The Beautiful Italian Riviera

We took two trains from Nice into the beautiful scenery of Cinque Terre, a group of five small towns nestled into the cliffsides of the mountains running along the Mediterranean. Most of them are still surrounded by vineyards used to produce the grapes needed for creating wine.

Riomaggiore, the town we stayed in, is the last of the five towns and sits southernmost in the lineup. The streets are all a very dark shade of gray and are lined with many small wine shops, cafes, food markets, gelatarias, and even a bar or two. There were many more tourists there than we expected, much to our dismay. Lucky for us, many of the tourists were Italian and not Amercan, which made us feel a bit better about our choice of town. It has been a running theme of this trip, for the most part, to stay as far away from touristy areas (especially those with a large English-speaking populus) as possible.

Since the town is so small, there are no actual hostels or hotels anywhere. Instead, the "hostels" are actually collections of apartments located in the same buildings as where the locals live. So cool! Talk about being immersed in the town's own culture. The 50 or so absurdly steep marble stairs to get from the street to the third floor landing, where are apartment sat, certainly added to the adventure. Getting our bags up and down those was quite a physical challenge.

For such a small town there are quite a few outdoor activities available. You can go snorkling, scuba diving, kayaking, and hiking. We chose that latter option and took a ferry from Riomaggiore to the northernmost town, Monterosso, to begin. Michael and I both got pretty seasick and had to withhold from vomitting for the entire 40 minute journey through the rough Mediterranean breakwaters. Upon arriving in Monterosso and getting some wonderful focaccia pizza to cure our seasickness, we set off on our five hour hike along the upper parts of the mountains running along the sea.

 The entire hike took us from Monterosso, though many vineyards and through each of the other towns and back into Riomaggiore around 6 or 7 in the evening. We then treated ourselves to some of the most delicious gelatto on Earth. I can't believe we even wasted our money on the crap in France. The Italian stuff is the real deal and I doubt many people outside Italy can ever hope to compete.

We also spent both of our evenings sitting on the marble boulders in the huge outcropping sticking out from the cliffs as the sun set. Listening to the waves crash against the rocks as we laid upon them was wonderfully hypnotic, as was our whole stay in the beautiful region of the Italian Riviera.

Next up: Rome, followed by Venice.

Vacation from our Vacation

You might think that this trip is all fun and games; a great vacation away from everything. But I'm here to tell you otherwise. It's a lot of hard work! We walk upwards of 5-10 miles every day, eat almost nothing, and have to consume tons of water to keep from getting horribly dehydrated. We do get to sleep in every day and do whatever we feel like doing, but nevertheless this is not your typical relaxing vacation.

That's where Nice came in. Nice is a nice beach/resort town on the coast of the Mediterranean in France, and was our destination following Barcelona. We did almost no exploring outside of walking to and fro down the Promenade des Anglais, watching the water and the people everywhere. We laid on the rocky beaches under the sun to attempt to even out our tans, and we ate wonderful pizza and cheese/meat/bread sandwich combinations the entire time. Unfortunately the sun was not cooperating as much as we would have liked, but I think we all did end up getting a bit more sun (although the same success cannot be claimed for the removal of our farmers' tans).

All in all it was a good two day stop. However, we stayed at a budget hotel instead of a hostel which meant that it not include the full kitchen setup we've become so accustomed to. It was quite a challenge trying to assemble meals from the grocery store when we didn't even have access to a microwave or a stove, and it was even more of a challenge to keep food we didn't finish since we didn't have a refrigerator. I think we ended up wasting more food here than anywhere else because of this.

Now, it's goodbye France and hello Italy! The next week or so will be filled with the Italian Riviera as well as Rome and Venice. See you in Cinque Terre!

A City in Flames

If you were to picture a scene of a city filled with burning intersections, screaming people, explosives flying at you, and deafening blasts sounding every few seconds from every possible direction, you might be tempted to think of a bloody revolution. But think again. The citizens of Barcelona and all the other Catalonian cities would very loudly protest your assumption. Welcome to the Festival of St. Joan, a Catalonian tradition that takes its roots from the celebration of the arrival of the summer solstice from paganism. And I wasn't joking about the burning intersections. Literally, many of the major ones throughout the city had 10 foot tall stacks of wood planks and old furniture sitting right in the middle, surrounded by feeble metal fence-like blockades the city placed in an attempt to keep its citzens from catching themselves on fire. Similarly to the Olympics, a runner carrying a lit torch runs through the city during the evening's celebrations and lights all the bonfires as he arrives at them. They then proceed to burn all night with what appeared to be no supervision other than the throngs of people surrounding them and throwing fireworks into the flames.

