, Big Ben! Parliament! (European Vacation part 1)

Brett's parents are in Europe on a fabulous two-week vacation, and just hearing about the cities they are visiting reminded me of my European vacation back in the summer of 1999.

Mandi, Anna and I boarded a plane from Atlanta bound for Europe. Our backpacks weighed 34 pounds each, we had our walking shoes on and we were ready.

We had nearly six weeks of travel in front of us, and we sure did make the most of it. Since it has been 9 years next month, I figured a few stories were in order. I've even pulled pages from my scrapbook and scanned in key photos to prove our existence in each city.

You'll want to grab coffee and a comfy seat. I've never been known to be brief.

Arrival
The long flight was a first for me, and we certainly didn't ride first class. Ten hours from Atlanta, lined up across a row with the bathrooms nearby, was a bit of a challenge. We pocketed the Delta blankets, however, only to re-use them again and again as everything from a pillow, to a shawl to a picnic blanket. We knew we weren't supposed to go to sleep when we landed, so we used the facilties in Heathrow to freshen up for our big adventures. We wouldn't have been able to sleep anyway.

London
From the moment we stepped aboard the touristy red double-decker bus, I knew that I could live there and be very happy. Poor, and underfed, but happy. Do NOT stay in a hostel near the Victoria Station—ours was scary and ugly and our bedroom was half-underground. Pretty sure 2 of us shared a single bed that night. It's not worth it to skimp and save quite that much. These few days in London was the first experience with Red Bull as it hadn't gotten approved in the U.S. yet, and I recall drinking it out of pitchers, mixed with ice and vodka, and it glowing in the dark while we danced and shimmied our way through the Zoo Bar. We saw "Les Miserables" at the Globe Theater, and the accents threw me a bit from the Broadway production.


Singing as we walked drew attention to us, but come on...it was impossible NOT to sing "London Bridge" a few times. Even though the one that everyone THINKS is the London Bridge actually goes by Tower Bridge. Who knew? Guess the other one fell down. One thing we noticed at this early point in our trip was our ability to completely MISS the biggest monuments/buildings while desperately looking for it. Case in point, we were wandering the streets, looking for Parliament, and then, behold, we were standing in front of it and didn't quite see it. Big Ben, where are you?

Paris
Since we had the Eurorail passes, we took the train everywhere, and it sure was an interesting way to travel. The bullet train across the Chunnel was our introduction to the train life, and we shouldn't have set our expectations there—that train was far nicer than anything else we'd encounter. We stayed at an amazing hostel in Montmartre, and experienced the "Hostel Nazi" who liked to shout and control our curfews, but the place was really fancy. Walking up the hill to Le Sacre Couer, we heard singing, and entered the church at twilight to hear nuns singing hymns in French, and it was hard not to be moved by the glorious music and sights.


Parisians eat dinner at about midnight, so we just added extra meals in there to make sure we didn't go hungry, God forbid. One memorable meal involved eating fondue out of a ceramic bowl and drinking wine out of baby bottles. Our time in Paris also introduced us to the smart cars, which I'm still convinced wouldn't fit my head and long legs simultaneously, and the "on the street toilettes, where you pay a coin and then the door slides open and you take care of business right there on the sidewalk. It rained and rained and rained in Paris, though not a drop in London, ironically. The tourism union was on strike, so most of the monuments and museums were on strike, but luckily we were still able to ascend the Eiffel Tower and ride the Metro; the Louvre and the Musee de Orsay were clearly not happening. Guess I will have to go back...

Brugge
Next stop, a small town about 10 miles off the coast of the North Sea. Cobblestone streets and red roofs make this town aesthetically pleasing, and the canal rides prove the age of the place. We ate french fries with mayonnaise and bought chocolate and lace, because that's what ladies in Belgium do. Climbing the 396 steps of the Belfort tower, we were still young enough not to be totally out of breath, and met a silly little music man with a rolling cart at the base.


Renting bikes for the day, the three of us (sporting our inadvertently matching blue wind-breakers) took to the streets and rode out of town a bit to ogle the windmills and sing even more loudly. I remember standing on a sidewalk at 4 am trying to figure out the phone card and the international phone booth. My parents were convinced I was drunk. I might have been.

