Vienna Day 1 (12th)
When you wake up in a tent, things seem so close to you, and small. Imagine being in a 2 person backpacker's tent, with 2 large backpacks and 2 restless but tired people. Not much room. Little bit tight, especially with Becki being a little bit claustrophobic. With this, in combination with her comfortable level at around a 2 out of 10 due to lack of padding, our morning had started off a little rough. After preparing sandwiches (yay!) for our day, we rush to the showers. You have never seen us so eager to shower. At this point, it's a little cloudy, but in the 70s, so very manageable. We pack the day bag, a little suspicious of leaving our backpacks in the tent, but nevertheless, head into downtown. Some Brits we met the night before remind us they're off to an open market which apparently is not only huge, but packs great opportunity to haggle and price match, and all that good Sam stuff.
Vienna, much like most of Central Europe, is positioned around a main square, where most of the city's transportation meets, and is a huge shopping area, cultural center, and meeting place for most it's inhabitants. It can be a little unnerving at first, but once you get moving, the flow almost lulls you to sleep. The main square we arrived at was called Stephansplatz, which was named according to the large church that stood, rather loomed over the entire area. We skipped the church, and moved directly to the Albertina, a large modern arts Museum. Outside of the museum were pieces of art commemorating a group of artists that convened across borders during the hostility of WWII, and were praised for their gall and bravery. I too gave praise.
We climb the steps of the Albertina, eager to gaze upon some of the world's best art, and are stopped at the price. 15 euro. That is $22 per person, and frankly, with me liking money too much, and Becki not so fond of museums, we decide to chalk it up and move to the open market, where we can stock up on food, supplies and beer. I would like to get an ipod cable at this point, and with our converter's fuse blowing in Prague, We need to find an electronics store quickly so I can charge my phone and ipod. Necessary things, people!
As we struggle to get our bearings, it's important to describe in more detail Vienna's city architecture. First, the planning. At Stephansplatz, the surrounding area is called "1" or "I", all in Roman numeral. However, instead of splitting into quadrants such as Prague or Dublin, Vienna starts a spiral outward, with the next district due south, and the spiral continues clockwise. Quite easy on paper, but with dividing lines simply marked on building walls, it made it quite difficult to track down places on the map. The architecture was much like Prague, with large bronze statues and sculptures topping important buildings (during their period of construction), with open monuments and parks like that of London, and with twisted side streets like that of Dublin. It was quite beautiful, littered with many waterways and fountains. After a quick picture taking session of the Hofburg palace, we moved to the open market.
The market lay between restaurants lining a boulevard, but it's important to know the boulevard was only about 20m wide, and of that 5m of it was walking area that was difficult to manuever- the stands that stood between the restaurants sometimes encroached upon the walking space, creating bottlenecks that sometimes forced stoppages in front of stand owners that quickly recognized the situation- and took advantage. Food was offered at every stop to taste, and to walk both ends took roughly 10 minutes. At the end of the stand section, We recollected the prices we had seen over an apple cake and some melange`, and made our way back. We grabbed apples, nectarines, grapes, mozzarella, fresh basil, tomatoes, spicy salame, and bread- for around 10 euro. Not bad, and got some cream cheese filled peppers that were quite delicious. Now to the electronics...
Not a lot of shop are open late in Vienna, or on Saturday for that matter. We straggled along the streets, scouring for anything that looked open, with an added item on the list of things to get: a belt for Becki. Initially it wasn't a priority, but as we backpacked further and further, and did laundry later and later, her pants moved lower and lower with her backpack pushing down on her hips. We stop at a couple stores only to find that most of the places only sold either cheaply made products, or over-priced Ross-wear. Too snoody for either, we moved along.
With our patience wearing thin, and our camera battery dying faster than Kanye's reputation, we decided to cut our losses and make our way back.
At camp, we recoup, make some ghetto gheritas, and sip on some Pilsner Urquell, which, out of a can, doesn't taste half bad. After a couple card games, involving drinking, we empty our Crown Reserve, which prompts an impromptu trip to the local gas station we had seen earlier that day. This station had everything, but let it be known- the prices were the highest we'd seen anywhere, even more than America. So we bought a 6 euro bottle of something that looked like a brandy rum, and some Lowenbrau. We return, only to discover the rum is less than we expected, and with our expectations already quite low, it was almost unbearable. Yay for beer chasers! A couple rounds, I'm feeling tipsy... so we head to bed. Round 2 of Restless Becki, I hope she sleeps better...
Nighters!
Sam and Becki
Saturday, September 12, 2009
Vienna Day/Night 1
Vienna, oh Vienna! You hold so much promise! As the stomping grounds of Mozart, Schubert, Freud, and Beethoven- you cannot bore me a bit. With over 20 museums in the downtown Vienna area, and over 30 in the metro, there seemed endless amount of opportunities to be astonished, amazed, and in awe, once again. But as we quickly re-learned, things that are of great desire often carry a steep price tag.
We arrive in Vienna around 7:00, are have planned to camped along the Danube river at Camp Neue Donau for a couple days before moving on to Croatia. As we step off the train at Sudbahnhof (southern train station), it becomes clear that I haven't fully prepared us for the trip to the site.
1. We don't have any Euros for transportation.
2. The money exchange in the train station is closed.
3. The U-bahn and S-bahn go to the same spot, which to take?
Solutions take some time, but come eventually: the ticket machine takes credit cards and we would like to see Vienna before we head to bed. And it's getting dark. Yes, father, I know, you never want to set up your tent in the dark. And trust me, we didn't. It was a fun game.
We board the U-bahn, and instantly regret our decision. You see, when you're tired, you don't make the best decisions, especially under duress. And not making the connection between U-bahn (underground) and sightseeing (non-existent), we both smile, chuckle, and brush it off. Oh well... now to get there. We arrive at our stop, step off looking like sleepy deer- timid and suspicious. There was supposed to be a bus stop around here... Okay. After a look or two, we finally track down a stop, which thankfully is packed with people. There's nothing worse than arriving at an empty bus stop- it usually means the bus just left or isn't operation anymore. Of course, these are assumptions I've made based on the public transportation in America. In Europe, however, the earliest buses stop running at midnight, and start no later than 7:30. Praise!
We hop onto the bus, doe-eyed and shaky, as backpacks and buses as we've learned aren't that stable. After a quick conversation with some Australians who happen to be lodging in the same site, our confidence returns, and relief sets in- until I realize the reception closes at 7:00 and it's already 7:30. We quickly hop off and truck it up the short driveway to a dimly lit office, which, from all clues, is already closed. Then, a head pops up! Ignoring the guilt associated with holding the receptionist, we pound on the door. It's unlocked. We quickly introduce ourselves, and our anxiety is met by calm and respect- she is one nice lady!
The tent. Oh the tent. Initially we planned on setting up the tent at my house, that way we knew what we were doing IN CASE WE HAD TO DO IT IN THE DARK. But somehow, we convinced each other it seemed simple enough to get things going- so we abandoned our well thought our preparations. Bite in the ass is what comes to mind now. After struggling to get it going, Becki figures things out while I prepare dinner... sandwiches! Mmmm. All things settled, we make our encampment on the edge of an area reserved for campers- the rest was RVs, which is apparently what "camping" really means in Europe. No other place have we seen more campsites that barely accommodate "tenters" as we decided to label ourselves.
After a couple beers, we settle in, ready to call it a night- but there are more surprises. Without a pad, I am fine. It is a well known fact that I have a superpower that allows me to sleep anywhere, at any time. Unfortunately this ability is not imbued in every common man and woman. Becki rocks and rolls inside our tiny tent like it's a prison blanket party, until finally I get her to settle down and pass out. Crisis averted for now...
Sleep!
Sam and Becki
We arrive in Vienna around 7:00, are have planned to camped along the Danube river at Camp Neue Donau for a couple days before moving on to Croatia. As we step off the train at Sudbahnhof (southern train station), it becomes clear that I haven't fully prepared us for the trip to the site.