It was a very intense evening. We rode a bus completely packed with people down to the beach which was similarly filled with people. Everyone was shooting off their own fireworks every which way. You really needed to be aware of your surroundings to avoid having drunk people light firecrackers in your shoes  (which almost happened to Alex thanks to a crazy Chilean woman causing some serious mayhem behind us). I fondly remember one particular moment when I happened to notice a spark of light out of the corner of my eye only to realize it was an unopened Heineken can sitting just a few feet behind me with a firecracker of unknown strength burning down on top of it. I yelled and jumped forward spilling everything out of my pockets into the sand just as the can exploded and flew several more feet to the right, spitting beer foam and smoke everywhere and eliciting hoots and laughter from everyone who witnessed it.

Before all this ridiculousness, however, we had quite an enjoyable stay in Barcelona. Michael's and my friend Matt, a recent graduate of Columbia University, has been living in Barcelona for the past year teaching English. He graciously became our host for the city, spending time with us and taking us to some of the more hidden gems of the city almost the entire time we were there. Our first night, after failing to get into the best tapas bar in the city, he took us to a tiny, sketchy, hole-in-the-wall restaurant where you could get full entrees for between 0.65 and 5 Euros and where the waiter uncannily resembled Frankenstein in both appearance and manner. Later during our stay, he also took us to one of the oldest bars in the city where they serve a delicious Spanish Absinthe. This bar was amazing. Its interior looked as if it was pulled straight out of an old Western film, complete with dusty liquor bottles lining the ceiling trim and unmatching tiles with less-than-perfect fits lining the floor. This was the first time I had ever had Absinthe in a bar, and I didn't realize that the water bottles served with the drinks had holes punched in the top for easily squirting the water over the sugar cubes. The waiter was quick to correct my mistake when he saw me trying to slowly pour water over the sugar with the cap completely removed. Just a bit embarrassing!

On the cultural side of things, I'd say this was our (meaning Alex's and my) first real culture shock. All the other cities' cultures thus far, even Paris, have not proven challenging to understand or replicate. Even with both of our combined experience with the Spanish language from high school, which came in really handy (and was quite fun) for communicating with people, we were not prepared for the almost excruciating slow down of Spanish time; everything there is slower. As I'm sure most of you know, I tend to be a very fast-paced person who doesn't really like to slow down and smell the roses for too long; I enjoy slowness in great moderation and nothing more. This proved to be a problem for Alex and I as our stay in the city continued. The amount of time we had to wait for simple to-go food orders or the slowness with which people walked through the streets really began to weigh on us, and we decided that most likely neither of us could ever stay in that sort of environment for an extended period of time. Michael, of course, loved the environment and had to keep reminding us that "we are in Spain" and to "take it easy."

A final tidbit worth mentioning is the incredibly strong sense of culture and community Catalonians hold, especially when separating themselves from the Spanish. Catalonia, although technically contained within the borders of Spain, is considered an autonomous region complete with its own governing bodies, laws, and customs. We even saw a tactful bit of spray painted writing on a telephone booth near our hostel that read something akin to: "Tourist, you are in Catalonia, not Spain." Apparently some Catalonians get quite offended when tourists refer to them as Spainards.

Welcome to Gimmelwald: Heaven on Earth

One major thing I've learned thus far on the trip is that nothing is as difficult or fantastical as it seems. The length and freedom of our trip has often been surpassed by the people we meet, and talking to them about their experiences only furthers my understanding of that point. There will be more trips like this for me in the near future and I will be going way more hardcore with them. Most of the more ridiculous ideas I had discussed with people in the past were apparently not so ridiculous after all. Hopefully the skills I pick up on this trip will serve me well for these future adventures.

Gimmelwald is a very naturally meditative place. We are high up in the Swiss Alps surrounded at all angles by unbelievably stunning scenery. None of the photos any of us have taken come even remotely close to doing it justice. If you walk just a few hundred feet from the hostel into town, all you can hear are birds and the river far beneath us. Occasionally the hostel's black cat, Shadow, darts past you on the path.

On our 7-hour hike yesterday to the top of Bryndli we passed through quiet meadows filled with wildflowers and herds of grazing cows, and where the angle of the ground ranged anywhere from 0 to 85 degrees. There were crashing waterfalls, angry rivers, babbling streams, and the sounds of cow bells everywhere. Despite the length and difficulty of the hike (we ascended some 800 vertical meters and then descended the same), I witnessed some of the most amazing natural beauty I've ever seen in my life.

All the people we've met here have been quite interesting as well. From the couple who just graduated MIT and now work remotely from their laptops while traveling the world (and going 6 months strong) to the guy who came to this hostel for a few nights over a month ago and never left, all the people we've spoken to have amazing stories and are a lot of fun to talk to for endless hours.

