7-24-09 Berlin Nightmare

We awoke early in the morning in our Prague flat, got ready and went upstairs for breakfast. The breakfast was buffet style, but they weren't serving coffee! "Egads!" I exclaimed to a packed dining hall, "where is the coffee!" "Looks like they don't have any," said my sister, a look of forlorn on her face. We loaded up our plates and took a seat near the window. As we ate, I noticed the French guy I had met the night before sitting with a few friends. Before we left I gave him my contact info, and said that if he's ever in Oregon he should look me up. He never did, sadly.

In order to feed our coffee addiction, we checked out of the hostel, left our bags with the front desk, and ambled up the street to the nearest cafe. As we sat outside to enjoy our coffee, the firespinner I had met last night walked by carrying his staff. I called him over and introduced him to my sister. He said he was going to Charles Bridge to "spin" for an hour, and if we had time we should check out the free tour given at 11 o'clock because the guides took you everywhere in Prague, and told you all the history. "You can't miss it!" he said, so we agreed to check it out. Hell, what else were we going to do?

When we got to the square there was a folk festival going on. Women dressed in traditional garments danced around men
wearing leiderhosin and clogs, while a band played songs that sounded like mixes between polka and Irish folk music. The smell of cinnamon wafted over the scene from a cart selling a Czech version of the "elephant ear."

The tour began with a bang as our guide came bounding into the group of tourists speaking a mile-a-minute. Most of the people didn't realize the tour had begun until she was half way through recounting the 9th century. Those who hadn't done their reading were left scratching their head wondering what the term "Bohemia" meant, among other things.

Our guide took off at a healthy trot stopping only at the major landmarks, talking constantly and waiting impatiently for people to catch up. Prague, she said, is full of mystery and tales of ordinary and extraordinary madness. My favorite being a story about a withered arm found in St. Vitus Cathedral, in short they never found the rest of the body. I decided it must have been the gargoyles behind the whole thing.

After three hours of walking through Prague, our guide left us at the foot of Charles Bridge. She wished us bon voyage as she
disappeared into the crowds moving back to Old Town Square to meet a new group of tourists to do the whole thing over again. We walked across the bridge, touched the statue of St. Luthgard and saw a troop of gypsies.

With our Prague trip complete we returned to the hostel, got our bags and made for the station. The train to Berlin wasn't for an hour, so we killed the time by drinking some beer with a fellow backpacker named Constantine. He turned out to be a medical student from New York who had been doing rotations in Prague for the past three weeks. He said he was heading back to the states, but not before hitting up Berlin for a three-day drunken party with his friends. His shoulder length curly black hair framed his smiling eyes and large mouth, and he was funny in dry, clinical sort of way, so we invited him to sit with us on our way to Berlin. "Great!" he said, offering us another beer.

That was when the bad luck began. Our train to Berlin was delayed two and a half hours, and we were informed that it no longer would be picking us up at the our current station. "Bad luck!" I said to myself, not knowing this bad luck would eventually follow us all the way to Berlin. We finally caught the train at the other station, and weren't all that surprised to see our cabin would again be full, promising another sleepless late night ride. However, instead of a bunch of old, stodgy people, as was the case from Rome to Vienna, we were accompanied by a group of young Spanish ladies. One of which lived in Berlin and spoke very good English. We talked all the way to Berlin while passing around a bottle of red wine one of the Spanish ladies had snuck on the train.

We arrived in Berlin at one o'clock in the morning, tired and hungry and slightly drunk, and in the middle of a train conductor strike. Nobody was going anywhere, and so we were stuck in East Berlin without a hostel reservation and no idea where to go. This sort of thing happens only once every four years, and it just happened to start at the moment of our arrival. "Bad luck" I said to myself as we descended the train. We talked to a couple of Americans who were handing out pamphlets telling people where the nearest hostels were. They told us to check out one hostel called "The White Rabbit" which was only three or four blocks down the road. We said thank you, and entered the cold Berlin night.

This is how I felt at that moment of time

Every hostel we found was either booked solid, or impossible to find, so by 2:30am we all sprung for a cab that would take us to City Center Berlin Hostel where Constantine had reserved a bed. When we arrived we asked if they had two spare beds, which thankfully they did. My sister went upstairs to sleep, but I stayed up and thought about how incredible it was to be stuck in a foreign country with nothing but your mind and perseverance to guide you. Then I ate a Snickers bar and went to sleep.