1. We don't have any Euros for transportation.
2. The money exchange in the train station is closed.
3. The U-bahn and S-bahn go to the same spot, which to take?
Solutions take some time, but come eventually: the ticket machine takes credit cards and we would like to see Vienna before we head to bed. And it's getting dark. Yes, father, I know, you never want to set up your tent in the dark. And trust me, we didn't. It was a fun game.
We board the U-bahn, and instantly regret our decision. You see, when you're tired, you don't make the best decisions, especially under duress. And not making the connection between U-bahn (underground) and sightseeing (non-existent), we both smile, chuckle, and brush it off. Oh well... now to get there. We arrive at our stop, step off looking like sleepy deer- timid and suspicious. There was supposed to be a bus stop around here... Okay. After a look or two, we finally track down a stop, which thankfully is packed with people. There's nothing worse than arriving at an empty bus stop- it usually means the bus just left or isn't operation anymore. Of course, these are assumptions I've made based on the public transportation in America. In Europe, however, the earliest buses stop running at midnight, and start no later than 7:30. Praise!
We hop onto the bus, doe-eyed and shaky, as backpacks and buses as we've learned aren't that stable. After a quick conversation with some Australians who happen to be lodging in the same site, our confidence returns, and relief sets in- until I realize the reception closes at 7:00 and it's already 7:30. We quickly hop off and truck it up the short driveway to a dimly lit office, which, from all clues, is already closed. Then, a head pops up! Ignoring the guilt associated with holding the receptionist, we pound on the door. It's unlocked. We quickly introduce ourselves, and our anxiety is met by calm and respect- she is one nice lady!
The tent. Oh the tent. Initially we planned on setting up the tent at my house, that way we knew what we were doing IN CASE WE HAD TO DO IT IN THE DARK. But somehow, we convinced each other it seemed simple enough to get things going- so we abandoned our well thought our preparations. Bite in the ass is what comes to mind now. After struggling to get it going, Becki figures things out while I prepare dinner... sandwiches! Mmmm. All things settled, we make our encampment on the edge of an area reserved for campers- the rest was RVs, which is apparently what "camping" really means in Europe. No other place have we seen more campsites that barely accommodate "tenters" as we decided to label ourselves.
After a couple beers, we settle in, ready to call it a night- but there are more surprises. Without a pad, I am fine. It is a well known fact that I have a superpower that allows me to sleep anywhere, at any time. Unfortunately this ability is not imbued in every common man and woman. Becki rocks and rolls inside our tiny tent like it's a prison blanket party, until finally I get her to settle down and pass out. Crisis averted for now...
Sleep!
Sam and Becki
Friday, September 11, 2009
Prague Day 3
There are little hints with aging. What hurts in the morning, how tired you feel physically AND mentally, how lightly you sleep. I felt all of those this morning. My thighs were burning, I was still exhausted after sleeping 10 hours, going to bed @ 10 o'clock, and not drinking. Not a drop. And no Michelle, I wasn't watching "Murder She Wrote". I was beat. So I did what I do best, and that is lay back down. At this point my stomach starts growling, I nudge Becki, and threaten a 1-person breakfast if she doesn't shower and get ready. I've become my dad, the trip Nazi. No offense dad, (or mom, for that matter).
Our mission is simple, we must see old town, all the tourist sites that accompany that, and we have to shop for things to get people. The former is what I came for, the latter is what I pay for. Mixed emotions, and it's only 9 o'clock, so I grab 2 cups of coffee. We head out of the hostel, and are amongst the thousands by 10 o'clock. I mean it, thousands. Now is the time I shine.
If you haven't heard, I love Disneyland. I love it so much that I've been there more times over the years than I've been to my parents' house. An exaggeration, but you get the point. Also, with part of my adaptability and, what I like to call "shrewness" and not the other word, I have developed a specific set of skills that allows me to move through crowds at high speeds, find the quickest route encompassing the highest amount of destinations along the way, and by spending the least amount of money. The last point isn't of importance, except to the people I call "friends" as a joke. I use "friends" loosely. Becki, on the other hand, might be the opposite of that. To the people that know her, explain to the people that don't. Shiny objects, souvenir stands, and loud noises are what get her attention; a nightmare in large crowds. When I say I "grabbed her hand", I chain and locked that shit, and dragged her through most of old town like a misbehaving child through a candy store.
After searching through the stands, comparing prices, and matching quality, we purchase a couple gifts before moving to the sites. And boy, they number. 1st stop was the Astrological Clock. I have pretty much used up the words "awesome", "beautiful", and "amazing", so I'll have to sum it up: awfulzing. The has about 4 different dials on it, starting with a standard clock, at which when the clock strikes twelve, 2 mechanical characters appear above the clock, and mimic the ringing of the bell. Cute, but rather comical. The next part of the clock is the month dial, which is pretty self explanatory. The best part through, is what is called the "astrological clock". Now keep in mind, they crafted this in the 16th century. The clock has a background, which shows the amount of daytime/nighttime left based on sun rise/set. The next has the astrological clock, which shows what zodiac sign we're in, and the last shows the position of the moon and sun in their respective phases. 'Nuff said about that, check the pictures.
We walk along a large bronze diorama depicting tragedy and war at the center of a large common place, presumably the middle of Prague when constructed. Although bronze sculptures and scenes are quite the norm throughout most of Europe (most are bluish-green, because of the rain and oxidation), this one differed because parts of the bronze draped over the platform, appearing sloppy at first but later difficult and well performed. I didn't get the names involved, but it was memorable nonetheless.
Next up was Charles Bridge, which was the peasant gateway to the Prague Castle. It was spectacular; the entire bridge wasn't that wide, but the effort put into the statues that littered the walls made it worth the almost house party-like crowding that continued until the hills of the great castle. The statues, like most in Eastern Europe, depicted Biblical scenes; many dinner stories, many that were not well-read. What was peculiar is that the scenes and figured became less based from the "good book", and became more of political and "church-based" figures and scenes, of St. Peter and his blessing of Prague, and others that were related to God's presence in the country. Well thought out, and well performed in aged marble and adorned with recently added or simply polished bronze, these statues are the quintessential memories of Prague. And goth, tons of goth.
After some quick shopping, and haggling with the locals (again, what me shine!), we backtracked across the bridge into Josefov.
Josefov was stunning, realistic, and enlightening; as Central Europe's oldest Jewish settlement, it sits behind a 4m tall wall, created by the Jewish Community in or around 1200. Inside the walls were a few synagogues and many houses, most of which we saw. Old is the first adjective that comes to mind, dark was the other. Maybe it was the lighting, but the cloud had covered most of the sun during our stay, and it set the mood. Pinkas Synangogue was eerie yet informative. Inside on the first two floors across every wall were the names of Jewish community members across the Czech Republic that were sent to death camps- around 80,000 names were etched in black and red. Most of the spectators were most likely tracing their lines.
The 3rd floor held all the items and artifacts needed during the burying ceremony, which, interestingly enough, was held and performed by members of the community rather than the family members. Jewish rite dictates that when a person is sick or dying, a group takes care of that person, while the family members watch and grieve, sending prayer. Quite interesting.
As if it wasn't sobering enough- they had to plan this- the next stop on the somber train was the cemetery. The cemetery, was over-crowded and tight packed, and I'm not describing the lines through, however long they were. It seemed that headstones were stacked next to head stones, as the community itself filled the small area within Prague, it seemed the walls were closing in on the dead. Some stories of the Rabbis and servants were told along the way, but mostly it was silent, as again the partly cloudy setting cast slim shadows amongst the sleeping.
After a stop inside a synagogue displaying items of marriage, wealth, daily life, and rather interesting law documents, we moved on to the Spanish Synagogue, which by far was the most beautiful (un-biased!) religious structure yet. Pictures were not allowed to be taken in any of these structures, however the elaborate designs, seemingly including a star in every center, were trimmed so delicately by gold and the deepest blue. It was a sight to be seen, and I tried to get a photo as we walked in- it's towards the end in our Prague album.
