Herein will be a retelling of my physical inspection, assorted observations after 10 days in Moscow, and a small essay on Madrid.
So, to get properly admitted into the wrestling club I am training in, I needed to jump through a few hoops, and among them was to get medically cleared. Perfectly understandable, we do it in the states too. But all the same, the whole procedure was quite the event. Allow me:
I showed up a little early, waited and read my newspaper (Soviet Sport, keeping it old school). After some confusion over where I was going, I finally got in to meet with my doctor/advisor for the morning session about 15 minutes late, or standard for Russia, I'd say.
So we exchanged some pleasantries, some personal info, some money, and then I got going.
The first room was the laboratory for a blood test. Again, perfectly normal procedure, prick the finger and poke blood out. Well, except for the time she put my blood in a pipe on one end and then blew it out from the other end into a receptacle. That was a little unusual. And the second time no less.
After we decided that a urine test was unnecessary, I went down the hall, thinking I was going to get my first ever EKG (or possibly EEG, the heart one). While that was yet in store, first I had an Echo test. Which meant that I was to sit there with my hands neatly on my knees, palms out, while this nice old doctor took what looked to be my temperature from various points on my body: second joint of each middle finger, elbow, wrist, temple. After the first try she told me that we should take another one, my results weren't too good, maybe I was nervous. Well ok, first test in Russia and I fail. No biggie. Apparently this test tells how much energy I have ready, on tap, and in reserve, and how my nervous system works, and what type of girl I prefer, and so forth. Very detailed, I can understand how Ivan Drago was constructed now.
On the next one I passed in hovering just above the ground colors, suggesting that I had a lot of energy in reserve and that I should only work out to 80% capacity for a little while. As if it was my choice.
Next came the long awaited heart test, which ever E*G it was. I went into the room, and the pretty doctor told me to take off my shirt and hike my pants up Huck Finn style. Yes ma'am. Then I lie down on the medical bed, and she straps my legs and arms to the bed with metal clamps. Wondering where this could possibly go next, I got my answer in two words: suction cups. The good doctor put 6 cups around my chest, right around nipple area on each side. To say they felt funny would be a mild understatement; they tickled like hell and I was left biting my lip to keep from continuously laughing. If my results showed anything funny, I'd argue that there's a reason for it right there.
Anyway, the show resumed slightly more mundanely with an interview/blood pressure test. Interview because this doctor asked me questions about my medical history, my past with concussions, my favorite food, and so forth. One result was that I learned the word for "Adenoid" is pretty much the same in Russian.
These sort of questions continued in the next room, where the doctor inspected my eyes, ears, and nose. She found that my nose was a little uneven in nostril width. As long as it doesn't bother me I'm fine, and the way I figure, after my haircut I'm one good broken nose away from really looking Russian.
The dermatologist and I had a nice little chat after I barged into her office before she got there. You see, she just got back from vacation, so things were a little confused, and I didn't mean to break that vase...err, anyway, clean skin, I'm golden.
For my reflexes test I met my first male examiner. His first test was to have me pretend I got pulled over: stand on one foot, close your eyes, touch your nose with each hand. If he asked to to recite the Russian alphabet, forwards or backwards, he would have had me dead to rights. Anyway, then instead of hitting the mallot on my knees, he had me kneel on the chair and then hit my ankles. And you wonder why communism didn't work.
I don't even know what my final test was, except it involved me taking off my shirt, going into a little chamber, and putting my chin on a stool. And when the light went on I was to not breath out. I think. It's enough for me to understand layman's Russian, but to grasp doctor speak in another language is a struggle.
Have no fear, my bill of health is clean and I made by on the bill of money. And I've already practiced 3 times, or once a day this week. And I hurt really bad. Other observations:
- The title is a quote from one of the people who has been greatly helping me out over here. She said I was instantly recognizable by the fact that I smiled as I walked around, and that after 3 months I'll be nice and worn down to Moscow standards. Between that and my ears getting really fat because headgear is a foreign concept and I want to fit in, I'll be completely unrecognizable in December. Hooray!
- After seeing all the people on the most inner boulevard circle drinking openly on the benches, whether beer, champagne, or vodka from a plastic cup; getting used to the smoking endemic here and in Europe; and seeing how people drive (with reckless abandon and a passion unrivaled outside of Nascar, namely, they drive it like they stole it) and refuse to let walkers cross the street, I remarked to my uncle on this, and we decided that this is the Дикий Восток (that is, the Wild East).
- My first game of soccer over here was a success: We won 6-3. I had the final goal as well as two assists (playmaker, folks), and I managed to take a pass on the postgame cigarette - and they were wondering why they were so tired out there.
- Just in case you didn't know, Moscow is huge. Both in area and population, this place is swarming. The metro trains are almost always packed, the city streets always swarming, and it takes me an hour plus to get to practice, which is in the same general region of the city as my apartment. More on this later no doubt.
Ok, and now for a few words on Madrid:
Madrid:
The city actually looks baked most of the time, a dusty, rusty red, as seen from Gran Via or Plaza Mayor or Puerta del Sol. There is green to be found in gorgeous amounts, and there correspondingly is plenty of life to be found after dark. But those elements work in Madrid almost in spite of the city, which felt better defined by its walkability, great food at decent prices, and the siestas.
Ahh the siesta, the most intriguing piece of Madrillan (and Spanish) life. With reports/claims that Spanish citizens average an hour less sleep than their European counterparts, and that Madrid brings that average down, it would appear that siestas go for about half of a young Spaniard's daily sleep count.
On the one hand, that's brilliant. Everybody loves a midday nap, and if you can manage, an extra hour spent awake is a bonus. But that's the rub: wouldn't it be more productive, economically or socially, to sleep more and get more out of your waking hours? This could be a Puritanical American heritage speaking, but sometimes this siesta business seems a little archaic and disruptive.