7-23-09 Prague

Our train left early in the morning, so we grudgingly dragged ourselves out of bed, careful not to disturb our roommates. We shared our room with a couple from Spain, and that meant sharing a bathroom. The shower was poorly designed so that splashing water collected on the floor. My sister and I wore flip-flops in the shower to avoid flesh eating bateria, which we just knew was seething between the discolored tiles. In fact everyone wore shoes to the bathroom because it was the "sanitary" thing to do. However, wearing tennis shoes to the bathroom meant that the pools of water would mix with shoe-dirt and you'd be left with muddy footprints and pools of discolored water. Unfortunately, this had happened this morning, and it was brought to my attention by the lovely Spanish woman. She proceeded to explain to me in a half-English half-Spanish transcultural rant that I had muddied up the floor, and that I should clean it up, and that I smell bad. Ok, so she didn't say all of that, but she did yell at me for the shower as me and my sister packed for the train station. All we said was "We're sorry" as we closed the door and headed downstairs to check out.

We arrived in Prague in the hot afternoon, and went to our hostel. We dropped our bags off, and hung out in our four person room. My sister called our mom to tell her we hadn't been abducted yet, and that I had been able to piss off every Spanish person we had met so far. I hung out the window of our room, and watched the sky, which was clouding over. Suddenly there was a crack of lightening, and the boom of thunder as the heat, which had followed us ever since Italy, finally reached its boiling point. It started to rain, and soon it was a torrential downpour. The wind ripped through our narrow side-street, banging the shutters of windows as it passed. We waited while until the rain eased, and made our way to dinner. Welcome to Prague.

It was understood that there was an authentic Czech restaurant just up the street. I was in the mood for beef tongue, so we went to Kovics. Kovics had an underground fight club feel mostly because the bar/restaurant sat in the basement of a building reserved for offices. We ordered a plate of beef tongue for an appetizer, which I can say from experience looks exactly like it should. Ours was sliced lengthwise, however, you could definitely tell what it was. It kept the same shape, and consistency of what you'd think beef tongue would taste like, and I've got to say, it was really good. For dinner I had steak and my sister had chicken. We paid for the meal in Krowns, and everything added up came out to be roughly $30. Prague, I think I'm starting to like you...

We left in search of another bar, and walk around Old Town Square. After awhile we stumbled into a place called Chateau Rouge. We went in partly due to the rain, which had returned, but also because of the beer prices, ($.50 beers are always worth a try in my opinion). Halfway through our second beer, two Belgian women began talking with us. One was a 25 year-old speech therapist, and the other, (much cuter one), was a 26 year-old teacher. We told them that we were brother and sister traveling across Europe for a few weeks. The Chateau Rouge (sorry for the sizing)
They asked if we were going to Brussels, their hometown. We said we hadn't thought of it, but we might if time permitted. The teacher started flirting with me, and offered to buy me and my sister another beer. We didn't have any more money so I said yes, my sister said no. The teacher's name was Leigh, while we were talking, Leigh kept on playing footsie with me under the table. Though, just when Leigh and I were getting closer, my sister told me she was tired and that she wanted to go back to the hostel. I couldn't have my sister walking around alone in a foreign country, so I escorted her back, but not before I told Leigh I'd be back soon.

When I got back to the bar two guys, who looked like competitors on MetRx's World's Strongest Man, were talking to Leigh. I decided not to die, so I used the bathroom and headed back to the hostel.

On my way up to the room I ran into a three people sitting in the common room. Two had guitars, and the other was sitting at the end of the table listening. One of the guitarist's name was Howlin' Howie. Howie had been playing guitar for 58 years, he was traveling the world playing guitar and singing for anyone who'd listen. The guy at the end of the table was a Frenchman, he was quiet, but I managed to find out that he was going to Vienna next, so I told him about the Belvedere and the crazy drivers. The last guy was a redhead who went by Brian Policoff. He was from Arizona, but lived in Prague as a street performer. His craft was fire-spinning. He had done it in The Ringley Bros. Circus for years, and before that he had been a singing gondolier at the Venetian in Las Vegas.
Firespinner: Exhibit A

After a few hours of guitar and singing and talking, I said goodnight to them and went upstairs. I was careful not to wake either my sister, or the two girls, who were our new roommates, after all I'd already pissed off that Spanish couple, I was determined not to have a repeat in Prague.