After a little more shopping we decided to call it a day- our train wasn't early but we were spent, we had to get more peanut butter for our lunches (and breakfasts, and dinners :0 ) and I was feeling like a beer. A couple more looks at the surrounding bronze sculptures and we headed to the Metro station. Prague, down. Vienna, next!
Sam and Becki
Our mission is simple, we must see old town, all the tourist sites that accompany that, and we have to shop for things to get people. The former is what I came for, the latter is what I pay for. Mixed emotions, and it's only 9 o'clock, so I grab 2 cups of coffee. We head out of the hostel, and are amongst the thousands by 10 o'clock. I mean it, thousands. Now is the time I shine.
If you haven't heard, I love Disneyland. I love it so much that I've been there more times over the years than I've been to my parents' house. An exaggeration, but you get the point. Also, with part of my adaptability and, what I like to call "shrewness" and not the other word, I have developed a specific set of skills that allows me to move through crowds at high speeds, find the quickest route encompassing the highest amount of destinations along the way, and by spending the least amount of money. The last point isn't of importance, except to the people I call "friends" as a joke. I use "friends" loosely. Becki, on the other hand, might be the opposite of that. To the people that know her, explain to the people that don't. Shiny objects, souvenir stands, and loud noises are what get her attention; a nightmare in large crowds. When I say I "grabbed her hand", I chain and locked that shit, and dragged her through most of old town like a misbehaving child through a candy store.
After searching through the stands, comparing prices, and matching quality, we purchase a couple gifts before moving to the sites. And boy, they number. 1st stop was the Astrological Clock. I have pretty much used up the words "awesome", "beautiful", and "amazing", so I'll have to sum it up: awfulzing. The has about 4 different dials on it, starting with a standard clock, at which when the clock strikes twelve, 2 mechanical characters appear above the clock, and mimic the ringing of the bell. Cute, but rather comical. The next part of the clock is the month dial, which is pretty self explanatory. The best part through, is what is called the "astrological clock". Now keep in mind, they crafted this in the 16th century. The clock has a background, which shows the amount of daytime/nighttime left based on sun rise/set. The next has the astrological clock, which shows what zodiac sign we're in, and the last shows the position of the moon and sun in their respective phases. 'Nuff said about that, check the pictures.
We walk along a large bronze diorama depicting tragedy and war at the center of a large common place, presumably the middle of Prague when constructed. Although bronze sculptures and scenes are quite the norm throughout most of Europe (most are bluish-green, because of the rain and oxidation), this one differed because parts of the bronze draped over the platform, appearing sloppy at first but later difficult and well performed. I didn't get the names involved, but it was memorable nonetheless.
Next up was Charles Bridge, which was the peasant gateway to the Prague Castle. It was spectacular; the entire bridge wasn't that wide, but the effort put into the statues that littered the walls made it worth the almost house party-like crowding that continued until the hills of the great castle. The statues, like most in Eastern Europe, depicted Biblical scenes; many dinner stories, many that were not well-read. What was peculiar is that the scenes and figured became less based from the "good book", and became more of political and "church-based" figures and scenes, of St. Peter and his blessing of Prague, and others that were related to God's presence in the country. Well thought out, and well performed in aged marble and adorned with recently added or simply polished bronze, these statues are the quintessential memories of Prague. And goth, tons of goth.
After some quick shopping, and haggling with the locals (again, what me shine!), we backtracked across the bridge into Josefov.
Josefov was stunning, realistic, and enlightening; as Central Europe's oldest Jewish settlement, it sits behind a 4m tall wall, created by the Jewish Community in or around 1200. Inside the walls were a few synagogues and many houses, most of which we saw. Old is the first adjective that comes to mind, dark was the other. Maybe it was the lighting, but the cloud had covered most of the sun during our stay, and it set the mood. Pinkas Synangogue was eerie yet informative. Inside on the first two floors across every wall were the names of Jewish community members across the Czech Republic that were sent to death camps- around 80,000 names were etched in black and red. Most of the spectators were most likely tracing their lines.
The 3rd floor held all the items and artifacts needed during the burying ceremony, which, interestingly enough, was held and performed by members of the community rather than the family members. Jewish rite dictates that when a person is sick or dying, a group takes care of that person, while the family members watch and grieve, sending prayer. Quite interesting.
As if it wasn't sobering enough- they had to plan this- the next stop on the somber train was the cemetery. The cemetery, was over-crowded and tight packed, and I'm not describing the lines through, however long they were. It seemed that headstones were stacked next to head stones, as the community itself filled the small area within Prague, it seemed the walls were closing in on the dead. Some stories of the Rabbis and servants were told along the way, but mostly it was silent, as again the partly cloudy setting cast slim shadows amongst the sleeping.
After a stop inside a synagogue displaying items of marriage, wealth, daily life, and rather interesting law documents, we moved on to the Spanish Synagogue, which by far was the most beautiful (un-biased!) religious structure yet. Pictures were not allowed to be taken in any of these structures, however the elaborate designs, seemingly including a star in every center, were trimmed so delicately by gold and the deepest blue. It was a sight to be seen, and I tried to get a photo as we walked in- it's towards the end in our Prague album.
After a little more shopping we decided to call it a day- our train wasn't early but we were spent, we had to get more peanut butter for our lunches (and breakfasts, and dinners :0 ) and I was feeling like a beer. A couple more looks at the surrounding bronze sculptures and we headed to the Metro station. Prague, down. Vienna, next!
Sam and Becki
Thursday, September 10, 2009
Prague #2
X-mas. Hannukah. St. Patty's Day. These are the days that most people need no alarm, no morning newspaper, no coffee machine drip to wake them. They wake, rise, and prepare knowing simply that the day holds amazing things for them, and today became that day for me.
The fucking birds were chirping.
In fact, the birds were chirping so loud that I woke because of them, but the former statement kept me awake. Bones! Chapel! Stuff! I couldn't sit still. Becki noticed, and acted like she didn't, but like Ronald Reagan as governor, the damage was already done. I jumped at the thought of religion and mortality, and threw on my shorts. It was time to jog, hell I was the man himself Clark Kent. I jogged along what could have been a river bank, but frankly, with our hostel in the industrial side of town, the park area wasn't what we would like to call "well-groomed". Not to be picky, just that the bank itself was about 300 yards, and was littered with bumpers and old milk cartons. Oh well, got my point across. I was American and about to be obnoxiously excited.
I returned to find Becki asleep- and Bobby gone. No! My dreams! Melting away like the Wicked Witch! I can't let this go, I need bones! I wake Becki, scared and distraught. What are we gonna do?!? He alone knew the site of the sacred sacrilege! All is lost!
Then Bobby came in.
After the shower it was on like Donkey Kong. Yeah I said it, I hope you get the point. We eat breakfast and hop on the tram to the train station. Upon arrival, we immediately stock up on beer. The trip is about to be an hour, and I need to calm down. Beers abroad, team is ready to go. Becki is getting there, and Bobby is still his calm self. "Heeeeeeeey man" and all that shit. It's not cutting it. My expectations unmet, I resort to drinking. I'm good at it. After a couple beers and some light conversation, Kutna Hora comes up as a stop- we're here. Or there.
A 10 minute walk pits us in front of a small chapel in the center of a walled cemetary. In front of the cemetary is a small spire, and on the directional (NSEW) corners are statues of priests, and their faces are of shame, lies, and apathy. I don't know who hung above them, but regardless, the point was made. The figure in the middle was hung for reasons not condoned by some of the members, yet the Church was most likely responsible. We snap a few photos, move into the cemetary, and continue our documentation of the unknown, or rather, undead.
The chapel entrance is adorned with a small bone decoration: let me be clear, imagine using legos to create, I don't know, a building. Or a ship, an interplantary ship. With large thrusters; point being that much detail is paid to ensure that the replication is almost indistinguishable from the original. Now imagine the legos are bones. I'm not fucking joking.