Even the townspeople have proven fun. It's really cool to purchase cheese, eggs, bread, meat, or yogurt up here and know that we are buying them from the person who made them with their own hands and livestock. And of course, it's far better than what one could ever buy in a grocery store.

I think I'd like to come back to this place in the future. It will probbaly stand out to me more than most of the other cities on this trip, and I'm sad to have to leave it tonight. I want to make sure that I'm able to experience something like this again.

Hill Climbing and Popping into Interlaken

The train from Bern to Interlaken took us past beautiful lakes and right up close to the Alps. They are much more majestic up close. Even the breathless view we got from the top of the Gurten foothill after our 1.5 hour hike two days ago with Martin and Peter became mediocre in the face of the natural sights of Interlaken. The scenery upon arriving at the Interlaken West train station, however, was hidden behind the cover of touristy excessiveness that was really at the heart fo the town. People old and young were everywhere carrying backpacks and there were no shortages of colorful advertising touting the countless available adventure sports such as skydiving, zorbing (essentially rolling down the mountain in a giant, two-layer hamster ball), white water rafting, canyoning (jumping and repelling down cliffs from the top of a mountain to the bottom), and paragliding. Of course, the prices for all these activities were ridiculously high, so we couldn't partake. I really wish I could have done the double jump skydive from 18,000 feet with oxygen support and a glacial landing, but alas.

Because of these things, we decided our second night in Interlaken would be a complete waste and we decided to cut it down to one night and extend our stay in Gimmelwald to two nights and almost three full days. Hiking the Alps seemed like a much better use of our time. To get to the mountain town 4485 feet above sea level, we have to take a train, a bus, and a cable car gondola suspended above a deep valley. We also had to get 2 days' worth of groceries from the Coop in Interlaken since there are no grocery stores atop the mountain.

But more about our stay in Interlaken. Last night we met this really cool guy named Jonathan from Kansas City and whose approximately 3 month solo Eurotrip very closely resembled my original idea for this trip. He had no itinerary -- just a one-way ticket to London and a 3-month unlimited travel EurRail pass. He's a month in, still on budget, and loving it. His many stories he shared with us over a bottle of red wine and chocolate were amazing to listen to, and inspirational for to all of us for different reasons. Let me just say, with a bit of indignation, that obviously he is living proof that all the people who told me that an unplanned, extended trip like that isn't possible don't know what they are talking about. It was really nice to hear that my original, "unrealistic" idea for this trip wasn't at all crazy or unreasonable. He's also traveling on $1000 less than we are for our 2-month trip.

But that's okay. This trip has still be ridiculously unforgettable and I wouldn't trade this summer for anything.

The Most Beautiful City Ever

This city is magnificent. Stone streets run outside scores of shops in the Old City where electric trams and hybrid travel back and forth. Sharp steeples and large green hills dominate the immediate background while the stark, white crags of the Swiss Alps sit further back against the horizon under a veil of mist. Being here is like living in the perfect painting.

Bern shuts down around 7 or 8pm, but there appears to still be some nightlife. Like Amsterdam, bikes are everywhere and the boys are stunningly beautiful. It is beyond me how almost all these people have pretty much zero fat on their bodies.

We spent yesterday making grocery store food from the train station in the hostel's perfect kitchen and wrestling with washing machines that cost way too much money to operate. That adventure ended with the three of us washing socks in a sink at 2am while trying to stifle fits of laughter so we didn't wake the whole hostel.

Today we stumbled upon a huge, city-wide women's foot race (appropriately named the "Swiss Women's Race") that took over all of Bern. We walked toward the nearest big hill with the intention of hiking it, but came across a huge park next to the Aare River full of people. The Aare is a beautiful, aqua-blue, clear, winding, fast, freezing cold river that divides the city in two.

After changing into swim trunks and laying out our towels on the grass, we walked about a quarter mile upstream to jump into the 5mph, 50 degree water with the intention of speedily floating back to the park. Unfortunately, that didn't work out so well for me. For whatever reason I ended up losing the ability to stay afloat and kept falling deeper in the water. At the time it didn't occur to me to flip onto my back and float like I had seen everyone else doing. Either way, feeling like I was about to drown is a very frightening feeling. Michael noticed what was happening, grabbed a rock, and then grabbed me to haul me out of the current. It really was a terrifying experience, and I'm not sure what would have happened if he wasn't there.

We spent the rest of the day under the sun in the park recovering and ogling the endless Swiss eye candy. When it started getting late, we took a long, roundabout route home through beautiful residential neighborhoods before getting more food to prepare at the hostel.

