21 March 2009 - 23 March 2009
"But isn't there like a lot of water in between London and Amsterdam??"
Dad was rightly concerned about this unavoidable obstacle in my trek to Amsterdam. The English Channel is no match for technology though; the Chunnel not withstanding, there are no less than 5 ferry departure points in England headed for the continent, and the one we headed for is in Dover where ferries run every half hour to Calais in France. Now that we had one strategic problem solved... we had to get rides!
Before I begin the epic journey that included a fair share of slightly disconcerting and totally non-English rides on the 350 adventure to the land of wooden shoes and windmills, I should probably tell you why.
I got involved with an group on campus called Raising and Giving (RAG) early in the year. Basically their MO is self-explanatory: raise money, and give it away. They do stunts like skydiving, pub crawls, and hitch hikes - along with standing outside with buckets in busy areas - to get money for pre-ordained charities. Charities are chosen in the first meeting of the year by vote among the RAG constituents to ensure legal viability and some other stuff that I'm not totally sure about. Anyway, I approached RAG to do my Lose the Shoes Soccer (Football, here) Tournament and that's how I got involved.
When they declared a charity hitch-hike race to Amsterdam, there was no way I wasn't going to be a part.
My team was tri-national: I am American (duh), Jess is English, and Alison is French. From the beginning we were worried about a three-person team's chances versus our competition working in 2-man teams, but the rules of the hitch prohibit girls from traveling together because they're silly and weak compared to Us Strong and Intelligent Men. OK that was mean, but I think the real reasons are self-explanatory.
Great preparations were involved, including a list of cities on the way to Amsterdam, the creation of a giant banner, and a pre-hitch meal with multiple drinks at the local pub. Needless to say, we were more than prepared when it came time to stick our thumbs out.
Upon departure at 7:00am, I was quickly out maneuvered in strategy as the girls favored a train-based approach to our first destination. Charing Cross Rail Station employees were more than willing to let us hop on the next train to Dover, so we technically did not break the "don't spend any money" rule. Once at Dover, however, our problems became magnified.
Apparently we were not the only team that had opted for a train ride, and on the single road leading to the ferry docks, it suddenly became quite competitive. Our group size automatically precluded us from attracting the attention of cars with more than 1 person in them, but we managed to flag down a ride after nearly an hour and a half... just to see him pull over down the road and let our competition jump into the car! We were devastated, but it was still early and we were determined not to give up. It seemed at times that the higher we held our banner, the stiffer we made our thumbs, it would attract a ride.
Finally, Johann from Ghent picked us up and took us onto the ferry. He promised to take us all the way to Ghent - about 2 hours from Calais - if we couldn't find a better ride on board. He wasn't the greatest driver (which was apparent even in the 2.5 minute drive to the loading docks) but it was better than nothing and he turned out to be a nice guy. We loaded onto the ferry around 11:30 beginning to feel tired, but still with high spirits.
Early in the ferry ride, we were approached by a scruffy bearded man who apparently had seen our poster, asking if we were going to Amsterdam. We said yes, and he offered to take us to Antwerp - nearly 2 hours further than Ghent. Happily accepting his ride and our good fortune, lunch suddenly tasted much better.
It turned out that this bearded man who at first seemed creepy was probably the nicest guy that we met. He happened to be quite knowledgeable about Belgium, the Netherlands, and Europe in general, and being Belgian and Flemish, insisted many times that Belgium was much better than everywhere else - England, France, Germany, Italy, and Spain being his main focus. In all he was quite the nice man, good for conversation, and he drove us for 4 hours all the way to Antwerp! Not too shabby.
Having been dropped at a service station we now faced the reality of finding a new ride, but we had such a good experience that our hope was boundless. In only 5 minutes we were approached by a car and asked, apparently in Flemish, if we needed a ride to Amsterdam. The guy in the car switched to English when I asked him to, and we asked if they could take us to Breda, the next stop on our list. He said they weren't going to Amsterdam, but they could definitely take us to Breda. Amazing.
Or not. Turks are not particularly liked in Germany - which we were quite close to - and I think we may have gotten an idea of one of the reasons why. The new car we were in had tinted windows, shiny rims, and two Turks inside. These men spoke very little English and struggled to talk to us in between their incessant babbling in Turkish. They reminded me of the guidos on the Jersey shore - another minority group not particularly well received by any but the most tolerant locals.
In any case, the driver was going at a clip comparable to the space shuttle without paying particularly close attention to the road. And when we reached a fork in the road - the left side reading Breda and the right side reading Eindhoven - guess which we he took us? That's right, Eindhoven. Check your maps people, Eindhoven is NOT on the way to Amsterdam. Team Holy Herbs (that's us) were alerted of this course change about -10 seconds in advance. We were slightly upset, and also a little scared at this point, so we had them let us off at the next service station, somewhere in the Netherlands.
Bad move number two. This area of the Netherlands apparently has no automobile traffic after dark, and it was quickly approaching dark and looking less and less likely we'd find a ride. Luckily, after 45 minutes of harassing every single car that came to fill up, Jess convinced two Dutch kids to take us with them to Eindhoven. They also did not speak English, but were about our age and headed for the PSV Eindhoven football match, so you know they must be cool. And as an added bonus, they informed us that the train station was located only a short walk from the stadium. After the hour's drive it was quite late, and we were all quite tired, so we made the collective decision to ride the train the rest of the way, figuring a ride to Amsterdam by car would be a rare commodity at this hour. Again, the conductor was a nice enough fellow to let us on for the price of On the House, and we arrived in Amsterdam a little after 10 in the evening.
All told, a mere 15 hours to cross 3 borders and arrive in the Pot Capital of the World.
And yes, it really is the pot capital of the world. We opted not to party that evening in favor of the following nights, but I ventured out with my friend Ben (one of the other hitch hikers... there were 50 in total!) through the Red Light District and it was definitely an... interesting place. But the point I was trying to make was that marijuana is prevalent everywhere in the city; there are "coffee shops," which is a fancy way of saying "weed stores," in nearly every alleyway and you can smell pot on every street corner ostensibly coming from the apartment windows above you or even the people walking ahead of you. The Holy Herb, from which our team got its name, is everywhere.
Unfortunately, Amsterdam's two main attractions (besides the Red Light District) are both rather expensive and have insanely long lines you must wait in. We managed to get into the Van Gogh museum which was a real treat. Starry Night and Sunflowers are much better in person, and his numerous self-portraits and seemingly endless number of peasant-inspired works were all quite good to look at. Worth the 12 euros.
I did not get to the Anne Frank house because the line was simply too long, and I had a shorter visit than my cohorts because of my imminent travel plans. However, I did get to wander around Amsterdam which is a remarkably beautiful city. I feel it's gotten a bad reputation for its relaxed attitude towards drugs, but it really is one of the gems of Europe. Situated in the center of a number of concentric canals, the scenic bridges and walkways that lie under seemingly falling buildings is quite a sight to see. Because Amsterdam - indeed most of the Netherlands - lies below sea level, the houses and buildings are built on an angle and fitted with a giant hook on the roof. When the city floods, or flooding is imminent, these hooks provide to be a wonderful pulley to lift furniture from the lower floors into the upper floors... and because the building is "leaning," sofas and the like won't crash into the side of the building. Brilliant!