We step inside, and pay our nominal fee. Charge more, my good man, you deserve it. Along the right side, following the steps down is the author or designer's initials, spelled out in bone. Good start. From there, it was strictly no stops. There was a large chandelier, a coat of arms, and 3 pyramid structures, all perfectly placed, all designed and fitted out of bone. You can't make this shit up- shit I can't make this up. It was creepy, not to mention- imagine- a handout telling the creepiest tale of how it all went down, from a plague to a sacking- still a funny word-, to the creation and continued works in progress that was the chapel. It really just made the whole experience. Throw in some poorly translated Czech words and god dammit, we were all satisfied with ourselves upon exit.
A quick cappuccino and we were on our way to the latter half of our admission, the Cathedral of the Assumption of the Virgin Mary- not only a mouthful, but a beautiful representation of the artists of the time, and also, I have to say it, the wealth of the Church at that time. The ceilings were lifted with Gothic arches to about 20m (ya metric talk!), and the wall were all bright white. There were 2 side corridors, which were separated by support columns, roughly 4m in diameter. The nave was around 12m wide, and along both the corridors and the nave were artifacts that were stored in the church since inception, among them dishes from the King (name?), Statues of the Virgin Mary, St. Peter, and Augustine. The self-guided tour ended behind the nave, on an alcove high above the general seating where the choir would sing. The picture painted was amazing.
After a few good pictures, we decided that with a couple hours to kill, we would grab some of the local fare, and relax in a gazebo that we had noticed on the way it. The restaurant was littered with some of the locals, chatting and laughing as the enjoyed their meals. It was around 75 degrees, and there was a nice breeze flowing through the benches as we sat down. I ordered what Bobby did, sausage with bread. I know, I make it sounds bland, but with the 2 mustard garnish, the horseradish and the tomato salad, everything was above par. Of course, Becki and I were eating sandwiches for practically every meal up until this point. Becki got a chicken breast, and from the look of it, they tenderized it a little before breading it; served with fries this added just enough filling for her and I.
Now to the beer- no where else is beer drank so often, by the young and old, male or female, priest or nun. The reason? The beer is 17-20 koruna. The sprites, cokes and root beer? 35-40 koruna. I'll let you do the math, but it's safe to say only water and beer were had for most of the Prague trip, and for most of the rest of Europe.
The train home is quiet, after walking almost 2 miles (there and back), and our fair share of beer, a nap on the train is in order- Becki and I still have some sight seeing to do.
We part ways from the station, Bobby reminds us of a dinner place he likes to go to, and we agree in principle. I lied when it was just sandwiches- earlier yesterday we had bought some tomatoes, pesto, and mozzarella and were making "ghetto gherita" or "street caprese" as we liked to call it. Quite amazing, I might add.
Becki and I strike downtown, catching glimpses of just about everything old town has to offer, cross Charles Bridge and head to Prague Castle.
The castle was in an area that included the Schwarz Palace, government building, and believe me when I tell you that attacking this would be one hell of a feat. Aside from the 100m elevation difference in ascension, the wall of the castle looked about 2m thick. Stupid. We observe the "changing of the guard", and move inside.
A small town lies within, complete with narrow streets, tapestries, and midget sized doors. Aside from the guards, and assault on Prague might find you face to face with Hobbits. I'm not kidding, the doors were shorter than Becki, check the picture again. It was beautiful, abundant with panoramic views of the entire city, souvenir shops and art pieces. Of note, a large skull consuming a man made of brass. Quite engaging, but we move on.
At this point it becomes clear we cannot see some of the synagogues that made Prague so famous, and in honor of my heritage, and the fact Becki needs more gifts, we elect to stay another night- remember, we're paying $10/person in this place, and there's 1 dollar beers- who wouldn't?
Once home, Bobby reminds us of our engagement, and we head out again, to a restaurant called, "Zlatako Vadlina". Suspicious, but with clear hearts and empty stomachs, we unleash ourselves on the underground restaurant. And it's legit. Rustic paintings adorn the walls, accented with old ship pieces and dusty bottles of American liquor. We check the menu; Becki orders what appears to be a fettuccine Florentine with salmon, and Bobby and I order ribs. For 130 koruna, you can't go wrong with a half-rack of ribs. No half rack here. Believe me when I say this was a whole rack. Being the man that I am, both mannish and cheap, I made to finish every last one. Our bill with 6 beers, 2 Jameson on the rocks, and our meals was 550 koruna. Again do the math, and do it well- it was the single greatest meal I have had; Every. Thank you, bowling alley. Note: there was an actual bowling alley upstairs.
Good night!
Prague day 2
As of now, the link to the slideshow isn't working, so just use the direct link :)
Sam and Becki
The fucking birds were chirping.
In fact, the birds were chirping so loud that I woke because of them, but the former statement kept me awake. Bones! Chapel! Stuff! I couldn't sit still. Becki noticed, and acted like she didn't, but like Ronald Reagan as governor, the damage was already done. I jumped at the thought of religion and mortality, and threw on my shorts. It was time to jog, hell I was the man himself Clark Kent. I jogged along what could have been a river bank, but frankly, with our hostel in the industrial side of town, the park area wasn't what we would like to call "well-groomed". Not to be picky, just that the bank itself was about 300 yards, and was littered with bumpers and old milk cartons. Oh well, got my point across. I was American and about to be obnoxiously excited.
I returned to find Becki asleep- and Bobby gone. No! My dreams! Melting away like the Wicked Witch! I can't let this go, I need bones! I wake Becki, scared and distraught. What are we gonna do?!? He alone knew the site of the sacred sacrilege! All is lost!
Then Bobby came in.
After the shower it was on like Donkey Kong. Yeah I said it, I hope you get the point. We eat breakfast and hop on the tram to the train station. Upon arrival, we immediately stock up on beer. The trip is about to be an hour, and I need to calm down. Beers abroad, team is ready to go. Becki is getting there, and Bobby is still his calm self. "Heeeeeeeey man" and all that shit. It's not cutting it. My expectations unmet, I resort to drinking. I'm good at it. After a couple beers and some light conversation, Kutna Hora comes up as a stop- we're here. Or there.
A 10 minute walk pits us in front of a small chapel in the center of a walled cemetary. In front of the cemetary is a small spire, and on the directional (NSEW) corners are statues of priests, and their faces are of shame, lies, and apathy. I don't know who hung above them, but regardless, the point was made. The figure in the middle was hung for reasons not condoned by some of the members, yet the Church was most likely responsible. We snap a few photos, move into the cemetary, and continue our documentation of the unknown, or rather, undead.
The chapel entrance is adorned with a small bone decoration: let me be clear, imagine using legos to create, I don't know, a building. Or a ship, an interplantary ship. With large thrusters; point being that much detail is paid to ensure that the replication is almost indistinguishable from the original. Now imagine the legos are bones. I'm not fucking joking.
We step inside, and pay our nominal fee. Charge more, my good man, you deserve it. Along the right side, following the steps down is the author or designer's initials, spelled out in bone. Good start. From there, it was strictly no stops. There was a large chandelier, a coat of arms, and 3 pyramid structures, all perfectly placed, all designed and fitted out of bone. You can't make this shit up- shit I can't make this up. It was creepy, not to mention- imagine- a handout telling the creepiest tale of how it all went down, from a plague to a sacking- still a funny word-, to the creation and continued works in progress that was the chapel. It really just made the whole experience. Throw in some poorly translated Czech words and god dammit, we were all satisfied with ourselves upon exit.
A quick cappuccino and we were on our way to the latter half of our admission, the Cathedral of the Assumption of the Virgin Mary- not only a mouthful, but a beautiful representation of the artists of the time, and also, I have to say it, the wealth of the Church at that time. The ceilings were lifted with Gothic arches to about 20m (ya metric talk!), and the wall were all bright white. There were 2 side corridors, which were separated by support columns, roughly 4m in diameter. The nave was around 12m wide, and along both the corridors and the nave were artifacts that were stored in the church since inception, among them dishes from the King (name?), Statues of the Virgin Mary, St. Peter, and Augustine. The self-guided tour ended behind the nave, on an alcove high above the general seating where the choir would sing. The picture painted was amazing.