Reflections on Paris

The preconception that sticks out most to me about Paris is of course that Parisians are all snooty, self-righteous assholes who think they are better than everyone else. But after five nights and six days I can confidently say that, like most generalizations about groups of people, such a notion is totally untrue. Most everyone, from native Parisian to foreign traveler, that we came in contact with was pleasant and good-natured toward us. We met plenty of people who spoke very little if any English, and as long as we made an honest attempt to speak some French, they made an honest attempt to be patient and work with us.

Speaking bits of French with no formal education was easy enough, especially with menus and signs to read from, and simple English plus body language to fill in the gaps. Paris was an excellent first experience with speaking and navigating using an unfamiliar foreign language.

The visit was good for other firsts as well. I've never been one for art and history (or art history, for that matter), but visiting Versailles and the Louvre really captivated me in ways I was previously unfamiliar with. In the past I've always blown through art museums, trying to shorten the torture as much as possible to avoid falling asleep while standing. But in the Louvre I found myself strangely enjoying everything and looking closely at many of the Spanish and Italian paintings. I was even finding trends and similarities between subject and style with an almost palpable amount of focus. Even my now spotty knowledge of Greek and Roman mythology from 9th grade started coming back when I saw Michelangelo's statues depicting the gods and their stories. I even felt a little indignant toward the people in tour groups who cared more about taking photos of themselves next to famous works than enjoying the works themselves. MySpace shots with the Mona Lisa were depressingly common.

Our final night in Paris was spent at an amazing brassarie next to the Luxembourg Gardens where the three of us spent over 110 Euro on 3 course French meals with delicious wine, still water, and the best espresso on this earth (except maybe compared to the stuff in Italy). We really went all out and it was more than worth it. Our nighttime picnic under the Eiffel Tower as the sun set and the tower glowed orange and sparkled bright white the night before was unforgettable and amazing, but it's hard to articulate how wonderful a fancy, fully-prepared restaraunt meal tastes after almost 2 weeks of nothing but friend, cheese, bread, and water.

Now we enter our first group of smaller cities and towns, starting with Bern, Switzerland, where Einstein formulated his Theory of Relativity and where LSD was invented (among other things, I'm sure). A nice lady named Therese from our hostel is a Bern native and gave us her phone number so she could show us around tomorrow or Monday when she returns from Paris. I hope to take her up on her offer. Either way, I'm very excited to be moving on from the bigger, well-known cities to the smaller, more quaint ones.

Rain, Rain, Go Away

Rain. It seems to never stop here. This is the third or fourth straight day of the stff, and it shows no sign of letting up any time soon.

But that of course didn't stop us from actually leaving the hostel and doing the obligatory touristy stuff along the Seine, specifically the left bank, and even more specifically the Eiffel Tower and Notre Dame on Isle de la Cite. Most of the time between these landmarks was spent wandering not-so-touristy areas filled with stores, offices, and restaurants on the inner left bank. One particularly beautiful area we found was Luxembourg Gardens.

The rain and gloom really worked Alex's and my nerves, but Michael, as usual, remained vigilent and optimistic the whole time including when a curb-hugging bus soaked him and his camera even more with gutter water. Paris certainly still has done nothing to enchant or capture either me or Alex.

After a lunch of bread, chorizo, and Gouda with cumin, Alex and I left Michael in the gardens so he could listen to the music of a nearby band while we went down the road to get a cup of espresso from a croissanterie. Surprisingly, we were completely energized with renewed vigor and excitement and we returned to Michael to further our rainy explorations.

At Notre Dame, the rain came in spurts of torrential downpour followed by blue skies and sunshine. It provided for some very interesting lighting effects which made photographing the cathedral infinitely more interesting.

The incredible 180 degree effect a simple cup of coffee had on our outlook toward the wet adventure led us to decide to purchase a large container of instant coffee to bring with us everywhere so we would never be without. Who came up with that stupid idea to stop coffee consumption? Certainly not me...

Bienvenue à Paris

Last night was epic. We never did find the Belgian waffle stand outside Bruxxels Midi train station, but we more than made up for that failed adventure upon arrival in Paris.

First impression of the city: dreary and gypsy-infested. We were accosted by 2 gypsys almost as soon as we walkesd into the main terminal of Paris Norde. They asked up if we spoke English before holding up a sheet of paper with scrawled words reminiscant of a generous offer from a Nigerian prince.

It was also pouring, and the strange, sketchy-looking shops and knock-off Rolex hawkers were respectively deserted and in our faces. For the first time since the trip started, it was not a pleasant walk to the hostel.

After checking in and dropping off our bags, we went out to explore the Sacre Coeur, a giant cathedral perched atop hundreds of stairs, which was right down the street. The view from the top of those stairs was beautiful and gloomy; low, thick, gray clouds hung suspended, floating above the city.