Then again, few feelings are more pleasant than slowly reviving from a midday snooze, with a layer of sweat on the legs and vague recollections of sub-conscious thought. It throws a pause into Madrid's pace, and that pause makes me feel that Madrid is the best city to live in of those we saw in Western Europe.
Dan
14.9.06
From Russia With Love
Man, have I been dying to use that title.
So my place, let me tell you, I'm living in a room with two roomates. And they're cool enough, you know, it's strange. One's shorter than me, kinda fat, kinda hairy, really proud too, sort of doesn't say anything unless he wants to eat, he'll just stare at you kind of funny and yawn if you try to talk to him. But whatever, he's quiet, his name is Timmy (well, Tima in Russian). Then there's Philly (Fila), who's a cool enough dude, a little rough around the edges, he drools when he sleeps and always lies out on my bed. And he's always asking me to go out, he's like, "Danya, come on, we need to go out, I have people I need to see," and I'm like, "Fila, dude, I don't want to go out, I'm tired, and we went out this afternoon already," and he's like, "Come on, you're in Moscow, you have nothing to do anyway," and I'm like, "alright, fine, you're right." Anyway, he's alright otherwise, a bit messy when he eats. Anyway, here's a picture of these two, they're quite a pair, Timski is on the left:
So my place, let me tell you, I'm living in a room with two roomates. And they're cool enough, you know, it's strange. One's shorter than me, kinda fat, kinda hairy, really proud too, sort of doesn't say anything unless he wants to eat, he'll just stare at you kind of funny and yawn if you try to talk to him. But whatever, he's quiet, his name is Timmy (well, Tima in Russian). Then there's Philly (Fila), who's a cool enough dude, a little rough around the edges, he drools when he sleeps and always lies out on my bed. And he's always asking me to go out, he's like, "Danya, come on, we need to go out, I have people I need to see," and I'm like, "Fila, dude, I don't want to go out, I'm tired, and we went out this afternoon already," and he's like, "Come on, you're in Moscow, you have nothing to do anyway," and I'm like, "alright, fine, you're right." Anyway, he's alright otherwise, a bit messy when he eats. Anyway, here's a picture of these two, they're quite a pair, Timski is on the left:
But seriously, yes, I am here in the city of onion domes, red and revolutionary squares, obtuse visa registration requirements, and cyrillic letters. Moscow, be mine. This has been a shockingly relaxing week, with the whole idea of sleeping in the same bed for more than two days a truthfully amazing development. At the same time, I'm on the verge of setting the next two and a half months up quite nicely. Wrestling, visa, maybe work, social life, a soccer team to cheer for in the Champions League (CSKA, where I'm training for wrestling), it's all a pretty good deal. I should also mention that the place I'm staying in is stellar, mostly because the people therein are stellar. A family that includes a generous and dry-witted dad, a very kind and helpful mother, a friendly and slightly dopey son, and an equally friendly and enthusiastic daughter, and the kids are both teenagers. Oh, and listen to our eating schedule: Every meal is followed by tea and sweets, largely in chocolate form. You think I'm in love?
A few more advantages to Moscow life so far:
Watching TV: Educational, always, as it's in a foreign language. And I'm actually getting into Lost, which I never tried watching before, though here it's called "Remaining among the Living" or something.
Music: Well, first, the family I'm here with has an old, not quite functional but decent enough accordion, so I fooled around on it. Number 2, I have a cd player set up in my room with speakers attached that plays mp3 cds, so I have one cd here that has every Beatles record on it, so that's kind of cute. Lastly, I played my 2 Russian songs and "Julian of Norwich" for the folks here. Knocked 'em dead. I plan on hanging out on the hipster street (Old Arbat) and doing the whole playing and putting the hat out thing (I forgot the verb) as soon as I'm legal.
Phone: I have a cell piece, known as a "Mobile phone", here. While there's nothing extraordinary about it, I did manage to set it up so that phone calls from unknown numbers will ring as the opening notes to Bombadil's "Jellybean Wine", and from numbers in my phonebook the notes will be the melody to "Julian of Norwich". So vain.
Fairer gender: I'm told, told mind you, that there's a line waiting for me. Tomorrow I begin to verify.
Anyway, all is well, and here's a little piece I wrote about Barcelona, which wins the following superlatives: Most Intense City, Best City to Vacation in, City most likely to Burn me out.
If that looks like I'm flying, it's only because it's true. Atop Park Guell, with Barca in the background, picture by Mr. Ben Chang.
Barcelona: time spent here: 24 hours +-
Headrush. Barcelona rushes through the visitor as the visitor rushes thorugh it. Fast-paced but in the easy-going Mediterranean style, this city felt like an amusement park. And only partly because modernist architecture, mostly courtesy of Antoni Gaudi, made it look like one (especially the entrance to Park Guell). Barca is high on energy and demands: if you want to go out, you go late; if you want to see the city, you walk a lot and up tall hills.
This felt like the best city to date to vacation in. On th epositive, it offers close to as much high culture as Rome and Paris, meanwhile rounding it out better with beauty, nature, sports, and the beach. More importantly, assuming you don't want to actually rest on your vacation, that Barca energy combines with the high culture for full days. Very full days.
On the negative, that high energy felt constant, and it takes a special type to face up to and meet the standard day in and day out. I would guess Barcelona is not cheap to live in, and as such requires a lot; you might be able to get the best out of it for a year or two, but I imagine burnout is the reward in the end.
Still, I think Barcelona is the "coolest" or "hippest" city of the Western European Cities we visited.
9.9.06
Lithuania always comes near the end...
And so the end is near, because I'm in Vilnius now, and will be on my way to Tallinn in a couple hours, and then it's Moscow. Which is really just the beginning.
Since I last typed:
Budapest- In the upper echelon, certainly, as weird as it was. One full day of touring provided plenty of good sightseeing, from the Buda Castle District to multiple good views of the Parliament to the Citadel on Gellert Hill, as well as the most lavish synagogue I've ever seen, and apparently the 2nd largest in the world at that (#1, anybody?) I guess it makes sense they call it the "Great Synagogue".