Vienna! (7-22-09)

It was 9:30am when we arrived in Vienna, Austria and never in my life had I been happier to get off a train! We had been traveling for 12 hours straight, most of which I spent lodged in the corner of a stuffy compartment with 5 other people, and my sister! You can only imagine the horror. We got off the train stretching our limbs, our joints popped and cracked like a Regal Cinema's popcorn machine. It took us a while to gather our surroundings: 1. We were in Vienna 2. We were on the train platform 3. We didn't know how to get to our hostel. Luckily the maps were written in German, which made it easy to find our way. But, I thought, we're in a new country! Let's ask for directions! Thankfully a nice Austrian couple knew how to get to downtown, and so off we were off to find our first hostel!

At the place they call Westend Hostel we booked two beds, however, they told us the beds wouldn't be ready for about three hours. This we took as a formality. Since we were already sleep deprived, what difference would three hours make, right? We paid the locker fee for our bags, and left the hostel to visit the Belvedere.

Since we were downtown, the streets were very busy. One thing I noticed about Austrians, especially those who walk downtown, is that they NEVER jaywalk. My sister and I found this out the hard way when we tried crossing a street without a walk signal. We had made it halfway across the street when a psychotic woman in one of those tiny European Vespa-turned-automobiles came ripping

Looked something like this| down the street. She actually accelerated having seen us jaywalking in an attempt to scare the living shits out of us. Well, it worked, and from that point on we always paid attention to walk signals.

|Wrong Belv, Bro
We made it to the Belvedere, no not the Polish one, (or the Vodka). But the Viennese palace built for Prince Eugene of Savoy. It's a massive dual palace, with Upper and Lower sections, which both house museums. The grounds are organized in baroque style landscape to match that of the architecture of the buildings. Having time, we meandered through the gardens, and one museum in the Lower section. Beautiful as it was, (my sister snapped roughly a million pictures), we left to take showers at the hostel and catch some sleep before heading to dinner.  

We were both in the mood for something a bit heavier than Italian food, but we weren't too keen on Schnitzle just yet. So we had dinner at an Australian themed restaurant that reminded me of an Outback. Afterwards we walked around Stephansplatz Square where there were a bevy of street performers and dance crews. Stephansplatz Square is the heart of downtown, and it's where you'll find all the nightlife necessities for locals and tourists alike. At the center of the bustling square is a giant gothic church called Stephen's Chathedral or Stephansdom (appropriate right?). This was our first opportunity to see gothic architechture so far on our trip, as everything south of Venice is mostly baroque or classic architechture.

That's me!| We left Stephansdom to venture farther away from the central square, we visited Mozart's apartment, which looked like any other apartment, but with a hint of historical importance, I could've sworn to have heard the first few notes of Symphony n.40. We then walked to the church where the Vienna Boys' Choir performs, but it was closed. Those poor lads. On our way back we bumped into a few Americans, one was named Atella, (no not after the Hun unfortunately), who was visiting Vienna on his way to Rome. His buddy, Morice, was from Boston, and was working at a law firm in Vienna for six months. Together we walked around the city talking about the things Morice had seen, and about Atella's plans for his trip. Then Morice showed us all a one euro gelato bar a few blocks from Stephansplatz. Afterwards though, both Morice and Atella had to leave. Atella would be leaving for Rome in the morning on a six month trip around the world.

We got back to the hostel, but only stayed about twenty minutes. It was too hot in there, so we found a pub around the corner and ordered a few beers. They had a huge projection screen showing a soccer game between two rival teams. Whenever our team scored a goal, the pub would erupt in a frenzy of cheers and hugs, and the pub across the street would boo and yell at their team in German. After a while we left, and went back to the Westend, and I fell asleep before my head hit the pillow.

7-21-09

Today is the first day on our own! Our parents had left on a flight at 3am and were long gone by the time we had woken up. This morning went much smoother than the past few mornings, I put shampoo in my hair, and managed not to trip over anything. Our train was at 5pm, so we had time to go back to St. Peter's and look around some more.