Amsterdam
Arriving in Amsterdam on the weekend, we thought we were in for a huge party; however, the Heineken brewery was closed, and the town was pretty quiet. Until we found the one bar run by Australians: Mister Coco's. It became our home for the next few days, and we even donned black afros to pour beers for the guests. We made our mark there, I am afraid. Lunch by the canals featured amazing cheeses, fruits and breads, and flowers filled the window boxes hanging above our heads. Quick studies that we were, we realized that we'd just sit anywhere to eat. Give me a square on a train station floor and I'm happy. Sleeping quickly became that way, too. While in Amsterdam, we explored the high-tech internet cafes to connect with our families, and loved having great beer with us while we did.


The crowds rolled into the city to celebrate, ironically, the Tibetan Freedom Concert, and we found ourselves in the middle of the mayhem, feeding pigeons (and being scared by them when they took flight) in Dam Square. The Anne Frank House was a must-see, and we made a visit to a contemporary museum, a coffee shop and a night out for dancing, which ended up being at the African Roots Festival at Melkweg. Walking into the warehouse-sized bar, we realized quickly we stood out and ignored the looks we received, and made our way to the front row to dance all night with the tribal robe-wearing, face-painted locals. Killing time before our train, we went to the movies (we couldn't bring ourselves to drink any more) and saw "Cruel Intentions" subtitled in Dutch.

Berlin
We hadn't heard great things about Berlin, so we only planned to be there for a day, and then move on. We did a Walking Tour with a tour guide that reminded us of Gilligan, and saw the Brandenburg Gates, Checkpoint Charlie, Humboldt University and the New Museum (where I tried to climb into the sculptural bowl outside and it wasn't a smart idea). We read about how book burning happened here, led by the Nazis, and ended our tour with the Berlin Wall. Complete with stories and movie clips, the Wall's meaning and historical impact was loud and clear.


While standing at the Wall, we met three backpacking guys from Michigan, and proceeded to sit at the pizza place so long we almost missed our train to Prague. All six of us were running through the train station only to realize we had misjudged the schedule and had time to waste. The 3 of them, the Michigan Boys, ended up being our travel buddies throughout the rest of Europe, and one of them, Sam, is still one of my best friends today, and lives here in Chicago.

Prague
We took the 8-hour train from Berlin and filled the time playing Euker with the Michigan Boys, enjoying the party car along the way. This was my favorite city in all of Europe. A guy in Amsterdam, a traveler from St. Louis, passed us a business card of a great guy in Prague who, with his wife, rents apartments to traveling students. We called him, arranged it, and he picked us up at the train station with pastries, sandwiches, water (with gas and without) and drove us in his tiny car to the apartment, which was fabulous. Enormous, high ceilings, incredible architecture, and it was $33 a night. TOTAL.

The key-ring he gave us had about 9 color-coded keys on it, with each one corresponding to a different door as you entered from the street (red key) to the interior lobby (orange key) to the top of the stairs (yellow key) to the interior hallway (green key) to the front of the apartment (blue key) to the back door of the apartment (purple key). Since we'd had a few Staropramen beers that first night (they were only $.60 each, and the Michigan Boys were buying), when we got back "home," the key challenge began. I recall Mandi accidentally dropping the keys from halfway up the curvy staircase, down all they way to the bottom, which was past one of the three original gates, so she had to shimmy down the stairs, we had to hold the spring-loaded gate open, and she had to climb back up and save the day. She lived to tell about it, thank God, and forgave us for laughing so hard we couldn't talk.


For four days we wandered the St. Charles Bridge over the Vlatva River (singing the theme from "Mission Impossible"), purchased paintings from local artisans and danced all night long at Lavka, an enormous multi-level riverside club. The Praha Castle was an incredibly authentic version of the Magic Kingdom castle and the St. Vitus Cathedral blew us away. If you've never been to Prague, I have two words. GO NOW.

Part two of this blog to come later today. I'm doing you the favor and letting you stand up, step away from the computer and stretch your legs.

Go get more coffee...there's nine more cities to tour!