The payoff was all on the last day, however, where I not only found out that I didn't lose my pair of spandex when I went to the National Art Museum (it was in my jacket pocket, obviously), but I got to go in the Szechnyi baths. It's basically a big spa complex, except all naturally heated and outdoors. A very nice 3 hours spent, lounging around mostly naked and looking at other mostly naked people while healing the bod. Or something.
Krakow- Very homey city, comfortable, low-key, but with a nice little nightlife scene (ok, I'm not the best judge, conceded). Plus my hostel had a great book to read, so I got going on that. And I took a run and only got lost a little bit this time, it's a convenient route around the city.
A lot of Jewish stuff in the city and catching a train out to Auschwitz, which was all pretty worthwhile. As was running back to the train station only to miss my train back to Krakow, but then catching a bus, which got to Krakow late, meaning I ended up just squeezing onto the 20:00 train for Warsaw, so I got in there at the cheery hour of 22:45, rather than an hour later.
Warsaw- I wasn't here very long and this was one of my down days physically, so I was kinda crapped out, but I was surprised, the city was nicer than I thought it would be. Plus I found another beef tartare (first time I've had it in the same country, my 4 previous times were in Poland, Montreal, Somerville, and Paris), and this place that had hot chocolate that was actually too rich. I didn't think hot chocolate could be too rich, but E. Wedel proved me wrong.
Vilnius- I've only been here today but it has been lovely. I got in much too early and was tired, but decided after some consulting with friends north of here to stay until the night bus. I sludged around for breakfast and then decided to stop in on a Shabbat service, because I thought it would be interesting and keep me busy. It was more the latter than the former, but never let it be said that the Choral Synagogue does not know how to hold a kiddush: good eating. Plus, the sermon/service was in Russian when it wasn't in Hebrew, so that was cool.
In fact, Vilnius is at least 50 % Russian speaking, marking the first day of my immersion, I suppose. And it's a very pretty city, with a nice old town and this hill to climb to a tower. I got to the top, which had a nice view and all, but was also superb to nap on. So I napped. It was the best half hour of the trip, I think.
I was going to load a picture but it's taking too long. I basically wanted to show how ridiculous I look right now: long unkempt (and infrequently washed at best) hair, full facial scruff, and I'm wearing my shirt/khakis combo right now. But, on the precipice of Moscow, I have not lost/damaged my camera (though I left it in a bathroom in Vienna for a couple minutes), I have only broken the wristband on my watch, turning it from a cheap wristwatch into a cheap pocketwatch (August 29th in Barcelona for those who had the date in the pool), and the only item I've lost is my glasses case (train to Krakow). Which seems easy, but you must consider how absentminded/stupid I can be about these things.
The trip's been lovely, educational, tiring, and satisfactory. And I think I'm ready for Moscow too. Is it ready for me?
(sorry, couldn't help it)
Dan
Since I last typed:
Budapest- In the upper echelon, certainly, as weird as it was. One full day of touring provided plenty of good sightseeing, from the Buda Castle District to multiple good views of the Parliament to the Citadel on Gellert Hill, as well as the most lavish synagogue I've ever seen, and apparently the 2nd largest in the world at that (#1, anybody?) I guess it makes sense they call it the "Great Synagogue".
The payoff was all on the last day, however, where I not only found out that I didn't lose my pair of spandex when I went to the National Art Museum (it was in my jacket pocket, obviously), but I got to go in the Szechnyi baths. It's basically a big spa complex, except all naturally heated and outdoors. A very nice 3 hours spent, lounging around mostly naked and looking at other mostly naked people while healing the bod. Or something.
Krakow- Very homey city, comfortable, low-key, but with a nice little nightlife scene (ok, I'm not the best judge, conceded). Plus my hostel had a great book to read, so I got going on that. And I took a run and only got lost a little bit this time, it's a convenient route around the city.
A lot of Jewish stuff in the city and catching a train out to Auschwitz, which was all pretty worthwhile. As was running back to the train station only to miss my train back to Krakow, but then catching a bus, which got to Krakow late, meaning I ended up just squeezing onto the 20:00 train for Warsaw, so I got in there at the cheery hour of 22:45, rather than an hour later.
Warsaw- I wasn't here very long and this was one of my down days physically, so I was kinda crapped out, but I was surprised, the city was nicer than I thought it would be. Plus I found another beef tartare (first time I've had it in the same country, my 4 previous times were in Poland, Montreal, Somerville, and Paris), and this place that had hot chocolate that was actually too rich. I didn't think hot chocolate could be too rich, but E. Wedel proved me wrong.
Vilnius- I've only been here today but it has been lovely. I got in much too early and was tired, but decided after some consulting with friends north of here to stay until the night bus. I sludged around for breakfast and then decided to stop in on a Shabbat service, because I thought it would be interesting and keep me busy. It was more the latter than the former, but never let it be said that the Choral Synagogue does not know how to hold a kiddush: good eating. Plus, the sermon/service was in Russian when it wasn't in Hebrew, so that was cool.
In fact, Vilnius is at least 50 % Russian speaking, marking the first day of my immersion, I suppose. And it's a very pretty city, with a nice old town and this hill to climb to a tower. I got to the top, which had a nice view and all, but was also superb to nap on. So I napped. It was the best half hour of the trip, I think.
I was going to load a picture but it's taking too long. I basically wanted to show how ridiculous I look right now: long unkempt (and infrequently washed at best) hair, full facial scruff, and I'm wearing my shirt/khakis combo right now. But, on the precipice of Moscow, I have not lost/damaged my camera (though I left it in a bathroom in Vienna for a couple minutes), I have only broken the wristband on my watch, turning it from a cheap wristwatch into a cheap pocketwatch (August 29th in Barcelona for those who had the date in the pool), and the only item I've lost is my glasses case (train to Krakow). Which seems easy, but you must consider how absentminded/stupid I can be about these things.