A closer inspection of the Red Light District simply got the lot of us invited into a number of different peep shows and sex shows that none of us was willing to pay for, but I must say that it was all quite professional and, actually, clean. Apparently the whole industry is regulated by the government and there are strict standards to prevent disease and STDs. While I can't say from experience, what I did see seemed like it was cleanly. Also, a man hopped out of one of the stalls and began walking in front of us, before turning and asking for a cigarette. I thought that was funny.
Amsterdam is a very, very interesting place. It is a beautiful city, and the home of some great museums, but it certainly wouldn't have been the same experience, and certainly not the same city without its less admirable traits. I liked it though, and I'd enjoy going back, especially in summer. It was a tad bit nippy while I was there, and I feel that if the whole city was in bloom it would add to the beauty.
Definitely go to Amsterdam. Maybe not to live permanently, but a visit is well worth it.
Next Stop: Roma!
Friday, May 22, 2009
Saturday, May 16, 2009
Moving on to Budapesht
7 January 2009 - 10 January 2009
Total time in transit, from Prague to Vienna and Vienna to Budapest, is 6 hours. Considering these are some of the oldest cities in the Western World, and three capital cities of modern states no less, this is pretty cool.
Budapest, pronounced "Boo-da-pesht" in Magyar (Hungarian), is made up of two distinct communities on either side of the Danube river. In the late 19th century, the two towns, Buda and Pest, merged to form the current city Budapest. Another history lesson for all of you!
First a bit about Hungary in general: they speak Magyar, which is an incredibly weird language that I didn't even bother trying to learn. It's closest related language is.... Czech. NOT! It's actually Finnish. Go figure. For those of you new to geography, Finland and Hungary have no less than 6 independent states between them. If that's not an indication of a weird culture, I don't know what is (Note: I have a Finnish guy on my hockey team, who despite being hilarious and a really nice guy, is just plain weird. So for Hungary to be weird is not necessarily a surprise).
That being said, the Hungarians, and especially Budapest itself, makes up for its weird language with one of my favorite things of all - delicious cake. And while I was there, I made a point to take advantage of the Budapest cake at least once per day. Again, food staples here were potatoes, bread, and meat, and again, it was all amazingly delicious. I had a meal outside the Synagogue (which I will get to) that was absolutely incredibly (and incredibly cheap!). I have NO idea what the sauce was made of, but it was like a thicker, bigger version of a matzoh ball slathered in delicious spicy sauce with pieces of steak in it that made me think of beef stroganoff except way way better. There's a photo in my Budapest album, so if anyone can identify it, please let me know.
Unlike Prague and Vienna, the skyline is not dominated by any single structure. Instead, Budapest has more modest buildings but many of them. For example, the Jewish Synagogue - second largest in the world to New York's - is plainly but elegantly decorated with geometric patterns on the front facade. In the back is the Weeping Willow, a holocaust memorial made out of steel in the shape of a willow tree. Each "flower" of the tree has a name inscribed into it, memorializing the 600,000 Hungarian Jews killed by the Nazis in the holocaust. It's quite a sobering memorial, especially when reading the inscriptions on the base of the tree, presumably from those who donated to its construction. One read "So our children will never forget." You get the idea.
Other sites in the city include the Parliament building, modeled after the British parliament but with a different stone and thus a different color, and the Buda Castle perched on a cliff just across the River Danube. But one of my favorite places was the "fake" Vajdahunyad Castle. Good luck pronouncing that one. Anyway, it was built for the millenium world's fair in the late 19th century based off an identical castle in Transylvania out of cardboard, but became so popular that they completed it with stone and turned it into a museum. Pretty awesome story. Now there is an outdoor ice skating rink just next door, but the real attraction is across the street on the opposite side: The Turkish Baths.
To be honest, in retrospect, this place was a little weird by my American cultural standards, but it was a lot of fun. The three of us, Anna Lilly and I, went with some of our new friends from the hostel we were staying at (Carpe Noctem - awesome place. If you're ever heading to Budapest I definitely recommend it.) One of them was Irish and the other Australian, and both hysterical. Anyway, Budapest was probably the warmest of the three cities we visited but still freezing cold, so going into the outside baths was a bit of an adventure that began with running barefoot across freezing cold pavement. But the baths were quite warm and steamy which made it seem like being in an Olympic swimming pool sized hot tub. One of the pools main attractions was a circular whirlpool with jets all pushing water in the same direction so everybody floated in a circle. Me and my new friends, while trying to wrestle each other out of the narrow entryway each time we passed, successfully splashed enough water to anger every single Hungarian in the pool (except one old lady who couldn't stop laughing) and got the middle part with the jets to ourselves. So that was fun.
On the way back from the baths to the hostel was Statue Park - an enclave of numerous Hungarian heroes depicted in gigantic statue form, and the Terror Museum. Even though it was closed for renovation while we were there, the story of the Terror Museum is compelling. After having conquered Budapest, the Nazis took this building and turned it into an SS Headquarters and torture chamber. When the Soviets came and vanquished the Nazis in Hungary, they discovered this building, along with the abandoned torture devices and memos on their use. Naturally, the KGB picked up the pieces where the Nazis left off, and continued nearly the same practices that the SS had employed earlier.
Budapest was the center of the Hungarian revolution against the Soviets in 1956, resulting in 3000 civilian casualties, so you can imagine that the building housing the Terror Museum got some use during this particular time period. The Soviets also gutted the Buda Castle and destroyed all its contents.
Soviets and Nazis definitely left their mark on Budapest, a city that hasn't belonged to a distinct Hungarian state for most of its history. Partly because of the history, partly because of the awesome hostel I stayed at, and definitely because of the cake, I enjoyed Budapest the most out of the three cities I visited on this New Year trip. And since there was SO much I did not get the chance to do and see in the city, it stands to reason that I MUST visit it again in the future.
And that's the end of my three-city quasi-Eastern European New Year's tour. Next up: The Grande European Spring Break Adventure!
Total time in transit, from Prague to Vienna and Vienna to Budapest, is 6 hours. Considering these are some of the oldest cities in the Western World, and three capital cities of modern states no less, this is pretty cool.
Budapest, pronounced "Boo-da-pesht" in Magyar (Hungarian), is made up of two distinct communities on either side of the Danube river. In the late 19th century, the two towns, Buda and Pest, merged to form the current city Budapest. Another history lesson for all of you!
First a bit about Hungary in general: they speak Magyar, which is an incredibly weird language that I didn't even bother trying to learn. It's closest related language is.... Czech. NOT! It's actually Finnish. Go figure. For those of you new to geography, Finland and Hungary have no less than 6 independent states between them. If that's not an indication of a weird culture, I don't know what is (Note: I have a Finnish guy on my hockey team, who despite being hilarious and a really nice guy, is just plain weird. So for Hungary to be weird is not necessarily a surprise).
That being said, the Hungarians, and especially Budapest itself, makes up for its weird language with one of my favorite things of all - delicious cake. And while I was there, I made a point to take advantage of the Budapest cake at least once per day. Again, food staples here were potatoes, bread, and meat, and again, it was all amazingly delicious. I had a meal outside the Synagogue (which I will get to) that was absolutely incredibly (and incredibly cheap!). I have NO idea what the sauce was made of, but it was like a thicker, bigger version of a matzoh ball slathered in delicious spicy sauce with pieces of steak in it that made me think of beef stroganoff except way way better. There's a photo in my Budapest album, so if anyone can identify it, please let me know.