After a few good pictures, we decided that with a couple hours to kill, we would grab some of the local fare, and relax in a gazebo that we had noticed on the way it. The restaurant was littered with some of the locals, chatting and laughing as the enjoyed their meals. It was around 75 degrees, and there was a nice breeze flowing through the benches as we sat down. I ordered what Bobby did, sausage with bread. I know, I make it sounds bland, but with the 2 mustard garnish, the horseradish and the tomato salad, everything was above par. Of course, Becki and I were eating sandwiches for practically every meal up until this point. Becki got a chicken breast, and from the look of it, they tenderized it a little before breading it; served with fries this added just enough filling for her and I.
Now to the beer- no where else is beer drank so often, by the young and old, male or female, priest or nun. The reason? The beer is 17-20 koruna. The sprites, cokes and root beer? 35-40 koruna. I'll let you do the math, but it's safe to say only water and beer were had for most of the Prague trip, and for most of the rest of Europe.
The train home is quiet, after walking almost 2 miles (there and back), and our fair share of beer, a nap on the train is in order- Becki and I still have some sight seeing to do.
We part ways from the station, Bobby reminds us of a dinner place he likes to go to, and we agree in principle. I lied when it was just sandwiches- earlier yesterday we had bought some tomatoes, pesto, and mozzarella and were making "ghetto gherita" or "street caprese" as we liked to call it. Quite amazing, I might add.
Becki and I strike downtown, catching glimpses of just about everything old town has to offer, cross Charles Bridge and head to Prague Castle.
The castle was in an area that included the Schwarz Palace, government building, and believe me when I tell you that attacking this would be one hell of a feat. Aside from the 100m elevation difference in ascension, the wall of the castle looked about 2m thick. Stupid. We observe the "changing of the guard", and move inside.
A small town lies within, complete with narrow streets, tapestries, and midget sized doors. Aside from the guards, and assault on Prague might find you face to face with Hobbits. I'm not kidding, the doors were shorter than Becki, check the picture again. It was beautiful, abundant with panoramic views of the entire city, souvenir shops and art pieces. Of note, a large skull consuming a man made of brass. Quite engaging, but we move on.
At this point it becomes clear we cannot see some of the synagogues that made Prague so famous, and in honor of my heritage, and the fact Becki needs more gifts, we elect to stay another night- remember, we're paying $10/person in this place, and there's 1 dollar beers- who wouldn't?
Once home, Bobby reminds us of our engagement, and we head out again, to a restaurant called, "Zlatako Vadlina". Suspicious, but with clear hearts and empty stomachs, we unleash ourselves on the underground restaurant. And it's legit. Rustic paintings adorn the walls, accented with old ship pieces and dusty bottles of American liquor. We check the menu; Becki orders what appears to be a fettuccine Florentine with salmon, and Bobby and I order ribs. For 130 koruna, you can't go wrong with a half-rack of ribs. No half rack here. Believe me when I say this was a whole rack. Being the man that I am, both mannish and cheap, I made to finish every last one. Our bill with 6 beers, 2 Jameson on the rocks, and our meals was 550 koruna. Again do the math, and do it well- it was the single greatest meal I have had; Every. Thank you, bowling alley. Note: there was an actual bowling alley upstairs.
Good night!
Prague day 2
As of now, the link to the slideshow isn't working, so just use the direct link :)
Sam and Becki
Monday, September 7, 2009
Prague Day #1, continued
When we arrive home that night, tired and confused, we finally have a flatmate and he's American, to our relief. Bobby hails from both San Francisco and Hawaii, a bi-product of 20 years of island fever and 7 years of traveling based out of San Francisco. He also spent a year in Arcata, so we connect. He tells us about the bar that he's gone to the past nights, and somehow convinces us to go there. I hate bars.
This place is some hippies LSD fueled artistic orgasm. It fuses metal with glass, but with a flare of mechanic's touch and too many scenes of Labyrinth. Maybe he had a thing for chicks that look lost... I digress. The walls are decorated with gears and pipes, chains and levers, destroyed and recreated in the twisted vision of the designer's pleasure. The halls go two places and then dead end. There are stairs that lead to platforms that pinnacle only to begin another descent or ascent into the unknown. I will tell you the exact words that came out of my mouth- "this place would be a nightmare when you're drunk". Becki looked at me and we had a real good laugh at that. I was on my best behavior from there on. After a couple of beers we took our place on walkways that lined each of the 3 lounge rooms scattered on the 1st floor. The walkways were more like rafters, but the low seating allowed for headroom, although I noticed Bobby stooping as we conversed about our love for the artist's work. After a few beers, and maybe some trance music, we head back to the hostel finally to lay our heads down. As we walk, Bobby divulges his plans for the next day. It involves a train to a bone chapel. Without question, we excitedly agree... here we go!
Cheers,
Sam and Becki
Prague Day/Night 1
Prague:
Well, in case you thought the funny mishaps would end, you were wrong. From Frankfurt, we flew in Prague, but we had a very late flight. Note to all, check your hostel reception desk hours, many are all/late night. Ours was 24 hour, crisis averted.
At this point, after a 5 hour layover in the airport, between the sudoku, reading, and preparation for the trip (and a lot of beef jerky), we were pretty tired. Again I must ask as a fellow plane rider, please don’t eat beef jerky before flights. I would know, I was that guy.
We leave the plane for our first true test of non-English speaking direction. I must admit, it was a little disorientating, not to mention my flight was interrupted by snoring and a little bit of crying from 2 seats away. I think Becki brings bad luck to flights… more on this later.
After going through customs (which, at this point we haven’t seen through 3 straight airports) we find our bags. I grab mine, and Becki’s as well. Our bags are pretty heavy: Becki has mostly clothes, while I carry the toiletries, books. I think it’s important to know we each have a bottle of alcohol hidden in the bags; I carry Crown Royal and Becki carries Smirnoff. Get ready for fun.
We haven’t exactly figured out when the last bus leaves the airport, so we have many things to do in a short period of time.
1. Find the bus schedule.
2. Change many into Czech money (Korunas)
3. Becki and the bathroom, which at this point, is almost comedic. Water runs through her faster than that crappy movie with River Phoneix. Look it up.
Becki shoulders her bag, realizes fact #3, and drops it hard to the ground. If you just said “oh no” by mouthing it, thinking it, or saying it- than oh yes. We hear a small snap noise. “What was that?” Me. “What was what?” Her. “I don’t know., never mind, thought I heard something”. Me, and I chalked it up to tired nerves and sensory strain. She looks at the bottom. “There’s water coming out of the bag” she says with a more confused than frustrated look on her face. I mimic the body language, and say “think about what you just said.” And then I quickly unzip the bottom of the bag, begin pulling shards of the vodka bottle out from the cold weather clothing Becki has brought, and retort, “just go to the bathroom.”
In retrospect, I could have been nicer, but frankly, with time on the other team and vodka everywhere, I speed through a mental commendation for handling the situation the way I did as I wring her Smirnoff scarf over a trash can. Our sleeping bag is soaked, luckily a hostel awaits for 3 days. Becki returns with a look of remorse; smiles are exchanged and we race to change money. I would at this point like to thank Let’s Go… Europe for baby-stepping everything needed to transport yourself everywhere that you would like to go on god’s green Earth.
I would also like to point out that public transportation in Prague looks like a bully punching a stroller-bound infant (America) in the face after a candy theft. The American public transportation system is so fucking expensive, poorly planned, and horribly scheduled it’s no wonder it faces budget cut after budget cut due to inactivity.
Our bus ride, subsequent rail rides and transfer to a tram cost us $1 from the airport, which is located the same distance as Sac International Airport to downtown Sac, and in about 20 minutes. Relieving.
We arrive, grab a beer at the hostel bar, and pass out.
Well, in case you thought the funny mishaps would end, you were wrong. From Frankfurt, we flew in Prague, but we had a very late flight. Note to all, check your hostel reception desk hours, many are all/late night. Ours was 24 hour, crisis averted.
At this point, after a 5 hour layover in the airport, between the sudoku, reading, and preparation for the trip (and a lot of beef jerky), we were pretty tired. Again I must ask as a fellow plane rider, please don’t eat beef jerky before flights. I would know, I was that guy.
