The Sisty-Ugler Wild West Adventure!
My sister, Regan, and I have been driving across country- mostly on Route 66 enjoying several attractions along the way, including the Blue Whale of Catoosa, Oklahoma and the Meteor Crater in Arizona, among other things. A much more full and complete story will come eventually, but I just had to log on and say how much fun I'm having and how great it is to be here, back in the good old US of A. And what better way to reaclimate myself to the States than to take America's Main Street down to the Grand Canyon (our next destination)?
Fully enjoying myself.
Check out our pics thus far at:
http://picasaweb.google.com/azile29/SUWWA?authkey=Gv1sRgCPHLseeY7NiZ1wE&feat=directlink
dimanche 24 mai 2009
mardi 12 mai 2009
MORE PICTURES!! Vienna! :D
http://picasaweb.google.com/azile29/Vienna?authkey=Gv1sRgCNuo9fi3wZiHGw&feat=directlink
Again... there are lots :)
Again... there are lots :)
New Pictures!!! :D Venice
It will take a while since I took SO MANY PICTURES!!!! But here is your first batch. The pictures from Venice :)
Love and Hugs!
http://picasaweb.google.com/azile29/Venice?authkey=Gv1sRgCOiLqtKX0tmvNA&feat=directlink
Love and Hugs!
http://picasaweb.google.com/azile29/Venice?authkey=Gv1sRgCOiLqtKX0tmvNA&feat=directlink
Prague (WARNING- VERY LONG!)
I rose for breakfast and quick packing up on Wednesday and made it to the train station with no problems. I even met a girl at the tram stop who would be taking my train. Eva was 20 and was studying near Vienna. She was Czech and was headed home for a short visit. We found our train and while I had a reserved seat she did not. Luckily, there was no one next to me so I had found, yet again, a great traveling companion. Eva and I chatted, she was excited to practice her English. She said that living in Austria her German was getting better but her English was failing. We had discussions about the way school systems are in America, France and the Czech Republic and about the restrictions or opportunities those systems provide for the students of those nations. We talked about random vocabulary she had struggled with- such as the difference between ‘countryside’ and ‘landscape’. It was so easy to fall back into the simple language and the easy flow of my teacher-y lifestyle back in Lyon. Eva wasn’t headed all the way to Prague though and soon enough she left the train. I used the rest of the travel time to do a little school work but mostly to catch up on my sleep.
I arrived in Prague and went straight to the big sign saying INFORMATION. I realized that, once again, all I had to find my hostel was an address, no map, no directions. I bought a cheap map and asked the nice man there to circle the address of my hostel on my map. He did so and I headed off to find my way around yet another fantastic city. It wasn’t difficult! Despite the fact that I couldn’t pronounce any of the names I was seeing and the roads wound and curved in the typical European city style, the streets were clearly marked and it was actually pretty simple.
I got checked in, by this point it was evening. I had a quiz I needed to take for my psych class and I couldn’t get my computer to pick up the wifi for some reason so I headed out to a nearby internet café called Bohemia Bagels. I ate a tasty bagel sandwich for dinner and took my quiz, then headed back to the hostel. Two young ladies at the bagel place told me about a bar crawl they were doing that night and how I should come on it. But the club they planned to go to was outside the city and between the scary idea of going out alone on a bar crawl and the even scarier idea of having to take a taxi back to the hostel by myself I declined.
Day 2:
Marine would be joining me in Prague (YAY for a travel companion!!) but her bus wouldn’t arrive until 2:45. I had the whole morning to do something fun. I knew we planned to take a walking tour, so I wanted to avoid what wouldn’t be covered on that. I got advice from the girl at the reception desk and took off for Vysehard.
This place was beautiful!! The old southern fortress to the city lies here along with a couple very old churches. St. Martin’s church is a circular church- unique and beautiful from the outside. (Sadly, you can’t go inside.) The views of the city are lovely and the grand Cathedral is impressive. While exploring I discovered a wall, thick as they were in that time they provide the perfect resting place. From this wall I looked down into the “summer theatre” and imagined how perfect it would be to sit there in the warmth of summer with a light breeze coming off the river below, watching theatre or dance or listening to concerts in this small but luxurious open space. Here is what I wrote while sitting on that wall (I have a journal I carry with me in my purse for just such times):
“The 7th I think… Thursday in Prague:
I’m sitting on the old ramparts near the south part of the city… the Vysehard, looking down on the “summer theatre” and the river and the sprawling city. A train goes by and I’m reminded of my dad’s old train sets from my childhood. I remember the sound the trains made and the way the little trees and towns looked. I feel like I’m in that world. The church bells ring. This isn’t real. This is a historical dreamland. Only if I look closely enough can I find modern day reality here. I chose not to look closely. I would rather eat my apple and enjoy the dream.”
I stopped for lunch at this little place on my way out of the Vysehard. I had a little bit of time before going to meet Marine. I wasn’t sure what exactly I wanted, nor what I was going to get, so I just kind of picked something and was lucky enough that it turned out to be really really good. A strange mixture of things, my lunch was 5 little spring-like rolls with chicken in them, 5 little Mexican burrito type rolls with beef in them, 5 little triangles of pita bread with a very light garlic butter spread on them, all surrounding a small pile of lettuce with a creamy dill dressing on it. I would never think to mix these things, but each was so individually good that it didn’t matter and somehow it worked. I think the most exciting was the baby burritos because I mix Mexican food SO MUCH!!! Just that little taste was like a baby slice of heaven in that moment.
It was nearing 2:10 so I paid for my meal and set out to cherche Marine. I got back to the station easily enough, but finding WHERE her bus would come in ended up being a pretty tricky exercise. Everyone I asked where the Eurolines busses were just shook their head to indicate their inability to understand English. And even those who understood English didn’t know the answer. There were no signs anywhere for major buses, only little local busses. I was circling the station when I saw a Eurolines bus and was like “HAHA!! Where are you going!?!?!” I literally ran and followed the bus until it pulled over and then I stood there, on the side of the road with no signs and prayed that Marine’s bus would descend at the same place. There were other local busses, but no other Eurolines. Sure enough, Marine’s bus did not descend (damn it… what is that word in English?!? You know… where the bus stops for the last time…) at the place where I was. Marine and I spent the next half an hour and far too much money to even think about walking in circles trying to find each other, calling to be like, “what street are you on? Are you near the McDonalds? Do you see a sign for McDonalds?” etc. Eventually I got her to stand still and I went and found her. Funnily enough, where we met up was super far away from where either of us started, which, even more fantastically, was only about 100 yards away from each other to begin with. Oh good times.
So yeah, then we went and dropped her stuff off at the hostel and went to meet up with this guy Nico and his friend for a drink. Back story: on my last night at Paddy’s I was saying goodbye to some of the regulars and one of them asked where I was going on vacation, because she knew I was vacationing before I was returning home. I told her and her friend Nico, who had been at the bar a couple of times, but wasn’t as much as a regular, asked when specifically I’d be in Prague. As it turned out, our times overlapped by 1 full day. Thursday. So we exchanged numbers and he said when I got in I should text him, which I did. We planned to grab a drink once Marine got into town.
Back to real time: So we met up by the statue in Old Town Square and then went off to a bar he knew called Le Chapeau Rouge. How fantastic that a French guy would take us to a French bar in Prague. We chatted and drank a beer- he sipped a teeny little shot of rum the whole time while the three ladies drank pints of beer. (I had a Stella… it’s the only one I knew.) Nico and his friend/collegue, whose name I now can’t remember, invited us to dinner that evening at this restaurant that served vegetarian food (Nico is a vegetarian because he can’t stand the thought of killing the animals) just off the square. We thought that’d be lovely, so we split up, them to pack their bags, Marine to take a nap since she barely slept on her 17 hour bus ride from Lyon and me to get some more school work done.
We all met back at the square around 8:45 and went to dinner. I was pleased to discover that the restaurant also did serve “ordinary” food… you know… food with meat. I ordered some sort of pork dish that I remember being really good, but I can’t recall all the funness of it in detail. At any rate, Nico and I drank red wine, Marine drank dark beer and Nico’s friend drank pepsi light. Our waiter was amusing and fun and almost right away offered us a 30% discount on our dinner- he and Nico had met up earlier in the week apparently and he was pleased that Nico had made it back. Plus we were the only people in the place. Our waiter started to drink with us and just kept refilling our drinks- the girl drinking the diet pepsi kept trying to say no, she didn’t want any more and we kept joking around about how drunk she was going to be- quite the life of the party.
In what was probably the strangest and most unexpected turn of events of the evening (well, at least up to that point) our waiter asked if anyone at the table wanted to buy some Pot. Marine and I were incredulous… seriously? Do things like this just happen here? Waiters just up and ask if you want some pot? Like it’s a desert or a café or something? Nico’s friend didn’t seem phased, apparently between Prague and Nico all week long she had gotten used to it. But the three ladies replied, “No thank you” and Nico went back to the bar to sort things out. Then he came back and rolled a joint right there on the table. Talk about education.
Nico and the server and the other two wait staff (all servicing only us as no one else was there and at this point they closed the terrace and locked the doors) all sat around drinking with us and smoking. They eventually brought us a bill but when we looked at it we were shocked! Certainly this was the most unexpected turn of events of the evening!! They gave us 70% off of our bill!! Which actually brought it down so much that then Nico, perhaps just because he was being nice or perhaps because he was drunk and high, offered to pay it all. We thanked him profusely and then the wait staff offered us another round of free drinks. Talk about amazing luck!
At the end of the night Marine and I left a nice tip on the table and then we all took a few pictures in the street and parted ways. Nico and his friend walked off towards their hotel, the wait staff toward some techno club and Marine and I toward our hostel a little mystified at the turn of events.
Day 3:
Marine and I had two plans for Friday: 1. go on a tour- there was supposedly an amazing free tour at 12:45 that the receptionist recommended and 2. go on a bar crawl- it was Prague after all.
After breakfast and all the morning routine we set off to explore the city a little until tour time. We grabbed a light lunch at this quaint little place that sat below the back end of a church near the Old Town Square. It was just pasta, but it was flavorful and inexpensive. We were looking for a few specific souvenirs so we went searching for those while waiting for 12:45 to roll around. Then we made for the Astronomical Clock to look for our tour guide. We stood there for a good 15 minutes or so and didn’t see anyone. We couldn’t figure out what happened but one thing was clear- there was no amazing “Alternative Free Tour” going on. We gave up on plan number 1 and took off to explore on our own.
Not having brought with me my file folder full of information on Prague, its history and the main attractions (because I thought I’d get all that from the tour guide) we didn’t really know where to go. But aimlessly wandering suited us well and we took pictures as we went. We paused to rest our feet and have a beer (yes, be surprised at the amount of beer I was drinking… one the day before around 5ish, one on Friday around 3:30 or so… oh, and there’s more to come!! But beer is the cheapest thing to drink in Prague, cheaper than wine or even coca cola. And when you mix it with lemonade and make a “Shandy” out of it, it’s really not too bad.) before crossing the famous Charles Bridge, where I spontaneously bought a super cute bracelet for myself.
We continued walking, wandering and taking pictures until we got too tired and too hungry. Then we headed back in the direction of the hostel to find some food and prepare for our evening out. We decided we wanted the experience of eating on square and the prices didn’t look that bad, so even though we knew we’d get a better deal if we went further out, we had gotten free dinner the night before, might as well eat well tonight.
I ordered this chicken with pear that came with two different dipping sauces: one a mango chutney and the other a blue cheese. It was SO GOOD!!! Both sauces were delicious but honestly the blue cheese was fantastic. And with the pear! YUM!
We became aware of the time and our need to clean up a little before hitting the bars so we paid and rushed back to the hostel, then literally ran back to the square to catch the pub crawl. There was apparently no need as I guess there is someone who actually picks up people from our hostel and joins the rest of the group just off the place… oops… that would have been good info. Oh well. We paid 12 Euro for what everyone kept telling us was the best pub crawl in Prague. We started at a bar called Molly’s with free beer (here I couldn’t ask for my Shandy and I just had to take what was free) and free shots of vodka and absinth. Marine was all over it, taking two vodka and one absinth shot and taking down 3 beers in our marvelously free Power Hour. I was a little more reserved, drinking 2 beers (which is still a lot for me) and taking one shot of vodka. I figured the absinth in Prague was part of the experience so I needed, at the very least, the picture… when the lady came around maybe the third time I was like, “ok but…” and she answered with “just a little one”- perfect. So it was probably about a 1/3 of a shot but hey, experience had, no damage done. (I had heard stories of what Absinth had done to people and I was not interested in blacking out or forgetting my evening.)
We left Molly’s and I was pleased that Marine and I were making friends with the group- two other girls, Lauren and Maggie were hanging with us for the most part, along with a couple of Italian guys, Stepheno and Fabrizio (perfect Italian names, right!?) who were just hilarious. The two Irish guys, James and Peter, an American guy named Patrick, a Canadian brother and sister, Cat and Leon, as well as an Aussie named Alan (who was staying at our hostel) all were in and out of our group throughout the night. A Portuguese guy named David joined in our group’s fun during the end of the evening.
The next bar was Harley’s, as in Harley Davidson and we were given free shots of something not too strong as we walked in the door. This was to be our most expensive bar of the night, so Marine and I, already joyeuse as she likes to put it, did not feel it was necessary to pay for more alcohol. They started playing some salsa music and since no one else knew how to salsa I pulled Marine away from her conversation with James the Irishman to dance with me. Soon after we left Harley’s for our third bar of the night.