Unlike Prague and Vienna, the skyline is not dominated by any single structure. Instead, Budapest has more modest buildings but many of them. For example, the Jewish Synagogue - second largest in the world to New York's - is plainly but elegantly decorated with geometric patterns on the front facade. In the back is the Weeping Willow, a holocaust memorial made out of steel in the shape of a willow tree. Each "flower" of the tree has a name inscribed into it, memorializing the 600,000 Hungarian Jews killed by the Nazis in the holocaust. It's quite a sobering memorial, especially when reading the inscriptions on the base of the tree, presumably from those who donated to its construction. One read "So our children will never forget." You get the idea.
Other sites in the city include the Parliament building, modeled after the British parliament but with a different stone and thus a different color, and the Buda Castle perched on a cliff just across the River Danube. But one of my favorite places was the "fake" Vajdahunyad Castle. Good luck pronouncing that one. Anyway, it was built for the millenium world's fair in the late 19th century based off an identical castle in Transylvania out of cardboard, but became so popular that they completed it with stone and turned it into a museum. Pretty awesome story. Now there is an outdoor ice skating rink just next door, but the real attraction is across the street on the opposite side: The Turkish Baths.
To be honest, in retrospect, this place was a little weird by my American cultural standards, but it was a lot of fun. The three of us, Anna Lilly and I, went with some of our new friends from the hostel we were staying at (Carpe Noctem - awesome place. If you're ever heading to Budapest I definitely recommend it.) One of them was Irish and the other Australian, and both hysterical. Anyway, Budapest was probably the warmest of the three cities we visited but still freezing cold, so going into the outside baths was a bit of an adventure that began with running barefoot across freezing cold pavement. But the baths were quite warm and steamy which made it seem like being in an Olympic swimming pool sized hot tub. One of the pools main attractions was a circular whirlpool with jets all pushing water in the same direction so everybody floated in a circle. Me and my new friends, while trying to wrestle each other out of the narrow entryway each time we passed, successfully splashed enough water to anger every single Hungarian in the pool (except one old lady who couldn't stop laughing) and got the middle part with the jets to ourselves. So that was fun.
On the way back from the baths to the hostel was Statue Park - an enclave of numerous Hungarian heroes depicted in gigantic statue form, and the Terror Museum. Even though it was closed for renovation while we were there, the story of the Terror Museum is compelling. After having conquered Budapest, the Nazis took this building and turned it into an SS Headquarters and torture chamber. When the Soviets came and vanquished the Nazis in Hungary, they discovered this building, along with the abandoned torture devices and memos on their use. Naturally, the KGB picked up the pieces where the Nazis left off, and continued nearly the same practices that the SS had employed earlier.
Budapest was the center of the Hungarian revolution against the Soviets in 1956, resulting in 3000 civilian casualties, so you can imagine that the building housing the Terror Museum got some use during this particular time period. The Soviets also gutted the Buda Castle and destroyed all its contents.
Soviets and Nazis definitely left their mark on Budapest, a city that hasn't belonged to a distinct Hungarian state for most of its history. Partly because of the history, partly because of the awesome hostel I stayed at, and definitely because of the cake, I enjoyed Budapest the most out of the three cities I visited on this New Year trip. And since there was SO much I did not get the chance to do and see in the city, it stands to reason that I MUST visit it again in the future.
And that's the end of my three-city quasi-Eastern European New Year's tour. Next up: The Grande European Spring Break Adventure!
The Long Awaited Return
4 January 2009 - 7 January 2009
It's been an absurdly long time since I last posted. Turns out I'm lazier than even I thought I was.
I left off after Prague - which I visited literally months ago - but I failed to report on both Vienna and Budapest, so I will try my best to recount the tales here, albeit in an abridged version.
Vienna is the capital of Austria, and retains much of the splendor it enjoyed during its time as the seat of the Austro-Hungarian empire. Loved by the Hapsburgs - the dynasty of rulers that at some point or another seemed to have had control over each of the many regions of Europe - Vienna was and perhaps still is the cultural capital of the world. Richard Strauss, Joseph Haydn, Wolfgang Amadeus Mozart, Johann Strauss, Sigmund Freud, Gustav Klimt, and Franz Schubert are only a few of the famous that have called Vienna home.
That being said, one of the very first things we did in Vienna was, naturally, to get a slice of the famous Sacher Torte: superb chocolate/raspberry cake. It was exquisite, and as far as I know can only be found in Austria. The other culinary delight of Vienna has been exported a little further, this of course being Wiener Schnitzel (which in German means 'Viennese schnitzel). In addition, we tried Kasewurst - a sausage with cheese inside of it which was marvelous. The Austrians, like the Czechs, eat mostly meat and bread but damn do they do it well.
Vienna's architecture is breathtaking if for nothing other than the sheer magnitude of it (check out my photos). But despite the palaces I will speak of shortly, every building in the city seems to conform to a certain architectural standard, as if each individual building is made of the same material, or has been built as part of a larger plan. This gives a sense of uniformity, and the light colors - mostly yellow - that define the buildings gives the city a light and airy feel, even in the freezing cold dead of winter.
Like I said, this was the seat of the Austro-Hungarian empire and a favorite city of the continents most rich and famous personalities. In addition to the TWO lavish palaces within the city limits are numerous other buildings that ostensibly look like palaces in their own rights but are now museums, as well as the magnificent opera house, home to the Viennese Philharmonic Orchestra.
We visited a number of these museums, most notably the Belvedere which houses Gustav Klimt's famous portrait The Kiss which is actually quite mesmerizing. My companions did not want to join me for the journey to another museum, the Haus der Musik (House of Music) so I went alone. Sucks for them, because this was one of the best museums ever. Not only did I get the whole place nearly to myself, but it was incredibly interactive and held my attention for nearly 5 hours. I got to compose my own song, attempt (and fail miserably) at conducting the Philharmonic via an electronic baton, and play with a ridiculous number of things that you get to bang on and make weird noises with. My two darling sisters would have loved it.
And any visit to Vienna isn't complete without trips to Schonbrunn Palace and St Stephens Cathedral. Schonbrunn, the "summer home" of the Hapsburgs could fit an inane number of my family's "regular home" inside of it. I forget how many rooms it has - we went on a tour of 45 that saw only a fraction of the mansion - but standing at the front gate, my camera could just barely cover the entire facade. The summer gardens the in "backyard," complete with the oldest zoo in the world, weren't exactly picture worthy in the winter cold, but were nonetheless worth walking through. In all, several small villages could easily fit into this "garden."
St Stephens cathedral is by far the largest building in the city and easily dominates the skyline as seen from Schonbrunn's gardens miles away. Last time 'round, its spire was under construction which served as a blight in my photos, but this time I got (or at least tried to get) the structure in its entirety. Unfortunately it still retains its medieval heating system (i.e. nothing) so it didn't provide much shelter from the bitter cold, but we did venture into the crypt to see the tombs of cardinals and other important people, along with a ton of human bones neatly stacked and arranged into piles.
Vienna is still one of my favorite cities in Europe, even though my friends didn't seem to enjoy it as much as I did. Perhaps the cold didn't do it justice, but I enjoyed myself quite well and hopefully will be able to get back in the heat of summer someday. If you're into classical music, delicious food, or architecture (or all three!) this is definitely the place for you.