The trip's been lovely, educational, tiring, and satisfactory. And I think I'm ready for Moscow too. Is it ready for me?
(sorry, couldn't help it)
Dan
3.9.06
Sipping on some Tokaj, feeling breezy in Budapest
This summary is not available. Please
click here to view the post.
30.8.06
Central Europe at last!
So there was I, this supposed intrepid tourist, on a mission to see all that needs to be seen in high cultural and low cultural Europe, and perhaps everything in between. From my previous trip to Paris when I was a wee 10 years old, my best memory is of the Arc de Triomph. So how did I miss it the first time through this year, and more importantly, what could I do about it?
How about hopping a train to Paris and then driving around the damn thing twice?
How about hopping a train to Paris and then driving around the damn thing twice?
Anyway, no need to go into details, but let's just say I took myself on a driving tour of the city, with able guidance from shotgun. And then I walked to...
And one more Paris shot:
The Fountain of St. Michel. Notice the color coordination between shoes and jacket.
Anyway, after the extra day in Paris, I rode on an overnight train to Narbonne, a seemingly tiny city near the French Riviera, and then transferred onto a train to Barcelona. I have now traveled overnight on 4 trains, each of them with a different setup. The best was probably Milan to Barcelona, with 4 sleepers that came out of the wall and were real comfy like. The couchette from Lausanne to Rome was ok when I had a bed on top, the couchs on the bottom were a little too narrow even for me. The sleeperette from Barca to Paris consisted of a chair that reclined really far...surprisingly it worked. Paris to Narbonne was most nerve-racking because A) I was in a coach with 5 other guys, and at least 3 looked like they'd take your money so much as they look at you, and B) I had to make sure to not miss my stop. While the conductor did pop his head in 10 minutes before arrival at Narbonne, I do declare that I had already woken up. My body clock is a charm.
The flight from Barcelona to Prague was more of a hassle. Apparently flying cheap means flying cheap: the lines were a mess, the plane went off an hour and a half late, any drink beyond the first you had to pay for, etc. On the plus side, they let me bring both bags on (I've relearned my lesson), and conveniently missed my 5.9 euro French toothpaste in the scanner (as well as my 9 euro French deodorant...yes, I've been using French deodorant).
Got into Prague, walked around it at night, when it is most beautiful. Something about the colors and the lights, it is all really pretty, and I have pictures, but they're not showing up. So maybe that's a sign to save a full Prague post for tomorrow night when I'm planning to stay up until the 6 am train to Vienna Friday morning, free with my railpass. Cuz that's how I roll.
Dan
26.8.06
Notes from The Garden of Earthly Desires
Before any writing (and well before any pictures, since Ben hasn't sent them to me yet - fortunately I'm better writing than looking) here are some key Madrillan stats:
3:15 am - Average bed time over 3 nights in Madrid...and that's considered early 'round these parts
3 - Number of art museums visited (and appreciated) in Madrid
0 - Number of museums visited before Madrid
1 - Loads of laundry completed
2 - Number of times a bouncer rejected me from a club for wearing shorts
1 - Number of times we talked them into letting me in anyway.
2 of 3 - Number of times we have dined in Madrid with girls from Cat's Hostel
0 of 1 - Number of times I actually successfully asked a girl to dinner. Similarly...
0 of 1 - Number of times I received a positive response to "¿Quieres Bailar?" However...
2 - Number of pretty Argentinian girls met and...
1 - Pairs of Spanish styled double kisses received from said girls.
Key Spanish foods sampled - Blood sausage (not so bad), croquetas (wow, they're aMAZing!), tortilla (haven't really had a good one yet), churros con chocolato (again, as good as it sounds), and paella (solid, spicy, interesting). Gazpacho tomorrow.
So now that we're clear: Madrid has been rather interesting. Socially, it's vacation time for the city and everybody still is out really late, far later than I can take, really, especially with no Code Red over here. The scene we visited was based around bars till 2 and then clubs. Fine enough, though my voice is sore from yelling a conversation with a Venezualan Spaniard.
Culturally, there isn't as much obvious architectural dazzlement as in the other 3 cities, but Madrid has three big things going for it: You can walk everywhere, it's the cheapest city yet, and we actually spent time here. Who knew that a 3-night, 4-day stay meant you could spend time seeing things? The Prado was impressive with some great paintings (including a Hieronymous Bosch piece whence this entry heading comes from...possibly the best painting ever to my novice eye), the Museo Thyssen-Bornemisza held its own despite having a completely unpronouncable name, and the Reina Sofia had the most consistently great gallery, with highlights being the Dali room, the Picasso exhibit, and the Goya painting "May 3rd", on loan from the Prado. Honestly, this may be the first time I've ever gone to art museums and enjoyed a good amount of my time spent there. So hooray for art.
Our time in Madrid has been the highlight of the trip for me so far, but that could be partially attributed to the time spent here. Barcelona is faster-paced and we raised our intensity, blitzing through it for 22 hours straight. It's possible I'll get to see a museum or two there when I return Monday night or Tuesday morning, and then it has a chance to rise again.
It should be noted that Cat's Hostel helps the experience in Madrid greatly. A laidback and friendly, internationally based English speaking crowd, decent staff, decent free breakfast, and a bar to start the night off in: it's a good mix of most of the right ingredients. There may be a post or two more on hostel life once I have time to reevaulate, but it's hard to imagine anybody beating Cat's.
Meanwhile, my time here is getting cut short a tad, as tomorrow I take an overnight to Paris to retrieve my backpack. Hopefully by Monday night I'll be in full-fighting form and lounging in Barcelona, getting kicked off the streets for playing guitar again or some such deal. This portion of the trip with Ben has certainly been a success, if with a few bumps, but now the adventure takes it up a notch, sort of like track 2 on a John Cusacl-planned mixtape. And when I get my bag, I'll get my camera, and you can all see how ridiculous I look in Europe. It'll be fun, promise.