We stopped in the street for another free shot- literally walking forward for our guides to pour flavored vodka into our open mouths. Then proceeded on to Le Chapeau Rouge, but instead of sitting up at the tables on the first floor, like Marine and I had the day before with Nico and his friend we all went downstairs to a dance floor. The music was more techno-y than I care for, but we were dancing and I was joyeuse so it was all good. Maggie and Lauren wanted another beer so Marine and I went with them and of course we each got one too. We were told at 1:15 we needed to be out in front of the bar to head to our last stop, some club we were getting free entrance to.
Our guide marked our wrists with some complicated symbol and we followed her to the club. We went two levels underground to this open dance floor. Maggie, Lauren, Marine, Alan, Cat, Leon, the two Italians and I all headed straight for the dance floor and there are some marvelous pictures of this good fun! Marine and I had had enough to drink and as we danced some of the group started getting tired. I think it was around 2:30 or so that the group consensus was to leave. Alan, Marine and I all made it back to our hostel, which, blissfully enough, was only about two blocks away, just around the corner. WONDERFUL!
In retrospect, this night was the perfect way to spend my last Friday night in Europe!
Day 4:
Our nightly activities were not going to keep me from enjoying what little time I had left in Prague. I forced Marine out of bed around 10 and soon enough we were out in the sunshine again. Miraculously enough, I was not hung over. I could not entirely say the same for Marine, but drugs and fresh air did help quite a bit. As did the ice cream we ate around lunch time. In fact, that was one of the greatest experiences… we bought these big cones of ice cream and just sat on one of the side streets and watched people walk by. It was relaxing and wonderful.
Around 2:00 we went to meet up with a different free tour. As it turned out, I had our hostel call the company and ask, the Alternative Free Tour was canceled, no longer running. But the NewEurope line of tours was supposed to also be pretty good, and again, free, so we grabbed their flyer and headed to meet up with them. The guy that ran our tour was GREAT! He was charismatic and engaging and he knew his stuff- listing off dates and history like no other! It was really impressive and it gave you a much better idea of what you were seeing and why it was important. My only regret is that we didn’t do it the day before. The thing is, he gave us some really cool info and told us some really cool stories, like this one about a man trying to steal from a church:
He wanted to steal this jewel encrusted gold crown that sat on the Virgin Mary’s head on one of the statues in the church. He snuck into the church at night and when he tried to steal the statue the legend says that the Virgin Mary’s statue came to life and took his ahold of his wrist and then froze again, not letting him go. When the priest came into the Church the following morning he was shocked to find the man trapped up behind the alter. The man explained the story, apologized profusely, promised never to steal again if only they would cut him free. The priests in the area gathered and discussed, they could not deface the statue, it was the Virgin after all. So instead they cut the man’s arm at his elbow. He was free to leave, but his forearm has been kept in the church to this day as a warning to those who try to steal from God.
I wanted to go in and see the arm, but we didn’t have time on the tour, we just heard the story from the outside of the church and then moved on. And since we did the tour on Saturday, I didn’t have a chance to go back.
He also took us to St. Wenceslaus Square and we saw the memorial and the statue from a distance, I would have liked to get up close, but there wasn’t time.
We finished the tour not far from the Castle and Marine and I knew it was something we had to go see. So we thanked and tipped our guide and proceeded to climb the hill towards the castle. The idea was to go into St. Vitus Church and to go to the Golden Way- the castle itself would probably just be another castle, but the view of the city was also supposed to be good from up there.
We wandered around in search of an ATM (because we were tired and thirsty and because no place in Prague seems to take credit cards) as we went and finally we succeeded and managed to sit and have a lovely view of some cool looking building we didn’t know what it was and didn’t have enough energy to check out up close. I had a coke and Marine had a beer and then we trudged onward. We found St. Vitus Cathedral and were disappointed to find it closed. Chances are even if we hadn’t stopped for refreshments it still would have been closed since we finished our tour around 5:15 or so, climbing the hill took a while, finding an ATM took even longer and the church closed at 6. Fail.
We walked on to find the Golden Way- which actually was very cool. We went into Kafka’s old house and took bunches of pictures of the colorful, picturesque little homes squished into this center of Prague’s power-center.
At the end of the day we were tired and hungry (I feel like this is becoming a theme) so we headed back towards food and hostel. We grabbed a hot dog… at least that’s what an American would call it, but it was much better than any hot dog, and ate that on the square listening to live music. There were bands there for a huge EU Marathon that would take place on Sunday. Apparently things had been going on all week… the only thing I had noticed was the stage they set up in the middle of Old Town Square and the random samba parade (that I took a fantastic video of that I will, of course, post).
We decided that with it being my last Saturday night in Europe and the last night of my vacation we should probably go sit at this one pub on the corner of the square that was offering 39Krown beer (that’s less than $2 for a pint) and have one to end it all. We sat there and chatted and then I had to ask Marine to pause so I could write this in my journal:
“We sat there as the sky changed, each blue more beautiful and captivating than the previous. Each time I glance to my right at the clock tower recalling this glorious moment, this outstanding opportunity reflecting back at me against the clear blue background with increasing depth and vigor.”
I’m not even sure those words can explain that picture, and since I’m not sure the picture came out on my camera, it might just be left in my mind for no one to share in… but truly, the blue was unbelievable until it became so dark that it was a midnight blue, almost black. And the whole time the tower stood against it, bright regardless of the fading light in the sky. (The Prague tourism office must know that shining light on the tower makes the tourists happy.)
Marine and I returned to the hostel and popped online to call our Mom’s and wish them Happy Mother’s Day. Shortly after we both hit they hay.
Day 5- Returning to Lyon:
I got up early, showered and ate breakfast, then packed up my things with Marine’s help and walked out the door, hugging Marine goodbye and wishing her one last fantastic day in Prague- her bus would leave on Monday.
I metroed and bussed it to the airport and got checked in without trouble. I grabbed a sandwich to toss in my bag for lunch. My flight was at noon and I only had 50 minutes connecting time in Brussels. If my plane got in too far from the where the other took off I’d have to book it and there’d be no time for a rumbly tummy.
As it happened, that wasn’t the case, the flight to Brussels was fine, nothing to report. And I got off one plane and was ecstatic to discover that the gate for my second was less than 50 meters away, just kiddy-corner to where I disembarked. I went and sat down and pulled out my knitting. After a short time an older woman came and sat down next to me. She was staring at my needles as I worked. I smiled at her, but her face remained focused on my needles. Eventually she began speaking to me in French, no question of whether I spoke it or not, just off she went. Our conversation began with her asking if I was knitting a sweater, “C’est un pull?” “No, no, c’est un shawl” “C’est un shawl!” and then she asked about my needles- saying that she’d never seen such needles in France. (I was knitting on circular needles that have a nice long cord.) I explained that they were perfect for this because the shawl was so wide at the base. We continued on like this, mostly talking about knitting and then somehow the conversation transitioned into more. Somehow, and truly I’m not entirely sure how we got there, we were talking about Faith and God and the difference between believes in America and believers in Europe. We were talking about how Faith is not something you can touch and how so many people want proof these days. We discussed how people the reasons why people go to church and the differences is between visiting your Friend and sharing a meal with Him verses feeling obliged to go to eat. This woman was someone who believed too. We chatted this way while people began boarding, when we finally got in line ourselves, through the corridor and all the way to our seats. She told me how happy it made her to speak with me, and that that is also part of what being croyant really means—what being a true believer and a true Catholic really is. We don’t give money to the poor because people are watching and we aren’t nice to each other because we want something in return. We just do and we just are. We just have random conversations about Faith with people so that in an area of the world where we struggle to find communities of Faith to give us the boost we need we can give each other that boost. This made me happy inside… I found a French practicing Catholic. I think… it restores my faith in the goodness of the French and of the ability to find Faith in France. After all, if there was one, there must be more!!
All the same, I’m happy that I’m coming home- home to that place even this old woman could describe- a place where Faith is something we believe in our hearts and souls without proof or physicality. A place where the mentality is there and we are prepared to serve others just because it’s what’s right. A place she was able to describe just based on the description provided to her from her own daughter. A place I miss and I place I call home. That’s where I’m coming- I’m coming home!
I just have to add… I knew I was back in “Franceland”- not France because technically Geneva is in Switzerland, but there are enough French people there that it practically counts… anyway… I knew I was back where the French were when, sitting on a bench waiting for my train to show up, a French person next to me blew smoke in my face. It’s not the spoken French that announces that I’m back in France, no, I heard French on my travels occasionally. It is the rudeness. I got all the way back to Lyon on a super crowded train where people stood in the isles and sat in the doorways because France oversells the train and then only provides 3 cars for what could have filled easily 5 or 6. I got on the metro and when I went to get off I was jostled because everyone had to be first and they pushed and didn’t care whose way they got in as long as you didn’t get in theirs. Oh the French. How glad I am that I will be home in just 4 short days, leaving you all in only 3.
I arrived in Prague and went straight to the big sign saying INFORMATION. I realized that, once again, all I had to find my hostel was an address, no map, no directions. I bought a cheap map and asked the nice man there to circle the address of my hostel on my map. He did so and I headed off to find my way around yet another fantastic city. It wasn’t difficult! Despite the fact that I couldn’t pronounce any of the names I was seeing and the roads wound and curved in the typical European city style, the streets were clearly marked and it was actually pretty simple.
I got checked in, by this point it was evening. I had a quiz I needed to take for my psych class and I couldn’t get my computer to pick up the wifi for some reason so I headed out to a nearby internet café called Bohemia Bagels. I ate a tasty bagel sandwich for dinner and took my quiz, then headed back to the hostel. Two young ladies at the bagel place told me about a bar crawl they were doing that night and how I should come on it. But the club they planned to go to was outside the city and between the scary idea of going out alone on a bar crawl and the even scarier idea of having to take a taxi back to the hostel by myself I declined.
Day 2:
Marine would be joining me in Prague (YAY for a travel companion!!) but her bus wouldn’t arrive until 2:45. I had the whole morning to do something fun. I knew we planned to take a walking tour, so I wanted to avoid what wouldn’t be covered on that. I got advice from the girl at the reception desk and took off for Vysehard.
This place was beautiful!! The old southern fortress to the city lies here along with a couple very old churches. St. Martin’s church is a circular church- unique and beautiful from the outside. (Sadly, you can’t go inside.) The views of the city are lovely and the grand Cathedral is impressive. While exploring I discovered a wall, thick as they were in that time they provide the perfect resting place. From this wall I looked down into the “summer theatre” and imagined how perfect it would be to sit there in the warmth of summer with a light breeze coming off the river below, watching theatre or dance or listening to concerts in this small but luxurious open space. Here is what I wrote while sitting on that wall (I have a journal I carry with me in my purse for just such times):
“The 7th I think… Thursday in Prague:
I’m sitting on the old ramparts near the south part of the city… the Vysehard, looking down on the “summer theatre” and the river and the sprawling city. A train goes by and I’m reminded of my dad’s old train sets from my childhood. I remember the sound the trains made and the way the little trees and towns looked. I feel like I’m in that world. The church bells ring. This isn’t real. This is a historical dreamland. Only if I look closely enough can I find modern day reality here. I chose not to look closely. I would rather eat my apple and enjoy the dream.”
I stopped for lunch at this little place on my way out of the Vysehard. I had a little bit of time before going to meet Marine. I wasn’t sure what exactly I wanted, nor what I was going to get, so I just kind of picked something and was lucky enough that it turned out to be really really good. A strange mixture of things, my lunch was 5 little spring-like rolls with chicken in them, 5 little Mexican burrito type rolls with beef in them, 5 little triangles of pita bread with a very light garlic butter spread on them, all surrounding a small pile of lettuce with a creamy dill dressing on it. I would never think to mix these things, but each was so individually good that it didn’t matter and somehow it worked. I think the most exciting was the baby burritos because I mix Mexican food SO MUCH!!! Just that little taste was like a baby slice of heaven in that moment.
It was nearing 2:10 so I paid for my meal and set out to cherche Marine. I got back to the station easily enough, but finding WHERE her bus would come in ended up being a pretty tricky exercise. Everyone I asked where the Eurolines busses were just shook their head to indicate their inability to understand English. And even those who understood English didn’t know the answer. There were no signs anywhere for major buses, only little local busses. I was circling the station when I saw a Eurolines bus and was like “HAHA!! Where are you going!?!?!” I literally ran and followed the bus until it pulled over and then I stood there, on the side of the road with no signs and prayed that Marine’s bus would descend at the same place. There were other local busses, but no other Eurolines. Sure enough, Marine’s bus did not descend (damn it… what is that word in English?!? You know… where the bus stops for the last time…) at the place where I was. Marine and I spent the next half an hour and far too much money to even think about walking in circles trying to find each other, calling to be like, “what street are you on? Are you near the McDonalds? Do you see a sign for McDonalds?” etc. Eventually I got her to stand still and I went and found her. Funnily enough, where we met up was super far away from where either of us started, which, even more fantastically, was only about 100 yards away from each other to begin with. Oh good times.