It's been an absurdly long time since I last posted. Turns out I'm lazier than even I thought I was.
I left off after Prague - which I visited literally months ago - but I failed to report on both Vienna and Budapest, so I will try my best to recount the tales here, albeit in an abridged version.
Vienna is the capital of Austria, and retains much of the splendor it enjoyed during its time as the seat of the Austro-Hungarian empire. Loved by the Hapsburgs - the dynasty of rulers that at some point or another seemed to have had control over each of the many regions of Europe - Vienna was and perhaps still is the cultural capital of the world. Richard Strauss, Joseph Haydn, Wolfgang Amadeus Mozart, Johann Strauss, Sigmund Freud, Gustav Klimt, and Franz Schubert are only a few of the famous that have called Vienna home.
That being said, one of the very first things we did in Vienna was, naturally, to get a slice of the famous Sacher Torte: superb chocolate/raspberry cake. It was exquisite, and as far as I know can only be found in Austria. The other culinary delight of Vienna has been exported a little further, this of course being Wiener Schnitzel (which in German means 'Viennese schnitzel). In addition, we tried Kasewurst - a sausage with cheese inside of it which was marvelous. The Austrians, like the Czechs, eat mostly meat and bread but damn do they do it well.
Vienna's architecture is breathtaking if for nothing other than the sheer magnitude of it (check out my photos). But despite the palaces I will speak of shortly, every building in the city seems to conform to a certain architectural standard, as if each individual building is made of the same material, or has been built as part of a larger plan. This gives a sense of uniformity, and the light colors - mostly yellow - that define the buildings gives the city a light and airy feel, even in the freezing cold dead of winter.
Like I said, this was the seat of the Austro-Hungarian empire and a favorite city of the continents most rich and famous personalities. In addition to the TWO lavish palaces within the city limits are numerous other buildings that ostensibly look like palaces in their own rights but are now museums, as well as the magnificent opera house, home to the Viennese Philharmonic Orchestra.
We visited a number of these museums, most notably the Belvedere which houses Gustav Klimt's famous portrait The Kiss which is actually quite mesmerizing. My companions did not want to join me for the journey to another museum, the Haus der Musik (House of Music) so I went alone. Sucks for them, because this was one of the best museums ever. Not only did I get the whole place nearly to myself, but it was incredibly interactive and held my attention for nearly 5 hours. I got to compose my own song, attempt (and fail miserably) at conducting the Philharmonic via an electronic baton, and play with a ridiculous number of things that you get to bang on and make weird noises with. My two darling sisters would have loved it.
And any visit to Vienna isn't complete without trips to Schonbrunn Palace and St Stephens Cathedral. Schonbrunn, the "summer home" of the Hapsburgs could fit an inane number of my family's "regular home" inside of it. I forget how many rooms it has - we went on a tour of 45 that saw only a fraction of the mansion - but standing at the front gate, my camera could just barely cover the entire facade. The summer gardens the in "backyard," complete with the oldest zoo in the world, weren't exactly picture worthy in the winter cold, but were nonetheless worth walking through. In all, several small villages could easily fit into this "garden."
St Stephens cathedral is by far the largest building in the city and easily dominates the skyline as seen from Schonbrunn's gardens miles away. Last time 'round, its spire was under construction which served as a blight in my photos, but this time I got (or at least tried to get) the structure in its entirety. Unfortunately it still retains its medieval heating system (i.e. nothing) so it didn't provide much shelter from the bitter cold, but we did venture into the crypt to see the tombs of cardinals and other important people, along with a ton of human bones neatly stacked and arranged into piles.
Vienna is still one of my favorite cities in Europe, even though my friends didn't seem to enjoy it as much as I did. Perhaps the cold didn't do it justice, but I enjoyed myself quite well and hopefully will be able to get back in the heat of summer someday. If you're into classical music, delicious food, or architecture (or all three!) this is definitely the place for you.
Saturday, January 31, 2009
Photos!
Good news folks, I loaded up a whole bunch of photos onto my Google-Picasa online web albums. I also added a little slideshow of the photos from Budapest onto the toolbar on the side of my blog. I think if you click on that, it should take you directly to the online album. On the top left, there should be a link that says "Alex" somewhere, it will be blue. Click that and it will take you to the rest of my photo albums, which are conveniently named as per the country of origin.
Enjoy!
Enjoy!
My Bonkers Trip to Eastern Europe: Prague
1 January 2009 - 4 January 2009Well, it was more Central than Eastern Europe, geographically, but right on the border so I'm going to go with Eastern cause it sounds more intense. Also, 2/3 of the cities were, in fact, Eastern Bloc countries during the Cold War so that's good enough for me.
First stop: Prague, Czech Republic
I was traveling with my good friend Anna, who is also a study abroad student at the LSE from Boston College, and our friend Lilly, a Canadian masters student at LSE. Everyone knows that Canadians are silly, and Silly Lilly is no deviation; she introduced the word "bonkers" to us, and since Anna is SO CRAZY I decided Bonks would be an appropriate nickname for her from now on. So if I refer to Silly Lilly or Bonks for the rest of this post, now you know who they are, kind of.
The first thing we saw in the Old Town of Prague was a statue of King Wenceslas. You may know Good King Wenceslas from the Christmas Carol: "Good King Wenceslas looked out/ On the Feast of Stephen." I think Hugh Grant sings this carol to those little English girls when he goes knocking on Doors in Love Actually. But that's neither here nor there. The fact is that Wenceslas, or Vaclav in Czech, was never actually a King; he was only a Duke and didn't do anything particularly notable in life, besides getting tricked and killed by his brother. A cult formed around Wenceslas to the point of legend becoming confirmed as fact - by the Pope no less - and his canonization as a Saint. Now, his statue - the one I saw - is, according to legend, supposed to come to life and lead an army to defeat the enemies of the Czechs in the case of war. Pretty awesome tale.
Clearly, I got my fix of medieval history on this trip and I'll try my best to spare you most of the stuff that isn't a big deal. Prague itself is a gorgeous city, I'd say the most beautiful of the three I visited on this trip. Miraculously, it was untouched in the Second World War, which means that its buildings and bridges are still intact and most are incredibly old. One such building is the Old-New Synagogue, and while its name leaves much to be desired in the way of creativity, it was quite interesting to step into a structure built in the 10th century and still functioning. It wasn't an architectural masterpiece to be sure, but it is rumored to hold the remains of the Golem in the attic. When Prague was under attack sometime in the Middle Ages, the rabbi summoned the Golem - a creature made of brick and clay - to defend the temple and the Jewish community of Prague, which it successfully did. In addition, legend has it that the foundation stones of the synagogue were brought by angels following the destruction of the Temple of Jerusalem, but they have to be brought back upon restoration of the Temple.
The synagogue is right in the center of the Jewish quarter, and directly around the corner is a medieval cemetery. Because the Christian rulers would not sell the Jews more land to bless as a cemetery space, they were forced to bury people on top of one another, up to 12 deep. When you first look into the cemetery space it's shocking, because all of the gravestones seem to have been slammed into the ground wherever there was space. They literally stick out in every direction and cover nearly ever last inch of the ground. Bonkers.