3:15 am - Average bed time over 3 nights in Madrid...and that's considered early 'round these parts
3 - Number of art museums visited (and appreciated) in Madrid
0 - Number of museums visited before Madrid
1 - Loads of laundry completed
2 - Number of times a bouncer rejected me from a club for wearing shorts
1 - Number of times we talked them into letting me in anyway.
2 of 3 - Number of times we have dined in Madrid with girls from Cat's Hostel
0 of 1 - Number of times I actually successfully asked a girl to dinner. Similarly...
0 of 1 - Number of times I received a positive response to "¿Quieres Bailar?" However...
2 - Number of pretty Argentinian girls met and...
1 - Pairs of Spanish styled double kisses received from said girls.
Key Spanish foods sampled - Blood sausage (not so bad), croquetas (wow, they're aMAZing!), tortilla (haven't really had a good one yet), churros con chocolato (again, as good as it sounds), and paella (solid, spicy, interesting). Gazpacho tomorrow.
So now that we're clear: Madrid has been rather interesting. Socially, it's vacation time for the city and everybody still is out really late, far later than I can take, really, especially with no Code Red over here. The scene we visited was based around bars till 2 and then clubs. Fine enough, though my voice is sore from yelling a conversation with a Venezualan Spaniard.
Culturally, there isn't as much obvious architectural dazzlement as in the other 3 cities, but Madrid has three big things going for it: You can walk everywhere, it's the cheapest city yet, and we actually spent time here. Who knew that a 3-night, 4-day stay meant you could spend time seeing things? The Prado was impressive with some great paintings (including a Hieronymous Bosch piece whence this entry heading comes from...possibly the best painting ever to my novice eye), the Museo Thyssen-Bornemisza held its own despite having a completely unpronouncable name, and the Reina Sofia had the most consistently great gallery, with highlights being the Dali room, the Picasso exhibit, and the Goya painting "May 3rd", on loan from the Prado. Honestly, this may be the first time I've ever gone to art museums and enjoyed a good amount of my time spent there. So hooray for art.
Our time in Madrid has been the highlight of the trip for me so far, but that could be partially attributed to the time spent here. Barcelona is faster-paced and we raised our intensity, blitzing through it for 22 hours straight. It's possible I'll get to see a museum or two there when I return Monday night or Tuesday morning, and then it has a chance to rise again.
It should be noted that Cat's Hostel helps the experience in Madrid greatly. A laidback and friendly, internationally based English speaking crowd, decent staff, decent free breakfast, and a bar to start the night off in: it's a good mix of most of the right ingredients. There may be a post or two more on hostel life once I have time to reevaulate, but it's hard to imagine anybody beating Cat's.
Meanwhile, my time here is getting cut short a tad, as tomorrow I take an overnight to Paris to retrieve my backpack. Hopefully by Monday night I'll be in full-fighting form and lounging in Barcelona, getting kicked off the streets for playing guitar again or some such deal. This portion of the trip with Ben has certainly been a success, if with a few bumps, but now the adventure takes it up a notch, sort of like track 2 on a John Cusacl-planned mixtape. And when I get my bag, I'll get my camera, and you can all see how ridiculous I look in Europe. It'll be fun, promise.
23.8.06
Barcelona seemed tired last night...
So while waiting to leave for our morning train to Madrid, a verbal recap of the cities:
Paris - Representative color: Brown with a blue tinge
Ben and I took the RER into the city at about 3, getting off right in front of the Notre Dame. Our first walking tour commenced, taking us east along the River Seine until we got to the Eiffel Tower, where we decided to climb to the top. The open air staircase for the first two floors was significantly less intimidating this time. But intimidating enough. And it rained sideways on the 3rd floor.
We descended, walked the park at the foot of the tower and then caught the metro to get to St. Michel. Meeting our Parisian friends at the fountain, we walked/drove around the Latin Quarter until finding a nice place to eat. French Onion Soup (though, shockingly, the menu omitted the French from the listing...), steak tartare, and heavenly chocolate mousse. A meal to cherish for the rest of the trip, I´d say.
Day 2 was abridged by concerns over my bag and then the discovery that our planned overnight train to Rome was sold out. We booked through Lausanne instead, meaning we had to leave 2 and a half hours earlier. Which meant we could check out the Palais de Bercy and then walk around the Yitzhak Rabin Gardens and then go back to the station. Of course, we didn´t have any of our stuff, having left it with our friends thinking we´d meet up before our later train...so we sweated it out before they found us in the train station 5 minutes before departure. We proceeded to hustle to the train, where we were literally the last ones aboard (Ben specifically, heavy red bag in tow). Highlight of the trip, clearly.
Our first train ride was a pleasant evening jaunt through pretty French and Swiss countryside, meanwhile sitting in the nearly empty cart next to the bar, keeping us fresh as we entered...
Lausanne - We were in town for about 2 hours. Walked down to Lake Geneva (coining the hope for humanity phrase ¨Finding the Lake¨), bought dinner, ate, played some guitar, walked back up. Seemed like a nice enough town, and who knew Switzerland still has their own currency (ironically, the Swiss franc)?
Rome - Representative color - a burnt orange/tan, sort of the color of the Colosseum but a bit brighter. Also, the Tiber River was green.
Very touristy city, but with good reason. My Italian needs much much work, but we got by more than bene without it. We managed the Fountain of Trevi, the Pantheon, the Ancient City, and the Spanish Steps in our 27 hours there, and walked around an entire country. Unintentionally. We thought it was faster that way.
Anyway, everything lived up to its billing and obviously the city deserved more time. But we did have a fun Monday night, which leads to a how to:
How to go out on Rome for 11 euros and feel full and happy:
First, go to hostel company bar, where a drink brings free pizza. Show up late so instead of a drink-per-slice policy, you get a whole tray of low-quality, lukewarm sicilian sliced pizza. They´re still carbs, and lots of them. Meanwhile order Cokes, drawing dirty looks from the Australian bartender, while talking with a Canadian mother-daughter touring combo (completely platonic conversation, don´t worry) and a Norwegian dude who looks your age but is actually 32 and in Rome because he´s having girl trouble at home and needed to get away for a week. Good man.