So yeah, then we went and dropped her stuff off at the hostel and went to meet up with this guy Nico and his friend for a drink. Back story: on my last night at Paddy’s I was saying goodbye to some of the regulars and one of them asked where I was going on vacation, because she knew I was vacationing before I was returning home. I told her and her friend Nico, who had been at the bar a couple of times, but wasn’t as much as a regular, asked when specifically I’d be in Prague. As it turned out, our times overlapped by 1 full day. Thursday. So we exchanged numbers and he said when I got in I should text him, which I did. We planned to grab a drink once Marine got into town.
Back to real time: So we met up by the statue in Old Town Square and then went off to a bar he knew called Le Chapeau Rouge. How fantastic that a French guy would take us to a French bar in Prague. We chatted and drank a beer- he sipped a teeny little shot of rum the whole time while the three ladies drank pints of beer. (I had a Stella… it’s the only one I knew.) Nico and his friend/collegue, whose name I now can’t remember, invited us to dinner that evening at this restaurant that served vegetarian food (Nico is a vegetarian because he can’t stand the thought of killing the animals) just off the square. We thought that’d be lovely, so we split up, them to pack their bags, Marine to take a nap since she barely slept on her 17 hour bus ride from Lyon and me to get some more school work done.
We all met back at the square around 8:45 and went to dinner. I was pleased to discover that the restaurant also did serve “ordinary” food… you know… food with meat. I ordered some sort of pork dish that I remember being really good, but I can’t recall all the funness of it in detail. At any rate, Nico and I drank red wine, Marine drank dark beer and Nico’s friend drank pepsi light. Our waiter was amusing and fun and almost right away offered us a 30% discount on our dinner- he and Nico had met up earlier in the week apparently and he was pleased that Nico had made it back. Plus we were the only people in the place. Our waiter started to drink with us and just kept refilling our drinks- the girl drinking the diet pepsi kept trying to say no, she didn’t want any more and we kept joking around about how drunk she was going to be- quite the life of the party.
In what was probably the strangest and most unexpected turn of events of the evening (well, at least up to that point) our waiter asked if anyone at the table wanted to buy some Pot. Marine and I were incredulous… seriously? Do things like this just happen here? Waiters just up and ask if you want some pot? Like it’s a desert or a café or something? Nico’s friend didn’t seem phased, apparently between Prague and Nico all week long she had gotten used to it. But the three ladies replied, “No thank you” and Nico went back to the bar to sort things out. Then he came back and rolled a joint right there on the table. Talk about education.
Nico and the server and the other two wait staff (all servicing only us as no one else was there and at this point they closed the terrace and locked the doors) all sat around drinking with us and smoking. They eventually brought us a bill but when we looked at it we were shocked! Certainly this was the most unexpected turn of events of the evening!! They gave us 70% off of our bill!! Which actually brought it down so much that then Nico, perhaps just because he was being nice or perhaps because he was drunk and high, offered to pay it all. We thanked him profusely and then the wait staff offered us another round of free drinks. Talk about amazing luck!
At the end of the night Marine and I left a nice tip on the table and then we all took a few pictures in the street and parted ways. Nico and his friend walked off towards their hotel, the wait staff toward some techno club and Marine and I toward our hostel a little mystified at the turn of events.
Day 3:
Marine and I had two plans for Friday: 1. go on a tour- there was supposedly an amazing free tour at 12:45 that the receptionist recommended and 2. go on a bar crawl- it was Prague after all.
After breakfast and all the morning routine we set off to explore the city a little until tour time. We grabbed a light lunch at this quaint little place that sat below the back end of a church near the Old Town Square. It was just pasta, but it was flavorful and inexpensive. We were looking for a few specific souvenirs so we went searching for those while waiting for 12:45 to roll around. Then we made for the Astronomical Clock to look for our tour guide. We stood there for a good 15 minutes or so and didn’t see anyone. We couldn’t figure out what happened but one thing was clear- there was no amazing “Alternative Free Tour” going on. We gave up on plan number 1 and took off to explore on our own.
Not having brought with me my file folder full of information on Prague, its history and the main attractions (because I thought I’d get all that from the tour guide) we didn’t really know where to go. But aimlessly wandering suited us well and we took pictures as we went. We paused to rest our feet and have a beer (yes, be surprised at the amount of beer I was drinking… one the day before around 5ish, one on Friday around 3:30 or so… oh, and there’s more to come!! But beer is the cheapest thing to drink in Prague, cheaper than wine or even coca cola. And when you mix it with lemonade and make a “Shandy” out of it, it’s really not too bad.) before crossing the famous Charles Bridge, where I spontaneously bought a super cute bracelet for myself.
We continued walking, wandering and taking pictures until we got too tired and too hungry. Then we headed back in the direction of the hostel to find some food and prepare for our evening out. We decided we wanted the experience of eating on square and the prices didn’t look that bad, so even though we knew we’d get a better deal if we went further out, we had gotten free dinner the night before, might as well eat well tonight.
I ordered this chicken with pear that came with two different dipping sauces: one a mango chutney and the other a blue cheese. It was SO GOOD!!! Both sauces were delicious but honestly the blue cheese was fantastic. And with the pear! YUM!
We became aware of the time and our need to clean up a little before hitting the bars so we paid and rushed back to the hostel, then literally ran back to the square to catch the pub crawl. There was apparently no need as I guess there is someone who actually picks up people from our hostel and joins the rest of the group just off the place… oops… that would have been good info. Oh well. We paid 12 Euro for what everyone kept telling us was the best pub crawl in Prague. We started at a bar called Molly’s with free beer (here I couldn’t ask for my Shandy and I just had to take what was free) and free shots of vodka and absinth. Marine was all over it, taking two vodka and one absinth shot and taking down 3 beers in our marvelously free Power Hour. I was a little more reserved, drinking 2 beers (which is still a lot for me) and taking one shot of vodka. I figured the absinth in Prague was part of the experience so I needed, at the very least, the picture… when the lady came around maybe the third time I was like, “ok but…” and she answered with “just a little one”- perfect. So it was probably about a 1/3 of a shot but hey, experience had, no damage done. (I had heard stories of what Absinth had done to people and I was not interested in blacking out or forgetting my evening.)
We left Molly’s and I was pleased that Marine and I were making friends with the group- two other girls, Lauren and Maggie were hanging with us for the most part, along with a couple of Italian guys, Stepheno and Fabrizio (perfect Italian names, right!?) who were just hilarious. The two Irish guys, James and Peter, an American guy named Patrick, a Canadian brother and sister, Cat and Leon, as well as an Aussie named Alan (who was staying at our hostel) all were in and out of our group throughout the night. A Portuguese guy named David joined in our group’s fun during the end of the evening.
The next bar was Harley’s, as in Harley Davidson and we were given free shots of something not too strong as we walked in the door. This was to be our most expensive bar of the night, so Marine and I, already joyeuse as she likes to put it, did not feel it was necessary to pay for more alcohol. They started playing some salsa music and since no one else knew how to salsa I pulled Marine away from her conversation with James the Irishman to dance with me. Soon after we left Harley’s for our third bar of the night.
We stopped in the street for another free shot- literally walking forward for our guides to pour flavored vodka into our open mouths. Then proceeded on to Le Chapeau Rouge, but instead of sitting up at the tables on the first floor, like Marine and I had the day before with Nico and his friend we all went downstairs to a dance floor. The music was more techno-y than I care for, but we were dancing and I was joyeuse so it was all good. Maggie and Lauren wanted another beer so Marine and I went with them and of course we each got one too. We were told at 1:15 we needed to be out in front of the bar to head to our last stop, some club we were getting free entrance to.
Our guide marked our wrists with some complicated symbol and we followed her to the club. We went two levels underground to this open dance floor. Maggie, Lauren, Marine, Alan, Cat, Leon, the two Italians and I all headed straight for the dance floor and there are some marvelous pictures of this good fun! Marine and I had had enough to drink and as we danced some of the group started getting tired. I think it was around 2:30 or so that the group consensus was to leave. Alan, Marine and I all made it back to our hostel, which, blissfully enough, was only about two blocks away, just around the corner. WONDERFUL!
In retrospect, this night was the perfect way to spend my last Friday night in Europe!
Day 4:
Our nightly activities were not going to keep me from enjoying what little time I had left in Prague. I forced Marine out of bed around 10 and soon enough we were out in the sunshine again. Miraculously enough, I was not hung over. I could not entirely say the same for Marine, but drugs and fresh air did help quite a bit. As did the ice cream we ate around lunch time. In fact, that was one of the greatest experiences… we bought these big cones of ice cream and just sat on one of the side streets and watched people walk by. It was relaxing and wonderful.
Around 2:00 we went to meet up with a different free tour. As it turned out, I had our hostel call the company and ask, the Alternative Free Tour was canceled, no longer running. But the NewEurope line of tours was supposed to also be pretty good, and again, free, so we grabbed their flyer and headed to meet up with them. The guy that ran our tour was GREAT! He was charismatic and engaging and he knew his stuff- listing off dates and history like no other! It was really impressive and it gave you a much better idea of what you were seeing and why it was important. My only regret is that we didn’t do it the day before. The thing is, he gave us some really cool info and told us some really cool stories, like this one about a man trying to steal from a church:
He wanted to steal this jewel encrusted gold crown that sat on the Virgin Mary’s head on one of the statues in the church. He snuck into the church at night and when he tried to steal the statue the legend says that the Virgin Mary’s statue came to life and took his ahold of his wrist and then froze again, not letting him go. When the priest came into the Church the following morning he was shocked to find the man trapped up behind the alter. The man explained the story, apologized profusely, promised never to steal again if only they would cut him free. The priests in the area gathered and discussed, they could not deface the statue, it was the Virgin after all. So instead they cut the man’s arm at his elbow. He was free to leave, but his forearm has been kept in the church to this day as a warning to those who try to steal from God.
I wanted to go in and see the arm, but we didn’t have time on the tour, we just heard the story from the outside of the church and then moved on. And since we did the tour on Saturday, I didn’t have a chance to go back.
He also took us to St. Wenceslaus Square and we saw the memorial and the statue from a distance, I would have liked to get up close, but there wasn’t time.
We finished the tour not far from the Castle and Marine and I knew it was something we had to go see. So we thanked and tipped our guide and proceeded to climb the hill towards the castle. The idea was to go into St. Vitus Church and to go to the Golden Way- the castle itself would probably just be another castle, but the view of the city was also supposed to be good from up there.
We wandered around in search of an ATM (because we were tired and thirsty and because no place in Prague seems to take credit cards) as we went and finally we succeeded and managed to sit and have a lovely view of some cool looking building we didn’t know what it was and didn’t have enough energy to check out up close. I had a coke and Marine had a beer and then we trudged onward. We found St. Vitus Cathedral and were disappointed to find it closed. Chances are even if we hadn’t stopped for refreshments it still would have been closed since we finished our tour around 5:15 or so, climbing the hill took a while, finding an ATM took even longer and the church closed at 6. Fail.
We walked on to find the Golden Way- which actually was very cool. We went into Kafka’s old house and took bunches of pictures of the colorful, picturesque little homes squished into this center of Prague’s power-center.
At the end of the day we were tired and hungry (I feel like this is becoming a theme) so we headed back towards food and hostel. We grabbed a hot dog… at least that’s what an American would call it, but it was much better than any hot dog, and ate that on the square listening to live music. There were bands there for a huge EU Marathon that would take place on Sunday. Apparently things had been going on all week… the only thing I had noticed was the stage they set up in the middle of Old Town Square and the random samba parade (that I took a fantastic video of that I will, of course, post).
We decided that with it being my last Saturday night in Europe and the last night of my vacation we should probably go sit at this one pub on the corner of the square that was offering 39Krown beer (that’s less than $2 for a pint) and have one to end it all. We sat there and chatted and then I had to ask Marine to pause so I could write this in my journal:
“We sat there as the sky changed, each blue more beautiful and captivating than the previous. Each time I glance to my right at the clock tower recalling this glorious moment, this outstanding opportunity reflecting back at me against the clear blue background with increasing depth and vigor.”
I’m not even sure those words can explain that picture, and since I’m not sure the picture came out on my camera, it might just be left in my mind for no one to share in… but truly, the blue was unbelievable until it became so dark that it was a midnight blue, almost black. And the whole time the tower stood against it, bright regardless of the fading light in the sky. (The Prague tourism office must know that shining light on the tower makes the tourists happy.)
Marine and I returned to the hostel and popped online to call our Mom’s and wish them Happy Mother’s Day. Shortly after we both hit they hay.
Day 5- Returning to Lyon:
I got up early, showered and ate breakfast, then packed up my things with Marine’s help and walked out the door, hugging Marine goodbye and wishing her one last fantastic day in Prague- her bus would leave on Monday.
I metroed and bussed it to the airport and got checked in without trouble. I grabbed a sandwich to toss in my bag for lunch. My flight was at noon and I only had 50 minutes connecting time in Brussels. If my plane got in too far from the where the other took off I’d have to book it and there’d be no time for a rumbly tummy.