We leave the plane for our first true test of non-English speaking direction. I must admit, it was a little disorientating, not to mention my flight was interrupted by snoring and a little bit of crying from 2 seats away. I think Becki brings bad luck to flights… more on this later.
After going through customs (which, at this point we haven’t seen through 3 straight airports) we find our bags. I grab mine, and Becki’s as well. Our bags are pretty heavy: Becki has mostly clothes, while I carry the toiletries, books. I think it’s important to know we each have a bottle of alcohol hidden in the bags; I carry Crown Royal and Becki carries Smirnoff. Get ready for fun.
We haven’t exactly figured out when the last bus leaves the airport, so we have many things to do in a short period of time.
1. Find the bus schedule.
2. Change many into Czech money (Korunas)
3. Becki and the bathroom, which at this point, is almost comedic. Water runs through her faster than that crappy movie with River Phoneix. Look it up.
Becki shoulders her bag, realizes fact #3, and drops it hard to the ground. If you just said “oh no” by mouthing it, thinking it, or saying it- than oh yes. We hear a small snap noise. “What was that?” Me. “What was what?” Her. “I don’t know., never mind, thought I heard something”. Me, and I chalked it up to tired nerves and sensory strain. She looks at the bottom. “There’s water coming out of the bag” she says with a more confused than frustrated look on her face. I mimic the body language, and say “think about what you just said.” And then I quickly unzip the bottom of the bag, begin pulling shards of the vodka bottle out from the cold weather clothing Becki has brought, and retort, “just go to the bathroom.”
In retrospect, I could have been nicer, but frankly, with time on the other team and vodka everywhere, I speed through a mental commendation for handling the situation the way I did as I wring her Smirnoff scarf over a trash can. Our sleeping bag is soaked, luckily a hostel awaits for 3 days. Becki returns with a look of remorse; smiles are exchanged and we race to change money. I would at this point like to thank Let’s Go… Europe for baby-stepping everything needed to transport yourself everywhere that you would like to go on god’s green Earth.
I would also like to point out that public transportation in Prague looks like a bully punching a stroller-bound infant (America) in the face after a candy theft. The American public transportation system is so fucking expensive, poorly planned, and horribly scheduled it’s no wonder it faces budget cut after budget cut due to inactivity.
Our bus ride, subsequent rail rides and transfer to a tram cost us $1 from the airport, which is located the same distance as Sac International Airport to downtown Sac, and in about 20 minutes. Relieving.
We arrive, grab a beer at the hostel bar, and pass out.
Saturday, September 5, 2009
England... Transit... Prague
SOOO... RyanAir, shoddy service, amazing prices. If you can deal with long lines, and seat yourself, everything is fine. The flight from Frankfurt to Prague was 0e, making it 20e total (checked bags are 10e), or $34 US for both of us. That's absolutely ridiculous. Not to mention, the "shoddy service" we had heard about, was par, almost above par to Southwest. They don't provide you with drinks on board. God forbid on an hour flight across 3 countries you don't have water. Moving on...
England-
We arrive in London Standsted airport, a little tired, but nonetheless excited. After an hour bus ride to London central, we came on Baker St, about 10 blocks north of central London. At this point we just want to get to the hostel, but Becki has other plans. Actually she had no plans- she completely forgot the name, location and phone number of the hostel. If you know Becki, this actually wasn't a surprise. However, after quite a bit of walking, and a little quite time between her and I, we arrived at our destination, The Green Man. Which was located above a bar... go on...
Paddington is essentially the Islamic part of London, about 8 blocks north of Hyde park. The good news is there are tons of money exchange places. The bad news is that we, in our haste, changed a few euros into pounds at the airport to buy tickets for the bus to London. And here's the story.
1. The bus tickets could be paid for with a credit card.
2. The money exchange place sold us a map of London for 2e, not bad considering most maps were 4e or more. This also combined with a free commission the next time we exchanged money, was a great deal. Exchange places in airports and public transit areas are terrible. Write that down.
3. We lost the map, and our free commission.
This began a series of events, that, even after traveling through the luxurious parts of London, the intricate park system linking Hyde, Kensington, and Buckingham Gardens (including the Palace), we came to realize that London really wasn't that great. The bars, restaurants were okay, but considering Becki and I
a. Don't like mayonnaise
b. Don't like boutique shopping
c. Don't like to not drink water (believe me, it's true. No one drinks it)
We realized that 2 days was just perfect for us, and considering that
i. we arrived late, and exhausted, spent the 1st day drinking and sleeping at the bar/hostel
ii. we saw most of London in one day
iii. we were dehydrated (see article c)
Although, I must admit- the barkeep had to clear the lines out to clean them in the morning, so we, along with some newly made friends, finished about 8 beers in 15 minutes, while discussing the finer things about not living in London.
We were just as happy to leave.
PS... Meg we found you some Canadians.
Monday came soon enough, and we were off to Frankfurt for a layover until Prague.
And that was quite uneventful, might I add. But I will tell you this... arriving in Prague, it's amazing... stay tuned.
But I will tell you this... arriving in Prague, it's amazing... stay tuned.
England-
We arrive in London Standsted airport, a little tired, but nonetheless excited. After an hour bus ride to London central, we came on Baker St, about 10 blocks north of central London. At this point we just want to get to the hostel, but Becki has other plans. Actually she had no plans- she completely forgot the name, location and phone number of the hostel. If you know Becki, this actually wasn't a surprise. However, after quite a bit of walking, and a little quite time between her and I, we arrived at our destination, The Green Man. Which was located above a bar... go on...
Paddington is essentially the Islamic part of London, about 8 blocks north of Hyde park. The good news is there are tons of money exchange places. The bad news is that we, in our haste, changed a few euros into pounds at the airport to buy tickets for the bus to London. And here's the story.
1. The bus tickets could be paid for with a credit card.
2. The money exchange place sold us a map of London for 2e, not bad considering most maps were 4e or more. This also combined with a free commission the next time we exchanged money, was a great deal. Exchange places in airports and public transit areas are terrible. Write that down.
3. We lost the map, and our free commission.
This began a series of events, that, even after traveling through the luxurious parts of London, the intricate park system linking Hyde, Kensington, and Buckingham Gardens (including the Palace), we came to realize that London really wasn't that great. The bars, restaurants were okay, but considering Becki and I
a. Don't like mayonnaise
b. Don't like boutique shopping
c. Don't like to not drink water (believe me, it's true. No one drinks it)
We realized that 2 days was just perfect for us, and considering that
i. we arrived late, and exhausted, spent the 1st day drinking and sleeping at the bar/hostel
ii. we saw most of London in one day
iii. we were dehydrated (see article c)
Although, I must admit- the barkeep had to clear the lines out to clean them in the morning, so we, along with some newly made friends, finished about 8 beers in 15 minutes, while discussing the finer things about not living in London.
We were just as happy to leave.
PS... Meg we found you some Canadians.
Monday came soon enough, and we were off to Frankfurt for a layover until Prague.
And that was quite uneventful, might I add. But I will tell you this... arriving in Prague, it's amazing... stay tuned.But I will tell you this... arriving in Prague, it's amazing... stay tuned.
Thursday, September 3, 2009
9/2/09... Dublin
Fresh from a nap and ready to rock, we went to the only other brewery other than Guinness located in Dublin, Porterhouse. They had a live cover band, which played everything from Bob Marley to Pink Floyd, stopping on Tom Petty and Aerosmith. Right at home. The atmosphere was cool, but as we quickly learned, the big 3 cities (Dublin, Paris, and London) are quite keen on squeezing that dollar out of us. Not this Jew. I managed to score a free sample and a pint of Hersburcker for 5 euro after boasting that California's plethora of micro-brewing was far superior to any of Europe's attempts. Success! After a pint, Becki and I decided that we would turn in. McDonald's runs 24 hours, that's how that story ended.