Around 5:30 I called Ben, a friend I met at NUJLS in New York City at Columbia University in February 2008. We met in front of the La Boheme Cafe near the Sacre Coeur. Through the torrential downpour he took us to his friend Francois' apartment down the street from the Moulin Rouge. THey both took us to the cheapest bar around, where I got to order my first 1.50 Euro glass of rose in French. We also met this random girl there named Claire, who was celebrating her birthday with kiwi vodka shots and whose English improved with each one. She and her friends were a lot of fun.

Still soaked, we all walked Francois home before hopping the metro down to La Cité Internationale Universitaire de Paris where Ben attends class for his month of study abroad from Yale. We got delicious pizza and many bottles of fine, cheap French wine.

The night was spent reveling in drunken conversation, laughing, and yelling with Ben's friends Nina, Kiet, and Esther while Ben tried the whole time, desperately and in vain, to keep us from waking neighbors.

After lunch at the school's cafeteria, we set off back to the hostel to continue our day.

Reflections on Amsterdam

Amsterdam is positively enchanting. From the old, quaint stone buildings to the canals to the small alleyways that open into stone streets filled with shops, there is nothing about this city that isn't quirky or quaint. The Dutch people match their surroundings, too. Everyone is so friendly and laid back and I don't think it has anything to do with the marijuana use (which is mostly for the foreigners anyway). No one was hurried, except at the train station this morning, and no one ever hurried us along.

The open air markets are far larger than those in London. Getting huge hunks of bread, meat, cheese, and fruit for less than 5 Euro and having a leisurely picnic on the grass next to a canal, shared only by our new friends from the hostel and the ducks, cannot be beat. Having all that food last another day and a half was a nice bonus as well.

Street names in a foreign language add another complication to navigating the circular city. With no familiar cognates or sequences of letters, remembering them becomes much more challenging. I'm sure it will be much worse when the language doesn't resemble English at all, such as in Budapest, Krakow, and Stockholm, but we'll cross that road when we come to it.

The diversity of the places we've been even so early in the trip is staggering. In the States we seem to judge diversity only by points of past and present inequality such as skin color and gender. But after meeting and talking with people from Australia, England, Kenya, Iceland, Ireland, Spain, Switzerland, and Canada (among others that I'm sure I've forgotten), it has become obvious that, despite all these people being light-skinned, they are just as or more diverse than all the Americans defined as such. We used to be a melting pot, and maybe we still are, but everyone who comes to the States eventually becomes Americanized and lose a bit of the uniqueness they contributed when they first arrived. I don't think we are any longer so unique in our "diversity."

Now I sit on a train from Amsterdam to Paris with an hour stopover and transfer in Brussels, Belgium. Perhaps while I'm there I'll see if I can get a real Belgian waffle and see how close to the real thing I've had in the past. And when we get to Paris, we'll see how much the Parisians really dislike us for everything their prejudices say Americans are and stand for. Hopefully we have good luck, but I"m not holding my breath.

Exploring Uptown

Yesterday morning we met two more American Jewish kids, Aaron and Karma (which I believe is just what he goes by). They just got back from a 9 month volunteering stint in Israel through Young Judeah, and headed straight to Amsterdam after they finished to relax. And what a perfect city to do that in! After some interesting conversation, the five of us decided to go find pancakes at a nearby pannenkoekenhaus. Our first attempt lead us to a nearby place in Leidseplein that was only serving fritters for some reason, so we set out again. We found a really cool looking place built inside a converted carousel pavilion and decided to eat there. A pancake there was just a circular piece of thin dough spread over an oversized dinnerplate, and then syrup was thick, malty, and sweet. It was quite a delicious meal, and I daresay I enjoyed it more than an American plate of flapjacks.

After breakfast, we all went back to the hostel. Aaron and Karma went to go relax in the smokers' lounge downstairs while the three of us got our laundry together. We had long since run out of clean clothes and it was high time to take care of that. So we got everything into a bag and walked 10 minutes to a wasserette. Turns out we didn't have to sit there and do all the laundry ourselves at all! For just 7 euro, the very nice lady who worked there would wash, dry, fold, and pack all of our clothes for us in just a few hours. Awesome!

With our free time we walked down the road to the Heineken museum to get a taste of the "Heineken Experience", as they called it. A very excited girl at the front doors handed us coupons for 20% off admission and chatted us up for a few minutes about some comedy show. The "experience" was essentially a self-led tour through the museum where we got to see really cool images and artifacts from the history of the beer, including old advertisements, bottle labels, awards, philosophies, and city honors. It was all very cool to see. We also got to learn how the factory works as well as take a mini amusement park ride through the brewing process. After a guided tasting we got more free beer at the very fancy Heineken-themed bar at the end. After three beers on an empty stomach, I must say I was feeling quite happy.