As it happened, that wasn’t the case, the flight to Brussels was fine, nothing to report. And I got off one plane and was ecstatic to discover that the gate for my second was less than 50 meters away, just kiddy-corner to where I disembarked. I went and sat down and pulled out my knitting. After a short time an older woman came and sat down next to me. She was staring at my needles as I worked. I smiled at her, but her face remained focused on my needles. Eventually she began speaking to me in French, no question of whether I spoke it or not, just off she went. Our conversation began with her asking if I was knitting a sweater, “C’est un pull?” “No, no, c’est un shawl” “C’est un shawl!” and then she asked about my needles- saying that she’d never seen such needles in France. (I was knitting on circular needles that have a nice long cord.) I explained that they were perfect for this because the shawl was so wide at the base. We continued on like this, mostly talking about knitting and then somehow the conversation transitioned into more. Somehow, and truly I’m not entirely sure how we got there, we were talking about Faith and God and the difference between believes in America and believers in Europe. We were talking about how Faith is not something you can touch and how so many people want proof these days. We discussed how people the reasons why people go to church and the differences is between visiting your Friend and sharing a meal with Him verses feeling obliged to go to eat. This woman was someone who believed too. We chatted this way while people began boarding, when we finally got in line ourselves, through the corridor and all the way to our seats. She told me how happy it made her to speak with me, and that that is also part of what being croyant really means—what being a true believer and a true Catholic really is. We don’t give money to the poor because people are watching and we aren’t nice to each other because we want something in return. We just do and we just are. We just have random conversations about Faith with people so that in an area of the world where we struggle to find communities of Faith to give us the boost we need we can give each other that boost. This made me happy inside… I found a French practicing Catholic. I think… it restores my faith in the goodness of the French and of the ability to find Faith in France. After all, if there was one, there must be more!!
All the same, I’m happy that I’m coming home- home to that place even this old woman could describe- a place where Faith is something we believe in our hearts and souls without proof or physicality. A place where the mentality is there and we are prepared to serve others just because it’s what’s right. A place she was able to describe just based on the description provided to her from her own daughter. A place I miss and I place I call home. That’s where I’m coming- I’m coming home!
I just have to add… I knew I was back in “Franceland”- not France because technically Geneva is in Switzerland, but there are enough French people there that it practically counts… anyway… I knew I was back where the French were when, sitting on a bench waiting for my train to show up, a French person next to me blew smoke in my face. It’s not the spoken French that announces that I’m back in France, no, I heard French on my travels occasionally. It is the rudeness. I got all the way back to Lyon on a super crowded train where people stood in the isles and sat in the doorways because France oversells the train and then only provides 3 cars for what could have filled easily 5 or 6. I got on the metro and when I went to get off I was jostled because everyone had to be first and they pushed and didn’t care whose way they got in as long as you didn’t get in theirs. Oh the French. How glad I am that I will be home in just 4 short days, leaving you all in only 3.
Vienna (warning-- VERY LONG!)
I boarded the train and found my car. There were 4 women taking up all the space with lots of bags. The one woman asked me if I could give them about 5 minutes to get organized and then I’d have space to come back to. So I went out and bought a soda in the station and came back. The women were Ukranian and only 2 of them spoke any English. We started conversing in broken sentences and even before the train left it seemed like we were all going to get along and have a pleasant evening.
But then three people came to our door and said that they had reserved the beds in this room (I have the most amazing Daddy ever who bought me a ticket for a couchette, which I’m told, in English, is “sleeper car”… a bed in a cabin with 6 beds). So now there was mass confusion because there were 8 people holding tickets for 6 beds. It didn’t take too long to figure out, my Ukranian friends were in the wrong “wagon”… car?? Is that the word we would use? So they grudgingly got all their belongings and unmade their beds to take their sheets and off they went to find their real place.
My three new roommates were Austrian, from just outside Vienna. The girl was 16 and was in high school studying tourism and economics. The parents were both in the medical field in some way. At first I thought they were a little rude, just the way they spoke with the Ukranians, but as we chatted I discovered that they, too, were great people. The dad spoke English best, the mom just a little and the daughter understood but couldn’t really reply in full sentences. Soon enough we were joined by one other roommate- a young Indian woman, about 26 or so, who spoke perfect English. She was useful to help me out when my own English failed me—being in France for so long and speaking only with people who understand both English and French or only French has messed with my English. She’s the one who told me that a couchette was a sleeper car. She saved me a couple of times.
We all sat around chatting until about 11:00 or so and then got in our bunks and went to bed. It was so easy sleeping on the train. The rocking just puts you right out. I woke up a couple of times, looked out the window, saw we were still moving and went right back to sleep.
I woke up around 7am when one of my roommates got up to use the bathroom. The breakfast of coffee (or hot chocolate) and a bread roll with jam were already being brought to the cabins. So I pushed the sheets aside and got up. My new Austrian friends gave me some advice on foods I need to try in Vienna and I had them write them down so I couldn’t forget—this was important information!!
We got into the station around 8:20AM or so. The friendly Austrian family helped me out of the station and pointed me in the right direction to find my hostel. I thanked them, said bye to them all, including the Indian girl, and went on my way. My hostel was not far from the train station, so I found it quite easily and I checked in and paid. I couldn’t get into my room yet, but I could use the guest shower. After spending a night sleeping on a train I felt like I needed it. So I got cleaned up and changed my clothes, left my bags in the luggage room and headed out to explore.
I asked the lady at the front desk where I could find a church service in the area. She said that the Vienna Boys Choir did mass on Sundays at 9:15… oh, but fail… it was already 9:30 or so and it would take me about 20 minutes to get to the church. Sad times. She didn’t know where else I’d find a service, but she said I could check at St. Stephen’s. I decided to walk into center town since I needed to sort of get my bearings and besides, I wanted to SEE Vienna! I found a church along the way that had just started mass and I snuck in, despite my distaste for coming to mass late: late was better than not at all. And although I didn’t understand anything they said, it was a beautiful little church and a nice service.
From there it took about 25 minutes or so to walk to the Opera- my first destination. My loving and amazing mother bought me a ticket to see the ballet Romeo and Juliet at the Vienna State Opera house. I was going to pick up my ticket. YAY! (Because of my remarkable parents I truly lived a blessed life!)
So I get to the Opera house… and I can’t get inside. But luckily there are tourism people (dressed as Mozart no less) standing outside the Opera and they informed me that I can pick up my ticket one hour before performance time- which was at 7PM. They pointed me in direction of the tourism office and I went to see about doing a walking tour- I didn’t really know much about Vienna and I thought it’d be a good way to start.
I got to the tourism office and looked at the tours offered. There was an interesting one that would take place on Wednesday, but I was leaving Wednesday, so I settled on the “main sites” tour which was daily at 2pm. By this point it was about 11:30. That left me just enough time to do not really anything. So instead of tackling a museum or heading out to one of the palaces I went to grab some lunch and check out St. Stephen’s Cathedral. For lunch I ate Wiener Schnitzel with Kartofelsalat (not sure about the spelling on that—it’s like breaded pork (or veal) with German potato salad). It was good, not outstanding, but not bad. I left with plenty of time to spare and headed to the big church. They were doing reconstruction outside and the inside looks like a lot of other gothic-style churches across Europe. (Being here for so long and seeing so many churches desensitizes you to the amazingness I think… I know it’s amazing and beautiful but I’ve become habitué … ummm… used too… seeing it and it makes it less special. It’s kind of sad really, but I can’t change it.)
I still had about 40 minutes to kill so I wandered around; sat in the sun for about 20 minutes and just chilled—I was tired despite the fact that I had gotten a good 7 or 8 hours of sleep on the train. I went down to where they said the tour was meeting and there was one other couple there waiting. I went inside the office to be sure that I was in the right place and he guy said, yes. And then we waited… and waited… about 15 minute after 2:00 the woman in the couple that had been waiting went in to try and figure out why no one was there for us. The guy from the tourism office called the walking tours company and no one answered. He had no answers… no one showed up… he was sorry, but it wasn’t his fault, they weren’t affiliated with the tour company. The couple found another tour by a different company that was supposed to start at 2:30. We all waited around another 10 minutes and sure enough, that woman showed up and her tour was similar enough to the tour we had planned. But… fail… she would only do the tour in German… which served the couple perfectly well, but I was SOL. I walked away and tried not to freak out about how I had wasted basically the entire day-- it being 2:30 I now didn’t have time to go to the Palace and I was worried about feeling rushed through the museums—after all, I needed to be back at the hostel to get ready for the ballet so I could get back to the Opera by 6 or 6:15.
I carefully pulled myself together and went wandering alone. This was the first time I didn’t really like being alone upon my travels, but I knew I’d be fine so off I went. I wandered aimlessly for a while and found a few cool things and then I pulled out my map and went in search of St. Ruperts, an 8th century church my Dad told me was really pretty. I found it without much trouble and he was right, it was beautiful- the way the vines and the trees seemed to be a part of this tiny old church. It was a lovely, almost woodsy picture smack in the middle of this city. Unfortunately I couldn’t get inside- they were closed. Everything seemed to be going wrong.
So I gave up on making it a productive day and I tried to return to the hostel to get ready for the ballet- THAT at least had to be good. I got slightly lost along the way, which only served to make me more frustrated, but I succeeded in the end. I got myself ready and headed out- metro-ing this time so I didn’t have to walk the distance in heels. The rest of the night was smooth sailing. I picked up my ticket I wandered around taking magnificent photos of the Opera house. I went and found my seat and the two people to my right were also “loners”- the guy was about my age I would guess, a German who liked classical music but wasn’t that excited about the ballet in particular; and the girl was only 18, a Canadian who came to Austria to be an au pair (is that how you spell that?—you know, a nanny). She had only just graduated high school before coming over. SO YOUNG! But she was living outside Vienna and was excited to see the ballet for the first time.
Our seats were fantastic!! First row of the balcony- when it started we all leaned forward and the two ladies to my left along with the Canadian girl on my right and I—we all set our head on our hands on the railing- leaning forward in anticipation and excitement. The guy sat back, restraining himself a little better.
The first Act passed and it was lovely!! The woman who played Juliet (I’ll look up her name later if anyone is interested, the program is packed away right now) was outstanding. The energy expanded out of her body so completely!! It was like invisible forces pulled on her limbs to make them seem almost never-ending. She had pretty feet and her technique was flawless. She was fun to watch. The other dancers in the company were typical for a professional company- there were some really good dancers and a couple that were still good, but not as outstanding- with certain shapes or timing being just slightly off. But all in all, it was lovely and fun and exciting and wonderful!!
At the first intermission the Canadian girl took off to go grab something to eat at the bar—they had little sandwiches and she hadn’t eaten ahead of time. The German guy and I followed a little slower and got in line to grab a glass of wine. By the time we got it we didn’t have much time to drink it, but that’s how things go I suppose.
The Second Act was less classical—the clowns did flips and cartwheels and while it fit in perfectly, I noticed the subtle more contemporary influence to this Act. Still outstanding, just less Classical.
At the second intermission the Canadian went to grab another set of little sandwiches and the German guy wandered away to the bathroom or something. I sat there and watched the musicians. I don’t think I mentioned this yet, but it was a live orchestra- and thus was all that much more amazing. To be honest, sometimes, like during the fighting scenes when the dancing was less exciting, I liked to watch to the string intruments—they moved so quick and with such precision. It was like they were dancing too. The whole combination brought tears to my eyes a couple of times. The orchestra was definitely just as exciting as the dancing.
The third Act came and I noticed a twist that instead of drinking poison Romeo stabbed himself. Choreographers interpretation, didn’t bother me. The whole death scene was not put together as well as I’ve seen it done in other renditions, but it was still the story and it was still ballet and it was still Vienna State Opera with the live orchestra and so the third Act was just as wonderful as the rest. At the end the three loners all walked out to the metro together and then we each headed our separate ways. Me returning to the hostel- it had been a long day and a wonderful evening—now it was bed time!!
Day 2:
I slept in. I knew I was in Vienna and I should get up and take advantage of my time but I was just so tired and it felt so good. I got up around 9:15 or so and meandered down to breakfast at the hostel. I decided today I was going to see some important stuff and find the Vienna my dad was in love with instead of the Vienna where tour guides didn’t show, churches were closed and things kept going wrong. I headed out to Shurnbrunn Palace.
I was a little worried that after my non-excitement about St. Stephen’s the day before that this would be the same. I’d seen Versailles in Paris and Powerscourt in Ireland and Chenanceau, Chambord and Ambois in the Loire Valley and most recently the Doge’s Palace in Venice. Was this going to be different? Was this going to hold my interest? Or, like the Cathedral, was I going to feel like I’d seen it all before- just another tapestry (like the many I’d seen in palaces and museums across Europe)? Just another bed someone famous slept in? Just another room with gilded ceilings and walls? I hoped not, I hoped it’d be different; I hoped it’d be more… but all the same, I was nervous it would be more repetition.
It was not. I mean, yeah, some of it was, There will always be certain aspects that are the same- but it was lovely and outstanding and impressive in every way. It held my interest and I wasn’t the least bit board. The audio guide was informative and interesting. It gave neat stories about the character of the Emperors and the Empresses. It was more about discovering who these people were by way of what they left behind for us to look at than just about the pieces of furniture themselves. I think I like Franz-Joseph. He seems like a cool guy.
And that was just the palace! Walk out into those gardens!! This, I’ll admit, was a lot like Powerscourt in Ireland, but that made it no less impressive! The sheer vastness of the gardens was unbelievable. I walked through them for a while, but they’re so expansive and I’d already walked through all the Palace rooms, I was getting tired and hungry. I stopped and had bratwurst with fries at a little restaurant right there in the gardens. Then I went off to see the mazes. Yup, this dude had to be cool! He had games in his gardens!! There were three labyrinths- two that just seemed to wind- you couldn’t lose your way- they had games you could play along the way!! And one was a full out maze with the high shrub walls and all the twists and turns. This, I thought, would be more fun to do with someone but I still did it alone and didn’t let my single travel status impede my good times.