The Jewish quarter of Prague is in the Old Town, along with other less than notable places, but each building was architecturally beautiful. Actually, one place I should note is the Sex Machines Museum. Yeah, don't ask me what it entails because the girls absolutely refused to go in and I felt that going alone might be slightly creepy and/or damaging to the image I hold of myself so, unfortunately, I have no good stories from that particular museum. Definitely notable though. Anyway, we made our way toward the main tourist attraction across the river: Prague Castle. However, in order to get there, you have to cross a bridge (obviously) so we went over the famous Charles Bridge. It was the first bridge across the River Vltava in Prague, and it is now adorned with ornate statues about every 10 meters on each side. Most of them are of Jesus or the Saints, but I'll comment on two. The first is a statue of Jesus on the cross. Sometime in the 17th century, a Jew was punished for blaspheming the cross, and his punishment was that he had to etch into the statue a phrase, displayed now in Hebrew across the front of the statue. The translation reads "Holy, Holy, Holy, Holy is the Lord of Hosts" which seems to be a rather offensive punishment, though I suppose it could fit the "crime" as it was at the time. The second statue is of St John of Nepomunk, one of the patron saints of the city of Prague. In the 14th century, as legend states, John, a priest, received the confession of the Queen but refused to break the seal of confession to the King, Wenceslas (not Good King Wenceslas, this is an actual king and 300 years later). Becoming enraged, Wenceslas had John thrown off the bridge to his death. In reality, St John of Nepomunk was just a legal scholar who happened to get himself into the middle of a power struggle between the King and the Archbishop, and was thrown into the river because he ultimately sided with the Archbishop whom he worked for. Anyway, his statue has a picture of him being pushed into the river on it, and you're supposed to rub it for good luck. It obviously has been taken to heart, because while the rest of the statue is as green as Lady Liberty, this one spot is shining a beautiful bronze. The photo at the top of this post is me, getting in on some luck.
Prague Castle is amazing. It dominates the skyline; you can see it looming on a hill in the distance from nearly anywhere in the city. It consists of a number of residences and buildings within a walled structure, and St. Vitus' Cathedral lodged directly in the center. We were lucky enough to happen across the changing of the guard, which was probably not as good as the one at Buckingham (I wouldn't know, haven't been there yet!), but we got into the cathedral as soon as we could because it was incredibly cold. The cathedral itself was built in the early 20th century so it's not as old as many of the others in Europe, but it is equally spectacular, the stained glass especially. It has all the normal features of a Gothic cathedral, but an incredibly ornate and elaborate shrine to St John of Nepomunk sits just under the altar and is made entirely out of silver, which was original and cool. At this point I've been in so many cathedrals that it's easier to see the original parts of each, and indeed that's what I focus on. Next to the cathedral is the Prague City museum, which includes a detailed history of the city with interactive exhibits and the crown jewels on display. Also in the vicinity is St George's Basilica, an 8th century structure that you can visibly tell is from the 8th century. As we walked out, I noticed a shrine that seemed to contain the bones of a saint. Perhaps it's St. George, but I'm really not sure.
The castle was by far the most exciting and most interesting part of the city, but we also made our way to the Franz Kafka museum which was weird enough to get me to want to read his books. Outside there was a sculpture of two men urinating into a pond, and their hips and penises moved in different directions so if you text the number on the side of the pool, they pee your name into the pond. So that was pretty cool. But the rest of the museum was downright weird. We also wandered around the city aimlessly for an entire day and stumbled across the old Citadel, which included another cathedral and an extremely ornate cemetery.
Before I sign off for this post, I have to comment on the cuisine. Czechs are used to eating copious amounts of meat and potatoes - in part because that's all they could get under Soviet rule, but I must admit they've gotten quite good at it. We visited an "authentic" Czech restaurant with one of Lilly's college friends who is now working and living in Prague, and it was delicious. I think I had a plate with 3 types of meat, bread dumplings, potato dumplings, and a healthy amount of sauer kraut drenching everything. SO GOOD. Seriously, I felt as if my heart would explode with joy, and my arteries explode with... crap. And of course we had to follow up with a thick dose of Pilsner Urquell, the Czech beer that they are extremely proud of. The only downside was that there are no smoking laws - the only place you're NOT allowed to smoke is on the public transportation. So when you go into any building in Prague, or Budapest for that matter, prepared to inhale a ton of smoke and leave smelling entirely of cigarettes. It's disgusting, but for three days in an awesome city, a small price to pay.
Check back soon for the Vienna edition of "My Bonkers Trip to Eastern Europe." Until then, ciao!
Wednesday, December 31, 2008
Skiing in the Alps...check.
12 December 2008 - 20 December 2008
Dec 12, the last day of term, I departed with 175 of my LSE peers for the slopes of Tignes in the French Alps. I had only a few qualms upon departure, namely: would my knee hold up? Am I going to go insane, living with 3 Scandanavian girls - Trine, Anna, and Kim - for a week? Did I forget my toothbrush? Lucky for me, all of them proved unfounded and I had an absolutely amazing time, truly one of the best weeks of my life.
We left LSE at around 8:00pm on 12 December in coach busses - 4 of them. Ours was not full so it was a little more comfortable I'm sure, but it was only 15 minutes into our ride that we encountered difficulties. A posh lady in a BMW Z4 tried to squeeze through a narrow turn on the side of the bus and we crunched her. The damage wasn't bad enough to keep us there for a long time... but apparently she had some heart condition and went into nervous shock, requiring nearly 10, yes 10, advanced medical personnel to assist her. Perhaps it was just a boring day for the medics. In any case, it took nearly 2 hours to get everything sorted out. Needless to say, 3 hours later when we arrived in Dover, we had missed our ferry and had to wait in line with the seemingly endless rows of coaches - also filled with English university students going on ski holiday - for quite some time, but finally we boarded the gigantic boat and set off for the land of the Frogs.
The ferry itself gave me an impression of what the rest of the trip was going to be like. Everyone immediately began consuming copious amounts of alcohol, taunting other schools with English chants/songs (which are rather entertaining) and just generally getting out of hand. I saw one guy chug an entire bottle of wine. It was disgusting. I think he spewed it all back up about 5 minutes later but I didn't care to wait and see it. All in all, it was probably the least comfortable hour and a half between 3:00am-4:30am I have ever spent, sitting in awful plastic chairs and withstanding 10 foot swells. But we made it to France safely and were on our way.
Much of the next....13 hours was spent sleeping, with a brief stop at a grocery store before arriving at the chalet. We got there in the evening, and it was beginning to snow - what would be only the first of 3 days of blizzard-like conditions. Getting into the chalet was a pain: more waiting around and in the cold. Finally, we got into our room and much to our pleasant surprise, had cooking facilities and a small but workable dining area. This, I'm sure, saved us countless Euros because, like any skiier knows, food prices in a ski resort are exorbitant. We visited the supermarket nearly every night and bought more than enough bread, cheese, and wine to keep us sufficiently fed and drunk all week. And it was all cheap as dirt. Fabulous.
The first few days of skiing were pretty weak. Like I said, it was blizzarding like crazy so they only opened 2 lifts in our village for the first three days, which isn't exactly a large amount of area to ski. Fortunately, because it was damn near impossible to see further than 10 feet in front of your face, even skiing those two slopes over and over again was a remarkable adventure. Anna and I thought it would be a great idea to try the off-piste (off-trail in American lingo) run through some rocky areas and an hour and a half later, snow everywhere, we emerged swearing never to do it again. So we kept ourselves occupied for a few hours of the day.