After filling up and spending five euros on coke, ask bartender where the action is, find out it´s at Campo Del Fuori. Then listen to him tell you not to put gum in the glasses, which you weren´t doing.
Catch a bus with traveling companion and new Norwegian buddy from the nearby Train station to Campo Del Fuori (the good old 40), quickly finding out that we don´t know how to pay, and then that no one really cares. Free bus ride takes you a little past your goal, but you instead turn to Piazza Navone, remember a bar that serves a free shot with each drink. Order a half liter of red wine and then gently nurse the drink over an hour and a half time while ignoring your shot, meanwhile conversing with the Brazilian bartender. Then ask him to send over one of the attractive waitresses, so as to ¨practicare il tuo italiano.¨Struggle pleasantly to have a conversation.
After the bar, pay il conto (the bill), with the wine costing only 4 instead of 6 euros. bonus. Get 2 scoops of gelato (chocolate and nutella) for 2 euros and head back towards Campo Del Fuori before deciding to head back to the hostel. All buses go to the train station, so the wait is short and the ride is again free. And end scene.
Milan - We spent about an hour here, but the gnocchi patate con bolognese deserves a mention. The cramped train ride here does not, except for meeting a Turkish girl whose favorite Dostoevsky book is Crime and Punishment, which she read at the age of 12, marking the end of her childhood. Yikes. I impressed her by saying her name, Budjo (As I guess) correctly on the first time.
Barcelona - Color - sort of a sea green.
Marathon day here in the Catalan ciudad. We get in, dump our bags off at our fratty hostel, walk around the main street (La Rambla), had a local specialty - churros con chocolata, or fried dough dipped in really thick hot chocolate, as good as it sounds - then down to the beach, a topless beach - all rumors about topless beaches showing the wrong kinds of tops were confirmed, by the way - where I got to dip my feet in the Mediterranean. Another body of water off the list. Anyway, back to the hostel to check in, then a metro up to LÉixample, the modernist strip, featuring the architectural works of Antoni Gaudi (as did most of the city). Crazy buildings, including the famed La Segreda Familia, a wee bit ambitious church that is unfinished, followed. Then we trekked up to the Park Guell, also a Gaudi staple with an amusement park looking entrance and much marching up to the top for a beautiful view of the city. It was most tranquil.
Then we marched back down the hill and took a metro over to Montjuic (named because it´s somehow built on an ancient Jewish cemetery, I need to read deeper into this), where there was La placa de espanya, featuring a great Palace, very eastern in design of domes and colors. We then walked around the Olympic torch tower, took in a few minutes of a summer league baseball game, and then scaled the mountain in the quest for another gorgeous view, this time from the southwest of the city rather than the north. We made it on time for the sunset, standing on walls of the well-situated old castle. A return to the hostel followed.
Late dinner even by Barcelonan standards (meaning 11 pm local time rather than 10) and then it was off to various night time scenes. While Barcelona was actually tamer than advertised for the most part (there were people chanting when I started writing this post at 5 am), we managed to get yelled at by the police twice for playing guitar outside. Meanwhile a bum came up and talked to Ben, filling him in on his life story, and prostitutes aggressively solicited clients (though Ben informed me that their act was legal, apparently unlike ours). Two warnings from two different cops is a sign to call it quits, so now we head to the train station for sleep and a ride to Madrid meanwhile.
Pictures with the next update, and I may have my backpack by then too.
Buenas noches,
Dan
Paris - Representative color: Brown with a blue tinge
Ben and I took the RER into the city at about 3, getting off right in front of the Notre Dame. Our first walking tour commenced, taking us east along the River Seine until we got to the Eiffel Tower, where we decided to climb to the top. The open air staircase for the first two floors was significantly less intimidating this time. But intimidating enough. And it rained sideways on the 3rd floor.
We descended, walked the park at the foot of the tower and then caught the metro to get to St. Michel. Meeting our Parisian friends at the fountain, we walked/drove around the Latin Quarter until finding a nice place to eat. French Onion Soup (though, shockingly, the menu omitted the French from the listing...), steak tartare, and heavenly chocolate mousse. A meal to cherish for the rest of the trip, I´d say.
Day 2 was abridged by concerns over my bag and then the discovery that our planned overnight train to Rome was sold out. We booked through Lausanne instead, meaning we had to leave 2 and a half hours earlier. Which meant we could check out the Palais de Bercy and then walk around the Yitzhak Rabin Gardens and then go back to the station. Of course, we didn´t have any of our stuff, having left it with our friends thinking we´d meet up before our later train...so we sweated it out before they found us in the train station 5 minutes before departure. We proceeded to hustle to the train, where we were literally the last ones aboard (Ben specifically, heavy red bag in tow). Highlight of the trip, clearly.
Our first train ride was a pleasant evening jaunt through pretty French and Swiss countryside, meanwhile sitting in the nearly empty cart next to the bar, keeping us fresh as we entered...
Lausanne - We were in town for about 2 hours. Walked down to Lake Geneva (coining the hope for humanity phrase ¨Finding the Lake¨), bought dinner, ate, played some guitar, walked back up. Seemed like a nice enough town, and who knew Switzerland still has their own currency (ironically, the Swiss franc)?
Rome - Representative color - a burnt orange/tan, sort of the color of the Colosseum but a bit brighter. Also, the Tiber River was green.
Very touristy city, but with good reason. My Italian needs much much work, but we got by more than bene without it. We managed the Fountain of Trevi, the Pantheon, the Ancient City, and the Spanish Steps in our 27 hours there, and walked around an entire country. Unintentionally. We thought it was faster that way.