I finished there and headed up to the Gloriette- I paid for it, I had to go see it. I walked up the hill (thinking of Regan and our trip to the Grand Canyon we’ll make shortly after I return home… this felt like training). Finally reaching the top, it was, of course, worth it and the view was nice.
I walked back down through the side paths- thinking about how amazing it would be to have been an Empress, wandering through my acres upon acres of gardens, getting lost in their expanse, sitting to enjoy a statue that had been placed amongst the wood for my personal pleasure. How regal this daydream felt!
Exhausted from my 4, almost 4 and a half, hours of walking around I decided I would not tackle another palace or museum today. I headed back to the hostel. But it was too early to end my night there and I couldn’t imagine missing out on so many things I had yet to see, so for dinner I took the bus up to Grinzing. A charming little town in the foothills outside the city, it is known for its wine-cavern style restaurants with live music and a cozy ambiance. Ineed, it was just that. Eating dinner alone at a nice restaurant was, again, not my first choice, but my roommates back at the hostel weren’t interesting in joining me and, again, I wasn’t going to let my seulness get in the way.
The musicians were endearing- an older gentleman played the accordion and he kept winking and me and trying to set me up with the violinist- who was younger, but still too old for me. The older guy would put his hand over one eye and blink—his personal version of winking and nod his head and point to the violinist and point to his bare fingers and smile. The violinist seemed to be used to this behavior and just kind of went with it- not pushing but not letting it drop either. Cute. They came over and the violinist, who spoke a little English, asked me where I was from, then the Accordian player started in on some song that had something to do with Chicago. When they found out I was living in France the violinist started in on a Parisian love song I recognized but couldn’t name. They were funny. At one point the Violinist refered to his friend as “Casanova”, which made me chuckle.
I had ordered wine with dinner and it came in this big round glass filled almost to the top. It was a ¼ Liter of wine, haha. Nothing like the French who serve their wine in tiny little glasses—these people were drinkers, even if it wasn’t beer. The wine was made there at the winery, or so the information on the placemat said. It was pretty good wine.
I ordered apfelstrudel for desert ‘cause I felt like I couldn’t be in this part of the world and not eat it—so tasty!
The house the restaurant was in is actually 300 years old. It used to be a convent and is labeled as a national monument (again, according to the placemat). It did, honestly, have a lot of character with carved wood ceilings and different kinds of wine corks in cases on the walls. It wasn’t quite a “homey” feeling, but it was definitely… what’s the word I want??... welcoming… relaxing in a fun way… yeah… I don’t know the right word. But it was good.
I finally said goodbye the musicians, paid my bill and wandered into the streets of Grinzig. I was getting dark so I didn’t stray too far before heading back to the bus, Vienna and the hostel. I had a free drink ticket for the bar in the basement of the hostel, so I went down to the bar when I got back and had another glass of wine, just a little one this time. I chatted with the bartender a little. I was doing some laundry so I had a baileys as I waited for it to finish. I chatted with a French guy at the bar for a while too- he had been traveling for a while (strange for a French person, he admitted) and he was enjoying the opportunity to speak in his native language. When my laundry was finally done I took my stuff and headed to bed.
Day 3:
I had heard that the Lippizan Horses at the Spanish Riding School were spectacular, something to see. I wasn’t going to be in town for one of their legendary performances, but daily practices from 10 to 12 were open to the public. So I went. I got off the metro and found the right building and was blown away- it was so ornate! So…European I went to take a picture and realized I had left my camera back at the hostel; “this is a great start to the day,” I thought to myself sarcastically. But as it turned out you’re not permitted to take pictures of the horses anyway, so it wasn’t too great a loss.
To be honest… the practice was not super impressive. The horses did a lot of practicing their famous prancing; we saw a little of their diagonal walking and different things like that. But they didn’t practice any of the jumps or rising on their hind legs that you see in all the pictures and videos. I waited and waited but the walking and prancing just droned on and on. They switched horses every half hour- never more than 6 at time in the beautiful performing square. By the end of an hour and a half I was ready to fall asleep watching horses walk in circles. I gave up. They were pulling out the last group of horses and I figured there was no way that after all the warming up all those other horses had that they’d bring out this last group and then make them jump and do fun things without all the same prancing and warm up time. I guess I’d have to wait for a real performance to see their tricks.
In the same building as the Spanish riding school is the Imperial Apartments and the Sisi Museum. So I crossed the underpass, stopped for some Goulash lunch- it was chilly out and the warm thick soup tasted good, and then headed in, again, without my camera. But no worries, you can’t take pictures in here either, so I didn’t feel like it was that bad. I got the audio guide and again, just like the Shunbrunn, I found that the guide was better than most, informative and telling the stories. In the Sisi Museum especially it helped you get a feel for the character and personality of these people (Sisi was the nickname for Empress Elizabeth). I was highly impressed with the museum and would recommend it to anyone travelling to Vienna.
After leaving the museum I went back to the hostel briefly to grab my camera. Then I went back to “The Ring” to wander and take pictures of the regal-looking buildings that line Ring Street. Pictures, will, of course be posted soon.
From there I headed over to the Sache Hotel to eat what I’d heard was the most famous and delicious chocolate cake Vienna had to offer. The 175 year old recipe has been kept a strict secret and only here at the Sache Hotel can you eat the original Sache Torte. It was, indeed, a very yummy chocolate cake. I contemplated sending one home to my Nana as a present because I knew she would like it… but then I check the prices to ship one overseas… The cake was good, but it wasn’t THAT good. Sorry Nana.
I walked further down the street, checking out a few touristy shops here and there and finally reaching the metro that would take me to the famous old ferris wheel. I forget the dates exactly, but it’s the oldest ferris wheel in the world and has been around for well over a hundred years, lasting through both world wars and natural disasters. Unlike most ferris wheels as we know them today, the Prata Ferris Wheel has large cars that hold 9 people very comfortably. Apparently some of the cars were damaged over the years and they have been replaced, but the origionals have been kept and now house little figurines and scenery describing the history of the ferris wheel and the town around it. See pictures… as soon as I load them that is.
I road in car 24 I believe and the other tourists with me were kind enough to take my picture once we rounded near the top. The view was pretty spectacular. Plus it’s just fun to say that I rode in something THAT old! Not gonna lie, it is simultaneously a little concerning and comforting that the apparatus you’re circling on is THAT old and has made it through THAT much!!
At this point I was feeling tired from all my walking around and I knew most the museums and things were closing anyway, so I headed back to the hostel, grabbing dinner on the way. I felt like the utter American because not only did I have to stop at Starbucks to pick up their Austria mug for my friend Marine (she collects them and asked me to grab one for her) I was both tired and craving a simple hamburger. So I walked down the street back to the hostel holding my purse, a Starbucks bag and a McDonalds bag filled with burger and fries. I might as well have a neon sign above me flashing AMERICAN in bright blue and red letters. Oh well, the Europeans love their starbucks and Micky D’s just as much (if not more) than the average American.
I spent the next hour and a half or so getting some work done for school and sending a couple emails online. I was internally debating as to whether, in my exhaustion, I should just go to bed early, or if I should go back to the bar in the basement and have a baileys… I started wondering this around 8:30 and it wasn’t until around 10:00 that I took my computer upstairs, deposited it in my room and returned to the bar in the basement.
I had my Baileys- delicious as always- and the girl behind the bar asked if I’d like another one. We had a brief conversation about how I was contemplating just that but that it truly wasn’t fun to drink alone. She pointed out that there were plenty of other people in the bar and I pointed out that I didn’t know any of them. Soon enough she grabbed her keys and we proceeded to grab one of her friends and one random guy (a Canadian named Mike) into a free game of Foosball. The bar tender and her friend, Doris, were both Austrian and Doris was GOOD at Foosball. After 2 free games Mike’s friends and some other guys that had been playing pool came to watch the fun. Lena (the bartender) had to get back to work, but she gave us one more free game and one of the pool-players took her place on my team. We stank. Doris was so good! She was practically a professional and anyone silly enough to be her opponent (which I somehow always was) never won. As teams changed around and we continued to play (paying for our games now) we came up with fun names for our teams. Team UberProst was a favorite derived from Mike, who loved the “Prost” (cheers in German) and felt the need to PROST! at every score of either team clanked a little too forcefully with Nick’s drink and there was some spillage on the table. Thus it was an “over prost” or UBERPROST!!! Another great name choice was Team Wiener Schnitzel. My team mate Markis, Mike’s brother, was Wiener and I was Schnitzel. Fun times. Clearly the drinking continued, though Bailey’s didn’t quite seem like the appropriate choice here so I switched to Cider. (For those of you who aren’t familiar, Cider is basically beer made from apples. Not to be confused with French cidre or calvados which are bubbly more like sparkling wine and liqueur respectively, also made from apples. You can get alcoholic cider, as we would call it, in the States, but it’s harder to find.)
Between foosball and chatting and losing track of time we ended up closing the bar at around 2am. So much for going to bed early. We headed up to the lobby and I sat around as Mike, Nick, Doris and the guy behind the reception counter all played a game of pool. I was not interested in playing pool at this point. Lena joined us shortly and as the fun of foosball and loud music faded I began to get sleepy, wished everyone a pleasant evening, thanks Lena again for the foosball and helping me meet people to drink with, and headed up to bed thinking that this was a good way to say goodbye to Vienna.
But then three people came to our door and said that they had reserved the beds in this room (I have the most amazing Daddy ever who bought me a ticket for a couchette, which I’m told, in English, is “sleeper car”… a bed in a cabin with 6 beds). So now there was mass confusion because there were 8 people holding tickets for 6 beds. It didn’t take too long to figure out, my Ukranian friends were in the wrong “wagon”… car?? Is that the word we would use? So they grudgingly got all their belongings and unmade their beds to take their sheets and off they went to find their real place.
My three new roommates were Austrian, from just outside Vienna. The girl was 16 and was in high school studying tourism and economics. The parents were both in the medical field in some way. At first I thought they were a little rude, just the way they spoke with the Ukranians, but as we chatted I discovered that they, too, were great people. The dad spoke English best, the mom just a little and the daughter understood but couldn’t really reply in full sentences. Soon enough we were joined by one other roommate- a young Indian woman, about 26 or so, who spoke perfect English. She was useful to help me out when my own English failed me—being in France for so long and speaking only with people who understand both English and French or only French has messed with my English. She’s the one who told me that a couchette was a sleeper car. She saved me a couple of times.
We all sat around chatting until about 11:00 or so and then got in our bunks and went to bed. It was so easy sleeping on the train. The rocking just puts you right out. I woke up a couple of times, looked out the window, saw we were still moving and went right back to sleep.
I woke up around 7am when one of my roommates got up to use the bathroom. The breakfast of coffee (or hot chocolate) and a bread roll with jam were already being brought to the cabins. So I pushed the sheets aside and got up. My new Austrian friends gave me some advice on foods I need to try in Vienna and I had them write them down so I couldn’t forget—this was important information!!
We got into the station around 8:20AM or so. The friendly Austrian family helped me out of the station and pointed me in the right direction to find my hostel. I thanked them, said bye to them all, including the Indian girl, and went on my way. My hostel was not far from the train station, so I found it quite easily and I checked in and paid. I couldn’t get into my room yet, but I could use the guest shower. After spending a night sleeping on a train I felt like I needed it. So I got cleaned up and changed my clothes, left my bags in the luggage room and headed out to explore.
I asked the lady at the front desk where I could find a church service in the area. She said that the Vienna Boys Choir did mass on Sundays at 9:15… oh, but fail… it was already 9:30 or so and it would take me about 20 minutes to get to the church. Sad times. She didn’t know where else I’d find a service, but she said I could check at St. Stephen’s. I decided to walk into center town since I needed to sort of get my bearings and besides, I wanted to SEE Vienna! I found a church along the way that had just started mass and I snuck in, despite my distaste for coming to mass late: late was better than not at all. And although I didn’t understand anything they said, it was a beautiful little church and a nice service.
From there it took about 25 minutes or so to walk to the Opera- my first destination. My loving and amazing mother bought me a ticket to see the ballet Romeo and Juliet at the Vienna State Opera house. I was going to pick up my ticket. YAY! (Because of my remarkable parents I truly lived a blessed life!)
So I get to the Opera house… and I can’t get inside. But luckily there are tourism people (dressed as Mozart no less) standing outside the Opera and they informed me that I can pick up my ticket one hour before performance time- which was at 7PM. They pointed me in direction of the tourism office and I went to see about doing a walking tour- I didn’t really know much about Vienna and I thought it’d be a good way to start.
I got to the tourism office and looked at the tours offered. There was an interesting one that would take place on Wednesday, but I was leaving Wednesday, so I settled on the “main sites” tour which was daily at 2pm. By this point it was about 11:30. That left me just enough time to do not really anything. So instead of tackling a museum or heading out to one of the palaces I went to grab some lunch and check out St. Stephen’s Cathedral. For lunch I ate Wiener Schnitzel with Kartofelsalat (not sure about the spelling on that—it’s like breaded pork (or veal) with German potato salad). It was good, not outstanding, but not bad. I left with plenty of time to spare and headed to the big church. They were doing reconstruction outside and the inside looks like a lot of other gothic-style churches across Europe. (Being here for so long and seeing so many churches desensitizes you to the amazingness I think… I know it’s amazing and beautiful but I’ve become habitué … ummm… used too… seeing it and it makes it less special. It’s kind of sad really, but I can’t change it.)