This was probably the best opportunity for us to drink at night, because the skiing wasn't too great in the day, and we made the best of it. Each night, a ski club rep would come to our room and explain to us the planned festivities for the night. LSE would all convene at the same bar, drink for a while, and then reconvene at a club later on. It actually worked out quite well, considering there were 7-8 other English unis at the same resort and we really didn't know the other LSE kids, much less the other Englishmen. I think what made it easy to identify between the groups was A) the awful awful English accents that other university students seemed to have, without fail, as opposed to the fairly proper accent by comparison, and B) the fancy-dress themes.
I think it's appropriate at this point to explain something about English party culture. Whereas Americans enjoy drinking heavily and going out and having a good time every weekend - sometimes dressing up for toga parties or semi-formals (and indeed, we take Halloween very seriously), the English, more times than not, find a reason (or no reason at all) to wear "fancy dress." This is usually themed - our themes for the week were 'West Coast Gangsters, Spandex, Rubix Cube, and Santa' - and everyone puts on silly clothes... and THEN get drunk. It's really quite silly to see people walking around London with fancy dress on the weekend evenings. It's even MORE silly to see nearly 500 English university students walking around drunk in the snow in a quaint French skiing village with facepaint, spandex, wigs, school girl costumes, ski goggles, etc. This is exactly what happened, every single night, at Tignes. You could easily determine which university someone belonged to based on what they were wearing past 8:00pm. Some even wore their costumes on the slopes, but it was cold and I wouldn't have recommended it.
Finally, the weather cleared up a few days into the trip and we got to explore the mountain. It was huge and the skiing reminded me a lot of Vail but without the trees. It also had been snowing for 3 days straight so the powder was fresh, deep, and untouched. It was actually perfect conditions, and I was ecstatic. I can't really describe the skiing itself, it was just amazing. I did get overzealous a few times and had some spectacular falls, but luckily each time someone was waiting in front of me and got to witness the carnage. Miraculously I didn't hurt anything, except my pride. But that's easily mended.
The starkest difference between the skiing in the Alps and in the States had nothing to do with the actual skiing. In the Alps, there are a number of small villages, each with lifts going to different peaks, and each with their own chalets, shops, bars, and restaurants. The cool thing is that they're all part of the same resort, so you can ski in and out of them, from one to another to the next. It was really nice, I thought, to ski clear across the resort to one of the smaller and less accessible resorts to have lunch, and then ski back to our village - the furthest away on the other side of the resort - before the lifts closed. This was exactly what happened one of the days, and we had some great French Onion Soup and some cheese dish that were to die for. Also, the waitress was the most beautiful person I have ever seen, and also very nice... I fell in love at first sight. Amazing.
In addition to our travels around Tignes, there was another entire resort within skiing distance of ours called Val D'Iseire so we upgraded our passes for a few Euros one day and headed over there for more untouched powder and excellent runs. The main reason for our visit was because we had heard, through our new friends, that there was an excellent Apres Ski bar on the side of the mountain.
Apres Ski, or After Ski, is an essential part of the skiing experience. When you're done skiing, it is completely unnecessary and indeed frowned upon to trek all the way to your room. The proper procedure is to congregate at a bar or pub and enjoy live music and happy hour deals for a few hours. This may seem like a stupid idea after not having eaten since lunch and dehydrating yourself skiing all day, but it is actually fun enough to offset the undesirable affects.
Anyway, this particular Apres Ski bar was actually a mid-mountain lodge. We visited for lunch to check out the spot and it looked quite fun. Later in the day, after having traversed the whole of Val D'Iseire, we were making our way back to the lodge on a lift and could hear, from quite far away, the thump of the bass at the bar. They were pumping mad beats, with a live DJ and even a live singer for a few songs. The bar was actually outside - they put the drinks in snow drifts to keep them cold. Because it was goddamn freezing outside, and the tables outside was where the party was, everyone was forced to start dancing, in order to keep warm. So now everyone is dancing and drinking... naturally, the next step would be dancing on the tables. In ski boots. And shirtless. Unfortunately, we were under the impression the party had just started, and were beginning to get buzzed enough to venture a trip to the top of our table when they turned the music off. Apparently they're not legally allowed to keep the party running past dusk because of the danger that could pose to our physical being, so they kicked everyone out at 5.
Let me tell you, skiing down the mountain, slightly drunk, in quickly fading and finally nonexistant light.... AWESOME. It actually was a lot of fun. We didn't HAVE to ski down - they kept the gondola open - but we did anyway because it's a great story to tell and now I'm telling it! We went very slow, and lots of laughs and jokes, but definitely a great experience and well worth upgrading our lift tickets for the day.
The next day was the last full day of Tignes action, so I skiied with some other friends for the day. On the last run, of the last day, at nearly the bottom of the slope, I re-injured my knee. I suppose it's my own fault because I went off-piste by myself to get some last knee deep powder runs and ended up skiing into a cloud, hitting a rock or something and crossing my skis. But I was close enough to the bottom where I could safely make my way straight into the bar where I found Trine and Anna so it worked out perfectly.
That evening was the last, and the ski club officers had a special event planned in which they "awarded" drinking "fines" to people for funny stories that happened. All week the officers had been giving out free drinks for one thing or another, and this time they got a microphone and made people drink for embarrassing stories they were involved in. There were only a few really good stories, but it was a fun idea. I got fined for passing out (only slightly inebriated) at 9pm one night. Luckily I only had to take a shot of Jaegermeister - some people were given dirty pints or had to chug things or funnel or what have you. So I got off easy.
Later, after having taken some time to rest, I went to the club with just about everyone else from LSE and got wild and crazy until about 3:30 when I think I fell asleep. My goal had been to stay away until we boarded the coaches to the airport at 4am, but alas! I failed, but only just. The coaches were fully boarded a bit behind schedule... maybe around 6:45, and we spent an ungodly amount of time in the Geneva Int'l Airport, but finally arrived back in London the evening of 20 December.
It was a fantastic trip on the whole - awesome skiing, great nights out, and most importantly, I made a whole bunch of new friends, most of them English, whom I hope to continue good times with in the future. Unfortunately I couldn't find the waitress in Les Brevieres (that village we had lunch in) so I couldn't ask her to marry me, but one day I'll go back. One day...
I'm off to Prague, Vienna, and Budapest tomorrow, so I wish all 1.5 of my loyal readers a very Happy New Year in 2009, and hopefully I won't wait 3 months before writing my next post like last time.
Au revoir!
Tuesday, November 18, 2008
My Camera Died in Barcelona
Unfortunately, when I visited Barcelona this weekend I was tragically unprepared and thus forgot to properly charge my camera. Needless to say, I snapped off about 10 pictures of surfers and a few of Sagrada Familia before it died. But I will steal my friend's pictures and *maybe* make a Flickr account to start posting everything...