Anyway, everything lived up to its billing and obviously the city deserved more time. But we did have a fun Monday night, which leads to a how to:
How to go out on Rome for 11 euros and feel full and happy:
First, go to hostel company bar, where a drink brings free pizza. Show up late so instead of a drink-per-slice policy, you get a whole tray of low-quality, lukewarm sicilian sliced pizza. They´re still carbs, and lots of them. Meanwhile order Cokes, drawing dirty looks from the Australian bartender, while talking with a Canadian mother-daughter touring combo (completely platonic conversation, don´t worry) and a Norwegian dude who looks your age but is actually 32 and in Rome because he´s having girl trouble at home and needed to get away for a week. Good man.
After filling up and spending five euros on coke, ask bartender where the action is, find out it´s at Campo Del Fuori. Then listen to him tell you not to put gum in the glasses, which you weren´t doing.
Catch a bus with traveling companion and new Norwegian buddy from the nearby Train station to Campo Del Fuori (the good old 40), quickly finding out that we don´t know how to pay, and then that no one really cares. Free bus ride takes you a little past your goal, but you instead turn to Piazza Navone, remember a bar that serves a free shot with each drink. Order a half liter of red wine and then gently nurse the drink over an hour and a half time while ignoring your shot, meanwhile conversing with the Brazilian bartender. Then ask him to send over one of the attractive waitresses, so as to ¨practicare il tuo italiano.¨Struggle pleasantly to have a conversation.
After the bar, pay il conto (the bill), with the wine costing only 4 instead of 6 euros. bonus. Get 2 scoops of gelato (chocolate and nutella) for 2 euros and head back towards Campo Del Fuori before deciding to head back to the hostel. All buses go to the train station, so the wait is short and the ride is again free. And end scene.
Milan - We spent about an hour here, but the gnocchi patate con bolognese deserves a mention. The cramped train ride here does not, except for meeting a Turkish girl whose favorite Dostoevsky book is Crime and Punishment, which she read at the age of 12, marking the end of her childhood. Yikes. I impressed her by saying her name, Budjo (As I guess) correctly on the first time.
Barcelona - Color - sort of a sea green.
Marathon day here in the Catalan ciudad. We get in, dump our bags off at our fratty hostel, walk around the main street (La Rambla), had a local specialty - churros con chocolata, or fried dough dipped in really thick hot chocolate, as good as it sounds - then down to the beach, a topless beach - all rumors about topless beaches showing the wrong kinds of tops were confirmed, by the way - where I got to dip my feet in the Mediterranean. Another body of water off the list. Anyway, back to the hostel to check in, then a metro up to LÉixample, the modernist strip, featuring the architectural works of Antoni Gaudi (as did most of the city). Crazy buildings, including the famed La Segreda Familia, a wee bit ambitious church that is unfinished, followed. Then we trekked up to the Park Guell, also a Gaudi staple with an amusement park looking entrance and much marching up to the top for a beautiful view of the city. It was most tranquil.
Then we marched back down the hill and took a metro over to Montjuic (named because it´s somehow built on an ancient Jewish cemetery, I need to read deeper into this), where there was La placa de espanya, featuring a great Palace, very eastern in design of domes and colors. We then walked around the Olympic torch tower, took in a few minutes of a summer league baseball game, and then scaled the mountain in the quest for another gorgeous view, this time from the southwest of the city rather than the north. We made it on time for the sunset, standing on walls of the well-situated old castle. A return to the hostel followed.
Late dinner even by Barcelonan standards (meaning 11 pm local time rather than 10) and then it was off to various night time scenes. While Barcelona was actually tamer than advertised for the most part (there were people chanting when I started writing this post at 5 am), we managed to get yelled at by the police twice for playing guitar outside. Meanwhile a bum came up and talked to Ben, filling him in on his life story, and prostitutes aggressively solicited clients (though Ben informed me that their act was legal, apparently unlike ours). Two warnings from two different cops is a sign to call it quits, so now we head to the train station for sleep and a ride to Madrid meanwhile.
Pictures with the next update, and I may have my backpack by then too.
Buenas noches,
Dan
Hola from Barca
Just a quick update before we go out (possibly all night). We have veni vidi vicied our way through Paris, Rome, and today Barcelona, with a surprise detour in Lausanne. My feet are killing and my back is sore, but that´s kind of the point. I still do not have my backpack (with clothes, shoes, railpasses, and camera therein), we were the last ones on the train from Paris, and we´ve made friends from Norway, Canada, Chile, and Turkey. So there are stories to tell, and thanks to Ben, pictures to show. I´ll be doing it soon enough in Madrid, where we arrive tomorrow.
Buenas Noche,
Dan
Buenas Noche,
Dan
19.8.06
We have arrived here safe and sound...
My backpack has not. Yet.
NYC was lovely, from the fast visa service to an ordered car to take me to JFK. The delay in the runway before takeoff at the airport, however, is probably why my backpack is stuck in London. It should get here today or tomorrow, and considering I leave tomorrow night and need my railpass contained therein, it better.
In any case, Ben and I met, Olga picked us up, and now we are resting and awaiting lunch before tackling Paris (and its toothpaste prices). And no big worry about the bag, I have the three most important pieces to the Europe trip; my companion, my wallet/passport, and my guitar.
2 quick shower-related France observations:
1. Separate toilet and shower rooms: I had forgotten about these, but a nice touch.
2. No matter where the shower, it takes me a good 5 minutes to figure out how to turn it on and off, each. Nothing like squatting in the bath fiddling with every piece on the faucet except the right one. (How's that as an image?)
NYC was lovely, from the fast visa service to an ordered car to take me to JFK. The delay in the runway before takeoff at the airport, however, is probably why my backpack is stuck in London. It should get here today or tomorrow, and considering I leave tomorrow night and need my railpass contained therein, it better.
In any case, Ben and I met, Olga picked us up, and now we are resting and awaiting lunch before tackling Paris (and its toothpaste prices). And no big worry about the bag, I have the three most important pieces to the Europe trip; my companion, my wallet/passport, and my guitar.