Today was HOT, and not like Oregon hot, this was South Carolina in August hot. It was muggy by 9am when we left our hotel and made our way across town to the Vatican. We took a tour of the Pope's Tomb - which is a series of catacombs that sit beneath the Vatican Basilica. Thankfully it was cool underground, and that there weren't too many people on tour at the moment. We perused the Popes of old, stopping at some to read the captions printed on tablets next to their crypts. We stopped briefly at John Paul II's tomb as there was a small gathering people praying and remembering the late JP. Surprisingly they let us take pictures, so my sister snapped a few before we mounted the steps towards the Basilica. And yes this is really how it looks on the inside-------->

We walked around the Vatican for a while, and slipped into a side chapel hoping to catch a service, but they weren't performing anything at the moment so we left. We took the crosses we bought yesterday and dipped them into the holy water thinking that this would ensure a safe trip across Europe. What's funny is that neither of us are religious, and we felt a little silly dipping a sterling silver pendant into a bowl of dirty tap water, but as they say "When in Rome, do as the Romans do." However, I can't help but think that's not what they meant by the saying. Enjoy this humorous comic from Cyanide and Happiness

We left the Vatican to pick up our bags from the hotel and walk to the train station. It was even hotter on the walk to the train station, and it didn't help that we were carrying 30+ pounds of clothes on our back. But we made it with time to spare, so we took turns getting dinner at the cafeteria. My sister unfortunately got stuck behind an elderly Italian woman, who took forever to order her food. She must have been barely 5 feet tall, with the pouffy-died hair that so many grandmas tend to sport at a certain age. She wore a pink dress that came down to her ankles. She walked with a shuffling stiffness, as if she was unable to move her upper body each time she took a step. She seemed a sweet lady, one that you'd love to have as a grandma, and as she sat behind us eating her Mozzarella sandwich and drinking her Coke Lite, I couldn't help but think she was waiting for a grandson or daughter to arrive on the train. My sister pointed her out to me saying, "Isn't she the cutest old lady you've ever seen." I agreed. But just then, the lady got up and tried to push in her chair, which got caught on one of the table legs. She became upset, and repeatedly smashed the back of the chair against the side of the table in an attempt push in the chair. When she had left my sister turns to me and says, "that's one violent grandma!" Don't mess with her!

We caught the train, and sat in one of the six person cabins, which was empty as first. I was excited because the seats reclined in a way to make a bed, and I thought we'd get a lot of sleep during our overnight train ride. This wasn't the case, as more and more people started to get on at various stops. Soon our cabin was full, and there was no way we could reposition ourselves to make sleep possible. For the 12 hour train ride my sister and I sat side-by-side, pining for the moment when we could stretch our legs, and breath fresh air! Vienna here we come!

7-20-09

I woke up this morning, and instantly regretted it. Not because we were visiting the Vatican Museums today, but because I have a problem dressing myself before the hours of 9am. After taking a shower, I tried to put on my pants, but the message between my brain and my feet was lost somewhere along my spine, and I ended up tripping over the clothesline. I slammed against the dresser, waking up my sister, who yelled at me to keep it down. Don't you love sisters?

We made it to the tour bus with time to spare. I hardly noticed our tour guide standing the aisle as I made my way to my seat. She was roughly four feet tall, and as browned and wrinkled as a raisin. I apologized for nearly bowling her over, and found my seat next to cam, who was fast asleep, drooling in the window seat.

Walking into the Vatican Museum, our little old tour guide tried to organize us into lines to make the security checks go quicker. Unfortunately, there were a number of other tour groups, and they were all adamant on getting through first. The result was a massive mob of overeager tourists, some of which were hyped up on too much Italian coffee. I however wasn't, and keeping sight of our raisin-like tour guide was like trying to find a pebble among boulders.

After mobbing the poor security guards, we mobbed the poor assistants handing out the museum headsets. We then miraculously found the raisin-lady and circled around her as she began our tour.



The madness was well worth it. The Vatican Museum was incredible. Everything from the tapestries of Jesus to the Sistine Chapel was breathtaking. I learned what a fresco is, and why Michelangelo must have had a hell of a neckache after painting the Creation of Adam.