On our way to find a place to eat, we stumbled upon our first open air market in this country. What a lucky find! It was way bigger than the one in London, and there were fishmongers! Michael and Alex picked up some cheeses and meats, and I would have gotten cheese if there was a bread vendor. But since there wasn't, I got a middle eastern chicken wrap at a falaffel place down the street. Of course, right after that, we found an Arab bakery that sold all kinds of breads. Alex picked up a huge loaf of Ciabatta for 1 Euro and I cried on the inside for not getting a delicious wedge of brie from the market.

This city definitely carries an air of relaxation, and I don't think it's all coming from the pot smoking everywhere. The attitude and expectations of everyone seem to be slower and less needy. Even the three of us seem to be feeling it, since we've spent significantly less time outside the hostel exploring than we did in London. Of course, it could also be the cold and the fact that none of us really brought anything too warm to wear. But the showers are warm, the people friendly, and the city beautiful so all is well. It should be warmer today, so hopefully I'll have my camera out again and shooting more pictures of the scenery.

Today we are planning on visiting the Anne Frank museum and the Cannabis museum along with anything else that randomly comes our way. Tonight is the red light district and perhaps a gay club or two just to the south of it. Hopefully the weather cooporates!

Goede avond, Amsterdam!

We arrived at the Schipol International Airport around 14.00 yesterday afternoon after a 50 minute flight. After an unceremonious stamp by the passport official welcoming us to Amsterdam, we headed to our hostel: The Flying Pig Uptown. We took a very comfortable train, followed by a tram leaving from Amsterdam Centraal. The tram was an interesting, crowded, bumpy experience but nonetheless was really freaking cool. The city is amazing, full of buildings of quite a different style than those in London. Everything looks older and more quaint, even in the big city areas. Of course, that's speaking only of uptown; we haven't been downtown yet. It'll be interesting to see how similar (or different) the two are.

The hostel is really cool, with dimly colored lights everywhere and a mix of American punk and psytrance music playing in the common areas at all times. Very dark and smoky, with a nice smoking room in the back. Everyone seemed really chill, but maybe that's because they were all stoned. There's even a full bar with my newest favorite beer, Leffe. I'll definitely be drinking that over the next few nights.

Since we got into the city so late, we decided to just wander around and explore for the next hours. It was a bit cold and rainy, but we got used to it pretty quickly. The complete awesomeness of the city distracted us from our weather-induced discomfort pretty well. Many of the cheaper food places seem to close by 7 or 8, but we found this tiny hole-in-the-wall pizza place and went inside. There were two men gambling at the only table in the room, and their family on the side watching "How I Met Your Mother" with Dutch subtitles. Eventually one of the men got up and made us pizza in just a few minutes. The three of us entertained ourselves by looking at all the pictures on the wall and trying to guess what the Dutch captions meant. It's amazing how close a lot of Dutch is to English. Gotta love sharing those Germanic roots.

We ate the pizza back at the hostel and drank a pitcher of beer, and then we headed out to the Damp Kring coffee shop a few canals up from us. The atmosphere was ridiculously un-coffeeshop-like, but the fact that they had about 30 canisters of weed just sitting on the counters along with a full menu with prices, flavors, effects, and strains was fantastic beyond words. I ordered some Hypnotic Kush for 11 Euro and attempted to roll a joint, quite poorly. But it didn't quite matter; even though it was definitely one of my worse frankenjoints it certainly got the job done!

Free Beer, Big Noses and a Subway

Today was a day of museums. The weather was more London-esque; gray, overcast skies with a chilly wind. I was wondering when the daily paradise of 26 C and sunny would end. We had 2 goals at the day's start: to see the Egypt exhibit at the British Museum and the Salvatore Dahli exhibit at the Tate Modern. The displays of the ancient monuments, mummies, and sarcophaguses were positively fantastic. We spent several slack-jawed, wide-eyed hours wandering through all the rooms. The Dahli exhibit, which was personally what I was looking most forward to, didn't seen to even exist at the Tate Modern. So instead we wondered through the many other exhibits of contemporary, abstract art. Personally, I found it to be a tremendously boring experience. Who pays money for a mirror mounted on a canvas, or a pile of thick rope, and calls it art? Not this guy, that's for sure. With no other plans, we decided to wander. Still full from the fruit and loaves of bread purchased from the open air market in Soho, we walked the mile to the Tower Bridge. As luck would have it, a ship was preparing to cross under it, so we got to see the bridge lift and fall; a very cool sight to witness. As we headed toward the Tube station on London's far east side, we discovered our first English false cognate: the subway. Apparently, a subway is actually just a small underground walkway that allows you to cross the street underground.