But let's backtrack to the weekend of 8 Nov. As you already know, Mr. Obama was pronounced President-elect at approximately 5:00am GMT, so that was a late night for me on Wednesday. On Saturday, I had my first hockey game as a London Dragon @ Oxford. Grandma said "Oh well now you get to say you went to Oxford!" and while that is true, the game was at 11:00pm and it was pouring rain, so I didn't actually get to "see" Oxford, though I hope to make a trip out there sometime soon. The game went fairly well, but ended in a 10-8 loss, which I thought was an absurd hockey score until I saw that BC beat UNH this weekend 8-6, which isn't too far off. Anyway, the team is not too shabby. A little weak on the goaltending, and the defense needs some work, but this was apparently our toughest test of the season, and we have them coming back to our place for the last game of the season in February and I have no doubt we will stomp them when they do come. The real point I want to make though, is that this was my second super-late night of the week. The buses to Oxford only run every hour after 1:00am, and we missed the 2:10 bus, so we had to wait for the 3:10 bus. It was ridiculous, I got home at 5:30. BUT I LOVE HOCKEY SO I DON'T CARE! Seriously, it was worth it, even if we got a lot of dirty looks from people on the bus who were trying to sleep while we were having a grand time.
Then, Monday was my birthday, so I went out with the hockey team to the University of London Students Union pub, and then off to a classy establishment/club - Cheapskates. It was a good night, and though I've been drinking legally for over a month now in London, it still felt like 21, which was nice. I'm still amazed that the US is the only developed country in the world with a drinking age over 18.
Fast forward to the weekend - Friday evening I left for Barcelona with 4 friends, Anna Allie Lauren and Andrew, from LSE. It was a rather long trip because we took Ryanair and had to travel 45 minutes to Stansted Airport in London, and then another 1.5 hours from Girona airport in Spain to Barcelona, with the 1.5 hour flight in between, but we ended up getting to Barca at a reasonable time as far as the Spaniards are concerned: 11:00pm. Checked into the hostel (which was literally on the boardwalk) and went out to dinner which was surprisingly full. I ate seafood (and continued to all weekend) and we drank some delicious Sangria - really the way to go if you ever go to Spain (we later learned that the Spaniards don't eat dinner until 10, and don't go out until at least 12, so the nights are very long there). Friday night I called up my roommate Chris who is studying there and he took us to the Absinthe bar, but it was packed and had an hour wait, so we went to a different and really old bar that ended up being pretty fun. Saturday morning we woke up relatively early and I got to sit outside in the beautiful sunshine and clear blue skies in just a t-shirt (because it was 65 degrees) and watch the surfers ride shore break for a while. I really wanted to get out there, and the water was really warm, but I didn't pack a suit and we had an agenda.
The first thing on the above mentioned agenda was the Picasso museum, which didn't hold many of his most-famous works, but did have a lot of his stuff and was organised in a way that chronicled his life and the progression of his works, which was really interesting. Unfortunately all the captions of the paintings were in Catalan and Spanish, so I couldn't understand anything, but it was still cool. Next was the Museu de Xocholata - The Museum of Chocolate. It was amazing. They gave me a bar of chocolate when I walked in, and there were gigantic chocolate sculptures of all sorts of things, ranging from a gorilla to a model of Sagrada Familia, which I'll get to later. Anyways, it was delicious, and I bought a 90% pure cocoa chocolate bar which I plan to enjoy sometime soon.
Next we made our way towards the Temple de Sagrada Familia - Gaudi's most famous (and still ongoing) project. Gaudi was really a revolutionary in construction and design, and all of his works in some way mimic something in nature - animals, plants growing, beehives, etc. I would say, if there is any cathedral you NEED to see before you die, this is the one. Unfortunately it is not finished, even though it begun in 1882, but it is still some serious architecture. They just finished the front facade, which is a sculpture of the Passion of the Christ, and the back was finished just after Gaudi died in 1928, which is a depiction of the Nativity Scene. It's clearly got Gothic elements to the overall construction, but the design is one of a kind. If it's finished before I die, I will most certainly return - the main part, the Facade of Glory - is to be 170 metres tall. For comparison, the St. Louis Arch is 192 metres tall, and the spires currently in place at Sagrada Familia are 100 metres. I'm doubtful that they'll finish anytime soon, perhaps not even in another 100 years, but there were a ton of cranes and it looked like they were getting a lot done, so keep your fingers crossed!
That night while the girls shopped, Andrew and I walked back to the hostel by way of Las Ramblas, the touristy part of town. It was packed with people, and we were encountered by a great number of whack-job mimes(ish?) dressed up in silly costumes, painted skin and faces, and lots of them were making weird noises. One guy had a figure of a man dressed and painted in all silver sitting on a chair, but no head, and next to it was a big box with a man's head sticking out, also painted silver, and he was making really weird high pitched noises at everyone. Really crazy stuff. Also they sold live chickens and birds on the street. Weird. But we did make it back to the hostel and ended up playing drinking games with a bunch of Kiwis who were going on a grand European adventure of their own. They were all really nice and a lot of fun to hang out with, and they said they will be in London later this month so hopefully they'll give me a call. Afterwards, we met up with Chris again and he took us to a Tapas restaurant (sans kiwis) that was fabulous, and then to another bar where we stayed and chatted until the wee hours of the morning.
The next day, again woke up early and watched the surfers, and then proceeded to the Catedral de Barcelona, an older Gothic cathedral, which was actually holding a service when we got there so we couldn't go all the way into it and check it out. Also, there was scaffolding over the entire front of the place, so it didn't look as grand as it might have. The service was in Catalan, so it wasn't even worth sitting down to watch the priests speak on the jumbotron because we were so far back (the place is huge and they wanted everyone to be able to see what was going on apparently). Next we made the best decision of the weekend, which I'll attribute to Anna, and rented bikes for three hours. Not only did it let us rest our walking muscles, but we were able to cover a whole lot more ground in very little time, and made our way through the Arc de Triumf (the Spanish version of le Arc du Triomphe in Paris) and up to Park Guell - one of the many parks in the city. It is situated literally on the peak of a hill and has many Gaudi buildings and architecture, but the best part was at the very top after a long climb: a view of the entire city and beyond. It was amazing, you could see literally every building and then some, and the Mediterranean Sea in the background. Sagrada Familia was especially cool, and you can tell already that it is the centerpiece, biggest, and most extravagant building in Barcelona even though it is not finished. We could see in the distance where our tiny hostel was, and it was really a breathtaking picturesque view. This was not the only time I cursed myself for not charging my camera.
After Park Guell, we rode our bikes (this time downhill - the ride up was a difficult and sweaty one) rather leisurely and went for a ride through the Park Zoologicia which was where they held the World Exposition in 1898 which was pretty cool. And from there, returned the bikes, ate some more seafood, and headed home for dark, unsunny, freezing (literally, 1 degree Celsius), foggy Londontown.
It was a great adventure and an awesome (and sunny!) trip. I would definitely recommend Barcelona to anyone and everyone, even if only to experience some legitimate sun and warmth while getting away from crap weather. But luckily we decided to forgo sleep in favor of being able to do as much as possible in 2 days, and I'm really glad we did.
I hope I didn't bore anyone during this obnoxiously long post. Really it was just a reason for me to procrastinate reading for my Foreign Policy Analysis paper this week. Ugh.
I have a hockey game again this week, and I've recently started trying to figure out what to do with my life this summer, so maybe another post is in order for this week, but no promises!
Muchas gracias amigos, adios!