Our tour guide

After that tour we caught a ride over to the Coliseum, where we paid a giant German man wearing lopsided sunglasses to give us a tour. He turned out to be a history student studying in Rome, who gives tours on the side to pay for beer - we lucked out. He turned out to a kooky fellow with an odd sense of humor. For example, he was telling us about how back in the day women weren't allowed to sit in the Coliseum (because it was a man's arena, ETC.) As he was saying this two of the girls from our tour sat down on one of the big stone blocks just inside the entrance. The German stopped mid-sentence to tell the girls, "No no, you can't sit there." Which he thought was hilarious.

He then took us to Palatine Hill, where the Romulus Ruins and the Roman Forum are. Though to get there was a short walk, down small hill. Our guide had a bike that he
stashed for the specific purpose to get from the Coliseum to the foot of Palatine Hill. This was great, except none of us had a bike. So here's our tour guide sailing down the hill towards Palatine Hill, and us rushing after him to catch him! Sort of like this ---->

The rushing was worth it, as we walked all over Palatine Hill, and bought ice waters so as not to die of heat stroke. After the tour was over, our guide disappeared as quickly as he had come, on his bike peddling back up the road towards the Coliseum.

That evening we met the group at Campo De Fiori, and sat out on the veranda of Leisha's place to drink wine and watch the sunset before going to the restaurant. After dinner my parents left to go back to their hotel. They were leaving at 3 a.m. the next morning so I said goodbye to them, we wouldn't be seeing them for 2 weeks. My sister went with them to catch some sleep, and I tagged along with Charlie and Cam to the new Harry Potter movie being shown at the local theater. Surprisingly it was in English.

I caught a cab, and said goodbye to Charlie and Cam. As I watched them disappear into the Italian night, I thought about tomorrow, my sister and I would be on our own, in a foreign country with nothing to guide us but a map and our minds.

7-19-09

Today is the classic Rome Tour, a day filled with camera-touting tourists all complaining about how hot it is while waiting in line for the Vatican. A day filled with much standing, and even more walking.

But before I get into it, I want to want to take you through my morning, which can only be described as a series of unfortunate events. First, I wake up too early. Who knew I'd be effected by a non-existent time change between Tuscany and Rome? Then, being grumpy from pre-dawn awakening, I get irritated with my sister, who seems to have the uncanny ability of pointing out my every flaw before 9am. Getting fed up with her, I 'accidentally' throw my toothpaste violently into my toiletries bag, whereupon she exclaims "CHILL!" And secondly, while taking a shower, I proceed to wash my hair with hand lotion instead of shampoo. I desperately needed coffee.

We met with the parents in the lobby and powerwalk through Rome in time for my dad to weasle us onto the same tourbus as Charlie, Victoria, and the rest of the clowns. We then had 30 minutes to sit idly outside an espresso shop, where I ate a stale croissant, and drank an 'Italian Coffee', which I quickly learned was simply a shot of espresso in a dainty cup, perfectly molded to the manicured hands of Italian men. We finished our espresso, and left for the bus. I said 'hello' to Cam, and then dozed off in the chair while the bus pulled away from the curb, and the tour guide was imparting her 'extremely important instructions.'



We stopped first at the Trevi Fountain, a masterpiece carved into the side of a building somewhere around mid-town. Designed by Salvi, the statues depict Neptune, god of the sea, Health, and Bounty - I assumed these last two were gods of Health and Bounty, but I can't be sure. Before leaving we were instructed to toss a coin over our left shoulder in hopes of one day returning to Rome, and spending more money on these expensive tours. I realize this is a tradition every naive traveler partakes in because upon meeting others on our trip across Europe, we would tell them we'd visited Trevi Fountain, and all of them would brighten in the eyes and ask, "Did you do the coin thing?" We'd say yes, and with a gleam of enlightened surety and a slight smile they'd say, "that means you'll be back."



Next stop was the tomb of the first king of Italy, also known as the Pantheon. Not to be confused with the Parthenon, the Pantheon is in Rome not Greece, and is still a functional building if you don't count the gaping hole in the middle of the ceiling. Originally cast as a Pagan church, they left the hole for their sacrifices to travel up to heaven. But when the Pope went all popeish on Rome's ass, he converted it into a Catholic church. He did this mainly by draping velvet sheets over the various Pagan gods, which still line the foot of the dome. Nothing like a quick fix for Catholicism, am I right?