2 quick shower-related France observations:
1. Separate toilet and shower rooms: I had forgotten about these, but a nice touch.
2. No matter where the shower, it takes me a good 5 minutes to figure out how to turn it on and off, each. Nothing like squatting in the bath fiddling with every piece on the faucet except the right one. (How's that as an image?)
10.8.06
What's the going price of Toothpaste in Paris?
Well, about 8 days on the dot before the flight from JFK to everybody's favorite airport, Heathrow (and from there on to Paris). I still don't have an actual visa, but I am only one flight, a bunch of train reservations, and a few more hostel reservations (if I go through with them) from having my trip set up. So rather than work on that, I'm writing this list of which cities I most anticipate seeing, in descending order.
14. Milan - Nothing against Milan, I'm just there for 2 and a half hours tops. And the ticket from there to Barcelona is nigh ridiculous ($131 after railpass? Damnit)
13. Bratislava - I think this is going to be a cool little city, again, part of the low ranking is the product of my schedule, with just short of 21 hours in the city. And no, indie kids, I'm not going just because the Beirut album has a song called "Bratislava". That's only half of it. Maybe 75 %.
12. Warsaw - This should be interesting, but it gets dwarfed by Krakow, by most reports, and, again, I'm there for less than a full day.
11. Vilnius - "There's nothing to see there," our Polish coach/tour guide famously declared last year. "Frank Zappa statue!" I belatedly counter. And there's supposedly the biggest old town in eastern europe, and a nice Jewish quarter besides.
10. Tallinn - Assuming I go, this is a very cute little town and I'd love to visit the Alexander Nevsky Church again, being one of the coolest places I've ever been too. But there are other factors here as well...
9. Paris - Honestly, this would have been lower, but the prospect of a few warm faces and the genesis for our trip bumps it up quite a bit. I suppose its history, past as the cultural center of the world, and neat monuments don't hurt.
8. Barcelona - Should be gorgeous, and warm, and near the sea, and cheaper than Italy, and we'll actually be able to converse in the national language (or Ben will). Sounds good enough from my vantage point.
7. Madrid - Now combine the warmth and the cheapness and the conversing with the fact that we're actually going to have enough time here. I mean, 4 and a half days as I reckon it, sounds like we can go in depth with things.
6. Vienna - I still need to get some tips and do my research, but this has to be pretty cool, right? And I'm actually really intrigued by the hostel I'm booked at, Ruthensteiner. Musical instruments for use, eh?
5. Rome - Colosseum, Sistine Chapel, Pantheon. That will be an ambitious day.
4. Krakow - This is widely known as the gem of Poland but still hasn't quite reached Budapest/Prague levels of trendiness. Sounds great for a contrarian, indie snob like myself. And I hear there's a really nice museum there.
3. Budapest - Probably would have been below Vienna, but then I got a thorough guideline for what I need to do in the city, including outdoor spas. Delicious.
2. Prague - I've never heard a bad thing about Prague. I guess the fact the narrow streets influenced Kafka is a mixed thing, but still, I'm sure it's not all that bad.
1. Moscow - I'm spending two and a half months there, I better be looking forward to it, right?
Possibly one more first-person heavy post before I fly to Europe. And really, the journey starts on the good old Fung-Wah Wednesday to NYC.
-- Dan
14. Milan - Nothing against Milan, I'm just there for 2 and a half hours tops. And the ticket from there to Barcelona is nigh ridiculous ($131 after railpass? Damnit)
13. Bratislava - I think this is going to be a cool little city, again, part of the low ranking is the product of my schedule, with just short of 21 hours in the city. And no, indie kids, I'm not going just because the Beirut album has a song called "Bratislava". That's only half of it. Maybe 75 %.
12. Warsaw - This should be interesting, but it gets dwarfed by Krakow, by most reports, and, again, I'm there for less than a full day.
11. Vilnius - "There's nothing to see there," our Polish coach/tour guide famously declared last year. "Frank Zappa statue!" I belatedly counter. And there's supposedly the biggest old town in eastern europe, and a nice Jewish quarter besides.
10. Tallinn - Assuming I go, this is a very cute little town and I'd love to visit the Alexander Nevsky Church again, being one of the coolest places I've ever been too. But there are other factors here as well...
9. Paris - Honestly, this would have been lower, but the prospect of a few warm faces and the genesis for our trip bumps it up quite a bit. I suppose its history, past as the cultural center of the world, and neat monuments don't hurt.
8. Barcelona - Should be gorgeous, and warm, and near the sea, and cheaper than Italy, and we'll actually be able to converse in the national language (or Ben will). Sounds good enough from my vantage point.
7. Madrid - Now combine the warmth and the cheapness and the conversing with the fact that we're actually going to have enough time here. I mean, 4 and a half days as I reckon it, sounds like we can go in depth with things.
6. Vienna - I still need to get some tips and do my research, but this has to be pretty cool, right? And I'm actually really intrigued by the hostel I'm booked at, Ruthensteiner. Musical instruments for use, eh?
5. Rome - Colosseum, Sistine Chapel, Pantheon. That will be an ambitious day.
4. Krakow - This is widely known as the gem of Poland but still hasn't quite reached Budapest/Prague levels of trendiness. Sounds great for a contrarian, indie snob like myself. And I hear there's a really nice museum there.
3. Budapest - Probably would have been below Vienna, but then I got a thorough guideline for what I need to do in the city, including outdoor spas. Delicious.
2. Prague - I've never heard a bad thing about Prague. I guess the fact the narrow streets influenced Kafka is a mixed thing, but still, I'm sure it's not all that bad.
1. Moscow - I'm spending two and a half months there, I better be looking forward to it, right?
Possibly one more first-person heavy post before I fly to Europe. And really, the journey starts on the good old Fung-Wah Wednesday to NYC.
-- Dan
Subscribe to:
Posts (Atom)