We picked up some penne and pesto sauce on the way back to the hostel and while we were cooking, we struck up a great conversation with two other kids in the hostel. Italia just got her BA in Philosophy from UCSB and Peter was from Cape Cod and had also just graduated.

Following dinner (which we shared with the rest of the hostel since we had so much extra) and going to take night pictures of Big Ben, a kid named Ben invited me and Alex outside for beer and cigs. I had Kit Kats and beer, but whatever. After a few minutes, a Hungarian guy by the name of Zieno invited the groups of us to the bar around the corner where he works. He told us there would be free beer. So of course we went, and of course we had a wonderful time with free beer, shots of Aftershock, and games of pool with really small billiards.

Overall, an excellent set of adventures to end our time in London.

Discovering Lost Time

Michael's plane was supposed to arrive at Heathrow around noon, so Alex and I took it easy at the hostel until around then, blogging and catching up with photos and all that. There was a very nice lady native to London who was working at the hostel and she gave us some suggestions of things to do, one of which was to take the ferry to Greenwich. Around noon, upon realizing that we'd have an additional hour to wait while MIchael took the tube from Heathrow to Lambeth, Alex and I set off with another all-day tube pass to the Embankment pier to check out the prices of the ferry. It was pretty cheap, around 3 or 4 quid each way, so we decided to take Michael on it later. We also walked around Embankment/Waterloo to scout for a place to eat. The area turned out to be pretty cool, with lots of businessmen walking to the many restaurants in the area. Too bad all those places were way out of our price range. Average cost of a hamburger was $10! And that was average. We ended up finding this little out-of-the-way pub called "A Hole in the Wall" where the prices were just right.

After our find, Alex and I strolled back to the tube and waited outside the Lambeth station for Michael. When he arrived, we were all very happy to see each other and chatted with much intensity on the walk back to the hostel. When we got back there, we let Michael get settled, and then we headed back to Embankment for lunch.

By this time it was around 2:30 or 3 in the afternoon. Apparently all the restaurants and pubs stop serving food and keep only their bars open until dinnertime, so scratch A Hole in the Wall off the list of places to eat. We did, however, get some tasty beers. I tried a light Belgian ale called Leffe and it was beyond fantastic. I'll have to remember that one for the States.

After our beers (and lack of lunch) I must say I was feeling pretty silly. But I blame that on the whole no-food thing! I'm not that much of a lightweight. We headed back to the pier and took the Thames ferry to Greenwich, a trip that took around an hour. It was very comfortable, though, complete with air conditioning and spacious leather seats. Upon arrival, we did a lot of walking around the beautiful little town. Most of our time we spent in the park, and we eventually arrived at the Royal Observatory where sits the Prime Meridian of the world, separating the eastern from the western hemisphere as well as British Standard Time (BST) from Greenwich Mean Time (GMT). It was kind of neat to straddle that line.

After the museum, we continued walking around the Royal Gardens and down some of the side streets behind the park. We found a very comfortable wrought iron bench and sat there for a while relaxing and watching people bike up and down the massive hill. We headed back into the main town of Greenwich and found the main drag as well as the elusive pear juice Alex and I had been looking everywhere for since day one. It was every bit as delicious as we had imagined. Just think about drinking a fresh pear and you'll know exactly how delicious this was. We even stumbled upon the set for a movie! At the Royal Naval College there was a huge set and tons of cast and crew decked out in medieval costume while filming a feature-length version of  Gulliver's Travels. It was prety cool to see everyone dressed like talking and taking naps in the field.

Back at the hostel, we were challenged to a game of good old fashioned beer pong by an already-saucy Australian guy. There was a group of Canadians (from Vancouver) as well, so the game became Yanks vs. Canucks. There were a lot of strange rules (such as the no airball rule, or the strange rendition of rock-paper-scissors that involved a ninja, a hunter, and a bear). The game was really close; we both had 1 cup left, but Michael and I lost at the rebuttal.

Another long, fun day well spent!

Mind the Gap!

I met Alex at Dulles after I landed from Cleveland and we went to get a bite to eat and some drink together while waiting for Michael. To our surprise, upon heading to the gate from the restaurant we found that the flight had already started boarding. Good thing we didn't wander the airport anymore! But that still didn't keep us from having our first crisis: Michael was nowhere to be found. It was a huge flight with many people and we kept looking up and down the line but he was simply nowhere. Upon boarding the flight we even had flight attendants page him over the plane's intercom. Still nothing. As the jet doors were closing, I called Michael's father from my cell (since I didn't have Michael's American cell number) and he told me that he had gotten stuck in beltway traffic in DC on his way to the airport and wouldn't make the flight. What an excellent way to start a 2 month trip!