I still had about 40 minutes to kill so I wandered around; sat in the sun for about 20 minutes and just chilled—I was tired despite the fact that I had gotten a good 7 or 8 hours of sleep on the train. I went down to where they said the tour was meeting and there was one other couple there waiting. I went inside the office to be sure that I was in the right place and he guy said, yes. And then we waited… and waited… about 15 minute after 2:00 the woman in the couple that had been waiting went in to try and figure out why no one was there for us. The guy from the tourism office called the walking tours company and no one answered. He had no answers… no one showed up… he was sorry, but it wasn’t his fault, they weren’t affiliated with the tour company. The couple found another tour by a different company that was supposed to start at 2:30. We all waited around another 10 minutes and sure enough, that woman showed up and her tour was similar enough to the tour we had planned. But… fail… she would only do the tour in German… which served the couple perfectly well, but I was SOL. I walked away and tried not to freak out about how I had wasted basically the entire day-- it being 2:30 I now didn’t have time to go to the Palace and I was worried about feeling rushed through the museums—after all, I needed to be back at the hostel to get ready for the ballet so I could get back to the Opera by 6 or 6:15.
I carefully pulled myself together and went wandering alone. This was the first time I didn’t really like being alone upon my travels, but I knew I’d be fine so off I went. I wandered aimlessly for a while and found a few cool things and then I pulled out my map and went in search of St. Ruperts, an 8th century church my Dad told me was really pretty. I found it without much trouble and he was right, it was beautiful- the way the vines and the trees seemed to be a part of this tiny old church. It was a lovely, almost woodsy picture smack in the middle of this city. Unfortunately I couldn’t get inside- they were closed. Everything seemed to be going wrong.
So I gave up on making it a productive day and I tried to return to the hostel to get ready for the ballet- THAT at least had to be good. I got slightly lost along the way, which only served to make me more frustrated, but I succeeded in the end. I got myself ready and headed out- metro-ing this time so I didn’t have to walk the distance in heels. The rest of the night was smooth sailing. I picked up my ticket I wandered around taking magnificent photos of the Opera house. I went and found my seat and the two people to my right were also “loners”- the guy was about my age I would guess, a German who liked classical music but wasn’t that excited about the ballet in particular; and the girl was only 18, a Canadian who came to Austria to be an au pair (is that how you spell that?—you know, a nanny). She had only just graduated high school before coming over. SO YOUNG! But she was living outside Vienna and was excited to see the ballet for the first time.
Our seats were fantastic!! First row of the balcony- when it started we all leaned forward and the two ladies to my left along with the Canadian girl on my right and I—we all set our head on our hands on the railing- leaning forward in anticipation and excitement. The guy sat back, restraining himself a little better.
The first Act passed and it was lovely!! The woman who played Juliet (I’ll look up her name later if anyone is interested, the program is packed away right now) was outstanding. The energy expanded out of her body so completely!! It was like invisible forces pulled on her limbs to make them seem almost never-ending. She had pretty feet and her technique was flawless. She was fun to watch. The other dancers in the company were typical for a professional company- there were some really good dancers and a couple that were still good, but not as outstanding- with certain shapes or timing being just slightly off. But all in all, it was lovely and fun and exciting and wonderful!!
At the first intermission the Canadian girl took off to go grab something to eat at the bar—they had little sandwiches and she hadn’t eaten ahead of time. The German guy and I followed a little slower and got in line to grab a glass of wine. By the time we got it we didn’t have much time to drink it, but that’s how things go I suppose.
The Second Act was less classical—the clowns did flips and cartwheels and while it fit in perfectly, I noticed the subtle more contemporary influence to this Act. Still outstanding, just less Classical.
At the second intermission the Canadian went to grab another set of little sandwiches and the German guy wandered away to the bathroom or something. I sat there and watched the musicians. I don’t think I mentioned this yet, but it was a live orchestra- and thus was all that much more amazing. To be honest, sometimes, like during the fighting scenes when the dancing was less exciting, I liked to watch to the string intruments—they moved so quick and with such precision. It was like they were dancing too. The whole combination brought tears to my eyes a couple of times. The orchestra was definitely just as exciting as the dancing.
The third Act came and I noticed a twist that instead of drinking poison Romeo stabbed himself. Choreographers interpretation, didn’t bother me. The whole death scene was not put together as well as I’ve seen it done in other renditions, but it was still the story and it was still ballet and it was still Vienna State Opera with the live orchestra and so the third Act was just as wonderful as the rest. At the end the three loners all walked out to the metro together and then we each headed our separate ways. Me returning to the hostel- it had been a long day and a wonderful evening—now it was bed time!!
Day 2:
I slept in. I knew I was in Vienna and I should get up and take advantage of my time but I was just so tired and it felt so good. I got up around 9:15 or so and meandered down to breakfast at the hostel. I decided today I was going to see some important stuff and find the Vienna my dad was in love with instead of the Vienna where tour guides didn’t show, churches were closed and things kept going wrong. I headed out to Shurnbrunn Palace.
I was a little worried that after my non-excitement about St. Stephen’s the day before that this would be the same. I’d seen Versailles in Paris and Powerscourt in Ireland and Chenanceau, Chambord and Ambois in the Loire Valley and most recently the Doge’s Palace in Venice. Was this going to be different? Was this going to hold my interest? Or, like the Cathedral, was I going to feel like I’d seen it all before- just another tapestry (like the many I’d seen in palaces and museums across Europe)? Just another bed someone famous slept in? Just another room with gilded ceilings and walls? I hoped not, I hoped it’d be different; I hoped it’d be more… but all the same, I was nervous it would be more repetition.
It was not. I mean, yeah, some of it was, There will always be certain aspects that are the same- but it was lovely and outstanding and impressive in every way. It held my interest and I wasn’t the least bit board. The audio guide was informative and interesting. It gave neat stories about the character of the Emperors and the Empresses. It was more about discovering who these people were by way of what they left behind for us to look at than just about the pieces of furniture themselves. I think I like Franz-Joseph. He seems like a cool guy.
And that was just the palace! Walk out into those gardens!! This, I’ll admit, was a lot like Powerscourt in Ireland, but that made it no less impressive! The sheer vastness of the gardens was unbelievable. I walked through them for a while, but they’re so expansive and I’d already walked through all the Palace rooms, I was getting tired and hungry. I stopped and had bratwurst with fries at a little restaurant right there in the gardens. Then I went off to see the mazes. Yup, this dude had to be cool! He had games in his gardens!! There were three labyrinths- two that just seemed to wind- you couldn’t lose your way- they had games you could play along the way!! And one was a full out maze with the high shrub walls and all the twists and turns. This, I thought, would be more fun to do with someone but I still did it alone and didn’t let my single travel status impede my good times.
I finished there and headed up to the Gloriette- I paid for it, I had to go see it. I walked up the hill (thinking of Regan and our trip to the Grand Canyon we’ll make shortly after I return home… this felt like training). Finally reaching the top, it was, of course, worth it and the view was nice.
I walked back down through the side paths- thinking about how amazing it would be to have been an Empress, wandering through my acres upon acres of gardens, getting lost in their expanse, sitting to enjoy a statue that had been placed amongst the wood for my personal pleasure. How regal this daydream felt!
Exhausted from my 4, almost 4 and a half, hours of walking around I decided I would not tackle another palace or museum today. I headed back to the hostel. But it was too early to end my night there and I couldn’t imagine missing out on so many things I had yet to see, so for dinner I took the bus up to Grinzing. A charming little town in the foothills outside the city, it is known for its wine-cavern style restaurants with live music and a cozy ambiance. Ineed, it was just that. Eating dinner alone at a nice restaurant was, again, not my first choice, but my roommates back at the hostel weren’t interesting in joining me and, again, I wasn’t going to let my seulness get in the way.
The musicians were endearing- an older gentleman played the accordion and he kept winking and me and trying to set me up with the violinist- who was younger, but still too old for me. The older guy would put his hand over one eye and blink—his personal version of winking and nod his head and point to the violinist and point to his bare fingers and smile. The violinist seemed to be used to this behavior and just kind of went with it- not pushing but not letting it drop either. Cute. They came over and the violinist, who spoke a little English, asked me where I was from, then the Accordian player started in on some song that had something to do with Chicago. When they found out I was living in France the violinist started in on a Parisian love song I recognized but couldn’t name. They were funny. At one point the Violinist refered to his friend as “Casanova”, which made me chuckle.
I had ordered wine with dinner and it came in this big round glass filled almost to the top. It was a ¼ Liter of wine, haha. Nothing like the French who serve their wine in tiny little glasses—these people were drinkers, even if it wasn’t beer. The wine was made there at the winery, or so the information on the placemat said. It was pretty good wine.
I ordered apfelstrudel for desert ‘cause I felt like I couldn’t be in this part of the world and not eat it—so tasty!
The house the restaurant was in is actually 300 years old. It used to be a convent and is labeled as a national monument (again, according to the placemat). It did, honestly, have a lot of character with carved wood ceilings and different kinds of wine corks in cases on the walls. It wasn’t quite a “homey” feeling, but it was definitely… what’s the word I want??... welcoming… relaxing in a fun way… yeah… I don’t know the right word. But it was good.
I finally said goodbye the musicians, paid my bill and wandered into the streets of Grinzig. I was getting dark so I didn’t stray too far before heading back to the bus, Vienna and the hostel. I had a free drink ticket for the bar in the basement of the hostel, so I went down to the bar when I got back and had another glass of wine, just a little one this time. I chatted with the bartender a little. I was doing some laundry so I had a baileys as I waited for it to finish. I chatted with a French guy at the bar for a while too- he had been traveling for a while (strange for a French person, he admitted) and he was enjoying the opportunity to speak in his native language. When my laundry was finally done I took my stuff and headed to bed.
Day 3:
I had heard that the Lippizan Horses at the Spanish Riding School were spectacular, something to see. I wasn’t going to be in town for one of their legendary performances, but daily practices from 10 to 12 were open to the public. So I went. I got off the metro and found the right building and was blown away- it was so ornate! So…European I went to take a picture and realized I had left my camera back at the hostel; “this is a great start to the day,” I thought to myself sarcastically. But as it turned out you’re not permitted to take pictures of the horses anyway, so it wasn’t too great a loss.
To be honest… the practice was not super impressive. The horses did a lot of practicing their famous prancing; we saw a little of their diagonal walking and different things like that. But they didn’t practice any of the jumps or rising on their hind legs that you see in all the pictures and videos. I waited and waited but the walking and prancing just droned on and on. They switched horses every half hour- never more than 6 at time in the beautiful performing square. By the end of an hour and a half I was ready to fall asleep watching horses walk in circles. I gave up. They were pulling out the last group of horses and I figured there was no way that after all the warming up all those other horses had that they’d bring out this last group and then make them jump and do fun things without all the same prancing and warm up time. I guess I’d have to wait for a real performance to see their tricks.
In the same building as the Spanish riding school is the Imperial Apartments and the Sisi Museum. So I crossed the underpass, stopped for some Goulash lunch- it was chilly out and the warm thick soup tasted good, and then headed in, again, without my camera. But no worries, you can’t take pictures in here either, so I didn’t feel like it was that bad. I got the audio guide and again, just like the Shunbrunn, I found that the guide was better than most, informative and telling the stories. In the Sisi Museum especially it helped you get a feel for the character and personality of these people (Sisi was the nickname for Empress Elizabeth). I was highly impressed with the museum and would recommend it to anyone travelling to Vienna.
After leaving the museum I went back to the hostel briefly to grab my camera. Then I went back to “The Ring” to wander and take pictures of the regal-looking buildings that line Ring Street. Pictures, will, of course be posted soon.
From there I headed over to the Sache Hotel to eat what I’d heard was the most famous and delicious chocolate cake Vienna had to offer. The 175 year old recipe has been kept a strict secret and only here at the Sache Hotel can you eat the original Sache Torte. It was, indeed, a very yummy chocolate cake. I contemplated sending one home to my Nana as a present because I knew she would like it… but then I check the prices to ship one overseas… The cake was good, but it wasn’t THAT good. Sorry Nana.
I walked further down the street, checking out a few touristy shops here and there and finally reaching the metro that would take me to the famous old ferris wheel. I forget the dates exactly, but it’s the oldest ferris wheel in the world and has been around for well over a hundred years, lasting through both world wars and natural disasters. Unlike most ferris wheels as we know them today, the Prata Ferris Wheel has large cars that hold 9 people very comfortably. Apparently some of the cars were damaged over the years and they have been replaced, but the origionals have been kept and now house little figurines and scenery describing the history of the ferris wheel and the town around it. See pictures… as soon as I load them that is.
I road in car 24 I believe and the other tourists with me were kind enough to take my picture once we rounded near the top. The view was pretty spectacular. Plus it’s just fun to say that I rode in something THAT old! Not gonna lie, it is simultaneously a little concerning and comforting that the apparatus you’re circling on is THAT old and has made it through THAT much!!