But let's backtrack to the weekend of 8 Nov. As you already know, Mr. Obama was pronounced President-elect at approximately 5:00am GMT, so that was a late night for me on Wednesday. On Saturday, I had my first hockey game as a London Dragon @ Oxford. Grandma said "Oh well now you get to say you went to Oxford!" and while that is true, the game was at 11:00pm and it was pouring rain, so I didn't actually get to "see" Oxford, though I hope to make a trip out there sometime soon. The game went fairly well, but ended in a 10-8 loss, which I thought was an absurd hockey score until I saw that BC beat UNH this weekend 8-6, which isn't too far off. Anyway, the team is not too shabby. A little weak on the goaltending, and the defense needs some work, but this was apparently our toughest test of the season, and we have them coming back to our place for the last game of the season in February and I have no doubt we will stomp them when they do come. The real point I want to make though, is that this was my second super-late night of the week. The buses to Oxford only run every hour after 1:00am, and we missed the 2:10 bus, so we had to wait for the 3:10 bus. It was ridiculous, I got home at 5:30. BUT I LOVE HOCKEY SO I DON'T CARE! Seriously, it was worth it, even if we got a lot of dirty looks from people on the bus who were trying to sleep while we were having a grand time.
Then, Monday was my birthday, so I went out with the hockey team to the University of London Students Union pub, and then off to a classy establishment/club - Cheapskates. It was a good night, and though I've been drinking legally for over a month now in London, it still felt like 21, which was nice. I'm still amazed that the US is the only developed country in the world with a drinking age over 18.
Fast forward to the weekend - Friday evening I left for Barcelona with 4 friends, Anna Allie Lauren and Andrew, from LSE. It was a rather long trip because we took Ryanair and had to travel 45 minutes to Stansted Airport in London, and then another 1.5 hours from Girona airport in Spain to Barcelona, with the 1.5 hour flight in between, but we ended up getting to Barca at a reasonable time as far as the Spaniards are concerned: 11:00pm. Checked into the hostel (which was literally on the boardwalk) and went out to dinner which was surprisingly full. I ate seafood (and continued to all weekend) and we drank some delicious Sangria - really the way to go if you ever go to Spain (we later learned that the Spaniards don't eat dinner until 10, and don't go out until at least 12, so the nights are very long there). Friday night I called up my roommate Chris who is studying there and he took us to the Absinthe bar, but it was packed and had an hour wait, so we went to a different and really old bar that ended up being pretty fun. Saturday morning we woke up relatively early and I got to sit outside in the beautiful sunshine and clear blue skies in just a t-shirt (because it was 65 degrees) and watch the surfers ride shore break for a while. I really wanted to get out there, and the water was really warm, but I didn't pack a suit and we had an agenda.
The first thing on the above mentioned agenda was the Picasso museum, which didn't hold many of his most-famous works, but did have a lot of his stuff and was organised in a way that chronicled his life and the progression of his works, which was really interesting. Unfortunately all the captions of the paintings were in Catalan and Spanish, so I couldn't understand anything, but it was still cool. Next was the Museu de Xocholata - The Museum of Chocolate. It was amazing. They gave me a bar of chocolate when I walked in, and there were gigantic chocolate sculptures of all sorts of things, ranging from a gorilla to a model of Sagrada Familia, which I'll get to later. Anyways, it was delicious, and I bought a 90% pure cocoa chocolate bar which I plan to enjoy sometime soon.
Next we made our way towards the Temple de Sagrada Familia - Gaudi's most famous (and still ongoing) project. Gaudi was really a revolutionary in construction and design, and all of his works in some way mimic something in nature - animals, plants growing, beehives, etc. I would say, if there is any cathedral you NEED to see before you die, this is the one. Unfortunately it is not finished, even though it begun in 1882, but it is still some serious architecture. They just finished the front facade, which is a sculpture of the Passion of the Christ, and the back was finished just after Gaudi died in 1928, which is a depiction of the Nativity Scene. It's clearly got Gothic elements to the overall construction, but the design is one of a kind. If it's finished before I die, I will most certainly return - the main part, the Facade of Glory - is to be 170 metres tall. For comparison, the St. Louis Arch is 192 metres tall, and the spires currently in place at Sagrada Familia are 100 metres. I'm doubtful that they'll finish anytime soon, perhaps not even in another 100 years, but there were a ton of cranes and it looked like they were getting a lot done, so keep your fingers crossed!
That night while the girls shopped, Andrew and I walked back to the hostel by way of Las Ramblas, the touristy part of town. It was packed with people, and we were encountered by a great number of whack-job mimes(ish?) dressed up in silly costumes, painted skin and faces, and lots of them were making weird noises. One guy had a figure of a man dressed and painted in all silver sitting on a chair, but no head, and next to it was a big box with a man's head sticking out, also painted silver, and he was making really weird high pitched noises at everyone. Really crazy stuff. Also they sold live chickens and birds on the street. Weird. But we did make it back to the hostel and ended up playing drinking games with a bunch of Kiwis who were going on a grand European adventure of their own. They were all really nice and a lot of fun to hang out with, and they said they will be in London later this month so hopefully they'll give me a call. Afterwards, we met up with Chris again and he took us to a Tapas restaurant (sans kiwis) that was fabulous, and then to another bar where we stayed and chatted until the wee hours of the morning.
The next day, again woke up early and watched the surfers, and then proceeded to the Catedral de Barcelona, an older Gothic cathedral, which was actually holding a service when we got there so we couldn't go all the way into it and check it out. Also, there was scaffolding over the entire front of the place, so it didn't look as grand as it might have. The service was in Catalan, so it wasn't even worth sitting down to watch the priests speak on the jumbotron because we were so far back (the place is huge and they wanted everyone to be able to see what was going on apparently). Next we made the best decision of the weekend, which I'll attribute to Anna, and rented bikes for three hours. Not only did it let us rest our walking muscles, but we were able to cover a whole lot more ground in very little time, and made our way through the Arc de Triumf (the Spanish version of le Arc du Triomphe in Paris) and up to Park Guell - one of the many parks in the city. It is situated literally on the peak of a hill and has many Gaudi buildings and architecture, but the best part was at the very top after a long climb: a view of the entire city and beyond. It was amazing, you could see literally every building and then some, and the Mediterranean Sea in the background. Sagrada Familia was especially cool, and you can tell already that it is the centerpiece, biggest, and most extravagant building in Barcelona even though it is not finished. We could see in the distance where our tiny hostel was, and it was really a breathtaking picturesque view. This was not the only time I cursed myself for not charging my camera.
After Park Guell, we rode our bikes (this time downhill - the ride up was a difficult and sweaty one) rather leisurely and went for a ride through the Park Zoologicia which was where they held the World Exposition in 1898 which was pretty cool. And from there, returned the bikes, ate some more seafood, and headed home for dark, unsunny, freezing (literally, 1 degree Celsius), foggy Londontown.
It was a great adventure and an awesome (and sunny!) trip. I would definitely recommend Barcelona to anyone and everyone, even if only to experience some legitimate sun and warmth while getting away from crap weather. But luckily we decided to forgo sleep in favor of being able to do as much as possible in 2 days, and I'm really glad we did.
I hope I didn't bore anyone during this obnoxiously long post. Really it was just a reason for me to procrastinate reading for my Foreign Policy Analysis paper this week. Ugh.
I have a hockey game again this week, and I've recently started trying to figure out what to do with my life this summer, so maybe another post is in order for this week, but no promises!
Muchas gracias amigos, adios!
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