Besides that, the flight was good. For most of the flight, I talked to a very nice older lady named Marty who was sitting next to me with her husband, Harry. They were from western Florida and she had a lot of interesting travel stories to share. She (along with the in-flight movies) made the flight seem really short. We arrived at London Heathrow at 6:01am GMT after getting almost no sleep.

With no checked baggage, getting deplaned was easy. Customs went quickly and soon we were on a bench getting everything settled. A very nice British girl helped us read the tube map and figure out which tube ticket to buy to get to our hostel. I'm Alex and I looked pretty silly talking to the map on the wall of the tube station under Heathrow trying to figure it out. An hour later we had made it across London to our hostel, Journey's Eye located in North Lamberth (about a 20 minute tube ride from central London).

A few observations about the tube. People are quiet! Everyone was reading or listening to music. Seriously, no one talked at all except Alex and I who were fiddling with our cell phones trying to pass the time. The trains were also very new and quiet, probably all electric. This is much different than, say, the NYC or DC subways where it's always loud as hell.

Anyway, we got to the hostel around 9am and checked in. The rooms are very tiny and sleep 12 people each. Talk about cramped! I went out onto the deck to explore and met a really nice, foul-mouthed Irish guy who was sure to inform me that the only thing to do in North Lamberth was drink. Everything else required a trip into the city. After Alex and I finished freshening up and getting things settled with our bags, we set off back to the tube station to head downtown. No sleep for the weary travelers!

Since it was the first day, we really had no plans of things to do or see. So we just explored the city. We did all the obligatory touristy stuff with the huge crowds of tourists with cameras: Buckingham Palace, Westminster Abbey, Parliament Square and Big Ben, and Trafalgar Square. I am constantly comparing what we do here with what I did in Israel when exploring, and I must say that seeing all these sights is much less meaningful without knowledge of the history behind them. Trafalgar Square was cool looking but pretty boring until Alex explained to me the history behind everything. Only then was it quite interesting to look at. Westminster Abbey was beautiful, and all the old tombstones inside were quite interesting and sad to read. The organ music and choir voices echoing through the halls helped set the mood.

And here is my first complaint about this place: everyone is too damned good looking! Alex and I both agree that there are more good looking people here than not, and it's quite humbling. My gaydar is completely on the fritz since apparently I can't tell the difference between a gay guy and a European guy. According to my readings, we are constantly surrounded by hot gay guys. It's like living an episode of Queer as Folk! Too bad I really need to work on fine-tuning myself to European looks and behaviors; I'm sure most of the people I thought were gay are in fact not even close.

On our way to Finsbury Park to take a power nap, I finally got a call from Michael. He told us he'd be arriving at noon the next day, which is awesome. Finally the full trip can begin! Our power nap was awesome. We were surrounded by hot shirtless guys and there was a cute little carnival in front of us with tons of people on bikes.

Eventually we decided to head back to the hostel to relax there. The people here seem nice, although this group seems pretty quiet. Except for the couple of people I've had good conversations with (including that Irish guy from earlier, a guy from LA, and an older man from Sydney), everyone seems to keep to themselves or their friends. Some of the people even stay her during the day just sleeping or watching old music videos on the TV in the lounge. I guess we're doing that right now, but we are just waiting for Michael to arrive so we can continue exploring.

Some other initiation observations about London thus far:

1. Left-side driving is ridiculously confusing. It totally screws with my head. Good thing there are "Look Left" and "Look Right" words painted on the ground at all intersections, or we would have been killed by cars multiple times.
2. Everything seems slower-paced and less rushed than in America. Even the doors of the tube trains stay open for a good minute at each stop, and people aren't running everywhere. It's a nice change of pace.
3. Strangers will make eye contact with you, smile, and say hello in passing pretty much as a rule. Everyone just seems so friendly! I'm used to RIT where everyone keeps their head down and makes eye contact with no one.
4. Car drivers go out of their way to stop for pedestrians. This is something I will probably never get used to. We could just be standing on the sidewalk at a crosswalk, not crossing, and traffic both directions will stop for us until we cross. I still haven't figured out if I'm supposed to smile and wave at them in thanks.

So now we just wait for Michael! Today we might hit up some museums. There's a Salvatore Dhali exibit Alex and I may be intersted in. So far I haven't felt very photographically inspired, probably due to extreme fatigue and jet lag. Hopefully once Michael gets here I will feel more artistic, but until then here are some touristy London glamour shots to hold you over.

 The Victorian Monument ouside Buckingham Palace

Gate entrance into the Pall Mall (road leading to Buckingham Palace)

 

 Statue honoring some admiral or general in Trafalgar Sqaure

The London Eye