At this point I was feeling tired from all my walking around and I knew most the museums and things were closing anyway, so I headed back to the hostel, grabbing dinner on the way. I felt like the utter American because not only did I have to stop at Starbucks to pick up their Austria mug for my friend Marine (she collects them and asked me to grab one for her) I was both tired and craving a simple hamburger. So I walked down the street back to the hostel holding my purse, a Starbucks bag and a McDonalds bag filled with burger and fries. I might as well have a neon sign above me flashing AMERICAN in bright blue and red letters. Oh well, the Europeans love their starbucks and Micky D’s just as much (if not more) than the average American.
I spent the next hour and a half or so getting some work done for school and sending a couple emails online. I was internally debating as to whether, in my exhaustion, I should just go to bed early, or if I should go back to the bar in the basement and have a baileys… I started wondering this around 8:30 and it wasn’t until around 10:00 that I took my computer upstairs, deposited it in my room and returned to the bar in the basement.
I had my Baileys- delicious as always- and the girl behind the bar asked if I’d like another one. We had a brief conversation about how I was contemplating just that but that it truly wasn’t fun to drink alone. She pointed out that there were plenty of other people in the bar and I pointed out that I didn’t know any of them. Soon enough she grabbed her keys and we proceeded to grab one of her friends and one random guy (a Canadian named Mike) into a free game of Foosball. The bar tender and her friend, Doris, were both Austrian and Doris was GOOD at Foosball. After 2 free games Mike’s friends and some other guys that had been playing pool came to watch the fun. Lena (the bartender) had to get back to work, but she gave us one more free game and one of the pool-players took her place on my team. We stank. Doris was so good! She was practically a professional and anyone silly enough to be her opponent (which I somehow always was) never won. As teams changed around and we continued to play (paying for our games now) we came up with fun names for our teams. Team UberProst was a favorite derived from Mike, who loved the “Prost” (cheers in German) and felt the need to PROST! at every score of either team clanked a little too forcefully with Nick’s drink and there was some spillage on the table. Thus it was an “over prost” or UBERPROST!!! Another great name choice was Team Wiener Schnitzel. My team mate Markis, Mike’s brother, was Wiener and I was Schnitzel. Fun times. Clearly the drinking continued, though Bailey’s didn’t quite seem like the appropriate choice here so I switched to Cider. (For those of you who aren’t familiar, Cider is basically beer made from apples. Not to be confused with French cidre or calvados which are bubbly more like sparkling wine and liqueur respectively, also made from apples. You can get alcoholic cider, as we would call it, in the States, but it’s harder to find.)
Between foosball and chatting and losing track of time we ended up closing the bar at around 2am. So much for going to bed early. We headed up to the lobby and I sat around as Mike, Nick, Doris and the guy behind the reception counter all played a game of pool. I was not interested in playing pool at this point. Lena joined us shortly and as the fun of foosball and loud music faded I began to get sleepy, wished everyone a pleasant evening, thanks Lena again for the foosball and helping me meet people to drink with, and headed up to bed thinking that this was a good way to say goodbye to Vienna.
dimanche 3 mai 2009
VVP continued- Venice Day 3
After another fun night out on the town I got up early (6:30am) and was out the door by 7:15 to head to St. Mark’s Square. Sometimes I think we Americans have a highly messed up view of things—at 7:15AM in the States everyone around is in their car on their way to school or work, causing traffic jams galore and ruining the beauty that CAN be the morning. Here in Venice, I was up with only a few others- those sweeping the streets and those just beginning to open their coffee shops. There was no Starbucks open at 6:00am for the early bird headed to work. Nope nope. These people were still just beginning to stretch their legs. It was so amazingly peaceful to walk the streets of Venice alone. So beautiful.
I got to the Square without much trouble and was please that my “up and adam” (or is it up and at ‘em?) was successfully rewarded. The square was almost desolate. I was one of a handful of people enjoying the scene all by ourselves. I took some pictures and wandered around and then discovered that the Basillica doesn’t even open ‘till 9:45. Oh well damn. No wonder no one’s here!! Who wants to be at the square 2 hours before they can go in and see anything?!? ME! Not that I did it intentionally, but I got really good pictures, so it was worth it.
I decided I needed food so I walked back in the direction of the hostel hoping to stumble upon a boulangerie or something. No such luck. I was finally becoming so hungry and so desperate I was prepared to go eat McDonalds for breakfast only to find out that McDonald’s doesn’t open until 10AM!! Unbelievable. At this point I had been up for a good 2 and a half hours and I needed a little substance to keep me going. Luckily it was then that I found a little bar that sold peach/apple filled croissants. I went with that and then headed back to St. Mark’s to stand in the now-forming line to await entrance into the church.
Perfect timing it had to be because the people right in front of me were a group of adult from Australia who were super nice and we chatted. But in front of them was a girl who was just checking in to the hostel as I was walking out the door this morning! She looked at me and was like, “Venice Fish, right?” and I was like, “Yeah!” So then the Aussies let me join her (Zoe) and we all stood there chatting in line until 9:45 when we were able to get in. Zoe and I explored the Basilica and the Doge’s Palace together. Both were beautiful. I was a little bit skeptical about going to pay to see the Palace as I figured it would be just like any other palace I’ve seen- like Versailles or even some of the other less extraordinary chateaux. Anyway- it ended up being really amazing and I’m glad I did it. My favorite room was this huge map room with these two enormous wooden globes from the 18th Century. The walls were covered in old maps, some that were accurate and some that were not so accurate. We weren’t allowed to take pictures inside the Basilica or the Palace, but as you will see shortly, we were not very good about following directions! (I honestly would have taken more but there were picture Nazi’s everywhere!! We had to be really sneaky)
After the Palace Zoe decided she wanted to go out to one of the islands- Morano or Borano, and I wasn’t sure I’d have time for all that since I was catching my train that evening. So we said our goodbyes and I went to do something VERY special!
ONE OF MY TOP 5 EUROPEAN EXPERIENCES:
I went to the oldest still running café in all of Venice. Caffée alla Venezia Trionfante or Caffe of the Triumphant Venice was opened in 1720 and become easily one of the most popular meeting points for both foreign and notional high society. Renamed after its beloved owner Florian Francesconi, the Florian café faces out into the beautiful St. Mark’s square. It is one of the 3 major cafés that are still on the square today, though as many as 24 such cafés existed there in the 1700s. The three cafés each have wide terraces with 6 piece little orchestras playing music at times. Granted, I paid more for coffee than I ever would again in my life… and that’s WITHOUT adding in the 6 Euro charge for the music. But I can’t even put into words the wonder that was this experience for me.
I sat there, sipping my cappuccino from the Florian, knowing that this place was older than my country, which wasn’t even founded until 56 years later; listening to the live music; taking in the magnificence of the architecture around me; watching the people in the square- namely the small children playing with the birds- kicking and running and chasing and giggling and screaming and dancing around them. They played a medley from My Fair Lady and I felt a little like I was in a movie instead of just remembering one. And the songs rang true for me, there was no place in the world that I would rather be. Sitting there was just THAT amazing. And I could have danced all night here in this square- figuratively speaking, as it was my heart that was dancing with the splendor that was set before it- and still have begged for more.
After a while the bells began to toll and the square echoed with it. Again, there are no real words to describe it.
I sat there for a long time, thinking about how I should get up and go get lunch- I had only eaten that croissant and here it was already 2:30 and I’d done A LOT of walking!! But I had trouble pulling myself away. I had to console myself that this would not be the last time I came to St. Mark’s square.
I finally did get up and move away and I walked through the bazillion pigeons on back in the direction of the hostel, stopping to grab a sandwich on the way. I took it with me and ate it from the comfort of my hostel, right in front of the window. After my food and a little chat with my family I knew I couldn’t spend what was left of my time stuck in the hostel, so I went out again. I took my knitting and my computer and headed down a side street that looked promising and was lucky enough to find a row of cute little cafés lining the canal. I took a seat, ordered a glass of white wine- rare for me, but good and refreshing in the heat- and starting pulling pictures off my camera and putting them on my computer. When I finished that process I put this infernal machine away and pulled out my knitting- which got many a stare from the local Venetians who apparently had never seen anyone knit in their lives.
It was getting closer to the time I needed to go so I went back to my hostel to grab my belongings and then headed to the train station. The sun was setting as I sat on the steps of the train station waiting for my platform to be announced and I said my farewells to Venice. It has officially become my new favorite city in all of Europe. And I got on a train headed for more adventures.
I got to the Square without much trouble and was please that my “up and adam” (or is it up and at ‘em?) was successfully rewarded. The square was almost desolate. I was one of a handful of people enjoying the scene all by ourselves. I took some pictures and wandered around and then discovered that the Basillica doesn’t even open ‘till 9:45. Oh well damn. No wonder no one’s here!! Who wants to be at the square 2 hours before they can go in and see anything?!? ME! Not that I did it intentionally, but I got really good pictures, so it was worth it.
I decided I needed food so I walked back in the direction of the hostel hoping to stumble upon a boulangerie or something. No such luck. I was finally becoming so hungry and so desperate I was prepared to go eat McDonalds for breakfast only to find out that McDonald’s doesn’t open until 10AM!! Unbelievable. At this point I had been up for a good 2 and a half hours and I needed a little substance to keep me going. Luckily it was then that I found a little bar that sold peach/apple filled croissants. I went with that and then headed back to St. Mark’s to stand in the now-forming line to await entrance into the church.
Perfect timing it had to be because the people right in front of me were a group of adult from Australia who were super nice and we chatted. But in front of them was a girl who was just checking in to the hostel as I was walking out the door this morning! She looked at me and was like, “Venice Fish, right?” and I was like, “Yeah!” So then the Aussies let me join her (Zoe) and we all stood there chatting in line until 9:45 when we were able to get in. Zoe and I explored the Basilica and the Doge’s Palace together. Both were beautiful. I was a little bit skeptical about going to pay to see the Palace as I figured it would be just like any other palace I’ve seen- like Versailles or even some of the other less extraordinary chateaux. Anyway- it ended up being really amazing and I’m glad I did it. My favorite room was this huge map room with these two enormous wooden globes from the 18th Century. The walls were covered in old maps, some that were accurate and some that were not so accurate. We weren’t allowed to take pictures inside the Basilica or the Palace, but as you will see shortly, we were not very good about following directions! (I honestly would have taken more but there were picture Nazi’s everywhere!! We had to be really sneaky)
After the Palace Zoe decided she wanted to go out to one of the islands- Morano or Borano, and I wasn’t sure I’d have time for all that since I was catching my train that evening. So we said our goodbyes and I went to do something VERY special!
ONE OF MY TOP 5 EUROPEAN EXPERIENCES:
I went to the oldest still running café in all of Venice. Caffée alla Venezia Trionfante or Caffe of the Triumphant Venice was opened in 1720 and become easily one of the most popular meeting points for both foreign and notional high society. Renamed after its beloved owner Florian Francesconi, the Florian café faces out into the beautiful St. Mark’s square. It is one of the 3 major cafés that are still on the square today, though as many as 24 such cafés existed there in the 1700s. The three cafés each have wide terraces with 6 piece little orchestras playing music at times. Granted, I paid more for coffee than I ever would again in my life… and that’s WITHOUT adding in the 6 Euro charge for the music. But I can’t even put into words the wonder that was this experience for me.
I sat there, sipping my cappuccino from the Florian, knowing that this place was older than my country, which wasn’t even founded until 56 years later; listening to the live music; taking in the magnificence of the architecture around me; watching the people in the square- namely the small children playing with the birds- kicking and running and chasing and giggling and screaming and dancing around them. They played a medley from My Fair Lady and I felt a little like I was in a movie instead of just remembering one. And the songs rang true for me, there was no place in the world that I would rather be. Sitting there was just THAT amazing. And I could have danced all night here in this square- figuratively speaking, as it was my heart that was dancing with the splendor that was set before it- and still have begged for more.
After a while the bells began to toll and the square echoed with it. Again, there are no real words to describe it.
I sat there for a long time, thinking about how I should get up and go get lunch- I had only eaten that croissant and here it was already 2:30 and I’d done A LOT of walking!! But I had trouble pulling myself away. I had to console myself that this would not be the last time I came to St. Mark’s square.
I finally did get up and move away and I walked through the bazillion pigeons on back in the direction of the hostel, stopping to grab a sandwich on the way. I took it with me and ate it from the comfort of my hostel, right in front of the window. After my food and a little chat with my family I knew I couldn’t spend what was left of my time stuck in the hostel, so I went out again. I took my knitting and my computer and headed down a side street that looked promising and was lucky enough to find a row of cute little cafés lining the canal. I took a seat, ordered a glass of white wine- rare for me, but good and refreshing in the heat- and starting pulling pictures off my camera and putting them on my computer. When I finished that process I put this infernal machine away and pulled out my knitting- which got many a stare from the local Venetians who apparently had never seen anyone knit in their lives.
It was getting closer to the time I needed to go so I went back to my hostel to grab my belongings and then headed to the train station. The sun was setting as I sat on the steps of the train station waiting for my platform to be announced and I said my farewells to Venice. It has officially become my new favorite city in all of Europe. And I got on a train headed for more adventures.
vendredi 1 mai 2009
VVP- Part 1
Venice:
After one of the best dinner’s I’ve eaten in my apartment (mutton and potatoes) I grabbed my backpack and headed out the door to the bus station. My bus left Perrache (Lyon) at 11:59PM. Sleeping on a bus is not an easy thing to do, but luckily I had two seats to myself and I made the best of it. I figure that riding a bus across Europe is one of those things that I’m able to do at age 23 and won’t be able to do at age 43—my body won’t take it then and (with any luck) I’ll have the money to travel a little more in style.