-Thursday-
I awoke excited as shit. Today we would go to Guinness! And recoup all of the forgotten/lost items of our lives! Early was not in Becki's cards, and after losing her breakfast and lunch, she caught up on some much needed sleep. I couldn't wait, I went downstairs, planned out a couple stops on the search for a new phone charger (the converter fried mine) and a new camera charger for Bex. It's common knowledge in America that Kodak is known for its film making, yet somehow, their cameras find their way into the hands of innocents trying to save a buck. This couldn't be more apparent in Dublin. Only one licensed dealer. The first camera shop experience ended quite good- the assistant gave us the streets and names of the other shops in Dublin, but giggled as we mentioned Kodiak. When you're the butt end of an industry inside joke, things seem bleak.
Our first stop was St. Stephen's Green- let me stop here. If you have never been to Europe, continue reading. The prevalence of gardens and parks seamlessly blended into the intertwined streets, alleys, and paths throughout Dublin, is breathtaking. You may find yourself in what could have the makings of a slum from New York and come upon what looks like a Garden of Eden. And the word, "park", is but merely an under-appreciated compliment. These parks are so well designed, maintained, and choreographed, you feel as though you are walking amongst aristocrats discussing who has better cheese whiz- it's both daunting and humbling. Abundantly alive arrangements of poppys, rhododendrons, and chrysanthemums add contrast and vibrancy; cement and stone exemplify the necessity of remembrance that has succeeded without question. We leave the park in search of many new things- ha! I kid, just the stupid camera and phone charger. On the next street east of the park, we discover a cellphone store, and after much confusion over the differences in European model names for American phones, I exit victorious! Now to tackle the Kodakism in Dublin. After arriving at what appeared to be another shoddy camera shack (not bitter), the cashier offers to charge the phone for 10e- which, in part desperation and part shame, we accept. 2 hours to kill before that finishes. Off to a coffee shop. Along the way, we stop into a quaint little church, which to my amazement, could be on the list of reasons why I should be Catholic. The stained glass portrayals of the betrayal and crucifixion of Christ, the story of Peter, and portraits of Mary were beautifully restored and well paired with the ivory tones of the churches' Gothic archways and Roman columns.
Alas, sans camera, it will only be recorded to memory. Beautiful.
After retrieving the camera, we head to the Christ Church Cathedral located in the center of town- wow. My words can barely serve justice, so I hope you get a chance to see the pictures. There was a crypt with buried gifts from Kings around the world, a 4 story organ, and tombs that you didn't know existed outside of rumors. It seems I've become a little biased in my comparisons between America and Ireland, so let me clarify. Ireland has a lot of warmth, help. and beauty. Dublin still remains one of the last port cities in which the portways run through the city, lined with spectacular architecture, the infamous church designs, and beautiful gardens. But under a lot of beauty lies many issues, that if you are reading for the sights and sounds of Europe, again I ask you to move to the next paragraph. Dublin, for all it's beauty, is the shining light in Ireland. As of now, they (Ireland) are in one of the worst recessions, and are struggling mightily to balance the security of the EU with the power of indepedent work forces. A new bill, called "Lisbon", at a glance will add more jobs, but drop the minimum wage to an big time low-1.84e, which amounts to roughly $3.24 an hour- minus taxes. But yet there aren't any homeless save a beggar here and there, and the streets are meticulously clean. You wouldn't assume the disparity without the closer look. That being said, here are my complaints, enough of theirs. Ireland is an island, and with that comes a restricted diet due to tariffs, taxes, and the inability to have a large produce selection due to a 200 day rainy season. The oranges, apples, coffee, water, bread, and liquor selection suck. And suck bad.
So the dream of hungover mornings saved by delicious breakfasts quickly dissipated to much sadness. But I said liquor... not beer. And the selection sucks... but when you have Jamison and Bushmills, who needs anything else?
The Guinness brewery, for anyone who appreciates the art (yes, art!) of beer production is Eden. It is the largest privately owned piece of land in the city. In spans nearly 10 blocks (1 mile) and is on the southern side, but practically dead center in the city. Quick facts, not off the pamphlet- the initial lease was $340 and $45 a year for the land, and a DIRECT ACCESS to the main source of water for the city. That means before it goes to every home in the area, Guinness gets 1st stab at it. Did I mention they have a 9000 year lease? It's
encased in the front room of the brewery's lobby. Ridiculous. I don't care if you don't like Guinness, you have to respect the sheer brilliance of the business practices. The tour was self-guided (awesome), had great videos, and ended in a free pint at the Gravity Bar, Dublin's tallest accessible tower (the Spires in Phoenix Park and on O'Connell street are around the same height). The view and beer up there are breathtaking. Also, for you beer heads, the Guinness Foreign Export is not available in America, and it's fucking delicious-
too bad for you. As soon as we leave it rains hard for about 5 minutes, and clears to sunshine- all you Humboldt county readers, I swear to you, it's exactly like home. Seattle, it's like you plus actual sunshine.
We make it home, dry off, and cook some food.
Updates will become sparse; the hostel we were staying at lost internet for a day or two. On the note, the one we stayed in was around $15 a night per person, has a kitchen, tv, extra computers, and was a great resource. Thanks to Laura at Abbey Court!
Cheers.
Wednesday, September 2, 2009
Oh Europe...9/1/09
Well... as Joel, Becki's brother stated in the car ride to Pinole, anything that can go wrong, will go wrong. Fucking Joel, you cursed us. My apologies Barbara... I digress.
Before I get into Europe, and the flights here, let me break down the pregame.
We arrive @ 8 o'clock, and Joel and I are tired, cranky, and hungry. During the car ride, I realize that I left my scrumptious (talk shit!) German Chocolate squares in my car. Then, in a hurry to ensure that Dave didn't discover them a week later looking like moldy Chia Pets, I reached for my phone to text Brian.
I had canceled text message capability earlier that day.
Called Brian, one mistake down. Plus, we know that Ann loves German chocolate.
Later at Crista's house, I decide that like everything else Becki does, it wasn't good enough of a pack job. I didn't do a better re-pack (1 point Becki) but made some rather startling discoveries.
1. The cord that both connects her camera AND charges it with my computer was wrong, it was her phone charger. And of course, in the spirit of consumerism and market functionality, all camera chargers are not created equal. (Minus 1 point Becki)
2. We hadn't printed any boarding passes yet.
3. I forgot sunglasses and my razor.
In an attempt to solve #'s 1 & 2 in one fell swoop, while also sneaking food before a well-prepared but small meal Joel and I took off to find the Kinko's I saw on my google maps. After driving 15 minutes around Pinole, we realize that it's an exit down the 80. It's 8:49, and Kinko's closes at 9. We're those fucking guys, and trust me, the front desk guy gave me the look. Fuck him, I'll never see him again. I quickly put both my high school AIMing AND experienced time wasting to use, and before you know it, I have both the Delta and Ryan Air check-in sites up. I fill out both personal information areas for each of us, on each site.
Apparently you need to input the passport numbers to continue. The passports are at Crista's. Becki shut off her phone earlier that day. And I don't know Crista's phone #. It's 9:01. Cool.
I return to Crista's with a look of chagrin, and only a Big Carl to fill my belly. For the men reading this e-mail, yes, it is worth it. Get it. The meal followed- Crista and husband Jon are beginning a workout program for a body building contest so the salmon and green beans, although delicious, are merely a aperitif.
We finally get our lives in the bags, set aside our day clothes and ready for bed. I decide that I should look for the closest BART station. It's not close, minus 1 point Becki. Becki, by the way, started with a balance of 1000 points: I wouldn't have been able to leave my house the way I did, pack my bag, or have everything I have on this trip if it wasn't for her. She is the woman behind the scenes.
Becki, exhausted from cleaning my room and running errands all day, hits the sheets. I Pete Rose into bed around 12.
I wake in pure panic at 6:49. We are supposed to wake @ 6:50. Success, because although Becki told me to set my alarm the night before, I was too busy checking Fantasy Baseball stats.
We rush out of the house, I print boarding passes while Joel and Becki rush to KMART for a cable. I wait outside, frantically checking my cell phone, and finally, after a call to Joel, hop in the car.