After the Pantheon, we hit up Navona Square, and its famous Four Rivers Statue. The statue, designed by Bernini, consisted of four women who represented the Danube, Congo, Ganges, and the Rio Del Plato - supposedly the 'biggest rivers at the time.' If Bernini had chosen to represent the four grossest rivers: 1. The Willamette would've definitely made an appearance, and 2. We probably wouldn't be talking about it because it'd be hideous.

Next stop would be the Vatican. To get there though we had to cross the Rome river, which cuts Rome into the Vatican state and Rome. We stopped briefly at a souvenir shop so everyone could go to the bathroom, and buy worthless crap that symbolize peace, but really just symbolize monetary gain, as the clerk takes your $20 bill.



Finally we arrived at St. Peter's Square. For me, being a secular non-believer of religion, I couldn't help but be impressed by the immensity of the Vatican. My awe was quickly doused by the fact that it was hot, like really hot. And not just hot, but muggy too. The shade was just as hot as the sun, and I could feel my boxers dampening from the sweat rolling off my back. Upon making it to the front doors, I praised god for his decision to put air conditioners in the church. How merciful he can be sometimes.

Cam and I went to see the Pieta, the first commissioned work from a 19 year-old Michelangelo. Then we strolled by the various artwork and sculptures, taking pictures of the most beautiful. I learned from our low-talking tour guide that there are in fact three types of baptism. Sacrement is done with water, the most popular, obviously. Desire of Faith is done with a priest, and requires no aqueous solution, unless you are 14 and a boy. And the final is Martyr, or baptism by blood.

When the tour finished, I was in need of my babptism at the Hard Rock Cafe, but instead of water or blood, I wanted milkshake and cheeseburger. I was not alone, and so me and my group of merry tourists gorged ourselves on American cuisine, and headed back to the hotel rooms to wait out our food comas.

Apparently the hotel we were staying at was booked for that night. So my parent moved to a hotel down the street, and did my laundry, which turned the water in the sink brown. Before we knew it, we had worked off our heavy American lunch and it was time for dinner.

We met the group in Campe de Fiore, for our final night together. Margie, Gunner, Julie, and Tom were leaving in the morning, so we had our last supper during the fading light of a Roman sunset, while we listened to street performers playing music in the square. Now that's what I call a religious experience.

7-18-09

Moving day for the troops. We are officially leaving the sleepy streets of Cortona for the bustling metropolis of Rome. Cam and I both woke up with a killer headache thanks to the Absenthe we drank last night. Though, we rallied ourselves, packed, and trudged up the hill to where the car was. Gunnar, Margie, Tom and Julie had left early. But my family, Cam's family and Leisha stuck around to look around the annual open-air market, and have coffee. And I needed coffee.

But all too soon it was over, so we said goodbye to the quaint town atop the hill and hit the road for Rome.

Now, if the two hour car ride wasn't enough, every time a motorcycle or car would get too close for comfort, Leisha would let out a scream that busted eardrums. I was thankful when we made it so that the ringing in my ears could die down.

We ditched the cars and crammed nine people into a Mercedes van and headed to town.

My dad had booked three nights at the St. Regis hotel, and I have to say it was the nicest hotel I've ever been in. Entering the lobby one would think they've stepped into the palace on Palatine Hill. I was tempted to ask if this was "Ceaser's Palace," but I think the joke would've been lost on the man behind the counter. We got our rooms, dropped off our bags and left for dinner. We stopped at a tasteful restaurant off the main drag. We sat outside in the narrow alleyway and sipped wine, making up for our real Italian experience we missed at Montepulchiano.

After returning to the hotel my parents and sister went to bed, but I went for a walk. I walked down Republica Square, the heart of Rome basically. Then I went down one of the busier streets. What I found was a city life I had never seen before. Shops were open til 1am or later, live music was being played on every street corner, everywhere I looked there was another twenty-something year-old beautiful Italian woman.

I went home after an hour tired, but very excited about exploring more tomorrow.