At 7AM we arrived in Milan and I had to get off of one bus and onto another. Then the new bus had to wait. And wait. And wait some more for a bus that was coming from Amsterdam that apparently got held up by border control as they crossed Switzerland. Finally that bus arrived, the few people we were waiting for transferred and around 8:20 or so we were on the road again.
Awake as I was I figured I’d use my bus time wisely and I read my psychology (I’m taking an online class- in case you didn’t know) and when I sick of that I knit. I napped a little, but not too much. And 13 and a half hours after leaving Lyon I made it to my destination: Venice!
I had been told two things about Venice- A. go to St. Mark’s Square and B. get lost on its winding streets. I planned to do both. What I didn’t realize what just how quickly that second half would happen. In my excitement I missed a key planning step—I knew the name and address of my hostel, but not where it was or how to get there. Oops. So off I went looking for a map- it’s a bus station, there should be a map right? Wrong. No map. Ok… let’s try talking to the natives. I found a group of people and asked if they knew the address- they debated in Italian among themselves and then told me to get on the number 1 bus and get off at such and such a stop. Ugh… ok. So I went looking for the number one and didn’t see it. I decided to try asking again. I went up to the ticket office this time and this guy spoke English, which was a much better way to communicate than Italian in my point of view. He told me to cross the bridge and walk for 10 minutes in a straight line. Ugh… ok. So I crossed the bridge—I figured at least this way I could keep asking for directions.
And that’s what I did, I asked another person on the other side of the bridge- she too spoke English- cross three bridges and then you’ll come to a place or square and that’s where my address said I should be. After the second bridge I asked again- this guy said I had LONG WAY to walk and I’d be better off staying in the hostel right next to his bar. “No thank you, I already made my reservation” and I continued on. I did, indeed, cross 3 bridges and I soon came to something I would refer to more as a triangle than a square but sure enough, I recognized the bridge and the door from the picture on the hostel’s website. Woohoo!!! I made it!
Except… there’s no sign. Shouldn’t there be a sign? Is this the Venice Fish Hostel? Am I ringing some strange person’s door bell? Shoot. Nerves set in. I ring the door bell anyway and I wait. Just as I’m ready to walk away I hear someone coming to the door. “Hi Lizzy” this guy says to me as he opens the door. “Ugh… hello. Is this the Venice Fish?” Sure enough, I was in the right place, and apparently the last one to check in for the day. Takes away the creepiness when you figure out how he knew my name, doesn’t it?
So I dumped my stuff and met Davido (who we lovingly refer to as Estebon) more officially, he’s living here and running the hostel for now. He’s a Mexican that left home to travel Europe about 7 months ago and just sort of fell into doing this for a couple months. I also met Matt, another American from Michigan, who had just arrived only a few minutes before me. Matt and I were both traveling alone so we paired up and headed out with our cameras to see what we could see.
Our first stop was for gelato- a necessity and a tasty treat to say the least. Then we headed off and just wandered, taking pictures and chatting. We weren’t going anywhere in particular and though I would have been lost for hours had I been alone Matt had a stellar sense of direction and got us back to the hostel just fine. We met an Australian girl who would be staying at the hostel just for one night. The three of us left once again (you can’t sit inside for too long with this sprawling city at your feet) and went to grab a cappuccino. We sat there people watching and chatting as it rained lightly outside- we went for round two and this time I had a red wine. After that we headed back towards the hostel again to find out what the plan was for dinner—our hostel offers free dinner every night. (BONUS!!) We discovered that dinner would be at 9pm and that if we wanted to drink (as we were chatting about) we needed to go grab it before 8 when the store would close and anywhere else selling liquor would raise their prices. So we went down the street to Billa- a super small version of walmart. We went and grabbed wine and cheese and olives- France has certainly gotten to me. :)
We went back to the hostel and stood around the kitchen drinking wine, eating cheese and olives, watching Estebon cook up a mix of who knows what that we called “Alakazam”- literally, cut up hot dog, ground beef, and tomato craziness that somehow ended up spicy. Yup… free dinner.
Then we settled around the table for a good old American college style drinking game: circle of death. And then got ourselves ready and headed out on the town. Our Mexican host took us to a marvelous little local place filled with Venetians. I tried ordering a typical Italian drink (so I was told) called a spritzer but I did not find it enjoyable so I passed it along to Erin (another American from California- went to school in Indiana- just finished study abroad in London) and went back to get a Baileys. So much better.
The night continued as nights like this often do and we headed off to a club and I was on the dance floor soon enough!!
I woke up around 7am this morning without meaning to and decided that I might as well just get going with the day. I showered and sat out in the living room doing more psych homework- see what a good student I am. Eventually my hostel-mates started moving- we all ate breakfast and then I headed out with Erin and Matt to wander a little. We stopped and grabbed cappuccino again, delicious, and then Erin went to meet up with some friends of hers and Matt and I headed off to grab lunch. We grabbed sandwiches and found a dock on the side of the canal to sit on- absolutely lovely! Then we continued on in the direction of St. Mark’s Square. We joined about 9 million other people packed in the place and decided it wasn’t our time to be there. Matt didn’t really have much desire to hang around and I knew I’d have more time to go back. (I’ve decided to go back in the early morning when there’s less people.) So we continued walking in what we thought was the right direction only to get completely lost, thoroughly enjoying “authentic Venice” as Matt referred to it—basically, the little canals and bridges and glorious beauty that is this city. We figured out we were heading in the complete wrong direction so we grabbed gelato and turned back toward the right way.
We got back near the hostel and split up. Matt went to go get train tickets and I headed off to do a little shopping. :) After a while my feet were sore from all the walking and I was tired so I found a little café on a side street just along one of the canals. It was hot so instead of another coffee I went for a cold coke. Around 5:00 I decided it was time to get back to the hostel and call home- wish my Daddy a happy birthday!!
I’ve pretty much just been chillin’ at the hostel- loving the AMAZING view I have here- people watching and whatnot. I grabbed another bottle of wine with some cheese and bread for the evening. Yum.
Currently all the Americans are hanging out and we’ll be eating dinner here shortly. Tomorrow will be really nice- going to St. Mark’s alone and taking my time to explore all its glory!! I have one last day to enjoy Venice and then tomorrow evening I take off for Vienna!! More wonderful times to share soon!!!
:) I’ll upload pictures soon—they’re AMAZING. LOVE YOU ALL!!!
After one of the best dinner’s I’ve eaten in my apartment (mutton and potatoes) I grabbed my backpack and headed out the door to the bus station. My bus left Perrache (Lyon) at 11:59PM. Sleeping on a bus is not an easy thing to do, but luckily I had two seats to myself and I made the best of it. I figure that riding a bus across Europe is one of those things that I’m able to do at age 23 and won’t be able to do at age 43—my body won’t take it then and (with any luck) I’ll have the money to travel a little more in style.
At 7AM we arrived in Milan and I had to get off of one bus and onto another. Then the new bus had to wait. And wait. And wait some more for a bus that was coming from Amsterdam that apparently got held up by border control as they crossed Switzerland. Finally that bus arrived, the few people we were waiting for transferred and around 8:20 or so we were on the road again.
Awake as I was I figured I’d use my bus time wisely and I read my psychology (I’m taking an online class- in case you didn’t know) and when I sick of that I knit. I napped a little, but not too much. And 13 and a half hours after leaving Lyon I made it to my destination: Venice!
I had been told two things about Venice- A. go to St. Mark’s Square and B. get lost on its winding streets. I planned to do both. What I didn’t realize what just how quickly that second half would happen. In my excitement I missed a key planning step—I knew the name and address of my hostel, but not where it was or how to get there. Oops. So off I went looking for a map- it’s a bus station, there should be a map right? Wrong. No map. Ok… let’s try talking to the natives. I found a group of people and asked if they knew the address- they debated in Italian among themselves and then told me to get on the number 1 bus and get off at such and such a stop. Ugh… ok. So I went looking for the number one and didn’t see it. I decided to try asking again. I went up to the ticket office this time and this guy spoke English, which was a much better way to communicate than Italian in my point of view. He told me to cross the bridge and walk for 10 minutes in a straight line. Ugh… ok. So I crossed the bridge—I figured at least this way I could keep asking for directions.
And that’s what I did, I asked another person on the other side of the bridge- she too spoke English- cross three bridges and then you’ll come to a place or square and that’s where my address said I should be. After the second bridge I asked again- this guy said I had LONG WAY to walk and I’d be better off staying in the hostel right next to his bar. “No thank you, I already made my reservation” and I continued on. I did, indeed, cross 3 bridges and I soon came to something I would refer to more as a triangle than a square but sure enough, I recognized the bridge and the door from the picture on the hostel’s website. Woohoo!!! I made it!
Except… there’s no sign. Shouldn’t there be a sign? Is this the Venice Fish Hostel? Am I ringing some strange person’s door bell? Shoot. Nerves set in. I ring the door bell anyway and I wait. Just as I’m ready to walk away I hear someone coming to the door. “Hi Lizzy” this guy says to me as he opens the door. “Ugh… hello. Is this the Venice Fish?” Sure enough, I was in the right place, and apparently the last one to check in for the day. Takes away the creepiness when you figure out how he knew my name, doesn’t it?
So I dumped my stuff and met Davido (who we lovingly refer to as Estebon) more officially, he’s living here and running the hostel for now. He’s a Mexican that left home to travel Europe about 7 months ago and just sort of fell into doing this for a couple months. I also met Matt, another American from Michigan, who had just arrived only a few minutes before me. Matt and I were both traveling alone so we paired up and headed out with our cameras to see what we could see.
Our first stop was for gelato- a necessity and a tasty treat to say the least. Then we headed off and just wandered, taking pictures and chatting. We weren’t going anywhere in particular and though I would have been lost for hours had I been alone Matt had a stellar sense of direction and got us back to the hostel just fine. We met an Australian girl who would be staying at the hostel just for one night. The three of us left once again (you can’t sit inside for too long with this sprawling city at your feet) and went to grab a cappuccino. We sat there people watching and chatting as it rained lightly outside- we went for round two and this time I had a red wine. After that we headed back towards the hostel again to find out what the plan was for dinner—our hostel offers free dinner every night. (BONUS!!) We discovered that dinner would be at 9pm and that if we wanted to drink (as we were chatting about) we needed to go grab it before 8 when the store would close and anywhere else selling liquor would raise their prices. So we went down the street to Billa- a super small version of walmart. We went and grabbed wine and cheese and olives- France has certainly gotten to me. :)
We went back to the hostel and stood around the kitchen drinking wine, eating cheese and olives, watching Estebon cook up a mix of who knows what that we called “Alakazam”- literally, cut up hot dog, ground beef, and tomato craziness that somehow ended up spicy. Yup… free dinner.
Then we settled around the table for a good old American college style drinking game: circle of death. And then got ourselves ready and headed out on the town. Our Mexican host took us to a marvelous little local place filled with Venetians. I tried ordering a typical Italian drink (so I was told) called a spritzer but I did not find it enjoyable so I passed it along to Erin (another American from California- went to school in Indiana- just finished study abroad in London) and went back to get a Baileys. So much better.
The night continued as nights like this often do and we headed off to a club and I was on the dance floor soon enough!!
I woke up around 7am this morning without meaning to and decided that I might as well just get going with the day. I showered and sat out in the living room doing more psych homework- see what a good student I am. Eventually my hostel-mates started moving- we all ate breakfast and then I headed out with Erin and Matt to wander a little. We stopped and grabbed cappuccino again, delicious, and then Erin went to meet up with some friends of hers and Matt and I headed off to grab lunch. We grabbed sandwiches and found a dock on the side of the canal to sit on- absolutely lovely! Then we continued on in the direction of St. Mark’s Square. We joined about 9 million other people packed in the place and decided it wasn’t our time to be there. Matt didn’t really have much desire to hang around and I knew I’d have more time to go back. (I’ve decided to go back in the early morning when there’s less people.) So we continued walking in what we thought was the right direction only to get completely lost, thoroughly enjoying “authentic Venice” as Matt referred to it—basically, the little canals and bridges and glorious beauty that is this city. We figured out we were heading in the complete wrong direction so we grabbed gelato and turned back toward the right way.
We got back near the hostel and split up. Matt went to go get train tickets and I headed off to do a little shopping. :) After a while my feet were sore from all the walking and I was tired so I found a little café on a side street just along one of the canals. It was hot so instead of another coffee I went for a cold coke. Around 5:00 I decided it was time to get back to the hostel and call home- wish my Daddy a happy birthday!!
I’ve pretty much just been chillin’ at the hostel- loving the AMAZING view I have here- people watching and whatnot. I grabbed another bottle of wine with some cheese and bread for the evening. Yum.
Currently all the Americans are hanging out and we’ll be eating dinner here shortly. Tomorrow will be really nice- going to St. Mark’s alone and taking my time to explore all its glory!! I have one last day to enjoy Venice and then tomorrow evening I take off for Vienna!! More wonderful times to share soon!!!
:) I’ll upload pictures soon—they’re AMAZING. LOVE YOU ALL!!!
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