In the mornings at KMART, they have 3 people working the counters. So Becki and Joel, after 15 minutes of waiting, desperately drag a attendant to the camera counter only to have the obvious revealed- what is in the case is the extent of their product line. And by this time, it is too late for breakfast stops. Have you seen Sam hungry? You don't want to see me hungry.
We race to the BART, hop on with a minute to spare, and finally take a deep breath. It's at this point that Becki, while searching through her wallet, drops jaw and pales in face- she's missing $100 in traveler's checks and $180 in cash. Try searching through a full backpack on the BART at 9AM. Chalk it up.
At this point, Murphy's Law is in full swing. Becki can't remember if she even packed shoes (she's in flip-flops), while checking bags they tell us our flight is overbooked, my iPod select button stops working, and we both haven't eaten. I want to call Joel about the checks, my mom about our departure, and check my fantasy sports. My phone is dying and my charger is in checked luggage. Before sitting down to eat I realize the initial portion of our trip is transferred in Atlanta. We're in the International Terminal.
After we eat breakfast, skip water and have hard drinks, our flight begins to board. While en route to seats, it becomes very clear that a family of 3 1/2 is sitting in front of us. 2 hours of headrest entertainment delay the inevitable: the oldest girl, about 4, stands up and starts yelling gibberish at Becki, who earlier realized that one of her earphones doesn't work. I ignore her looks of restrained child abuse and turn up the volume on James Taylor's, "Carolina In My Mind". 20 minutes from landing, it is required that you "turn off all electronics" before landing. At this point their infant child wakes, and becomes quickly self-aware. By the time we stand up to file out of the coffin-like cabin, he sounds less like a crying child and more less a donkey scorn. Becki wants to go postal. I leave her alone.
Good news? We arrive early. Bad news? Now there's a layover. We relax at a Nathan's, scarf down some burgers, observe some interesting culture changes in Atlanta's International Airport, and make our way to the gate. The 7 hour flight moves quickly- free movies ahoy, and you get to pick your own! Mid- flight meals were chicken with corn, with bread, salad, and a delicious brownie. Becki eats little and attempts to sleep. Cue Murphy.
Becki wakes complaining of a stomach ache, and after landing, but waiting to unload, she pukes into the bag the was covering the bottles of Crown Royal and Smirnoff I bought at the duty-free store in Atlanta. We leave the plane, and Becki looks like death.
Finally, we arrived here, at our hostel, 3 hours too early for check-in, tired, and Becki is looking like she is half-asleep. After wandering aimlessly, taking pictures before the camera died- I started typing. It's raining pretty hard, welcome to Dublin!
I'm rambling. Naptime. It's 2:15PM
Before I get into Europe, and the flights here, let me break down the pregame.
We arrive @ 8 o'clock, and Joel and I are tired, cranky, and hungry. During the car ride, I realize that I left my scrumptious (talk shit!) German Chocolate squares in my car. Then, in a hurry to ensure that Dave didn't discover them a week later looking like moldy Chia Pets, I reached for my phone to text Brian.
I had canceled text message capability earlier that day.
Called Brian, one mistake down. Plus, we know that Ann loves German chocolate.
Later at Crista's house, I decide that like everything else Becki does, it wasn't good enough of a pack job. I didn't do a better re-pack (1 point Becki) but made some rather startling discoveries.
1. The cord that both connects her camera AND charges it with my computer was wrong, it was her phone charger. And of course, in the spirit of consumerism and market functionality, all camera chargers are not created equal. (Minus 1 point Becki)
2. We hadn't printed any boarding passes yet.
3. I forgot sunglasses and my razor.
In an attempt to solve #'s 1 & 2 in one fell swoop, while also sneaking food before a well-prepared but small meal Joel and I took off to find the Kinko's I saw on my google maps. After driving 15 minutes around Pinole, we realize that it's an exit down the 80. It's 8:49, and Kinko's closes at 9. We're those fucking guys, and trust me, the front desk guy gave me the look. Fuck him, I'll never see him again. I quickly put both my high school AIMing AND experienced time wasting to use, and before you know it, I have both the Delta and Ryan Air check-in sites up. I fill out both personal information areas for each of us, on each site.
Apparently you need to input the passport numbers to continue. The passports are at Crista's. Becki shut off her phone earlier that day. And I don't know Crista's phone #. It's 9:01. Cool.
I return to Crista's with a look of chagrin, and only a Big Carl to fill my belly. For the men reading this e-mail, yes, it is worth it. Get it. The meal followed- Crista and husband Jon are beginning a workout program for a body building contest so the salmon and green beans, although delicious, are merely a aperitif.
We finally get our lives in the bags, set aside our day clothes and ready for bed. I decide that I should look for the closest BART station. It's not close, minus 1 point Becki. Becki, by the way, started with a balance of 1000 points: I wouldn't have been able to leave my house the way I did, pack my bag, or have everything I have on this trip if it wasn't for her. She is the woman behind the scenes.
Becki, exhausted from cleaning my room and running errands all day, hits the sheets. I Pete Rose into bed around 12.
I wake in pure panic at 6:49. We are supposed to wake @ 6:50. Success, because although Becki told me to set my alarm the night before, I was too busy checking Fantasy Baseball stats.
We rush out of the house, I print boarding passes while Joel and Becki rush to KMART for a cable. I wait outside, frantically checking my cell phone, and finally, after a call to Joel, hop in the car.
In the mornings at KMART, they have 3 people working the counters. So Becki and Joel, after 15 minutes of waiting, desperately drag a attendant to the camera counter only to have the obvious revealed- what is in the case is the extent of their product line. And by this time, it is too late for breakfast stops. Have you seen Sam hungry? You don't want to see me hungry.
We race to the BART, hop on with a minute to spare, and finally take a deep breath. It's at this point that Becki, while searching through her wallet, drops jaw and pales in face- she's missing $100 in traveler's checks and $180 in cash. Try searching through a full backpack on the BART at 9AM. Chalk it up.
At this point, Murphy's Law is in full swing. Becki can't remember if she even packed shoes (she's in flip-flops), while checking bags they tell us our flight is overbooked, my iPod select button stops working, and we both haven't eaten. I want to call Joel about the checks, my mom about our departure, and check my fantasy sports. My phone is dying and my charger is in checked luggage. Before sitting down to eat I realize the initial portion of our trip is transferred in Atlanta. We're in the International Terminal.
After we eat breakfast, skip water and have hard drinks, our flight begins to board. While en route to seats, it becomes very clear that a family of 3 1/2 is sitting in front of us. 2 hours of headrest entertainment delay the inevitable: the oldest girl, about 4, stands up and starts yelling gibberish at Becki, who earlier realized that one of her earphones doesn't work. I ignore her looks of restrained child abuse and turn up the volume on James Taylor's, "Carolina In My Mind". 20 minutes from landing, it is required that you "turn off all electronics" before landing. At this point their infant child wakes, and becomes quickly self-aware. By the time we stand up to file out of the coffin-like cabin, he sounds less like a crying child and more less a donkey scorn. Becki wants to go postal. I leave her alone.
Good news? We arrive early. Bad news? Now there's a layover. We relax at a Nathan's, scarf down some burgers, observe some interesting culture changes in Atlanta's International Airport, and make our way to the gate. The 7 hour flight moves quickly- free movies ahoy, and you get to pick your own! Mid- flight meals were chicken with corn, with bread, salad, and a delicious brownie. Becki eats little and attempts to sleep. Cue Murphy.
Becki wakes complaining of a stomach ache, and after landing, but waiting to unload, she pukes into the bag the was covering the bottles of Crown Royal and Smirnoff I bought at the duty-free store in Atlanta. We leave the plane, and Becki looks like death.
Finally, we arrived here, at our hostel, 3 hours too early for check-in, tired, and Becki is looking like she is half-asleep. After wandering aimlessly, taking pictures before the camera died- I started typing. It's raining pretty hard, welcome to Dublin!
I'm rambling. Naptime. It's 2:15PM
Subscribe to:
Comments (Atom)
